#aren’t half as good as i think they are. but right now i think they’re great so that’s enough for me

[physics-of-one-piece]

Welcome to Doffy's Physics Lab.

In this post, we'll calculate how big Doflamingo's hands are and how long his fingers are.

Let's dive right in!

Okay, so the thing Oda did very very well is capture how long Doflamingo’s limbs are. He has a very strong chest, and his arms are as previously calculated 1.5m. What I say Oda captured well is actually (after some checking) that the proportions of Doflamingo’s body are not THAT bad compared to irl logic.

The man who has the largest hands in the world is Sultan Kosen (Turkey). His hands are 29 centimeters, but his height is 250 centimeters. Mr Kosen has gigantism and acromegaly, this is why he’s so tall and this is why his hands are bigger. Hands are usually 10% of the body height, so his hands should actually be 25 cm, but biology comes into play here, and after seeing some pictures, his hands look very normal for his size. They fit him. When I say how large the hand is, it means the length of the hand from the wrist to the middle finger.

So, this means, taller people’s hands most likely are not 10% of their height, but 11%. You may be wondering why I only heightened it for 1% percent. 1% proportion increase is about 4 cm increase on the real hand already. This fits for how big Mr Kosen’s hands are and follows bone structure that he has, which we can use to then calculate Doflamingo’s.

Also, body mass and body build goes into account. Even tall people have bigger hands than they should sometimes. Skinny people who are tall may have hands that aren’t 10% their body height, so the mass influences the proportion. The reason behind this is genetics and the aforementioned body structure. So, yes, it can depend! Not everyone has 10%! It doesn’t mean you are not healthy, it varies from person to person!

So, for tall people with a larger body mass, let’s put 10% for now; he is weighty but he is also lean in the arms and legs.

This is how we calculate:

10% proportion

Hand = height • proportion

hand = 305 • 0.10

hand = 30.5 cm

This is already huge. Absolutely huge. His hand is bigger than an average human’s head. His hands are 1.5 cm longer than an A4 paper. Yeah. Awesome! That’s awesome.

Sorry, geeking out and fangirling, please stand by.

Okay, we’re gonna do it with Oda’s proportions now. We’re gonna make it 11%.

The anime makes his hands so big. He a big boy.

This with 11% is the most accurate I like to believe.

0.11 • 305 = 33.55cm

We’ll call this next one the extreme but still possibly accurate version

With 12% body proportion (this is extreme of extremes I think this is too much, but fuck it, One Piece doesn’t follow rules so neither will I)

Hand= 305 • 0.12

Hand = 36.6 cm

These are all big.

Okay, now for the fingers. The anime keeps them good on proportions! Oda, as well! They look outta proportion to us midgets but they’re normal size for Doflamingo.

(rubs hands giddily) Hehe, I wanted to know this for AGES.

For this, we use the length of the hand and then anatomical proportions.

Middle finger is 35-40% of the total hand length

Index finger: 30-35%

Ring finger: 30-35%

Little finger: 30-35%

Thumb: 22-27%

Yeah, for normal people.

Not for One Piece, me thinks. I always imagine Doflamingo’s middle finger is half the length of his entire hand. Big boy has long fingers.

But fine, we’ll go with this first. And THEN we’ll have fun in the One Piece proportions.

Okay, so this is where we need to know the finger-length type classification of the hand. There are 4 types.

Most artists, Oda included, draw the hands with the mountain type ie middle finger is the longest. If there are any artists who can confirm/deny so I can later fix it, that’d be great.

Based on this study with men, their index finger is longer than their ring finger, and only by a few mm. We’re gonna put everything in the middle. We’ll make his index finger 1 cm shorter from his middle finger. Ring and index finger are gonna be the same length to get that “mountain” curve.

Now we will go with his hand being 30.5 cm ie with 10% proportion.

Warning, I am breaking dreams with this one, and once again, I like to think his middle finger is 15 cm long! Is it too long? Maybe. Do I care? No. The fun thing about knowing rules is knowing how to break them.

Formula:

percentage • hand length = finger length

30.5cm hand

Middle finger = 0.40 • 30.5 = 12.2 cm

Index finger = 0.35 • 30.5 = 10.67 cm

Ring finger = 0.35 • 30.5= 10.67 cm

Little finger = 0.325 • 30.5 = 9.91 cm

Thumb = 0.27• 30.5 = 8.23 cm

To put his thumb into visual, 8 cm is the average length 180 cm tall men have of their middle finger.

Okay, now onto the official One Piece proportions the 11%. We just need to have his big hand size, he has HUGE hands. Okay.

33.55 cm hand (most likely to be Doflamingo’s hand size)

Middle finger = 0.40 • 33.55 = 13.42 cm

Index = 0.35 x 33.55 = 11.74 cm

Ring = 0.35 x 33.55 = 11.74 cm

Little = 0.325 x 33.55 = 10.90 cm

Thumb = 0.27 x 33.55 = 9.05 cm

Last Possible Version (Extreme Version)

36.6 cm hand

Middle finger= 0.40 • 36.6 = 14.65 cm

(chokes) Holy Mariejois and celestials. Okay. Okay.

Index finger = 0.35 • 36.6 = 12.81 cm

Ring finger = 0.35 • 36.6 = 12.81 cm

Little finger = 0.325 • 36.6 = 11.89 cm

Thumb = 0.27 • 36.6 = 9.88 cm

Woah, his thumb is huge 🤣🤣🤣 (I have a 30cm ruler sitting on the paper rn so yeah these are crazy numbers)

And there you go.

Okay, now width of fingers, we have no way of calculating it except to use known information.

For example, palm width of a hand of 19.3cm long is 8.9cm. let’s cut our losses and divide that to see how much smaller is the palm (this is cheating btw but it gets the job done). Usually your fingers are half the length of your palm. Sth like that. The palm is drawn mostly as a square or a curved parallelogram depending on the angle in which it’s drawn in. I am going with the easier option where all sides are equal.

We got 2.16

So we can say…

Average Palm width without adjusting for OP proportions

for 30.5 cm hand = 30.5/2.16 = 14.12 cm

Doflamingo’s Palm Width (adjusted for OP Proportions)

33.55 cm hand = 33.55/2.16= 15.50 cm

(I just realised I can just go minus his middle finger because that is how we got the length of his hand omg I am an idiot, no need for complex stuff)

33.55 cm - 13.42 cm = 15.13

(Okay, this is the better and easier way and makes good sense!)

(Whispers) Jesus fucking Christ

Extreme Palm Width

for 36.6 cm hand = 36.6/2.16 = 16.96 cm

Dear fucking GOD.

I really like the 30.5 cm from an accuracy standpoint but also, usually, hands are bigger than the average, and the taller you are, basing on your body type & genetics, that proportion can shift slightly.

So 33 cm isn’t a far reach at all for Doflamingo. He absolutely can wrap his single hand around a woman’s throat depending on the circumference of the woman’s throat. He cannot wrap them around a man’s neck fully to enclose it. He can, single-handedly with a 33 cm hand, absolutely completely envelop a woman’s neck.

There’s that. His finger thickness is probably 2-3cm.

And that's it!

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[fingertipsmp3]

Someone on a NaNoWriMo prep thread: if you’re trying to win NaNo for the first time my advice is to pick the simplest idea

Me: yep, that seems smart. I’ll do that

Also me: *walks away from my first brainstorming session needing to research the golden age of piracy, the composition of the UK in the mid 17th century, the British navy in the mid 17th century, and the overall concept of a time loop*

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.6

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.7]

Danny slumped over the table at the library. He’d feel embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the rest of the floor’s occupants. Around him, students were speed running through the five stages of grief like it was going out of style.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Same.” Danny replied, rolling his head to look at Tim. “I’m feeling like an academic victim instead of an academic weapon right now.”

“I should have stayed dropped out of school,” Tim grumbled.

Danny gasped theatrically. “And deprive the world of your awe-inspiring genius on…” Danny peered at Tim’s books and grinned. “On… the Krebs cycle? Seriously? They’re teaching that again?”

“I know! This is like, the third time.” Tim whined.

“At least you’ll be good at it, right?”

Tim scoffed. “I’m gonna drop out of college and become a stripper.”

“They do make bank,” Danny nodded. “But aren’t you like a millionaire or something?”

Tim brightened. “Oh, you’re right. I don’t need education! I’m filthy rich!”

Danny whacked Tim on the back of the head, laughing quietly.

“Whatever. Let’s go take a break. Snacks?”

“I literally don’t know how you eat so much.”

“Snacks have a separate stomach pouch. Normal food goes one place, junk food and desserts in another.” Danny retorted, quickly packing up his stuff. In reality, he didn’t need that much food. He’s half dead, after all. But food also converts to ectoplasm in his body, and ancients knows Danny needs all the energy he could get.

They made their way out of the campus library, passing stressed out looking students on their way to a taco truck.

“Does this even count as a snack?” Tim asked, amused. He tugged on his book bag, readjusting the vigilante pins on them.

“Is the sky even blue?” Danny snarked back, forking over the cash needed for the best fucking tacos on this side of Gotham. They sat on the benches, asking for an obscene amount of extra lime and cilantro before going to town.

“Holy shit, how many of those can you eat?”

“Dunno,” Danny mumbled though a mouthful or carne asada and pico de gallo. “Hungry.”

Tim snorted, pulling out his phone to scroll as he ate. A moment later, Tim showed Danny his screen.

“Hey, you live near here, right?”

Danny, cheeks bulging with food, peered at Tim’s phone and nodded.

“Oh, cool! Have you seen the green guy around?”

Danny squinted at Tim, tilting his head as he chewed.

“You know, the glowing green guy that’s been blowing up the Gotham Bay tag.”

Oh. Tim was talking about him, Danny!

Danny nodded. He quickly ate his food and wiped his mouth before replying. “Yeah, why?”

“Does he seriously just clean up the bay? Nothing else?”

Mildly offended for some reason, Danny shrugged. “I mean yeah? He doesn’t seem to pop up near any of the shady spots- oh, I saw him save someone from a mugging in front of my apartment once! But like, I think all he does is clean the bay. Which is good, because holy heck, that place is nastyyy.”

“Seriously?” Tim leaned in, looking super interested. “So he’s friendly?”

Danny raised a brow. “Yeah, he seemed pretty nice, I guess. Though, that’s not saying much considering your Rogues tend to be pretty chill when they’re not in the middle of a scheme.”

Tim snorted. “True that. You talked to him? When? Outside of his bay cleanings, right? I’ve noticed that he only talks to the Bats during those.”

Danny stared at Tim. “Tim… are you… stalking the guy?”

What Danny really wanted to say was: “Tim, are you stalking me?”

“I’m not stalking him!” At Danny’s suspicious glare, belied by his sauce stained mouth, Tim sighed. “Okay, maybe I am. But only some minor stalking!”

“Uh-huh.”

“But if you have, you think you could introduce us? Maybe he’d want to be friends?”

Was Tim asking Danny to introduce him to… Danny himself?

“Uh. Why do you even want to meet him?”

“Danny, he’s a glowing green guy that does community service for funsies. And he knows the Bats. That’s cool.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t know cool if it smacked you in the face.” Danny teased. Well, whatever. He might as well do something nice for Tim. “Sure. I’ll text you when he pops up and see if he’s okay with meeting you.”

Tim grinned at him, a piece of cilantro stuck in his teeth. “Thanks!”

——

Danny made a duplicate of himself and went ghost. Danny and his duplicate looked at each other and sighed.

“We’ve done stupider things.”

“But we’re still not telling Jazz.”

“Agreed.”

Danny paused. Did he just make a deal with himself? No, he’s busy.

Doppelgänger Danny went invisible and left the apartment by going through a wall. Danny followed in a sedate pace, the normal way.

Outside, he pretended to catch sight of a suddenly visible Phantom. He’d heard the heartbeats outside his apartment ever since he got home all those days ago, and he’s pretty sure the vigilantes were watching his place ever since. Luckily, he made sure there weren’t any bugs or hidden cameras- Sam beat cautiousness into his head a while ago- before starting the plan.

One of those heartbeats sounded like Tim’s which left some… interesting connotations.

Danny sighed. Who was he kidding? Of course he’d be friends with a vigilante.

“Hey, Phantom!” Danny shouted, waving. Phantom floated over.

“Danny. Hi. Did you need something?”

“Oh, not really. My friend wanted to meet you, he’s a huuuuge fan. Think you’ve got time today?” Danny held up his phone.

Phantom hummed. “I can stay for a bit. Thirty minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll call him. His name is Tim, by the way. Thanks for taking the time to meet him!”

“No problem.”

Danny texted Tim, and minutely frowned as he picked up the sound of Tim’s ringtone. Shit, that pretty much confirmed his suspicions. He got a text back from Tim.

Timsy

[5 nin]

Nin

Nin

Nin

Min

Danny huffed an amused breath. “He’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Alright.”

Danny texted back an okay.

Five minutes later, a flushed and disheveled Tim peeled onto the street and right to the curb.

“Here!” He said as he tumbled out of the car.

“Damn, bro. You good?”

“Fine- oh my god, you’re the green guy!” Danny had to hand it to Tim. If he didn’t already figure out he was Red Robin, Danny would’ve believed the act. Holy shit, wait, he called his friend broke. Hah!

“It’s Phantom. Nice to meet you, Tom.”

A quick sliver of sullenness flashed over Tim’s face. “It- it’s Tim.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, human names sound so similar.” Danny leaned back and hid a grin as his doppelgänger messed with his friend.

“Oh, wow, you’re not human? What are you then?”

