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#love how you can see I just hate rendering
leandra-winchester · 14 hours
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So. There's been a lot of speculation, and a lot of hot and lukewarm and some honest and valid takes about the new trailer and the potential of what might go down next ep.
I've been thinking thoughts, and I have my own personal stance on the matter. And no, I will not be 'taking criticism', because this is the way I view things in general, and it won't change. So this isn't me opening up a debate about this, this is just me sharing my personal views, which you absolutely can agree or disagree with. (So if your views on cheating are vastly different from mine, don't come at me telling me how wrong I am, I'm not doing that at you either)
That being said, here are my thoughts and beliefs.
Kissing isn't (automatically) cheating. For me, it highly, highly depends on the accompanying circumstances. There are kisses for shits and giggles that are not cheating. There are kisses happening under heavy influence of whatever substance - something that can render you legally not responsible for a lot of things, so how does it make you responsible for a moment's poor choice? There are kisses that are done deliberately with intention and feelings/high physical attraction involved, and THAT is cheating. When we look at the Buck/Lucy kiss, I didn't see it as huge a deal as many of the fandom did. The kiss itself somewhat fell into the second category. But what made it at the very least borderline cheating was the fact that Buck made a secret of it afterwards. Had he said "Look, something happened last night. I was drunk, then Lucy kissed me, and I didn't instantly pull back, but I didn't want to kiss her again or anything. I have no feelings for her whatsoever and I will watch myself in future a whole lot more to notice any signs of flirting, which, in hindsight, there were. I'm sorry." - then I think that's still grounds for a partner to be mad, sad, disappointed, but it's not really full-on cheating. Not in my book, by my definition.
Emotional cheating is much worse than physical cheating Being in love with someone and knowing it, imagining yourself to be with that other person, THAT is much more cheating by my definition than a fleeting kiss. And sometimes, depending on the circumstances, maybe even more than a drunken fumble or one night stand, but that is a very complex question. However, emotional cheating means you're not really in it with your current partner, pining for someone else but settling for what you can have out of convenience, fear of being left behind or some other highly egoistical motivation. That really sucks. (I've seen that take expressed on my dashboard as well, though with slightly different nuance to what I feel and believe, but pretty close)
So, taking these two of my underlying beliefs as the basis, what can I see happen in the next episode that would leave me feel okay with it, or happy about it, and what would make me feel iffy about it?
Let's start with the iffy.
Buck:
If, at any point in their drunken Hangover-movie escapades Buck and Eddie kiss, full on kiss (with maybe a little bit of tongue), and that kicks something lose in Buck, I would utterly hate that. Not that I wouldn't find it plausible that a kiss like that would trigger him realizing romantic feelings for Eddie, but that it happens now.
Someone else made a long post about negative stereotypes about bisexuals, and I agree. This is the promiscuity/bisexuals can't be trusted to be faithful stereotype, and I don't want Buck to ever be seen in that light.
Also, Buck JUST (and that post mentioned that too) convinced Tommy to come with him to the wedding, that he's ready for something... only to emotionally cheat (because it's that aspect for me rather than the kiss itself) on him the very next opportunity?
"But Tommy and Buck aren't in a relationship yet," I heard someone say, and well, yes. But this isn't REAL LIFE. It's writing. Things are crafted in a certain way to form a story, and stories have a purpose. The narrative gave us an arc where Buck seemingly wasn't ready for a relationship with a man yet, where he fucked up and had to fix that, had to take a leap and take some courage to make it work.
Just purely from a narrative standpoint, it would be so inconsistent to reverse that healthy step forward just one episode later.
From what we know about the episode, it also doesn't look like he's breaking up with Tommy in that episode. A lovely, potentially dramatic moment where Buck kisses Tommy in front of everyone as a means of 'coming out' is highly implied/likely. So that would mean him being aware of some feelings towards Eddie and still going through with that. And yeah. No. I'd really, really fucking hate that.
Eddie:
If they kiss at some point and it kicks something loose in Eddie, and he then goes back to Marisol... I'd have much less of a problem with that because it could still be explained and justified with him just being in utter panic about coming out. It would match the catholic guilt arc, and all his previous attempts at conforming to heteronormativity... BUT, if the relationship just continued as is and he'd actively use her as beard that would be shitty, even for poor confused, repressed, closeted Eddie.
The Not Iffy
On with Eddie:
If that kiss brings something to the surface in Eddie and he then breaks up with Marisol one episode later I would not consider that cheating or poor morals or anything of the sort. He wasn't aware of it until that moment, and as soon as he is aware of it and has had a little bit of time to process it, he draws the right consequences from it and breaks off a relationship he's not fully in.
So this would actually be fine to me. This could be the kick starter for a potentially long and complex arc for Eddie to a) come to terms with his sexuality and b) pine for Buck from a distance, because Buck is with Tommy and c) eventually, when the time is right, for Buddie to go canon.
Buck:
The kiss itself wasn't a serious or real kiss. I'd be okay with it, if it was some silly, exaggerated "MWAH" smack of the lips kiss, prompted by someone or something around them - I dunno, maybe one of the women there saying "Aww you're such a cute couple" and they going in for it just for shits and giggles; or Buck gushing about Tommy and what a great kisser he is and Eddie drunkenly, outwardly jokingly saying "Hey, I'm a great kisser too!" and them jokingly leaning in for a smooch, again, for shits and giggles.
Buck afterwards doesn't even remember it because it meant nothing in that moment, and so he's neither seriously physically nor emotionally cheating on Tommy in the slightest.
"But Buck has deep feelings for Eddie. How can he kiss him and not realize them?"
Well, see, Buck has been around Eddie for almost 6 years now and not realized them. They are so, so far past that getting to know and falling in love phase that it makes it a bazillion times more complicated to distinguish those deep platonic feelings from deep romantic feelings (because, what it comes down to in both instances is a deep bond; the bond of love you feel after years of dating isn't that different from a deep platonic bond. Again, Eros vs. Pragma and all that).
But Buck is *in love* with Tommy, he's just entered that exciting, chemically turbulent process of falling in love with someone which, with all the newly formed neural connections and all those hormones overrides anything else that has long since been present and is only now presented with the opportunity to take on a new nuance. Of course he doesn't get it, and he likely won't get it until much, much later, when he's falling out of love with Tommy again for whatever reason, or they break up amicably for whatever reason.
And THIS again is something that could easily go into the iffy, because I would really fucking HATE the implication that Buck needs to break up with Tommy to be with his One True Love. I don't want this to be a difficult and painful choice.
IF (when) Buddie goes canon, I want them both to be ready and free for it and not accidentally pushed towards it, or struggle with a guilty conscience for it, or hurt someone else about it. (Marisol wouldn't count in that context as Eddie would have broken up with her months ago and gone on his own long self-discovery trip).
So yes, even if for slightly different reasons, and even if my views on what constitutes 'cheating' may differ from a lot of yours, I agree that any actual MUTUAL feelings realization right now, under these external circumstances, would totally tarnish the beginning of the Buddie relationship.
Which also makes me hopeful it won't happen in such a way. Up until now, the writing has been extremely solid, and Buck's coming out arc has been done with so much care. I doubt they'd do something that ruins it. (But I'm not 100% sure of it either).
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booigi-boi · 4 months
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Putting gay spies on your dash 💣💼
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sukunasteeth · 1 month
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Sukuna Dyes His Hair
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You were just teasing him.
"Pink like a petite little rose."
"Shut it."
They were just play-fighting words. Part of an attempt to poke the bear that never seemed to bite at you.
"Pink like a sweet strawberry."
"Strawberries are red."
Sukuna had had you in his lap, lazy with a long day of work weighing on his bones. He watched you dote on him with a tired smile, too exhausted to mind your fingers lovingly brushing at tufts of his hair. Usually he'd swat at a touch as careful as the one you were giving him, but there were moments, like this one, where he seemed to soak up your tenderness.
"Pink like a baby kitten's nose." You cooed.
"Jesus." He groaned, rolling his eyes. 
Maybe it was the ending boop to his own nose that made him finally snatch you up and tackle you to the mattress.
