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bartonbones · 1 year

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About Kaz: I think the problem is not so much him "loosing" but the context of the whole thing? Like, getting beaten by a Tidemaker on parem who just *turns into mist* when you hit them and whom you did not expect because the possibility of such powers was previously unknown makes for a good scene. Kaz getting beaten by two ordinary bruisers who just stroll into his office, though? That is the kind of writing the books would not get away with because it contradicts Kaz' status - if Pekka Rollins can just go everywhere and kill everyone including Kaz, what is the point? This also doesn't get followed up properly - Pekka makes his threat, Kaz goes anyway and by episode 8 no consequences happen and the average viewer has probably forgotten. It also builds up Pekka's power too much, imo. Murder other wealthy barrel bosses whenever without consequence upsets the idea of a semi-stable system of power in Ketterdam. Like, he can get away with murdering common lowlife, but rich business owners? That would not work in the books. So the problem is not that Kaz looses, it is how he looses.

i think that the narrative reasons kaz loses that fight aren't just because he's overpowered by the jurda, although that contributes, it's because the manor in which the tidemaker is manifesting makes him think about jordie, which distracts him during the fight and makes him more vulnerable. it's not just touch that's a vulnerability, it's anything that relates back to jordie, and that includes pekka.

in the show pekka rollins showing up into this space that kaz has made sacred to himself is enough to disarm him and distract him becuase it reminds him of jordie, becuase here is this man that represents the entire reason he has any vulnerabilities to begin with, and so that's what the show is telling you by having pekka rollins show up and disarm kaz: it's not that pekka rollins is the most powerful scary antagonist, becuase he's not even the antagonist for the crows in the show, it's just to let you see a manifestation of what kaz's vulnerabilities are. in the book, we learn them through kaz's internal dialogue more than anything else--at the end of this scene he blames himself for being distracted, calls himself a fool. in the show, the absence of internal dialogue means we need external factors to let us know that kaz is vulnerable and he is frustrated by his own vulnerability.

i imagine this interact will pay off more in s2 when we as a show audience are told why pekka was so disarming to kaz specifically. it also allows them to set up this dynamic of pekka meaning a lot to kaz, but kaz meaning next to nothing to pekka.

also, i don't mean this to say i think the show is a perfect 1:1 for the books, bc obviously it isn't. and i don't want to give credit where none is due by saying that i think they're trying to show that the kaz in the show is a precursor to the more stable/powerful/intimidating book kaz, although i think that would be a more interesting take given that in the timeline kaz should technically be newer to all this, but what i am saying is that the "gotcha" ism of "kaz would never get beat in the books!" doesn't make sense to me and i don't think him being caught off guard by seeing pekka rollins personally for what i assume is the first time is character assassination as much as it is a nessicary evil of only being able to adapt a two-book series in to 10 minute slots of another show.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #i mean the other thing is like. you guys ask a lot of a show that's already doing more for six of crows than it had to.#the truth of it is that a) six of crows requires a prequal show to set up the world becuase so much of SOC relies on worldbuilding from SAB #b) i think execs were worried that six of crows wouldn't sell and SAB has a much easier + more marketable fantasy love triangle romance #c) but they clearly thought SAB wouldn't be as popular without the SOC #and d) you need money to make shows. this is how they are trying to ensure they have an audience of non-book fans in order to fund it #so basically the conceit of this is like; it will never ever be perfect but it's literally this or nothing #and i think what we have is good enough compared to the absolute nothing we would have if they didn't combine the series #would i prefer SOC to be its own series? obviously!!! but everyone needs to be sooo fucking for real rn

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wizardfvcker · 1 year

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so the thing is that i do believe if you create a degree that is designed in such a way that students don’t ever do ONE (1) single essay in the entire Four Years it lasts* then it is deranged and insane to be like oh i see you’re about to graduate. you need to write a 40 page long thesis worth FIFTEEEN CREDITS btw and no one is going to help you or guide you in any way (ANY WAY!!! WHATSOEVER!!!!!) LET ALONE your thesis supervisor. good luck lol. also you need to orally present it to a group of 3 professors and if they don’t like it you will not graduate. byee

#* i don't mind that. i hate essays. but #.txt #sorry i feel insane thinking about my thesis and how badly its looking because um im stupid and picked a topic that barely has any info <3 #thats def my fault but also OHGRGRHGRGR IM KILLING MYSELF!!!! IM KILLING IM BITING HOW DO I DO THIS SHIT????#I HAVENT EMAILED MY SUPERVISOR IN A MONTH BECAUSE IM STRESSING ABOUT EXAMS BUT I ALSO HAVE NOTHING TO SHOW HER!!!!!!!!#no offense but i stressed out about this way before i even finished high school and i was right for it #without being conceited i have very good grades so far but i am genuinely like. this might be what gets me lmao #anyway time to have a good little cry and then see people for the first time in like a week #i literally cannot stress how much we have not done one single essay or presentation in our whole degree #OR LIKE ANY RESEARCH WORK?#ITS JUST CRAZY ITS CRAZY BEHAVIOR #okay I'm normal I'm ormal

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thisgodwontforgiveyou · 2 years

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i will never understand the fma brotherhood fanbase as long as i live

#like literally one of the absolute worst anime i have ever ever ever seen only beaten by fucking #absolute bottom of the bottom of the barrel swill like gantz and promised neverland and the bleakest parts of bleach #fucking steven universe was a better show than fmab i dont get it i never will get it its insane its deluded #its not even me getting mad at the hideous politics being espoused the actual conceit and execution of it are SOOOOO shit #maybe 2003 is way better on that front but fmab is so insanely poorly animated and paced its ridiculous

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puppynosed · 2 years

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I need to stop coming here just to vent lol butttt today absolutely SUCKED.

#this whole renovation thing is so beyond stressful and chaotic and I don’t like to not be vague on social media about things bc genuinely I #feel terrible about talking about someone like that idk #but it’s like. things are already so beyond stressful as is but my mom continues to rip everyone’s heads off for just the smallest things #and today we got into a huge fight over something so stupid and yeah I mean I should’ve been kinder and I think that was part of it but #it’s just that tensions are so high rn and I don’t think I can handle getting yelled at every 5 seconds #I’ve been pushed to my limit SO many times throughout this year and I’m at the point where I just can’t handle it anymore #there’s so much going on that no one even knows about bc I can’t find the courage to tell anyone for a number of reasons lol but this #I just simply cannot handle this.#I’m so tired of keeping to myself all the time and feeling so conceited and trapped #I’m so tired of being and feeling stuck in a place that makes me feel so miserable #I just wish that I didn’t feel so alone and like I was always on the outside looking in bc it’s truly such a horrible thing to feel #I just want a shot at life and you could say that I basically DO have one but.#I’m just so stuck in the notion (idk if that’s the right word for it if it isn’t I’m so sorry) that I just have no way of breaking through #my shell and finding my way through this dark time #I don’t know what to do and there’s never a moment that goes by where I’m not the slightest bit afraid #but yeah anyways this all probably sounds so stupid and makes no sense whatsoever and I’ve spent the majority of the day debating on whether #or not venting was a good idea but here I am ig idk #I just wish things would get better #I wish I felt like hope was a thing in my life… it’s literally a part of my name #what am I even doing here… what if my purpose of existing is to show that it’s possible to die a failure :’•}#personal

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harryslittlefreakk · 26 days

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obsessed

summary: harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

warnings: none! fluffy fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, mentions nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i am a loud & proud olivia rodrigo stan sooo naturally i had to write something. it’s silly and cheesy and short! but i hope you enjoy!!

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here!! happy reading my loves 💖

“Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” You didn’t even need to look up from your book to know Harry was about to throw himself down on the end of your bed, his coat and shoes still on. Every time you got home before him he’d bound into your room like a little labrador, too excited to see you to even drop his stuff down first.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Could’ve been anyone, H,” you told him, feigning reluctance as you closed your book and looked up at him. The second you heard his key rattling in the door you’d wait for the sound of your door bursting open, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life. But you’d never let him know that, so every day you’d pretend it was an annoyance to have him perched at your feet.

“Think of someone you really don’t like,” he persisted, a toothy grin nestled between his dimpled cheeks.

“Literally could be anyone.”

