#//Only a VERY trusted partner is allowed to touch them (or him at ALL); anybody else might trigger him a bit

[ratgingi]

Imagin me crash landing directly into your inbox. Climbing out the still smoking crater to point at you and ask. Ur amoungus ocs!!!! Can u tell me abt them

GRABS YOU BOTH BY THW SHOULDERS. BOY CAN I

okay so the crew members who currently have information are orange, black, lime, white, coral, and pink

lime is this really upbeat and cheerful crewmate, they're super friendly and their favorite pass time is making little buttons and pins to decorate their suit and give to their crewmates. the members-dropping-like-flies thing greatly stresses them out and makes them really antsy so they spend a whole lot of time in crowded areas to feel better, the crew members they consider their bestest friends are orange, black, coral, yellow, and blue. they are always one of the first ones to greet new members and despite being deeply upset about the deaths have not been spotted outwardly expressing it once, they always keep up a positive face when around their crew members repress anything other than positivity as hard as they can since they believe it won't help the situation. they're a bit of a bean pole (like 5'10) and very huggy. they're also one of the ones who likes to decorate orange's helmet with stickers for fun <3

black (who also likes to be called teddy) is one of three impostors, and is a big [6'4"] shy dude who gets really easily attached to his fellow crewmembers and falls in love with them Super quickly, resulting in him following them around like a puppy and protecting them from the others. he can be described as very soft hearted and nervous, he has an anxious stutter and is Incredibly Bad with words, often resulting in whoever he's currently pairing up the most with having to talk for him/defend him in meetings. the issue comes in when he finally gets it in him to tell his partner that he loves them, in which if they reject them he will become Furious and murder them in a blind rage . he then tends to dump the body in the trash and spend an hour or so bawling about it after. he's a big soft teddy bear please trust him i swear it's fine

orange is a guy who Was human probably at least once. we think. anyway his body is infected with a plant-like parasite that destroyed his brain and tanked his motor skills and intelligence Massively, he is still technically sentient and can think for himself but functions at a pretty much zombie-like level. his body is stuck inside the suit and basically rotting (his hands, the only part of skin visible because he can't wear gloves due to claws that might just be sharpened bone sprouting from his fingertips, are greying really badly. and he smells like death 24/7.) despite all this, he is completely docile. he has made no attempts to hurt the rest of the crew in any way and in fact INSISTS he is 100% human and even gets distressed and sad when someone says he isnt. since he doesn't bother anybody he is allowed to stay aboard and the more friendly/brave crewmates like to decorate his cracked visor with stickers. it's unknown how his parasite spreads so no one is allowed to touch the plants on him. he is also massive [6'7"] but it's unknown how much of that is due to whatever he has goin on

white is. a fuckin cockass he sucks so hard forever. he's not an impostor but behaves incredibly sus and is greatly disliked by the rest of the crew, the only reason he had avoided being voted off thus far is because he always has a solid alibi (he's known for forcing other crewmates to pair up with him to ensure this). he's Super full of himself and thinks he is above the rest of the crew, willing to throw anyone and everyone under the bus for any reason. he is also known for going out of his way to cause problems within the crew just to make things more interesting to himself. think similar to fuckin. byakuya frm dangan. also he has two amogus babies who he named Child 1 and Child 2 and when in the presence of other crewmates he appears super neglectful to them but is real doting and caring in private. Child 1 is really curious and friendly and Child 2 is really shy and anxious. the main reason he neglects them around others is because he automatically assumes other crewmates will just. take care of them for him. [coral does usually]

coral is a really sweet single mother aboard with her one son who she's named peach (her fav fruit <3 also he taped a plant to the top of her helmet bc it makes her look like a peach and she's just never taken it off), she's sort of the resident doctor and tends to the other crewmembers in any way they need her to. she is also the main one when it comes to investigating murders aboard the ship as she is determined to keep the place safe for peach. she and yellow have kind of a gay thing going on <3

pink is another impostor, who is an alien taking the shape of a crewmate that was originally just here to observe and learn about humans and their behaviors. however, after once witnessing black killing a crewmate, she kinda went :AYO: and decided that looked far more fun, and has spent her time since perfecting her skills in taking out the rest of the crew. she is a bit of a cocky bastard and likes watching the others try and figure out who the culprit is. also she's technically genderless, when she was brought aboard the ship the crewmate who was greeting her was a lady and was like btw what's ur pronouns? :-) and she was kinda like . um . what's urs and when the other was like oh mine are she/her she kinda just went Those Ones. Me Also

as a bonus for reading all that you get a sneak peak at the first 4 because they have images ready

[greensaplinggrace]

that post about aleksander in bed has got me by the THROAT and your points about how his perception of sex and his own desirability ring so true for how i interpret his character. his history of being desired as an amplifier is echoed when he is desired in a sexual context - both centred around his body and it's capacity for satisfaction - and the fact that intimacy could reveal his living amplifier status (and endanger him) mean his relationship to intimacy is just SO fucked up and delicious

yesss join me on the dark side I love thinking about his relationship with intimacy so much. everything about people wanting his body as an object to not only be used but explicitly violated in one of the most horrific and dehumanizing ways possible makes his relationship with touch and with sex so integral to his character I think. especially when it comes to the fact that he was raised to never let anybody touch him and to fear it, so he is naturally touch starved in that area as well and craving it, but he is also touch repulsed because the very thought of it makes him terrified. every touch has the opportunity to hurt him, and his history with this actually being true has only cemented it all in his mind.

not to mention that with a mother like baghra, he is also incredibly affection starved, because he never received affection growing up. however, again, he was taught to fear and be wary of affection and wanting and love because to do so is to allow weakness, which will - again - lead to hurt and death and pain and misery. like there is not any part of his life that has not been repressed, to such a point where his very relationship with himself and his body is almost perverse in nature. the only power he has with his body is the power of others wanting it so much that he can manipulate them through that. which only serves to make his own relationship with others and himself that much worse.

it's why I think he would initially actually be incredibly dominant in bed, because allowing others control is dangerous, and if he were to be submissive, it would be with the intent of manipulation and control through that as well. he would have to juggle the threat of sleeping with a grisha and them killing him for his bones with the threat of sleeping with an otkazat'sya and them crucifying him for being grisha. every relationship he has with others is filled with paranoia, but he of course craves relationships with others because he has been starved of it his whole life.

any real relationship he has that is not initially meant to manipulate somebody is going to end up the way I talked about before, I think. where he has a level of trust in his partner, but he has so many other internalized problems that it affects his sex life and his relationship with intimacy in different ways. especially in regards to maintaining control and giving up control to others.

[citrus-soju]

What kinds of things would the Masked Assassin do around or for someone he likes? How much of a freak is he? (take that any way you wanna 😌)

Someone he likes? You mean like, with some salt and pepper? /lh

In all seriousness though, I think he doesn't quite know that himself. He's never "liked" anyone besides his brother, and that relationship was never very healthy to begin with. Agent 216 was pretty much the only person he ever trusted, and even with him he could never be completely himself.

MMA views other human beings as beneath him, so it would take a tremendous amount of time and effort until something that SOMEWHAT resembles affection or even trust would come up inside him. But let's say that IS the case-

cw Stalking, Obsession, Necrophilia, Dubcon, Murder

If it's someone he genuinely, truly likes, he would cling to them like a loyal dog. He wouldn't want to leave their side and constantly attempt to prove himself worthy to them. Like a pet, he would bring dead things he hunted for them as gifts. Like a good friend, he would make sure they always get home safe - and kill everyone who dares to hurt them in any way. His perception of a "healthy" relationship is very unhealthy. His love language is stalking you from outside your house to make sure you eat and sleep properly. He shows that he cares by trying all your food and drinks first so nothing happens to you. Your attention needs to be on him 24/7. If there is someone else you're closer with, he views them as a threat. He wouldn't kill anyone you care about, but he would sure be tempted.

He would sporadically bring up feelings. Thoughts. Concerns. Things he usually doesn't mention to anybody. He's mostly a silent observer, memorizing things, watching from the shadows. So when he starts talking to you, then you know you're special. His questions and thoughts are almost childlike in nature at times. How many teeth does it take to fill up an entire stomach? Do you wanna find out? He could arrange that. That's his idea of fun, probably. It's like inviting you to a game.

His hands would also keep finding their way onto your body - sorry if you hate physical touch. It's his main love language besides gift giving - or rather, it would be, if he hadn't suppressed it. He likes the texture of hair, running his fingers through it. He also likes rubbing your palms, caressing your fingers, playing with them. He enjoys how you smell (not just because you smell delicious), and likes to bury his face in your hair or shoulders. Warmth feels forbidden, but he craves it. A lot. He's like a traumatized dog, though. As much as he wants to cuddle up to you, let you play with what remains of his hair, caress his shoulders, he flinches the moment you move too fast. He backs away so fast he tips over anything in his way. Vulnerability has to be punished, right?

Yeah, that goes for sex as well tbh. He's never had consensual sex in his entire life. He doesn't understand being wanted. Desired. It feels like a joke to him. He just can't wrap his head around it. But he DOES want others. And he wants them badly. When he kills them first, he can just take it after they're dead without any struggle. But dead bodies aren't exactly fun. He's incredibly needy for a real person. He wants to "make love" more than he would ever admit. But it never stays at the "making love" part, because it drives him wild. Blurs and clouds his mind with arousal and unfiltered desire. Once he has someone who wants him as well, he fucks like a rabbit, no rhythm, no pacing, no breaks. He grips his partner tightly, not allowing them to move. He can't let you stop. He can't let you get away. His possessiveness and his fear of losing you shows especially when he's aroused, pressing against you, digging his fingers into your skin, as if he wanted to rip you to shreds if you didn't stay in his arms. He wants you. He wants you. HE WANTS YOU.

Basically, MMA is a very anxiously attached person who spends most of the time trying to prove himself worthy to you. Funny, considering how he feels superior to most humans. He believes that while he's a "monster", or a "weapon in human form", he ranks above humanity, on top of the food chain. But he needs to "earn" his place as a person, as a human being. MMA spent so many years convincing himself that he's not human, so anything that makes him remember that fact is... painful. Difficult. Scary.

[sidesteppostinghours]

Hewooo, good morninggg!

ask game time ✨

For Caine: Philia 4 + Storge 3 in the context of tbe farm or tia elena

For Cyrus: Eros 1 + Storge 4 (sibling au ✨) + Philautia 4

im probably a few hours late when i finish answering this, but morning idle :D! hope you had a good one

Philia 4. Is your OC able to build close friendships with people very different from themselves? Perhaps in terms of culture, age or personality?

i was thinking about this yesterday on my way home from uni actually. the answer is yes, but with one baseline requirement: anybody they become close with needs to be able to ground them in one way or another. mortum and argent are possible, he appreciates their bluntness and strict boundaries. he likes to listen to mortum and occasionally bounce off ideas with her. he already holds respect for argent, and given time, she couldve grown to be a trusted confidante. however, they want to keep mortum as a purely business relationship at the moment, and argent already scared them off before anything could happen. heralds not getting any further than coach or "he seems nice", they like him but they get a headache whenever theyre in a room with him for too long. other than that, anybody goes. hes not picky.

Storge 3. How far does parental approval (imagined or expressed) impact upon their current sense of self-worth? What might they sacrifice or attempt to achieve in order to ensure the approval of their parents?

the answer varies wildly for either, so ill answer for both. in the case of tia elena, parental approval is a bit shocking to him, like with most relationship dynamics. they like it, they just cant fathom the fact that theyre getting percieved, much less in a positive light. hed do a lot to get more, its fascinating to him and it makes him feel like hes doing a good job. but its something they can easily give up if the situation calls for it (aka theyre my only step tia elenas 'im-not-mad-im-just-disappointed' look wouldnt work on).

the farm is...a very different story. they were made to be a tool, and if its a tool they want, a tool they shall get. before their escape he was very single-minded when accomplishing missions. get the job done in any way possible. consequences arent for him to worry about, he only needs to worry about if they mess up. which they wont. they make sure of it. after their escape he leans less into that mindset, but its difficult to let go of, and still bleeds into his relationships most of the time. they dont like to think about the fact they wouldve sacrificed anything for the farm back then, and that theyre not sure they wouldnt sacrifice anything now if the right people asked it from them.

Eros 1. Is your OC romantic in the traditional sense? Do they enjoy giving or receiving gifts of flowers or confectionary? Or are there other courtship traditions from their culture of origin that are important to them?

nobody but him is allowed to be romantic. thats it thats the answer were moving on

in all seriousness, he does do traditionally romantic things alot, though most of them are for the reaction, not courtesy. roses and flowers are a common way for him to try and fluster his dates, and the two people hes dated are both sappy suckers so its worked most of the time. the exception is gift giving, because most of his gifts are handmade, so he tries not to make a big deal about it. unfortunately, his partners always do.

receiving romantic gestures should be something hes used to at this point, but hes not, so it always catches him off gaurd. its embarrassing, but the most embarrassing part is that he gets strangely touched by it. he probably still has a teddy gifted to him thats never seeing the light of day. oh, and chocolates are always welcome. thats just good food.

Storge 4. Does your OC have any siblings? If so then did their parents have a favourite growing up? Has their relationship with their sibling changed in adulthood? If they don't have any siblings then do they perhaps feel they have missed out on an important relationship? Do they have any especially close friends who go some way towards filling that role?

sibling au time✨

does the farm have the normal version of a favourite?? no. do they have a favourite 'im gonna fuck them up for fun' sibling? yes and thats fawn. north is a bastard and he frequently makes cyrus dream of murder. as for how their relationships all changed, cyrus used to be closer to his siblings. a Lot closer. of course, the farm changed that. he became cruel and harsh, which fawn couldnt connect with. even with river who wants to be evil, cyrus became obsessive about control after heartbreak, which i dont think river appreciates. his mental imprint changed extremely, and he started shielding around them. needless to say their relationship was estranged for a good while, but cyrus can never stay away from the people he cares about.

Storge 5. Which of your OC's qualities makes them the most proud? Do they think more people should be like them in this regard? Or do they quite like being rare in possessing it?

hes proudest of his ability to stay logical and composed, unaffected by emotions. that last part isnt true btw, but he gets to believe it to feel better about himself. hes able to think things through and do what needs to be done without external influence. he thinks itd be easier for everybody if they were more like him, but secretly, hes relieved that theyre not. itd get less people hurt, but the poison is addicting, yk? if people were as logical as he wanted them to be, ortega and herald (and maybe mortum, the verdict is pending) wouldve dropped him by now, yet persistent assholes that they are, they stay with him anyway. he likes the trade-off.

questions are from here!

[adsevel]

Headcanon: Physical Attention / Closeness:   

Kisuke is pretty socially affectionate, especially when it comes to mutual and casual affection. If someone is particularly close to him, he will [ of course only if the other person is alright with it ] sometimes reach for them to pull them close, to pull them in a hug or just keep them near him, in particular if he can sense that they need it, as he is personally unlikely to ask for anything like that for himself. He's also very open when it comes to people just finding some comfort in his presence, if he's sitting down somewhere and another person happens to just want to lean into him / against him or to just have him close, Kisuke won't deny them nor will he even really ask what is wrong if only the silent reassurance and warmth is wanted. 

