#but i still ... have so much more to draw... so much more to say.........

[dollychou]

HEAD-BANGING ୨୧

꒰ summary ꒱ sukuna is a savage in bed but he still always looks out for you.

꒰ contents ꒱ suggestive? fem!reader. sukuna is a softie and just doesn't wanna accept it >_<

sex with sukuna is just about the best thing you've ever experienced. he is a wild, rough, and ruthless man, the filthiest words spilling from his lips as he fucks himself into you. he'll smirk at the way you beg for him, at the way you're crying by the time he's pulling out the nth orgasm from you, at the way you whine his name so cutely — it gets his dick even harder and throbbing inside your gooey walls.

but there was one thing that had you... befuddled. whenever he'd have you in missionary, his hands would trap your head, palms covering the top of it. when he did it the first time, you didn't think too much of it. by the umpteenth time though, it had seemed to become second nature to him. while it didn't truly matter — because, after all, he would still leave you trembling and whining beneath him — it was just something peculiar to you.

so, one random day, you just decide to ask him.

"ryo," you trill as you crawl atop his lap. he merely replies with a tiny grunt, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. you straddle him, fingers gently twirling his pink hair which makes him sigh contentedly. "can i ask you something?"

"what is it, dollface?," he asks, hands slowly running up and down your sides.

it takes you a few moments to figure out how to word the question. after a deep breath, you finally ask, "why do you always keep your hands on my head when we have sex? like this?" and you demonstrate it for him — an action he finds incredibly adorable.

his cheeks turn a soft pink hue but he does his best to try and remain nonchalant and don his infamous frown. he clears his throat and says in an uncharacteristically meek voice, "just cause. why you asking such odd questions?"

your lips curl into a teeny pout, and you nudge him, wanting to egg him on. "c'mon," you whine, continuously jabbing your fingers into his chest. "tell me! i know there's a reason! c'mon, c'mon, c'mon! tell me tell me tell me!"

he puts a hand to your mouth, muffling your voice. you furrow your brows together and he can feel you utter a tiny 'hmph'. he rolls his eyes at your persistent behaviour, knowing you would not let this go. he huffs, still keeping his hand to your mouth as he says to you lowly, "okay woman. i'll tell you. but you better not laugh or anything. otherwise you're gonna get it."

you nod, holding on to his hand and waiting eagerly for his answer. he looks at you, a twinge of what seemed like embarrassment etched on his face and cheeks turning an even darker pink. his eyes look everywhere except you, wishing that maybe you would drop the matter but of course you wouldn't. with one heavy sigh, he says in a hushed voice, "'s so you don't get hurt."

you tilt your head curiously, removing his hand away from your mouth. "hurt?," you say, gently intertwining your fingers with his. "how do you mean?"

he sighs once more, lightly squishing your sides before going on. "i know i can be really rough in bed. and... i remember you banged your head once and you said it really hurt. so... i put my hands there so it doesn't happen again," he confesses, his face completely flushed and circling the pads of his thumbs over your doughy tummy.

you smush his cheeks together and pepper his face with sweet kisses. he makes a displeased noise but in reality, his heart flutters whenever you do it. "ryo! that's so cute!," you coo, planting multiple smooches to his lips and giggling to yourself. he tries to put on a frown but a small smile replaces it instead, his hands coming to rest on your supple thighs.

"you are such a softie," you tease, fingers tracing over the black ink that's tainted on his face. he draws his brows together, letting out a deep huff — he didn't particularly like being called a 'softie', but because it's you he'll let you off. though not so easily.

he flips you on to your back, your body bouncing slightly at the sudden impact. you let out a little squeak and he climbs on top of you, capturing your lips with his. he kisses you with this primal hunger, little deep grunts erupting from his chest. your hands come up around his shoulders, pulling him in closer, his body completely trapping yours underneath.

"am not a softie," he grumbles while his hands slip under your shirt, kneading your breasts firmly. you want to believe him but the way he's jutting his bottom lip out, oh you can't help yourself for thinking he's so adorable.

sukuna is a guy that's rough around the edges — buff, gruff, and tough. he tends to speak in this brusque tone and his mannerisms can be rather brawling. with you however, it's a completely different story. he's soft, gentle, and tender, and even when he is being rough, he'll always make sure you're never hurt.

© dollychou ⋮ do not copy, repost, or translate any works.

[bolters-and-rivets]

I guess it's my time to drop a relavent example.

today I was at the job centre to discuss support for finding employment, and at multiple points they dropped compliments, about how I was confident I seemed, about how, when I brought up that I feel like I can't engage in conversations properly because I draw a blank, they said they didn't notice anything lacking. you wanna know what I'm really like, up in my head?

at school I was hated, reviled even, I don't know if it's because I was an autistic child with no filter in a way that made me insufferable to be around or if they were just being dicks. the end result was the same; I was conditioned over years of constant ridicule to feel used to having hateful remarks casually directed my way in the manner one comments upon the weather.

what made it worse was having my dad die and the school promptly giving up on preventing the others from bullying me, their "sollution" was to put me in isolation in the fucking attic for the last year, needless to say my grades are, well I basically don't have any qualifications. I'm still struggling to find employment to this day because of it.

I cannot take a compliment, my mind just shuts down and I practically have to bite back a bitter retort because "NO!" my mind screams, "PEOPLE DO NOT LIKE ME!", why else would I be despised and at best tolerated by everyone I knew outside my family until I was practically an adult? why else would my first true freind be made at the tail end of school and live across the atlantic nearly 4000 miles away?

I made the mistake of wearing skinny genes ONCE when I started having an incling of maybe being queer in my early teens and the ridicule over months was so bad I'm still so repressed I have the emotional range of a fucking boulder. I'm off to pride with a freind next weekend and this whole time as I go to sleep every night I've got this nagging voice that I shouldn't expect to be welcome at pride because I'll be clocked as a guy and people will see me as a threat and I should accept that.

I am extremely lonely, I want nothing more than to find someone to share a life together with, but I'm scared that the moment someone does show an interest in me (HA! as if!) that I will flatout refuse by telling them that clearily they need to raise their standards because who the fuck would want to date someone like me? for all that I can see I don't have a single redeemable feature that makes me desirable, not looks nor skills nor personality.

I can assure you I am most certainly not confident, at any given moment my mind is a running commentry of how much I fucking suck, how I'm probably going to be alone and socially withdrawn for the rest of my life and it'll be entirely my fault.

I most certainly do not have it put together, I am currently getting to grips with aknowleging that I am battling addiction, both smoking and drinking, because my childhood was so bad I feel socially incompitent and cannot stand to be around other people whilst sober.

the only thing motivating me to go to the job centre and find a job right now is the fear of my unemployment benefits getting cut and ending up on the streets, in every other regard I'm asking myself "why bother" because every job I've had I've been fired or had to quit,

I received nonestop hateful remarks on full blast for 6 hours a day 5 days a week for 9 fucking years, my brain is hardwired to think that's the acceptable norm and receiving compliments makes me feel downright wrong as a person.

I'm nearly 30 years old, I cannot help but wonder how many years, how many decades is it gonna take me to be anything close to put together and emotionally healthy receiving the occasional compliment here and there with most people withholding praise because they assume I'm a well rounded and healthy indevidual?

Compliment them. That person you think has their shit together and wouldn't need it or want to hear it. They do. They absolutely do. Their shit is dispersed. I promise you. It is a shambles.

I've had someone tell me to my face that they would compliment me, but for the fact that I already know this or that about myself. Huh???? No. Sorry.

No I don't. In my weaker moments I become an ungrateful mud monkey that has never once internalized a compliment

I adore being told you like me or something I've done. It sustains me, and in my weaker moments when I forget that life is good and happy, you might catch me before I fall.

You ever had someone catch you like that? You can do it too. The ones that catch you have been you in that moment before and know they will be again.

[romanticrivalries]

WHAT ARE THEY? SINCARAZ LORE (WITH RECEIPTS)

The RG final brought in an influx of new fans. Because of my SINCARAZ x called you again edit, I received a lot of inquiries about what happened between them. Since their relationship is complicated—("he means a lot to me" / "we’re good friends" / "aren’t close friends" / they wake up in the morning and think about each other)—and goes ↗️↘️↗️↘️↗️ every other month (Hot N Cold by Katy Perry is quite befitting), I thought I should make this.

Before we join hands and plunge into the rabbit hole, I need to establish how downbad Carlos was (is?) for Jannik. 

His entire face lit up at the mere mention of Jannik:

Exhibit B. I swear, if Carlos had a tail it would start wagging aggressively at the sight of Jannik.

Carlos looking back at Jannik after they parted ways.

He looks back at Jannik a lot. Exhibit B. Exhibit C.

Tbh, his smile during Jannik’s speech in the Rome ‘25 ceremony is incriminating enough:

(Smiling so aggressively his gums are showing… Someone call an ambulance, we’ve got a man down bad.)

Now that that has been established, let’s move on. Buckle up, it’s a long ride.

They first met as teenagers (Carlos was 15, Jannik - 17) in 2019 at the JC Ferrero Challenger Open, held at the academy of Carlos’ coach, Juan Carlos Ferrero. Carlos won. Jannik is the one who approached Carlos first because he wanted to get to know him. 

“I saw the draw coming out and I said, ‘Oh, Carlos Alcaraz, I have no idea who he is!’” said the Italian. “I saw the age and I said, ‘Wow, he’s playing a challenger, it’s amazing.’ And then straight away I was impressed. “After the match, we went to the same locker room … and I was like, ‘When did you start to play tennis?’ And then we started to talk a little bit, because I wanted to get to know him because he was just an amazing talent already back in the day.”

Their first ATP match up was in 2021 at the Rolex Paris Masters. Despite losing, Jannik was the one to say to Carlos at the net: “I hope we play some more.”

And the rest is history: Carlos imprinted on Jannik and has been down bad ever since. Therefore, it can be concluded that Jannik fell first but Carlos fell harder.

Prior to 2024, Jannik and Carlos were quite consistent about referring to each other as good friends.

CARLOS (2022): “[...] and of course, we are great friends outside the court. [...] I talked to him out of the court, by phone, I mean we laughed a lot**, he’s a nice person [...]”

They went jet skiing together after their Umag final, 2022. 

JANNIK (Rolex Shanghai Masters 2023): [...] “We have a very good relationship off the court and I feel like we are good friends, but still, you know, on court there is, uh, this nervous, you know, inside you feel a little bit nervous [...]”

During December of 2023, Jannik and Carlos trained together at the Juan Carlos Ferrero Tennis Academy as preseason preparation. Same place where they met for the first time, btw. A ceremony took place where it was unveiled that the main court would be named after Carlos. Jannik recorded the entire thing on his phone, a video that he never shared on social media.

Many people say their relationship is one-sided, that Jannik doesn’t reciprocate, but this moment alone speaks volumes of how much he cares. Other people were capturing the event, so he didn’t need to, but he still chose to, just for himself and Carlos. It wasn’t something meant to be shared with the public. Not only that, he didn’t just take a quick snap, he recorded the entire thing. It’s characteristic of his introverted, private nature to show he cares in subtle ways like this that aren’t always visible/obvious to the public eye.

Jannik talked about it a little bit over here after the interviewer teases him for taking photos like a fan: “For me, it’s special, they grew up together [...]”

The unshared video should also serve as a reminder that there are likely many other private friendly moments shared between them that we as outsiders will never be privy to, so we shouldn’t base assumptions on the nature of their relationship from what’s said/not said on their social media.

CARLOS' UNWAVERING FAITH IN JANNIK

Carlos believed in Jannik’s potential before most people did. In 2023, he remained steadfast in his claim that Jannik is his biggest rival when people were expecting him to name Djokovic. The media kept trying to coax the Alcaraz vs. Djokovic narrative out of Carlos but he would not budge.

Note: Jannik didn’t have his meteoric breakthrough until 2024 (he was showing signs of it by the end of 2023). Before 2024, Jannik had no Grand Slams and only 1 Masters 1000 title (Canada). In comparison, by that point, Carlos had 2 Grand Slams and 4 Master 1000s. He became the youngest World Number One in ATP rankings history in 2022.

I: The rankings say it’s Novak and Carlos, Carlos and Novak, do you consider him to be your biggest rival at the moment? CARLOS, ROME ‘23: “[...] Probably, Jannik right now is my biggest opponent. We had really great matches, but at the same time really, really tough ones. [...]”

CARLOS, Post-Wimbledon, ‘23: "Having someone there, with whom you fight, with whom you have that battle, that beautiful rivalry, is important to maintain motivation for so long. Right now, I think I have it and I’m not afraid to say it: for me, it’s Sinner at the moment. That beautiful rivalry that we have, those big games that we have played, on big stages. As the years go by there will be better ones and we will fight for the big titles.”

Even Jannik didn't consider himself to be Carlos' biggest rival.

JANNIK, SHANGHAI '23: "But in the other way, I feel like that he [Carlos] has achieved many things more than I did at the moment, and me, personally, I think, at the moment, the biggest rivalry he has is Novak because of certain circumstances of points and World Number One and Grandslams throughout the last two years [...]"

I’ve observed Jannik avoids getting ahead of himself and making presumptions about the future— I’m not sure whether it’s because of superstition, his realistic perspective about the rapidly-changing brutal nature of tennis as a competitive sport or something else —which is why he doesn’t entertain talks about the future of their rivalry as easily as Carlos does.

At the time, this raised a lot of eyebrows, but Carlos predicted Jannik would become World Number One in 2024, which Jannik did. The reason behind the skepticism was that in 2023 the World Number One title had gone back-and-forth between Djokovic and Carlos until Djokovic emerged on top as the Year-end World Number One. Djokovic won all the slams apart from Wimbledon, which was won by Carlos. So, people were expecting a similar pattern in 2024.