Maybe that's why one day later, you're staring at him standing outside of a restaurant, leaning against his motorcycle with stark black hair.
He's grinning at you, knowing that he's won the little game as he always does, with overkill.
It was a promised date night, one you had been planning for a few weeks now. Sukuna never had the same days off that you did, but the stars happened to align for you to go out to dinner together and you leapt at his invitation.
After he spots you from across the parking lot, Sukuna stubs his cigarette beneath his boot and starts over to you. You can tell in the way his eyes devilishly glimmer that he's excited to see your expression. 
You're in too much shock not to give him exactly what he wants.
"Hi~" He purrs when he nears you, reaching a hand out for one of your own. You offer it subconsciously, moving automatically since your brain seemed to be sputtering. His rings are cold against your fingers, but even their icy bite is not enough to stir you back to the present. He tugs you into his embrace, looping an arm around your lower waist and pressing you into him. He’s warm despite the chill on his fingertips. When he's got you secured to him, he tilts his head at you, waiting for your response.
"Hi." You whisper, blinking up at him.
You know he thinks you're going to hate it. You know he thinks you're going to give him a pout- tell him how heartbroken you are to see his natural hair go. That was undoubtedly the punchline of his stupid joke. You've told him numerous times how much you loved his hair and every part of him that made him Sukuna... So why is your mouth suddenly watering?
“What d'ya think?” He runs his fingers through it, showing it off to you as if your eyes aren’t already glued to the newly darkened locks. 
It suits him just as well as his natural hair color does, but the black brings out the deep, rich color of his eyes and makes prominent the tattoos framing his face. People always tell you that Sukuna’s stare intimidated them, and you never felt it yourself until then. 
You swallow past your heartbeat, which you can suddenly feel in your throat. Sukuna notices, and his mischievous grin turns wolfish.
"Oh, you like it. Don't you?" He murmurs. Reaching up, he presses your slightly agape mouth closed so that he can place a chaste kiss to your shell-shocked lips. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne has you in an even more intoxicated daze, rendering you boneless in his hold. His next words are a heated whisper, for your ears only.
"I usually only manage to take the words out of your mouth when you're strapped to my bed. This gotcha that good, little doe?" 
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sickeninglyshoujo · 2 months
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a/n: i saw the renders (you know the ones) and became feral with need for dad!ghost, other cod dads coming soon, sorry to my friends for being forced to read me word vomit this in chat over four hours. ao3 link coming soon warnings: pregnancy talk word count: 1.8k
Simon doesn’t like when the baby wears the skulls but you do because it reminds you of him
When he grew up he equated the skull mask to terror, the baby only has positive thoughts about it and gets excited seeing it yelling out “daddy!” if she sees the motif in public, mortifying Simon and delighting you. Onlookers growing even more concerned when you coo back, “Yes, that is daddy!” pointing to the Halloween display of a grim reaper statue.
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I can tell you that Simon is a master at baby rearing
Simon would absolutely carry the baby under his arm like a football once her neck is strong enough even if you don’t like it because it’s more comfortable like that
It’s second nature to him somehow
Even when you’re stressed about the baby and can’t get her to stop crying somehow Simon just comes over and says the one thing you haven’t tried because he can differentiate between her cries
You were afraid about introducing the baby to Riley, but Simon wasn’t. “They live in the same flipping house, he has t’ get used to her!”
“But not when she’s newborn! Let her get a little bigger first!”
“No better time than now! She’ll never be afraid of him then and he’ll protect her!”
“They call them malingators for a reason!”
“Riley is a well-trained retired soldier. He’s not going to hurt the baby.”
The first meeting had Simon holding the baby in his arms and stooping down to Riley’s level, Riley nosing at the baby’s sock-covered feet hanging from Simon’s arms, sniffing excitedly. You stood above Simon, wringing your hands together, ready to jump in between the two at a moment's notice.
“This is your baby sister, Riley,” Simon instructed the dog whose ears moved, listening to his master’s voice, “She’s your new assignment, boy.”
“Bloodthirsty, isn’ he?” Simon asked you with a grin as the dog yawned and stayed calmly seated, beginning to lick at the baby's booties.
“Shut it, Si.”
Riley is the baby’s shadow. If she so much as sniffles he’s darting across the house trying to find out what’s wrong. It’s like Simon’s watching over her even when on missions 
Simon hates that the dog is named Riley because he thinks it’s stupid and is constantly begging to rename the dog. You refuse because you like the constant reminder of your husband. It doesn't matter that he shares the family name.
When you first bring the baby home from the hospital Simon is in constant awe at how tiny she is. Like a little doll he keeps telling you to the point he sounds like a broken record
Simon constantly worried about baby being cold 2k24 and always has a blankie in the diaper bag or draped over the baby carrier.
After missions he would look for you first when he came home before stripping off the dirt and grime of missions and now it’s the baby. He used to think you were his reason to keep trying to save the world and now it’s her. It only stings a little but that is soothed when you see the awe in his face when she coos at him from her crib
It isn’t long before Simon is trying to get you to agree to try for another “Jus’ one more love,” he'll mutter into your neck after the baby is put down for the night and you two have retired to your bedroom only to be batted away weakly
“Oh no, Si! No more babies and no more sex! Not if you’re going to talk like that!”
“But yer such a good mum. We should have a houseful.”
Simon would petition you to quit your job because it’s bad enough the baby has to deal with him being gone on missions they shouldn’t have their mum gone too
“I make more ‘an enough for you to stay home with her!”
“The money isn’t the point, Si,” You coo at the baby on your lap, “I don’t need to be a housewife and I like working!”
You giggle whenever the other 141 men are over because they will carry the diaper bag slung over their shoulder and completely at odds with their uniforms.
It heats your cheeks to watch your burley husband in full military uniform when you greet him on base, bouncing your baby on his hips, playfully pulling her hands away when she gets too close to a switch or something she shouldn't touch, particularly when other women notice him too
It would swell your chest with pride when you and Si were out with the baby and he’d get longing looks from women when he was doing dadly things like pushing the stroller or rifling through the diaper bag for her bottle or burp cloth. 
“You have to have seen the way women look at you when you’re carrying the baby.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“You’re practically tormenting them, Si! And me too! You’re all big and tough! You’re in uniform or in a compression shirt and then you’re holding onto her in just your arm while she can’t even wrap a hand around one of your fingers!”
Simon doesn’t understand your point, “I’m tormenting you?”
Heat flushes your cheeks, “I like watching you be a dad to our daughter.”
The baby has essentially four dads as all of 141 takes care of the baby when they come to visit on leave
You worry about them spoiling her, “She’ll get too used to being held Si!”
“Then damn well let ‘er!”
“What about when they leave!”
“You think they’re leaving?! Soaps brought a bloody duffel!”
Because when you have the baby Captain Price, Soap, and Gaz are all going to visit. Moving into your cramped guest room for easily the first month after the baby’s born, Gaz and Soap fighting over who gets the futon and who has to share the bed with the Captain.
They need to see the baby!
They never thought Si would settle down but that was before you and your endless patience with the grumpy military man set in his ways.
You didn’t miss when Price clapped him on the shoulder after Simon showed off the baby for the first time, “You did well, Son.”
“Thank god she got the missus’ looks!” Soap crowed, “I was worried she’d get L.t.’s ugly mug!”
“I was hoping she would Johnny,” you peer down at the baby in Simon’s arms and trace a finger down her cheek, “She did get his eyes though. You know those were the first thing I noticed when we started talking, Si? How sad your eyes were.”
“Don’ have “sad eyes”.”
“I thought you did. And you were wearing that silly skull balaclava too, so I couldn’t very well fall in love with your chiseled jaw or the cute scar on your lip,” Soap and Gaz howled in laughter, missing the dirty looks from Ghost (You did too, eyes entirely on your daughter swaddled in a soft terry blanket in her father’s arms)
“Hey L.t. let me give you a few more scars for the missus to kiss!” Gaz ribbed
You never minded patching Simon up after missions. It gave you an excuse to ogle your husband in detail. Even before you were married, he’d tried to wave you off when you’d dab at the blood encrusted cuts and then flush when after taking care of the ones on his arms, much less when he stretched and took off his shirt for you to do the ones on his chest too. Thankfully he didn’t notice your brain shorting as you forgot how to breathe when you saw how heavily muscled and tattooed he was, culminating in an audible gasp as your eyes took in his happy trail and Adonis belt. 