“Come on! Blonde hair, tall, pretty…”

Of fucking course. His stupid, evil, awful ex girlfriend. And naturally, the only way you could react to hearing about her was to reach over and shove him before crossing your arms over your chest. “Ow! What was that for?” Harry laughed, rubbing at his upper arm.

“I was having such a nice day. And then you have to come in and mention that.” It was massively childish, but you couldn’t help but feel violent every time you heard about her. She was fine for the most part, maybe a little too conceited for your taste, but she’d made Harry happy. But you’d watched from the outside as Harry went through relationships, and he always morphed into whatever version of himself he thought the girl would prefer. He stopped being your Harry, and your friendship would suffer for it. But you couldn’t say anything, could never treat his girlfriends with anything but a polite smile and quick conversation, unless you wanted to out yourself as a jealous little girl. And you definitely didn’t want to do that.

This time, however, the ability to hate her had been handed to you on a silver platter when she decided to go home with one of Harry’s friends on a night out. You were his shoulder to cry on, the one to make him smile again after days of moping around. So you had full permission to hate her, and you were relishing in it - as much as you could while still tiptoeing around Harry’s aching heart.

“She wants to meet for a coffee this week,” he told you, scrunching his eyes tight as he waited for another shove. When nothing came, he squinted over to see you rubbing at your temples. “Are you gonna?” you asked, brows furrowed as you imagined the two of them back together.

“Am I allowed?” Harry teased, turning round to lay on top of you, his face only inches from yours. “You’re a grown man, H. Couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” you told him, your voice void of any emotion.

“Dunno if it’s a good idea. She might find me too irresistible and then I’ll have to deal with that,” he grinned, not noticing the change in your face. You looked down as you felt your lip start to quiver, too proud to show how your heart sank. “I need to shower, H. Dinner after?” you asked, slipping out from under him and dragging your heavy limbs towards the door. He looked over at you with round, questioning eyes, only to be met by silence and a weak smile as you headed for the bathroom.

You barely got the door shut behind you before the tears came, hot and heavy drops rolling down your cheeks. You knew you couldn’t have Harry, but every minute spent with him had your heart breaking over and over again. Every little cuddle, every touch, lit you up with a fire that burned to the bones. But then you’d see the way he acts with a girlfriend, the way he loved someone, and all those moments you shared seemed silly and infantile. He was your best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as the sobs wracked your body. You’d tried so hard to push away the feelings, to convince yourself that you were just confused and overwhelmed. He’s a friend, he’s a friend, he’s a friend, echoing around your mind. But deep down, you knew that no one could ever compare to Harry. He was yours, the only one to ever steal a piece of your heart.

“Y/n? M’coming in.” You froze as Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold the sobs in. “I’m naked,” you called out, scrambling to your feet and wiping away your tears with your sleeve. But he opened the door anyway, stopping in the doorway when he saw your tear-stained face. “Didn’t even turn the shower on yet,” he muttered, glancing over at it.

“Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” you whispered, choking out a giant sob as you turned your face away from Harry, sinking down onto the edge of the bath.

“Quite clearly are. Move,” he ordered, swatting you away before reaching to turn on the taps.

“What are you-”

“If you’re sad, I’m sad. And I like having a bath when I’m sad,” Harry shrugged, turning around to grab one of your bath bombs.

“I was gonna shower, you can’t-”, between the sobs, your confusion and the need for Harry not to know why you were crying, you could barely string a sentence together.

And when Harry pulled off his t-shirt, you were even more lost for words, left with your mouth gaping and only air coming out. “Joining me?” he asked, tipping too much bubble bath into the steamy water - something you’d have to scold him for later.

“I’m not getting in with you,” you told him, once you’d finally got a grip on your brain.

“Just get under the bubbles. And you can close your eyes when I get in.”

“No way.” You hugged your arms over your chest, drawing your swollen bottom lip into your mouth as you watched a shirtless Harry mix the bubble bath into the water. The way his muscles flexed, the tattoos littered across his tanned, slender frame. His skin always looked perfect, not Barbie doll smooth but irresistibly soft. Your fingers took on a mind of their own, slowly reaching out to touch him before he turned around with a smug grin. “Fine, go away then while I have my nice relaxing bath.”

“I want a bath,” you whispered, barely audible over the running water splashing into the tub. “What was that, angel?” Harry grinned, moving his towel onto the toilet seat. “I want a bath,” you told him, louder now, a tiny smile dancing on your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of one of your hands, tugging you closer to the bathtub. He turned you around before pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your little pyjama shorts. Just the brush of his fingertips against your bare torso sent chills down your spine. “M’not looking. Tell me when you’re in,” Harry told you, dropping your t-shirt to his feet.

You pushed your pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, checking behind you to see if Harry really wasn’t watching. True to his word, he had his eyes scrunched tight and his hand clenched over them. You’d seen each other in bathing suits and underwear so many times before, but being naked in the same room as Harry felt beyond weird. You’d never been overly shy about your body, especially with someone who made you feel as pretty and as comfortable as Harry did, but this would add a whole new layer to your friendship - and you didn’t know if you’d survive it. Still, you sunk into the bathtub and pulled the mass of bubbles to your end, trying to keep your breasts under the water before you told Harry he can look. “It’s really hard to make bubbles stay put, H,” you told him, screwing up your face as you tried to hold them steady.

He was laughing as he pulled his trousers and socks off, great big guffaws tumbling out every time the bubbles tried to escape your grip. “Want me to turn the lights down a bit? Then it’s harder to see,” he shrugged, nodding towards the light switch. You nodded, grateful that he cared enough to make sure you were 100% comfortable. It was one of the things that first drew you to Harry, and definitely what you valued most about him. He was always so kind, always caring, so willing to put anyone’s needs above his own - and that’s why relationships always changed him.

“Close your eyes then,” he said, mockingly holding two hands in front of his bulge. You rolled your eyes, finally starting to lighten up as the hot water washed over you. When Harry reached out to swat at your nose, you closed your eyes tight. You felt him stepping into the bathtub after a minute, his long legs slotting down your left-hand side.

“Hi,” he smiled when you opened your eyes. “Gonna tell me what upset you now?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you told him, your voice small.

“It is if it made you that upset,” Harry countered, placing a gentle hand on your calf, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

You paused for a moment, trying to think of what you wanted to say and how to say it. “It just- she doesn’t deserve you, H. Anyone who hurts you like that doesn’t deserve any of your time and respect.” Your eyes dropped to the water as you spoke, your body frozen. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he did, you needed to say more. “You were really sad, Harry. It sucked for you and it sucked for me too because I don’t like seeing you like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, but I can’t just sit and wait for her to hurt you like that again. Not when you know she’s capable of it.”

You watched the smaller bubbles popping one by one by one, suddenly anxious in the silence that followed your speech. You hated going against Harry, putting your two cents into something that really didn’t concern you, but sometimes he needed to hear it.

“I know,” he replied finally. “But do you think that because you don’t like her?”

“Harry, no! I don’t like her because she did that to you.”

“You were never her biggest fan,” he shrugged, his brows knitted when you finally pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“She changed you, H. You were different with her, less you. Everything is so surface level with her, it’s looks and Instagram likes and who’s got trouble with who. There’s no substance, nothing deeper.”

Harry’s thumb halted as he shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “It doesn’t always have to be deeper,” he sighed, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.

“I know it’s not my place but you need someone who brings out the best in you, you need-”

A bitter laugh from Harry stopped you in your tracks, your mouth snapping closed as a chuckle slipped out of his. He met your questioning gaze with a tiny smirk. “She always used to say you were jealous of her.”

You could feel the tears collect on your bottom eyelashes again as he said it, the words stinging like barbed wire sinking into your skin. How could you even respond? “Harry-” was all you could manage before your mouth ran dry.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n,” he told you, his voice soft as he reached out for your hand. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging at your fingertips. “I’m- we-” you started, gesturing between your bare bodies with your free hand, eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, motioning for you to turn around.

Somewhat reluctantly, you did, leaning back into his body until your back hit your chest. You were exposed in every sense, your chest sitting just above the waterline and your heart on your sleeve. Harry wrapped an arm around your torso, his delicate touch careful not to go anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Truth is I probably need someone like you. Only one to make me happy on a shitty day, only one who gives me any effort,” he murmured, his voice so low that if he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your heart quickened as he spoke, your pulse pounding against your inner wrists. “I’m not- I don’t have anything that she-” you choked out.

