#the second fact about me is that i can't draw........but for anyone that can i present my case | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sadokasochism · 1 month

Text

For me, the most heartbreaking aspect of Ivan is that the poor clueless bastard didn't have the tools to express his affection in any way that didn't involve violence or manipulation, or weren't too inscrutable, quiet, or unseen to be picked up by Till.

I definitely interpret Ivan as autistic for several reasons, a big one being their Segyein teacher's notes about him:

It's just. Classic ND behaviour to me.

Not only does expressing emotion and communicating the way other kids do not come naturally to Ivan, but it's not as if he's been given a great example of coping with this from the Segyein.

Ivan managed to mask in a way that made him popular with other students, and got him in the good graces of their captors. He did everything expected of him to survive and thrive in this environment.

Then he meets Till, inscrutable and very different to the other kids, just like Ivan is. Except, Till doesn't mask. He doesn't change or try to endear himself to their captors, and he doesn't bend to anyone, no matter how much he is hurt and punished for it.

This is a new situation for Ivan, and he's never had anything to compare his feelings to. He also can't figure out how to communicate with Till, every interaction, no matter how well meaning, seems to end in failure.

I bring your attention to the cheer up comic, and how, again, autistic this interaction feels:

There could be many reasons why Ivan chose to say what he did, but to me it feels like ND bluntness not being received well. And that's fair! From Till's perspective Ivan is being a jerk for no good reason.

Instead of responding with glee towards Till laying him out (as we see from Ivan when they're a bit older), Ivan justs seems... really confused. Like he didn't expect that statement to upset Till that much, and he didn't expect Till to respond in the way he did. Everything was fine a second ago, what went wrong?

Then, Ivan uses the phrase he learned from Till in an attempt to self sooth. It might have been the first example of comfort after an injury/hurt he had ever seen, given how he defaults to it. And it was from Till trying to cheer up a flower.

This also shows some of Till's blindspots. He has grown up having to be vigilant, because violence and hurt have been a core part of his upbringing. This leads to anything he doesn't immediately, clearly understand being perceived as a threat or a slight, and so he reacts violently to Ivan's statement.

I'll also draw your attention to this comic where, as far as we know, Ivan is simply stating a true fact in a blunt manner:

In my interpretation, these types of interactions keep adding up, and Ivan is grasping at straws the whole time, trying to be closer to Till and failing every time.

Eventually, the only surefire way to get Till's attention is to piss him off, provoke him, manufacture scenarios to talk to him. I'm not excusing this behaviour, but I understand where Ivan could be coming from, from the perspective of both an emotionally immature/stunted child and/or an ND child.

Despite how much they fight and bicker, at every moment it really mattered, Ivan was there for Till. It was always Ivan coming to free him, to take off his collar or gag, and it was Ivan who led their escape.

Ivan couldn't leave Till behind when he went back for Mizi. Even with the confirmation that Till would choose Mizi over Ivan every time, Ivan couldn't leave him.

The miscommunication goes two ways though. It's insane to think that Till didn't care about Ivan at all. They were close as kids, and I doubt Till ever forgot about the escape he gave up.

We have the graduation messages, where Ivan is able to write something that could be reasonably interpreted as affectionate or fond towards Till.

Meanwhile, Till's message-

If we're being charitable with our interpretations, we can say this was Till's way of saying 'of course I remember you' and attempting to communicate that Ivan HAD left a lasting impact on him.

However, how could any reasonable person be expected to get THAT out of 'you stole my fucking pencil'? Ivan could have taken this one of two ways:

1) Omg he remembers me 🥰

2) he leans into his 'i will never be loved back' bias and thinks that Till really doesn't care about him at all

Who the hell knows what goes through that weird little brain of his. But given how Round 6 went, and what Ivan had to say in the confession comic, he obviously didn't think his impact was significant enough.

Then Alien Stage happens, and in Round 3 Ivan is FINALLY communicating his feelings in a way that is vulnerable and might even have a chance of being understood as love and yearning!

Till is unconscious through it until the very end.

Then in the next round, Mizi goes missing, and Till can't care about anything anymore.

Ivan finds him after the private performance, takes off his gag, and just holds him. Again, Till is unconscious for all of this.

Then, in Round 6, not only is Till distraught from the disappearance of Mizi, but he's given no time to process what the fuck is going on before Ivan is dead at his feet. Till might have finally had a chance to really understand where Ivan was coming from, how he really felt all this time, and Ivan DIES.

And still, Ivan's most transparent act of affection? It's delivered with violence. He's kissing a distraught Till who tries to push him away, and neither of them are happy. He puts his hands around Till's neck, not really hurting him, but it's enough to look convincing for the cameras, and it's enough for Till to go limp and wait for death. Ivan's final loving act is to give Till a soft look with blood pouring out of his mouth, that Till still does not see, and then let go before falling to the ground.

It's just a collection of failures. We see from Ivan that he truly loved Till, made a lot of selfless decisions for his sake, was filled with so much longing and affection, but he just couldn't get it across in a way that doesn't seem fucking deranged from an outsider's perspective. And when he DID manage to communicate his feelings more clearly, it was to a Till that was unconscious, or too distracted/dense/traumatised to see Ivan's actions as ones of love.

There's no guarantee that Till would have reciprocated even if Ivan had managed to communicate his feelings in a healthier way, but there was at least a CHANCE. At least Ivan could have gotten some closure, even if he was rejected.

Instead Ivan died thinking he was completely unloved by the person who he cared about more than anything else, and his last ditch effort to make Till understand was deeply flawed and uncomfortable.

If these kids had grown up any other way, maybe they could have had a chance. Unfortunately, the world they were in didn't equip them to not hurt eachother in their attempts to grow closer.

#alien stage #alien stage ivan #alien stage till #alnst #alnst ivan #alnst till #ivantill #tillivan #alien stage round 6 #if you saw me edit this a bunch of times trying to link the masterdoc post no you didnt

300 notes · View notes

amisunderstoodgoddess · 9 months

Text

— point of no return

rating: explicit. 18+ only

summary: you're used to hiding your true feelings for your best friend, but tonight is the point of no return in your relationship.

Author's note: fic based on the Chaise Atlantic soundtrack - seriously, there's nothing more addictive than Jeremiah Fisher and Chase Atlantic.

English is not my first language

I apologize for any errors you may find.

"Jesus, you keep settling for these idiots..." You hear your friend Jeremiah's deep voice approaching you in the empty hall; the sound of the music and the banter of your friends downstairs is now more muffled.

His disdainful stance changes dramatically in the space of a heartbeat, his beautiful blue eyes soften and harden right in front of you as he looks all over your body for physical harm.

"Wh-what?" You ask as you try to wipe your tears quickly, hoping he didn't see it, forcing a shaky smile.

"Your boyfriend, or whatever he is, just passed me on the stairs and didn't even have the decency to respond when I spoke to him and-and...hey..." He trails off when he gets the full view of your face - your face flushed and wet with tears.

"What happened? Did he do something you didn't want? By God, if he did anything, I swear it-" he's grumbling and widening his already imposing posture, obviously prepared to chase your boyfriend for explanations - ex boyfriend, you mentally correct yourself. You would have laughed, if you had any presence of mind for it.

"Jeremiah." You take his hands in yours, so small and delicate compared to his, drawing his attention. "He didn't do anything…well, actually he did, but…it's complicated."

You know he doesn't understand, not with the confused way you're acting, but you're both interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Jeremiah acts quickly and pulls you into his room, locking the door before anyone sees the two of you.

He backs you up against the door without any warning, putting an arm to the side of your head so you can't escape. You try to ignore the swarm of butterflies that dance in your belly as he looks at you through those long dark lashes. The scent of his masculine cologne – sandalwood and something warm and rich, like the purest heat of the sun, something that seemed to cling constantly to his skin – now, suddenly enveloping you too.

A flush forms on your cheeks and you look away from him, embarrassed by his proximity.

Jeremiah is cozy. This is a fact. There's no way you can sit next to him on the couch, side by side, without his arm around you or his head resting in your lap. That's how it's always been since you became friends years ago.

But the way he's looking at you now, body so close to yours, eyes searching yours with sincere interest… somehow it feels different. It feels new.

"Tell me what happened, please." He says seriously, way too serious for him, cupping your chin with long fingers so you'll face him again.

"No-..." You take a deep breath, "it was no big deal. We just broke up. That's all." You want to say this without crying, but tears are already pooling in your waterline once again.

There are a few seconds of silence, filled only by both of your breaths. He just looks at you, carefully assessing your face.

Just when you think he's not going to say anything else, Jeremiah sighs, long and almost relieved, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You frown at him and he has the decency to at least look embarrassed.

"Sorry, sorry! I know you feel terrible right now, but honey, breaking up with that guy was one of the best things you could have ever done. I can't pretend I'm sad about it." He says smoothing the flushed skin of your cheeks fondly.

"Actually, he was the one who broke up with me." You sniff, biting your lip nervously.

Jeremiah freezes and blinks a few times like an owl, processing what you just said.

"What?!" It suddenly bursts. "W-why? Why would he do that? You decide to break up with him…fine, understandable…but why the hell would he break up with you?" He's clearly nonplussed, brows furrowed and curls brushing his forehead as he shakes his head in denial.

"I don't know. He said something vague about me being too needy...he said that sometimes I 'feel too much', whatever that means."

This seems to drive him even more out of his mind.

"What the fuck is that explanation? He wants to tell how you should be, is that it?"

You sigh and try to slip under his arm, overwhelmed by the whole situation, but he squeezes your waist and pulls you back against the door, bringing your bodies even closer.

“That's not what he meant and you know it, Jere. You're taking what he said out of context and that's not fair."

It feels like a barrier has burst after your words, something that once held Jeremiah to sanity and is now no longer there.

"Fair?" He lets out a sharp sigh and shakes his head in disbelief. An oddly cruel smile curves his full lips. "You know what's not 'fair'? Seeing your best friend settle for someone who is beneath her in every way. They don't even deserve to lick the dirt off your boots, Y/N. You deserve so much more than that."

It's your turn to smile wryly. “Then how come no one wants me, Jere? My last two relationships ended in a matter of weeks and you know it. It's the most they can handle by my side. It's time to see reality. They're right, there's something wrong with me."

You are really crying right now. Heartbroken. Not for Mike. You really don't care about him, to be brutally honest. He was just another attempt to fill the emptiness.

The emptiness that left your aching and vulnerable.

Jeremiah reaches out to you, pulling you in and wrapping you in the warmth of his broad chest. "Shit. I'm sorry, princess. I didn't mean to make you cry. I just hate seeing you like this." He strokes yout hair and you sniffle into your shirt. “But you need to know that this is not true. People can't help but want to be with you. You are light. Everyone loves you.”

He pulls your head back, making you look at him again, almost touching your forehead to his, bending his tall body to maintain eye contact with you. Pale blue eyes meet yours, watery and fragile, and for just an instant, you know your eyes betray your secret hope, keeping your own love for him secret. Your eyes disconnect from the intense eye contact and look anxiously at his lips for just a second before re-establishing the connection.

You swallow hard and try to steel your resolve.

You can't do that, you can't confuse the common charisma and intense affection that Jeremiah expresses for basically everyone, with what you really want him to feel for you.

You cannot project your own feelings onto him.

You're not sure when that had changed. When did you start to think differently about Jeremiah, your best friend and constant presence in your life growing up. You moved in your teens and you both didn't have contact for a few years. And since you came back to Cousins, you decided you couldn't risk spoiling your friendship with mixed feelings - friendship that still remained strong, like when you were kids, like not a day had passed since you left.

But Jere certainly grew up while you were gone, and so did you.

Your feelings for him were no longer innocent.

Sometimes you could have sworn the feeling was mutual. You couldn't escape his smoldering gazes when he found you in the kitchen, sitting on the stool wearing one of his hoodies that looked giant on your smaller frame. He would confidently stand in front of you, leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee while his eyes roam your legs, not saying a single word to you.

Despite that, you weren't entirely sure. And Jeremiah was too important for you to risk ruining your friendship.

It was getting tough, though. Especially with the way he was looking at you right now.

There was a risk in that, you knew that. You were friends. Your family, friends, and social group were all intertwined. You weren't entirely sure how he felt. It could all come crashing down around you if it went wrong, whatever it was.

There would certainly be questions and there was a lot to think about. But, God, it really was hard for you to think of anything while you were pinned against his bedroom door, with his thigh wedged between your legs - testing, probing, discovering...

Maybe it was the alcohol you drank earlier, maybe it was just heartbreak from the humiliation of being rejected by Mike, maybe you just went really crazy and out of your mind after all...

But before you could think, you were acting.

You look at him, your eyes are still watery but your mouth is set in a firm line, something needy in your expression. “And you, Jere?”

He sighs: "What about me?"

"You want me?" It's a challenge. You say the words without really allowing yourself to think about the consequences. Part of you is so tired of it all - of pretending and hiding.

Your eyes follow the sweeping fall of his golden-brown curls across his forehead to his Adam's apple, which rises and falls with the way he swallows. You lick your lips. You want him. You've wanted him for so long. But there was always this fear of seeking more. He's your best friend and honestly, you don't think you could handle losing him.

He no.

Not Jeremiah.

He's always been the main constant in your life and if you didn't have him…you didn't want to think about what that would be like.

So why, why did you open your mouth?

You are so scared.

You think you might be going crazy.

“Y/N.” He swallows hard. You think he might try to deny it, and, as much as you shouldn't, you're the one approaching him this time, brushing your noses together...eliminating all doubt from the context of your question.

