#2 lives against one to save another

[duncanor]

That's it. I get why I feel Vash killing Legato hits harder in the manga than it does in the 98's anime.

When Vash pulls the trigger he doesn't just break his vow of non-killing to his mother but he also has to accept the death of Rem and Wolfwood at the same time.

When he kills Legato, it's the moment he let them go.

[mechawolfie]

someone took ONE of my cookies.

[screampied]

MONEY HONEY! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. fucking your client wasn’t on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he can’t perform because of issues he’s having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cords—it involves being between your legs.

word count. 4.2k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, pwp, unprotected sex, modern au, he's a whiney brat, overstim, degradation, praise, semi public, impact play, cunnilingus, fingering.

an. lol this was fun 2 write !! ty @osaemu as always for beta'ing

“…nono, you don’t understand. i can’t go out there, i just…can’t—!” gojo mutters, and he’s pacing back and forth. talk about a drama queen. to think you had to deal with this every day, being the infamous satoru gojo’s personal assistant was never an easy task. his attire was…quite enthralling to say the least. gojo was draped up in a sheeny black one-piece with rhinestones attached in a few places, he always had his outfits designed a certain way. not too tight, not too big.

you sat on the sofa, taking a sip of a latte he bought you as a thanks for saving him to deal with the hoards of paparazzi that practically lived outside the stadium back-way entrance.

“satoru, you do this before every show,” you sigh, glancing at him. you couldn’t lie to yourself, he was strikingly handsome. gojo’s hair was a tad bit messy and ruffled. it was a slight v-cut towards his chest to show a bit of skin. his fangirls always went wild over the most minimal things such as that. “you do realize you’re supposed to be performing in front of 10,000 people? canceling right before a show isn’t a good l—”

“i know…i know,” he pouts, and he’s so unserious, you sort of found it hard to believe this was a millionaire pop star who’s such a household name. gojo lets off a loud sigh before walking towards you with a sheepish grin. “these cough drops you’ve been givinʼ me haven’t done shit.”

“really...” you deadpan, casually giving him nothing but a sly eye roll.

gojo sulks and he’s just a few feet apart from you now. “mhm…really,” he says, and the slight rasp in his voice catches your attention. his earpiece was still on, as well with his mic that hung just barely underneath his chin. “i did research though. about other methods that help with heh, um vocal fry..”

you stare up at the popstar, and he’s returning the gaze…as if he was trying to hide the smile that was already forming against his pink lips. you don’t give him an answer and this time, he’s the one to roll his eyes.

“…well since you asked so nicely,” he grumbles, the same pout going against his face before he pulls out his phone. gojo scrolls a thumb down against his bright screen before clearing his throat. “hm, according to this totally accurate article, it says… to fully recover from vocal fry, a guy must uh, receive a special treat within a woman’s—”

you blankly stare at him, already second-guessing his fake response. “just say you want to eat me out, satoru.”

“wha— where’d you get that impression?” he plays dumb, furrowing his eyebrows and cowardly looks around the room. a few seconds go by before he shrugs, speaking quickly, defeated. “….fine i wanna eat you out. hmph.”

you turn your head for a brief moment, hearing the defending roars of the crowd just a few areas down from the dressing room the two of you currently stayed in. “maybe after your show, they're chanting for y—”

“they can wait,” he frowns, and he turns you around, two hands softly holding onto your shoulders. gojo remained with a pout, bottom lip just slightly tucking underneath the top one. “i can’t.”

the both of you grow quiet for a long moment, and gojo seems serious—dramatic, but serious. you and him both exchanged sensual eye contact, and you were so close to gojo that you could practically smell the strong cinnamon scent of his intoxicating cologne. the popstar smooths his lips together before briefly shifting his eyes down at the floor and then back up at you. 

“five minutes…five minutes, that isn't too long is it?” he stammers, and the gaze the two of you made starts to get more and more intense. “i won’t get into too much trouble if it's just five minutes right?”

“you’re insufferable.” you mumble, letting off a soft sigh. “okay, five minutes. if you say this helps with your—vocal whatever.”

not much to your surprise, five minutes turned into half an hour. 

you held back a moan the sudden second you felt gojo’s warm tongue swiftly lap against your drenched folds. he made you wriggle against him, and you maintained a rough grip against the laid-back sofa.

“s-satoru,” you’d whimper out, gasping at how sloppy he was. you were prompt up in such a position to where you were bent over the arm part of the couch, skirt lifted, fishnets just barely pulled down, and the most vulgar expression. “oh my g-goddd, you're gonna make the others outside h-hear.”

“you’ll just have to be a little more quiet, assistant,” he whispers, cool breath fanning against your pussy. perhaps this was unprofessional, no it was very unprofessional. a plethora of following consequences started to race through your mind. “what time is it?”

you moaned, reaching near the wooden half table for his watch and read the time, “um.. quarter past eight.”

“aw man,” he sulks, softly licking the your tender pulsating numb with the very tip of his tongue. with a quick second, he maneuvers circles all over your clit to feel you squirm and jitter against him. “that much time passed? can’t stand rushing…”

as you cling onto the fluffed couch, your black pencil skirt that was just sluggishly raised up and yet, you continued to gnaw the inside of your lip from the feelings of his tongue, entirely sloppy.

the slurps that exited from his mouth had your bottom lip quivering in such desire. you craved more, the way he swirled and curved the length of his tongue throughout your pussy earned umpteen gasps and whines from you. 

“s—satoru,” you’d croak out, and he’s casually taking the time to make out with your folds. languidly, your slick race down his chin, and between breaks to breathe, he'd lap up his tongue before diving back in. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again, think ‘m gonna cum..”

“wait a little longer, yeah?” he murmurs, grabbing the fat of your ass with two rough hands. you felt bundles of butterflies stir inside your stomach, feeling gojo’s nose swipe against your folds for a few jiffs. “let me eat, haven't had a good meal all fuckin’ day.”

you swallowed, not even facing him but you could practically see the grin stretching across his lips. “and…and who’s fault was that?”

he chuckles, warm breath fanning against your cunt. “okay, you have a point,” and your thighs feel feverish—you’re so hot, and not because of the sudden humidity wafting around the small dressing room.

the popstar lolls out his tongue, humming before you moan, feeling him lick your pussy in a straight direction. “mhm, this is better than anything else though.”

you were about to speak, but all that did was make you let out a shaky whine. the smooth pads of his thumbs graze against both parts of your ass as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. it was as if time stood still, your mouth grew exceedingly dry and your legs felt like they could barely stand up on their own. 

“sa..satoru,” you once more repeated, not knowing how long you could last. simply, his tongue was dangerous—god, it was just the way he moved it in every direction.

he knew where to lick, where to suck, and even nibble. gojo found himself tickling his tongue against your little nub before sucking on it. all to hear you cry out in desperation. cacophonies of whimpers depart from your glossed lips such as, ‘satoru,’ ‘please-please,’ and ‘m gonna c-cum.’

there was no denying, gojo had you an entire stammering mess. you found yourself even questioning how this became, the two of you were never intimate. although, there's always been steamy moments between the two of you. 

for instance, there was a moment where gojo took you with him to the hot springs while he was on tour…which non-surprisingly led to a hot make-out sesh. that was a few months ago, and the two of you decided to not think much of it. of course though, there are always assumptions being made about the two of you—always from the nosy journalists and interviewers. 

each interview, it’d always be questions they’d ask about the precious little assistant that’s essentially attached by the hip to the famous gojo satoru.

“are you and that girl exclusive yet?”

“how long have you two seen each other?”

“please. describe to us. what’s she like in b—”

they’d get more perverted each time. alas, gojo always loathed it whenever the press referred to you as ‘that’ girl.

his jaw would always clench in sheer annoyance. perhaps he didn't have the right to feel that way, but he was somewhat protective over you. it wasn't like you were his bodyguard or anything clearly, but still. he always liked how you treated him just like you’d treat anyone else.

“satoru..” you'd cut him off from his deep thoughts. “your phone keeps beeping.”

“huuuuh?” he grouches, ears perking at the annoying screech of his device. gojo’s thumbs remain against both edges of your ass before he breaks off his lips, a long string of his own saliva running down your slit. “oh, can you hand it to me?”

he's so nonchalant, and with your back still arched, you lightly fling his phone towards him.

he grumbles.

picking up the phone, typing in his twenty one digit passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ before with a click, it unlocks. gojo darts his eyes towards his phone and hums at the five messages left from his manager, kento nanami. 

‘Greetings. Where are you? Message me Ass.’

‘ASAP. Autocorrect.’

‘Your fans think your dead.’

‘Don’t tell me you're busy with that assistant of yours again.’

‘When your sales start going low, don't blame me.’

and many more unread, “blah blah yeah yeah,” gojo murmurs, skimming through the loads of unread gray bubbled messages. “nothing important. geez, can't have a single moment to myself.”

you were so close to orgasming and that's when gojo flips you over to face him—you're panting and he flashes you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “aw, waiting for me?” he whispers, bringing a gentle kiss towards the inner corner of your neck. his touch was immensely warm, something you just couldn't describe. “you wanna cum don't you, baby?

“m-mhmm.” was all you could manage out, wrapping your arms around him as he got right between you. gojo continues to trail kisses down your neck before chuckling. 

“use those words, c’mon. don't be shy. i wanna hear ya tell me what you want.”

the way he was such a tease, you couldn't stand him, then again you could. so annoying, gojo’s warmth of his performing outfit brushed against your skin. the perfectly knitted fabric of it dancing against your skin as he inched closer towards you. “tell me how much of a messy girl you wanna be.”

“i—” you started, and he took a moment to stare into your eyes. gojo looked so pretty, smug yes, but pretty. long lashes each time he blinked, fluttering against him. whenever he showcased that well-known cheeky smile of his, his dimples would poke right against his lips. “i-i wanna cum. please, lemme cum, ‘toru..”

“pretty girllll wants to cummmm,” he sings in a  playful melodic tune. again, you couldn't stand him. singing right in the middle of something so intimate. gojo runs a hand down your buttoned-up shirt before chuckling. “hm, i suppose. go ahead, let go fʼr me.”

once you do, immediately your vision turns dizzy. all you saw was a few blotches of white, and it feels so good that the feelings have you biting down on your lip. gojo leans into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against you while giving your ass a soft caress.

“good girl, just let go…yeah,” he purrs, giving your collarbone a gentle suck. you taste so sweet to him. you're addicting, simple as that. like candy he can't get enough of.

gojo satoru had a sweet tooth for you, there was no doubt about it. “fuck, i can just suck on you all day,” he utters in a low voice, and his warm hands part your thighs so he can get a bit more between you. “i need more…fuck the fans, i need you.”

“idiot, don’t say that..” you moan, and he's kissing all down the crevices of your neck again. gojo’s lips against your tender skin gave you chills. even still, you were so hot, from the neck down. it felt amazing, the feeling of him sucking and kissing against your skin to such a point that you're just throbbing. “t-they’re waiting for you.”

“they can keep waiting,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss near your chest, moving the exclusive backstage lanyard pass away with a slight grip. “damn, you don't know how hard i’ve been during rehearsal. i—i think about you, you know?”

you gawk up at him as his body towers over you, his costume glimmers in the light before he starts to peel it off carefully. you were taken by surprise so you mutter, “you…you do?”

“well yeah girl,” he rolls his eyes, such sass in his tone, following with the low rasp that hid underneath his voice. “you drive me crazy in the worst way.”

“the feeling’s mutual, popstar.” you utter, a glint in your eye.

“hmpf. now that i was nice enough to let you cum, you decide to be a brat, huh?” he raises a brow, using two fingers to brush his mic piece aside. 

a coyish grin goes against your lips. “sorry. are you gonna do anything about it?”

“…shut up..” he grumbles, and he does. 

pretty much, you then found yourself on your hands and knees on the couch, feeling gojo caress your ass briefly before meeting the mounds of your skin with a mean spank.

you suck in shortened breath. “ooh,” he says as you moan in unison of the light thwack. “you get off on spanks, huh?” he utters in a grouse, the feeling of his palm kissing against your skin making you continuously pulse. 

“n-no.” you spat. 

“liar,” he matches your snarky tone, and you let off a gasp once you feel him finally rub the tip of his dick against your folds. gojo grows abnormally quiet the minute your slick coats his length freely. “fuckkk,” he sighs, eyes closing for a short second. you teasingly wriggled your ass against him and he spanks you again. “you’re so impatient, wait.”

“do you even know how to fuck?” you slip out, and you held back a giggle. perhaps you shouldn't have said that, your thoughts did speak way more than they should anyway. 

gojo’s eyebrows curl into a furrow, and his voice genuinely sounds offended. “wha—?! of course i  do.”

“just asking.” you tease. 

“just asking,” he mocks your tone, completely butchering it purposely and gojo slowly starts to make his way inside of your tight pussy. he's gradually moving himself in, and you let off a moan before he continues, “yeah. shut the f-fuck up.”

a small grin stretches against your lips, because you hear how gojo stutters whilst sinking inches into you. even while trying to be mean and degrading, he was so close to moaning himself. it was simply adorable. you maintained a mere pristine arch while biting the inside of your cheek once more. 

“you're s-so wet ‘n sloppy,” he huffs out a groan, and the squelches your pussy made against him was simply enticing. for a second, you grew mute once you gave your own body a listen. just the faint sounds of gojo’s jagged breathing, “f-fuck, ‘s good. keep facing that way, just like that. good.”

gojo’s touch against your spine was purely gossamer. 

he was soft, gentle, delicate.

yet the minute he started to create a pace with his rollicked hips, he couldn't contain himself. the way his dick probed throughout your walls, you kissed your teeth in longing—just for him to just hurry.

gojo was always such a tease, the fat plump head of his cock dabbing against your pussy. 

“s-stop playing and just put it in.” you moaned, growing impatient by the mile. 

“heh, you know what they say,” he mumbles, you pulse even more once you feel him slide in about a single inch or two…only to then go right back out. “patience is a virgin.”

“…it’s virtue.”

“that’s what i sai—”

“just fuck me.” you whined. 

gojo giggles, and finally, he starts up his slovenly pace again. he grips onto your hips before sighing. he takes note of the way you progressively suck him in.

you linger over the couch, the fabric of your own pencil skirt just hovering over your waist before gojo starts to sway his hips. 

you had to stop yourself from being so noisy, executives were probably in the other room.

some kind of meeting perhaps occurring, yet here you were, happily entangled with your client. such thick inches he was dumping into you had nearly drooling. gojo’s base was rotund and fat, thwacking and thwacking against you to where you're so dizzy. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru.. ‘s good.” you whined, every few seconds he’d smack your ass to watch your ass jiggle with such recoil. it was one of his favorite moments to witness. as your lips stuck together, your thighs already felt weak and tremulous. 

