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#whoops went off in the tags again
falloutgirlboy · 5 months
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i need to stop talking about five nights at freddys
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holler-witch-queen · 2 years
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Me sneaking nicotine pouches every time my mom runs an errand? Unfortunately
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ja3hwa · 3 months
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♡ 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐭.𝟏 | 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡
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【Synopsis】 : He couldn't help but think such filth when you were innocently fast asleep only merely a couple of feet away from him.
『Word count』 :  1.12k
-> Genre: Pure smut. Little plot. DBF.
Pairing: Dilf!Hongjoong x Park!Reader [Hwa's Daughter]
[Warnings] : Slightly Noncon (Reader is asleep at first). Masturbation. Cum play. Thoughts and fantasies. Pet names. Sir kinkish. Hongjoong is nasty. Also, Joong is like in his late 30s and tatted while the reader is only 23. Whoops.
Note: No one asked for this, but for some reason, I was hooked on the thought of the Dad's best friend trope, and Hongjoong is really coming for my heart. So, It was a perfect match in my eyes.
Masterlist | Navigation | Buy Me A Ko-Fi
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You didn't know what came over yourself. It felt like the heating was turned up tenfold. Your nose scrunched as you began to move more and more in your sleep. Hongjoong couldn’t help but watch your discomfort in curiosity. Were you having a nightmare? No, you weren’t one to have them. But then again, maybe you just didn’t tell anyone. And being on a family trip in the middle of nowhere would cause distress.
Maybe I should wake her?… He thought, now sitting fully up on the pull-out couch bed. You were no longer tucked under the big fluffy covers on the single bed. No, you had thrown them off moments ago, revealing your mid-drift slightly from your short sleep top and the fact you weren't wearing any pants. God, you looked so cute in your black frilly panties…No, he couldn’t think of such a thing. Not when you were his best friend's daughter. 
But oh how you looked delicious. When he met Seonghwa, he had no clue he had a daughter, let alone one that was twenty-two. And when he agreed to go on this camping trip─more like staying in this large cabin on Seonghwa family’s land─he didn’t expect to see you tag along. You were stunning the moment he saw you hop out of your car. You were everything he would want in a woman and after spending hours of the day chatting and getting to know you he knew he was fucked. Anyone outside your conversations, like Seonghwa or his other friends and their kids, would see it as some harmless banter. But in reality, Hongjoong was shamelessly flirting. He didn’t mean it at first, but it just kept going, and you kept egging him on. So what was he supposed to do?
Since there were quite a lot of people that had come on the getaway, rooms were tight. And you had begged your father not to let you sleep in the rooms where the kids were cause you were certain one of San’s boys wanted more than innocent late-night chats… He ended up putting you in the same small study-turned-bedroom where there was a single bed and a double pull-out with Hongjoong. He originally offered to take the single, but you argued, saying his ‘old man back’ wouldn’t like it. He let you take it after that comment.
“J-joong…” you mumbled, almost inaudible. The older man's eyes snapped to your parted lips in a millisecond. Did you just say his name? No, he was definitely hearing things. “Joong, please.”
No, he definitely heard you that time. Your little panting, knitted brow, and soft moans. You weren’t having a nightmare. You were having a sex dream. And it was about him. God, did he wake up in another universe where everything went his way?! He ruffled his hair before rubbing his face in disbelief. He needed to hear you again, but as he took in your figure, he noticed you were now biting your lip, and your hips were jerking slowly. The pillow you were cuddling was tightly pressed up against your covered cunt in between your legs, and every little movement of your hips sent a shock of pleasure through your body.
You were humping your pillow at the thought of them while fast asleep.
He knew it was bad, but as his cock twitched for the millionth time he knew he needed to give himself some relief. And besides, you were sleeping, so you wouldn’t catch him only a couple of feet away from you, fucking his fists in time with your thrusts as your little moans carried out the nastiest fantasies his mind could conjure.... Right?
The thought of you laying out on his bed back at his penthouse. You're soaking on complete display as you beg him to hurry and touch you. He questions if you are a virgin, and if you were would you let him fuck you raw? Just the thought of slipping inside your tight virgin pussy while you tear up at his girth. He squeezed his cock tighter, staring at you intensely, he moved the sheets off himself, hissing slightly at the cool air hitting his hot angry tip. He needed more, he needed to hear his name spill from your mouth again. And it was as if the gods answered his prayers hearing you whimper, “P-please H-hongjoong.”
That was enough to tip him over the edge, speeding up his movements. He noticed the stutter in your hips. You were close to. He’d whisper to himself, “Let’s cum together baby. Cum all over my cock, fuuck.”
He wouldn’t be able to catch himself in time, splurting all over his hand, chest, and some dripping on his thigh. Fuck, he came so much. His eyes were shut, head leaning back against the backing of the couch. His heart was thumping in his ears so loudly he couldn’t even hear anything more. He was in complete ecstasy and peace. That was until he felt the bed dip, making his heart stop and eyes widen. “oh uh..I. um..” fuck, he was so fucked. You were sitting on the end of his bed, half asleep with the haziest expression while staring at his cock still tightly in his hand. His dick twitched, causing a groan, mostly from annoyance as he had been caught and he does even feel an ounce of guilt.
“D-did I cause t-that…” You said sweetly, so innocently. Could you get any more perfect?!
“I’m sorry angel, just go back to sleep, yeah…” He tucks himself back into his boxers, feeling his cum stick to the fabric which caused him to gag. He’s gonna have to slip out for a shower. But you didn’t budge as you took in his words. Instead, you pushed past any anxiety you had over the past days wondering whether Hongjoong liked you the same way, and moved closer to grab his hand that still had some of his cum on. You had woken up over five minutes ago before Hongjoong had creamed himself. His head was thrown back and he was in complete bliss and it caused you to cum just from the sight alone. “A-Angel…”
You didn’t let him speak another word as you placed two of his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. Soaking them. And once they were wet enough, you pulled them out with an audible pop. Slowly, without breaking eye contact with the older male, you moved his hand down until those two wet fingers dipped into your completely ruined panties, letting him feel exactly how wet you were for him. They would slip so perfectly into your cunt causing you to sigh in relief, feeling so full just from his fingers alone. “Aren’t you gonna help me, sir.”
Hongjoong was done for.
—♡
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thecreelhouse · 1 month
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⌞ it felt like love & drugs ⌝
Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
WC: 7.2k
Summary: After Steve helps you relax when your vibrator died, you want to return the favor, but it escalates, fast. // This is part 2 of it’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend ! part 3 - crystal clear 🥰
CW/Tags: language, roommates/FWB, Steve and reader getting stoned together, panic attacks, taunting/teasing banter, smut (duh), switch!steve/switch!reader, oral sex (m & f receiving), PiV rough/unprotected sex, light voyeurism/exhibitionism, ruined orgasm/denial, overstim, fluff
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A/N: this was supposed to be sub!steve, I swear, but whoops. my hand slipped. hope y’all enjoy ♡ title is from love & drugs - the maine
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎
When Steve offered to help you … “relax”, after your vibrator died at the end of a horrid day, you thought you were dreaming. That was two weeks ago, and you’ve been a wreck ever since.
Yes, you were counting the days.
It was all you could think about, and you were silently hoping another opportunity would appear to return the favor to him, but no time felt right enough to bring it back up.
Despite Steve saying it wouldn’t make things weird, it did make things weird, for you. It was relatively easy to shrug it off on the outside, but you were losing it internally. On the other hand, he seemed fine, like nothing ever happened. Like he never went down on his best friend in the middle of the kitchen.
The sweet pet names he used casually weren’t helping much, either. 
“Hey, babe, how was your day?”
“What movie do you wanna watch next, sweetheart?”
“I grabbed the big pack of batteries, just to be safe. They’re all yours, honey.”
That last one had to be intentional.
It was beginning to drive you insane, and the tension was building enough to slowly bubble over. You’d only be able to keep this to yourself for so much longer before blurting to Steve some filthy comment about going down on him.
Self doubt settled in; maybe he didn’t want what you offered last time. Maybe Steve was just being polite. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to you like that. He was just being a good friend, helping you in the heat of the moment. 
Let it go. Just forget it. Don’t bother him with the idea.
So, you do. At least, as best as you can. Steve’s still on your mind when you play with yourself, quietly in your room. It’s obviously not as good as what he did with you, but you can’t just ask for him to eat you out again, just because. Choking on him is the first thought while you push your fingers into your own mouth.
Even when you’re not getting yourself off, you’ve had some moments of weakness where the thought crosses your mind while you have a lollipop in your mouth, or a popsicle. Licking ice cream off the spoon. None of it compares to what the real thing would be, but the concept of pleasuring your friend, your roommate, with your mouth, is becoming an unhealthy obsession.
On a rare night the two of you have off the next day, it’s spent getting stoned out of your mind with Steve.
It’s happened before, enough to be familiar with one another as you zone out, laugh at stupid shit, and raid the kitchen together. Tonight, though, you notice Steve’s not his usual relaxed, goofy self when high. He’s jittery. He’s quiet. He’s anxious, and you’re watching his weed-fueled spiraling unfold in real time.
You’ve only seen this happen once before, but it happened in a group of your friends; Robin was able to distract him, roping Steve into a nonsensical discussion of which female character from all of the movies released that year was the hottest. That worked, of course.
Except now, you’re alone with him, and scrambling to find the right words to keep him calm.
While you lay on the couch, he leans back onto it from the floor. You tried to get him to sit on the couch, but he insisted the floor was comfier.
Then, the spiraling starts, but it’s subtle. He kicks it off with the strange question of, “If both of us are single by our thirties, you wanna get married?” He seems okay, at first. Odd thing to ask, but he’s asked much weirder questions while high.
You choke on the hit you’re taking, coughing roughly as the smoke hangs in your lungs far too long. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Yeah… like, you’re not afraid you’ll die alone?” He reaches for the pipe and lighter in your hands, but you pull it back.
Brows knitting together in confusion and a bit of concern, you ask, “Steve, where the hell is this coming from?”
“What if I’m dying?” He sputters, shoulders slumping before he continues. “What if we’re both dying? And what if we both die alone? That’s so… sad.”
You purse your lips before responding, “I mean… don’t we all come into this world alone? And then we leave alone? Everyone does, right?” 
Steve groans, hands reaching up to snake his fingers through his hair, except he tugs on his locks halfway through as his eyes squeeze shut. “Don’t say that.”
“M’sorry, you wanna talk about something else?” He shakes his head as his hands fall back to his sides, head falling back against the couch cushion.
“Wanna not be high anymore,” He murmurs, looking over at you with a desperate, needy stare. “Make it stop.”
“Stevie, you’re okay, I promise. We both are.” This would almost be comical if he wasn’t slipping closer and closer to tears. You slide off the couch onto the floor next to him, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. “Maybe you should drink some water. When’s the last time you had any?”
Steve sticks his tongue out to pinch it, and feel if it’s dry or not. It takes everything in you not to start giggling. He lets go for a moment to answer, trying to joke, “Eight years, at least.” He turns to you with a frown, eyes red and hooded. “Do we have some?”
That, unfortunately, lets a laugh slip from your lips. “Steve, we live here, and last I checked, we paid the water bill. We have running water.”
“Stop laughing,” He pouts, pulling his knees to his chest before resting his head on them, face still turned towards you. 
“M’sorry, honey,” The pet name slips easily, more than your laughter moments ago, catching Steve off guard as he blushes. “I’ll get you some, okay? Hang tight.” You set the pipe on the coffee table, out of his reach, but he doesn’t seem interested in the slightest anyway.
As you push yourself to stand, Steve reaches out and grabs your ankle, still pouting. It’d be cuter if he wasn’t panicking, but he’s got something weighing heavy on his mind, and you can tell through how sad his eyes look. “Are you leaving?”
“Gimme like… one minute, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”
Steve sits up, readying himself to stand, but he moves an inch before falling back against the couch. He looks up in your direction, “I wanna come with you.”
“Stevie, just stay put, I don’t need you breaking your neck or something.”
“Breaking my ‎what?” Panic floods his face and you realize you said the wrong thing. You crouch back down to him, gently taking his face in your hands, trying your best to ignore how warm he feels.
“One minute. You’re fine. You’re safe. Give me one minute.” You run into the kitchen before he can grab for you again, sobering up a bit with a mission in mind. 
When you fill two glasses of water, one for each of you, but you’re sure he’ll need both, you stop at the freezer before calling out. “Hey, I’m grabbing a popsicle, want one?”
Steve’s head pokes up from the other side of the couch, only past his eyes, though. You giggle at the sight. “Uh-huh,” is all he can manage to respond with.
You return with each hand holding a popsicle and glass of water, sitting back in the spot you previously had. Steve wastes no time downing not only his glass, but yours, too, as expected. 
“That was yours, wasn’t it?” Steve bashfully asks, only feeling guilty for a moment before unwrapping his popsicle. “We should get, like…. Twenty more of these.”
You’re glad to see he’s already distracted, thoughts wandering away from anxiety about death, and into something mundane. Hopefully it continues.
“Twenty more popsicles?”
“No, no, boxes of popsicles. So like…. A lot.”
Laughing, you ask, “Where do we have the freezer space for twenty boxes?!”
Steve glances over to the fridge, then to you, eyes narrowing, “I’ll make it work.” You’re sucking on the tip of your popsicle when Steve looks back at you, still glancing at the freezer while your lips make a subtle smooch noise as you pull off to laugh.
Steve’s frozen in place, gaze glued to your mouth as your tongue slips out to lick along the side of the popsicle, then puckering around the tip again, before taking more of it into your mouth.  
You’re not even trying to rile him up, but Steve’s definitely distracted from his panic attack now, watching you satisfy your oral fixation with the red ice. As you turn back to him, melted cherry juice drips from your lips, onto your hand holding the popsicle, and some on your chest. Your eyes land on the bright red droplets first, missing his reaction to all of this.
“Shit, I hate getting sticky.” Truly, you’re innocent right now. Not a dirty thought in your mind that’s pushing you to act this way, or to say what you just said. “I should get a napk— ” Your words dissolve on your lips as Steve’s motions play out; he grabs your wrist, his tongue lapping along your fingers, slowly trailing to the source in your grip.
Even for Steve, this is bold, high or not.
“O- or that works too, I guess,” You breathe, eyes locked with his as he pulls back, grip still on your wrist. Trying to break the tension, you joke, “You’re somethin’ else when you’re high, y’know that?”
“You’re the one always trying to keep your mouth busy.” Your eyes widen, dropping the popsicle remnants onto the wrapper on the table. He smirks, “What, you think I didn’t notice?”
Pausing before you retort, you notice the pipe was moved from where you set it on the coffee table. “Where’s the— Jesus, Steve, please tell me you didn’t smoke again.”
Steve giggles with a shrug. “I dunno nothin’.” As he puts his hands up, you see it in his palm.
“Oh my g— Steve, you were just panicking! You’re done, okay?” Grabbing the pipe from his hands, you glare at him. “I’m finishing this bowl off and then we’re both done. Got it?”
While you inhale, he moves over to you, grabbing you by the chin as his lips hover over yours.  The close proximity makes you nervous, dizzy, almost exhaling too early as he gravelly demands, “Shotgun.” You shake your head as best as possible with his grip still on your face, lungs burning while you still hold your breath.
So he waits, like the conniving asshole he is, watching your eyes water with a wicked smirk. “C’mon, give it t’me.” His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers inching closer to where you want him most. It doesn’t take much, just a feathered touch of one finger, slowly dragging up your clothed core, and you’re a goner.
You exhale with a whine, trying your hardest not to cough in Steve’s face as his lips part to take the smoke in. When he releases you, you’re turning your face away to cough wildly, eyes watering even more. Catching your breath, you glare at him with glossy, red eyes, while wiping away the excess spit on your lips with the back of your hand.
“What the fuck is your problem, Harrington?” You rasp, chest still burning, from the smoke or annoyance, you’re not sure. 
Exhaling secondhand smoke, he smirks again, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”
Steve is infuriating like this, getting under your skin, slamming all the right buttons, and beneath it all, you love it.
Yet, you warn him, “Steve, you’re pushing it.” He’s not. He knows that, and you know that, but you’re both too high for this right now. Whatever… this is.  “And you’re gonna be really high any minute now, a- and…”
He’s got his hand back on your thigh, leaning in towards you, close enough to kiss you. “We shouldn’t… we’re both… we…” Your warnings fade out as your arms wrap around his neck, contrasting with your words. “Steve, this isn’t a good idea.”
Steve grabs you quickly, helping you straddle his lap. It takes a couple seconds for your mind to catch up with the rest of your body. His hands grip your waist as he flexes his hips up into you, ever so slightly. You gasp as you feel him, already hard beneath you.
He rolls himself up into your core, brushing against your clit ever so softly. “No? Why not?” You bite back a moan, shoving your hands onto his thighs to try holding him down. 
“I- I mean, it is, but we shouldn’t do this now, right?” You’re trying to be the voice of reason, but you’re losing, fast. How are you supposed to resist this when you’ve been thinking about even just touching Steve for weeks. “You- were you this hard the whole time?”
He loses his filter easily when he’s stoned, so he blurts, “Uh-huh, pretty much every time I looked at you the last two weeks.” Pushing his hips up, your efforts of holding him down were useless while he grinds against you again. This time, his head falls back onto the couch, eyelids weighed down with desire as he watches you give in, grinding down onto him.
 “Oh m- my god, so that’s why you kept hiding in your room, huh?” You smirk at the thought of flustering him so much, he has to resort to jerking off at the most inconvenient times. “What were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”
Steve’s tugging at your shirt, sinking deeper into his high, “Off. Now.”
“No, I asked you a question, honey.” You purr, kissing along his jawline. His breath hitches at the touch. “What do you think about when you’re worked up over me?”