You just need to know. Even if it hurts. Your heart feels like it wants to get out of your chest, but you choose to throw caution to the wind - you've already gone too far. Your hand reaches out, sliding over his nice shirt, feeling the hardness of the muscles along his chest. His hands wrap around your waist and are so big that they reach your back, pulling you closer.

He's looking at your mouth and you think 'fuck', grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down as you go up on your toes, crushing your mouth to his.

He doesn't hesitate. He's leaning your hard against the door, his hand tangled in your hair as he returns the kiss fervently, sliding his lips over yours and pressing your body to his.

The kiss is everything and nothing you expect.

It doesn't start out subtly or in the weird, messy way that first kisses between two people typically characterize. No, this kiss is intense, hot and tastes right. Like he's kissed you a thousand times before.

He bites down on your bottom lip, making you gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth and deepen the kiss. At the same time, one of his hands comes up to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your mind spin.

His tongue tastes like mint bubblegum as he kisses you hard, deep and, oh, it's too much and not enough at the same time, because you think you'll never get tired of the taste of him - it burns you deep. You moan into his mouth and it causes something like a growl in the back of his throat. Something dangerous and full of need.

You move against him, wanting more, but the sliding of tongues and lips eventually overcomes you and you forget what you were going to do. When he stops the kiss to inhale for just a moment, sucking, tugging at your bottom lip, you barely have time to think before he's crushing his mouth to yours again. His teeth chatter softly and you feel your heart skip and stutter and pound at the intimacy.

His other arm pulls your thigh around his hips and he pins you against the door with his body, crushing you with broad shoulders and wet mouth and desperate intentions. You squeeze a handful of curly hair between your fingers and pull, and he sighs against your mouth in drunken relief.

And when he pulls back a little, blue eyes slitted, entranced, looking chained and addicted - vaguely you think that no one has ever kissed quite like Jeremiah Fisher.

His hand is still on your throat like a necklace, the other holding your leg around his waist as his lips trace along your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You cup his face with trembling fingers and pull him back into your mouth, catching his soft bottom lip between your teeth in an amused bite.

He moans into your mouth. “Y/N…princess…I've wanted you for so long. God."

“J–Jere…” You whimper and unconsciously push your hips into him, rocking against his hard, defined abs.

"Yes dear? Are you well? Still okay?" he asks, needing to know if it was still okay for you, if you wanted to stop.

You nod quickly – God, everything's more than okay – and he grunts contentedly, pressing your hips down so you can feel…oh…hard and big, hidden inside his pants, rubbing just once against you - just so you feel what you're doing with him.

You both moan at the contact, his thick fingers curling a little more into your throat. "I need your words baby, I need you to say it's okay."

You shake your head nonstop, starting to feel distant. “Please,” you murmur. “Please, Jeremiah, just—” your voice starts to crack, starts to shake, and he silences you, kissing you before you can say his name again.

You lean against him, desperately tugging at his shirt as you become frustrated with his intense presence. You crave his skin, but all you can hold onto is the soft cotton that hides what you want.

Sensing your uneasiness, Jeremiah smiles into your lips and holds your other leg against his body, squeezing you into him as he leads you towards his bed.

You barely hit the soft mattress before he pounces on you, kissing your lips vigorously, devouring you inside and out. His big palms are flat against the mattress, perfectly framing your head where you're lying, but it's not enough.

Of course, it's not enough. You want his hands on your body, taking everything he can from you and giving you back until you're exhausted and panting.

You pull hard on the shirt that still frames his broad shoulders, dragging the fabric up and away from his skin. In a desperate sigh, you spill syllables onto his lips, and all you can do is hope he has some mercy.

“Jere,” you say again, breathless and close to tears, revealing your surge of pent-up need for him. "Take it off. Please."

And he does. Finally, impossibly, he does.

You watch with glittering eyes as he drops to his knees and pulls his shirt over his head, the warm light from his room spreading over his golden skin until he glows. A perfect package of defined abs muscles, broad chest and shoulders, strong arms with veins running the entire length, curly hair falling around his face, and of course, blue eyes a few shades darker with desire...he's a like a Greek god.

You watch him with desire, watch his shirt fall to the floor beside the bed, watch his deft hands reach out to you, fingers hooking under your own shirt that's too big for your body.

Same exchange, maybe. You lose your own shirt to his purposeful hands, leaving you with nothing more than the plain bra you usually wear and little shorts that expose too much skin. Jeremiah pushes the big body back to yours, intoxicatingly but patiently, and kisses the last breath of your lungs until you're writhing and clawing at his skin.

It's unimaginable when your skin finally presses against each other. Bare bodies and desperate desires, nothing is left but desire burning between your flesh. You moan and allow Jeremiah to have you however he wants, and he wants to trace his lips across your front in a smooth line of kisses, fluidly unclasping your bra and pushing it off your body like the thing is an offense to him.

"God, fuck, you don't know how long I've wanted this…" By the time he got the thing off your body, his lips were all over your neck and collarbones. Kissing and sucking your skin into his mouth, leaving his marks on you. Your fingers dug into his hair and pulled, the reward was a strangled moan you could feel against your skin. "Fucking long, baby."

And suddenly he was leaning down with his mouth on your breast as his hand came up to caress the other.

Another sound, something between a moan and a gasp, escaped your mouth as he licked your nipple with his hot tongue. You tried to cover your mouth with your hand, but he pulled it away and placed it on his shoulders once more.

“I want to hear you, princess.” he whispered into your damp skin, looking up at you from where his face was buried in your breast and gently biting your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. "You're so fucking perfect, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with desire as he teased one of your nipples with his tongue. While the hand that wasn't occupied with your breast found its way between your legs, pushing your shorts off your body with a few tugs.

"Ah, fuck…" He sighed into your nipple, tingling your skin, feeling how wet your panties were as he probed you with two fingers, circling your clit over the fragile tissue tentatively once. You let out your most embarrassing sound yet: a high-pitched moan, whimper, something like that. You'd be mortified if you had the mental capacity for it.

But Jeremiah only grew up listening you.

"Do you like it, baby?" he asks in his husky voice, kissing your belly and reaching down.

"Yes, Jere, please...I want this so badly..."

His big blue eyes blinked at you from under the heavy curtain of lashes, staring at you so intently you thought you would come at that moment.

Swallowing hard, you took a deep breath as you watched him push the soaked fabric of your panties to the side, still not taking his eyes off you. And slowly, as if he were mocking you, his lips finally descended.

You threw your head back with a silent cry at the feel of his mouth on you, and then he was there, his tongue parting your wet lips and plunging inside you. His teeth grazed your swollen clit in a single pulse of pleasure that had you squirming involuntarily, making room only for him to get his hands under you and grab your ass, pulling you closer to him. The position allowed him the freedom to tongue fuck you, moan against your folds, and the vibrations combined with the lewd feel of him inside you like that…you had already reached the point of no return.

"Damn, you taste even better than I thought baby…" He mumbles drunkenly before returning to tease your clit with his lips, his tongue running fervently over the nub. His hands moved beneath you once more, resting your legs on his shoulder. Jeremiah looked down at your glossy folds, almost shaking with excitement. "You look yummy enough to eat, kitten," he said with a wild laugh. His lips found your clit once more.

You screamed, your fingers pulling at his hair. "Jere!"

You cried his name.

He growled into your folds at the needy sound of your voice.

Within moments, you felt yourself getting more and more tense. He moaned, sucking the sensitive flesh once more and you screamed. That small action was all it took to push you over the edge. Every muscle in your body snapped and you cried his name with passion. And he continued his cares, long after your body had stopped shaking.

Impatience quickly replaces momentary lethargy and you find yourself gently pulling his head away from you, still flushed and panting. "Jere, please, for God's sake..."

You don't even know what you're begging for anymore. All you know is what you want. You want his touch, this newfound pleasure. You want it all.

He licks his lips and stands quickly, pulling his pants and underwear off his body as he lets you look at every inch of his exposed body.

His cock is the most spectacular thing you've ever seen and you try to hide your shock; he's the perfect balance of long and thick, more than enough to let you know your pussy will be full, struggling to accommodate him.

Maybe he'll leave you with a memory, a delicious pain. Something to remember that night.

You desperately want to remember that. And you want him to remember you too - like this; hot, sweaty and needing him.

He crawls across the bed until he's on top of you once more, all golden skin and defined muscles, sun-kissed hair and cock leaking precum.

You don't think you've ever seen anything as beautiful as Jeremiah.

Your mouth waters, your eyes reveal your thoughts as you stare at him. The glow in that pretty face makes you hesitantly, shyly reach out and curl your fingers around him.

"You are so beautiful." You murmur against his lips, his mouth opening with a snort and his pool blue eyes fluttering at the feel of your soft skin caressing his warm length. He's heavy and wet between your fingers and you can feel the veins pulsing along his length with each slow stroke of your palm.

"Ah princess, that's it…" he moans before white teeth hold his lower lip hostage as he looks at you from under dark lashes and heavy lids. The question hangs there, needy and urgent. You nod, fingers of your other hand encircling the back of his neck in a confident grip, legs spread wide as he aligns himself with your pussy with one hand and supports his weight on the bed with his forearm next to your face.

“Tell me what you want, my love, and I'll give it to you.” His cock jumped and you felt yourself shiver in anticipation as his head slid up and down your core. The swollen tip is shiny and wet on you and you can feel your pussy trying to pull him in with the shallow thrust when he finally presses against your entrance. He does this a few times and you whimper in frustration. He just smiles one of his wide, bright smiles, except this time there's something almost desperate there too. You wrap your legs around him and take a deep breath as his cock pushes into you, just the tip remaining immobile as he stares at you blushing back at him. He combs your hair back and places a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I'm going to ruin our friendship baby…” he breathes and your heart almost sinks before he pulls away and slides inside you again. "You understand?"

He begins to sink into you in an almost affectionate rhythm, allowing you to become familiar with his length. You grab his arms and squeeze them tight each time he pushes himself an inch deeper into you, sighing and rolling your hips with him, grunting as he slowly advances on you.

You blush even more when he chuckles evilly at your reaction. But you can't stop. You're ready to cry, hypersensitive and aroused by the last orgasm, desperately needing another.

His cock moves inside you some more, your pussy straining to pull him in. You shudder, the sensation delicious and torrid and aching all at the same time.

Your eyes close when he's buried to the end.

“Fucking perfect,” he exhales, squinting his eyes and breathing through his mouth. "You were made for me, princess."

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for another hungry kiss and when he hits you, you whimper, biting his bottom lip. He growls and runs his nails along the skin of your neck until he grab the strands of your hair, eliciting a loud, pent-up moan from the back of your throat.

"Please..." You start and don't finish, rolling your eyes with each thrust.

"Please what? Use your words, kitten." He's being cruel. He knows how desperate you are, how much you want him. He is trying to exert control over you.

But you don't like it? A voice from the dark depths of your mind mocks.

Yes, you do.

"I want you to fuck me, Jere," you gasped, your eyes heavy with desire. "Take me...make me yours. Please..."

"Good girl." he mutters, sending a shiver down your spine. He runs his thumb over your breast until the nipple forms a hardened peak. "So good for me baby."

You can barely breathe, you feel so full. Your nails dug into his back and you both hiss at the sensation. He thrusts into you hard, his hips rocking back and forth inside you. All you can hear is the sound of your meowing and skin hitting skin.

His hands grip your hips so hard you're sure you're going to hurt tomorrow. You beg, a strangled cry breaking from your lips as the pressure you feel builds.

And so he's turning you two; a quick, fluid movement, without leaving your body, until you're sitting on top of him as he's sprawled across the bed. You're panting and flushed, embarrassed that you're the one setting the pace now, but your desire is too high for you to remain quiet for long.

You bite your bottom lip and nod, indicating that you like this. Jeremiah smiles softly and cups your hips, pushing you back once, then pulling you forward. He groans and clenches his jaw as you circle your hips to tease his hard cock.

You feel his hands caressing your ass, squeezing, pulling and pushing you onto his cock.

"Damn, you look so good like that." he breathed, his husky voice reverent, dreamy, needy… "I can't wait to see you mess all over my cock."

Suddenly, he seems to lose his temper, pulling you up and down the base of his throbbing cock with force, making you gasp in surprise. Despite that, you feel a sly smile stretch your own lips, the satisfaction of good sex coursing through your body becomes addictive. Not that you'd have much of a basis for comparison, having only done it once - fast, clumsy and unsatisfying.

God, nothing like this experience with Jeremiah. He should have been your first, you are absolutely sure.

You rest your hands on his sweat-damp chest, forcing yourself to move your hips up and down faster. You moan, looking up at him as you tease your clit into his pelvis.

Jeremiah plants his feet on the bed and slides his hands behind you to cup your ass cheeks, opening you and lifting his hips to slam you deeper. You gasp and dig your nails into the skin of his chest, eliciting a hoarse moan from the man.

He looks at you, all clenched jaw, furrowed brows and hazy blue eyes boring straight into you. A moment passes, then another, the feeling of something big coming closer and closer.

“I could barely handle it..." he admits hastily, taking one of his hands from your ass to spread it across your belly, squeezing and massaging your flesh. “The idea of someone else's fucking hands on you, princess. Of those little guys touching what's mine…” Jeremiah lets out a shuddering breath as his hand continues up your side, thumb gently brushing the underside of your breast, causing liquid heat to pool in your core.

You whimper as he cups your breasts and pinches your nipple, moaning at the feel of his fingers sending electricity to your swollen clit, making you roll your hips harder against him.

Your toes curl and your thighs flex as you approach the edge. You lean down to capture his lips with yours, skimming your tongue along his before sucking mint and sunshine on your tongue. He moans into your mouth as you let your tongue run past his teeth and along his bottom lip.