“Oh my god, Tim, you can’t just ask him what he is!” Danny scolded. These vigilantes were really similar.

“Sorry…” Tim apologized.

“It’s fine. To answer your question, I’m dead. Ghost.”

“Do you really pay taxes?”

Phantom tilted his head. “Yes, of course.” By the, Danny meant that he paid both human taxes and oversaw the Zone’s taxes. “You know that saying, something about never escaping from two things and that’s taxes and death? You can escape death- might come back a little wrong- but taxes are in the afterlife too.”

“Come back a little wrong?” Tim asked, eyes suddenly sharp.

“Come back a little,” Phantom gestured to himself. “Green. More emotive and prone to irritation.”

Tim stared.

——

“Jason, are you a ghost?” Dick, crouched on the top of Danny’s apartment building whispered.

Red Hood, crouched in the same area, stayed silent.

——

“How did you die?”

Phantom snarled and disappeared.

Tim whirled around, looking bewildered. Behind him, Danny struggled to stay calm.

“Where’d he go?”

“He probably didn’t want to hurt you.” Danny sighed.

“What? What did I do?”

“You asked him how he died. That’s like, the ultimate social taboo.”

“I didn’t know that!”

“It’s common sense, dude. Trauma like that has to be shared instead of asked about. Generally.” Danny sighed. “Come on, let’s get off the street and I’ll give you a crash course in manners.”

——

Bruce, upon hearing about the conversation, dove headfirst into researching the after life.

“No, go suck a goat’s genitals, Batsy, I am not helping you adopt a being of the infinite realms!” Constantine hung up on him.

“Hn.” Bruce will adopt the child and give him a home. It’s only a matter of when… and what inter-dimensional loopholes he could find and use in the relevant laws.

Jason was right behind him, because he was going to get answers, dammit.

[eddywoww]

I’m such a sucker for ill timed kink discovery

I’m talking about Steve Has A Hair Pulling kink but doesn’t really know it. He’s always really liked when people play with his hair but

He gets close to Eddie. Because Eddie gets close to Robin and they have a bond that doesn’t make sense to Steve and he’s a little jealous over it but whatever, fine. It takes a few months for Steve to really warm up to Eddie.

And then it’s over.

They start cuddling. Only, it’s not cuddling? It isn’t. Steve just gets high with Robin and Nancy and Jonathan and Eddie and everyone is so nice and so chill and things aren’t weird like they used to be. So Steve relaxes, splays his feet out in Robin’s lap as he lays his head in Eddie’s lap. It’s a first and Eddie definitely freezes for a good few seconds when Steve does it but he lets it happen

He doesn’t touch Steve the first time.

He touches him the second time. When they’re all hanging out and the lights are low and Steve does it again and Robin only halfway gives him a weird look. It doesn’t stop Steve form blinking tired eyes up at Eddie, watching the way he gulps and hovers a hand over Steve’s face.

“I like when people pet my hair,” He says unhelpfully, so high he can barely concentrate. Eddie makes a soft noise and blinks down at him. “You should- you should do that.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate for long, his fingers carding through. Touching the scalp, nails catching.

It’s the first time Steve has ever broken out into goosebumps over something so simple.

And then it becomes a habit. Steve falls asleep in Eddie’s lap and it becomes a habit because Eddie can’t seem to stop and Steve can’t seem to stop him. So he sits in front of Eddie whenever he can. Lays all over him, high or not.

One day, it all goes to shit. He’s high again, head placed in Eddie’s lap. Ignoring whatever movie they’re watching in the dark. Eyes closed and mind drifting as Eddie pets him. Steve isn’t sure how his hands never get tired but he isn’t complaining.

Robin screams at an ill timed jump scare and of course, of course. The universe loves to mock Steve. Eddie’s hand clenched reflexively and he pulls, PULLS at Steve’s hair. Sudden and hard. Just yanks from the root and-

Steve feels it like a shock collar. Like a bolt of lightning. Right into his scalp, a shiver that works its way down his body. He’s half hard before he can really do anything about it. And of course he had to panic. What else can he do but bolt upright and off the couch? Stumbling toward the nearest bathroom before anyone can think much of it? Mumbles off an excuse about being dizzy.

Eddie is at the door once Steve gets out. Once he splashes his face with cold water and tries to wills away his sudden boner and WHY the FUCK he would get one in the first place. Past the whole “maybe I like guys” thing that he’s been ruminating on since freshmen year.

Eddie is so sweet to him, worried that Steve really got too high. He’s even ready with a bottle of water. It’s painful and it makes Steve feel even worse.

It isn’t supposed to happen again but it does. Yes, it does. The next time Steve gets high, he tries not to sit next to Eddie. They’re at the trailer this time. But Steve is Steve and high Steve loves attention. So he ends up laying all over Eddie again, eyes drifting shut.

It’s Eddie’s fault this time.

His fingers drift far into chestnut locks. Sinking deep, deeper than usual. Just to clench up and pull. It’s light, almost unnoticeable. But it’s enough for Steve’s eyes to pop open again. To look up at Eddie in wonder, mouth open on a silent noise. And Eddie is looking back, watching Steve with a deer in headlights expression. He goes “Huh.” Like he just figured something out, like he just solved a problem.

Steve should have seen it as a warning.

He also should have stopped using Eddie as a jungle gym.

The third time is even worse. Because they both know now, don’t they? But neither of them will talk about it. No, that would be too much.

Eddie pats his lap like an invitation and no one even thinks it’s weird. Steve doesn’t care if they do. He looks forward to these weekly movie nights more than ever now.

Robin isn’t on their couch tonight. She hasn’t given any inkling that she knows what’s going on but she probably suspects Steve has a crush. She won’t mention it, not yet. He loves that about her.

And Eddie. Eddie doesn’t even watch the movie, he watches Steve. As he plays with his hair, lips quirking when he finally wraps a strand around one finger and tugs at it and Steve’s back arches the tiniest bit and his blood drains south and he’s got his nails in the soft fabric of Jonathan’s couch.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers, just the tail end of some sort of praise and- and Steve can’t really take that, can he? He bites his bottom lip to try and hide the whine that wants to escape. Rubs his face against Eddie’s thigh. Feels the hard outline of his cock, so close to Steve’s face. Fuck. “I knew it.”

He knew it, he knew it. Fuck.

Nothing happens. Steve goes home with wide eyes and flushed cheeks and a stupid amount of horniness. Eddie smiles like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

The final time is the straw that breaks the camels back.

Steve sits at Eddie’s feet on the floor of his trailer. The rest of them are smoking but Steve isn’t this time. Doesn’t want to, doesn’t need it. Not when Eddie already has a hand in his hair and Steve feels boneless and wow, this is just normal now, isn’t it?

There’s little to no pretense once the lights go down. And the night is terrible and great in equal measure. Steve is so hard it hurts, head leaned back and eyes closed. Waiting for Eddie to give in and pull his hair again. He won’t do it. He won’t just-

Not until everyone leaves. Not until Robin rolls her eyes and huffs something like ‘finally’ on her way out.

Eddie pulls Steve into his lap and their lips meet and- and he grabs two fistfuls of hair and pulls hard. Hard enough for Steve to let out a groan that is embarrassingly loud. Loud enough that he hopes everyone is really gone.

Steve discovers a stupid little kink and Eddie gets a preppy little boyfriend.

[unequivocallyreid]

Do You Get It Yet?

hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.

warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation

this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!

You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.

Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.

You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.

You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.

So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.

You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.

Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.

“Dr. Reid?”

He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”

“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”

“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”

This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.

“Thank you so much.”

You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.

He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”

You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”

You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.

“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”

You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”

“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”

He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”

Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”

He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“

Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“

He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”

He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.

“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”

Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.

“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”

You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”

You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”

“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”

“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”

~

This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.

Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.

You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.

You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.

Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.

You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.

You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.

“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.

“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”

He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”

This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.

“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”

You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.

The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.

Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.

“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”

“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”

You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”

He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”

You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.

Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.

~

So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.

It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.

You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.

Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.

“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”

“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”

“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”

“It’s not like that, Lena.”

“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”

You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”

You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.

After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.

You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.

You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.

You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.

As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.

Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.

Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.

Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.

When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.

With shaking fingers, you text him back.

You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.

You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.

Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?

You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.

~

Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.

When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.

It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”

“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”

“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”

You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.

The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him

Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.

The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.

He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”

It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.

“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”

He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“

“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”

You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.

He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.

“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”

You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.

“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”

“Spencer.”

You look up, “What?”

“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“

You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”

You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.

The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”

Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”

The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.

“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”

“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”

“It’s wrong, Y/n.”

“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”

Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.

His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”

“I want all of it, doctor.”

The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.

You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.

You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.

“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”

He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit

together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.

You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.

“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”

His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked, huh?”

You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.

“Is this all for me, Y/n? Who’s making you this wet?”

“You, sir, only you.”

“Jesus, baby.”

If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.

His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.

“You’re so big.”

He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”

You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.

“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”

Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.

“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”

You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.

He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch out this pussy for me.”

With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, puppy. Letting your professor fuck you with his fingers.”

You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.

“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”

Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.

Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.

“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”

He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear? You really are desperate for me, huh?

You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”

“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”

You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.

He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.

In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”

You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”

His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.

“I could play with that pussy all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”

You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip

slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.

You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.

“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”

The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.

Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.

“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Love how deep it is in you. Can’t even talk you’re so fucked out.”

His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.

“Please, need it. Need you.”

He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.

“So perfect for me. Gonna fuck you dumb, puppy.”

You whine at the nickname, you didn’t even know you were into that.

“You’re just sucking me in, Y/n. Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.

“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”

“That’s right. Come all over this cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.

“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”

You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”

He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.

“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this pussy mine.”

You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.

“Gonna come, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come in your perfect fucking pussy.”

You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.

When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.

“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.

“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”

Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.

When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.

In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”

He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”

You don’t know why you wouldn’t.

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”

You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.

“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”

You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”

He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.

“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.

You feel him hold you a little tighter then.

“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”

END!! i hope you all love it!

tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101

[yanderemommabean]

Hey Momma!

I like butterflies, ya got any Yandere Alien Butterfly scenario for me? Or everyone? Cause I'm sure we'd like a nice Yandere Alien Butterfly~ 🦋

“P-Please! Please you have to-Ahh!” You sob, wincing and jerking as more of their invasive fingers inspect your body. It wasn’t a sob of pain either, oh anything but. You’ve been handed over for these insect aliens to inspect as a sort of treaty and well, they’re being /very/ thorough with you. 

Their wings flutter here and there as they murmur and whisper to one another, you assume to speak about notes and what they’ve learned but you can’t help but notice the clipboards and tablets have been set aside for over an hour now, and they simply haven’t bothered to test anything more than your limits on pleasure. 

Weren’t you supposed to be tested on with other items too? Wasn’t this more or less a death sentence from your oh so cowardly government? 

“They react nicely when you press right here-” The one on the left states a bit louder, something you can actually comprehend, but you’re focus is cut off as they demonstrate what they mean-curling their fingers inside you just right and making your body pulse with pleasure once again, your eyes watering as they begin to more or less abuse that spot and make your muscles tense and shake. 

You can’t even catch your breath as the one on the right nods their head, but moves to grab something off of the table beside them. “Yes but do you think their anatomy could handle someone of our size? I think this mating tool is about as large as one of us, shall we try it?” 

Oh god you can’t even bring yourself to look up. You try to catch your breath while you can, laying back on the cold table bringing you back to your senses even if just slightly. You aren’t sure you want to know just how big that toy could be, your mind would simply break. 

“Oh not to worry! They’re quite resilient creatures! But we do have to be careful, I like this one” one says, amused as they grab the item and flick the switch. “We have to be slow, humans can handle sizes better when relaxed and sedated. Our little specimen here should be able to take at least half before we run into any issues”. 

Your walls flutter and pulse once again, and you hate your body for being so eager to start after finally catching your breath. It’s as if your instincts are trying to tell you to just lay back and give in, and really, you can’t fight that urge much longer. That buzzing sound only makes your legs want to squeeze together tighter, but not out of fear this time. 

Oh you’re slowly becoming a mindless toy yourself aren’t you?  

When the head of that large toy enters you, your breath catches and it can’t be helped when you arch up and brokenly cry, that stretch seemingly both painful and blissful. That vibration was only making your fingers and toes curl as the two aliens watched with rapt attention, slowly pressing the toy in deeper and deeper, listening to your feeble noises and adorable moans almost nonchalantly. 

If it wasn’t for the heady scent in the air and the fact you could see their own members sliding out in arousal, you’d think they were genuinely bored with experimenting with you. You catch a glimpse between weak twists of your body, and those dangerous eyes hold something more primal than they did when you first entered the room. 

They were doing this for more than just research, that’s for sure. You’re at their mercy until they get bored, if they even do. 

“Go ahead. Climax. We know you have more in you, we’ve studied your vitals and liquids, you aren’t dehydrated yet” the one on the right bites out, eager and needy as he leans forward to turn the toys vibrations up. “You look so good like this, human. Stuffed and needy, begging to be bred and made into the perfect mate. You must feel so neglected if you’re this sensitive to what we use” 

You can only manage a whimper, eyes rolling back as your breath catches and that thick, pulsing toy hammers inside of you. It’s no use in fighting it, you couldn’t fight the multiple other attempts either. You cave, body lurching and head lolling back as you cry out and loudly gasp for air, feeling your hole clenching down and trying to make sure that large toy doesn’t leave, milking it for all its worth as you rock your hips to ride out the fifth intense orgasm of the day. 