“You ok?”
“Y-yeah just banged my foot on the tub.”
He’d later recount this to Soap who nearly banged his head on the wall at how dense Ghost was being
“An’ you wen’ home after that!”
“Yes Johnny, I had PT the next morning and had to ship out that night.”
He let out a string of curses, “The lass likes you and probably was hoping you’d stay the night wi’ her!”
“MacTavish,” Simon warned.
“She let you take off your clothes in her bathroom and then cleaned you up! Lasses don’t do that for cheeky cunts they don’ like!”
You miss him when he’s on missions of course, but it’s easier once you have Riley and then the baby. It’s like you have piece’s of him with you
Si is a beige mom but instead of beige it’s gray. You try and explain the importance of the bright colors in developing the baby’s eyesight but Si just mutters something about no baby of his is going to look like a muppet
Riley used to sleep at the foot of your bed but now he sleeps by the crib. You don’t know when he learned how to work door knobs but it happened somewhere between the third trimester and birth. Now you have to coax him into your room if you miss Si and want to cuddle Riley
You’ve given up on trying to keep Riley out of the nursery and instead just tut when you find dog hairs on the baby. 
Riley is the ever-patient soldier with the baby, letting her pull on his tail and ears, tugging on (and sometimes removing) his fur, all while happily wagging his tail at being used as a jungle gym
When the baby starts toddling and skins her knees, Si can’t help but scoop her up before the first tear leaves her eye “Si you’re spoiling her!” “She hurt herself, I can’ just let her cry” “She hadn't even cried yet!” “She was abou’ to”
Simon is an over attentive dad because he doesn’t want his baby to suffer the same way he did 
Si rolls his eyes whenever you  tell him not to throw the baby in the air because he’ll drop her but he knows his reflexes are superhuman and he’d catch her
SI doesn’t baby talk and will discuss the finer parts of gun mechanics and maintenance with your infant as she gums on a teether.
When she’s older, Si buys her a pellet gun for Christmas and hides it from you until unwrapped on Christmas morning
By the time it’s in her hands you know you’ve lost
He ignores your dirty glance that says “We’ll talk about this later”
As she grows up she starts talking about joining the SAS like her daddy and you’re filled with fear while Si encourages it. Starts taking her training with him much to your horror, first on short jogs around the neighborhood, then to the gym proper to teach her how to throw a punch. She quickly becomes the star of the base, with all the men calling her “Recruit”
“Nothing dangerous yet Si I mean it!”
“She asks for it!”
“She is a child and you are her father! You’re supposed to be the voice of reason!”
“The voice of reason says she might as well be trained right if she wants it!”
a/n: likes/reblogs/comments appreciated please talk to me about dad!ghost i cant contain myself
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hairmetal666 · 1 year
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Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.
He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.
More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.
Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.
He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.
"Harrington?"
The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"
"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.
Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.
Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."
"Just needed some air. Clear my head."
"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.
"One or two,"
"Dozen?"
Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"
"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"
Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."
"Yeah, big news."
"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.
Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.
He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"
The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).
Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.
With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."
He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.
---
Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?
That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.
The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.
Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.
It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.
The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.
A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.
Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.
---
The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.
When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.
"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.
Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.
"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.
"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.
"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"
Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.
"It was you? Leaving the--?"
Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"
"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."
"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.
"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."
Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"
"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."
Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.
"Didn't want me to think what?"
"That you weren't loved, Stevie."
The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.
"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.
"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"
"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.
Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."
The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"
"Yeah, Stevie?"
"You wanna hangout some time?"
Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."
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fyodorloveclub · 6 months
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DONT YOU UNDERSTAND?
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★ pairing: husband!fyodor x reader
★ cw: DARK CONTENT AHEAD!! 18+, MINORS DNI. noncon, drugging, forced breeding, lots of breeding/pregnancy talk, vaginal sex, not enough foreplay, fyodor is evil!!
★ notes: breedtober fic #?? sorry the fics have been coming out so late, thank u for ur patience ily all <3
want more of breedtober?
DISCLAIMER: i do not condone noncon in any way, shape, or form. this is just fiction with no reflection of real life. please refrain from leaving hate comments, and just unfollow/block. or simply scroll away. thank u!
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Dizzy – you’re so fucking dizzy. The room is spinning, your vision is dark and fuzzy around the edges, and you have no clue if you’re sitting or standing up currently. Because, worst of all, every part of your body is numb. You can’t move.  
All you can see is the normally gentle, sweet face of your lover that’s now marred with an expression one can only describe as evil.
You want to reach out, ask him what’s wrong, what’s happening, but you can’t. All movement and speech have been rendered impossible, due to the teacup that lay shattered on the ground, bathed in the liquid that made you like this.
It was completely normal, a routine at this point, to sit in the living room with Fyodor in front of the lit fireplace sipping tea out of teacups from his beloved collection of fine china. The tea varied – chamomile, earl gray, mint, oolong, just plain green. And the activities often varied as well. Sometimes teasing and laughing over a card game, sometimes long, difficult discussions about the future with stoic faces, and sometimes just comfortable silence. The night before you had been discussing marriage and children. But it was always just you and Fyodor with cups of tea.
This had been a night like every other, though conversation remained at a minimum. Jasmine tea as the fire roared a little hotter than usual. What differed was how the tea started to make you feel. It was slow enough that you wouldn’t push away the cup or become unable to drink the whole serving, but fast enough that once it came on, you couldn’t stop it – it was too late.
And now you lay limp in Fyodor’s arms as he laid you down on the chaise lounge you had been resting on with your cup of tea – the one had fallen to the ground once your strength had started to fade.
“W-wha-” you manage to get out, your vocal cords and lips fighting against whatever was paralyzing them.
“Shhh,” Fyodor soothes, petting your hair as he hovers over you. “This is for the good of our family, my love.”
Your slack face slightly contorts into a look of confusion as your fuzzy mind tries to make sense of his words, barely noticing the way he tugged down your pants until his fingertips circled around your clit lightly. Somehow you could feel that. You attempted to jerk away from the touch, but your body once again failed you.
“Oh, my love, don’t you remember?” he tuts before spitting on his fingers and prodding at your hole. He had little interest in foreplay right now. “Don’t you understand? How you saying you ‘didn’t want kids anymore’ was completely unacceptable.”
It suddenly starts to click, even in your fucked mind. The way Fyodor’s jaw tightened, and smile faded during your discussion last night when you admitted that you didn’t see kids in your future. You had paid little mind to his disappointed “oh”. But clearly, he hadn’t let go.
One finger pushes past your still tight ring of muscle, making you grunt. “In case you don’t, in case the drug has addled your conscience too much, I shall explain.” Another finger sinks in. “We will be having children. At least three, to be exact. You will be getting pregnant, and hopefully tonight.” His fingers pump in and out of you, faster and faster, scissoring apart to stretch you open. “Even if that means rendering you useless and unable to resist me."
Tugging his own pants down, he spits in the palm of his hand before gripping his half-hard cock, pumping it a few times. “I considered just pulling you ass up for easiest access, but I want you to see me – to watch what happens when you disobey my wishes so severely.”
Since you’re completely dead weight, Fyodor has to manually spread your legs wide in order to slot himself between them, his grip tight underneath your knees. Then his lips are on your as he leans over you, the kiss forceful since you’re unable to reciprocate – not that you would’ve anyway.
The leaky tip of his cock as he revels in your inability to fight back is proof that he’s enjoying this immensely, the sick bastard. You want to scream out, thrash against him as his length slides into your cunt in protest of how unfair this is, how he can’t just decide to get you pregnant, but you can’t. You’re completely stuck just… taking it. Until his balls are pressed all the way against your ass, the puff of hair at the base of his cock tickling against your clit.
And somehow, you can feel it on the inside. You can feel the sting and burn as he pushes in and stretches you out, but can also feel… the pleasure. Maybe it’s the way your slack jaw falls open further at his first thrust, your body twitching, but Fyodor can tell. The way your body is forcing you to feel good against your wishes.
