#and little beats that matter for the moment but don't become anything
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A LIST OF IMMEDIATE POST-FINALE THOUGHTS:
i think because i'd heard the name "widow's alliance" floating around i assumed that cleo outlives bdubs? she really doesn't. -- (not my idea but) zombie trap flavoured as her revenge? very interesting!
did not anticipate caring about martyn + grian narrative foils as much as i did!! but here i am and i care about this so much!!
obsessed with how nearly every instance of [grian showing up in martyn's pov] is him talking to / about scar. that + martyn's editing choices re: desertduo makes grian SO. guy who exists to stand ominously nearby and mutter nervously and cackle from the top of the hill when his trap goes off!! guy who only really seems to exist in the desert and guy who has maybe been trapped in the desert but also guy who is turning away from your outstretched hand and leaning in the bars of his cage!!
shoutout to martyn's editing choices just in general honestly. very fond of them. many of them are goofy but he is so good at adding alarming music at the right moments
again. nothing. but rotating "leash / liege" because the autocaptions refused to believe that martyn was saying "liege". one of the people in this relationship is the dog and somehow it's not ren!! (okay. it is ren. but ALSO.)
a second piece of nothing: bigb and martyn fighting off some mobs together and martyn making a point of switching to fighting with his axe and not his sword -- says out loud it's to avoid hitting his ally in battle. We Should Do Symbolism About This.
WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME ETHO AND BIGB WERE BOTH THERE TO THE END. WHAT THE HELL.
thinking about that one episode that starts with renchanting being all excited because they got a mending villager. (AND in one of the episodes after that, ren complaining that they've had no time to dedicate to infrastructure lately.) looking at limited life. THEY HAD NO IDEA HOW LITTLE TIME THEY HAD..... ;-;
related to the above: martyn is SO on edge for the whole season but it STILL manages to feel like he Doesn't Quite Get It until way later in the season. like. from almost the first moment he's on screen he's talking about tactics for the endgame but it's. also really obvious he doesn't know what the endgame looks like? so he's running around worrying about this and that and it still hits the "oh my god you have NO IDEA ;-;"
second related to the above: martyn is SO hypervigilant. constantly looking around when visitors arrive so he can keep as many people in his field of view at a time as possible. scrambling to be on the walls / roof of dogwarts. shuffling stuff around so he has water and cobwebs in his hotbar all the time. catches a single flash of a nametag and is immediately barrelling up the stairs to see who's there.
continuing from / connecting to that thought: very funny how FAST martyn throws his lot in with ren. like. i think it is the second episode MAYBE and martyn's already like "they hurt ren's feelings by enchanting without permission. they are all immediately on the shit list." and after that he continues to run off as if his life hasn't become irrevocably intertwined with this guy's. cf my other post about (among other things) martyn should be forced to confront that there is less forcing him to stay here than he is pretending there is!!
etho's giant walls of lava are so funny. his ender stasis chamber that he uses once and never again is so funny. his failed tnt cannon is so funny. etho is just the goofiest guy in a very [person who has one (1) Major Strength and is trying so hard to use it in a game that is mostly running around and yelling] way. audio warfare where he just put down a note block and a clock and left it outside the crastle to annoy them.
i can't read the post i'm referring to here because i haven't seen last life but shoutout to that post that's like "why don't we talk more about pre-limlife mean gills" because YEAH WHY DON'T WE TALK MORE ABOUT PRE-LIMLIFE MEAN GILLS. SCOTT AND MARTYN JUST KEEP. HAVING INTERACTIONS??? OH RED WINTER FLASHBACK THIS OH UNGUIDED HAND THAT MARTYN AND SCOTT HAVE A WHOLE NETHER ADVENTURE TOGETHER THIS ISN'T NOTHING!! --OH AND THE FUCKING PUFFERISH OF PEACE. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE PUFFERISH OF PEACE?????? [guy covered in red string meme]
didn't realize joel's wolves happened in this season! assumed it was a last life thing.
this is more about the ccs than anything but i'm so fond of ren calling scott "major" and this becoming a thing etho also calls him at least once. i think i have a personal weakness for people referring to each other by last names affectionately. granted they are not friends in the game but like. makes me feel sort of melty anyway. This Is Actually Nothing.
HEY WHAT'S UP DID WE KNOW THAT THIRD LIFE IS SO SO SO SO GOOD.
#i will go back to the videos and skim for other notes later right now i just want to have a record of these types of thoughts#i know this is not 'getting reacquainted with canon' because i've. never seen it before. but. it DOES feel exactly the same way#like. i GET why the characters and traits and relationships that are focused on are focused on! but there are SO MANY good alternate angles#and weird temporary relationships that go nowhere#and little beats that matter for the moment but don't become anything#sometimes it is like seeing a snatch of a poem but not the whole thing. <- statements of the utterly deranged but i stand by it#i keep going 'why didn't anyone tell me' as if i was not. actively avoiding spoilers. sorry. ^^;
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On conditioned whumpees...
Y'know, I think one of the things that people get wrong with conditioned whumpees is their rules. Specifically, when a whumpee was in long term captivity/training and they later get released or escape.
Most people write them as latching onto a caretaker or new whumper, and begging for new rules so they know they're doing something right. A new set of laws to live by, a new framework to behave to.
And that's... not really how conditioning works.
Conditioning means automatic reactions. Your body doing something that was trained into you without consulting your brain first.
There is no decision making. There is no choice. The trigger hits, and you are immediately performing the correct action regardless of anything else.
You're told to kneel? Your knees have already hit the ground. You're supposed to be standing in one part of the house when a certain noise is made? You've launched into movement before you even realize what you heard.
These rules are woven into the fabric of your body. And they are insurmountable. The conditioning overrides emotion, internal conflict, hesitation, beliefs, wants... everything.
Your whumpee may very well hate what is being done to them, and after the moment has passed they're cursing themself and their whumper. They're still a person on the inside. And that person is still very much alive. Most of the time, they will have some level of awareness that what's being done to them is wrong. They'll be angry. They'll be hurt. And they will hate that there is nothing they can do about it.
But the next time that trigger occurs, the response still hits them exactly the same.
So now take your whumpee out of that situation. They ran away, were rescued, were sold. They got out. Now they're with new people, a new caretaker, a new whumper. Or they're on their own and trying to make their own way in the world.
But those conditioned responses are still there.
There's no turning them off. You don't just replace them with new rules. They are in your every fibre. They have been built into the very framework of who you are.
The next time someone says the word "kneel", your knees are on the ground again. No matter where you are, or who you're with. The response happens before you can stop it. If they don't know why, everyone looks at you like you're insane. And you feel like you are.
Deconditioning is an agonizing process that takes more effort than I can even begin to describe to someone who's never experienced it.
Every time they hit that trigger, that response will still be there. Over, and over, and over, and over.
Breaking those rules down takes YEARS. And it is a constant effort that the whumpee has to choose to undergo every single time. Progress is measured milimeter by milimeter. You're told to kneel, and you kneel. You're told to kneel, and your mind catches up with the fact that you already did it— but a little sooner than it did before. Then a split second sooner. Then as you're doing it. Then you feel the impulse just before your knees hit the ground. Then you have a split-second of resistance before you go down. On and on and on and on, inching toward progress despite the fact that you're fighting with all your might. And that progress is anything but linear.
You don't just start obeying new rules. You don't latch on to your caretaker's new way of doing things and drop everything that you were conditioned to do before. These rules don't just get replaced.
Conditioning is not a belief system. It's a flinch response. Programmed deeper than the instincts you were born with.
You can be ordered not to obey the old command, and moments later when the trigger comes, you will anyway. Because in conditioning, the action comes before the choice.
These rules, these laws of your existence, come above everything else. And if your new whumper wants to replace them, they are going to have to beat the new rules into you so often and so severely that the pain becomes stronger than the old conditioning. At which point, the newly desired response will very, very slowly start to take over.
You're not swapping out new rules. You're layering new, worse conditioning on top of the old. And your brain will spend time stuck in that split-second between both responses before one finally grows stronger than the other. And even then, the change will not happen quickly.
That is what your conditioned whumpee is up against. That is what makes it such a horrible—HORRIBLE— and powerful tool.
#conditioned whumpee#writing advice#writing reference#pet whump#BBU whump#box boy universe#captive whumpee#whump writing#whump reference#whump inspiration#whump
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coming up to you while you're scrolling through tumblr on your phone. such an intelligent little pet... let me ruin that for you.
"hi, my dumb puppy." i say as i pet your head.
your thumb stops moving for a beat as your brain accepts my command to your subconscious.
then you blink and continue to scroll. "hey!" you smile when i sit beside you. you don't even register that i said anything to you other than a simple 'hi'.
it happens so subtly, do you even notice how you're already scrolling less? you spend more and more time on each post as it takes your mind longer to register them. the bigger words become harder to pronounce. you don't even recognize a word as hard as "conditioning", which is ironic, because that's exactly what i've done to you.
your eyebrows scrunch up all cutely as whole sentences lose their meaning. you stop scrolling soon enough. now you're stuck rereading that one post over and over and struggling to figure out what it says. but of course, it only makes less sense every time you read it while your vocabulary continues to shrink, until the language becomes something completely foreign altogether. it doesn't mean anything at all anymore.
you put your phone down, beyond frustrated by your own stupidity. your eyes are wary as they flicker over me. i cock my head to the side. "is something wrong, puppy?"
your eyes glaze over for another moment. then another blink, and you're trying to stare into my brain, decipher the tiny hint of mockery in my tone.
"you..." your mind is hard at work trying to translate your racing thoughts into speech. and it's failing. "what... you... do to... me..."
you shift in your seat, rubbing your legs together as heat swells up in your core. as your confusion grows, so does the arousal, because you like to be dumb. you and i both know that. even if you can't quite think that hard right now.
"what do you mean, love? i didn't do anything to you."
"the– i–" your frustration grows, and your ability to articulate what's happening to you diminishes.
your pointless stuttering turns into a needy whimper, which i take great amusement in. "oh, i think i know what the problem is now," i chuckle. "is my dumb puppy in heat?"
your mind has completely slipped away from you now. you let out a bark as you buck your hips, rutting helplessly against the air. your hands reach over to paw at the waistband of my jeans. you don't even know how to get them off me if you tried. that's just too much thinking for a little puppy.
such a pretty thing you are. you pretend to be so smart. a normal, competent person like me. but you're nothing like me. all i have to do is tell you you're my dumb puppy, and every ounce of your humanity leaves you in a matter of minutes. doesn't that mean it was always the truth?
"does puppy need my cock?" i ask. you bark and gaze at me with your best pleading eyes. just a dog begging for a treat.
"well, since you asked so nicely..."
————————
this story is about a fictional scenario. assume prior consent and negotiation have taken place. do not attempt to recreate this scenario in real life without getting informed consent from and thoroughly negotiating with your play partner. kink without consent and negotiation isn't kink, it's abuse.
op/author is a trans man and uses he/him pronouns. do with that information what you will.
#♱ concepts#t4t nsft#hypnok1nk#puppy k!nk#dumbification#trans nsft#trans t4t#ftm t4t#ftm nsft#hypnosis#hypno fantasy#hypno k1nk#mind control#brainwashed#petpl4y#hypno pet#t4t puppy#puppy pl4y
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After MAMA awards I'M VERY PROUD OF MY BOYS and seeing Woozi crying, nooooo my mannnnn
So can I request Woozi or anyone after awards, all members celebrating with their partners hehe LOVE YOUUU!!!
PLEASE PLEASE 🛐🛐
🍑 i will really live the rest of my life repaying you.
you don't see seungcheol until the next day. such is the life of the general leader, it seems— the never-ending heralding, the non-stop worrying. he deals with his boys, first, then the fans, then the staff. but once that's all done, he's at your front door, collapsing into your arms before he's even past through the entryway. it doesn't matter how many awards its been. he is still overwhelmed by it every single time, and you are a soft place to land. he comes home to you and whispers the sweetest nothings in your hair. i'm so proud of them and they did so well and they're so happy. as he holds you tight— like you're the only thing keeping him upright— it's your turn to let him hear those words. i'm so proud of you. you did so well. you get to be happy, too.
the jeonghan on the other end of the video call has been quiet for the most part of the past half-hour. you'd be more worried if you hadn't already predicted where his solemness was coming from. "hannie? still with me?" you prompt gently, and he finally tears his gaze away from the ceiling to look back at you. "yeah. yeah, i'm with you," he answers. a beat. there are some things you no longer have to say out loud. how he wishes he was there. how he misses them and tries not to let it show. instead, you give him a reminder that's quiet and firm. "this is yours, too," you say. this award. this moment. these boys. all still his. there's a ghost of a smile on his face as he mumbles, "right. of course. how could i forget."
joshua likes keeping lists. a running one he has with you is that of gratitude, where the two of you try to end each day with acknowledgements of what you're grateful for. you're expecting a whole essay for him after tonight. he surprises you by keeping it short, sweet, and straight to the point. in no particular order, he types out into your shared note. music, the boys, you. hours later, he adds a footnote like it'd occurred to him as an afterthought: i'm always grateful for those three, but especially so today.