The two butterflies coo and croon in your ear, you think they’re praising you even but everythings so blurry and sounds like it's underwater, you can’t make any of it out. 

“Good job human, such a good job. That’s it, deep breaths…When your breathing is back to a stable condition let’s see if we can’t fit in the rest of the device. I’m sure you won’t disappoint us”.

(-Mommabean, hiya! Sorry for any typos! Anyway I hope you enjoyed, feel free to tell me what you thought!)

[idkwhatever580]

I would die happy

Pairings: teen!Natasha Romanoff x teen!reader

Song Inspiration: very loosely based off of the songs Casual by Chappell Roan and Ashley by Zolita (They’re good to listen to before hand but not necessary. I’ll link them)

Prompt: what happens when “good girl” y/n breaks it off with “bad girl” Natasha and Natasha realizes she needs y/n more than she thought?

Warnings:mentions of sex, angst then fluff, mentions of death? (From the song).

Pronouns: unspecified (one use of ma’am but in a silly way)

A/N: No this is not an actual songfic. I just took inspiration from the songs so there might be a line or five in the mix. I have had these songs stuck in my head the past few days and I kept imagining like a teen romance coming out of it? Idk. Hopefully I write this better than the last one 😭

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Y/n’s pov

I am in my room doing my homework when I hear tapping on my window. I look up from my neat desk to see Natasha.

My instinct is to smile and open the window up but I freeze.

Natasha Romanoff.

Bad girl. She vandalizes things. She doesn’t participate. And she dresses like a fuck boy.

Some call her a player. Some call her a cheater.

Whatever they think there’s one thing everyone can agree on. Natasha romanoff does not do relationships.

She’s usually the one night stand type of girl but then she met me. And that’s when everyone says she went soft. She never fucked another girl other than me.

But that’s all. For half a year. All she’s ever done is sex, aftercare, leave, repeat.

Another set of tapping falls upon my ears and I zone back in. I open the window and whisper

“What are you doing here?”

Natasha crawls in and says

“Wanted to see you. You alright there? You zoned out for a sec”

I nodded my head and my eyes fall upon her necklace. It’s silver with a little arrow.

I hate myself when I think of it. I nod my head and say

“Yeah. Totally fine. Just doing some homework”

I sit back down at my desk even though I know why Natasha is here.

After a whole 6 months of this it’s hard to not know what her routine is. But I don’t want it anymore.

Obviously I caught feelings. Who wouldn’t catch feelings for her? I just thought that I would get over it. I thought that having some of her is better than none of her at all right?

Wrong.

I cry so much now. All I want is for her to love me back. But that’s not reality. She doesn’t do love. She doesn’t do relationships. And I can’t do it anymore.

Natasha walks up behind me and rubs her hands down my arms and starts kissing my neck. My body lets her do it but then I think about it and take her hands off me.

“Not tonight. I have to study”

She doesn’t let up. Because usually I like playing hard to get. So she doesn��t know. And that’s okay. It’s my fault she doesn’t know.

“I can help you relax baby”

I roll my eyes at the pet name and say

“Natasha. Can we talk?”

She stands up straighter at my use of her full name and says

“Yeah. Sure”

I can tell she is a bit surprised at me but she nods her head nevertheless.

She sits down at the foot of my bed and I roll my chair over to her.

I sigh and look at the ground.

“I don’t know how to say this, but I can’t do this anymore Natasha”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“You can’t do what?”

“This Natasha,”

I point at her and myself

“I hate myself for letting this drag on so long because I know you. I know you don’t want a relationship. But I lo- I like you Natasha. And I want you. All to myself. I want labels and I want to go to the pier together and eat popsicles and I want you to tell your friends and I want a future with you.”

I can tell I’m overwhelming her with this information but I keep going

“But you don’t want that. And that’s okay! I understand that some things aren’t meant to last. But I can’t keep hurting myself for some fun okay? I need to heal and move on. And you can go find another toy to play with and that’s okay. I just can’t be the one you go to anymore. It’s not what I want. And our ideals clearly do not align. I thought maybe I could do it and be able to handle all of this but I can’t.”

I tear up a bit

“I can’t be casual with you. I want feelings attached and I want you to myself but you don’t want me like that. So I need to cut it off.”

I finally finish my rant and I look down feeling embarrassed.

“I’m sorry”

I apologize and she shakes her head

“Don’t apologize. I get it.”

We sit there for a minute of awkward silence and she sighs and says

“I guess I should go then”

I nod my head and sniffle a bit. She lingers like she has something to say but she ultimately leaves and on her way out of my window she says

“I’ll see you at school I guess”

I nod my head.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

It’s been a week since I cut it off with Natasha and I look rough. My friends are worried about me but I tell them I’m fine.

Even some of my teachers have asked if I’m okay. Of course I lie to them. But it’s nice to know someone cares.

I have avoided Natasha at all costs. But I still find myself thinking about her.

Her arrow necklace. God I hate myself when I think of it. Because then I think of her. And then I start crying. Or I just shut down.

Yes. I may or may not have almost said I love you the night I cut it off with her. But I didn’t want her to have to hold all of my baggage. It’s not fair. She doesn’t like me like that. And she doesn’t deserve to feel guilty for what I feel.

My friend Emerald walks up to me during a free period and she says

“Hey did you see Natasha today?”

I shake my head and say

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

She shakes her head and says

“Well you’re gonna have to listen. She is the talk of the school right now so either you hear it from me or someone else.”

I roll my eyes and say

“What Em? Does she have a new toy hanging on her shoulder?”

Clearly I’m a little ticked off about having to hear about her.

But em shakes her head and I look at her and wait for her to continue

“She’s wearing your hoodie”

I look at her and say

“My hoodie? She doesn’t have any of my clothes, except for that bra that I’ll probably never get back”

She takes out her phone and shows me my favorite hoodie. It’s the pink one that I got from the thrift store. They all knew it was mine because it has em’s name on the sleeve. And a duck on the front.

I remember now. I forgot it at her house one time after she fucked me in her beach house. That was the day everyone found out and started talking about how I’m just a girl she fucked on her couch.

I cried so much that I forgot about it. And of course she just came over to make me forget about all the things people said.

I look at her and say

“Why would she ever wear that?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me and says

“She obviously likes you y/n”

I roll my eyes and say

“She doesn’t like me Em. From the beginning everyone has known she doesn’t do crushes.”

Em shrugs her shoulders and says

“People can change.”

I roll my eyes and get a little frustrated and say

“Leave it Em. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She puts her hands up in surrender and leaves it at that.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. But I catch a glimpse of Natasha at the end of the day. She is wearing my hoodie. She looks good in it. But she shouldn’t be wearing that. I’m not hers. And she’s not mine.

I quickly leave so she doesn’t see me. Even though we definitely made eye contact. But it’s whatever.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

It’s about 8 pm now and I’m studying again. This final is about to make or break me so I can’t let myself loosen the reigns even though it’s only a midterm.

I have my headphones on and I’m listening to classical because it apparently helps people study. I’m honestly doing anything to help me.

A hand taps my shoulder and I jump up quickly but thankfully I don’t yell.

I turn around quickly and see Natasha standing there.

I immediately get frustrated and say

“What are you doing here?”

I take a second to actually look at her and she looks like shit. Honestly she is looking at me like a lost puppy. Like she hasn’t been in my room for six months. Her hair is a mess, shes still in my hoodie, and the bags under her eyes indicate that she hasn’t been sleeping well. I almost feel bad for her. Then I remember I can’t let my feelings get in the way. She says

“I um… I wanted to talk to you”

I sigh and say

“Well what is it? I’m listening?”

I feel bad for being so short with her but I can’t do it any other way or else I’ll break down.

She kind of stands there for a second and I sit down on my bed and pat it. I might as well be nice to her. She’s not a horrible person anyways.

She shakes her head slightly and keeps standing. I look at her and say

“You wanted to talk?”

She nods her head and says

“I don’t know how to say this but… I- I need you y/n”

I have never seen Natasha cry once. But she immediately breaks down in front of me

“I can’t do this without you. I need you so bad I just want all of you. I thought that if I convinced myself that it was for the better, that if I said I wanted this it would come true. But it’s not true I- I love you and I know you are probably over me by now and that’s okay I just need to tell you that I want you and only you. I know I’ve never done anything like this but I want to I want to change. I want to be good. For you. I want to take you on dates and tell everyone about you. And I don’t think I can do this without you because life is like a bad dream without you and I didn’t even realize what I had until I lost it!”

She starts crying. I start tearing up at her confession and I say

“Stop it. Stop it Natasha.”

It’s short and snippy because I’m about to cry.

“You can’t just say those things and pull at my heart just to get into my pants okay? I’m sorry that nobody wanted to get with you but I cannot just go crawling back to you if you just lie to me to get me back”

She looks at me and she shakes her head aggressively and says

“No. No I don’t. I don’t want to get into your pants I actually love you. I didn’t even know it because I’ve never felt love before y/n. Please you have to understand me I love you. I love you so much and I want a future with you. I was just scared but I’m not scared anymore I want you!”

She drops to her knees and tries to calm down a bit and says

“I understand if you don’t want me but I want you. I want to be your girlfriend. I want to introduce you to my friends and family. And- and I know my past doesn’t help anything. My reputation is probably your biggest fear but I can’t imagine my life without it. I’ve never been the sappy type but I’m telling the truth. If loving you kills me then I will die happy y/n”

I look at her from my bed and I see the genuine look in her eyes. I tear up again and the I get down from my bed and she looks down. It’s like she’s worshipping me. Like if she doesn’t she might lose me.

I envelope her in a hug and she starts crying into me. And I say

“Tell me that you love me and you won’t leave me.”

She looks at me with tears running down her face and her nose is sniffly and she says with such confdence

“I love you y/n. Nothing can change that. I won’t ever leave you. Not even if I could. I want to be yours”

I smile at her as she waits for me to answer and I grab her head and lean into her. I kiss her.

This kiss is different than any other kiss I’ve ever shared with her. It’s soft and tender. And full of love. I don’t even care that her tears and boogers are getting on me.

I don’t care. I just love her. I pull away and giggle and she kind of sits in criss cross. And I say

“Natasha. I love you too. I’ve loved you for a while now. I was just scared to say it.”

She sends me a dopey smile. I’ve never seen her smile at me like that. I like it. So I boop her nose and say

“Cute.”

She scrunches up her nose and says

“I’m everything but cute right now.”

I shake my head and say

“You’re always cute.”

I kiss her again after she wipes her face off and it’s sweet. I pull her into my lap and she says

“I don’t like this.”

Normally I guess she would be more comfortable with me on her lap. But I don’t care.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

We sit on my floor for a bit and I say

“Oh shit! It’s late.”

I check the time and say

“It’s nine o’clock already! You have to get home baby”

She stops at the nickname and says

“Wait. So… are we?”

I giggle and say

“After all of that? There’s no way we’re not dating. So yes. I’m gonna call you baby. But you need to go home and I need sleep”

She smiles and says

“Can I have a hug before I go?”

I nod my head and pull her in for a long hug.

I kiss her head and then her nose and then her lips and say

“I love you. Now go. I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow?”

She usually walks to school and I drive but I want to pick her up now. She nods her head and I stop her before she leaves my window and I say

“And I want my hoodie back.”

She laughs softly and says

“No way. It’s mine now.”

Then I pull her back in to me and distract her with a kiss. I say

“Well then. I guess this is mine now”

I swiftly pull the hoodie she has on right now off of her and she pouts and says

“Aw man. That’s a good hoodie.”

I smile and say

“Only the best for me right?”

She smiles finally and nods her head and I say

“Text me when you get home okay?”

She nods her head and says

“Yes ma’am”

I giggle and shake my head. I watch as she walks off into the night and I hop onto my bed and cuddle my stuffed animal with a bright smile on my face.

All of that heartache must have been worth it.

She was right. If loving her kills me, then I would die happy.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

A/N: I actually kind of like how this one turned out. I know I pulled from the songs a lot but at least it was built into the words and not like a normal songfic lol. Because I’ve heard that many people do not like songfics :)

[muffinlance]

Kidnapped Zuko? Rescued by Gaang who dont know who he is and he has to hide his identity.

Okay, so. There’s already a teenager down in Commander Muttonchop’s brig. This fact is so far past concerning it’s wrapped around to let’s-not-think-too-hard-about-this hilarity, and Sokka finds himself grinning, and offering the guy a good ol’ fashioned Water Tribe wrist shake through the bars. They’re neighbors, after all.

“Hello, Fellow Prisoner. What are you in for?”

“I, uh,” says Fellow Prisoner, who is clearly undersocialized from his time in here. He’s looking a little grimy around the edges of his all-black outfit, and the bruises on him have had time to get newer, fresher bruises on top, which is just. That is all kinds of reassuring. Oh, and the giant fiery facial scar. Also reassuring. Though at least that one’s a few years old. So… inflicted when he was, what, Aang’s age?

So reassured, is feeling Sokka, for the Fire Nation’s upcoming hospitality.  

“Uh,” repeats Fellow Prisoner, who is uncoiling a little in the direction of Sokka’s offered hand. As if Sokka was trying to coax him out, and hadn’t just sort of forgotten he was holding it there while his thoughts were doing their downward spiral. But hey, one man’s desperate attempts to keep his cool were another man’s offer of friendship. Fellow Prisoner grasped his wrist and shook it, in both the most technically correct and least experienced Water Tribe wrist clasp Sokka has ever experienced. 

“Zhao thinks I was stealing military correspondence,” the guy says.

“Were you stealing military correspondence?” asks Sokka.