His grip on your ass is almost painful, making you move faster. Jeremiah licks his lips and watches you as he uses the heels of his feet to thrust faster and faster into you.

"That's it love, let go for me, I want to feel you come all over my cock."

You part your lips and scream as you crush your pussy against his pelvis and come hard with your rolling hips. Pleasure rushes over you like waves as you tighten around him. Jeremiah gasps and watches your slow, hazy descent. He grabs your hips and throws you onto your back once more.

You squeal as he stands between your thighs, looking up at you with a dangerous smile before slamming into you and making you scream a loud moan. There's no patience or time for you to recover, he fucks you up during your overstimulation.

"Come on, princess, you can handle it…" You moan in response to his wild words, and grip the sheets beside you as he slides his forearms under your knees to push your legs against your chest.

You struggle to look down when you see that his gaze is fixed between your legs, nearly drooling as his watch his own cock enter your wet pussy with each hard thrust. His lips part and his messy golden hair falls in front of his electric blue gaze. He licks his lips and groans as he pumps into you harder, pushing you back against the bed.

The sight makes your pussy clench with a fresh wave of need.

You lift your hips and bend slightly as he tilts his hips, hitting your G-spot and making your toes curl. You flex your thighs and grab the pillow to scream in ecstasy as you suddenly collapse around him once more. Surprise etched across your flushed, sweaty face as you widen your eyes. Jeremiah laughs, but he's barely holding it together now, as broken as you are.

Each thrust sends the bed creaking and hitting the wall, the sound drowned out only by the loud music and shouting from the lower level of the house.

He smiles, breathless and close to the edge.

“Come for me, Jere, please...” you murmured to him, exhausted and shaky. You want to tell him to cum inside you, you're on birth control and you trust Jeremiah above anyone else. Do you really want. But all you can do is stare at him through narrowed, watery eyes, silently begging him to finish inside you.

He seems to understand you, like he always does.

He moans and pushes your legs even closer towards your chest, focusing on his own growing climax. He quickens his hips and his knees widen into the bed as he approaches. Moans escape his lips as his thrusts become erratic.

“Fuck, fuck, I've wanted this for so long,” he moans loudly, desperately. "Fill that sweet pussy. Fuck, take it all baby..."

His nails dug into yours legs as he slammed harder, his hip bones colliding with the backs of your thighs. His throbbing cock inside you soggy, wet pussy was music to his ears, pushing him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans and licks his lips before parting them in ecstasy, lost in the way his cock was fucking your tight pussy.

And then you hear his breath hitch. You can feel his cock swelling inside you, stretching your pussy and making you feel fuller. Jeremiah curses under his ragged breath, speeding it up until he lets out a loud groan. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck..."

If you had any energy left, you would have cum from just the needy sound of his voice, but your body is limp and exhausted after three intense orgasms. So you just watch it carefully; the way his bushy brows are drawn together in the most beautiful agony, his golden brown curls sticking to his forehead, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, his golden skin glistening with sweat, his defined muscles flexing and relaxing...

He's perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Jeremiah pulls off of you and collapses noisily beside you, breathing hard and you slowly stretch your legs out, feeling like you might get a cramp at any moment. He lifts himself up on one elbow as your legs spread slowly in exhaustion along the sheets.

He grabs some kleenex from the desk next to the bed and goes back to wipe it between your legs. "Are you well?"

"Mmhmm...yeah, but I don't think I can get up." You said softly and laughed, putting an arm over your eyes.

"Don't worry about it baby, we don't have to leave now. We can stay here all night actually." He said and you can hear the smile in his voice, the satisfaction and happiness.

For some reason that made you more embarrassed than anything that had happened just a few minutes ago. The fact that he was obviously pleased awakened a kind of self-awareness in you that wasn't present before.

God, what did that mean to him? Was it something induced by the heat of the moment? A unique thing that you would keep only in your memory?

You didn't dare remove your arm from your face, too embarrassed to really look at him right now.

He had no idea. Inside, your heart was doing somersaults and you almost thought about crying with sheer relief and happiness at having fulfilled one of your greatest desires in life.

Here, in the low lighting of his bedroom, you couldn't pretend that you probably weren't head over heels in love with your best friend.

You could never again pretend you weren't in love with Jeremiah Fisher.

But your daydreams were interrupted when he moved beside you, and soon he was sliding under the covers with you, wrapping himself around you like a cocoon, like something safe and warm and fluffy - not the sexy man who just eat you and touched you and made you come three times in a row.

“I really like you, princess,” he whispered, his voice cracking in the process, right in your ear. You heard him smile as he gently pulled your arm away from your face, forcing you to look at him.

You swallow and try not to vent the insecurity you're feeling.

"I meant everything I said, you know." He continues, his eyes clear and shining like the sky, even in the dim lighting of the room. "You are mine. Always have been."

You let one of your hands rest on his chest, feeling his heart race under your fingertips. God, you want to agree. You want to give yourself to him more than anything...

He's right, you were always his.

But there is one thing that still troubles you.

“What if I want you to be mine too?”

He lets out a chuckle, bringing his head forward to rest in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “That's easy, love. I've been yours longer than I care to admit. And now I've had you this way, I'm not at all willing to let you go."

You sigh and smile, your eyes becoming blurred with tears once more. When Jeremiah pulls away, he laughs at the satisfied expression on your face, placing a sweet, slow kiss on your swollen lips.

His tone was teasing and affectionate as he said, “What are best friends for anyway?”

#jeremiah fisher #team jeremiah #tsitp jeremiah #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah x y/n #jeremiah fisher smut #jeremiah smut #tsitp fanfic #tsitp smut #gavin casalegno #gavin casalegno x reader #tsitp imagine #jeremiah and reader #belly x jeremiah

902 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 5 months

Note

I REALLY LOVE THE STRAIGHTFOWARD WEREWOLVES SOAP. OMG. Its just really funny in my head, imagine the way soap would act so shameless around the reader, uncaring about the stare he got because thats just how they are! The werewolves race with their no-shit and unfiltered attitude, and oh if they take interest in you, prepare your heart especially if you has a weak one; because surely they'll cling their every waking moment with you, sniffing every spots of you that they can reach. Absurd yet endearing flirtiratios compliments would hurled at you, catching you off guard cause they just come out of nowhere. Baring their fangs at potential rivals, worst case scenario if its their own race, because they can and will get violent, best calmed the werewolves down before anything awful happened. Just a thing between werewolves to prove which one is the stronger and more qualified, whose more worthy of your love, in their point of view.

If you have the time can you make a short fic, it would be the highlight of my life for weeks!!

Okay yes but also because I love needy clingy pathetic Soap too much lol

CW: NSFW, gn reader, grinding, somnophillia, quick and rough.

You've noticed that Soap has started to act. . . strange.

He's started trying to feed you all types of stuff, mostly meat, seeking you out at all times of the day. You'll see him go out to the woods and come back with some large animal, and an hour later he'll be coming to you with a plate of food and a 'Kiss the cook' apron on (every time you have to bite back from drawing attention to the fact the arrows point down to his dick). "Hey, need that wonderful mouth of yer's to try this out." He says, watching with rapt attention as you try his food, taking every critique with a wagging tail.

And if you like his food, oh, there's a giant grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, ye like that?" He comes closer, the plate in your hands forcing distance between you two. "Reckon this cook should get a reward." He's already stepping around to press his chest flush with your back before he can finish his sentence, and you don't have the heart to stop him because the food is mouth watering and he's just scenting you, even if the occasional flick of his tongue against your nape makes you shiver. (You, again, try not to draw attention to a hard bulge grinding into your ass)

That's the other thing. He's gotten really clingy.

He's always been clingy with all the team members, nuzzling his cheek against Gaz, whining like a kicked puppy when pushes him away with a hand on his face, tail wagging as he scents Price. Usually he's satisfied after he's done scenting the lads in your team, happy to continue with his business.

But with you. . .

You can't even sit on the couch for five seconds before his burly body is snuggling up to you, taking his seat in your lap like he owns it, like he's a lap dog. Doesn't even excuse himself before his hands are groping your biceps as he nuzzles your neck. "Aye, yer so hoht," He purrs, full body rubbing against you. "Could use ye fer a blanket on cold nights." You don't know how to feel about that, his words causing your mind to stutter long enough for him to replace the scents lingering on you with his own.

And when someone enters to find you like this, he doesn't even throw them a glance, gripping onto you like a koala and all you can do is mouth a 'help me'. Doesn't work though, as the second he senses someone is getting near he's growling like a monster truck's engine, glaring at the poor sod with his face still stuck in your neck.

Or, if you're busy with something, he'll saddle up to you, ears perked up. "Oi, bonnie, hold som'ting fer me." He'll whine, tugging on your arm until you sigh.

"Fine, just give it here." You growl, holding out your arm, still concentrated on what you're doing.

Next thing you know you're cupping his jaw, his head resting on your hand. "Anyone ever tell ye, yer got perfect hands te grope with?" Johnny grins at you, that one snaggletooth fang pinching his lip, using your confusion to rub the scent glands in his cheeks against your palm, making sure you smell like him.

You shake out of your stupor and pull your hand back, resisting giving in when he gives you such a heartbroken whine. "No, Johnny." You growl and shoo him away, but he still manages to brush his tail against your leg.

You make the mistake to fall asleep on the communal couch after a grueling day of training recruits. When Johnny finds you, his nose immediately trying to get a whiff of your scent, he growls when he can barely get traces of it beneath the smell of dirt and sweat and way too many people when the only scent you should have on you is his. His inner wolf growls along with him, his ears pricking up straight, staring at your sleeping form.

He's more than happy to rectify your mistake.

He lays on top of you, purring happily to himself when you don't even shift. "Good mate," He hums to himself, wrapping around you like a blanket, face buried in your neck once again. His hands slide beneath your shirt, making him pant into your skin from the sensation of your muscles beneath his hands. He moves his body slowly, seeking to have as much skin contact as he can, mouth watering and angel bells ringing in his skull at how he can taste his scent replacing everyone else's on your skin.

He doesn't notice when he starts to nibble on your neck, but it's the sensible next move, what better way to keep competition away than let everyone know you're taken? Johnny's marks bloom across your throat as he sucks hickeys into your skin, his wolf and himself standing on common ground to make sure you're covered in his marks.

He pulls back his head to look at his work and groans, cock immediately hardening in his pants from you covered in his marks. His hips gain a life of their own, thighs gripping your own as he grinds down, already half drunk on your scent.

You wake up to find his hot breath fanning over your face, the sensation of something hard grinding against your leg dissipating any residual drowsiness. "Johnny, what the fuck?" You ask, voice rough from sleep, only now registering his weight on top of you.

"'m sorry bonnie," Johnny whines, burying his face into your neck to muffle his whining. "Just- hah- needed ye."

You grumble, but you can't hide the way heat burns through your veins at the sight of him, his face flushed, claws gripping you like you'll disappear, desperately humping against your leg.

"I can see that." You say, tensing your thigh to give aid him in his grinding, your eyes growing wide at the loud moan that escapes him, like he's a whore on camera.

"Oh, shite, thank ye, thank ye, thank ye-" He whines, his humping growing faster, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the way you hadn't pushed him away, that you're accepting his advances, muttering 'mate' under his breath as he chases after his orgasm.

He cums before either one of you knows it, a dark stain forming in his pants as he bites down and groans into your neck. You grunt, but Soap's quick to release your skin and lap at the aching spots with his tongue, soothing the pain.

"'m sorry bonnie." He mumbles, cock still hard in his pants, his wolfish eyes settling on you. Shame nibbles on his stomach for cumming so fast when he can't smell a lot of arousal on you, his wolf growling at him to show you how good he can be.

You jump when his hand slides down to grip your crotch roughly, his pupils dilating at the way a small moan slips past your lips. "Lemme make it up fer ye yeah?"

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #monster cod au #monster 141 au #soap x reader #gn reader

600 notes · View notes

hashbrowpn · 2 months

Text

──★˙ENAMORED ̟

ARTIST: @TRANSLUCENTJADE ON X

" KAZUHA IS ENAMORED OF YOU. "

NOTES: why is my coochiepookiebookieboo so adorable .. hes so umnumnum .. i just wanna kiss him over and over again ..

kazuha is enamored of you. he is oh, so terribly smitten. he usually knows how to describe the feeling, but when his mind drifts to you, he can't think.

kazuha usually speaks his mind, but he finds there something about you that robs him of words. perhaps its that smile of yours, that could melt any cold, or your sweet humming, which could lull anyone to sleep.

"this tree is really beautiful," you said softly, breaking his train of thought. he nodded in agreement. "indeed, it truly is. its enchanting, im simply struck by its vivacity. i question sometimes, how can one being hold such charm? but then again, nature works in its most mysterious, and wonderous ways." he's unaware of the way his eyes shift towards you rather than the tree.

the wind carries autumn leaves to the ground, careful not to rush their fall as one sways back and forth, landing right on kazuha's head. a snicker falls upon your lips, lifting the corners up. he blinks owlishly at you, confused, oblivious. "what?"

"there's a leaf on your head."

He gives you an embarassed smile of his own, and reaches to dust it away, but you catch his wrist, leaning in. "let me."

and his breath hitches. his heart throbs faster than ever as you come closer. butterflies flutter their wings violently, thrashing around his stomach, and he doesn't have the words to tell them to calm down. he studies every part of your face, until his view is nothing more than a pinpoint, gazing right at your lips.