Furthermore, he is someone who would share casual kisses with those he sees as close enough to him to receive them. That doesn't include anybody who is not an adult, nor those he has seen grow up from being children / teenagers / young adults, that kind of stuff does not come to his mind. 

But people he's known for a very long time? Yeah, that would be alright, he would need to see them as close friends and comrades, then it can happen as a welcome or as a goodbye, simply something to show his appreciation for another person, as a little gesture that he sees them as equal to him. This is, by the way, a gesture he's learned while travelling around in the World of the Living, due to his long stays when it came to his travels around Europe and there in the more western regions of it. 

When it comes to people reaching out and trying to touch him, depending on the situation, there's a possibility he will retaliate. 

If at all, in most cases when he doesn't want it, Kisuke will just evade the person and do his little dizzy behavioural spiel of simply not allowing someone to come close enough to touch him, but, obviously, depending on his mental state [ that is a different can of worms ] and the situation, there might sometimes be the possibility to touch him when he didn't outright desire it. And depending on the factors [ is the person touching him friend/foe/neutral? is it in a situation of danger/peace? is he calm/agitated? etc ], it can either end with him literally playing the long game and pulling another person close in return and into his zone simply to unnerve them. 

Or he might just tear off someone's arm. 

Because, please keep in mind: As a former Warden of the Maggot's Nest and the Commander of the 2nd Division Detention Unit, Kisuke has brutal physical strength and speed. 

As of right now! There's a handful of people that can be seen as established when it comes to Kisuke's comfort and who he is willing to allow to touch him. The whole crew of the Urahara Shoten is pretty obvious, Tessai, Ururu and Jinta as well as Yoruichi have his outright trust and respect and can pretty much search for his person whenever they want and please, he won't deny them, nor will he ever question them if they don't want to talk about their problems outright. It is a fairly quiet mutual understanding. 

As for other characters. His partner and later wife, Shigure, is very obvious; he was alright with anything they did from the very start, due to their pre-plotted long history. From the Vizored, he's alright with all of them, but Shinji has most of his trust and permissions, he would trust him with his life. Mayuri and Shunsui also have extended permissions, both for different reasons, but both also know when to not overstep any boundaries beyond that. Geto is quite a specific topic because Kisuke was amused enough by the other's boldness to only try and off-set/unnerve him, instead of retaliating as one would maybe expect, but he does like Geto well enough. 

TL;DR: If you try and touch him or get anything out of him, be someone he considers a friend and someone he trusts. If this is not the case? You likely are going to lose a limb. 

[madewithonerib]

Warning to All About Bad Relationships | Manis Friedman

Emotion means my response to you; compassion for somebody, love or kindness or judgment. Everything should have everything is kindness, stingy ppl are judgmental. Generous people pass no judgment, it doesn't recognize s/t as good/bad for s/o [weird].

[2:20] What makes a person genuinely generous? That he is very conscious of a person; in other words, he feels another person's pain, and he feels another person's joy, awww.. (you're my first) so without generosity a person's condition or experience would mean nothing to me at all. WOW! You're in pain? That's your problem. You're happy? Well good for you, lol, it won't touch me at all. [maybe they're blind]

For a generous person, the other person's reality is real to him too: When you're in a good mood, I'm in a good mood [that's Wilson]. You affect me. Now the fact that I allow you to affect me, that's generosity. That I take you seriously, that you are real to me..

It is not a knowledge in the head, but a feeling in the heart!

Not a I think you are real, but I feel you are real. [AGREED]

So first of all it is an emotion, why? bc without generosity, there would be no other emotions; like without love there'd be no hate.

This bit doesn't make sense of Hitler/Holocaust: If I'm not generous enough to feel your reality, then you don't mean anything to me. Why would I hate you? In other words, I wouldn't even care enough to hate you.

Whenever there is hate, there first must be hesed [feeling], so hesed is the beginning of every emotion bc every emotion means [now this is important]: What is an emotion? A rxn to another person.

This is brilliant, and it ties together with the science of love which I've read from magazine articles breaking down love into an exact process, where they said if it takes a person 3-4 acts of kindness to reciprocate then the giver of affection starts to grow silent, and by the time the taker jacks it up to 8-9 acts before reciprocating then the giver has already decided to separate/divorce their partner. And now as Manis is saying has moved away emotionally & stopped being generous toward the taker, and is only acting out of head knowledge to be kind.. not out of a genuine emotional connection. When I first read that at 19-20, I was like that sounds cold. It needed this extra context to bring it full circle. I've been so put off to the concept of marriage for so long bc of the divorce rates being a 50/50 dice roll. Are you out of your mind?! You would move into a neighbourhood that has a 50% chance that you would be killed in a drive-by shooting? Same difference.

We use the word carelessly, emotion, it's not a personality make-up where a person is +/-/pessimistic/happy all the time. Emotions are love, hate, compassion [4:44]

Nervousness is not an emotion, pessimistic is not an emotion, even sadness is not an emotion.. [unless this is someone else's emotional rollercoater you're sensing, which doesn't fit with your circumstance and/or general disposition?]

Emotion means my response to you [mirror neurons, monkey see monkey do]. If I'm a nervous person, that isn't a response to anybody. I'm just hyper [neurotic], it's not an emotion. It's a sensation.

Love for s/b, Hate for s/b, Compassion for s/b.

So let's compare: Love/Kindness/Judgment

[9:10] You're most likely to hate s/o whom you first loved; when your person does s/t to hurt you, you hate them, but someone you never loved does something to hurt you, doesn't bother you that much..bc you never cared to begin with.

[If it is your ultimate purpose in life, you will hate them. Trust]

Hesed means it is not all for me, ie GOD created the world.

That is hesed (חסד) is pronounced "kheh'-sed" and means "love" or "kindness". It's also used to describe GOD's love for humanity, and the love between people.

In other words, in generosity it doesn't try to distinguish should he have a 3rd ice-cream cone bc both the ice-cream & kid are good, kindness just says sure why not..? [rhetorical question]

I think this is a test from GOD to trust HIM that what is being presented will push you to trust HIM to bring good out of bad & to remain content/at peace with every situation, even if your kid has a tantrum from us saying no..bc Proverbs admonishes disciplining a child. I guess another point of disagreement.

Everyone should have everything, without limitation to anything whatsoever. That's hesed. But judgment means nobody gets anything bc nobody deserves anything. If you do s/t & you earn it, then you get what you earned but not a penny more.

In some ways, judgment is more mature & real than kindness.

And yet kindness is the first, everything begins with kindness.. bc even bothering to judge another person, you have to recognize the other person's reality & take them seriously. That's why love that comes from kindness & hate that comes from judgment are so closely related. You're most likely to hate s/o that you first loved.. so s/o you loved does s/t to hurt you, you hate them. [9:23] s/o you never loved, does s/t to hurt you, it doesn't bother you that much bc you never cared to begin with. [But isn't judgment is the antithesis of hesed, since kindness is the generosity to enter another person's reality. Hate you said is the judgment after cutting off hesed.. this is getting complicated to follow.. aren't we always a mixture of selfish & selfless hesed due to our carnal "animal soul"?]

So the problem with kindness is that it is indiscriminant.

Everyone should have everything [basic needs? the poor you will have with you always, so how can you give everyone everything if you can't even give 1 person everything?]; which means I will be nice to everyone equally [9:52]

So when I'm nice to you, don't take it personal, I am kind to every person bc I'm a generous person. But there is something about you, when I am [care to meet your every need, beyond basic needs] kind to you! No, this is personal, this is specifically for you bc you are you... not bc I am generous. That's called love.

[WHOA this makes sense of GOD's love to HIS ppl vs. rain/sun to the just & the unjust.]

So love means being kind to s/o bc of that person, not bc of your natural kindness [to be nice to everybody]. Now what is it about you that makes my kindness personal to you?

Kindness means closeness, it means I feel your pain/joy & we are merging our experience & our lives. Now why do I want to get closer to you? [11:15] Why do I want to feel your pain/pleasure? [Intimacy]

Why do I want you to feel my pain & my joy?

Because there is s/t about you that appeals to me. I respect you, I'm impressed by you, I feel very comfortable with you... so I want more. [#sovereign purpose/#emotional roller-coaster]

So that desire to have more of you in my life, that's called love. It starts with an attraction but when I pursue, it becomes love? I pursue more closeness, there is s/t about you I like.

That's just a natural rxn, an instinct.

Love means whatever I like about you, I want more [projection?] So you feel comfortable/safe/appealing/attractive? Well I want more, ideally? I'll never have enough. [12:35]

No matter how long we are together, no matter how long we are married, I want more. I want more closeness, more merging.. So love is actually a pursuit, s/t I'm trying to gain, s/t I'm trying to increase.

Every time we have an argument, it makes my desire for closeness even stronger bc the argument threatens to create distance. I don't want distance, I want more of you, not less of you. So in one way, love is very sociable.. it's not about me, it's about you.

On the other hand, it really is about me.

It can be very selfish, I want.

And that's why we s/x have these lopsided relationships, where s/b loves you very much but you find it very annoying. You don't want closeness with this person, or the closeness you have is enough! You don't want anymore, it feels suffocating. So obviously, love can be very selfish. So what do we make of love, what do we do with it?

Is it good? Is it not so good? One thing has to be very clear:

Love is certainly not the most important thing in life, the way the media portrays it. It's not your ultimate purpose in life, it's nice or horrible.. but it's not best & most important thing in the world.

We have got to stop worshipping [horizontal] love.

It is the false god of modernity, Hollywood has placed it on a pedestal to such a degree it worships love, that it's worth killing for & it is worth dying for.. it is idolatry, it is unholy.

For example, if someone were to ask you: Is love important to you? The answer is no, not important. It's pleasurable/satisfying, makes life run smoother when s/o loves you & you love them. Important? Wrong word, people are important, some ppl are very important to you in your life. Those important ppl, you ought to love.

But look at what society has made out of love?

[19:00] So all the songs/movies/shows/books, they all worship love. If you really love me, we would get along fine, not true you need a lot more than love. Like for example, you need respect & humility to leave room for another person. You can suffocate a person with your love bc you have no respect, so you intrude on every part of their life. So no, no a relationship with just love is not going to last a month.

In fact love is not a relationship, a relationship means what significance does this person have in your life?

What is this person's role in your life?

If you're thinking clearly, a sibling has a role in our life & parents have a role in your life, same with a teach/doctor. What is a b/f? He has no role in your life, other than the fact that you like him.

That's not a relationship.

The way it works is like this:

When s/o is important in your life, you should love them, the most important ppl in your life - you should love the most.. bc you have reason to love them. [21:10]

Love means I want you to be in my life even more!

Your parents are important in your life, you should have more of them in your life, your siblings, your fellow Jew. For example, if s/o says "No no, love is very important there is a commandment to love every Jew." You see how important love is?

No, I see how important a fellow Jew is.. [21:57]

[janumun]

The Pirate's Symbol(s): NSFW Alphabet [IkeSen Motonari]

Game: Ikemen Sengoku Pairing: Motonari/Female Reader

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 2.5k

Warnings: stockings fetish, spoilers for Motonari’s ‘condition’, sexual intercourse, mentions of exhibitionism/semi-public sex, (non-sexual) bondage, innuendoes and dirty-talk, masturbation

Author’s Notes: Motonari’s entire self is a joy, his route gave me some much needed, invigorating enemies-to-lovers, and I officially love him! [Totally swiped my heart right up without warning!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Motonari is quick — you’d almost say adept — at sweeping off a cloth, or container, placed by your bedside. Although, your touch and whatever fire you generate in between the two of you does not bother him, he does prefer you both cleaner of the mess and fluids when holding you close in his arms, afterwards.

Wiping up the remnants of your passionate and, often vigorous, activities off of quivering thighs he presses apart, in gentle strokes of damp fibers. Movements of the cloth soft enough it doesn’t shock you into over-sensitivity but not soft enough you relax entirely beneath him, because that scarlet gaze is always fixated on you — your body language. And if you give away even an inch, he’s ready and up for round two (or four). [Bless yer stamina, matey!]

If not, he’s still up and happy to listen to his favorite flower-brained woman’s amusing, outrageous tales she narrates in animated conversation. While he whisks up a quick, invigorating meal for her at the kitchen counter, just as she rests her happy self at the table. Garnet gaze seemingly fixated upon the task at hand — spices being tossed, ladle being stirred, eggs whipped to perfection — but his answers are prompt and alert, although still carrying that insouciant edge. Indicating his attention; equal division in between feeding you and hearing you speak.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Motonari is fond of his mouth, and before you, he didn’t think of it as much of an achievement as he believes it now, when your jittery gaze seeks immediate relief (and lust) as soon as it lands upon that obvious smirk.

A single kiss and your thoughts are all but handed over to him on an elaborate platter. Your cheeks color dark and wide; restless eyes tracing across his mouth. Your own parting; pink tongue darting quick in a swipe across plush lips: all of you demanding more of him.

Yes, he is surprisingly (or not), in touch with a far more emotional side: Motonari adores your eyes, although you’re never hearing it from him. Your entire body speaks of honesty but the way he reads your thoughts so easy, in your gaze, there’s quite nothing as exhilarating or confounding as the love he captures in them. That quick, tight knot of your brow, your anger flaring in your eyes or the equally prompt melting, when he appeases you in gentle teases. He’s been so long used to not trusting that a person he sees this clearly through, and sees how she trusts; it’s not an entirely terrible thing to feel.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As mentioned above, the man doesn’t particularly care to leave you a mess post-coitus unless you ask it of him; there is little he’s able to refuse you. So when it does come (…heh) to cumming outside of your pussy, your mouth is a pretty (very pretty too) good substitute for him to ejaculate, without having to think of leaving external stains on you. Your throat clamping, then swallowing, around his orgasm, so he feels that slick slide of saliva and semen around him, as you moan.

Yer pretty darn hot, m’lady.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he descends — quick and furious — into an almost juvenile state of petty jealousy [he realizes the immaturity of it, he just cannot! help! it!] and ends up turning that lust on you, instead.

He’d never actually do it but visualizing — in almost exact, murderous details — how he’d like to drag you into an empty room whenever Kicho gets all up in your face, and fuck you so hard your throat tears through screams lough enough Kicho hears each and every single sound and moan.

Or, clasp your chin in his fingers, whenever Hideyoshi’s a little too close for comfort at an Oda banquet, and kiss you senseless and noisy [pirates crave a flashy exhibition!].

He despises making a show of you to anybody, so that idea only stays in thoughts but also it’s mind-boggling, since it does get him hard on the spot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, it was only ever through terrible necessity (extremely dire straits) that he — if ever and very sparing — sought casual sex. The occasions hadn’t been plenty and he’d be frighteningly specific about how he wanted to take a woman to bed.

Bathed, no make-up, no perfume, no scented products or jewelry — anything extra that he could accidentally touch and trigger a reaction. A clean, unscented futon he’d provide in a bare room. Any bonds or cloths he could get his hands on (buying his own and discarding immediately after), to tie their limbs, keep their movements limited; Motonari used.

