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stackslip · 2 years

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chainsaw man 112 thoughts below cut bc there is so much to unpack here

asa is so sad about the broken sword/uniform.... baby i’m so sorry :((((

“i don’t know who that woman is” YORU YOU ARE EITHER DUMBER THAN I THOUGHT OR A LIAR SHE HAS YOUR EYESSSSS

student council slash devil hunting club DMLXDS i lvoe the ongoing animanga tradition of student councils being obscenely powerful

it is EXTREMELY funny of fujimoto to drop a hell of a mystery last chapter, leading to a week of speculation and despair and everyone thinking it’ll be the main mystery fr this part, only to be like “oh yeah the imposter is this random dude who just like openly calls himself chainsaw man”. king of anticlimax. love it

i mean i suspect there are like ten imposters running around thanks to the powers of justice and/or coolgirl right there (famine? who is also justice?) but still. extremely funny

g-d asa looks so tired of yoru’s loser shtick this is so funny i love their relationship. pathetic loser teenage girl and an even more pathetic devil possessing her

“as long as you’re inside me, not only will i be miserable but the people around me will be too” sobs cries owwww i get a feeling that the day they do separate it’s gonna hurt like hell even tho rn asa hates her (understandably)

HAHAHAHAHA THIS FACE SHE IS SOOOOOO

the chicken stomping thing...... my heart hurts. g-d everyone is gonna end up miserable and making terrible choices and doing terrible things. i love it

“i’d rather kill a human than a cat” 1) parallels, again 2) that’s fair and also v funny

the fact that creating a weapon involves guilt is so cool bc it’s the contrary of what justice has been doing--granting powers in exchange for the students/hosts believing their every action is utterly righteous. to become stronger asa has to understand that she is doing something heinous and cruel and choose to do it anyway. and she decides to do it.......... rhghhhhhhhh

obsessed with this set of panels and the cat LITERALLY being larger/more important in asa’s vision than the ant-like humans below her....... g-d i hope fujimoto sticks to giving her a villain arc bc it’s genuinely fasctinating stuff

asa seeing denji and immediately going “yeah he sounds good to kill. he’s an idiot and a loser but he sounds like a good person.” augh.

AND THEN IT TURNS OUT DENJI HAS BEEN SCAMMING HOMELESS PEOPLE FOR MONEY FJKSDXDKQLZKLX DENJIIIIIII i love my asshole son

but also............. why aren’t people at school allowed to take on part-time jobs when half of them are orphans and can’t provide for themselves. what the fuck. and denji has to take care of a little sister AND like eight dogs and a cat too??

asa’s self deprecation is so delicious i love a self hating pathetic loser who’s also really tragic and sad and clearly on a terrible terrible path

denji is catching all the cat comparison nows. did fujimoto get a cat and say dog people are out cats are IN

[cowboy AHHHHHHH dot mp4]

literal devil on her shoulder........... and thinking of yuko..................... augh

AHHHH THE FACT THAT THEYRE BOTH IN SHADOW AND SHE CATCHES HIM RIGHT AS HES ABOUT TO STEP IN LIGHT AND THE WHOLE CONVO TAKES PLACE IN THAT SHADOW RIGHT BEFORE THE LIGHT oh fujimoto is gonna go for tragedy alright

in general i’m really loving the way the conversation is framed i love how awkward this is how harrowing it is from asa how denji softens i love this so much i love that both protags are traumatized loser teens who have lived unfathomably tragic lives and it’s gonna get so much worse and they don’t understand one another but they are SO similar too.....

UGHHHH ASA IS FEELING REAL GUILT AT THIS AND THINKING SHES GONNA KILL A SAD LOSER TEEN...............

and like. oh man someone earlier said that denji points her out as the girl who hates chainsaw man. and here she is coming up to it asking him out on a date. a girl who hates CHAINSAW MAN but wants to ask HIM out. it’s like. everything he’d hoped and wanted. someone who wants him and sees him and not chainsaw man. and yet he responds in such a shy way when in part 1 he’d have been ecstatic........ genuinely shocked that it would happen at all

sadder still is that she really isn’t seeing him as a person at all and is just aiming for chainsaw man augh. ow.

and really what asa is seeing is a way out of this entire nightmare a way to save yuko (WHOS ALREADY DEAD AAHHHHHHHHHHH) a way to end this entire pantomime and attempt to reclaim a normal life all for the cost of this one loser kid whose name she doesn’t even know but who is so much like her and yuko and augh. augh AUGH

g-d it’s like twenty pages and there is so much to unpack here

#eli talks #csm

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blorbologist · 2 years

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answering the call for vax meta: i just get so (lovingly) annoyed when scanlan or any of the others would accuse vax of being emo and sad when vax was always the first to notice when grog was getting bored or keyleth was nervous or percy was guilt-ridden and he tasked himself with being the one to bring chaos and joy into the quiet moments, to remind everyone that life is short and there's no sense in wallowing in the terrible when they're alive right now and they have each other, like vax loved life so fucking much and reducing him to the emo boy of the group bc he wears black and has the weight of the goddess of death on his shoulders is so sad, that boy lived more in his few years than most live in a lifetime and he was so fucking happy about it

👏👏👏👏 YES

I can't help but wonder if it's a little petty on Scanlan's part, reducing Vax to his archetype when Scanlan's feeling stuck in his own and too insecure to branch out!

Vax is so full of love and enthusiasm when not in the throes of depression (and even then! To try and cheer up Vex and Kiki and everyone else!). This guy fusses with his sister's hair while invisible to make her look silly, shaves half of Grog's beard, kisses everyone flat on the mouth just because he can! Keyleth’s (rightfully) angsting over her looming immortal life and he’s just offering what little he has to her.

And! Lest we forget - he wanted to go to Sarenrae for a while, before he made his deal with the RQ. I think at least ten episodes of foreshadowing it, off the top of my head (when does he get the symbol stitched into his glove?)? He was going to literally lighten up a bit, before his sister died and his love for her made his path shift. That light never really died, though, I don't think.

One of my favorite things is a little bit where he doesn't get Vex - he doesn't get why she needs the title or, I think, offer the reassurance she's looking for after Saundor because as far as he’s concerned she's perfect. He loves her so much he can't quite grasp that she genuinely believes what Syngorn and Saundor think. Because he loves her and she's perfect. And he'll loudly preach that from the sky while flaunting the boots and covering her bear in ribbons and offering his life of service for her simple life. And he'll offer his life, period, when the people he loves so need him.

(He looks at the Raven Queen and calls her lonely.)

He's gotta wear all black - otherwise the love in him will glow too much to stealth.

#ask #thank so you much this ABSOLUTELY got ideas flowing ty ty I'm so excited for this bit now #vax'ildan #cr vax #campaign 1 #critical role #critical role meta

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marmolita · 7 months

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medical stuff behind the cut (nothing particularly bad)

So I've been having annoying headaches, and I went to an ENT and he did some screening to see if it was sinuses or migraines and we decided probably sinuses. I took antibiotics to treat sinus infection and it seemed to help but not 100%, then he did a scan and was like "if it's not tolerable then the next step is sinus surgery" but I'm still not entirely sure it's sinuses and I don't want to surgery. It seems to be worse based on menstrual cycle and weather at times which seems sus for sinuses but idk.

I also had a time my endocrinologist was like "headaches? hmm cut your synthroid so that on Sundays you only take half a pill" a couple years ago and that seemed to help at the time, but then all my hypothyroid symptoms started coming back, and also at that time I weighed like 20lb less than I do now and presumably my synthroid dosage depends somewhat on my weight so idk, I'm trying it again though.

Also, maybe I have headaches bc I haven't been exercising and my veins suck ass?

But now I'm thinking about migraines and how I often have a lot of floaters in my vision that are kinda dark/shadowy colored dots, and I've had them long enough to have had two optometrist exams with retinal imaging so I know my retina isn't detaching, but it just occurred to me literally yesterday that that could perhaps be the kind of "visual disturbance" that might count as a migraine aura? It's literally just extra floaters that are dark instead of clear though so for all I know my contact lenses might be dirty, and it's only visible in bright lights, so idk????

Then meanwhile at the same time I had a blood draw for my thyroid labs where she absolutely could not get my vein, even the good vein (I have terrible veins) and also I've been more sore/achy in the mornings esp and now I'm like, what if this is all really part of whatever undiagnosable connective tissue issue I've had for forever? should I go back to the rheumatologist who ten years ago was like "look sometimes a diagnosis takes years because we have to wait and see if any new symptoms pop up, but since your chronic pain is manageable with OTC painkillers that's honestly about the best we could hope for anyway"? should I see a neurologist in case it's migraines or some other brain thing?

sure would be nice to have a primary care doctor who actually was useful but that appears to be a thing of the past, it takes three weeks to get a 5 min appointment where he tells me "try these allergy meds" that I then look at the side effects for and am like wtf no

#lita talks about herself

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hell-heron · 1 year

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I posted 1,224 times in 2022

162 posts created (13%)

1,062 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@selkiewife

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I tagged 1,147 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#asoiaf - 495 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#hilarious that luisa description tho... so isa is technically 'ideal in every way' but have i told you of how beautiful and smart and kind-

My Top Posts in 2022:

Day 4 - (some tea about) House Greyjoy and House Harlaw

There tends to be a misconception in the fandom that Theon was not allowed to have contact with his family during his time at Winterfell, but that's not actually true, he just didn't get letters very often and his mail might have been read, but presumably he was allowed to reply. However in this light it becomes VERY interesting to see what information he has and doesn't have about his family:

Gods, he has grown grim, Theon thought. "Will I find my sister and my lady mother at Pyke?"

Theon searched for his uncle Euron’s Silence. Of that lean and terrible red ship he saw no sign,

Theon did not need to be told that Black Wind was Asha's longship. He had not seen his sister in ten years, but that much he knew of her.

A memory prodded at Theon. In one of his rare curt letters, Lord Balon had written of his youngest brother going down in a storm, and turning holy when he washed up safe on shore. "Uncle Aeron?" he said doubtfully.

Maybe, you know, he's "in denial about everything about the Iron Islands" because they only fucking write him the news that makes the family look good

28 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

Day 26 - Parallels with Other Characters, also Names, Self-Actualization and Revenge, part 1 - Theon and Arianne

I want to say this started as an entirely different meta but I got distracted midway by the fact there are THREE characters besides Theon, actually, that seem to pass from being referred to in chapter titles by aliases to being referred by their name. Victarion in ADWD, Arianne and Barristan in TWOW. Obviously, GRRM might still have to pick chapter titles for TWOW, but given that the Forsaken, Mercy etc had their own titles, I think it works.

This strikes me bc Arianne and Victarion are characters with MASSIVE ACOK Theon energy in such a way that I think this says something about the way Theon's self actualization and finding his name again came to be.

Theon and Arianne occupy, alas, very similar spaces in the heart and spleen of the fandom as two ambitious very young adults who don't trascend past the inexperience and immaturity that could be expected even a little, in a series where half the major povs are extremely gifted children. Arianne's mistakes are obviously not as destructive as Theon's but there's a racist and sexist bias against her making it so they're pretty much equally hated. They're both extroverted and snarky and overtly sexual in a way that hides some pretty massive trust issues, struggling with rivarly towards a sibling they have very good reasons to feel is favored by their fathers over them despite being officially the heir, and they lash out against this in a very similar way

The queenmaker plot and the taking of Winterfell are similarly feverish, desperate, euphorically exciting-until-they're-not endeavors in which both Arianne and Theon endanger and hurt children they massively project on (the actual child murder on Theon's part nonwitstanding). Theon seeks to avenge his inner child reenacting his own hostage situation from a position of control, Arianne to heal her inner child realizing her fantasy of a disinherited daughter crowned over her younger brother. This is literally how she presents the plan to Arys:

“Will not? Cannot! Myrcella is more fit for rule …”

“A son comes before a daughter.”

“Why? What god has made it so? I am my father’s heir. Should I give up my rights to my brothers?”

At this point, needless to say, Arianne knows exactly nothing about Tommen to justify this. Obviously her fantasy is doomed even before her plan itself fails- Myrcella is younger than Arianne was when she found her father's letter and never had any desire for the Iron Throne, she doesn't quite comprehend the situation, her first reaction when she's called queen is fear that something happened to Tommen, where Arianne blindly embraces the idea Quentyn plotted against her. An absolutely unsatisfying projection vehicle, just as Bran, Rickon and Beth are for Theon - the Stark boys are helped escape, the whole household covering for them, when he tries to use Beth against her father as he was used, ser Rodrik begs to take him in her place. Theon's misery of being held hostage long term, completely alone and unsupported, only to realize his family had given up on him from the start remains his and his alone.

The motive also feels to me the same - grab for power that's actually a grab for agency lashing out at a situation of forced stasis they spent 10 years in, that's actually a desperate appeal for their fathers' love and trust. Theon's time in Winterfell is obviously horribly traumatic but it also represents a forced stasis, it's extremely damaging for him to have an illusion of physical freedom to do what he pleases vis-a-vis training, hunting, whoring etc. while actually he's prevented by adult responsibilities even as his fifteen year old foster brothers lead armies. The attainment of manhood on the Iron Islands for noble boys seems to coincide with becoming a captain. Theon is taken when he was just beginning to learn:

Ugly as it was, that smile brought back a hundred memories. Theon had seen it often as a boy, when he’d jumped a horse over a mossy wall, or flung an axe and split a target square. He’d seen it when he blocked a blow from Dagmer’s sword, when he put an arrow through a seagull on the wing, when he took the tiller in hand and guided a longship safely through a snarl of foaming rocks.

then never sets foot on a boat again for the next ten years and seemingly is put to train on equal footing with Robb and Jon who are four years younger. The fandom generally assumes Ned's plan for Theon is to wait until Balon dies to then have Theon as a lord friendly to the mainland interests: this makes perfect sense but we never know about it. We never find anything about what future Theon expects, he's not betrothed, obviously we find out when he returns that Balon is actively praying for him to die rather than awaiting the return of his heir for him to finally have a true place etc. but Theon has no way to know the situation at home either because he's only getting letters about the good news. Theon is pretty adaptable - he has some characteristics that make him slightly weird in the islands (preferrence for riding, fancy bitch taste, not used to the different power dynamics, uninterested in religion) and in the North (some romanticization of the Old Way, dark humor) but he does decently in both until he explodes in Winterfell, he's at ease in the Riverlands in the Blackfish' forces, he considers the Night's Watch as an option where he might be decently happy etc. The problem is he's never allowed to hope or prepare for any future, the war of the Five Kings is literally the first time he has any direction in life.