"got'cha," you grin, fiddling with the leaf you took from the top his head, rolling the stem in between your index finger and your thumb. Your look of glee quickly falls into a worried one. "kazuha? are you alright?"

no, in fact, he is really not. nonetheless, he shakes himself out of his trance. "yes, why do you ask?" his voice accidentally comes in one breath, as if hurrying. he feels feverish, looking anywhere but you. oh, the way your fingers rested on his wrist was overwhelming, dizzying.

You looked unconvinced. "you're all red in the face. are you sick?"

he bites down on his lower lip, trying not to look at you, but how could he not? the thought of you worrying for him was bringing him to an edge.

You let go of the leaf in your hand and pressed it against his sweaty forehead. "...so you are." you mused. you stood up and dusted your lap, reaching out to him. "come on, i'll get you checked-"

before you could finish, he got to his feet and pulled you closer, arms snaking around your waist and closing any space in between. his lips crashed into yours, breaths mashing together. when he pulled away you gazed at him with wide eyes, astonished. he was panting, heart beating out of his chest. he looked surprised when he realized what he had done as well, quickly letting go of you. "i- i know that was quite sudden, but i-"

you huffed, slinging your arms around his neck and drawing him close. "enough talk," you laughed, and your lips met for the second time (but certainly not the last).

kazuha is enamored of you.

#ashrodisiac #𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ashrodisiac #kazuha #kaedahara kazuha #kaedahara kazuha x reader #i luv kazuzu !#kazuha x reader #kazuha genshin #kazuha genshin impact #genshin kazuha #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha fluff #kaedahara kazuha fluff #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact kazuha fluff

297 notes · View notes

madxyy · 2 months

Text

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am.

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did.

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …”

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips.

Selfish. You can’t help it.

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber.

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence.

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat.

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one. “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection.

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero.

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob.

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos.

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt.

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity.

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal.

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more.

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.”

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered.

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

#andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #spiderman #tasm andrew garfield #light angst #fluff #peter parker fluff #tasm fluff

316 notes · View notes

industrations · 3 months

Note

will you ever draw masc sirius? not to compare artists but recently i've just noticed masc sirius pics get more notes and ppl get more pissed off bc of fem sirius. it's ok if you draw fem wolfstar (fem sirius AND fem remus) but it's kinda weird you only draw remus masc. kinda heteronormative. when wolf is gay. plus canonically sirius was masc and remus was fem (sirius was the biker and remus was short.) it's ok you're more into fanon but canon is real so i'm just curious if you will ever draw masc sirius. if you will it'll be very cool and i'm sure you'll get more notes too.

This is the LAST time I'm going to be talking about this because I'm so TIRED of this debate.

Firstly, the "canon" you speak of is written by this person. So think before you start arguing anything about canon.

Then, since apparently some of you still cannot read. I DO NOT DRAW FOR YOU; I DRAW FOR ME. I could not care less about notes or likes or popularity. I'm just here to have fun and enjoy my time. That you are so concerned about notes is your own problem, not mine, but I suggest you change that because notes do not equal any sort of value, and this mindset is just going to be bad for anyone's mental health.

My favourite thing as a person whose gender is literally all over the place is getting to express that through the characters I draw. For ME, this mainly happens through Sirius because his "canon" is this very HETERONORMATIVE man. The freedom of him being able to step away from that and to be allowed to be whatever he wants to be on that day is just wonderful. Sirius, for me, is a reminder that no matter what you're born as or whatever people say you should be, it does not say anything about how you feel or express yourself.

Remus will forever keep evolving for me. He's also allowed to be whoever he wants to be. When I read fics he looks different in every single one. And if you actually paid attention to my art, you can see that he does not always look the same. For me, Remus is a comfort. He will always be a long, wet noodle with bad knees to me. He will always have his scars and his freckles, and those are what make him beautiful. I'm not sure why people immediately assume this is something that makes him "the man" or "the top". If that's what you're thinking when you see them, then there's something gone wrong on your side because you are deciding what a queer relationship is supposed to look like, when in fact you are the one being homophobic and heteronormative.

Also that my Sirius is shorter and more gender-y so to say, does not mean he can't kill a bitch on sight. He could break Remus in half in a second if he wanted to.

Anyway, I'm off to draw some dead gay wizards in whatever way I want to <3 love you guys. Truly the majority of you make me feel safe and seen, and I couldn't have wished for a more supportive community

#IF ANYONE ELSE SENDS ME AN ASK LIKE THIS YOU ARE GETTING BLOCKED ON SIGHT #okay #no more #you are being harmful to the queer community #just think before you speak and not everything is fucking black and white

402 notes · View notes

macabr3-barbi3 · 2 months

Text

Nothing I Can't Handle- Chapter 2 [Alastor/Reader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54337009/chapters/139143145

Chapter 1!

Tags: Reader-Insert, Alastor in Rut, Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor, Rough Sex, Possessive Sex, blood kink? maybe if you squint, Biting

Round 2! Who doesn't love a nice chase through the bayou?

Comments and feedback fuel my lifeforce- let me know what you think! 💕

Chapter 1 🦌 Chapter 3

When Alastor’s rut comes around the second time, you’re ready.

The first one had been… an experience. Not a bad one by any means- while sore you were thoroughly sated, Alastor having been very particular about making sure that you came just as many times as he did, if not more. By the end of the three day period you had been holed up in his room you were covered in a thin layer of sweat and various bodily fluids, the last day having been the most exhaustive. Your throat was sore from the constant noises coming from you; a headache from the dehydration of not getting enough water between rounds, though Alastor had done his best to remember to conjure a glass here and there; a variety of cuts and bruises littering your skin, a collage of delicious depravity. When Alastor had finally allowed you to leave your room, the rut having passed, you pressed on the bruises occasionally to give yourself a reminder of the time you had shared.

He acted like nothing had changed- he wasn’t actively avoiding you like he had been in the days leading up to the rut, but he just… treated you like everyone else. Which was fine. Good, even! There was no reason for anyone to suspect anything between the two of you when he did the same things to do that he did to Charlie or Vaggie. Popping up when you least expected him to, leaning into your personal space, resting an elbow on your shoulder or head when he had the angle to do so.

You weren’t foolish enough to expect that he would want to date you or anything like that- it was just a transaction to him, a way to get what he needed by giving you something that you wanted, even if you hadn’t figured out what that was yet. A physical need that had to be fulfilled or he would go back to that snarling tower of a demon that stalked the hotel and made everyone cower.

Still, when he approached you one day months after the first one to inform you that the rut would be coming again soon, you prepared yourself.

You chug water whenever you can, and make sure to eat regular meals in the days leading up to it, squirreling away whatever little snacks you could stash in your room without luring out the bugs that Nifty liked to chase- Alastor’s powers seemed to draw the line at conjuring food, so when he could tear himself from your side he would journey to the kitchen and bring you small samplings of leftovers.

You spend your evenings trying to convince Alastor to have more meat when he joins the group at dinner, to make sure he could keep his strength up as well. He raises an eyebrow at you but does as requested.

When the night comes around, Alastor finds you in the lobby and asks you in a hushed tone to meet him at his room when you retire for the evening, and your heart rate spikes in your chest when you agree. When he vanishes you sprint to your room, collecting the assortment of nuts and snack cakes and pretzels and candy that you had amassed into a bag before you make your way to his room. At this you were nervous- you’d never been inside before, the last time having been sequestered into your own bedroom. You hoped he wouldn’t mind your bringing something to eat along.

When the door swung open Alastor raised an eyebrow at the bag on your shoulder. “I hope that’s not a change of clothes,” he says as he guides you into the room with a sweep of his arm. “Because you won’t be needing them.” His tone is not salacious or flirty- a statement of fact rather than a come-on.

You place it on the table by the door as you start pulling items from it. “It’s not. I noticed, last time, that you don’t seem to be able to conjure food- I thought this might make things a little easier on both of us. If I have something to snack on I won’t drop dead of hunger and you don’t have to leave so often.”

His eye twitches as he watches you, and you second guess yourself. “I can- I can get rid of them if you want, take them back to my room-“

“Not necessary,” he says, and waves a hand; the assortment of snacks reappears on the stand next to the bed across the room. “I apologize for the pause. The part of my brain currently being overtaken by the rut did not appreciate the idea that there was something I could not successfully obtain for my… partner.”

“Oh,” you say, and realize with a blush that that sounds stupid. “Well, either way, we should be set for this time! I’ve been making sure to drink lots of water so I won’t get dehydrated, there’s some bottles in the bag as well…” You run through the various things that you had been doing to prepare for this week, and over the course of your tirade Alastor’s smile seems more and more strained. You finally stop your mouth from moving and just watch him as he watches you. “I… guess I maybe did too much, huh?”

“Not at all, dear,” he says like he’s on autopilot, and he lifts your hand to his lips to place a kiss to the back of it. “I am just… shocked, I suppose, that you’ve done so much to prepare and make this easier for the both of us when you’ve still not decided what you want for your end of the bargain.”

“Right,” you say, face flaming as you make your way past him and to the bed. You perch yourself on the edge of it. “I’ve been thinking about it, I promise!”

You totally haven’t been thinking about it. You were perfectly content to just continue helping Alastor with his ruts- to be so close to him regularly was enough for the time being. The orgasms were a huuuge plus.

He watches you with his eyes narrowed before he sighs. “If you say so, dear- do let me know when you’ve decided. In the meantime, I do have some final tasks to complete before I’m prepared to be incapacitated with you. I hadn’t expected you to meet me so soon.” He eyes you sitting on the edge of his bed and hums. “Though I must say I’m rather pleased to have you in my own territory this time, as it were. You’re free to use my space as you please while you wait for my return.” With a faint buzz of static he’s gone, and you’re left in the comfortable warmth of Alastor’s room.

You lean back into the pillows, relishing in the soft sheets beneath your skin. They were red- of course- and you let yourself spread your hands across them. They smelled of Alastor, like the woods and spices and rain on the streets when you were alive.

Speaking of Alastor’s scent, he said he was glad to have you in his area this time, and you think about when he made the initial proposition and said that he could smell other things on you- maybe it was the deer part of him wanting to make sure that you smelled like him this time, made him feel like you were properly… ‘mated.’ The thought makes you blush, but you don’t think you’re wrong.

You catch sight of the bathroom door across the room. He had said you had free reign while he was out- while you waited you could take a shower, rid yourself of the scents of the hotel, and perhaps that would put Alastor more at ease when he came back. You make your way into the generously sized room, turn the water as hot as you can get it, and wash the day off yourself.

When you come back into the main room Alastor is waiting there, and his eyes widen at the sight of you in what you assumed to be his bathrobe that you had found on the back of the door. “You’ve certainly made yourself at home, darling,” he comments, but his eyes are roving over your form from head to toe, pausing at the black A emblazoned now over your heart.

“I, uh. I thought maybe you would prefer it if I didn’t stink of the hotel when you got back,” you say. “You mentioned that last time, and with the comment about being in your territory this time I just figured, you know. A clean slate was best.” You shrug your shoulders, the silk of the robe sliding off on one side from how oversized it was on you. “Fuck-”

“Allow me.” Alastor is in front of you then, and despite the split-second thought that he would simply slide the robe off your entirely- he had said that you wouldn’t be needing clothing- he simply rights it on your frame, taking a moment to admire the A. He leans down and buries his nose in the space between your chin and shoulder, inhaling deeply. “The robe, while perhaps unintended, is a nice touch. Not only do you not smell of the hotel or its inhabitants, but you smell like me. Like mine.” He runs a hand down your arm and allows a clawed finger to drag the silk up your wrist.

“Yours,” you agree, and at his sharp intake of breath against your neck you add, “for the week! Whatever you need me to be, I will. Um. Be that. For the week.”

“Perfect,” he says, and your brain oozes with the warmth of the praise. “I actually do have a request of you this time beyond just allowing me to… have you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

You’re once again struck by your possible stupidity when it comes to this demon- blindly agreeing to the things he proposes before you really understand what comes with it. He could ask to tie you down, or if he could use his magic in some way to be involved in the proceedings. He could ask to bite you, to really chomp down like he had last time but tear flesh away instead of simply releasing you- though you do think you might draw the line there.

He eyes you through lowered lids for a moment before he steps to the side of you and gestures to the swamp that he’s got materialized in his room- it had been there since he moved in, if you went by what Vaggie said. “If you are not opposed, I would like you to run,” he says simply, reaching out to tighten the sash of the robe around your waist.

You glance into the darkness of the night that awaits at the border between there and here- where Hotel meets bayou, where reality meets… whatever that was. It had to be some kind of deer thing. “Got it. Is there a point to that? I’ll do it,” you assure him, hands raised to show that you weren’t trying to argue the point. “I’m just curious.”

He hums a bit. “Yes, I’d think so. As satisfying as it is that you so easily submit to me, the restless buck in me wishes for more of a courting, so to speak. In nature a doe will dance around the buck, out of reach for several days before allowing herself to be mated.” He flashes you a tense smile. “I think a refreshing chase through the bayou will satisfy that craving quite nicely.”

“I see.” You look back into the swamp- it’s dark, but the stars are providing a decent amount of light and there seems to be a clear path through the trees to some extent, plenty of space for you to make some distance if he gave you a head start. Were you supposed to circle back here, to the bedroom? You could tell he was a little nervous about the request, but it didn’t seem all that bad. “So that’s it- I run and you chase me?”

“Haha! What little faith you have in me, dear- you run, and I will catch you.”

His tone makes you shiver. “R-right.” You swallow hard and hold your hands into tight fists at your side. “And- what happens when you catch me?”