You grunt pathetically with every single thrust, legs hanging loosely around his waist and tongue lolling out of your mouth with drool pooling out of the corner. Fyodor is going mad with how much he loves this, how quickly he’s getting off from just using you without your permission. His violet eyes shine fiercely and the sick smirk on his face only grows as he fucks you harder and harder.
"Going to look so pretty pregnant, my beautiful doll,” he coos, massaging the soft fat of your tits. “So round and so full of my babies, so swollen you can barely walk, can’t even see your feet. You’ll need your darling husband’s help to even walk down the stairs,” he babbles, clearly just talking to himself.
“Do you like it, pretty? The way I’m just using you? It turns you on, doesn’t it? You and your body are mine, you know. I own you. And I own the right to use you however I please, to make you whatever I please.”
Of course, Fyodor had always been a bit possessive, always liked to call you his, but never to this caliber. Never to the point where you thought he’d do something like this.
His thrusts get faster and faster with every sick and twisted sentence, and though your hearing was fuzzy too, the wet sounds of skin on skin echoed through the room. Too wet to only just be his precum… were you wet? From what he was doing to you?
The orange light from the roaring fireplace illuminated Fyodor’s face in the most terrifying way, highlighting his sharp features, and igniting his eyes and sweat that had begun dripping down the sides of his face.
He leans in close, whispering into your ear. “Are you ready for my seed, doll? Ready for me to cum so deep inside you your womb is forced to take all of it?”
You’re able to shake your head a bit, and Fyodor clicks his tongue.
“You’re ready because I say so.”
You can’t feel it, but by the way his eyes roll back and his hips stutter, cock throbbing inside you, you can tell he’s cumming. Filling you up with the seed he promised to get you pregnant with.
After pulling out, he kisses you deeply.
“Before we go again, I will fetch you some more tea, my love. It seems you’ve regained some ability to move, and I can’t have that.”
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cordeliawhohung · 13 days
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Hey, hi, hello!
So hear me out...
Pornstar! Gaz who's director decides it's the reader's turn to top Gaz because that's what the porn industry has been turning towards. Gaz is a little skeptical because how can his sweet girl do anything but be pliant for him? But he goes along with it anyways.
Flash forward and his body is shaking, eyes rolled back as he desperately fists the sheets until his knuckles turn pale. Reader is a better top than he thought she would be! Poor boyo is so overstimulated that he's a whimpering, crying mess and reader is just riding him without a care in the world, maybe thinking about giving him a lil prostate torture while she's at it. <3
Anyways, that's all I have. Good day.
ps!gaz masterlist [unedited because i'm tired just enjoy the horny thots]
"Beg."
All Kyle sees when his pretty brown eyes flutter open is your grin. Usually he thinks your smile is cute, but right now the only word that pops into his mind when he sees it is devilish. He would hate to admit that he underestimated your abilities when the director said you were supposed to be dominant that day, but he certainly never expected this.
Your sweet cunt sucked him in the moment you lowered yourself onto him, and you refused to let him do any of the work. Pawing his hands away from you like he was nothing more than an annoying cat, you bounced on his cock like you owned it. Owned him. Fuck, you brought him so close to heaven that he had completely forgotten the two of you were filming until he saw someone shuffling in the corner of his eye.
But now, as he lays there and stares up at you, his mind is blank. Up until now, you hadn't really spoken much. Just took the lead and rendered him a writhing, sweaty mess underneath you. It didn't help that you had stopped right as he felt he was about to come. It renders his brain completely fried. His brows pinch together as he attempts to catch his breath.
"Huh?" he pants.
Your grin only grows wider at his cute confusion, and you slowly roll your hips back and forth. It's a painful dance, the way your walls clench around him. It only leaves him wanting more, and yet instead of asking, the only thing his body is capable of giving you is a strained groan and his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
"I said beg," you repeat.
It's clear with his heaving chest and fluttering eyes that Kyle's completely useless. You've never seen him so fucked out before, and it's a masterpiece that you know you won't forget anytime soon. Still, the film is running, so you take your hands and gently slide up along his feverish skin. Goosebumps rise along his chest in wake of your fingers as your hands cup either side of his head, forcing his full attention on you (as if he could put it anywhere else).
"Do you think I let just anyone come in this pussy?" you ask. You lean forward to press a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth before nuzzling your nose into his cheek. "No, only good boys get to do that. And do you know what good boys do? They beg."
Kyle's mind finally makes sense of what you're asking of him, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you as he groans. Every muscle in his body contracts as he attempts to hold himself back, to keep himself from seeming pathetic, but you've brought him so close to the edge, tortured him for so long he's not sure he cares anymore.
"Please, doll," he says in a whisper. Your lips are so close together that you can almost feel the way the words form on his mouth.
"Can't hear you," you goad.
"Please," he tries again. "Fuck, thank you f-for makin' me feel so good. I just- please, I need more. Just a little more, please doll, I'll be good I swear- fuck."
Your chuckling cuts him off as you push yourself back. The view of the muscles tensing in his neck as he looks at you through heavy lids is nearly enough to make you fold.
"Look at you," you croon. "So lovely for me, aren't you?"
There's no time for him to respond before you're back to riding him, hips slamming against his with such fervor it steals his breath away. Kyle's head wrenches back into the mattress as his fingers nearly tear holes in the sheets. The only thing he can mutter between breaths is the phrase thank you over and over and over again.
"Good boy."
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lees-chaotic-brain · 7 months
Text
For You (Gojo x Reader)
What if you were sealed instead of Gojo?
CW: Shibuya Incident spoilers, angst, not canonically accurate (just roll with it for the plot it doesn't have to make complete sense), swearing, so much angst
Part Two | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation
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Gojo knew that you were strong. He wouldn't have fallen in love with you out of fear if he didn't trust completely in your ability to return to him.
But that was before.
Before the shell of someone the two of you once knew and loved appeared.
Before he allowed himself to be distracted for a split second.
Before you noticed what was happening and shoved him out of the way.
Before you stood in front of him, hands bound behind your back, body rendered immobile.
"Well, this is an interesting development."
Not-Suguru clapped his hands together.
"Oh well, this will do too. Actually, we just managed to nab the strongest's only weakness: his love."
"Who are you?"
You snarl, glaring at your former friend.
"Why, I'm Geto Suguru. Don't you remember me? I'm wounded."
"Bull. Shit."
All Gojo can do is stare blankly at you, and pray that this isn't happening. That one of his worst nightmares isn't playing out in front of him.
"I know damn well that Suguru would never go out of his way to hurt us. He may have hated non-sorcerers, but even at the end he held no hostility towards us. So I'll ask you again. Who are you?"
"Satoru."
Gojo jumped a little, but quickly smoothed his expression over as you used one of your techniques to communicate telepathically with him.
"You need to run."
No! He wanted to scream. There has to be another option.
You continue taunting and yelling at the creature inhabiting your friend's body, and Gojo realizes that you are desperately stalling for time.
"Listen, I know you don't want to. But right now, you can't do anything for me without putting yourself in serious danger. I'm expendable."
Not to him, you aren't. For you, he would tear apart the world with his bare hands. For you, there wasn't a risk he wouldn't take. He has to find a way out of this. For you. Because there was no world where you were fucking expendable to him.
"You need to run! Now! I don't know how much time you have, but I know you can make it outside. You are the strongest after all. Run. Regroup with the others."
He knows that what you are saying makes logical sense, but he still can't wrap his mind around it.
Then you spoke again.
"No one should be allowed to take youth away from young people. That's what we agreed, right? So go. Do it for our kids. Protect their youth. For them. For our dream. For me."
Quietly, oh so quietly, he says something.
"I'm scared."
He admits, so quiet you can scarcely hear him.
"I'm not."
Your tone is gentle and loving.
"You aren't abandoning me forever. This is only temporary. I know that no matter what happens, you will get me out of here. Not because you're the strongest or anything. Because you love me, and I love you. And nothing can keep us apart, 'kay?"
Moving as much as your restraints would allow you, you turn your head the tiniest bit so you can look at him.
"Go. Go save our kids. I believe in you. I'll see you soon my love."