LANGUAGE(S) THEY COMMUNICATE IN:

In 2022, Carlos said they both communicate in Spanish. On the other hand, Jannik said he speaks in Italian while Carlos speaks in Spanish.

CARLOS: [...] We speak Spanish. I don’t know how to speak Italian. At the moment, we speak Spanish. (Source) Interviewer: “His [Jannik’s] Spanish is good?” CARLOS: “Yeah, he’s good. He has to improve, but his Spanish is good.”

JANNIK: “Sometimes we talk in the locker room. He speaks in Spanish and I speak in Italian, so we talk kind of mixed. But I think we understand us very well. Off court we are friends, we are good friends. I mean, also now after his match and my match, we saw each other in the ice bath. I think we are in a good relationship which hopefully can live for many years because this is the most important.” (Source)

(A/N: Fast forward to the trophy ceremony in Rome 2025, where Carlos told Jannik to speak in Italian because he understands, while Carlos gave his speech to Jannik in English because Jannik’s Spanish isn’t that good [?])

BOTH ARE ALIKE OFF-COURT:

Because of their contrasting personalities, I’ve seen people make assumptions that they don’t mesh well off-court or wonder whether they have anything in common to talk about outside of tennis, but they’re actually quite similar off the court and get along well. In particular, they both place a lot of value on honesty, integrity, and being good people. They both keep close to their small circles. 

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2024: “Two young, great kids, not just on the court but off the court as well. Their friendship is real. They both respect each other and like each other and you’ll see that on the court tomorrow regardless of who wins [...]”

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2024: “I think Carlos is very similar to Jannik in both the way they play with the excitement level they bring to the game, and their personalities and their likability. Both guys are incredibly alike off the court. They both like each other.”

JANNIK: "It's easy for Carlos and me to get along. We are quite similar off the court. When we play, however, we are a bit different, but that's normal, it's our nature. Off court, I listen to him, I get the feeling he likes to be surrounded by the people closest to him, as I am. Carlos pushes me to be a better player."

JANNIK, SHANGHAI 2024: “[...] For me it’s nice that we’re rivals on the court and friends off the court [...] Off the court, we are quite similar, because we surround ourselves with our close ones, we like to stay with the team, um, you know there are many, many things, similar things I feel like [...]”

Alcaraz said of Sinner: “I always say you have to be a good person first and athletics comes after that. Jannik thinks the same thing.”

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2025: “Now Carlos and Jannik aren’t going out to dinner together either, but they are mates. They’re in the locker room, they’re talking. I’m part of some of their conversations. I won’t repeat what they are because most of it focuses around what 23-year-olds and 21-year-olds talk about, but they have fun, and they enjoy each other’s company.”

They’re both big football fans.

So you won’t be dropping Carlitos a text if Italy beats Spain in their group-stage match? [JANNIK] No, I will never do that… [Pauses to laugh and grins]... Maybe!

ON-AND-OFF DIVORCE ERA A.K.A We’re so back / It’s so over / We’re so fucking back / it’s joeover

They forgot to sit down and define the relationship, so were on completely different pages for a good part of 2024.

Things were looking good in Indian Wells.

They were high-fiving and chatting each other up in the tunnel before their match, Carlos waited for Jannik so they could leave the court together when the match was delayed because of rain, giggling together as they left the court (bonus: carlos patting Jannik’s b—), sat together in the locker room and talked about life, also laughed about:

CARLOS, INDIAN WELLS 24: “Well, we were laughing about it with Jannik when it [match] suspended, because I had bees, had the rain.”

Things changed around Miami.

While Carlos was waxing poetic about their futures:

“Hopefully Jannik and I both have a long and beautiful future ahead of us.” (N: Oddly romantic thing to say: sounds like Carlos wants to spend the rest of their lives together.) CARLOS, MIAMI 2024

Also, Carlos saying more downbad and incriminating things like: “He means a lot to me.” (INDIAN WELLS ‘24) 

For the first time, in Miami 2024, Jannik defines their relationship as not that close as previously painted:

“[...] We have a lot of respect for each other and, obviously, off the court we don't speak that much because he has his own things and I have my things."

Some of the reactions from this reddit thread are worth a read, lol.

(Skipping a major arc: Roland Garros '24)

Things started looking good again months later during Beijing. Chatting in the gym (part 1, part 2). Carlos was looking to give Zendaya a run for her money the way he was laughing in part 1. I would say Jannik isn’t that funny, but too many people close to him have said otherwise, so maybe he is indeed just that funny.

Just look at them during the trophy ceremony. 

“I respect you a lot as a player but even more as a person” was very much needed after all the noise that had reemerged with the WADA appeal.

Jannik and Carlos greet each other’s teams.

They shared a flight together after their final:

Carlos’ interview about it. Jannik’s interview about it (his little giggle when asked about the photo was so cute).

During Shanghai, someone pulled Uno reverse, because now Jannik was talking about how they’re friends off court but Carlos was like we’re not that close.

CARLOS, SHANGHAI ‘24: "We don't talk too much when we are around. Obviously, we have a really good relationship off the court as well. I think we both respect each other a lot, as a player, as a person, but once we are on tour traveling, you know, during tournaments when we are on-site, we are with our team, on our own, so we don't speak too much. When we can, we talk a little bit besides tennis about life a little bit, but not too much. It means, we have a good relationship, but we are not close friends, you know, but I think the respect that we have, you know, put [us] in a position that we have a really good relationship."

For renowned downbad Carlos to say this, the people were certainly shocked. He managed to fight off the allegations until he lost the war by cheesin’ so hard just because Jannik grouped him as a legend during the trophy ceremony in Shanghai (the final was between Jannik and Djokovic but Carlos was there to watch).

Just look at him:

Their exhibition final, SIX KINGS SLAM ‘24 was a gift that kept on giving:

Silly confusion because the announcer got their walkout order wrong, Jannik removed confetti from Carlos’ hair, Jannik—I wake up in the morning thinking about Carlos—Sinner, Carlos refused to let go of Jannik, bench talks etc.

I: So, did you just tell us that everyday you wake up you think about him [Carlos]?

(The interviewer decided to choose violence and not let that insane statement from Jannik go by unnoticed by everyone in that stadium)

JANNIK: [Flustered pause] “Well, no, I mean… [Jannik laughs in panic while Carlos looks utterly delighted] It would be strange, no?”

(The interviewer had to intercede and save him.)

I: “In practice terms."

(Love how the interviewer said this in such a pointed way, like gay boy your mind went there by itself, I was talking about practice)

I: "He’s your biggest rival, isn’t he, over the next few years. Do you still get on as friends?”

JANNIK: “I mean, we understand each other very well. We travel a lot. We are, I would say good friends [turns to check with Carlos, who nods], you know. Not obviously the best out of the best, but y‘know, we also like to share every time when we go on the court. We try to enjoy [...]”

Carlos decided to send signals to Jannik during his press conference that he wants to be friends:

“[...] We don’t spend too much time together off the court, but I would love to.”

He WOULD LOVE TO. Jannik did that blazing signal manage to transmit through your thick curls?

I really liked this comment on their relationship:

It explains everything pretty well.

It's hard to be friends with the person who is responsible for chipping away your soul and body in a grueling battle that lasts for hours, who rips your heart into pieces by squashing your dreams and taking the one thing you wanted the most (when it was nearly within reach).

Poor Jannik has cried enough times because of Carlos 😭

“Tears of happiness? I haven’t had them yet. [I cried] after [losing to] Carlos in the US Open, also a bit at Roland Garros,” Jannik adds. “There are always moments when you feel emotions you don’t want in the locker room or sometimes when you’re in transportation or even in the hotel room alone. It means you care about the sport. It means you want to reach this level." (Source / 2024)

I liked this analysis on them.

FOR JUST CO-WORKERS, THEY’RE TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT EACH OTHER:

They both wake up in the morning and think about each other.

Carlos [about Jannik during Roland Garros ‘24]: "...to wake up in the morning and want to improve my game to try to beat him..." [Source]

Jannik [about Carlos on two different occasions]: "...he pushes me to do better. I wake up in the morning trying to understand what I can do better trying to beat him next time, which is something nice for me as a player." [Source]

Jannik: "...we try to push ourselves to the limits, you know, I wake up in the morning trying to understand the ways how to beat him and you know this kind of rivalries and this kind of players they push us always to our 100% limit..." [Source]

CARLOS, SHANGHAI ‘23: “[...] Against him, as I said, it’s different.”

JANNIK, SHANGHAI ‘24: “[...] It’s like fire and ice, a bit [...]”

Interviewer: “Carlos was in here, and he said it really hurts to lose against you. Especially against you. Do you love to win, especially against him?” JANNIK: “[...] Obviously, both of us, we hate losing, especially against each other.”

CARLOS, INDIAN WELLS ‘24: “I mean, I hear some declarations from Tommy Paul that was funny for me, that he's [Jannik’s] absolutely naked right now. He’s playing naked, so [...]” (Source) / “I hear some words from Tommy Paul that he’s [Jannik’s] playing absolutely naked, so he’s right [...]” (Source)

Guess he liked the thought of Jannik playing absolutely naked so much that he had to mention it more than once. Alright.

CARLOS, ROLAND GARROS ‘24: “That’s when I thought, ‘Jannik, if you really want to beat me, you’re gonna have to take me out on a stretcher.’”

“Everything he does, he does it perfectly.”

CARLOS, ROME ‘25: “[...] Honestly, I’m going to say I need him in the tour [...]” / “I’m not going to get tired of saying, y’know, how amazing a person, athlete you are.”

JANNIK, ROLAND GARROS ‘25: “He’s [Carlos’] a player with charisma, with that aura. The moment he steps on court, you can feel his presence.”

CARLOS, ROME ‘25: I'm more focused when I'm playing against him, or I feel a little bit different when I'm going to face him than other players. He has that aura. When you're seeing him on the other side of the net, it's different.”

Where’s that twitter post that went along the lines of: aura is basically you calling another man attractive

CARLOS, ROLAND GARROS ‘25: “[...] It’s a privilege to share the court with you, in every tournament, making history with you.” 

Not to be cheesy and quote Red, White & Royal Blue, but: “History, huh?”

We've only scratched the surface here (their divorce 2.0 still remains unearthed), but this post has gotten too long, so I'm going to end it here. Hopefully, this proves useful to someone.

[zolass]

Sharing A Bed

Bottom Male Reader (?) x Top Male Oc

It's been a hot minute since I posted like an actual lil piece I've been so focused on reading Manhwas and drawing because I simply enjoy it and I burned out with writing.

This is more of a thanks for sticking around and a welcome to the new followers <3 I also see the requests but I don't want to really ruin a good request by half assed writing from my part. I see y'all so don't feel discouraged by my silence I appreciate you guys!

Also for this one, it's just some fluff and it's not meant to be long, but I would definitely revisit Cecil again in the future just like some of ppl's fav's (from comments and req's) and fyi I never went to college or plan to- so idfk how it works and I only use the knowledge I have from literally reading. And idk if there's some trauma to the bed behavior that this is build upon, if so I'm sorry it wasn't intentional. The lil quirk suddenly popped up in my head so yea.

There's probably typos that I'm too lazy to fix

(I thought abt adding Tags but I'm so clueless ngl) but I can tag one person and one person only: @carnalcrows

tw: none (?)

1k words

Sharing a bed wasn’t really something you had on your ‘bucket-list’ even if it was almost an everyday situation for a lot of people. Except for you, even as a child when a nightmare plagued you – your parents only allowed to sit next to your bed.

You loved your parents and they loved you and still do. So they always respected your wishes when it came to small things like this. Nobody knew exactly why the uncomfortable squirm and visage you would pull whenever the topic ‘sharing a bed’ came up.

Sleep overs with friends. You slept alone even if it was on the ground with your blanket and pillow.

A school trip, bunkbeds but if there was even the slightest hint of having to share the small space with another classmate? You rather slept on an airmattress and gave them the bed.

Everyone questioned at first, even you did – whispers and odd looks, but after some time people accepted that about you. Saying it was a little quirk of yours. It wasn’t like you hated any physical contact, no you were alright with hugs, handshakes and these sorts of things you normally encounter during your life and friendgroups.

Then college came around, your life opened up another path as you wanted to finish a major before you would travel around – just as compromised with your parents.

First college and then the fun.

Living your campus live in a dorm was – interesting for you but you managed until your last year when there was suddenly a change. You got a new dorm and roommate, that was the first time you saw him. Lazing on his bed, on the left side of the dorm, phone in hand and only sweats in the damned heat of summer.

Your eyes met, while giving each other a simple greeting and then both of you went to do your own stuff. Of course you found out what his name was, after you introduced yourself to each other, after you finished your side of the dorm.

Cecil Vicente.

That day was the beginning of where you found a new friend, a talker and listener but also comfort. Despite the different interests in a lot of things, as time passed Cecil hovered around you more and more, except even your roommate wasn’t allowed to sit on your bed.

Summer passed and autumn quickly followed.

Winter hit, with a drop in temperature and a sudden fall of snow over night, turning everything into a powdery white dream. Cecil and you spent still a lot of time together even after so many months and it did spark happiness inside of you that Cecil still spared so much time to care for your friendship, despite the other male being rather popular around campus.

The weekend came around quickly, with you laying in bed as the sun dipped behind the horizon, “Hey Y/n,” your eyes focused on the brunette standing by the entrance door. “Are you sure you don’t want to join?” tapping your pen on the wooden desk, you first didn’t find your voice, shaking your head before adding a polite “no thanks,” and a smile.