"look at them!" jun shrieks. his video call pixelates, either from spotty connection or his sudden burst of enthusiasm. you have half a mind to warn him that he may get a noise complaint again, but this time it'd be completely warranted. he's positively vibrating with excitement, his eyes glued to the livestream of his twelve brothers ascending the stage for their second award of the night. "look at them," he repeats, and this time his voice is more reverent than anything. you could comply, could do as he's asking, but your eyes are trained elsewhere. and look at you, too, you want to say. look at you and all that you've done to get this far.
even though it's been an exceptionally long day, soonyoung comes home brimming with adrenaline. he does dance routines in your living room. he jogs around your block until you beg him to just come back. he sings in the shower before collapsing onto the bed next to you, where he suddenly becomes boneless. the glow of pride stays even as the exhaustion hits. he pulls you against him and cuddles right into you. to soonyoung, this is as good as any trophy: the peace that comes with falling asleep next to you.
wonwoo has no destination in mind. he has a car with a full tank, and a playlist of all his favorite songs, and you in the passenger seat. that's more than enough. you pass through tunnels with warm lighting; expressways where he keeps the windows down so the wind will whip at your hair. occasionally, you'll stop to grab a snack or take a photo of something interesting on the side of the street. after hours of just going in circles, he'll ask, "should we keep driving?" even though he knows you'd never deny him this. this. his little celebration in the form of getting 'lost' with you.
nobody hears from jihoon for the next couple of days. the managers are worried, but the boys all just shake their heads and say that he's in good hands. which means: he's wherever you are. the two of you don't talk about his speech, about his public breakdown, because both things make him want to hide forever. instead— he sleeps in. he watches movies from months ago that he promised he'd get to. the two of you go on walks at night, and have breakfast at lunch time. the vicious cycle will soon have to begin again. jihoon knows that. but for a few, precious moments, his heart is not a heavy burden because it's safe and sound in your capable hands.
seokmin takes you on the textbook definition of your perfect date. a shopping spree? here's his black card. an amusement park? he'll rent out lotte world for the day, if he must. you're understandably baffled. he's the one who just won big, and yet you're the one being treated like royalty. try to resist and he'll only push back on you. seokmin already spoils you enough as is, but this is just a little more over-the-top than the day-to-day stuff. at the end of it all, his rationale is as sweet as it gets. "you keep me going," he tells you. "and so you deserve just as much credit as i do."
mingyu has always liked to celebrate with a meal. you'd expected his usual fare of some swanky restaurant or high-end café, but, this time, he asks for only free reign of your kitchen. he props his phone up against the salt shaker and pulls up a youtube video before flashing you his best 'just-trust-me' grin. your trust is not misplaced; the two of you do manage to bake the celebratory cake, though whether it's any good is an entirely different story. the end result doesn't matter as much as the process. mingyu is happiest about the flour marks on your cheeks, about the kisses he steals while you whisk eggs. it's not a birthday cake, but you light up a candle for him anyway. just for the hell of it. "make a wish," you tease. he's looking straight at you as he blows at the flame.
minghao asks for a beach day. the two of you set out for the nearest one. maybe the sand is a bit rocky; the shore, lacking in shells. he doesn't care. he only seeks out the sun beating on his back, the saltwater clinging to his skin, the first punch of air after emerging from the water. as the stolen weekend winds to a close, the two of you sit at the point where the water lap at your toes. neither of you have to speak. here, minghao lets the tide wash away the ache of homesickness. here, minghao redefines 'home' as a future with the boys of his youth, with the music that is as constant as the waves— and with you, of course.
the ferry ride to jeju is about four or so hours long, but seungkwan doesn't mind. there's just something so right about getting on the first vessel that will take him back where he has family waiting with a homecooked meal and a play-by-play of the award show. besides, the ferry means having four hours of uninterrupted leisure time with you. the pair of you literally have nowhere else to be except this boat and this point in time, which seungkwan is a little guilty to be so happy about. he's a glutton for your time and attention, and these ferry rides— these trips home— remind him just how much he likes taking the scenic route.
vernon treats it almost like it's just another day. almost. you're thrown off by his initial nonchalance, by the lack of utter fanfare in the way he asks you out to lunch and the two of you barely discuss the recent accolades. when you prompt him about it, you realize it's not because of arrogance or ignorance. "we're just doing what we always do," he says with an expression of mild confusion. winning?, you almost inquire half-jokingly, but that's only part of it. he elaborates, "we were just ourselves, y'know?"
when chan suggests a rage room, you're understandably confused. the wrath-based activity doesn't seem like the most optimal celebration, but you're not about to cramp his style. the two of you queue the angriest songs known to man before smashing some defunct appliances and throwing empty bottles against a wall. once your time is up, chan looks at you with that familiar spark of fire in his eyes. that dedication you fell in love with, that passion that has always burned bright. "again?" he asks, and you know it's not just the rage room that he's asking for.
#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#( sorry if this is a bti of a mess/all over the place/at varying lengths etc. )#( i'm a bit conked out and i'm Very Emotional and i hammerde this out in one sitting. )#( my svt ! i love u ! aaaah . good night )#(🥡) notebook
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ᯓ★ ONE. OCTOBER 1 | FUCK OR DIE
GOT ME CALLING OUT FOR HELP (S-O-S) [3.8k]
in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before you got hit. you should consider yourself lucky — there are worse fates than being fucked like your life depends on it (it’s gotham. of course it does) or: you get hit and jason deals with the fallout
content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent due to intoxication, chemical aphrodisiac, established relationship, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, prevention of pulling out.
ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!
<< kinktober masterlist | week 2 >>
It goes like this:
On a monday evening, Pamela fucking Isley decides to take her quarrel with Gotham's newest weapons company – God, could they fucking give it a break? B had only busted the last one a few weeks ago before they'd brought the city down on everyone – to new heights.
Jason's sitting in traffic with a bag of groceries slung around the handle of his bike when he gets the call. He's eager to beat you home, ready to make you dinner and heavily intent on wining and dining you after a long weekend of missing each other.
His fingers tap against his thighs impatiently, impatience sitting beneath his skin like an itch. Spikes of activity during the week had meant his plans for Friday night – dinner and a deserved night off – had been pushed to the backburner. He'd returned home in the early stillness of dawn, unable to get more than a couple of hours with you before your phone had rung, a friend's emergency pulling you out of bed with an apologetic grimace and a promise to reschedule your date night.
The headset in his ear notifies him of an incoming call, the syllables of your name dulled by the clinical, robotic voice of his phone's intelligence system. His mouth curves up into a smile beneath his helmet.
"Hi, baby," he answers immediately. "I'm on my way home, you need anything? I just left the store but I can go back–"
You cut him off in a tight voice. Later, he'll be ashamed that the first thing that comes to mind is, not another fucking postponement. Now, his brows furrow at your tone, stomach dipping uncertainly when it becomes clear that this is something more serious.
Your voice wobbles, high-pitched and tearful. At the same time, the dash on his bike begins to flash in rapid succession, the paging system he'd installed for the bats to communicate with him glaring back at him, blood red.
ORACLE: CHEMICAL LEAK DOWNTOWN. BATS + R.ROBIN EN ROUTE. ALL UNITS STANDBY.
His dread plummets and for a moment his throat closes over. You're speaking to him but he struggles to make it out through the ringing in his ears.
"Jason, I'm – I'm home but I don't – I don't know what to do."
He bites back a curse and tries to swallow the lump in his throat, grappling for words of comfort.
"It's okay," he soothes, straining to keep his voice level. "Listen, sweetheart, can you go lock the door for me? I'm – shit – I'll be home soon, alright? It'll be okay. We'll fix it."
He doesn't give himself time to linger on the call after you confirm you've locked it, barking out a command to dial Oracle that his system fails to pick up twice, only registering after he steadies himself.
She picks up on the third ring. It irritates him how unfazed she sounds when he explains the situation to her. He hears the click of her keyboard in the background, the hum of her monitors. Each passing second as she patches through to Nightwing is agony and the slow crawl of traffic does little to help.
His leg has begun to jostle the bike with the weight of its shaking when she returns to their call.
"You're not going to like this," she says and he feels the bile rising in his throat.
"What." He grits it out through his teeth, unable to manage much more than that. He hears Oracle sigh.
"Looks like an aphrodisiac," she says clinically. "Her plan was to get them caught compromised enough to lose credit publicly."
"Oracle." She hears his growl for what it is – Tell me whether or not it's over.
"It's non-lethal," she affirms and he sighs harshly. The tightness in his chest loosens ever so slightly as she talks. "Ivy let it off near city hall because most of the shareholders were scheduled to hold a meeting – that's where your girl works, right? Alf's working on an antidote but she should be relatively fine until it's ready. Just – keep an eye on her."
Tim joins the line then and Jason startles at the sound of his voice in his ear.
"I don't know what the fuck she wanted to achieve," the boy grumbles. He's a little out of breath and in any other situation, Jason would have something to say about that. Tonight, he's not in the mood for jokes.
"Red," he barks out. The kid makes a distracted noise, and he can hear the sounds of a scuffle on the other end. "You tell Ivy if anything happens to my girl, I'll make sure she's next."
He doesn't wait to hear what's sure to be a non-committal answer at best, kicking off and veering between the lined up vehicles. There's an outroar from the drivers around him, laying on their car horns. Someone pokes their head out of their window to scream at him.
He hears none of it, the blood rushing in his ears keeping him single-minded.
This string that twines him to you isn't new. It wears signs of age, shows the years in the way his fingers reach for yours in the early moments of his day, the turn of your eyes to his in any room. He's seen a few summers with you at his side but the fear –
Blood, coagulating, the cold brush of death, splintered wood beneath nails and a haunting smile
– the fear never stagnates.
A bitter, resigned shard of him breathes out as he speeds through the streets. A veritable sword over his crown, this almost seems expected. Loathing colours the skyline and he, the fool, to think he could hold this one, precious, beloved thing unscathed.
He forgoes the groceries in his haste, leaving the bags in his haste to throw himself up the stairs and out of the parking garage. Pulse thundering in his ears, sweat coating his palms, he scrabbles with the key to your shared apartment.
The door flies open and a hand is grabbing him by the front of his shirt before he can slot it through the lock.
You, wild-eyed and frantic, pull him inside with a bitten off sob.
"Shh, shh, I'm here, come here."
He kicks the door shut, reaching behind him to flip the locks with one hand. The other curls you protectively to his chest, fingers splaying over your back. The sight of you calms him considerably and he chokes out a stuttered breath, the lump in his throat dissolving to give way for a flood of relief.
You're burning in his arms, the thin undershirt you've got on soaked through with sweat, face glowing with perspiration. Eyebrows knitted, you cling to him tighter and he finds himself making noises of comfort.
"Jason, I –"
"Shh. I know, honey, I know," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are tearful, salt spilling over lashes and rolling down your cheeks. "Come on, let's get you to lie down."
"No," you whine, pitching miserably as he shuffles the both of you towards your bedroom, face creasing with every movement. "Hurts."
"I know," he whispers, hating the way his voice cracks. His eyes burn painfully. "'ll get you a towel, alright?"
You're deposited on the bed and he makes a turn for the bathroom, wetting a cloth. When he enters the bedroom again you've pushed yourself up, kneeling on the bed. You've shed the pants you'd worn earlier, left now in only and undershirt and your underwear. His name falls from your lips pitifully and he steps forward, lips turning down into a commiserating frown.
You shy away from the cloth when he presses it against your forehead, letting out a hiss as it makes contact with your burning skin. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck and you seem to like that much better, sighing under his touch. Jason takes advantage of this to keep you in place, mopping the sweat off your face and neck, trying his best not to give into your dissatisfied squirming.
"I know, I'm an asshole," he mutters, when you cry out his name, displeasure making itself clear on your face. "Get better so you can yell at me for it, alright?"
"Don't wanna – yell at you," you mumble, wetting your lips as they part.
He clocks the dilation of your pupils a little too late and shakes his head adamantly, trying to draw back but you've got a hold of his shirt, pulling him forward. He catches himself with a hand agains the headboard, a knee pressing into the mattress beneath him.
You stare up at him, mouth turning down into a pained grimace.
"C'mon honey," he mutters, pleading, feeling his face flood with warmth. "Don't do this to me. Be good, you'll be alright, okay? Any minute they're gonna call and tell me Alf's got an antidote ready – shit, maybe we should just drive you there now -"
"No," you sob, face crumpling under the weight of your tears again, pushing up on your knees to fling your arms around his shoulders. The effort of the movement makes you stutter out a gasp and he's forced to band an arm around your waist to steady the both of you.
Your tears wet the skin of his neck, your body pressed flush against his. He becomes aware, regrettably, of the skin beneath his fingers, your undershirt having ridden up to expose the softness of your lower back.
"Please," you hiccup into his shoulder. "Please, Jason – Please."
He'll have to ask Oracle later if second-hand exposure to the toxin is supposed to have an effect on him. At the touch of your chest to his, he feels himself warm all over, mouth drying when you begin to keen, arching up into his touch in an effort to get him to do something.
"Fuck," he curses. "Fuck. Alright, just – come here."
He kicks his shoes off, the sneakers clattering against the floor, and crawls onto the bed properly. Sat up against the headboard, he meets your baleful gaze with a raised brow and reaches for you.
Jason shakes his head when you go to straddle his lap, maneuvering you against his chest until your back rests against it. You let out a whimper, displeased, but he shakes his head.
"This is all you're getting, alright? Just – it'll tide you over until they call."
He spreads your legs until they hang over his own, your thighs bracketing his and leaving you open. His blood thunders in his ears, hand trembling as he reaches it up to your mouth, fingers prodding at the soft plush of your lips.
Your tongue laves at his digits, a muffled moan trapped in the recesses of your throat. One of your hands curls around his wrist, the other perching against his thigh, nails curling against the fabric of his jeans. He can feel you shift against him, hips canting ever so slightly over his own.
Awful, wretched, lecherous, he stiffens under the movement, jeans tightening. His free hand wraps around you hip with the intent of pinning you in place and stopping you. Somehow, he finds himself guiding you back and forth instead.
You tip your head back against his shoulder, baring the soft line of your throat as you drool around his fingers. He can feel the wetness pooling around his knuckles, the softness of your ass against him, separated only by a few layers. If he cranes his neck, he'll probably find your panties sticky with your need. The thought alone makes his eyes flutter.
The room is blanketed in muffled whimpers, the whispers of rustling sheets and his shaky breaths. You've quietened down some since he'd gotten his fingers in your mouth, but the heat seems to have returned with a vengeance when you begin to fuss in his lap again. Your fingers dig into his thigh and you whine, tugging at his wrist in an effort to push his hand where you need it most.