Holding back tears, Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive did the unthinkable.
Turning away from you and speeding up and out of the train station was the hardest thing he ever did, and will ever do.
But he did it.
For your many (unofficially) adopted children.
For your shared dream.
For you.
Always for you.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
This physically pained me to write, but it was taking up WAY too much of my brain space lol. Let me know what you think, and feel free to send in any requests you have!
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gacha-incels · 3 months
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“Arknights/Limbus Company/etc is obviously very political, why are these incels playing it?” Here’s a longer answer if you’re interested.
If you haven’t been watching gacha communities for the past decade this might be confusing to you, but these guys see the games as just apolitical stories with a majority or all-female cast being there to titillate the male viewer. They are for his consumption. It’s why in both eastern and western “gacha game” communities you can see them talking about how these games are better for having “beautiful” anime women versus the hideous hags of western media. I’ve seen so many people asking “how are incels playing a game with so many strong female characters?” They see them not as “strong female” characters but rather “eyecandy made for me”. tbh when it comes down to it I wouldn’t call any of the designs in these games absolutely groundbreaking for the anime genre they’re aiming for. Arknights even follows the standard “fully animal faced-guy” and the female equivalent “small featured anime animal girl with some fur”. This doesn’t mean the designs are bad or you’re foolish for enjoying them of course, there are a lot of fun ones. Anyway, you can see the same sentiment in the majority of anime communities as well. Like do you think that stereotype of an anime nerd who “loves 2D women but hates 3D women” means he’s a feminist because the 2D girl is still female?
To be frank, after some of the actions taken by these companies (ex. the firing of women for posting anything vaguely feminist) can you honestly say an “apolitical game with anime babes” is not the way the games are often enjoyed? The company Yostar who publishes Arknights in Korea literally wrote a statement saying the game is apolitical and calling feminism a dividing force. If the publisher can say something so flippantly like this just to appease their incel fanbase, how can the game be making any meaningful, hardline progressive political statements? I am of course not saying this renders any positive message you get from these games moot nor am I saying it’s impossible for the writers to be passionate about their work, I’m just relaying the thoughts of the incels/“gacha gamers” playing them because there seems to be confusion. What I’m writing here doesn’t mean the worst interpretation of these games are their defining interpretations. I’m trying to explain how the games that many people see as being antithetical to incel beliefs can have these same men as high-spending fans.
Gacha games are unique in the world of consumer media in their extremely close and constant relationship with the consumer. You have to not only love each character’s design (and sometimes story) but also be willing to drop serious gambling money to “buy” them every single month. It’s like merchandizing on steroids. I think the term “whale” has been watered down since younger kids have started playing, but these people spend thousands per patch. Over the years I’ve heard about multiple games like this being sustained by just a couple of high spenders. In 2018 there was even a western news article about a man who had spent $70k+ on FGO. The publisher can’t rock the boat too much to displease the consumer too many times without risking EoS. Every character design and story of a gacha game is affected by this FIRST while any artistic intent comes second.
A Korean woman who had lost her job due to similar “feminist hunting” tactics wrote an article describing the way these incel men think. I posted it here and part of it summarized: the men that play these games see themselves as buying and “owning” the female characters in gacha games, who are often dressed and presented to them in a highly sexualized manner and will obey their commands. In the same way they “own” these 2D women, they also want to own the thoughts of the real live female illustrators who work on the games. Therefore, if these women have expressed ideas that the male gamers find upsetting, they will be angry she doesn’t conform to what they want like the servile 2D girl and do everything to get her fired (this is where she mentions Limbus Company as the most recent example of this happening).
You can argue for some of these games, maybe the girls aren’t dressed super provocatively and give (you) shit instead of being a simpering doll, but in the end it’s not like they can physically walk away or stop speaking to you. For the “waifu” hunter guy it’s just a different type of anime girl to collect.
The stories in these games are generally not what gets targeted as much by incels. In gacha “gamer” communities, especially the Korean incel ones, their main concerns are: how revealing are the summer swimsuits? How many women work for the company designing characters? and related, Are the male characters designed for women or for men and do they “look gay”? If you search through this blog, you can see them directly speaking about these things in regards to their hatred of Genshin Impact and Star Rail. All of these have also been encapsulated in the original Limbus Company incel attack: they hated that the summer female character looked more “clothed” (wearing a skintight suit instead of a bikini) than the male summer character. They thought the collar necklace and open shirt on the male summer character meant he was “a slave” for the female viewers, so obviously it was designed by a woman. When they learned a man designed and illustrated those characters, they searched to find a female illustrator who worked in the game and went after her instead. These guys WERE FANS that played the game beforehand and didn’t think anything in the story was upsetting enough to attack the company about. They were familiar enough with the works of Project Moon to name their little group after an antagonizing force in one of PM’s previous (non-gacha) videogames. And Project Moon saw them as such a significant part of their gacha fanbase that they wrote an immediate apology and fired the artist. How do these actions in reality inform their fiction and the interpretation of it? Getting this out of the way, they were NOT in any danger, the “fans” were not clamoring to get in their offices or camping outside, they were let in and calmly had a meeting with some employees at the office. You can still find photos of them goofing around, the ridiculous write up they brought with them and a transcript of the conversation. This was not a “guy shows up at Mihoyo’s offices with a knife” situation. In the end it was a financial and moral loss for the studio with many new and longtime fans completely dropping the games and Limbus Company taking one of the biggest financial and D/MAU drops for a gacha I’ve ever seen. You can read more regarding the ramifications of this here, this post is already pretty long for this website anyway.
Again I’m not writing this to shame anyone who plays these games, loves their characters or enjoys their stories. I don’t really care either way, and I obviously find the genre interesting or else I wouldn’t have been monitoring it and the fans for a decade. I just want to shine a light on the thoughts of the more “incel” gamers that play some of these games since I have seen a lot of genuine confusion as to why they would play them. In the future my aim is to write a more in-depth post about these issues, their history and the way antifeminists think.
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bleuu-moon · 3 months
Text
thinking about sleazy cop!price who abuses his power to pull you over, just so he can have a feel of you <3
he recognises your car the minute it passes him on the road back into town, zooming past him doing something minor like five miles per hour over the limit. usually he’d turn a blind eye to it, but it’s been a slow night, hardly anything to get johns adrenaline going.
so he pulls out of his spot beside the side of the road, doing a u-turn, catching up behind you. before switching on his red and blues, and his siren, signalling you to pull over. almost instantly you comply, pulling to the side, not to his surprise of course, he already knows how pretty and compliant of the law you are — his two favourite things.
your window is already down by the time he reaches the drivers side, a flashlight in his hand, shining it in to see your pleading, worried eyes peering up at a him. fuck, he swears his cock twitches just at that. but, then you speak, all innocent and coy.
“is there a problem, officer?”
officer. to him, it’s like liquid gold coming from those lips of yours. he does consider just letting you off with a brief warning, but it’s a small town and he doesn’t miss the way you hold his gaze from across the bar, and he certainly doesn’t ignore the rumours that the local barmaid has a little crush on the local chief.
“step out the car for me, please” his tone comes out a little sterner than he wanted it to. but it makes you resist any hesitation hearing the seriousness in his voice. he steps aside, allowing you to climb out and become face to face with him.
“chief, have i—”
“come with me,” he gently grabs you by the elbow, leading you to his car behind yours, placing you right infront of it.
“i’m not entirely sure why this is necess—”
“sh,” he interrupts, his grip leaving your arm as he moves behind you. you feel his mouth brush against your ear, “you got anythin’ on you that can harm me?”
his voice is low and hoarse, vibrating against the skin of your ear, and it makes the hairs stand up on your neck. you shake your head cautiously, still baffled by whatever has gotten you in a policeman’s custody.
“good.”
instantly, his hand finds the back of your head, pressuring your front half down, your cheek pressed to the bonnet of his marked vehicle, rendering you speechless. however, you let him move you freely. his boot kicks out your feet, spreading your legs apart, before he’s grabbing your hands and placing them on the cars surface either side of your head.
he presses himself against you, straight away noticing the firmness of something against your ass. “you know, there’s never any reason to speed,” he grips against your hips, patting up and down against your clothing.