“damn girl…didn't expect you to s-start throwin’ yourself back again me,” he sibilates, and for a concise moment his head goes back. a groan flies past his glossed pink lips as your ass continued to thrash against him. “you're such a needy girl. tryna…f-fuck me back..”

the way his voice unintentionally got low whenever he was in such a trance had you throbbing, such convulses making you nearly weak in the knees.

to you, the feeling was indescribable. such pools of heat ran between your legs the more his thrusts picked up.

his dick reached every spot, so much so being precise—you felt the curve of his length analyze all throughout your inner walls. it didn't miss a spot, he reached deep and you let off the cutest whimper. “god, r-right there. please, ‘toru. y-your curve, ‘s reaching me deep.”

“you f-flatter me,” he pants, trying to ignore his flusteredness. gojo’s right hand, the hand that had a half-cut open glitter glove that coordinated alongside his outfit ghosts against your ass. his lip quivers from his pace, and the way your pussy just sucks him dry, a few splotches of pre-cum cutely coated against the outer part of your ass. “fuck, dunno how much i can take with you movin’ your ass against me like that…shit, shit.”

“…s-satoru,” you breathed, biting down on your arm to suppress your moans a bit. not before long, he deepens the angle and you feel his sharped hips piston in utter contentment. “fuck, f-fuck. ‘s deep.”

gojo groans, swallowing the nonexistent lump in his throat before he feels himself coming close.

“think you’re gonna m-milk me dry,” he gasps, jerk after jerk his hips go against you at full throttle. the base of his dick, you hear the pap pap pap noises commence, and it’s so obscene. “shit, think ‘m in love,” and then you grow hot. it’s a long inelegant pause before he adds to his words, “…i-in love with your pussy.”

you were gonna comment something, but you were too fucked dumb to comprehend anything. you’re basically being fucked stupid into the cushioned sofa. the cottony bristles of the fabric went against your skin as your body lurched forward each time. 

splaying at an almost animalistic pace, gojo’s ears, the very tips of them at least grow incredibly hot, you’re making his body heat up, scorching. the way your pussy tightly hugged around him like a vice, he was obsessed.

he just couldn’t get enough. to think this was the first time he’s been this intimate with you—oh, how he could only imagine what it’d be like for a second time, or a third time, or a…

“s-satoru, your phone’s ringing..”

he grunts, glancing down to see the bright-lit screen display, and this time it’s geto. with an eye roll, he ignores it, still gripping your hips, he’s attaining his peak before he lets off a husky groan. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum.. can i—?”

“y-yes, jus’ do it, ‘toru,” you spoke, not even letting him finish his sentence—you knew what he was gonna ask though if he could shoot inside. you were so drunk from his dick, thoughts on your mind were straight mush. 

“okay, okay,” he breathes, and even his moans were pretty. figures, gojo was a soprano, so he was bound to sound angelic, even while moaning his head off. it had the perfect pitch to it, such rasp in it, almost breathy. 

you feel gojo’s pelvic bone thrust a bit more at a quickened pace, accelerating just a bit more and his nerves were just going wild. “fuck, f-fuck..” he grunts, and he starts to grow a bit whiney, his sloppy hits against your rear made out to be a tad bit voluntary, rhythm a bit more expedite, and he clenched his jaw. 

once gojo came, it's so much.

thick ropes that seeped right into you. you moan, and he pauses his hips just to watch, feeling himself pouring all inside. velvety ropes of the popstar’s cum fills you up to the brim. you're panting, he's panting, and gojo was in love.

was it love? he didn't know, but his pupils were dilated for sure. 

his breath hitches once he slowly pulls out, watching his own cum slowly spill out between your folds and he lets off a moan. “made me fuck such a mess into you,” he spouts, running a thumb down your slit to watch you cutely jounce against his touch. 

“you ruined my panties.” you whined, turning over to face him—gojo leans in for a kiss, and you return the favor, tasting yourself once more on his lips. the sweetened taste of your own slick that still remained all over his tongue. 

“baby, it's not like you need them,” he rasps, grabbing ahold of you, and he positions you to get on his lap. “besides, i was gonna ask to keep them.”

“why?” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, slipping off a moan at his already sensitive tip hovering against your entrance as you realigned yourself. 

timidly, he runs a hand down his neck. “y’know. for uh…good luck? was gonna keep them in my pocket or something.”

“you're so—”

“shhh.” he hums, interrupting your words for another tender kiss. your tongue slides against his, and he tastes minty.

as his breath collides against yours, you playfully bite down on his lip. gojo grunts, and he’s making your way inside again. gingerly, you sink down against his thick base and he gives your ass a mean squeeze before spanking it once you start to move. 

“oh f-fuck…fuck, forgot how sensitive-” he hiccups, watching with half-lidded eyes at your hips rotating against him in an orderly fashion. you moan from his pleasure, taking a second to swallow before whimpering—softly, you kiss against his neck and he grunts. “you-you make me feel so good, baby.”

gojo’s almost at a lost for words, he’s had his fair share of women, but none could make him feel like this.

besides, he's never had the time. touring day in and day out was a hassle, and intimacy was a straight no due to his overly busy schedule. 

although, whilst the two of you were screwing around, making out and you're riding him cowgirl, that’s right when the wooden creaky door bursts open.

not to anyone’s surprise, it's no one other than gojo’s best friend and bassist, suguru geto.

“you've got to be joking,” he utters with crossed arms, immediately darting his eyes away. “everyone’s been calling you, there's a search party, and—”

geto pauses, tilting his head. “…is that my clothes you're wearing, satoru?”

“suguru…hey man,” gojo gasps, nervous laughter following his tone—you jump in surprise, and he wraps an arm around your waist. “i’m… kinda of busy here.”

“i don't give a fuck,” he grumbles. “by the way. your mic was on the entire time. you moan like a girl more than her.”

gojo’s eyes widen, reaching for the tiny button near the edge of his mic.

indeed, the switch was turned on and he awkwardly laughed, bringing the speaking part up to his lips.

“eheh…hey mic check?” and he could hear himself echo through the ear piece. embarrassing.

despite you still being inside, you just sat there—geto staring away, not even trying to comprehend what was happening before gojo coos out a subtle cheeky, “uh…i didn't know my mic was on. my bad.”

“you're so stupid...” you run a hand against your forehead in disbelief. an entire stadium practically heard the both of you. 

the heels of geto turned before gojo brings a finger against your lips to shush, and he pouts. “sugu wait,”

“what.” he mutters, turning back around. 

“wanna join…? don't think a few more minutes wouldn't hurt…r-right?”

“…….”

[zevranunderstander]

i dont think i will ever be over dragon age 2. like. bioware made an epic fantasy story about a chosen one having to save a country and stop the apocalypse and then they made the second installment of the series be about the sociopolitical climate in ONE city through the lens of a family of refugees fleeing from the war of the first game and just. made it about political tensions and class dynamics and the influences of living in a church-mandated state and the growing tension over an occupied piece of the city and political killings and interpersonal conflict and power and its story is ENTIRELY character-driven. it has easily the most iconic set of companion characters. the premise of living through a story told over the course of ten years and knowing from the start that something really bad will happen in the end was so fresh and exciting. the fact that the acts really built on top of each other andhow much the city changed over time. and the game was so mature in terms of the topic of fighting against oppression in so many ways (im usually generous and say that the short development time left some things a bit wanting), and as much as some people say that the game treats mages and templars as being equally bad, i don't think that that is actually true about the game and it very earnestly tries to grapple with some pretty complex political dynamics.

and then the game completely flopped financially and was almost universally hated for its queer themes and its sympathy for "terrorism" and a lot of the things that stemmed from basically having no production time at all and then the studio just made another epic fantasy story about a chosen one that has to save the world from the apocalypse

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

“Show, Don’t Tell”…But This Time Someone Explains It

If you’ve ever been on the hunt for writing advice, you've definitely seen the phrase “Show, Don’t Tell.”

Writeblr coughs up these three words on the daily; it’s often considered the “Golden Rule” of writing. However, many posts don't provide an in-depth explanation about what this "Golden Rule" means (This is most likely to save time, and under the assumption that viewers are already informed).

More dangerously, some posts fail to explain that “Show, Don’t Tell” occasionally doesn’t apply in certain contexts, toeing a dangerous line by issuing a blanket statement to every writing situation. 

The thing to take away from this is: “Show, Don’t Tell” is an essential tool for more immersive writing, but don't feel like a bad writer if you can’t make it work in every scenario (or if you can’t get the hang of it!)

1. What Does "Show, Don't Tell" Even Mean?

“Show, Don’t Tell” is a writing technique in which the narrative or a character’s feelings are related through sensory details rather than exposition. Instead of telling the reader what is happening, the reader infers what is happening due to the clues they’ve been shown.

EXAMPLE 1:

Telling: The room was very cold. Showing: She shivered as she stepped into the room, her breath steaming in the air.

EXAMPLE 2:

Telling: He was furious. Showing: He grabbed the nearest book and hurled it against the wall, his teeth bared and his eyes blazing.

EXAMPLE 3 ("SHOW, DON'T TELL" DOESN'T HAVE TO MEAN "WRITE A LOT MORE")

Telling: The room hadn't been lived in for a very long time. Showing: She shoved the door open with a spray of dust.

Although the “showing” sentences don’t explicitly state how the characters felt, you as the reader use context clues to form an interpretation; it provides information in an indirect way, rather than a direct one.

Because of this, “Show, Don’t Tell” is an incredibly immersive way to write; readers formulate conclusions alongside the characters, as if they were experiencing the story for themselves instead of spectating. 

As you have probably guessed, “showing” can require a lot more words (as well as patience and effort). It’s a skill that has to be practiced and improved, so don’t feel discouraged if you have trouble getting it on the first try!

2. How Do I Use “Show, Don’t Tell” ?

There are no foolproof parameters about where you “show” and not “tell" or vice versa; it’s more of a writing habit that you develop rather than something that you selectively decide to employ.

In actuality, most stories are a blend of both showing and telling, and more experienced writers instinctively switch between one and another to cater to their narrative needs. You need to find a good balance of both in order to create a narrative that is both immersive and engaging.

i. Help When Your Writing Feels Bare-Bones/Soulless/Boring

Your writing is just not what you’ve pictured in your head, no matter how much you do it over. Conversations are stilted. The characters are flat. The sentences don’t flow as well as they do in the books you've read. What’s missing?

It’s possibly because you’ve been “telling” your audience everything and not “showing”! If a reader's mind is not exercised (i.e. they're being "spoon-fed" all of the details), your writing may feel boring or uninspired!

Instead of saying that a room was old and dingy, maybe describe the peeling wallpaper. The cobwebs in the corners. The smell of dust and old mothballs. Write down what you see in your mind's eye, and allow your audience to formulate their own interpretations from that. (Scroll for a more in-depth explanation on HOW to develop this skill!)

ii. Add More Depth and Emotion to Your Scenes

Because "Show, Don't Tell" is a more immersive way of writing, a reader is going to feel the narrative beats of your story a lot more deeply when this rule is utilized.

Describing how a character has fallen to their knees sobbing and tearing our their hair is going to strike a reader's heart more than saying: "They were devastated."

Describing blood trickling through a character's fingers and staining their clothes will seem more dire than saying: "They were gravely wounded."

iii. Understand that Sometimes Telling Can Fit Your Story Better

Telling can be a great way to show your characters' personalities, especially when it comes to first-person or narrator-driven stories. Below, I've listed a few examples; however, this list isn't exclusive or comprehensive!

Initial Impressions and Character Opinions

If a character describes someone's outfit as "gaudy" or a room as "absolutely disgusting," it can pack more of a punch about their initial impression, rather than describing the way that they react (and can save you some words!). In addition, it can provide some interesting juxtaposition (i.e. when a character describes a dog as "hideous" despite telling their friend it looks cute).

2. Tone and Reader Opinions

Piggybacking off of the first point, you can "tell, not show" when you want to be certain about how a reader is supposed to feel about something. "Showing" revolves around readers drawing their own conclusions, so if you want to make sure that every reader draws the same conclusion, "telling" can be more useful! For example, if you describe a character's outfit as being a turquoise jacket with zebra-patterned pants, some readers may be like "Ok yeah a 2010 Justice-core girlie is slaying!" But if you want the outfit to come across as badly arranged, using a "telling" word like "ridiculous" or "gaudy" can help set the stage.

3. Pacing

"Show, don't tell" can often take more words; after all, describing a character's reaction is more complicated than stating how they're feeling. If your story calls for readers to be focused more on the action than the details, such as a fight or chase scene, sometimes "telling" can serve you better than "showing." A lot of writers have dedicated themselves to the rule "tell action, show emotion," but don't feel like you have to restrict yourself to one or the other.

iv. ABOVE ALL ELSE: Getting Words on the Page is More Important!

If you’re stuck on a section of your story and just can’t find it in yourself to write poetic, flowing prose, getting words on the paper is more important than writing something that’s “good.” If you want to be able to come back and fix it later, put your writing in brackets that you can Ctrl + F later.

Keeping your momentum is the hardest part of writing. Don't sacrifice your inspiration in favor of following rules!

3. How Can I Get Better at “Show, Don’t Tell”?

i. Use the Five Senses, and Immerse Yourself!

Imagine you’re the protagonist, standing in the scene that you have just created. Think of the setting. What are things about the space that you’d notice, if you were the one in your character’s shoes?

Smell? Hear? See? Touch? Taste?

Sight and sound are the senses that writers most often use, but don’t discount the importance of smell and taste! Smell is the most evocative sense, triggering memories and emotions the moment someone walks into the room and has registered what is going on inside—don’t take it for granted. And even if your character isn’t eating, there are some things that can be “tasted” in the air.

EXAMPLE:

TELLING: She walked into the room and felt disgusted. It smelled, and it was dirty and slightly creepy. She wished she could leave. SHOWING: She shuffled into the room, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a suspicious stain on the carpet. The blankets on the bed were moth-bitten and yellowed, and the flowery wallpaper had peeled in places to reveal a layer of blood-red paint beneath…like torn cuticles. The stench of cigarettes and mildew permeated the air. “How long are we staying here again?” she asked, flinching as the door squealed shut. 