As for Arianne:

The freedom that Prince Oberyn allowed his bastard daughters had never been shared by Prince Doran’s lawful heir. Arianne must wed; she had accepted that. Drey had wanted her, she knew; so had his brother Deziel, the Knight of Lemonwood. Daemon Sand had gone so far as to ask for her hand. Daemon was bastard-born, however, and Prince Doran did not mean for her to wed a Dornishman. Arianne had accepted that as well. One year King Robert’s brother came to visit and she did her best to seduce him, but she was half a girl and Lord Renly seemed more bemused than inflamed by her overtures. Later, when Hoster Tully asked her to come to Riverrun and meet his heir, she lit candles to the Maid in thanks, but Prince Doran had declined the invitation. The princess might even have considered Willas Tyrell, crippled leg and all, but her father refused to send her to Highgarden to meet him. She tried to go despite him, with Tyene’s help... but Prince Oberyn caught them at Vaith and brought them back. That same year, Prince Doran tried to betroth her to Ben Beesbury, a minor lordling who was eighty if he was a day, and as blind as he was toothless.

What we get here is: Arianne has arguably more freedom than any young lady of her rank in the rest of Westeros, but she doesn't perceive it as freedom because while she can make more independent choices for the present about sex, friendships with people of all social ranks, parties etc, the future is both outside her agency AND unknown to her, which are both factors to her dissatisfaction with it. We know Doran means for Arianne to be Viserys' queen consort, Arianne only knows he doesn't mean for her to be princess of Dorne, but she deduces that he must want her to be someone's consort, and she doesn't outright reject this. She courts several heirs, not second sons of rich families willing to back her claim up to expand their influence in Dorne or something. She's willing to work with her father's plan and have her future partially dictated as long as she knows enough to make the best of it. Arianne is a huge people's person, very charming and able to manipulate, does well in her role "in charge of feasts and frolics" etc. and we have absolutely no reason to think she'd be either incapable or miserable as a consort. So the problem here is that Doran, through ridiculous matches he knows she won't accept, is essentially forcing her into a suspended childhood where she can neither plan for a future as princess of Dorne nor for one as consort. And she must lash out against it to have any feeling of agency in her life.

So she does, like Theon, recklessly and daringly and with an initial success that speaks of her cunning and boldness, like Theon, she claims a vengeful motivation towards external forces when really it's to vindicate her place within her own family she wants, like Theon

Asha shook her head. “How could you be such a bloody fool? Children . . .” “They defied me!” he shouted in her face. “And it was blood for blood besides, two sons of Eddard Stark to pay for Rodrik and Maron.” The words tumbled out heedlessly, but Theon knew at once that his father would approve. “I’ve laid my brothers’ ghosts to rest.”

“And what is it I want, ser?”

“The Sand Snakes freed. Vengeance for Oberyn and Elia. Do I know the song? You want a little taste of lion blood.” That, and my birthright. I want Sunspear, and my father’s seat. I want Dorne. “I want justice.”

She fails miserably, like Theon, but how does it end?

On the morning that she left the Water Gardens, her father rose from his chair to kiss her on both cheeks. "The fate of Dorne goes with you, daughter," he said, as he pressed the parchment into her hand. "Go swiftly, go safely, be my eyes and ears and voice... but most of all, take care."

"I will, Father." She did not shed a tear. Arianne Martell was a princess of Dorne, and Dornishmen did not waste water lightly. It was a near thing, though. It was not her father's kisses nor his hoarse words that made her eyes glisten, but the effort that brought him to his feet, his legs trembling under him, his joints swollen and inflamed with gout. Standing was an act of love. Standing was an act of faith.

He believes in me. I will not fail him.

Doran and Arianne's dialogue in The Princess in the Tower is one of the highlights of AFFC for me, it's so heartbreaking. Arianne is able to confront her father about the baggage of the last ten years, which Theon does in the show but not truly in the books. While Doran is understandably disappointed and upset with her, they are able to come to a reconciliation, he slowly comes to admit he wronged her, he admits to her his most fallible, uncautious human feelings, his "heart's desire". He breaks down thinking nostalgically of Arianne as a little girl. More in ADWD: he sees her loyal nature and good intentions in the bad choices she made and defends her:

Obara laughed. “Aye, our sweet Arianne has seen to that.”

The princess flushed, and Hotah saw a spasm of anger pass across her father’s face. “What she did, she did as much for you as for herself. I would not be so quick to mock.”

He even enacts the #1 Theon love language of laughing at her bad jokes :(

The little princess smiled. “Three Oberyns, with teats.”

Prince Doran laughed. It had been so long since Hotah last heard him laugh, he had almost forgotten what it sounded like

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33 notes - Posted March 26, 2022

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33 notes - Posted July 22, 2022

and taken him from his home

day 3 - hostage identity and childhood

35 notes - Posted March 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Prince Bolkonsky is honestly such a funny antagonist in how hard it is to explain how his assholery manifests... Like "in his scene of most heinous and abusive behavior this despicable man expresses the belief women can learn maths too and should choose their husbands independently" "the callous bitch really ruins everyone's life with his stance that his 30 year old son shouldn't marry a teenage girl"

128 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#op #long post #god this was a SERIOUS flop year wasn't it ghjk

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helliontherapscallion · 3 years

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Headcanons for SBI Sibling!Parrot Hybrid!Reader

(A/N): ope, went a little overboard with this one (also it’s not proofread, so sorry about any mistakes)

You have wings on your back (the feather pattern depends on what parrot floats your boat)

If you’re a Scarlet Macaw, Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, or Chestnut-Fronted Macaw, then you have black lines on your cheeks and heavy black lines around your eyes (think Hawks from bnha but less pointy)

If you are a Hyacinth Macaw, you have yellow markings around your eyes and mouth

If you’re a cockatiel, you have a killer mohawk/hair that is always very pointy and orange circles on your cheeks (how cute!)

I have a feeling that your hair is incredibly soft

Very sensitive wings

I feel like your teeth would be sharp and your nails would normally be fast-growing, long, and sharp

You tilt your head like impossibly far when you’re confused or trying to hear something better

Like your ear would almost be touching your shoulder

The head movements are very jerky and kinda just happen on their own when you hear something so you would have a lot of neck pain : (

You’re allergic to chocolate : (

I feel like people would underestimate you greatly and think you’re nothing except the ditzy comedic relief

Parrots are actually very intelligent

It bums you out to hear people say things like that behind your back when they think you can’t hear, but you try to not let them get to you

You give the best cuddles and are very affectionate with the people you’re close to (you’re also very cautious of strangers)

You’re also very in tune with the emotions of the people around you

You see someone sad? Head nuzzles and wing hugs

You see someone angry? You deescalate the situation the best you can and make sure they’re ok afterwards

You can dilate and contract your pupils rapidly at will

You may or may not stare at people doing it until they notice you staring or until they get creeped out

You fuck hard with any type of seed, nut, or fruit

When you get excited, it’s literally so cute??

Like you do everything parrots do

Little happy pitter patters with your feet, flutter your wings, your pupils contract and dilate rapidly, you make a ton of mob sounds

You’re easily excitable, hyper, and happy most of the time

It makes everyone happy to see you so excited so they would often go out of their way to get you things that make you happy

“Hey (y/n) I have some extra melon seeds if you want em!”

*Pupils contract and dilate rapidly*

You are loud

Like very loud

And very talkative

Like everyone knows where you are at all times

If you’re quiet and they know you’re around, either something is very wrong or they’re about to get pranked

God forbid you start to scream, your scream is loud enough to deafen someone for a brief amount of time and would leave everyone’s ears ringing for days on end

The mere mention of yours and Tommy's names together in one sentence is enough to give Philza a headache (someone give this poor man a couple of advils and a long vacation)

You two are literal demons when you’re together

Very chaotic relationship

You both like to fuck with people by sneaking up behind them

You would make mob sounds and Tommy would jump them before you two made a break for it

You and Tommy almost got killed by Techno a few times, but in your opinion the look on his face was 100% worth it every time

I feel like you would cart him up and down from the towers he builds

He could relate to being stereotyped as the stupid loud one, so he recognizes right away when you’re sad about it and will try to cheer you up

His main go to is the jukebox

Oh my god if he plays his jukebox around you, you go full send with your dancing

*AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING*

He would laugh at your awful dancing, but he would join you eventually

Cat and Mellohi go hard

Speaking of music, Wilbur uses you as a walking soundboard

He needs a sound sample? You better prepare for spending most of your day recreating the sound

He needs back up vocals? You spend most of your day listening to his voice and other singers so you could replicate it

You don’t want to disappoint him so you try extra hard to appease his picky music composition

You kinda stress yourself out over it sometimes

When he notices (which he will, he’s very perceptive), he immediately calls it a day and has some sibling bonding time

You both bond over liking to eat strange things

Amazon macaws like to lick clay deposits on riverbanks so you like to have some on you at all times to lick when you get stressed

Wilbur carries some in a bag in his pocket and you carry a bag of sand

Whenever one of you notices the other has a rough day, you give each other your respective stuff

You have to be sneaky with it though, Philza always takes away nonedible stuff from his children if he sees them trying to eat it (he has good intentions tho)

It always looks like a drug deal

With Techno, I feel like he would find you incredibly annoying at first with how loud you are

He would actually start to hate you when you started to sneak up behind him

It got to the point to whenever he would hear your voice he would get irrationally mad and have to leave the house for a few hours

He, like everyone outside your family, would think you were useless and incredibly stupid

That was until he passed Tommy’s room one day and overheard you crying and telling Tommy about your insecurities

He would spend the next few days ignoring you bc he felt bad

He would spend those days contemplating on why he treated you like he did

Coming to the realization that you were likely trying to get closer to him and you were just being yourself, making him feel like the biggest piece of shit

He totally had no idea how to confront you about this, so naturally he went to Philza (that man was literally so happy that his children were gonna start to get along)

He would spend the day gathering golden melons because he found out that you’d never tried golden melons before from Philza

When he approached you one day with an apology and some golden melons, you were suspicious at first

He hated you, so why would he get you these things if he didn’t need anything from you?

Quickly finding that his apology is genuine and he felt incredibly bad for treating you like that over the years

You picked up on his guilt pretty quickly and made quick work to reassure him

He would take you on short trips and would soon find that you’re very useful in detecting mobs and deterring creepers with cat noises

He would never admit it, but he loves it when you would scare Tommy or Wilbur, thinking it’s hilarious

You also found out that carrying a seven and a half foot tall piglin hybrid was incredibly difficult to do, especially when flying

You two managed to get only about ten feet above the ground before your wings gave out under the strain and you fell on him

“(Y/n) has earned the achievement ‘When Pigs Fly’” flashed on everyone’s comm tablets that day

That wasn’t fun trying to explain to Philza

Philza would be ecstatic to have someone to fly with that he didn’t have to carry

He would take you on flights when you had too much energy

Sometimes racing each other and competing to do tricks midair (which sometimes you both rope your brothers into judging)

Late night flights when you need to get your mind off from something

Watching the sunrise together in silence for once

Bonding over being able to see ultraviolet light when everyone else couldn’t

You always give him the shiny things you come across and he gives you your favorite snacks

He always fusses over your wings, sometimes preening them for you

Helping each other through molts

Matches your excitement sometimes when you’re really happy

You feel bad whenever you hear stories of how difficult you were as a baby

He’s quick to reassure you that raising you was worth it and you turned out to be a great person

But he wouldn’t be lying when he said you were a difficult infant

Your terrible twos stage? His literal hell

Philza swears he can still hear ringing from whenever you would throw tantrums as a toddler, even years after you left your toddler age

He also still has some scars from when you went through your biting phase (teething was awful for you, his poor baby)

But he’s happy he was the one that raised you, he genuinely enjoys your presence

If you’re in a really affectionate mood he is more than willing to let you cuddle up to him while he reads a book or something

WING HUGS WING HUGS WING HUGS WIN-

When he’s had a long day and is stressed out, you immediately pick up on that and do everything in your power to make sure your brothers are quiet and behaved, try to find out what made him so stressed, and sometimes go out of your way to take care of it for him

You try to be the one taking care of him for once as much because he’s taken care of you so well throughout the years

He can tell if you’re overwhelmed or upset just with one glance at your ruffled feathers and your rapidly dilating and contracting pupils

Immediately pulling you out of the situation and letting you talk it out

Whenever he finds you sad about your insecurities, he points out every part of your personality that he loves

That’s before he hunts down the person that made you feel like this (he really lives up to his title of ‘The Angel of Death’)

Overall, you wouldn’t trade your family for the world

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #mcyt x reader #headcanons

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en-amours · 3 years

Text

「 enha going “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad” — hcs 」

— 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: requested by 🍓 anon! frankly, i don’t think this falls into the headcanons category bc they’re all bulletpoint scenarios (which is why this is a bit longer than the other one i wrote) :’> anyways, hope y’all enjoy, and sorry this took a bit longer than intended, hehe <3

— 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, humor, angst in ni-ki’s part if you squint lol

♡ — taglist: @yoshinung @cyberhwng @stargirlstories @lovelycharm05 @honeyju

— 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.9k

「 LEE HEESEUNG ! 」

listen, you love heeseung with all your heart. you would gladly give the world to him if he asked in a heartbeat; but if you have to sit through his aegyo one more time you will throw hands

it didn’t even agitate you the first time you saw his aegyo—in fact, you even found it endearing: you’d use it to clown him every time he’d ask for something

“oh? heedeungie wants a cookie, i hear?”

he does nothing bc he’s resigned himself to the fact that you and the boys would never live him down the moment he agreed to do it

but as he progressively got better and more comfortable practicing cute expressions, it became a “oh, how the turns have tabled” moment and he now uses it to clown you

he knows you hate it, too, so when he does aegyo he goes to the extreme—dignity be damned

so when you give him the blankest look the next time he pulls the cutesy card again, he laughs gently, puffing his cheeks out as he pokes his dimple

“hee,” you start, “do you plan on getting out of this relationship in one piece?”

but your boyfriend—being the absolute warrior he is—pays no heed to your tone and moves closer, your demise giving him all the joy he could possibly have. “why? i thought you loved heedeungie?”

not anymore, you don’t

before you can retort, heeseung grins at your expression. “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad~”

when you go quiet he considers stopping the whole façade

then he feels your lips on his

haha, heartbeat go brrrrrrrr

mans is so 👏 damn 👏 flustered 👏 when you put your hand against his cheek

you pull away once you can feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips; he’s rosy and breathless and he nearly loses his mind once he realizes you’re grinning

“so that’s what it takes to get you to stop… maybe you should do aegyo more often.”

——————

「 JAY PARK ! 」

“oh, gODDAMMIT QUIT IT WITH THE TURTLE SHELLS, JAY.”