Steve whines, hands exploring under your shirt, and you’re too far gone to order him to keep his hands to himself. “You.” Is all he can bring himself to say as he feels you nip along his neck, soothing the love bites with wet, open mouthed kisses. “Baby, please…”
“That answers nothing, Stevie. Lemme rephrase my question,” You pull back, hands on his face, stomach flipping over the way he stares back at you, desperate and needy with shallow breaths already. “What do you imagine us doing when you fuck your fist? What do you want me to do?”
He tries to throw his head back while squirming underneath you, but you keep him in place, and he whines, louder this time. “Dunno where to start,” He breathes, pouting at you in a cute yet pathetic way. 
“I might know… What’s off limits?” You ask just as he asked you two weeks ago. He swallows sharply, shaking his head.
 “N- nothing.”
“You’ll tell me if something changes though, right? Or if you don’t like something?”
Steve’s nodding enthusiastically, “Yeah, uh-huh. Nothing’s off limits with you.”
You do your best to ignore the way heat blooms throughout your body from that.
“Can you get up? Y’need help?” You slide off of him, watching as he tries his hardest to hide another pout at the loss of your body on his. You nod towards the couch behind him, “Want you up here, s’that okay?”
Without a verbal answer, Steve scrambles clumsily onto the couch, eyes growing wide as you stay on the floor and push his legs apart. You’re not sure where this confidence is coming from to take the lead, but you kind of like watching Steve become submissive.
“M’dizzy,” He murmurs, hands at his sides, gripping the couch’s fluff while looking pained. 
“You okay? We can stop, honey, it’s okay. What do you need?”
Like you anticipated, he whimpers, “Too high,” with a frown. You sigh, head falling forward and resting on his thigh, not really thinking much about the placement; he tenses up when he realizes how close you are to where he needs you the most.
“Stevie, I told you this was gonna happen,” You say this softly, not wanting to freak him out more. 
“I know, I- I got nervous,” He admits, panting from panic building. “You’re killin’ me the last two weeks, wanna touch you and hear those cute noises you make again…” Running his hands through his hair, he twists his eyes shut as he continues to ramble, “and I just- I thought maybe getting really high would help not think ‘bout it. I fucked up, baby.”
Despite this being the consequence of his own actions, you feel for Steve, knowing firsthand how awful it can be if you get too high, how fast your thoughts can snowball, or feel like they’re completely melting out of your ears. Your hands splay out as you rub your palms softly, slowly, up and down his thighs.
 “I can give you a distraction, you want that?” Steve frantically nods. “You trust me?” Again, he wordlessly replies with a nod. “Tell me if you wanna stop, or need something else, ‘kay?”
Steve watches you as he holds his breath; you reach for the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down slowly. You’re shocked when you’re immediately met with his throbbing length instead of a pair of boxers, freezing before you can pull his pants down fully.
“What’s wrong?” You don’t realize you’re staring until Steve asks this, worried. “Is it— is this okay?”
You feel your mouth water over the sight of him, naked from the waist below and up close. Tongue darting out to lick your lips, you force yourself to move and pull his pants off completely. 
“More than okay,” You breathe, watching his cock kick as precum pearls at the tip. “You…” You’re struggling with your thoughts, trying to find the balance between being carefree and fun, and accidentally blurting out your feelings now that you’re really fucking high.
Kissing up his thighs, alternating sides every so often, you take your time, reveling in his needy whimpers. The sweet, soft kisses continue up his body, taking your dear, sweet time in hopes it’s beginning to distract him. 
Steve can’t focus on being too high if he’s more worried about you moving too slowly, right?
“Angel, need you now,” His pleas of lust are music to your ears as you reach his shoulder, sucking softly along the sensitive crook of his neck. Your hand winds around to the nape of his neck, fingers weaving through his hair as you hold the back of his head, keeping him upright. “Needa’ kiss you.”
When you pull away, a glistening thread of spit follows you, attached to your lips for a moment. Steve bucks upward at the sight, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.
“This is what good friends do for each other, right?” You whisper, breath hot against his own lips as you move closer. Maybe if you say it out loud enough, you’ll believe it. “Just fuckin’ around… helping each other out.”
Steve frowns, but doesn’t protest, just whimpers as your grip tugs on his hair. 
“Can you be good for me?” He breathes out quick ‘uh-huh”s, about to reach for your hips, but you pin his arms to his sides. “I’ll take care of you, but you gotta do one thing for me.”
You begin to sink back to the floor, with a detour of your lips hovering just above his tip, gaze locked with his as you spit slowly onto him. Not even spit, more like drool. Steve gasps sharply, chest heaving, “Anything, name it, I’ll do it.”  
“Hands to yourself. Everything stops if you touch me.”
Steve looks offended, “You’re kidding me.”
You giggle, “Dead serious.”
 “But I- I wanna— ” You know what he’s about to say, it’s the reason you’re making this rule to begin with.
“Fuck my face?” As you cut him off, his face drops. “Not ‘til I say so.”
“What the fuck, how’d you know?” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper. You smirk, shrugging as you feign innocence.
“Might’ve heard you a few nights ago, walking by your door.” While you wish you heard him moan your name, the sounds you stumbled upon were still too sweet to let go. “You’re also an idiot for watching porn out here, thinking I wouldn’t see,” Your teasing makes his face flush red with embarrassment. 
Mortified, Steve stammers, “I- I thought you were sleeping!”
To be fair, you were about to go to bed, but curiosity got the best of you that night. 
You slipped down the hall, peeking around the corner and past the kitchen, where the living room’s only source of light was the TV’s glow of filth. 
Steve was on the floor, sweats shoved down to his ankles, leaning back with his legs spread; he was fixated on the scene of some dude snapping his hips into a woman’s face, fucking down her throat. He thrust his hips up in time with the jerking motions he made, fist shining in the TV’s light from precum spilling over.
You were burning up as you watched, knowing it was wrong, you should give him space, stop being nosy… but it was also wrong for him to fuck his fist out in the shared space.
With a mind of their own, your hands rushed to where you needed them most, one between your thighs, the other under your shirt, grabbing at your chest; you tried your hardest to imitate Steve’s pace and pressure he had the day he offered to help you, but your own touch never came close to his. 
You bit your lip to hold back your own noises as he groaned lowly, murmuring things like “That’s it… my good girl can take it all, huh?” The moans from tacky porn he watched were drowned out by his own. Silently, you joined him in the filthy fantasy, hand slapped over your mouth as your fingers toyed with your clit, cunt soaking through your underwear already.
Steve had no clue the two of you came together.
“I tried, ‘til I heard you moaning,” You admit without shame. “I’m not mad, Stevie. You could’ve invited me, though.”
“You… you watched me?”
Fuck. Should’ve kept that to yourself.
Should’ve really not done it at all.
Slightly grimacing, your hands slide off of him, “I— yeah. I know I should’ve gone back to bed, but… but you sounded so hot, I- I couldn’t sleep without knowing what you were doing.”
He grabs your hands and pulls them back to his body with a dopey grin, holding a hint of smugness as he breaks your rule already.
Through his hazy high, he manages to admit clearly, “Only did it ‘cause I wanted you to watch me.” Your jaw drops, unsure if you’re mad he played you at your own game, or if you’re impressed.
Nodding silently with a petty smile, you ask, “Hey, Steve? How’s your high going? Guess you’re done panicking, so you don’t need this—” in one fluid motion, you lean in, sliding your tongue up his shaft, lips wrapping around the tip, and take him in without hesitation.
The noises that leave Steve as his hips jerk are sinful and raw; his hands twitch as he keeps his hands near his sides, dying to grab you and fuck your face. He stays… well, not still, but he’s not touching you, like you asked.
As quick as it started, it ends all the same; you barely have him at the back of your throat before pulling back, drool following your lips as his dick is left throbbing and sticky. He’s panting, arm thrown over his eyes with his head thrown back onto the cushion.
“Right? You’re good enough to finish on your own?” You stand, spitting over Steve’s cock one more time before walking away, “If you still need some help, you can borrow my vibrator.” Your taunting is helping him race to the edge, almost over it, almost losing control and cumming without your mouth still on him. He wants to start stroking himself, almost does, but grabs you as you round the back of the couch before walking out.
You whip around, glaring at Steve, then his hand gripping a fist full of fabric from the back of your shirt, keeping you here. At the same time, he kicks his pants off completely.
“Oh, that vibrator? The one I got batteries for?” His high must be wearing off, just enough where he’s able to stand up and swing his leg over the couch. He’s behind you, half naked, with one hand snaking around your hips to pull you against him; you can feel how hard he is as he holds you tightly, slowly rutting into your backside. “The one that died on you? The one that doesn’t make you moan as loud as I did?”
You’ve got your thighs pressed together over his words, while his other arm slides around to your chest, over your neck, holding you in the position of a chokehold without actually doing it. Watching his arm flex as it winds around you, your stomach flutters while your pussy throbs.
“C’mon, honey, you can tell me.” The hand on your hip slides past the waistband of your sleep shorts, sliding over your cunt before dipping his middle finger between your folds. Steve groans as he feels how wet you are, enjoying how easily he can tease your clit in small, slow circles. Your head throws back onto his shoulder, and he kisses your temple, lingering to hear your breathy moans in his ear.
“Barely touched you, and you’re already going dumb on me,” He can feel the way your clit throbs as he taunts you. “What happened to you being in control? You had it for a second there, babe.” 
There’s only two thoughts taking space in your mind right now:
You hate Steve right now.
You need Steve, right fucking now.
Shoving his hands away— he never had a tight, promising grip to begin with— you spin around to take his face in your hands, kissing him roughly. Steve stumbles back towards the wall, lips still attached to yours as he sighs through his nose; a muffled grunt vibrates into your mouth as his back hits the wall. You’re not even trying to take back control, you just couldn’t stand another second without kissing him.
As he pulls back, Steve catches your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging a bit before letting go, breathless. His hand grips your chin roughly, “You wanna finish what you started?”
Steve releases your face, and you nod with a pout and lust-blown pupils; you start sinking back to the floor, but he holds you up by your hips, tugging at your shirt again. “Off.”
 “Only fair if you do the same, Stevie,” Your shirt rolls over your body and crumples on the floor. You’re about to remove your shorts, but Steve’s faster, leaning down to your chest, biting along the swell of your breast. “F- fuck,” You’re gasping as he continues and flips you around, with your back against the wall now.
Immediately he’s sucking and swirling his tongue around your nipple; low, muffled groans add to the dizzying work his mouth does. His large hand reaches for the other nipple, pinching a bit before his palm is blanketing over your breast, groping roughly. You’re whining and bucking your hips towards nothing, so he takes pity on you, shoving a leg between your thighs.
 “St- Stevie, I was— oh, god,” You can’t focus with his hands and mouth on you, all while pressing his thigh against your core. You really are going dumb for him, and you wish you could have this all the time. “I was t-trying to take care of you, asshole.”
“Didn’t say you can’t, just wanna play with you for a bit.” He’s kissing back up your chest, up your neck, skipping your jaw and cheek to jump right back into a rough, messy kiss. It’s a lot of tongue and spit and teeth and nothing close to the softness of the first time you two kissed, but you need this right now. You need him like this right now.
Pulling back, you snap “I’m ‘bout to lose my mind if you don’t fuck my face or cunt in the next ten seconds.” Steve freezes, pulling his leg away, hands finding their new spots pressed against the wall, arms caging you in.
“Don’t tease me like that,” Steve warns, licking his lips as he looks down at you. “Because you have no idea how badly I want— need that,” He exhales roughly, forehead falling onto yours, ignoring how his cock twitches, desperate for attention. “And if anything makes our friendship weird, s’gonna be that.”
With wide, sweet eyes, you gaze back at him, pushing him back a bit, “So make it weird.” His eyes fall shut while he sighs loudly. “Steve, this has been weird since the damn vibrator died, it’s going to be weird forever, just accept it and fuck one of my holes already. I need— ”
Steve’s ripping your shorts down and off of your legs, pushing your legs apart when he pauses to look up at you from the floor. Hands grip your hips so roughly, you know he’ll leave handprints behind.
It happens so fast— his mouth is on you, hot and unforgiving, pace nowhere near the soft and sweet demeanor he had the first time he went down on you. Your hands fall to his head, fingers weaving through his locks to pull, hard. The shameless groan he lets out into your cunt makes your knees buckle, vibrations only adding to the intensity he sucks and laps at your clit with.
“Oh, fu- fuck,” You’re going to climax before he’s even inside you if he keeps it up, wishing you weren’t so easy to please. His pretty doe eyes, still red from his high, never leave yours while he continues burying his face between your thighs. “S- St— ohmygod— M’gonna cum t’soon, y’gotta stop.”
“That fast?” His fingers seamlessly switch with his tongue for a moment, murmuring, “Y’can just cum again.”
 “But I— ” Your body jolts as his tongue flicks at your clit while two fingers slide into you with ease. “I w- this was supposed to be ‘bout you…” Your words become lost as you notice the steady, repetitive motion of his arm, stroking himself as he eats you out. 
Steve doesn’t reply, he’s just working relentlessly to push you over the edge. You’re too far gone to make him stop, whining while grinding onto his face, so close, so very close—
He pulls back, hands still holding you up, watching as your body reacts to a ruined orgasm; twitching, legs shaking, walls fluttering, moaning, all while feeling so empty. The spark of your high had been snuffed out, leaving you with an ache still between your thighs despite being a breathless mess.
You’re walking a thin line between retaliation and desperation, eyes stuck on Steve as he stands, smirking as he leans in close.
“Guess we’re even now, huh?” He taunts you with that gravelly voice that sends blood rushing straight to your core. You’re speechless over his ill-intent, how close he brought you to an earth-shattering high, just to leave you in the dust.
You want to switch, take over, make him beg, but you’re so hung up on the lost bliss, you can only bring yourself to nod as you pout, ready to cry.
Steve notices the tears building before you even do. He’s holding your face softly, concerned, “Too much?”
Shaking your head, your bottom lip trembles; you’re overwhelmed from the way he just ruined you, and all you can respond with is, “Need you.”
“Honey, you need a break, it’s okay,” You’re shaking your head again, but his hands tighten just enough to hold you in place. “M’sorry, I— ”
You surge forward, kissing him roughly as your hands slide up his arms, holding him as he holds you. Your arousal is still sticky on his lips, tongue slipping between them to tease against his. Moving his hands slowly, you guide him down to your hips, moaning into his mouth. Your hands move to his face, forcing him to look at you as you pull back. A string of slick follows your lips while slipping slowly from his own.
Eyes locked with his, you’re certain in your demand, “I. Need. You.”
Steve’s frozen as he takes in your words, still registering the messy kiss, your emotions, everything that just happened. Thankfully, it’s only for a moment.
Breaking out of his daze, he’s helping you stay steady as he hitches your leg up and around his hip; Steve’s arm slides under your leg to keep you in place, quick to use his free hand to grab his cock, sliding the tip along your folds. You gasp and shudder as he teases your over-sensitive clit.
“Need what?” He gets it now, you like this, the humiliation, the overstimulation… What he thought was payback for the way you left him high and dry, only made you more of a submissive, pliable mess. “Need me to stuff that pretty little cunt with my cock?”
Your eyes roll back between the dirty talk and the feeling of his length sliding between your folds, cruelly brushing against your clit. It’s not enough. 
“Ye- yeah, Stevie, need that.” You’re whimpering as he teases your entrance, barely pushing through. You whisper shakily as he pulls back, “F-fuck.”
“Okay,” Steve simply replies. Then he stops right at your entrance, eyes flickering to yours with a wicked glint, “Beg. Go ‘head, like you do when you’re touching yourself.”
The desire to be dominated by him takes a backseat. Instead, you break from the haze you began slipping into,close to sub-space, glaring as you spit, “I hate you.” You don’t, but you sure hate the way 
“Hm… doesn’t sound much like begging at all.” He starts to pull back, but you tighten your leg around him, pushing him against you. 
The switch is rapid. “You wanna go back to fucking your fist?” You spit— literally, you spit down between the two of you, coating his length with extra slick and making him shiver. “Because you can go do that if you’re gonna play games.”
Neither of you ever know when to quit.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this-” He thrusts into you, hard and fast, throwing your head back against the wall as you cry out. The stretch is instant, and he stays still, deep inside as you adjust, thankfully. It still doesn’t make the sting subside… but you kind of love it. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt, nothing you’ve felt before with anyone you’ve ever fucked. “— Was what you wanted. I don’t think your useless toy can make you feel like this.” 
For how weak Steve feels at the knees over how you flutter around him, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. You, on the other hand, your leg still on the floor is shaking as you try to stay up. Steve notices, cradling your face by its side in one of his strong hands while his eyes search yours for any signs of distress. 
Instead, you just look completely fucked out from just one thrust already.
The hand still on your face slides behind your head, keeping you from slamming your head back. Arm still under your leg, he firms his grip. “I got you, won’t let y’fall, don’t worry,” His tone is soft and caring, a noticeable change from moments ago.
“Such a gentleman, even w- when you’re balls deep in your roommate, huh?” Your joke comes out shaky, still adjusting a bit, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What you care about right now is for him to actually fuck you. “Steve, need you t’move, please.”
Steve smirks, slowly rolling his hips back before slamming into you again. “There she is, that’s m’girl,” He rasps, repeating his motions, slowly reeling back to impale you on his cock again. Your heart flutters when he calls you that. 
His girl. It means nothing to him, but for now, you can keep it to yourself and play pretend.
All you can do is whimper and moan, shaky and incoherent. Steve’s voice is sweet, soft, with a taunting edge, “It’s okay, only asked you to beg once. Y’want me to take care of you, honey?”
“Uh-huh,” You pant, fingers digging into his back, scratching, marking him up. “Don’t trust you, though.”