Of course, there’d be the rare prostitute who’d drop immediately after visiting a client, or one who’d perceive his conditions extreme and over-the-top and think they could ‘change his mind’. The moment they’d try and cross the line, he’d fling them off, almost violently, heart racing, sweat marking each inch of exposed skin. Nauseous and barely tapped, before he’d stride out of the room.

He’s also witnessed open and perverse brothels — and corrupt seething dens — where men and women fuck, for all to see, in his line of work, so he’s no stranger to how sex works for others either.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He’s learning to let go and touch (just you) without the added barrier of gloves and since you so seem fond of his hands on you, Motonari likes any positions that allow his hands to move your body upon his; he isn’t picky.

Palms curved upon your hips so that your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he pulls back, the movements of his cock into and out of your pussy — a place you are both connected and he likes that. Or even when he can spread your thighs wide, press them apart before hooking his hands over your abdomen and just focusing on moving.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s a pirate he’s a vortex of a man and slips all over the spectrum. Motonari’s goading is far softened with minimum barbs, when he’s in(side you) in bed with you. More velvet — than leathery — questions, soft smirk-y and probing,: “Ya like that, flower girl?” —as his mouth hovers just close to your ear, nose barely touching and tucking sweat soaked strands away from your temple. Definitely lands firm and midway between too serious and entirely silly. But he’s all focus on you, make no mistake.

He’s still got a filthy mouth on him, but dirty romantic liners are more his style, in bed (he wants you warmed as well as turned on!), in contrast to the complete indecent filth he threatens you with (a good time!) when the two of you are out and about.

“Pipe down, m’lady. The way yer moaning, they’re gonna think I’m fucking ya, right on deck.” Those eyes are burnished rubies; smile wide, crooked and unashamed, as he ducks close. “But maybe ya feel like putting on a show.”

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s clean down below (and silver-haired, yes) — he doesn’t go the ‘complete waxed up, no-hair in sight’ route, but rather prefers keeping his hair short-trimmed and well-groomed.

He’s also kept his pubic hair short and neat, for the rare occasions he does have sex, and an unkempt mass down there would leave him more likely and exposed to his partner’s fluids staying on him. He despises that.

Motonari doesn’t mind blood, dirt and grime on the field, nor the brine of the harsh sea sticking to his skin, but as soon as he’s done with — or in between — jobs, he takes the time to wash and clean himself up thoroughly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

[Also see G=Goofy] Motonari isn’t short with words of love. He isn’t reciting romantic poems but he is quick to let you know, in exact words, how much he loves you — and is loving being inside you — in the moment. Barriers definitely lower themselves — not all down, not completely back up — with this man, in bed.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

(As also mentioned in E=Experience) the man, previously, has sought intimacy only and only out of desperate necessity and when his hand is just not enough for him to relieve himself of his lust. Motonari, before you, jacked off, multiple times within a week, sometimes thrice (or more) in a single day. His desires, usually amped, following a particularly unsatisfying battle or raid.

After you, he still does take time off for some self-lovin’ (remember: stamina for daaays, and you’re mostly unable to match him so he makes do), just not as much as he used to, in the past.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You and Motonari share a love for (clothing) imports from the seas beyond. He’s always up for sharing and discussing trade secrets, doling out clothing advice and helping you work out modern clothing from whatever fabrics are available to you.

Stockings might be one of his favorite products.

The fabric feeling absolutely exquisite against his palms when he rounds you close into his grasp, stood in between his spread thighs as he observes and hums beneath you, seated. A harmless joke you make, about a stocking fetish and the ensuing explanation soon after, has him grinning and dragging you down to test the material against his teeth.

“Yer sayin’ I got a thing for yer fancy underclothes? Heh, don’t think so. Seeing you in it just makes me wanna tear it all off, meu docinho de côco.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere you’re afforded privacy; although a little flirting with danger is good and being pinned in between the door and his body. Watching you try and smother your moans into your sleeves, skews that grin wider, that cock harder.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. He’s got a dirty mind, it’ll do the rest of the work when its got its catalyst: you.

Nothing gets you results faster than being honest with Motonari, or expressing your affections (even chaste) for him.

Tell him he looked especially handsome, earlier on a job out: with his hair slicked back and how hard it was for you to have held back from kissing him, on the spot. That you love him—

He’s on you so fast.

“That brain’s just gotta keep sprouting its flowers, huh.” He murmurs, tugging at your chin to swipe his tongue into you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite his treatment of you very early on in his route (the collar, the slavery deal), Motonari’s not into putting a collar on a person, romantic or otherwise. Collaring and hearing you call him your Master wouldn’t do much for him, playful or not.

He’s had to live a great chunk of his life as the Beggar Prince; experienced the devastating dregs of human society, including and not limited to being treated as one inferior, and having to watch people around at the very mercy of corrupt lords.

In retrospect, it isn’t something he might take pleasure in, in the bedroom.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or receiving, both take some getting used to within the bedroom. He finds the taste of you pleasant, when he withdraws wet digits from inside you and takes a careful swipe of the clear fluid across his skin. And has expressed interest in, and gone down on you several times.

Receiving gets a bit more gentle coax-y and requires reassurances, with Motonari. He doesn’t particularly like seeing his release all over you. Having to work through those barriers of his mind, but once he allows you, he does enjoy the slow kisses, and the soft slide of your mouth against him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His default setting is rough and furious. The two of you are usually frustrated passion by the time you actually get to his bedroom (he likes to prod and poke much too often in public, get you riled) so there’s only one way to go and it’s up. He’s spreading your thighs apart with none too gentle hands as he pushes through and into you, your own hold on him, white knuckled and almost delirious with the way his hips rock into you and his cockhead scraps across your front wall with his onslaught.

At times, however, especially after a high-risk mission; when he’s been close enough to stare Death in the face and survive, he likes to take his time being inside you, just being able to feel you. Once, twice, several times, he’s keeping you beneath, or mounted on top of him, coaxing your hips and your moans.

“Don’t look at me like that, flower girl. I’m alive, ain’t I? Com’ere. I’ll take those tears of yers.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Definitely! Any time he can have you, or get you close enough in private, you’re going to be fucking each other. He loves those little breathy, moan-laughters you make in half-panic/all arousal, each time he drives up to grind your hips close together, stuffed into a hallway closet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Semi-public quickies are a thing and the closest to risky as he gets. As mentioned previously, he’s demanding enough over you, he doesn’t like men Kicho touching you, let alone hearing you when you sound like that.

Other kinks, most kinks, he’s down to try with his favorite dirty, flower-brained woman. He does however, draw the line at any kinks that might involve him using harsh, ugly words to degrade you or your body and/or being soiled.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

All I gotta say is: Pirate’s got stamina enough to power his ships through horn alone, over an entire week!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys translate to external objects. Which are always subject to germs, and need to be (excessively) cleaned by his standards, to keep them useful and usable. That’s far much more work than he’s usually willing to commit himself to.

And he has no need of them. Not when you respond plenty to his touch alone.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot! Motonari’s brand of filthy talk is polished to leave you damp in between the legs. He’s pulling the nastiest most wonderful innuendoes out of the most mundane of tasks.

“Ya like that old weapon?” He might ask of you, as you admire the carvings upon the handle of one of his clan’s katana. “Didn’t know ya liked the feel of handlin’ a sword between yer hands that much, m’lady.”

Leaving your mind reeling and cheeks flushing before withdrawing with a, “What’re ya cooking in that flower brain of yers? Heh... you’ve got a dirty mind.”

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Heavy, sensual pants against your ears. His groans and grunts enough to fan the fires of your own arousal, to have you ready to come, from just the sounds that can leave his throat. Motonari doesn’t care to be heard outside your boundaries, but he also doesn’t care to withhold his own sounds of pleasure from you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He almost swears (but will never tell you, in very direct words): the space in between your bare breasts smells almost sweet like flowers. He likes finding his way up and nosing in between your breasts — just skin-to-skin contact at a place he finds you’re at your most fragrant. Suckling and tugging at a nipple draws those moans and your scent more intense, so he nips and teeths around the place often.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

That beautiful cock — with the evidence of just enough silver at the base — is long enough it fits and curves snug into you, without entering into any discomforting places, deep. But he is thick enough, it takes you time (and many times) to not just hold your breath and tighten up around him on reflex, upon entry.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

(Read: S)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re almost always the one falling asleep first. Pirates are used to night raids and this one’s no different. He does prefer watching you sleep, late into the night, once you fall exhausted into slumber.

End Notes: Thank you for reading!

♧° Link to Master List °♡

[checkmatein3moves]

Do you know That One reddit post thats about the guy crying bc his spouse washed his hair so gently and he felt so loved he just cried?? There was no sexuality or agenda or anything behind it, just pure "I care about you, so let me do this for you"??? How would the ROs react to that, deep in the relationship, where the heir is in the shower with them and wants to just carefully and sweetly and aimlessly wash their RO's hair??

hebe especially likes having her hair touched and played with, so this becomes a kind of ritual for showers. it's one of the rare moments she relaxes and lets go and indulges in being taken care of. the MC is the only person who gets to see her this vulnerable; sleepy, naked and near-purring like a cat. gets soap in her mouth trying to continually tell them how good it feels

sailor takes some convincing to just submit to pampering without fussing, but once they’re warm and MC has their hands running through their hair they give in. they’re home, the only home they’ll ever want or need, with the only person they’ve ever loved, and it’s something they’re allowed to enjoy forever. eventually start requesting shoulder massages

jelly has the longest, most product-filled hair so the first half of this experience is painstaking trying not to hurt them as it all washes out. they take this in their stride though at least, a lot of whining but an equal amount of laughter. only makes the actual intimacy sweeter though; if they’re in the bath they end up drowsing against MC’s chest

twenty at the point deep in the relationship is just like, “oh. of course. that’s the kind of thing we’re meant to do for each other.” it’s hard to describe but it just feels...right. like loving the MC is the easiest choice he makes every day. once they’re far past his trust barrier, he leans into their touches automatically. he gets cuddly after. wants to hold their hand and trace all over their skin

noir doesn’t want it to end. leans back for kisses constantly and takes their hands to hold them against his heart. requests to return the favour afterwards. even though by that point he knows that they love him for him, he still likes to work for it. probably really likes the aftermath too, getting his hair towel dried and tied up in a tiny ponytail when it starts getting longer

honey escalates it to something more playful. not at first, though. at first she accepts it and goes completely boneless under their touch. she likes the chance to be dependent and open herself up to the most simple joys of being in love. that being said, spraying your lover with the showerhead when they’re off guard is also one of the most simple joys of being in love. MC shouldn’t underestimate how grateful she is to feel comfortable being a fool with

jareth is...conflicted. when did steady hands in his hair become something he wanted? when did it become something he cared about having? he trusts MC, he wants to be with them, but the gentle intimate moments are a work in progress. it reminds him of his childhood. he cries a little. it doesn’t matter whether or not he deserves this for once

windo is a divine bathing partner and MC will get no complaints. he needs some convincing to put his damn online textbooks away for a night but when he does it’s a treat for them both. his ideal for this situation is for them to wash each other, hair and body, and then share a bottle of champagne (or something non alcoholic for MCs that don’t drink) in the bath. very stimulated by touch, so somehow he feels more energised after. is also ticklish

ludo is incredibly unaccustomed to even good water pressure that the idea of bathing luxuriously is strange to him. be taken care of??? he doesn’t need that?? he’s been taking care of himself for years?? goes into it skeptical, mostly as an act of service to make the MC happy and a show of trust. he trusts them not to get shampoo in his eyes more than he would anybody else. it would end up becoming a part of the routine after he realises he likes it. would also blindside the MC with splashes though

monty has a strict haircare routine, but late in the relationship she would be comfortable letting the MC massage the shampoo into her hair as they both bathe together. she appreciates it if they run a bath for her (with relaxing salts and sweet scents) while she hydrates her hair and then get in with her to pamper her. enjoys being read to in the bath as well. always wants to twist back and kiss their neck. 

[elysianslove]

Can I request some fluffy Demon Slayer??🤗 I was thinking Sanemi x reader scenario where the reader is kind, giggly, bubbly and overall opposite of Sanemi but in battle their ruthless like him but they get hurt and we get to see Sanemi’s overprotective side??🤗🤗 ily❤️❤️

I LOVE SANEMI HOW DID U KNOW. anyways i hope you like this anon, and thank you sm for requesting!! ily too, mwah <3

perhaps you had taken the term opposites attract a little too seriously when you’d chosen to confess to the wind hashira, sanemi. if you were completely honest, you had been entirely clueless on whether he shared your feelings or not, but years serving the demon slayer corps taught you how short life can truly, how everything could be snatched away in less than a few seconds. so you’d confessed, admitted your longing for him, explained to him how you wished to kiss his scars and hold his body close to you and intertwine your fingers with his and take late night strolls with him underneath the stars. he had looked at you as if you’d just taken the moon out from the sky, and held it in your palms up to him. he was so taken aback, but so in awe, completely enamored by you, and the way you lit up the entire room as soon as you entered it, and the way your smile never faltered even when he took too long to reply to you.

in the privacy of this room, only with you, sanemi had finally managed a grunt and a nod, looking away from your piercing eyes to mutter out a simple, “okay.” he had never been more glad for your observational skills, knowing that a simple okay wouldn’t have sufficed for anybody else, but only you. still in slight shock at the whole ordeal, he’d allowed you to have everything on your terms and you’d planned the date, where, and when. you’d looked so pretty with the setting sun’s glow upon your skin, glimmering breathtakingly. you’d looked so pretty underneath the candlelight at the restaurant you’d picked out. you’d looked so pretty underneath the moonlight as the two of you strolled through quiet streets.

it came only as a slight surprise to the rest of the hashira when you announced sanemi as your partner. if anything, sanemi might’ve been the one most taken aback. he’d shied away from their gazes, pink dust gracing the pale, scarred skin of his cheeks as he frowned deeply, holding back on a large grin. opposite to him, you stood proudly, a smile as bright as the sun beaming down at them, your hand clasped in his.

nothing much changed from when the two of you weren’t together, at least in the public’s eye. when it becomes just you, him, and the stars as your witness, sanemi is everything you had ever imagined he would be. he’s gentle with you, always handling and touching you like you’re fragile glass. he’s borderline shy, careful with his kisses and his embraces. his kisses, specifically, are tender, like he’s afraid of being too rough. you sometimes have to pull him harder against you, to feel him wholly, to reassure him that you won’t break, and that you trust him with your all. he talks to you in hushed tones, quietly, softly. it makes your heart flutter uncontrollably, paints a bright, blissful smile on your lips. when he grows comfortable enough, after many months, after a full year, his guard is let down, and the shakiness in the way he handles you, the gentleness in his kisses and touches starts to decay, and he lets himself be more of what he truly is around you.

and when you stay, when you decide that you love him even with the dissolved uneasiness, especially with everything that he is, rough, harsh, and loud — he entrusts his heart to you, completely, utterly, fully.

the way sanemi expresses his love to you, before he had said those deciding three words and after, is interesting, and it’s different, but it’s not unexpected. during training sessions, he pushes you to your limits, even beyond that, his reasoning behind it being his want for no-one and nothing to ever catch you off guard. during hashira meetings, his pinky is always linked with yours. it’s the most subtle form of pda he can manage, and a constant reminder for you personally. out on walks with him, during any date that the two of you have, his mind is constantly occupied by both you and your surroundings, ensuring your safety, because protectiveness is a major outlet for expressing his emotions.

which is exactly why you can do nothing but stifle your laughs as your lover scolds you as he stands to your right, a medic kneeling between you to bandage your shin. you’d received a stab wound to your shoulder and two deep cuts on your shin, leaving your shoulder aching but movable, but your right leg completely immobile.