“WHY DON’T YOU MAKE ME??”

this is what the rest of the members have to deal with every time jay has the nerve to ask you to play video games with him you’re both the reason why jungwon bought everyone a pair of earplugs each

your level of competitiveness skyrockets whenever it’s a duel (or even games where you’re both on the same team—it’s just a trial of who can outdo the other)

god forbid anyone who suggests card games on a sleepover (looking at you, jake; ni-ki still hasn’t forgiven him for suggesting uno when he was situated right between you and jay) because they’re in for a long time of ✨ suffering ✨

it’s an instinct for everyone to put one foot out the door when you and jay settle in front of the television

this match in mario kart, however, went a little ,,, differently

“i will crush you, jongseong,” you seethe, eyes blazing because it’s your third rematch and the tiebreaker and you don’t know what you’ll do if you end up losing.

“that’s what you said the last two games,” he scoffs, leaning forward in immense concentration.

“your yoshi character can suck it.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

dude’s about to jump in ecstasy once he’s a few seconds away from the finish line at the third lap, but oh ho ho jay.gif has left the building once you kiss him on the cheek

literally freezes in shock for a solid ten seconds

in the span of which you took your chance to zoom past his avatar, thus winning the tiebreaker

looks at you, then at the screen, back to you again, then—

“WAIT THAT IS C H E A T I NG THAT DOESN’T COUNT WAIT WHAT—”

(he’s highkey vv flustered though; if you just got off your high horse and looked at him you’d have noticed how red he got)

——————

「 JAKE SHIM ! 」

ever since you told jake that you also weren’t able to attend your formal in the past, he’s been dead-set on asking you to a slow dance

you’d told him about it during your one of your many heart-to-heart talks, convos about fading memories from elementary and the anxiety-riddled nights in highschool, until it dwindled down to that

“i’m cool with it—formal is just an excuse to drain half of your college tuition for one night, anyway,” you’d said, but jake didn’t miss the way your eyes went softer in a haze of memories of what could’ve

so now you’re staring up at him, with his hand extended out to you, moon river playing in the background and jake’s smile has never been brighter

“you’re unbelievable,” you state.

“but you’re smiling anyway,” jake shrugs as he pulls you up, he places your hands on his shoulders gingerly, his own pair travelling down to hold your waist.

the next two minutes are spent in immeasurable laughter and half-hearted insults (“y/n, you’re a terrible dancer.” “says the dude who keeps on stepping on my toes every ten seconds, can you not—”); nevermind that there aren’t any cheap party lights blinding you, or your present classmates aren’t there to croon over who you were dancing with—in this tiny living room, all you can focus on is how it feels so right to have jake in your arms, and how this might be better than any formal you’d have attended.

your incredulous mask wears away, and jake dips his head to check with a grin. “aw, is my baby getting sentimental?”

you scoff, suppressing a smile. “mate, you’re the one who cries over layla at least five times a day. i hate you.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad,” he taunts, relishing the way you laugh in response. you do kiss him, on the nose, softly, before resting your head on his shoulder, holding him closer.

“shim jaeyun, you are one of the most cliché people i know,” you pull away to look at him, at his eyes twinkling softly beneath the light, and you smile. “but thank you for this. truly.”

jake laughs softly, presses a kiss to your forehead. “i wouldn’t have formal any other way than this.”

——————

「 PARK SUNGHOON ! 」

so,, uh,,, i may have gotten a tad bit too carried away with sunghoon’s so i wrote a separate drabble for him,,,, hehe

it’s called “loser (affectionately)” and you can find it right here!

did i base the title off the “twitter: hellsite (derogatory)” meme here on tumblr? yes. yes, i did.

do i also think the drabble’s way too fucking cheesy? also yes.

but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless </3

——————

「 KIM SUNOO ! 」

here’s another one that turned into a full-fledged drabble because i have no self-control </3

it’s titled “maybe the night” and you can find it right here!

i got soft listening to ben&ben again 😔 their music is so damn good hhhhhh

highly recommend them !!

(also while writing this i realized i have a soft spot for our ddeonu i love him sobs)

——————

「 YANG JUNGWON ! 」

you hated yang jungwon.

well, no, that’s a lie—let me rephrase that again: you hated yang jungwon for having absolutely no mercy on your wallet

as if you weren’t worn out from the sparring match in taekwondo earlier, your best friend had to go and put the weight of his pride on your shoulders; ambling around with a stance that says, i’m the best and this abnormally overpriced chocolate milk carton acquired from y/n’s demise is solid proof.

(you’re grateful for your friendship, but this is one of the times when you regret ever making the bet with him)

the blushing clouds mark the end of another day, and you sigh, pocketing your (very few) change grumpily. “i’m going to go blind if you keep on smiling like that, yang—tone the brightness down a notch.”

jungwon: no ❤️

you try and reason with him that it was because you had too many shit you had to deal with prior to the match, but the dimpled teen wouldn’t hear any of it (knowing that all of it is bluff, you’re a terrible liar)

“you know that was a one time thing, right?” you say, and jungwon mocks you la-la-la-you-lost and he skips across street like a kid does after school, “i’m gonna beat you next time—”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

he pokes your cheek and retracts quickly when you try to bite him. you glare at him, but the sun hits the side of your face so you end up squinting at him instead.

then he LAUGHS

(u know,,, the one where his eyes turn into crescent moons and his lil dimple shows? yea, that one)

and you’re just standing there like 🤠

you sigh, partially because you’ve seen him do this one too many times, and because you always fall victim to his charm, so you ruffle his hair and trudge on with the air of a fallen soldier

(dw jungwon holds your hand on the way home and gives you a piece of candy bc he loves you, too)

((you’re still beating his ass next time, though,,,))

——————

「 NI-KI ! 」

ni-ki wants to slam his head against a wall (≡^∇^≡)

(as, per usual, how every highschooler feels as they near the end of another laborious school day)

((but even more so in his case bc who the fuck blurts out “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad” when they’re going against their crush in a debate when they can’t think of a effective counterargument?? ni-ki, apparently))

he didn’t even mean to say it; he was so caught up in the heat of the moment that all heed for whatever slipped through his teeth disappeared, and now the whole class is staring at him open-mouthed in equal parts shock and excitement.

but the worst thing is that you’re staring at him, too—with wide eyes and an expression he can’t read

“n-no, i didn’t mean— i— you…” ni-ki’s hands fly up wildly, his limited braincells trying to think of a way to weasel out of the situation (which is impossible now, it seems). “i’m…”

the teacher observing from the side, who’s been aware of ni-ki’s crush for some time: ᕕ[ ・ ▾ ・ ]ᕗ

heat flares in his cheeks and he looks down cursing you because screw you for being so beautiful and smart why did i have to like you i Hate this

…apparently he’s said that out loud too bc his classmates are losing their shit & he promptly wants to ✨ evaporate ✨

everyone is just “??!!” because they’ve been led to believe that y’all hated each other and now this???

“you… like me?” you squeak, ni-ki can’t bear to look at you and he feels remorse peeking in his chest like an old friend; he waits for rejection, or an insult, at the very least, but when he is met with silence he looks up to see that you’re just as frazzled as he is, and his heart leaps. “like… really like me?”

the answer hangs on his tongue, but the bell intervenes, and everyone collectively jumps. ni-ki is the first to dip. he returns to his seat, grabs his bag in one swift motion; the teacher stutters out the usual end-of-class statement out of habit, and with that the blond ambles out of the room with a bitter look, finishing what his sensei was supposed to say: point to y/n.

but if loverboy looked back at that moment, he might’ve seen you trying to fight back a smile, butterflies roaming your stomach; because you no longer have to pick at daisies, wondering he hates me, he hates me not.

#enhypennetwork #enhypenwriters #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #lee heeseung #jay park #jake shim #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #ni-ki #this is a mess i know i’m sorry strawberry anon :’>

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elysianslove · 4 years

Note

hihi, can I request smth! Idk of this comply to your request rules cause I can't find it in your blog (sorry!!) The request is hc with Atsumu, Kuroo and Iwaizumi with an s/o that is considered a bitch by people. Like they don't let anyone walk all over them, people are scared of them but admire them esp in terms of academics but they're actually v loving and a big clumsy mess.

hii!! yeah i don’t really have a set of rules for requesting mainly cause i couldn’t think of any haha, but your request is more than okay! i’ve been obsessing nonstop over atsumu especially recently, and today wasn’t the best of days for me, so this was nice to write heh. thank you for requesting it. i hope you enjoy <3

miya atsumu

atsumu is obsessed w you

seriously, he is just enamored by you. the way you hold your ground and always stand up for yourself, never letting anyone saying anything about you pass by you, your presence so intimidating. he loves it so much. he’s especially fond of the way you’re not even a bitch, you’re just confident in who you are, and everything you’re good at.

he observes from afar at first, the way people shrink in comparison to you regardless of your height. your aura just seems so. powerful? he really wants to approach you, and because this is miya atsumu, the first thought that crosses his mind is this person needs to be mine <3 no he will not take criticism.

so he does. approaches you, introduces himself in a way like you’re already meant to know who he is and he’s just doing you a favor. his heart breaks into tiny little pieces when you just go, “sorry, but no.”

like literally just that you don’t go in detail or anything. you just reject him so plain and simple it’s actually worse than a full fledged out angry rejection. osamu’s so impressed he ready to have you added to his future will.

he grows on you, though, over time. atsumu’s so quitter, and your rejection had only spurred him on. he would’ve backed off, because is a consent king, as they all are and should be, but you’re always so prepared with a quip back at him and you never actually push him away. it’s like a flirty game of tug of war between you two. eventually, he asks you out again, and just for old time’s sake, you jokingly say no lmao. all blood drains from his face that you actually kinda feel bad.

generally, he’s very proud to have you as his s/o. he himself has dealt with people constantly being put off by him and his attitude, so to see you deal with it so well is kind of? encouraging? uplifting? yk?

he also likes how people are both scared of you and admire you. like. he relates to them! you’re incredible!

he’s always snickering when he sees a student approach you literally trembling like a leaf and asks for your help in something academics related. you always say yes, which is something that just. pinches at his heart. the student is also always so surprised at the fact that you’re willing to help. god. atsumu will never have enough of their reactions to you.

when you grow more comfortable with each other, and he discovers what you’re truly like, the person you really are beneath, atsumu just straight up falls in love. he didn’t think you could be any more perfect for him, honestly.

he’s loves the way people are so intimidated by you but he knows that just a few minutes ago you were doodling little hearts in his notebook.

a part of him wants so many more people to be aware that sometimes you can trip over air, and that you’re not as elegant and stoic as everyone thinks you are, but then he’s reminded of the fact that only he knows you’re truly like this, and he shakes that part of him off. atsumu genuinely adores knowing this additional, secret part of you. he doesn’t think you’re fake at all for having what’s seemingly a facade. he just thinks not enough people know what you’re truly like, and that you’re a gem, truly.

he’s also like weirdly obsessed with the two of you as a couple? he knows people are intimidated by him, and it’s so painfully obvious people are intimidated by you. he just. eats that shit up.

he’d also be really supportive if it ever gets to you. super ready to fight anyone. he’ll always tell you “these fake bitches don’t matter babe we the only real ones 😼💯” god havejkdkd

anyways i been fantasizing about having miya atsumu as my bf somebody help im going insane

kuroo tetsurō

kuroo knows of you. everybody does. you’re like, exceptionally good at being one of the most talked about people and also being the most mysterious person in school. the duality has him heart eyes for you.

what probably catches his attention is the way people talk about you, in general, but specifically regarding academics. he overhears a group of people like whispering to each other about you while you’re just standing there minding your own business. they’re just encouraging one of them to approach you and kuroo’s like hm ! let me butt in bc why not !

as a joke, he slides up next to you and points at the group of students and whispers, “they’re talking about you.”

this obviously ticks you off and without looking back you stomp over to the students and just go, “if you have something to say about me say it to my face!” and kuroo’s just watching like ,,, damn that’s hot. the students are so confused and ten times more scared than they first were and one of them just squeaks out that they only wanted to ask for help and you just , “oh. okay! :D.” kuroo’s just ,,, he’s losing his damn mind.

he finds you really interesting, honestly, the way you’re just so strong? like mentally especially. you’re really mature, and you have a strong sense of self. he admires that about you, and continues to love that even when you start dating.

he does ask you out, and he’s a little surprised you said yes, he’s not gonna lie. but you did, from the first time, and he just took you out to a simple picnic date. it was very cute, and the whole time he made you laugh and you were a completely different person than what he had first seen and expected.

he really likes the fact that you’re really confident in yourself in that you won’t let anyone step on you or walk all over you. like he just loves watching you hand someone’s ass to them because they decided they wanted to make a smart comment about you. seriously, he’s insanely in love with it.

he realizes pretty quick that the only reason people are so thrown off by you or are scared to approach you is because no one really gives you a chance to be yourself? like they’re always expecting the worst from you, having heard all these terrible things about you that half aren’t even true, that they don’t even bother trying to get to know you. and that fact really bothers him a lot, he’s not gonna lie, because he believes you’re the best person he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting.

he really loves that you don’t let it bother you though. he’s impressed with how it doesn’t matter if some friends turn out fake, because, in your words, “good riddance.”

the two of you kind of feed off each other’s energies? like he’s super confident in himself, and so are you, so you two only benefit each other in your presences.

to put it simply, kuroo is incredibly impressed with who you are as a person, and it warms his heart so much how you’re so incredible of a person in so many ways, in that you neither let anything pass you by, and in that you’re the cutest, kindest soul he knows.

iwaizumi hajime

brat tamer #1 <3

i think iwa genuinely doesn’t care. not about you! about the things people say. like he hears so many rumors about you and he’s like .... ok. oikawa’s always feeding them to him but he’s just? not bothered by it? doesn’t care? it’s irrelevant information for him anyways?

but then.

he walks past a scene where he sees you just destroying this poor kid. you’re verbally destroying him. the kid’s buried six feet under at this point. you’re not even yelling, but the guy’s shrinking under your gaze and your words and iwazumi’s so mesmerized by the way you do it so flawlessly. you don’t stutter because you’re so sure of your words and so confident in your stance. iwazumi. hums in approval. like. hm. good for them. as they should.

after that he starts paying more attention to anything he hears about you, because he wants to know more. he doesn’t know why. he just does. and then he hears all these different things like “they’re so good at everything they do they can’t be real” and “i would never speak to them if they were the last person on earth” like ? he’s so confused WHICH IS IT

so, because iwaizumi’s a pretty straightforward person, he approaches you.

do not confuse this though, because iwa is a blushing and flustered mess as he asks you to hang out. he’s never done this before, and this is not his style, but he’s just so interested in who you are as a person he was doing it before he realized it happened.

the way you react is so? sweet?

it’s so different than that day he saw you murdering that guy for talking smack, you seem so light and loving he actually feels his heart beat a little too fast in his chest.

as his s/o, iwaizumi likes that he can trust you with yourself. like a part of him will always have that protective side to him, because that’s just the person iwa is, and he’ll always feel the need to step up and speak for you. but another part of him is really amazed by the way you can and are so able of speaking up for yourself. he feels really proud at the lack of insecurity.

he also feels really smug about being with you. because he knows people are intimidated by him, and especially by you, but now that you’re together, he feels untouchable, and he knows you are too. he likes that feeling of power a little too much.

if you ever step out of line at some point, iwaizumi will definitely let you know. he’ll point it out, and if you resist, he knows how to get you down off the pedestal. he’s had brat taming training for years lmao

but he doesn’t think you’re a brat, not at all. in fact, he thinks you’re the sweetest person ever. he loves the versatility of your personality and attitude, in that you’re not just black and white and there’s so much more to you, there’s always grey in between. he likes that you’re endlessly dimensional and that he’s always learning something new about you.

he especially loves the side of you that’s so soft spoken. it’s so endearing to him how you’re one moment so angry you could murder someone in cold blood but then all of a sudden you’re pinching his cheeks and kissing the tip of his nose telling him how cute he is.

yeah iwa really loves you hehe <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi headcanons #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu headcanons #atsumu x reader #atsumu headcanons #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons

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yujikuna · 3 years

Text

golden hour

summary: Din Djarin wanted to kiss you. The thought of it was all-consuming. It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want is the one thing he is bound by a creed to never have.