Cecil threw you a smile back, “If you need something, just call me and I’ll come as fast as I can,” were his last words before he stepped out of the door, towards a gathering or rather college party. This was another thing you weren’t hyped about.

Slowly hours passed by and you found yourself in your bed, comfortable in simple pajama pants. The sky has turned dark while snow fell, your eyes were focused on the rather large window between the two beds, which showed the light of the city and the snow falling.

Blanket pulled up to rest just below your collarbone, with your feet tucked between the last bit of the blanket, while the drowsiness slowly kicked in. Just as you were to fall asleep, the door to your dorm opened and someone stumbled in.

Of course you knew who that someone was, but you decided to make a comment as Cecil quickly picked up that he was rather loud for this time and continued his doings more quietly. Shoes were placed by the entrance followed by the jacket and soon the rustling of clothes was heard in the rather silent dorm.

Your eyes closed again and you snuggled yourself into the warmth of your blanket, which then was suddenly ripped from your hands and lifted. Eyes flying open, you stared into the person hovering over you.

Through the light that came in through the window, you could make out the slight furrow of Cecil’s brows. Before you could ask what was wrong, said male suddenly dropped onto your bed – his larger body covering half of yours, with his face sinking into your nape and an arm thrown over your waist.

It happened rather fast – without notice or warning.

Your mouth fell open, and closed like a fish as you tried to find your voice, “Wha-” your voice was higher pitched, but Cecil cut you off, “Just this once – please,” he pleaded softly against your ear, his hot breath caressing your ear.

But in the end your shoulders slumped, while your free hand nervously wrapped around Cecil’s forearm that laid over you. It was the first time you shared a bed and your heart was pounding erratically in your chest. Despite this you didn’t feel uncomfortable which surprised you.

Listening in to the evened breathing of Cecil, you were rather unsure of moving so you laid rather stiff in your own bed, before you closed your eyes and fell asleep soon after, with warm and heavy feeling of Cecil by your side.

Without knowing that the same man noticed your body relax as you fell asleep in his embrace. Making a small smile form on his lips, while his own heart started to beat faster with your warm breath brushing against his own skin.

“Please let this night never end.”

[byhuenii]

YOU-ology

Pairing Bucky Barnes x Reader

Syonpsis Bucky has been trying to understand you—your habits, your silences, your smiles. You speak in gestures more than words, in shared glances and cups of coffee left just right.The problem? He doesn’t know what a “love language” is. It sounds like a literal dialect. So naturally, he puts on his reading glasses, makes a study binder, and asks Peter Parker to teach him Gen Z slang, but he knows one thing for sure: if loving you means learning everything—he’s ready to graduate with honors.

(Inspired by TXT 'Love Language')

Word Count 2.6k

Tags + Warning Soft misunderstanding / no angst, fluff overload, accidental confession via ASL, soft!bucky

— YOU-ology Researching you-ology, all about you, from A to Z

“I can’t read your mind,” he says, voice low. “But I want to.”

The sunlight hits just right in the Brooklyn apartment. You’re sitting on the windowsill, nursing your third cup of coffee, and Bucky’s leaning against the kitchen counter like the world isn’t tilting every time you look away from him.

You don’t speak right away. You’re used to silence. He’s learning that.

He watches as you stir your coffee absentmindedly. You always stir five times. Clockwise. Never more, never less.

He’s been keeping track of things like that.

Like how you always set out two mugs in the morning, even when he doesn’t sleep over. How you keep an extra blanket folded at the end of the couch even though he insists he doesn’t get cold. How you hand him a protein bar without asking if he’s eaten.

You don’t say much. But you do a lot.

And Bucky? Bucky’s trying to figure out if this—whatever this is—means what he hopes it does.

He’s never been great with feelings. Too many years pretending he didn’t have any. But with you, he wants to get it right.

“I think I might be speaking the wrong dialect of love,” he tells Peter Parker seriously. “Is there a Duolingo for romance?”

Bucky has fought in wars, survived brainwashing, outpaced death—and yet, nothing has confused him quite like you.

Well, you, and this strange thing Peter said over lunch the other day.

"Oh, love language? Yeah, it's like how people give and receive affection. You gotta know your partner's love language to really connect.”

Love language?

Bucky had blinked at Peter from behind his coffee, the words rattling around like marbles in a tin can. “There’s a language for that?”

Peter had shrugged like it was obvious. “Yeah, there are five. Physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, and gifts. You know… the usual.”

Bucky had nodded slowly, like he understood. He did not understand. He thought "acts of service" was a military term.

Back home, Bucky had pulled out his reading glasses (the ones Sam doesn’t know he owns) and Googled:

“What is love language.” “Love language translation.” “How to know if you’re good at love.”

Twenty tabs later, he had a headache, a notebook full of bullet points, and a tiny post-it with your name surrounded by little doodled hearts he definitely didn’t mean to draw.

STUDY NOTES:

☑ Quality time → you always wait for him after missions

☑ Acts of service → you make his tea how he likes it (2 sugar, no judgment)

☑ Physical touch → light shoulder pats, a knee against his under the table, casual-but-not-casual hand touches

☑ Gifts → brought him a vintage Captain America comic once. He almost cried.

☑ Words of affirmation → okay this one’s harder. You’re quiet. You show love, but don’t say it much. Still… he catches you looking. That means something.

He circles the last one twice.

—

One morning, Bucky shows up to your door with a homemade dictionary titled:

“You-ology: A Comprehensive Field Guide to Understanding You” (Vol. 1 — Beta Edition)

It’s leather-bound. Handwritten. Indexed.

There’s a doodle of you on page one that looks suspiciously like it was done by a man lying on his stomach with his feet up and his legs kicking.

You flip through it, trying not to grin. “You made me a… glossary?”

Bucky pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’ve been decoding your signals.”

“You’ve been—what?”

“You say things without saying them. And I figured maybe if I could learn your dialect, I could say things back.”

You’re stunned. Speechless. Warm all over.

“Bucky,” you say, “you’re literally learning a love language like it’s a spy code.”

He squints. “It’s not?”

Once Bucky learns that love languages aren’t actual dialects, he’s a little embarrassed. For five whole seconds.

Then he decides:

“Fine. Then I’ll try all of them. Just in case.”

And he does. With alarming dedication.

Words of Affirmation: You wake up to a note on your fridge:

“You’re the smartest person I know. Even smarter than Banner. (Don’t tell him.) - B”

And another on your coffee cup:

“You deserve the world. But I brought you coffee instead. I hope that’s okay.”

When you turn around, he’s leaning on the counter, flushed red. “Too much?”

Acts of Service: You offhandedly mention your sink is dripping.

The next day it’s fixed. And your drawer doesn’t stick anymore. And your laptop’s updated. And your favorite hoodie that you thought you lost? Folded on your bed.

He salutes you on his way out like it’s a secret mission. “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”

Quality Time: He clears a Saturday. No missions. No distractions.

You watch four movies, eat terrible microwave popcorn, and fall asleep on his shoulder.

He doesn’t move. Not for hours. His arm goes numb. He doesn’t care.

He tells Sam later: “Best damn day I’ve had in decades.”

Gifts: He leaves a flower on your desk. Not a rose. A tiny forget-me-not. The tag says:

“This reminded me of your laugh. Kind of small. Kind of magic.”

You keep it in a book. He notices. Doesn’t say a word. Smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

Physical Touch: He used to flinch. Now? He leans in.

You touch his hair once and he forgets how to breathe. Next day, he wears it slightly messy. Hopes you’ll do it again.

One day, you reach for his hand. He holds it like it’s fragile. Like you’re holding him. His thumb rubs soft circles into your palm.

“Just… letting you know I’m here,” he murmurs.

You squeeze back. “I know.”

Peter Parker ends up being his unofficial relationship coach.

“Wait—what’s a ‘green flag?’” “Peter, what does ‘simp’ mean?” “Is it normal to dream about their smile for six nights in a row or is that brain damage?” “Be honest. Am I down bad?”

Peter: “...You’re down astronomical, sir.”

—

One rainy night, you both get stuck in the Tower’s media room during a storm.

Bucky fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie. You notice he’s scribbled something in the corner of his You-ology notebook.

You tilt your head. “What’s that?”

He doesn’t look up. Just says, “It’s… new vocabulary.”

He passes you the notebook.

 He wants to understand you like he’s memorizing a secret language only the two of you speak.

He clears his throat. “I’ve been… trying to study you. Is that weird?”

Your brows raise slightly in amusement. “Study me?”

“Yeah,” he says, running a hand through his short hair. “Like—figure out what you’re saying when you’re not actually saying anything.”

You look at him now, eyes softening. “You’ve been reading my… ‘you-ology?’”

He laughs. It’s a quiet, rusty thing. Rare. But so warm when it happens.

“I guess I have,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I know you like your coffee sweet but pretend you don’t. I know you always hum when you’re nervous, and you’ll never ask for help, but you’ll stay up until 2 a.m. helping me.”

His metal hand flexes. Nervous.

“And I know you look at me like I mean something… but I don’t know if I’m reading it right.”

Your voice is soft. “And what if you are?”

He stops.

His heart stops.

The sun hits your cheek just right, your smile so shy it breaks something open in him.

“I don’t talk much,” you add, “because I never really had to. Not with the right people. But I make sure they’re warm. That they eat. That they know I’m there, even when I can’t say it out loud.”

He swallows hard.

“Then I guess,” Bucky says slowly, stepping into your space, “I’ve been speaking your love language this whole time.”

You smile, fingers brushing the inside of his wrist. You trace the edge where skin meets metal. He shivers.

“And you?” you whisper. “What’s your language?”

He thinks. He’s never been asked that.

Maybe it’s not words. Maybe it’s quiet, safe mornings and the way he remembers your favorite color. Maybe it’s standing between you and the crowd even when there’s no danger. Maybe it’s showing up. Not running.

“I think,” he says, “it’s time. Sitting with you. Watching dumb movies. Letting you talk or not talk. Just… being.”

You nod. “Then you’ve been speaking mine too.”

His hand curls around yours.

Chapter 6: When I’m With You, Everything Makes Sense

Coffee = comfort

Silence = trust

Laughter = home

You = safe

You = mine? (still unsure. researching.)

Your throat tightens. “You big dork.”

He glances up, hopeful. “But… like, a lovable dork?”

You kiss his cheek. “Fluently lovable.”

Weeks later, you hand him a little leather journal.

On the front:

“Bucky-ese: A Guide to Loving You Back (YOU-ology)”

He flips it open.

Page One:

“Your love language is: All of them. But especially being seen. And I see you.”

He presses the book to his chest like it’s holy.

Then: “You wanna watch that stupid baking show and drink tea out of mismatched mugs like we’re 80?”

He grins. “That’s my favorite dialect.”

There’s no grand declaration. No fiery kiss.

Just soft, sacred quiet.

But that’s the thing about love languages. You don’t always need to hear them. Sometimes, you just feel them.

And Bucky?

He feels you.

—

Lately, he’s gotten really into studying TikToks and music videos you like. You walk in one night and he’s watching TXT’s “Love Language” choreo on repeat.

He’s squinting at the screen, rewinding and mimicking one particular moment — where the members make the “I Love You” sign in ASL, fingers shaped just right.

He sees you enter and lights up like a puppy who just figured out how to sit.

“Hey! I think I cracked it. That hand thing—like, this?” He does it—thumb, index, pinky up. “It’s like, modern slang for love, right? Like Gen Z emoji but with your hands?”

You pause mid-step.

Your heart thuds.

“Bucky… do you know what that actually means?”

He blinks. “Yeah! It’s like, ‘you’re cool’ or something? Peter said it’s used in dances a lot. You know, like ‘🤟 vibes only.’”

You stare at him. He’s still holding it up—so proud, so casual—like he didn’t just set fire to your entire nervous system.

“James.”

Your voice is soft. He stops.

You step forward slowly, take his hand in both of yours, and gently lower it.

“That sign isn’t slang,” you whisper, eyes searching his face. “It’s American Sign Language. It means ‘I love you.’ Literally. Not ‘cool.’ Not ‘vibes.’ Love.”

Silence.

His eyes go huge.

His mouth parts—then shuts. Then opens. Then shuts again. He is rebooting.

“…Oh.”

Then—quiet panic.

“…Oh.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait. Wait, I’ve been doing that for, like, three days. To you. While you were making dinner. On the couch. That one time in the elevator—”

You nod, very calm. “Yes. You told me you loved me 17 times. And yes, I counted.”

He is bright red. Apocalyptic red. He looks like he might spontaneously combust.

“I—I didn’t know—*I mean I do, I mean not like—*I mean obviously I do—” He’s flustered and fumbling, hands waving.

You grab them. Hold them gently. Steady.

“You really do?”

His voice is barely a breath. “Yeah.”

Your smile cracks through the tension like sunrise.

“Then say it again.”

You release one of his hands. He looks at you—heart on his sleeve, nerves frayed.

And slowly, deliberately, he lifts his hand again.

Thumb, index finger, pinky.

I love you.

And this time—he knows exactly what it means.

BONUS:LATER THAT NIGHT!!

He flops onto your couch face-down and groans into a pillow. “I confessed on accident like some kind of boyband backup dancer.”

You’re sitting next to him, stroking his hair. “It was perfect.”

He peeks up. “You sure?”

You grin. “Fluently perfect.”

He groans again—but he’s smiling.

—

“You’re my safe place, and I think I just proposed to you using the wrong hand sign, oh my god—can we rewind time or am I gonna die here on this rug?”

Bucky has a Plan™️.

After accidentally telling you “I love you” 17 times in ASL (without realizing it) and then on purpose (with realization), he’s decided he wants to learn a full phrase.

Something simple. Something sweet.

