#he did this completely unprovoked | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muntitled · 11 months ago

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𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬

Pairings: Fratboy!Sungchan x Shy!reader

Warnings: Language, Enemies to Lovers, Manipulation, Bully!Sungchan, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), Hate sex, Non/Con, Choking, Fingering, Size Kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Breeding, Choking, Spitting, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Coercion

I needed bully smut, so I wrote bully smut. Also I'm ovulating so don't mind me.

To say you were tense was a grave understatement.

You were forced to sit through your lecture feeling absolutely haunted by the presence beside you. A class you would normally find yourself enjoying is suddenly marred by the stretch of shadow that is Sungchan.

Making comprehensive notes had proven to be difficult when you had to keep a peripheral gaze on the slouching figure seated on the shared desk beside you.

Everything about him vexed you absolutely: The stupid way he wore his snapback (reversed). How he slouched beside you, nearly dozing off on multiple occasions.

Most harrowing was the fact that Sungchan did not make any notes during the entire course of the lesson. In fact, his notebook remained closed. His laptop, untouched.

“Damn,” Sungchan croaks when the professor concludes the end of his incessant rant, “We done?” He asks, “already?”

You only hum in affirmation, keeping your head low as you gather your belongings.

Sungchan watches you scramble to pack up - scramble to get away from him - with unreadable expression.

“Hey, I need to ask you something.”

Your heart plummets when his hand makes contact with the notepad you were shoving into your backpack. You bite the inside of your cheek while your stomach plummets lower and lower.

“Actually, Sungchan… I kinda have somewhere to b-”

“Nah, you're good. It'll only take a few minutes,” he says, lightly tugging on the sleeve of your button-up to lower your butt back down to the chair. You watch with sullen eyes as the rest of your fellow students file out of the classroom.

Two of Sungchan's frat brothers eye you both suspiciously, but Sungchan only gives them a flick of the head in greeting as he leans in to whisper, “You know I don't bite, right?

You didn't care to calculate the validity of that statement because you knew everything this boy had to say was completely and wholeheartedly false. It was almost a marvel, the way he could aimlessly switch from terrorising you one moment to bathing you in unprovoked friendliness the next. It gave you a terrible case of whiplash. Before you're able to respond, however, your professor speaks up from the front of the class. The only other body in the room.

"I hope you plan on actually doing something about those grades this semester, Mr Jung.” Your professor says, eyeing you both through the windows of horn rimmed glasses, “I trust you understand the severity of your current predicament."

Sungchan leans back against his seat, regarding the teacher with a passiveness that made you sweat with nerves.

"Being suspended from basketball definitely sucked," Sungchan's jaw is tight when he speaks, so obviously vexed by the inquiries of your lecturer. "But I've got a secret weapon this semester, Prof," the boy says, slamming his basketball on the conjoined tables, enough to make you jump. "I'll be back on the court in no time."

The sound of your name slipping from your professor's mouth was enough to have you snapping your head up from the weathered pages of the book you had taken out a mere second ago. Sungchan watches, slyly enamoured by the way you sit up when addressing the teacher. The way you correct your spine and elongate your neck. Closing your book with a finger propped in between the pages so as not to lose your space while simultaneously lending the professor your optimal focus.

You were such a fucking prude.

"S-Sorry Sir?" You couldn't have heard him right.

There was absolutely no way.

"I assume you're the student Mr Jung is referring to?" Your professor seems oblivious to the way your face threatens to fall, but Sungchan catches it in the slight twitch of your left brow.

"Oh- I-" everything in you was screaming to send out an SOS signal. Your neck still hurt with the imprint of his palm from when he had terrorized you just a few hours ago... Willingly choosing to be put in a space with Jung Sungchan alone seemed like a viable death wish.

"She already agreed to help tutor me yesterday, actually?" Your heart plummets when the boy turns to face you. "Very admiral."

A wave of nausea washes over you and you try your damndest to just not fucking cry as he places a tentative hand on your thigh underneath the table. Everything in your being responseded negatively to this man. Everything perhaps except your eyes.

While you could not deny that he was the spawn of Satan, you couldn't deny that he had the biggest, most brightest, most kindest eyes you've ever seen.

And that was the fucked up part.

"You said it yourself," Sungchan shoots back at the professor as his nails sink into the sensitive, plush skin of your thighs, "She's the best of the best so I figured, only the best can get me back on that court,"

You wanted to cry. To break out into a blaze of uncontrollable hysteria. Anything at all that might convince your professor to get Jung Sungchan away from you. The tempest of emotions swirling inside, the humiliation, the vile, disgusting feelings that only make themselves known in the vulnerabilities of the AM's...

It all threatens to boil over like an abandoned pot left on an open stove.

Perhaps Sungchan notices the quiver in your lips.

"I trust you'll get started as soon as possible then?"

"We're getting started right now, actually," Sungchan says, peeling his eyes away from your bowed frame, just in time to catch your professor gathering his belongings by the desk, "Basketball season is just around the corner, so you know how it is,"

All his fingers are digging into you thigh now. You have to resort to biting down on the inside of your cheeks to avoid letting that torrid screech rip its way through your vocal cords.

"I'm very impressed by your work ethic, Mr Jung," your professor says, completely oblivious to the way your eyes widen at the sight of him filing his way out the classroom, "And a very special thank you to you, Miss L/N. This is incredibly admirable and something I most definitely will not forget,"

For the briefest moments, the sun peaks through the murky, heavy clouds and you're awash in not only the approval of your professor, but by the possibility that you were perhaps one step closer to making TA. It would undoubtedly look wonderful on your resume, and having a member of staff essentially vouch for you would be... fucking miraculous.

"Wipe the drool off your face, it's not very sexy," Sungchan's grumbles have you hurtling out of your daydreams and straight back down to earth where you're left abandoned in a lecture hall with the only person in the entire world you believed deserved death.

Sungchan's head is leaning back passively against the chair, his legs are spread and his hand has yet to leave your thigh.