The power dynamic drops from Steve while buried deep in you, admiring how angelic you look like this, lost in the consequence of your desires.
Angelic probably isn’t the word that fits your attitude in this moment, but the way you tilt your head back further into his palm, trusting him, how your hips roll into his while your eyes flutter shut, softly whining while resisting your eyes wanting to close, wanting more than anything to admire him in return— yeah, you’re as close to an angel as he’ll get.
“Promise you’ll get to finish, I mean it,” He breathes. “No more teasing, I mean it. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”
Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as his thrusts pick up ever so slightly, trying to nod to acknowledge his promise, but you’re already fucked-out, dumb and cock-drunk.
Steve twitches inside of you, “Bet no one’s ever made you feel this good n’ full before, huh?”
 “N- no,” You rasp as your arms wind around his neck, “Can’t have anyone else after this.”
That shoves Steve closer to his own high, making him groan, “No? Why’s that, honey?” Every time he calls you that, you tighten around him, earning a hiss through his gritted teeth. 
“Don’t think anyone— h’my god— can fuck me like you can,” You can’t hold back your thoughts or feelings. “Don’t w- want anyone else.”
Steve’s trying his best not to let his mind wander, not to let his thoughts and feelings consume him. You’re not saying what he thinks you are, what he wants you to confess. He continues railing you, grasp leaving your head to touch you, bring you to that blissed out high you deserved from the start.
Fingers on your clit, your head falls back, bumping against the wall, and he can’t help the snort that comes out while you giggle and groan over the ache. 
“Jesus christ, don’t fuckin’ do that,” He warns after feeling you tighten around him while laughing. He shoots a winded, lazy smile. “Next time we’re fucking in bed, promise.”
“N- next time?” You’re asking, and Steve just murmurs a quick “Uh-huh” as he snaps his hips roughly up into yours, rewarding him with the most sinful moan he’s heard from you yet. He’s fucking you fast and hard, only focused on getting you off, for real this time.
“Steve, you— you’re— ” You’re fighting yourself, kicking your feelings aside; you can’t ruin a good thing, even if neither of you never figured out what this ‘thing’ is.
“I got you, c’mon, lemme feel you soak my cock,” He’s mumbling, eyes darting from your expression to where the two of your bodies meet, mesmerized as your hips stutter while he feels you reach what you wanted all along. “That’s it, just like that.” 
His praise sends you over the edge, choking back a scream and failing miserably, “M’close, so cl— oh, fuck!” You begin to tremble and pulse around him, eyes twisting shut as you almost throw your head back, but Steve grabs you in time— that’s a habit you really need to break— tugging you towards him and kissing you roughly.
Moans are muffled to whimpers as he melds his lips with yours, feeling his own high just in reach. You pull back as he continues stuttering his hips, thrusts growing sloppy as his cock pulses deep inside you.
You’re still riding out your climax, yet somehow manage to ask him, “You close, baby?” Steve nods as a breathy, sweet sound shudders out of him. Barely finishing on him, you push him back, just enough to pull off and sink to the floor.
 “Wh— ” Steve watches through hooded eyes the way you slide your mouth back onto him, tasting yourself as he pulsates again against your tongue; he takes back over, thrusting fully into your mouth while holding your head in place. “H- oh— honey, m’gonna—“
Steve’s moans are the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard, breathy and vocal as he shudders out a string of expletives while he comes undone buried in your throat. Greedily, you swallow what you can, but it becomes too much; you pull back and hold his shaft, letting him finish on your face.
For a moment, Steve is stunned. He wasn’t expecting you to let him finish like this; you might look angelic to him, but that’s no match to your sinful demeanor and unholy desires.
“Fuck… that’s my girl.” His praise tugs at your heartstrings when you know it’s not that deep.
You can’t help giggling as he comes down, aware of the mess on your features, licking your lips while gazing up at him. You’re going to kill him, no ‘ifs, ands, or buts’ about it.
Though you never asked, he’s certain he won’t find anyone who compares to you. 
Dropping to the floor, Steve leans in to kiss you, catching you off guard he tastes himself on your lips, moaning lazily into you. Pulling you into his lap, his hands wind around your waist, knowing how gross the two of you are right now, but he needs you. Ignoring how he’s still half hard, he just needs to be close to you, to be vulnerable with you.
He never said it, but he’s absolutely positive he won’t find another friend who trusts him this much, another roommate who puts up with his nonsense, high or not, another lover who can laugh at the real and awkward moments during sex and still stay intimate. 
Your soft, drained voice breaks his thoughts, “Did that help, Stevie? Or d’you need more distractions?” You’re joking, but secretly wishing he’d say yes. 
Steve wants to say he needs more distractions, needs to fuck you on every single surface in this apartment, needs you to put him in his place while he promises to be good for you, be so good for you that you’ll throw out that goddamn vibrator and use him whenever you need.
Instead, he only asks, “I thought you said you don’t have much experience?”
Again, you laugh, and all he can think of is the way he could feel you laugh while balls deep inside of you. “I don’t, I just read a lotta corny romance novels.” As you stand, you hold a hand out for him and ask, “Wanna share a shower? Heard it saves on water, or whatever. Y’know, the thing you thought we didn’t have in the apartment.”
Grabbing your hand, Steve just laughs softly with an eye roll. “Yeah, you’re right, you definitely read a lot of corny romance novels with lines like that.”
It’s so comfortable, so natural, to go from such intimate, filthy moments, to joking so casually with you.
So while you lead him into the bathroom, while the two of you kiss lazily under the hot, running water, while he’s riling you up again with your back pressed against the shower wall, Steve’s so sure of one more, tiny detail with his feelings towards you: he’s fucked.
So, so fucked.
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roosterr · 2 months
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i've known war
john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg
requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.
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it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.
the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.
it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.
"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"
he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."
you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."
he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"
"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.
"oh, you're on." 
perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.
it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.
before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.
he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.
quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?
he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.
he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.
something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.
it's a pair of id tags.
he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.
no. you can't be gone.
he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–
he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–
no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–
a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.
ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.
the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.
"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"
"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."
"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?
ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."
"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"
he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…
it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.
"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.
it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.
he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.
the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.
words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.
the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.
price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:
"...one k.i.a."
the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.
johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.
the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.
because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.
there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move. 
despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.
"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.
the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.
kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.
with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.
"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."
kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."
the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.
his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.
the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.
that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.
he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.
once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.
he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.
it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.
six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.
he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.
it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.
somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.
one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.
johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.
it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.
the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed. 
when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.
it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.
it's six more months before anything changes.
in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.
his fingers tighten around your tags.
"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.
they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.
the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.
"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.
their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.
the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.
ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.
there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.
"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.
"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.
"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."
"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."
back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.
the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.
"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."
johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.
the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.
"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.
their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.
"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.
"something very… precious to you."
the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera. 
it's…
it's you.
you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.
johnny's sure his heart stops.
you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…
you're alive.
"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?
how long have you been waiting for him?
he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.
the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.
"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."
the video cuts to black.
the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.
"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.
she hums distractedly. "working on it."
their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.
"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.
"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."
he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.
have you given up hope of them finding you?
"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.
johnny can only nod. 
his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.
"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."
"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.
"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.
simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."
"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."
the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.
"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"
"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.
"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.
the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.
he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."
the tension is palpable. he watches  over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.
price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."
a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."
laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."
"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.
laswell and price share a look.
"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."
the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."
they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.
there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.
he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.
the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.
the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.
the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.
bring you home, or don't come back.
they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.
"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"
his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.
soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.
another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.
gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.
one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.
a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.
hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.
soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.
price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."
his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.
"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.
"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.
gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."
johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.
he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"
johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.
it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.
his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud,  leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.
johnny pulls the trigger again.
and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.
a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.
"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.
there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.
neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.
as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?
johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.
price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap." 
"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.
he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.
the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.
gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"
a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.
it's you.
curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…
it's really you.
johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.
"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"
his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.
"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.
johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."
"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.
"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"
with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.
"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"
"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."
the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.
eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.
"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"
johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.
it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.
the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.
they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.
a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.
there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.
when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.
no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.
he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.
back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.
for once, he doesn't dream of you.
there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.
simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.
"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.
"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."
johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"
before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.
"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."
johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.
as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.
"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"
"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.
johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?
he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.
the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.
time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.
"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"
your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.
"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"
"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.
"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"
"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.
it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.
your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.
you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"
"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."
your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.
he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.
"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.
he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."
your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.
"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.
"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.
you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"
"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."
his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.
"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.
"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."
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twistedfics · 3 months
Text
𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔
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Leona (twisted wonderland) x AFAB!reader (no pronouns mentioned) NSFW
2.3k+ words
~
hi! this story is 18+ and contains dark content. read at your own risk.
tags/warnings: ⚠️ non-con/dub-con, somno, biting, dacryphilia, breeding, possessive sex, mating, leona is in rut, licking, cum eating, kinda yandere ig?, leona is mean, maybe a bit ooc
~
summary: what if the night you stayed at savanaclaw went a little.... differently?
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Leona had been acting strange. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. You couldn’t exactly say you knew the guy very well but something seemed off about him. 
But then again, maybe you were just majorly pissing him off. If you knew anything about him at all, it would probably be that he wouldn’t exactly want people (that he doesn’t seem to like, especially) all up in his business. And especially not in his bed. Whoops.
You’ll admit, it wasn’t the best arrangement, but given your current options, it was all you had. You had to stay somewhere right? It’s only temporary, you can live with him hating you for a night. 
Leona grumbled to himself, tail flinging around as you attempted to make yourself comfortable. He had thrown himself down in the middle of his bed in the midst of his little tantrum and you were forced to squeeze yourself into the bed the best you could. And as far away as you could manage. All those times you thought about Leona getting you into his bed, this wasn’t exactly what you had imagined.
“This is so fucking stupid. I should just throw you out and let you and that damn cat of yours find someone else to bother.” He spat in your direction, but you didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe if you just face the other way and pretend to sleep, he’ll calm down?
“You better not make a fucking sound tonight. If you wake me up, you’re dead, herbivore.” Guess not. 
You sighed and turned slightly in the bed, looking over your shoulder at him. You spoke softly, “Look, Leona. I’m sorry about this, really. but I really appreciate you letting us stay here. I’ll keep quiet, okay? You won’t even know I’m here.”
He didn’t look at you, but you heard a quiet “ugh” which you decided to take as a response. You knew you weren’t getting much more. 
“Goodnight, Leona,” you said as you turned back to face the wall, closing your eyes. You just needed some sleep, and then you’ll figure everything out in the morning.
~*~
You awoke to a room that was far too dark for it to be anywhere near morning. You felt hot. Way, way, way too hot. You attempted to move but found yourself constricted. What was going on? 
In your half-asleep state, you tried to kick away whatever it was that was holding you in place, and your heart nearly stopped when you were lucid enough to feel it. Something was pressed up against you from behind, holding your body against the mattress. Your eyes shot open when you felt something wet and hot against your neck. 
You tried to scream and were immediately silenced with a hand over your mouth. 
“Shh. I told you to be quiet.” A deep voice growled in your ear. Leona? That was definitely him. What in the seven was he doing?
“Leona, wha-” your voice was muffled, and he shushed you again. “You smell so good,” he mumbled, shifting against you. And that’s when you felt it. Something long and hard pressed against your ass. 
Panic shot through you as you began to struggle against him. You managed to turn yourself towards him before he got a hold of you again, removing his hand from your mouth in the process.
“Stop. Stop, Leona, please!” You cried trying desperately to pull yourself out of his grasp. This proved impossible, as he simply tightened his hold on you. It felt like he was trying to crush you to death.
“Maybe you should of thought of that earlier? You know, before you decided to invade my space all night.” He spoke low, way too casual for the situation you were in. His teeth pressed against your neck and you gasped.
This is apparently your fault to him??? You didn’t ask for this! You were only staying here out of necessity anyway. Sure he was hot, and you can’t lie that you haven’t thought of this before, but you never wanted it like this. Why now? Why you?! Violated just because a man can’t keep it in his pants? It’s sick!
Despite your constant struggling and protests though, Leona didn’t let up. His claws were digging into where he held you by your hips and you were sure your neck was probably bruised beyond belief. And to make matters worse, no amount of your crying was keeping him from pressing himself into your thigh. 
“Leona, please! You’re scaring me. Let me go right now!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he maneuvered himself on top of you. One of his hands held your wrists together above your head, the rest of his body pinning you against the mattress. Tears were falling down your cheeks now, sobs getting stuck in your throat. You were no match for his strength. You couldn’t see yourself getting out of this alone.
“Do you ever shut up?” He growled, attacking your neck with his teeth again. His claws started to work at tearing your shirt apart and his hips not so subtly ground against your thigh. You tried to thrash around one last time, but the groan that came from him at your movements stopped you in your tracks. This was a nightmare.
“W-why are you doing this?” Your voice was shaking now, sobs being ripped from your throat at every nip of his teeth against it.
“I let you sleep here out of the kindness of my heart, didn’t I? I should at least get something out of it.” He had completed his task of ripping your top to shreds, and he slowly moved himself down your body, biting and sucking at your skin the whole way.
You whimpered when he reached your chest, licking at one of your nipples while his hand came up to pinch at the other one. He teased you for a while, switching between your tits, sucking and licking at your nipples while massaging the other one. 
You could feel him each time he ground himself against your thigh. He was so hard, and you could almost swear he was growing harder- if that was even possible. Pre-cum dripped from his tip and soaked the front of his pants, so much so that you could feel it, sticky on your exposed skin.
His free hand moved down to toy at the waistband of your shorts and your breath hitched. He was really doing this. This was really happening. 
You tried to free your hands but found that he still had your wrists caught in an iron grasp. Tears were now pouring down your face, begging and pleading as you sobbed for him to stop, to just let you go. 
Why did this have to happen to you?
He came back up so he was level with you, his face just centimeters from yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of remorse at what he was doing, but there was nothing. His pupils were blown wide with lust as he smirked down at you.
His face moved closer towards you and you froze as you felt him lick at your face, wiping away your tears in the most disgusting way possible. You felt like you were going to vomit.
“You’re cute when you cry. Be a lot cuter if you were quiet though,” he whispered to you, nipping at your ear before moving back down your body. 
You had given up struggling, accepting your fate. You couldn’t get out of this. He was too strong, and there was no reasoning with him. Something was wrong. He wouldn’t listen, you knew that. 
You cried even harder as he finally ripped away the material of your shorts. You felt humiliated, left in just your panties as you cried and shook beneath him.
His hand slipped past your panties to toy with your cunt, and you watched in horror as he flashed you a predatory smile. 
His next words sent ice through your veins, “Would you look at that, herbivore? You’re soaked. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Freak.” He chuckled and you felt as if you weren’t even in your own body anymore.
Were you enjoying this? No! You can’t be. You’re scared out of your mind and you want it to stop. So why are you wet? Surely a natural reaction, right? There’s no way you could actually be into this kind of thing, right?
“Look at that pretty pussy. All f’ me.” While you were lost in thought, he had torn your underwear away completely. He spread you apart with two fingers, watching as your wetness dripped from your core between your thighs. You didn’t think you’ve ever been more embarrassed.
He pressed down harshly on your clit, closely watching your reaction as your whole body jerked. His stare had you pinned, you felt like prey being stalked. But the lion had already caught you. 
“I hope you’re ready, herbivore. I’m done waiting.” He let go of your wrists and swiftly flipped your body around. Your face was now pressed against the mattress, support from your arms taken from you as he once again pinned your wrists, this time holding them behind your back. 
With one hand he pulled your hips up, leaving you face down with your ass up, level with his hips as he kneeled behind you. He removed his hand for a moment, and you heard the rustling of clothes before you felt his hard cock pressing against your soaked entrance. 
His hand came back to grip your hip, claws digging in and leaving marks on your skin. Your body involuntarily tightened up as it anticipated what would come next.
Leona pushed his hips forward slowly, groaning softly as he forced the tip of his leaking cock into your little cunt. 
“If you don’t relax this is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than it would have,” he grunted and continued to press forward.
You whimpered as you tried to force yourself to relax, your body not wanting to welcome the intrusion. He was huge! It hurt like hell, but no matter what, he wasn’t stopping, and you cried out as his tip stretched you out more than you had ever felt before. 
“That’s it. Take it, you little brat.” You moaned as his cock continued to stretch you out, the feeling burning more with each inch that entered you.
After what felt like forever, he finally bottomed out. He sighed as his hips pressed against your ass and you took a deep breath to try and prepare for what came next. You could feel him inside of you, pressing against the walls of your pussy, hot and twitching.
Without warning he pulled back and quickly slammed his hips forward, pressing you hard against his bed. He gave you no time to adjust, starting out with a quick and brutal pace, abusing your pussy with each harsh thrust.
“Fuck! You’re so tight~ So perfect for me, herbivore.” He bent himself over you hammering his hips into you as he spoke into your ear. His words were interrupted by his own moans, matching the sounds you made as you cried and drooled into the pillows. 
He nipped and licked at the back of your neck, working his way over your shoulders as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you. You gasped and felt him grin against your skin. You weren’t supposed to like this! So why did it feel so good?
“That feel good, huh?” He readjusted to continue hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, fucking you impossibly harder. He let go of your wrists to get a better grip on your waist and your hands fell limply to the bed. You moaned loudly, losing yourself to the feeling of his cock deep inside of you, letting yourself enjoy the moment. He bent his body over you once more, licking at the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispered to you, “Cum. For. Me.” 
Each word was punctuated with an insanely hard thrust, sending you hurtling over the edge. Your vision blacked and you screamed, falling completely limp in his arms as your orgasm hit you hard.