Something like:

“I’m happy with you.” Or maybe: “You’re my home.”

So he goes to Peter. Again.

Peter, to his eternal regret, pulls out a basic ASL learning app and walks Bucky through the signs.

Problem is, Bucky’s fingers don’t cooperate yet. His muscle memory is stubborn. His brain is full of you and short-circuiting.

What he meant to learn was:

“You make me feel safe.” (“YOU — MAKE — ME — FEEL — SAFE”)

What he accidentally signs, in a combination of nervousness and fumbled syntax, is:

“YOU — MAKE — ME — YOUR — WIFE.”

He doesn’t realize it.

You, who actually knows ASL, absolutely do.

It’s a quiet afternoon in your apartment. Rain against the window. Music low.

Bucky has that look again—the one where he’s clearly been practicing something all day and is about to do it nervously but dramatically.

You’re curled up on the couch when he stands in front of you, face serious, eyes way too shiny.

He clears his throat.

“Okay. I’ve been learning more. ASL. Because I wanna speak it the way you do. With your hands. With your heart.”

You melt. Instantly. He’s fidgeting, biting his bottom lip. He looks like a storm in a sweater.

Then he signs.

Slowly. Carefully.

“YOU — MAKE — ME — YOUR — WIFE.”

You freeze.

Your eyes go wide. Your heart? Gone. Brain? Empty.

Bucky is beaming.

“Did I get it right?”

You blink. “Um. Almost.”

“Yeah?” He looks so proud. “I practiced for, like, six hours. I wanted to say you make me feel… y’know, safe. Like… like I’m home.”

There is a pause.

Then you start laughing.

Not a mean laugh—a breathless, overwhelmed, you-are-so-stupidly-perfect-how-is-this-my-life laugh.

Bucky’s face crumples. “Wait. Did I say something weird?”

You can barely get the words out. “James Buchanan Barnes—you just proposed to me.”

He freezes.

Like—winter soldier frozen mid-mission freezes.

“…Wait. I what?”

You take his hands gently and show him.

“WIFE.” You do the correct sign. “SAFE.” You show the actual one. “Different hand shape.”

Bucky looks between your hands and his own like they’ve betrayed him.

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“…Did I really just—?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“…Oh god.”

He immediately flops to his knees, hands in his hair, face in his palms. He’s red everywhere.

“I didn’t mean to propose. I can’t propose like that—there was no ring, no speech, no flowers—you were in socks—”

You blink. “Would it have been better if I wasn’t in socks?”

“YES. I mean NO. I mean—GOD.”

He’s pacing now. “Do we take it back? Is it binding? Is this like vampire rules where once you say it it’s done—I didn’t even kneel on purpose—”

You walk up to him.

Cup his cheeks.

He’s still spiraling.

“…Was it weird? Was it bad? Was it too soon? Do you wanna break up with me and then date me again so I can do it right?”

You shake your head, smiling.

“Bucky.”

He stops.

You lean in, press your forehead to his.

Then you sign, clear as day:

YES.

He freezes.

“Wait. Yes what?”

You say it out loud this time. Soft. Steady.

“Yes. I’ll be your wife.”

His breath leaves him like someone knocked it out with a hug.

“…Even though I proposed by accident?”

You kiss his nose.

“Especially because of that.”

Bucky buys a ring the very next day.

He still does the ASL sign for “I love you” every time you leave the room. You never get used to it.

And one day, he signs perfectly:

YOU — ARE — MY — SAFE — PLACE.

You tear up.

And then, just to mess with him, you sign back:

MAKE — ME — YOUR — HUSBAND.

He drops his drink.

You both laugh so hard you forget the world.

(You've got mail!) well well well..WELL WELL WELLLLLLLL. this has been fermenting in my drafts so uh hereee. its very fluffy and cute and so much grandpa barnes code. i whole heartily believe hes such a cutie like you can not convince me otherwise. stream txt love language tho! i rmbered i had this while i was kinda making a txt series avengers masterlist so uhhhh yeah! ALSO I HAD NO CLUE THAT HUENING KAI WAS TRYNA LEARN MY YOU-OLOGY IM BLUSHINGGG

Tag List (For Mr. James Buchanan Barnes is open)

@bbsbrina @herejustforbuckybarnes @barnesandbouquets

[sinkuna]

୨୧ ― The hotel room door closes with a soft click behind you, the pale light of the moon streaming through floor to ceiling windows.

Nanami had reserved the penthouse suite, ordered champagne that cost more than most people's rent, and even scattered rose petals across the king sized bed like fallen prayers. The man- your now husband, had ensured every detail was perfect for this moment after your wedding.

Because nothing- absolutely nothing, was ever too much when it came to you.

His hands wind around your waist from behind with the same reverence he'd shown sliding the ring onto your fingers hours ago. It was almost like he was memorizing the moment through touch alone. "Mrs. Nanami," he murmurs against your ear, and you feel him smile at the unfamiliar weight of your new name. "My wife," pressing his lips against your neck, the word still foreign on his tongue but sweeter than any bread he's ever had.

You lean into his warmth, the soft fabric of his tuxedo rubbing against the back of your own dress. "Mr. Nanami," you breathe, reaching back to caress his cheek, and you feel him press into you more at the title, his grip on you tightening, "My husband."

His fingers found the delicate zipper at your spine, drawing it down with practiced patience. Each inch of exposed skin received its own blessing- lips, warm breath, soft touches that made you arch against him.

"So beautiful,” he breathes against your vertebrae, "always so beautiful." his breath ghosts over your bare shoulders as the white gown slides away like shed silk... "Perfect," he adds, voice hitching as the fabric pools at your feet in waves of ivory and lace, leaving you in nothing but intricate lingerie. The garter belt sits high on your thigh- his gift to you, adorned with a diamond that matches the one on your finger. 

Turning you in his arms, "Gorgeous," his lips find yours in a sweet kiss, hands tracing your jaw, "Stunning," he whispers, cupping the nape of your neck as he draws you deeper, tongue coaxing a quiet moan from your lips… "All mine." he says with a low growl. All these words heavy with the weight of a man who's never been careless with language. When Nanami Kento calls you beautiful, gorgeous, stunning... perfect, it's because he's catalogued every detail that makes them true.

And it was all reserved just for you. Only for you.

Your hands reach up to push the jacket from his shoulders, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt- needy and impatient until he caught your hands. "Slowly," he commanded gently, "we have all night."

His mouth traced the column of your throat, pausing at your pulse point to feel your heart racing. "I love how responsive you are," he murmured, teeth grazing your collarbone, "how you tremble when I touch you here..." his thumb traced your nipple through delicate white lace… "How you make those little sounds..."

A soft moan escaped as he took the lace covered peak between his teeth, rolling gently until your knees buckled.

"That sound," he groaned, steadying you against his chest, "I'm going to spend tonight learning all the new ones you'll make as my wife."

"Mmph~ K-Kento~ oh god I-"

"Shhh, I'll take care of you," he promises, fingers ghosting along the lacy edge of your panties, "just like I always do, only this time..." his thumb rubs circles through the thin fabric of your thong, a teasing pressure against the bundle of nerves that has you moaning and rocking against his hand, "i think i'll make sure this whole building knows you're Mrs. Nanami now."

His strong arms hook beneath your legs, lifting you effortlessly to settle you among the rose petals. The bed dipping under his knee as he follows, hovering over you like a man worshipping at an altar, fingers caressing your face as he takes a moment to simply admire the picture you make- sprawled out beneath him. 

"I love you," the words barely audible as he leans down, lips finding the delicate skin of your inner thigh, teeth grazing the delicate skin, "so much." Your back arches involuntarily as he finds the diamond adorning the middle of your garter, giving it a flick with his tongue before tracing the silk band with calloused fingers. "I'm so glad you didn't toss this earlier," he admits... "When you told everyone you were keeping it... I was relieved you wanted to skip that particular tradition."

The diamond catches in the moonlight as you bite your lip, a sweet smile playing at the corners of your mouth, "Well~ I was thinking," you card your fingers through his styled hair, mussing the soft strands, "maybe I could wear just this when you come home from work from now on."

His eyes snap to yours, "Don't," his tone serious- the careful control he's maintained all evening fracturing at your words... "Don't tell me things like that unless you want me taking extended lunch breaks to come home… I don't think I'd be able to control myself if you did." he confesses, and the honesty in his voice has your heart skipping a beat, "I barely manage now."

Without breaking eye contact, he catches the garter between his teeth, his lips grazing your skin as he drags it achingly slow down your thigh, "do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of you greeting me at the door wearing nothing but this?" With a final tug, he slips the garter free, letting it dangle from his mouth before tossing it aside with a smirk.

"K-Kento please~" You squirm under his heated gaze, thighs squeezing together, trying to relieve the throbbing ache between your legs, but the action only makes it worse… "Please don't tease me tonight. I can't-"

"Please what, darling?" a lock of his hair falls in his eyes, "Tell your husband what you need." He runs his hands up the back of your thighs, lifting and spreading them apart. The sight of his head between your legs, looking up at you from beneath the fall of his hair has you biting the inside of your cheek...

"Please~" the word barely a whisper, "M'need you, Kento. Need my husband to make a mess of me hah~"

Your words dissolve as he removes your lace thing- his mouth finding you bare and fucking soaked, "God," he groans against you, tongue swiping at your slick folds. 

He devours you like communion wine, like salvation itself, tongue fucking into your entrance, a thumb circling the small bud above.

"Nghhh fuck~" Your eyes squeeze shut, the pressure building, hips rolling to meet his tongue, your juices covering his chin.

"So sweet," he groans, the words muffled against your pussy, the vibration making you buck against him, "I could savor you all night."

With that he rises up, mouth leaving you empty and aching, his hands pinning your hips to the bed, "But I think i'll save the rest of my appetizer for later." He smirks down at you, wiping the remnants of your slick off his chin with the back of his hand.

Slowly, he reaches down to unbuckle his belt, pulling it free in a single motion, "Put your arms above your head, love," he orders softly, watching as you obey without question, a soft gasp escaping when he catches both your wrists, securing them with his belt. "This is my wedding night as well, after all…" securing the leather strap around the frame of the headboard, "And I intend to take my time with you."

Your fingers curl around the smooth leather, testing the bindings as his cock springs free, precum already pearling at the tip. The head is flushed, straining, and aching to be buried in your heat.

"Fuck-," he groans, hand gripping the base, thumb sweeping his weeping slit, "you have no idea what you do to me."

He positions himself between your thighs, the thick head of his cock teasing your entrance, sliding along your wet folds, the tip catching your clit, and then he's sinking into you, a strangled groan torn from his throat as you wrap around him like a vice.

Each thrust has the bedframe creaking as he fills you completely, perfectly, his cock stretching you just right. His forehead rests against yours, breath mingling as you move together, the only sounds in the room are the obscene sounds of your joined bodies, your broken cries, his grunts of pleasure.

"Ah! Mnnnh Kento~" You writhe beneath him, tugging at the restraints, body arching and straining for release, but the position keeps you helpless, a moaning wreck, pinned and bound by his cock, his weight, his strength.

"Harder~" The word slips out before you can stop it, and you feel him still above you.

"Are you certain?" His voice carries an edge now, something darker lurking beneath the tenderness.

"Please, Kento. I need… I need you to fuck me. M’need my husband to make me scream~."

The change is immediate. Your sweet gentle Nanami, replaced by his more desperate… pent up, and demanding side- god you loved it when he got like this~. His thrusts become punishing, deep enough to make you see stars- head so dizzy it causes you to babble incoherently. And his words… oh, his words turn absolutely filthy.

"This what my precious wife needs?" he rasps, breath hot against your throat as his cock drives deep, "Her loving husband splitting this perfect pussy open, making her beg for more like a whore."

The headboard rocks against the wall as he thrusts into you, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. "Look how you're taking it," he pants, voice breaking, "Greedy little thing swallowing my cock. You're dripping all over the sheets, darling."

When he pulls out he’s quickly undoing his belt from your wrists- flipping you onto your stomach hastily as you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But then he's slamming back into you from behind, the new angle making you scream into the pillows.

"That's it," he groans, watching as that pretty pussy of yours grips him each time he withdraws, "let the whole hotel hear how good your husband fucks you. Let them know how desperate- how hungry you are for my cock."

His hand comes down on your ass with a brutal crack, making you clench and gush around him. "You like that, don't you? My beautiful wife likes being spanked while she gets her pussy destroyed from behind."

"Y-yesss! Oh god, yesss!" you babble, drool pooling at the corner of your lips as you're fucked senseless- eyes rolling back, "I love it when you ahhhh! when you use me like this!" Your voice breaks into needy whimpers, pussy clenching desperately around his length as he pounds into you, "Yesyesyes! Fuck me harder!"

He sets a brutal pace, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside that makes your vision white out, your body trembling as you lose yourself completely to the sensation. "Please," you moan, saliva dripping from your parted lips, "don't stop... m’need it so bad... need your cock so f’hah- fucking deep..."

"Going to stuff you so full," he growls against your ear, teeth sinking into your shoulder, "give you everything until you’re overflowing with it… until your belly swells with it..."

His movements stutter for just a heartbeat- eyed widening in shock at what he'd just said… Until your belly swells... Did he really just confess he wants to make a child with you tonight? The admission sends a shock through his system even as his cock throbs harder at the thought.

"I- …," he breathes shakily, almost stunned by his own desperate need. But there's no taking it back now… the raw truth is out.

"D-do it~" you coo breathlessly, the words sending a shiver of pure want down his spine. Your fingers push back his hair, holding him close, and the way you look at him... The sheer amount of adoration and love in your eyes, it nearly steals his breath away. You are the light of his life...