“S’a good thing, no?” Harry asked, turning his head just slightly until his lips brushed tentatively against your earlobe. “No, Harry. You need more, you need-”

“You,” he finished for you. “Just say the word and I’m yours, angel.”

It was like someone had handed you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out and take it. But it wasn’t that easy. If anything went south, you risked losing Harry forever. You shuffled back out of his grip, turning to sit in front of him, perched on your knees. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about him seeing your body, your words willing themselves from your lips. “If anything went wrong Harry, I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“What would go wrong? We know we get along, we have the same traits and the same values. We’re already doing life together,” he reached out a hand to cup your cheek as he spoke, his eyes laced with nothing but earnestness.

“I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

“Never. Never ever, I swear. I thought about it for a while but it never really clicked until now.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Harry spoke, desperately needing to figure out if it was all a dream. The sensation of his touch, the sound of his voice, the gentle heat of the water – it all felt too real to be a dream. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was too perfect, too surreal to be true. You hesitated, unsure if you should dare to believe in the fairytale unfolding between the two of you.

As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, entwining your fingers in yours instead. He squeezed lightly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little smile. "I'm here, y/n," he whispered. "This is real, promise." His words were a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to consume you. Even if it was a dream, it was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you confessed, allowing yourself to give into the fantasy for at least a little while. You fought the urge to search for the hidden cameras, check the date to make sure it wasn’t an April Fools prank. Harry was a goof, but you were a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, his husky voice laced with sincerity and longing.

“I want this,” you whispered, clutching onto Harry’s hand as if you could fall off the Earth at any minute. His face erupted into a grin so cheesy that you couldn’t help but mirror it, eyes locked onto his as he closed the distance between the two of you.

Harry’s lips met yours softly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you melted into him, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs by the urgency and desire behind his soft movements. He pulled away after a minute, his forehead pressed to yours as he searched your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. Although all Harry was met with was a sparkle in your gaze, and a further few pecks landing on his lips. “Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands splaying across your back. “Should’ve done it before you got me naked,” you teased, succumbing once again to his kiss.

rrrr i really don’t know how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7

#harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles masterlist #harryslittlefreakk

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

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Competitive hate

adult Neteyam x female Omatikaya reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: When you compete, it’s always a battle to see who will get the upper hand. And when you fuck, it’s the same struggle.

Warnings: explicit smut, rivals with benefits, hate sex, quickie, doggy style, choking, spit kink, come eating, degradation kink, mean Neteyam, teasing / mutual bullying, sexual tension, they really really hate each other

Notes: this is loosely inspired by a request but I can’t seem to find the ask anymore 😩 I still hope you’ll find this and even though it’s probably a little different from what you had in mind I hope you enjoy it :)

It's hard to explain what Neteyam has with you.

You were loud, annoying, conceited and a brat that didn’t even deserve to be called an actual competition against him. Where he worked hard to succeed, it was like everything in your life was just given to you by sheer luck. He knew it wasn't rational, not even fair, but he couldn't help it. You were pissing him off with everything you did.

Neteyam was the first to undergo his iknimaya and you followed suit, both of you succeeding on the first try. Neteyam was good with the bow, but you were just as good. You were a great hunter, but he was even better. You were faster, he was stronger. Both of you were incredibly smart. And when Neteyam was one of the youngest Omatikaya to make a clean kill during a sturmbeest hunt, you came along and robbed him of his title. It was as if you were taunting him.

No, definitely, Neteyam couldn’t stand you.

But those feelings were mutual.

As if it wasn’t already hard enough to prove to everyone that you were just as talented as he was, Neteyam seemingly took great pleasure competing with you in literally anything you did. There was something about the way he held his head high, so proud and confident in himself, it made you want to puke. He was a spoiled brat, acting like you were always just lucky and that’s it. Not an actual threat to him and his reputation. You were working so hard for all of this and he took this whole thing like it was a silly game. A way of passing time.

You couldn’t even hunt for your own food, without him showing off that his kill was bigger. Couldn’t even weave something for yourself, without him walking around in something that had much more complex patterns the next day, obviously fishing for compliments from other clan members, before they could even acknowledge your own work.

But you had your ways of getting revenge for his stupid behavior. Oh how you loved talking shit about him, to the pretty girls you had caught him sweet talking to. Making them avoid him, the next time he tried to flirt with them, giggling behind his back as they left him standing with that dumb, confused look on his face. It was probably partly your fault he hasn’t found himself a mate yet.

Neteyams way of staying calm while he felt his blood boil in his veins made him feel like a kid, but it was you, the brat. It was you.

So he repaid the favor by starting rumors about you that made all the guys your age whistle behind your back whenever you walked by. None of them were true, obviously. But there was something so satisfying to him, in the way you would get into trouble for throwing your fist at whatever poor guy actually believed you would suck his dick if he just asked nicely enough.

It was an endless back and forth with the two of you, always competing who was better, faster, stronger, smarter…. and neither of you could actually outdo the other. There was never a true winner.

But if there was one thing you both had in common, one thing you both strongly agreed on, it was probably the fact that you hated each others guts from the bottom of your hearts.

Which makes it even more complicated to explain how this had even started.

"Didn’t hurt you, did I?", Neteyam tilted his head as he looked down at you with a sharp grin. Why was he always so unbearable?

"Of course not, asshole", you mumbled as you tried to get rid of the dirt on your hands and knees. That prick had robbed you clean off of your kill, landing his ikran way too close and not only causing you to stumble and fall, but also frightening the Yerik enough so that it ran away. It had took you hours to track that damn thing down!

"Hm, that’s unfortunate", the olo’eyktan’s son chuckled, patting his ikran before the animal took off flying again. Great, so that meant he was planning on staying for a while…

"Don’t you have shit to do?", you spat it him, clutching your bow so hard that your knuckles turned white.

"I just thought I’d let you know that I’m back from my hunting trip and the meat will be enough to feed the clan for a few days. So there is no reason for you to make any unnecessary kills. Not that you actually could’ve killed that poor thing, not with your horrible stance anyways."

Great. Just great.

It wasn’t like you were trying to prove anything here. You just wanted to fulfill your responsibilities, help feeding the clan, even if it was just one dumb Yerik… How was it even possible for him to come back after three days and immediately, you stood in his shadow again? You could already hear the snickering of the other clan members, if you returned with empty hands. And all the talking about Neteyam, oh the golden child of the olo’eyktan, who had once again proven just how worthy he was of becoming the next chief. Fuck this. And fuck him too.

You didn’t even realize how tears had automatically began to prick at the corner of your eyes, your frustration too much to bear, not until you hear Neteyam scoff, "What? Gonna cry now because you have to return with empty hands, while I fed the whole clan by myself? That’s cute, are you really that desperate for praise or—"

"Thanks for stating the obvious, you genius. You can shut up now", you cuss, quickly wiping the tears away before they can fall, "All that talking gives me a fucking headache. Where’s your brother, huh? Don’t you have to babysit or something?" Like a child throwing a tantrum, you slam your bow to the ground and cross your arms over your chest, mumbling curses and what not under your breathe. Much to Neteyams amusement. It was so rare of you to loose your temper, but when you did, Neteyam had this special talent in making things so much worse.

Stepping over your bow, he approaches you, "So you didn’t miss me while I was gone? Must’ve been pretty boring with nobody to look up to."

You grimace at his words and scoff, "Oh don’t flatter yourself, I was praying you’d never come back."

"Yeah right, so you can feel like the number one for once in your life?", he chuckles, brushing a leave out of your hair in an act of fake affection. And that finally did it. Turning to him, you swat his hand away, fuming with rage, "I fucking hate you so much, Neteyam if you don’t shu—"

You’re cut off when his hand grabs your jaw, fingers squishing your cheeks together so hard that you’re unable to speak without biting the inside of them.

"Watch how you’re talking to me", he growls through gritted teeth. But even though his own jaw was clenched, he kept smiling at you. If you didn’t know any better, he would’ve actually scared you like this. But you do know better.

And that’s how it always went. Probably how it all had started too.

In your eyes, there‘s this fire. But the heat in his eyes is different. Your fire wants to burn, Neteyam’s wants to consume. And it wants to consume you. And you let it, let him. Once, twice—

How many times has it happened by now? Neither of you can tell. You’ve lost count months ago.