You try to keep your voice remaining steady as you ask "How much work do you plan on putting in?" Your voice is dripping monotony and is ice cold, nothing at all like the lazy smile flitting across Sungchan's face as he watches you, still slouching like he couldn't give less of a shit.

"None." His words have you snapping your head towards him, eyes blazing with the signs of your very first tear growing pregnant in your tear ducts.

"Th-Thats impossible- you can't do that!"

"I can't do any of this shit," Sungchan snorts as he motions with his other hand towards the blackboard scribbled with details on Austomarixsm, your most recent study, and most daunting assignment.

"Sungchan I-" You exhale, completely and utterly dumbfounded, "Sungchan, I have my own work to do. I have school, a-and a part time job- I have my own assignments due- just the other day I fucking passed out from a stress migraine-"

The calluses of his palms rubbing against the inside of your thigh, momentarily bring you out of the reverie of your own self pity, “I'm sorry that happened to you, Angel,” he begins, in the most sickeningly sweet voice you've ever heard anyone utter to you, let alone a man you found so incredibly... attractive.

You're not immune to Sungchan's charms and that was perhaps, part of the problem. You feared that if it ever came down to it, you might fall on a fucking sword for him, “Just make sure you get my assignment done on time, yeah?”

Your eyes are focused on his hand. The size of it. The labyrinth of veins running the expanse of it. The way it's rubbing against your inner thigh with a dizzying mysticism.

All it takes is for the first tear to fall directly on his palm before you're lifting your head and murmering, “No.”

Sungchan's hand stops all movement on your thigh and for the first (but certainly not last) part of this evening, you're utterly, and completely filled with fear.

“Sorry?” he shakes his head, displaying that sunshine smile, “What did you say? I don't think I heard you right.”

“You heard me perfectly well,” you tip your head back in defiance, letting your nose raise higher than it's used to being. Finding that glimmer of confidence that lay wasting, like an old relic somehwere inside of you.

“I said n-”

His hand was encircled around your throat before you could even get the final word out and he is pushing your face down on the table with immense force. A dark shadow settles across him, only intensifying his glare.

You writhe underneath him but Sungchan's grip on the side of your face only doubles in force as he slowly rises from his chair, towering over your bent frame as he twitches his head a little to side.

“Come again?”

You're struggling to breath under the pressure of having your cheek pressed so completely against a flat surface and your limbs are shot with panic.

He's far bigger than you though, your movements mean absolutely nothing. “I couldn't hear you the first time, Angel, what did you say?” His shadow bleeds across your form, like an immense, horrible darkness and so you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that whatever this is, whatever that was about to be inflicted on you would disappear.

“I know I didn't just hear you say no to me, baby,” your limbs stop their idle protests when Sungchan's hand slithers up your skirt, “You're too good an angel to ever say no to me, right?” Your mouth is trembling as his words wash over the side of your face, “You're too fucking pathetic to say no to anyone.”

“Sungchan- please-”

“Please?” He asks, swiping his fingers past your underwear, “Please stop or Please carry on?” Your mind is completely overrun with both panic and a second, more sinister second feeling that you truly did not want to confront in a moment like this. All you wanted to focus on was escaping the iron grip, keeping your cheeks pushed against the desk, where a small puddle of drool had accumulated from your open mouth.

You writhe underneath him, valiantly trying to get his fingers away from you, but your movements only cause the first bit delecrable of friction against your cunt.

“That's it,” He whispers, “That's a good little slut,” Sungchan watches as you continue to push your cunt back against his fingers, subsequently raking the first moan out of your clogged throat.

“Look at you…” He marvels at the sight of you. How easily you've gotten wet for him despite being completely and wholeheartedly defiant just a moment before. Sungcham doesn't know whether to look at your pussy desperately trying to pleasure itself with his fingers, or your face, and those pretty half lidded eyes rolling to back of your head.

“You can't so no to anything, can you?” He finally pushes two digits in, immediately causing you to gasp underneath him, “You'll let anyone fuck this pussy raw, hm? Even me?” His words are enough to have you writing even more underneath him.

“F-Fuck you-” Sungchan buries his fingers inside of you, all too pleased to watch you attempt to stave off the pleasure coursing through your body. His cock is fucking aching at the sight and it only has him fingering you harder and faster.

“You're gonna cum on my fingers, yeah? You're gonna cum like the sick fucking slut you are?” Your body is racked with unbearable spasms as you're forced into your first orgasm. The room goes white and all you're consumed by is the feeling of Sungchan's massive fingers inside of you and your head still pressed to the side of the table. You're fucking back against his fingers and he watches, completely enamored with his mouth hanging limply open. He is utterly taken with the sight.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” the room spins and it takes a few seconds to notice you're not pressed against the desk anymore.

Now you're being pulled up and pushed with your ass against the desk while Sungchan towers over you, hurriedly fiddling with his belt as he glares down at you with monotonous lust. He doesn't smile. He doesn't crack any incessant jokes, he only grabs you by your neck and forces his hand in your mouth.

“Spit,” you do more than that. You gag around his fingers, until Sungchan is finally satisfied with the string of saliva when he slips his hand out.

“Watch,” his forces you to bow your head and watch him coat his aching red cock with your spit. He jerks himself off right in front of you, loving the way your eyes stay glued on his dick.

“You're such a dirty fucking slut, you know that?” He is saying it to himself at this point. Words drenched in arousal and uttered through clenched teeth, “You’re such a pretty fucking slut, aren't you, Princess?”

You can't stop your eyes from watching how he fucks himself, you can't bare to look away.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Your voice is hoarse and shaking,

“Are you asking me to fuck you?”

All it takes is one nod before he's pushing you backwards against the small table and forcing himself between your open legs. “Then I'll give you what you want,” he whispers before pushing himself inside of you, completely knocking the wind out of your lungs.

He's too big. Far too big, and you try to tell him this by pawing lamely at the lapels of his letterman.

“F-Fuck, this pussy is so fucking tight!” Sungchan rolls his head back and you stare up at him as if he were a God as he drags your hips towards his, fucking you completely dumb on his cock.