You tried to catch your breath, but Leona didn’t let up. He continued his harsh pace, fucking you into the mattress as he panted and moaned in your ear. The wet sounds of his hips slapping against your thighs echoed through the dark room. 
“Almost there, fuck!” he moaned loudly, his claws biting into your skin as he held you in a death grip. 
“Leona~ Leona, please, stop it hurts, please!” The sensation of overstimulation had you sobbing again, repeatedly chanting Leona’s name and begging for him to stop, to just give you a break.
“Shh, shh~ Shit! I'm almost there! Fuck, just a bit more baby,” He moaned directly in your ear, face pressed into the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fuck you full of my cum, everyone’s gonna know you’re all mine- fuck! My own personal little fuck toy. My mate.”
His words sent you over the edge again, screaming out his name as you clenched down on his cock. He followed right after you, biting down hard on your shoulder, breaking the skin as he pumped you full of his hot cum. You could feel it inside you, hot and sticky as it filled you up while he rode out his high. 
When his hips finally stuttered to a stop, he collapsed on top of you, trapping you beneath him. You were both a sweaty, panting mess and it was a while before he finally lifted himself off you.
He slowly pulled out, watching as his and your cum gushed from your cunt, staining the sheets below. Using his fingers, he scooped some up and pulled your head back by your hair, shoving it into your open, panting mouth.
You closed your lips around his fingers and sucked and he sat back to watch as you licked his hand clean. He removed his fingers with a pop, drying them off on the sheets before giving you a quick pat on the head.
“You'll be a good little mate.”
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hi there! if you made it this far, thank you! sorry if this was a little rocky, it was my first time writing smut/dark content. i'm a little rusty with my writing >_< but i tried my best!
if you enjoyed this, please like and/or reblog! interaction is very much appreciated! <3
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wynnyfryd · 28 days
Text
💖 2024 Steddie Fic Recs 💖
@thefreakandthehair and i were talking about how so many of the fics we can name off the top of our heads are from right after the show came out because we were still actively making rec lists back then, so:
in no particular order i present to you an incomplete list of fics i love that were published or completed within the last two months
short fics (<10k)
Found God In A Tomato by @beetlesandstarss 5.7k | rated M | fluff, text fic
syrupy sweet strangers to first date fic. without spoiling anything, eddie is a flustered cutie and steve is a fuckin' menace who's lucky he's so hot
he tightened he grip by @steddieas-shegoes 1.3k | rated E | crack not treated remotely seriously
Mickala beloved your commitment to the bit makes me wanna commit myself to you 💍
Slide It In by gayhandshake 1.8k | rated E | multimedia crack
another truly impeccable work of crack fic, i laughed so hard at the first image that i made it the icon for my private discord server
what's that sound? (there's a funny man at my door) by @jewishrat420 4.8k | rated M | spicy six text fic
laughed out loud at this fic so many times i really don't know what else to tell you. as a matter of fact, i went to look at my bookmark note to see what else i had to say about it when i read it, and my note just says "fucking hilarious i laughed out loud like 6 times" 💀 did not do not will never know what else to tell you except that the phrase "the goyim of gender" just randomly pops into my brain once every four or so days now
medium fics (10-20k)
In the Kitchen or the Tulips by @teddywesworl 44k | rated E | telepathic soulmate AU
this fic said "watch me flip this trope inside out like a freshly cubed half of an avocado" and then DELIVERED. i finished this fic and then stared at the side of my husband's head for long enough that he looked over and went "wtf are you doing" lmao hush baby i am contemplating the implications
they're going to send us to prison for jerks by @greatunironic 16k | rated E | social media AU
okay firstly the premise of this fic is so specifically and delightfully unhinged; love that i'm not the only one who looks at a random tiktok account and manically whispers to myself "there's a fic in there somewhere." secondly the execution is a 10 outta 10 outta 10 outta TEN
long fics (50k+)
Sneaky Link by @morningberriesao3 152k | rated E | onlyfans au
the sex is HOT the boys are dumb as goddamn ROCKS what more do you need? oh, what's that? you do need more? sick because this fic also has: the tags "cum slut eddie munson" and "everyone is gay (because i say so)", chrissy the homophobe slayer being the cutest little spy, and jason getting his ass whooped, like, spiritually. on a spiritual level. physically unharmed but that boy's soul is missing teeth do u understand what i am saying
podfics!
it was love, love alone read by @reena-jenkins 21min | rated E
am i technically reccing my own fic on my own fic rec list? you bet your sweet ass i am, i don't even care how tacky that is reena's performance is hilarious and deserves to be listened to at least 40 more times while doing the dishes
relax (lay it back) read by @flintandfuss 1hr 10min | rated E | yogi dom steve x sub eddie
listen if i'm already being gauche then i gotta include my internet wife's belated birthday present to me, like i gotta. morally and lustfully obligated.
Schiava by @teddywesworl read by aheada_lettuce 1hr 30min | rated E | kas!eddie AU
said it once already today and i'll say it again, i cannot believe one of the best reading voices i've ever heard belongs to a person i mentally refer to as fucking lettuce LOL anyway this read is incredible and i have listened to it Times(tm)
and lastly, if you want more recs (like, 348 more specifically), you can browse my full list of public st bookmarks here
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sheerxfiction · 8 months
Text
Calling them Pretty boy~
Feat: Caesar Clown, Vergo, Doflamingo, Rosinante
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Fluffy drabbles, the title speaks for itself~
tags~ fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, some praise
a/n~ i sat and stared at a wall soooo hard deciding on who i wanted to group together and do. these b a s t a r d s came of it <3 istillhavesomanymoreplanned
warning uh apparently i dont know what a drabble is and i got carried away lmfao they're a little lengthy compared to the last ones
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•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•
~ Caesar
He was irritated. Some clod of a lab tech fucked up a beaker of piranha solution which he did not understand how someone could fuck up something so simple. After ripping a strip off that tech he went off to go and remake it himself in his own damn lab, away from idiots that slowed down his work by screwing up simple tasks. The only person who could safely bug him now was you.
Lucky for him, you had noticed his sour mood and followed after him, planning to do exactly that. Using your lab access, you let yourself in a few minutes after he had been in there alone, a wide smirk on your face knowing you were gonna bug the hell out of your lover.
"Oh pretty boy~" You called out.
He froze, knowing it was you yet thinking you were talking to someone else still. He rolled his eyes instead and chose to ignore the comment, slowly mixing things into a beaker.
"Wow, are you really gonna ignore me pretty boy?" You scoffed, coming up behind him.
Hearing the name get used again finally made something click with him, realizing that you were talking to him. He slammed the flask in his hand down and turned around to find you standing before him, quite the unique expression on his face.
"Me???"
"Yes you. I don't see anyone else in here." You chuckled.
He sputtered and made various noises that could mean either embarrassment or appalment before he settled on a pout for a look, narrowing his golden eyes at you.
"I... am a fully grown mad scientist." He stated.
"Yeah, and?"
"I'm a MAN."
"You're still pretty~" You giggled, delighted to have gotten on his nerves a little. "Pretty when you're mad, pretty when you're whooping ass, and even pretty when you're at peace mixing up deadly concoctions. To me, you'll always be that way, you purple idiot."
Using a bit of haki, you took hold of his flowing lab coat and yanked him down into a sweet kiss that turned mischievous. You nipped at his lips playfully, only intending to tease a bit before you pulled back. He had other plans though, and suddenly you found yourself lifted up in his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around him for support as you let slip a squeak of surprise.
"What's the matter, pretty boy~? Assistant got your tongue~?" You teased further, your lips remaining inches away from his a you stuck out your tongue.
He took his opportunity and gently bit your tongue, earning a yelp from you that allowed him a hungry, open mouthed kiss with you. He took his time indulging in you before he pulled back, now wearing a smirk of his own.
"No, but a scientist seems to have yours~" He shot back.
With cheeks set aflame, you groaned at him in response, knocking your forehead into his. He laughed at you the way he always does, but quieter, as he found himself too busy gazing affectionately into your eyes; which you rolled at him dramatically.
"You're a shit head, but that doesn't change the fact that I still think you're pretty." You said to him.
"Mmm, and so are you~ Even with all that purple smeared across your lips." He chuckled.
"... Dammit. Not again."
"Here, let me make it worse."
Caesar proceeded to kiss you more, leaving purple lip prints all over your face despite your grumbling that came though your clearly joyous giggles.
͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙
~ Vergo
You had been told multiple times not to do it, but you just couldn't help yourself. He wouldn't actually kill you over something so silly... right? He was your lover for cryin' out loud... But man, would you ever be a dirty liar if you said you weren't a little afraid.
Roaming the halls in search of Vergo, you eventually found him minding his own business at the end of an empty hall. You got the brilliant idea to suddenly call out to him, but not by his title or name. You were going to call him by a silly nickname, which could mean good or bad things for you. He was a stickler for being referred to by his formal titles, after all.
"Hey you, pretty boy~!" You called out, throwing yourself into a nearby supply closet to get out of his line of sight.
He hadn't realized it was you just yet. The tone you used was song-like, and he froze in place, processing the name he had just heard that was most definitely used in reference to him. There was no one else down here, after all. Irritation built up inside of him as he slowly turned towards the direction your voice came from, and he held an unmoving expression of disappointment.
"Who just called out, and how dare you?" He spoke firmly, clearly insulted.
You couldn't help it; you giggled uncontrollably at his well managed displeasure.
"Who do you think, pretty boy~?" You called out again.
The silence that followed was deafening, and curiosity got the better of you. You decided to peek out the crack of the closet to see what he was doing, but that was your second mistake; the first being to call out to him like that in hiding. You saw that he faced the direction your hiding spot was in, and the moment any part of you poked out even slightly, he dashed straight for you. You let slip a gasp and stepped back against the wall between a couple of shelves when he slammed his hands into the door, momentarily closing it before it slowly swung open.
Vergo looked down at you with a raised brow, wondering how you had wedged yourself into such a spot. His expression wasn't so mean though now that he was closer, and the cookie stuck to his cheek definitely took away any intimidation, but you were definitely still nervous, waving at him with a guilty little smile.
He took in a deep breath and held it, "What did you call me?" before letting it go with his question.
"Uh... Pretty boy?" You repeated.
He leaned in closer to you, almost touching your nose with how he loomed over you. His eyebrow quirked up a bit though, and he huffed.
"That's sir pretty boy to you." He corrected.
A sigh of relief left you, nervous laughter having quickly bubbled up shortly after.
"Oh man, I thought you were gonna be pissed."
"I was for a moment, but then I realized it was you. That made it much less of a problem." He stated.
"Aw, I'm special- mm!"
He silenced you with a kiss, pressing you against the wall as he somehow fit his arms on either side of you between the shelves. He tasted of cookies; sweet in comparison to his approach. You were quite fond of being pressed up against him in such a cramped space, your skin littered with kisses until he finally gave you a moment to breathe.
"You are special." He chuckled, speaking a truth he'd preach forever.
͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙
~ Doflamingo
Sometimes you just loved to indulge your lover and inflate his ego, feeding into his antics and showering him with silly praise. At the moment, you lay across his chest as he reclined along the length of a sofa, grinning from ear to ear as you chattered on.
"Mmm, how did I end up so lucky~" You hummed.
"Lucky? Care to elaborate, little dove~?" Doflamingo asked.
"Well, if you must know, I just think I'm so lucky to have the privilege to be around you like this. I mean, really? Little ol' me gets to love and be loved by you~?" You elaborated as you crossed your arms over his chest and rested your chin atop them.
"But of course! You're the most beautiful flower to bloom in this city, my dove~" He hummed, resting a hand over your back.
You blushed, smirking at him. "Yeah? Well same goes to you, pretty boy~"
He hummed a noise of intrigue upon hearing the nickname used on him, lifting his head up a bit to look at you better. "I'm a what now??"
"A pretty boy." You repeated.
"Mmhmm, what else?"
He almost looked... eager, both of his hands now resting across your back. You could feel his eyes on you despite them being hidden by his glasses, and you could just tell what he wanted from you. Why not give it to him?
"Oh, well if you insist for me to go on, then 'm free to add on that you're a gorgeous man, right?" You said in a sultry tone.
"And??"
"A downright devious gentleman with looks that could kill~" You rambled on, sliding yourself forward bit by bit.
"Mmm, these words suddenly have meaning when they're coming from you. Never stop." He mumbled to you, tugging you closer until his lips brushed up against yours. "Unless I'm kissing you, that is."
He let slip a chuckle that sent shivers down your spine before he captured your lips in a hungry kiss, a small squeak of surprise escaping you before you melted into him. His warmth drew you in, his hold keeping you close as you found yourself lost in his affectionate kiss. You really were that special to him, and he made sure to show it to his fullest capacity in the moment.
When he finally pulled away from you and let his head fall back against the arm of the couch, he grinned at you. Your expression told him you were pleased, but before he could make a comment, you spoke first instead.
"Man, I love a devilishly handsome man who knows how to kiss." You hummed, resting your chin on his chest again.
"Oh, you listen so well as always. My, you really are my perfect little dove, aren't you~?"
͙۪۪̥ ͙ ♡𐡘 𐡘 𐡘 𐡘♡ ͙ ͙۪۪̥ ͙
~ Rosinante
He was always so damn hard to find sometimes. To be fair, it was sort of his job to be sneaky, but that devil fruit power of his made him too good at it. If he wanted to be hidden, he could remain hidden... that is, unless you drew him out with your surefire method.
He liked to hide from you for fun sometimes, and this was definitely one of those times. Patrolling an empty hall, you kept calling his name, hoping he'd let you win this little game of hide and seek he had you playing. Turns out he had no plans to reply... but he did make it incredibly easy for you to find him.
Having checked every room in the wing you were in, you eventually came to the end of the hall where a grand window was, long ceiling to floor curtains hanging on either side of it. One of the curtains however seemed to be a bit more lumpy than the other, and last time you checked, drapery didn't come with shoes as an accent/ You knew he was there for sure, and held back your giggles before you called out to him one last time, this time using a different name.
"Hey pretty boy~ I know where you're hiding~"
The curtain shifted a little, and you held back yet another chuckle as you waited for the inevitable to happen. It only took a couple of seconds, but a dim glow could be seen from behind the curtain before the whole thing caught fire. Lo and behold, the man you called your lover emerged from behind the curtain, cursing with a crimson cheeks, frantically trying to smack the fire out before it spread. You on the other hand calmly approached him and reached for a fire extinguisher that hung conveniently on the wall. Two good puffs and both of the fires were out; yes both, the second being on your love's large feather coat.
Now the laughter poured out of you, and how could you not laugh? Rosinante was covered in foam from his shoulders up, and you lost it when he spat a puff of air out to clear it from his mouth.
"Really??" He complained, slowly flicking off bits of foam as he let down his calm barrier.
"Well did you want me to let the estate catch fire?" You said between chuckles. "I think you mean to say 'thank you', right pretty boy?"
His cheeks flared up a deeper shade of red and he paused before he wiped the foam off of his cheeks, deciding not to instead to hide how flustered you had made him. His tinted skin still showed here and there though, so there was no point in hiding it. You approached him after dropping the extinguisher and stood on your toes, reaching up to wipe off his cheeks yourself. Sure enough they were practically on fire, and you let slip a hum of amusement as he leaned down a little more, making sure you could see the pout on his face.
"... Thanks love. Quit making me combust though..." He mumbled, nuzzling into your hands.
"If that means I have to stop calling you pretty boy, then I'm afraid that's not gonna happen, pretty boy~" You cooed.
You pulled him down a little more, his cheeks warm in your palms as you drew him into a big kiss. A lengthy breath came from him as he melted into your touch, finally giving in.
He really didn't mind being called pretty boy at all.
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rustedhearts · 1 month
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dagger (boxer!steve harrington x fem librarian!reader)
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summary: the dark of night and light of morning in steve's old apartment
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ the library
tags: angst; toxic relationship; mentions of past child abuse/domestic violence; fluff at the end. again, not edited.
"the sunshine girl is sleeping, she falls and dreams alone. and me i am her dagger, too numb to feel her pain."
— dagger, slowdive
hawkins, indiana. october 1989.
"Do you think I'm bad?"
It comes whispered in the blue dark of midnight, tickled with the warm mint breath of your boyfriend on the other end of the pillow. Rays of moonlight beam over the bed through the blinds above. The whoop of sirens passed by in a whizzed crescendo. In one of the apartments downstairs, a door slammed so hard it rattled the frame on the nightstand.
And despite the noise of the night, the room was painfully quiet in this bed with Steve.
"Of course not," you murmured, shifting to brush noses with him atop flattened feathers.
Steve sighs, another gust of warmth. His fingers graze your chin from their place under your head. Your feet rub together under the sheets, legs intertwined. He fucked you forty minutes ago and neither of you had been able to fall asleep since. The ache never really went away. The gnawing, biting sting that something was wrong never settled down.
"That I'm a bad person," he clarified.
When he spoke this lowly, this softly, his voice had a graveled edge to it. It cracked around vowels and faded off at the end of sentences.
You furrowed your brows, swallowing. "No, Steve."
Forty minutes ago he fucked you, but three hours ago he was slamming every door in the house and throwing his car keys down the stairs. He was shattering a mug in the sink and banging his fist into his head that 'wouldn't stop pounding.' He ignored your urges to fix the bleeding on his brow, to sit down and rest because he had a long night.
A night of loss.
It was a low-level, low stake fight—but failure was failure to Steve. He said nothing on the way home, but exploded the moment he pulled into the lot when you reached for his arm. The slam of the passenger door narrowly missed your hand. The tug of your arm inside the apartment left a burning ring.
You were going to tell him you loved him tonight. After the fight, in your prettiest dress, a love letter written for him to find in the morning when you went to work.
But now you lied awake, hours before the opening shift at the library, and wondered how badly love was supposed to hurt.