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

word count: 2k

warnings: absolutely none. just pure fluff and yearning and a shit ton of run on sentences bc that’s my brand

a/n: i posted this over on my ao3 (padme_skywalker) back in april and have decided to post it here since it did fairly well. just something light and fluffy to balance out the pain i’m sure we will all feel during the finale. i did a few quick edits and changes to make this more inclusive, but let me know if something needs to be changed. pls enjoy~

“What’s your favorite color?”

The two of you lay on a grassy hillside on some random planet Mando had stopped at to refuel and for the three of you to stretch your legs. The child was dozing off to the side after spending the entire day waddling in the field and splashing in the nearby stream and chasing after frogs.

“Red,” Mando answered.

You were on your side, arm tucked underneath your head to keep the grass from tickling your face, watching him with curious eyes. It was nice, being able to lay there, the evening sun warming his beskar, as he played some question game you said was popular when you were younger. He didn’t know how you were able to talk so much at one time, taking the simplest questions he asked and answering them as if he asked you how the universe was made or how hyperdrives worked.

It was new to him- the whole not always being in silence thing. Not too long ago he would go weeks without hearing another being’s voice, just sitting in the Razor Crest with only his thoughts to keep him company. It was hard for him at first. It took him at least a month to be able to talk to you about something not related to the child or the ship. But your voice was smooth and sweet like the frozen cream treats he remembers loving as a child and he would listen to you talk about bantha dung if it meant he could hear your lilting accent and the breathy way you would trail off after talking for too long at one time.

“Really? Why?”

Mando glanced at you from the side of his visor. “It reminds me of the blood of my enemies,” he replied, his voice monotone.

Your eyes widened in shock before you threw your head back and laughed. Rolling on your back, you tried to quiet your giggles to keep from waking the baby. “Your jokes are getting better, Mando. Maybe once this whole bounty hunter thing gets to be too boring you can pursue stand-up comedy.”

You couldn’t tell, but he was positively beaming under the helmet, something in his chest warm at being able to make you laugh. He wished he could hear it without the filter of his helmet. He bet it sounds even sweeter.

“Okay, your turn, ask me one.”

Mando looked back up at the sky. “Do you speak any other languages?”

One corner of your mouth turned into a small frown. “No, I’m lucky that the family you saved me from were nice enough to even teach me Basic. I’ve always wanted to learn another, though.” You sat up, turning the top half of your body to him. “Oooh, could you teach me Mando’a? I always hear you speaking in it to the baby.”

He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. Your frown had quickly turned back into a small smile and your eyes were wide with hopefulness. He wanted to tell you yes. He would learn any language in the galaxy just so he could teach it to you. “We’re not… We’re not really supposed to use it with people outside of the covert.” His heart clenched at the sight of your face falling.

You sighed and flopped back onto the ground. “I get that. Can you at least tell me what it is that you always call the baby, though? Ad’ika? What does that mean?”

He was quiet for a moment. “It’s what we call our children,” he said, deciding that the one word would be fine for you to know.

You hummed in response, eyes slipping shut. “That’s sweet. What is it that you always call me when you talk to him?” His face burns under the helmet. He uses a lot of names for you to the child. Mesh’la. Cyare. Cyar’ika. “Buir? I think that’s how you say it.”

Parent. Mother. “I… It’s just a nickname.” He clears his throat, not wanting to think about how much of a line that crosses. “You’re using all your questions up at once.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Mando turns his head to look at you again. He could hardly believe the way you glowed in the light of the setting sun. Your hair was fanned out around you, the light reflecting off of it and bringing out undertones that never show in the dim light of the Crest. It vaguely reminded him of the vibrant loom weavings the three of you had seen the local artisans working on early that day when you were in the market- but ten times more beautiful. Mortal hands could never create something as utterly divine as you were in that very moment.

Your brows furrowed slightly and you chewed on your lip. “Have you—” You cut yourself off. “Never mind.”

“Have I what?”

Your fingers twisted around a blade of grass. “Have you ever kissed someone?”

He nearly choked.

You turned your head toward him. Even the sensors of his helmet could detect the heat that had rushed to your face. “Sorry, that was a weird question. Don’t answer that.”

He couldn’t look at you when he answered. “No. I— I haven’t been without my helmet in front of others since I was a child.”

“Oh.” Silence fell between the two of you. “Have you ever wanted to?”

He should steer the conversation in a different direction. It was his turn to ask a question, anyway. He should ask you what your favorite animal is. Or what ship you would buy if you had unlimited credits. Or if— “Yes.”

He could still feel your gaze burning into him. He didn’t know if it was your eyes or maybe the sun or maybe he wasn’t really on this planet at all and he had somehow fallen in the Armorer’s forge because he felt like his beskar was melting right off his body.

“Anyone in particular?”

You, he thought. He would never say it, though. He knew that what the two of you had now was too good to ever mess up and his beskar may be hard but his heart had gone so damn soft ever since you first walked onto his ship and the mere thought of you rejecting him hurt worse than any physical injury he had ever sustained in his entire life.

But oh, did he think about kissing you.

He thought about it every time you walked in to a room. He thought about it every time you came up to the cockpit and sat a plate of food down beside him before going back down to be with the child. He thought about it the time the two of you decided to give the child a bath in a spare bucket since the sink was too small and you both were soaked head to toe from the child’s splashing and the only sounds in the galaxy were you laughing and the child squealing and you brought your hands up to wipe the bubbles off of his visor before you sent an armful of water his way and you made him laugh harder than he had in his entire life. He thought about it when he watched you work on the ship with grease smeared on your face and your brows furrowed and your tongue jutting out slightly while you concentrated. He thought about it when he turned his chair around to find you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat, mouth slightly open and softly snoring.

He thought about it when he watched your eyes light up at the sight of something pretty at one of the marketplaces and then again when he presented it to you late at night once the child had gone to sleep and it was just the two of you and you hugged him and he didn’t hug you back but you both knew he would one day. He thought about it when he watched you take care of the child. He thought about it when he thought of his parents and how his father would always take his mother in his arms and kiss her and spin her around and dance with her and he thought about it when he told you what happened on that terrible day he lost them and you held him and cried and told him that you would burn down the entire galaxy before you ever let him feel pain like that ever again. He thought about it when the two of you got caught in a rain storm and you laughed the entire time you ran back to the ship and didn’t stop laughing as you stood under the dim lights, chest heaving and hair stuck to your face and you were so beautiful and that was the one time he sincerely thought about giving up the Creed because in his mind kissing you just once would be worth it.

He thought nearly every day about finding a loophole in the Creed. Turning the lights off. Blindfolding you. Asking you to close your eyes. He would trust you to not open them.

It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want in his entire life is the one thing that he is bound by a creed to never be able to have.

So, yes, Din Djarin thought about kissing you quite often.

He could’ve told you all of this. But instead, he whispered, “Does it matter?” The words came out so softly he was sure they had been carried away by the wind.

You smiled, but it wasn’t like your normal smiles. It was sad and dejected and not like you at all. “No, I guess it doesn't.”

The sky was fading from golds and oranges and pinks to dusky blues and purples. The child was still asleep beside you and Mando wasn’t sure what kind of creatures came out on this planet at night and knew that he would have to guide you back to the ship soon.

The silence between the two of you was deafening and the few inches between your bodies felt like an entire parsec. Something cold began to clutch at his heart. He wanted to do it. He wanted to take his helmet off and hover over you and hold your face in his hands and finally just—

You scooted closer to him then, propping yourself up on one arm and leaning over him. You looked into the T of his visor and he wondered if you could see his eyes because it sure felt like you were staring into his soul at that moment.

His breath halted in his chest as you slowly inched your face toward his. Could you hear how hard his heart was beating?

He was frozen in place as he watched your eyes close and you pressed your lips to the hard beskar of his helmet right where his mouth would be and then he was on fire. He swore he could feel his lips tingling as if the helmet wasn’t there and your soft lips were on his. He was blushing, he could feel it as it traveled from his face down his neck to his chest. His entire body was tingling and numb at the same time and he felt hot and cold and Maker, is this what a heart attack feels like? Was he having a heart attack? You hadn’t even actually touched him.

The kiss only lasted a second before you pulled back and rested your forehead against his. When you smiled he felt the last bit of iciness in his heart melt away, leaving only warmth and happiness and love for this wild, beautiful creature in front of him.

“There,” you whispered. “Now you can’t say that you’ve never kissed someone.”

And then you were moving away from him, picking up the child and cradling him to your chest as you walked down the hill and through the field, taking every bit of his soul with you.

Din lay there on the hill for a moment longer. He was sure then that if he never took his helmet off for the rest of his life he would still die happy knowing that in some weird way he had kissed you and that was enough for him.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fluff #mando x reader #star wars fanfiction

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

home {poe dameron x reader}

summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries

more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!

- jazz

p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning

It had only been five days.

You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe.

The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy.

‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn.

‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’

‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’

‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’

‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’

‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’

‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’

‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’

‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response.

‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’

You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in.

A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-

- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting.

His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.

‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’

‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.

‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’

‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor.

You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’

‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’

‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’

He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’

‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’

‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled.

‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’

‘I promise.’

Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments.

You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.

‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours.

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’

Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’

‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’

‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’

‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’

‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’

‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’

‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled.

Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries.

On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.

‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’

It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love.

You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep.

‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’

'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’

‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress.

You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him.

Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights.

‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly.

‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile.

‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’

‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).

It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron blurb #poe x reader #poe x you #poe fluff #poe imagines #poe imagine #poe blurb #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fluff #star wars imagines #star wars imagine

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

Text

a/n: drabble dump for our boy kuroo -- i love him loads and think about him endlessly. i also apologize beforehand for the awkward ending bc i’m terrible at ending things. hope you all enjoy! gonna go knock back a melatonin and sleep my wooziness away

w/c: ~2.4k; some angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol

you’re avoiding tetsurou, and he’s keen on figuring out why. college!au, friends to lovers.

“you’re not as slick as you think, y’know.”

instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine, electrifying you in quick, tiny bursts. those eight, nine words were more than enough to let you know who was standing behind you, peering over your shoulder in an effort to catch your gaze. his voice made your heart clench and lungs fight for oxygen – you begin to curse the high, intellectual level of tetsurou’s observational skills. you just wanted to make it another day without seeing his face outside of class, opting more for longer walks and just looking back to see the back of his stylishly mussed hair in the far distance. it frustrates you how much you’ve used the word ‘infuriating’ when it comes to him, but there’s no other better word you can think of without having to consult the thesaurus.

you have a few seconds to dart your eyes around, desperately searching for a way to escape. your productivity typically thrives within the library, but he’s always there, so with lots of pleading and promises of baked goods and decent coffee, you were able to borrow a close friend’s ID, a graduate student, and access the graduate resource room in a less traveled hallway. and in the expanse of that area, you’ve tucked yourself away into the back corner behind some shelves where almost no one visits. but it leaves you cornered and vulnerable – no matter which direction, in combination with his long legs, tetsurou would catch up to you in a heartbeat. you thought you had finally found a way to permanently escape his grasp, but apparently not.

much like you, he’s not supposed to be able to access this area. after all, you’re both senior undergrads so –

“how did you get in here?” you quietly hiss. you’re pretty sure you’d be booted out if you made any sound above 15 decibels, and you’re not about to let tetsurou ruin this haven for you.

there’s a rustle of clothing, a hand that rests on the back of your seat, and the hairs on the nape of your neck spike, before a delicate whisper informs, “you’re not the only one with grad student friends, love.”

if you weren’t so focused on keeping yourself rigid, body absolutely understanding of the effect that this man has on you, you definitely would’ve shivered from the proximity. but the gentleness in his tone sends you back to three weeks ago – you’re no longer under a fluorescent light tucked between cream-colored walls, but rather basked in a somewhat garish hue of crimson. your veins were tinged with alcohol, the substance leaving you feeling like you were on clouds, a silly smile breaking across your face uncontrollably. other bodies surrounded you but the only one you were focused on was the one in front of you, following your swaying movements to the beat of the music coming through someone’s speakers. even in the warmth of the house, tetsurou’s hands on your waist seared your skin, branding the feeling on you for eternity. his eyes twinkled with apparent affection, unbridled and screaming at you for you to understand the line he wanted to so desperately cross, that the alcohol pushed it behind his efforts to deny himself the one thing he’s been searching for in all these years.