Alastor pats you on the head like you’ve seen him to do Charlie. “You’re a smart gal,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure you can figure it out during your head start- we may as well start now since you’re agreeable to the idea.” He glances at his watch before starting to remove his overcoat and roll his sleeves up to the elbow. “It’s not a terribly large area, so I believe ten seconds should be sufficient!”

“W- now? Ten seconds?”

His smile is almost bored despite the burning intent in his eyes. “Well, it’s only nine now.”

You know better than to stall any longer, and you bolt- perhaps some small blessing of magic he’s concocted, but there are no sharp sticks or rocks under your bare feet as you take off into the night, straight down the path you had noticed in the trees earlier. You stay mindful of any roots that may trip you as you run, your legs aching, heart beating faster than it ever has before, living or dead.

And yet- the thrill is exhilarating. You don’t think Alastor would actually harm you in any real way, bruises and scrapes from the last rut aside that you’re sure you’ll get a repeat of. But you could see why part of him wanted this. Craved it. A reward is better when you’ve earned it, when you’ve really worked for it.

And by the sounds of crashing trees and snapping branches that followed in your wake a few seconds later, he was certainly working for it.

You reach a clearing in the trees and turn to make a sharp right, sure that he was thinking you would continue straight on. As you do though you catch sight of the sky between the treetops- thousands of blinking stars with wisps of clouds shot throughout the deep, endless blue. It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, take a moment to really appreciate what Alastor was capable of with this creation alone. It was breathtaking.

A whisper of movement reminds you that you aren’t alone in this astonishing dimension, and you sidestep just in time to avoid the grasp of Alastor’s claws as he reaches for you.

He looks feral - antlers extended and catching on the low hanging branches of the trees nearby, his eyes dark and crazed as he watches you take a couple steps back. “Come now, darling,” he says, and there’s red dripping from either side of his mouth. “There’s no use in that. I’ve found you.”

“Thought you said you wanted to catch me,” you snark before you can implement your brain-to-mouth filter. The adrenaline is coursing in your veins, keeping you light on your feet. “Not play hide and seek.”

Alastor laughs at you, the sound echoing through the wilderness. “How cheeky!” He stalks towards you, a pace forward for every one of yours backwards. “Rest assured, I will catch you, dear.”

You offer him your own smile, dancing backwards with every lurch. You know he could catch you easily, knew that he was just taunting you, toying with you. But God, if it wasn’t fun, even as dangerous as it was to mess with someone as powerful as Alastor. “That’s big talk for someone who still doesn’t have his hands on me yet.” You turn, to book it back into the trees in the opposite direction, knowing that you won’t get far.

You stumble. The cliche of it isn’t lost on you as you go down to your knees, and notice one of Alastor’s shadow tentacles slipping away from roughly ankle level.

You still try to escape, to draw it out just that little bit longer, twisting to one side as Alastor rushes you. All that does is get you facing upwards, the robe falling off your shoulders to drape across your collarbones before he has you pinned with a hand to each wrist.

“Well well, what do we have here?” He asks with his eyes lowered, pupils dilated as he takes you in. “It would seem that I’ve caught you.”

“You cheated,” you say breathlessly, as he slots himself between your legs, bringing your thighs up to rest on either side of his hips. “I could have kept going if you played fair.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he agrees, and then he’s trailing his lips down your neck, kissing at your shoulders and throat before he pulls the robe off of you to pool beneath your body. “You gave quite the effort- I was surprised to see you get so far with your head start. I have no doubt you could have kept the chase going a while longer.” He sighs, like the idea of not having that now was disappointing. “Another time, perhaps.” With that he releases your hands and digs his claws into your hips and grinds against you, the drag of his clothed erection against your bare sex sending sparks up your spine.

His eyes are closed, head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. His antlers, like last time, are extended to the sides, unrestrained with the openness of the space. He doesn’t seem to be as lost in it this time, perhaps because you were with him at the beginning of the rut and keeping the worst of it at bay before he had the chance to get animalistic and frustrated.

It's almost better, in a way. The last time had been fun- so much fun, you had zero complaints that you hadn’t already addressed with the supply of snacks and water sitting by the bed currently- but Alastor seems calmer in his need this time. Still at the mercy of his biology but less frantic with it, even with the chase that had led to the two of you here on the forest floor, sky full of stars above you. You would agree to nearly anything he asked of you to make things easier on him if needed.

He leans down over you, still grinding his hips while running his teeth along whatever he can reach of your body. He’s perfectly positioned for you to grab hold of his antlers again so you do so, relishing in the full body shiver that courses through him at the sensation. Using one hand to keep your lower halves pinned together, the other slides deliciously along your back to twist into your hair, pulling your mouth to his with a groan that vibrates through your being.

It would almost be unfair how aroused you were if you didn’t know that Alastor was in the same state, the drag of his length against you combined with the adrenaline of the chase leaving you slick and needy. “Mine, mine, mine,” he’s mumbling against your lips, tongue darting out with every repetition to brush along yours.

You let one of your hands slide down between your bodies like it had last time, let your trembling fingers circle the base of him and moan into his mouth at the feeling of him, hard and hot under your touch. He jerks back from you, his eyes frantic and panting through his slack jaw. “Darling, please, I can’t- can’t think if you-”

“Please,” you whine, and he flexes in your hand. “Please, Alastor, fuck-” You release your grip and roll your hips into his. “Don’t think- whatever you need, take it.”

He clenches his eyes shut, bringing his knees forward so he can rest your lower body on his thighs so he can free up the hand holding you to him. He pulls his hips back far enough to slide a finger through your wetness and into the tight clench of your body, the evidence of your arousal and how ready you are for him tearing a harsh moan from his throat. “You astonish me,” he says, and the praise winds itself around the synapses firing off in your brain as he brings his fingers to his mouth, long tongue twisting around the digits to taste you. “Delicious- you’re so lovely, I want everything .” The visual of it- this powerful demon, on his knees in the dirt with you, licking your arousal off his fingers like some delectable treat as he fights to maintain his composure, his manners- sends a pulse of want through your entire being, and not having him inside of you is no longer an option.

When he lines himself up to thrust into you you beat him to the punch, pushing your hips forward to meet him halfway, and then all the way as the move allows him to slide in to the hilt. A choked off whimper escapes you, body shivering with the force of his rutting into you. He’s hitting that sweet spot inside of you, the head of his cock slamming it with every thrust, and you want to cry from the pleasure of it.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his lips still close enough to your ear that you can hear the sweet nothings that tumble from his tongue. “My mate, so sweet, so- fuck -” He falters for a moment, his hips stuttering hard into you before he comes back to himself and resumes his steady rhythm, the push and pull of his body into yours driving you to insanity. When his eyes open they are black, the little red dials of his pupils ticking steadily in time with his thrusts. His antlers are growing still, their size staggering, the dark jagged lines of them breaking up your view of the stars when you can manage to tear your eyes away from Alastor’s face. “ Mine . Say it. Tell me.” His smile is desperate, expression dazed and full of need. “You take me so well; fucking say it, I need to hear you-”

“Yours,” you cry out, your thighs tensing with the force of your rising orgasm. “Fuck, Alastor, please, yours-”

Arms wrapped possessively around you he leans back, pulling you with him to an upright position. He's still sat on his knees in the dirt, the sounds coming from where you’re joined loud and lewd in the relative silence of the bayou. He keeps you clutched to his frame, claws digging delicious lines into the canvas of your back. “Fuck,” he’s gasping into the space between you, railing harder into your body as he loses his pace, hands coming down to hold your hips stationary and fuck into you from below. “Fuck, darling, mine - ” A wrecked groan of your name is the only warning you have before he stills as far inside your warmth as he can get himself, the move dragging him against that spot inside that sends you right over the edge with him.

He doesn’t bite down as hard this time but he still sinks his teeth into your shoulder, the sharp pain of it giving an edge to your release as you shake in Alastor’s arms, a sound like a wounded animal coming from you and seeming almost at home in the darkness of the trees.

Like last time, when he removes his teeth from your skin he laps at the blood that spills from the wound. You release your grip on his antlers at last and your arms drape over his shoulders, letting your head drop forward to rest on them. He sighs contentedly into your skin, the air making your new bitemark sting. The buzzing and rustling of creatures in the trees has resumed now that you and Alastor have finished, and stands slowly to place you on your feet, pulling out of the heat of your body in the same move. Your legs are shaky but stay underneath you at least, and he watches you with narrowed eyes after tucking himself back into his slacks.

Something about his gaze on you makes you nervous, now that his mind is temporarily clear of the frantic need from his rut. You crouch down to grab the discarded silk robe, now smeared with dirt and littered with leaves and sticks from the ground. “This m-might be ruined now,” you say quietly, still a little off kilter from the force of your orgasm. You hold it out to him, and while his jaw tightens a bit he still gives you a smile.

“Not an issue, my dear,” he assures you as he plucks it from your fingers. With a wave of his hand it’s as good as new, and he gestures to you to turn so he can place it back on your shoulders, helping to ease it over your arms and tightening the sash around your waist like he had before the chase. “I rather think it suits you- for the duration of my rut, at the very least.”

You blush. “I’ll make sure to throw it on every time,” you say with a chuckle, testing the strength of your legs with a couple steps. “I think I can manage to walk this time, but I might need a little-”

“Of course.” He holds his arm out for you to grasp, the picture of a gentlemen despite the chase and rough fucking he had just given you. “I would transport us back but I’m afraid I’ve expended much of my energy in chasing you out here.” He watches you from the corner of his eyes, and part of you thinks that he just finds it satisfying to see your knees weak because of him.

You glance back at the clearing as you walk away, and you can see the glow of the stars and moon where it cuts through the trees. “That was a really pretty spot,” you tell him, and his eyebrows raise. “Seriously- that whole area is just gorgeous. Is it a deer thing? Or something from, you know. Up there?” You point skyward, hoping he’ll understand that you mean from when he was alive without having to explicitly state it.

His smile turns wistful. “A bit of both, I suppose,” he admits. “I’ve always found myself a bit more at peace among nature than anywhere else. The cacophony of living creatures, the cover of darkness for more illicit activities. It’s always brought me comfort.”

“Gives you some space for the more cervine activities too, huh? Like a nice chase through the trees.” You nudge him with your hip as the normal side of his room comes into view. “I really did make some good distance!”

Alastor smirks down at you. “You seem like you had a grand time running from me, darling. Perhaps we repeat the experiment- see how long you can evade me next time before I catch you.”

“If you can catch me without cheating I’m game,” you say, and yelp in surprise when he swipes an arm under your legs to carry you the way he had last time, depositing you onto the bed. You’re enveloped in his scent again he he lowers himself down to you, tongue trailing between the folds of the robe and descending, and before Alastor ensures that you’re so mindless with pleasure that you can’t sass him, you have the faint thought that you really should start thinking about what you want out of this deal before he asks again.

You can’t have him knowing that you’re content to keep going just like this, splayed in his bed with a sky full of stars just out of reach.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #my stuff <3

346 notes · View notes

averyfromzero · 1 year

Text

"breathe on me"

pairing: na jaemin x male reader summary: you live in a dorm with your best friends jeno, jaemin and jisung - with a friends with benefits deal with the first two. on a sleepless night, jaemin comes to your room looking for some action. notes: canon universe, smut, friends with benefits, reader is also an idol, cockwarming, jaemin is a top! *you can consider this to be placed in the same universe as "lazy sunday"!

words: 1.6k

Living with Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung led to the four of you growing close together until you were all each other's best friends. Despite not being part of the group, you clicked with the NCT Dream members so quickly that soon it did feel like you were all part of the same team. While you shared a room with Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung shared another.

After just a few months living together, you, Jeno and Jaemin ended up building a friends with benefits deal with each other during a period in which your schedules were so stressful that you guys ended up turning to each other for some relief. While Jisung isn't a part of the deal (he's straight!), he knows. (Ok, maybe he only found out about it after catching you guys in a threesome in the living room once... He was traumatized)

This time, you were sleeping peacefully on your bed. Jeno was also quietly snoring away on his own bed on the other side of the room. That was until a certain intruder comes into the room.

Silently, Jaemin opens your room door and sneaks in, wearing only pajama pants while his toned chest was on display. He tried clicking the door closed silently as to not wake anyone.

Swiftly, he makes his way to your bed and leans in close to you, hand on your shoulder. He calls your name in whispers while gently shaking you until you start to awaken.

With sleepy serrated eyes, you turn slightly to look at whoever interrupted your sleep. In the dark, you notice Jaemin's pretty face looking down on you. "Hm?"

"I can't sleep", he whispers. "Can I sleep with you?"

Instead of giving him a response, you move on your bed to make space for your friend to join you. You feel your back against the wall and wait for Jaemin to pull up the covers and crawl into bed.

You watch as he comes close and notice how he's not wearing any shirt. His chest is getting so toned, and his shoulders are already so big. You were loving this new buff era your friend was getting into.

As Jaemin settled on the bed, he moved his right arm around you and motioned you to come closer. You lied your head on his chest and felt as his arm wrapped around you, hand moving under your shirt to caress your back. You hummed in content.

Getting yourself more comfortable, you positioned your leg over your friend's and snuggled closer, using your right hand to draw circles around Jaemin's plump chest.

After a few seconds, you noticed how Jaemin's hand was moving suspiciously down your back, getting closer and closer to your sleeping shorts. Simultaneously, you felt on your leg as something grew bigger and harder under your friend's pants.

Ah, right. That's what he came here for.

"Jaemin."

"Hm?"

"Wanna fuck?"

You look as Jaemin slightly nods and drives his hand under the fabric of your shorts, grabbing a handful of your meaty ass and squeezing.