Neteyams grip on your jaw is firm, prying your mouth open without much effort and you don’t even think before you act, letting your tongue roll out for him to see. And he grins, that bastard really has the nerve to grin that smug grin of his, before he pulls you closer and spits. It’s filthy. Humiliating. But you can’t help and clench your thighs together when he gives you the go-ahead and you swallow his salvia on your tongue.

Neteyams heart beats rapidly against his chest. In some sick, twisted way, seeing you practically steam in anger makes him so unbelievable hard. He likes that side of you, likes your attitude and when you’re a little feisty, because you try so hard to be better than him. Makes him want to fuck the brat right out of you.

He turns you, so fast that the world spins for a second, before your hands find purchase against a tree. You feel him behind you, how he presses himself against your bottom and grinds himself there. He’s hard, you can feel every inch of him, even through the fabric of both of your loincloths. And he chuckles when you push back against him, just as wanton and desperate as he was.

When you compete, it’s always a battle to see who will get the upper hand. And when you fuck, it’s the same struggle. It becomes a push and pull to see who will be forced to submit to the other, who will cum first, who will make the other moan the loudest.

Neteyams hand pushes down onto your lower back, makes it arch some more and he groans when your clothed sex rubs against his cock just right. His hands find the string that keeps your loincloth together, but he’s incredibly impatient and it’s so hard to open the tight knot that he huffs in frustration. And you’re not making it any easier with the way you push back against him over and over again.

"C‘mon just remove the damn thing", he grumbles, his fingertips itching to just reach for his knife and cut it off of you. Turning your head enough for him to see the way you’re rolling your eyes, you slip out of your clothes, discarding them to somewhere on the ground.

Neteyam then pushes you back against the tree, flipping his own loincloth to the side before he lines himself up with your entrance. It’s comically, really. So much so, that he can’t help but laugh with how easy he can push himself inside you. You’re wet, always so wet and ready for him it makes him sick. It makes him hate you even more with how easy you are, how easy it is to work you up like that. Normally, Neteyam enjoys to tease, wants to hear you beg for it just for his ego. But it’s been three days without that tight heat wrapped around his cock and he can’t hold it together any longer.

"I hate you. Oh fuck, i hate you so much right now", he huffs and the grip he has on your hips is hard enough to bruise. You moan when splits you open, pushes himself to the hilt inside you.

"Ah shit", you curse when the first thrust knocks you forward a little, "Fucking asshole…"

"That’s it’s, holy shit. Look at you, taking me like a fucking champ. At least you’re actually good at one thing, huh?"

"Just shut up and fuck me already, will you?", you sneer at him over your shoulder.

"Needy little slut", he spits the words like venom and than slams his hips forward, cock forcing itself deeper inside you, the blunt head hitting your cervix before he sets his pace. He’s rough and fast, deep strokes that knock the very air from your lungs.

There’s not even a response, no smart remark or anything else that would usually come whenever he insulted you like this. But the symphony of moans that you let out, loud and obscene, they do all the talking for you. It was embarrassing how fast Neteyam could turn you into a trembling, whimpering mess. The squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy only added further to your humiliation.

You hate Neteyam. You really hate him. You hate him, hate him so fucking much that you didn’t think it was ever going to go away. His damn, punchable, handsome face was grinning behind your back, groaning when he felt you squeeze around him, because you were close already. If there was one thing he knew how to do right, it was how to make you come. And how to do it quick and with barely any effort. Neteyam knew how to angle his hips, knew which pace was needed and how much force he would need to put behind his thrusts.

And Neteyam hates you for knowing exactly what to do to push him over the edge. He hates the way your tail curls around his wrist, hates how you push yourself back to meet his thrusts and how tight you are, how your warm, wet walls seem to suck him further in until he can barely pull out properly.

"Shit, m'gonna cum", he groans behind you, "Gonna cum inside that tight little pussy, would you like that?" Your eyes widen. With what little sanity you have left, you glance over your shoulder and glare at him, "Don’t you f-fucking dare."

"What if I would, huh?", Neteyam chuckles and the next particular hard trust makes your eyes roll back inside your head, "Gonna make you walk around with my cum running down your legs so everyone can see what a little bitch you are for me." You know he’s bluffing. It’s what he does to make you mad, drive you insane with hate just because it feeds his big ass ego. Still, you can’t help but wonder if one day he actually would…

"N-Neteyam don’t—"

But he just laughs behind you. One of his hands comes up to your throat and then he pulls you back enough so your almost flush against his chest.

"I’m just fucking with you", he pants right next to your ear, his voice low and laced with amusement, "You squeeze me a lot harder when you’re mad, fuck."

The new angle allows him to put some extra force in fucking against your g-spot and your hands reach up to cling to him, nails digging into his arm hard enough to make him hiss and that in return makes you grin. He can’t stand the way your fangs show when you do that stupid face, so he adds more pressure into the grip around your throats and that’s enough to make you come. You choke on your own moans, trembling as he stills his movements and waits for you, holds you tight against him until you come down from your high. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s capable of doing to you.

Your head feels fuzzy when he suddenly spins you around once again, your legs effortlessly give in when he forces you down on your knees in front of him. The look you spare him is nothing more than a glare, still, you open your mouth as if he gave you the command and then stick your tongue out. Neteyams chest heaves as he strokes himself, the tip of his cock hovering just mere inches over your tongue. Neither one of you seem to want to break that intense eye contact as he works a hand over his shaft, fast and rough. You keep your mouth open and tongue out the entire time, not caring for the way some of your drool runs down over your chin and Neteyam can’t help himself when he catches some with his thumb and pops it into his own mouth.

He knows you’re going to be so insufferable about it, but he doesn’t care, not right now. Not when the sight of you on your knees before him is so damn good, he’s going to be so much more insufferable about this to you. It’s an endless circle of teasing between you two anyways.

"Oh shit", Neteyam curses under his breathe and finally, thick spurts of his cum land right there on your tongue. It’s warm, sticky and a little bitter too and you grimace when you swallow. Neteyam looks down at you with that satisfied grin plastered on his dumb face and now you wished you would’ve just spit it out…

"Just know that this doesn’t make me hate you any less", you grumble as you get up to stand on your wobbly feet, brushing the dirt off of you knees.

"You say that every time."

#neteyam smut #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x you #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam x y/n

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antxlss · 6 months

Text

but, you’re my boss II

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader (modern au)

summary: the day comes for your big blind date. you should hate the guy, but you can’t help but let him grow on you.

warnings: none

words: 2.3k

a/n: guys I was so quick with this one. anyways this is giving enchanted by taylor swift vibes to me. let me know how you guys like it! ~ max <3

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part I | series masterlist | my masterlist

You wake up on Monday morning to the sound of your phone going off next to your bed.

You look at the time, it's 7am, it's time to get ready for work.

You pick up your phone and open your texts to see a message from Padmé. She sent it just a minute ago.

Good morning queen, I have the details for your date and I have to tell you the man is hot (but I don't want to give you any expectations). But go get 'em, bitch. Tonight, 7pm, go meet him at Sandalwood Cafe!

You groan and slam your face into your pillow.

Why did I agree to this?

You roll out of bed and begin getting ready for work.

You spend most of the day nervous, your mind racing with doubts about the date and if you'll click with the guy. You start to wonder if you made a mistake agreeing to it, but the doubt is constantly shoved aside by Padmé's positive tone and support.

As soon as work lets out, you head home to get ready for the date. As a last minute touch up, you spray some perfume under your elbows, the type of perfume that Padmé told you her new Tinder match had told her he liked. You check over in the mirror one last time before heading out.

You decide to walk to the small cafe since it is only a few blocks from your apartment.

You arrive and step into to the cute establishment.

You look around for a few seconds before your eyes land on a handsome looking young man sitting in a chair near the doorway. He's a little on the taller side, his dark blond hair and blue eyes making him very charming. As he notices you walk through the door into the cafe, his eyes immediately find yours, and a small smile creeps onto his cheeks.

You smile back as you take in his appearance. He looks nice and well put together, probably a lawyer or a doctor or something like that. Someone you'd see on television.

Your breath got knocked out of you. You could've sworn you looked petrified.

It was your fucking boss.

Why would Padmé do this? She knows how you feel about that conceited asshole.

You paint a polite smile on your face and try your best to contain yourself.