“Is this what you wanted, Angel? You wanted my dick inside you like a needy fucking slut.”

“Sungchan I'm c-cumming, FUCK-” Your orgasm quite literally sneaks up on you and it has you throwing your head back while Sungchan continues to fuck himself into you. He watches you writhe and scream and he feels you clench his dick impossibly tighter.

“F-Fuck you're gonna me me cum,” he whispers, causing the very familiar feeling of alarm to pour out of you. You struggle against him but Sungchan keeps his palm lpcked around your neck, keeping your body very much against his.

"S-Sungchan, please."

"Stop moving or im really gonna cum," you try to push him away but your movements only succeed in raking a broken moan out him.

"You can't cum inside! Fucking- Stop,"

Sungchan is completely caught in the throes of his own prgasm. You're not sure if he hears you at all through all his mumbling and moaning.

“Fuck, angel, you're gonna make me-” Sungchan's thrust grow incredibly sloppy and you nearly start crying until he guides himself out of you, spilling his seed all over your drenched cunt. "F-Fuck, I pulled put, see?" He's breathing heavily as he continues to milk out tye rest of his cum and your lips are quivering, "I pulled out, Angel, don't worry."

The palm across the side of your face is warm, almost disarming, "You'll help me out, right? You'll help me get back on the court." Your lips have yet to stop their horrible quivering, "I need your help, Angel. You know I do,"

#riize #riize x reader #riize x you #riize imagine #riize smut #sungchan x reader #sungchan x you #sungchan smut #sungchan fluff #sungchan #jung sungchan x reader #jung sungchan #jung sungchan smut

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maybanksmusings · 1 month ago

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THE WALLS ; JJ MAYBANK

SYNOPSIS ; when an unknown face appears in the outer banks searching for a father she's never met, she's unaware of how her life is about to be completely turned upside down.

WARNINGS ; jjmaybank x routledge!reader, strong language, depictions of violence, afab!reader, sexual content, mentions of abuse, drug and alcohol consumption, strangers to lovers, fast burn to slow burn, canon adjacent, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE ; there is now a taglist! to be added simply let me know down in the comments. enjoy part two!

part one.

as much as you’d grown fond of sarah in the couple of hours since your arrival, her friends made your skin crawl. topper, her boyfriend, with his dumb face and holier-than-thou attitude. you didn’t see what sarah could possibly find appealing, but it wasn’t your place to meddle.

for the duration of getting ready, all sarah did was talk about jj. more specifically, you and jj. she even offered to set you two up, but with sarahs standing with the pouges, it didn’t take a genius to figure out it's better to go solo.

sarahs cropped, off the shoulder sweater does little to shield you from the cool breeze sweeping across the beach. even stuffing your hands into the pockets of your shorts did very little.

you’d seen on tiktok, the most reliable source of information, that alcohol warmed people up which is why you were already on the fourth drink of the night.

nothing to do with finding the courage to talk to john b, that would be ridiculous.

you and sarah were sat on the opposite side of the beach to the pouges, the wooden log hurting your butt as it was used as a makeshift seat. through the flames of the bonfire you watch the pouges, laughing and drinking.

you’re looking at john b and can’t help spotting the similarities between you two, even down to small mannerisms you shared. you wondered if he had any idea about you, if your father had ever told him about you.

taking another swig, your gaze falls onto another pouge of interest. you’re surprised to see he’s already looking at you, nodding his head to gesture you over.

you smile, a genuine, excited smile. it’s too early for schoolgirl crushes, yet you can’t help it. the alcohol in your system doesn’t help it either.

you mumble a quick 'be right back' to sarah, sitting beside you engrossed in deep conversation with an unknown girl about selling sunsets' newest season. she glances at you over her shoulder, giving you a quick nod of acknowledgment and reminding you to be safe.

you head over to the pouges, a light jog across the beach brings you there faster but not fast enough. the reckless, and tipsy, part of your brain wants to get your intentions out in the open. you want to pull john b to the side and pour your drunken little heart out, and if it ended badly you could blame the alcohol.

but then you imagined yourself in his position, how you would feel if john b randomly showed up and dropped a bomb into your life unprovoked.

he looked so happy, like he was having the time of his life, and you couldn't bring yourself to ruin that. the least you could do was spare him the honour of hearing it from you when you were sober, without an audience.

"there she is," jj grins, not exactly slurring his words but you could tell he was buzzed at the very least "turn around, wanna get a good look at you."

with a playful eye roll, you give in to his request, twirling in a circle and laughing at the wolf whistle he lets out in response.

you're more than compliant when he reaches a hand towards you and pulls you closer, the same hand gripping your waist as he held you against his side.

admittedly, you're surprised when he doesn't make a move the second you're close enough. instead he holds on to you as he continues his conversation with pope, almost protectively, possessively.

"kie, back me up here," jj pleads, free hand being thrown up in the air in protest. the same girl from earlier, which you now know to be kie, throws her hands up in surrender.

"not my beef, i'm the neutral party in this war"

you can't help but laugh at the swiftness of her shutdown, your head resting comfortably against jj's shoulder as his thumb grazed back and forth against the skin beneath your sweater.

now, pope and kie are bickering back and forth, john b is flirting with what was commonly referred to as a 'touron' which leaves you and jj in your own little bubble, content and comfortable.

"so, what do you think of paradise so far?" jj asks, voice soft and a sarcastic emphasis on paradise "not too bad, huh?"

"it's growing on me," you grin, putting the sudden butterflies in your stomach down to having too much to drink "i've lived in worse places."

an eyebrow quirks, curiosity evident on jjs face, you can tell he wants to ask more, but for someone so forward he seems to be reluctant.

"don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to sticking in one place," you admit, as truthful as you can be without saying too much "kinda just bounce around."