His thrusts become erratic, sloppy, each on driven by that new need to create something precious- a son, a daughter… either or it didn’t matter.

"Look at me," he gasps, his voice breaking. "I want to see your face when I- ngh-"

Your eyes lock as his control finally snaps. With a broken moan of your name, Nanami buries himself to the hilt and releases. Hot sticky ropes of cum flood your womb, painting your inner walls white as he empties himself completely. Your own orgasm washing over you from the fullness of him, your pussy clenching and milking every last drop from his throbbing cock.

Afterward, you lie tangled together, skin slick with sweat and cum. He holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your neck as you both slowly return to earth, his cum slowly leaking out of your thoroughly used pussy.

Later, much later, dawn creeps through silk curtains to find Nanami already awake, memorizing the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him. His thumb traces over your wedding ring, this symbol of a future he never dared imagine…

"Wife," he whispers to himself, the word starting to sound less foreign.

Husband…

Thats what he is now.

And someday, perhaps sooner than later… A father.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, marveling at you- this woman who chose him, who said yes to forever with a man who once thought love was a luxury- the only luxury he thought he couldn’t afford in his dangerous line of work. Now he knew this, it was the only wealth that mattered… and he was the richest man alive.

[002yb]

Jason isn't one for honeypot missions, but their guy has niche interests and Jason so happens to fit the bill.

To say he has reservations is an understatement. He hasn't dated anyone; he doesn't fool around. How is he supposed to attract some big shot arms dealer and keep him distracted?

Steph making a joke about Jason showing off his guns, flexing her arm for dramatic effect. Tim thinks it's funny; Jason doesn't share their humor. He's got his heart in his throat. Nothing is funny at that moment.

But Tim swears to Jason that he won't have to do anything. Just sit there. Look pretty.

'But I'm not pretty—'

A protest that Steph scoffs at because she promises that Jason is hot af. Fuckable! Not that it'll get to that point; Tim and her have got his back, but the point stands that their target will be ensnared the moment he sets his eyes on Jason.

Jason still isn't convinced. It shows in his expression and gets more dismal when he looks down at what he's been dressed in—holsters and accessories to draw focus to the swell of his chest and the softness of his thighs. What good is a holster without a gun though? Jason feels bare like this and vulnerable for it.

Given Jason's reservations, Steph steps up. She'll prove to Jason that he's got nothing to worry about, so she video calls the hottest person she knows and asks them: be honest, would you fuck Jay?

'No.' Because it's Cass, of course she wouldn't. Steph tenses up at the blunt answer, laugh awkward until Cass adds a confused, 'Not you,' at which point Steph swoons, smitten until she remembers the situation and 'whoops, let me call you back?'

Cue Tim who swats Steph away because he's got this, watch. He texts Kon a picture and gets a voice memo shortly after that has Tim scrambling to lower the volume on because ffs, omg. Because Kon is shameless about it: 'We've talked about this at length? Of course we should! Is he down? Tell me he's down. I can't believe you finally asked—'

Tim has never felt more embarrassed or exposed. Steph won't stop laughing at him, either. The stupidity of it settles some of Jason's nerves though.

They call a neutral third party, in the end. The hottest guy they know: Dick.

Which Jason is immediately not on board with because it's too embarrassing; Jason has too much shame to be that vulnerable with Dick. Don't do it, give him the damn phone and—

'Be honest, would you fuck Jay?'

And the thing is—Dick doesn't even look at the video call. His phone is clearly pointed at the ceiling while he works on something off to the side.

Still, he doesn't hesitate when he says: 'Yeah.'

And Jason combusts right there on the spot because what.

Which he said out loud because suddenly Dick is looking at his phone screen and he sees Tim, Steph, and Jason just behind them.

'Oh.' Smooth. Dick has always been shameless though, so he moves on quick even while Jason is still floundering to process. The way Dick rallies is truly impressive, but it's nothing compared to his charm. He's soft when he says it, casual, a ghost of a smile on his lips when he catches Jason's gaze through the call and says, 'You look nice.'

Something something Steph snickering at Dick about how Jason looks very nice, pretty even, huh? While bumping her head against Jason's pec. And Dick laughs under his breath, but agrees, 'Yeah, so damn pretty.'

The simple compliment gives Jason all the confidence he needs to get through the mission, but then he remembers what preceded that compliment and Jason goes into crisis promptly after.

[alllgator-blood]

Did the bishops have any hobbies before the Schism? (Trying to distract from their constant misery and torment)

They did! Most of em still do their hobbies no matter what time period it is, but I had the sketch for this drawing laying around and thought it'd be a nice break to work on something that wasn't everyone burning in their own personal hell.

Leshy draws comics, which I think is maybe the hobby that's showed up the most on this blog so far. There's a REALLY good ask in my inbox asking how he coped with losing his sight for good in the lamb's cult, seeing how his main way of expressing emotions was through his art....I have a WIP about that very topic but it's nowhere near done. In my lore it was the catalyst for why the lamb bothered getting the other siblings even though they wanted to let the family rot in purgatory lmao

Heket doesn't really have leisure hobbies, she thinks it's "lazy" and "pointless" when she tries to do anything just for fun, so I'd say her only hobbies would have to have specific uses for her to find them worthwhile. I feel like cooking would be the obvious choice, cause everyone needs to eat, and I REALLY wanted to draw her making toad bread, so...TOAD BREAD. She also does woodworking and blacksmithing but that's way harder to draw

Narinder animates with flipbooks, and his crown turns into a lightboard he can draw new frames on top of. He makes edgy anime cat AMVs and sings nu metal over top them while flipping the pages himself. I've said before that him, leshy and kallamar have collaborated on "movies" with their various artistic talents, but it was all very makeshift and shitty cause they had to do everything themselves

Kallamar does landscape paintings usually, and specializes in wet mediums like watercolors and ink! YES THEY USE THEIR OWN INK. I think they just spit it into a jar which is gross, but better than the alternatives. Kall's paintings have shown up on this blog aaaalmost as much as Leshy's art, but they're more of a makeup artist after the schism because there's no more time to paint for fun. I also feel like they'd do glass blowing, but again, too hard to draw

Shamura is a jack of all trades, but greatly enjoys fiber arts. Weaving, crocheting, knitting, tatting, they can do it all. They also spit out their own silk in like the animated trailer for the game's launch! I have a hc where they made narinder's outfit he's currently wearing in purgatory, minus the giant bloodstain ofc. And also aym + baal's clothes, but that's for another day

I feel like the siblings made art for each other frequently- Heket smithed Kallamar's custom earrings, Kallamar made her stained glass windows, Leshy made fan comics of Narinder's OCs and Shamura...well here's the sweater they were crocheting in the drawing:

(I promise he likes the sweater but knows he, as the emo kid, is gonna get clowned on for wearing an adorable sweater made with 90% love and 10% pom-poms)

[deansbeer]

face riding with dean but your thighs are burning.

warnings 𓏵 smut | oral sex (fem!receiving) | face riding | slight muscle fatigue | praise kink | dirty talk | overstimulation | stubble!dean | multiple orgasms | dean has an oral fixation (of course he would let’s be so real) | hair pulling | begging.

sticky notes 𓏵 everybody thank that one dean gifset with his stubble because this was the inspo behind it <3

the motel room is dimly lit by the flickering vacancy sign outside, casting everything in alternating shadows and neon red. you’ve lost track of how long you've been like this — knees planted on either side of dean’s head, thighs trembling with exertion as you rock against his mouth. the cheap headboard creaks with every movement, and you’re grateful sam decided to get his own room tonight.

“dean,” you gasp, fingers twisted in his short hair. “i can’t... my legs...” the burning in your thighs has graduated from pleasant ache to genuine fatigue, muscles protesting every roll of your hips. you try to lift yourself up, give yourself a break, but dean’s hands on your hips keep you firmly in place.

“you can,” he murmurs against you, the vibration of his voice making you shudder. his stubble scrapes against your inner thighs, a delicious contrast to his soft tongue. “doin’ good for me, sweetheart. just a little more.” one hand slides from your hip to tap gently against your thigh — once, twice, encouraging you to keep moving.

the thing about dean winchester is that he’s relentless. whether he’s hunting monsters or taking you apart with his mouth, he doesn’t do anything halfway. his tongue works against you with the same single-minded determination he brings to everything else, and even though your legs are screaming, you can’t help but rock down against him.

“that’s it, baby,” he praises when you find your rhythm again, his free hand sliding between your legs to join his mouth. his thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk. “fuck, you taste so good. could stay here all night.”

“you practically are,” you manage to say, which earns you a chuckle that sends vibrations through your core. it’s true though — dean’s been at this for what feels like hours, drawing out your pleasure until you’re a shaking mess above him. the man has the oral fixation of someone who’s spent too many years eating gas station food and is determined to savor anything good.

your thighs are properly shaking now, not just from arousal but from genuine muscle fatigue. you’ve been essentially doing squats for god knows how long, and even though the pleasure is incredible, your body has limits. “dean, please, i really can’t—”

he pulls back just enough to speak clearly. “yes, you can. know you can. you’re so fucking strong, baby.” his green eyes are dark in the low light, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. there’s something wrecked in his expression, like getting you off is getting him off just as much. “love seeing you like this. using me, taking what you need.”

the praise shoots through you like lightning. dean doesn’t often get verbal during sex — he’s more of an action guy — but when he does, it never fails to affect you. his thumb presses harder against your clit as his tongue dives back in, and you cry out, grinding down despite your protesting muscles.

“there ya go,” he encourages, the hand on your hip tapping another rhythm against your skin. stay, it seems to say. keep going. i’ve got you. “so fuckin’ perfect. look at you, riding my face like you own it.” his voice is rough, muffled but still clear enough to make you flush. “that’s cause you do. you know. all yours.”

the combination of his words, his mouth, and his thumb on your clit is devastating. you’re close, have been close for a while, hovering on that edge as dean works you over. but your trembling thighs keep breaking your rhythm, making it hard to chase that final push over the edge.

“can’t, baby,” you whimper, frustration mixing with pleasure. “dean, i can’t move anymore.” your legs are jello, muscles completely shot, and you could cry from how badly you need to come but can’t get there.

“shh, i got you,” he soothes, and suddenly both hands are gripping your hips. “don’t need to move anymore, sweetheart. just let me...” he lifts his head, sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking hard while his tongue flicks rapidly against it. at the same time, he uses his grip on your hips to rock you against his face, doing the work for you.

“oh fuck,” you sob, hands scrambling for purchase against the headboard. “dean, dean, baby, fuck—“ the new angle and intensity are perfect, and within seconds you’re coming hard, thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure crash over you. he doesn’t let up, working you through it until you’re begging him to stop, oversensitive and shaking.

when he finally lets you collapse next to him on the bed, your legs feel like they might never work again. dean’s face is a mess of your juices, his stubble glistening in the low light, and he looks supremely pleased with himself as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“told you you could do it,” he says smugly, pulling you against his chest. you can feel how hard he is against your hip, but for now he seems content just to hold you. “fuckin’ incredible, sweetheart. could watch you fall apart like that every night.”

“might need a few nights off,” you mumble against his chest. “pretty sure you broke my thighs.”

he laughs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “worth it though?”

“shut up,” you say, but you’re smiling. yeah, it was worth it. with dean winchester, it always is.

[teliphone]

Shush

Summary: Lee Seung-joo, a psychiatrist who treats you. Your words don’t scare her; in fact, she’s more intrigued. She wants to help you unravel your deepest, darkest secrets to heal…and even more than that. 

Warning(s): Smut, Manipulate, Fingering, Oral, Bondage, Praise Kink, Overstimulation, Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.2k 

-

You’ve seen your psychiatrist for two months now. Your feelings for her have increased over time. You blame yourself for being too easy. Falling for someone who listens to you for the first time?… Please, it's her job! It’s not right, yet something about her demeanor draws you. She’s quite a mystery. Her eyes are so dull, but her mouth tells of hope and advice. 

Seungjoo sits with her legs crossed in front of you. A small coffee table in between chairs to create distance. She tilts her chin down to examine the clipboard on her lap. She lifts her finger and nudges the rim of her glasses up. You play with the tip of your fingers nervously. You didn’t know what to expect. She turns her head up to give you a small smile. You nibble the inside of your cheeks as an attempt to keep calm. The sound of the clock clicks each second.

“How are you today?” She asks. Her voice is warm and deep, like a warm blanket that could suffocate you if you stay too long underneath. 

“I’m okay,” You quickly respond, straightening your back. She breathes out a small chuckle and lightly taps her papers with the tip of her fingers. 

“You sound a little tense,” She teases, “Try to relax.” 

You nervously nod your head and try to calm down by leaning back into the chair. The cushion underneath is surprisingly comfortable. Your anxiety slightly decreases. Her finger taps stop and she smiles. 

“Good,” She says before looking back at her papers. She calmly drags her finger against the paper on which she had written this morning. 

“Do you still seek any types of thrills? We briefly discussed this last time,” 

“Kinda,” You respond. She pauses and tilts her head. 

“How about we ask more personal and deeper questions today?” She begins, wanting to hear more from you. You quietly nod your head yes. 

“For me to further understand your behavior and struggle,” She explains, looking deep into your eyes, “Are you in any form of romantic relationships?”

You self-consciously dart your eyes to the side and shift in your seat. You should have known this was going to come up sooner or later. Sexuality has been something you had to discover for yourself. 

“No,” You respond. 

“Please elaborate,” She softly urges. You feel your heart beginning to race again. Your eyes lower to stare at your pants. 

“This is a safe place… I’m here for you,” She reminds you. She could read you like a book. You lift your head to look at her again. She gives you a reassuring smile. 