“you’re an idiot,” he sneers, arms crossed and a glare directed straight at you. you humor him and nod diligently, a small giggle resting on the back of your throat. “a dumbass, actually.”

“and yet you still chose me,” you point out, scrunching up your nose teasingly at him and humming gently.

he shakes his head, tutting gruffly. “how could you let it get this bad?” he scolds, pointing an arm in the direction of your now bandaged leg, blood already beginning to soak through. the medic bows his head as he stands, and deliriously, you thank him. “what if they had to cut your leg off, hm? or what if you’d passed out from the blood loss and had no one find you? or what if you’d di—“

“sanemi,” you softly interrupt, a hand gently wrapping around his wrist. you tug him, weakly, towards you, and when he stands close enough, you rest your head against his abdomen, exhaling steadily. “i’m okay.”

slowly, you feel a hand travel up your back, reaching to cup the back of your head, holding you closer against him. he threads his fingers through your hair, soothing you, and calming himself down. “you are— but what if you weren’t?” he adds.

voice muffled by his clothes, you reply, “but i am. there’s no reason to consider what if’s.”

silence follows, lingering between awkward and comfortable, before sanemi speaks up and inquires, “did you kill it?”

you hum. “of course i did,” you tell him.

you feel him laugh lightly against you, before he pulls you back, cupping your cheek, making you look up at him. he gently rub his thumb against your dirtied skin, and manages a smile. “yeah you’re quite ruthless aren’t you?” he said, voice laced with awe.

“i learn from the best,” you retort, earning a louder laugh from him. “are your arms tired?” his brows furrow at your question, and he shakes his head. “good,” you say. “because you’re carrying me home.”

a quieter chuckle leaves his lips as he shakes his head humorously, before he leans down and bends an arm underneath your legs, mindful of the bandaged shin, and another behind your back, finally picking you up in his arms. “you comfortable?” he teases as you snuggle in closer, resting your head against his chest.

“very,” you answer, pressing a small kiss to the revealed skin of his chest, atop one of his many scars.

[vs-redemption]

I though of another thing lmao. I play a lot of video games too lol

But Dabi x Healer!Reader

(I was thinking of mercy from ow so reader has the ability to heal and damage boost her allies and revive them from the dead. - I would say to nerf that for the story it would depend on how long and how they died) - 🐱❤️

From Cindy:  🐱anon! I love you and miss you!! I’m sorry it took so long to get to this! I’ve been a busy bee recently and have had some writers block but I’m feeling very refreshed now! I had fun writing about our favorite burnt villain boy, and I hope you like how this turned out!  ❤️ ❤️

Partners (Dabi x GN!Reader)

Dabi was not ashamed to admit that his only reason for recruiting you into the league of villains was to use you for your quirk. It seemed like your powers had almost been designed specifically to support his goals and make up for his weaknesses. His intense blue flames caused severe damage to his body, but your healing touch could fully recover him in an instant. And anything in his path that could somehow withstand the heat of his flames would be burnt to ash instantly with a simple boost from your quirk. You were the perfect tool, and he had fully planned on capitalizing on that.

“I trust you to find people to support our cause,” Shigaraki had told him in the beginning, “but don’t you think this person is just going to be a liability in a fight?”

It was a concern he and Dabi had shared and was the biggest drawback to allowing you to join the team. You couldn’t defend yourself and would need to rely on the other villains to keep you safe whenever things got dangerous. If there was anything Dabi hated more than anything, it was pretending to care about other people. It was bad enough he had to stomach Shigaraki and the others, but at least he could trust them to hold their own in a battle. In exchange for your incredible abilities, you were going to be a constant thorn in his side. However, the pros outweighed the cons and he ultimately ended up agreeing to let you join.

At first, he thought he might’ve made a big mistake. You got along a little too well with the others, and ideally he wanted you to prioritize him over everyone else. Unfortunately, he was awful at faking interest and carrying conversations about anything that wasn’t related to himself, so building any sort of connection with you felt basically impossible. After some thought, he decided to keep his distance as much as possible unless interaction was absolutely necessary. As long as you remembered why he’d recruited you in the first place, and used your quirk the way he’d intended, he’d be satisfied.

Dabi was very familiar with rage. It was the emotion that had kept him constant company since he was a small child, and the emotion that fueled and motivated him whenever things got too painful or difficult. However, as familiar as he was with rage, he’d never learned how to control it when something triggered an outburst. So, when you refused to give his flames a boost during a particularly intense showdown with the heroes, he’d gone completely ballistic. Even without your powers, the intensity of his quirk has been magnified causing his flames to go wild. The anger had consumed him so completely that not even a direct order from Shigaraki had been able to stop him from unleashing the waves and waves of blue fire. The heat was so overbearing that both the heroes and villains had been forced to retreat.

Back at the hideout, you did your best to keep Shigaraki calm while you tended to the wounds incurred during the fight, including some nasty burns on Twice’s arms from when he’d tried to approach Dabi and reason with him. The fire wielder in question had not returned to the base with the others, choosing to continue on the warpath until someone managed to stop him or he wore himself out. He was surprised when it was you who came back out a few hours later to retrieve him from the dark alley way he’d hidden himself away in. Despite his exhaustion and the excruciating pain all over his entire body, he went right back on the defensive as soon as he saw your face.

“You must have a death wish!” His says through a grimace. A ball of fire appears in his hand threatening, but you could see the steam coming off of his skin from how much he’d overused his quirk already.

“From where I’m standing, I’d say it’s you with the death wish,” you frown. “How much longer do you think your body can hold out if you continue like this?”

“That’s none of your business!” Dabi snaps and takes a shaking step forward. “I only allowed you to join our cause so that you could support us in fights.”

“And I will lend you my support when it is beneficial to the cause,” you fold your arms and fix him with a hard glare. “The league needs you. But look at how your raw power affects your body on its own. If I boosted your quirk, you’d be a pile of ash and bones in an instant.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Dabi growls before his flame sputters out and he stumbles forward. You put your arms out instinctively to catch him, but the heat coming from his skin is painful to the touch. You help him to the ground as gently as you can and carefully start to heal his wounds. Thankfully he doesn’t protest.

“It is my call to make if it affects me,” you argue as you hover your hands over his skin. “My quirk has limits just like anybody else’s. Do you really expect me to help you destroy yourself knowing it’s going to be my responsibility to fix you again afterwards?”

Dabi hoped that was a hypothetical question. What he expected was for you to do whatever he asked, whether it put physical strain on you or not. He did understand your thought process though. His quirk was both a blessing and a curse, and the level of his power was closely tied to the intensity of his emotions. It was definitely possible that a boost to his flames could push him a little too far.

“You know,” you plop down next to him on the dirty ground once you finish doing what you can for his burns, tired from exerting yourself more than usual that day. “Maybe instead of testing the limits of your mortality, you could just try relying on your allies instead.” You glance over at him to see a scowl take over his features, and when he finally turns to meet your gaze you simply smile. “Even if you only put your trust in one single person, you might find that accomplishing your goals becomes far easier. I’m sure you’re not the only one in our group with ulterior motives, so working with someone rather than against could be mutually beneficial.”

Trust was not something Dabi had much experience with. He wasn’t sure he could trust another person, and it probably wasn’t safe for other people to trust him either. Still though, an under the table partnership might not be a bad idea, and was part of his original plan for you anyway. He wasn’t a fan of compromises, and you didn’t seem like the type to be easily bullied into compliance, but having someone working with him specifically rather than indirectly through Shigaraki might prove useful. And if things didn’t work out, he could always ditch you later. Or perhaps you were even more perfectly matched with him than he originally thought. In which case, it might be possible for him to learn how to do that pesky ‘trust’ thing. Only time would tell.

[ladykissingfish]

the Akatsuki's reactions to being hugged

Sasori What is this? What is its purpose? Is this some sort of primitive close-combat battle technique intended to temporarily immobilize one’s enemy? Sasori dislikes even minimal physical contact, so something as invasive as a hug truly sets his hackles on edge. He will stand there with eyes staring blankly at whatever is behind the person, and wait for them to get through whatever strange nonsense that they’re subjecting him to. May smile ruefully to himself as he allows himself to think of his other life, his human life, and how gestures like this were once shyly sought out, rather than studiously avoided. If in a particularly curious mood, will hug back. Not to return affection, but to see with his own eyes how much crushing pressure the average human body can withstand before it gives out. Deidara Is extremely self-conscious and shudders at the very thought of a hug, although the reason isn’t so obvious. Deidara has spent his entire life feeling embarrassment due to his distinctly feminine features. Curves, wide eyes, long hair, a soft body ... he’s been mistaken for a woman more times than he can count. He can disguise what he perceives as a shameful lack of masculinity with draping clothes or robes, but a hug, and person to person contact, will completely dispel that illusion to the one initiating the embrace. His panic at being hugged is so great that he stiffens like a board in the hugger’s arms, his heart pounds and his breath comes fast and it’s on-par with one hell of an anxiety attack. However, once he becomes comfortable with the hugger, and realizes that the gesture is not at all meant to be cruel or a prelude to body-shaming judgment ... he will become addicted. Like much of the Akatsuki, his life has long been absent of any sort of warmth, and physical or emotional comforts, so when he gets hold of something that provides him with such, he will grasp on to it and guard it like a dog with a bone. Tobi As Tobi, he will act childishly giddy and hug back tightly, TOO tightly, making it nearly impossible for the other person to breathe. But underneath the mask, as Obito ... no matter who the person is, he finds it painfully difficult to let go of them. He has been starved for kindness and affection for more years than he’d care to think about, and being hugged triggers a flood of memories in his brain of his childhood, and the warm hugs he foolishly used to shrug off from his grandmother. For a few seconds he genuinely forgets how to put on his Tobi persona, and panics when he realizes that his arms won’t, not can’t but WON’T, detach themselves from the (now very confused) hugger. And then he’s saved in the form of Deidara walking by and shouting at him to “Let (the hugger) go and come on already, hm!”, and Tobi emerges to run after his Senpai, throwing his apologies over his shoulder. Zetsu Nobody in their right mind would get close enough to Zetsu to even dream of something a foolish as a hug. However, there are always those out there who spew the philosophy of “embracing nature”, and will be stupid brave enough to put their arms around the human-like plant. As with much of Zetsu’s choices, his reaction will depend solely on his mood. If he’s feeling kind (or he’s already eaten) he will simply stand still and let the hug happen. If he’s feeling literally anything else, that kind, sweet person will be missing their arms one moment, and their face the next. Nature is an unpredictable, wild element, and the sooner humans learn that, the better off humanity will be, Kakuzu His heart(s) will quite literally burst out of his body, upon being hugged. Kakuzu has finely tuned battle instincts, and his war-centric past had taught him that anybody who is close enough to attempt a hug, is also close enough to attempt an attack; and his body will involuntarily jump into battle mode, in order to protect itself. Even after the hugger explains ((and this is assuming they’re still alive)) that they meant no harm, Kakuzu will forever be wary and mistrustful of that person. After the hug, will visit Sasori and ask him

to run a blood analysis to determine whether the hugger somehow managed to inject him with poison. Itachi His self-control will slip just a fraction, and he’ll let out a soft, barely-audible gasp at the unexpected physical contact. How long has it been since he’s been hugged? Not since before his mother — well. He will stand in the hugger’s arms for an indeterminate amount of time, allowing them to keep their arms around him but making no moves to reciprocate the gesture. Something will change in both his aura and his demeanor, and the hugger will let out a gasp of their own, startled: up until that moment, the hugger will have only seen Itachi as a hardened criminal, one of the most dangerous of the Akatsuki, wielder of one of the most powerful visual jutsus of this world. But hugging him, feeling how soft and warm he is, how the tension slips out of his body ... he changes. He simply becomes a lost soul, a man who traded his youth and his freedom for this miserable life of death and loneliness. Somebody who, perhaps more than anybody else, NEEDS a hug every single day. Absurdly, a question like “Are you eating well?” might rise to the top of the hugger’s mind, because in these few bare seconds, Itachi Uchiha is little more than an orphan in dire need of a parents’ care. And then the killer of his clan comes to his senses, and firmly (yet gently) removes himself from the hugger’s grasp, straightens out his cloak, and continues on to whatever life chooses to throw at him next. Konan Hugging Konan is a difficult thing to attempt. Like Kakuzu, she has lived a life under the ever-present shadow of war and battle, and will likely see a hug as an attempt at an attack. Hugger will close in on a handful of paper rather than a human woman. However, if she had known the hugger long enough to trust them, she will bestow the softest, most gentle embrace imaginable. It’s the hug of a child, a small girl who is crying for her mother and father. Also the hugger will be completely floored by how fantastic the blue-haired beauty smells, and will attempt ((risk)) more hugs just to catch a whiff. Pein (Nagato) Hm. This is ... different. Nobody can hug Nagato, of course, but some may attempt to put their arms around Pein, which Nagato is vaguely able to feel himself. Had he ever been hugged in his life? He’s honestly not sure. The embrace is warm, very warm, and not altogether unpleasant ... but at the same time, it feels rather pointless. The world is riddled with anger, and hatred, and pain; and gestures such as this one are merely a cover for the truth that lies beneath. Kisame Kisame is neither for or against hugging, or being hugged. He sees no real purpose for it, but doesn’t believe it causes any real harm, either. However, if given a choice, he would prefer to be on the receiving end, as he fears his animalistic strength would unintentionally cause bodily harm to the other person. However, there’s one person he will hug quite frequently, and take care to be as gentle as possible: his Akatsuki partner Itachi. He has known this young man since he was a teenager, and feels a great measure of protective affection for the slim brunette. Itachi is the first person who ever looked at Kisame not as a monster but as a person, and is the only friend the half-shark has had in his life. Itachi shows no reaction to these random bouts of touching — but he doesn’t push Kisame away. Hidan Perhaps the most shocking revelation in a person whose entire life is shocking: Hidan LOVES hugs. Whether giving or receiving, he puts his all into every embrace, to the point where the other person will begin to feel as though they’re in a competition, the longer the contact goes on. But the reason is not as sweet or altruistic as one would hope; Hidan hugging another person is Hidan embracing Death. This is the part of his ritual that’s a well-kept secret; hugging one’s victim before the torment and slaughter that follows is his ultimate expression of love. A warped love, but a love all the same.

[cajunquandary]

Denim and Demon Blood

Pairing | Dean x Reader

Summary | When Dean fails to back up the Reader on a hunt, she almost pays the price.