"sounds expensive, you sure you ain't a kook?" jj teases, head tilted downward to bring you two face to face "'cause, i'm down with the whole being a sugar baby thing."

you laugh, loudly, head flung back, hair being blown in the wind as jj retains his grip on you, awestruck as he took you in for as long as he could. he wished he could freeze this moment and live in it forever, which made him want to squirm because he had just met you that day.

your bubble of euphoria is quickly burst, the beach erupting in roars as people grouped around the shore. a fight.

you roll your eyes, annoyed beyond explanation. you scan the crowd, trying to pick out any faces you could even somewhat recognise in an attempt to work out who was at the root of the fight.

much like this morning, you see that recognisable flash of blonde pushing through the crowds. your posture straightens, a weird feeling of protectiveness taking hold as her screams of toppers name rise above the chants of 'fight'.

you really did not like topper, so you weren't pushing through people for him, but for sarah.

"top! you're gonna kill him!"

and she wasn't wrong, as you drew closer to the scene you had a plain view of the scene that had the partygoers enthralled. topper holding someone under the water, obviously wanting whoever was under to not come back up.

it's only when you catch sight of who topper is trying to kill does your feet speed up, carrying you faster and faster towards the water. your brain struggling to come up with a plan as fast as you're moving.

you don't know how it happens, but you're on toppers back, your arm wrapped so tightly around his neck that you're starting to lose feeling. in some sort of femme fetal action movie, you would've taken him down.

but it wasn't a movie.

as if it was nothing, topper reaches behind himself and pulls you off him, ripping you straight into the ice-cold water.

"fuckin' pouge" he spits, hands wrapping around your throat as he forces you underwater this time. you claw and kick and squirm, but he's stronger. what feels like hours is only seconds, when you break the surface your hands are bloody and there's a gash across toppers face.

your reprieve is short-lived, only having come up in the first place because topper had recoiled in pain. you were far from a quitter, but this was a fight you knew you weren't coming out of. so when the water covered your face once more, you let it.

it was scarily peaceful, people's screams and shouts practically inaudible. falling asleep would be easy right about now, you could just drift off.

you would probably be better off.

your delusional tranquillity comes to an abrupt end when you, yet again, resurface. this time the party is well and truly over, people running in every direction.

you worried it was the cops, you really would have been better off if topper had finished the job if that was the case.

"hey, hey you good?" john b is holding your face as you cough up the water you inhaled. his voice is soft, gentle as he checks on you.

he was the big brother you grew up praying for, only he was none the wiser.

when you burst into tears it's put down to shock, and when you throw your arms around john b he doesn't question it, instead he helps you to your feet.

"come on kid, we got you."

when you wake you have no idea where you are, sun filters through flimsy curtains and you're dressed in clothes you definitely weren't wearing the night before.

before you have time to work yourself into a breakdown, a soft knock raps against the door. it opens before you can say a word.

john b gently closes the door behind him, sitting at the foot of the bed to give you as much space as possible "how are you feeling?"

"whose clothes are these?" you blurt out, desperately wanting to figure out how she got into this outfit and, more importantly, who put you into it.

as if he could read your mind, he explains "kie, kiara, had the supplies. got you changed out of your wet clothes, alone, scouts honour."

a sigh of relief bellows through your entire body, at least that was something.

"i gotta ask you something," john b starts, his tone shifting ever so slightly to one more serious "i went through everything in my head a dozen times but i can't work out why you did that?"

"did what?"

"saved my life." john b deadpans, looking you in the eye with an intensity that tells you you can't lie your way out of this one "you could have died."

without a word, you stand. you find your damp clothes tossed in a corner and pick them up. john b watches as you stuff your hands into your pockets, dread bubbling up as he tried to come up with what your reasoning could possibly be.

when you return, you sit beside him with your hands clasped around the cold metal you'd pulled from the pocket of your shorts.

"you have to hear me out." you being, hyperaware of how insane what you were about to tell him was "believe me, i know this is insane."

watching his reaction, you show him the compass your father had given you. up until recently, your mother had it tucked away safely in her room. you never met your father, you were told he died when you were a baby. but then you got a sweet sixteen card in the mail, and then there was no record of a deceased john routledge, and then, a week ago, his face is all over your television screen alongside a brother you never knew you had.

you pop the back off of the compass, revealing the hidden compartment not many people knew existed and taking a small, folded note from inside.

"hey, ducky. been a while since i wrote, you know what mom is like. listen, duck, we haven't been entirely honest with you, your mom and i. if you're okay with it, there's someone i'd like you to meet." you read out the note, voice shaky and hands trembling "he left an address at the bottom."

john b carefully takes the note from your hands, wiping away a stray tear thinking you hadn't seen it. he reads it, over and over "this is this address, my dads writing if he signed it dad that means.."

you nod, knowing whats racing through his head all too well "yeah" you sniffle, not exactly sure why you were crying.

"john b, you're my brother."

taglist!

@rainingcecilias

#jj maybank #maybanksmusings #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank smut #jj obx #obx #outer banks #obx season 4 #obx4 #outer banks season 4 #outerbanks #obx cast #rafe obx #criminal minds #john b routledge #john b obx #john b outer banks

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obito-in-disguise · 13 days ago

Note

When the male hashira remember they have rights and proceed to yell the most absurd thing and when they look back at their s/o their s/o is running away like they don’t them

This was a bit confusing but I hope I was able to capture what you meant;

| Freedom of speech |

Featuring; Shinazugawa Sanemi, Tomioka Giyuu, Iguro Obanai, Gyomei Himejima, Kyojuro Rengoku and Uzui Tengen.

Shinazugawa Sanemi

It wasn't uncommon for Sanemi to yell. He was a bonehead, after all, and true to his nature, the things he yelled were often absurd and completely unprovoked.

Whenever he did, you'd glare at him, hiding your face in embarrassment, while he’d scoff and swing his sword over his shoulder.

"I can do whatever I want," he’d shrug.

Today, however, was your breaking point.

As you walked down the street together on your way back from the market, Sanemi abruptly stopped and yelled at the top of his lungs, "I’LL TAKE ON ANYONE WHO SAYS PINEAPPLES DON’T BELONG ON PIZZA! COME ON!" His sword was out, waving it around invitingly at imaginary challengers.