The “showing” excerpt gives more of an idea about how the room looks, and how the protagonist perceives it. However, something briefer may be more suited for writers who are not looking to break the momentum in their story. (I.e. if the character was CHASED into this room and doesn’t have time to take in the details.)

ii. Study Movies and TV Shows: Think like a Storyteller, Not Just a Writer

Movies and TV shows quite literally HAVE TO "show, and not tell." This is because there is often no inner monologue or narrator telling the viewers what's happening. As a filmmaker, you need to use your limited time wisely, and make sure that the audience is engaged.

Think about how boring it would be if a movie consisted solely of a character monologuing about what they think and feel, rather than having the actor ACT what they feel.

(Tangent, but there’s also been controversy that this exposition/“telling” mindset in current screenwriting marks a downfall of media literacy. Examples include the new Percy Jackson and Avatar: The Last Airbender remakes that have been criticized for info-dumping dialogue instead of “showing.”)

If you find it easy to envision things in your head, imagine how your scene would look in a movie. What is the lighting like? What are the subtle expressions flitting across the actors' faces, letting you know just how they're feeling? Is there any droning background noise that sets the tone-- like traffic outside, rain, or an air conditioner?

How do the actors convey things that can't be experienced through a screen, like smell and taste?

Write exactly what you see in your mind's eye, instead of explaining it with a degree of separation to your readers.

iii. Listen to Music

I find that because music evokes emotion, it helps you write with more passion—feelings instead of facts! It’s also slightly distracting, so if you’re writing while caught up in the music, it might free you from the rigid boundaries you’ve put in place for yourself.

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental writing playlists!

iv. Practice, Practice, Practice! And Take Inspiration from Others!

“Show Don’t Tell” is the core of an immersive scene, and requires tons of writing skills cultivated through repeated exposure. Like I said before, more experienced writers instinctively switch between showing and telling as they write— but it’s a muscle that needs to be constantly exercised!

If I haven’t written in a while and need to get back into the flow of things, I take a look at a writing prompt, and try cultivating a scene that is as immersive as possible! Working on your “Show, Don’t Tell” skills by practicing writing short, fun one-shots can be much less restrictive than a lengthier work.

In addition, get some inspiration and study from reading the works of others, whether it be a fanfiction or published novel!

If you need some extra help, feel free to check out my Master List of Writing Tips and Advice, which features links to all of my best posts, each of them categorized !

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[crypticminx]

Telling Felix Catton you’re pregnant <333

Felix Catton (Saltburn) x fem! Reader headcanons xo

AN: hiiii these are some headcanons I made :p im too lazy to proofread Dx if you enjoy lmk if you want part 2! Blink twice and you’ll miss the smut xx

- first of all, your relationship started out as a one night stand situation because for the love of God Felix cannot keep a woman or anyone around for more than a few months—weeks even.

- You, however, were a different situation. He saw other people, you saw other people, but the two of you always kept each other locked in the back of both of your heads. Wether you needed him as a very exciting stress reliever or he needed you to release any ounce of frustration he had, the two of you were just a simple phone call away. And not just drunk booty calls.

- The feeling of his broad shoulders pressed against your frame as he would effortlessly lift you up and pin you to the wall, whispering sweet melodies into your ears as he thrusted with all of his might to make you feel good—no, more than good. He’d never admit it, but for a girl like you, he’d give you everything, even if meant he’d have nothing. “Such a good girl,” he’d purr, feeling you melt under the sound—and for a better word, control of his asserting voice

- The two of you lovebirds were loud, extremely noisy and often torturous for the other students near your dorm, who were either trying to cram for exams or focus on non-sexual activities. You would moan without a care in the world and especially when you felt him release his seed in you for the first time, which you could only assume wasn’t planned nor talked about between the two of you. It felt too sweet, and so pure with how he breathlessly smiled at your sweaty, blushing face after the deed was done. Said smile being enough to make you fall into his little trap and roll back over into another intense round of sex

- With Felix, it was like walking on a dream that never seemed to end. You could be careless, indiscreet and whatever the hell you wanted to be. he provided you with a sense of being free from the real world and wholeheartedly invited you deep into the unrealistic life of Felix Catton.

- That dream, the very one that appeared to be endless, came crashing down. What ruined it? Two little pink lines.

- With an eyebrow piercing that adults despised, a stunning model-like body, and a reputation for tossing girls around like they were paper planes; Felix was fuck buddy material, not father material.

- Sure, he has enough money to knock you up ten times and make sure every child would be provided for, but you were you. Yes, you came from wealth but not the type of catton wealth that would probably leave a child with a ridiculously expensive live-in nanny as if it was nothing. Knowing how your parents felt, there was no way in hell they would be supportive and even just the simple thought of them meeting Felix made you cringe to the point of triggering your morning sickness again.

- You would avoid Felix like the plague you read about in your boring history textbooks and on the rare occurrence you ran into him heading out on his bike or going for a well deserved drink, you would bolt as if you had to run for your life. Facing him was just the beginning of your problems

- So when you finally mustered the courage to tell him and unfortunately for you, it had to be at the university’s sleazy lounge pub, Felix was there in all his glory and sat in his usual spot. Farleigh seemed more interested in drinking than caring about what was being said, a group of girls were scattered around the boys and obnoxiously fake laughed at whatever Felix said, and there was that new guy whose name you couldn’t remember to save your life. Oliver? You thought it was, but that clearly didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was you and Felix.

- Felix nearly chokes on his drink seeing you walk towards him, your head down and your tail between your legs. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

- You ask him to talk immediately, ignoring how content he looks. How his solemn eyes instantly sparked with life again and his bored expression turned into a relish of happiness. He was thrilled.

- “I’m pregnant.”

- He stares blankly at you, seeing you tear up as if you just admitted something horrible

- A baby? And a baby with you? Nothing about that was horrible. In fact, he often pictured a future with you, even if it seemed insane.

- i he’s not angry. In fact his thick brows soften and somehow in the midst of all the chaos of noise surrounding the two of you, his words are very clear.

- “I’m glad it’s with you.”

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[wanders-in-wonderland]

The Popular Vote

The livestream always happens on midnight of Saturday. There’s a hefty buy-in to be able to tune in but that never stops the audience from growing in number every stream. Every viewer has one ballot per round, each round is different. Cast your ballot before the vote ends and the majority option gets played out in real-time.

This Saturday night, I made the mistake of staying overtime at work, and I missed the last train home. Which meant walking alone on a dark path that, in the daylight, would be a breezy twenty minute stroll. But at night, it’s a different story. And clearly, since that dark trek put me in the perfect position to be taken away in a van by men who were interested in seeing me crying and screaming in pain and pleasure, at the whim of a merciless audience.

When I wake up, I’m naked and tied up, arms and legs spread out, suspended from the ceiling, with each foot on a small platform that offered enough support to take the strain off my arms and shoulders but not enough to offer any true leverage.

It takes me a few minutes to shake off the grogginess of whatever sedative they’d drugged me with, but when I do, I feel my blood run cold.

I’m surrounded by massive screens, several of which show live footage of my predicament from different angles. The screen that scares me the most is the one showing a live chat feed, with a constant barrage of messages coming in from viewers. The set-up is terrifyingly sophisticated and fear curdles my stomach in a way that makes tears well up in my eyes.

“Please! Please let me go!” I cry into the cold, unfeeling room of machinery and screens. My body struggles against the bindings but there’s no give. There’s no audible reply but I watch the chat light up with comments that make me shudder.

“I fucking love when the whores beg before we’ve even started.”

“She’s hot when she’s squirming, can’t wait to see how much she struggles tonight.”

“I wanna see her beg for mercy. Not that there will be any.”

I sob harder, tears making the chat box blurry in my vision. It doesn’t take long for me to figure out that there’s no one and nothing saving me from whatever is going to happen here.

Suddenly, a robotic voice fills the room. “Welcome to The Popular Vote. For those of you who are new to the show, please remember that each of you have a single vote to cast during every round. Vote in the allotted time and our team will implement the majority vote’s decision. Please enjoy the show.”

I gasp when the door to the room opens and four men walk in, dressed in identical black uniforms with masks covering their faces.

“Please! Please, let me go, this is a mistake!” My desperate voice fills the room but has no impact on the men, they didn’t even look in my direction, instead walking past me towards a storage cabinet behind me.

I watch through the camera’s footage as they open the cabinets and start to pull out item after item. Each one makes me more and more scared as they pull out various toys, vibrators, and other devices and machines I don’t even recognize.

There’s an electronic ding that fills the room and the same robotic voice is back. “Our first poll is beginning. Please vote now. Option 1 is subjecting our victim to clitoral stimulation by vibrator. Option 2 is vaginal penetrative stimulation by fucking machine.”

I cry out, “Wait, no, please! I don’t want this, please stop!” I watch in vain as the votes start to roll in on the screen, a feeling of helplessness overwhelming me as I watch two competing bars increase in percentage on the screen as viewers place their ballots.

There’s a robotic series of dings that sound, signaling the final few seconds of voting and through my panic, I see that the second option has pulled ahead of the first.

I choke out another sob as I watch the four men in the room start moving towards me. Two of them are rolling a machine over, a motorized piston with a massive dildo attached to the end of it. Clearly it’s meant for me.

“Please, please, no, I don’t want this, please stop!” I know it’s useless to beg but I can’t help it. My voice is shaky and thin with apprehension and I can tell it has no effect on any of the men. I glance to the chat box and the messages there make me feel even more helpless.

“That whore is going to love that machine, these little sluts always do.”

“I hope she squirts and cries when she realizes she likes this, stupid whore is going to get fucking ruined.”

In the few moments I spent reading comments, the men have rolled the fucking machine right under me and started to raise it to reach my core.

With my legs tied down and spread, there is nothing protecting me from the toy and it’s violation of me. I feel the tip of the fake cock brush my core and I thrash pointlessly, barely able to move to make a difference.

As the machine continues to rise, I feel my stomach clench when I realize that my pussy is wet. I gasp when I feel the tip of the dildo breach my core, the thickness of the toy filling me so well that I can’t help but groan. The machine continues, pushing the toy slowly and steadily filling my cunt. My back arches as I feel it rub against every part of my now-dripping cunt and I whine when it finally comes to a stop, fully seated inside of me.

I’m panting, the massive dildo splitting me open in a way that feels so fucking good. I clench around it and whimper when pleasure shoots up my spine. I glance at the livestream and see my own image, my eyes wild and body heaving from the pleasure of just having the toy inside of me. The chat box is flooded with comments about me, the way I look, the sounds I make, and the anticipation of what is to come.

Suddenly, one of the men in the room toggles a switch on the machine, and it begins.

My scream is drawn-out and wanton in response to the indescribable pleasure that floods my every sense. The men set the machine at a relentless pace, the huge cock driving into my cunt ruthlessly at a pace that is virtually inhuman.

I’m lost in the sensation of every single thrust sliding against my g-spot and slamming into my cervix, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. I can feel my body trembling at the onslaught of raw, unadulterated pleasure and the sounds that the machine is pulling from my lips could make a pornstar blush. I can feel the creeping warmth of an orgasm fast approaching as the machine fucks me into submission.

Suddenly, an electronic ding sounds. The robotic voice comes on again, with an announcement that barely registers in my pleasure-scrambled brain. “Please vote to determine the next step. Option 1 subjects our victim to forced orgasms, option 2 is edging and orgasm denial, and option 3 is ruined orgasms.”

I whine and plead but I don’t even know what I’m begging for. My eyes are too unfocused to see the progression of the vote, and of the options, I can’t even begin to fathom which would be the best. I hear the three dings that signal the vote has ended and I force my eyes to focus on the screen, my stomach clenching when I see the result: ruined orgasms.

The machine hasn’t relented on its motions, each thrust driving into my wet cunt in a way that is so perfectly and achingly torturous. My clit is throbbing and part of me wishes I could grind it against something, anything to give me a little more stimulation to push me over the edge. But there’s nothing beyond the machine forcing its cock deep inside of me, making me ride the wave of pleasure that pushes me towards to precipice of a massive orgasm. I feel my entire body tense in response to the impending onslaught of pleasure and my pussy clenches around the dildo splitting me open.

Two more hard thrusts pushes me over the edge and I let out a moaning scream as I feel the tension snap and my body clenches in burning pleasure. A seemingly endless wave of overwhelming and uncontrollable pleasure slams into me as my orgasm erupts. At that exact moment, the toy inside of me a delivers a horrible jolt of electricity, one that slams through my cunt and cruelly and abruptly yanks my body away from pleasure.

The pain takes my breath away but my body reacts more to my ruined orgasm than it does the shock. My moan turns into a wail as useless pleas pour out of my mouth, tears running down my cheeks as I feel the toy continue to fuck me through the disappointment of an orgasm it forced upon me. There’s a cruel emptiness inside of me despite the unrelenting fake cock that fills me with every thrust and a gut-wrenching, unfulfilling hunger that overtakes the pleasure that was horribly ripped away from me.

“Ah, fuck, please, please make it stop!” My voice is ragged and desperate as I plead for mercy from an uncaring audience. The men in the room are maintaining their cold indifference towards my suffering as the machine under their control continues to batter my body.

I feel my body shudder in overstimulation as the merciless machine pushes me closer to another orgasm. There’s no break or respite and my pleas fall onto deaf ears.

And as before, just as I feel my orgasm approaching, the feverish pleasure barely rises within me before it’s ripped away, ruined by the delivery of a shocking pain through my pussy that makes me scream in anguish.

The next time it happens, I hear myself wail out desperate cries and pleas that are met with silence. The time after that, my body jerks pitifully in the bindings as every muscle tenses in grief. The one following is the strongest one yet, the constant buildup and denial pushing my body to the brink of tortured pleasure. As the achingly sweet orgasm barrels through me, my pussy clenches down and gushes with my release. I can feel my own juices flowing down my legs, but my squirting orgasm isn’t any different than the previous cruelly ruined ones. The impeccably-timed electric shock yanks my body back from what would have been a mind-shattering, toe-curling sensation and leaves me feeling hollow and helpless.

After that, I stop keeping track of the ruined orgasms. My body should have been shuddering from the overstimulation of countless orgasms but instead, it aches with a voracious, unfulfillable ache that creates an unbearable cycle of horrible, desperate need barely satisfied with every orgasm until it’s torn away. The predictability of it does nothing to assuage the torment, it only makes it worse, to have every beautiful moment of pleasure marred by the inevitable loss that I can do nothing about.

An electronic ding breaks through the haze, another round. The machine beneath me pauses and I choke back a sob at the temporary relief, desperately try to focus on the words that are being announced.