He hushes you with a squeeze to your hip and tips your face to meet his. Bleary eyed, silvery tracks smattered across your cheeks, you're struggling to hold on. He lowers his mouth to yours, a chaste kiss that deepens when you part your lips to lick into his mouth.
"Jason, come on."
"No, don't take it off," he whispers when your hands make to tug your underwear off. You whine and he hushes you again, "Shh, I'm going to take care of you, be patient for me, alright?"
He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and watches you shudder at the first swipe. Similarly affected, he feels himself twitch when his fingers make contact with the soft slickness of your flesh, gliding against silken folds.
"Oh," you sigh, sagging slightly into him.
"There you go." He presses a kiss to your sweaty temple, trying to pretend this is just another night together and he's being a loving boyfriend, that you're not delirious with want just because of the toxin running through your bloodstream. "That's my girl."
He presses gentle circles against you, closing his eyes and ghosting his mouth over the curve of your shoulder. The smell of sex is thick in the air, that heady musk and sweat that he could drown in. Your breaths come in pants now as he works you open gently, thumb rolling over your centre.
"Just like that," he rumbles, straining to keep his head on straight. It's difficult, when you arch against him, his name spilling from your lips in adoration coloured mewls. Your arm raises, curling behind you to embrace his neck.
It doesn't take you very long to come, pent up and sensitive – he discovers this when his hand grazes over your chest to stroke your face and you keen so loud he fears he'll come in his pants at the sound, your mouth, bitten raw, dropping open as you moan. A few strokes against your centre and you come apart in his arms, hard. The tremors wrack your body long after the fact, your core pulsing around his fingers.
He, ever the fool, expects this to sate your hunger.
Whatever Ivy's put in her newest concoction is potent. You gather your breath quick enough and it becomes apparent that just the one isn't nearly enough. He's pushed back against the headboard, stunned into silence as you clamber onto his thigh, pawing at him like you can't get close enough.
You struggle with the fabric of his shirt before giving up and any questions he has sputter off into silence when you begin to rock back and forth on him. The denim of his jeans is unforgiving against the thin, sodden material of your underwear, providing a harsh friction that you lose yourself to. He watches, his heart racing, you taking your pleasure for yourself.
It isn't as though you've never done this in front of him – he remembers, blurry, the aftermath of a dinner date that had seen you riding his thigh on the couch, still in your dress.
But this… This feels different.
There's an urgency to this, a franticness running beneath your skin that pushes your hips down harder, more unforgiving. Your face screws up, salt misting your cheeks and neck.
For a moment, Jason almost feels as though he's the one that's been hit. You take on a blurry quality, smudged around the edges like wet paint, wanton, hazy. A gauzy film over his eyes, he blinks, and blinks.
When you come once more, it shatters and he's aware of the stain that's bled into the dark denim on his thigh, a stickiness that's smeared between your thighs. Your panties are ruined and he gulps when he drags his gaze up from between your legs to your face.
Quiet, hungry, you're already staring at him. Your chest heaves with exertion but you remain still otherwise, lips parting in invitation, eyes half-lidded.
"Baby–"
"You said you'd take care of me," you intone beseeching, voice affecting a trembling, delicate quality.
Fuck.
He's never been good at denying you much. Already, he feels the urge to take you into his arms and promise to make it better, but he forces his hand to stay, curling his fingers in the bedsheets.
You crawl forward, until your lips are ghosting over his, eyes swallowing his field of vision until all he can see are the stars in your irises. He feels the
"Jason, please, it still hurts," you whimper quietly, a wounded noise that carves him from the inside out, guilt and shame poisoning his every nerve. He's at war with himself, wanting to ease your pain – he feels responsible for it, in a way – and hesitating similarly. Is this right? Is it okay?
Before he can come up with an answer, you press your mouth to his.
The last of his inhibitions crumbles completely under the plush of your mouth.
He rolls the both of you over, relishing in the gasp you let out, the sight of you splayed against the mattress. He's quick to divest himself of his clothes, tugging his shirt off recklessly, not minding the sound of ripping fabric he vaguely registers hearing. The jeans go next, and his underwear in one, flung to some corner of the bedroom.
Your spit slick mouth curves up into a delighted, drunken smile when he crawls over you, body eclipsing yours with every intent of ravishing you.
Jason holds himself up with one hand, the other reaching to the bedside table and rummaging in the drawer for the box he keeps there. Only, he comes up short and dread dawns over him in a cold wave when he remembers –
He'd used the last of the condoms a few nights ago. It hadn't mattered in the last couple of days, the weekend too busy for the both of you to do much else but curl up next to each other, too exhausted to consider working up a sweat.
"Fuck," he whispers, shaking. "Fuck, baby, there aren't, um…"
Your eyes fill with tears at the unfinished sentence, a hiccuped sob stuttering out of your chest.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," he tries to soothe you, a hand smoothing down your face. "I'll just – I'll run to the store, I'll be back before you know it."
"No, please, just–" Watery eyed and upset, you tug him closer as though fearing he'll take off. "I don't care, I don't, I just – I need you, Jason. Please."
He stares at you, heart thundering in his ears. "Fuck you without –"
"Need you now," you whimper, lips tugging down pitifully into a pout that cuts through his chest.
It isn't as though this is his first time fucking you raw –
Tipsy laughter, hushed whispers of it's fine, just once, we'll get the morning after pill.
– but still. This is different, another ballpark entirely.
You stare up at him, desperation in every crease and curve of your face, pleading with him. Too far gone to care, you beg him.
"I'll, um," he rasps out, throat dry, "I'll pull out."
You make some sort of noise that sounds like a vague affirmation, tugging him closer hastily. Poor, pretty girl. His chest aches at the sight of you, needy, looking to him to fix it.
"I'll fix it," he finds himself muttering, lining himself up with your entrance. You've similarly taken to murmuring under your breath, hands carding through his hair, devotion in your every touch.
"Need you so bad, please, please, baby."
The slick that smears against his head, the soft warmth of you, nearly makes his eyes roll back into his head. A drawn out whimper spills from your lips at the press of his hips, the first inches of him pushing into your tight heat.
You sink into the mattress as he notches himself further inside, mouth opening. You paint an obscene picture, your lips bitten raw, naked chest arched. He lowers his head to mouth at your nipples, teeth teasing at the sensitive points. You're warm, so warm beneath him – around him.
He's given only a moment to breathe before you push your hips up, impatient. Fucking yourself against him, your fingers dig into the muscle of his back for leverage, tucking him close enough to you that he brushes against your neck and tastes the salt on your skin.
Jason sets a harried pace, bucking forward against you. You begin to cry out again, every resounding slap of his skin against yours drawing out a moan that curls tight around him and presses down on his stomach. You exchange panted breaths between open mouthed kisses, tongues and teeth clashing messily, muffled pleas that beg for more, more, more.
Filthy, debauched, it doesn't take very long for you to approach your peak. Jason, lost in the wetness of your cunt, feels his own building and knows this is a dangerous game he's playing, toeing the line of recklessness.
"Close," he pants, feeling the tell-tale fluttering of you around him, your orgasm imminent. If he can just hold out until he's gotten you there –
Your legs wrap around him, hold so tight he's not able to do much more than rock against you in desperate, quick rolls of his hips.
"Inside," you warble. Your hands come to cradle his head, coaxing him down to kiss you, licking up into his mouth sweetly, teeth catching on his bottom lip. "Mmh, please, baby? Please? I – Jason – want it so bad, need you inside."
"Oh fuck," he gasps, voice hitching, breath stuttering. His face creases, overcome, and you grin, dazed, drunken, pulling him into another sloppy kiss. What's he to do?
You scream into his mouth at the same time that Jason comes. His vision whitens at the sensation of your pulsing heat, the unforgiving tightening that demands his orgasm. His fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips, burying himself to the hilt and surrendering to your claim.
Warm and wet around him, the evidence of his debauchery coats the inside of your thighs and clings to the base of him. He's light-headed, a little winded, and it takes him a moment to gather his sensibilities. When he looks down, he finds you a boneless puddle beneath him, eyelids fluttering tiredly.
He should pull out. He knows he ought to – but he's broken so many rules, what's another? Jason gathers you in his arms and rolls over gently, tucking you against his chest, a hand skimming up and down the length of your spine comfortingly.
"Fuck," he whispers out into the air, and you murmur atop him. He glances down, meeting your bleary eyes. "Y'just had to go and get caught in that crossfire, huh?"
"N'my fault," you grumble, pressing your face back into his chest.
"Gonna give me a heart attack," he grumbles, dropping a kiss to your crown. Then, with a look over at the bedside table, he jostles you a bit. "Hey. Don't fall asleep. We still have to get you the antidote."
"Wake me when 's ready," is your answer, tone somehow managing a prissiness unexpected of someone who'd just been fucked to within an inch of their life, and he drops his head back into the pillows, incredulous.
This girl would be the death of him.
first kinktober 2024 fic let's go!! i genuinely didn't think i was going to be able to commit to kinktober this year (i'm still nervous about whether i'll be able to) because finals are literally just around the corner and i'm stressing. but hopefully you enjoyed the first installment to this year's kinktober and the coming ones don't disappoint, either!
#jasonsmirrorball#jay my heart#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd smut#x reader#x fem!reader#x female reader#jason todd fanfiction#kinktober 2024
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Real Talk: Ace Didn't Need to Ask For Help, It's On Garp
i always hate when i see comments about how ace was an idiot or ace should have just asked garp for help because, no? like dawg wtf do you mean?
the one thing we have been told repeatedly across the manga and anime is that ace could have lived his entire life being perfect and he still would have ended up on that podium
he could have become a marine, a police officer, a teacher, a chef and all of that would have been reduced to nothing the moment his parentage was discovered
yes, ace became a pirate of his own volition, but sengoku never mentioned his piracy
he never mentioned all the criminal activity ace did as the captain of the spade pirates or even later as the second division leader of the whitebeard pirates
you know what sengoku did bring up though the moment he got on that damn podium? ace's parentage
he mentions nothing that gained ace his bounty to begin with when he gets that den den mushi in his hand. why?
because it doesn't matter that ace is a pirate. what matters is that they are eradicating the last gol d roger's bloodline
bear in mind that they were killing pregnant women and young children who could have even had the slightest possibility of being roger's lover or kin
akainu deadass says that he doesn't care if every other pirate at marineford escapes as long as ace and luffy died and he would ensure their deaths personally. and for what? not their piracy. none of their crimes. not even for ensuring that the truth that certain countries and lands that were actually saved by pirates instead of the marines never got out
but because their fathers were gol d roger and monkey d dragon respectively
solely because of that, he deemed neither of them deserved to live
and as far as garp goes - i love garp as much as the next person but garp has never done anything for ace to trust him enough to ask for help even if he felt he deserved to ask
garp's negligent parenting coupled with the abusive words ace grew up hearing led ace to believe he didn't even deserve to be born. when he even asks garp if his being born was a good thing, garp can't even tell him 'yes'. he just says 'time will tell'. my brother in the blue seas, that is an elementary schooler questioning his right to exist
ace is defeated by blackbeard in episode 325 (chapters 434-441), luffy hears about his execution being set in episode 416 (chapter 522) and then finally ace is killed in episode 483 (chapter 574). that is 158 episodes and 140 chapters total and in that time what ace receives from garp are conversations that boil down to
"you did this to yourself"
"i just wanted you to become a fine marine"
"i don't have sympathy for criminals but i do have sympathy for family"
and garp actively preventing those who wish to save ace from reaching him. yes after akainu strikes ace, garp does react viscerally with instinct to protect his grandson, but that's too little too damn late at that point
garp having his moral dilemmas mean nothing when, however long ace spent in impel down, he isn't trying to help him
garp having his 'wishing things had been different' thoughts mean nothing when garp is preventing people from saving his grandson
there's a reason garp lets dadan beat and berate him when they reunite in windmill village and it's because he knows she's right
over the course of 20 years, garp has consistently chosen work over ace and luffy. as much as i love dadan and co, bandits are not a good choice to have raise your grandkids and then be the surprised pikachu meme when neither of them wish to become marines
garp's inability to see past the system he disdains yet clings onto actively shoots him in the foot
prevents him from seeing that ace is right when he says he never could have become a marine
luffy could have never become a marine. i do hear arguments saying that luffy might have had a fair chance considering garp is biologically his grandfather but i say that's truly up in the air considering how, even with that knowledge, akainu still wants to put luffy on a poster
but that's all to say, asking why ace never asked garp for help is ridiculous
the fuck would ace look like asking the man who has done nothing but
unintentionally fostered ace's resentment towards luffy in their early childhood
told ace it was his own fault he landed where he did
falcon punched marco halfway across marineford
for help?
and that's not even mentioning the fact that up until that point, ace didn't believe he deserved to live. he didn't think he had the right to exist. the only thing that kept him going up until that point was hoping he'd find an answer that justified his being born and his love for luffy and sabo. ace tells luffy in his dying breaths if it weren't for the two of them, he would have gave up on living a long time ago
yes, garp loves ace and luffy
he loves them both dearly but he is also incapable of putting them before work, before his ideals of justice. these two truths can coexist at the same time. garp's stubborn to a fault and his moral dilemma resulted in both inaction and the prevention of ace's escape
so to say that marineford would have gone differently if ace had asked is seriously undermining the character work. because in reality, it's up in the air on whether or not that would have done anything. ace asking garp for help could have gone either way and that's the beauty of the gray area regarding garp's actions during the summit war
and yes, i can get why it's frustrating that ace turned around to fight akainu when he could have just left and got it back in a blood a different time
but aside from ace having a temper about specific topics, we do get an answer as to why he couldn't bring himself to runaway when we finally are able to dive into his past with luffy and sabo:
he doesn't want to run away from any situation because ace is deathly afraid of losing something if running away ends up being the bad call
and in that moment, luffy was behind him
even if akainu hadn't talked down whitebeard, ace would have inevitably turned back around because he wouldn't have been able to shake his fear of losing something or someone he cared about
as long as there is something precious for him to potentially lose, ace will never run
he was doomed from the start
his being the son of gol d roger doomed him from the start
and that's what makes ace so tragic
#look she's not writing#one piece#portgas d ace#fire fist ace#monkey d garp#gol d roger#monkey d luffy#sabo#revolutionary sabo#one piece sabo#animanga thoughts#ppl get too comfortable slandering my husband i had to say something#hash and i were talking about this last night#TAT like y'all tf ace need to beg garp's old ass for help for???#please explain i am confusion
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Just Friends
Or three times people mistake you and Jason as partners, and one time you let them think that on purpose. ~1.4k words
Jason Todd is your best friend. You just can't quite convince people of that. It happens more often than is good for your heart, people assuming that you and Jason are anything more than friends. Each time it makes your heart race, your face feel warm, and you have to remind yourself later that it isn't more, no matter if what you feel for him is.