"I am. And you are?" You ask, even though you very much know who he is.

You can't believe he does t even recognize you. You honestly weren't even shocked.

He gets to his feet to meet you, extending his hand out to you. He's much taller than you, and you look up at him. His eyes are locked on to yours and you can't help but get a little lost in them.

He speaks with a very smooth but gentle confidence to the point that you just want to stare at him while he speaks.

"I'm Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. I'm so glad you could make it. Would you like to come sit down?"

You internally groan. If you weren't literally desperate for male interaction, you would've just walked out. Might as well just give it a try.

You follow Anakin as he leads you to the table he was previously occupying.

He pulls out your seat for you and waits for you to sit down before he seats himself across from you.

He smiles and leans forward, putting his elbows on the table as his eyes continue to gaze intently at yours, never breaking the eye contact for more than a few seconds.

He speaks without the gentility he showed when you first met. "Padmé told me what I was getting myself into and I have to say, I still can't believe how beautiful you are in person. I hope you don't mind me saying."

Your heart fluttered at his flattery. Why did he have to be so much of a gentleman. You wanted so badly to hate him. To be fair he's never given you a reason to do so.

"Thank you." You smile. "So, how do you know Padmé?"

He's in complete control of his emotions and shows the same confidence he did while at work. You feel completely powerless as you're unable to resist his charm. You can tell Padmé wasn't kidding, he's absolutely charming.

Still staring intently at your face, he leans forward onto his elbows.

"Oh, she and I matched on Tinder a few days ago. She thought we might hit it off, so she set me up on this date." He speaks like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Oh, so that bitch gave me her seconds. I see how it is." You laugh. "I'm assuming she wasn't into you, you know, since she set us up?"

He chuckles, completely unfazed by what you said by the insult.

He leans one elbow back on the table and clasps his hands together, still staring intently at your eyes and speaking with that same charm, as if there was no tension between him and your relationship with Padmé.

"No, she says she thinks I'm great! In fact, she thought I was handsome, which was why Padmé sent me your way."

He lets out another small chuckle, still keeping eye contact.

"No offense, but you definitely aren't her type. She goes for the more grungy 'bad boy' type." You giggle.

Once again, Anakin seems unfazed by what you said.

While he's still leaning in on one of his elbows against the table, he still is staring intently at you.

He speaks, still confidently.

"Well... I'm not too sure about her type... she did swipe right on me though, so I guess that counts for something?" He chuckles, still staring at you, not breaking eye contact.

You decided to get risky. What did you have to lose.

"Well you may not be Padmé's type, but you're mine."

Anakin keeps looking at you and you notice that his eyebrows raise. His gaze is still sharp, but now there's a twinkle in his eye as he smiles at you.

You feel butterflies in your stomach and you can't stop smiling.

Anakin leans forward and rests his elbows back on the table.

"Oh?" He smiles, keeping eye contact.

"Mhm." You smile, not breaking the eye contact.

You feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Anakin remains seated for a moment longer.

With a slightly deeper voice than before, Anakin speaks and looks you straight in the eyes without blinking.

"I'd like to take you out." His eyes go back to you smiling. "On another date... that is."

You laugh. "Anakin we've only been talking for like two minutes. We know nothing about each other."

Yeah like the fact that he's your fucking employer. You have to tell him that you work for his company. He's literally your boss. He'll find out eventually either way.

He chuckles, and with a look of confidence on his face he leans forward.

"Maybe we don't know anything about each other in terms of our pasts, but I do know a bit about you." And he stares directly at your eyes.

"From this conversation, I've found out a few things about you. You're a beautiful girl with a great sense of humor. You're confident but not in an arrogant way. And you're not too hard to look at," Anakin laughs a little, smiling and maintaining eye contact.

"Hmm, we'll I guess you know me pretty well." You joke. "But really, let's just talk, get to know each other, and then by the end of the night I'll let you know if I want you to take me out again."

Anakin lets out a soft chuckle and leans back slightly, still looking at you with his charming smile.

"You know what? That seems fair. We just got here."

He chuckles again, still speaking with that same confidence and smooth, gentle tone in his voice.

"The night is still young, and so far you seem awesome."

"So far... Okay, ask me a question, what do you want to know about me?" You ask.

He sits back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other at the knee.

He puts both of his elbows on the table and leans forward towards your direction, keeping his attention on you.

He looks at you for a second before speaking, thinking of a good question.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm from Texas, but I moved to New York City to attend Baruch College. I liked it here so much, I decided to stay." You reply.

It's hard for you to even keep eye contact with him. His looks, his confidence, his smooth, gentle voice.

He speaks like he's not distracted at all and fully in the moment, like your beauty did not even throw him off.

"Why'd you choose that college specifically?"

"Really just because it's in the city." You shrug. "What about you, where are you from?"

"Hmph, fair enough."

Anakin chuckles.

"I'm from the Hamptons. Born and raised."

Oh so he's rich, rich.

There's a pause in which he doesn't quite seem to say everything he was thinking. His eyes are still glued to yours, and you can't stop looking at him either.

"What are you studying at that college?"

"Forensic Phycology. I'm working on my masters right now. Most of my school is online." You reply.

Anakin leans back in his chair again, crossing his legs over each other at the knee. He rests his elbows back onto the table again and leans towards you.

"Forensics, that sounds really interesting. Most of your school is online? How's that working for you?"

He still looks at you with that same charming smile and his eyes on your face, not breaking eye contact for longer than a few seconds.

"It's actually pretty good. I thought I wouldn't enjoy it, but it gives me a chance to work while I finish school." You admit.

Anakin chuckles, and looks back at you for a few seconds.

After a moment of silence, Anakin speaks again and leans forward.

"What is it that you do for work?"

Anakin continues looking you dead in the eyes, a twinkle in his eyes as he waits for your response.

Shit.

You have to tell him. You can't lie. Especially since you are surprisingly really liking him.

"I'm a receptionist. At Skywalker Engineering."

You sit and anxiously wait for his response.

Anakin sits back in his seat a little after you tell him.

After a moment he speaks in a soft tone, a bit surprised.

"The receptionist?"

After a second he chuckles.

"I didn't think we had a receptionist. I'll have to talk to HR about that for the next work report."

He continues to chuckle, still looking at you. He seems a little relaxed after hearing that, like it did not bother him in the least.

"We may have to talk to HR about the boss going on a date with his employee." You state smugly. "You really don't recognize me?"

Anakin leans back in his seat, smiling as he responds to your comment. But once your eyes land on him, that twinkle in his eyes returns, and your eye contact becomes almost magnetically drawn to him.

"I recognized you the second I saw your eyes."

A moment of silence.

"You're right though, we will need to talk to HR about that. But for now, this is just between you and me."

He smiles at you.

How could you have ever hated him? You didn't even give him a chance. Now that you've actually talked to him you found out that he doesn't even like his job, he's just carrying on the family business.

The more the night goes on, the more infatuated in him you become.

The night finally comes in. You and Anakin clean up your table and push in your chairs. He walks you out to the street.

Anakin smiles at you as he walks you out to the street.

He extends his arm out and you take it, your fingers brushing against his. His touch is gentle, so soft and soothing, but at the same time the touch is full of passion and desire.

As you walk with him, you look up at him and can't help but smile right back at Anakin.

"I had an amazing time tonight. Thank you for taking me out."

"It was my pleasure." He grinned. "So do you have an answer for my question earlier."

Your cheeks grow red. "Yes Anakin, I'd love to go out with you again."

Anakin's eyes shine with joy and he chuckles, looking at you as he responds.

"You just made my night."

He takes you in his arms and leans in close. Your eyes are both locked on each other. He looks at you intently, and you can see every single line of his facial expression. Anakin speaks in a soft and gentle tone, it's as if you're the only two people in the world.

"Can I have a kiss?"

You stiffen up. You haven't kissed someone in almost a year, let alone your boss. You say exactly what was on your mind.

"But, you're my boss."

Anakin just stares at you for a moment, but his gaze remains intense. Your heart is still fluttering in your chest, and Anakin's gentle look is drawing you in. You want to kiss him. You've never felt this way before.

He speaks with this same soft and gentle voice, still looking at you and maintaining eye contact.

"Yes I am."

He leans forward slightly, still keeping you in his arms.

"But, I don't care."