“i’m a little drunk, but fuck, you have no idea how bad i wanna kiss you,” he had murmured just loud enough into your ear, then ghosting his lips over the shell of it. everything around you dissolved into a blur as you could only focus on his breaths and the tightening of his grasp on you. his confession wasn’t completely unwarranted – not at all.

tetsurou and you had met in the quantitative analysis lab freshman year, having been assigned as partners for the semester just by how the ta’s drew the seating chart. he was a friendly, kind soul – had saved your ass multiple times from overshooting your titrations, prevented multiple beakers and graduated cylinders from falling over, always down to compare numbers to help ensure that neither of you were fucking up too hard.

coincidentally, the two of you were registered to the same ochem lab the next year and immediately gravitated towards each other, grateful to find some familiarity in all the anxiety. he witnessed your breakdown mid-lab, did his best to comfort you and salvage your sample so there was enough for recrystallization because you somehow got landed with a shitty, leaking separatory funnel, and stayed back with you when you had fallen behind in the cleanup process. from then on, it was a weekly habit to study together and work on your lab journals and reports together, not taking long to become close friends.

tetsurou did his best to keep his growing feelings at bay, knowing that you had explicitly mentioned swearing off relationships as you tried to figure out your future first. he wasn’t oblivious enough to think that you didn’t feel anything for him whatsoever – you were stubborn and tenacious at best. the house party at miya atsumu’s was simply a suggestion for the both of you to relax after a brutal midterm in your inorganic chemistry course, to let loose and treat yourself. he really hadn’t meant to say what he said, but just looked so good, so lovely and beautiful and enthralling, and you were looking at him like he hung the stars and moon in the sky – he knows he’s sent that same look to you multiple times when you weren’t looking, completely sober and unfazed.

he couldn’t stop himself from leaning close into you that night and you hadn’t stopped in – he knows he should’ve resisted, but feeling your soft lips against his was easily one of the top ten highlights of his college career, and his love for you only surged beyond his hold, overwhelming him to the point where all he could think about was nothing but holding your cheek in the palm of his hand so he could get a better angle and let himself indulge just this once.

that’s all it was – kissing and kissing in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor until there was no more oxygen left in either of your lungs. like a decent human being, he dropped you off at your apartment and bid you goodnight, hoping that you wouldn’t forget all the events that had transpired. and maybe, just maybe, he wished that you would let it happen again, that you could make him the exception in your plans.

evidently, you did remember it, because suddenly your responses to his texts were delayed and dry. you were picking up extra shifts, showing up to class at the very last minute, and leaving as soon as the professor dismissed you, allowing practically no room for him to make small talk. and while he would usually pass you in the halls of the chem building at some point, you were always too far from him and scurrying away in a different direction. tetsurou did his best to give you your space, but the less he saw of you, the more nervous and frustrated he grew. there was a wrench thrown into his daily routine, and your presence had always managed to bring some peace to him. so when he realized that you had truly abandoned your usual study spot in the library a week and a half later, he set himself on a mission to find out exactly where you were hiding.

it honestly had been sheer luck that he saw your figure ducking around into a hallway he’s never bothered to go down, and by the time he caught up, the door to the graduate resource room had just closed on your and there was no way he could get in without some help. luckily, his mentor who had stayed at the university for their phd was pretty nonchalant about letting him borrow it for a few days, preferring to study at home or in a coffee shop off-campus themselves.

he knew that since you were hiding, you were probably going to be in the most inconspicuous spot possible. so while there was some time dedicated to navigating the new maze of an area, he immediately felt a sense of relief when he saw your back hunched over your notes, hair tied up into a messy bun, and your laptop open with a spotify playlist.

after you’re done reminiscing, you begin to pack your stuff up, opting to just nor respond to tetsurou and ignoring the pleasant sensation that his term of endearment for you brought. he pulls back and stands straight to give you some room, but the tapping of his foot against the tile floor speaks to his blooming agitation at your silence. you’re still wordless as you weave between the shelves to the exit, knowing that the man plaguing your dreams is not far behind. the game of ‘follow the leader’ (or is it ‘cat and mouse’?) continues until you both have exited the main door, and right before you can walk down the granite steps, tetsurou seizes the opportunity to run ahead of you and stand in your way.

“tetsu, please,” you sigh, avoiding his piercing stare by fiddling with the sleeves of your jacket. “is there something you need?”

“you can’t play coy with me,” he chastises, bending down slightly in hopes that you’ll finally look at him. “you know why i’m here.”

it’s a bad habit of yours to nibble on the inside of your lips when you’re searching for the right things to say. tetsurou only picked up on it just last year – the action itself is very subtle to the outside viewer, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention back then. “don’t bullshit me right now.”

“do we have to do this now?” you whine a bit.

“yes, or else i’m never gonna get you to talk to me. come on, you don’t do this, love.”

“what do you mean?”

“you’re running away. that’s pretty cowardly, don’t you think? you’ve had 3 weeks—”

you start to walk forward and around his tall, lanky figure. “i’m not humoring you with this—”

“with what—”

“—you’re doing that provoking thing, you’re trying to get me to think that i’m wrong in avoiding you—”

“so you have been avoiding me—”

“i said not now!” you protest in a raised voice, path once again blocked. tears of frustration are beginning to build in the corners of your eyes, and you’re cursing yourself for feeling so weak in this moment. part of you wants nothing more than to run into his arms.

it’s dead quiet for a few seconds – the ambient noise of the wind and the occasional passing car this late at night fail to make themselves known over the pounding of blood in your ears. only tetsurou’s first knuckle underneath your chin to raise you up grounds you, and you can no longer avoid his gaze. small crests of guilt wash over you as you recognize the uncharacteristic brokenness in his eyes – the last three weeks must’ve been much harder on him than you thought.

“just hear me out for a few minutes, okay? you can make your decision then.”

he takes your nod as a signal to continue, but also softening a bit at how nervous you look.

“i’m in love with you,” he softly confesses, a smile of defeat gracing his complexion. “and i have been for a while. i don’t think i’m bullshitting when i say i think you feel something for me, too, but i knew it wasn’t in your plans. didn’t wanna push or force you into making a decision when you weren’t ready. so i held back – but i couldn’t help it at the party, and…i’m sorry, love. i really am.”

tetsurou doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses your eyes. “so does that mean you regret it?” you bite out, nails clenching and digging into the fabric of your jacket sleeves. he shakes his head.

“i don’t regret kissing you at all – it’s all i’ve wanted to do for the last two and a half years. but i’m just sorry that i did it without your explicit, sober permission. i went against your wishes in a time of vulnerability, and that’s pretty shitty of me – i’m not gonna excuse myself either just because i was a little drunk, so i hope you’re able to forgive me.”

he watches you sniffle and fight the grin that’s trying to creep across your face. “someone had their shot of respect women juice this morning, didn’t they?” you chokingly tease.

“five shots directly injected into my veins, every morning,” he jokes back, thumb sweeping over to catch your falling tears. “but i mean it though – i’m really sorry.”

“you’re forgiven, and i appreciate that more than you know. but if i’m being honest…it was something i’ve wanted to do for a while, too. i was just really scared because it was so unexpected and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for our relationship to change, or like if i would be emotionally available enough for you, y’know?” you blubber, hand reaching up to rest against his on your cheek.

“hey—”

“i really want this to work out.” tetsurou can hear your voice shake, and he’s sure you’re almost trembling. “you’re one of my best friends – i can’t lose you, tetsu. and what about grad school? what if we end up too far away from each other and video calls aren’t enough? what if you get tired of me or—”

“i know you hate it when i interrupt, but honestly (y/n), you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. i’m gonna do everything i can to make this work, too, mmk?”

“okay,” you whisper. “okay.”

his thumb gently sweeps back and forth against your cheek for a little bit before speaking up again. “not to ruin the moment, but do i have permission to kiss you now?” his eyes shine despite the midnight sky, and you can’t help the small chuckle that leaves your chest.

tetsurou swears up and down that your kiss in response is much, much sweeter than the one at the party, and he can’t wait to see what the future holds for you two.

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo angst #i fully stan the fact that kuroo is highly respectful of anyone and especially women #no one can fight me on this #stay hydrated and get good quality sleep and eat some nutritious food and take your meds!!!

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 4 years

Text

Someone - Ghost Ben Hargreeves x Ghost!Reader

Request: Ben hargreeves x reader who is also a ghost??? And klaus ships the hell out of em & Ghost ben x ghost reader with klaus third wheeling hehehehe i need more platonic klaus and reader stuffss

Warnings: mentions of drugs (well.. it’s Klaus) and death (uhm bc ghosts?)

Word count: 2 045

“TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE STAR-!”

Klaus jumped up so quickly that he almost fell out of his bed. The bright sunlight that was shining into his room was blinding and hurt his eyes, mostly, but not only, due to the terrible hangover he was suffering from.

“What-“

He blinked and noticed two figures standing at the end of the bed. One was Klaus’s deceaced, adopted brother Ben, and the other was you, the also deceased neighbor, who the Hargreaves kids had been friends with for as long as they could think. Now both ghosts stood in Klaus’ room, staring down at him in worry. Klaus usually loved his sleep but today your obnoxiously loud and off-key singing had woken him up for good; saved him from the lost souls that chased him in his nightmares.

“You were screaming,” Ben explained, crouching down to his brother. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Klaus shook his head no and slowly untangled himself from his blanket, earning an unnerved screech from you.

“Seriously, you sleep in a shirt but without pants?”

You turned away, deciding that it was too early in the day to be faced with Klaus’ bare legs in all their pale beauty.

Ben just chuckled.

“You hang around all the time anyway,” Klaus answered, reaching for the hand Ben had offered him, but was only met with thin air, causing him to sigh and get up by himself. “I bet you peek when I take a bath!”

“Oh, he’s fine,” you answered Ben’s question that had originally been directed at Klaus. “If he can hit on a dead person this early in the morning, he’s fine.”

And with these words you left the room. Through the wall.

Ben watched as Klaus wandered over to the chair by his desk and grabbed a flower skirt which he put on.

“Oh man, seriously?”

“What? Flowers match my aesthetics!”

“I meant the stupid lines you throw at (y/n) all the time. You know they don’t like it! You’re just gonna chase them away eventually,” Ben complained.

“Oh, they know it’s just banter,” Klaus disagreed, “and you’re just jealous that you don’t have the courage to be so open.”

Ben’s eyes widened, and he almost would have jumped forward to cover Klaus’ mouth with his hands to make him be quiet, but it would not have made a difference anyway since he was not made of matter.

“Shh,” he hissed instead, “They might hear you!”

“Oh come on,” Klaus threw his hands in the air, “did you still not tell them you like them? I didn’t raise you to be such a coward!”

“Yeah, you didn’t raise me at all,” Ben spit back, “and it doesn’t have to do anything with cowardice, just so you know.”

“Oh really, then why didn’t you tell them yet?”

Ben sighed, not sure what to answer. He did like you, very much in fact. But you were friends, and if he confessed that he liked you… the usual problems anyone who had ever been in love with their friend. But with the little additional problem that both of you were dead. For all eternity. You would both be stuck together in this weird situation until the end of time.

In the meantime, oblivious to the conversation that was going on in Klaus’ room, you were wandering around the Hargreaves mansion. Sometimes it upset you that you had no possibility to talk to anyone, other times you had fun commenting on the inhabitants’ routines the same way a sports reporter would, but today you were content just strolling around the house.

Grace was sitting in the gallery, embroidering flowers onto a white piece of cloth. For a while you watched her precise movements, then you walked over to the edge of the balustrade and watched Diego practicing his knife throwing. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and was throwing his knives against the door while turning to change the angle as often as possible. With slight amusement you watched the cold metal blades boring themselves into the massive wood where they stayed stuck, vibrating from the impact.

After you had watched Diego for a while you walked downstairs into the kitchen, where you found Luther brooding over his oatmeal.

“Knock, knock, anyone home?”

You pretended to knock your knuckles against Luther’s head.

“Sorry, that wasn’t very nice,” you mumbled, and flopped down on the chair opposite him. “sooo, what’s going on inside that head of yours, hm?”

Since, unlike Klaus, Luther could neither see nor hear you, he did not respond or even move, he just kept staring at his half eaten breakfast.

“How do you do that, dealing with your feelings for Allison,” you wondered, still not receiving an answer, but not expecting one either, “everyone knows you guys have a thing for each other, and you are always around each other. How does that not totally destroy you?”

Luther sighed and picked up his spoon, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean… do you feel remotely as lonely as I do? Every time I see Ben, or even think of him, I… I see what I could have, how perfect he is, how kind, how… broken. He never wanted his power, yet he was the one burdened with it, and it’s so hard for him. And I just want to help, but I also want so much more! I want to hug him, and kiss him, and tell him everything will be alright! I want to make sure he’ll always be safe and welcome with me, and… then I remember that he just does not feel the same affection for me as I feel for him… and it just sucks.”

Luther dipped the spoon into the oatmeal, and pulled it back out, but instead of eating it, he turned the spoon so the oatmeal dripped of the spoon and back into the bowl, making a strange, wet sound.

“Yeah, something like that.”

~*~

No matter how much you adored Klaus and the stupid jokes he was making, you could not always hang around him. It was not so much his character, or Ben’s constant presence that made things hard as much as it was what he poor bastard did to himself. You were pretty certain Klaus had tried out every single drug nature and mankind had ever developed, and he spent most of his waking time getting high on them. You just could not watch it. You and Ben were the only two ghosts who got through to him once he was all drugged up, and you had lost count on how many times you had tried to stop Klaus from taking whatever he was about to take, but to no avail. He never listened. And while Ben hung out with Klaus for whatever reason, you just could not. Klaus was not your responsibility, and he had made it pretty clear that he did not want your concern either. And so you tried to stay away from him most of the time he was not clear.

The sun already began to set over the city when you made your way up to the roof. You loved sitting out here, watching the last light fade in the distance and the stars creep out of their hiding. You missed the feeling of the sunbeams on your skin and the wind in your hair, but at least you still got to watch these perfectly rich colours on the horizon and on the roofs.

You wondered whether in ten, twenty, a hundred or even a thousand years you would still be able to enjoy these images as much as you enjoyed them now. Would you stop caring eventually, when everybody who had ever bound your soul to this world had died? Would you turn bitter and angry, like a poltergeist? You could not remember ever having met such a ghost. Most of the time the other dead people were just shadows of their former selves, and hardly any were as conscious and active as Ben and you. Would you lose this energy eventually? Would you too just turn into some dead shadow of your former self?

While you were still thinking about these topics, Ben had slowly approached you, and sat down next to you. Only then you noticed him.

Turning your gaze away from the skyline, you looked over at him. Ben’s eyes were closed and his head was dropped back into his neck as if he was trying to feel the wind and sun on his face. But you knew he could not. Some people might think it to be romantic to be a ghost, but really it just felt like you had been robbed of some of the best things in life, like the feeling of wind and sun and water, your favourite foods and long Sunday naps.

“How was your day,” you asked, looking back at the horizon.

“Ah, you know,” Ben shrugged, “the usual. Klaus being a dick, Klaus being annoying, Klaus sleeping, Klaus listening to music …” You laughed, and Ben could not help but feel a little proud for having made you laugh. “And yours?”

“Watched Grace, watched Diego, had a very one-sided conversation with Luther and some of the portraits in the gallery, and I am currently enjoying this wonderful sunset,” you summarized.

“What did you talk to Luther about,” Ben wondered, and for a moment you wondered if he was jealous. But of course he was not. Why should he be? Luther did not even know you existed in this afterlife.

“Allison, loneliness, as you said, the usual,” you answered.

“You’re lonely,” Ben wondered, and turned to look at you.

“Sometimes,” you admitted, “I mean… I can see my family every day, but I can’t change anything about how their lives have changed without me. I never thought my dad would be one to drink, but here we are! And my siblings are all grown up now, moving away, living… and I’m just here like… maybe I should attend college, just out of curiosity. Or go to some workshop for knitting, even if I can’t do it myself.” You hesitated for a moment, before continuing more quietly. “I just feel like I’m lacking sense. Like… something’s missing.”

“Or someone,” Ben added, more to himself, but when he looked up from where he had been staring at his hands, he saw you were looking at him.

“Someone,” you asked, not sure if you wanted an explanation.