Mimicking his move, you also slip your hand under his pajama pants, feeling the wiry pubic hair he keeps tidy before feeling the hardening meat and wrapping your fingers around it.

Taking advantage of the fact that you have your face on his bare chest, you start sucking on Jaemin's nipple while you stroke his 7-incher to full hardness. He moans at the wet sound of your lips and tongue around his nipple.

Once Jaemin's cock is fully hard, you decide to slide down his torso until you're facing his tented-up pajama pants. You slide down the fabric to his mid-thigh and sees your friend's rock hard cock spring up in the dark, tip shining with precum.

Wrapping your hand around Jaemin's shaft again, you move your head closer to it and wrap your wet lips around the tip, tasting his salty precum and the taste of his milky skin. Jaemin tasted delicious.

You heard as Jaemin moaned and brought his right hand to the back of your head, motioning you to move on his dick. Giving in, you started to bob your head up and down his hard cock, thoroughly wetting it.

After a few minutes of endless sucking, you felt Jaemin pull you gently off his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his member.

You moved on the bed so you were face-to-face with your friend again and leaned in, connecting your spit-covered lips with his. Jaemin was eager and immediately darted his tongue inside your mouth, hand on the back of your head as you two made out intensely.

When you felt the need to pull back to breathe, you promptly adjusted your position so you were laying on your back to let Jaemin know you were ready for the next step.

Jaemin sat up and moved until he was sitting in between yours legs, using his strong hands to part them so he could fit his hips against yours perfectly. Before anything else happened, he leaned in again to make out with your for a few more minutes, still intense from arousal. You loved how eager Jaemin was whenever he was horny, acting all dominant while still being gentle.

While making out heatedly, you felt as Jaemin started to pull down your sleeping shorts along with your boxer briefs until you were naked from the waist down. The cold air-con air in the room hit your crotch and you felt a chill running down your legs.

Breathless once again, Jaemin pulled off and sat up in a way so he could remove his own pajama pants, leaving himself completely bare. Even in the dark, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of your friend's hot body in front of you. Gorgeous face, strong arms, plump chest, defined abs, and a big juicy cock. Your best friend was one sexy motherfucker.

Knowing you had already been fucked by Jeno earlier, Jaemin didn't bother taking out the lube and prepping you too long. All he did was ask for you to suck on two of his fingers and then entered them in your ass for a minute before you were ready.

You watched as he spit on his hand and stroked his cock with it for a few seconds before holding it still and pressing it against your awaiting hole. Didn't take much to go all the way in as you were already used to it. You heard Jaemin groan once he was completely inside.

Worried that you might've woken up your other best friend sleeping on the other side of the room, you and Jaemin turned to check. Jeno was still sound asleep. You didn't care if he watched or not (it already happened multiple times before anyway), but you didn't want to bother him in his sleep and risk your friend waking up grumpy the next morning.

Relieved, you two faced each other again and you felt as Jaemin slowly pulled out before slamming his hips against yours again. He was a pro at it, he knew how to slam you hard enough to make you feel it but not enough to make too much noise. He smirked as you reacted to his strong thirst.

Jaemin had his hands on each side of your head so you had the privileged view of his huge biceps flexing to keep himself up while he thrusted in and out of your hole eagerly (but careful not to make a fuss). His chest and abs were starting to glisten a bit as sweat formed over his milky soft skin. It was a sight to behold.

After a few minutes of continuous thrusting, Jaemin started to feel his arms getting tired from holding himself up in that position. Pulling out of you momentarily, your friend motioned you to lay on your side as he positioned himself behind you and promptly made his way inside you again, continuing to fuck you right away.

You couldn't help but groan in pleasure once Jaemin started to hit your prostate repeatedly, hugging you from behind as he chased his own orgasm as well. You didn't bother stroking yourself to completion and just held onto Jaemin's strong arms that were holding you tight as you waited for him to make you cum untouched as he'd already done several times before.

You could tell Jaemin was getting close to his orgasm once his thrusts became less rhythmic and a bit more sloppy, slamming against your butt with more impact and less worried about not making too much noise.

You felt as he leaned in closer and his face was against your shoulder, heavy breathing blowing on your skin. You could hear his low grunting each time he thrusted in with force and tightened his grip around you.

It didn't take long before you felt your cock twitch and a rush of pleasure run up and down your body as you climaxed. While at it, you involuntarily clenched your hole and drew a long groan out of Jaemin, who reached his high right then and there, cumming inside you as he pressed his nose against your neck as to try holding back a louder moan while his legs trembled slightly at the intense orgasm.

You two stayed still for a couple minutes, breathing heavily as you recovered from your intense climaxes. You felt as Jaemin lazily left a few wet kisses on your neck and muttered out a deep "thanks" before he reached down for the blanket that had been tossed around unknowingly during sex to cover the two of you back again.

Once the room was silent again, you two noticed as Jeno snored softly on his bed on the other side of the room, letting you know he never once woke up while Jaemin pounded into you. Getting comfortable, you two drifted off into a peaceful slumber while Jaemin was still balls deep inside your ass and kept his arms around you.

929 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 10 months

Note

Am I interested in Dick Grayson's innovativeness and how that makes him a terrifying opponent?

Nah, not really, no, it's no- EXCEPT THAT I AM!

I love your analysis and honestly, I always surf through the dick Grayson tag once a day to see if u have posted. Pls drop the innovatiness wala analysis. I would absolutely eat it up

ADSAJHFGAJLHADJLHA YOU CAN'T SEDUCE ME LIKE THAT-MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT!

But I am here to deliver *bows*

Let's start this off with a bang

Dick is completely naked except for a towel and with one (well defined) leg he hooks the handle of the beer bucket and sends it smashing into Midnighter to stop him from using the knife on another person.

Pure. Fucking. Platinum.

That move was so delicious, there's an ease-fluidity-grace-to that split second movement. Also notice how accurate his aim is despite swinging it with the arc of his toes. The bucket slammed right into the medulla oblongata, or more specifically the pyramidal tracts which are crucial for controlling voluntary muscular movements. Nerves from the brain cross over at that area as they go down and then synapse onto other nerves that are responsible for controlling muscles when they leave the spinal cord. The precision at which he aimed the bucket is glorious. And with what? His feet.

The only reason Midnighter wasn't injured is because he is a meta which is the point. Otherwise Dick wouldn't have aimed there unless he was fighting an enemy.

Oh that brings me to my next point.

Dick has extraordinary control of his actions

He's so right though. Nightwing doesn't need to kill because fighting is too easy for him. I swear he has some kind of messed up idea (aside from his need to be absolutely good) that killing someone with a gun would take the joy out of fighting. He loves to live life on the hardest mode only.

The rapid fire throw of the gun, calculating the distance, time, velocity of return, and angle? I mean I studied physics and calculating even half of that on paper is a headache. The fact that he did it in one second? It's extraordinary. Things that are pure, dumb luck to literally everyone else is carefully calculated at a speed faster than light, making it look like luck. Damn.

Yeah.

Forget Slade. Midnighter is my new favorite nemesister.

DO YOU SEE WHAT HE FOUGHT WITH?! WHILE DEATHSTROKE AND BLACK ADAM WERE FIGHTING WITH META POWERS AND A CURSED SWORD, HE FUCKING WRAPPED CHAINS AROUND HIMSELF LIKE A BOSS AND WHIPPED THE SHIT OUT OF THAT MAN.

Please take a moment of silence to relish in this sight.

Dick's innovativeness is a formidable skill when fighting allies.

Dick and Ras are evenly matched in sword fighting.

Wait, wait. I don't need any doubts about Dick's strength in sword fighting so I'm going to include a couple panels here:

Dick fights Azrael to a standstill which is absolutely incredible because Azrael solos. He's gone through many upgrades and skills and is one of the best fighters ever. He's even defeated Bruce.

He also defeated Jason and Tim together in Batman and Robin Eternal.

This is just another point towards the fact that Dick actually won in his fight against Bruce before going into Spyral. They weren't holding back.

Oh yeah. Ra's vs Dick panel, Dick and Ra's aren't going anywhere because Dick is a swordsman equivalent to one of the best in the world. So how do you win a draw? By one upping the opponent. He swings his foot up in midair and completely defeats him. "But that isn't a defeat...Ra's just stopped fighting!" It was complete defeat because Ra's is intelligent and knows when he can't win. Also they have been fighting for a while until they reached the breaking point in the battle. This move is a show of how Dick has that just one inch more that will lead him to be a victor.

Ra's honors Dick so much he tried to give the sword he used to fight with Batman because he thinks Dick is worthy of it. Can anyone receive a higher honor than this from that man?

He'll also use the broken glass of a car window to take down his opponent. If that's not innovation, then what is?

But one last thing since a car door cannot be considered innovative these days.

sticks. He literally took two twigs off the ground to use as weapons against his highly skilled, one of the best assassins, great-grandfather who is fighting with daggers in his hands and all over his body.

But you know the best part?

He draws his opponent to a tie. A tie? Not a win? No it was win after, considering he used his relative's falling body as a launching pad in the middle of the air when they were falling off the bridge to grab onto the bridge with the help of his friend. So it was his win but it's insane how incredible Dick's skills are.

It's really innovative because who thinks of using twigs and winning? Let me also clarify another point. Dick could've used the knives he'd gotten from his talon suit and thoroughly won because when he was brain washed he almost killed Red Condor from how skilled he was but he conscientiously chose to use twigs. In a sword fight. This man.

His improvisation is an asset that many have come to know him for and classify him as dangerous because he can fight with anything, anywhere, and win.

Something I want to end with. Dick only fights people who are stronger than him. I know he's fought mob characters and stuff but his enemies? They are all metas, assassins, skilled fighters, Russian Black Ops, and more. Essentially, people who are the top of the class in their categories and him defeating them equally and fairly is the reason why he has the respect of his enemies. He's just that good.

#I'm laughing because I actually got this exact request from you and from when-no-wings-do-broomsticks one after another #I'll be writing a part two of this post #dick grayson #nightwing #midnighter #ra's al ghul #talon #william cobb #KG Beast #azrael #red condor #cl stargazer3700 asks

666 notes · View notes

m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

Text

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.3

Okay can anyone explain the “false hotel registration” thing to me? Does it mean they registered under a false name? So Paul registered under a false name so he could go fuck a girl in his room without getting in trouble with the press? I'm confused. Didn't they bring girls to their rooms all the time without getting in trouble? It doesn't make sense. Why did he feel the need to register under a different name?

Paul, talking about American conservatism, “So many organizations over here that are nuts anyway.” John, “Yeah, they're so far right they just–” tape ends. They really were brave, though. To say what they thought and risk losing what they'd only just got. I wonder who cut the recording.

Journalist: Paul, are you planning to marry Jane Asher? John: scream ‘no.’ Go on. Lol John certainly says what he feels doesn't he?

Paul making fun of the racist question. Good job bud.

The whole “Yesterday” thing is crazy. Like, what a feat, first of all. I think we forget how unbelievably successful the song was.

Second of all, I know John's reaction was childish and mean, but his feelings were valid if you just look at the treatment and reception of “Ticket to Ride” (John's dead mum song). Like objectively yesterday is a better song, but still.

Oh, John. Poor thing.

If “Girl” is secretly about Paul . . . yeesh. It's so obsessive and adoring and simultaneously so disappointed and disparaging. John always has such impossible standards for Paul. “She promises the earth to me and I believe her, after all this time I don't know why.” Um… maybe because he literally did give you the world? At so many points I find myself asking, “what more could Paul possibly have given John?”

People always take this quote as a sexuality thing, but couldn't it also be a conscience thing? Revulsion at taking advantage of the fact that all these women are fans? At the scale of his infidelity? I don't know, am I giving him too much credit?

The thing about Paul, John – and though it drives you insane, it's a big factor in why you love him -- is he's not going to be bullied into anything. If he decides to take LSD it's going to be on his own terms. And I know you think it'll bring you two closer, and you're right, but peer pressure just doesn't work on him. There's no point. You know that.

I LOVE Paul and the Indica. Designing the wrapping paper in secret up in his little attic room, covering over the shop windows so he can do his handyman work building shelves and painting in peace. It's Linda's Paul pre Linda, you know?

John is so good at PR as in making something sound as beautiful and important and powerful as possible. Which is something Paul absolutely relied on John to do and clearly could not do on his own after the break up. Look how John makes them almost into prophets here.

"I really wanted to live in London but I wouldn't risk it." Another thing to make John envious of Paul and resentful of Cynthia. I really wish those two had just never got married.

“I don't object to people having a lot of money, I never did. But I do object to people being stony broke and starving.” RIP John, you would've loved the American “left” of today. But you can't have the former without the latter, sorry.

This picture always gets me. It's ridiculous. Pattie and George. Mo and Ringo. John and Paul. With Cynthia awkwardly by herself. It's funny. It's adorable. It's crushing. And with that quote? It's impossible.

I think Tara Browne is overlooked. Paul brought him home for Christmas. That's a big deal. And John hated him enough to laugh when he read about his death. That's also a big deal. Paul and his messed up social climbing obsession. I do think it's worth pointing out, though, the difference between Paul’s LSD trip with Tara and his trip with John. More on that later.

I really do think they were all staunchly anti-racist for their time, you know, besides John's racist jokes and drawings… but Paul particularly. And I have to wonder where that came from. Did he have empathy for people being judged on appearance and background? Was it partially due to his idolization of black artists? Did Little Richard maybe say something to him about racism in America? Anyone have any thoughts?

Actually, same, John.