“Only his,” scowls Fellow Prisoner, to whom Sokka takes an immediate liking. “...What did you do? To get arrested. But not killed. He doesn’t usually…”

So, so reassured.

“Oh, you know,” Sokka says, continuing to shake wrists, because it is becoming clear that Fellow Prisoner has no idea how long this is supposed to last and Sokka isn't going to be the one to stop him. “The usual. Found the Avatar. Became traveling companions. Got captured doing something definitely heroic that did not in anyway involve excessive screaming of an unmanly pitch.”

“...The Avatar?” says Fellow Prisoner, who clearly knows how to focus on the important points.

“I’m bait,” says Sokka.

“For the Avatar.”

To be fair, Sokka is still a little stuck on that point, too. It’s been a few weeks, but he still wakes up too-hot in the night and wondering why the stars above him aren’t quite right.

“Yep,” he confirms.

Fellow Prisoner’s face does a thing. A sort of processing, processing, processing thing that involves progressively more scowling. “The Avatar left you? I knew the old man must be a coward.”

“So,” Sokka says, “about that.”

Fellow Prisoner drinks up Sokka’s story like a man who’s spent three years in a desert searching for water. 

- - -

(It’s been two and half years.)

- - - 

Their escape involves a significantly higher swords-to-escapees ratio than Sokka had anticipated, which is distractingly epic. 

Also, the last-minute bison save is both the stupidest thing his little sister could have possibly done and very welcome, which means that Sokka is going to catch his breath and let some of his adrenaline fade before channeling his inner Gran-Gran for a lecture. 

Fellow Prisoner sheaths both his swords. And kind of stares, rather than sitting down, so Sokka pulls him over before the bison turbulence (read: catapult dodging) can do the job. This does nothing to interrupt the staring. 

“Hi,” says Aang, looking back from Appa’s head. “I’m Aang! What’s your name?”

“...Li?”

Under the sunlight, Fellow Prisoner’s eyes glint gold. He is… very Fire Nation-y looking, now that there is enough light to see him. And he is warmer against Sokka’s side than anyone not feverish should be, even in the ridiculous heat these northerners call ‘winter’.

“Are you a firebender?” asks Aang, like that question hasn’t spent decades earning its status as an insult.

“Uh,” says Li.

“Great!” says Aang, who has already figured out Li-speak. “I need a teacher!”

On the deck below them, Zhao has gone from shouting to laughing. 

Sokka continues to be reassured.

[saphronethaleph]

Comparative Healing 202

“...he had such a knowledge of the Dark Side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying,” Palpatine explained.

“Really?” Anakin asked. “That’s strange… I wonder how that works.”

“It’s a power that you can’t learn from a Jedi,” Palpatine said, delicately. “The Dark Side is a path to many abilities that some consider… unnatural.”

Anakin frowned. “I guess,” he said. “But what I mean is, how it’s different from the Light Side way of doing it.”

Palpatine looked at Anakin.

“What do you mean?” he asked, a little puzzled.

“I asked Master Kcaj, I think he’s attending the performance actually,” Anakin explained, with a little shrug. “He took me through Light Side Force Healing 201, he said it was good that I was learning to solve problems in ways that didn’t involve a lightsaber.”

The Knight frowned. “Well, he just called it Force Healing 201, because I don’t think he knew there was a Dark Side version, but I guess that makes sense, because that kind of thing would have to be really, really old by now. Was Darth Plagueis killed by one of the Jedi during the Jedi-Sith Wars or was he a victim of infighting?”

“He wasn’t-” Palpatine began, but Anakin was shaking his head.

“Actually, now I come to think about it, the way the Light Side version of Force Healing works, the way it’s Light Side is that you have to personally pay for the cost,” he said. “I guess it’s kind of ironic, really, because it means that Jedi can keep other people from dying, but we can’t keep ourselves from dying… we’d have to take on our own wounds and we’d be back where they started. There’s other things we can do to make it so that injuries aren’t as serious, but those only work for ourselves, so it’s… actually a way that you can combine two techniques to get a net benefit.”

Palpatine blinked, still about one and a half sentences behind and trying to catch up. “I… suppose it is ironic, yes,” he said. “Darth Plagueis the Wise had the same problem.”

Anakin frowned. “Chancellor, how do you know about this? Are you sure that it was a Sith? Because the Force Healing technique you’ve mentioned sounds a lot like it has the same limitations as the Jedi one, so maybe it’s actually been distorted and corrupted over more than a thousand years. It could even be that he wasn’t called Darth Plagueis but was called something that sounded that way and the story’s been corrupted over the centuries. You know, like Sifo-Dyas and Sidious, that only took a few years.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin?” Palpatine said, after a pause to try and avoid panicking when Anakin linked the two names. “What do you mean? This isn’t… it’s the story of a Sith.”

“Sure, that’s what you’re aware of,” Anakin replied. “And maybe it’s correct, but there’s lots of possibilities even then, right? It could be that he discovered the Jedi healing technique independently, or it could be that he stole it from the Jedi. Maybe the Jedi stole it from him and they don’t tell the story because it’s embarrassing to admit that the most highly restricted healing techniques are something originally invented by the Sith. Or maybe they let this Darth Plagueis guy borrow some holobooks from the Jedi library and he stole them, and they’re embarrassed now.”

Anakin ticked off points on his fingers. “Oh, and there’s also the possibility that if a Sith stole holobooks on Force Healing he’d have done it in a way that couldn’t be traced back to him, so the Jedi wouldn’t tell the story because they just flat-out didn’t know.”

“This is not a story from a thousand years ago,” Palpatine said. “It’s a story from only a few decades ago, as it happens, so it is definitely not warped by time!”

“Not more than the Sifo-Dyas thing,” Anakin pointed out, helpfully. “But yeah, it’s now really obvious why the Jedi don’t tell me about it, because it’s either really catastrophically embarrassing because it would mean that the Jedi literally didn’t realize the Sith were back despite a Sith stealing some library books, or they just have no way of knowing in the first place. I guess I’m more interested in the second one, though… does this story go into any more detail about how Plagueis did the Force Healing? If they genuinely are Light Side and Dark Side and that’s different, then it’s interesting.”

“I… didn’t take you as someone to be interested in healing,” Palpatine admitted, since it was about the only response he could think of at that point.

“I didn’t think I’d be interested either,” Anakin said, readily. “But Master Kcaj had this great analogy, he said that it was like being a mechanic of the body. Isn’t that such a cool concept? The heart’s the motivator, that kind of thing… and the better I understand that the more I can work on not needing to use the Force to heal people, except in a real emergency anyway. All I need is to use it to stabilize someone, and then I can get them the rest of the way to safety.”

Palpatine nodded.

“A… useful endeavour,” he said, in as fatherly a tone as he could manage, and tried to get back on script. “As I said, Plagueis could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create life. He taught his apprentice everything he knew, and then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. He never saw it coming.”

“Oh, right,” Anakin replied, nodding. “Yeah, I think this sounds like a badly garbled origin story for the Sith.”

“Excuse me?” Palpatine asked.

“If Darth Plagueis was a Sith who’d taught his apprentice everything, then how would he not expect to be betrayed?” Anakin asked. “It makes much more sense if this apprentice was actually the first Sith and Plagueis being a Sith got read back into the story at a later date… but I’m still not sure how to get the midi-chlorians to create life. They’re our connection to the Force, it’s not about a connection to the Dark Side specifically. Unless what he’s doing is forcing the midi-chlorians to create life when it shouldn’t be, that would be a Dark Side thing that violates the balance in the universe while Light Side techniques are about balance – that’s why Light Side healing involves paying for taking away a wound by taking on a wound. Balance.”

Anakin glanced at his chrono. “Huh, I should probably get going… I need to tell the Council that thing you mentioned about Grievous hiding in the Utapau System.”

“Come, now, Anakin,” Palpatine said. “You can’t find yourself running around doing the bidding of the Jedi Council all the time. We were talking about this. They don’t necessarily have your best interests at heart.”

“I know, Chancellor,” Anakin replied, nodding. “But I don’t speak Quarren and I think if I need to watch five more minutes of this ballet I’m going to pass out from boredom.”

“This ballet is in Mon Cal,” Palpatine said.

“Yeah, I don’t speak that either,” Anakin shrugged.

“Did you know the Chancellor’s really interested in old stories about the Sith?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan, back in the Temple. “Fascinated by them.”

“He is?” Obi-Wan replied. “I’ve never got that sense.”

“No, it was a surprise to me, too,” Anakin agreed, shrugging. “But he was telling me this story about a Darth Plagueis who could heal people. It’s a weird kind of healing, though, using midi-chlorians to create life? At least that’s what the Chancellor said… he said the Jedi didn’t know about it, so I guess it must be an old story, even though he said it was recent. I wondered if maybe it was twenty generations ago instead of twenty years, or something like that.”

“I won’t lie, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t know what I expected your assignment to result in, but this isn’t it.”

Anakin sighed. “Master… I can’t do it, okay? I can’t spy on someone who’s been such a friend to me. Sithspit, all I’m really doing is sharing gossip he brought upand that still makes me feel dirty.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I understand, Anakin,” he said. “The problem is really that there’s… a question about how independent the Jedi Temple is.”

He indicated the nearest landing pad, which had a trio of gunships waiting there. “We’ve been acting as generals for the last two years at least… the Chancellor feels that he can make decisions about who becomes a member of the Council… regardless of your abilities and suitability for the role, Anakin, after he suggested you it was impossible for us to put you on the Council with the rank of Master. It would set a precedent that the Jedi are simply another department of the government for the Chancellor to control.”

Anakin looked thoughtful.

“I hadn’t realized that,” he admitted. “I don’t think the Chancellor would do that, though.”

“The problem isn’t with this Chancellor,” Obi-Wan replied. “It’s with the next Chancellor. Or the one after that.”

He spread his hands. “Really, I think part of this is my fault. I didn’t try hard enough to make sure you learned the political skill a Jedi needs.”

“Master, you’re really good at that kind of thing,” Anakin protested. “I’m more into… aggressive negotiations.”

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin waited.

“...you’re supposed to tell me I’m not that bad,” he said, eventually.

“I know I’m supposed to,” Obi-Wan said, virtuously.

Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Oh, before I forget,” he went on. “The Chancellor did say General Grievous is on Utapau.”

“Noted,” Obi-Wan said. “Now, what’s this story about Sith healing that the Chancellor told you? I’ve never heard of Darth Plagueis before.”

When Anakin had finished recounting the conversation, they were most of the way to the Council chamber, and he shrugged.

“You get what I mean… right?” he said, then took note of Obi-Wan’s disturbed expression. “Is something wrong, Master?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied, firmly. “Anakin, what you’ve just described is exactly how it would look if Palpatine was trying to hint that he could teach you a Sith technique.”

“Really?” Anakin asked. “The Chancellor be able to use Sith techniques? There’s no way that is possible…”

He got out his datapad, and began flicking through records. “He’d have to be able to use the Force, and his midi-chlorian count is… is… not here?”

Anakin looked up. “Didn’t the whole Senate get tested to see if any of them was Darth Sidious?”

“Now I’m very worried,” Obi-Wan declared. “I know he’s your friend, Anakin, but how possible is it that Palpatine is Sidious?”

Anakin considered that.

“Do you think that explains why he ordered me to cut Dooku’s head off and leave you on a starship that was about to explode?” he asked.

“Definitely need to teach you politics,” Obi-Wan muttered.

[starzblvd]

Me Espresso.ᐟ

Ellie thinks coffee tastes disgusting, but you taste delicious. Do u guys get my fire references in here, hope you babes enjoy 🍽️ Band!Ellie Bsf!ellie college!au

Hot summer nights while having your knees digging your weight into the carpet floor of your best friends small dorm room was starting to become weekly routine. Making band tees with cheap markers for her band that had its fair amount of supporters, somehow they’d sell out every time they performed. It was probably because there’d only be like 20 shirts that actually looked good enough to put out for sale.

Sitting next to you was Ellie with half of a bun she struggled to keep it together had some strands fall out and onto the back of her neck. You could smell the perfume on her, you convinced her to buy it that one time she’d agreed to come shopping with you. Wanting to be helpful you had to show her the right way to wear it, by spraying it on your wrist to then rubbing it into her collarbone, just to be helpful of course.

Holding up a finished shirt Ellie grins into the cocky face you’ve gotten to love the look of,

“Oh they’re gonna love this,”

“what your 300 Spotify listeners?”

“Ouch,” Ellie looks at you playing heartbroken to then throw the shirt right at your face. It was always banter like this, with the very few times the lines almost blurred to get somewhere further. Staying away gets harder when being with her was so natural.

“Just for that I’m so not coming to your concert tomorrow.”

“Hey hey hey I need my number one fan there, plus we’re getting ice cream after.”

You’d become a groupie to her, always front lining to every concert she was able to catch a venue in, which were basically all bars. When she’d look below to you under the neon lights playing guitar it felt like such a special moment only between you and Ellie. No crowd no other band mates, as if you knew what she was thinking of and that she wanted you too. Some of your plans started to circle around her now that she was being a bit more discovered.

”You aren’t going to talk to your fan girls?”

“Nah, I’d rather spend my time with you. You know?” Staring at each other awkwardly stopped being so awkward when they’d happen so much, it’s was perfectly normal.

And with opportunity you got to be with Ellie you already knew you’d take it. As little as you knew she was wrapped around with whatever you had been involved in too, stuck and feeding off your sweetness like a bee.