Warnings | Canon-level violence, Drinking, Smut, Fluff, Slow burn? Constant burn? There’s definitely some burning in here.

Wordcount | 4200

A/N | This was written for @supernatural-jackles​ SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge, @herstarburststories​ Follower Celebration and @waywardsistershy​ Daily Imagine Prompt Two. Prompts used are in bold and all kind of smashed into each other in my head, leading me to create this. It’s is my very first time writing anything smutty and one of my first creations back from hiatus, unbeta’d as usual so any mistakes belong to yours truly. Thank you for those who cheered me on through the process! @negans-lucille-tblr​ @icecream-and-gadreel​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ Your advice helped make this happen. FEEDBACK IS LIFE. *enjoy the bonus gif*

Y/N was nothing short of pissed. Foul blood and remnants of demon dripped from her jeans. Still heart still pounding with the raw adrenaline of the fight, she stormed out of the back alley and towards the slick black Impala idling patiently in the street. What she couldn’t decide on was what was worse? The demon catching her with her guard down, her partner not having her back, or that she’d had to rely on him anyway. For years she’d hunted alone. Why had this time been different?

Of course, she knew the reason, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

There was a very large, very handsome and charming distraction. One that nearly cost her life. If nothing else, this could not be allowed to happen again. Y/N hunted with the Winchester men from time to time when they needed backup. She knew them as nothing more than twisted monster-killing versions of coworkers. Instead of standing at a coffee pot on a midday break, she would share a round of drinks at a bar, covered in God-knows what.

She reached the car and yanked open the trunk, searching for a change of clothes in her bag. Dean advanced quickly to her side, reminding her to “be easy with the goddam car.”

Y/N ignored him, and there in the middle of the dark, empty street, pulled off her blood-soaked clothes and slipped into a spare set of pants and wool pullover. The chill of the night raised goosebumps until they covered her skin, and Dean was mesmerized by them.

“Just gonna stand there and stare, Winchester? Or are you gonna be useful and get in the car?” She snapped, feeling his eyes on her.

This broke the spell, and Dean clenched his jaw and sulked towards the driver’s door, moaning as if in pain when she slammed the trunk shut. Begrudgingly, Y/N slid into the front seat, ready for the trip back home to be over already.

Typically, Dean would turn on the radio or put in his personal cassette mix; tonight, the air of the cab was thick and heavy and all too quiet. Y/N knew that he was waiting for her to talk, to yell or at least something, but she just sat there, legs crossed and arms folded, eyes staring into nothing. She was positioned as far away from him as she could possibly be.

Dean sighed, knowing that he should have been there sooner. He should have called to tell her there were two demons rather than one. He gripped the steering wheel as tightly as possible, until his nails dug into his palms and the skin over his knuckles grew whiter than an apple core, skin protesting under the stretch. All of this could have been avoided if he’d just made the damn call instead of using it as an excuse to come see her. In his defense, he begged her to wait for him, but the hardened huntress was headstrong. Once she got a lead, she chased it like a bloodhound until it was over, one way or another.

Y/N heard his sigh and saw him tense, but she was still too upset with him. Would a phone call have really been that much of an inconvenience? Or did Dean just not give a crap? She sensed him open his mouth in an effort to speak, but no words came and his mouth clamped shut again, temple throbbing with frustration.

“Unless that’s an apology coming out of your mouth, Winchester, I don’t want to hear it.” Y/N diverted her eyes from the road towards Dean, locking onto his gaze.

Man, if her eyes were daggers, I’d be dead, Dean thought.

Her sharp, stony regard froze him for a moment, just long enough for her to break it and reach towards the radio. His hand slapped hers away in reflex, used to forcefully at times reminding Sam that driver picks the music. That was the match that lit the powder keg. Y/N punched him in the arm just hard enough to make him understand how much she was done with his bullshit.

The whole time she was seething at him, though, it was all she could do to keep her eyes off of him. It was bad enough that the whole car smelled like him—leathery and woodsy and just the right level of musk. It was intoxicating and threatened to undo her from the inside out. She struggled to hold it together, knowing she had every right to be furious with the man, but feeling the anger fade away to… something new. Something warm and growing within her core, radiating through her whole being in gentle electric waves that mirror the steady rumble of Baby’s engine.

When his hand had knocked hers away from the dash, the touch felt like a sip of cool water after wandering parched and dying through the desert for an unknown amount of time; when she’d punched him, she tried to not only make a statement, but to send the unwanted feeling back to where it came from. The attempt was unsuccessful however, and only made her want more. She was quickly losing control.

“You seem angry.”

“No shit, Dean.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘Dean’ now is it?”

“Shut up, Winchester.” She scowled, now unable to pull her eyes away from him. The sparse light of the cab lit the angles of his face beautifully. As he moved and fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, different bits of him illuminated: the edge and twitch of his jaw, clenching and unclenching, his brows furrowed, dark eyes trained on the road ahead, a thin line of sweat running from his hairline downwards, tracing his throbbing carotid down to the valley of his collarbone, pausing for a moment before continuing its journey down his chest until it disappeared behind the flannel. Y/N shook her head in a frustrated attempt to withdraw her attention from the handsome jerk.

Dean took notice of her lingering, now much kinder, eyes. He watched out of the corner of his own as her pupils dilated, giving her away. His face lifted a little in a contented smirk, shoulders rising as he adjusted his posture once more with a new found confidence.

“Why are you so angry?”

Y/N grimaced, again ripped back to the present and away from her fantasies. “You know what, I’m not anymore.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. There’s a reason I hunt alone. You can’t trust anybody but yourself,” she spat.

Dean nodded, understanding his mistake and honestly wanting to make up for it. He just didn’t know how. Talking things through always worked on Sam, so he thought he might give it a shot. “Well you still seem pissed.”

“You know what, Winchester?” Y/N pivoted in her seat so that she was completely facing him, so he could feel the full force of what she was about to unleash. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart, and when you say I seem angry, I get angrier. And there's nothing like a mad woman. So, if you know what’s good for your pighead, stop making it worse. Besides, I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

The old car pulled into her drive, taking the bumps and dips like a champ. Y/N couldn’t wait to be far away from Dean—to see his taillights flying back out towards the road. Before Dean could even pull to a stop in front of the small cabin, Y/N leapt from the car. As fast as he could, Dean threw it in park and took out the key, discarding it on the front seat. Y/N had already retrieved her bag from the trunk and was making the short trek up to the front door. Dean bounded behind her, not wanting to lose his shot with the huntress he’d secretly grown so fond of in the last years.

Y/N reached for the doorknob, but Dean’s hand covered it first, blocking her and coming dangerously close. She could feel herself straining to touch him, to feel that electricity surge through her again, but she fought it with everything she had. She wasn’t that kind of girl. If Dean Winchester wanted a one-night stand, he would have to find it elsewhere.

The two hunters stood there, squared off at each other yet close enough to share breaths. Their eyes were locked, each determined to win against the other.

Dean broke first, slowly lifting his hand to stroke the side of Y/N’s face then cupped it tenderly. Although the touch sent shockwaves through her, expending her resolve, Y/N didn’t flinch. She caught and held her breath, steeling herself against him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know I should have called. I…” Dean’s face fell, bringing it dangerously more close to hers. “I just wanted to see you again. I missed you, and if anything had happened to you tonight I never—” His voice broke, tears gathering along his closed lashes. When he opened his eyes, the deep green of them, floodlit by the full moon above, forced the withheld breath from Y/N.

She began to tremble lightly, choking out a quiet, “Really?”

Y/N dropped the bag to the porch deck, searching his eyes deeply for answers, her mind racing miles a minute. Was this another dream? She loved and could appreciate both of the brothers, but here was Dean, standing before her, close enough to exchange body heat, asking for her. Wanting her.

He released a strained chuckle, a single tear flowing free down his cheek now. “Of course, Y/N. If I could leave all this shit behind, if it all finally ended, all I’d want to do is come home to you.”

She reached an unsteady hand to wipe it away, leaning in closer. He met her the rest of the way and let out a shaky sigh of relief when their foreheads met, lips close, parted and ready. Y/N wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, drawing her body in closer to feel every inch of him.

She whispered with closed eyes, completely enraptured in him, “I dare you to kiss me, then.”

Without hesitation, Dean scooped her even tighter in his arms, stumbling backwards into the wall of the cabin. When their lips met, Y/N shuddered. They were so warm and needy, Dean’s tongue teasing hers, making her want—no, need—more. She lifted her leg up slightly, wrapping her ankle around his, the growing bulge under his jeans so deliciously close to her raging hearth. She moaned into his mouth, dizzy and starting to lose balance.

He played on the shift and spun them around, pinning her up against the wall. With one arm braced above her, the other still around her waist, Dean pressed into her, grinning as she gasped, her mouth falling open.

“You know,” He growled playfully in her ear, teeth grazing the soft spot just behind it. “I kinda like when you’re angry.”

Y/N panted as he gently sucked and nipped along the side of her neck, desperately reaching for the words. “Oh yeah?”

He drew back, giving her a chance to catch her breath. If it weren’t for his knee between her legs, she would be a puddle on the ground. Dean took a moment to etch the image in his mind: her face flushed and shoulders relaxed, mouth slack and eyes blown, mouth slightly ajar and silently begging for more of him. He sported a large, toothy smile—the kind that made his eyes crinkle and her heart swell.

Up until this moment, Y/N had no idea the extent of her feelings. Like everything else, she stifled them, burying them deep down. For the first time, she acknowledged to herself through woozy thoughts that she had been in love with the Winchesters. Though unlike Sam, this love was different, and right now it devoured her.

Dean elaborated, taking his hand off of her waist and moving it up to the nape of her neck and grabbing a fistful of her hair. “Yeah. You’re so hot when you’re angry. I love to watch you fight.”

She tensed against his utter hold over her and gripped the front of his shirt, stretching it tightly across his chest. “You want to watch me fight, Winchester? Then let’s fight,” She dared him, lowering her eyes in defiance.

A look of pure sin drifted over his face, reminding her of the days when he wore the mark of Cain. Finding her strength again, Y/N shoved him backwards with just enough force to create a few feet of distance, then grounded her feet, ready to spar.

Dean lunged forward, hoping his shear size would be able to get her to the ground. She dodged his advance expertly, though, sending the over-excited man into the wall. Before he could turn, she leapt onto his back, arms locked around his throat, providing only enough pressure to distract him. She pressed her heel into the back of his knee, causing him to stumble and catch himself just as he approached the ground. In defense, he rolled out of the fall, releasing her grip on him.

She lay face up, considering her next move when Dean flipped back on top of her, pinning her legs down with his and securing her wrists in his hands.

“Hey!” Y/N protested. In one smooth move, Dean gripped both of her wrists in one of his against the hard wood of the deck and withdrew a set of handcuffs.

Y/N gave in to his spell, completely consumed as she gazed up at his silhouette against the starlit blanket of night, moon still casting long shadows across his determined face.

Without another word, he stood up and pulled her by the cuffs with him before tossing her over his shoulder with ease. With every step, Y/N whimpered from the heat and force of his shoulder into her lower stomach. It was a wonderful discomfort. As Dean gently opened the front door and slowly closed it behind them, she grabbed at the back of his shirt, digging hungrily for skin contact.

Dean let out a low chuckle and turned his head to kiss her hip through the thick material of her sweater, drawing a giggle from her as well. His tone changed a little, and Dean supported her gently as he laid her on the bed and fumbled for the lamp he knew was there.

With a twist and a click, warm light flooded the room, revealing puffs of cold breath in the air. Dean look over her lovingly, taking in her curves and the revisiting goosebumps present on her arms. “Would you like me to start a fire?” He asked.

“I think you already have, Dean.”

He raised his brow playfully at hearing his first name leave her lips again, loving the way it rolled out of her perfect, breathless mouth. He shook his head, a pink tint spreading over freckle-dusted cheeks. He reached into his jacket pocket and produced the key, leaning over to unlock the cuffs.

Her hands, though released, lingered on his with a strong grip. As he straightened back up, she followed, her eyes never leaving his. Y/N licked and bit at her bottom lip, struggling between needing his weight back upon her to ease the growing ache inside and knowing that this—them—couldn’t last forever.

Dean leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna go make that fire.”

As he turned to walk away, Y/N found her voice, though it was riddled with want. “Dean.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder, legs bowed more than normal to accommodate for the lack of extra room in his pants. “Do you not want to...” She trailed, worry growing in her chest that she let it go to far.

“I do if you do. I’ve wanted you for so long.” He left with an easy smile to the next room, where he began loudly tossing logs into the old fireplace.

Y/N looked down at the nightstand to her side and reached to gingerly touch the handcuffs. It was all so surreal, and her head swam. She moved to lift off her sweater, but paused when the fabric touched her nose and she accidentally breathed in his lingering and intoxicating scent. With arms suspended and sweater halfway over her head, she didn’t see him come back in.

“Need some help?” He offered. She nodded. With one hand, he lifted it away and tossed it behind him on the chair. With the other, Dean set a bottle and two glasses down next to the handcuffs. “My turn.” He shrugged out of the flannel jacket and lifted the bottom of his shirt slowly, making sure that her eyes followed the hem, taking in every muscle and scar.

Unable to stop herself, Y/N looped her fingers in his belt and yanked him closer, her lips finding the first scar and moving to the next. Dean’s skin drew tight as he flexed against the touch, and he ripped his shirt off the rest of the way impatiently. Head falling back and mouth open as her kisses grew stronger and travelled lower. The subtle grunts falling from him drove her, letting her know when she was hitting all the right spots. Her hands followed the line of his belt, barely brushing and tickling his skin as they worked closer to the clasp. When she released it, Dean snapped his head back down, hunger in his eyes. He took a faltering step back and lifted the bottle of Johnny Walker to his lips, forgoing the glass and swallowing leisurely. Y/N stood on her tip toes to reach his exposed neck and pepper it with kisses.

After a few swallows, the bottle produced a small pop as his lips released it. He let out a long, contented sigh and pressed the bottle into Y/N’s hand. She withdrew from his neck and reveled at the desire in his eyes. Wrapping her hand around to the back of his head, Y/N grasped his hair and pulled him in for a kiss. He moaned involuntarily into her mouth; brows drawn and face twisted in yearning. She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and sucked, driving him so close that she began to lose balance. Her legs grew weaker from his clothed erection pressed against the bare skin of her belly.

When she broke away, the scent of the fire wafted into the room. With the bottle in her hand already, she swallowed a draught from it before exchanging the bottle for the cuffs on the nightstand. “Can we still use these?” She asked, biting the corner of her mouth.

Dean traced his fingers from her shoulders down her arms, lifting the one still resting behind his head and combining it with the other. In a blink, the cuffs were back on her.

“Well, Winchester, what are you waiting for?” She purred, bound hands pawing at the puzzle of his pants button.

“That’s Dean to you, darlin’.” He took a step forward and guided her down with him to the bed, the coolness of the blankets sending chills through them both.