You let go of all your anxieties and let your body guide you as you lean forward to meet Anakin's lips.

You both lean forward at the same time, and his lips meet yours. It's not a quick peck, but a long and drawn out kiss as Anakin continues to hold you in his arms on the sidewalk. It's so passionate, and your hearts are racing. You don't ever want the kiss to end.

To your dismay, Anakin pulls away. You look him in the eyes.

"Thank you for tonight." You smile. "See you at work?"

And with that you turn and walk home with a blush on your face the whole way there.

#anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin x you #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker imagine #hayden christensen x reader smut #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen

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tojivu · 6 months

Text

# OFFICE HOURS ‣ GOJO SATORU

✰ — author’s note i feel so guilty bc gojo is literally the only character i write for LOL anyway this is an old draft from months ago. idk why this is so long im so horrendously down bad for this fucking snowman.

✰ — cw / tags arrogant ceo!gojo x secretary f!reader, sfw, not rly enemies to lovers bc gojo has fat feelings, gojo satoru being a billionaire playboy

✰ — playing death & taxes by daniel caesar.

✰ — word count ~3k LOL

nothing about gojo satoru really strikes you as the serious type.

even in a professional environment, your boss always has a carefree demeanour. his laugh is so nauseatingly loud that you can hear it from outside the office, and you wonder how someone as busy as him manages through his day; much less with a positive attitude. you take one look at his schedule, and you want to vomit with the way you hardly see any gaps between appointments.

you suppose you could learn that from him. it's his only good quality.

you admit that he's likeable, on surface level. there's a reason why you detest him, though: as his closest colleague, you know him way more than you would prefer. most people would think such a well to do man like satoru would have a wife by his side, but that's unfortunately not the case. you almost feel more miserable than him—because now you're forced to be the listening ear and comforting hand at his beck and call.

you think he'd be just fine if he was just a little more humble. he has a nice face. it's his fault for being so stuck up. you know how many women ask him out—painfully aware, actually.

'they just aren't suited to my taste,' he would say to you. 'i need someone that makes me feel alive.'

one time, gojo even asked you to bail him out of a date—something about the way she held her fork and knife disturbed him, and you were expected to show up at the restaurant and act as if there was an emergency.

'i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i have to go, duty calls.' his disgustingly charming tone made you want to slap him then and there.

she called him again the following week, and he completely forgot who she was. he didn't even save her number.

the sheer number of people asking him out had stroked his ego so hard that gojo firmly believes no woman is deserving enough. he rambles on and on to you about how snobby some of them seem, and it takes everything in you to bite your tongue when he does. 'takes one to know one,' you would say, if not for your job at stake.

you think gojo satoru is full of himself. you are a strong believer of that. a witness, as well—it's not like he didn't try his way with you, too. unlike the women he ranted about, you turned him down every single time.

it's been a long while since any of that has happened, though. the most recent ordeal was months ago, but that didn't inherently mean that people stopped asking him out: it just meant that he was rejecting every single offer.

it's a thursday morning when you find yourself eating a sandwich you purchased on the way to work, at your desk—wondering when the big boss will finally arrive. the clock read 9 a.m., and you're expecting an extravagant "good morning!" to surprise you any moment now.

just then, you notice mr. conceited walk in: except something is different. he has no stride in his step. there was no good morning. there was no playful teasing directed at you as he walked past your desk and into his office, not that you were complaining—it was just strange.

you stand up, a mouthful of your sandwich still being chewed. you take a big sip of water and fix your skirt and blouse, making sure your hair is presentable—before swiftly making your way into his office.

──────

"i cannot believe this." he mumbles. you're standing in front of his desk, but he's not facing your direction.

gojo's chair is turned to the giant window that overlooks the business district, and he's gazing out of it thoughtfully. you think this is the cheesiest thing you've seen him do.

you can see how disheveled his hair was, even from where you were standing. you don't want to irritate him further, in case teasing you was still on his to-do list that day.

"what is it, mr. gojo?"

he swivels his chair around, and he is a mess—just what could have he been up to?

"i woke up late today."

"you're the boss, mr. gojo. you can come in any time you want—"

"not the point." he interrupts you. "i forgot my lunch. i was in the car, with the driver, on the way here already. . . and then i realised i left my donuts at home."

gojo's face is absolutely distraught. he looks like he's gone through a divorce and had his house set on fire with how he stands up dramatically—his hands now on his desk. you open your mouth to speak, but he shuts you up by talking again.

"i didn't want to inconvenience him. i'm too thoughtful, miss y/n."

you want to scoff, but you bite your tongue and hold back.

"so i got out of the car and ran back for it," gojo recounts. "i arrived home after the treacherous journey—only to discover that my donuts are gone."

you feign an expression of shock, just to humour him; he gives you an 'i know right' look, and continues his nonsensical story.

"the maids threw them away, miss y/n."

you can't help yourself: you let a small giggle slip through your lips. you quickly use your hand to cover your mouth, thinking of a quick excuse.

you cough. you pretend to, at least—but gojo satoru is not stupid.

no, maybe a little. though, not enough to be convinced of your terrible acting.

"nothing about this is funny."

you nod, looking down at the floor. "i apologise, mr. gojo, but it's just a few donuts. i'm sure someone in the office could fetch some for you."

"yes, i agree." he says, and you shift your gaze from the marble tiling of his office to his face. his hair is a mess, yes—but he still looks revoltingly handsome. his eyes are piercing through yours, and pieces of hair cover his face in just the right places.

you're staring a little too long and gojo finds his pulse quickening with the eye contact—but the spell he has you under is soon broken when he clears his throat.

you quickly look away, embarrassed that you were caught staring at your boss, by your boss.

"you'll pick some up for me, yeah?" his smooth and silky voice echoes through the empty space of his office.

you look at him again, and there's a gentle smile on his face; one you're all too familiar with.

you're aware of satoru's charismatic nature, his playboy-ish attitude, and all sorts of tricks he uses to make women fall head over heels for him. that didn't mean you were completely resistant to them, though—you find yourself playing with the sleeves of your blouse, your ears beginning to redden. "of course," is all you manage to say.

at least you were self-aware.

your mind was rational. should gojo satoru try to hit on you for the nth time—all it took was some self discipline to say no, and you'd like to think you had plenty.

you think the conversation is done with the way he doesn't speak another word, so you turn on your heels and make your way out of the office.

just as you touch the handle of the door, your boss adds: "i'll come with you."

you turn back to him, confused. you didn't need your boss babysitting you for a donut run, you knew his favourite flavours—it's all he ever insists on buying for lunch. "there's no need for that, mr. gojo."

satoru shakes his head in disapproval. "you don't even know my favourite flavours, miss y/n."

that was a blatant lie. he knew you knew. you were his personal donut grabber for a few months up until august, and it was only october. you suppose that it would've continued on if not for your complaints about the long lines in the morning.

nevertheless, you don't argue with him. gojo satoru was the type to get what he wants, when he wants, if he really wants it.

you smile at his disregard for the months you spent as his errand runner, and how idiotic the excuse he just used was. satoru knows he's lying through his teeth, and your smile makes him more nervous than your eye contact.

so nervous, in fact, that he takes back what he just said. "unless. . . you're fine by yourself."

you're surprised that gojo's confidence is dissipating, or that it could even fade at all. you can tell with the way he's avoiding your eye contact, exactly how you evaded his earlier—the red on the tips of his ears are much too obvious in contrast to his hair.

"i don't mind," you respond a bit too quicker than appropriate. "mr. gojo."

gojo curses himself mentally, thinking about how stupid he must sound. he's usually the one making people nervous, but he doesn't know why it's different when you look at him like that.

──────

the atmosphere is deafening in gojo's favourite bakery. you always knew he had a sweet tooth, so you expected his choice to be a spectacular one—and you weren't disappointed.

you had personally visited this bakeshop before, and the confectionery was truly as good as people made it out to be; it proved evident in the amount of people crammed into this small establishment. though, you can't tell if it was for the food or for your boss, with the way most pairs of eyes are turned in his direction.

you two spend a good five seconds looking at the menu before gojo states his order, which was exactly what you thought it would be—the lady at the cashier smiles a bit too long at satoru, before asking: "eating in?"

you want to open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it. "of course."

it was still very well your work day. he (or maybe you and him, considering you helped him plan seventy percent of his appointments) had a meeting in 3 hours to prepare for. you think this donut adventure is already unnecessary enough—but here he is, suggesting to waste even more time eating the donuts in the bakery itself.