“I don’t like to date because everyone expects me to date someone I don’t find… attractive,” You explain while leaving out important information. She slowly nods her head in acknowledgment. Her lips turn into a small frown. 

“Why don’t you find this person attractive?” She asks, hoping to seek more. You swallow a dry gulp. You take a moment to pause as thoughts swirl into your head. You didn’t want to tell her at first, but after some thinking, you’ve realized you’ve grown to truly trust her. 

“Because this person is a man,” You softly confess. Her face remains emotionless before she simply nods her head. She brushes her lips with her pointer finger. A habit that you’ve seen her do many times before. 

“Many individuals face stress related to sexual orientation due to discrimination, concealment, internalized stigma…” She points out. She continues to explain how your view on sexuality is one of the reasons that impacted your mental health. You listen to her quietly, slightly zoning out. Analyzing how she would tilt her head when an insightful thought comes to mind. Or how her eyes slightly squint when she tries to find the appropriate word to use. Regardless of how much older she is, you were attracted. A small blush begins to form on your face, causing her to furrow her eyebrows. 

“…Have you been with a woman?” She asks, snapping you back to life. You quickly blink and the tip of your tongue darts out to wet your lips. 

“I haven’t,” You dryly cough. She begins to fidget again by rubbing her lower chin with her pointer finger. She starts to move and places her clipboard onto the coffee table. She leans back into her chair comfortably. One of her arms rests on the chair arm. Expressing her body language as confident and open. Her middle and ring fingers rub slow circles against the armchair. 

“What do you want in a woman?” She asks. Your heart begins to race again. She softly chuckles and gets up from her seat. Her shoes click against the wooden floors of her office. Your eyes shamefully examine her body. Her long and slim figure was exposed underneath her beige and white outfit. Her slightly long black hair falls past her shoulder blades. She slowly makes her way to walk behind you. 

You sit perfectly still, not knowing what to do. You hear your blood pumping in your ears. Suddenly, you feel a hand gently grip your shoulders. She bends down til her lips are the same level as your ears. 

“Do you like them…nice? Or demanding? Or maybe even a little older?” She hums. Her deep voice sends shivers down your spine. She catches the way your breathing hicks. She smiles and leans up, removing her hands from your shoulders. She walks over to her desk and sits on the edge. Her hands rest on the desk next to her hips. She stares down at you. 

“What do you think about when you please yourself?” She pushes her questions further. She wants to dig deep into your brain. She wants to know every little dirty secret you imagine. An aching craving is building in your lower stomach. You refuse to let her know you fantasize about her during dark hours. Imagining her fingers pushing and stretching you open. And how you imagine her voice telling you what to do. You squeeze your thighs together. She lifts her eyebrows in slight surprise. You don’t speak or get up from your seat, and she slowly rolls her eyes. The act alone almost made you wet. She parts her lips a little before making up her mind. 

“Come here,” She says. You stumble on your footing as you walk over to her. Her eyelids lower as she peers underneath her lashes. You stop one foot away from her. She slides off the desk and grabs onto your wrists.

She tugs and pushes you against the desk. She traps your body by placing her hands beside your waist. Her body towers over you in authority. She leans her face down close to yours. You nervously look down. 

“Do you trust me?” She whispers. You lift your head immediately. 

“Yes,” You respond. The corner of her lips curls into a smile. 

“Let me help you then,” She explains before leaning in. Her soft, plump lips touch yours. She kisses delicately and passionately. You let out a soft grunt of surprise. You forget how to breathe properly. She deepens the kiss, causing you to clench your eyes shut. Her kisses feel so good. You get lost in it. Her hands start to sneak up your shirt. She drags her finger against your spine. You arch your back, rubbing your front into her. She darkly chuckles and bites your bottom lip before pulling away. Your eyelids are heavy and your cheeks are flushed red. She drags her thumb against the button of your pants. She pauses and looks up. 

“Can I touch you?” She hums. Her eyes are dilated, almost black. Her glasses slightly fell down her nose bridge during the kiss. You lift your hands to gently push the glasses back up. Her breathing hicks a little. 

“Yes… Please touch me,” You whisper. With a swift movement, she unbuttons your pants. She shoves her hands in and pushes her hips into you, spreading your thighs apart. Her fingers nudge against the middle of your panties. You softly moan into her neck. She clenches her jaw in arousal. 

She pushes your panties to the side and slides her fingers along your core. She touches your sensitive bud, circling it in a slow rhythm. 

“You think of me, don’t you?” She darkly chuckles. She found your dirty little secret. Your silky juices leak out from your core. You tilt your head back and answer yes, mix in with moans. She collects your wetness with her middle finger. She continues playing with your nub. Rubbing your silkiness around it, making her fingers slide quicker. You begin to buckle your hips into her. 

Once she finds you wet enough, she slowly shoves her middle finger into you. You feel her fingers go deeper. You gasp and clench onto her shoulders. She hums delightfully into your ears. 

“Shush,” She warns before shoving another finger in. You cry out in pleasure. Your pants limit her movement, reducing her to only curling her finger against your soft walls. She flickers her fingers over and over. You moan loudly, thrashing your body. She presses her face against your hair. She parts her lips and shushes you again. 

“Shhhh. You don’t want to get caught so quickly, right?” She whispers. Her fingers never stop moving. Your stomach tenses. Tears start to build up in your eyes. Her pace increases and you nearly fall backwards onto her desk. Her brutal thrust into your sensitive wall is too much. You choke on your moans. She lowers her face to bite your neck. She feels your walls clenching around her finger. 

At that moment, your lower stomach snaps and you roll your eyes back. Your body trembles and jerks. Juices roll down and dampen your pants. Soft curse words escape from your mouth. She pulls her hand out of your pants. Wetness glistens on her hand and she examines it. 

She walks over to her desk and grabs a napkin. Leaving you breathless on the other side. Your chest moves up and down quickly. You close your eyes to catch your breath. She quietly cleans her hands. Once she is done, she tosses the tissue into the garbage. Then she opens her drawers and pulls out a silk scarf. She walks over to you and lifts the scarf. 

“Turn around,” She smiles. You weakly turn around and feel her pull your hands behind your back. She ties the scarf around your wrists. You try pulling them apart, but it’s tight. You turn around to look at her in confusion. She ignores you and begins to unbuckle her pants. She slides them down along with her underwear. They drop, revealing her smooth, bare skin. 

She places her hands on top of your head and pushes you down to the floor. You kneel before her with your hands tied behind your back. She stands before you, her core near your face. You now understand why she tied you. You desperately wanted to grab her thighs and shove your face into her pussy. 

She nudges her glasses up her nose bridge. She peers down at you with a small smile. You wait patiently for her orders. She laces her fingers between your hair and tugs your head closer to her core. She spreads her thighs. The smell of her arousal numbs your mind. You stick out your tongue. Once her pussy touches your mouth, you lose all self control. You drag your tongue against her hole. Her juice coats your whole mouth. You moan as you continue licking her. 

“Good girl… you’re doing so good,” She grunts, pushing her core deeper into her mouth. Your tongue slides up to play with her clit. You flick and suck against the nub. Her grip on your head tightens. Her eyebrows furrow in pleasure. Soft moans slip out of her mouth. You tilt your head up to look at her. Her stomach tenses. Her hips roll over and over in your mouth. Sweat begins to form on her forehead. Due to her movement, her glasses start to slide down again. She pushes them up and returns her hands to your head. She grips hard, but you didn’t care.

“Your mouth is so good,” She praises. You feel your core throb. You unconsciously lift your hands to spread her thighs, but the scarf limits you. You groan into her pussy, causing her to bite her lip. She continues to ride you til her legs begin to shake. 

“Don’t fucken stop,” She cusse, cheeks red. You shut your eyes and suck onto her nub hard. She jerks her hips and comes into your mouth. Her juices run down your chin. Her body twitches as she catches her breath. Her hand still clenches on your head, not letting you catch your breath. Finally, she tugs your head away. You gasp and catch your breath. You feel her wetness run down your neck. She lazily chuckles before grabbing your head again. She shoves your face back into her pussy. She grinds against your tongue with her head tilted back. She wants you to make her come over and over til she can't handle it anymore. 

[thebluediner]

FINALS WEEK OR OUR FINAL WEEK

roommate billie au

a/n: everybody clap ahhh I'm loving these roommate bille fics and headcanons

•roomatebillie who tells you to wake her up at specific times so she can study for her music history theory test but groans and whines when you do.

"five more minutes please" she pleads burying herself deeper into the warmth of her bed.

"yeah okay but just know you've already lost five percent with those five minutes in bed" you say acting like your unbothered but you stand next to her bed with hands on your hips.

"fuck okay I'm up" billie rises from her bed huffing as she finally opens her eyes draw away from the sleep.

•rommatebillie who wakes up with your bed still untouched from yesterday and just when she's about to call you the door rattles with keys before you appear.

"damn you look like shit" billie say as if she looks any better with her bed hit flying all over her face.

"that's exactly what happens when you fall asleep on a chair at the library" your croak taking off your choose and siding into your sippers.

"woah, you did that" billie gasps looking down at the time and it's only seven in the morning.

you look at billie deadpan because claley that did happen that's the reason you look like shrek after a dump on his muddy pool before dropping all your books and bags to the ground and flopping on your bed.

•roomatebillie who was studying, well atleast trying to study and absorb information from the full print page informt of her when you called her.

"bils can you please come help me downstairs" you asked her but your voice was breathy like you've been running or something.

"with what ?" she questions already standing up frm her desk looking through the window to see if she could get any sight of you.

"billie just come" you sigh frustrated already but your breath has stopped sound ragged.

"that's what she said" billie is quick to laugh but then you drop the call immediately making her laugh even harder.

when she gets down the stairs she finnaly sees you at the bottom leaning on the wall dazed. then she sees blue boxes on the ground next to your feet.

"what are those" she's also coming closer her eyes already recognising the brand of energy drinks.

" I bought bulk red bull's for us to have during the finals" you say pointing to one of the boxes letting her know that one is going to be hers.

" you bought for me too you're so nice" billie coos with a big smile on her face before kissing your cheek before grabbing the boxes herself.

"I've always been nice" you say with your most neutral tone hidding the blush of her action.

"mmh don't lie to yourself"

•rommatebillie who once again refuses to get up from her bed and do some assignments for her finals but you're there to scare her out of bed in your own way.

"mmh the warmer the blankets the colder the future" you say in a sing sing way which billie abruptly responds too by groan and screaming into her pillow.

"you're so evil where did you even get those phrase " she says turning her head towards you her eyes peeking through the covers.

"my mom " you say laughing.

•roomate!billie who drags you along to campus traditional even though you'd pretty much have your head in your books. the traditional basically consistented of everybody coking together on campus ground and when the clock hit midnight you'll all launch into a bunch of guttering concerning screams as a way to release all the stress of exams.

"COME ON YOU'RE NOT EVEN SCREAMING!"

"I don't really feel like it" you shyly mutter looking around you a little uncertain.

"SROP BEING A LITTLE BOY BABE SCREAM!" a crack smiles through when she compared your cowardly energy to a little boy.

"FINE FINE I'LL FUCKING SCREAMING" you shout loud enough for her to hear you over many other screams.

•roomate!billie who has a mental breakdown over all the stress to do good in all her classes while maintaining her mental health.

"oh baby, it's okay really" you try and comfort her with immediately embracing her.

"but it's not, I don't get any of this shit" billie complains even more even though it comes out more muffled than anything.

her head is burried deep in the crook of your neck with her fingers tugging on your shirt.

•roomate!billie who helps you with your flashcards the morning of the exam just to refresh your mind even if it's at seven in the morning and she has no class meaning she gets up all for you.

"I mean you're almost there you're just missing an important keyword" billie says her lips thin her eyes concentrating on the coloured card among the stack in her hands.

"okay don't tell me, let me try and remember" you pace around the room trying to think of the keywords shes referring too while your lips move around reciting the main keys of the topic.

"okay love you've spent atleast five minutes on this you gotta revise it again" billie gives you hr warmest look before handing over the card to you to read over again.

"oh my god , I'm so cooked it's not even funny" you scream flopping onto your bed and screaming into the pillow.

a/n: take my offering man :( I'll add more later

[dollyswishingwell]

ur last set of hc's inspired me!! ^^ I was wondering if you could please write for the lads guys with an autistic partner, where too many things have been out of place in their schedule, and they're overstimulated, and they just get really snappy (not yelling, just quiet, angry one-word answers and such) and anxious, almost in tears from such things occuring, but the problem is - they're in public. So their partner just..shuts down? Ignore this if this is too specific for your liking, or you just don't wanna do it :P i've just been having an annoying week lolol THANK YOU!! love ur writing.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Safe space

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒���� 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, literally just cute

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys with a Autistic reader

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

1. He notices the shift in you immediately.

Your silence, stiffness, or clipped tone? He’s locked in. No teasing, no questions, just that quiet, serious focus he only shows when you need him.

2. Gets you out fast and silently.

Arm around your waist, hand in yours, he steers you somewhere quiet without drawing attention. Doesn’t explain to anyone. Doesn’t care to.

3. Goes totally soft and grounding.

Gentle hums, warm scarf in your hand, forehead resting lightly on yours. He keeps the world small and slow until you can breathe again.

4. Never takes your snappiness personally.

“Don’t touch me”? He backs off instantly, no fuss, no guilt trip. Just nods, gives you space, and stays within arm’s reach in case you need him again.

5. Glares daggers at anyone who judges you.

If someone whispers something nasty? His expression goes cold. “You can leave,” he’ll say flatly. “You’re upsetting her.”