He did not answer. He just stared at you. At the sunbeams that caught in your lashes and made them glow, but left no shadows on your cheeks, at the way your eyes skipped over his face, trying to read his expression, but failing. Over the years he had learned that the only thing that felt real in this strange state of being a ghost was the touch of another ghost, and it felt weird and foreign since it happened so rarely. Ben did not know why exactly, or whether there was any reason at all, when he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours. Maybe it was just to stop that look on your face that tried to hide disappointment. Maybe it was because he had wanted to do this since he had been a teenager. Much to his relief you did not pull away, instead you leant in, gently kissing him back and driving his heart crazy, especially when you decided to place your hand at the side of his face to pull him closer. Your skin was warm and soft and real, so different from the strange world of the living all around the two of you. Ben did not quite realise it until he had pulled away again, cheeks blushed and lips swollen, but something felt different. It was not just the ecstatic feeling of knowing you liked him just as much as he liked you, but something more. What had you said about this feeling of loneliness earlier? As if something, someone, was missing? Ben leant his forehead against you and felt your eyelashes flatter against his skin. That feeling of something missing was gone now. He had found the Someone he had been missing. You.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @robinruns @marty-delorean05 @lookalivefrosty @jayloverthe3rd @butterflycore @vamp-void @angelevansfalls @starduststyx

UA: @myrandom-fandomlife

#ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader fluff #ben hargreeves fluff #ben hargreeves x reader fanfiction #ben hargreeves x reader fanfic #ben hargreeves x reader imagine #ben hargreeves x reader imagines #ben hargreeves fanfiction #ben hargreeves fanfic #ben hargreeves imagines #ben hargreeves imagine #umbreall academy fanfiction #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy imagines #fanfiction #fanfic #The Umbrella Academy #fluff

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 3 years

Text

tuesday again 10/5/21

this particular tuesday holds many problems for me but that’s enough about that! it’s media time!

listening two wildly different songs!

cairo by san fermin. this is inextricably linked with like the first ten days of the pandemic, where all i really did was go for extremely long rambles at godawful hours around campus so as not to interact with anyone else. but! i was driving to go check out a big free pile and it was soft and lovely out by the connecticut river, and it reminded me of [REDACTED FORMER HOUSE VERY FAR AWAY] in a way that didn’t hurt, and this song came on, and my brain just shut itself off for a bit. your own personal mileage with this song may vary.

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simping for the villain by boy jr. this is another song i found bc my sister curates the best tikkety tocks for me and i think this young lady is simply delightful!

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reading kenobi by john jackson miller. so i draft these posts on sunday night so i can think about filling any holes/let things percolate over the next day or so, and my one note here was “kenobi UGH”. i don’t care about these main characters who are not Obi-Wan and who are callously cruel for the hell of it and have nearly no redeeming qualities. how the fuck am i supposed to relate to these embittered people when you have no shown me how they got to be the way they are, JJM??? they’re just bad parents bc the desert made them do it?

the contrast of the Tusken parent is interesting bc she is a sympathetically flawed figure- a tactical genius struggling to hold together the last of her tribe but also consumed by revenge. however, JJM really trips and falls face first into also making her a noble savage as opposed to the rest of her simpleminded crew, bc she received the touch of genius from a jedi and that’s why she’s smart or whatever. terrible. also, Tusken culture and traditions as presented in this book are…not how any real people in our world live bc it simply isn’t sustainable. people have been caring for disabled people as long as there have been people. people are still useful even if they can’t hold a melee weapon. also, incredibly secondary complaint, an absolute dearth of the beautiful north african/afghan/vaguely arab-flavored flintlock-inspired rifles from the films.

this book lifts Quite a lot from jack schaefer’s Shane and the film The Searchers (1956, dir. Ford). this is essentially (from the first half) Shane rewritten with occasional deeply upsetting interludes by Obi-Wan, who apparently picked his name off a map when he (checks notes) legally registered his home.you are UNDERCOVER, my guy!!! there are very few bits from Obi-Wan’s perspective but the bits we do get of him trying to talk to Qui-Gon and failing are deeply upsetting, he’s such a gregarious person and exiling himself as self-flagellation for failing Anakin is very hard to watch. put more of that in instead of this banal will-they-won-’t-they subplot-that’s-a-main-plot between a widower and a divorcee.

JJM has had a terrible sense of pacing in everything i’ve read from him- infamously, The Lost Tribe of the Sith doesn’t really get going until three-quarters of the way through.i am not a particular fan of his prose, although i can’t really say any of the star wars books are enjoyable as a pure standalone product. you have to Really like star wars to read these fucking books. i do feel like this has made my own writing slightly better bc it is now easier to see certain pitfalls in my own shit. deeply embarrassing tho.

watching escape from new york (1981, dir. Carpenter). sometimes a woman simply wants to get weirdly faintly homesick for the big apple and see kurt russell pout and have a terrible horrible no good very bad day. i cannot tell you why my brain is this way, merely link you to where i privateered the film.

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dailymotion

playing fallow week bc i don’t want to talk about genshin in depth beyond: i finally got the mean ice pikewoman. thank u october

making rejiggering the kitchen. i am the person who uses the kitchen the least but somehow i am putting all of my effort into making that the most functional room in the apartment right now. hm. anyway bc three people (one of whomst is very into various sandwich toppings) all using one fridge is not a very good time, we now have a minifridge EXCLUSIVELY for condiments. it feels decadent and bourgeoisie in a way i cannot describe

oh also repainted this shelf i got off the side of the road, to live in this weird nook by our radiator/where the fireplace got ripped out when my landlord renovated. it has will have marble contact paper on the actual surface of the shelves bc tbh even after wire brushing the living hell out of it, the spray paint did not cover enough sins. pots and pans and things the radiator will not melt are going to live on here i think.

before/where it is now/from the kitchen door (condiment mini fridge on the left under the counter). that’s such a fucked up little corner, my god, also WOW the lighting in there is very yellow huh

nothing says “baby’s first apartment where it came unfurnished and she isn’t subletting” like some repurposed garage shelves i guess

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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1kook · 4 years

Text

skirt chasers - drabble i

a skirt chasers drabble bc they are my fave fictional couple to date <333

tags: coupley and domestic, jk’s terrible attempts at seducing via text, making out, dry humping, spitting (ik idk what came over me), too much talking for this to be sexual pero hey here we are wc: like 3k

entirely based off jungkook from bv3 that man had NO right to look that good and the holy jirkenstocks (jungkook birkenstocks). wont lie this has been completely written in my drafts since November (yes 2019) and i hoarded it under the belief i would make this a whole part 2 which i did not

que dios los bendiga <3

Much to everyone’s dismay, Jungkook’s spring break in Vegas with the boys is cut three days short when Jimin’s dog sitter suddenly cancels, citing a case of homesickness as enough cause to abruptly go home. When you first hear news of this, you’re preparing yourself for the return of a mopey, useless Jungkook, too drained from four glorious days in Las Vegas to carry on. What you’re not expecting is the mysterious text he sends you before boarding a five hour flight with no service (he was cheap).

kook still on vegas lockdown. Have that pussy ready when i get home

“The fuck does that mean?” Chaeyoung is the first to see the message, your screen lighting up on the kitchen counter beside you as you scrub through a mountainous pile of dishes. You try to play it off, after all, Chaeyoung had seen parts of you you hadn’t even seen, but there was no worse embarrassment than having your homegirls see your clown of a boyfriend’s ridiculousness. “He’s so romantic,” she swoons, and you shoo her away from the offending device as you wipe your hands down on your t-shirt.

you for what?? One 20 second round 🤥

Chaeyoung suddenly cackles from over your shoulder, and you swear your soul leaves your body.

You don’t get a response until exactly five hours and thirteen minutes later, your phone vibrating like crazy on the edge of your bathtub, and if you hadn’t given it a hearty kick and sent it flying across the room, front screen shattering into the most intricate spider web of glass shards, it would have fallen into the water. The terror.

kook pls pick me up

kook also haha. U r soooo funny 😑

You’re halfway to the airport, idly sitting in traffic and giving the public a free, Beyonce-like experience of The Script’s Breakeven, when you realize you’re not wearing any pants. You’re not exactly sure which part of Jungkook’s long t-shirt had tricked you into believing you were decently dressed, but you’re not too mad. After all, Jungkook’s trip with the boys had been a last minute decision that did not take into consideration your never-ending thirst for your boyfriend, so a little payback never hurt anybody.

He’s sitting on top of his suitcase outside the airport when you get there, cute Birkenstock-clad feet swinging back and forth as he waits for you like the good boy he is. He crouches down by the passenger window, “Uh, yeah, is this the Uber?”

You can’t even bother hiding the smile that consumes your face, and it only grows tenfold when he finally gets in and immediately leans over the center console to kiss you. “Look who’s finally back from their little bachelor party,” you murmur, eyes lidded dangerously low when he breaks away.

“Oh, the party where I accidentally sleep away my life-savings to a stripper named Aries and then have to go home and beg for my wife’s forgiveness?” He responds immediately, devious pink tongue swiping out to lick at your bottom lip.

You snort. “Joke’s on you, because our hot pool boy kept me company and treated me better in four days than my husband had in six years,” you mumble, finger looping into the silver chain around his neck to pull him close again.

“Not our hot pool boy,” he whines, smile pressed adorably to your lips.

You almost retort, but a ten-second horn blast from the car behind you has the two of you jumping three feet from each other, like teenagers caught making out in the school parking lot.

Just as you’d predicted via text, Jungkook barely has the energy to walk up the steps to your apartment, much less fuck you like he’d promised. “Fuck, stop being healthy and let us take the elevator,” he grunts, pushing his suitcase onto the final platform leading to your floor.

“Nope,” you concede. “The stairs give me a good view of your ass going up.”

He shoots you a scandalized look, like you’re an old man who’d just catcalled him on the street. “Pretty sure that’s my line.”

It’s when you’re unlocking the front door, sending out a little prayer to the heavens (Chaeyoung) for the blessing of an empty apartment, that he notices your lack of proper clothing. “Oh, hell no,” he groans, immediately crowding you against the armchair nearest the door.

You laugh, struggling to turn to face him as he nuzzles his face into your neck. “What seems to be the problem?”

He sighs against the shell of your ear, and you’d be a liar to say it didn’t send a gush of wetness to your core. Jesus, just a single puff of air from Jungkook was enough to turn your coochie into a Fruit Gusher. “Not your sexy legs again,” he whines, and you giggle when he presses those pouty lips to yours.

“Thought I was supposed to have this pussy ready for you,” you tease, tilting your head up until your noses brush against each other. Jungkook lets a soft huff of a sigh go, eyes fluttering shut at your close proximity.

There’s a hand that creeps along the back of your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft skin until he finally guides it upwards, hitched over his hip. The new position has your body curving backwards, tilted over the edge of the couch as he continues crowding closer and closer to you. “Baby,” he whines, and the tone and sudden usage of your favorite nickname wipes the teasing smile off your face. “I missed you so much,” he purrs, in that tone that says he knows he has you under his complete control, all he has to do is take care of you.

Still, you try to put up some sort of a fight. “I’m sure your eyes were kept entertained in Vegas,” you retort weakly, not even bothering to hide the jealousy in your tone.

Jungkook laughs, before puckering his lips and smothering you. Instantly, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His hair tickles your face from how long it’s gotten, and when you brush it back, collecting it into a makeshift baby ponytail, you can’t even enjoy the sight because Jungkook is pressing his rock hard member against your inner thigh.

“You think I’m a cheater?” He muses when he finally pulls away, a little entranced by the saliva that coats your lips in a thin sheen. “Couldn’t be even if I wanted to.” Before you can ask what that even means, he’s hauling you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his tiny waist, his cock now cradled between your thighs, right where you want him most. You moan immediately, head lolling backwards at the touch you’d craved for days. “Feel that? No one gets my dick hard like you do, baby.”

Even though his adrenaline is on one hundred, and he’s clearly blinded by his lust, Jungkook still sets you down on the bed like you’re made of glass. Any comments you may have made are smothered by his lips on yours, fingers gripping your waist like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. When he pulls away, his eyes are dark and his breath is a little heavy where it fans against the lower half of your face.

“So pretty,” he huffs, rolling his hips against yours. You groan, eyes rolling back as the familiar feeling of your boyfriend between your legs consumes you. Jungkook presses his mouth against the skin of your neck, where the faintest sheen of sweat had begun to form the moment you unlocked the front door.

If you thought you were loud, the sounds leaving Jungkook’s throat are teetering on the edge between a pornstar and a yodelling-enthusiast. You can’t help the smirk crossing your features. “Are you really gonna come?”

Jungkook was many things, and drama queen was definitely very high on that list. He gives you the most scandalized expression, stopping the movement of his hips to scoff. “As if,” he snorts, but you know that little eyebrow furrow a little too well.

You snort, reaching down to his sides as you try to discreetly urge him to start up again. “Baby, your jaw is twitching,” you point out, a soft whine leaving your lips when he shifts your leg up. It’s this same sound that has him finally moving again.

“Yeah, well,” he groans, one hand deathly gripping into your hip now, pressing you down onto the bed so hard you feel the comforter will swallow you up any minute now. “I just got my wisdom teeth removed, ‘member?”

Your retort is briefly cut off by the cry you let out when he ducks down to suck a mark beneath your jaw. “M-Months ago,” you weakly respond,

Jungkook ignores you in favor of using his Hulk strength to fold you in half, groans borderline animalistic as he grinds his cock into your soaked panties. His jaw is tight like you’d said, but you can tell he’s holding himself back. He hated coming before you, seldom doing it unless it was one of those rare days where he wanted you to pamper him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, swallowing your pitiful whines before pushing his tongue down your throat. There was something sexy about your boyfriend being so turned on that his saliva production was off the charts. “You’re gonna ask me to do that thing again, aren’t you?” He predicts.

All you can do is nod, and Jungkook smirks. “Ah,” he says, much like a doctor would, and you comply, mouth wide. You see the muscles beneath his jaw twitch, and a moment later he’s leaning over you with puckered lips, a glob of saliva begging to drip down.

The moan that catches in your throat has him smiling, tongue peeking out to cut the bridge of saliva that connected the two of you, and you want to tell him you love him, but then he’s raising his eyebrows at you, motioning for you to swallow, so you do. “Absolutely filthy,” he grins, and then returns to thrusting against you.

As much as you liked to tease him, he’s good at fulfilling the sexual aspects of his boyfriend role, and he guides you to your orgasm moments later. Of course, he does so by toying with your tits just the way you like, lips pressed firmly to yours as you become a boneless heap beneath him. “That’s it, pretty baby,” he murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before he’s shifting back onto his haunches, tugging you closer until the backs of your knees are cradled carefully in his elbows.