“its dangerous. for everyone else…more so yourself,” he shifts, beginning to pat down at your thighs, giving the area near the side of your ass a firm squeeze. “and i’d hate to see somethin happen to you, love.”
he strokes and squeezes up and down the same areas more than once, whilst you’re lay there feeling helpless. he knows he should be feeling guilty, using his position of power to fulfill a small fraction of his fantasy, but he doesn’t. it only makes his cock ache harder.
“you gonna do it again?”
he presses himself against you again, this time leaning over you, his hands right beside yours on the bonnet. his head dipped towards the side of your face that’s visible. you slightly shake your head.
“words, girl. use ‘em.”
“n-no. i won’t do it again, chief.”
“good.”
there’s a beat of silence. you, lay confused at the speeding accusation and, how this interaction has somehow filled you with a feeling of arousal. and john, who’s just bathing in the moment of being stuck to you and the way you fit so well underneath him.
“you’re free to go,” he rips through the quiet, pulling himself off you and stepping towards his drivers side, leaving you to peel yourself off the hood, “but next time, i wont be so lenient.”
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jq37 · 4 days
Text
Your sister who you love so much (even though you’ve never shown it) asks you to be her sister again, her true sister, in deed not just in name. And yes, of course that’s what you want. That’s what you’ve always wanted and now that she’s shattered your defenses and destroyed the ones who would pit you against each other and died right before your eyes, how could you refuse? How could your answer be anything but yes?
So you go home with her, not the ruins of your perfectly posh prison, but a new home which provides love and care and bunk beds and it’s so so nice. Ridiculously nice. Sickeningly nice. And a small, sick part of you almost misses your old home (if you can even call it a home) because yes, it was cruel and awful and you hated every second of it but you knew where you fit. You knew what your role was. You don’t fit in here. Everyone accepts you because they’re all so nice, but they don’t know how to volley back your sharp words or find a hidden, “I love you” within an offhanded insult. 
And then your sister leaves to save the world again because that’s who she is. She’s the kind of person who goes out to save the world with her friends when she’s needed and you’re not. You’re not, not, not. Not on any count. You don’t save things, you destroy them. And friends? You have to allow yourself to be vulnerable for friends so of course that’s out. Your sister is 16 and she’s out saving the world for the third time and you, fully grown at 18, are a wanted criminal who hasn’t even properly graduated from high school. You can’t stop thinking about it and, without your sister and her friends occupying the house as a buffer, the ones who are left try to get you to talk about it so you make a rash decision, as you are wont to do. You leave, like a thief in the night. You can make your own way. You can. You’ll prove it.
You find a shitty apartment and pay for it with the ill-gotten spoils from one of your many exploits. You could probably pawn some treasure for more luxurious  accommodations–there is that chest of rubies just lying around–but you don’t. That’s not what you deserve. And what if your sister needs help later? You don’t have access to your parental funds anymore which means she doesn’t either. You know she won’t ask anyone for help–you wouldn’t. But someone has to look after her. You’re an abjuration wizard. You protect people. You protect her. No, that’s a lie. But you want to make it not a lie. You want to start now.
If you’re saving the rubies then you need a source of income. You narrow down your least villainous talents to try and find a suitable job and hit on teacher. You’re good at magic, right? So how hard can teaching it be? Hopefully not as hard as securing the job, which proves trickier than expected because, oh right, you’re a wanted criminal who hasn’t graduated high school. But you dip into your villainous talents once more and tell yourself it’s for a good cause. You secure the job. You’re doing it. You’re making your own way. 
You want to text your sister to see if she’s doing alright but you don’t want to intrude and you don’t want to answer any questions about what you’ve been doing because then either you’ll have to lie or explain that you’ve left again, right after you promised you’d be there. Both options make your heart ache, especially since it’s her birthday. So you wait until the house is empty (mostly empty–you’re never really alone in a haunted house) and enter the room you and your sister shared for too brief a time. You paint her walls with carefully rendered runes, filled with all your abjuration magic and stamped with your arcane mark. It’s a possessive bit of spellcraft. A selfish claiming of a climactic kill. You mean to make a different kind of claim. You are claiming your sister, as she asked you to months ago. You are telling the world that she will not be fucked with while you live. Your rooms were so close before. You could hear her. You knew every night she went to bed in the grips of a panic attack with no one to console her. She won’t have to feel unsafe in her own room again. You can make sure of that at least. 
The sun rises one morning and you know that means your sister is alive and well and coming home. You teleport to Falinel to make sure she returns to her favorite dessert. It’s worth the spell slot and the chance of being recognized. The tower where they kept you is long destroyed and you know that this time, if you were ever captured or even killed, rescue wouldn’t be measured in a matter of months. It would be days. Hours even if your clever sister and her powerful divination magic put things together faster. The thought fills you with more emotion than you know what to do with. You leave a note. “I love you,” you think. “Enjoy the nemesis ward,” you write. 
Practicing magic, as it turns out, is a very different skill than teaching magic. The children are loud and obnoxious and you don’t quite realize that maybe your expectations are too high between the hothouse you grew up in and your sister being the world’s greatest diviner, fullstop. You know you can always go back to the manor, but that somehow makes it easier to stick it out. You’ve always been taught that pressure provides the best results but there’s something about the security of a safety net that makes everything a bit more bearable. And so what if you have to take a second job involving a light criminal element. You’re only smuggling–that’s barely even a real crime.
Your sister who has saved the world thrice now, texts you and she wants help. She is looking to you for help. And you do your best to oblige. You offer your knowledge, you offer your rubies, you invite her over again and again. She sends you a text and deletes it. You’re not the diviner in the family but you drain your spell slots scrying for information you already know. Information that you'll hear from her own lips in just a few hours. “I love you.”
She finally visits and you’re not unaware of the state of your apartment. You know you’ve been too exhausted for an Unseen Servant or even a round of Prestidigitations but you know that your sister has seen your mind and there’s nothing messier about you than that. She teases you and you tease her back. She’s the only one who understands how to deliver a complement with a backhand so you can receive it without your skin crawling. The only one who knows how much tartness you need with your sweetness. 
Later, she visits again. She sits in your filthy apartment and you watch trash TV and it’s the highlight of your week. Your month even. That should feel pathetic but, somehow it doesn’t. You want to tell her. She deserves to hear it from time to time without having to filter out the layers of prickliness that you add as second nature, a layer of armor as ever present as your abjurer’s ward. You may not be able to handle naked sentiment but she can. You’ve seen her with her friends. How affectionate they are. You’ve always been taught that loose lips sink ships but you have experience with ship sinking and this prospect fills you with much less dread. You tell her and it’s awkward and fumbling but you manage. Maybe loving people isn’t so different from loving cats.
You have a new job which is perfect because the school year is almost over and, blackmail or no, you aren’t sure how many times you’ll be able to get away with casting Sleep on your class to give yourself a break. Honestly, you should have applied for jobs in Leviathan from the start. Why would pirates care about your sketchy history and lack of credentials? You could teleport yourself to Leviathan every day but that would be a waste of a spell slot when the door to Leviathan is right there in the manor (and if your sister happens to be there too then hey, happy coincidence). While you’re there, you might as well do your laundry. And stay for dinner from time to time. And spend time with your sister in your her room where your runes stand sentinel and your old bunk lays untouched. You don’t think you’re staring but later, as you go to grab a snack from the kitchen your sister throws you a casual, over the shoulder glance. 
“You can just move back in, if you want.”
And would it really be that easy? Just like that? After a year of trying to make a point or a plan or a better version of yourself or whatever? Just like that? 
You remember a year ago. You and your sister and words that will be burned into your mind forever. 
“Despite the fact that you have not earned it, I do love you.”
Just like that. 
You say yes. You stay. 
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Good Enough: Dad!Jake Sully
Avatar Masterlist 
word count: 1k
description: Once your father’s world, you start acting out when he starts ignoring you and only your father can figure out what is going on
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Jake and Neytiri were at loss, especially Jake he didn't understand what was going on with you lately and why you were acting out so much.  All you ever did anymore was talk back and argue with them, and they couldn't figure out why, usually Lo'ak was the problem child, not you. Today was the final straw when you snuck out to join the war party after Jake specifically told you to stay behind and watch Tuk and help with the wounded, something you clearly didn't agree with.