Steve wiggled his hand free of your head and brought it to your cheek. Thumb brushing the tears dried on your soft, clean skin. Running along your shoulder, over the soft cotton of his shirt pulled on in a need for comfort. Into the crook of your elbow, massaging the flesh with another heavy sigh.
"Think m' bad for you."
You wanted to protest—but he was. Your parents said it the moment they met him. They begged you not to see him anymore. Your friends grimaced when you complained of another fight. You followed every tear-stained explanation with 'but I love him.'
"No," you argued firmly.
You wanted to say more, lips parting to express some sort of fond sentiment that would've made Steve wince—but he ran the pad of his finger over the top of your brow, just how you liked it when you were tired.
Your nose wiggled, your lashes fluttered. Steve sighed another minty breath.
"Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
Your fingers wrapped around his wrist resting on your chest. His palm pressed into your cheek. You let your eyes sink shut, your breathing shallow. Steve watched, blinking into a dusty darkness, as you fell asleep.
✶ ✶
Steve woke sometime near dawn. After a measly few hours of stirring and turning, doing his best to get comfortable but feeling nothing but discomfort, he snapped awake with a huff.
He slipped out of bed quietly, sheets whooshing in the still quiet of early morning. Blackbirds were twittering in the trees beyond the window, the soft orange and pink hues of a rising sun casting a beautiful glow over your cheek on the pillow. It made your hair look like it was on fire.
He shuffled into the kitchen, flipped a clean glass from its place on the kitchen counter, drying on a towel. He filled it with water, gulped it down like air. He filled it again, and padded back into the bedroom.
He leaned against the doorway, head cocking to press against the wood. You slept so peacefully. Like some sort of painting, how perfectly perched your hands were, how wonderfully languid your legs were under the sheets. You helped him pick a new bedspread out last month. You said the last one was too 'scruffy' and you didn't like how it felt on your skin.
He hadn't meant to, but Steve upset you that day. He said he didn't want 'girly shit' on his bed, that he didn't need a new bedspread because he was barely home to sleep on it. You hid your tears behind a box of sheets.
And he felt like a piece of shit in the middle of a K-Mart aisle.
Why did he say it? He still doesn't know. Standing there, watching you sleep, watching your face settle into a state of stasis—unaffected by Steve, free of frowns or creases or worries—Steve wondered what the fuck you were doing with him. He was terrible to you.
Not all the time, but enough. Enough that it made him sick. Tears sprung to his eyes, burned them like a sandpaper. He sniffed, rubbing a scabbed knuckle into the corner of one to clear them away.
Why did he say such horrible things? Why was he so quick to bite, so quick to nip? He growled. He barked. He yelled for nothing. It was nature to him now, to think everything was out to get him. Nature turned him bitter.
Steve took a sip of his water and set it on the dresser. A movie ticket stub sat tucked under a bottle of cologne. His finger grazed the paper on his way to the edge of the bed, where he sat near your feet.
He wished he could tell you why he was like this—but what would he say? My dad fucked me up. My mom fucked me up. Did they?
Steve pressed his elbows onto his knees and doubled over.
Or was he always like this? Was he born to hurt?
He pressed his palms into his eyes. The tears pooled into them, trickled free around the edges and down his arms. He knew if you were awake to see him cry, he'd push you away.
He didn't want to. He wished he could tell you that most of all. That every bite, every bark, every time you turned away with that sad little well in your eyes—it came before he could stop it.
Your hand was the softest thing he'd ever felt. Trailing his back, running through his hair, cupping his fingers, skimming his stomach.
Steve sniffed again, lifting his head to peer over his shoulder at your sleeping figure again.
When you were particularly happy, you left a smatter of kisses on his face. His eyes, his nose, his chin, the scar under his jaw where his father knocked him into the kitchen counter at eight years old. You took particular care of that small sliver of skin, running your nose over the scar that took on a tanned appearance.
He cowered every time.
They made him ugly. His father, his mother, the marks they left on him that he couldn't erase.
Steve stood from the bed and found his jacket on the floor. He fished his cigarettes from the pocket, swiped his lighter from the nightstand. He crawled into bed and tucked his knees up, using them as shelves for his arms as he took in the first drag.
You stirred in your sleep, brows creasing when you rolled onto your back. Your hands sought the sheets, and Steve was quick to bring them over your shoulders. You slept like a corpse sometimes. Steve's lip quirked.
You were funny. Most people didn't know that about you. They categorized you as a quiet, timid person—but fuck were you talkative. When you got comfortable, when you got to know someone, your mouth babbled like a motor. You made Steve laugh without even trying.
Did he ever make you laugh?
Steve looked away, blowing the smoke sideways. You let out a little groaning sound. He hurriedly resumed his staring, watching your eyes flutter open.
"Steve?" you slurred, lips barely moving. Your hands reached for him limply, still heavy with sleep.
Steve pulled his cigarette away, holding it over the edge of the bed. "Shh. Go back to sleep, baby."
You tapped the bed a few times, eyes sinking closed again. Another little noise, whiny and cracked, emitted from your throat. "Want you."
Steve flinched. Half-asleep, sweet, softened and warmed by hours of slumber in freshly-cleaned sheets: you were too good for him.
He stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray on his windowsill overhead, quickly shimmying his way toward you under the covers. You curled into the warmth of him, cold nose nudging his chest. He wound his arm around your back and buried his fingers in your hair. Your arm slid over his side delicately.
"Hmm," you moaned contentedly. "Stop thinking."
Steve pressed his cheek to the top of your head, letting a smile crack through. He hissed in a breath, letting it release with a groan. "Okay."
A moment of quiet passed. For a minute, Steve thought you fell back to sleep. But the way you breathed into him, the way your lashes fluttered against his chest, Steve knew you were only pretending.
"Are you awake?"
You blinked your eyes open, fixing them on a streak of light over the wall at your feet. "Yes."
"Can we..." Steve squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed down the shitty thing that clawed its way up his throat. "Can we just...be together today? Just me and you?"
Your lips spread into a smile, head turning to hide in his arm. You let him wait a minute, sat in the buttery silence of the morning before anyone else was awake.
You let out a sigh like you were thinking. "Okay."
Steve ran the edge of his fingers down the back of your skull. "Okay."
You stayed in bed until ten. Not speaking, not sleeping—just touching. Listening. Breathing in and out.
You called the library from the edge of the toilet seat as Steve warmed the shower, watching the plain of his broad back flex and squirm with every movement. You told them you spent the night throwing up, that you couldn't come in. Steve turned around and winked at you.
He crowded you against the tiled wall, fucked you flat into the cold surface under a stream of steaming water. Free of rough hands and angry eyes; only soft hands kneading, only gentle lips kissing, only his dripping water into your eyes when he leaned over your shoulder to find your mouth.
He buttered the toast when it popped from the toaster, salted and peppered the eggs when they came to the plates. You ate on the countertop, legs tucked in under a big blue t-shirt clean from the closet floor. He leaned into the cabinets and fed you bites of strawberry-jam slathered toast. He licked a dollop from your chin and chuckled when you squirmed.
He did the dishes. He cleaned the porcelain shatters from last night. He let you play the radio on your favorite station and grab at his hips when Carly Simon came on. He scooped you into his arms, hands warm and chapped and full of dish soap bubbles. He carried you to the living room and threw you on the couch.
The pair of you spent the afternoon half-naked on the floor, missing pants and proper shirts but agreeing to keep the heat on high. You crawled through photo albums and old high school yearbooks, spreading out his record collection and some of your own you brought weeks ago. You played them all, even the shitty ones he groaned at.
He pushed you on the floor with a heavy hand on your chest and snapped a Polaroid. He said he liked how you looked like this. In his clothes, damp from his shower with nothing but a smile on your face.
Most of all, he made you laugh. All day, tipping your head back into the ceiling, squirming into his shoulder, bringing fingers over your mouth to hide your teeth. Each time, he pulled them away. Kissed you, all mouth and no tongue, and pulled away just to watch.
To watch how happy he made you, because for once, he really did.
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sirensea14 · 22 days
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SMILING CRITTERS X BULLIED!READER
Scenario: you are friends with the smiling critters and one day, they found out you were being bullied (lets say there are (3) bully npc's in the cartoon lol)
These Cartoon counterparts seem to be a bit... ooc...
Warning: bullying, violence, "worst case scenario" added for dogday, craftycorn roasting, hoppy choosing violence and rejecting humanity, catnap being catnap, writing may be a bit sloppy and weird lol
A/n: this had got to be one of the most random ideas i had
DogDay
As the leader of the Smiling Critters and your friend, he tries to resolve this in a peaceful manner. He confronts the bullies with you tagged along and attempts to make them apologize to you and wants them to compensate by cleaning the school, canteen and the garden by a whole week.
Of course, the bullies won't do it, so he goes to the teachers to address the problem.
The bullies are punished and will have cleaning duties for more than a week.
Worst case scenario (because i wanted to /j):
If the bullies resorted to violence in an attempt to scare DogDay, he fought back and defended you. You ran for help but one got out of his reach and punched you, he bit the one/s he's fighting and rushed at your aid and barked at the bully. "DON'T YOU DARE HURT MY FRIEND AGAIN!!"
The bullies got scared and ran to the clinic but DogDay barked and chased them until they were punished by the nurse and teachers.
You asked DogDay if he was okay, he grinned at you with a thumbs up, saying, "Of course I am! I will never let anyone dim you down!"
You smiled at his conviction, you were happy that you had such a sunny friend.
Bobby BearHug
After knowing you were being bullied, she immediately went to confront them. You were so scared and you didn't want her to get hurt, but she reassured you she can handle it and winked.
Reaching the bullies' spot, she confronted them. The bulkies glared at you and you cowered behind the bear's back, "So i heard you were bullying my friend? You better pay for that. You must apologize to my friend, now" She hissed, crossing her arms. The bullies simply laughed.
Bobby didnt hesitate to punch the bully on his face. His nose bled. Bobby was a sweet soul, but she's a bear, a predator, a tough cookie to crack. "DO I HAVE TO REPEAT WHAT I SAID?! APOLOGIZE TO MY FRIEND. NOW."
The bullies apologized while trembling in fear. "You can go back to whatever business you are doing now," she said in sweetly, though, there was venom to it, "Dare try to bully my friend once more and I will make sure to tear your limbs apart, skin you alive and--"
You tapped Bobby's shoulder before she went on full detail. "Whoops!" She giggled, scratching the back of her head looking at you. "Now, GO HOME." She pointed out at them, "Please!" of course, she never forgets her manners. That's not very Bobby if she didnt mind her manners, even to her enemies.
KickinChicken
Oh expect this bird to not handle things peacefully, especially with you being hurt. You were away from him, doing your own things. He went to the bullies, but of course, he can't go alone. He knows he can't handle them so he asked DogDay and Hoppy to hop along with him.
Hoppy looked like she was about to murder someone... a baseball bat was with her. DogDay and Kickin talked it out first with the bullies. But when they wouldn't budge, Hoppy stepped in and handed Kickin the bat. "NOW, WHO WANTS TO GO FIRST?" He tapped the bat to his wing. DogDay was against it, but didn't protest, Hoppy was trying not to smirk at the bullies.
The 3 critters and the bullied were headed to your way. You got startled and scared but DogDay, Kickin and Hoppy immediately went to your side. "Now, APOLOGIZE." Kickin forced a smile at them, and they apologized to you.
After that, DogDay took them in for their punishment. Hoppy taked the bat back so that she can go back playing baseball with the others. You thabked Kickin for his action and he blushed, brushing it off as "nothing". You and him sat by a tree and watched the other critters play on the field.
Hoppy Hopscotch
"Wait--Hoppy!" Yoy tried to stop Hoppy from going to the bullies. But she immediately scolded you for being a coward for not telling her this, you explained they threatened you but she didn't listen. "THOSE MFS ARE NO MATCH FOR ME," she spat on the ground.
As soon as you twto spotted the bullies, she didn't waste any time and immediately launched her fists at them. Knocking them off guard. She didnt let any of them escape her wrath. And then she grabbed your hand to run and leave them alone in the open.
CraftyCorn
Crafty was aware of it. "Why aren't you telling me this? We're friends!" She yelled at you. You explained they were going to hurt you if--"Let's go to them!" Crafty smatched your hand and went to the bullies.
Before you knew it, you were corned by the bullies. Taunting and laughing at you two. At first, fear was on ghe unicorn's face but it immediately changed to anger. "You're bullying my friend! You know you shouldn't be doing that!"
"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do about it, horse piss? Your friend's quite a coward and seems to be undeserving to be here." One of the bullies taunted her.
"YOU INSULTING MY FRIEND SHOWS HOW MUCH YOU'RE SO INSECURE ABOUT YOURSELF, IT TELLS A LOT ABOUT YOU, YKNOW?" Crafty snapped.
"COWARD. UGLY. USELESS. TRASH. GOOD FOR NOTHING. YOUR BIRTH WAS A MISTAKE." She added. Then you two turned around and left, you can tell that crafty was so angry because of her trembling hooves. The bully targeted by Crafty's words cried while his other two friends mocked him for being a crybaby.
Moments later--"Ah! I'm sorry! I didnt mamage to make them apologize to you! Sorrysorrysorry--!" Crafty apologized to you. "No, no! It's okay, Crafty! What you said was way more satisfying," in all silliness, you stuck your tongue out. Crafty giggled and she went back to pher canvas,ready to paint another new piece,"oh? Whats that called?" You asked as she sketched out what seems to be shadows looming over a figure protecting a smaller one behind it, there were separated figures at their opposite side, seemingly the figure with shadiws protecting the smaller one from attackers.
"Oh this? I call it... 'Happy Snappy!"
PickyPiggy
Picky was uneasy that day. Ever since she knew you were being bullied, she wasted no time to gather all the trash and dump it anywhere where the bullies would have been to. "HEHEHEHEHE..." The bullies ended up getting scolded by the teachers for dumping 'their' trash around. Pickypiggy snickered behind a tree, watching them from afar. She was quite fast and undetectable.
The bullies bags' had trash in them, their armchairs full of waste.
Then she tricked them into meeting up in a corner, she had full trash cans up on the roof, Hoppy and Kickin assisting her. Then they dumped the pile at them. You took the chance to run and report it to the teachers.
The trio fist bumped in victory and Picky was grateful for their help. She went back to you as you told her the weird thing that happened to the bullies--while eating cookies together.
Bubba Bubbaphant
The smart guy of the group. He was devastated at the fact that you didnt told him anything about your situation. He confronted them in full glasses nerd mode on, you came up to him and told him not to challenge them any further. He ended up getting beaten up by the bullies, he wasnt able to fight. Good thing DogDay was patrolling the area nearbt you.
Bubba was sent to a clinic, but he talked to DogDay first for a special request.
The next day, "man, this room sucks." One of the bullies complained. "What are we doing here anyway?" One of them groaned. They were in detention for two weeks, "How are we supposed to go to our classes now?"
Just in time, Bubba walked inside the room, "Okay class, I'll be your teacher for the next two weeks." He sneered at them. The bullies groaned at him as he wrote down a hell of math on the board. "This is your punishment for bullying a friend of mine, bear with it, losers."
CatNap
And of course, CatNap. He was a sleepyhead of a friend, when he knew you were being bullied, he simply 'slept'.
By nighttime, he went one by one to the bullies' houses. Scaring them and making them scream so loud. He was giving them nightmares with the message of "VIOLENCE OR SILENCE?" This went on for a long time until they gave up bullying you and went on full silent mode.
CatNap still haunts them even if they stopped bullying you.
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peacefulpianist · 8 months
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The Green Dress
Loki x Fem. Reader (no y/n)
Wow hi everyone, I can't say I ever thought I would be doing this, but I've written something! I've been an avid reader for a few years now and have finally convinced myself to give it a shot. Any constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please do bear in mind this is the first thing I've written since year 8 English that isn't an academic paper of sorts. Anyway I hope you enjoy!
I'm tagging a few members of the SAS who I think may like this? But if you want to be removed please do let me know - no hard feelings at all : @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @wheredafandomat @liminalpebble
Description: When Stark invites you last minute to one of his infamous parties, you've not got many options on hand to wear until Nat suggests you wear the green dress you had bought months ago. Perhaps it will be enough to inspire a certain god to finally make his move.
w/c: 4.2k whoops I didn't intend for it to be nearly this long
My Masterlist
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“How many times do I need to tell you that you absolutely can not do that Stark!” You exclaimed in exasperation over the cluttered lab table once more.
“But if I just ignored that little thing-” the glare you sent from over the top of your glasses quickly shut his remark down before it could continue any further. Looking contrite, but rather worryingly still determined, Stark pushed back from the table, going slightly further than expected in his chair and trying to style it out as intentional as he almost collided into several rather important projects. 
“Well since you’ve thoroughly pooped on that party Brainiac, I’m declaring we call it a day here, and hey speaking of parties, you are coming later aren’t you?” He asked whilst trying not to fall of his chair and catching a rather dangerous looking item falling off one of the nearby tables he had knocked into. 
A wave of panic washed through you at the mention of the event later; you had been hoping that as no one had specifically invited you to it, only mentioned it in passing, that you would be able to give it a miss unnoticed. It wasn’t that you disliked Starks events or even parties in general, you just happened to be aware of who else would be there and definitely couldn’t trust yourself to keep up a front with the copious alcohol that would no doubt find its way into your system. Not that you were totally innocent in how it found its way there. You had been hoping to avoid a direct invitation like this, purely because you had a real issue saying no to people, especially those you liked and admired. It was because of this, and only this - not the fact you would get to see Loki in one of his impeccably tailored suits again as a helpful voice in your head supplied, that you found yourself blurting out the following. 
“Uh yeah sure, of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world boss!” 