June.21.24

Just like every concert you shared your special moment, no one else can say they had Ellie’s direct attention during multiple songs. This time it was more of an outside stage with sand below you. Yellow hued string lights draped above the stage and more along the audience area. The heat was really getting to Ellie, making her glow from sweat. The black T-shirt she picked out only made her condition worse. The face framing bangs she cut herself were sticking to the side of her face.

She wasn’t even singing, but being under your watch scorched her hotter. To save herself from embarrassment she mainly looked down to her guitar playing notes, but she made a mistake looking at you when a lyric of a song she made with you in thought came up.

Tell me you never wanna lose me

Cuz I know when you call you call for me

She might’ve been a little out of it when helping writing the song, but it became too late when Dina saw the scrunched up paper and kept insisting on making it an official song for a newer album.

To you it was just another lyric that was written by anyone but Ellie. If only you knew how much she relates to your desperation to be with you in every way and any position she could. Whether your batting of eyelashes at her was intentional or not her finger slipped making an unplanned squeak slip through.

‘Fuck this is so bad she probably thinks I’m shit at playing now’

Lucky for Ellie it was the final song anyways and she could get far away from the crowd and you. Other people clapped upon their leave and when they finished their set list you knew exactly where to meet her.

”You ever going to do more than eye her when we’re up there?” Dina was putting away the instruments back to take home with help from Jessie.

“What are you even saying I don’t do that,” Ellie scoffs then sits down on a blue deflated bean bag that who knows how long it’s been in this back room.

“Oh you know what I’m talking about, your friend zone is taking longer than your time with Cat.” She crossed her arms waiting for another excuse to why she hasn’t done anything after a continued semi dating friendship since freshman year.

“She’s nothing like Cat that’s why, if I lose feelings for her after getting rejected that’s one thing but losing her completely because I fucked it up is different.” Her constant fear of never getting to be near you again because of some feelings she couldn’t stop screwed her over with overthinking everything.

In her journal it was the same thing, “She liked my shirt today, I don’t want to look weird and over wear it now, but not under wear it now. Unless she’d like to see it more often or maybe she likes my style in general she’d like me in anything?? Fucking hate this gay stuff and whys it so hard.”

One of the two large metal doors swings open with you appearing, with the smile you wore she had engraved into her mind with a hot rod of metal after sketching you a few more times she’d probably ever admit. Ellie got up and cut the short distance and accepted you into her arms trying to not look like a desperate looser that flushes over a simple hug. Her ears clammy hands didn’t make her look exactly so hot and relaxed though.

“You did amazing El’s,”

“You think so?” She lit up into a smile under your praise, no matter how many times you give it to her mind melts.

“Except for the part where she messed up on the bridge.” Ellie shot a quick mean look at Jessie, but he just turned a cold shoulder before turning away.

“At least I didn’t bump into Dina’s drums 10 times,”

While Ellie kept bickering back and forth with Jessie she still held onto you, this felt like an opening to try at doing something.

A kiss on the check seemed harmless and innocent enough to take back in the case Ellie thought it was totally disgusting. Raising your head up towards her cheek nearing the corners of her smile, pressing your lips to a pout Ellie brought her face back in your direction landing the small peck on her lips. Ellie locked in place while you pulled away, not that you wanted to, but felt too embarrassed to start a kiss you didn’t know how to finish.

“El’s ‘m so sorry, you just moved out of nowhere and-“

“No, yeah mistakes happen, it’s chill or whatever,”

Her shit faced expression wasn’t helping the full pink flush saturating deeper on her face. Ellie lowered her head to wipe the bottom of her nose trying to forget the way your lips felt, your lipgloss was still sweet on her and so was the taste of it on her tongue wiping her lips clean.

Now it was your turn to feel scared and conflicted. It was too silent in the room even with the chatter of everyone else doing their own things outside. Taking back the small kiss wasn’t so easy now that it was done and got taken up a notch further.

She dropped her arms from both of your sides, looking away from you because looking at you right now felt like looking directly into the sun.

“Ellie you should start up the car we’re done here,” Jessie throws the keys at her giving her a slight knowing look to let her go and collect herself back together.

She didn’t even say anything, walked away without a goodbye or convincing enough reassurance that would calm your nerves.

“I’m gonna go home too, see you guys.” You were left with only your actions to think about. Ellie’s response to an accidental kiss made her ran away in the other away how could’ve you imagined it going any of other way? Feeling guilt and shame were the only emotions you could feel, rethinking the crush you’ve denied yourself from paying attention to and that it should’ve stayed that way.

Instead of paying attention to the kiss Ellie let her actions drive themself, not wanting to think at all. Until she hit herself with the car door, why did I act so grossed out? Making different scenarios of how it could’ve played out a million times better she thrust the keys into the ignition.

She dug out her cracked old red iPhone from her butt pocket and threw it into the passenger side. It hit something else than the leather seat, one of the lipglosses you always carry around abandoned alone. Ellie reached for it and saw the shade label, Glassy Expresso.

It sounded like the taste in her mouth from earlier, a taste you stole from her too soon. Unscrewing the lid she contemplated just trying it on. My lips are dry anyways, she swiped the applicator across her lips twice to get an even coat and rubbed it in with her lips. Some of it slipped onto her tongue, again. If only the taste of you could come along with the gloss.

Lmk if you guys want a pt.2♡🍒

[lynk-zee]

how do you think a fight would take place with lads boys? like how it progresses and then silent treatment and the yearning to make up and actually making up

Fights

Warnings: Angsty with a blip of spice in Rafayel’s part. Happy endings because I don’t want to be sad anymore 🥲

Fights with Zayne are almost always about your health. How you’re not sleeping enough or eating right, despite the advice he gives you. He may be your boyfriend but he’s also your doctor. He just wants the best for you.

The silent treatment starts on his end, giving you one worded answers and generally ignoring you. If you didn’t care about your health, why should he? Except, it would progress worse and worse because you’re both stubborn-headed, to the point he decided to go home instead of staying over at your place like usual. It was then you conceded defeat.

Yes, he was worried about your health and safety, as both a doctor and a boyfriend. But he didn’t have to be so right…

In the end, you guys come to a compromise. You’ll get a normal amount of sleep, and he’ll lay off scolding you. Fights with Zayne aren’t without valid reasons. But, you guys always end up talking it out in the end.

Oh boy. Fights with Rafayel? Explosive. They’re mostly because of his flirty nature and the fact he can’t seem to take anything seriously. As a Hunter protecting Linkon City, you have to be steadfast and vigilant. Rafayel takes things by the moment with little thought or control, like a dumpster on fire. It gets worse when he brushes you off.

I think the fight wouldn’t officially start until you get back at him for being overly flirty with a patron. You decided to flirt with an art critic in front of him, fueling the fire for a later fight. The night continues with petty passes and glares across the room. When you get home, all hell breaks loose.

Screaming match, barely coherent, words that couldn’t be taken back. It’s a wonder you guys are still together. When you tear up and finally had enough, you grab your coat to leave when he grabs you by your shirt and yanks you in for a smoldering kiss.

Makeup sex ensues. Clothes are practically burned off as you vent out your frustrations through each others bodies. In the morning your both groggy, but have a clearer head than last night, able to talk things through more effectively. He loves you and you love him— your love can be too fiery for your own good. But that doesn’t mean you don’t try to work through it.

Fighting with Xavier can be hard because he genuinely doesn’t understand why you’re so mad at him. Yes, he disappeared for a week without telling you, but he was hunting Wanderers. Isn’t that such a noble cause that it negates the fact you were mad at him in the first place? Turns out no, because you want to be communicated with and not scared half to death when you don’t hear from him for a week.

It’s hard to stay mad at him, but you have to stay strong. If this relationship was going to work, he needed to communicate with you. You laid down your boundaries now it was his turn to understand and accept. But until then, silent treatment.

Xavier would end up at your door looking like a kicked puppy. It had been four days into the silent treatment— how did he like that? Not being communicated with, pacing back and forth wondering if your partner was safe? It wasn’t fun, huh? He would apologize, admitting he was wrong for disappearing while desperately waiting for a long needed hug from his significant other. You give it to him, happy he understood your feelings.

Perhaps you could have handled things better, but you’re learning. Xavier’s learning too! You just have to explain it to him in a way he’ll understand.

[scoobysnakz]

ok but imagine loser!Miguel finding out that the reader has been seeing someone (casually, nothing physical… yet) and he has to try to put a stop to it while also having to listen to her swoon over said man RAAAAHHHH

AHHH OMG YESSS!!! LOVE THIS IDEA SMMM OMG

loser miguel who can’t help but get frustrated about the way you ramble on about him with that dopey smile on your face. normally, he’d be over the moon to see you so happy but the fact that it’s because of someone else…

it’s bad enough he can’t bend you over the break room table and pound your sweet cunt with his nose buried in your hair, now he has to contain his jealousy as well.

loser miguel who realises he can’t take this anymore and decides to end whatever silly ‘situationship’ you have going on.

loser miguel who starts pointing out all of the flaws he has, whether or not they’re real aren’t important.

“when was the last time he texted you?” he pipes in one day, forcing himself into the conversation, not that you care, you’re just happy good friend miguel is finally interested in your love life.

“i’m not sure.” you shrug, finger idly tapping the side of your mug half full with the coffee miguel made you. “sometime yesterday, i think.”

he just raises his brow with a sharp breath before walking off, praying that you start to overthink this minor flaw. but he knows you, and he knows you’ll get dragged down an endless rabbit hole of doubt.

loser miguel who inserts himself into your life, hoping that you’ll realize how much more useful he is than him. he starts making you coffee in the morning and bringing in croissants from the café over the road.

he loves the little thank you’s that you coo with a kiss to his cheek when he slides on your coat on your way out and the pretty smile that graces your face when he ‘coincidentally’ bumps into you by your house.

loser miguel who wants to know what’s going on when the two of you have to stay behind to work on something. he slides over to your side of your desk, his hand moving over the top of yours to stop your endless scribbling.

you look up at him through heavy eyes, the lack of sleep obviously getting to you. he can tell you haven’t had a good nights rest in a while and he’ll be damned if it’s not because your staying up all night texting your special someone.

“hmm?”

that soft, quiet hum resonates throughout miguel, travelling up his arms and legs and settling in the pit of his stomach. the feebleness of it makes him want to melt right then and there, pull you into a tight embrace until you fall asleep in his arms because the mere sight of you too tired to even ask a proper question is more than enough to make his heart ache.

“your eyes are all scrunched up, mami,” he sighs, a calloused hand coming up to push some of your hair out of your face. “when was the last time you got a good eight hours?”

you shrug, not even bothering to lie to him like the last few times he’s asked. “dunno.”

the next thing you know, miguel has his big strong arms wrapped you as you bawl your eyes out about how sucky this guy is. he’s not as understanding and kind and other guys you’ve been with, he doesn’t soften from your love and he doesn’t stare at you with those lovestruck eyes.

and while you feel so vain and self absorbed for expecting this from some random guy, miguel is practically dancing with glee. he knows why you expect all this, why you crave the gentleness and love of this man. he’s put these standards in your head, he’s the one who has been treating you this way because he’s who’s best for you.

you just need to realize it.

loser miguel who has to leave you alone to finish of the assignment for the evening, as much as he hates leaving you on your own, but the fear of you feeling his hardened cock digging into your thigh is much stronger.

he spends the rest of the evening relentlessly fucking his fist, imagining that it’s your tight pussy that squeezing his cock and not his thick fingers.

loser miguel who comes into work sorely disappointed to see you with eye bags big enough to hold two baby elephants and a makeup less face, not like he’s bothered but he knows how you like to doll yourself up for work.

he thought he told you to get a good nights rest !! why on earth are you so tired ??

“did you get any sleep at all?” he scolds, thick arms crossed his chest.

you look up at him, blinking slowly as you try and process his words. “‘course, migs,” you mumble while waving a dismissive hand at him.

“por dios,” he chides.

sliding an arm around your waist, miguel slots himself into the chair next to yours. you let yourself relax against him, your head nuzzling into the warmth of his chest and eyes flickering shut.

“couldn’t sleep.”

how badly he wants to pull you into his lap and let you curl up like a little kitten as you fall asleep clinging onto him like your life depends on it.

he lifts a large hand to smooth the crinkles in your shirt, smiling smugly as you let out a content sigh. “was thinking ‘bout what you’d been saying, how he isn’t good enough because he isn’t nice and stuff,” you admit scornfully, “and started thinking ‘bout things i shouldn’t.”

miguel nods, trying to pay attention to what you’re saying while also attempting to suppress his erection. “mami, you shouldn’t have been thinking about silly things so late, you need your sleep.”

loser miguel who loves the way you cling to him, sleepy mumbling an abundance of apologies as you nuzzle your head into his chest and stare up at him with those fatigued doe eyes.

he’s so grateful that it’s too early for anyone else to be in the lab otherwise he’s be too nervous to be holding you so close. he’s still trying to handle the glares he gets when he holds the door open for you.

loser miguel who whispers sweet words of reassurance as you start to bawl your eyes out all over again. you’re a blabbering mess with reddened eyes and puffy lips that he just can’t resist.

he leans down, face inches away from yours, and breathes in the comfortingly sweet scent of your perfume that he’s grown so accustomed to.

“why won’t he do all the things you say he should? how am i so clueless that i didn’t even realise he should?” you sob helplessly, “you’re always so sweet to me, why can’t he?”