Y/N ran her fingers through his hair as he wrestled out of his jeans, fingertips tingling as they lifted it the opposite direction than it always lay. She pouted when he moved too far out of reach while kicking his pants off of the last ankle. She lifted her arms above her head and angled to get a better view of him and drew in a sharp breath at the sight. Dean was fully exposed now, his erection long and heavy resting in his hand.

He felt her reaction and whipped his eyes up to study her face, brows stitching together again and clenching his teeth, lips parted slightly.

Y/N was squirming, lids blinking heavily at the glorious sight of him. Her hands flew to her own jeans and she fought with them desperately and lamenting at the sudden difficulty. “Fuck,” she prayed aloud.

Dean’s tongue flicked between his teeth and he pulled at his bottom lip as he teased her, his hand slowly caressing the length of him.

“Fuck, Dean! Please!”

“That’s better, Y/N. Please what?”

“Dean, please, help me out of these!”

Dean obliged, but pulled her bottoms and underwear down tantalizingly slow. She writhed in need, starved of his touch. When she moved too much, Dean would stop and wait for her to calm, until her arms were again outstretched above her head. By the time she was finally bare, tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes and her little moans had grown almost constant.

He began his kisses at her navel and worked his way down to the hollow of her hips. Before reaching the part she so urgently needed release from, he stopped and crawled on top of her, resting his legs up against hers and pulling a loose blanket up and over them.

Dean then relaxed so that his dick settled right in between the outside of her folds and seized the resulting cry from her lips with his. She balled her fists and tried to wrap her restricted arms around him, but the sharp metal bit into her wrists. In an effort to assuage the tight coil within her, Y/N began to push and rub her soft skin against his.

Dean whined and gasped from the friction and the heat of them quickly filling the blanket. He began to knead her back. He nipped along her collarbone, letting his head lay on her chest. Her heartbeat echoed loudly into his ear, her chest rising and falling quickly with shallow breaths. He tracked his hand down the valley of her breasts, stopping just a moment on each one to lift and massage deeply, then down the midline of her stomach to her waiting pussy. “Oh, fuck. You’re so wet!”

Y/N shook at the stroke of his perfectly calloused hands on the delicate skin. She garbled out, “D-dean… Please, I… I need you inside me.”

Unable to hold out any longer, Dean guided his tip to her entrance and thrust himself into her, taking several attempts before bottoming out because she was so tight. She spread her knees apart father until her legs held him firmly in place, her ankles anchoring the vice grip. The symphony of moans, whimpers  and pleading coming from Dean filled her just as much as his cock did, stretching her to her absolute limits. Just as they’d practiced on the porch, Y/N rolled him onto his back and began to grind back and forth, occasionally shifting her position, paying special attention to the angles when each new sound came out of him. His head was pressed back into the pillow and he arched his back slightly to correct the angle of his public bone, making beautiful sounds as she moved.

As the bone hit and bore down on her clit, every cell in her body began to unravel. She stammered out his name as she clenched tighter and tighter, growing louder all the while. Just as he felt her about to come, Dean pulled her flat to his chest by the handcuffs so when she broke, he felt every bit of it. The shock waves hit her like a tsunami; she barely noticed when they rolled back over so he was on top and back in control.

Dean drove into her at a solid pace—not too fast, not too slow. He wanted to savor every moment. As Y/N slowly regained power over herself, she countered his thrusts. As he continued his pace, his shaft reached deeper and harder with every move. Dean began to quake and opened his eyes to finds hers.

“God I’m gonna… I’m close, Y/N.”

“Keep going baby, come inside me, it’s okay.” Her words pushed him to the edge. He tried so hard to draw it out longer, but when she locked her lips with his passionately, sucking and pulling, he tremored and released. Y/N jolted at the pulsing quiver of his dick within her, eyes closed tightly as her walls clenched around him, extracting every bit of him before he crumpled into her.

Chasing their breaths together, it was a while before either of them moved. Dean reached for the key, unlocked the cuffs, causing them to clatter loudly to the floor, then took her small, capable hands in his. He propped his head up on his elbow, enjoying the spent look on her face.

All Y/N could focus on were the deep green folds of his eyes, getting lost in the emerald lakes in the warm light of the cabin.

Dean gave a closed-lip smile as he leaned forward a bit to lay a kiss on her forehead. “Do you want to share a shower?”

She nodded, still drowning in those deep waters. “Will you stay?” She whispered.

“As long as I can, Y/N.”

“Then can I go with you?”

Dean paused for a moment thoughtfully. “Well, that may be for the best. By now, I bet neighbors know my name.”

She laughed and snuggled into him, her head resting on his arm. Maybe we do have a chance at a future after all.

Forevers: 

@supernatural-jackles​ @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch​ @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog​ @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0​ @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx​ @idk-life01​ @attorneyl​ @deathtonormalcy56​ @xwing-baby

All about that Dean:

@akshi8278​

[alrighttevans]

evermore

but if the world was ending you’d hold me, right?

inspired by this prompt 

Ao3 link

The tight grip over her heart was no stranger to Ladybug.

In fact, as much as she loathed the fact, it had grown into a very much familiar sensation for her. When she was Marinette, she felt it when she was on the verge of an anxiety crisis. When she was Ladybug, she felt it every time she watched an akuma take her partner from her right before her eyes.

On a few occasions, it was a spell she could manage to break. More often than not, it was some kind of possession that would turn him against her until she managed to capture the akuma. Yet, sometimes — too many times, for her displeasure —, it was murder, what took Chat Noir from her.

She felt deeply distressed every single time she lost her Chaton in battle, even though it had happened several times already — the stupid cat always had to put himself between her and any dangerous threat, being the great foolish hero that he was —, it always brought a sharp and incessant pain into her chest, like it was the first. At the pace that a little corner on her mind that archived the multiple occasions in which Chat had heroically and selflessly and kindly sacrificed himself for her had only grown larger, so had the hurt that each event left on her. She was not ready, when Timebreaker had taken him from her, back when they were still very young. She was not ready, when he had jumped from the gameboard, back at the time they fought against Gamer for a second time. She was not ready now, when the Polished Avenger had erased him from existence, so she could now control who was anybody and who wasn’t. 

When Ladybug hadn’t been quick enough to dodge the akuma’s attack and Chat Noir refused to let her pay the price for that mistake.

She was not ready.

Ladybug still found herself shaking, as she ran for her life, unwilling to allow her partner’s sacrifice to go to waste. She still felt her whole person being filled with a mixture of both fear and despair, as she gasped for air, leaning back on one of the walls of the narrow alley she had converted into her current hiding spot. She still had a growing overwhelming need inside her telling her to sit in a corner and cry, as she attempted to stop the tears that threatened to fall off her bluebell hurt eyes.

It was not supposed to happen, him being taken. 

They were Ladybug and Chat Noir! They were complements of each other! There was no creation without destruction! She became unbalanced without him; lost, even, to a certain extent — even though you wouldn’t hear her admitting to that —, because she wasn’t supposed to do this without him! She didn’t want to do this without him, but she had to, if she ever wished to see him again.            

No, Ladybug couldn’t allow herself to drown in the sorrowful taste that rose through her throat. She couldn’t give herself the benefit of the doubt; Paris depended on her, her sanity depended on her, her kitty depended on her and she had only one chance to capture the akuma and make things right again — one misstep and she would be doomed.

So she ordered herself to stop stalling and do her fucking job, because the clock was ticking and she couldn’t fail. Keep yourself together, she chastised, as she wiped her tears away and blinked a few times, trying to regain the focus she needed to think clearly and win this battle — and bring him back —, even if the weight over her shoulders kept pulling her from her objective.

Just… Why did he keep doing that? Didn’t he realise what a mess she became once he was gone? She loved him for all the qualities that made Chat Noir who he was, yet she still hated him for it, since those same qualities were the ones driving him into taking a hit for her again and again. Had he no sense of self preservation? Honestly. The boy could use some.   

She tugged her pigtails, sliding her fingers through her long dark locks. 

Focus, Ladybug. 

Throwing her hand upwards, she called for her lucky charm, hoping her luck wouldn't abandon her, and a red and black candy apple fell into her hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” She frowned, before carefully poking her head out of her safe area to see if she could find something that would snap the solution to all of her problems in her mind. Ladybug’s eyes ran through the perimeter and she was able to see the Polished Avenger searching for her, calling for that “pesky bug”, as the akuma so kindly nicknamed her; an idea forming in her head.

Feeling the ever so familiar adrenaline of a risky fight taking charge of her, Ladybug dashed back to the battlefield, only daring to go as close to the akuma as her plan demanded to. “Looking for me?” She called, before a frown took place in her face. Polished Avenger wasn’t there. Where had she gone to? Oh, no. Her frown was replaced by wide eyes at the realisation; it was a trap. 

Panic ran through her veins, as she looked around her, alarmed to find her opponent coming from only God knows where and jumping on her. She gave a last minute back flip, that prevented her from disappearing right that second and quickly occupied herself with putting as much distance as she could from the akuma. She couldn’t afford sloppy tactics, otherwise she would lose, lose him. She couldn’t let his faith in her to be misplaced.    

As she watched the Polished Avenger getting closer and closer from the corner of her eye, trying to touch her with her bloody duster, she threw her yoyo on the balcony of a nearby building and pulled herself out of the akuma’s way. 

“You can’t run forever, you annoying little pest.” The akumatized woman snarled, watching her carefully.

“Trust me, I don’t plan to.” Ladybug replied, more to herself than to her opponent, and threw her yoyo onto a farther building, one in which would give her enough time to land on the ground without being hit at the pace that the akuma chased her on foot.  

The Polished Avenger was just a few yards away when Ladybug prayed that her aim wouldn’t betray her and threw the candy apple in her opponent’s direction, as she held her breath. The akuma caught the sweet in the air, before it could hit her, and stretched her hand open to toss off the candy as she followed her way, only to stop when she noticed the apple candy was still on her hand. The woman tried to shake her hand like a loon, glaring at the offending sweet and sneer in frustration, but she couldn’t get rid of the apple candy. Lastly, she let go of the duster to try and remove it with her other hand, and Ladybug wasted no time and snatched the duster with her yoyo. When the akuma realised what she was doing, it was already too late; she broke the object and freed the familiar black butterfly from it. Quicky, Ladybug captured the akuma and cleansed it. 

“Bye-bye, little butterfly.” She said, as she dashed to the very confused woman standing before her and took the apple candy from her hands, without either a ‘please’ or a comforting comment to her; Ladybug was yet too exhausted, too shaken, too anxious to think about anybody else. She had won, it would have to do for now. “Miraculous Ladybug!” She called while she threw the candy into the air, feeling the bittersweet taste of her victory on her tongue.  

Chat Noir blinked, feeling the familiar sensation of time loss and confusion after an akuma possession flow through him, trying to evaluate as much as he could from his surroundings, however, he couldn’t assess much, for the first thing he put his eyes on was the red and black blur that was Ladybug running in his direction and throwing herself in his arms. 

Even though his eyes widened, his arms immediately found her back and held her, just as tight as she pressed herself to him. It took Chat a second to realise the soft, subtle sound of his lady sobbing, as he felt shock run through his body. 

 “My lady?” He called, as quietly as he could when he was full with concern.

She didn’t answer, at first, but buried her head in the crook of his neck and kept shedding her tears, and the only thing Chat could do was to hug her close, as she took her time and his heart filled with fright with whatever had got Ladybug this distressed. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” Her question came as a whisper, one in which he wouldn’t have caught, if it wasn’t for his heightened senses, causing his brows to meet in a frown.

“That what?” 

“Dying for me.” Ladybug’s voice broke with her answer, and his jaw dropped. 

She was crying because of him?

He was the mindless prat that had made her cry?

“I… I can’t help it. The thought of you—” Chat shook his head, refusing to verbalize that dreadful thought that haunted him every time his lady was caught in imminent danger, and it was his duty to prevent it from happening. “The world doesn’t end when I get hit by an akuma.” 

“Mine does.” He felt his heart break as she pulled her face away from his neck, allowing him to see the painful watery gaze on her pale blue eyes. He was hurting her, and he couldn’t bear to see her heart break. 

“It’s okay.” His hands found her face, as he cupped her cheeks, and Chat, touching her softly, carefully wiped her falling tears, that led a melancholic thread behind them. “I’m okay. It’s just temporary, everything always goes back into place.” 

“What if someday I can’t fix everything?” Ladybug prodded, “What if I lose you forever?” She whispered, as if she was afraid that, if she spoke too loud, some superior force would listen and shape her nightmare into reality. 

It was like having a knife being continuously stabbed into his chest, to watch Ladybug drowning herself in the ocean of guilt about his safety. She shouldn’t have the weight of his actions making her sink faster. Couldn’t she see that it was all for the best? For if she was the one that was gone, Chat Noir would break. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly and come up with a smart solution, as she did every time. He wouldn’t be able to focus on studying the akuma’s weaknesses, but instead he would fall into a deep cliff of despair and nothing and no-one would have the power to bring him back. Paris would be doomed; stuck with a hero too unstable to do his job. However, even if he managed to overcome his distress, he didn’t have a Miraculous Ladybug Cure to make it all right again — he would never be able to recover from losing her forever. How could she fathom the idea of him not preventing this catastrophe from happening?

Well, he wasn’t the one that was going to ask her that. 

One task at the time, and the present worry was to take that sorrowful expression off of her lovely features. 

“Do you really think you can get rid of me that easily?” He inquired, with a cocky smile, hoping his light comment would bring a smile to her lips. “I’ve told you, my lady, you have a life sentence to serve for stealing my heart.” 

“Chat! This is serious!” She chastised, hesitantly removing her arms from his neck to cross them over her chest. She still was a bit worried he’d vanish again if she ever let go of him.“You-you have to stop it. I can't watch you disappear before me, because of me ever again.”

“It's okay, Ladybug. It'll always be okay.”

“No, it’s not! Promise me you won't do it again.” She was inflexible; Ladybug had always been stubborn, but this, oh, she definitely was not backing down from this argument. He could see it on her eyes — they burnt with determination and fury. In usual circumstances, he would be intimidated by the glare she was throwing his way. Normally, he would soon agree with her, for she generally was right, especially concerning serious matters. She was a brilliant girl, after all. He would be a fool not to listen to her. But this? This wasn’t something he could give her. He would rather be forever gone than to live in a world where she didn’t. “Please.” Her tone was somewhere between demanding and begging. 

“I can't, my lady. I'm sorry.” 

“Stupid cat.” She scolded, before burying herself on his chest again and his arms immediately wrapped her close — it seemed that they never were close enough, even though the space between their bodies was none. 

They remained there, in silence, longing for more of something they couldn’t name, until the sound of her earrings beeping was what broke them apart and both their eyes grew wide with the realisation of what that meant. Chat Noir sighed, feeling a sudden exhaustion and all the weight that came with his duty settling over his shoulders. They could stay hours, days, years, there, in each other's arms, if it wasn’t for the alarm that dreadly announced the end of their timed moment together — the curse of desire and responsibility that kept chasing Chat, despite his best efforts. 

He was the first to let go, knowing all too well that if he dared to wait for a few more minutes, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do so. As soon as she felt the absence of his hands on the small of her back, Ladybug slowly untangled herself from him. Her pale blue eyes shone with the words that were stuck on her throat, as she raised her fist to him, with a bittersweet smile on her face.