Before he could even turn to you for backup, you were already halfway down the street, distancing yourself from him as fast as possible.

"He's not with me…" you muttered to the curious onlookers, speed-walking away from him at an inhuman pace.

Tomioka Giyuu

Giyuu was socially awkward, painfully so. Whenever your friends came around, he’d retreat to his room and wait for them to leave so he could hang out with you again.

Sometimes, though, he’d get bored and hang around the hallway to snoop in on your conversations. “Eavesdropping? I was just patrolling the house, Y/N…”

“What…?”

One day, he overheard your friends gossiping about him.

"Your boyfriend's pretty weird, Y/N…"

"Oh, come on, guys. He's just introverted."

"Still, you should be careful. He looks like the social-recluse, no-friends, ends up murdering you type."

Out of all the things they said, the words no friends echoed in his mind for the rest of the day.

By the time the two of you went on your evening stroll, the tension had built up so much that he suddenly stopped, startling the few people nearby.

"I HAVE FRIENDS!" he yelled, his voice loud and firm.

The onlookers gave him strange looks before continuing their strolls.

You sighed and cringed, grabbing his arm. "Stop eavesdropping on my conversations, Yuu…"

Iguro Obanai

Sightseeing with Obanai was supposed to be a quiet, pleasant activity. With Kaburamaru draped over his shoulder, he was unrecognizable to the townspeople in the secluded tourist city.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of shock on his face when people bumped into him on the busy streets, shoving past without even apologizing. Back home, no one dared get within six feet of him, let alone touch him.

"Welcome to the life of a regular person, Guro…" you teased, grinning.

He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly unimpressed.

But when someone pushed past him so hard that he stumbled to the ground, his patience snapped. Hashira conduct be damned.

"YOU FOOLS HAVE NO SPATIAL AWARENESS!" he roared, standing up. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING BEFORE I MAKE YOU REGRET IT!"

The street froze in silence as everyone stared at him. Dusting himself off, Obanai adjusted his haori and glared back at the onlookers.

When he turned to look for you, you were already across the street, wearing sunglasses and shaking your head.

"We’re letting the crazies in now?" you whispered to a nearby stranger, who nodded in agreement.

Gyomei Himejima

You rarely got to see Gyomei like this, but on the rare occasion he fell sick, it was like he became an entirely different person.

Delirious and feverish, he clung to you like a lifeline, spouting random phrases that ranged from philosophical musings to utter nonsense in an entirely different language.

"Anima mea tuam desiderat," he murmured one moment, his voice full of emotion.

"Oh, Gyo…" you sighed, brushing his hair back fondly.

Eventually, you realized this was out of your control and decided to take him to Shinobu. It took eleven of her assistants and you to haul his enormous frame to the Butterfly Mansion.

As you sat by his bedside, you sneezed from the overwhelming smell of medicinal herbs.

"Excuse me," you mumbled, wiping your nose.

Gyomei suddenly bolted upright, his voice booming "THE SOUND OF Y/N'S SNEEZES BRINGS ME PEACE!"

You froze as the assistants burst into barely contained giggles.

Horrified, you sank lower into your chair. But when you looked over at his delirious, innocent smile, you couldn’t help but smile back at your poor sick baby.

"You know what? Hell yeah," you said, leaning back in your chair.

Kyojuro Rengoku

You knew what you were signing up for when you dragged Kyojuro to the local festival. Excitable and loud, he had a tendency to make everything an event.

What you didn’t anticipate, though, was how far he’d take it this time.

As he bit into a skewer of dango, he suddenly stopped, turned to the crowd, and yelled at the top of his lungs "DELICIOUS! BUT NOT AS DELICIOUS AS MY BELOVED Y/N!"

The crowd immediately erupted into “aww”s and applause. Some even started whispering about how lucky you were.

Mortified, you grabbed his arm, trying to tug him away. "Oh my gosh, Kyojuro, why?"

But his boisterous laughter only drew more attention.

“I only speak the truth, my love!” he declared, pointing dramatically toward the festival lights.

By the time you managed to drag him away, you would never bring him to another festival.

Uzui Tengen

He's had too much to drink again, everyone in the restaurant has been giving you dirty looks for the past twenty minutes.

"Uzui please...this a public space"

He ignores you, laughing louder at his own stupid joke he made earlier.

"Its true y/n! I would dog walk all the hashira! especially Tomioka, he looks very subservient!"

The restaurant went dead silent.

People stared at him, unsure whether to be horrified or amused.

By the time he turned to look for you, you had already scooted your chair over to another table.

The man you were now sitting next to gave you a questioning look.

"I have no idea who he is," you said flatly, refusing to meet Tengen’s gaze.

Omg, ya'll wouldn't believe the amount of time I spent thinking up ways for them to yell absurd things but still be in character. Because lets be for real, in what world would Gyomei yell out something like that if he wasn't not in his right mind 😭

Enjoyed the story? check out more of my other Demon slayer fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to like, reblog or leave a comment pookie♡

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karlachismylife · 3 months ago

Text

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

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lueurjun · 2 years ago

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shy soobin as your boyfriend

shy bf! soobin x reader — loving soobin hours rn majorly<3 in which soobin is completely and utterly enchanted and captivated by you, enamored with all that you are.

oh you lucky lucky gorgeous specimen

he is fr the perfect man but ur just as perfect so you know what? MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

the way you met is pretty standard

you worked at the barista he liked to visit frequently

he visited the coffee shop twice a day just to see you

and you had no idea that he thought u were a lil cutie patootie so you were a little concerned by his caffeine intake

he would stay and have like 3 cups each visit just so he could see you for as long as possible

most of the time he would be trying to work up the courage to say something other than his order but he couldn’t get the confidence

and despite you being concerned for his health, you lowkey HIGHKEY got excited everytime he came in because he was just so???