“Our next round will be introducing pharmacological enhancements and orgasm denial. Please select to determine which of the following will be administered to our victim. Option 1 is administration of our proprietary aphrodisiac with no excess stimulation. Option 2 is administration of our proprietary numbing treatment with clitoral stimulation by vibrator.”

My mind wraps around the meaning behind the announcement and I feel myself tremble with desperation. I want nothing more than to cum, just to feel the full, body-shaking, mind-numbing torrent of pleasure that will flood me when a full, uninterrupted orgasm washes over me. But it’s clear that they have other plans.

I watch as the votes roll in, my heart pounding as the two options are very evenly matched in popularity. I brave a glance at the chat box and whimper when I see the comments.

“I fucking love driving a whore insane with denial. I wonder what kind of promises she’ll make to try and convince us to let her cum.”

“If she were mine, I’d never let her cum again. Sluts don’t deserve orgasms.”

Three dings break my concentration and I swing my gaze over to see the results. Option 2 has won out, but barely. I whimper softly as the four men immediately begin to set up. I watch as they wheel the fucking machine out from under me. A blush stains my cheeks when I see the dildo dripping in slick, evidence of my countless ruined orgasms.

I watch through heavy lidded eyes as one of the men reached for a small container. He deftly opens it and dips a gloved finger in, his finger coming out coated in a creamy ointment.

I watch as he comes towards me, his ointment-covered fingers coming to meet my clit in a soft motion that makes me cry out. He is thorough as he rubs the ointment onto my clit, his fingers gently moving against me, offering a delicious friction that pushes me closer towards another orgasm.

The curling warmth of an oncoming rush builds in my core but before I could fully embrace the pleasure, he pulls away and I choke out a whine. “No please, please I’m so close,” my voice is so broken to my own ears but not enough to sway the man.

They wheel out a different machine, this one shaped like a saddle, lined with ridges that line up perfectly to vibrate against and wreak havoc on my sensitive clit. It doesn’t take long for the men to position the machine underneath me. I feel the cold material of the machine against my burning hot pussy and without even thinking about it, I start to grind myself against it. A broken moan leaves my lips at the pleasure that fills me and I whine softly, trying harder to move myself to rub my throbbing clit against the machine that was very quickly starting to dampen from my dripping cunt.

I know without looking at my own image on the livestream that I made for a shameful display of wanton lust and desperation but I couldn’t bring myself to care. My hips move desperately, the bindings making it so that my movements were limited but not impossible. My eyes drift shut as I chase the pleasure, continuing to grind against the machine.

I can feel myself approaching my orgasm, a few more moments and I could almost taste the sweet pleasure. But something was wrong. Even as I rolled my hips against the machine, I could feel sensation fading in between my legs. My clit throbs and aches but the feeling of the ridges against me has become muted, and no matter how hard I grind myself against the machine, the result was the same and I’m faced with the reality that the orgasm I was chasing so closely is too far out of reach now.

I cry out, begging into the void, “Please, no, please! Make it come back, please! I need to cum, I need it!”

My begs are met with silence and I glance towards the chat box, hoping to see something, anything, that would bring me relief. But there’s nothing but cruel, taunting comments.

“Dumb fucking whore doesn’t even understand what’s happening to her stupid body.”

“They haven’t even turned on the machine yet and she’s crying. I love when sluts realize that there’s nothing they can do against the numbing cream.”

“Her clit is so fucking swollen, I hope she doesn’t get a good orgasm at all tonight.”

Suddenly, the machine beneath me roars to life. I gasp when I feel the vibrations course through my body, the harsh motion batters my clit, but instead of being overwhelmed with pleasure, all I can feel is a vague sensation. I sob when the real understanding of what is happening sinks in. The numbing cream they used on me has left me completely unable to feel the machine. I can feel my pussy clenching in need, dripping over the machine uselessly, unable to enjoy any of it. There are wordless whines and begs erupting from my lips as I chase an unreachable end. I beg because there’s nothing else I can do, and because I know that’s what the audience wants to see.

As my mind wraps around this knowledge, I feel broken. My pussy clenches at the understanding that I’m here purely for other people’s entertainment. My suffering is for their enjoyment, and every orgasm ruined, denied, or forced out of my helpless body is done so without any regard to me or my pleasure. I stare into the camera as the machine underneath me batters my clit in a way that should be making me scream. Despite that realization, or maybe because of that realization, my cunt is leaking and clenching and throbbing. My entire being has narrowed to my clit and my cunt, the ghost sensations of pleasure brushing against my psyche.

My mind is fracturing under the torment of nothing. It tries to rationalize, to make feeling where there is none, and if I really focus, I can fool myself into believing that my clit isn’t numb, isn’t blind to the torturous machine that should be pulling orgasm after orgasm out of me. I don’t know how long I’m suspended in nothingness, how long I’m held in this punishing situation of unreachable pleasure.

Three dings pull me out of my mindless misery. My eyes jump to the screen, seeing the chat light up with excited comments about what’s the come. The robotic voice fills the room.

“We reach the end of our night together and our final poll, please vote now. Option 1 allows our victim to be subjected to forced orgasms after we administer the antidote to the numbing cream in combination with targeted electrostimulation while option 2 involves continued denial with impact play and flogging.”

I can’t stop myself from screaming into the room. “Please! Please, fuck, please let me cum! Please!”

I writhe and renew my struggling, starting to futilely grind myself against the vibrator, hoping that the vote will go in my favor. My eyes glance towards to chat box, my heart pounding in anticipation as I read the flood of messages, hoping desperately for mercy.

“I don’t think this fucking whore deserves to cum tonight, I’d rather see her get her tits whipped.”

“I want to see her pass out from being forced to cum over and over again. Plus I wanna see her tight little body shake with electricity.”

My eyes flit to the results of the poll and my heart leaps when I realize option 1 is pulling ahead. Three dings confirm the results of the vote and immediately, I see one of the men approach me with the antidote.

I sob when his fingers brush this new ointment over my swollen clit and all I can do is babble out whines of gratitude. It doesn’t take long for the antidote to take effect as the vibration of the toy begins to wreck me.

There’s no slow, soft build of pleasure. There’s only pure, bone-shattering sensation that slams into me. It tears my breath away and my body erupts in orgasm. The countless denied and ruined orgasms from the beginning of the night seem to have compounded into one horrible explosion of pleasure that rips through me.

I have no sense of the world around me, my entire being has narrowed to the overwhelming wave of sensation. My cunt pulses, spraying my release over the machine that offers me no respite as it forces my body to unimaginable heights.

Suddenly, a sharp jolt of pain along my side breaks into my haze. My eyes dart over and I see the four men crowded around me, each holding an electric wand that pulses a harsh zap through me at every touch.

“No! Please! Stop!” I scream, my voice pitching higher as the men start their torment. Quick jabs around the soft skin of my stomach, hips, thighs, and arms make me scream and thrash but none of that dulls any of the feeling from the vibrator between my legs.

The pain and pleasure rocks through my body and mind, both blending together in a cruel medley that draws wordless screams from my throat. Another orgasm slams through me right as I feel a terrible zap on my nipple. The scream that bursts out of me makes my own ears ache. My psyche is cracking under the onslaught of torment and there’s not a single part of my body that isn’t screaming in overstimulation. I’m nothing more than a collection of raw nerves and throbbing muscles.

The next zap hits the exposed part of my clit and my ears ring as my vision fades to black. That’s the last thing I remember from that night.

When I wake up the next morning, I’m home, in my own bed, my body achingly sore and exhausted. I glance to my bedside table and I see an envelope. In it is a USB and a note with a phone number.

“Enjoy the footage, we certainly did. Call us if you want a repeat.”

I crawl out of bed to grab my laptop and phone, and I save the number to my contacts.

------

Author's Note: I think this is my longest story yet and hope y'all enjoy! Also, I like to imagine this happens in the same universe as Pay to Play, and I'm jealous because I want to live in that universe ;)

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Motivation

(Part 2)

—

Time Written- 10:23 p.m.

I wrote this 3 times and gave up. Severely gave up

—

“Wakey Wakey, sweetheart.” His lightly exhausted tone nearly roused your eyes open.

A faint click of a bedside lamp invades the silence shortly before Jason shuffles out of bed, displaying a warm glow to your light sensitive vision.

A small groan falls from your mouth, your eyes shutting closed in irritation from the distraction of your comfort. His arms left their sanctuary around your waist, a kiss of warmth remaining along your tummy before he readjusted a soft, thin blanket over your tired body.

Jason was considerate enough to turn off his alarm nearly three minutes before it goes off, saving his special girl a few minutes of precious sleep. As the midsummer sun dies down behind fluffy clouds, golden rays of light reflecting off skyscraper glass into the dead of the night, Gotham’s wild crowds creep out from their crooked caverns to play.

“Hey mama. Sorry to ruin the fun, but I think my arm ran out of blood flow.”

“Do you need it?” Your faint, croaked rumble spews from your barely moving lips.

“I mean, I suppose I’ll need it to fight an’ aim guns at unlucky bastards. Guess that means you gotta lose the pillow.”

Another groan leaves your lips before reluctantly raising your head, setting his arm free from its prison. You spent a minute of quiet suffering before Jason’s fingers cupped your head, guiding you to raise it just enough to slip a fluffy pillow to settle your pretty brain on.

The A/C was on full blast, the blank noise lulling your tired minds to sleep around seven. While it was counterintuitive to be snuggling together in this hot summer heat, you wanted nothing more than to be in his company, comfortable in his safety.

Bare feet shuffling along hard foot floor shifts to heavy rubber soles as Jason gets dressed. Soft cotton and polyester drops to the ground, replaced with tactical fabrics and scrunching leather. A short sonnet of clicks and snaps follow as he adjusts his belt and holsters, getting everything comfortably situated on his person.

“You’re not angry with me, are ya?” He clicks his tongue, fighting off a smile at your lack of response.

“Earth to Goddess.” His calm voice invades your ears as the floor creaks, the dressed vigilante shuffling to his knees beside the bed, settling close to your face.

“Princess.” Jason lightly chimes, brushing your cheek with the back of his pointer finger.

He then proceeds his ever loving assault via planting various kisses along your face, ranging from your cheek up towards your forehead, back down to your nose.

“Babygirl.” He cooes against your sweet smelling hair.

“Do you have to go now?” Came your eventual, irritated whine.

He leans forward, mattress gently creaking as he pressed his lips just under your ear for a quick kiss. “Not yet. You got me for five more minutes.”

Jason settles his head on your collarbone, your nose slightly tickled from locks of soft, dark hair. His eyes are closed, but for once, they’re content with peacefulness. That, and the events that would come within the next month, changing their lives forever.

Jason’s smile widens as your fingers mindlessly trails random shapes along his open palm, your hands always lingering somewhere along his body.

“Y’know I’d give just about anything to get back in bed with you,” his armored chest rumbles with his lowly spoken words. “But, I’m a little big in this get up to be this close to you at the moment. Don’t wanna crush you.”

Those sudden words couldn’t help but make you smile, scoffing just a bit. Ever the doting, overly concerned, slightly overdramatized, loving man he is.

“I don’t know who’s bigger right now,” your exhaustion let you speak in ghostly whispers. “You, or me.”

“Well, you’re the pregnant one,” he says, fighting off a strong, snarky remark with an amused smirk. “So, you definitely take the win with that.”

The look you gave him the second your eyes snapped open made him chuckle, as if he willfully insulted you. The irony of it, considering he was around 6’4 and 250 pounds, a large percent being complete muscle mass while you carried a seven pound baby.

“Kidding, babe. Kidding,” he soothes, trailing a few fingers along your swollen tummy just over the blanket. “Just trying to joke off the nerves. Doesn’t help that it’s my first time…”

“It better be your first time,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah yeah, It is. Don’t worry.” Jason’s voice is soft, his cheeks turning a light shade of red at that, and he can’t help but smile as the two of them laugh quietly at her joke.

The weight of their child is a constant pressure on your body to create an incredible miracle. It’s certainly something new, he always wants to make sure his little mama is happy and healthy. Mostly happy.

He trails a finger down your stomach, pausing when he feels a faint thud near the round lower edge of his palm. For eight months teetering on the edge of nine, the baby was definitely getting active.

“Think your boy’s getting ready to fight those unlucky bastards with you.” You lightly chide with a small grin.

“Language, mama,” Jason retorts, flicking some wisps of hair away from your head. “Don’t want ‘em to hear those foul words. An’ I’m not in the market for sidekicks.”

You frown again, scoffing at his hypocrisy.

The surrealism was intense, affecting him from the center of his brain towards the tips of his hands and toes.

Your boy, his boy. His son.

“You two keep the bed warm for me.” Jason murmurs before pressing a few goodbye kisses along your cheek. “I’ll come back with breakfast when you wake up, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, consciousness struggling to remain afloat. It’s a silly mental image; the reaction of the owners of an early bird, go-to diner frantically scrambling out of shock and awe when Red Hood himself enters their establishment.

He stands from the floor, lovingly glancing down at his beautiful, pregnant woman cradled in bed, nestled with his pillow, perfectly content.

“Be safe,” you whisper to him, watching him reach towards the lamp to shut it off. The warmth of the vanished lap changing his eyes from a strong emerald green back towards a crisp, steel-cut teal.

“I love you.”

Your voice always sweetened the deal, a perfect lullaby once it was his turn to sleep.

The perfect motivation for him to look forward to every morning.

“Love you too, mama.”

[notetaeker]

PSA to anyone writing an essay at ANY level:

please, for the love of god, integrate your quotes properly. don't just drop them in the middle of nowhere D:

it's very easy:

Step 1: Introduce the Author of the Quotation (Who/where is it from) Step 2: State the Quotation (the quote) Step 3: Summarize the Quotation (paraphrase it) Step 4: Analyze the Quotation (Break down the meaning) Step 5: State the Quotation’s Relevance to Your Argument (Why did you just share this quote how is it related to your essay?)

Here's another example:

After talking with Cherry, a girl from the opposing group, Ponyboy, the main character in The Outsiders, by S.E Hinton, observes, "Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren't so different. We saw the same sunset" (Hinton, 78). In other words, after talking, they realized they had more things in common than they thought. This shows that one of the reasons the two groups keep fighting is that they don't really ever communicate with each other. This is a reflection of our society today, where people discriminate against each other based on stereotypes, without actually ever communicating with each other.