“awww, poor chica,” he coos huskily. the warmth of his voice soothes you slightly, it’s like warm honey trickling past his perfect lips and dripping into your ears until all you can hear is the low rumble of his accent.

loser miguel whose heart nearly stops when you kiss him. never in a million years did he expect you to make the first move. every time he’s fantasised about it, he’d always been the one to pull you in, press you against the wall, whatever it is he’s the bold one.

but now your soft lips are pressed against his and all he can think about is how sickly sweet they taste.

his hand cups the back of your head, feeling the shape of your scalp and the softness of your hair. greedily, he deepens the kiss, cock straining against the seam of his pants. his tongue pushes itself into your mouth, hastily taking in the flavour of you as his desire for you deepens.

loser miguel who is panting and bewildered when you pull away, fingers curling up into the muscle of his chest.

“i was trying to kiss your cheek.”

loser miguel master list

[idlyfretting]

I want everything we missed between S3 and S4. I want all of it.

I want the kids starting high school and being totally overwhelmed by normal shit when they’ve only just gotten used to weird alternate dimension shit. 

I want Robin starting senior year and all of her friends from band and soccer and drama club and everything else being like “who the fuck is this person and what did they do with Robin????” because she comes back from summer break and is just not right.

I want Steve baffling Keith because he’s definitely flirting with every girl over the age of eighteen who walks into the store, but he’s not being a douchebag? He’s not being mean to Keith, like at all? He’s not being all buddy buddy with him obviously, because that would be fucking weird, but he’s just sort of being normal? Like a normal flirty good-looking former jock who knows how to talk to people? (And Keith definitely thinks he’s been flirting with every hot adult person who comes into the store, but it’s Steve fucking Harrington so that can’t be right????)

I want Nancy running that newspaper like it’s the goddamn New York Times and nobody even thinks to question her about anything because who the hell is gonna question Nancy Wheeler? She’s scary.

I want Eddie seeing these three freshies walk into the cafeteria with what he thinks is fear, but after corralling them and inviting them to Hellfire and making them eat lunch with him and the other members every day, realizes it’s not actually fear, it’s just sensory overload. They’re not actually afraid of the popular kids or the jocks or the teachers or the bullies, they’re just baffled. Almost like they didn’t realize it should be an issue at all?

And they start coming to Hellfire meetings and these kids are fantastic. Their characters are perfect additions to the group and the campaign he started at the beginning of the year is gonna be fucking aces because their group is so well rounded now. 

And sometimes Lucas bring his girlfriend Max Mayfield to the sessions, which isn’t so bad because she mostly just sits in the corner doing her homework or listening to music. But sometimes she does listen in, and scoffs at certain plot points in the story, or laughs at parts that definitely aren’t supposed to be funny.

And Robin Buckley shows up a couple times as well, mostly doing the same as Max, but one time she watched them play and it was nerve-wracking as hell having someone essentially stalking around them, giving whispered comments to the three freshmen that either resulted it grim nods or obnoxious laughter. Which, what the fuck, how does she know these kids???? (Kids who Eddie definitely thinks are half feral, but absolutely loves them anyway.)

But then one day late in October, the session runs late, and it’s just the Hellfire boys this time, and it’s a FANTASTIC boss fight (not the final one, but still a big damn deal), and everyone is tired but riding high on an epic win, and they all file out of the school into the cold parking lot. And just a couple spaces away from Eddie’s van is Steve fucking Harrington’s stupid maroon beemer. 

And Harrington is sitting on the trunk of it, leaning against the back windshield, casual as anything, with Robin fucking Buckley sitting right next to him. 

Leaning against him. Practically sitting in his goddamn lap.

She’s got a book propped open on her knees, combat boots up on the trunk, and she’s resting her head on his chest.

Harrington’s laying all the way back, stupid douchey sunglasses on, either staring at the sky or just full on sleeping. 

They’ve both got matching green vests on. 

A shout from one of the kids has them perking up to look in their direction. Robin rolls her eyes and marks her place in the book before hopping down from the car. Harrington stays where he is but sits up with a grin on his face.

Before Eddie can say anything, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike race over to them and start talking over each other about the campaign. About how fucking cool the session was, about the monster they defeated, about the tactics they had to use to survive the whole things. 

Eddie doesn’t know what he expects to happen, didn’t even consider the possibility of these nerdy freshman knowing Steve “The Hair” Harrington, but they obviously do. 

Harrington just nods along, asking them a question that Eddie can’t hear that spawns another slew of comments from the kids. The three of them pile into the backseat of the beemer while Buckley takes the front and Harrington slides into the driver’s seat. As the car starts up, the radio blares something loud and poppy and definitely something from the top 40. 

This doesn’t seem to deter the kids, who Eddie can see leaning forward from the back, still regaling Harrington and Buckley with their successful session. The red beemer pulls out of the lot, and continues down the street out of sight.

Eddie is still standing by the back entrance of the school, Gareth, Jeff, and Alan behind him. All of them frozen, completely dumbfounded by what the last five minutes.

“What the actual fuck?”

[k-hotchoisan]

hi!! can i request a toxic “you were made for me” or “they’re trying to take you from me” smut with san? 🫦 head spinning knees bucking — also ur work is so amazing!! 🫶🏻

Oooooo okay this might be a little fun ✨

I usually don’t write toxic male leads but I’ve been a bit into the Saltburn rabbit hole, so Oliver has sort of activated a little obsession in me 🥳

Don’t worry, this work won’t contain too much weirdness I promise 😛

Enjoy. ❤️

angelholic

<san x fem!reader>

Synopsis: Well, if you haven’t realised it yet, then he’ll make you realise it soon enough.

Genres/warnings: smut, possessive/obsessed/calculating! San x clueless! Reader, jealousy, unprotected sex, it gets slightly rough, choking, pet name—“bunny”, dacryphilia, cream pies, corruption kink

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia

You watch as San fits on his black Angel wings over his half-assed costume, if you could even call it that. He’s just dressed in a white tank and black slacks, and in his own words “couldn’t be bothered”. You pout to yourself, thinking how lucky he is to have such a strong face card that he looked good in almost everything he puts on.

“Come here, bunny”, he gestures, once he fits the wings slightly better onto his back. You walk up to him, in your pretty little dress, ready for the mid summer party one of your friends has invited the both of you to. He pulls out a nice shade of pink lipstick in your collection, then his fingers graze your jaw gently before he tilts your chin upwards, unscrewing the cap with the tube in his mouth and swiping the wand onto your lips to transfer the pigment. Your heart races when he does that effortlessly, just like the way you met him for the first time at your campus library—trying to reach out for a book, and you felt his body heat radiating through the cold air conditioning, as he tilts the spine of the book and has it drop onto his big hands, before he hands it to you. He has that same look as he tells you to press your lips to transfer the pigment to your upper lips.

Now all you’re doing is staring at his lips, thinking to waste his efforts to smudge it his lips, his cock, whatever.

San has always been an attentive (and attractive) partner—it’s as if he’s always just a stone throw away from you, ensuring all your needs are met, showering you with endless affections. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

But throughout the relationship, you realise something—he’s clingy. Very clingy. Often times he would have his hands all over you if he could, as if it would be the very last time he would see you—his hands clasped around your waist, or arm, chest, wherever, before he suffocates you with kisses which inevitably most of the time ending up with his cock drilled in you. You find it nothing short of endearing though, even his best friends tell you that’s just the way San is.

When the both of you reach the huge mansion, you gawk at the size of the estate. San chuckles at the way your eyes widen, planting a soft kiss on your temple before he leads you by your hand to enter the mansion.

Upon entering, you scan the crowded hallway which contained a mix of both familiar and unfamiliar people, your grip tightening against San’s arm. Pricks of irritation bite San as he notices the amount of eyes on you, which he assumes that it could be due to the short summer dress you’re wearing.

He spots Mingi in the crowd and he approaches him. When Mingi notices the both of you, he whistles in approval.

“Damn, aren’t both of you stealing the show”, he teases after giving San a hug. San laughs in reply, entertaining Mingi.

“This reminds me of when the both of you got close after summer party Wooyoung threw”, Mingi reminisces as he takes a sip of his cup.

“Right. San was so out of it when I found him outside alone”, you giggled as San pouts at you.

“You definitely caught him at a funny time—pissed drunk and all”, Mingi teases as he takes a playful punch to the arm.

“Okay, listen, I like to pretend that I can take my alcohol alright? Not to mention, we already had met by then. We just got to know each other better”, San emphasises, pulling your waist closer to him as he nuzzles into your neck, making you squeal and Mingi roll his eyes.

You listen to their conversation, despite your wandering eyes. You eyes land on a classmate, and you tap San’s arm to get his attention. He immediately pauses and turns to you.

“Babe, I’ll catch up with you in a bit. I’m gonna say hi to my friends,” you say. San has a doubtful expression, but he nods and lets you slip away, turning back to Mingi and getting engrossed in conversation once again.

Ten minutes go by. Then twenty. The pricks San feels start to bother him, and he starts to wonder what’s taking you so long. His eyes drift across the room, in search of his partner.

His eyes land on you, giggling with a mixed gendered group of friends with a drink in your hand. Yunho has come by and has Mingi’s attention, so San excuses himself to walk over to you. His gaze pierces into you, as he watches the other male before you touch your shoulder as he laughs, and you entertain him, not bothering to swipe his hand away. San takes a sharp inhale, pushing past the people that crowded the area, drawing gazes by his sharp features.

You jump slightly when you feel a large arm curl around your waist. “Hey babe”, San whispers, planting a soft kiss on your temple before eyeing down the male individuals that stood before you.

“Are these your friends from your classes?”, San asks, giving them a nod with a bright smile plastered on his face. San has seen them before, around you, much to his dismay when he was sending you to your classes during your semesters, but he never bothered to get to know them.

“Yeah”, you reply, and you introduce them one by one to your boyfriend, with San extending his arm out with a smile, shaking each and every one of them, keeping their names in mind.

“So you’re the one dude who swept her off her feet by sharing an umbrella with her”, your male friend teases. You laugh in response, your hand covering your mouth as you do. San raises an eyebrow.

“Definitely sounds like fate—her umbrella breaking out of all days and suddenly San comes in to the rescue”, a female friend points out, chuckling as she sips on her drink. “That’s some k-drama type of bullshit. What’s your secret?”

“No clue. I think he probably fell from the sky or something”, you reply.

“You definitely caught some gazes when you were waltzing in with y/n, too”, another one chimes in, eyeing your partner. You roll your eyes playfully as you feel San squeeze your waist playfully.

“Then again, y/n had her fair share of stolen glances when she walked in too”, another male friend adds, admiring your dress, which has San clearing his throat in slight irritation. He stares daggers at your naive peer, who doesn’t seem to get the hint.

San is scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, while you’re seating on top of him being entertained by your friends. Your peers notice the way his arm never leaves your body, but obviously don’t realise how he’s subconsciously eavesdropping your messy conversations.

Between the playful banters and sneer remarks, his irritation continues to rise every time he hears you giggle at a male friend’s lame joke. San thinks to himself that said friend should shut up instead of running his mouth like that. San’s jokes would definitely make you laugh harder—no fuck that—he doesn’t even need to make an effort to make you giggle, and he scoffs at the thought, while hugging you tighter to his body.

A little later, he’s getting restless, and he shifts slightly, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Gonna take more drinks bunny. Wait for me here. Do you want anything?” You shake your head, standing up to let him go and he walks off.

“Fuck. He’s really such a catch”, your friend reiterates, giggling playfully behind her palm.

“He’s pretty clingy, don’t you think?” Another adds in, and you glance over at San’s tall and big frame, caught up with talking with Wooyoung.

You turn back to your friend. “Really? I know his friends told me before but I think that’s just part of his charm, it’s kind of cute.” Your friend only shrugs in response. You pause and think about it. San has never shown you any side of jealousy or anything. Most of the time he ends up kissing your shoulders with his hands around your waist—a habit you’re basically used to at this point.

What you don’t realise is the way San casting you side glances, his grip tightening against his cup as he watches your friends pull you closer to them, their hands feeling your bare arms up and one of your male friend even leaning in to whisper something in your ear, making your eyes widen as you hit them on the arm, how their knees are bumping a little too much onto yours.

“-San”, Wooyoung’s voice snaps his attention back. San glances at Wooyoung, who has a concerned look on his face. “You seem distracted. You okay?”

San only shrugs it off with a laugh. “Yeah. Just didn’t realise how close she is with those bunch of people”, he replies, his mind now wandering how to just remove you from the irritating friend group holding you hostage.

“That’s good, isn’t it? At least you don’t have to stay by her side for the most part. They seem nice.”

San cocks an eyebrow. “Oh do they? I feel like they’ve been kind of hogging her a little too much tonight”, he says, keeping his tone neutral, despite the obvious tint of venom that hides in his words.

Wooyoung seems to pick it up a little, but he doesn’t push nor question further, settled on observing San’s body language. He’s always known San to be a pretty generous person—giving more than taking, and that’s how he has been during the course of the relationship with you ever since.

At least, that’s what Wooyoung and the rest of his friend group had observed. He lets the thought go as he watches his best friend leave to claim you once more, before Hongjoong comes by to pull him out of his thoughts.

San is seeing red. He sees red the moment your male friend has his hand slapping on your leg as he leans forward, laughing along with you. His drink is dumped haphazardly into the sink as he storms over to you.

The only person that should make you laugh and swoon like that is him. The only person that should be touching you is him. The only person you should be giving attention to is him.

The group’s laughter fades as San’s frame looms over you. You glance up at him, and he looks like Angel with those wings and the chandelier lights casting down on him. You are almost enchanted.

San plasters a smile, with nothing sweet behind it as his fingers curl around your wrist, before he pulls you out of the chair. You cast your partner a confused glance before he drags you away with him. You turn back, mirroring the confused expressions your friends hold, only able to cast an apologetic look before you’re attention is back on San, who’s fingers are now interlocked with yours as he leads you up the stairs to the second floor.