"You two look at each other just like my husband and I did when we were young. It's so nice to see such a lovely couple." The elderly woman tells you and Jason kindly, voice warm as she pats Jason's arm. She's come up to the two of you while you were picking over the novels in the bookstore, eyes full of reminiscent memories.
Jason reacts quicker than you can, draping an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. "We are, aren't we? Thank you, ma'am."
She beams at him, and you nod weakly along with his words. "So lovely." She mumbles as she walks away.
"Jason," You hiss quietly, "did you seriously just lie to that sweet old lady?"
"What? It made her happy." He counters, lazily smiling at you, still tucked comfortably under his arm.
You make a face at him and tut, moving to pull away. "Still a lie."
"Ah ah," Jason tuts back, and his grin becomes more playful, "gotta keep up appearances now."
You huff and duck your head to focus on looking for books, "Wouldn't have to if you weren't a liar." He laughs, and if your heart beats a little faster for the rest of the time you're in the store, neither of you mention it.
Jason is twirling you around the dance floor of the latest Wayne Gala, your favorite fancy outfit swaying with each movement. It's always fun, to dress up with him. It's not always so fun to hear Gothams elite talking about you.
"Isn't that the Wayne boy? Todd or something?" An older man asks, champagne in one hand.
"Hm? Oh, yes." The lady beside him responds.
"And his partner?" He asks, sounding completely uninterested.
"I can't remember their name. They've been together for as long as I can remember. Though, it is always lovely to see them, isn't it? It is so rare for the Wayne family to be all here." The woman answers idly, and you miss the rest of the conversation as Jason leads you away.
"Hey," He cuts into your thoughts when you miss a step, lost in thought over if all of Gotham thinks you're dating Jason. He pulls you a little closer to his chest to keep you from falling, fingers splayed over your back. "Where'd you go?"
His words bring you back to the present, and you look up to meet his gaze and lie, "Just thinking about how stuffy these things can get."
He clearly doesn't believe you, but doesn't press as he leads you around the dance floor, "Wanna go then?"
"No," You tell him, giving into the urge to rest your head against his chest, screw what anyone else thinks, "I like dancing with you."
He says your name so tenderly you nearly miss your steps again, "I like dancing with you, too."
"Todd, your girlfriend is here." Damian calls as he opens the door to Wayne Manor for you. You laugh a little, surprised but happy to see Damian making a joke about your arrival. You feel a little awkward sometimes, joining in on their family dinners, but Bruce assures you you're more than welcome. And Jason swears if you don't go, neither will he.
"C'mon on, Damian, you know Jason and I are just friends." You smile as you talk, voice light as you step into the grand mansion.
Damian frowns, "But Jason said–"
"Shut it, brat." Jason cuts in, practically bounding down the hall to get to your side.
He places a steady hand at the small of your back, shooting Damian a warning look as he guides you down the hall and to the dinner table.
The moment passes before you can ask about it, read into it. You're distracted by calls of your name and bombardments of excited questions from Jason's family as you enter the dining room.
Dinner is delicious, as always, and when you end up sleeping over in Jason's room for the night, clad in his extra clothes, you forget to bring it up.
Jason doesn't mind when people mistake him and his best friend for partners. In fact, he kind of loves it. It's good for you to hear, he thinks, because the more you hear it, the more used to it you'll become.
He knows you don't notice the way he looks at you, and he can't decide yet if it's because you don't believe he could look at you like that, or if you're choosing to ignore it for some reason beyond him.
Jason also knows that you like him. He just doesn't know if you're exactly aware of that fact yet.
He supposes it doesn't really matter, it's probably for the best you don't see how his face pinches when someone goes to flirt with you, how his shoulders tense and his skin pricks.
The guy that came up to you while he was grabbing your coffee orders seemed innocent enough at first, until he said something Jason didn't quite hear from across the room. But he did see the way you stiffened.
He's over at your side in an instant, one hand hooking around your waist to pull you securely against his side, balancing the tray of drinks and baked goods in the other. "Everything okay here, babe?" He drawls, eyes sharp. He wonders if you know that if you said the word, he'd jump this creep in this quiet, little Café right now.
He settles when you lean into him, and answer without a shake in your voice, "Yeah, I'm okay."
"Good." He says casually, taking the chance to trace his thumb back and forth across your hip. "This guy botherin' you?"
"No!" The stranger cuts in, clearly a little intimated.
'As he should be' Jason thinks before, lowering his voice to a threat and narrowing his eyes at the man. "I wasn't talking to you." His gaze and voice softens as he looks down to check on you. "Was he bothering you, baby?"
He can't help the smirk on his face when you actually seem to look proud. "Only a little, honey."
He has to actually force his eyes to leave your smile and look back at the man. "You bothering my date?"
The man steps back, "No– no, I mean, I didn't know they were with you– I– uh–" He stutters out, frantically looking between the two of you before turning and high tailing it out the door.
He nearly doubles over in laughter with you, careful to keep the drinks from spilling.
"That was kinda mean." You choke out between one giggle and the next, wiping mock tears from your eyes. He thinks it might be the nicest sound he's heard today.
"Eh, he deserved it for being weird to pretty patrons of coffee shops. What'd he say?" He says, reaching out to pick an invisible string from your hair. It's an excuse to keep touching you, and his eyes go fond when you lean slightly into his touch.
"Just something about taking me out for a drink," You answer, laughing while you grab your drink from him. "You're sweet, you know that?"
"Only to you." He says, eyes following your movements.
You hum, noncommittal. "You're sweet to other people, sometimes."
Jason laughs, hooking your free arm with his, "Sometimes," He relents, guiding you both out of the shop and back into the street, "But, I'm sweetest to you."
Pride blooms in his chest when you light up at his comment, "You should keep at that."
He grins, and swears to himself he will. "I'll keep that in mind, doll."
It's a little thrilling, how when you have to unhook your arms to walk the crowded streets of Gotham, you take his hand. He squeezes your fingers, and it's satisfying that it's so easy to mistake you as his, especially in this moment.
He'll bring it up to you eventually, the idea of being more, but he's content with easing you into it, with watching how you try to make excuses for why everyone believes that you're together. How you try to convince yourself you aren't more. But, you are more to him, so much more. You always will be.
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𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 (𝐩𝐭.𝟐) - benjicot blackwood (fancast)
summary: a few months after you and Benjicot start dating, your mom invites him to a family dinner.
pairing: benjicot blackwood x fem reader
warnings: whipped benji, over protective dad and older brother, sweet rhaenyra, modern au, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, heavy make out, rough sex (?), sweet but not innocent reader […]
n/a: reader is rhaenyra and harwin's daughter, her last name is strong, i don't know anything about american football
wc: 4.3K
don’t translate without my permission!
As he slammed the car door shut with a resounding thud, Benjicot ran a trembling hand through his hair, his nerves on edge. He took a deep breath for what felt like the thousandth time, trying to steady his racing heart, and clenched his fists tightly in a futile attempt to stop them from shaking any further.
To say he was nervous about tonight was an understatement—in fact, he was terrified, and knowing that this was a necessary step in his relationship with you, he did everything he could to remain calmer, which clearly wasn't working.
Every step he took felt calculated, almost as if he were on the field about to execute a crucial strategy. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to hold on to the last vestiges of confidence he had left, remembering how on the field that confidence enveloped him like a comforting embrace.
There, however, he felt as if he would be strangled at any moment. The fear of disappointing your family at that dinner consumed him, but what distressed him even more was the possibility of disappointing you.
Benji knew that disappointing you would be one of the hardest things someone could do, since you were so sweet that you almost never held a grudge, no matter how much someone hurt you. But even so, he didn’t want to risk it happening.
You were the person who had supported him the most in recent months, and he knew that putting up with him was not an easy task—quite the opposite. That’s why he was absolutely sure that you were his most dedicated admirer, just as he was also your number one fan.
So, maybe that’s why he was so determined to put aside his explosive and often inappropriate behavior during the few hours the dinner would last. What seemed like an impossible challenge to many was, for him, exactly the opposite. Since you both started dating, he had become much calmer and more focused, which clearly shocked everyone around you.
However, for Benji, that was normal; after all, you were capable of bringing out the best version of anyone around you, and you made everything that was once an effort in Benji’s life become something natural and easy, almost as if he were floating in the relationship in a gentle and relaxing manner.
Your constant care and support not only smoothed his rough edges but also showed him a new way to live and love. And damn, he loved you so much it hurts.
So, maybe that’s why he was so willing to repay everything you had done for him. He wanted to make sure that this night was special, demonstrating how much you meant to him. And if that meant he had to face your parents and siblings, he was willing to do it a million times.
Yet, Benjicot couldn't shake the feeling of goosebumps that ran through his body when his finger touched the doorbell of your family's house, and he felt his palms sweat and anxiety washes over him as he heard the footsteps approaching from the inside. For a brief moment, it seemed like the sky above him was closing in a little more, and the sound of the doorknob turning and the creaking of the door as it opened only intensified his nervousness.
When the door opened, Benji swallowed hard, feeling anxiety rush through his veins, but as soon as he saw your pretty figure in front of the large doors, his heart skipped a beat with relief, and a smirk appeared on his face for a moment. Forgetting how sweaty his hands were, his eyes completely focused on you like always.
“You're a little early, don't you think?” You smiled in his direction as soon as you opened the front door, and when he noticed the slippers on your feet, he let out a short laugh, looking attentively behind you before placing his hands on your waist.
You raised an eyebrow at the gesture, but Benji could see the sweetness in your eyes despite the playful attitude.
"Well, I always like to come early for important occasions, sweetheart." He said with a light laugh, as his hands gently caressed your waist. Your hands instinctively moved to his arms, massaging them gently as you looked up at him with a loving smile.
“Besides.” He added in a tender tone, “I missed you.” He confessed in a low, but sincere voice and was met with your laughter, which seemed to dissolve the remaining anxiety he had. This only made his smile widen, genuinely happy to hear you laugh again.
“Did you miss me?” You asked with a giggle, bringing your body dangerously close to Benji's. His mischievous smile widened, almost making him forget where he was and why he was there. “We were together just a few hours ago.” you continued, your voice tinged with amusement, smiling again and letting your fingers lightly squeeze his arms. A light blush colored your cheeks as you remembered the intimate moment you two shared earlier that afternoon.
He looked behind you to see if anyone from your family was looking before moving a little closer to your body and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, which made you blush, and he smiled at your reaction while humming softly, “It’s been too long.” With a soft murmur, he added. “The hours drag by when I’m away from you!” He said this in a playful tone, but the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t lying.
You laughed loudly again, which made the corners of his mouth rise a little more, while his eyes were still focused on you. You could feel his breath almost mixing with yours.
“You seem very confident,” you teased, the confidence you had gained over the months of your relationship present in your voice, which still had the softness that Benji loved. "Let's see if you maintain that stance when we're having dinner with my family." At that, Benji's eyes widened, remembering what he was doing there.
Benjicot swallowed hard for a moment, and the sound of laughter from inside the house made him move away from your body a little; however, he still kept his hand around your waist, unable to move without touching you.
You, on the other hand, blinked gently, growing increasingly concerned at his lack of reaction. You couldn’t recall ever seeing him so nervous before. With a tender gesture, you moved your hand to his forehead, brushing away the rebellious strands that insisted on covering his green eyes. Quickly, you lifted your feet, still clad in fluffy slippers, to place a soft kiss on his cheek, hoping to offer him some sense of comfort despite his current state.
Upon feeling the soft touch on his cheek, Benji looked at you again, which led you to give him a brief kiss on the lips, causing his heart, previously racing with nervousness, to start beating at a calmer pace. However, seeing your lips move away so quickly, he couldn't help but be slightly disappointed, and he almost forgot the way your lips had explored his body that same day.
“You don't need to be nervous.” You spoke softly. "You already know my family; this is just a simple dinner." You pointed out, and Benjicot looked at you with half-closed eyes, tilting his head gently to the side.
The truth was that Benji had already met your family casually; Jace had been friends with him since they both ended up in the same economics class at university, and although Jace liked him as a teammate and classmate, Benji felt that, despite his friend's approval, Jace wasn't very excited about the idea that he would be his future brother-in-law.
Your mother, although she had an intimidating presence, made a point of making him feel welcome and treated him with affection. However, Benji knew that any mistake he made against you could provoke her fury. Your father was another story; the man always intimidated him immensely. Dealing with a former NFL player and team coach was scary enough; now knowing that this same player was your father made the situation even more complex, especially since you were his only girl.
What comforted him most at that moment was knowing that your younger brothers liked him and that your stepfather, Daemon, would not be present at that dinner.
"You always know how to calm me down, don’t you, sweetheart?" Benji murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your head and then gently lowered his hands, hoping you'd intertwine your fingers with his.
"Of course I know." You smiled in amusement, intertwining your fingers with your boyfriend's, who gave your hand a light squeeze, seeking comfort in your sweet touch.