Its an easy formula to follow and literally makes your writing sound so much clearer PLEASE just DO it and SAVE THE EYES of your teachers today

- sincerely a teacher who is TIRED OF SEEING quotes that have been parachuted into a sentence and no one knows who said it or why you added it in your paper PLEASE we want to give you good grades help us out 😭😭😭

[pockettwinzz]

Against All Odds - L.HS

𝜗ৎSynopsis𝜗ৎ : Heeseung and Yn had never been on good terms with eachother. Yn had always like Heeseung, but Heeseung hadn't really realised how much he liked her until that one night...

𝜗ৎWarnings𝜗ৎ : MDNI, Smut, degradation words {slut, whore, etc}, Heeseung is kinda toxic, sadistic scenes {as always T.T}, Second ml syndrome, unprotected sex {naurr}

𝜗ৎAuthor's note𝜗ৎ : So it was supposed to be released 2 days agobut tumblr didn't save my draft so i basically re-wrote a lot of scenes and it turned out really rushed and i'm really sorry for that. And this is also my first fic exceeding over 2k words ^^ dividers and moodboard are by @dollywons

𝜗ৎWord count𝜗ৎ : 7.6 k {TT TT}

It had been years since I last saw Heeseung. We had grown up together, attending the same schools, sharing the same classrooms, and even living on the same street. But that all changed when we turned 18. Something had snapped inside of him, and he suddenly became this intolerable asshole who seemed to enjoy making my life a living hell. He knew I liked him and he'd always use it against me. He'd just fuck me and just disappear. I didn't understand it then, and I still didn't now, as I stood in front of the mirror in my dorm room, getting ready for the college welcome party.

I had been hesitant to go at first, mostly because I was afraid of running into him. But my friends had practically dragged me there, promising me that there were plenty of other people to meet and have fun with. And so, here I was, in the middle of a crowded room filled with strangers, trying to focus on the music and the laughter around me, while my mind kept drifting back to him.

Just then, a familiar voice cut through the noise, and I felt my heart skip a beat. It was him. Heeseung. He looked different somehow, older and more confident. His features were sharper, more defined, and he carried himself with an air of arrogance that I couldn't quite place. He was talking to a group of people I didn't recognize, laughing at something they must have said, and for a brief moment, I felt a strange mix of anger and jealousy rise up inside me.

But then, something unexpected happened. He glanced in my direction, our eyes meeting for the briefest of moments, and there was something in his expression that I couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't hatred, or anger, or even disdain. It was… something else. Curiosity, maybe? Before I could process it further, he turned away, returning to his conversation with his new friends.

A wave of confusion washed over me, and I found myself struggling to breathe as I tried to understand what had just happened. Why did he look at me like that? And why did it feel like my heart was about to burst out of my chest? I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

As the night went on, I found myself constantly glancing in his direction, watching him interact with others, trying to decipher the enigmatic expression that had been etched onto his face earlier. He was charismatic and engaging, and people seemed to gravitate towards him effortlessly. And yet, there was something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Something that made me feel both drawn to him and repulsed at the same time.

I must have been staring at him for too long, because suddenly, someone handed me a drink. Before I could ask what it was, the fruity liquid went down my throat, and an unexpected warmth spread throughout my body. I felt a newfound sense of confidence wash over me, and with it came the urge to approach him. To say something, to break the ice. But what could I possibly say to someone like him?

I took another sip of my drink, trying to steady my nerves as I made my way through the crowd towards him. His back was to me, and for a brief moment, I considered just turning around and going back to my friends. But something inside me refused to let go of this absurd desire to confront him. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was the years of pent-up anger and frustration finally bubbling to the surface.

And before I knew it, the alcohol took over my sanity. With a deep breath, I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, his expression unreadable as he looked at me. For a moment, neither of us said anything. I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, and my heart raced as I searched for something to say. Anything to break the silence.

"Hey," I managed to choke out, my voice sounding strangely thick in my ears. "Remember me?"

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused by my drunken bravado. "Should I?" he drawled, his voice smooth as silk.

I couldn't help but feel a flash of anger at his arrogance. "You remember me, don't you?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're exaggerating" he said, waving his hand dismissively. "I barely remember you."

I felt a stab of anger course through me as I realized I had been hoping for some sort of apology, some acknowledgement of the pain he had caused. But it seemed I was wrong.

"Well, maybe you don't remember me, but I remember you," I said, my voice shaking with emotion. "I remember every single time you called me names, every single time you pushed me around, every single time you made me feel like I wasn't good enough. Every single time you'd leave me alone and just disappear"

His expression turned mockingly sympathetic, and I felt a hot flush of anger course through me. "Is that so?" he drawled. "And what makes you think that any of that matters now?"

"Because it does matter!" I exclaimed, my voice rising. "It mattered then, and it matters now. You may think you're all grown up and sophisticated now, but you can't just walk away from the things you've done."

He laughed, shaking his head. "You really are something else, aren't you? Still holding onto the past like it means something."

I felt a sting of hurt at his words, but I refused to let it show. "The past shapes who we are, you know," I said, my voice steady despite the alcohol. "And you can't just pretend it never happened."

He snorted derisively. "Well, you're hardly in any position to judge me," he sneered. "Look at you, wasted and pathetic. Drunk off your ass at your own party."

I felt a stab of pain at his words, but I refused to let him see it. Instead, I smiled sweetly and took another sip of my drink. "You're right," I said, nodding slowly. "I am wasted. But you know what? It feels good to finally stand up to you, even if it is in a drunken haze."

"You're so fucking pathetic" He laughed, shaking his head. "Still so angry, still so… consumed by the past. You really think I give a shit about any of this?" He took a step closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Look at you, drunk and pathetic. Just like the old days."

He pulled me by my waist, closer to him, "Aren't you still the slut who wants to beg for my cock?"

 He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my neck. "You think you're someone important, someone who can stand up to me?" He said as he nibbled the flesh around my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "You're still just a pathetic little whore, just like you always were."

I couldn't help but fall into his manipulative touch again. It was as if I was drawn to the pain, as if I needed him to hurt me in order to feel alive. I let out a soft moan, arching my back against him as he continued to nibble and suck at my neck. His hands moved lower, cupping my ass and grinding me against his hard length. The alcohol seemed to fog my thoughts, making it difficult to focus on anything but the sensation of his body against mine.

--

So here we were, in Heeseung's house. I had no idea how we even ended up her but all I could feel right now were  his fingers tracing patterns on my skin, making me shiver. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear, and whispered, "You're such a slut for me."

And just like that, something inside me snapped. It was like a switch had been flipped. All of a sudden, I didn't care about how much I hated him or how much he pissed me off. I didn't care how I was letting him have me so easily, how wrong this was. All I could think about was how good it would feel to have him inside me. How right it would feel to have him claim me again, even if just for this one night.

I arched my back, pressing my bare chest against his, and whispered back, "You know I am, Heeseung." And before I could even process what was happening, his hand found the hem of my shirt and yanked it over my head.

My breath hitched as his eyes roamed over my bare skin, tracing the lines of my collarbone and the swell of my breasts. He cupped one of them in his hand, thumb teasing at the peak of my nipple. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, and then his lips were on me, sucking gently at my nipple while his fingers worked their magic, rubbing and teasing until I was moaning into his mouth.

He eased me back onto the bed, his body pressing against mine, and I could feel his erection against my thigh. Heat pooled low in my belly, and I spread my legs wider, inviting him in. "Fuck me," I breathed, and he groaned, sliding his hands down to my hips, lifting me up, and guiding himself inside me.

I let out a sharp cry as he filled me, the feeling of being so completely possessed by him sending a wave of pleasure through me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, digging my nails into his back, and he started moving, his hips thrusting in a rhythm that was as familiar to me as my own heartbeat.

"S-so fucking tight" his voice ragged and low, and I could feel myself growing closer and closer to the edge. I could feel the tension building inside me, coiling tight, and I knew I was going to come soon, so I arched my back, meeting each of his thrusts with a moan, urging him on.

And then he groaned, his body tense as he released himself deep inside me, and I felt the first wave of my orgasm crash over me, shattering every nerve ending in my body. His name was on my lips as I came, and he seemed to draw strength from it, his hips moving faster, harder, until I could feel another orgasm building, ready to explode from deep within me.

He leaned down, capturing my lips in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth as he continued to move, his body moving in perfect rhythm with mine. I could feel the muscles in his back flex and relax as he powered into me, each thrust driving me closer and closer to the edge.

As I neared my second climax, he began to whisper dirty words in my ear, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down my spine."Such a slut for my dick, Aren't ya!".

"I hate you so much" I said, and it was in that moment that I realized how much I loved the way he made me feel. How much I loved the way he made me lose control. Although I wanted to hate him, but my body wouldn't agree.

And then he groaned, his body tensing as he came again, filling me up with his heat and his passion. His weight pressed down on me, holding me to the bed, and I could feel the aftershocks of our combined orgasms rippling through my body. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead before rolling off to the side, his breathing still ragged and uneven.

For a moment, we lay there in silence, our bodies tangled together, and I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine. I wanted to hate him for the things he'd said, for the way he'd treated me, but in that moment, all I could think about was how good it had felt to be with him. How right it had felt to give in to the desire that had been building between us for so long.

---

The next morning I woke up to an empty space beside me. I rolled out of bed. The room was still spinning, my head pounding, and my body aching in places I didn't know existed. As I stumbled to the bathroom, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret for last night. Not for the sex, but for the way I'd let him get under my skin again.

I wore his hoodie along with his pants  as I made my way downstairs, the scent of him still clinging to the fabric. The apartment was quiet, and I could hear the faint sound of the TV coming from his room. I hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. When there was no answer, I pushed it open and found him sprawled across the bed, his back to me, a remote control in his hand.

"Hey," I said, my voice barely audible.

He didn't respond, and for a moment I thought he hadn't heard me. But then he slowly turned his head to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked exhausted. There was a slight smile on his lips, and it made my heart ache.

"Hey," he repeated, his voice rough. "You look good in my clothes, But you look even better without them"

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his words. "You're an asshole, you know that?" I said, trying to keep the anger in my voice. But the truth was, I didn't feel angry anymore. I felt confused.

He chuckled, sitting up a little more before looking me in the eye. "You love it, though," he said with a grin. "You know you can't resist me." His hand reached out to trace my cheekbone, and I felt myself lean into his touch despite everything.

I hated how easy of a target I was. How I always fell into his lousy trap but couldn't help myself. His touch, his words, they were like a drug to me, and I had no self-control when it came to them. But I couldn't let him see that. I had to keep some part of myself hidden, some part that wasn't just a slave to his whims.

 I pulled away from his touch, forcing a small laugh as I did so. "Oh, please. You're just as addicted to me as I am to you." I turned to walk back out of the room, but before I could take more than a step, he grabbed my wrist roughly, pulling me back against his chest. His other arm came around me, holding me tightly as he buried his face in my neck.

"You're right," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I am addicted to you. I can't get enough of you." His grip on me tightened, and I could feel the warmth of his body through his sweatpants. "But you know what?" he continued, his breath hot against my skin. "I want more. I want all of you." His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I could feel myself melting against him.

I wanted to tell him that I couldn't give him any more, that I was already giving too much. But the truth was, I didn't want to. I wanted to be his, even if it meant losing myself in the process. So instead, I closed my eyes and let him take whatever he wanted from me.

His lips found mine, soft and gentle at first, before growing more demanding. His hands roamed over my body, touching me everywhere as if he needed to feel every inch of me. The bed creaked beneath us as he pulled me on top of him, never breaking the kiss as he guided me down, his hips rising to meet me.

"H-heeseung I can't do this anymore." I said as tears filled my eyes. The truth was I wanted to be loved, and he was the only one who could give me that. But I couldn't keep giving him pieces of myself. I had to stop.

His hands stilled on my body, and he pulled back to look at me, confusion and hurt flitting across his features. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "You don't want this?"

I took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain. "No."

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Okay" he said as he let me go, sitting up and rubbing his neck. "I understand." There was a note of finality in his voice that made my heart ache. "I'll leave you alone."

--

It had been a few weeks since  I had seen him. We hadn't spoken or texted each other since that night in his room. I had tried to forget about him, to move on, but it was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, felt his touch. I knew I had been stupid to expect anything more from him, but the hope had been there, and now it was gone.

I'd seen him at college really often but anytime I'd try to look in his eyes, he'd turn away. It was as if he was ashamed of something. I knew I shouldn't have expected more from him, but it was hard not to. I missed the way he used to look at me, like I was the only one in the room. I missed the way he would touch me, like he truly wanted me. I missed him.

One day while walking to class, I feel someone bump into me. I turn around, to see who it was. It's this guy from my English class, Jake. He's always been nice to me, and I've always wondered what he looks like under that beanie. He smiles at me and says he's sorry, then asks if I'm okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, looking him in the eyes. "Thanks for asking."

He smiles back at me, and there's something different about it this time. It's warmer, more genuine. Maybe it's just me, but I get the feeling that he's been watching me too. "You're looking good today," he says, glancing down at my outfit. "That color really suits you." His words make me feel self-conscious, but in a good way.

"Thanks," I reply, trying to hide the blush that's creeping up my neck. "I think you look pretty good yourself." I can't help but notice that he's dressed a bit differently today. His usual plaid shirt is gone, replaced by a button-down that shows off his broad shoulders. He looks...dapper, maybe? It's a strange word to think about him, but it fits.

He seems to notice me looking and grins. "Thanks, I was going for a different look today. You like it?" His confidence is endearing, and I can't help but smile back.

I caught Heeseung glaring at us like..... Like he was jealous. I couldn't help but feel something in my chest as I watched him watch them. He had been so possessive of me, even though I'd never been his. The way he would get angry when another guy would talk to me, the way he would insist that I was his and his alone. It was like living with a possessive, jealous lover. But I couldn't deny the fact that there was something about him that drew me in. Something that made me want him despite... everything.

As the days went by, I became really good friends with Jake although I knew he liked me, it was too obvious please. He was always there for me, making me laugh, making me feel wanted. I knew he was just as lonely as I was. He never made me feel pressured or uncomfortable. He was just...perfect. But for some reason I could never forget about Heeseung, the way  he used to make me feel, the way he made me want to be with him. It was like an addiction I couldn't shake off.

---

One night, after a particularly bad day, I found myself in the library, studying for an exam. I didn't even know why I was here, as I had already finished my work, but I just couldn't bring myself to go back to my empty dorm room. I was just about to leave when I hear a familiar voice calling my name.

It's Heeseung.

He looks different than I remember him. His hair is longer and messier, falling over his eyes in the most endearing way. He's wearing a simple t-shirt and jeans, but he's not glowing like he usually is. I can't help but feel a mix of emotions as I look at him. Pain, regret, and...jealousy.