Despite your transcended state, you love watching Jungkook get himself off, and your eyes flutter as you watch him thrust sloppily against your soiled panties. They’re soaked by your own arousal, and had Jungkook’s sweats not been as dark as they were, you’re almost certain you’d see how they stained.

He comes a moment later, body twitching and fingers tightening against your skin. His chest heaves, head lolling back as he tries to regain his senses. Silence envelopes the room.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You blurt, no longer able to pretend like something isn’t completely wrong.

Jungkook rolls his neck out, a satisfying crack resounding, as he angles to look at you again. His tongue is poking against his cheek in that cocky way it does sometimes, and he furrows his brows at you. “What?”

You shuffle up onto your elbows, motioning towards him with the vaguest wave possible. He blinks. You groan.

“What did you do?” You question, and immediately his eyes go wide and shiny in that way they do when you’re reprimanding him and he doesn’t see the wrong in his ways.

Cute little lips forming a pout he remains as confused. “Nothing? We really just went to fuck around and get drunk—“

“Kook.”

“You don’t actually think I cheated, I thought we were just joking? Unless…” he trails off, doe eyes suddenly filled with fear. “You weren’t?”

“Jungkook—“

He intercepts you, “did you do something while I was gone? Who was he? Or she? Wow,” he huffs to himself in disbelief. “I don’t even know you well enough to know if you’re into more than just men.” The frown on his face is getting deeper with each word he utters and you almost can’t believe how dumb he could be. “No wonder… am I a terrible boyfriend?” He asks, voice louder and more concerned than it’s been all night.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You say, and Jungkook looks just as lost by your response as you are with his. “Because I’m talking about whatever this is,” you explain, reaching up to drag a hand through his dual-colored locks.

They’d been carefully tucked under his bucket hat when you’d picked him up, a tuft of blonde peeking out from in front of his ear. It wasn’t until he’d tipped you over the side of the couch that it had tumbled off. Of course, at the time, there had been other pressing matters at hand than wondering why your Hannah Montana blonde boyfriend had returned as Todoroki, which is why you’d waited until now to revisit the topic.

Jungkook doesn’t move for a solid ten seconds. Then, as if processing the emotional episode he’d just given you, he gives you a sheepish smile. It’s one of those smiles where his lips press together thinly and cutely and the apples of his cheeks seem like the squishiest things in the world. “Oh…” he says, voice soft and nothing like the man that spit in your mouth five minutes ago. “You like it?”

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #kpopwonderlandtag #ksmutclub #bts smut #jjk smut #mine #what did i even use to tag with lolol #sc universe #skirtverse #skirtfic

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notmrskennedy · 3 years

Text

Professor, pt2

A/N - here’s part two to my little prequels - it’s the last one I’ve got written, but just know that they definitely fall in love later in my head. It’s just that the ‘in love’ part turned into Friendliness so there’s that. Thanks for sticking around bc y’all make my days

Summary - A certain professor makes another unexpected appearance and friend?

W/C - 2.6k

Warnings - there’s a brief stint of depression and a bit of swearing i’m sure (but what’s new)

----

Nearly 50 hours of no sleep later and Spencer Reid is sure he’s hallucinating. He knows that the hallucinations come later, that it takes more like seven or eight days to get that bad. But he’s tired and hadn’t slept on the plane and there’s no amount of coffee that’ll convince him he’s awake enough to think the scene in front of him is real.

Because there you are, arguing with an FBI agent. While in handcuffs. He notes the darker hair and the new style and the impossible amount of dirt you’re covered in. What a weird thing to hallucinate after a bone chilling case. He hasn’t seen you in three years—by all accounts, he should’ve forgotten your face already.

“I heard she got caught shipping body parts,” Emily says, appearing next to Spencer. She’s more put together, having passed out for the four hour flight. Her hair’s tied up and she’s got airplane coffee in her hands. He wonders if this is any more real before he hears you shouting from him.

“Thank God,” you call, trying to wiggle out of the man’s hold, “Dr. Reid! Tell them I’m not crazy.”

He hesitantly leans over to Emily. “This is real, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight, am I?”

“Nope.”

“See you on Monday, Emily.”

“See you then, Reid.”

And he’s trudging forward, waving at the other agent while stifling a yawn. He forces his eyes open and checks his watch. 2:37 AM. Is he going to catch the Metro? Or is he sleeping on Hotch’s couch again?

The pleading in your eyes says Hotch’s couch and he doesn’t argue.

“Hey, Kazinsky,” he yawns, stopping a full two feet from you and your inhumanly large captor. “What’s the—what’s the charge?”

Kazinsky shakes his head, not daring to let you any slack. You’re bouncing on your toes, trying to contain yourself. He gets it. It’s not everyday you get arrested. He hopes. But ever forgetful of the whole being arrested bit, you keep jerking to move the hair out of your face. Kazinsky takes it as trying to escape and jerks back harder.

“We picked this one up for transporting illegal…stuff, Doc,” Kazinsky mutters with half a shiver. “Thought I signed up for white collar, mail fraud type stuff. Not unpacking human remains type stuff.”

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. Scrubs his hands over his face. Takes one more long look at you, obviously losing your mind. He knows a lot can change over three years, but you never seemed the ‘illegally transporting dead people’ type. Until he remembers your fun fact from that lecture all those years ago.

“What happened?” he sighs.

All too tired for this bullshit, he wishes he could force the story out faster, but your face just keeps contorting with the story you’re so obviously trying to spin for both of them. You try to pull out of Kazinsky’s gorilla grip again, and Spencer notices the way Kazinsky winces every time you pull. Something wrong with his wrist?

“Dr. Reid,” you finally begin, “I was in Guatemala, studying these mummies we found in a cave. One of the bodies just needed further examining and so I was just shipping it back because it’s not like I can stuff a two thousand year old body in my carryon.”

All Spencer can do is raise half an exhausted eyebrow that prompts you further, red tinting your cheeks.

“Look, I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Man Hands over here that I’ve got the paperwork in my bag, but after our little disagreement, I’ve been arrested.”

“Disagreement?” Kazinsky snorts. “You tried to dislocate my wrist!”

“Well, I can’t help it if you don’t announce yourself before grabbing me.”

Whatever desperation and pleading you’ve had, you’ve thrown out the window to stare down Kazinsky. Spencer has a new appreciation for the fact that he’d been wrong all those years ago. You aren’t fragile. You’re as strong as a femur bone with all of the—probably justified—anger of a bull towards a matador.

But you turn back to Spencer and your gaze softens. Melts into the young professor he met all those years ago. He’s gotten over his crush—he’s definitely in love with Maeve—but you’re objectively beautiful. Despite the self-cut, terribly choppy bangs, or the light dusting of brown dirt that you’ve covered in. You’re pleading for his help, he knows it, but he just wants to go home.

He’s reminded he’s better than walking away and ends up giving Kazinsky a tired sigh. “I’ll take her off your hands for you, Kazinsky.”

He wonders vaguely what Maeve will think of this when he calls her in 24 hours. He wonders if she’ll appreciate the gesture he’s made for an old acquaintance. No matter what though, he knows she’ll gasp and giggle and say something like ‘oh those anthropologists! Such a funny sort. At least it’s a better science than geology!’ and they’ll laugh together like old lovers.

Kazinsky drops you in Spencer’s lap and runs. Human remains could be the BAU’s problem for all he cared. He liked mail fraud.

Once Kazinsky’s out of sight, Spencer pulls the handcuff keys from his pockets and pulls the cuffs off of you. You breathe out a thankful sigh, trying to rub the future bruises away. You turn back to face him, tucking your hair back behind your ear, studying him through your lashes. He can’t be bothered to notice anything much more about you. He’s dead on his feet.

The hand you place on his elbow jolts him away. Your eyebrows scrunch and he swallows at the concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m just—we’ve been working an abduction case. 48 hours non-stop—“

He yawns again and you can’t help but mirror. “Did you know that chimpanzees and dogs are also empathetic yawners?”

He smirks. “I did know that. Seriously though y/n, what’s up with the body?”

“I promise it isn’t illegal,” you rush out, just to receive a raised eyebrow. “The Institute I’m working for made some kind of deal with the Guatemalan government that I’m not really privy to, but I’m the only one qualified to handle the remains. Plus, I’ve got a reputation for being found with body parts so its—it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He sighs again. He wants to tell you it sounds worse. That it sounds like you’re stealing on behalf of the Institute. That they’re doing what museums always do—pilfer and loot. But you sigh and hang your head and don’t exhibit one sign that you’re trying to trick him. Sure, you might’ve lied a bit about manhandling Kazinsky, but you sure as hell seem like a doctor just trying to do her job.

“Look, call my boss. He’s waiting for me anyway. I’m sure the paperwork just got lost or customs is just as stupid as I think they are.”

Spencer nods. He pulls his phone out and punches in the number you rattle off. In ten seconds he’s speaking with Dr. Russel Bailey, head of the anthropology department at the Institute. There’s a quick relay of ‘yes, she’s authorised to have the body’ and ‘no, please don’t arrest her’ and ‘we’ll sort this out in the morning’.

And once he’s hung up, you’ve already got your car keys out. “Do you need a ride home or anything?” you ask and quickly tack on, “I’m just trying to say thank you. Promise I’m not creepy.”

Spencer laughs and nods and drags his feet after you. He does need a ride home because he knows he’ll fall asleep on the metro. You talk incessantly about your trip to Guatemala on the walk down to your car, and he knows he should be listening. But he can’t. He’s too busy moving one foot in front of the other.

And by the time you’ve punched his address into the GPS, he’s fast asleep, softly snoring.

Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead.

Nothing else really matters now, Spencer thinks on repeat. She was the only good thing I had and now she’s gone. Maybe I don’t even matter.

There’s brief moments between this line of thinking where he can listen to the three dozen voicemails he gets left everyday. Telling him that they’re there for him. Telling him it’ll be okay. Telling him it was okay to grieve.

Was it grieving if he just wants to melt into nothingness? To die without actually killing himself?

It’s during one of these brief moments that he gets the voicemail he’s accidentally been craving. He doesn’t want to want it. He doesn’t want to want anything. He wants to melt and starve and wither until no one thinks about him ever again. Because she’s not here and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he wants you.

You’ve been gone. Researching your way through the Sacred Valley in Peru, making nice with the locals and scavenging bones like an angelic vulture. You’ve been there for the last month and can’t possibly know about Maeve’s death—it takes him another hour to get back to thinking about you. It’s still September, he thinks, and you’re supposed to come back around now. At the end of the month, he’s supposed to pick you up from the airport.

Because after saving you from an arrest, you’ve been exchanging noncommittal letters and phone calls. He’s got a thin stack of photos that you’ve sent from your trip. But you aren’t Maeve. You never were. You never will be.

He doesn’t know why he wants you to call him, but he does.

Maybe it’s because you’re new, you aren’t tarnished by the history of Spencer Reid. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat him like he’s labelled: fragile, handle with care!

He listens and your voicemail is a sort of sing song. “Hola Spencer! I’m calling from some Peruvian payphone. I should be in the states in a little over 24 hours. I’ll call when I land. Hasta mañana.”

The next voicemail comes with: “Finally got back to the apartment. I didn’t think I’d miss the sound of guinea pigs running around. Weird. Anyway, call me when you can.”

And the third: “Spencer, seriously, why aren’t you picking up? I’m not going to have to break in, am I? Call me back.”

Culminating with: “Reid, I swear to fucking god. If I find you dead in that goddamn apartment, I’ll beat your body so bad you won’t make it the fucking afterlife.”

There’s a knock. One he won’t answer. One he doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want the pity or the advice or the dejectedness. He wants to float down a river and drown.

The knock becomes a little more insistent. And now there’s voices attached. He can make out JJ’s voice, “He’s—he’s going to be okay. He’ll come back out when he’s ready.” Following is who he thinks is Penelope, though if it is, she’s far too quiet. One set of feet retreat. He can see the shadow from a pair of shoes and he wonders why Penelope is staying so long. Maybe she’s brought another basket.

There’s one more knock—probably to ensure he’s not coming to the door—before a jiggle to the knob. And swearing. And jostling. And squirming. And pop. There’s a distinct swinging open of the door and a pair of boots tapping over his hardwood.

Maybe this is how he dies. Miserable. Covered in snot and tears. Slippers half on. Depressed on the couch.

“God, you idiot,” a voice breathes, pausing to take in the disarray. He vaguely remembers redecorating—throwing everything everywhere. The feet become more impatient and frantic and heavier. His doors all open and close and he can’t bother to correct the burglar. He’s right here, waiting, patiently waiting, for this intruder to kill him.

A fantastic way to die. He wonders if you’ll want to look at his bones. You’ve mentioned wanting to.

“Sound off, Reid,” you command. He knows its you. No one else could replicate that tremble in your lips, the break rolling off your tongue.

“Y/n,” he croaks and he wonders how long ago was the last time he spoke.

Light streams in as you flick open the curtains, bites into his skin with a hiss. You take in his disheveled state with no apprehension. Like you’ve expected this. Like you have no pity to give him. Maybe this is why he wanted you to call.

“You broke in,” he mumbles and you shake your head.

“I wouldn’t have to,” you begin to yell, just to lower your voice and grit your teeth, “if you would’ve fucking answered the door.”

You always say there’s a time and place for everything. There’s nothing to top the word ‘fuck’ and he knows that you’re beyond angry. Beyond concerned. Beyond terrified for him.

“What happened, Spencer?” you whisper, moving to sit down on the floor in front of him. You’re close enough he can smell your perfume, see the pleading look in your eyes. There’s no pity. If he could find the words, he couldn’t thank you enough.

He could reach out and hold your hand, but that seems too far. Too much. So he swallows down the tears and whispers back, “Maeve died, y/n. She died because I let her.”

“Stop it,” you order. You’ve got a hard set in your eyes, the kind that he last saw when you stared down Kazinsky. “Stop that right now. You can’t stop the world from spinning, Spencer. You can’t stop the sun from coming up. You can’t stop what you don’t know to. I might not know all the details, but I know you. You’re a diligent man and I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less than everything for the woman you love.”

You place a delicate hand on the couch next to his and you sum everything up very gracefully. “Hindsight is a bitch, don’t let it make you hers.”

He can’t stop the twitch of a smile. Can’t stop the crack of happiness that bleeds out because you’ve decided to be so ridiculously you. No one’s ever called him diligent before and seems more fitting than fragile.

“She’s still dead,” he settles on and makes the bold move to slide his fingers under yours. It feels like such a betrayal to Maeve—is he supposed to touch another woman when he couldn’t even touch the love of his life?

You just squeeze his fingers, warm and present and decidedly alive. “Yeah. She is. You’re welcome to wallow for as long as you want, but you need to eat. We’ll see if I can remember how to cook with modern appliances.”

Your smile is contagious enough that a fleeting smile reaches his eyes. You pat his hand and stand. “I’m going to the store, and taking a key this time. I promise I’ll be back. I’m stickier than a public indecency charge.”