Okay and I have to share my hot take on the whole Jesus scandal. It's this: the American right doesn't actually care about Jesus. They care about protecting their hegemony. They didn't like that the Beatles were openly and stubbornly integrationist. They didn't like Paul's comment about their inhumane racism. But they couldn't openly counter that without showing their hand. So they used the Jesus comment as an excuse. If they play the religious persecution card, they get to paint themselves as the victims and therefore the good guys while they take down anyone who challenges the status quo that keeps them in money and power (aka the Beatles).

Maybe I should've had a “poor baby” tally because the number of times I've said that about John in these comments has got to be tally-worthy. I would've driven around in a gorilla suit with you, honey!

It is actually amazing that there hasn't been more speculation on Paul's sexuality with all these serious boyfriends.

Paul tells a story about a time he flew a plane, and how much better he liked it than being a passenger. First off. Imagine being a pilot and just being like “oh, you've never touched a joystick in your life, but you're Paul McCartney? Sure, go ahead. Fly the plane.” But also. His control issues and his confidence are both off unreal. No one in their right mind would feel more safe flying a plane – as someone with a complete lack of experience – than when a licensed pilot is flying it.

Okay I literally JUST learned that Here There and Everywhere says, “how good it can be” not could. Can. And it's one of those in my "for sure this was about John" folder. Okay then. Wow.

The thing is they really did compliment each other's songs a lot more than modern Paul makes it seem like. So I wonder what it was about the “Here There and Everywhere” compliment that made it so special to Paul?

This footage where John is hiding behind McCharmley. I love protective Paul and how different he is to protective John and how much they needed each other.

Hall of Fame quote: “what composer do you respect the most?” “I dunno really. John Lennon.” “Paul McCartney.”

#Sorry this one got pretty political hopefully everyone survived #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #understanding lennon mccartney #ulm

182 notes · View notes

samwisethewitch · 6 months

Text

What Non-Pagans Need to Know About Fiction Featuring Pagan Gods

In light of Marvel's Loki show dropping a second season and a new Percy Jackson series on the horizon, I want to say some things about how fandom spaces can be respectful of real-life pagan religion.

Let's get one thing out of the way: literally no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction that uses pagan gods and heroes as characters. No one is saying, "Stop writing stories about our gods." In fact, many ancient cultures wrote fiction about their gods -- look at Greek theater or the Norse Eddas. The act of writing fiction about the gods is not offensive in itself.

But please remember that this is someone's religion.

The gods are not "just archetypes." Their myths are not "just stories." Their personalities are not a matter of artistic interpretation. For many pagans, the gods are very much real in a literal sense. I don't think Thor is a metaphor or a symbol -- for me, Thor is a real, autonomous spiritual being who exists outside of human perceptions of him, and who I have chosen to build a relationship with. Even if you are a hardcore atheist, I would hope you could at least be respectful of the fact that, to many modern pagans, the gods are both very real and very important.

When authors are not respectful of this fact, they reduce the gods, these very real objects of worship, to fictional characters. And here's the thing about fictional characters: they are fundamentally tools for authors to use to draw a desired emotional response from an audience.

Dracula's personality and behavior is wildly different depending on who is writing him, because different authors use Dracula to create different reactions in their audiences. In the 1931 film starring Bela Lugosi, he's equal parts alluring and disturbing, a symbol of America's mixed desire and disdain for foreigners. In Nosferatu, he's more strictly frightening and disgusting. In Francis Ford Coppola's movie, he's a tragic, romantic figure clinging to the last scraps of his humanity. In Netflix's Castlevania, he's an incredibly powerful being who has grown bitter and apathetic in his immortality. All of this is Dracula, and all of it is fine, because Dracula is not and never has been a central figure in anyone's religion.

Let's take a look at what happens when authors give this same treatment to real gods:

In Hellenic polytheism, Apollo is one of the most beloved gods, both historically and today. Apollo loves humanity, and humanity loves him back. He is the god of sunlight and of medicine, but also of poetry and song. He is one of humanity's most consistent defenders when one of the other gods gets wrathful. And while he does have dangerous or wrathful aspects of his own (he's also the god of disease, after all), he's also kind and soft with humanity in a way other gods often aren't, at least in some historic sources.

In the Lore Olympus comic series, Apollo is a villain. He's characterized as an abuser, a manipulator, and a violent man child. LO!Apollo is downright hateful, because the author wants us to hate him. Lore Olympus is a retelling of a myth about an abduction and forced marriage. Lore Olympus is also a romance. In order to get the audience to sympathize with Hades and root for his relationship with Persephone, Rachel Smythe needed to make someone else the villain. Apollo is the most obvious and extreme character assassination in Smythe's work, but several other gods (notably Demeter) also get the asshole makeover to tell the story Smythe wants to tell.

Here's where this becomes a problem: Hellenic polytheism is a fairly small religious community, while Lore Olympus is a massively popular webtoon with 1.3 billion views as of August 2023, print books available from major retailers, a TV adaptation in the works, and a very active online fandom. Rachel Smythe currently has a MUCH bigger platform than any Hellenic polytheism practitioner. Smythe and other authors are shaping how modern culture views the Hellenic gods, and that has a very real impact on their worshipers.

This means "Apollo is an abusive asshole" is becoming a popular take online, and is even creeping into pagan communities. I've personally seen people be harassed for worshiping Apollo because of it. I've seen new pagans and pagan-curious folks who totally misunderstand the roles Apollo, Hades, and Persephone play in the Hellenic pantheon because of Lore Olympus and other modern works of fiction.

There are tons of other examples of this in modern pop culture, but I'll just rattle off a few of the ones that annoy me most: Rick Riordan depicting Ares/Mars as a brutish asshole hyped up on toxic masculinity; Rick Riordan depicting Athena as a mother goddess; Marvel depicting Thor as a dumb jock; Marvel depicting Odin as a cold, uncaring father; DC depicting Ares as purely evil; whatever the fuck the Vikings TV show was trying to do with seidr; the list goes on.

All of these are examples of religious appropriation. Religious appropriation is when sacred symbols are taken out of their original religious context by outsiders, so that the original meaning is lost or changed. It requires a power imbalance -- the person taking the symbols is usually part of a dominant religious culture. In many cases, the person doing the appropriation has a much bigger platform than anyone who has the knowledge to correct them.

When Rick Rioridan or Rachel Smythe totally mischaracterizes a Greek god to tell a story, and then actual Hellenic pagans get harassed for worshiping that god, that's religious appropriation.

Religious appropriation is a real issue. This isn't just pagans being sensitive. To use an extreme example: Richard Wagner and other German Romantic authors in the 19th century used the Norse gods and other Germanic deities as symbols in their work, which was a major influence on Nazi philosophy. Without Wagner, the Nazis would not have latched onto the Norse gods as symbols of their white supremacist agenda. To this day, there are white supremacist groups who claim to worship our gods or who use our religious imagery in their hate movement. We are still reckoning with the misinterpretation of our gods popularized by Wagner and other German Romantics almost 200 years ago.

Again, no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction based on pagan mythology. But there are a few things you can do to help prevent religious appropriation in fandom spaces:

Above all else, be mindful that while this may just be a story to you, it is someone's religion.

Recognize that enjoying fiction based on our gods does not mean you know our gods. You know fictional characters with the same names as our gods, who may or may not be accurate to real-life worship.

Do not argue with or try to correct pagans when we talk about our experience of our gods.

Don't invalidate or belittle pagan worship. Again, this mostly comes down to recognizing that our religion is totally separate from your fandom. We aren't LARPing or playing pretend. Our sacred traditions are real and valid.

If you see other people in your fandom engaging in religious appropriation, point out what they are doing and why it isn't okay.

Please tag your fandom content appropriately on social media. Always tag the show, movie, book, etc. that a post is about in addition to other relevant tags. This allows pagans to block these fandom tags if we don't want to see them and prevents fandom content showing up in religious tags.

For example, if I'm posting about Athena from the Percy Jackson books, I would tag the post #athena #athenapjo #percyjackson #pjo. You get the idea.

And if fiction sparks your interest and you want to learn more about the actual worship of the gods, you can always ask! Most pagans love talking about our gods and trading book recs.

If you are writing fiction based on real mythology, talk to people who worship those gods. Ask them what a respectful portrayal would look like. If possible, include a note in your finished work reminding audiences that it is a work of fiction and not meant to accurately portray these gods.

328 notes · View notes

mncxbe · 6 months

Note

aku x virgin female reader? 👉👈

OH my goodness yes- I inhaled your request. Here it is hope you enjoy it♡ I actually made Aku a soft dom for once^^

𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚♡

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smutty smut♡/ pussydrunk Aku

You've been in a relationship with Akutagawa for close to a year now and between the two of you, you were the more experienced one; from all points of view.

You were the one who helped him open up about his issues, who had a mature approach whenever his bad temper got the best of him- which would've otherwise ended up with him accidently starting a conflict- who taught him how to love and allow himself to feel loved. There was no aspect of your relationship that he was "better" at. Or so he thought.

One Sunday morning, one of the rare occasions when he wasn't summoned for work, you plopped yourself beside him on the linen couch; chunky cup of coffee held tightly in one hand as you pried your book open with the other. A soft chuckle rolled past your boyfriend's lips as he watched you struggle to turn the smooth pages.

As if sensing his eye on you your gaze playfully drifted to the side, meeting his for a brief second.

"What?" you asked, voice laced with honey as you quirked a brow.

"Nothing. Just looking at you. Can't I look at my sweet girlfriend?" His tone mimicked your own, causing you to giggle. You weren't used to your boyfriend being in such a playful mood; maybe it was the early hour or the fact that he finally had a free day, away from the stress caused by work, but you swore you could get used to this.

You held his gaze for a moment, teeth lightly nipping at your bottom lip as you rose the mug to your lips and took a sip of your coffee.

Just when Akutagawa thought you weren't going to add anything, returning his focus on the glowing screen of his phone, you spoke up.

"You're not a virgin, right?"

Your boyfriend was obviously taken aback by your question; his eyes snapped back at you and he coughed, levelling his voice.

"Come again?"

"I asked if you were a virgin? Like you know, if you fucked anyone before me."

There it was, that colourful language of yours that he still wasn't fully used to. Although surprised by your inquiry, the matter of fact tone of your voice completely threw him off.

"I know what a virgin is Y/N. And yea, I've been with other people before on occasion. Why do you-"

And then it hit him.

"Wait, you're a virgin!?" he voiced, eyes widening in surprise as you slowly nodded. He'd always assumed you've had sex before; you never shied away from intimacy, always willing to land him a helping hand when he was in need- or your sweet mouth. And thruthfully there hasn't been a time when you didn't manage to coax his orgasm in a matter of minutes; you just did too good of a job. Naturally, he thought you were experienced.

The thought of being your first fueled Akutagawa with a burning desire. Naturally, he was already looking forward to having sex with you, but being your first time ever? Being one step ahead with something? Getting to experience this moment with you?~ it was like his prayers were being answered. It was his chance to prove himself to you.

Lips curling into an amused smile, his slender fingers trailed up your thigh, drawing loose, soothing circles on your skin.

"Well, whenever you wanna do it just let me know. I promise it'll be okay, you can trust me with this" he reassured you, giving your thigh a squeeze.

You only nodded in response and without wasting a second set down the coffee cup by the foot of the couch.

"Okay. Let's do it now."

"Wait now, now? Like..."

"Yea, silly." you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you moved closer to him. Your boyfriend discarded his phone on the little wooden table beside the couch and shifted, allowing you to crawl onto his lap. His lips found yours, fingers tangling in your silky locks to deepen the kiss.

Your palms came to rest on his shoulders, nails digging lightly into his muscles when you felt his ice cold hands slipping under your tank top, gently sliding up your bare back.

When you pushed yourself flush against him, soft chest pressed snuggly against his, Akutagawa let out a low moan. He moved your panties aside and dipped two fingers into your sopping cunt, gently working you open for him.

A whine rolled past your lips at the sudden intrusion and you rose our hips but he quickly guided you back down on his fingers.

"Just take it f'me ok?" he mumbled between kisses and you nodded, earning a shower of praises from him. And oh, how well he knew how his words affected you, how you clenched like a vice around his fingers whenever he called you his good girl, his sweet angel.

After a few minutes the aching in his cock became unbearable. Sliding his shorts off his hips he tossed them on the ground before taking himself out of his underwear.

"So, how do you wanna do this babe?" he asked, feigning a nonchalant attitude as he traced his thumb over his leaking slit, spreading precum on the tip.

You took off your soaked lingerie, straddling his hips. "Think I wanna take it at my own pace for now. Is it ok?"

"Of course. Go ahead" he nodded, helping you allign his cock to your entrance before slowly sinking low until he bottomed out.

It took all the self restraint he had for Akutagawa not to cum the second your gummy walls wrapped around him, squeezing him like a vice.

"God baby you're so tight f-fuck" he groaned, eyelids fluttering; his hands took a gentle hold of your hips, waiting for a sign from you.

The stretch was more intense than you imagined, his dick splitting you open so well. Heat pooled into your core and you eventually started rolling your hips against his.

Choked moans and whines rolled past your lips as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself. Your boyfriend's grip on your waist tightened as he guided your motions.

"You just enjoy it dear. Gonna take good care of you" he babbled out and you allowed yourself to relax under his touch.

Akutagawa was doing his best to hold back, to take you easy and treat you softly; but the more you tightened around him, the harder it was. The cocktail of pleasure building up inside him was only increased by your actions; one shot of you moaning out his name like your only prayer, two shots of your pretty eyes rolling in the back of your skull as you fiercly dug your nails into his chest, leaving burning marks. An ounce of you bouncing on his dick, pretty tits squeezed by your lace trimmed tank top

He suddenly flipped you over, pushing your head into the arm of the mattress as his other hand hoisted up your hips.