"Hey" he says, his voice rough and husky. "I've been meaning to talk to you." I want to run, to avoid this conversation, but something in his voice makes me stay. He walks over to me and takes a seat across from me at the table. "I've been a real jerk to you and I'm sorry." His apology catches me off guard. "I've been so wrapped up in my own head that I've been treating you like crap."

Heeseung looks at me, his eyes searching mine. "I've been thinking a lot about us lately, and I realize that I never gave us a chance. I was so convinced that there was nothing between us." He hesitates for a moment, swallowing hard. "But I was wrong. You deserve better than that. You deserve to be with someone who really sees you, who really wants you for you."

I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on my chest. A part of me wants to believe him, wants to take him back and forget about everything that happened between us. But another part of me is afraid. Afraid that he'll hurt me again, afraid that he'll push me away again and leave me again.

"I'm sorry, and that I want you to be happy. I want you to be with someone who deserves you." He pauses, looking at me intensely. "And I hope that person is Jake. He's a good guy, and he really cares about you."

As Heeseung walks away, tears fell out of my eyes as i sobbed. I still loved Heeseung, and I know I could never forget him, nor did I want to. I wanted to run out, hug him and  tell him that I missed him, but I knew it was too late. He had finally let me go. "This is what you wanted Yn" I said to myself in between my cries.

The next day at uni, I didn't know how to act around him. Part of me wanted to tell him that I still loved him, but the other part knew that it was better this way. We didn't talk much that day, but we didn't avoid each other either. It was almost as if we were both scared to face what had happened between us.

--

After class, I decided to go to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. As I'm sitting there, lost in my thoughts, I feel a presence beside me. I look up and it's Jake.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, concern written all over his face.

I force a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a lot on my mind."

He nods, understandingly. "Want to talk about it?"

I shake my head, not really wanting to get into it. "It's just... stuff." I take a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain how I feel. "Heeseung and I had this thing, you know? We were really close, but then things changed. I don't know how to explain it."

Jake nods, his expression sympathetic. "I think I understand what you're going through. It's hard when feelings change, especially when you're so close to someone." He pauses, considering his next words carefully. "But you know, maybe it's not a bad thing. Maybe it means that there's someone else out there who's better for you."

I can't help but feel a tiny bit of hope at his words. It's true that I've been so focused on Heeseung that I haven't really considered anyone else. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that Jake has always been there for me. He's always been supportive and kind, and he makes me feel good about myself. But I knew I could never return his feelings to him.

"Thanks, Jake," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

He smiles at me, his brown eyes warm. "You don't need to thank me. I'm just here for you, you know? Whatever you need." He hesitates for a moment, then reaches out to take my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine, sending a shiver down my spine. "I've always been here for you, Yn. And I'll always be here for you, okay?"

"Thanks, Jake. I appreciate that more than you know." But just then I found Heeseung looking at us, he smiled but.... he looked sad and guilty. I looked away, not wanting to hurt Jake's feelings. But at the same time I wanted to be true to myself, cause I knew I wasn't over Heeseung.

----

Hours pass by in a blur, and before I know it, it's time to go home. As I gather my things, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions. On one hand, I'm happy that Jake is there for me, but on the other hand, there's a huge part of me that misses Heeseung. I wish things could be different, but I know they can't.

As I was leaving, Jake walks me to my car. The sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. It's beautiful, yet somehow it only serves as a reminder of how my world feels like it's falling apart.

"Hey, you wanna hang out sometime?" Jake asks, his voice soft. "Maybe we could go see a movie or grab dinner or something?"

 "Thanks, Jake. I appreciate it but...." I trail off, unable to meet his eyes. "Look, I know you like me but I- I'm sorry Jake." I can't do this to him. I can't lead him on while I'm still in love with someone else.

He nods, understandingly. "I get it. You don't have to apologize. I'm just here if you ever want to talk or hang out or whatever." He smiles at me, but there's a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Jake, you deserve someone better. Someone who actually loves you. Please forgive me." I say, biting my bottom lip.

He takes a step closer, cupping my face with his hands. "Yn, I don't care if you love me or not. I just want to be your friend. And if that's all I ever am to you, then that's okay. I'll be here, waiting for you, whenever you need me." His eyes search mine, trying to convey the depth of his feelings. He tried to smile but the sadness was evident in his eyes. "I hope things work out between you and.... Heeseung"

I smile at him, feeling a twinge of guilt for leading him on. "Thanks, Jake. You really are a great friend. I'm sorry for putting you through this." I lean in and hug him, grateful for his understanding and support.

As I pull away from the hug, I can't help but wonder if things will ever be the same between us.

Jake steps back, nodding toward my car. "Well, I should let you go. Take it easy tonight, okay?" He gives me a small wave as I climb into my car and start the engine. I wave back, watching as he turns and walks away.

The drive home is a blur. My mind is spinning with thoughts of Jake and Heeseung. I can't help but feel guilty for leading Jake on, even if he is my friend. And as for Heeseung, I don't know what to think. I still love him, but I can't deny that seeing Jake there tonight made me feel something too.

When I finally pull into my driveway, I'm exhausted both physically and emotionally. I climb out of my car, my muscles aching from the day's practice. The air is cool, the sky dark. The familiar scent of home fills my nose, but it doesn't bring the comfort I'm craving.

As I trudge up the steps to my front door, I can't help but feel like I'm drowning in a sea of confusion and conflicting emotions. I want to talk to Heeseung, to work things out with him.

---

"Fuck everything." i mumbled to myself, sitting on a bench, consumed by alcohol. I'm not even sure how many drinks I've had, but it's way too many. My head spins and my vision blurs. I just want to forget, to feel numb. But it doesn't seem to be working.

I feel a hand pat on my  shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts. I look up to see Heeseung standing there, looking down at me with a mixture of concern and confusion. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, I'm fine." My words come out slurred, and I can tell he doesn't believe me. He kneels down in front of me, his eyes searching mine.

"You're not fine, Y/N. You're drunk. You shouldn't be out here alone." He reaches out and takes my hand, his grip firm but gentle. "Come on, let's get you inside." He pulls me to my feet, and I lean heavily against him, my head spinning.

As we make our way toward the front door, I feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence. He walks me over to the couch and carefully sits me down, making sure I'm stable. Then he disappears into the kitchen, only to return a moment later with a glass of water. "Drink this," he says, handing it to me.

"W-why?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "Why are you being so nice to me?" He looks at me with a hurt look.

"Because I care about you, Y/N. I'm sorry if I was always being so selfish, I never cared about your feelings but... ever since I let you go, I can't stop thinking about you. I miss you so much." He sighs, his voice raw with emotion. "I want to be with you, Y/N. I want to work things out between us. I don't want to lose you again. I want to try and work things out. I want to show you how much I've changed and how much I've grown. I want to be the person you deserve, the person you need."

He reaches out and cups my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. "I love you, Y/N. I always have and I always will. Please, give me another chance. I promise I won't let you down again." His words echo in my head, washing over me like a warm summer rain. I can feel the weight of my emotions lifting, the fog beginning to clear.

As I look into his eyes, I know that I can't turn away from this feeling anymore. I can't deny the love that I have for him. "I love you too, Heeseung," I whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

He lets out a shaky breath, his grip on my face tightening just for a moment before he relaxes it again. "Thank you," he whispers back, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

He brought his face near to mine, his lips  brushing against mine so softly it sent a shiver down my spine. Our kiss was gentle at first, but it quickly deepened as we both surrendered to the overwhelming desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. His hands moved through my hair, cupping my head as he angled his mouth to fit perfectly with mine. I felt the heat from his body, the strength in his arms, and it all made me feel safe and protected.

I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my body against his, and moaned into his mouth as he explored every inch of it. He made a low growl deep in his throat, a sound that sent a thrill through me, and he began to kiss me more urgently. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest as our passion rose, and it made me want him even more.

As we continued to kiss, his hands wandered lower, moving over my hips and then up my sides, cupping my breasts through my shirt. I arched into his touch, moaning into his mouth, and he responded by pulling my shirt over my head in one swift motion. His lips found my bare skin, sucking and nipping at my sensitive flesh as he moved lower, kissing a trail down my neck and collarbone. I gasped and shivered under his touch, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He  pulled back, looking at me with lust-filled eyes. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, his voice raspy with desire. Then, with a swift movement, he swept me up into his arms and carried me over to the bedroom. The room spun as he lay me down on the bed, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His hands moved to the hem of my shorts, tugging them off in a single fluid motion.

He leaned down, his lips finding my center, and I cried out, arching my back off the bed. He teased me with his tongue, circling and probing until I was writhing beneath him. "Heeseung," I moaned, my voice barely audible. He smiled against my skin, his hand moving between my legs to find my clit. With his expert fingers, he began to stroke me, in time with his tongue, and I felt my orgasm building, growing closer with each passing second.

He straightened up, looking down at me, his eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful when you come," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. And then he leaned down, his lips finding mine once more as my orgasm crashed over me in a wave of pure pleasure. Our tongues tangled together, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm as we came together in this moment, this beautiful, intimate exchange of love and desire.

As the intensity of our kiss began to subside, Heeseung pulled back, gazing down at me with an expression of awe and wonder. His hands moved to my hips, gently spreading my legs, and then lower, cupping my bottom. He kissed me again, this time slower and more tender, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, teasing dance.

I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against my fingertips. "You feel so good," I murmured, arching into him as he continued to kiss me. His response was to nip at my bottom lip, making me gasp, before moving his lips back to mine.

His touch was everywhere, possessive and gentle all at once. His fingers traced along my collarbone, teasing the sensitive skin beneath my breasts, and lower still, until they found the dampness between my legs. He circled my clit, making me shiver with anticipation, and then he pushed two fingers inside me, moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

I arched into his touch, my nails digging into his shoulders as I felt the familiar tightness building within me. He kissed me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world. The world outside this bedroom faded away, replaced by the intense sensation of his skin against mine, the smell of him filling my nose, and the feel of him moving inside me.

He continued to thrust slowly, his rhythm matching the pace of our breath, and I could feel myself growing closer and closer to the edge. I whimpered into his mouth, my hips moving in time with his, urging him on. He moaned into the crook of my neck, his body trembling against mine as he neared his release.

He pulled back slightly, looking down at me with eyes that were dark with desire. "I want to feel you around me," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His fingers left my body, moving lower to spread my folds open, revealing my wetness. Then he positioned himself at my entrance, guiding himself back inside.

As he sank deeper, I gasped, arching my back off the bed. He was so big, so full, and it felt incredible to have him inside me again. He began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm that matched the beat of my heart. His skin was hot against mine, his muscles tense as he fought to control his movements.

He brushed his lips against my neck, his teeth scraping gently over the sensitive skin. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "It feels incredible." He pulled back slightly, then thrust forward again, burying himself deeper still. His movements grew more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure built within him.

I arched my back, meeting his thrusts with my own, my nails digging into his shoulders as I felt myself begin to lose control. Heat pooled low in my belly, spreading through my body in a wave of pleasure that threatened to consume me. "Heeseung," I moaned, my voice hoarse from the intensity of the moment. "I'm close."

He growled, his movements becoming more urgent as he felt me begin to tighten around him. His hips slammed against mine in a rhythm that was as brutal as it was beautiful. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as he drove into me over and over again.

The sensation of being so completely filled by him was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It felt like we were one, our bodies in perfect harmony, moving together as if we'd been practicing this dance our entire lives. My nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks that would no doubt linger long after we'd parted, a reminder of this moment, this connection.

His movements grew more urgent as he neared his release, his hips slamming into mine with an intensity that left me gasping for air. The pleasure built within me, tightening my core, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. I arched my back, meeting his thrusts with my own, my body trembling with the effort to hold on to this feeling, to make it last just a moment longer.

He moaned into my neck, his muscles tensing beneath my fingers as he came, his hips bucking wildly against mine. I felt the hot spurts of his release deep inside me, and with a cry of pleasure that seemed to echo through the room, I followed him over the edge.

My body convulsed around him, my inner muscles squeezing tightly as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over me. I arched my back off the bed, feeling the familiar tightness in my core as my orgasm peaked and then began to slowly subside. He remained inside me, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to regain control.

His skin was slick with sweat, and mine felt sticky where we were pressed together. He withdrew carefully from my body, lowering himself to lie beside me. His lips brushed against my neck, leaving a trail of tiny, hot kisses as he traced the line of my collarbone with his fingertips. "That was incredible," he murmured, his voice still shaky from the intensity of our lovemaking. "I can't believe how good that felt."

I ran my fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, feeling the softness of it against my palm. "Neither can I," I whispered, looking up at him.

He smiled down at me, his eyes filled with tenderness. "I think," he said, his voice still rough with emotion, "I think I could stay like this with you forever." He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

We fell asleep in  each other's arms, tangled together like two bodies meant to fit perfectly. The sheets were kicked off, revealing our entwined limbs and the line of his muscular back. I rested my head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my ear. The room was dim, the sunlight filtering through the curtains in a soft, golden glow

--

For the first time in a while I'd felt so good. It felt like everything was perfect now.

As the days went by, we settled into a comfortable routine. Waking up together, making breakfast in the small kitchen, and then spending the mornings exploring the city. We would hold hands as we walked, sometimes stopping to kiss in the shadows of an alleyway or nestled against a tree in a park. The warmth of his skin against mine, the softness of his lips on mine, it all felt so right.

One evening, as we sat at the small dining table eating takeout from our favorite Thai restaurant, Heeseung reached across the table and took my hand in his. His touch sent a shiver down my spine. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he began, his voice a little hesitant. "I've been thinking about what we're going to do with our lives now that we've graduated."

I looked up at him, feeling a knot forming in my stomach. "What do you mean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. His hands were shaking as he placed it on the table in front of me. "I've been thinking that maybe we should... maybe we should get married," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know it's sudden, but every time I look at you, I feel like I'm home. Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

My heart swelled at his words. It was a feeling so foreign, so overwhelmingly beautiful that for a moment I couldn't speak. I reached out, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it gently. "Heeseung, I-" I began, but he cut me off, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but it's like we're meant to be together. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else. I want you to be my wife, my partner, my best friend. I want to grow old with you, and I want to raise a family with you."

His words brought tears to my eyes, and I could feel the warmth of them spilling down my cheeks. I reached out, taking him in my arms, burying my face in his neck. "Of course I'll marry you," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I love you too."

He let out a shaky breath, wrapping his arms around me tightly. "I love you so so much. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else."