perfect

like you’re sure you heard wedding bells the first time you saw him

it’s okay babe so did the rest of us

we’re all a little delulu for soobin

anyways one day you’ve had enough

running off like two hours of sleep, the delirium kicks in and you have a massive burst of confidence

so you write your phone number on the cup for his final order which is to go

and soobin doesn’t notice until he gets home and taehyun spots the number on the side

“who in their right mind decided to give you their phone number? are they okay? why would they want you?”

soobin’s kinda like ??

because first of all RUDE of taehyun to attack him like that unprovoked

and second of all WHY IS THERE A PHONE NUMBER ON HIS CUP

from what he saw, you were the only one on shift making his drinks so??

it had to be from you

omg. the poor boy nearly goes into cardiac arrest

because wtf does he do now? he can’t just text you

what if it’s an accident?

there’s no way he can embarrass himself like that

so he decides to leave it despite the agonising ache to do anything but that

once he’s out of the room taehyun’s little shit mode is activated

soobin may not have the confidence to text you

but he sure does

‘hi. is this the girl from the coffee shop?”

honestly your heart shits itself

because you totally were not expecting him to text you back

‘yeah. sorry if this is weird and unprofessional. you can totally get me fired- i mean-i’d like prefer you to not but you totally can… i’m not a creep though… i promise’

you totally nailed that babes

definitely didn’t come across as a creep

already taehyun ships it and decides he has to play matchmaker because he already knows you’re perfect for soobin

so he sets the two of you up on a date

soobin damn near cries when he finds out an hour in advance

“a date? what? i don’t know how to do that”

poor boy is STRESSED

but much to his surprise, he doesn’t totally mess things up

the date actually goes smoothly and he leaves you with a kiss on the cheek after setting up a second date

you both squeal when you part ways

you’re both so cute pls get married

lemme be your maid of honour

ONTO THE RELATIONSHIP BC THIS IS ALREADY LONG IM VERY SORRY

boyfriend soobin is straight out of a book istg

he’s so awkward but in the best way??

like he’s not afraid to show you affection and tackle you with love

but the second you do something as simple as kiss his cheek

BLUSHING STUTTERING MESS

you have him wrapped around your pinky finger

honestly you could probably tell him to jump into a river and he most likely would without any questions

follows behind you like a lost puppy despite towering over everything

holding onto the tips of your fingers letting you drag him along

fancy dinners happen but the two of you are more order in and play mario kart

he’d probably let you win the first few times but the second you gloat about it

nah he’s playing like there’s 100k on the line

BACK HUGS BACK HUGS BACK HUGS

BACK MF HUGS

he loves snuggling into your neck and inhaling your scent. it calms him down for sure

you do this thing where you gently slide your hands up the back of his shirt

AND HE GIGGLES EVERYTIME

silently sharing his food and drink with you

he just holds the straw or food to your mouth without saying anything

whenever he buys you flowers, he takes one out and keeps it for himself so he knows when it’s time to replace them

you also love buying him flowers

he gently didn’t know what to do with himself the first time you did it

“these are for me? no way- you didn’t-babyyy”

can you hear my cries?

sliding down the wall rn

his instagram is pretty much a y/n fan page

like genuinely his feed is just you

visits you during work and spends half of the time flirting with you and the other half stuttering over his sentences because you threw a compliment at him

also your concerns for his health lessened once you realized he only drank that much caffeine just because he wanted to see you

if anyone tries to flirt with him, he’ll incorporate you into the conversation

the other person will just be stood there whilst he rants about all of the things he loves about you

it’s a reflex. he just loves you sm

taehyun can’t tell whether he’s happy for you both or genuinely disgusted

“the happiness i caused for you both makes me severely sickened.”

cue beomgyu popping up like “ALSO WRITING YOUR NUMBER ON HIS COFFEE ORDER? REALLY Y/N? THATS SO LAME”

they’re super happy for you both tho they just won’t admit it

you and soobin are in your own little love bubble

two hopelessly in love puppies who are destined to be together

absolutely adorable.

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imagination-mess · 8 months ago

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Hockey Player! Izuku Midoriya Part Two

This is a continuation of this post. This post will contain an idea about the voice memo from this post.

Word Count: 1,000+

Warning: Sexual Activity implied, parties

Sorry for the grammatical errors in advance.

He is very affectionate, but he is also a damn tease.

Every time he gets off the rink, if you are close by, he will kiss your cheeks and throat. He is freezing cold. He will stick his head around your neck and sneak his cold hands underneath your clothes on purpose. He will claim that he is cold and needs his personal heater.

As mentioned before, he needs to have his hands on you somehow. If he finds a way to be close to you, he will be the type to slip his hand into the back of your pants pockets. If you are sitting on his lap, he will place his hand on your thigh and softly squeeze it whenever he pleases while talking to other people.

You better believe he was one of those players who groaned and whined about the time. When there was a ban, the player’s significant other could no longer visit during practice and could no longer stay back after practice without someone else from the faculty staying behind. There were several complaints from the maintenance crew. It is related to the incidents in the locker room involving finding personal items such as undergarments or condom wrappers. It was a huge scandal because no one knew who it was. At least if he does it, he will collect his evidence.

As a collective, they would definitely snitch on someone if they knew who it was because their privilege would have been revoked. More than half of the players had significant others who would occasionally visit. It quickly became a game of pointing fingers at each other, and the coach was not having it. That was when the decision was made to ban everyone. The coach made them do more drills than usual as punishment.

He will complain about it to you. He wants to see your face right after practice, so he has to wait until he is completely done. Do you know why he will miss it because he won’t be able to stick his cold fingers and face upon your skin whenever he gets off the rink before heading to the locker room to change?

Yet he will never fail to sneak behind you whenever you are around your friends, to the point that they are immune to your boyfriend's antics of sneaking behind you, attacking you with hugs or kisses, before running to his next class.

People do try to pursue him, even though he has shown you off throughout his media and is clearly showing PDA with you. He may or may not encourage you to leave a hickey on him as your man. He wouldn’t complain about it if you did it unprovoked.