"Jesus, I let you two geniuses fly a mission and you disobey direct orders," he sighed. "Not to mention you almost got your sister killed!" He said to Neteyam and Lo'ak who you felt bad for, your dad was always so hard on them.
"I came on my own." You said rolling your eyes and making Jake whip his head in your direction.
"What did you say?" He asked.
"I said I.came.on.my.own. and that these two tried to get me to return home and I didn't listen to them, so if it's anyone's fault, it's mine." You said looking in dead in the eye as Jake was rendered speechless at you.
"I'll deal with you later." He said tiredly running a hand down his face.
"Yeah, it's always later with you." You mumbled as you left the tent and went to go see your grandmother so she could look at you.
After getting looked at by your grandma, you headed back to your tent hoping to get some sleep, making sure to avoid your father and how much he couldn't see how much you were hurting and that you were acting out to get his attention. You had been laying there silently crying when you heard your parents talking, probably assuming you were asleep.
"I don't know what I'm gonna do with her, I can't keep doing this." Your father said.
"Jake she's just going through something...l can try and talk to her." Your mother offered.
"I know she is....but why can't she be more like Neteyam or Kiri, you know?" He said breaking your heart as you realized you were never gonna be good enough for him.
"Ma Jake, don't talk like that...she is perfect just the way she is, sure her attitude could use some fixing but I still love her as the day she was born and so should you." Your mother said to him but it was too late as you knew how he truly felt.
You waited until everyone was asleep and decided to go for a night-time flight to clear your head and think about everything. You walked over to your Ikran and climbed on top of her before taking off.  After flying for a bit, you landed in a pasture and just relaxed trying to calm your thoughts wondering if one day you would be good enough for your father.
Jake was restless that night, hating that yours and his relationship were so strained, there used to be a day when you weren't seen without him and now you were practically strangers. He got up and went to check on you when he saw your tent empty making him worry as you and ikran were gone. He climbed on top of his and circled around looking for you or Ikran until he saw you both which he let out a sigh of relief.
"If you have come to yell at me or lecture me more, please go." You said not even looking at him which broke his heart.
"I haven't. Baby girl I just wanna figure out what's been going on with us lately?" He said taking a seat next to you.
"Why? It's not actually like you care." You said turning away from him and making him frown at your words.
"Hey talk to me. Where is this coming from?" He asked gently and even more worried.
"I heard what you said to mom about how you wish I was more like Kiri or Neteyam..Do you realize I've been acting out to get your attention because I don't feel good enough for you! You the one who trained me and yet you don't let me go out on missions but you'll tell Lo'ak of all people?? How am I supposed to feel when I'm told to sit here and take care of others when I know I could be out there helping you and mom?  You don't talk to me or have any time for me and I hate that so much, it's always later baby girl, or not now baby girl. I miss our relationship but it doesn't seem like you do." You said breaking down into tears as Jake sat there in shock at your words before moving towards you and gathering in his arms.
Jake held you in his arms gently rocking you as he tried to calm you down while he also processed your words, he never meant to make you feel that way, that you weren't good enough for him because you were if any of his children were a carbon copy of him, it was you. Once your breathing was back to normal he decided to speak.
"You are good enough for me more than...I never meant to make you feel like you weren't and I'm sorry that I did...when I have to stay back here with your sister and the others it's not because I don't believe in your abilities as a warrior, trust me I do...it's because I know that if something was to happen, they would have you to protect and defend them...I'm sorry I made you think I was doubting you or didn't believe in you because I do so much. I didn't realize that I had gotten so wrapped in the war party stuff and your brothers that I ignored you, it was never my intention. I hope you can forgive me, baby girl." He said.
"As long as you can forgive me for the way I've been acting." You said looking at him.
"Of course, what do you say tomorrow we spend the day together like we used to do?" He offered you.
"I would love that. I love you, dad." You said to him.
"I love you too baby girl." He said pressing a kiss to your forehead.
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fairyhaos · 1 year
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how seventeen act with their clingy s/o
requested by @cinnamoroxie: aaaa your writing is so cute <33 what ab svt w a pretty clingy / touchy reader? take care of yourself lovie and ty for writing this if u do!! 💓💓
notes: i hope you enjoy!
masterlist
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seungcheol:
this man is the father of 12 children and a dog. do you think he'd hate clingy people???? loves it when you randomly reach over to take his hand, or play with his hair, or poke his cheeks. is totally okay with you needing to be squished up against him whenever you're in the same space, bc tbh he really wants that too
jeonghan:
pretends to hate it whenever you practically fall on top of him whenever you see him, but wraps his arms around you so tightly so you can't move away. has a hairband permanently on his wrist, partly so he can tie his hair and partly so you can fiddle with something while his hand is in the space between you. his favourite act of clinginess is when you put his head into your lap and pet his hair
joshua:
have you seen this man? he adores affection, but also becomes so awkward in the face of it. basically shuts down if you kiss his cheek more than 5 times in ten minutes. lets out those beautiful laughs whenever you basically tackle hug him every time your eyes meet. would let you put the world on pause to hug him even if the world was trying to end all around you
junhui:
clingy back with you. you have competitions w him about who is more clingy in your relationship. junhui once spent the entire day hanging like a baby bear draped over your back, and you in turn spent the next day Refusing to let go of your arm linked in his. he starts fake-crying if you're in the same room as him for more than five seconds and yet Have Not come over to immediately crush him in a hug
hoshi:
either cannot get enough of it or is a blushing mess the entire time. you pecked him on the lips one time while he was with the rest of the 96z and he went such a bright pink that it was all they talked about for a year. he pouts The Most if you suddenly let go of his hand while you're walking, but is rendered flusteredly silent if you bend down to kiss his knuckles on a whim
wonwoo:
doesn't mind it, as long as it's not too public. however, he still absolutely loves how your touchiness means that your hand is intertwined with his basically 24/7. will politely tell you if it gets too much, but you being so open with your affection helps him relax too and has definitely been the one to lie in your lap a few times when he's had a tiring day
woozi:
he's resigned himself to essentially forever being your hug toy. used to dislike it if you were attached to him for a little too long, but now he visibly pouts if you're not huddled up next to him on the couch while you're together. goes rlly red if your clinginess manifests itself in kisses, and can barely talk for a minute straight afterwards
minghao:
if you flop into his lap the minute you see him, he'll look down at you in mild panic bc he thinks that something terrible has happened to you to make you clingy. soon gets used to it tho and realises it's just your love language, and is way more relaxed when you unexpectedly put your head in his lap. lets you play with his fingers. and his rings. and his nail polish, which keeps getting chipped bc of you
mingyu:
have you seen this man's arms? i'm betting he gives the best hugs. probably works out for that exact reason. if you suddenly hug him then he's not letting go for at least half an hour. looks like a kicked puppy if you try to leave his arms even if "mingyu seriously i need to pee so badly let me go—" "no, you initiated this, you're not escaping so soon"
dokyeom:
it never even occurs to him that your behaviour could be classified as 'clingy' because he. he is the exact same as you. loves to boop your nose and will giggle so hard if you do it back to him. the idea of you two Not being touching in some way is a concept that just doesn't exist. jeonghan jokes you must have a string connecting you two or something bc you're always together
seungkwan:
he's a hyper person, can barely sit still due to his urge to kick hoshi or argue with dino. however, if you're next to him and link an arm with his or lay your head on his shoulder, he's instantly ceasing his frantic bouncing so you can comfortably touch him. if he gets too worked up tho, then he'll grab your hand instead n drag you around while telling everyone off bc even when mad he'll let you touch him for however long you need
vernon:
totally cool with it. you wanna tug on the hair on the back of his neck while you're bored? he'll tilt his head downwards slightly to give you better access. if you're wearing face paint or makeup tho, pls don't lean your head on him bc he'll get yelled at by seungkwan yet again if he goes to the guy for help in removing makeup stains from his clothes
chan:
loves when your clinginess turns into you just babying him. pinch his cheeks, play with his hair, coo all over him and he's grinning so hard and his serotonin levels are through the roof. vv chill when it comes to your affection, goes about his day super normally even if you're basically hanging off his back like a koala
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hilsoncrater · 5 months
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the levels of repression in both house and wilson…yet they are opposite of one another. house routinely makes gay innuendos (whether sexual and/or romantic) towards wilson, yet wilson doesn’t take him serious at all.