You had hoped that it had come out in a convincing tone, but the slight frown emerging on Starks face said otherwise. However, as quick as it had appeared on his face it was gone, replaced by a trademark smile as he slapped his thighs and stood.
“Well then, you better be off to prepare and polish your elbows, or whatever it is you ladies manage to do to fill so much time getting ready before these events,” his face quickly faltered after realising what he had actually just said and quickly followed up with “not saying of course that it isn’t absolutely worth it, especially if Pepper asks”. 
In an effort to allow Tony to leave the interaction without digging himself an even deeper hole, you stood too, gathering your bag as you went, giving a slightly awkward wave over your shoulder as you walked out the door. 
It was only when you made it back to your room upstairs that you fully understood what you had actually agreed to. Not only were you going to have to be in the same room as Loki, desperately trying to hide your feelings towards him, whilst watching him flirt with practically everyone in attendance, but also work out what the hell you were going to wear to a party at such short notice. Unlike many of the other inhabitants of the tower, your wardrobe wasn’t exactly equipped for these kinds of events. You had always preferred to skip out on anything that required this level of formal wear, the comfort of your staple jeans and a hoody was something you had always chosen over the tighter fitting, more formal attire required at Stark’s parties. 
In a somewhat unhelpful move, you decided that putting off the outfit dilemma was the best course of action, as a frantic full-body shower was needed, and of course there was no point choosing an outfit before you’d done your hair and makeup after the shower as well. You had told yourself that the outfit choices could be mulled over during this time as well, but realistically knew that you were just lying to yourself and would inevitably put it off until the last moment. 
A frantic search of your wardrobe, which involved many an outfit being taken out, only to be thrown into the rejection pile on the floor moments later, left you coming up short and in the middle of a ring of discarded outfits whilst still in just your towel. You sank to the floor, just staring despondently at the chaos around you, contemplating whether Tony would actually notice if you didn’t go after all. 
It was in that state exactly that Nat found you minutes later after she had knocked, not waited for an answer and entered anyway, only to stop in her tracks and abandon whatever purpose she had come with upon seeing you in such a state. 
“Well that outfit is sure to grab everyone’s attention, not what I would choose personally but good for you girl!” Nat said with a smirk, leaning on your doorframe.
“Don’t even start with that right now, I wasn’t planning on going to this until and hour ago, and I appear to have greatly underestimated my wardrobe deficiencies. Some actual help right now would be greatly appreciated.” Your reply came from the floor, all hope of being able to avoid Stark’s shindig fading with the sound of the door closing behind Natasha. 
“I’m sure your so called deficiency isn’t nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be,” her voice somewhat muffled as she rooted through what was left of your clothes in you’re wardrobe. 
“I mean look right here, what was wrong with this option, it’s even green, perfect to catch you-know-who’s attention!” The smile on her face dropped when she turned to face you, brandishing the green dress you had bought months ago on a whim when out with some friends, only to realise you would never be comfortable enough to wear it out in public when you had tried it on at home later that evening. 
“Woah, what’s so wrong with this one that it makes you pull that face? It’s a stunning dress I can’t see what you could possibly have against this one, its perfect for tonight.” Nat questioned with a confused frown, after seeing the vehement refusal on your face at the suggestion. 
“It is a beautiful dress, just not on me, I don’t-” before you could even finish the thought, Nat had pulled you up, and was pushing you quite forcefully back towards the bathroom, throwing you in there along with the dress and your raciest, laciest underwear that you hadn’t even seen her grab.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, you should know better than to speak like that about one of my closest friends by now, by the time I’m back after getting changed myself, I want you wearing that dress so I can prove to you how wrong you are when you see everyone’s faces when we walk in later” Nate reply was somewhat muffled behind the bathroom door, but the fierceness, and her love for you, was still conveyed perfectly through the wood. 
“Besides if it truly makes you feel that bad after wearing it tonight, we’ll burn it together tomorrow, I’m not having you keeping it if its going to make you feel this way whenever you see it.” The finality in her tone and promise of being able to get rid of the thing tomorrow was enough to get you to follow her orders, that alongside the fact that you were still rather scared of her, even after having been friends with her for a few years now. 
With Natasha momentarily gone, it gave you the chance to ruminate in your thoughts, the dress was truly stunning, a deep emerald green that displayed your decolletage beautifully, with a daring slit from ankle to high up on your thigh. While you could see that the dress itself was objectively great, when it was you wearing it, it didn’t seem that way anymore. Instead of being able to focus on all of the ways it could highlight your beauty, all you could see was the way the closer fit of the dress clung to your stomach slightly, and how the slit showed off your thighs, and just seemed to emphasise how big they were. 
It was in this downward spiral that Nat found you in upon her return, a frown once again set on her face as when she saw the malice behind your eyes, directed solely at yourself. 
The way you could only ever focus on the parts of yourself that you saw as problems had always hurt Natasha, and how it impacted the way you behaved as well. It wasn’t just a matter of wearing baggier clothes that covered your insecurities, but the way you let it decide where you belonged socially. She was intimately familiar with your growing feelings towards a certain god of mischief who had taken up residence in the tower little over a year earlier, but also with your pessimistic view towards your chances of the feelings being reciprocated. Ever since you had realised that your feelings were more than that of just friendship you had immediately resigned yourself to remaining in the friend zone, refusing to believe that he would ever see you as something more because “he’s a god and I’m, well, I mean just look at me.” Nat had tried countless times to reassure you that the way you saw yourself, was not in fact the way others saw you, but had also at this point come to the understanding that your self perception wasn’t based in logic, and reasoning as such wasn’t going to make enough of an impact to change how you saw yourself. 
It was with this in mind that she approached you, an arm reaching round you and pulling you into her side for a hug, while smiling at you in the mirror, before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of your room and to the party on the floor above. 
Your outfit dilemma had delayed the two of you a little, so when you arrived upstairs, the party was already in full swing; with music blaring and alcohol clearly flowing freely if the state that some of the guests were in already was any indication. As such you were easily able to slip in behind Natasha unnoticed, before heading straight over to the bar, feeling the need to indulge a little more than normal tonight. 
From your vantage point at the bar up on the mezzanine, you could see almost all of the goings on down below you, from Lang absolutely busting it up on the dance floor to Tony trailing around after Pepper, seemingly trying to make up for something that was undoubtedly his fault, but wasn’t actually remorseful for. Unfortunately it also meant that you had the perfect view of Loki and his apparent flavour of the night. Despite knowing how unproductive it was, you found yourself comparing yourself to her, noting all the ways she was traditionally attractive, only to seemingly find yourself lacking in the same places in comparison. Even though you had accepted months ago that Loki was never going to reciprocate your feelings, and having desperately tried to allocate him into the friend box in your head unsuccessfully, it still hurt deeply to see him so close with other women, knowing what he would be doing with them that night, only to move on to the next when it suited him. 
This knowledge had one advantage for you though, it had made it much easier for you to become friends with the god. As you knew nothing romantic was ever going to happen between the two of you, you had found it that much easier to relax and joke around him, even going as far to return his flirty remarks, as there was no pressure behind it for you, and the potential embarrassment behind behaving more boldly was removed. Since he flirted with everyone that way, it obviously didn’t mean anything to him, so it made it much easier for you to jokingly flirt back. It was because of this new found confidence, that you had struck up a strong friendship with the god and had come to call him one of your closest friends. It had only added to your mental torture.
After a few more self indulgent moments, agonising a little more over what could have been you turned to the bartender, and took another drink with a polite thanks and a smile before deciding that even if you did still regret coming, and especially wearing the dress, you were going to make the most of the evening. Besides how many people could say they got to drink and dance with the avengers, who they were friends with. 
It was with this new found resilience that you stood from your place and made your way down to the dance floor, having caught Nat and Wanda’s eyes before and been summoned. 
The next few hours passes in a slight blur of laughter and dancing for you, after a few, chaotic but incredibly fun dances with Nat and Wanda some of the other men began to join in, requesting a dance with you. Between the fun of teaching Steve how people actually danced in clubs now alongside Nat, and Bucky whirling you round the floor like an absolute professional - after complementing your outfit for the evening with an all too knowing look, you had almost forgotten about your preconceptions for the evening, but whenever you danced with one of the men, however gracious and smooth they were, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were Loki instead of them; comparing the feel of their hand on your back to what you had imagined Loki’s would be like if he were there instead. 
Just when you were about to take a break from dancing, a slightly cooler hand came to rest on your back, as its owner leant down to speak into your ear over the music.
“Darling, I think its about time we show them how its really done don’t you?”
The feeling of his breath over your neck as he leant in closer sent a jolt down your spine, that you were almost certain he must have felt in his hand, still placed firmly in the middle of your back, exactly where you had imagined it being all night. 
Quickly composing yourself, you managed a somewhat natural reply, rather impressed with your own neurones for still being able to function at least somewhat normally whilst Loki was so close to you, having not moved away under the pretence of needing to be closer to be able to hear you over the music.
“Ah of course your majesty, I’m sure us mere mortals couldn’t possibly live up to the prowess of a god”
His low reply was barely heard over the thumping of the bass, in a way that made you question whether he had actually intended for your to hear it, if it wasn’t for the sly wink he sent towards you after.
“Yes I find that is the case in many areas darling, especially when it comes to moving their bodies”
The raised eyebrow you gave in reply expressed all you needed him to know, and covered for the fact that your mind had been sent in a downward spiral imagining his trademark snake hips dance move, in areas other than the dance floor. 
Whilst you were somewhat distracted in your thoughts, he moved the hand from your back to loop his arm round your waist and bring you back into the middle of the dance floor, beginning to sensually move his hips and draw you into to him to do the same. 
What you didn’t know was that Loki and been subtly watching you all evening, ever since you had walked in the door, many may not have noticed your entrance behind the Black Widow, but at this point Loki’s body was finely attuned to your presence and he hadn’t been able to draw his sight away from you for more than a few seconds at a time. You were wearing his colours. His green. But it wasn’t just your choice in attire tonight that had drawn his attention, as delightful as that dress was, you’d had it for many months before this point. Initially you had been a curiosity to Loki, kind to him when many others weren’t immediately following his return to Midgard, but after talking to you the first few times it was your intelligence that had captured Loki’s heart. He had found you to be one of the few midgardians to match his voracious appetite for knowledge, both in reading and in your chosen profession as a biologist working alongside Stark and Banner, but much less insufferable than the other two. 
When Loki had first come to terms with his interest in you, he had thought his subtle flirtations would be enough to alert you to his intentions, but when these failed to elicit any kind of response from you he had slowly become more and more bold with his innuendoes and flirtatious comments when in your presence. At first he had thought he was finally getting somewhere with you when you had began to match him in conversations, but when you made no sign of anything more, he had found himself stumped. At one point he had even stooped so low as to flirt with others in your presence in the hope that it would inspire enough jealously within you to reveal your feelings towards him, alas it did not work. No one had ever taken this long to fall victim to his seduction. He had admitted to himself that this time was different to his previous experiences as truly desired more with you than just a roll in the bed, not to say that did not also desire that with you, he had thought about that extensively, but he was not sure how to progress from here. 
When you had walked in tonight though, looking exquisite in his colours he had decided that enough was enough, tonight he was going to finally bite the bullet and just ask you outright if you would be with him. It was not a decision that he had come to lightly, but he had finally come to the realisation that if he wanted something to happen he was going to have to do something about it for himself. 
You didn’t know whether Loki had bribed the DJ before approaching you, or it was a shear unfortunate coincidence but as you continued dancing, each song seemed to get progressively dirtier and more sensual. This combined with finally dancing with him after having imagined it all night, the enticing smell of him from being in such close proximity, and the one or two drinks you’d had early were practically sending you into an early death.
Simultaneously Loki was experiencing a similar issue, when she wasn’t looking, Loki found his eyes being drawn from her face down to her chest, which with his height he had a fabulous view down, and combined with the lyrics and music he hands had seemingly began to move of his own accord and were veering dangerously further south. He decided he needed to do something soon, or he was going to have a very hard time of it.
As he leant down once again to speak into your ear, your breath hitched ever so slightly, and a faint flush bloomed across your cheeks- a fact that didn’t go entirely unnoticed by the god, and one that made his own pulse race. All hope that you felt the same way as him was not lost.
“Are you alright there darling? You’re looking awfully flushed. You’re not too warm in here are you?”
You had barely managed to stutter out what you could only imagine would have been a terrible excuse before he continued;
“Unless of course it is for the same reason as I.”
The hope that formed in your chest from the one sentence alone caused you to whip your head up, needing to search his gaze to see if he was really implying what you thought he was, surely he couldn’t be, there was no way that he could have felt the same way towards you as you did to him. Before you could continue with your self deprecation, he interrupted your thoughts once again;
“Now now darling stop that immediately, I can tell you are already overthinking this before I have even truly started. I do not know what it is that makes you doubt yourself so, but you must know that whatever it is I do not share that same belief.”
You held his breath as he said this, still not truly believing that this could be going where you wished it was, but not daring to do anything to break the spell just yet
“I was almost sure you would have known by now, but apparently I have not been clear enough in my appreciation or my advances towards you. I very much like you min elskling, you have well and truly captivated me heart and mind, body and soul. I would be honoured if you wished to court me, or as I believe you mortals say, go on a date with me” Loki finished with a release of breath, like saying all that had released a burden from upon his chest and he could finally breath deeply again now it was done.
You just stood there frozen in the middle of the dance floor, unsure if what you had heard was really happening, surely this was all some wonderful fever induced dream, and you were going to wake up face down on one of the desks in the lab any moment. 
However Loki was reading your silence as rejection, and the insecurities that he had previously pushed aside were starting to flood back.
“Of course darling, if you do not feel the same then, I would be more than happy to just remain as friends,” it was of course a lie, but one that he would guard closely if that were the case, as he would never want for you to feel guilty for making an honest decision, and would much rather keep your friendship than not have you in his life at all.
“And I can completely understand why of course if you do not return my feelings, after all with my heritage I know-” before he could finish his sentence though you had reached up and pulled his face down to your height, before promptly pushing your mouth onto his in a scorching kiss. In the time Loki had began to panic and ramble, it had finally registered what Loki had been saying, and that it was in fact real, so before he could spiral any further you had to display your feelings towards him, and this had seemed like the most direct course of action.
After a brief moment in which Loki’s brain had to catch up to what was actually going on right now, he swiftly took charge of the kiss, both of you melting into it, especially as Loki opened his mouth to let he tongue dance along your lips before slowly meeting your own. At the same time, Lokis hands began to wander more actively, finally sliding that last little distance down to your behind, which he grasped firmly before sliding one hand down to bring your leg up and round his hip, letting you feel exactly what you were doing to him. Your own hands had found their way into his silky hair, finally fulfilling the desire you had held for many months to feel what it was like between your fingers, and when you gave it a gentle tug in the passion of the moment, a low growl made its way up Lokis throat, only enticing you in further. 
It was only as a few wolf whistles broke through your bubble that you remembered exactly where you both were and that it was perhaps not the best place for what was clearly on its way to happening. It was with the same thought that Loki took your hand and began leading you out of the room, stopping only briefly first to growl lowly into your ear “we need to leave now darling, don’t you agree?” Before nipping your earlobe and pulling back to grin at you. 
With absolutely no objections, and no subtlety either, you nodded before taking the lead taking you both in the direction your room, before stopping to remember the state you had left it in before the party in your distress to find an outfit. You blushed at the memory and changed direction slightly to lead you both to his rooms instead. Loki however took no notice, or simply did not care for the slight moment of hesitation, as at this point he didn’t particularly care where you were headed as long as it was close by, you were finally his and now it was time for him to claim you as such. 
Part Two here:
Thank you so much for reading if you made it this far! Please do let me know what you think x
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mochinomnoms · 4 months
Note
Hiii! For the Hanahaki event can I request Vil (romantic) with prompt #7? A gender neutral reader would be appreciated, thanks!!
Also if youre up for it maybe prompt #12 with Ace (Platonic) with the reader’s object of affection still being Vil? This prompt with Ace is too funny for me to ignore I just HAVE to sneak him in 😭😭
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vil schoenheit, platonic!ace trappola x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, humor, semi enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, sickenly sweet [wc} – 3,458 prompt 7: “I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” prompt 12: "No, I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. Why would you even ask that?!” note - writing this was surprisingly hard. but i got it and i think it's very cute, i just hope Vil is mostly in character :skull: also i don't know german so idk if the nickname is an accurate translation! comments loved and appreciated! a floral inconvenience
Marigold: often used during festivals like Diwali and Navratri, marigolds symbolize purity, auspiciousness, and the divine.
You were going to murder him. 
“Heyyyyyy Prefect!” Ace gave you a cheeky grin as he held your glass bottle of very expensive salicylic acid serum, balancing it precariously between his fingers. “What about this? Can I take this—whoops!”
“ACE!”
You shrieked as the bottle slipped from his fingers, only to be caught by his other hand, an infuriating grin still on his hand. 
“Hehe, relax! I’m just messing around—oh shit!” The bottle slipped again from his fingers as a now panicked Ace scrambled to capture it. “Oop. Got it. It’s fine.”
“Oh my gooooooooood, Ace, I’m going to fucking kill you, give that back!” You snatched the bottle from his hands, giving him a good kick behind the knees as you walked past him. 
“Owwwww, Prefect, why are you so mean to me?” Ace pouted as you put your serum back on your desk with the rest of the skincare Vil had gifted everyone at the start of the SDC training. Ace continued whining as he packed his bags to go back to Heartslabyul, being left behind by Deuce who went to get snacks from Sam’s with Epel. 
He felt bad that all the food you had was cursed by Vil at the beginning. 
“It’s almost like you want me out of your dorm, kinda rude, you know.”