Chat bumped into her fist with his own, without ever taking his gaze away from hers, as he wondered if she could read the I love you he tried to communicate to her with his cat-like eyes. 

However, “Pound it.” was the only thing they both said, in unison, before forcibly parting ways.   

[rexsjaigeyes]

Donald Pierce NSFW Alphabet

Words: 3k this is long af but in a good way

Warnings: mentions rough sex, minor name-calling, cum swallowing, bondage, breath play, knife play, orgasm control/countdown, overstimulation, edging, and collaring

A/N: I skipped H and X but made up for it with how kinky this is ;)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When your relationship with Donald started, he wasn’t really affectionate at all and didn’t do much in terms of aftercare. After rough sessions, he’d always make sure you were alright, but he wasn’t the type to cuddle or be overly touchy after sex. When you were seeing each other casually, he would let you stay in his bed for a few minutes to catch your breath, but most of the time he expected you to leave afterwards and vice versa if he was at your house. Once your relationship becomes more serious, he slowly gets the hang of showing you more affection after sex, and he’ll even be open to cuddling if he’s in a good mood.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Donald appreciates his thighs because he knows how much you love riding them. The first time it happened, the two of you were just messing around and you ended up on his lap before he whispered for you to ride his thigh while he watched. After that, he couldn’t get enough of watching you rock back and forth desperately. It’s his favorite form of foreplay because he can just sit back and watch you lose yourself on his thigh. He could watch you like that all day, relishing in the way you throw your head back to moan while you grind on him frantically.

His favorite body part of yours are your hands. In a way, he envies how you can feel him with both hands while he’s just stuck with one. Donald also loves how soft your hands feel when they’re exploring his skin. When he’s in a more vulnerable mood and your relationship is serious enough, he’ll let you run your hands along his body while he closes his eyes and fully relaxes. He doesn’t get many chances to feel that relaxed around anyone, but you have such a hold on him that he can finally let go of his stress when he’s with you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

He will cum anywhere and everywhere you let him. Donald will never pass up the chance to cum in your mouth when you suck his cock, and of course he will expect you to swallow every drop of it. He also loves seeing you covered in his cum almost as much as he loves hearing you beg for it. He’ll take any excuse to call you a naughty cum slut before giving you exactly what you want. Out of all the places that he could spill his hot load though, your tits are his personal favorite. When he’s finished, he’ll either use his thumb to rub his cum around your nipples or he’ll scoop some of it up and make you suck it off his fingers.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You swear some of your panties have gone missing, and you never realize it’s because Donald has a knack for stealing them after a night of fucking you. While you’re passed out on the bed, he’ll pocket the pair of panties that you flung to the corner of the room when you were undressing. Sometimes he keeps them in his pockets while he’s at work. If something sets him off and he needs to calm down, he’ll discreetly put his hand in his pocket and feel the lace of your panties while thinking of you. He doesn’t keep a pair too long in case you start noticing the sudden lack of your underwear, but when he returns one, he’ll snag another. He’s sure one day you’ll realize what he’s doing, but by then he knows you won’t really care.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Donald definitely knows what he’s doing in bed. You’ve never asked him how many women he’s been with, but you’re sure the number is pretty high. He knows exactly how to please you and he’s very confident in bed, but when it comes to serious relationships, that’s something he’s not too experienced in. His job doesn’t allow for much more than one night stands or quick stress relief, and he never had the interest for something more. Of course that changes when he meets you; he takes a liking to you and visits you more than he should. Once he becomes more comfortable around you, you’re the one who has to take the lead on furthering your relationship. Cute dates and romantic things are not his forte, so you’re always initiating things on that side of your relationship. You don’t mind being more touchy than he is, and he secretly adores how much you cling to him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favorite position is bending you over whatever surface is nearby and taking you from behind. No matter how many positions you try with him, this will always be the one he prefers because he has the most control over your body. He keeps his flesh hand on your hip, gripping it so tightly that you’ll get bruises there the next day. His pace is fast and rough, causing the edge of whatever surface he’s fucking you on to dig into your skin. Meanwhile, he holds your body down with his metal hand, wrapping it around the back of your neck or fisting your hair. You love when he takes you like that– so desperate to feel you that he can’t even wait to reach the bedroom.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment or are they more humorous?)

Donald’s more serious than you, but sometimes he says a little quip here and there. When he’s only seeing you casually, he doesn’t see the need for being anything but serious. Once he gets more comfortable around you, he cracks more jokes and relaxes during sex rather than acting like it’s another job he has to do.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Sex with Donald started as something less intimate and focused more on lust than feelings. He saw you as an opportunity to blow off some steam, but you quickly grew on him. He still has trouble admitting his feelings for you, but he has no trouble showing you who you belong to. His intimacy towards you is always shown through possessiveness, and he won’t let anyone take you from him once he becomes attached.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t need to masturbate often because that’s what you’re there for. Before he met you, he’d either call up his usual flings or have one night stands whenever he needed relief. When he started seeing you, he was instantly hooked; he never saw anyone else and always came knocking on your door whenever he craved your touch. He only masturbates when you aren’t available to see him. It happens rarely, but sometimes he just needs a quickie before getting back to work, so he thinks of you while touching himself and cums quicker than he’d like to admit.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Donald is kinky as fuck, and you love it. He’s obviously very dominant and you enjoy pushing his buttons just a little so that he can punish you. Bondage is his favorite way to teach you a lesson; touching him is a privilege and when you’re naughty, you get that privilege taken away. Seeing you tied up to his bed always does something to him, and he becomes ten times more primal when you’re helpless underneath him. If you allow it, he also enjoys some choking and/or breath play. If you’ve been really naughty, he’ll gag you so that you stop running your bratty little mouth while he’s fucking you. Spanking is another one of his favorite ways to punish you, and that’s something that would be hard for him to give up if you don’t like it. Donald’s also into knife play but only if you’re comfortable with it. He won’t ever press his blade too hard on your skin. He doesn’t want to hurt you– he just likes seeing how much you trust him even when he’s running a blade along your skin. Lastly, don’t expect to have sex with Donald without him controlling exactly when and how you cum. More often than not, he’ll have you begging for him to let you cum before he finally gives in and counts down your orgasm. And you better not cum before he allows it or else there will be hell to pay.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Neither of you get very handsy in public, and you both prefer saving sex for when you’re home. But Donald’s not opposed to fucking you in his car or teasing you under the table at a restaurant if he’s in the mood. He’ll only do that if you’ve been a brat or if he’s feeling extra possessive. Otherwise, he’ll rush back to your place or his and fuck you the moment you enter the house. Since his favorite position is bent over something, it’s hard to do that anywhere but one of your homes.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to get him going– you’re always riling him up whenever you’re together– but something that really turns him on is seeing you in lingerie. He can’t help but get rock hard when you put something special on for him. It doesn’t matter if it’s a frilly babydoll or something sexy with garters, he will adore every inch of whatever type of lingerie you wear for him. When you dress up for him like that, you look like a gift just waiting to be unwrapped, and he can’t wait to tear the fabric off your body. Of course, don’t be surprised if your brand new pair of panties goes missing the next morning.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Donald really only has two rules that he expects you to follow: don’t bother him at work unless it’s an emergency, and don’t ever expect him to share you with anybody. He asks you to stay away from work mostly because he doesn’t trust the other Reavers around you, and he doesn’t want to worry about you while also doing his job. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if you did show up at work, but sharing is something he will not tolerate at all. You’re his and if anyone ever tries to test that theory, he will not hesitate to hurt them.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Donald’s always down for either, but he definitely prefers receiving. There’s no way he could ever turn down a blowjob from you– not when you’re always so eager to please him and bruise your knees. He knows how much you love tasting him, so he never feels bad about demanding you to kneel in front of him and deepthroat him. Even though his preference is receiving, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy watching you writhe and moan while he eats you out. His mouth can work wonders on your pussy, and he could stay down there for hours.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

It is almost always fast and rough with Donald. He keeps the pace brutal and unrelenting when he’s fucking you. It’s very rare that he takes it slow with you, mostly because he’s not good at being vulnerable around you. Sex is a good way for him to camoflauge his intense feelings as purely lust, but you eventually understand that you are the only one who gets to see a more sensitive side to him. The first time that he admits he has feelings for you or tells you that he loves you is one of the moments where his pace falters to a slower one. No matter how he takes you, you always assure him that you love every second of it as long as it means being close to him.

Q = Quickie (Their opinion on quickies rather than proper sex, how often)

His work schedule does make it hard to see you sometimes, so quickies become necessary eventually. In between missions, he’ll ask you to meet him somewhere or rush over to your place for a quickie before returning to work. He prefers taking his time with you, but sometimes after weeks of being too busy for long sessions, both of you become too desperate to wait for the right time. When there are less missions or days off of work, that’s when he spends all day with you in bed, making up for all the times that he missed with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks)

Donald is frequently the one to convince you to try new things in bed. Of course he’ll always ensure that you’re alright with something before trying it, but he’s got a knack for persuading you to be more experimental. He likes to tease you when you’re in public, but he never goes too far if someone could easily catch you. It’s not that he’s scared of getting caught, he just doesn’t want anyone else to see you in such an intimate way like he does. He saves that for the bedroom where he’s the only one who can hear you moan.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go, how long do they last)

Sometimes you wonder if Donald is enhanced in more places than just his hand; he could go all day long if you let him. When he’s got days off from work, he spends hours fucking you until you’ve cum multiple times and are literally shaking from the intense pleasure. Somehow, he can last through several of your orgasms before he finally cums for the first time, but even then, he just needs a few minutes to breathe before he can start at it again. His refractory period is insanely short, and you can make him hard again in less than a minute if you wanted to.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He has mixed feelings about toys. Donald likes shaking things up and using different things in the bedroom, but he resents the idea of you using toys without him. Sometimes he can’t even bear watching you use a toy on yourself while he’s in the room. You’ve tried guided masturbation with him, but he grew so impatient and almost jealous of the fact that he wasn’t the one making you feel good. After that, he made it a rule that only he could use toys on your body. It’s something that he’ll only do once in a while or when he wants to overstimulate you as a punishment. Other than that, he prefers using his own body to pleasure you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is one of Donald’s favorite things to do. Mostly, he likes using his words to rile you up; he knows how much you love the low growl of his voice when he talks dirty to you. He’s always had a way with words, and sometimes you feel like he could make you cum without laying a finger on you. When you’re in public and he’s in the mood to tease, he’ll lean into you to whisper the filthiest things in your ear until you’re practically shaking from his words. In the comfort of your home and with enough time on his hands, he loves edging you until you’re literally begging for release. As much as he loves teasing you, he also secretly enjoys when you turn the tables and tease him; it’s just another reason for him to punish you later.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what noises do they make)

Donald’s a growler and an avid dirty talker, but he’s not nearly as loud as you are. When he fucks you from behind, he has to lean over you to make noises or talk in your ear so that you can hear him over the screams spilling from your mouth. He doesn’t stop talking when his cock is inside you, and you love every second of it. He knows how much his Southern drawl turns you on, so he likes narrating exactly what he plans to do to you when he’s touching you. When he’s close to his release, that’s when his grunting and growling gets so loud that you swear the neighbors will complain one day.

W = Wild Card (random headcanon)

Pampering you with special trinkets and gifts is one of Donald’s favorite ways to show you he appreciates you. In reality, he’s killing two birds with one stone by doing this because he knows you love everything he gives you, and he purposely picks gifts that show everyone else who you belong to. He buys you personalized jewelry with his name on it, and one of his favorite gifts to you was an expensive diamond ring that he begged you to wear on your ring finger. He doesn’t have plans for marriage yet (and he’s not sure he’ll ever be ready for that), but seeing you wear his ring like that makes him more primal than anything else. He wants everyone who looks at you to know that you’re taken, and sometimes the dark hickeys that he marks you with just aren’t enough to send that message. When you’re ready, he plans on adding a final touch to your collection of accessories: a pretty collar that he’ll expect you to wear whenever you leave the house. It doesn’t have to be too intricate if you don’t want to draw attention to it, but if he had it his way, he’d get the most obvious one so that everyone would understand that you’re his.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

With such a stressful job, Donald definitely thinks about sex frequently since it’s a form of relief for him. It never distracts him from his job, but he finds himself eager to see you throughout many moments of the day. Sometimes, you’re his motivation to get through the day so that he can be alone with you and unwind. His sex drive isn’t abnormally high, but when something pisses him off, the first thing he thinks of is fucking you to get the anger out of his system. Sex is his coping mechanism, but he knows you never complain about that.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once he’s comfortable around you and your relationship is more than just sex, he’s finally able to fall asleep by your side. Before that, he’d wait for you to leave or for him to get back to his place before sleeping. He never thought he’d be comfortable sleeping beside someone else, but with you he sleeps like a baby. Donald never falls asleep before you; you’re always tired out after he fucks you, and he likes making sure that you’re safe in his arms before he passes out. When he’s sure you’re fast asleep, he presses a kiss to your head and finally softens up a little. He’ll never let you know it, but sometimes in those moments, he thinks about leaving his job and all his shit behind for a quiet life with you. He hates how sappy you make him, but he just can’t help it when he sees how peaceful you look in his arms. After making sure he’s got his gun tucked under his pillow and that he’s facing the door to protect you from any threats, he finally falls asleep beside you.

--------------------

Pierce tag list: @sabinemorans​ @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook​ @chelsfic​ @my-name-is-babyy​

Lemme know if you want to be added to my Boyd or Donald Pierce tag list!

[hailbop1701]

Only The Beginning

Chapter 4: My Bad...

Alas, another filler chapter. The reader finally meets Dorian! The bickering and fluff is on point my friends and I hope I got enough tension in there for you. If not there will definitely be more in coming chapters!

Thank you to my lovely Beta Reader @toppysammy! 🥰

-H❤🖖

John’s grip is tight on your upper arm. Wincing slightly, you allow him to lead you over to his car. A handsome-looking android casually leans up against the passenger side door with his arms crossed. He looks at you curiously, obviously scanning you for ID; you give him a little smile when he doesn't come up with anything. John yanks open the backseat and shoves you in.

“Rude,” you mutter, straightening in your seat and pulling your messenger bag close. Looking into the bag, you check on the heavy drive that is nestled inside. It has a small crack but otherwise is undamaged. Sighing in relief, you blow a strand of hair out of your face. Both car doors open up in front and the two detectives get in, bickering. 

“Come on, John, you can’t be serious.” 

“You heard what they said; rogue android turned on the security team.” 

At that, you sink down in your seat feeling more guilty than before. John’s android partner rolls his electric blue eyes. “Security," he scoffs, "more like black market mercenaries. One of those men had a rap sheet longer than your attention span,” 

You choke on a laugh as John sputters and glares at the DRN; you had heard about this model, but it's a wholly different experience to meet one. John shoots you a hard look in the rearview mirror. 

“You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” he barks, turning around in his seat so he can fully scowl at you. Clearing your throat, you think over your words carefully. To give yourself more time, you hold out a hand and introduce yourself to John’s partner. 