and this constant rejection from wilson is both a buoy as well as a giant wall. house pushes their relationship time and time again. wilson refuses to let the nature of it change. house brings up a romantic getaway, wilson shoots him down. house sabotages wilson moving out, wilson doesn’t stay. house allows himself to be The Other Woman regardless of how bonnie or wilson’s other ex-wives feel. in a way, it boosts his ego and makes him feel special. he is allowed to have wilson in this way.
amber is an extension of house; she is house in a woman’s body. house can accept it because he has expressed before that if wilson were a woman, they would’ve been married already. so why can’t the same be true for wilson? let him find a woman version of house. house loves wilson so much that he goes into a risky surgery to try and save amber. this is his Place simply because wilson and him cannot escape the confines of compulsive heterosexuality.
and it is compulsive. wilson never feels good enough or secure enough in a relationship outside of his and house’s. he cheats, he lies, he manipulates. all because at his core, wilson’s insecurities render him into a selfish person. he has affairs and he prioritizes house over his wives, because he doesn’t feel like his own wants/needs are met by his wives. or that they should/deserve to be met. he doesn’t know how to communicate them!! he maybe even feels guilty for having them. because even to house, he communicates these desires in metaphors or pranks or whatever other indirect way he sees fit. but the difference between house and his wives is that wilson has no tangible, legal sense of obligation to house. if house doesn’t meet his expressed needs, fuck him!! they don’t owe anything to each other!! the rejection will sting less.
wilson chases women on such a compulsive level that it’s nearly a reaction to whatever house has done. it’s affair after affair. wilson moves in with his patient during the time house is on a ketamine treatment. house, his patient who seemingly no longer needs vicodin. no longer needs him. if wilson is no longer needed, he parasites to the next host. why? because he doesn’t know who he is on his own. why? because he has trouble expressing his own core needs as a person. and as a result, these core (repressed) needs seep out sideways.
so why threaten this sense of safety he gets with keeping house at a platonic level? if they were to entangle into a relationship, wilson would be wrapped under an Obligation Gauze. there is a fear he’d lose house because, historically, all of his relationships end in loss. because, historically, he cannot express his needs to his partners due to his fear of rejection.
and then wilson becomes terminal. and then death becomes bigger than an anxious fear of loss/rejection.
“i need you to tell me that you love me.”
wilson, my brother in christ. house cannot say those words to you because for all the years you’ve known him, you’ve denied him it. the only way house can tell you that he loves you is by burning his home down and faking his death. he is nothing without you. you know it as well as he does. these things remain unspoken because that is the way you’ve molded the relationship to be.
wilson has house on a leash. house runs as far out as possible until the leash yanks him back. when wilson finally trusts house enough to let him go off-leash, house is too conditioned to act as expected.
and this conditioning in house is not just wilson’s doing. it’s primarily house’s own doing. his own self-loathing chains him to wilson’s side. as an addict, yes, but also as a support system. house hates himself so viscerally that it affects every interpersonal relationship he has, including with wilson. but wilson never, ever leaves no matter how bad it gets.
also. who else other than wilson gives him a sense of bodily autonomy? not stacy, not cuddy, not his fellows. wilson doesn’t pity him. wilson enables him. wilson lies for him. house will selfishly keep wilson forever because wilson is all he reliably has.
so house can push and prod wilson into gay romantic/sexual innuendos, but when wilson yanks that leash, he’ll drop it. it’s a buoy for reality checking where he is with wilson. it’s a giant wall for enabling his self-hatred thought process that even his boy best friend has limitations to his love for him (or at least what is acceptable). addict line of thinking.
they both eat each other up like an ouroboros. where does wilson’s repression end and house’s begin?
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gtgbabie0 · 1 year
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Hello!! I requested the First Kiss story and I cannot emphasize how much I absolutely loved it 😭♡ It was so soft and fluffy omg </3
Another idea I had was Leon catching you wearing one of his clothes for the first time and he thinks it fits you perfectly even tho it's oversized or something like that :00
Tysm and have a good day/night!! <33
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Is that mine?
{Leon’s first time seeing you wearing his clothes}
SOBBING!! thank you for requesting again my love!! 💕💕
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Leon Kennedy doesn’t hate without reason, and a good reason at that, it’s safe to say that he hates working late, and he hates being away from you, but when he walks into the house to be met with you in a pair of shorts and one of his shirts, well, he can practically feel the hatred leave his body.
It might just be his new favourite sight, the way his shirt hangs on against your body, how the fabric drapes off your shoulder ever so slightly, he thinks he might just lose it completely.
“You’re finally home!” Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you pull him into you, his head resting against the crook of your neck.
It’s such a small thing, but the thought of you picking out one of his shirts and putting it on just makes something inside him tingle, and it renders him completely speechless.
“I cooked up some dinner, there’s leftovers in the fridge whenever you’re ready” You let him know with the sweetest tone he’s ever heard and surely you’ve got to know what you’re doing.
Your hands gently cup his face and your thumb graze against his cheek, and hum softly at the feeling of his slight stubble, and before you can skip off into the kitchen, his hands grab for your hips pulling you back into his arms.
“Is that mine?” A stupid question, he obviously knows it’s his, it’s so very clearly his.
You look up at him, “Oh, yeah I missed you today so I just...” You trail off your hands motioning to his shirt you’re wearing, and he can’t help the smirk that splays across his lips.
His hands grasp at your sides, dipping under the shirt as he pulls you impossibly closer, and his heart skips a beat at the idea of you missing him, rummaging through his draws for a shirt, his shirt.
You giggle as his hands run over your belly then to your back, gentle fingers grazing along your naked skin, as he leaves soft kisses against your jaw down to your neck.
“You should’ve called me sweetness, I would’ve left work early” he whispers into your neck, god he’d missed you so much.
Your fingers weave through his hair as he continues to pepper your soft skin with his warm kisses, “I can’t do that Leon, your work is important” you tell him feeling a little breathless at his loving actions.
“Not as important as you are angel” You go giddy at his words.
His eyes flicker over your body for the fifth time and there’s an odd sense of pride that settles in his chest, you’re wearing his shirt, and he just can’t seem to shake the feeling, and maybe that’s why his hands are still roaming your body.
“You look so fucking good in my clothes, you should wear them more often” he smiles as he nuzzles further into your neck, and you chuckle hearing his stomach grumble in protest, he was hungry.
You try to push away from him but it’s pointless as he just holds you tighter, “Come on, you need to eat baby” you giggle as you guide him to the kitchen with him practically glued to your side.
He stands behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder whilst you dish up his dinner, “Leon, what’s going on you with?” You chuckle as his lips trail down your neck lingering on the sensitive parts, and you squirm at the soft feeling.
“Nothings wrong, I just wanna be close” he mumbles against your skin, “I like it when you wear my clothes” he adds, just above a whisper.
You giggle as you awkwardly move to the table to set his plate down, “Yeah I gathered that baby” you smile as he sits down on a chair, and before you even have time to turn around to get him a drink his hands are already grasping at your hips.
“Come sit” he says patting his thigh with a hopeful look in his eyes, “We didn’t get to have dinner together” he looks up at you with a smile and you don’t miss the almost playful look that flashes through his eyes.
“I’m not sitting on your lap while you eat Leon” you chuckle feeling a little bad at the way his shoulders drop ever so slightly, “I’ll sit next to you, just let me get you a drink,” you tell him, brushing his fringe from his eyes and he nods with a grateful smile.
You get him a drink before taking a seat next to him and his hand immediately rests on your thigh as if out of instinct, “You already ate right?” He asks, and you nod with a smile watching as he eats, and you both sit there talking about your days, with his hand soothing against your thigh, and he doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, you take a mental note to wear his shirts more often.
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