“You know what’s rude?” You smacked down the pillow Ace threw your way as you huffed, “Your face. Ugly ass, you know you had a room next door, how’d all your stuff end up in my room?”
Ace shrugged as he shoved his wrapped up sweater into the now bulky backpack he’d brought over, throwing himself onto your bed and grunting as he bounced on the squeaky frame. 
“I don’t know, how’d you burn the Queen of Hearts’s statue—”
“That was you—”
“—the world will never know.” 
You rolled you eyes as you laid on your stomach next to him, hugging a spare pillow to your face. Closing your eyes, you sighed as the events of the last few weeks replayed in your head. Between acting as manager for the SDC group, to barely keeping up with classes, to Vil’s overblot, you were utterly exhausted. Speaking of Vil…
“Ah, that’s right, I should check on Vil before he leaves. I wonder if he’s doing okay?”
“With you at his beck and call? Perfectly fine, I guarantee you.” Ace yelped as you smacked his side, giving him a red-faced glare. 
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ace turned on his side with a teasing smirk. The kind of smirk he gave you whenever he wanted to fluster and embarrass you in front of your friends and teachers. 
“It means whatever you want it to mean. Maybe someone should consider not acting like a little kid with a crush whenever they’re around Vil—owowowowowow—stop hitting me!”
You pounded your fists onto Ace’s sides and back as he tried to roll away from your reach, arms cradling his head in meek protection. He managed to roll off the bed, turning over to look at you briefly to stick his tongue out and politely flip you off. Ace let out a small shriek as you launched off the bed after him, running out of the room into the hall and turning into a goosechase. You could practically hear the yakety sax song playing in your head as the two of you pushed past Jamil and Kalim, the former crying out at you in annoyance. 
“Watch it!”
Ace practically threw himself down the stairs, jumping past four whole steps, using the banister to whip him around into the main hallway where he ran into the living room. Finally catching up to him, Ace positioned the coffee table between you two as he continued egging you on. 
“Ayeeeeeee, embarrassed Prefect? Gonna throw a fit?” Ace let out a low cackle as you both shifted around the table. 
“Gonna throw your ass into the fucking sun, little bitch ass! You got something to say then fucking say it!” 
Ace snorted as he pointed behind you. “You’re one to talk, you wanna talk about the marigolds coming from behind you? It’s like you’re growing a garden out of your ass, wanna talk about that?”
“The fuck? I haven't been growing marigolds out of my ass. The hell you’re talking about,” You turned your head to look behind you, still growling at him now with confusion. “Why would you even ask that—WHAT THE FUCK!?”
You hissed as you jumped backwards into the table, the edges jamming into your skin. Behind you had been a long trail of beautiful, shimmering orange flowers. Upon closer inspection, you were pretty sure they were marigolds. 
“...Ace, this is your fault.” 
“What! Nuh-uh, I’m not the only with flower sickness—”
“The fuck is flower sickness?”
“You know, hanahaki? The love disease? How do you not know what flower sickness is, it’s like basic 8th grade bio—”
“I didn’t go to school here, dumbass!”
Ace’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ shape as he remembered. “Oooooh yeah, I forgot.”
“Forgot what? You little potatoes are acting awfully rowdy so early in the morning.”
You looked up to see Vil standing in the hallway, a bemused Rook behind him inspecting the flowers on the ground. Vil briefly made eye contact with you, both of your sharing a small smile before an irritating, itchy feeling made its way in your throat. 
You felt a hand pack your back as you started roughly coughing up several bunches of marigolds into your hands as Ace grimaced. 
“I forgot that they’re not from here, so they got no clue about hanahaki…or any other illness…huh it’s kinda a miracle they haven’t gotten sick from something else yet.” Ace hummed, as he leaned down to look at your face. 
You made eye contact with your peripheral vision, motioning Ace to lean closer into you and horasely whispered, “Come… closer…”
Confused, Ace obliged, ear up to your lips, giving you the perfect opportunity to sock him straight in the gut. Your dear, beloved friend gagged from the pressure, hands cradling his stomach as he fell to his knees, groaning in pain. 
“Y/N…” Vil sighed in exasperation, walking over to give you a gentle flick in your forehead as he chastised you. 
“It’s unbecoming of a friend of mine to be so belligerent, do you really have to be so crass with all your friends?”
You clicked your tongue, licking the spit from your lips. “I’m not with you, besides Ace deserves it, you know how he is.”
“Mm-hmm, and how long have you been coughing out the flowers, meine Süße?”
A pleasant warmth flooded your cheeks at the nickname. You choose to ignore the tickling sensation of marigolds growing from the tops of your head, which instead formed into sneezing fits. 
“I've heard of wearing your heart on your sleeve, but wearing petals in your hair is a whole new level of fashion statement.” He remarked, leaning down to observe the blooms. “Now, answer my question, meine Süße.”
“Achooo! Ugh,” You sniffled as you replied, “Um, not that long—achoo!—ago, ugh. Just today—”
“Ah! The little trickster started expelling the belles fleurs approximately a month and a half ago!” Rook chirped, a little too happily for your tastes. “Two weeks after we began training for the SDC.” 
Vil let out another sigh as you whipped your head to glare at Rook, hissing out, “What. The. Fuck.”
“Excuse me?! Language Y/N!” Vil barked at you, making you flinch and burst into another coughing fit. Noticing this, he softened his voice, though the blonde still sounded angry.
“That’s nearly two months with the flower sickness, have you been taking potions to help with the symptoms?” 
You shook your head, clearing your throat. “Ahem, no, uh. I didn’t know that there was medicine for this kinda thing, haaaaa I just figured I was being pranked by someone.”
You heard a snort behind you as Ace stood back up, grumbling, “Of course you would, dumbass.” 
“I will actually kill you—”
“You will actually not.” Vil placed a gentle hand on your upper back, guiding you to the front door. “Rook, ensure everyone packs up and cleans their mess by the time we get back, I believe Kalim may still need help packing up.”
“Oui! How kind of you Vil to escort our lovely Trickster to get them a remedy for their affliction!” 
Rolling your eyes, you let Vil guide you out of the dorm, calling out to Ace, “Don’t forget to grab the rest of your stuff, it’s still in my room!” 
“Okayyy!” 
With that, the door shut behind you two as you began a pleasant walk over to what you assumed would be Sam’s shop. A pregnant silence fell over you two as you walked down the pathway leading to main street, having to maneuver past the alchemy building and botanical gardens. You were hyper conscious about his hand that remained on your back, which is when you started another coughing fit. 
“Oh you poor dear, did you really have no clue what was going on all this time?” Vil spoke to you in that soft tone that he’d been reserving for you since you first became friends, a few months ago. You’d gone into the Film Research Club interested in working as a stagehand, plus you had a good working knowledge costume design and general clothes repair, which was sorely needed. 
It’d been an incredibly rocky acquaintanceship at first, as Vil made subtle, snide remarks on your disheveled appearance, while you shot back with loud, brass comments on his ‘Regina George wannabe’ act. Now, he didn’t know who Regina George was back then, but took offense that a ‘dirty, lumpy potato would have the audacity to insult him’. 
He only kept you on in the club because no one ever willingly signed up for backstage work, and you only requested free access to spare cloth and sewing materials to fix your clothes. Vil was also more than happy to point out how scruffy the patches all over your uniforms made you look: 
“You certainly fix the part of the ramshackle Prefect, now don’t you?”
Though, looking back on it now, you’re pretty sure he wasn’t aware that everything of yours was either found in Ramshackle’s attic or bought with the meager allowance Crowley gave you. Shortly before finals, Vil found you crying in an isolated part of backstage because another first-year permanently bleached your only jacket during a botched potions class.
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“What’s going on back here, practice your scenes upfront with the rest of us, I don’t care how ugly you look crying—Prefect?”
You jumped, scrambling to get back up from the dusty corner you’d shoved yourself into. You awkwardly wiped the tears from your face, wrapping your arms around yourself as you gave Vil a feeble glare.
“What do you want Vil, I already told the others that their costumes wouldn’t be ready yet, if you want me to get stuff done, you gotta stop annoying me—”
“You’ve been crying.” His simple statement shut you up, as he approached you with a firm look on his face.
“…Yeah, stating the obvious much?” you muttered back, finding the scuff marks on the ground very interesting. Vil let out a sigh, reaching into his jacket to take out an off-white, embroidered handkerchief.
“I’m trying to be sympathetic. Ugh, you’re all red and puffy, let me see.” Vil tipped your chin up with his fingertips, gently patting at the tear streaks on your cheeks. “You look worse than normal���is the red bleach stain on your uniform meant to be a fashion statement?”
Pausing at the stuttering breath you took, sniffling, you answered, “No, some dumba—”
“Language”
“—Some jerk,” you drawled, “from my last class messed up his potion, and it got all over me. Stained my only jacket, right when it starts snowing, too.”
Vil raised a brow at you, leaning back once he was satisfied with your dried cheek.
“Only one? Even Ruggie has a few spare uniform jackets from Leona, did you seriously not think ahead to purchase a spare?”
You half-laughed, half-scoffed at his statement.
“You think Crowley gives me enough money to buy another jacket for his bougie ass—I mean, fancy, school? I barely have enough to feed myself and Grim between the roof caving in and the water pipes breaking. The bathroom flooded again last week.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples as you felt a migraine coming in, unaware of Vil’s growing horror.
“I was lucky enough to find my uniform in the attic, it waaay too big and makes me look homeless, but at least it keeps me warm…now it just looks even more like shit.”
You finally looked up at the blonde, expecting him to lecture you on your foul language. Instead, you were surprised to see Vil’s horrified expression.
“What do you mean, you barely have enough for food?”
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It was then that you discovered that no one outside your group of friends were really aware that you were stuck on campus, victim to Crowley’s whims and needs. You know the others in Heartslabyul were faintly aware of your predicament, being from another world and stuck until Crowley found you a way home. Ace and Deuce did their best to help repair things around the dorm, but could only do so much. Savanaclaw and Octavinelle knew of the disarray of your dorm, but based on comments from Leona and Floyd, weren’t aware of just how much you were struggling just to eat and sleep. 
Ruggie definitely was, seeing as he occasionally slipped you a spare meat bun or snack that he happened to buy extra of when running errands for Leona. Ruggie was a real one, as long as you didn’t point it out. 
Since that day, Vil had sort of taken you under his wing, along with Epel who you hadn’t met yet at the time. You had to give him credit, he wasn’t the villain you’d made him out to be in your head. And Vil admitted, he enjoyed that you were quick on your feet and enjoyed your banter, as long as it was unique to him. 
He spared you his previous uniforms that he’d grown out of his freshman and sophomore year, minus the band and vest, watching as you mended the waist and ends to fix your stature. More often than not, especially after hearing that you’d be stuck by yourself during winter break, Vil was sending you care packages with personal hygiene products from brand deals he never took. He’d send fabrics and sewing supplies with sewing patterns. Vil even started buying you breakfast and lunch once back to school, though you refrained from joining him for dinner in Pomefiore. 
In exchange, you managed to replicate, with his help, some of the scripts for the more famous musicals from your world. You even told him who Regina George was! He still wasn't fond of the comparison, but did find the musical intriguing. Vil was fascinated by the works of art your world produced, and just slightly enamored in the way you described them with glee and fondness. Still, the exchanges still felt a bit uneven.
You’d once made the joke that he was practically a sugar daddy, just without the sugar. He snapped back, “Well, I’m not stopping you, now am I? I’ve never had a sweet tooth, but you’re more than welcome to give me thanks, meine Süße.” 
(You spent that night screaming into your pillow with a red-hot blush while Grim looked on with concern.)
Truly, you two had developed an unlikely friendship, one where you both spoke your minds to the other with no hesitation or fear. Which is why the lack of conversation at the moment was slowly driving you insane. 
You sneaked a peek at Vil, taking a sharp breath as your eyes met his own. It seemed that he was watching you with his very lovely, sharp purple eyes. The thought sent a hot flash through you as you sneezed a flurry of petals and pollen. 
“Ooof, ugh, this is gonna make my allergies go haywire.”
“Sam will have some potions that will help with the symptoms, though you will have to confront the root of the cause.” Vil slid his hand down to rest in your mid-back, rubbing his thumb against you in a soothing motion, though it cause you to shiver and flush. 
“Yeah, okay.” you managed to squeak out, groaning as you felt the tickle of glowing marigolds pop up on your skin and in your hair. “Ummmm, so how do you get rid of, uh, Ace called it hanahaki?”
Vil nodded and opened his mouth to speak before being interrupted by the faint screaming of your name. Both of you looked down the path, where you saw Deuce running over to you two, followed by a confused Epel chasing after him. 
“PREFECT! PREFECTPREFECTPREFECTPREFECT—” 
Yelping as Deuce skidded to a half and grabbed you by your arms, shaking you with intense concern, you managed to reply a stuttered, “W-w-what?” 
Deuce paused his shaking to give you a concerned lecture, “You didn’t tell us you had the flower sickness!? Why didn’t you say something, you’ve been running around for SDC all this time—”
“You too—”
“But I’m not sick!” Deuce dug through the paperbag you’d just notice he was holding and shoved a pale pink potion in your hands. “Here! Take this!”
Before you could even touch the bottle, Vil plucked it from a confused Deuce’s hands, studying it with scrutiny. 
“Hmm…This is an average allergy relief potion for hay fever, did you actually ask Sam for a hanahaki symptom relief potion, or did you just grab the first thing you saw off the shelf?”
Deuce visibly deflated, opening his mouth to sheepishly reply before Epel interrupted him with a harsh, “I told him to ask, but he got all riled up and started yammerin’—I mean, uh, talking about getting the Prefect help immediately.”
Vil sighed, handing Deuce the potion back and shooed the two away with a wave of his hand. 
“Just go back, I’ll handle it, just make sure your messes are all cleaned up before we get back.”
The two replied, “Yes sir!” and continued on their path, waving goodbye to you. Though you could hear Epel mumble to Deuce, “Those are marigolds, right? I think Vil’s favorite flowers are those, you don’t think…”
You slowed down to ponder Epel’s words, remembering what Ace initially called the illness. 
“Vil…Ace called it a love sickness…would these flowers related toooo, I don’t know, a hypothetical crush somehow?” 
Vil briefly opened his mouth, closing it as he hesitated to speak. You think you could make out a soft blush on his cheeks. 
“Yes. Your hypothetical crush must favor marigolds. Can’t say I blame him, I’m fond of them myself…” 
The two of you made eye contact, a knowing look in his eye and tone making your heart skip a beat and you look down in embarrassment. 
“Oh…I see…” You coughed awkwardly, a few petals flying from your mouth. “So you said there was a way to get to the root cause?”
Vil hummed, stopping at the entrance of Sam’s shop to turn to you with an unreadable expression. 
“Yes, as an illness based on love, appropriately the cure is to confess your feelings to the one you’ve found yourself fancying.”
A cold flash went through your body as your stomach dropped. Again. “Oh.” The thought of confessing to Vil made you sick, like you could puke at a drop of a coin at any moment.
“I wish you’d mentioned something sooner, I could’ve helped you…ease into it.” Vil murmured,  his hand moving to cradle your cheek. He squished your cheek with a fond look in his eye. 
“I know it’s a daunting task…I won’t rush you into it.” Vil moved his hand to brush your hair away, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “When you’re ready to say something, just let me know.”
Leaning back, VIl covered his mouth to hide his amused smirk. Your face was a blazing red as the marigolds grew a trail down your neck and chest. He motioned for you to follow him into the shop, holding the door open as he held a hand out to you. At the moment, you’re having a hard time imagining why he’d only ever been typecast in villain roles, he looked more like an enchanting love interest catered for you specifically. 
“For now, I’ll be by your side. I will wait for you, meine Süße.”
378 notes · View notes
suzukiblu · 4 months
Note
Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)
WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.
So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 
So maybe an idiot. 
A very hot idiot, though. 
Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 
Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 
Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 
"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 
But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 
The hell? 
Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 
Bernard is mystified. 
Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 
Weird. 
Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 
Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 
Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 
Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 
Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 
Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 
That sounds amazing, actually. 
Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 
Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 
Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 
And so is his belly button, it looks like. 
Ngh. 
Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 
He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 
Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 
And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 
Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 
Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 
Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 
Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 
Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 
Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 
"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 
So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 
Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 
Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 
“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 
“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 
“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 
There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 
Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 
Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?
“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 
Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 
"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 
"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 
"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 
Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 
"What?" Superboy says. 
"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 
"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 
"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 
"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 
. . . well, that can't be good.
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cobiehaven · 16 days
Text
Perfect Night
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SYNOPSIS; juyeon wants to give you an anniversary date that you will remember, not anything like his usual candle-lit dinner plans.
PAIRING; bold!juyeon x fem!reader
GENRE; smut, fluff
WORD COUNT; 1.7k
TAGS/WARNINGS; minors dni ‼️, car sex, anniversary sex, ongoing long-term relationship, lots of praising! romantic sex to rough sex (but isn’t continued after the first orgasm), protected sex (as it should be), slight dirty talk, he calls you baby and good girl.
AUTHORS NOTE; this is my first smut so please don’t hate on me too much 😭❗️
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you always knew juyeon to be a quiet and sweet boyfriend, so it was expected that you would see the same kind of persona when you both got to know each other better.
and by ‘better’ you mean better.
tonight wasn’t just an ordinary date between you both. he often took you out to dinner and/or went to go see a movie with you—he was a bit old school when it came to choosing date spots—although tonight wasn’t just special because of where he took you this time, that was for sure.
“i never thought the stars would be so bright tonight,” you mumbled behind your palm, as you had your elbow rested on the car door.