You chuckle for the both of them and carefully make your way out of the apartment. He listens as you take a key and tries his best to psych himself into a fit of hunger. It isn’t until you’re singing in Spanish, something sizzling on the stove, that he realises that the pain in his gut is the hunger, and not just misery. That he should probably get up for at least a minute. Just to satisfy the curiosity of what that smell is.

Maeve would’ve liked you, he decides. Maeve would’ve really liked you.

And it’s the first peaceful thought he’s had in weeks.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #reid x reader #reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

(He Isn't) A Good Guy

Kinktober day 15: humiliation kink

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x reader

Summary: Jensen is tired of everyone saying he's a good guy.

Warnings: dirty talk (kind dark bc of the kink), handjob, p in v, riding, cheating, possessive, slapping

You have to be careful with what you're good at. You might just end up doing it for the rest of your life.

Jensen Ackles never caught the appeal of that saying. If you were really that good at something, why wouldn't you want to do it?

Such a mindset was as constant as a mother’s love and made Jensen's loyal company for a long time during his career. He pictured it would last forever: the head pats, positive criticism, and his charm that caught more and more fans. The Hollywood man was happy, really. He grew to be a good — if not great — actor. He had a wife and three kids that were the love of his life. He could go anywhere and find a job through the instantaneous recognition that Supernatural bestowed upon him, not to mention its gift of a best friend, Jared, and the raw amount of personal growth he went through.

He was perfect in the most diversified aspects of his life, and, God, it was boring as fuck.

Whatever Jensen did, he was excused for it. Plenty of people would light themselves on fire for him (and hey, don’t think he was ungrateful for that), but being called a good guy that apparently couldn’t do any wrongs while the rights came out even in his sleep could be devastatingly annoying.

He thought he might have some problem, perhaps even a middle-aged crisis. Come on, who, with his life, would feel compelled to look for something else? Ackles had the money, the friends, and family. He had everything everyone dreamed about, but he just wanted to wake up.

Then, he met you.

You were the woman in her twenties who was barely starting in the media business, yet you had enough luck and talent to evoke the CW's attention that early. They wouldn't hire you as an official director, but you were in the training process. You were a prodigy, as most people on the set liked to joke about.

You sighed, slightly frustrated about the direction these takes were going. Asking Ackles to follow orders was roughly the same as punching a wall; the brick didn't break, and it only left you with scuffed knuckles and growing irritation. “Jensen, you need to tilt your head to the side or we won't be able to catch her face on camera.”

“I'm doing that,” he said as if it was obvious.

“The camera doesn't agree with you.” You crossed your arms, tired of having this heated squabble again.

“I know how to shoot sex scenes, Y/N. I've been doing that for—”

You interrupted him: “I'm aware of how long the show I'm working on has been going, Jensen. Now, take my hint and do as I say. I get that you have done this before, but we are trying a new position, so your M.O. might not work.” You knew he was a good actor. Supernatural wouldn't be what it was if it wasn't for his character. Still, you needed this episode to be perfect in terms of filming. It was your first actual chance to prove how worthy you were. Jensen had his career and little apple pie life settled, but you had to scratch and squirm to insert yourself into the industry. You knew what you were doing. Nonetheless, you attempted to pacify his self-assurance by being assertive and gentle at the same time: “Just listen to me and try it. Please.”

The green-eyed man opened his mouth, very much ready to spit out a contradicting retort, but at the last second, he clamped his jaw shut and opted for a smirk instead. “Yeah, boss.”

It was the first time in years that someone actually came at him. Jensen felt the bruise aching his ego that spiked a sudden pressing need to puff out his chest and say I know what I am doing. Why don't you watch?

He'd call that the Texan man behavior, alpha macho testosterone levels on high, but, honestly, he was just mad that someone had the audacity to talk to him like that, as if he was a rookie on his job. Jensen's whole body heated up, his jaw clenched, and his breath caught on his throat when he glanced at you — of course, he'd never put a hand on a woman, but God, that was infuriating. He wasn't a middle school child in need of a lecture.

But this was his first impression. As you gave everyone fifteen minutes to relax before shooting again, he went to his trailer, gait unnecessarily heavy like a child throwing a tantrum. Jensen locked his trailer and closed his eyes, trying to pick out his emotions — how long have it been since he got mad? That couldn't be healthy.

Do as I say. Your words were echoes in his head, spinning and making him dizzy. Just listen to me.

And the look you gave him. It wasn’t adoration as a fan or nervousness like a new worker. You didn’t excuse him as anyone else did. You glanced at him as you would to any other person on the set that had made a mistake: you pointed it out and didn't offer any sugarcoating to dull the blow.

It felt refreshing.

Shaking your head at the scene unrolling on the other side of the camera, you let out an exhausted sigh. This was your second directed episode, and Jensen wasn't making it easy for you. He always seemed like such a nice guy, yet you weren't surprised by his mulish behavior. You had called him out, and now he was turning it back around on you. Celebrities were complicated on their one, but male ones even more. Their egos required a role for themselves.

“Everyone, ten minutes!” you announced, placing the headphones on the table next to you. Your crew started dispersing, Ackles included, when his name left your lips: “Jensen, c'here.”

The green-eyed man arched his eyebrows, not sure why you wanted to talk to him so privately. Still, he approached you.

When you were a kid, you went through a phase when your smile wasn’t very pretty. It was too much teeth, eyes too tight, and head lifted high enough to show under your chin. Your parents couldn't just up and tell you that it looked terrible, obviously, so they just showed you multiple pictures until you decided that you didn't like something about it.

Maybe that would work with Jensen.

You patted the chair next to you, and Jensen sat there with a wisp of hesitation. You clicked on the scene you had been trying to get right for almost an hour. The replay went smoothly, Ackles's shoulders shrugging by the end. He didn't see the fuss about this.

“Seems good,” he said nonchalantly.

You squinted your eyes at him. Someone as talented as him couldn't be serious about not seeing a problem with how ridiculous his vampire transformation through the last season was. “Seems like a sitcom”

“It's a dumb scene.” Jensen shrugged.

You groaned. “Can't you just accept that you can do better?”

Jensen crossed his arms and straightened his posture, holding a defensive atmosphere around him. God, he was infuriating sometimes. “Maybe you can. I've been doing great for years. You might not be the right director for this kind of show.”

“Just do as I said. You're in the scene, but I'm the audience. I can see right through you. I'm seeing things from another perspective and trying to tell you how to improve. That's what a director is for. Go ahead and try it!”

Your friendly conversation with the lead apparently had the opposite effect. As soon as he went back to his place in front of the camera, Jensen Ackles appeared to acquire the stubborn, incredibly unprofessional desire to take on all the worst camera angles only to get on your nerves.

“Are you kidding me!?” You elevated your voice, furious at how careless he was. All your patience has been zapped. “You're doing it on purpose. How can you be so petty?”

“Me? Petty!?” he said between gritted teeth, almost hissing as he walked to you. “I've been playing Dean for years. I know him more than—”

“I know. You do a big job with that character, but Jensen, you make mistakes. It's part of the process. You're a grown-ass man, so you can take what I'm saying and make something useful out of it. I'm the director; you are the actor. I don't care about how long you’ve been on this stage, and I don’t care for incompetence. You ain't doing good, so do as I say and fix it.”

Jensen tensed up when you said that, exhaling shortly while his eyes glued on you. You were half his age, yet the way you presented yourself — arms stiffly crossed, eyes ablaze and chin lifted — spoke of your power on this film set. At the end of the day, he was just a man, and he was in your court. Just like that, you held all control. He bit his bottom lip, neck red with the heat of anger and adrenaline that lashed through his body.

He was furious, yet all his body could do was react as if you had kissed him instead of punching his ego.

Anger and luxury both came from the same place. They were just different branches on the same tree growing from a common seed.

The half of Supernatural's leader actor started doing it on purpose, then. Not acting in a way that could collide with his career or mess up the shooting schedule, but an occasional bitched scene here and there when he had a chance, and always when you were in charge of the scene.

He relished in it: someone treating him like a man and not an untouchable idol. A woman who would look straight in his eyes and not be too intimidated, excited, or lovey-dovey to tell him all the bad things he needed to hear. You were someone who could put him in his place.

Unfortunately, playing around can only get you so far. If you bring someone to the pool, they won't be satisfied with just one foot in the water. They'd want to swim, splash water at their friends to get them all wet and soaked too.

What started with provocative, fuming rage and nuisance soon melted into something deadlier. It was something unmanageable, a burning fire that attracted all the wrong kinds of glances. Yet, neither of you could help but follow where the smoke signal led.

You were here, in each other's arms. It was a dirty little secret that went way beyond just an illicit affair: it was about what you two could give to each other without even asking, and what other people could never quite comprehend. . . And they didn't need to. Jensen had you, and you had Jensen. To desire and savor the result was enough.

Your hand was wrapped around his cock, moving up and down in a painfully slow rhythm. You had two legs wrapped around his, your face hanging next to Jensen's — close enough that you could kiss all of his freckles if this were out of love and not necessity — as you spoke.

“Everybody thinks you are the good guy. Little mister perfect.” Ackles groaned at the malice in your tone. He hated that — how everyone called him perfect, how every single person told him he was such a good guy. You were his only grounding force under the blinding lights. “But I know you aren't. You are nasty, disgusting, and so needy for someone to put you in your fucking place.”

The male's lips parted slightly, a pornographic moan leaving his body. This perversion felt like a hair short of sin. Who in their right mind would be so turned on by a girl half his age picking up all the worst things one could say about him, only to throw them exactly where it hurt the most?

Why, in the name of God, did he want more? Why was Jensen bucking his lips, needy noises that he never dons escaping his trembling body? Why was his cock hard as fuck, ruinining your fingers with sloppy precum while he internally begged you for more?

It was like receiving a miracle and giving it to the devil.

“Look at you,” you continued, a smirk painted on your features, “getting fucked in your trailer by the woman who basically told you to stop whining and get your job done like a real man.” You loved being in control of the usually overconfident Hollywood star. If only his dearest fans knew how much of a submissive he was — how he just needed to be told where he belonged.

“Y/N…” Jensen managed to say, his chest moving erratically fast. You leaned in to press your lips to his, and he whimpered. Ackles' hand slid to your waist in an attempt to pull you closer, but all he got was a slap on the arm and lack of friction on his dick. “Y/N!”

“I didn't say you could touch me, stubborn idiot.” You hissed, getting up to throw away your skirt and underwear. Jensen sniffed, feeling so ridiculous about himself. You had way too much control over him, but he couldn't really care about anything other than you touching his cock right now. Fuck composure or else. “I'm not your wife. I'm not one of your thirsty fans.” Each word came out in a harsh tone, those syllabus together had no other duty but hurt him, and he loved how they agonized in his body, redirected right to his hardness. You got free of the skirt and your soaked lace panties. “I don't need you. This?” You gestured at yourself and Ackles, a wry laughter coming out as you climbed on his lap. “I'm doing you a favor. So, you better thank me and take whatever I choose to give you. Understood?” Jensen's eyes were obsessed with your image, not leaving your face once— not even to look at his hard cock that was so close to your cunt due the new position. He just nodded, wishing that was enough to show you his piece of mind. It wasn't. You slapped his cheek and howled. “I made you a question.”

Jensen gulped, the red on his cheek from your smack couldn't compare to his blushed body. This felt so good, finally getting what he wanted. Ultimately, he blurted out: “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now let's put you to good use.” You winked at him, a hint of silly playfulness before you got all his length inside you at once. Both of you moaned, the unique sensation of your walls around his hard dick was marvelous. So warm, tight, and wet. Everything he deserved in one pussy, one woman. You started to move your hips up and down. “You feel so good inside me, baby. Like your cock was made for me— I think you were made just for this, to be fucked by me. What do you think?” His eyes fluttered shut, Jensen was allowing himself to get lost into you. You were heaven in sin, fucking him so nice. You weren't having his silent, though. You both had to be quiet about many things regarding to your mutual arrangement, you couldn't get more of closed mouths. Not when this was happening. You grabbed Jensen's jaw, fingertips pressing against his skin. “You better start answering me before I get out of here and go get some with a real man.”

Jensen groaned, holding your hips possessively. You knew he was one of the jealous kind, talking about other men touching you always got a reaction out of him. “I'm a real man.”

“Show me then, baby.” A glimpse of sweetness appeared as you leaned in to kiss his lips. It didn't last much before your lips went to his neck, words coming through an open-mouthed there. “You know, they all are so caught up in your act, Jensen. The perfect texan boy, the amazing husband, the unproblematic idol…” You chortled, sending goosebumps through his whole soul. His dick was deep into you as you were riding his restlessly. “I bet you get tired of this. I bet you just want to fuck me in front of everyone sometimes, just to show them how dirty you can be.” He nodded, a soft whine leaving his lips. He was so tired of being the good guy. Only you knew him. “Like right now. You spent the whole day messing up with me, teasing me, just so you could get punished. And here we are, fucking in your trailer, while everyone is getting ready to go home.” He tried to move his hips as well, to get more of you. When you didn't stop him, Ackles winced and bucked his hips, hitting your G-spot, going deep and raw inside your tight cunt. One of his hands went to your pussy, digits pressing to your clit. Your next words came during groans of pleasure. “You should go too, baby. But you can't help it, huh? You just want go fuck me, even though I don't even care enough to send you a message to make sure you got home safe. You like it. You love that I'm not crazy about you, that I don't care.” His heart ached, but his cock only grew harder. Jensen could feel he was on the edgy. “So, you stay here instead of going home to your sweet wife. You stay here instead of hanging out with your best friend. You stay here instead of looking through your social media just to get an ego boost. Is this what a good man would do, Jensen? No... But that's okay. Men like you just need to be put in their places, and you love it.”

“Y/N!” He screamed helplessly, pulling your body closer to him when he came inside you, marking your pussy as his. A treacherous, lust stained thought was placed on his shoulders, whispering lovingly to his ear like you did your swearing: breed her, get her pregnant with your baby. Make her yours.

You had broken him, and he loved every second of it. He couldn't wait to give you the shattered pieces as a gift.

You came with an excruciating grunt right after him, all over his cock. The feeling of Jensen coming inside you always pushed you right way. You sighed happily, resting your head on his chest.

He enjoyed moments like this.

You remained there, waiting for his cock to relax inside you, get less hard before you pulled you. When it did, you pressed a quick kiss to his collarbone, walking to grab your clothes.

“Jensen,” You coughed after putting on your skirt. “I'll send you the new script tonight. Send me an email to confirm that you got it.”

What you truly wanted to say was, tell me if you got home safe. But you couldn't.

“Sure.” Jensen answered with a nod. Once again, he also wanted to say something else: thank you for giving me what I need, for seeing me. I love you. But he couldn't.

You picked up your wet panties, throwing it at him with a teasing smile before leaving the trailer.

It was enough.

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