"Ryuu what're you~" you mewled but were cut off by his deep thrust.

His words were slurred as he picked up the pace, ramming himself into your sopping hole "Shh baby just wanna take you like this oH god..."

The new position allowed him to reach your sweetest spots. Each of his thrusts was pure extasy, a drug you swore you could get hooked on; his hips smacking against your ass as pushed you closer to your release. Your manicured nails clawed at the linen armrest, rubbing against the rough material, lightly heating up the tips of your fingers.

"Fuck baby I'm gonna cum" you cried out, tears pooling at your lashline as you squeezing your eyes shut.

Akuatagwa's fingers slid between yours, gripping the back of your hand.

"Go ahead 'n cum pretty. Make a mess on me mkay?"

And then you came hard; your walls clenched around his cock, milking him of all he's worth as he let out a shaky groan. Your hand grew limp in his and you slowly closed your eyes.

When he eventually pulled out and tucked himself back in his slacks, a worried look painted itself on his face.

"Y/N are you ok?" he asked softly, leaning over your frame to brush a few stray strands of hair from your damp forehead only to reveal your impish smile.

"Yea... I feel amazing" you cooed, earning a giggle from him.

"Guess I tired you out, pretty."

Nodding, you dangled your arm off the side of the couch as you made space for him to join you.

"Come and rest with me for a while"

Your boyfried complied and, with a smile, cuddled himself up against you, relishing the heat and softness of your body and you both fell asleep; just when the sun was starting to shine its honeyed rays through the living room's tinted windows.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd smut #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x you #akutagawa smut

224 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

Note

your toxic könig is so perfect and the more recent posts made me think about a similar kind of au but with gromsko. like god i need this man to """force""" me into being his perfect little wife i swear.

AND IM SO SORRY but being slavic also makes this even more feral for me because i imagine the second his gf shows a bit too much independence/DARES to talk over him (yeah it's an achievement to be able to talk over him, the mf is LOUD)/etc he just. goes feral like he sees it as a challenge and he needs to show her what a slavic woman is actually supposed to be like.

but slavic or not he'll keep holding the fact that he "tamed" you over your head even when he's fucking you. talks about how this is your place, this is where you belong and how he's going to make sure you remember by breeding you full.

Omg Gromsko OMG

I'm so normal about him yes yes it's just your ask that made me this way ^^ I'm blaming you my dear anon 💕

CW: Protective & possessive behavior, implied sexism

So, Gromsko. Your car broke down in the middle of the road and this absolute bear of a Pole pulls over to help you. He has a charming smile, sure, but he's also obnoxiously bold. That casual masculine bravado makes you feel weaker than it should; there's this aura of shameless pride about him, and you can't quite decide if it's annoying or sexy.

You try to tell him you can handle it, that the repair guy is already on his way. But Gromsko? Hah. He just bypasses that shit. Pops up the hood and gets to work. The car is fixed in no time, and the next thing you know is that you just said yes when "Sobieslaw Kościuszko, pleasure to meet you, miss," asked if he could take you out to dinner this evening.

And it's true that he's loud. Like, why does he have to talk by half shouting...? (Probably because he has to make it known that he's the strongest, most virile male in the area.)

Sobieslaw always sits with a wide spread, with a broad, tall chest, with a confidence that seems to come naturally to him. He never tries to make himself smaller, no matter how crammed a space is. Everyone except the elderly has to move aside when he walks because he's not going to dodge or sidestep. You're not the only one who fears he will eventually break one of those dainty little chairs in the fine dining place he brought you to; the waiter side eyes this man like he's some beast that somehow got in and should be caged, not fed.

Despite all that brass, Gromsko is a proper gentleman. Always opens the doors for you, always pays at a restaurant. And always grabs your waist and draws you closer if there are other men around. Guy looks like he's ready to get into a fist fight for you if it comes to that.

It's kind of hair-raising how he laughs at the very concept of independent woman. His woman should never have to be "independent." It would be an insult to him as a man if his wife had to go to work.

He tells you how beautiful you are with intensity and passion that seems to come from another age. That boundless adoration makes you feel drunk, and Gromsko doesn't seem to notice anyone else but you – it's like all other women have disappeared from this planet.

He lays siege to you like crusaders of old laid siege to a city. You never have to fear whether you're coming off as too interested or eager or that you'll "scare" him away: this man is always more interested and eager than you. Still, you fear that everything will come to an end once you give this man what he wants – namely, sex.

You couldn't be more wrong! He's not fucking around, and he's not dating for the sake of getting laid. He's looking for a wife and a mother for his kids.

An infuriatingly sexy, uneven smile spreads across his face everytime you meet. He's checking you out, and he's utterly shameless about it. You're being rated like cattle, and it should not send butterflies to your stomach when you notice he seems to more than just approve of your hips and breasts. Little do you know Sobieslaw Kościuszko has already decided you're to be his wife.

When you finally spread your legs for this man, you expect him to fuck you with the urgency and attentiveness of a 20-year old hockey player. But Gromsko is actually a skilled lover! You don't know why and you don't know how, but he seems to decode you and all your weaknesses in record time. Hot kisses and intense love making are his bravura. Gromsko is so attuned to you and your pussy that it should be illegal.

It's like the gods made this man to breed women and spread his seed because he has the biggest balls you've ever seen. He doesn't grow all too soft after climaxing, and continues to fuck you even after you both just came. With sloppy patience, sure, because you're practically begging for mercy under him… but the point is that he just won't stop. He continues to pump you with strong hips and infinite stamina, and groans how perfect you are as you approach your second orgasm.

He places so much trust on his cock that, perhaps surprisingly, you're the first woman he has ever put his mouth on. It's the only thing that makes that eternal shield of pride tilt aside a bit, because he hates it when he doesn't know what he's doing… but neither is he a man who backs down when faced with a challenge!

He doesn't know what he's doing, which means he takes a mental note of every single thing that makes you shiver and sigh. This Polish bear learns to please you and just you, examines how you respond to slow licks and fast laps, sucks on your nub until you cry, and when he sees how much you enjoy his treatment, this man goes crazy.

"You like that, kochanie?" He pants between your legs, drunk on your pussy, swearing in Polish and giving lewd comments about how wet you are. He only ups the pace with his tongue when you cum. You're an overstimulated mess, but he's not done. He crawls on top of you and gets down to business with his thick cock, those heavy balls start to slap against your soaked flesh until you feel like you have no brains left.

"It's easier to just stop fighting, kotku," he seems to approve of your wet, moaning state more than anything. But it's the wickedly pleased gruff of "Let's get married, Słoneczko," that sends you spiraling into another overstimulated, glorious orgasm.

You don't even know that he's already told his whole family about you. You don't yet know that his grandmother already loves you. But it starts to dawn on you that you got more than you bargained for when Gromsko informs you that he'll take you to Poland but only as his wife.

Perhaps that's where this man's charm lies! Gromsko simply knows what he wants: a good loyal wife and a nice, large family. If you can give them to him, he's not wasting any time getting you pregnant. You're knocked up before you even know it, there's a ring on your finger before you get to say Na Zdrowie. You're his little wife now, and there's nothing you can do about it ❤️

#answered #gromsko x reader #gromsko #sobieslaw kosciuszko #gromsko cod

383 notes · View notes

mouschiwrites · 4 months

Note

can i rq the south park main 4 with a reader that drinks a concerning amount of coffee but they don't seem affected by it. and then reader has a caffeine crash and passes out while hanging out w/ them

totally not based on smth that happened to me (im good now tho)

Of course!! So sorry for the wait! also pls stay safe my pumpkin--

South Park - Main Four With a Reader Who Drinks a Lot of Coffee

Stan

I don't think he'd be able to tell that you drink a concerning amount of coffee

He has trouble drawing boundaries between how much is too much when it comes to material goods

(partly because, no matter how hard he tries, he can never quite pin down exactly when his father will get violent when he drinks)

So he doesn't really notice when you're on your third or fourth or tenth cup; nor does he ever wonder if you're having too much

But one day, you're both hanging out, and your usual cup of coffee is absent from the scene

Much like he didn't heed your constant drinking, Stan hadn't noticed that you weren't drinking

So he was super confused when you suddenly seemed super sleepy, your eyes drooping shut

He didn't even get the chance to ask what was wrong before your head slammed into the table

Panicking, he flew out of his seat, sending the chair toppling to the floor

He was at your side in a split second, shaking you and shouting your name

When you finally come to, he lets out a loud sigh of relief

Then he turns to you with tears in his eyes, his voice just as urgent as it was before

"What happened?! You just... passed out! I thought you were dead, Y/n!"

"Uh... I guess I haven't had coffee in a while..."

He just blinks at you

Then, looking around, he finally notices that you don't have any coffee, and he says as much to you

You just laugh, explaining that you hadn't had any all day

He takes this as a cue to go get you some coffee, and he comes back with an okay-ish homemade cup (he's never made coffee before, go easy on him)

From then on he always looks for when you don't have a coffee cup and asks if you need one

He's not very helpful in breaking the habit; from his experiences, he doesn't really believe that such addictive habits can be broken :(

But at least he's helpful in making sure you don't crash again!

Kyle

Your coffee habit was one of the first things Kyle noticed about you

At first he teased you about it, but as you grew closer the teasing turned into genuine berating

He does it out of concern for you, but you wouldn't know this from how harsh he is

Sometimes he'll straight-up steal your cup and dump it out, telling you that you've had enough for the day

But he can't give you a break; one time, when he hadn't seen you take one sip of coffee all day, he was feeling suspicion rather than pride

He kept an eye on you, expecting you to pull out a hidden thermos at any moment or something

He thought you were reaching for this imaginary thermos when you began to slouch down, presumably to reach into your bag

But no. You slumped over, unconscious

It took Kyle a second to realize that you were unconscious and not, in fact, digging around in your bag

He looked around, as if wondering "Is anyone going to help them??"

At length he jumped up to check on you himself

He shook you, hissing your name under his breath, trying not to make a scene

When you finally stirred awake, blubbering semi-coherently, Kyle crossed his arms, hiding how relieved he was

"Did you just have a caffeine crash?"

"Urrg... Maybe...?"

Kyle rolled his eyes, annoyance finally erasing whatever sympathy he might have felt

He tells you for the umpteenth time that you have a serious problem

You just smile innocently, drifting back off to sleep

Kyle shakes you again, taking on the responsibility of keeping you awake for the rest of the day

If anything he just uses this instance against you, constantly reminding you what a problem you have

Cartman

Your coffee drinking is just one of many things that Cartman likes to tease you about

He doesn't actually think it's as serious as he exaggerates it to be in his jokes, but sometimes he does wonder if it is that bad

But he's not a worrier; he usually just forgets those thoughts as quickly as they come

One day, he noticed that you didn't have your usual cup of coffee, and he teased you about it (of course)

"No coffee today, my little addict?"

"Shut up, pug-nose."

As always, Cartman didn't think about it any more after that

So he was quite confused when, later that day, you just passed out

But he suddenly remembered that you hadn't had your usual coffee, and a huge grin spread on his face

He took the opportunity to take pictures of you, testing the limits with what he could get away with

(the worst one he could get was a finger pushing your nose up like a pig)

He plopped down on the couch to edit the pictures and send them to people, but the jostling motion woke you up

Cartman snickered at your confused, drowsy state, and turned his phone around to show you the picture of you with your nose scrunched up

"Now who's the pug-nose? Though I guess you do make a pretty cute pug."

"You are insufferable."

"You love me."

He draped an arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder while he scrolled through the rest of the pictures he took of you

You made him delete them all, of course

From that day on you made a point to always keep awake around him...

His teasing adopts a more concerned tone, always nagging you about cutting back or getting on "the patch" (does Cartman know anything about caffeine??? absolutely not, methinks)

But he's secretly also waiting for you to crash again; he did quite like that cute pig-nosed picture of you

Kenny

Kenny always assumed that your coffee habit was just a health thing

He wondered if it could really be good for you, but decided not to question it

You seemed healthy enough, after all

I mean, you weren't dying or having heart attacks or anything

To Kenny that is peak health

He actually tries to keep up with your habit because of his (perhaps slightly misguided) assumption

He asks if you need a refill, and though he doesn't really have the money to buy you coffee, he's more than happy to make some at home when you come over

(he may or may not have used this as an excuse to get you to come over at least once)

He was curious when you seemed to be getting increasingly sleepy one day

He was about to ask if you needed any coffee, but you suddenly closed your eyes and slumped over on the ground

Luckily you had both been sitting on his floor, and he scrambled over to your side, putting your head in his lap while he shook you

"Y/n? Y/n?? Are you okay? What's going on?"

The moment you come to, the first thing he asks is if it's your "health thing"

When that clearly just confuses you, he asks if you need coffee

Suddenly understanding what he was saying, you close your eyes to think

"Huh.. Guess I just had a caffeine crash. Maybe some coffee would be good..."

After that day Kenny looked into caffeine and how it relates to health

He realizes that maybe you do have a problem...

From then on he's not so eager to get you a refill of coffee, instead suggesting lower-caffeine tea (which he has to buy himself; his parents only have coffee) or just taking a power-nap

He won't pressure you, but he is pretty concerned about your habit

Thanks so much for your request, sorry again that you had to wait so long!! And thank you for reading, take care duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

#south park #south park x reader #south park headcanons #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle x reader #stan marsh #stan marsh x reader #stan x reader #eric cartman #eric cartman x reader #eric x reader #kenny mcormick #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny x reader

64 notes · View notes