Whenever his schedule is packed to the rim, he can’t come over or visit you between practices. He will send you pictures of random things and selfies of him. He can’t make phone calls because he is immediately knocked out when he rests on his bed. He already gets yelled at by his coach to get off his phone. It doesn’t stop him from sneaking texts and pictures. The ones that will never fail to get to you are the selfies or photos of him at the gym taken by his teammates. You were gone if he sent a voice memo replying to your text while working out. He knows what he is doing; he plays innocent if you question it.

If he was able to squeeze time to go see you at night when he was beyond exhausted after taking a shower at his dorm, he would come over with an overnight bag to crash at your place. He definitely fell asleep cuddling with you. He has six alarms set up, which you have to turn off because he is sleeping like a damn log. He takes longer to wake up but will appreciate getting kisses for the first thing in the morning.

Since he has gained popularity by being one of the stars of the hockey team, he gets invited to numerous parties, but he will always ask if you would like to go with him.

If you do go, he becomes a guard dog over you because he knows some people party a little too hard. He doesn’t drink a lot and rejects party games. He would rather be sober if he needed to jump someone with his quickness. This is especially true if it's a big party with people he doesn’t know.

If it's a smaller party and he knows all of them, he will join the drinking games—the dumbest games in existence—if you want to join.

However, the pros of dating one of the hockey players are that the team is close-knit and will throw hands for each other, in addition to the significant others of their teammates. It’s an unspoken rule within the team.

However, if you don’t want to, he wouldn’t force you but rather invite you for a date night instead. Yes, he will use it as an excuse for his absence at the party.

He would go as far as to get materials to bake cookies because he loves baking cookies with you and it's fun.

If you send him a provocative picture or text, please know he will drop everything and appear within 2 hours after he is about to sneak away or sacrifice sleep for you.

His social media is filled with pictures of the two of you, clearly showing that he is taken.

Please note that post-game, his mental state is in that state of competitiveness.

Please know that if he ever catches you watching edits of him on the field, he gets a confidence boost each time.

Bonus:

You were surprised at how fast Izuku bodyslammed into another team's player because they motioned to you to call them or point in your direction, saying something that you couldn't hear. It has happened more than once, despite you wearing Izuku's old jersey.

You are always on his phone screen, and he often changes it to his favorite picture of you.

Next: Eijirou Kirishima

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baberoe-archive · 9 months ago

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top 10 insane bucky moments?

god where do i start.

perhaps basic of me but getting drunk and then saying he's fine then asking curt to punch him in the face and then howling. perhaps number one bucky moment for me. just absolutely falling apart. i hear that brother. do you ever think about how eps 1-3 he never really lets buck see this side of him. and its only when curt dies that buck is privy to it. yeah i dont think about that either

"maaaaaarge...." is to me far more insane than scissoring in the yard. like at least when he's provoking fights it can be written off as restlessness, but mocking your best friend for taking comfort in his sweetheart's letter with the most sickeningly jealous expression in the world AND right in front of everyone's salad.......... this man is a medieval peasant self-flagellating in the street.

trading his sheepskin that buck hated to go on his first mission after buck went down. he didn't even think about it he just saw jack and ran over and did it. and then when brady asked him about it. he just straight up said "buck always hated that jacket" bitch WHAT

provoking col harding for no reason unprovoked. in front of the men!!! his self destructive tendencies and distaste for authority compel me

also when he starts yelling at that nazi guard on the march. that's such a good moment i get the impression that most of what bucky does is (to some extent) calculated like he knows hes being a dick he knows he flying too close to the sun and thats what he wants yknow he wants to egg people on but this moment he just completely lets go thats the pure thoughtless rage thats been simmering the whole series. god.

offscreen moment (forgive me) but not letting them send bucks footlocker back to the states. and then the 100th kept it for a full year like what did he say??? how desperate was he that no one could bring themselves to move bucks footlocker after a year???

stalag baseball scene. when you put on your off-putting and hard to be around-sona because you feel yourself to be so abandoned and abused that any semblance of gentleness would make you bare your teeth and bite. when you want to bite. when you dont want to bite.

willingly got a dart thrown at his face so he could give his boy best friend a bike so they could bike around together. ohhh my god bitch. down so bad its pathetic

whatever the hell he did to get on the regensberg mission and also the regensberg mission in general. pushing one of the gunners out of the way cause they were going for buck. "reserve command pilot" or whatever. i know what you are.

i dont remember the scene exactly but before the mission when they are getting their gear and hes like "call me sir" and crank goes "none of the people we're bombing today shot down buck" and then he just goes. absolutely silent. nothing to say to that. outline in the shape of a person moment.

#not necessarily in order of best to less better but i think you can tell which moments i spin around in my head lol #ask

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autumnmobile12 · 3 months ago

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In the Ambush Sim AU, the concept of Touya as a student is really entertaining to me.

Because you know somebody in his class was shitty enough to pick on the disfigured new kid. Only Touya, being the endearing unhinged mess that he is, he's just gonna be a menace right back.

...

First day:

Some kid: *completely unprovoked* Your dad has gotta be the most lame hero on the roster.

Fuyumi: *facepalms, knowing what's coming*

Touya: *violently slides chair over to wannabe bully's desk, plonks his head down on his hands, and grins like a madman way too close to their face* Tell me more! I have no idea who you are, but do you wanna be my friend?

Takes the bully most of the day to lose him.

...

Lunchtime, rooftop.

Touya: Shouldn’t you be eating with your friends?

Fuyumi: They’re not my friends anymore.

Touya: Oh?

Fuyumi: Because right now, they are graffitiing your desk.

Touya: ...

Fuyumi: I don’t need friends like that. So it looks like it’ll be just you and me against the world for a couple years.

Touya: ...I thought the graffiti thing only happened in shoujo manga and shit. That’s so cliché.

Fuyumi: You’re not upset?

Touya: It’s just a desk.

Fuyumi: ...you're plotting something awful, aren't you?

Touya: Is it really 'awful' if it's deserved?

...

Grandma Himura: Welcome home, you two. How did the first day of class go?