The sound of laughter from inside the house grew louder as a reminder of the night ahead, and he could have sworn he heard little Joffrey screaming from inside, which made the corners of his mouth turn up just a little. With your hand firmly in his, he felt a wave of calm and readiness. He looked at you, his eyes showing a bit of hesitation and excitement, almost as if he were eager for the challenge.
“Let’s get this over with,” Benji said in a low whisper, and you felt your skin crawl at the tone, which made him bite the inside of his cheek. However, you ignored his nervous gesture and pulled him inside by the hand with a little more force than usual.
As you two entered, the lively atmosphere of your home enveloped you both, along with the loud voices of your brothers, who seemed to be involved in yet another fight. You and your boyfriend laughed together as you watched Luke try to hit Jace in the face with one of his slippers.
Benji looked at you with amusement as he took in the lively scene before him. Noticing that your brothers were still wrapped up in their playful argument, you cleared your throat deliberately, hoping to regain some control over the situation.
The commotion subsided slightly as everyone, including Joffrey, who had almost tripped as he ran up from the back of the house, turned their attention toward you.
“Look who’s here!” you said, raising your voice to be heard above the remaining chaos. You gently released Benji’s hand and reached down to lift little Joffrey into your arms. As soon your youngest brother saw Benji, he stuck out his tongue in a playful gesture. Benji, catching the playful mood, responded by sticking out his own tongue, a grin spreading across his face as he enjoyed the lighthearted interaction.
"Benjicot," Jace greeted in a serious tone, his voice carrying a weight that made Benji tense up. Realizing that Jace would be more of a protective big brother than a supportive friend during this dinner, Benji bit the inside of his cheek, preparing himself for the challenge ahead.
"Jacaerys," Benji greeted back, trying to match the serious tone. You let go of your younger brother and gave your older brother a look of mild reprimand, but Jace just shrugged and pointed with his chin towards the dining room.
You and Benji exchanged quick glances—his filled with a touch of nervousness, yours a mix of excitement and worry.
"Mom and Dad are already in the dining room; we were just waiting for you," Luke interrupted, noticing his older brother's posture. Benji could see that Luke was trying hard not to grimace at Jace's behavior, which almost caused the corners of Benji's mouth to lift up a little. That was exactly why Luke was his favorite.
Giving Benji a reassuring glance, you guided him—almost dragging him—toward the dining room, with your siblings trailing behind. As he entered the spacious room, he took a deep breath and felt his tension ease upon seeing your parents chatting cheerfully.
You still remembered Benji’s shocked expression when you told him that your parents were divorced but maintained a civilized relationship. It was a situation quite unfamiliar to him, but he seemed to be starting to adjust to the unique family dynamics. You think, at least.
“Goodnight,” he greeted warmly as he smoothly pulled out your chair and helped you sit down. Rhaenyra glanced over with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with his considerate gesture.
“We haven’t started dinner yet,” your father said for the first time, flashing Benji a forced, overly polite smile. Benji, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach, took his seat next to you with a wary glance. “The evening only truly begins after we’ve had dinner,” Harwin continued, his tone carrying a hint of unspoken challenge.
You noticed your siblings trying to stifle their laughter, while your mother shot your father a disapproving look. Despite the subtle tension, Harwin remained unfazed, taking a slow sip of his wine as if nothing were amiss.
"Well then, good afternoon," Benji replied fast, and his lips curled into a slight smile as he saw you and your mother chuckling at his response. However, his smile quickly faded when he noticed your father's narrowed eyes fixed on him. The intensity of your father's gaze made him feel little, and he had to make an effort to maintain his composure under the scrutinizing attention.
He could see Jace smiling across the table, which made him lick his teeth.
You placed your hand gently on his side, whispering some words of comfort, which made him place his hand on top of yours.
“Harwin!” Rhaenyra called out with a firm tone, causing the man to straighten his back. You gave a satisfied smile at the interaction. “Stop scaring the poor boy!” she reprimanded. Harwin rolled his eyes but didn’t dare counter her; no one was foolish enough to do so.
“I’m glad you accepted my invitation,” she continued, this time turning her attention towards Benji, trying to move on from the awkward situation. Her tone softened as she spoke, and Benji gave her a grateful smile.
“I'm truly glad you invited me,” he replied sincerely. Benji was surprised when he received the invitation from your mother. Although he had always had a good relationship with her, having met her a few times at football games, the situation was entirely different here.
Rhaenyra Targaryen was the woman who raised you and gave you life. It was thanks to her that you were who you were, and Benji felt a deep gratitude for that. Moreover, he knew she was your greatest inspiration, and he was thankful for being welcomed by her so warmly.
“Benjicot,” your father said, his tone surprisingly calm, yet Benji could sense the underlying threat. The interruption made everyone at the table pause and shift their attention to Benji, who tensed under Harwin’s piercing gaze. You squeezed Benji’s thigh unconsciously, a mix of concern and apprehension evident in your gesture.
"Do you really care about my daughter, or is this just a desperate attempt to get attention after last season?" Harwin's question cut through the air, and your eyes widened in shock as you felt a slight tremor run through you.
The dining room fell silent, but Rhaenyra remained composed, her posture unwavering as she understood her ex-husband's intentions. Jace, on the other hand, looked visibly irritated at the prospect of such a notion being true.
"Dad!" You scolded, your voice tinged with irritation. Benji had never seen you so visibly shaken, and his heart ached at the sight of your agitation. "What on earth are you trying to do?" you hissed, your hand unconsciously tightening its grip on Benji's thigh as you struggled to keep your composure.
Your father shrugged, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “I’m just asking a question,” he said, his tone casual but laced with an edge. He turned to Benji, his gaze piercing. “Are you afraid to answer?”
Benji’s free hand tightened into a fist, and he let out a frustrated sigh, using his other hand to gently massage yours. “I’m not afraid, Coach Strong,” he said through clenched teeth, attempting to ignore the smirk on your father’s face and the worried glances from your younger siblings.
"Then answer me." The oldest said this, tilting his chin towards his daughter's boyfriend.
You were about to open your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, Benji cleared his throat.
“I love your daughter,” Benji began, his voice steady. The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on him as he continued. “I’m not using her to seek attention or validation—quite the opposite.” His tone grew more sincere, though it remained firm. “She means everything to me. From the moment I wake up until I fall asleep, she’s on my mind, and I’m certain she never leaves it. Her kindness and the way she inspires me to be a better person are invaluable. I may not know exactly when these feelings began, but they are deep and, above all, sincere.”
He paused, taking a deep breath, as he met Harwin’s gaze directly, which now held a hint of pride. “She didn’t make me fall in love with her suddenly or temporarily. Instead, she guided me to walk in love with her, and this journey has been so soothing that I believe it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever done unconsciously. And I’m grateful that she reciprocates my feelings.”
After his confession, you bit your lip hard, torn between the urge to cry or leap into his arms. As you looked around, you saw that your mother was already struggling against tears, deeply moved by his words and overwhelmed with happiness. Jace seemed to relax too.
The room remained silent for a moment, the weight of Benji’s sincere confession hanging in the air. Your father’s stern expression softened slightly, though his eyes still held a trace of scrutiny. He took a sip of wine, his gaze lingering on Benji with newfound respect.
Rhaenyra, her eyes shining with gratitude, lightly touched her rings. “Thank you, Benjicot,” she said softly. “It means a lot to hear how much you care about my girl.” She leaned in his direction, and he merely nodded, uncertain of what to say.
Harwin nodded, a slight, proud smile breaking through his usually serious demeanor. “It seems you really care about my daughter, and that’s something I respect,” he said, making you raise an eyebrow, realizing it had all been a test.
However, Benji, gave a relieved smirk, licking the inside of his cheek, and gently squeezed your hand. You looked at him, gratitude and love evident in your eyes, and he couldn’t help but notice how your chest rose and fell gently.
“Well then,” Rhaenyra said, breaking the silence. “Let’s enjoy dinner; Joffrey is getting impatient.” She laughed as she noticed the youngest child in the room, who was now mumbling about wanting ice cream.
The atmosphere in the room shifted as your mother’s words eased the tension, and the dinner proceeded in a more relaxed manner. Your father's stern expression softened to contained approval, and Benji, now more at ease, engaged in the conversation. As the evening went on, you leaned slightly towards Benjicot, your smile suggesting a hint of intimacy after the dinner.
It wasn't Benjicot your father had to worry about after all.
〰️ 〰️ 〰️
The rain pounded against the windows, obscuring the outside world. Inside the car, you and Benjicot were locked in a fiery embrace, mouths hungrily exploring each other's. The heat between you intensified as your hands roamed freely, every kiss and touch deepening the passion.
He didn't know exactly when the making out had started. One moment you were giving him a suggestive smile at the family dinner; the next, your mother had asked you to get ice cream for your younger brother, who was throwing a tantrum. Suddenly, you were pulling him into the back seat of his old car, and ripping off your bra with urgent intensity. But, in any case, he couldn't complain, especially with your hips moving in circular motions on top of him.
He was sure this was one of the best secrets you had, and he made sure to make the most of it.
"Benji," you whispered breathlessly as he trailed kisses down your neck, each touch sending shivers through you. His mouth lingered, teasingly slow, as he moved lower, leaving a trail of hot, insistent pressure. The deliberate pace only heightened your anticipation, making the ache between you more intense as his lips finally reached your hard nipples, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
"Hmm?" He murmured as he circled his tongue around your nipple, almost letting out a moan himself when he noticed the pressure you were applying with your hips on his already hard cock, and this made him squeeze your ass almost unconsciously but still tightly.
"I need you," you moaned, and he looked up at you with an amused expression, still sucking on your nipple, waiting for you to continue. "Please," you almost begged.
He chuckled softly before pulling your head down to capture your lips again. As you opened your mouth in surprise, he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue inside, turning the kiss into a fervent clash of tongues and teeth.
"Of course, sweetheart," he responded with a hoarse voice. Before you had time to react, he lifted you from his lap and leaned you against the car seat, kneeling in the limited space he had.
Benji looked imposing, kneeling in front of you and completely ignoring the cramped space of his car. He pulled you by the waist with a strange mix of strength and gentleness, just for you, slowly moving your panties aside and making you lean back against the car seat until your pussy was directly in front of his blushing face. He smiled as he watched how eager and wet you were for his attention.
You were already panting, looking directly at Benjicot's face between your legs as his hazel eyes met yours with a mix of anticipation and amusement. His arms wasted no time in holding your thighs, which seemed extremely restless and eager to close with just the brief touch of his breath near your wet entrance, making him whisper a few inaudible and disjointed words before pressing his cheeks against the sensitive part of your thighs and giving your clit a painfully long, slow lick.
As you pulled harder on his hair, he buried his face deeper into your cunt, diving in and eating you out with precision. He was satisfied with the loud moans you let out from the sensation of his flexible muscle inside you, hungry and relentless. You didn't even know when the moans turned into screams.
Benjicot didn't cared about that, though.
Since there was no technique or precision in the way he devoured you, there was only animalistic hunger and fervent passion as his tongue flicked against your sex and his nose rubbed against your clit, leaving you so drunk with pleasure that the next thing that made you squeal was feeling his fingers massaging you while his mouth sucked the spot his nose had just been.
You looked at him as your body started to weaken, and when you noticed the intensity in his eyes, you had to close yours quickly. This only made him grip your legs even tighter, the veins in his arms bulging as your orgasm hit you like a torrent, completely coating his chin.
However, he seemed unwilling to stop.
Benjicot continued with fierce determination, his movements growing even more frenzied as his tongue and now fingers worked together to prolong your pleasure. You were at his mercy, each wave of ecstasy more intense than the last, and he showed no signs of tiring, intent on pushing you to your limits repeatedly.
"Benji," you choked out. "I can't, I can't!" you repeated over and over, your voice trembling with desperation. Your body gave way as the second orgasm of the night crashed over you, leaving you breathless and weak. He finally released you, his grip loosening as you collapsed, exhausted and spent, into the car seat.
He pulled his body away, eyes still burning with desire as he looked at you. You were there, your body shaking and covered in sweat, trying to catch your breath. The car seat was cold against you overheated skin, and the traces of pleasure still hung in the air. Benjicot wiped his chin, a satisfied smile on his lips as he watched you recover from the intense waves of ecstasy.
He looked at you with an intense expression, then, with a playful tone, spoke softly. “You’re so sweet, sweetheart,” he said with a smile as he sat beside you, pulling you against his bare tattooed chest.
You slowly opened your eyes, still trying to steady your breath. “Benji,” you murmured, your body still trembling.
He tilted his head, his touch now tender as you tried to recover. “I mean what I said at dinner. You’re everything to me, and I love you,” he whispered, his usually rough voice softened with affection reserved only for you.
Smiling warmly, you pulled his head down and pressed your lips to his once more. Completely forgetting the real reason you two were in the car.
well anyways — good night!! (shitty smut but yeah)
tag list: @h-0-error @whiteoakoak @spider-stark @rebeccawinters @knight-of-flowerss @weird-things-i-think-about @rhaenys-nyra @haydee5010 0 @hobis-hope95
— English is not my first language, so please be understanding if you saw any grammar mistake!
#benjicot blackwood x reader#benjicot blackwood#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd imagine#davos blackwood x reader#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#benji blackwood#fanfic
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Headcanons
"How they apologize after an argument"
A/n: I remember of writing some headcanons with the same topic for the Bleach captains but now I'm going to write the same topic for Black Clover captains. I'm so in love with them❤️
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Yami:
Yami can be all brute and intimidating but he also recognizes when he messes up and regrets it, especially when he knows he hurt you in some way.
Sometimes he is stubborn and this becomes an obstacle for both of you when you're trying to solve something, he wants to be the master of reason just because he's the captain and thinks he can do things alone. This makes you believe that he's being arrogant, putting you aside like that.
(But the fact is that he actually just tried to protect you so that you wouldn't do anything that would put you in danger)
"Baby, please don't overreact, I'm just--" "Don't talk to me until you change your attitude" You replied, walking past him without even looking at his face
He starts to realize that you're taking the silent treatment too seriously and starts doing all kinds of things to get your attention, which don't lead to anything.