"we have a meeting in a bit, though. you could eat it in your office."

he looks at you with a confused look, as if he forgot that there was a meeting at all—because he did forget. gojo gasps, turning back to the lady and retracting his previous statement.

──────

gojo eats his donuts agonisingly slow and no conversation is initiated.

you're alternating between staring at both your laptops and the swirls on the wooden desk, unable to say anything because you didn't plan for such an occasion: an eating donuts with your admittedly handsome boss that makes you nervous while simultaneously planning for an important meeting occasion.

"miss y/n, you should try some."

you shift your eyes from the table to gojo, and he's holding a small piece of his donut to your lips: the powdered sugar practically calling your name.

"it's fine, i ate earlier," you decline his generous offer. "you should eat."

"i'm not asking you to eat all of them, miss y/n." he smiles at you. "just a bite. it's really good, y'know."

you sigh, reaching for his hand to take it from him—but he swiftly pulls it away and shakes his head. "open your mouth."

you feel the tips of your ears burning, blood rushing to your cheeks and you wonder how the girls he takes out manage themselves when he's like this—you've worked with him for so long, yet you can't recall a time when his gaze wouldn't make you shudder.

you think you'd stutter if you spoke one more word to him, so you save yourself from the embarrassment and bare with his request.

he feeds you the piece of sugar-coated donut, and you're sure you have powder on the corners of your lips with how it's width barely fits into your mouth.

you chew and swallow, feeling the residue of sugar on your skin.

"do you have any tissues?" you ask him, a serious expression plastered onto your face.

gojo tries to suppress the chuckle itching to escape his throat—the sugar on your lips and cheeks catch him off guard, and after a few seconds he can't help but let a small laugh slip. you stand up from your chair, scanning the room for any boxes of tissues you could lay your hands on.

he stands up as well, shaking his head—still giggling.

"it's not funny," you frown, and the smile on his face only grows wider—you're too cute for your own good when you sulk. "stop laughing."

you're not sure if you want to punch him or let him giggle to himself. for some reason, seeing you embarrassed is a great cause of joy to him. you can't bring yourself to tell him to shut up; you always imagine doing just that, it's strange how you couldn't muster the courage just when you needed it most.

"it's quite funny," gojo's laughter eventually calms down.

he leans closer to you and his right hand gently holds the side of your jaw—he uses his thumb to gently wipe the sugar off your cheek, and then your lips. "i got it."

his thumb stays on your bottom lip after dusting the sugar away. his pupils are locked onto the surface of your lips, which were glossy in the harsh light of his office: they looked so soft.

before long, they trail up your face until he's looking directly into your eyes: and this time you're not nervous, you don't look away, and your heart is completely calm.

satoru's fingers are easy on your skin. he handles you like fragile glass, as if he doesn't want to break you: and it's the same for the way he looks at you. gentle.

you're reluctant to speak because the way satoru has his thumb on your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine. you feel breathless.

you don't want this feeling to leave, not just yet.

a few seconds of tension pass. his hand moves back to your jaw, and your nervousness returns when gojo satoru leans his tall figure even closer to you; his head tilting ever so slightly.

it's a random thursday morning when you discover a few more good qualities gojo satoru possesses: his lips and his hands. maybe the way he kisses, too—it's slow and precise, unlike his attitude. he tastes sickeningly sweet and it makes you want to savour this moment even more.

you promised yourself you wouldn't fall victim to gojo satoru. yet, you just can't pull away: instead finding yourself slithering your arms around his neck and your chest pressing against his.

gojo's hands are wandering down to your waist and he's desperate to have you as close to him as possible, showing in the way he tries to close the already small gap between you two.

it takes only a fraction of a second for a small thought to form in your mind: just how many women have been in this position?

you quickly forget about that thought, though—you think it's pointless to regret it now, gojo satoru kisses you too good to be full of remorse.

gojo thinks he could stay like this: kiss you all morning, afternoon and pay you overtime if it meant he could be this close to you for just a bit longer.

there's hints of neediness in gojo's touch—as if he'd been waiting for this forever, wanting to relish it before it ends. his few seconds of bliss don’t last very long though, because you're soon pulling away—gasping for air.

he sighs mockingly, his hands sliding down from your waist to your hips. "can't last longer than 10 seconds, miss y/n?"

of course he would say some cocky shit like that—you'd forgotten for a minute that this was the same, arrogant mr. gojo you always knew, and no kiss (however heavenly) was going to change that.

"i'm sorry that i don't go on dates with every man that breathes."

gojo smirks at you after you say those words. "come on. just because i go on dates with people, doesn't mean i kiss them like this."

"sure you don't." your jealousy shows a bit too much in your reply, and he finds himself smiling even harder.

"is someone jealous?" he teases you again, rubbing circles with his thumb against the flesh of your hips.

you feel flustered, knowing that you're definitely done for now—he saw right through you. "nobody is jealous, mr. gojo."

"stop it with the formality. just call me satoru."

"it's still office hours. it's only polite."

gojo rolls his eyes, sighing in the process. you grin a little at him, knowing that this was the first thing you denied him of today—complying with the donuts and the kissing was already spoiling him enough.

"then i suppose there's only after work," there's his nauseatingly charming voice again—low and smooth. he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and you know it too. "i'm off after 6."

you think long and hard about whether you want to be mean and add this to the list of things you've declined to do for him. the ratio was starting to get really unbalanced—but you remember the way his hands touch you and how his lips greet yours so lovingly: and you think that there's no point turning back now.

"my boss doesn't let me off until after 8, though." you try to poke at his buttons—you put on a fake pout, knowing you’ll accept his invitation anyway—but gojo satoru is eternally patient when it came to things he sincerely desired.

"fuck your boss." he says, "he'll be fine with it."

you laugh at his response. you never thought you would see the day gojo curses at himself, after all, he's so self-obsessed: but you suppose you've seen—and tasted—parts of him that you never knew existed.

"then i'll see you at 6, mr. gojo."

what was the harm in discovering more?

230323 — i kinda hate this but.. wtv… anyway i couldn’t be bothered to proofread have my brainrot of gojo in a suit Mmmm yumyum

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagine #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #gojo imagines #gojo x y/n #gojo x you

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spacedace · 9 months

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Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton #amanda waller #GIW #ghost investigation ward #Jack Fenton #Maddie Fenton #bad parents jack & maddie fenton #cause none of this is angsty enough yet lol #tw references to vivisection #tw references to death #waller out here playing 3d chess #of course she wasn't surprised by the inevitable war she was just hoping she'd have her secret weapon ready before it actually kicked off #oh well she still has plans B - J to get through #and all the variations for each #gonna take care of her ghost problem and her justice league problem in one fell swoop if she gets her way #just throw some GIW agents into the meat grinder for a bit while she gets stuff in order & so she can see just what Danny is willing to do #anyway wonder what Elle is up to during all this #i'm sure she's fine and there's nothing to worry about #waller playing the long con yall

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ystrike1 · 1 year

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You're the Cutest when you're pathetic ~Dru**ed S*x with Co-Dependent Chiaki - By Umekoppe (8.5/10)

The title says it all. A handsome, codependent yandere barges into our main characters life. He makes it better in every way. He is a devoted and kind boyfriend, who she genuinely loves. Their relationship gradually slides down a slippery slope, towards toxicity and substance abuse. This one is a sad and scary read.

She's the ugly twin.

The fat twin.

The dumb twin.

Aoi stays out of the way. Her sister beat her at everything. She didn’t enjoy her childhood, and now she's a lonely adult. She doesn't get bullied. She gets used and critiqued constantly at work. Her boss does it to push more out of her. She also works for an abusive company in general. She has an office job, but she is severely underpaid. Even more so than her coworkers, because she gets saddled with helping everyone else.

Chiaki saves her when she's getting harassed on the train. He's been watching her for a while. He sees what she can't see. She's a kind person. She's too kind. He wants her to give that kindness to someone who cares about her, instead of strangers.

Specifically, him.

Chiaki is a record producer and songwriter. He's the rare kind of artist that makes alot of cash. I like the hint here. Producers are notoriously exploitative. They are literally known worldwide for taking advantage of naive dreams, and discarding artists that are no longer needed. Aoi just thinks he's cool and talented, but nice people don't usually succeed in the music industry.