6. Loves you more for your sensitivity.

“You feel too much,” he murmurs later, brushing your hair from your face. “But that’s why you’re magic. And I’ll guard every inch of it.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

1. He notices the moment things go wrong.

Your silence. Your rigid posture. The way you stop making eye contact. Zayne doesn’t need you to say anything, his hand gently moves to your lower back, guiding you out of the crowd before you even ask.

2. No questions, no fuss. Just protection.

He’ll get you somewhere quiet, an empty hallway, a stairwell, his car. He never pushes you to explain, just stays close with steady presence and low, quiet breathing to help ground you.

3. He shields you from the world, literally.

Long coat drawn around you, body angled in front of you like a barrier. If you’re overwhelmed, his tone drops to something calm and grounding:

“You’re safe. Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

4. Remains perfectly composed, even if you’re snappy.

You could mutter “don’t touch me” or go completely still, and Zayne would only nod. His voice would be calm, professional, but softer than usual:

“Alright. I’m here when you’re ready.”

5. Anyone else causing trouble? They get one warning.

If someone speaks to you harshly or comments on your state, Zayne doesn’t raise his voice, he lowers it.

“Step back. Now.”

Cold. Precise. Enough to chill bone.

6. He sees your sensitivity as something sacred.

Later, once you’ve calmed, he’ll help restore your routine, down to your preferred tea, playlist, or folding the blanket just right.

“It’s alright. You didn’t ruin anything.”

Then? A kiss to your temple. Steady hands. A quiet, constant kind of love.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

1. Xavier doesn’t react with panic, he reacts with stillness.

The moment you go quiet or freeze, he tilts his head slightly, observing you carefully. Then he speaks in a soft, even voice:

“Too loud. Too much. We’ll go.”

2. He guides you somewhere calm like a ghost in the crowd.

No sudden moves, no dragging. Just his hand gently curling around yours, weaving you both through the chaos like it never touched you. His presence alone feels like stepping into silence.

3. He mirrors your shutdown energy, quiet and neutral.

Sits beside you in stillness. No pressure. Just matching your posture, slow breathing, calm presence. Every few minutes, he might murmur something like,

“I’m here. You don’t need to talk yet.”

4. He physically blocks others from approaching without a word.

If anyone tries to get too close, Xavier just… turns. Blank stare. Straight spine. The kind of quiet, unnerving presence that makes people instinctively walk away.

5. Your snappiness doesn’t phase him at all.

If you mutter “stop” or flinch, he just blinks and nods, adjusting immediately. “Understood.”

Not hurt. Not shaken. Just quietly recalibrating his comfort to match what you need.

6. Later, he handles the reset in his own clumsy but loving way.

Offers your favorite snack a little awkwardly. Wraps you in a blanket wrong the first time, then tries again. Puts on your comfort show and lets you lie on his chest.

“Sensory overload neutralized,” he says with a small nod, a smile so tiny, like he just completed a mission.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

1. He clocks the shift before you do.

The moment your breathing changes, or your responses get clipped, Sylus’s gaze sharpens. He leans down and murmurs in your ear, smug but low:

“We’re leaving. This place doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

2. Zero tolerance for the crowd.

He doesn’t shove. He moves. And people get out of his way. Whether it’s a gala or a street market, he cuts a path with sharp eyes and sharper energy, arm snug around you.

3. He handles your shutdown like a mission.

If you go quiet or freeze, he doesn’t push or ask questions. He just lowers his voice and says,

“Don’t speak. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

And he does. No mistakes. No delays.

4. Anyone who even looks at you wrong is a target.

If someone stares, he’ll smile at them, that smile.

“You look confused. I suggest you stay that way, and not get involved.”

His aura alone does the rest.

5. You can snap at him, flinch, go silent, he doesn’t flinch.

He only tilts his head and calmly adjusts, like recalibrating a weapon.

“Tch. You’re allowed to unravel. I’ll hold the thread.”

6. Later, he spoils you into calmness.

Plush robe. Favorite drink. He’s brushing your hair back and telling you about all the boring people he ignored just to come home early.

“You don’t need to be perfect out there. You only need to be mine.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

1. He notices before you say a word.

You’re fidgeting. Breathing uneven. He shifts immediately, his arm curling around your waist, voice soft against your ear:

“Hey… too much?”

No teasing in his tone, just instant concern.

2. He gets you out of there, fast, but calm.

Whether he’s in casual wear or uniform, Caleb always moves with purpose. He doesn’t make a scene. Just murmurs, “Come on. Just follow me,” and carves a path through the noise like it’s air.

3. Your shutdown doesn’t scare him, it breaks his heart.

If you go silent or can’t speak, his whole expression softens.

“Breathe, baby. Just squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

His thumb strokes yours like he’s grounding you back to Earth.

4. You can be snappy, rigid, trembling, he never takes it personally.

He’ll just nod and go quiet, sitting beside you like a warm shield. A gentle, unwavering presence until you’re ready to return to yourself.

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

5. If someone stares or speaks up? Colonel mode.

His whole demeanor flips cold. He steps forward, voice low and threatening:

“Back off. Now.”

He doesn’t need to raise his voice, he commands respect. You’re his priority, not their opinion.

6. Later, he spoils you with quiet playfulness.

Blankets. Snacks. Maybe his jacket draped over your shoulders. He’ll lay his head in your lap, look up at you and whisper:

“You did amazing today. But I’ll destroy the entire planet if it happens again, just say the word.”

A smile. A kiss to your hand. Safety, always.

[lostinlovingrevery]

So I know Logan being experienced in dating gives him the skill to woo anybody into a date. How about the opposite, like, imagine you have a crush on Logan and you don't know if he not only likes you back but also will commit to a relationship. And one day he goes up to you and... completely fucks it up asking you out. Like the more he trys to save it the more he fumbling it so hard. But to you its very sweet in how earnest this handsome,experienced Casanova is trying to ask you out, confirming w/out knowing it that hes serious about you. How would you think each Logans would go about it?

(This came about in how most imagines have Logan being smooth as hell, I wondered how would the opposite be. Bc ngl if some one as hot as Logan was fumbling so hard asking me out, I would be so flustered and flattered.)

AAAAAAH I LOVE THIS IDEA!!!

Awhile back I think I wrote a fic of Worst! Wolverine being such a nervous goof trying to ask out reader Just the idea of Logan being so smitten by you he's just a nervous wreck instead of his usual smooth self. I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!

How Nervous Logan(s) Ask You Out!

(another note look how cute he is in this gif OMFGGGGGGG!!!!)

(some of these feel a bit repetitive but bear with me lol, also tried to make most of these GN! Friendly <3)

Trilogy Logan: Will probably trip over himself trying to talk to you, fumble his words. You're the cute server at the bar he frequents. All smiles and a figure that makes him drool. He's respectful but every time he tries to talk to you his mouth goes dry. You think it's adorable, especially because he puts up a major tough guy act with everyone else, including his friends who occasionally come in with him. Nice people- and you can tell they tease him about you throughout the night. It's not until a late night- you let him stay over closing to finish his drink while you clean, and you can see him nervously tapping his fingers on the counter and watching you while you wiped tables down. You come back over to take his drink after he finishes- and his voice cracks when he says your name, leaving him red in the face. You smile and asks him if he needed something. He stammers, something about getting something to eat, but he mixes up his words and says something about eating you out instead- leaving him completely frozen in fear. It makes you laugh, and he wishes he really could die because he couldn't take the embarrassment- but you kissed his cheek, and said you would love to go out somewhere to eat tomorrow, squeezing his arm reassuringly. You asked him to pick you up on his motorcycle and he smiles and promises he will. He still thinks he's a damn idiot- but at least something worked.

70s Logan: Probably the least awkward, but he's very sweet about it. I think we all agree this Logan is probs the smoothest and flirtiest out of all versions of him. For some reason with you, it draws out that softer side of him- the side that he has buried for a long time. He has felt he could be his real self around you- and that leads to a lot of vulnerability. He doesn't want to mess things up, so he doesn't actually ask you out for awhile, just a lot of sweet compliments and makes subtle comments about you and him being together. However because of him being such a smoothtalker with others- you assumed your relationship would be nothing more than just friends. When he finally asks you out it's something quiet, polite, where he looks at you with those big puppy eyes and asks you in a timid voice and a bouquet of flowers if he could take you out for dinner- a real nice dinner, maybe at your favorite place. It told you that maybe that was real- because he's not putting on a mask. He'll take you dancing and WON'T feel you up- at least until the second date <3

Worst Wolverine: You're the cute one he's sees in the coffee shop you both go to almost every morning before work. Never talked much to each other other than small talk. You think he's soooo handsome- but no way was he into you because he barely spares you a second glance. But he definitely has the biggest crush on you. Hes familiar with your lotion, your coffee order and the fact that you try a new muffin every day. Logan would love to talk to you, get to know you- but shit he's so fucked up, he can't imagine dating, likely will fuck it up- plus the whole different timeline ordeal- and his past. Maybe he gets a lil brave one morning and buys your order for you, He starts overthinking it- what if he completely overthought you and him? What if you haven't noticed him? What if you think he's creepy? When you finally get there, and find your order ready and paid for - the barista points him out and he looks like he wants to die on the spot. You reach him and the first thing he says is "Im sorry" because he's overthinking. You ask him if he wants to sit with you- and finally hold a real conversation. He's SO nervous, but calms down eventually- and you feel like maybe this was the start of something sweet <3

Old Man Logan: He's SO self conscious, and thinks the most self-deprecating things :( (no baby!). He doesn't believe you would go for an old man like him, so he doesn't actually try to ask you out, but he does "flirt" because it just comes naturally to him even when hes aching and tired (you're just that pretty for him). Except his flirts come out SO dry and strange sounding- because he does it SO seriously. He'll compliment you and start worrying about freaking you out. However you just love how cute he gets when he begins flustering and overthinking. He short circuits when you ask him out- his mouth opening and closing like a dying fish- he's wondering if you're feeling okay because him? Really? He's embarrassed with his reactions, but you reassure him that you think he's so cute- and he'll probably ask you if you need to borrow his glasses.

2013 Logan: He's grumpy-shy. He was on his own for a long time before you met. You're the prettiest lil thing he's seen in his entire (long) life and honestly he's forgotten how to interact with people- much less flirt. He messes up on his flirts more than once and youre not quite sure what he was trying to say but you smile and thank him anyway. He sounds a bit cranky when he compliments you and it's a mixture of offputting and endearing- but he's cute so you don't mind. It's not until one night you're talking deep in conversations and opening up to each other and he's trying to get out how he feels about you but he keeps messing up and stammering because you're looking at him with those such pretty eyes and he can't think straight and finally just breaks and kisses you. Hes not great with words anyway. Maybe you noticed the hand he was cupping your face with was shaking a little bit when he moves it away.

Patch! Logan: Okay I think it's so funny the idea of the most suave out of all logans being SO flustered trying to ask you out. Patch is all about being discreet, a scoundrel, hes a smoothtalker. He's NONE of those things with you. Who are you? Maybe a breathtaking singer at the casino, or a stunning cocktail waitress, maybe even the daughter of one of the corrupt men Logans looking to take down- whoever you are, you take his breath away and all his instincts and common sense go down the drain. However you took this to believe that he didn't actually like you because he is just so tense around you. He catches you in the halls after a successful night of some roulette and poker, and wants to spend some of his earnings with you. He's trying to be charming, feeling confident since he's gotten lucky already tonight. He's leaning against the wall over you- flashing a cute smile, able to hold more of a convo than he has in awhile without saying something embarrassing. When he goes to walk with you- he trips over himself and lands on the floor. You're cooing over him, trying to make sure hes okay and he's got this dopey look about it and finally tells you he will be if you join him for a drink.

Cowboy Logan: He's a serious and intimidating character in your town. Most people avoid him, whispering stories of the cowboy that showed up awhile back- but you knew deep down that maybe there was more to him than his roguish looks. He's a gentleman to you anytime you spend time together, holds doors open for you, kisses the back of your hand, and always takes his hat off out of respect. He's quiet, always letting you talk first. He always looks like a hurt puppy around you, and is so gentle. When he finally asks to properly court you, he appears on the porch of your home, taking his hat off and using his manners in speaking to you. He stammers a bit and has blush on his cheeks- when he tells you how beautiful you are, and asks if you'd give a cowboy like him a chance to win your heart. You'd be crazy not to <3

DOFP Logan: The other professor at the school he has a major crush on, and doesn't know what to do about it. To you, you had no idea. Logan seems to be so comfortable with everyone else- but with you he always acted...different- leading you to believe he doesn't like you like that until it's Ororo who points out that he literally stutters when he's trying to flirt with you (You: He was flirting?). His face gets red, and he seems to shut down whenever you smile at him- not to mention when you attempt to flirt with him, he gets even more flustered and can't even flirt back, usually thanking you and smoothing back his hair or scratching his beard and fidgeting nervously- and it made you blieve you made him uncomfortable. He hasn't dated in a while, having prioritized the x-men and teaching- so hes rusty on the flirting game even with his age. His feelings for you snuck up on him and honestly he's not quite sure what to do about it. It's only after a few dates that he starts to relax around you- and you get to have a turn becoming flustered by his classic Logan charm.