“I’m John's friend--” you glance at said man; he's losing patience. Grimacing, you amend, “I think…”

The android smiles kindly and takes your hand, “Dorian, John’s partner.” His deep and polite voice puts you at ease. 

Pulling your hand away, you look back at your angry best friend warily. You mull over what happened for a second before opening your mouth to explain, “Well, I figured out what happened to Julia Lawson, and it wasn’t suicide,” you jerk your head in the direction of the building. 

“The creepy death squad murdered her and staged it to look like a suicide. Which, by the way, was completely obvious; they did a horrible job. Whoever had the case was paid off to keep it clean-cut and closed."

Both men in the front seat looked shocked. “You mean you figured this out in, what, three hours?” John asks with a raised eyebrow. You simply shrug, “I have no red tape I have to constantly cut through. I talked to Julie's brother; he told me what I needed to know and I figured out the rest by using the internet. Breaking in was easy--” 

John cuts you off mid-sentence with a warning. He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing out his frustration. Dorian looks at you like you're an entirely new species; fascination, amusement, and disquiet all flick across his face. Biting the inside of your cheek, you watch the two carefully. 

“Look, Julie stumbled upon something very big and I think you should know about it,” you offer, holding out your bag like an olive branch. John watches you closely for a moment before taking the bag and looking inside.

“A hard drive?” he asks skeptically, pulling it out and handing it over to Dorian to peruse. You shrug and gave a smirk, “I downloaded everything I needed on to that thing; Julie’s ‘suicide,' who ordered it, and the plans Julie overheard that caused her death in the first place.” 

Dorian plugs into the drive and the more information he obtains, the deeper his frown gets. “This is very...wrong,” he says with a wrinkle of his nose. 

You grimace, “Yeah, I forgot about that part; it’s also about Speartips. Horrible name for a private tech company by the way; it's the CEO getting down and dirty with underage interns and paying them extra to keep quiet.” 

Dorian stops looking through the drive and hands it back to John without a word. The android’s eyes are as hard as his partner's. John looks back to you, anger still in his gaze. Sighing, your shoulders slump. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t mean to get caught by the mercs. The android was a new addition,” you defend quickly. 

“You threw him out a window,” John points out, losing patience with you. 

You throw up your hands, “HE started it! At least his body didn’t hit anyone."

John groans and shakes his head, “Pushing anybody off the fortieth-something floor is bad!” he scolds, starting the car. You scowl at John and cross your arms childishly, “Well, I didn’t like getting choked out. I panicked."

John winces at your words, his posture changing from tense and angry to sad and sympathetic. “I’m sorry, I know you wouldn’t have done any of that if you didn’t have to,” 

Dorian’s attention jumps back and forth between you and John, his eyes widening as he connects the dots. “You’re the one who--” he cuts himself off and looks at his human partner. 

John sighs heavily and taps his thumb against the steering wheel anxiously, “This is where the whole trusting me thing comes in.” He looks over at the DRN pleadingly. Dorian stares at John for a nano-second before nodding and keeping silent about the whole thing. He was no doubt currently wiping your presence from everything involving what just happened. From camera feeds to bystanders, taking pictures and selfies of the chaos. 

“I really am sorry,” you mumble, feeling guilty for more than just putting John in the position that he's now in. Your best friend looks at you in his rearview mirror. 

Pressing his lips into a thin line, his shoulders slump just a touch. “I know. You’ve been away from people--well, civilian people for a while. You have to be more subtle from now on, though, alright?” 

You grimace at John’s words but nod anyway, agreeing to what he's saying. This is his home after all. He built a life here; and here you were, wreaking havoc in that home like a maniac. 

“What now?” you say in a voice just slightly above a whisper. Dorian glances over at his partner, wondering the exact same thing. John purses his lips as he drives through the city. You can’t help your wry smile in response; he always makes that face when he is thinking hard about something. 

“We should get you settled into a place. I’ve been keeping an eye out and I got a message from a buddy of mine. There’s a little apartment right near where I live,” he says, handing his phone over to Dorian, who downloads the directions and information. 

“I guess you do want your bed back, huh?” you ask with a slight chuckle. John huffs and nods, “My couch is great and all, but it does get a bit uncomfortable after a while,” he mutters with a wrinkle of his nose. 

Dorian smirks, “That explains the changes to your sleeping pattern,” he muses, making John scowl. “How many damn times--” he hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at the android only to be cut off by your snort of laughter. 

John’s lips twitch upward at the sound, the tense atmosphere of the car lifting as the car crawls through city traffic. “So, Dorian, has John ever told you the story about how he became addicted to noodles?” 

You immediately have the DRN’s full attention; John sputters from the driver’s seat unsuccessfully, trying to shush you. 

“Well, you see, it all started when he and I traveled to China and we stumbled across this little mom-and-pop shop. The food there was to die for, what was it called…” you trail off, trying to picture the little restaurant in your mind. 

“Little Bo’s.” John supplies with a fond smile.

You snap your fingers, grinning from ear to ear, “Little Bo’s! Oh, my gosh, they had some damn good food, and the owner was so sweet; she tried her best to teach John how to use chopsticks.” 

Dorian chuckles, “He still can’t use them,” he whispers none-too-quietly. 

John shoots him an offended look, “I can too!” he yells indignantly. 

Dorian rolls his eyes. “Not very well.” he mutters, ignoring John’s slight pout. You giggle and gently squeeze John’s bicep. 

“Maybe when I get settled, I’ll make you dinner,” you offer sincerely. You yelp when John suddenly hits the brakes and looks back at you with wide eyes. 

“Seriously?” he asks with a grin. You snort and nod. Dorian looks bemused at the action and his jaw practically drops when John holds out his pinky for yours. Grinning, you seal the promise. 

“Just let me know what you wa--” 

“Chicken and dumplings," he answers immediately. 

You snicker at the quick response. “I should have known,” you sigh with a shake of your head. 

Dorian is at a loss for words; he tries multiple times to add something but he can’t. He’s never seen his partner this relaxed and happy before (despite today’s events) and it's odd. However, it's a good kind of odd. John deserves happiness and that’s what you seem to make him. 

Just friends, Dorian mentally scoffs, smiling to himself as you and John bicker about the best dishes you've made in the past. Something deep within Dorian’s circuits says that someday you’ll end up being so much more. The heated discussion becomes a bit louder and suddenly changes to whose fault it was in burning down a rental in Rio. 

Dorian sighs. Maybe not today, but someday, he thinks ruefully before verbally stepping in to divulge how John once ate a slug in hopes to not offend an old Japanese man. 

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"Only The Beginning" :

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Your writing is amazing! Like honestly! ✨ Can I request some yuki dating headcanons like with an s/o. If not I understand have a great day! 😊

thank you so much ♡ can i just say i love your support and enthusiasm for my writing 🥺 i always see you liking/replying to my posts and i am In Love With You i swear *thousands of hearts* thank you for everything~ but yes, of course! one super soft yuki hc coming up right away!!!

summary: yuki was yours and only yours, and he wanted to make sure everyone knew

author’s note: this was so sweet, it gave me multiple cavities! i’m sorry if it’s awkward, i’m not too experienced in the art of ~ love ~ even though i’m such a hopeless romantic! hope this was cute enough :D

i hope everyone knows relationships don’t make you whole, you are your own person. your s/o can help you improve to be the best version possible, but you are just as unique and interesting as an individual, never forget that ♡

word count: 1,803

music: Q&A – seventeen ft. ailee, hold your hand – lee hi

couple outfits.

🌻👘 rurikawa yuki

yuki didn’t just date anybody, let’s make that clear. in fact, yuki never dated anyone before you!

yuki liked you, so, so much. before he said anything, it physically hurt him to be so distracted by your presence when he had so many responsibilities

(it also hurt tenma when backstage, yuki forgot what he was doing and didn’t look where the needle was going when he became too entranced)

(“you idiot! stop staring at them for one second!” tenma yelped, not seeing yuki’s embarrassed blush before the two got caught in a petty argument once again. obviously, you had to play peacemaker)

but yuki was scared every time you looked at him and saw your stupid smile. you seemed so happy around him, and yuki could tell the signs before you even knew

you had to like him romantically, your hugs lingered and personality was made of sugar only around him

you were so obvious, you liked him and he was scared of messing everything up. it was so rare to find a good friend like you, was it worth it to risk everything?

before he even knew it, yuki was preparing a rejection because no person could come between him and his work (at least, that’s what he tried to reason it with)

but every time you looked at yuki, with all the affection in the world, he didn’t have the heart to say it

maybe, yuki didn’t want to say something he didn’t believe in

so the best solution was if he avoided the topic, you guys would be friends forever and nothing would have to go wrong

so when he confessed out of no where, yuki slapped his hands over his own mouth because he was such an idiot (for once)

you two were buying fabrics for the next mankai production, yuki happily browsing the store with the increased budget

yuki practically pulled you to the secluded corner, convincing you the store’s hidden gems were always in the piles of boxes about to be donated

when you found a discarded silk scarf hidden amongst the mixture, you looped it around your own neck and pretended like you were ali–baba, reciting the lines from water me! to get his attention

(you helped yuki practice his lines in the script so you were practically an understudy)

yuki already started ignoring your ridiculous tactics, about to tell you to shut up and help him find the perfect material when he turned around—you had it!

yuki rushed forward, unintentionally pulling you in close as he inspected the fabric’s qualities, not realizing how you were invading his personal space

“how did you even find this, you must be my...” yuki stumbled on his words, looking up to see you staring at him with such unmasked fondness, it made him become flustered

“your what?” you questioned, playfully smiling as you leaned forward, causing yuki to automatically pull back

(silly yuki! he forget he still had a death grip on the scarf as you followed him forward, holding out your arm on the wall nearby to prevent you two from falling)

yuki flinched, expecting the impact of the ground but opened his eyes to see you were leaning over him and was trapped between your arms

a beat of silence passed. yuki was about to let go before you moved in closer, innocently tilting your head as you had a cat–like cheshire grin

“tell me i’m yours, yuki~” you giggled, watching the way his face immediately turned red. any other person, he’d push off without a doubt. but he liked that you teased him so much, that you were so affectionate and open to him

yuki wish he didn’t like you so much

he knew you were joking, but,

yuki really did like you so much

“you’re mine. i want you to be mine.” yuki admitted, his expression forming one of shock as if he couldn’t believe what he said. how could he just confess that?! yuki shut his mouth, still against the wall as you blinked once. twice.

it didn’t take long before you fell back from laughter, bruising yuki’s ego as he crossed his arms and looked away, embarrassed

this is what he got for trying to be spontaneous and “in the moment”. yuki didn’t know what to expect, was he ready for this?

wait... what if he’s been reading all the signs wrong? oh my god, what if you didn’t even see him that way?!

“aish... don’t laugh... you’re so—” yuki felt the scarf get yanked around his wrist like a lasso and before he could react, it was you who pulled him in close this time

his hands landed on your shoulders, trying to balance himself but you kept him steady, putting your arms around his waist as you grinned like a little kid

“i like you, too.” you confessed, overwhelmed with happiness as yuki felt the same

yuki smiled and closed the distance, feeling like you two were in your own world

the fabric store was forever his favorite now, because it was the place he 1. found the perfect silk material for a costume (every time), 2. kissed you for the first time, and 3. had his first relationship start

from that point forward, you two entered a relationship full of mutual respect, care, and even love later on

(yuki said it first, surprisingly enough. but this time, it was on purpose)

yuki fantasized about being the dream couples he saw online in his pinterest board, reblogging couples outfits and creating a private folder he gazed at every once in a while

when you discovered this, you intentionally showed up wearing the same color scheme as yuki and the rest was history

once yuki saw you were just as excited and giddy to appear as a couple, yuki put his sewing skills to work as he made custom pieces he knew you’d love

you name it, you probably got it: matching berets with your signature color, pretty hair ribbons and bows, and for anniversaries/special events, yuki would work day and night to craft the outfit of your dreams

yuki loved expressing his affection through gifts because it was personally difficult to say he liked you without sounding like his default sarcastic state

every day was valentine’s day, by the way

so showing up with a huge, perfectly wrapped box or bag with colorful tissue paper that always correlated with the gift wasn’t out of the norm, yuki loved spoiling you~ (lucky you!)

if yuki saw something in the window on his way home that reminded him of you, he bought it without a second thought and watched your eyes lit up (so worth his empty wallet)

if yuki found a teddy bear that was the embodiment of all things soft and lovely, it was already at your door step with a handwritten letter he would never admit to writing

everything that made him happy started reminding yuki of you (you had to directly tell him to stop to prevent him from going broke)

any time yuki went out shopping, he took you because he liked seeing what your interests and dislikes were

yuki was very thoughtful and considerate, always paying attention to how you reacted to certain things outside of the fashion world as well

but you also watched him closely as well, and it allowed yuki to reveal his more vulnerable, insecure side when he found out you didn’t judge him and even, understood him

you also practiced doing couple’s PDA with him when you noticed how scared he got

you would initiate hand–holding, hugging, and doing small things like bending down to tie his shoes or any ribbon he had on his outfit; just casual contact to get him used to gentle touches that were more than just friendly now

it took a while, but yuki started returning the favor by fixing the accessories in your hair and even wore this tacky tenma bracelet you bought for him as a gag gift

(he hated it and the way tenma looked like some egotistical maniac, but it made you laugh every time. it was worth it) (maybe tenma’s dumb face was good for something)

it was also nice to hear genuine, real compliments everyday. you make it your goal to remind yuki of the small details you loved on his outfit, or how soft his hair was, and the way he presented himself just to show your attention was all his when you two were together

yuki would grow to trust you with his whole heart, feeling his own heart become candy because you were just so sweet

you stole his heart and never gave it back, and it was lovely to know you were taking great care of it and truly treasured him for him

between the two of you, you taught yuki how to trust and rely on other people despite his independent complex as he often put on a strong front

yuki would go to you first if he had a problem, which was hard at first but he got into the habit because he wanted to show you he cared

yuki would text you frequently asking about your day (newsflash, he actually does want to know) and would send you updates of any piece he was working on

you understood yuki prioritized his seamstress career and always proudly spammed his social media posts with heart emojis and adoring compliments

(he always had to hide and cover his face with his hands because he was so grateful you were so proud) (he never told you that, though)

even though he’d instantly get flustered and tried to deny them, you helped him believe them more and more everyday until he could confidently take anything on in the world

(“if my partner thinks it’s cute, i’m cute!” yuki loudly said to the mirror, hearing your laugh the next room over. oops)

you guys didn’t have to talk every single day, though, don’t get me wrong. you two always wanted the best for each other and defined healthy boundaries to allow both of you to flourish and prosper!

yuki, at first, always apologized for spending time on certain projects but you never accepted them, instead encouraging him even more and praising his work ethic

yuki still sent you links throughout the day of things to try and cute outfits he’d love to see you in

it was so thoughtful that throughout the day, you were always on his mind even if he was busy

but no matter what, you two always supported one another through your endeavors and did everything 100% with each other’s best interests at heart

you really liked yuki, and he liked you back just as much, maybe even a little more

(okay, definitely a lot more)