He reaches to a random door, knocks before he simply pushes the door open without much thought, and has you splayed on the bed in seconds. You’re still in a state of confusion, your dress hiked up to your thighs.

“San, wha-“ he barely lets you finish your sentence before he cups your mouth, and the sinister glint in his eyes never falter. He looks at you with lust and something else that you cannot quite pinpoint. But in seconds, under his strong gaze, you feel yourself turning into putty in his hands, eyes darting desperately from his eyes to his mouth to his eyes again.

“Bunny”, his voice sounding like honey, although his next words are nothing but. “Don’t you think you forgot about me?”

You blink at his words, still trying to make sense of it. “N-no. Weren’t you behind me most of the time?” You start, squeezing your thighs at the way he’s staring down at you. You’ve never seen him look like this before.

“Feels like you did”, he feigns a pout, however the emotion devoid from his eyes. “Looked like you were having so much fun without me there-“

He crawls onto the bed, inching towards you, and you pull backwards, your heart pounding in your chest. Your words are trapped in your throat, your brain unable to formulate a response when San is staring you down like that.

“-giggling, letting your friends touch you up like that”, he spits. You cannot tell if he’s angry, because you see his erection pressing against the fabric of his slacks, which he pays no attention to.

“Don’t you feel back for neglecting me?” He asks, his glare now holding a tint of melancholy. He looks almost pleading. But you still shift backwards as he continues to trap you on the bed, crawling forward until he has you completely under him.

He suddenly stops. Then lowers himself to the flare of your sun dress, scrunching the fabric up past your thighs, revealing your soaked panties, the colour matching your dress. He glances back up at you to meet your gaze.

“I think you need a reminder who you belong to”, he mutters, loud enough for you to hear, tugging the waist band of your panties, and leaving it somewhere on the bed.

“Look at you. Haven’t done anything, yet you’ve soaked your pretty panties. Naughty.”

That does nothing but let a fresh coat of slick paint your pussy after spitting it out.

“San…” you pant, your fingers trembling as he pushes your dress up further, high enough for his lips to meet your pussy but low enough that you can’t see him right there.

You gasp when his tongue presses against your wet cunt. And the real hell starts when the begins flicking his tongue against your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves over and over again, ignoring your cries to stop, if not, only going faster, holding your thighs open while he laps up all of your juices.

Your mind is completely blown as your cunt continues to build from the pleasure from San’s tongue. Your hands fly to tangle into San’s locks. There’s something so perverted about having your lover dressed up as an angel, lapping your pussy up like a starved individual, under your dress. It only drives you further to the edge.

Your orgasm is just dangling from you, building and building. Your breath heavy and shallow, whines and whimpers in begs for your partner to let you release.

Then a choked sob when he leaves you high and dry, your cunt so wet and pathetic now that the section beneath you is starting to stain with your arousal, your orgasm completely ripped from you.

“Baby. Please…”, you beg, your cunt wildly convulsing, begging for release that’s just trapped at the edge.

“Are you gonna behave for me, Bunny?” San simply asks, towering over you as he licks your arousal that coated his lips.

You nod, your thighs and arms twitching every few seconds, as you attempt to regulate your breathing.

Which all becomes completely useless when he plunges two fingers into your cunt so easily, and your thighs twitch from the overstimulation despite the lack of orgasm, a sobbed moan cracking from your lips as your eyes roll back. His fingers always stuffed you so full. Not enough, you think in your filthy head. Not enough.

“Answer me, bunny.” San hisses, intentionally missing the spongy spot he knows would break you in an instant.

You’re close to tears, forcing yourself to look up at the male with the angel wings before you.

“Yes. I’ll behave, Sannie”, you whimper.

San’s glaze softens slightly as he aims at your pretty little sensitive spot, his thumb rubbing your clit at the same time.

“That’s my good girl. Do you think you deserve to cum?” He asks, stroking your jaw, watching your expression completely fall apart as he teases you poor cunt with inconsistent rubs and fucks, and you’re back to the frustration.

“Please let me. I’ll let you do anything to me, please. I wanna cum. Wanna cum so bad”, you’re begging again, your fingers pressing against his arm, almost clawing at him. That seems to satisfy him for now, since he fucks your g-spot over and over with his fingers while making sure your clit doesn’t get neglected, and you’re crying as the knot in your stomach completely snaps, squirting and creaming all over your dress and the bedsheets beneath you as San ensures you ride your orgasm as long as you could. Your moans become sobs, you swear someone can hear you, but at that point, you were to blissed out in pleasure to care.

This has never happened in your relationship before.

You watch him with hooded lids as he slides his slacks off, leaving his cock to spring out proudly, angry and red.

San shifts and then has his cock right at your face. His fingers slide into your hair, grabbing a handful of it.

“Suck.”

There’s something sinful about getting your face fucked by San in Angel wings, which you cannot deny was turning you on so much that you’re growing dizzy, especially at the way he’s tugging your hair and stuffing your throat full of his cock. Your muffled moans as you try to accommodate his length only fails as you gag, the pool of precum and spit leaking past the corner of your lips and staining more of your dress.

San pulls out from your mouth. He’s not interested in cumming down your throat tonight. His cock is now even harder, covered in your spit and his precum.

He yanks your dress off, leaving you completely bare for him.

“Such a pretty view. My pretty bunny.” He admires your nudity before him, latching his tongue onto your collar bone, trailing down to your tits, as he gives both a nice suck and lets hickeys bloom all over chest and neck, leaving you shaking and whimpering in his wake.

He swiftly shifts positions, and you’re straddling his lap, as his fingers on your jaw pull you towards him, and he feels you melt into the passionate kiss. He drags his cock against your bare ass and back, and you whimper, wanting him to just fill you up right now.

“Need you to fuck me now. Can’t take it anymore”, you whimper, trying to slide his cock into your hole, but San holds your thighs still.

“You said you’d behave for me, right bunny?” San reminds you again, and you nod frantically.

He pulls you into a hug, letting your body weight press onto him as he angles his cock to your hole, pushing his girthy length in, letting your cries play in his ear as he stretches you out.

“Oh, bunny. Can’t you see that I’m made for you? Made to fuck this pretty little tight hole of yours”, San hums in your ear as he lifts you, watching your eyes completely roll back as his cock completely sinks in you. His fingers run along your thighs as he feels them twitch, before he looks back up at you.

He doesn’t need to say anything—you’re moving on your own, grinding, then bouncing on his cock, San’s pretty face contorting as you fuck his cock, and your mind completely blank as you let him fuck your insides. More cream starts forming on his cock as you lift your hips, only to slam down once more to engulf your pretty boy’s cock.

“You’re mine, bunny. No one can make you feel this good. No one can fuck you this good”, his voice barely processing in your head, not when he has his cock completely buried inside you, obliterating any ounce of rational thought left in you. You feel yourself clench around him, and a low groan emits from the male beneath you. He knows you’re close.

Yes. He’s right. You’re his, and only his. It fucks you up that no one is gonna make you feel this good. No one is gonna fuck your hole as perfectly as San. No one’s cock is as good as his.

San knows he’s ruined you for anyone else, and he hides that satisfaction with another thrust into your abused cunt, drawing out more broken moans from you.

“Gonna cum again…” you sob, your pussy fluttering once more as you let yourself go all over San’s cock. He only encourages you to keep going—to keep sucking him in as you continue to fall apart. It’s only seconds more before his high pitched moans follow, then warm cum filling you up all the way. You’re crying his name over and over, and San has his hands cupping your cheek, wiping your tears.

But he’s not done with you yet.

He gingerly carries you off him, watching your eyes widen as his cock pulls out of you, with San’s cum dribbling out of your pathetic hole. Your head hits the pillow and you relax a little, barely a few seconds before San slides his cock back into you from behind, displacing more of his cum with dirty wet squelches.

“You’re still so fucking tight even after letting me cum so much inside of you”, you feel him smirk at your ear. “Do you want another load, bunny?”

“More, please. I’ve been so good. I can take another”, you beg, so fucking out of it by then, so fucking cockdrunk. He has both his arms around you—one holding your hands back, the other curling around your neck, pretty much choking you out while he drives his cock in and out of you, watching you completely go dumb as the words that leave your mouth are complete incoherent moans. But he knows you feel so good.

“Such a good bunny. That’s my pretty girl”, San’s voice buzzes in your ear. Your third orgasm comes without much of a warning—like fireworks that burst beneath your eyelids, your vision blurring from the mind blowing pleasure. You’re pathetic—jerking helplessly as your orgasm overwhelms you on top of the overstimulation, creaming uncontrollably around San’s pulsing cock.

“Here’s your load, bunny. All for you”, San hums, his hips drilling into you mercilessly before he stills into you, his second load filling you up once more, his moans at your ear making your thighs tremble. It’s so much, but you hear yourself begging for him to just unload it all in you.

You don’t fucking understand how he’s able to release another full load into your tight pussy for the second time, but fuck, there’s no point thinking right now, not when your body is just buzzing from your high, and when he just bred you two fucking loads full.

Your strength dissipates, but you still find it in you to turn to face him, after he pulls out, letting the thick stream of cum dirty your inner thighs, to nuzzle against his chest as he draws gentle circles on your back with his warm fingertips.

His lips press gently onto the side of your head as he soothes your thighs, making sure you’re leaning into him as you attempt to fight the sleep.

The moment Choi San laid his eyes on you, it made something tick in him. He’s never felt this way before, and the more he finds himself thinking about you, the more he craves your presence, especially when you run over to his friend group—apparently you met Wooyoung first, and when you greet him with a bright smile, he feels his mind shut off.

And that was why he orchestrated his coincidental meet ups with you.

All of it.

He asked the librarian about you, and despite the fact she vaguely tells him that she doesn’t remember how you look like, the offhanded comment about who she thinks is you coming by from 2pm onwards on most Tuesdays was enough information to conjure an encounter with you.

He finds out the book you’re looking for, and shifts it at a higher section of the shelf, then swooping in to retrieve it for you when you’re evidently struggling to get it yourself. That already helps to plant something in your head, especially as a first meeting.

The party Wooyoung organised was a blast, even though you didn’t know everyone else there. You had left your group of acquaintances for some fresh air, and spotted a particular male hiccuping against the swing, away from the main party. Upon closer examination, it was indeed the male who had helped you with retrieving the book you wanted. His face is completely flushed, his fingers barely holding onto the beer can.

He seemed to notice your presence, his gaze locking onto yours.

“San, right?” You ask. San tilts his head.

“Who’s asking?”

You stifle a giggle.

“Me. I was just making sure.”

He returns a pretty tipsy smile. “Right. You’re y/n, aren’t you?” You nod in reply.

“No one’s sitting here. Don’t be shy”, he gestures. “The fresh air feels nice.”

“Are you drunk, San?” You ask, soaking in the redness of his face, how eyes are shutting slightly. Despite all that, he still looks dashing.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I can take at least three more shots, I swear”, he proclaims to no one in particular. It makes you laugh. San stares at you with a pout. You let your smile linger a little more, and decide to entertain his drunken shenanigans deep into the night as you take sips of your own drink, your knees bumping onto his from time to time. At one point, his head leans onto your shoulder, his face almost nuzzling into your neck in his drunken stupor, talking about the conspiracy theories he was adamant in believing, making you laugh and refute him despite the way he’s turning you more redder than he is.

As he inhales your intoxicating scent, his eyes are wide open, sober since the beginning you found him.

On another day, when he reads through the weather forecast stating that it’d shower through the day, he watches you leave your seat at the library to the washroom, before he walks over and rummages through your bag, snagging your umbrella, and breaking it before he drops it back into your bag, zipping it before he continues to lurk around the bookshelves.

Sure enough, it pours. He watches you hastily pull out your umbrella, only for it to snap and fall apart, and the sheer panic that floods your expression.

He would walk up beside you, pulling his umbrella open, before your eyes meet his.

“Hey, it’s you again”, he’d gleefully say. “You alright?” His eyes are inquisitive, as he stares at you struggle with your broken umbrella.

“Ah, San!” You greet quickly. “Yeah, I think my umbrella’s broken.…and it’s pouring so much too.”

“You wanna share? This umbrella’s big enough for the both of us”, he suggests, watching in amusement as you blink.

“I can’t possibly do that… I’m going back to the dorms”, you reply with furrowed eyebrows in guilt for troubling him.

“Great, I need to make a short trip to the convenience store nearby. It’s not a hassle, I promise”, he assures with a smile. “And this for that night. For accompanying me.”

Your cheeks flush, and you nod, walking under his umbrella with him. Through the walk, he asks about you, his arm around you to prevent you from getting drenched. You insist to repay him back, and he playfully asks for your number so you can treat him to a cup of coffee on another day

One thing led to another—it started with the random texts and plans to meet outside, which gradually turned more affectionate.

Soon, he had his lips pressed onto yours one night when the tension between the both of you snapped as he sheepishly tells you that he likes you on a windy autumn evening.

But of course, his obsession only grows. Now, he just needs to make sure he gets rid of people who get in between the both of you.

Well, he doesn’t need you to know all that, not when he already has you all for himself.

San looks down at you, heaving softly against his bare chest, curled up against him. His hand absentmindedly stroking your hair, his eyes trailing the trail of bites he had littered all over your neck, shoulder, and tits.

You’re his, his, his.

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

I’ve always thought it would be fun to be a seat-filler at award shows, and now I can’t stop thinking about sitting next to a flirty Pedro Pascal.. (especially since they say you aren’t supposed to talk to the actors!)