“mhm,” you heard juyeon hum from the other side. “the shine makes you look even more pretty.”
you blushed lightly, glancing down at the sparkles on your dress, remembering back on the evening you spend with him.
today was your one year anniversary.
he took you out to celebrate the day but as night fell, you both found yourselves secluded away from other buildings in juyeon’s car, staring at the stars out the open windows. the low music, bright moonlight, and piney smell was enough to set the mood since the moment he pulled over.
he looked over at you, your eyes still focused out your window. he didn’t need to look at your face to tell that you were flustered.
the way you fiddled your thumbs together and shifted your legs in the seat explained how you were feeling within a heartbeat.
you didn’t say anything and neither did he, causing you to glance over in his direction.
his tie was loose and his hair ruffed up in the best way possible, you could see the sparkles of your dress reflecting in his eyes and the way the moonlight shined in though his window, onto his fair skin.
he’s perfect.
suddenly, you felt a hand reach out for your knee, rubbing his thumb on your lower thigh. another spring of heat flushing over you but this time to places other than your cheeks.
“y/n,” he calls your name, you’re barely listening. “hm?” you hum in small desperation. “can i…” he trailed off as he slowly leans closer to you. he didn’t finish his sentence, but agreed regardless how far tonight went.
you were okay with it all, on such a perfect night.
he closed the gap between your lips, letting you melt into the kiss with passionate time as his thumb inches up further and into small circles.
his tongue was hot against yours, the both of you pulling away every few seconds to catch you breath.
you didn’t look up from his lips until you heard him chuckle lightly, spiking your curiosity.
“you already look so fucked out,” he smiled though his heat-pouring words. his free hand, that was caressing the back of your neck, moved his thumb over your bottom lip and onto the flat of your tongue. you looked up into his eyes, closing your mouth on his finger. “so pretty,” he tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth, you could tell he was having a hard time holding himself back.
you couldn’t blame him.
“let’s move this to the back, hm?”
you nodded.
after the both of you settled into the backseat, he ordered you to get into his lap, guiding your legs over his hips. “good girl,” you could feel his fingers crawling up your thigh again as the other placed itself largely on your waist. you gripped his shoulders, fighting a peep out until his tongue swiped across your nape. you squirmed, “that tickles!” you whined with a smile, he only giggled. “whoops,” he murmured before attaching his tongue to your neck again, only this time, sucking and licking the sensitive skin.
you failed to keep a noise out of you, your fingers gripping onto the black fabric of his thin t-shirt.
you could feel every inch of his slender body through the shirt as if it wasn’t there, but you knew it was, and that bothered you.
you tugged at the buttons on his shirt, throwing the piece somewhere in the car before your fingers trailed all the way down his chest, prompting his own to scurry up the waist of your dress and over your head. his eyes scanned over your half naked body as if it was the first time he had seen it ever before.
“what is it?” you asked softly, the tips of your fingers brushing the hairs on the back of his neck. “you’re so perfect,” he mumbled.
he was very heavy on the praising, tonight.
“so perfect,” his hands traced over your sides, feeling the curve in his palms shape perfectly. “every inch of you,” you arched your back instinctively causing your hips to roll back onto his.
a groan filled the car from the both of you.
“y/n,” he sighed out as you tried to roll your hips again, his arms wrapping around your waist for steadiness. “i can feel how wet you are,” you moaned.
his voice was low and his hands felt big on your body, making you feel small against him.
it was great.
“y/n, i can’t wait any longer,” he whined. “can i fuck you here, pretty baby?” he rubbed his thumb over the wetness gathering through your panties. you couldn’t help but moan back. “please do,” you helped him out of his black slacks and his underwear, starting on yours next.
pecking at your lips as he unclipped your bra, letting it fall somewhere onto the car floor, his big hands back to caressing your soft skin. he purposely teased your panties off, hooking his fingers around the sides but not pulling them off as quick as you wanted him to. but you didn’t complain, as you were too focused on his tongue rolling around your nubs and trying to rip open the condom packet he handed you moments before.
he let out a small sigh as you rolled the small rubber onto him, rubbing more circles onto your waist as if to contain himself from losing control.
you could tell how much he wanted this part of the night to come sooner.
although you had done it with juyeon a good handful of times now, it was still surprising to you how different this side of him was. especially this night, you weren’t used to him being this… expressive.
you liked it.
you liked it when he praised you for doing nothing but looking pretty, you liked it when he kissed your neck while he prepared you with his long slender fingers, and you most definitely liked it when he sank you down onto him, feeling the slightest burn in the stretch but not enough to pull away from him.
the both of you moaned into each others bodies.
“i’ve waited for this for so long,” he whispered into your neck, his hot breath tickling you. “juyo… we did it last week,” you reminded him, your fingers back to work on his black strands. “this isn’t the same,” he replied back, your breath was caught short when he suddenly started moving. although, at a much slower pace than he usually started with.
“i’m not just fucking you, y/n,” he leaned his head back a bit, your hands cupping the back of his neck.
“i want to make love to you.”
as corny as his words sounded, you could feel the heat rushing from your cheeks to your core, he sighed at the sudden tightness.
that was one way to let him know that you loved him.
“quit teasing me,” you softly spoke before closing the gap between your lips, his hands guiding your hips at a steady pace. “i do it because i know you like it,” he murmured into your lips, a soft moan escaping you in response.
you weren’t sure if it was because you were easy to read but juyeon had always been good at finding out your weakness.
it was a blessing and a curse—but more of a blessing.
before you knew it, juyeon had you turned on your hands and knees, your palms sweaty against the car door creating steamy hand prints against the cold windows. hopefully that won’t leave handprints tomorrow. “holy shit, you’re perfect for me,” he bit his lip as his hands rested on your ass, the sight of you bent over for him while in the back of his car being more erotic than he had imagined. “fuck…” he groaned out as he entered you from behind, pushing through your hot and soft walls.
the feeling, along with the image of you, it was too much.
he swore he wouldn’t bust this fast but you were making it more and more difficult for him as the night went on.
you gripped onto the door, unable to hold back your moans as he thrusted sloppily into you. at this point, the low music was heavily overpowered by both of your voices and wet skin-to-skin slapping. his fingers digged into your hips so hard that you would be surprised if they didn’t leave marks by the end of the night, his breath was hot against your back, planting wet kisses down your spine until he couldn’t anymore.
“juyeon…” you breathlessly called to him, propping yourself up more to get a good look at him behind you. “i know, me too,” he sighed, his lips crashing onto yours, one hand cupping your cheek as the two of you chased your high.
you were the first to go, a long moan escaping past your lips and onto your boyfriends tongue, following a low groan afterwards from him. he kept thrusting into you as he rode out his orgasm, you squirmed in sensitivity.
waiting a moment to catch your breath, he slowly pulled himself out of you, a small whine coming from you at the loss of his warmth.
despite just cumming, you ached to be filled up again.
“what?” he noticed your longing stare. “you want to go again?” he chuckled, pulling the condom off of his still aching cock.
once was never enough for him.
“you know me so well,” you hummed seductively, leaning in for a peck on his lips.
“this is our anniversary, after all,” he smirked into your lips before pulling away with a lustful look.
“grab another condom.”
the sweet part of the night was over, now it was time for the real fun.
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© cobiehaven 2024
124 notes · View notes
majestichyuk · 6 months
Text
Just the norm
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Pairing :- Mark Lee x Fem!reader
Summary :- Just some college kids being college kids.
Genre :- College students, comedy (because I’m nice like that), text messages, fluff (you tell me), acquaintances to friends, flirty-ish, ass whooping, cringe alert (sry)
Wc :- 1.3k 
WARNING :- cursing. It’s never a peaceful day with the haechan & renjun, reader wanted the smoke, and jeno just being the peacemaker because he can. 
Notes :- THANK YOU FOR 100 NOTES ON MY LATEST BOOK kutabare starring Jeno T-T. I WROTE THIS, sry i wrote this in the spawn of the moment because why not, you either enjoy it or you don’t, but once again thank you for the love, don't be afraid to talk with me and send in some ask, I’m open. But anyways enjoy my crack cringe short story, LIKE, FOLLOW & REBLOG. 
🦹
“HAECHAN, GIVE IT BACK!,” you yelled as you leap forward to grab the nuisance by his light brown hair.
“Bring back what?!” Haechan asked as he stood on the other side of the table. “I have nothing that belongs to you,” 
“Haecha- ugh, RENJUN!” you called out to Renjun who’s busied himself with his phone on the other side of the classroom, with his legs crossed elegantly. “Haechan give her back whatever you stole from her,” Renjun ordered as he kept his attention on his phone.
Haechan snarled at you as he handed you back your phone, and pouted as he plopped himself at his desk.
“I always knew you were a lil bitch,” you stick your tongue out playfully at Haechan as you took your phone from his hands. 
“What'd you say you strumpet-” he was interrupted as Jeno entered the classroom.
“What’s with all the noise I was hearing outside?” Jeno questioned as he placed his barrel bag on your desk. “You two fighting again?” Jeno looked at both you and Haechan unimpressed.
“They’ve been at each other throats since this mornin-” Renjun was the second victim of being interrupted by someone.  
“There wouldn’t have been an issue today if he wouldn’t stick his nose out in other people's busine-” Haechan interrupted you as he jumped out of his seat, slamming both of his palms on your desk startling Jeno.
“Well, I’m sorry for wanting to know who has my dearest friend all smiley and shit!” He nearly gagged at the scene he witnessed this morning. “Who possessed you, babe?” Haechan looked at you worriedly as he reached out to check your temperature.
“Renjun whatcha doing after school?,” Jeno peered over you and Haechan getting into a brawl, completely ignoring you two as if it was a normal day.
“Mark asked me to help him with something so I’m probably going to his house,” Renjun told Jeno as he went into his bag searching for a snack. You halted yourself as you let go of Haechan’s neck, dusting your pants as you got up from the floor, kicking him in his ass before you walk over to Renjun.
“Want me to tag along, Junnie?” You sat on Renjun’s table and tried to muster your most irresistible puppy eyes.
“Look who’s the little bitc-” Haechan got slapped at the back of the head by Jeno as he struggled to get up from the floor. 
Renjun put his attention back on you. “Why you wanna tag along, don’t you have somewhere to be after school,” Renjun asks pushing more of a reaction out of you, even though he has an idea of your motives to join him and Mark.
“Well.. not anymore, I don’t really have to be there, the team will do fine without me for one day,” you reassure him, even though you’re kind of rethinking if your basketball team has that level of independence.
“They’ll be fine,” You brushed him off as you took a bite of the snack he handed to you.
“So who were you messaging this morning to have Haechan nearly puke everywhere?” Renjun questioned you as if he didn’t know.
“No one really,” You stuffed a handful of the chips in your mouth. “Jst marlk,” you were able to get out, thinking no one would be able to understand. Until.
“MARK? MARK FUCKING LEE,” Haechan pushed Renjun out of his seat as he planted himself in front of you in Renjun's abandoned chair. “Lee Minhyung has you smiling like that?!,” Haechan looks at you in concern and disgust.
“What’s so wrong with Mark?” Jeno joined in as he held Renjun back from pouncing on Haechan. “Calm down Renjun, calm down,” He gently stroked Renjun's hair and went over to flick Haechan’s forehead.
“Well for starters,” Haechan rubbed his red forehead. “He’s a total wimp that just smells bad and too uptight, AND HE CHEATS!” 
“You’re just mad because he beat you in badminton,” Renjun rolled his eyes whilst taking a seat next to you on his desk. 
“And because he beat you in Mario cart,” Jeno added as he propped by the window.
“And because he-” you stopped speaking when Haechan started to dramatically flop in his chair.
“Okay! Okay, I get it, I’m a jealous trainwreck, I can't help my competitiveness” he pulled out his white handkerchief and surrendered. Everyone chuckled at him until their attention was taken by the devil himself.
“Hey Mark,” Jeno got up and bro hugged Mark who reluctantly accepted the gesture.
“Hey,” Mark muttered looking quite tired as he went to take his seat at the back of the class. 
“You see what I mean? A total wimp, didn’t even greet us” Haechan loudly whispered as he watched Mark place his headphones on his head. Jeno went over the speak with Mark, leaving Haechan to ramble.
“I don’t think you should be talking considering your mom has to wash your underwear at your big age, and he looks tired” You retorted, gazing at Jeno and Mark wondering what Jeno was talking about.
“Well since you’re obviously so smitten by him why don’t you go over and talk with him?” Haechan challenges you as he looks at you expectedly. 
Renjun brushed him off “You didn’t have the balls to talk to youR crush face to face, all I saw was shriveled nuts,”. You burst out in laughter gaining the attention of the two boys at the back.
“You know what I’m not even going to waste my time with you,” Haechan glared at Renjun. 
“The only action you’re getting is from that hole in your pillow, you prude,” Haechan spat out as Renjun gasped at his words.
 “It wouldn’t be that way if you’d let your mom visit me mor- AH!” Renjun got up from his desk and ran towards the classroom door with Haechan trailing behind him screaming how he’d skin him alive. 
You sat there with your arms crossed, knowing after they’d had their little fight they’d probably leave the compound goofing around to only return until their next class. You watch as Jeno and Mark are still in deep conversation about god knows what, so you get up go back to your table, and take out your phone preparing to play a mobile game until lunch is finished. 
After five minutes of playing Roblox, you see you got a text from someone.
Marknificent 🦹: So no greetings when I arrived?
You quickly open the message, instantly thinking back and realizing you indeed didn't greet him, not that it was unpurpose.
You: I should be asking you the same thing 🤨
Marknificent 🦹: Touche
Marknificent 🦹: What ya doing?
You looked behind you to see him still engaging in conversation with Jeno, well he’s mostly listening but anyway.
You: I’m actually on the toilet 💀
You: Taking a fat shit
Marknificent 🦹: ew wft dude 😭 😂
Marknificent 🦹: Well I’m popping a huge pimple on my ass rn 
You let out a snorted laugh to look back and see Mark looking away from Jeno, smiling trying to hold his laughter.
You: Are you having a serious conversation rn?
Marknificent 🦹: Yes 🧍🏻
You: So why are you texting me?
Marknificent 🦹: Well I’ve noticed we don’t really talk much in person because we’re always interrupted, so why not cheat the system?
 You: That’s not nice bro ☠️
Marknificent 🦹: He’s too deep in his story to even notice
Marknificent 🦹: Plus ima pro at multitaskin, no lies detected.
You: Im intrigued 
Marknificent 🦹: Well I asked renjun to help me with something at my place
Marknificent 🦹: You could tag along and 
Marknificent 🦹: MAYBE, i’ll show you first hand (pun intended)
You: what was the joke? 💀
You: Boy-
You: what ya mean by that? 😏
Marknificent 🦹: I shall not tell ☝️
Marknificent 🦹: You have to be there to find out 🧍🏻
You: Aaaaand what if I’m not there Mark lee
Marknificent 🦹: Well Albert, Ig you’ll never know
You: Albert 🧍‍♀️, really? 👩‍🦯
You logged out
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stveharringtn · 3 months
Text
warnings; modern eddie! this might be the only time i will literally do anything modern with ST😭
did my lil walking while listening to music thing today and ‘i’m just ken’ came on.
i thought of dad!eddie . HEAR ME OUT!!!!
after your guys daughter - serenity - had begged and begged for you - who agreed immediately - and eddie - who was still on the fence about it because what if it’s not metal - to take her.
you all waited until a sunday, hoping not many people would be in the theatre. (there were still a lot inside.) eddue had bought the little barbie bucket while you went to find the seats, serenity jumping up and down her curls bouncing.
he held her hand with his, his other hand holding onto the bucket. his eyes glance around once he’s in the right showing, landing on your waving and a big grin.
he couldn’t help but grin as well, the matching outfits you and serenity had on were the cutest.
serenity sits in the middle, little legs swinging as her shoulder jump every so often with little patience.
“lovebug, you gotta chill out.” eddie snickers.
“let her live.” you smack his shoulder softly. he gives you a little look.
once the lights dim, the little girl couldn’t help but squeal quietly, little fingers pressing into her lips - her nails were painted pink and sparkly.
you grin staring down at her before looking back up at the screen.
once the movie was over, eddie was discreetly wiping at his eyes which made you giggle airily, wiping at your own eyes.
“aw, big guy, it’s okay.” you grab serenity’s hand. she giggles.
“i’m fine.” he mutters, leading the way out.
later that night, he’s humming in the bathroom, shampoo lathered in his hair. you lift a brow, staring at the curtain.
“eds.”
“yeah, sweetheart?” he continues to hum. you smirk, spiting the toothpaste out of your mouth and wipe off the foam. you turn and lean against the sink.
“are you humming ‘i’m just ken?’”
he stops all his movements, eyes flying open as he stares at the emerald green bath tile.
because he is humming the song that ryan gosling had sung in the movie with an awesome vibe.
“no.”
you narrow your eyes - you absolutely knew better.
“okay then, honey… i’ll see you in a bit.”
“alright.” he clears his throat.
and if you would’ve thought he would’ve put a lid on it, because this guy does not like anything other than rock or metal, you’re wrong.
it take a little bit, but eventually, he mumbles to words to himself.
he even goes as far as buying the vinyl. “look baby!” he kneels by serenity. “wanna listen to the barbie songs?”
the girl grins, nodding. he stands, and places it on the vinyl. they both dance and you peek in the living room watching them with a smile.
steve enters the car, jumping as eddie’s hand shoots out in front of him. “my name’s ken!” he then mutters the ‘and so am i’. steve blinks.
“put that manly hand in mine!” once he finishes the belting part, he’s breathing heavily and slumped back into his seat.
the song flips to metallica’s enter sandman, the beginning chords playing out.
steve blinks again. “what is wrong with you?”
eddie grins, humming a bit as he sneakily hits the left button, restarting the song. “whoops.”
everyone finds it entertaining really.
and eddie honestly finds it pretty metal now.
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eddie tags; @queercodedcharacter, @lavendermunson, @whisperingwillowxox
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