He thinks you're thinking about breaking up with him and this makes him drink twice as much, which leads him to arrive at the hq more drunk than usual.
You start to realize this and you start to worry too, even if you don't admit it.
On one of those nights he arrives at the hq very drunk and sees you in the living room and hugs you from behind, staying like that for a moment while you feel his heavy sighs against the crook of your neck.
"I'm sorry if I was hard on you, I just want to protect you. Please don't give me the silent treatment, it breaks my little heart" He whispered against your ear and you sighed before turning to face him "I accept your apology, you dramatic" You slapped his chest and smiled
This man was much more relieved after you forgave him. It was as if his little heart regenerated.
Fuegoleon:
I'm sure if you two argued Mereoleona would take action and beat him up because she's on your side🤭
Sometimes Fuegoleon is too serious and too strict, more than he should be and that stresses you out.
"I'm not going to have this conversation with you again, do as you wish" You left his office, angry "Y/n, wait, I just--" He got up from the chair but you slammed the door
He doesn't want to lose you nor does he want to see you upset with him but he also doesn't want to put pressure on you.
"Mereoleona is gonna kill me if she finds out about this" His first thought
He then calms down and choose to give you space, however, he always wants to know how you are and that's why he orders the servants to deliver flowers to you and also order that the meals be taken to your room.
You recognized that all that princess treatment was Fuegoleon's work to apologize.
However, one day he went to the room where you had been sleeping these days and sat on the mattress next to you and try sorted things out.
"Honey, I'm sorry if I spoke that way. It's been so much that sometimes I don't even know how to separate my personal self from my professional self and with that I ended up hurting you"He confessed with his head down but you hugged him "It's okay, love, we all make mistakes. I accept your apology and thank you for the flowers, by the way" You thanked him and he smiled hugging you
The captain of the Crimson Lions felt much better and promised you and himself that he would change.
William :
Seriously, I don't see how there could be an argument with this man because he's so cute and so gentle.Aghhh...I want a man like him now😫
But if by chance you and him disagree about something and it gets serious, It will be very difficult for him to deal with the situation.
"William, I'm sorry but this matter is going too far" You left the room "Y/n, come here, please listen..." William went to the door but you closed it and he sighed, feeling helpless
He refuses to see you walk past him and not talk to him, he refuses to see you doing your life and not being able to be by your side. It's as if you two became strangers and that touches his heart.
Even if you didn't want to clarify things yet, he uses his magic to create beautiful bouquets of flowers and leave them on your bedroom door, just like the captain above. You can't hold back your smile at the cute action every morning when you come across the flowers right at your feet
One day, you were at the bedroom window watching the group of the magic knights of the golden dawn enter through the front door and William also accompanied them. It had been a while since you two spoke, but you just wanted him to walk through the bedroom door so you two could talk.
And to your surprise, he did.
"Y/n, I came here to resolve things between us, I can't be without you. Please forgive me if I said something I shouldn't have said" He confessed with his melancholy eyes fixed on yours "Oh William, I forgive you. Come here" You hugged him giving in to his bright eyes and how cute he looked
You couldn't stay upset with him and neither could he with you. Everything was fine now and William was grateful to have you back just like you.
Nozel :
The way he spends his life idolizing the name of the Silvas and royalty is sometimes tiring for you. One day you have a conversation that goes a little sideways because he's being too proud again.
"You know what? Stay there with your pride and your fucking royalty. I lost my appetite" You threw your napkin on the table and hurriedly left the dining room "Y/n, come back to the table, we're not done" Nozel got up but you ignored him
Nozel knows he went too far, he wasn't supposed to be like this and sometimes he found himself being too proud which led to some arguments.
However, he knew he couldn't act like that towards you because he loved you too much and didn't want to keep you away from him. In response to this, he told all the servants to watch over you and to give you expensive gifts that he bought.
You couldn't help but smile at his actions. The fact that he sent someone to look after you and gave you valuable things made you think it was cute of him.
Yes, he was overprotective, even if he didn't admit it to anyone but himself. However, you could see that through his actions and there was nothing he could do to hide it from you.
You were sitting in the living room by the fireplace and he came into the room looking at you and you at him. There was a certain tension in the air at that moment.
"We need to talk, I... I think it's time we sort this out" He confessed but you didn't say anything until he got to the part that you wanted to hear. "I want to apologize, I know I let my pride speak too loud and that hurt you"He said and you smiled, seeing that he got to exactly the part you wanted "My dear Noble, I accept your apology but control your pride. Doesn't suit royalty" You used his usual words and he raised an eyebrow at you
Nozel promised to do so, so that situations like those wouldn't happen again.
#Black clover#black clover fandom#black clover x reader#black clover headcanons#yami sukehiro#fuegoleon vermillion#william vangeance#nozel silva
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SHE ROCKIN THAT SH!T, LIKE! ☆ 엔하이픈
"The way you rockin' that up in this club I swear you gon' make a ___ fall in love"
rockin' that shit - the dream
— enhypen in the club! ot7
c/w: TWERKING!! drunkness, suggestive
a/n: listened to club songs while writing this...ALSO inspired by this tiktok and this one... especially NIKI WHEW!! i might elaborate on some of these if u guys like it
☆
이희승
heeseung is not a clubber. i mean, he'll go if asked, but he doesn't just wake up and turn up. HOWEVER... don't let him get a drink up in his cup. heeseung be drinkin that LICKAH!!! the moment it hits his system, it's like a switch. he becomes friendly, and he's on you and all on that floor. he definitely catching it, when you throwin ass too. matter fact, he's not a catcher. he's a GRINDER! controlling your hips and speed and everything. all up onnat.
his song: drank in my cup - kirko bangz
박종성
jay the type that's only at the party because his girl's there. the whole time, his eyes are ONLY on you, too. he'll get him a nice little cocktail and sit back and watch you shake that on the floor— until you drag him out there. he's a little awkward at first, but he catches on quickly and catches all of that. when you aren't backing it up on him, his hands are definitely on your waist as y'all dance. until you get a little too tipsy and too handsy, and he has to drag you home before you rip his pants off.
his song: bottoms up - trey songz, nicki minaj
심재윤
i know y'all are expecting frat boy jake agenda, but...see my vision here. jake definitely shows up to the club single. he left in bout 4 different relationships, but there's one girl that stuck with him. he was sipping on his drink, grooving to the music a little bit before a really pretty girl walked up to him on beat. they exchange looks before she turns around and lays it on him. he can't do anything but hold his drink up and take what she gives him. he's a little awkward, but once she grabs control to guide his hips, best believe he stuck with her the rest of the night.
his song: rockin' that shit - the dream
박성훈
the boys invited him to the club and he invited his girl as a plus-one. he only sips on champagne the whole night and doesn't really dance, keeping it classy. he stands by the bar watching you dance and making sure no one gets too close to you because you definitely look edible. he didn't pay any mind to what you wore because at the end of the night, you're going him with him anyway. they can look all they want. he's definitely looking.
his song: i dont want her - eric bellinger, problem
김선우
he wasn't so sure about going out tonight, but you looked so excited. how could he say no to his baby? you get there, and he's immediately side eyeing everything, unlike you, who immediately turned up. you drag him to the bar where you both order cutesy little pink drinks, sippin' on it as you groove to the music playing. sunoo likes the drink a little too much and orders one more. one more turns into two more, and next thing you know, he's on the floor while you're throwing him back into a corner. everyone's staring, but y'all were the party. until he turns you around and starts twerking on you instead. you know what, hell yea.
his song: she twerkin - ca$h out
양정원
you and jungwon were just casually talking on the couch before he brought up the fact he's never really been clubbing. of course, he's been to events with his members and had some beer, but other than that, he's unfamiliar with the game. that same night, you pick out an outfit for him and head out the door. jungwon was NOT ready for what was about to go down. he walked in and immediately saw all the sweaty bodies and girls twerking and didn't know where to look. he just settled on looking at your back (your ass). he had his phone out every 2 seconds in awe, making sure to record what was going on. what he really wasn't ready for was you. he was just standing there, minding his own, and BOOM! ass on em. he left that club a different man.
his song: drop it low - ester dean, chris brown
니키
oh baby, this ain't new to him. his members decided to bring him along to the party since he extra grown now and they were left gagged. niki was on his 5th drink and was on the floor catching everybody ass with his hand up in the air and one on their waist. they couldn't do anything but blink and sip their drinks. i mean, hell, even heeseung wasn't out on the floor doing all that.
his song: no hands - waka flocka flame, roscoe, wale
a/n: hi its me again. I WANNA PARTY W ENHA SOOO BAD. This was so fun to write maybe ill do this with other groups!!
#enhypen#enhypen reactions#enhypen x reader#enhypen smut#enhaeil ☆ reactions#enhypen fluff#enhypen crack#enha smut#enha x reader#kpop reactions
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Looking at the beautiful Astarion fanart here on Tumblr (thanks so much for your wonderful work, by the way), I found myself thinking about that cry after the fight with Cazador. To everything it expresses and the power of it all. It is useless to specify how heartbreaking and masterfully interpreted the sequence is. It's simply wonderful and if you don't cry too when you look at it, it means you have the emotionality of a garden gnome, lol.
But I try to empathize.
You died, not pleasantly. They beat you to death and the one who saved you was a vampire who gave you a choice you didn't have: death or eternal life. And you didn't know the consequences. You undergo a very painful transformation, become a spawn, and wake up under seven feet of dirt. Like an animal you dig your way out, with your nails, and when you reach the surface he is there waiting for you: your master. You don't understand, you're scared, he doesn't seem so reassuring anymore. And you're hungry. A hunger you didn't think possible. He gives you rules you can't break, because he controls your mind and body. You have to obey him, you have to stay by his side, you have to go hungry and, above all, you are his. Forever. And mistakes come at a high cost: after all, just existing is enough to incur the wrath of your master. And then there are the pliers and the whip for you. When you're lucky enough. Suddenly you lost all dignity as a human being and became a thing, a property. A thing with a purpose and its use to your master. What you think, what you feel, what you want doesn't matter. So you stop thinking, you stop feeling, you stop wanting. It probably hurts less. It probably keeps you from going completely crazy. You keep everything inside you. You learn to smile and obey, you can't say no anyway. You are forced into prostitution to bring back the cattle - not the people - needed to feed your master. It doesn't matter whether they are criminals, misfits or perverts of any kind. It doesn't matter if they disgust you or if they hurt you. You grit your teeth and let them use you. You keep it all inside and smile. You can't say no anyway. And your looks are the only thing you have, sex is the only talent you have. When you seduce someone, for a handful of hours, you are the one in control. You're the one pulling the strings of the game. Otherwise you are nothing. You're just a pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything. An imperfect being, despite your master's efforts to educate you. Your brothers and sisters - the other slaves - see you as weak. And like a rival. Your brothers and sisters will do anything to avoid the whip and gain the master's favor. To feed better, to sleep in a comfortable bed and not end up in the kennel. So you learn not to trust anyone, not to let your guard down, to strike first and hit hard. To be vulnerable is to be weak. To be kind is to be weak. And you spent an entire year locked in a tomb for a moment of weakness. Alone, in the dark, dying of hunger. So you keep it all inside, keep smiling and cracking jokes. Even if, after 200 years, you're a mess inside and you're falling apart. You keep smiling because you don't have a future anyway, you can't escape anyway. Appearance is all you have left and your smile is beautiful, your body is beautiful. Looks are all you have, the only thing you are desirable for. The only thing you can use to please your master and avoid torture. You keep everything inside: the loneliness, the pain, the fear, the disgust for yourself and for what you are forced to do, the sense of guilt for the people you ruined by handing them over to your master. You keep everything inside for 200 years, hidden, buried, if you prove weak you will die. You don't have to think, you don't have to feel, you don't have to want anything. This way it will hurt less.
And this is how each of those stabs inflicted on Cazador acquire power. This is how Astarion's screams and desperate cries become devastating to listen to. This is how it is impossible for the spectator not to cry. The moment in which Astarion kills and gets rid of his persecutor is masterfully directed and acted. It's a beautiful, cathartic moment that can shake you to the core. In that cry there is a whole world. There is everything that the spawn held back over those 200 years, everything that his beautiful smile hid. There is pain, desperation, relief, fear, tension, hope, loss and even grief. Because that bastard Cazador was his everything for 200 years and the void he left inside him is immense, however right, due and liberating.
And nothing, I'm all blaytering to say that I love the scene where Astarion slices up Cazador's dry ass.. For me it is a masterpiece! And I could watch it again and again and cry with the vampire spawn every time.
#astarion#astarion ancunin#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate#bgiii#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate 3 astarion
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Pink Flags
Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Warnings: smut, unplanned pregnancy, angst
Summary: After a night of passion, you face Simon with the consequences, however, his reaction is far worse than you could have ever imagined.
You were always good at what you were doing.
Comically good. The way to take down terrorists was like a dance. A melody you create by murdering them.
What you weren't so good at were feelings. Especially your own.
No matter how tangled up you got with them, you always found a way out.
You promised you won't become attached to anyone. Attachments are dangerous.
But you did find yourself entangled with your LT.
Which wasn't good.
You knew it was unprofessional but the moment his lips hit that sensitive spot on your neck, you lost all sense and only came back to it the next morning.
When once again, you lost all senses when you felt his bulge rub against your ass. It was all a mess.
You should have seen the red flags. But you chose to ignore them all.
Simon Riley for one was a huge red flag.
The entire man was a secret and you loved it. It was so exciting and interesting for you.
You knew Simon wasn't the relationship type of guy so you knew what to expect. You were ready for rejection at any given time.
But of course, it never came.
Not once did he reject anything you did, ask or told him to do.
Not even on the battlefield.
Simon knew you were talented so why would he question it? But now, now he had a question, a question he was afraid to get an answer to.
"What did you just say?"