The idea of him introducing himself (as if he isn’t a famous actor), sharing candy he snuck in with you or trying to make you laugh while on air and having to shoo away the award show employees that try to intervene. Him just being smitten with reader the whole night.. okay, I’d *love* to hear your take if it interests you!

Hi Nonny dearest, sorry it took me so long to respond, I just had to get my thoughts together because I LOVED this idea so much!! So here we go, hope you like it.

The Seat Filler

Pedro Pascal x Reader

A/N: here's another one, hope you all like it. No hateful comments please. Again I gotta shout out @ziggyrocket for the support ❤️. It's 6:32 in the morning, apparently I don't sleep like a normal person, I'm on my second cup of coffee, so any typos or whatever are my bad... and Maxwell house coffee's.

Warnings: none (well, corny jokes I guess)

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

You had signed up for this gig half on a dare and half out of curiosity. Being a new sign-up, you hadn’t expected to be called in right away, but yet, here you were, in a borrowed gown, in a theater mixed with some of the biggest stars and regular people just like you: seat fillers. 

You remembered the main rules the director told you: 1) look like you’re enjoying yourself, always smile and 2) most importantly DO NOT talk to the actors, meaning the actual celebrities. You nodded and murmured your understanding along with everyone else who was there to work as fillers, not really thinking anything of it. What celebrity would want to talk to me anyway? You mused as you took your seat.

You looked around the theater, excitement flooding through you at the idea of being in such a place surrounded by people you had admired from afar, in magazines, and online. You took a deep breath to steady yourself; you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. You glanced at the empty seat next to you on your left and wondered who’d be in it.  On your right was another filler and on their right was another empty seat.

The filler next to you leaned over slightly and whispered, “Who do you think they’re gonna put next to us?”

You shrugged. “No idea, hope it’s someone good.”

He nodded in agreement, then a look came over his face as he glanced over your shoulder.  You turned your head to look and you blinked hard as you recognized the man coming towards you, and taking the vacant seat next to you. While the man next to you was busy getting settled,  you glanced back over at your fellow seat filler, whose jaw had semi-dropped. You both exchanged excited looks, then you nudged him lightly with your elbow and he shook himself, cleared his throat lightly and sat up. You both faced forward, determined to be on your best behavior. 

Unfortunately for you, your newest seat mate had different ideas. Pedro knew the whole deal with seat fillers and how they were told not to speak to anyone. But he felt a mischievous streak go through him when he saw you glance at him briefly. 

“Hi,” he said, taking his seat. “I’m Pedro Pascal.”

“Hi,” you said back, nervously glancing around to make sure that no one saw you speaking to him. 

The two of you smiled at each other, before you turned back to face the front. He took a few seconds to study your profile as you sat there, determinedly facing the front, sitting as still as a statue. 

He glanced down and saw that your elbow was resting on the shared arm rest. With a small smirk, he placed his on the arm rest too, bumping yours. 

You looked over at him, smiled awkwardly and whispered a hurried, “Sorry,” before moving your arm and facing forward again.

After a few minutes, you placed your elbow back on the arm rest, and, noticing that, Pedro, bumped your elbow again with his. You moved your arm again. And then a few more minutes later, you placed it back again, only for him to bump you again. After the fourth time this happened, you looked over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow and he just smiled innocently at you.

A few minutes later you felt him shift next to you, you looked over and saw him pulling out a bag of Skittles. You tried to hide your smile, but he noticed and nudged you slightly and offered you some. You looked around, making sure that there was no one watching, and then you held open your palm and he shook some of the candies into it.

“Thanks,” you whispered and popped a few into your mouth. 

A little over an hour into the show, you could feel him getting restless next to you. You figured the sugar had gotten to him. After the Skittles, he had pulled out a candy bar, broke it in half and shared it with you. He fidgeted in his seat, tapping his fingers on his knee and the seat. You tried to ignore it, but you had to admit it was more than a little distracting.

“Are you okay?” you whispered hurriedly to him.

He turned to you and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you though?” you asked, gesturing to his jiggling knee.

He smiled. “Yeah.” But his knee kept jiggling, you had to suppress a laugh at that. 

He noticed you struggling to keep a straight face, and decided to aim the restless energy he had at you. He was going to make you laugh, really laugh, by the end of the show. His mind was made up.

He thought for a moment and then he leaned over to you, “Psst, hey.”

“Yeah?” you answered looking straight ahead.

“I have a question.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Why did the bicycle fall over?”

You were confused. “I’m sorry?”

“I said: why did the bicycle fall over?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Why?”

“Because it was two tired.”

You turned to look at him after that, he laughed at the look on your face.

“That was corny,” you said, shaking your head, but pursing your lips to keep from laughing.

“Oh, that reminds me of another one,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. He looked around,  cleared his throat, and then asked, “What does corn say when it gets a compliment?”

You shook your head and shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to say anything but wanting to hear the punchline, you turned to him.

Barely able to suppress his giggles, he answered,”Aw, shucks!”

You put your hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh you felt escaping your lips.

“Okay, one more,” he announced. 

“Oh, lord,” you groaned.

“It’s a good one, I promise.”

You waved your hand slightly for him to go ahead, knowing he would anyway.

“Okay, why are pirates called pirates?”

You bit your lip trying not to laugh. “I don’t know why?”

He leaned closer. “They just arrrr!” he whispered the last word in a bad pirate accent. 

You couldn’t help it, you snorted, then quickly covered your mouth to stifle your giggles, but he’d heard it, and he smiled at that.

“Good one right?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, oh my god, that was bad, but…” you couldn’t finish as a fresh wave of giggles overtook you. Your shoulders shook with your suppressed laughter.

He smiled and laughed along with you. For the rest of the ceremony, he would lean over and whisper comments about one person’s speech, or another’s outfit, nothing malicious or mean, just something to make you smile. And he always had a bad joke or two to whisper to you. 

By the end of the program, your cheeks were hurting from all the smiling and your stomach was sore from the laughing. You couldn’t help it, a few had escaped, luckily it was during the jokes the emcee told, so it looked as if you were enjoying the show. Truth be told, you couldn’t remember what had happened during the show, or who had won which award. If someone had quizzed you on it after, you surely would have failed; but you felt it was worth it because being seated next to Pedro had made it the best night of your life. You hadn’t laughed that hard, or enjoyed yourself that much in a long time.

After the show was over, you headed out with your fellow seat filler.

“You seemed to really be enjoying yourself,” he said as you filed out into the lobby.

You nodded with a huge grin on your face. “Yeah, I did.”

“I could tell,” he said, nodding, “what was he saying to you to make you laugh so much?”

You shrugged. “Oh, just a few jokes, and comments that’s all,” you said lightly.

He looked at you curiously, but when he realized you weren’t going to elaborate he commented, “Lucky you. The one they put next to me was on her phone the entire time.” He shook his head. “At least you got some entertainment.”

You two chatted for a little more, making plans to grab a late dinner with him and some of the rest of the seat fillers. Before you could leave, however, you felt someone tap you on your shoulder.

“Okay, I have another one,” you heard Pedro’s voice in your ear before you could turn around. “Just thought of it.”

You looked at him. “All right, go on.”

“Which bear is the most condescending?”

You started laughing then answered, “what?”

“A pan-duh!”

You burst out laughing along with him. “Where on earth did you even hear these?”

He shrugged. “Internet.”

“They are so bad,” you said, still chuckling.

“And yet, you laughed. Therefore they did their job,” he pointed out.

“True enough,” you agreed, “thanks though.”

“For what?”

“Making this event… well, eventful. I was prepared to be bored out of my mind, sitting there like a statue, smiling a fake smile the entire night.”

He smiled at you. “Well, I’m glad I could help. So, what are you planning on doing after this?”

You shrugged. “I was gonna grab something to eat with some of the rest of the seat fillers…”

“Oh, okay, I'm doing the same.” He nodded and looked away. You noticed that for a second he looked slightly nervous, but before you could get a good look, his face cleared and he turned back to look at you.

“I guess I should let you go then…” you said, turning to catch up with your friends.

“Wait, one more question.”

You stopped and looked back at him. “What's up?”

“Well, you know, I have a lot more jokes…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, and, well, all my friends and family have heard them. But you haven’t, at least I’m pretty sure you haven’t….”

You nodded. “I haven’t, I don’t think.”

“Good, well, I shall have to inflict them upon you, you know, if you don’t mind. Maybe over dinner tomorrow?”

You thought for a second. “I don’t mind at all,” you answered with a huge grin.

[charnelhouse]

Ghost adjusting Red's parachute straps. Giving them a good, but unnecessary, tug, making her jolt forward into him slightly and her breath hitch. He loves the reactions he can pull from her and his voice is smug af as he tells her he's just checking, that he's being a good LT and keeping an eye on her safety. Red flipping him off because she knows he's full of shit and that he's absolutely smirking under that mask.

A/N: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader (Red Fox). Smut. Size difference.

She’s still incredibly sore between her legs. It pulses like a bruise and, fuck, it’s extremely uncomfortable because everything Ghost filled her with is now drying on her inner thighs. The straps of her parachute aren’t helping. They’re wedging her legs apart, too tight and shoved up against too many areas that don’t need to be chafed.

Don't you dare shower me off.

What do I get if I don't?

You'll have to be patient.

I need incentive.

You're bloody impossible, you know that?

Ghost steps into her line of vision, cocking his head as those dark eyes study her. He looms like a monolith - a tower of glass and metal and he’s too big, way too fucking big, so big that he may have ripped something inside her.

She flips him off just because she can. 

He steps forward so that his chest bumps into hers and when she stumbles backward, his hand shoots out and grasps the straps of her parachute. He drags her back to him and she trips again. 

“Unsteady, are we?” he remarks in a low voice. 

She jabs him in the side, which does nothing because it’s all flesh and muscle. “I think you punctured an organ.”

He chuckles and it tastes rich. He smells like moss and shower gel and she can’t forget how he felt on top of her, the perfume of sweat in his hair and on his skin and how they slipped over eachother because they’d been fucking for hours. His grip under her knee, his immense strength shoving her legs back against her tits and folding her in half as he stared down between them, focusing right on where they were joined -

“Fuck...fuck...look at that...look at that pretty cunt stretch for me.”

He grasps the buckle to readjust them before pulling the strap too hard. She yelps, screwing her eyes shut as she breathes through the ache in her cunt. It throbs and pulses like a spasming heart in an open chest - thwap thwap thwap - and still she’s beginning to get wet, slick up at the sound of Ghost’s voice. 

“Sore?” he offers and the arrogance is audible. He gets off on making her so unsteady. “C’mon soldier, you were in perfect form earlier.”

“Hands on the headboard, Red,” he demanded as his hips snapped against her ass. The tip of his cock was punching up against the soft curve of her womb. He was hitting the center of her - deliberately on target. The mattress squeaked and the metal springs screeched something fierce and he’d had her on all fours for hour - hours - 

He slipped his hand between her legs and circled her clit with three fingers. They were too thick, rubbing through her folds until her flesh becomes raw and swollen. That was all he had to do - stroke and slide his fingers into her as his cock drove forward repeatedly. He slapped her pussy, he fisted the fleshy cheek of her ass, spreading her open and spitting on his length already soaked in her juices. 

“Don’t push it,” she growls as she tries to breathe through the pain. It’s not unwanted. It’s just annoying now that they actually have to do drills. “I think you broke something inside me.”

He inhales sharply, one gloved knuckle rasping against her stomach. She can feel him through her clothes. “Is it bad?”

He sounds calm, but she still catches the inflection of concern beneath his gruffness. 

“It’s fine.” She leans into him so that her breasts brush his chest. “I’ll live. I’m a big girl, right?” She lowers her voice to something velvet. A seduction.

“You’re a big girl, Red,” Ghost growls into her hair as he fucks her. “You can handle it. I know you can.” He pins her wrist to the mattress before his hand slithers up and threads their fingers together.

He tips his head, pupils expanding. “You are,” he agrees a little hoarsely as he tightens her other strap. “Just lookin’ out for your safety, duchess.”

Bastard.

She pretends to stumble, and he instantly catches her by the waist like she knew he would. She lifts herself on tiptoes, her mouth grazing his jaw.

“Make it up to me later,” she whispers. Ghost swallows, his grip on her tightening. “Maybe, I can sit on your face again.”

Ghost squeezes her hips, pushes himself closer until they’re momentarily stuck together, intertwined. “If that’s what you need,” he replies tenderly. “Just trying to be a good lieutenant for my favorite-”

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Price barks and Ghost smoothly steps away from her. She’s so unsteady that she has to catch the wall to keep herself from falling. 

Truth be told, she feels as if she’s already jumped. She’s tumbling to earth and everything in her belly flips and it’s all butterflies. The throbbing between her legs is the only reminder that Ghost had been inside her to begin with. She stares at his blank mask, black eyes like a shark. Unbothered. Unmoved. 

It’s unfair. 

“Just checkin’ her chute,” Ghost explains.

“Just coppin’ a feel,” Soap interjects and Gaz muffles a laugh with the back of his hand. 

Ghost slowly turns his head to stare at the Scotsman who suddenly blanches. She can only imagine the iciness of Simon’s expression. He’s done it to her when she’s managed to royally piss him off. 

After a moment, she places the flat of her palm against Ghost’s massive shoulder blade and he relaxes, sighs. The tension is stripped to hot air. It’s too easy. She didn't expect him to react just the way she had intended.

She realizes that maybe Simon isn’t so unaffected by her presence.