He says weird things sometimes, but he is the best boyfriend she has ever had. There's a timeskip. They are a real couple. After two years Chiaki starts to get impatient. He wants Aoi to rely on him more. Aoi is pretty uncomfortable with being spoiled though, even after two years of gentle love.

Gentle love didn’t work. Aoi still sees herself as an unworthy, lucky person. Chiaki choosing to date her is a miracle in her opinion. She can't see why he was attracted to her kindness. He is naturally colder. Aoi is, despite all of her insecurity, a kind and hardworking person. That's even more admirable than it usually would be in this case, because Aoi isn't popular or successful. She's a kind and caring girlfriend, even though her life is hard.

Chiaki starts to push. He wants to live together. They're in an apartment now, but he has money. He wants a big house and privacy. He wants Aoi to quit her job and marry him. He is a rich man, and she hates her job anyway.

It's a win for both of them.

Aoi starts to get conceited. One of her coworkers has been using her as an errand girl. That coworker lost her boyfriend of four years, and she's been bumming around mixer parties looking for a new one. A handsome rich one. A guy like Chiaki. Aoi looks down on her, and she thinks she'll be ok no matter what, because she has a capable man.

She freaks out. She doesn't like what she sees inside herself. She doesn't want to live off Chiaki's money. She wants to value him as a partner, because he treats her so well. She doesn't want to waste her time being angry at coworkers. She doesn't want to hate her life.

She wants to be good.

Chiaki has been doing his best to get what he wants. He knows how to put on a show, and he loves Aoi very much. When a cute fangirl starts following him he handles it in seconds. He shows Aoi how capable he is whenever he can. He thought being the perfect boyfriend would be enough.

....but now Aoi wants space. She wants a career. She doesn't want her only accomplishment to be dating a rich guy. She wants to feel proud of HERSELF. It doesn't matter if Chiaki praises her daily. She needs to love herself too.

He kidnaps her(?). They move into his dream house after he manipulates her. He tells her he's not nice, and he loves her very much. She quits her job, and she becomes a wife that doesn't go out much. Someone who exists to be loved by her husband.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #Umekoppe #You're the Cutest when you're pathetic ~Dru**ed S*x with Co-Dependent Chiaki

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hannyoontify · 10 months

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seventeen '95 line and their love languages

warnings | none :) js kie being an idiot

notes | based on pure speculation and my guesses by reading their “vibes”. i have a feeling it might be a little diff since the way that they treat their members is probably gonna be different from the way they would treat their s/o. listed from greatest to least (imo) and feel free to drop an ask abt ur opinions i would love to have a discourse abt sebong's diff love languages lol 95 line | 96 line | 97 line | maknae line

seungcheol : gifts, physical touch

no bc have you guys seen this man spoiling yoon jeonghan. he does not HESITATE to shower his loved ones with gifts and he also loves receiving gifts (bro can get so petty if he doesn’t receive gifts on his birthday) and it’s not in a conceited, materialistic way. he likes the whole process of considering what you might want/need, going out of his way to go out and shop for it, wrapping it and packaging it, and delivering it into your hands. he loves that entire process and he loves the way your face lights up when you pull out his gift ‘how did you know i wanted this?!’ oh he feels SO proud and he’s filled with that warm, fuzzy feeling whenever he gives gifts. and vice versa! he can get emotional when he receives gifts, imagining the other person going thru that same process of finding a gift for him.

physical touch!! i’ve got eyes bro don’t even try to hide it. he’s the youngest son in his family so i’m sure he’s used to being doted on and being the maknae (my reasoning for why his third would be words of affirmation). and i’ve noticed that since he has an older brother, his physical touch can get.. aggressive at times. like he’s still a schoolboy at heart (at least some part of him) and has a sense of mischief that he doesn’t show often bc he’s the leader of 12, but roughhousing is js a part of him esp since he grew up with an older brother (victim: lee chan) but this man loves skinship like i think he’s always holding hands or leaning on a member in every gose ep or any other content. he simply finds comfort in his partner’s presence (platonic or romantic, doesn’t matter) and wants to be with them at all times

jeonghan : physical touch, words of affirmation

i personally think yoon jeonghan is our resident king of physical touch. he loves putting his head on members’ shoulders (smth that made me sob the first time i noticed where can i get a yoon jeonghan) and he’s also one of the members who i think is always initiating some sort of physical contact with the others in gose episodes and any other content (if deemed appropriate). and he also likes to have an emotional support object in his hand (his hammer is so fucking cute) so i think when you guys go out on dates and stuff he always has his pinky interlocked with yours or smth. like he js needs to feel you at all times to know that you’re there. BIGGEST CUDDLE BUG but doesn’t like to admit it. after he thinks you fall asleep, he would cuddle up against you and nuzzle his face into your neck. he would entwine his fingers with yours and wrap yours and his arms around your waist and js cuddle you i’m literally gonna cry

i’ve noticed that jeonghan’s constantly complimenting and reassuring members but knows when to do it jokingly and when to be serious and when it’s needed. we all know that he’s always checking up on the other members and making sure that they’re doing okay, and if they ever have a problem, he’s always willing to listen. i think he’s a really good listener and has super fast 눈치 which idk how to explain in english. like he picks up on things super quick and i think he’s one of the smartest members in terms of ’street smart’. like he notices small things super quick and picks up on them really fast. that + his fast brain + smart mouth = him knowing what to say at the spur of the moment to make the other person feel better. jeonghan who immediately applauds whenever junhui does anything. and when jeonghan receives compliments, i think he kinda deflects and downplays it (mostly as a joke) like that one time in ttt and hoshi was like “this is really good, jeonghan” to jeonghan after he cooked some beef and jeonghan said “beef tastes good no matter who cooks it” with a joking tone but i’m so sure my man was grinning like a child on the inside and feeling shy. OH LIKE THE CAMPING TTT when they started talking about how much jeonghan cares for the team and he got all shy and covered his face like, my sweet sweet baby (he’s 27)

joshua : gifts, words of affirmation

i think the members mentioned that joshua is a gift giver and is consistent with bday gifts (but considering the track record of the rest of the group, i’m gonna assume that the bar is on the floor..) like rich LA boy went shopping and spotted something that reminds him of you so he bought it and brings it home with a proud smile. ‘ta da! i saw it at the mall today and it reminded me of you’ oh i think this is pretty big in korean culture, but my boy would be so careful not to spend too much on luxurious gifts that cost thousands bc he knows that it can get burdensome even though you both know that he makes enough to buy you anything you want. oh and his recent love for making bead bracelets!! this is a lot less materialistic but he loves making bead bracelets for the people he loves. him taking the time to make a bracelet for you, picking out your favorite colors as he imagines what your initial reaction would be when you see it 💔 he js loves spoiling the people he loves because they mean the world to him and what better way is there to show them that than through gifts??? you’re his entire world so the least he can do is you give you some piece of the universe. (this was more romantic in my head)

immediately thought of that one clip of drunk shua and sober vernon from in the soop where shua was drunk (he’s so fucking cute) and they go to sleep and shua’s like “good night i love you” and vernon’s like “hmm i %@#%#$^ you too” and shua’s like “why aren’t you saying it back >:(“ and so vernon says i love you too and shua goes “really?” and you can literally hear the SMILE IN HIS VOICE GOD I’M CRYINGGGG like when he’s worried or anxious, hearing someone tell him that he’s doing great and there’s nothing to worry about puts his heart at ease (jeonghan comforting shua during the carnival gose ep) but besides that js hearing simple messages like “you’re so special to me” “you deserve every compliment” “thank you for being here” etc etc i think joshua is one of the members who tend to repress their emotions more, so i think hearing/reading these short messages mean a lot to him

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

a/n : *in shua's voice* surprise! first and foremost i apologize for my sudden disappearance, i had a mini depressive episode and cut off contact with the entire world and stayed in bed for 4 days straight (whoops) but i’m doing all better now so don’t worry! as an apology, i present to you, sebong’s love languages!! i tried my best to include both receiving and giving although i don’t specify in the headings hehe oh and dw i will be adding 96, 97 and the maknae line! i was gonna do all of them at once but i wrote so much so i didn't think i would finish it in time

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