I pulled back, cupping his face in my hands, and smiled at him through my tears. "Me neither. I love you, too, Heeseung. I would marry you a thousand times over."

He wiped away my tears with his thumbs, as he opened the box, he pulled out a small, elegant ring. The diamond glinted in the light, and I felt my breath hitch in my throat. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion. "Will you spend the rest of your life with me?"

Tears streaming down my face, I nodded, unable to find my voice. I took the ring, slipping it onto the finger he held out, and felt a rush of happiness so intense it threatened to overwhelm me. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, his lips soft and tender against mine. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and hopes and dreams, and I knew in that moment that no matter what challenges or obstacles lay ahead of us, we would face them together.

This was it. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment I had always hoped would come. As I looked into Heeseung's eyes, I could see the love, the devotion, and the promise of a future together. His words, his touch, his presence; they all made me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. And now, with his proposal ring glistening on my finger, I knew that this was real, that we were really going to spend the rest of our lives together.

We had faced so many obstacles since we met in college. I couldn't help but remember the old us, if only we had talked about things earlier, if only I told him about my feelings from the start, maybe we wouldn't have struggled so much. But all I  could do now was to cherish the moment we were in. It felt like a new beginning, a fresh start. Maybe we were meant to be, I mean getting married after all that happened between us! It's like we fought against all odds just to be here.

𝜗ৎTaglist𝜗ৎ : @cha-eui @alvojake @heeslut4life @wondipity @dollywons @wonlvkay @nyxtwixx @yeonzzzn @rikiwaify-blog @seokseokjinkim @heelovesmeknot @kimsunoops @heelvsted @kirinaa08

[taurielofmirkwood77777]

Can we all stop with the "Aziraphale is wrong, Crowley is right" mentality please? The whole season was spent of saying "nothing is just black and white, everything is in shades of grey" and yet a lot of people are still falling for the black and white thing. BOTH were right and BOTH were wrong. Let's unfold this, shall we?

Starting with the elephant in the room, yes, Aziraphale was wrong for thinking he can change Heaven. We, as an audience, saw just how awful Heave can be, when Aziraphale didn't for the most part. He doesn't know why Gabriel is fired and he never learned how Heaven treated "him" after he averted Armageddon. He doesn't know all of that, but we do, so it's not fair to blame him for it. Him believing that he Crowley wants to be an angel again is simply due to the lack of communication between them. Both in season 1 and 2, Crowley mentioned multiple times that him falling was not fair because he never did anything more than just ask questions, unlike other demons who were all against Heaven. So Aziraphale assuming that that means he would like another shot at being an angel is completely reasonable.

Now, Aziraphale was also right for taking the job. Considering the events of season 2, it was very clear that Heaven wouldn't simply let Aziraphale and Crowley exist in peace after everything. Yes, they had 4 years of peace, but for immortal beings, that's more like 4 hours. Aziraphale wants to make sure that he and Crowley CAN exist without the constant fear of revenge or punishment. After all, we were just introduced to the Book of Life and there's nothing stopping Heaven from erasing one or both of them from existence forever. Aziraphale doesn't want to be with Crowley if that means living in constant fear, because that's not really a living, is it? He needs to do something about it. Even if Crowley doesn't see it that way, Aziraphale has to do something to keep them both safe, if not the entire Earth. So his choice of going to Heaven may not be "good", but it sure is the most logical.

As for Crowley... poor Crowley. He doesn't get it. In season 1, he came to Aziraphale and had to work to convince him to stop Armageddon from happening. And the moment he thinks that it can't be stopped, he decides to run away. And that idea stuck. Up until that moment back in season 1, Crowley didn't even entertain the idea of leaving Earth. But from that point onward, it's the only thing he thinks about. He brings it up every chance he gets. You could even argue that being a coward is one of the reasons he became a demon in the first place (sorry not sorry). But running away isn't an option. Running may save him from the problems going on on Earth, but no matter where he goes, he can't get away from Heaven and Hell. They can always pull him back, they can do worse things from afar. But Crowley doesn't see it. He tells Aziraphale "You can't leave this bookshop." as if that's not what he was planning to do since episode 1. Crowley loves the Earth. Even more so than Aziraphale. He plays dress up every chance he gets, he drinks poison for fun, he cares about the health of ducks and is clearly indulging himself in alcohol much more than Aziraphale does in food (speaking of, he was also the first one to consume human food and drinks and the reason Aziraphale does so in the first place). He's the one who convinced Aziraphale to stop the destruction of Earth in the first place. But Crowley is also very stubborn.

At the same time, Crowley knows better than anyone how Heaven and Hell work and how that can never be changed. He saw first hand how Heaven treats its own angels (I'm including Gabriel in this) and realises it's all a trap. He can tell. He fears for Aziraphale's life, and even for his if he were to accept it. Crowley tries to warn him more than anything. But just knowing everything is a scam is not enough.

The only way for Aziraphale and Crowley to be able to just be together is for them to make sure they can. And the only way to do that is by going in the belly of the beast.

[jonphaedrus]

some facts about my father, a perfectly ordinary human being:

got tenure in two years by getting two 2.5-million dollar grants from the government and he's now held that job for the longest time any faculty at his university has ever been tenured. literally almost longer than his entire school has existed.

he's won a fullbright...thrice.

speaks five languages (fluently: english, hebrew, russian; functionally: polish, dutch) and can get around in three others (german, japanese, and "pidgin arabic" whatever the fuck that means)

he was once locked inside the great pyramid at giza. on purpose.

one time i went to austin when he was out of town and when we got back to his house the only food in his fridge was 1) bulk family size cocktail shrimp from costco with all the shrimp eaten out of it and only the marinade left, 2) three boxes worth of frozen yoghurt bars, 3) two bags of frozen mini-wontons that expired two years earlier

has only one demand for his funeral and it's that while his casket is being lowered into the ground i make sure they play "whatever it is, i'm against it!" from the marx brothers film horse feathers

broke into (and out of) martial law poland in the early 80s and brought four hams in his back seat so he could spent six months living with his girlfriend, including a short period of time where he tried to drive from białystok to kraków in the middle of a blizzard, got lost, had no phone, no map, ran into the police, accidentally gave them his fake texas passport and almost got deported, bribed them with a ham, and then somehow ended up at his girlfriend's brother's apartment by complete happenstance and got blind drunk for a week

made friends with his assigned kgb agent in the 70s in russia

his car broke down in the middle of the sinai desert in the 70s and was saved from dying by a roaming passing band of bedouin car mechanics who took his entire car apart and put it back together and drove off without saying anything except "it works."

convinced me and one of my childhood best friends that he had found a way to time travel an hour into the future through the careful use of daylight savings, a radio station, a car clock, and the fact that he has never been on time for anything in his entire life

when he got his house renovated he decided that two attics and two cleverly hidden crawl spaces wasn't enough, so he added two more attics and another cleverly hidden crawl space, and i wish good luck to whatever poor schmuck (my cousin) has to sell his house someday.

broke his cherry-wood dining table under piles of papers...twice.

when in grad school, pretended to be a visiting russian statistics professor named "professor blowjob" (in russian) and somehow got away with this in order to teach a lecture on how s of x = f of n (sex is fun)

conned me into the belief that i had a magical color-changing guinea pig and kept this act up for literally a decade before admitting the truth

became a fellow on one of the yellow river restoration projects by making friends with an old man doing tai chi with a sword in a park in beijing. turned out that old man with a sword in a park in beijing was the head of the national environmental protection office at the time.

[washeduphazbin]

Could I get a one shot of, y/n is like Adam’s life ex gf she left after getting tired of his shit.. ended up falling in love with Lucifer.. (Mr. Steal yo girl thrice) and during the Adam and Lucifer battle Lucifer taunts that he stole all three of his lovers

YES. YES. I'm in love with Lucifer. Your wish is my command.

Sorry it's so short if we like maybe part 2

Also, poly luci x reader x Lilith (sorry, not sorry)

———

“Little duck?” Lucifer asked softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You were holding onto one of his plush ducks rather tightly,

"I can't help but think...that this extermination is my fault." Lucifer let out a gasp and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, "Lulu-"

"I won't have that negative self-talk in my house." Your brow furrowed in distress,

"But-"

"No buts."

"Lucifer! Adam's absolutely moved up the extermination to spite Charlie and us!" You argued, "I...what if I go back to him."

"Excuse me, what?"

"I don't want to!" You moved away from him to the portrait of Lilith, you and Lucifer hanging in the corner of the room. "I really don't want to..." You raised your hand and brushed against Lilith's horns and Lucifer's staff in the portrait. "You know I don't belong here; I'm not a demon, a sinner, or an angel either. I'm just a human who fell because I fell in love with you and your family." You smiled sadly over at him, holding out your hand. Lucifer squeezed it tightly, "What if I can solve all of this by just going back with Adam."

"That's not happening; I'm not letting you go back to that fuckwad;" He scoffed, brushing a hand through your hair, "Do you think you'll be happier with him? Without us? Without Charlie?"

"No." You laughed bitterly, "Of course not, Charlie would kill me."

"She absolutely would. You're like another mother to her; she wouldn't let you go back to that hellscape without a fight. Neither will I; I have a few words I'd love to share with Adam."

"Oh yeah? What would you say?"

"I'm sure you'll get to hear it eventually," he mused, leaning closer to kiss your cheeks. "Just stay safe and stay away from the Hotel until Charlie or I give you the okay, okay?"

"Okay." You whispered softly, bending down to plant a kiss on his lips,

"Did you really have to bend down like that," He huffed, hitting you gently with his cane.

"Oh, absolutely."

---

"Stay home? STAY HOME?" You roared, grabbing Lucifer's shoulders, "Everyone dying, and you want me to stay home!"

"For your safety and everyone's safety. Yes." He squeezed your shoulders tightly, "If it's between you and Charlie, I-"

"You choose Charlie every time."

"I love you-"

"I know. I love you too." You smiled softly, "Kick Adam in the dick for me?"

"It would be my pleasure, my lady. Here," Lucifer handed you his phone, "It'll live stream the battle; I hacked a VoxTech drone." He puffed his chest out proudly, and you beamed, taking his phone from his hands.

"I can't wait to see Adam get dick punched in HD!"

"There's the bloodlust I love so much; if I didn't have to go save Hell, I'd totally fuck you right now."

"Then you better leave now so you can come back and fuck me as soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am!" He gave the dorkiest salute before teleporting out of the room.

---

"I am going to FUCK you!"

"It's fuck you up...dad."

Your face palmed, curling up on the bed, Lucifer's phone in your hand, watching the live stream.

"What? What did I say? Oh Shit-" Lucifer burst into laughter as he transformed into a snake to avoid being hit by Adam, "So this is what you've been up to since Eden, huh? I gotta you really let yourself go, buddy."

"Are you judging me?" Adam snarled in a disbelieving laugh, "You're the most hated being in all of creation!" Lucifer snickered as he turned into a bird,

"Well, your first wife didn't seem to hate what I had to offer, or the second bow chica. Wow, wow!" He splayed his fingers out in a V shape and stuck his tongue in between his fingers, "Not to mention your third."

"I'm sorry what!" He snarled,

"Oh, you didn't know? (Y/n)'s a doll, the tightest pussy Lilith and I've EVER shared!"

You made a horrified sound at the phone, wanted to absolutely curl up into a ball and die, Charlie didn't look any better.

"Dad!"

"You are so dead!" Adam shouted, "And I'm gonna find that bitch, and I'm going to make her pay!"

"Sure you are," he snorted, "I'd like to see you try."

[adelheidvonschicksal]

hey! Was just wondering, could you do a part 2 for puppy! Yuji x reader, where Yuji successfully breeds reader, (don’t ask how it’s possible lol) and reader doesn’t know she’s pregnant, so Yuji tries to tell her she is by rubbing her belly, or laying on it and always holding it. Also some smut if you still do that kinda stuff! I understand if you wouldn’t want to do it! But I would really appreciate it! Live your work btw! <3

Based off I Love Yu

Kind of a what-if since originally there was an implication that he couldn't breed Reader, but let's do it! <3 Thank you to Avy for beta-ing for me again.

AN: It's been a while since I wrote non-solo smut I think. I love Itadori he's already really sweet and cute like a pup! I tried to fit some smut in there so I hope this is something like you were thinking.

CW: NSFW, Smut, Oral (F!Receiving), Interspecies (Puppy Hybrid), pregnancy✨

Filter tags Notsfw, Adelssmut, tw: hybrids, tw: pregnancy

You didn’t understand what was wrong with you.

You’ve been feeling so rundown. No matter how much you sleep, the fatigue doesn’t break. It didn’t help that you could barely keep anything down either, surviving off nothing but toast over the last three days.

The only bright spot in your day recently is your precious puppy boy. Yuji is so sweet to you nowadays, well, he’s always sweet but even more so as of late. He constantly stares at you with big brown eyes and holds his arms around your waist while resting his head against your belly. The warmth of his full weight on you did wonders for the random waves of cramps that hit you after a long day on your feet.

This time when you get home from work, immediately collapsing on your bed with nothing but a towel on after a long shower, he’s there. His fingers tiptoe along your shoulder, a curious set of pokes against your steaming skin.

In a small burst of energy, you plant your hand between two furry ears and briefly pet his head before passing back out into the sheets, sparing no care that you were making them damp. The coolness of them felt too good right now.

Yuji presses a hand to the back of your head, mimicking your actions as he lays on his side to try to catch a glimpse of your face.

“Mad?” he asks.

“I’m not mad, sweetheart.” You work the energy to turn your head to face him. It isn’t the first time you collapsed into the bed in the same fashion. Usually, it meant you were burnt out at work by an assignment or a stupid co-worker. “I just don’t feel good today.”

Big eyes going soft in an apology, he frowns at you before having the excellent idea to squeeze the back of your ankles and shuffle you around. You never understand exactly where he finds this strength, even with all the muscles, but you don’t fight it as he wiggles you around to flip you onto your back.

His hands slide up the side of your legs, shifting your towel to expose one thigh before wrapping around your torso. He scrambles on top of you. His head pushes to your stomach, and he muffles a soft “love you” against it.

“Love me?” he asks, and it makes you wince. He never really asks that unless he did something that he thought would get him in trouble. He learned to get really good at asking once he figured out that buttering you up was an easy way to slip out of scolding.

This time, it concerns you that he might’ve taken your tiredness as something he did wrong, so you run a hand along his upper back. “Of course, I do.”

His tail wags and his face shines again with that smile you love as he cuddles against your belly again. It’s enough to make you ignore it when another cramp seizes, all save for a small whimper and wince that causes his ears to twitch.