Origins Logan: OKAY I SWEAR!!! This one would be the most SWEETEST about it. He's like a kid going up to his very first crush. He's all shy, asking about your day and other small talk. Youre the pretty librarian he sees through the window and he finally gets the nerve to go in and talk to you- making excuses for renting movies or getting certain books that he actually read 50+ years ago (you don't know that yet) He comes by every week and he lets you do the talking because you just make him nervous he doesn't know what to say- just a smile and a nod and you think he must find you so annoying because you're ranting about one of your favorite books that you got him to read. However he loves listening to you talk, and hearing you be so passionate. It's not until he quietly gifts you a 1st edition of one of your favorite books that you must have mentioned in passing wishing you had that you realized that maybe you two had something a lil more going on than just him listen to you ramble on all the time. Maybe he rents a movie you say you really wanted to watch in passing- and he trips over his words trying to invite you over to watch it with him- only to shut up when he messes up for 5th time. You smile, and ask him what time <3

[band--psycho]

Poly141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 10)

I hope you all enjoy this part 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Catch up on the previous part here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Warnings: Angst, fear, worry, a panic attack, brief mention of torture

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist /Taskforce 141 Masterlist /Join My Taglist

“Here,” Kyle said, placing a cup of coffee in front of you.

“Thanks,” You replied quietly, smiling at him briefly as you wrapped your hands gently around the warm cup in front of you.

Then you  turned your attention to John, the table between the two of you feeling like a chasm. 

You weren’t entirely sure how to start the conversation; you weren’t here for small talk, or reconciliation.

You were here to understand why John thought someone was going to use you to hurt them. 

And try to understand how that led to him breaking up with you, because in your mind, it made absolutely no sense. 

If he thought your life was in danger, wouldn’t he want to stay close to you, to protect you.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”  You asked; your eyes never leaving Johns.

His jaw tensed and his voice was low, “The less you knew, the safer you were,”

You shook your head at his answer,“I should’ve known,”

“I thought I was doing the right thing, we all did..” he continued, “needed to put as much distance between us and you as possible,”

“Then why show up at the coffee shop?” You countered; you weren’t angry, just confused. 

If the whole point of breaking your heart was to protect, why risk coming back into your life now?

Was the threat they’d been protecting you from gone now? 

“I shouldn’t have,”

“But you did, and then you all came to my house,”

“That was only when we found out who you were marrying,” Johnny spoke up before John could say anything, drawing your attention away from the Captain and to the Scotsman.

“Because of what happened in Mexico?” You questioned, watching as he shook his head a little. 

“Not just that.”

“Graves wasn’t the only one who betrayed us back then,” Simon stated; his words only made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“Who?” You asked, feeling another uneasy feeling in your gut.

“Shepherd,” 

John’s answer made your breath hitch, “General Shepherd?”

He nodded grimly.

“He gave Graves the order,” You noticed how his hands tightened around his own coffee cup; you were surprised it wasn’t cracking with how tightly he was holding it, “When we got back I kept looking over my shoulder, waiting for something to happen. We didn’t know where Shepherd was but we knew he was still alive… ”

“He knew you, knew how much you meant to us…he could’ve used you to hurt us,” Kyle continued, on John’s behalf, before placing his hand on top of a John’s, knowing how difficult this was for him…for any of them, to talk about 

“You were protecting me, from Shepherd?” 

“Yes,” Simon responded instantly.

“And he’s been in hiding ever since?” 

“We tried findin’ him,” Johnny added, “but every lead just ended up being a dead end,”. 

You were quiet for a moment, processing what they’d just told you. 

How was it possible to have more information and be even more confused than you were originally 

Shepherd was the person they were protecting you from.

He was the reason they broke up with you…

But he was Phillips' boss. 

You knew he was.

Phillip told you he was when you guys received a card from him for your engagement.

“Y/n?” Simon’s voice halted the spiral your mind was running down.

“He sent us a card for our engagement…” you breathed out; feeling everyone’s eyes on you. 

“What?” It was John’s voice you heard now; when your eyes met his you saw something you’d never seen before. 

Fear. 

Right now, he wasn’t the soldier, the Captain, or the man who’d walked away from you. 

He was just a person scared of losing something again. 

Scared of losing you…

“Shepherd, he sent Phillip and I a card for our engagement…” you repeated; trying not to freak the fuck out.

The actions of the men around you only added to your fears. 

John was still at your revelation. 

Kyle’s brows were furrowed deeply, his confusion quickly turning to alarm.

Johnny was sitting forward in his chair, tense like he was preparing for a fight.

And Simon? His expression didn't change much at all, but his eyes sharpened, locking on to yours.

Your mind began spiralling again. . 

Shepherd knew you. 

Knew about your history with the men around this table.

Knew that you were with Phillip. 

Knew that you two were getting engaged.

Knew where you lived….

“He knows where I live…” you whispered; hating how evident the fear was in your voice. 

Another thought dawned on you; one that only fueled your doubt of Phillip’s words from the previous night. 

You could believe that Y/f/n told Phillip about your exes; they hated them for what they did to you, and they were never one to hide their feelings about such things. 

And as much as you wanted to believe that that was how Phillip knew who your exes were; you couldn’t quite believe it. 

The more you thought about it the less believable it seemed; you just needed your friend to confirm what you were already beginning to believe. 

But now there was a very clear answer on how Phillip knew about your exes…It was never Y/f/n who told him about them. 

It was Shepherd. 

There were too many thoughts racing through your mind for you to keep up with. 

If Shepherd wanted to hurt you, he could’ve by now, so why hadn’t he? 

Unless he didn’t need to…

You marrying Phillip would hurt John, Simon, Johnny and Kyle enough; and he wouldn’t even need to lay a hand on you. 

But if you called off the wedding…. 

You glanced in front of you; your eyes landing on Kyle who’d been sitting next to you; he was leaning forward with a worried look on his face; that’s when you became aware of how fuzzy your vision was becoming. 

“Y/n,” John knelt down next to you; his hand holding yours gently, worry evident in his eyes. 

You couldn’t even remember him moving from his seat, let alone kneeling down next to you.

“Ye need to take deep breaths, Bon,” Johnny cooed softly, kneeling down on the opposite side of you, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

You hadn’t even realised how quick your breathing had been, nor how fast your heart was beating until he’d pointed it out to you. 

You tried to do what he’d said, attempting to get your breathing under control. 

Deep shaky breaths left your lips. 

You weren’t just trying to calm your breathing down; but your mind too, because you knew you couldn’t calm down until you got those thoughts under control. 

“You’re safe,” you heard Simon whisper in your ear; feeling his hands on your shoulders, massaging them softly, in an attempt to help calm you down. 

He kept whispering those words as Johnny whispered his own words of reassurance whilst continuing to rub circles on to your hand. 

John occasionally squeezed your hand, letting you know that he was still here. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there, calming down, but eventually your breathing became slower, steadier, returning to normal.

“There ye are,” Johnny said with a faint smile on his lips; his eyes glancing up to Simon who was standing behind you. 

“Drink this,” Kyle ordered softly, handing you a glass of water. 

You did as you were told, not having the energy to argue with him, and began sipping the water in the glass before looking down at John.

“What do I do now?” You whispered; needing him to tell you what to do because right now, you had absolutely no idea how to handle any of this. 

You thought Phillip loved you; but the more you seemed to find out…the more you seemed to realise that your relationship was built on nothing other than deceit and lies. 

You didn’t want to go back to that home. 

Not now.

Not knowing what you knew now. 

But you also knew that you probably didn’t have much of a choice….

Before John had a chance to answer your question there was a knock at the door. 

“Y/n are you there?”

Relief washed over not only you, but over the others in the room too as they heard the sound of Y/f/n voice shouting through the door.

Taglist:

@sunrise-willarive @imdeadontheinside786 @asterionex @pinkyyoshi @yaradigital @euriiverse @eternallyvenus @s-void @rivwritesiguess @lilyalone @salemlovespies @z-wantstowrite @maryrhodalouandted @uraeus56 @skipping-throughlife @backalleytimetravel @fruitymoonbeams-blog @alejandro-vargass-wife @moon-on-the-crest @dasphinxone @magicwriterinspo @lilylovesliterature @tabbslouuformer @disasterofastory @yearninglustfully @therapyneeds @beautifuleaglealpaca @mischievousprincess01 @rite-te-suli-kireysi-ite @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @ontopofthefridge @rosecastiello @bookworm1767 @harrys-ravioli @hypertail @hahaifolded @felinegaymerl0ver @little-mini-me-world @elita1 @noheadcanons-juststories @nocturnal-nyx @ilovesoapandnotthebar @myamazingnerdyness

[jeonscatalyst]

What’s the Still With You is a jikook song lore?, after Jimin used it today I saw a few people mentioning it! I am having fomo LMAOOO

Hi anon,

Where do I even start? Ok let’s see.

As you may know, “Still With You” is a song Jungkook composed and released during Festa 2020. I’m sure you’ve listened to the song and perhaps even read the lyrics, but I’ll include them here just in case.

[Intro]

“Your faint voice brushes past me

Please call my name just one more time

Though I'm standing still beneath the frozen sunset

I'll take one step at a time toward you

Still with you

[Verse 1]

A dark room with no light

I shouldn't get used to it

But I'm used to it again

The low-pitched sound of the air conditioner

If I don't have this, I might just fall apart

[Pre-Chorus 1]

We laugh together, we cry together

These simple feelings were everything I had

When will it be?

If I see you again

I will look into your eyes

And say, "I missed you"

[Chorus]

In a rapturous memory

The rain pours even when I dance alone

By the time this mist clears

I'll run with my feet wet

So hug me then

[Verse 2]

The moon looks lonely

Like it's crying in the bright night sky

Even though I always know the morning will come

I want to stay in your sky like a star

[Pre-Chorus 2]

Every day, every moment

If I knew this was gonna happen

I would've cherished those moments more

When will it be?

If I see you again

I will look into your eyes

And say, "I missed you"

[Chorus]

In a rapturous memory

The rain pours even when I dance alone

By the time this mist clears

I'll run with my feet wet

So hug me then

[Outro]

Behind the faint smile that looked at me

I will draw a beautiful purple shade

Though our footsteps may be out of step

I want to walk this path with you

Still with you”

(Lyrics from Genius)

You’ve probably heard about the infamous Rainy Day story too and I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed any parallels between that story and the lyrics of Still With You, but they’re hard to ignore once you do.

As many of us know, the Rainy Day story is about a fight Jimin and Jungkook had, which ended in an emotional reconciliation in the rain. They reportedly ran to hug each other the moment they reunited and while it may just be coincidence, there’s a particular part of the song that feels strikingly reminiscent of that exact moment.

“In a rapturous memory

The rain pours even when I dance alone

By the time this mist clears

I'll run with my feet wet

So hug me then”

Honestly, much of Still With You gives off a vibe that strongly mirrors the essence of that story or at least, that’s what many Jikookers (myself included) have long felt. That’s why there’s been widespread speculation within the Jikook community that Jungkook may have drawn inspiration from that event, at least for certain parts of the song.

Now, I don’t personally believe the entire song is about Jikook. It could very well be a blend, partly written for ARMY, and partly inspired by personal experiences, possibly including moments he shared with Jimin. Of course, we can’t know for sure, so we do what fans do best: we observe and speculate.

One thing that adds to this theory though is the timing of the release. Still With You came out during Festa 2020 - the same year Jungkook first shared the Rainy Day story with us. It could be nothing, but it does make you wonder. Perhaps releasing the song triggered a memory, prompting him to share that story. I’m not suggesting he was intentionally dropping hints for shippers, but it’s possible that something about the process of releasing Still With You stirred something in him and maybe, just maybe, the song and the story are more connected than we think.

What’s also intriguing is that this theory isn’t exclusive to Jikookers anymore. While most of the Jikook community began connecting the dots back in 2020, other parts of the fandom seemed to start seeing the resemblance too, especially after Jungkook revisited the Rainy Day story in one of his 2023 Lives. To me, it all fits. The pieces align in a way that feels too cohesive to dismiss entirely.

And then there’s Jimin who used Still With You in the background of his Instagram story when he posted those photos with Jungkook. Symbolic? Possibly. Given what they just went through together during enlistment and then Jimin choosing that particular song out of tons of other songs he could’ve chosen from, it makes perfect sense. And in some ways, it subtly reinforces the long-standing speculation that this song or at least parts of it might have been inspired by that rainy night they’ll both probably never forget.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I need to draw the dragons/trolls and their humans interact more 😭 I rarely draw them together but they’re so silly, I love them.

Not really sure how I want their relationships to be like since it’s not exactly dragon & rider now, but I think I’ll make it unique to each pair. They’re all friends, at least. I think. Allies, let’s say allies.

Rambles :

Some very basic lore I got going on is that Toothless was a former Gumm Gumm soldier who went rogue and was essentially faction-less for a while. I might change this later but Toothless defected from Gunmar BEFORE canon starts, so Hiccup isn’t the reason he went rogue. BUT, he IS the one who convinces Toothless to actually officially join the Trollhunter gang as an ally (and later friends who would die for one another). Toothless is going to have a little bit of Draal vibes to him in the beginning.

Snotlout is a half changeling! Don’t even know if it’s possible but this is my AU so whatever. He discovers way later in the story that his father is secretly a changeling who is working for Gunmar, and at the same time also finds out about the whole Troll situation. (He’s the last one to actually be told about the Trollhunting business in the gang)

He and Hookfang get close because Hookfang is the only one in the entire Trollmarket who doesn’t give him too much shit about being part changeling. They still smack each other around like in canon though, they are so stupid <3

So far I’ve decided to switch :

Hiccup -> Jim Lake

Astrid -> Claire Nuñez

Ruff n Tuff -> Aja and Krel (3Below)

Fishlegs -> Eli & Toby (I’m combining their roles so Fishlegs is both the “Nerd” and also gets to wield the hammer and stick by Hiccup’s side in the beginning. I think their friendship is underrated alr, they need development)

Snotlout -> Steve Palchuck

For the villains I am noooot so sure but I’m definitely switching Viggo -> Strickler. I have no idea who to make Angor Rot though, mayyybe Grimmel? I’m thinking of keeping Gunmar because I feel like if I switch him out it might fuck things up too much lore-wise, but I am open to change!