"I'm pregnant."
Simon saw many terrible things, and done some himself, but that one word was the worst he had ever experienced.
A word that will change both of your lives and he wasn't ready for that. He was dead. Only a ghost, an idea, a machine.
Not a father.
"Get rid of it." he would reply in his panic. He honestly didn't even realize he said it out loud if it wasn't for the hurt in your eyes, he would have believed he didn't.
But he did. And it hurt.
He then turned away and left.
You promised yourself it would be the last time you saw him.
Because now, you finally could see all of his red flags.
All of them came crashing down on you.
But you also knew you won't 'get rid of it'. No, you will keep this baby.
And after getting a note from your doctor, you retired from the army, focusing on the baby and yourself instead.
Fuck Simon and his attitude.
Fuck him for not stepping up when you needed him.
Fuck him.
You will do better without him.
---
Living in a small apartment in a quiet place in London might have been the obvious choice.
But it was your choice.
You wanted to prove that you can provide for your child.
Thankfully you were smart enough to not spend the money you earned while in the army.
So, you had enough money for now.
Not for very long, but you could still get a little nursery done in your home.
You went to all of your appointments with that doctor.
Hearing the heart of your baby beating was like magic.
And then the announcement of the century, you were having a little girl.
A beautiful little girl who is yours.
Your daughter.
You needed many days to let that sink it.
Being pregnant and alone was a nightmare.
No one was there to rub your feet or to help with your cravings.
You told yourself you don't need anyone anyway… After all, who would want a woman who is pregnant with someone else's child?
There might be a couple men out there but you didn't need them.
You just needed you and your baby.
And that was enough.
When the time finally came, you could only stare at her, sleeping in her bed next to you in the hospital.
You swore to protect her from everything.
You swore to be enough for her.
You swore to love her forever.
For she was the love of your life.
Your little bundle of joy.
You gave her a name, a name you always wanted to have yourself, so you let her have it instead.
A healthy little girl.
Your daughter, Emily.
Bringing her home was possibly as challenging as it was magical.
You ordered some food for yourself before putting her to sleep.
You tried your best to remember everything the doctor and the nurses told and taught you.
There was a knock on your door, you stood up and walked to get your food.
But of course, instead of your food, a man stood in your doorway.
Simon.
"You got to be fucking with me." you said as he looked at you.
"Nice to see you too, Lass."
"What do you want?"
"I believe you have something of mine. Half, mine."
"Go fuck yourself Simon. This is all you can say? 11 months and this is the best you can do. Leave."
And you slammed the door into his face.
When your food finally arrive you did catch a glimpse of him still waiting in the hallway. But you didn't care.
Who did he think he was?
Half of his?
Fuck him.
How dare he?
---
From that day on, he was everywhere.
In the grocery store, in the park, in the restaurants. Wherever you and Emily went, Simon followed.
One day, you were sitting on a bench, Emily sleeping in her stroller when he suddenly sat down next to you.
"I'm sorry."
"That's a better start." you said, not looking at him.
"I was a complete idiot when I told you to…" he looked at the stroller as you watched him, you understood what he meant. "I have been watching you for a while now. I found you when you were five months along."
"So, you have been watching me for 6 months now?"
"About that much, yes. I died the day my family died. I am a ghost, a baby didn't fit into that."
"Then wear a condom." you said with a harsh tone, he knew he deserved it.
"I am not father material. I am a soldier. Having a child is… not for me."
"Why are you here Simon? Are you here to tell me, this time nicely, that you want nothing to do with me or my daughter? Fine, have it your way. Leave, I didn't need you then, I don't need you now."
"You were the best of us. 141 isn't the same without you. Price often said that you will be the end of me. He always joked about you and me… a quiet life, but I don't think he meant it as a joke. You fascinated me always. You are so beautiful and kind."
"Simon-"
"The day you were told you are having a girl, you were so happy. You went to a restaurant and ate so many things, then you went to the ice cream shop. The lady looked at you funny when you asked to only eat the pink ones. I followed you, I watched you."
"Why are you here Simon?"
"Price told me to find you, he told me to make things right, but he only spoke the words I have been meaning to do. I knew I needed you the moment you joined the team. I let you go because of my own doubts and fears. I do not know what I would do if anything happened to you or her."
His words were sincere. His eyes were filled with guilt and regret.
You would be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him. You always were and will be.
"I can't let you in Simon if you are only going to leave us." is all you could say, your voice, barely a whisper.
Simon was about to say something when Emily started to stir and cry.
You grabbed her and put her on your chest, slowly bouncing and calming her down. You looked at Simon whose eyes were glued to your little girl.
"She has your eyes." you said as he looked at you and then back to her. You moved her slightly, making her face him.
"She looks like you." he said. "Beautiful." it was something he wasn't meant to say, you could tell easily. "I don't want to leave, but I have to. It's what's the safest for you two."
"It's not enough. I am not going to just send you photos of her for every anniversary. I'm not going to tell her that her father wants to see her but can't. It will break her and me. Either you have us Simon or not. I'm not doing the tango with you."
"You were always the all-or-nothing type." he chuckled. He was looking at Emily and you could tell it wasn't an easy decision to make. But you couldn't let him have it his way. As if to help your case, Emily reached out her small hand towards Simon, you smiled at her but waited for his reaction.
He lifted his hand and let her touch his fingers.
Simon will never forget the feeling of his daughter's first touch. It was so warm and innocent. Her little fingers played with his much bigger ones.
Simon came with the intention of letting you go. But he couldn't.
When he first saw you, you were radiating.
Your belly was showing as you walked from store to home. Simon should have known it was a done deal after that.
He should have known he will never be able to let go.
"I will make this right." he said as he let Emily wrap her tiny fingers around his thumb.
He couldn't believe just how terrible he was towards you that day. Telling you to 'get rid of it', of his daughter. He will forever regret his words. No matter how much he will do in the future. You offered him a small smile and a simple nod.
You knew he will be able to make things right, the two of you will be able to figure this out.
Simon Riley might be a walking red flag with a tragic past, but when you handed him Emily, his eyes filled with love and suddenly, in the bright daylight those red flags looked more pink to you.
Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @noname2246
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS
#simon riley imagines#simon#simon riley imagine#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#call of duty modern warfare#modern warfare#modern warfare imagine#x reader#x fem reader#fem reader#pregnant reader#pregnant au#ghost imaignes#ghost imagine#ghost x you#ghost x reader#ghost#ghost imagines#ghost x female reader#modern warefare
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Can anyone explain me what the ever-loving fuck is going on with the Qunari in Veilguard?
When I learned about Treviso occupation, I thought that was the result of Qunari officially being on the warpath. The Trespasser made it clear that the Qunari have been planning their invasion for quite a while - but chose to act covertly at first. Which makes perfect sense for Qunari, this is what they do. That would have also added some delicious moments for Taash and the Vashoth!Rook.
However, in the game we have not Qunari, but the Antaam (military). Which sounds stupid. The "it's not the nation, its it's soldiers doing it" excuse already sounds stupid if you ask me, but in the context of the Qunari lore it sounds even more stupid.
So, according to the accompanying media, Antaam...rebelled and acted without sanction. They have split into groups led by warlords who squabble between themselves and try to dig deep into the land they occupied. Which is bullshit.
The Antaam, meaning "body" in Qunlat, is the military of the Qunari led by the Arishok. Metaphorically, the Antaam are the eyes, ears, legs, arms and hands of the creature, everything that one needs to interact with the world, and so most Qunari encountered by Thedosians belong to the military
Antaam listen to the Arishok and Arishok alone. Qun is built on a system where everyone knows their place - and when they're out of place, they freak the fuck out, the massacre-the-family-because-my-tool-is-lost way. So, the probability of a large group of Qunari, an entire fucking army doing something without a command, and then digging a deeper hole for themselves by warlording is extremely low. Also, by all accounts, they're stop being seen by their kin as Qunari - they are Tal-Vashoth. Because they acted on their own volition, disobeyed the order, disobeyed the Arishok. This is not how the Qun works. No matter what they say, how they call themselves - they are Tal-Vashoth.
Like, there is a reason why Qunari are terrified of not fitting their mold - not only they have no idea of what to do when things don't go as planned, but also they are scared of losing their way and becoming permanently lost. The Iron Bull had that belief that he might lose his mind because he didn't know if he should trust himself without the guidance of Qun - him being a little more flexible due to his work as a spy as well as getting people he grew emotionally attached to helped with overcoming this barrier. But far from all Qunari are that lucky. Sten was so dejected after losing his sword that he let himself be caged - he didn't care about dying or anything anymore. He couldn't go home.
...Alright, where were we?
According to the wikipedia, Rasaan (the emissary of the Triumvirate)...took the control over Antaam? HOW? Qun is extremely rigid and allows no loopholes. For a change this massive there have to be some really, really good reasons - and I don't think the Antaam would have just accepted it. Without high enough approval, Sten only acknowledges Warden as the leader after they beat his ass in a duel.
Alright, let's say Rasaan gaslit the Antaam into believing she channels the way of the Qun and they ate it up. But why do we have warlords now?
Warlords with names, like Butcher? There are no names in the Qun. This is, once again, Tal-Vashoth behavior. But at the same time, they have access to qamek? What? How? Why? How does Par Vollen feel about their entire "body" fucking off? If they didn't sanction it, why aren't they stopping them???
It wouldn't be the first time for Bioware to twist their own lore and canon, but this one is legitimately migraine-inducing. Why not make a full-scale and sanctioned Qunari invasion, Qunari are like this! It's okay to make them the baddies, their ways are fucked up already and some positives don't make up for all the negatives! Don't just slap in a bunch of guys literally called "the army" and say "Nah, not all Qunari guys, these are just military acting on their own despite their lifestyle being all about following the system and doing your strictly established duties"
#dragon age: veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#datv spoilers#dav spoilers#dragon age#qunari#bioware critical
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A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request made here. Happy reminder that requests are open!!
Summary: Alfie comes homes late at night and finds his pregnant wife sleeping on the couch and confesses his fear to his unborn child
Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader
Warning: sexual connotations towards the end, language, pregnancy themes
SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG
Alfie was never one to be easily scared. He had a tough upbringing and, being the man of the house to his two older sisters, Rebecca and Debora, and their divorced mother, he had to grow up fast.
His father had left before Alfie was even born, leaving his son to become the only man of the house.
Sure, his mother was quite the mama bear herself. But there had always been resentment from Alfie towards his unacquainted father for leaving his mother to fend for her children on her own.
Alfie vowed that, if he ever became a father, he would support and help the mother of his child however he could, no matter how unconventional.
You felt like the luckiest woman in the world to be married to him. Alfie was nothing like most men. Most men would participate very little in these affairs, believing them to be limited only to women, but not Alfie. And if anyone dissed him for it, he'll tell those cowards to fuck right off because he wouldn't leave you alone in one of the most painful moments of your life.
It wasn't very common for you either. Part of you was so worried about just having him present for the birth. You worried he wouldn't want to go anywhere near you after it - obviously after you've healed - or have another child.
"Love, after the war I've seen, there is no amount of blood that can scare me away. Now, I won't pry if you don't want me to, of course. I'll respect whatever boundaries you have. But I would like to be there to hold your hand at the very least," he'd say.
He was hellbent on getting you all the best doctors and only the most experienced midwives to assist with pregnancy and the labor.
He didn't avoid making love to you because you were pregnant. It surprisingly turned him him on, made him certain about getting a baby back into you as soon as he could.
Every night, he came home to you with your favorite sweet and treated you to a warm bath together entitled to a foot rub and back rub just before bed.
Every afternoon, he'd meet you exactly at 3 when the weather wasn't too sunny or cold for a walk around the square or the block.
Every morning, once it became harder for you to bend over, he'd kneel down every time to get your heels on for you and compliment how beautiful you looked.
Regardless of the arguments you'd have, he was always consistent with his help. It didn't matter how he felt, he put his feelings aside as he reminded himself that they were nothing compared to the human growing in your body.
Your unborn child had reminded him of his sisters struggles during their terms. Crying over their husbands' affairs, neglected and alone, desperately wondering how they would raise the child. He was only a boy at the time, but he made sure to remember their names.
Once older and stronger, he tracked down all the men responsible for breaking his sisters' hearts and punished them with a beat-down they'd never forget. He considered offing them, but he figured the very least they could do is provide financial support. So, before they could even speak right or breathe through a healed nose, he put them into jobs his contacts proposed especially to him in order to keep a close on them.
That was simply Alfie's nature. Protective and vengeful.
Despite barely having to lift a finger for anything ever since Alfie hired an entire team to assist you, your body still felt exhausted and heavy from the weight of the growing baby in your belly.
You found yourself sat on the couch with Cyril snoring peacefully at your feet, warmed by the crackling fireplace before you.
You wanted to lie in your bed and rest your swollen feet in the comfortable warmth of your cotton linens, but Alfie still wasn't home. You worried when he got home late.
It took one look at the winding wooden stairs to convince you to swing your legs up on the couch, stretching them over the plush cushions.
Closing the heavy book in your hand, you tucked it snug between your side and the back of the couch for a quick shut-eye.
When Alfie arrived home, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He wasn't sure if you'd gone to bed, but he did know you had trouble sleeping without him. Your limited sleep positions were nothing as comfortable as snuggling up to his side.
Locking the door, he hung up his coat and hat. Just before he could make it to the first step of the stairs, he heard Cyril's snoring coming from the living room. That's when he noticed the light radiating from the fireplace, dancing against your skin as you slept soundly.
He stood in the door watching you for a moment, basking in the image of your sleeping frame. The warmth of the fireplace could not compete with of that which spread through his chest.
Alfie smiled to himself as he gazed upon you, his eyes admiring every crevice and hair on your face. The line of your nose, the eyelashes you'd bat at him, the shape of your lips and the faint curve of your smile lines. He loved knowing he'd been the main cause of those particularly.