Your puppy moves on his own before you can request him to get off your stomach. Warm, big hands hold down your hips and pull at your towel enough so he can pepper your lower belly with kisses. They progress slowly down the center of your stomach, crossing the border to ghost between your legs.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” you breathe out. With how his tail increases its pace, swinging back and forth fast enough to create a light swishing sound, and how his smooth wide tongue flattens against your mound, you take it as a yes.

And oh boy does it work to make you forget everything when he sets to work. His nails scratch against your skin, biting into the meat of your thighs as his tongue laps at your clit.

You moan eagerly, gripping at your sheets and lifting your hips to greet his sloppy mouth. He makes out with your cunt, almost like he’s trying to devour it as his tongue slides between your folds and his upper lip brushes your bead.

“Sweetheart, do you still know how to use your fingers?”

Yuuji growls and places a kiss on your thigh, smiling against your skin at the wet stain he marks you with. He brings two fingers at your entrance, glancing back up to watch your crumbling expression as he curls them into you.

“That’s it. G-Good boy,” you praise, and he knows he’s struck the right spot that’ll have your pretty moans vibrating in his sensitive ears.

You smell heavenly when he finally flattens his tongue back out over your clit. He knows you’re his, all his, when your walls flutter and suck his fingers deeper into their spongy hold.

He sucks in a breath through his nose. Your scent makes his cock twitch and the swollen and firm feel of your clit tells him you’re feeling good now, and he’s so happy to return the feeling you give him when you constantly float around with the pheromone of his pups.

Yuuji wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you closer. It makes you force a hand down into his hair, praises of “good boy”, “keep going”, ”almost there, sweetheart” panting wetly from your lips until your legs quiver in his strong hold.

When he pulls away, his face is coated in your release, from his nose down, far beyond where his tongue can reach but he wastes no time sucking your taste from his fingers with a smile as he stares at your spent form.

You may be sweaty and out of breath, but you look much happier now. Yuuji crawls over you, sliding his hips between your legs. His hard length presses against your stomach as he presses kisses to the center of your neck, his soft ginger ears tickling the underside of your chin.

Your heart could almost hold the world when he forces his full weight against you to cuddle you.

“I love you.”

You coo at him, scratching fingers through the back of his hair. “I love you too, Yu Yu.”

When he hears your voice, his cock aches. He whines against your skin, wishing that this time would go faster so he could breed you again already. He guesses it doesn’t matter this time, he knows you’ll still at least feel better after he knots you, even if your body is already occupied.

And the whimper you make when he parts you with his cock proves him right.

When the morning comes, you don’t want to get out of bed. You’d rather spend all day cuddling Yuuji and smothering yourself into the sweet strength of his muscles. Alas, you force yourself to get up and go to the doctor’s appointment you made for yourself otherwise you’d never feel better.

You let Yuuji sleep, sliding out from under him, throwing on the first thing you see in your closet, and heading to the clinic.

You enter the building with the expectation of getting some antibiotics or confirmation of stomach flu at worst. Instead, you’re given a list of vitamins to take, a note with a list of symptoms at the bottom all culminating in a diagnosis that reads: pregnant, and a little baby badge to attach to your bag so people won’t hassle you for using the special seats on the subway.

You’re scowling the entire way back home, stopping briefly at a drug store to pick out a couple of different pregnancy tests. There’s no way those stupid doctors had it right.

When you return home, you slam the door behind you, spooking your puppy as you rush to the bathroom. You take the first test that morning and the second one that afternoon, and they both come back with the same result: positive.

Your heart is racing the entire rest of the evening as you sit on the couch and stare at that dumb stick for what seems like forever, thinking that maybe if you stare at it enough your result will change. The only thing that keeps you from going ballistic is Yuuji sitting underneath you, one leg shuffled between yours and the other on the outside of your right. His chin rests right on your knee as he watches you talk with your friend on the phone.

“Is it someone you met on that app?”

“I haven’t even gone on more than a first date.”

Yuuji starts to get impatient the longer your conversation goes on, and you ignore him. He shuffles up onto the couch and collapses his head against your shoulder, making you grimace and shift, so he doesn’t knock the phone out your hand.

“You don’t think that maybe—"

“No, it was only two, and one was for coffee and the other we didn’t ride together,” you add on, and you never drunk enough to where you think someone could have taken advantage of you. “Yuuji cut it out,” you scold when he starts to whine and pull at your waist. Sensing he wasn’t going to stop any time soon, you decide to hang up. “I’ll call you back.”

You put down the phone, turning to your pup to ask him what was wrong. He snuggles against you, rubbing his head against your shoulder and sliding an arm around your stomach.

He mumbles out your name and starts to weigh you back, just enough so your lower back presses against the arm of the couch and he can scoot down to place his head on your stomach and breathe in deep.

“Love you,” he mumbles and looks as though he could almost fall asleep against you. You almost repeat it before the unsettling realization crashes down on you.

That’s impossible, isn’t it? You’re not even the same species!

“Yuuji,” he snaps his head up, pinning his ears back at the rough sound of your voice, “Did you do this?” you ask him, showing him the pregnancy stick. He doesn’t seem to understand so you put it in words he can. “Breed?” you ask.

He senses that you finally get it and gives you the widest smile you think you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s almost enough to make you laugh. Almost.

“You’re downright proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

Happily, he buries his forehead against your stomach. “Good boy?”

You sigh but pet him anyway, seeing that this is very much your fault in the first place. Besides you can’t stay mad at that face. “Very good boy.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Part 2 of this cuz I wrote too much 🦦 this is another long one with possible ooc-ness but it’s a fanfic that’s not meant to be taken seriously.

Taglist: @miraculous-panic (the og asker) and @spidernuggets @millyhelp @lanxsee @jaysgirlx @gloriousdreamerland

Previously…

*knock, knock, knock*

‘Are you sure this is going to work?’ Jason said as he looked back at Dick and Damian, who was forced by the older male into helping their brother with his relationship problem, perched on the fire escape of your apartment.

Dick sighed, putting his hands on his hips. ‘Do you want to save your relationship or not?’

‘Of course I do!’ Jason snapped, not liking the accusation that he didn’t care enough about you to save something he was indirectly ruining with his secrecy; He just didn’t like the danger he could potentially drag you into just for knowing who’s under the RedHood, after all he wasn’t really a well liked figure amongst certain powerful criminals in Gotham.

‘Then you shouldn’t hesitate in making things right with them.’ Damian pipes up, much to Jason and Dick’s surprise as both of them were certain that he could’ve cared less for things he’d consider as trivial, though then again Damian had always been full of surprises and this was only one of them. ‘While your reasonings for not telling y/n are justified but in doing so. However you’ve not only made them feel as though they’re not trustworthy, but also insecure to the point that they’ve began suspecting you of cheating on them.’ Jason’s eyes downcast to the helmet within his hands and tightening his grip on it as though it had been the root of all his problems. ‘The only way to rectify this misstep is by taking the risk of danger to secure the things you love most, for there is not one life lived that didn’t come with it’s risks.’

‘Damian’s right Jason.’ Dick said softly as he helplessly watched the conflicting emotions run through his eyes and wanted nothing more then to help his brother avoid a broken heart. He had heard you from the times Jason accidentally slipped up during patrols together and immeditly knew the kind of hold you had over Jason, the type where Jason wishes he wasn’t made a vigilante so that you two could live happily together without fear of one day finding that the other was taken away.

‘I know.’ Jason said as he looked longingly at the closed bedroom window that he knew you were on the opposite side of, probably staring at the same window while reaching for his knife that he’d given you for protection, ghosting his fingers against the empty knife sheath strapped at his thigh. ‘And that’s why I need to go through with this…no matter what happens next.’ He then reached a hand to knock on the window again and taking a step back afterwards to wait for you to open it.

A couple minutes later and nothing. Not even the ruffle of a curtain and Jason’s mind naturally made him think the worst as his breath hitches in his throat and he feels a tightening in his chest. ‘They’re not answering.’ He said.

‘Give it some more time, no sane person is going to open their window to a potential stranger.’ Dick reasoned.

‘They’re not answering.’ Jason said again as he was fighting every urge to bust down the window but before he could even act on it, Damian grabbed ahold of his arm and pulled him back.

‘It’s only been five minutes, are you that paranoid that in that time someone could’ve possibly kidnapped them?’ He hissed but Jason had stopped listening to reason and tugged his arm out of Damian’s hold and puts his helmet back on and charges towards the window anyway, firmly set on the idea that somethings wrong, much to Dick and Damian’s dismay.

‘JASON NO!’

‘Tt. Idiot.’

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur to Jason from the moment he broke through the window of his own apartment, from the sound of glass shattering, a horrified scream and the sounds of Damian and Dick calling after him didn’t register to Jason, that was until he saw a frightened you backed up into a corner of the room, knife held out in front of you in the instance where you needed to defend yourself as tears collected in the corners of your eyes.

‘Wh-what are you doing in my apartment? I didn’t- I haven’t done anything wrong as far as I’m aware.’ You said, scared out of your wits as to why THE REDHOOD was in yours and Jason’s bedroom, guns in each of his hands as he looked at you in utter silence -which was fucking terrifying- and all you wanted to do was call out for Jason because how the fuck did RedHood know where you live if he didn’t get that information straight from Jason himself. Upon realising this fact, your fright became anger as then pushed yourself off of the wall and stood across the vigilante. ‘Jason.’ You muttered under your breath as the anger boiled your blood. ‘What did you do to MY Jason?!’ You shouted, not thinking about the consequences of fighting someone who was the better fighter out of the two of you, only caring about what had happened to Jason for RedHood to be here.

‘Woah! There’s been a misunderstanding-‘ Dick tried to calm the situation from escalation but he must’ve forgotten that he was in his NightWing attire as you looked at him with just as much fury in your eyes as there was fear and dread. ‘NightWing?’ You asked, eyes darting between the two quite frankly intimidating men, your thoughts going a million miles an hour. ‘What the fuck is going on?!’ You exclaimed. ‘If you put the knife down and stop coming to conclusions then maybe you’ll get your answers.’ Damian said from the window, genuinely done with the whole thing and wants to go home to spend quality time with Titus and Alfred the cat.

‘Fine.’ You, both mentally and emotionally exhausted, then drop the knife and sit on the bed to massage your temples. Dick then sits beside you whilst being respectful of your need for space during this time as Damian and Jason stay standing. ‘As I said before, there has been a major misunderstanding here.’ He begins. ‘Jason is fine, more than fine actually, but he’s been meaning to tell you something really important.’ He explains but your brows were immeditly raised at his as your eyes moved between him, Robin and RedHood, one of whom hadn’t spoken in a long while since bursting into your bedroom. ‘And I’m supposed to believe that sent all of you to tell me something he could’ve told me himself.’ You said, unable to find the logistics of this. ‘Isn’t that a little…excessive?’

Dick smiled, glad that you’ve finally calmed down but was starting to grow worried at Jason’s prolonged silence, he dared to glance his way and sees Jason getting ready to remove his helmet and quickly glanced back to you. ‘Then how about we let him tell you instead?’ He says and again you were left confused by this until he gave you a gesture to look at RedHood and per following his instructions, you sat there in stunned silence as RedHood removed his helmet, revealing the mop of dark hair with it’s streak of white you could easily recognise anywhere and a familiar set of eyes. ‘Hi chipmunk.’ Jason said, holding his helmet to his hip.

You wordlessly got up from the bed and moved towards Jason -who was internally screaming at how easily all this could go wrong for him- and held his face in your hands, running your thumbs against the apples of his cheeks as he melted into your touch like he always did. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Was all you said, too tired to be mad at anything anymore while also being happy at the fact that Jason was in fact not seeing anyone begin you back, but were conflicted about him being a vigilante as infamous as the RedHood on top of all that; It only proved to leave you even more exhausted then you already were if that was possible.

‘I just wanted to keep you safe.’ He said desperately as he held your hands to his face as his eyes pleaded with you to understand. ‘I’m not exactly well liked on the streets of Gotham and I didn’t want you to be caught in the cross fire.’

‘So all this time you weren’t meeting up with anyone behind my back?’ You said unproved and Jason looked at you as though you just grew a second head. ‘What?’ He asked, taken aback. ‘Meeting someone behind your back- no, why would i ever do something like that I love you.’ Jason then stopped when he realised what he just said. It also didn’t help that he was reminded of his brothers also being in the room, especially when he could practically hear Dick’s gasp of surprise and Damian’s mutter of it was about time Jason admitted that he loved you. Was he that obvious? He’ll have to ask them later but for now, you were all that matter and the fact that you were okay and safe was all Jason could ever ask for.

‘You love me?’ You asked.

‘More than anything.’ Jason replied. ‘Why would I look elsewhere when everything I could’ve ever want and have is standing right in front of me, even if they did try to hold me at knifepoint in the cutest pyjama set I’ve ever seen.’ He adds, making you laugh and rest your head against his chest to hide your smile.

‘I love you too you doofus,’ once again Jason could hear Dick gasp but that didn’t stop you from continuing. ‘I have for a long while and have been trying to find the perfect moment to say it, which is why I planned a movie night.’ You explained and Jason felt like a dickhead for ruining your plan but he couldn’t say he regretted this being how he found out; It was messy but it was perfect, just like the both of you.

‘I’m sorry for ruining everything chipmunk.’ He muttered against your head as he pressed a couple a kisses there.

‘Don’t be,’ you said, pressing your head further into his lips for more kisses, ‘despite giving me the fright of a lifetime, i wouldn’t change this for anything.’

You and Jason stayed like this for a while, not caring about anything outside the both of you, not even the smashed window that was causing the room to grow cold but that only gave you the perfect excuse to stay close to your six foot something body heater by the name of Jason Todd.

‘Can we go home now.’ Damian said as Dick stood up from the bed, smiling at the both of you being happy now that everything had been resolved before looking over at Damian and chuckles. ‘Alright, alright we’re leaving, happy now?’ He said as the pair of them leave through the busted window and stood out on the fire escape for a couple of moments before disappearing into the night, when they realised that they had glossed over one thing; your bedroom widow that was shattered to bits.

‘Father will have it fixed.’ Damian answered self assuringly.

‘How can you be so sure?’ Dick asked.

‘Don’t think too hard about the intricacies of it Grayson. Just know that I’ll have it dealt with.’ Damian replied and within the next day your window was mysteriously fixed, but the glass was itself was top quality and would’ve costed you an arm and a leg but was merely chump change for a certain rich billionaire.