But, as his gaze moved down to your protruding belly, he was reminded how close the day was. He wondered how the months flew by so fast.
He felt like he had so much time to prepare for fatherhood, but he felt just as hopeless as when you first told him about the baby.
Stepping into the living room, he walked over quietly to join Cyril on the floor in front of the couch.
He stared into the fireplace as cyril shifted to rest his head on Alfie's lap - his laziest greeting yet.
Alfie sat on one side, leaving his opposite leg bent to rest his arm over his knee. Your belly was just inches away.
Moving his gaze back your clothed bump, he sighed heavily.
"You know, I never met my father, right," he whispered to the unborn child. "I think it's wise you know that now, 'fore you come out. Didn't have one growing up, see? So I 'avent got the slightest idea of how to be one."
Lured from your nap by Alfie's voice, you slowly blinked your eyes open. Although Alfie's head of hair was all you saw, you realized he wasn't talking to you and he couldn't see you were awake.
Eavesdropping wasn't very polite, but you couldn't help yourself. You didn't want to stop him, but hearing him to the baby in you was quite heartwarming so you decided to let Alfie have a bonding moment of his own.
"Truth is you got me downright scared," he continued. "Even after months, I still am downright terrified and you ain't even 'ere yet... I know it's a lot to ask, yeah, especially since you're still in there, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the world. But I give you my word I'll try my best to be the best for you and your mum. I hope you can understand that even when you decide to hate me whenever I give you an earful. Though I doubt I can do it. Think your mum will have to sort you out," he mumbled with a playful smirk. "I'll try my best for you, yeah? I just hope it's enough."
Alife's smirk faded as she gazed at your belly. He felt pathetic, venting to an unborn child as if that would solve all his problems. Alfie hated admitted, and he would never admit it to anyone but you, but he was terrified of becoming a father.
You didn't blame him; you had your own fears as well, so you could understand why this precious and fragile life had him so frightened.
He still hadn't noticed you were awake or that you had heard his confession. Until you lifted a hand to stroke the hair on the back of his head.
" 'eard all that, did ya?"
He didn't exactly blush, but he did feel warmth racing around his face with embarrassment.
"You're going to be a great father, Alfie" you answered. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But as long as we're together and we have each other, we can get through anything."
"Yeah, I know, love," Alfie nodded and sighed. He hated talking about his emotions, even if it was to the only person he could trust blindly. "I just don't want to be a disappointment like my father, if you could even call 'im that much."
"You won't be, and I'll tell you why. You're nothing like him," you smiled, carding your fingers through his brown locks. "You're a good man, Alf. I know you do what you have to do out there, but what matters to me is the man you are in here. And in here, you're a good man. And I wouldn't want to be carrying anyone's child. I'm honored to be the mother of our babe."
"You really mean that?" he smiled trying to look over his shoulder at you, as far as his neck - and age - allowed.
"Every word. You're worried enough to ask your sisters and the midwives for help, Alf. Not many men care to even worry about that sorta thing."
"I'm not like most men," he smirked feeling a sense of pride. "How'd you know about that though?"
"Becca told me you been meeting her for tea every week for advice."
"I fucking knew it. I knew she'd blabber off to you," he chuckled shyly.
"It's nothing to ashamed of, love. I actually find your level of concern and willingness to help in whichever way extremely attractive," you smirked stroking the sensitive skin on his neck with your finger.
"Do you now?" He grinned mischievously knowing exactly where this was headed. One of the perks that came with your pregnancy, in the later stages of it, was the sharp peak of sexual desires.
There were no more worries about you getting pregnant - too late for that now - and seeing your belly swollen, with his child that he put inside you, only made him wish he could put more and more.
"I think I like where this is headed."
#alfie solomons#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons x you#alfie solomons x y/n#alfie solomons imagine#alfie solomons fic#tom hardy#peaky blinders
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HII I just wanted to say I simply adore your Alastor headcannons.. ❤️
I unsure if you’re accepting request but if you aren’t you can ignore this one 😅
I was thinking of a pining Alastor with a fem reader who never sings. Like she has always hated musicals, and ever since she’s been in hell she noticed it’s just one big musical. And the moment they finally actually open up and sing.. it’s not with Alastor. But probably Angel to make him feel better.. So he’s all jealous that the reader hasn’t sung with him.
And at the end they share a lil love duet and slow dance .. like, singing at last by Etta James..
I don’t know..I just love how you write Alastor. Your writing is absolutely phenomenal. 💕
I've been avoiding this one because it makes me think of Nix- 😭
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Alastor being a MENACE, Grumpy!Reader, Mentions of Drunk!Reader
Description: 👆⬆️
You don't sing, you're not the kind of person who's just going to break out into song like everyone else around you
You sang along to music, sometimes sure, or maybe even sang to yourself, but you didn't live life like you're in a musical
You had better things to do with your time than dancing around to mysterious music and making up words on the fly
It was something that annoyed Alastor because no matter how hard he tried to get you to join him in his little song and dance, you just walked away
And left him feeling ridiculous for even trying to make music with you
Good
Your serious demeanor and closed off nature only served to make him want to win you over even more
He doesn't like people being a mystery to him, he wants to know what you're thinking and how you're feeling all the time
For the sake of knowledge, of course, not out of any romantic desire or anything as ridiculous as that
After several failed attempts to get you to sing, Alastor just assumes you've got a bad singing voice and gives up
Only to be PISSED when he's proven wrong because WHY WON'T YOU SING WITH HIM
He finds you holding Angel to your chest and singing to him, the poor spider holding back tears as he relaxes into your arms
Alastor just hides and listens to the sound of your voice more confused than ever as to why you don't sing
You have a BEAUTIFUL VOICE
It reignites his desire to get you to sing with him and he becomes more of a pest than ever for you
He tries to trick you into humming or singing, turning on the radio when you two are alone in hopes that you'll take a liking to a song
"Do you have a particular music preference, my dear?"
"Can't say I do, whatever you pick is fine."
You only roll your eyes and continue looking at your book, the only sign that you like the music is your leg bouncing to the beat
He later catches you humming a little tune with Niffty as the two of you clean up together, the happy look on your face is the most precious thing he's seen
Alastor tries to invite you out to a concert/musical, waving two tickets in front of your face
"What do you say, my dear~? You and I listening to the most wonderful music in hell together?"
Only to watch your face scrunch up at the idea and realize that he's about to be rejected
"That's not really my thing, maybe you can get Charlie to go with you."
He ends up giving the tickets to Charlie and Vaggie, letting the two of them have a date night
You're smiling and singing a little song with Husk later that night, cooking a late night dish with him
He sulks the entire night and glares at you whenever your paths cross because HOW DARE YOU
WITH HUSKER!?
He even tries taking everyone to a karaoke bar and pulling you up on stage, hoping you're drunk enough that you'll sing
Only to be the victim of your drunken rage and get body slammed into a table instead because he startled you
"Alastor!! Are you okay!? Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! I will pay for the table!"
Charlie is panicking because everyone is STARING, but you just glare down at him, cheeks flushed from the booze
"Don't... sneak up on me like that..."
He'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on a little, laying there still in shock over what happened
"Understood."
Later, he hears you singing along to a song someone else is singing to. You're so drunk by that point that he doubts you even realize you're doing it
But you still sound so good even when your words are slurred and you're not even singing the right song
It gets to the point where Alastor's mood sours whenever you sing because he wants to sing with you but you always turn him down
You're trying to open up more but it's difficult to open up to someone like Alastor because it's impossible to know if he can be trusted
Your better judgment tells you no, but your heart whispers that you should give him a chance
Alastor just wants a duet with you so badly
You two would kill it, and he knows it
He's playing at the piano one day, singing to himself for entertainment more than anything
It's a song from his childhood, bringing up memories of happier times with his mother
When you suddenly saddle up next to him and begin to play as well, adding another layer to his song
His tail wagging and the way his eyes light up are the only indication he gives that he's excited by your presence
He keeps singing, feeling renewed by your musical accompaniment and really enjoying the music
Only to be graced with the sound of your own voice joining him, your hands briefly crossing over each others to play the right notes
The simple graze is electric for both of you, but neither would admit for years to come
He was right, you two sound better than anything he's ever heard before and he can't help but look at you because surely you feel it too??
Only to be flustered by the blush on your face and the small smile you give him, obviously pushed beyond your comfort zone but trying hard
It's all he can do to swallow the lump in his throat and focus on the song instead of how good you look or how beautiful you sound
Only when the song is over do you two realize how close your faces have gotten, gazing into each other's eyes like lovesick teenagers
You both are leaning in closer, gazes drifting down to lips-
When Alastor suddenly jerks away and walks across the room from you, his face burning from the realization of what almost happened
You deflate a bit and worry that you read him wrong, standing up so you can leave with your pride still intact
"Alastor, I'm so-"
Suddenly, the radio comes to life, Alastor picking a station with a slow romantic song playing before holding his hand out to you
"Care to dance, my dear? It'd be a shame to let such a good song go to waste..!"
You're both blushing and avoiding looking each other in the eye but you take his hand anyways, being pulled flush against him
If anyone were to peek in and see you two, it would certainly look like you two were a couple dancing to a romantic song and having a moment
Alastor has one hand on your hip while the other gently holds your hand, your head resting against him in an attempt to hide how embarrassed you are
His ears are folded back, and the smile on his face is wobbly and awkward, your other hand on his shoulder suddenly seemingly very interesting
Good thing nobody is peeking in on you two, except everyone is peeking in and passing around cash
"Pay up Angel, Husk, Charlie won fair and square."
I hope you guys like it 💓
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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comforting gesture 𐀔 &team
genre : purely fluff ⋆ warnings : absolutely none ⋆ wc : 876
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k ⭒ forehead kisses
he's a tall guy, and i think that's already something reassuring and comforting. but when his warm hands slide over your cheeks, and he places a protective kiss on your forehead : that's when you really feel cleansed of all bad vibes. k is the kind of boyfriend you can trust completely and who gives you a constantly reassuring, benevolent aura. which is why, whenever he thinks you need it, he follows his instincts and places a soft, warm kiss on your forehead.
fuma ⭒ back hug
you admire fuma for his presence and his ability to take care of others, but what you like best about him is his big arms mixed with his pretty cute face. so you obviously love it when he comes sliding up behind you to wrap your body in his comforting muscular arms, resting his chin on your shoulder as he cuddles you. sometimes you talk about anything and everything — especially if you're cooking at the same time, but other times you remain silent, simply enjoying each other's presence.
nicholas ⭒ grabbing you by the waist
whenever nicholas is near you, you can expect his hand to hang around your waist. you're out with friends? he guides your footsteps into his, holding you by the waist. you go shopping together? he holds you by the waist so you don't get lost. you're quietly preparing dinner? and suddenly a hand slips around your waist. but you don't care, you even like it more than you'd like to admit — because his hand around you makes you feel completely his, and constantly protected and safe.
euijoo ⭒ smiling into kisses
you don't know if he does it naturally or just to get rid of his shyness, but euijoo often pauses between kisses to let a smile form on his lips. it's one of the many things you love about him. and you're definitely not saying that because you fell in love with his smile — but because it proves that your hands on his cheeks and your warm kisses have a certain effect on him, and more particularly on his heart, which resonates unceasingly against yours. then, spend your time kissing him just to feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, has become one of your favorite moments of the day.
yuma ⭒ peppering kisses all over your face
you like to have free time with your boyfriend, because that means you'll get an avalanche of kisses. yuma is the kind of friend who'll plant kisses all over your face, leaving no spot untouched. your eyelids, your nose, your cheekbones, your jaw, your forehead, your temples, ending with your lips — nothing escapes the softness of her lips, and you find that extremely reassuring. no matter how many times he kissed your skin, you never stop getting butterflies in your stomach, to the point of smiling like an idiot.
jo ⭒ exchanging smiles from across the room
everyone knows that jo isn't much of a talker, but what he does best is to offer you the most beautiful of his smiles. no matter where he is, you can always find him with your eyes and lose yourself in his most precious smiles, because he's got that smile that makes your heart skip a beat, that makes you want to smile instantly, and makes you fall in love a little bit more. especially when you feel like you're lost in a crowd of people, rushing through their daily routine, and you need to find an anchor to get you out of there. and that's when you meet his gaze, and exchange the most comforting of smiles before you find each other again.
harua ⭒ playing with your hair
it's something harua often does, twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers wherever, whenever and however he wants. sitting next to you, waiting behind you, cuddling in bed.. every opportunity is good for him to play with your hair. even when you're having dinner, on the kitchen island, and he's just listening intently as you tell him about your day, and his hand slips mechanically into your hair to twist it around his index finger — and of course you don't say anything, because you're so used to it that it seems completely natural.
taki ⭒ rubbing his thumb over your knuckle
one thing taki likes to do the most is holding your hand. and he does it all the time : in class when he's behind you, in the street when you're out, in a department store to avoid getting you lost in the crowd.. his hand is glued to yours at this point. but you don't mind, because it's as if your hand was made to be joined to his, and you feel it even more when he strokes your knuckles with his thumb during a date. this simple gesture has a strange effect on your heart — and it keeps sending butterflies to your stomach.
maki ⭒ squeezing your hand reassuringly
one thing you really appreciate about maki is his ability to read you like an open book — and even if it can sometimes be restrictive, in moments of stress, you like him to be able to understand you without the slightest difficulty. no matter when or where, you don't know how he does it, but his hand always reaches for yours. and that simple touch has a calming effect on you, especially when he exerts a gentle pressure around your fingers, as if to whisper to you that he's there and everything will be all right.
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reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !
#&team imagines#&team scenarios#&team drabbles#&team reactions#&team headcanons#&team timestamps#&team#&team x reader#&team fluff#&team ej#&team fuma#&team harua#&team jo#&team k#&team nicholas#&team yuma#&team maki#&team taki#ej imagines#nicholas imagines#harua imagines#k imagines#yuma imagines#fuma imagines#taki imagines#maki imagines#jo imagines
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