Fuyumi: He already has a reputation. And you're probably going to be getting a call from the principal.

Grandma Himura: *not even fazed* What did you do, dear?

Touya: *grinning* I won.

...

Shouto: Were you bullied in high school?

Touya: *look of disbelief* I was a tall, gawky kid with horrific facial scarring and I was a year older than everyone else. Take a guess.

Fuyumi: It lasted maybe a day. He became known as the kid you didn't mess with real fast, among other things. *turns to Touya* I am still shocked they let you graduate.

Touya: *smiling* Good times.

#my hero academia #dabi #touya todoroki #shouto todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #todoroki siblings #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #ambush simulation #alternate universe #headcanon

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thesunfyre4446 · 7 months ago

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"waahhh aemond and aegon are adults!! how could they hit poor jace and luki wwaaahhh"

i'm sorry, did you not watch the part where luke laughs at aemond -completely unprovoked - reminding him of the days they used to bully him. luke took aemond's eye out, even if it was by accident, and had the nerve to sit there and laugh at his face for absolutely no fucking reason other then being a cruel bully

and then he acted so surprised when aemond got up to make that speech, but i'm guessing he's not really used to his actions having consequences. it was then that jace attacked aemond, trying to punch him in the face (to be fair, jace never tried to start shit & prob didn't see luke provoking aemond) and aemond shoved him off. aegon grabbed luke when he tried to get to aemond - because this time around he's got his brother's back.

so yeah, luke provoked aemond into making the speech, jace was the one to instigate the fight. they fucked around and found out.

#hotd #house of the dragon #team green #pro team green #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #anti lucerys velaryon #jacerys velaryon #anti team black stans

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sea-of-dust · 1 year ago

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Unexpected Affection

Kafka, Stelle,Blade x GN!Reader

Summary: They never really showed this level of affection before...

Notes: 🗿 just gonna cram this in so those two people that unfollowed me come back. Had a werid urge to cram asuka in here he looks like one of those little fluff dogs, dude.

Warnings: suggestive humor and scenes, betrayed audience (IM SORRY 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️),Barely proofread

She's always showing you affection

Touching your hand if you were to sit across from her. Offering to carry you home if too tired. She's very happy to do things for you!

You think her being like this is almost her way of repaying you for being patient while she's out stellaron hunting

She'd text you whenever she was free she'd love seeing how fast you'd respond. "The missions taking a while, I'm sorry if I'm late" you'd type almost immediately after she sent that "don't worry about it! Stay safe." With a small thumbs up emoji afterword. Her heart melts, you can't be this cute.

She loves greeting you by getting home first and sitting down on the couch. "Long time no see~" "Kafka..." the way you say her name she wishes to record it. Your greeting smile and small sweets you prepare for her always make her warm up a bit.

"How did you know I was coming back?" She'd lean into the hug rubbing your arms with her thumb. "I don't so when you don't come back I just kinda eat those alone-" She takes a bag of those snacks with her now, how could you say something like that with a smile on your face-

The longest time she's been out was two months barely being able to text you. So as soon as the mission was done, she excused herself. Waiting for you to come home so she could great you.

"Kaf-" You couldn't even finish your sentence before she kissed you suddenly, holding your hands pinning one to the wall. She kisses you with an eagerness, almost a need for you. You pull away to catch your breath, she'd fail to hide her want for more almost hearts in her eyes. She goes back in holding your waist as she enjoys the long kisses in between short gasps for air. She'll get her fix of you,slipping her toungue in feeling yours squirm everytime they touch, she really can't get enough of you only backing off when she felt shes had enough. "I prepared dinner for us" she wraps her arms around your shoulders, leading you to the dining table completely decorated.

She pulls out a chair for you as you sit down with her and catch up. "So how was the stellaron?" "Alot more active than usual took too much work" a sigh escapes her lips. You two continue to chatter on while eating.

As soon as you two finish eating, she helps you clean up. She can't take your hands off you while you wash dishes. She slowly rock your waist to sync with her movements. She takes off her gloves to touch your face. "As unprovoked as ever" she mumbles leaning into you "Why yes it takes alot of focus to wash dishes" she smiles at the joke leaning in to kiss you "Why yes the dishes are quite a vicious foe"

She just likes being near you. You smell nice...also you're able to keep her from turning into the local raccoon.

you would catch her looking at trash, always somehow be there to pull her away last second. "Come on, Stelle!" You drag her away.

She'd like to place small kisses on your cheek whenever you're not paying attention. She almost did this infront of the star rail crew. "The next planet..." You grab her face, holding her there. "heard that place is hotter than 12 volcano" March and Dan Heng would kinda continue to convo with her kinda stuck there

She can't sleep without you nearby. She's like the demon in the dark you run up the stairs from. She'd just stand there in the doorway as the light kinda makes her look like a shadow. "Uhhh Stelle" "..." you're barely awake yet you could tell it was her. You tsk before lifting your blanket lazily. "Come here" she nearly runs into bed with you cuddling into you. "You need a night light...maybe I'll take one from March" you pat her head as she scoots closer to you.

You had a maid run up to you shrieking about someone jumping out of a closet. "I'll go check it out miss I'll contact you if you it's anything serious" you go to check the room walking in and closing the door. You hear something in the closet and peak in only to have the doors fly open, Stelle almost jumping out trying to stop herself realizing who it was. "So you jump scared the room service lady" she nods "....wanna try that on sampo?"

She gets caught up in boxing and actively shows off how good she is. She always looks for you in the audience and shows off her win. "Congrats Stelle, but put him down!"

She won't admit it but she maybe maybe- likes pda. Maybe she does like holding your hand in public or the thought of you kissing her without a care. You'll never get her to say it tho. She just brushes her fingers on yours, occasionally hoping you'd hold onto her hand.

You found her in a trash can as usual but this time one on her head. You looked at her flabbergasted. "Stelle- get that off of your-" you were interrupted by her pulling it up and kiss you. Her tongue slipping in a bit, lowering the trash can down for a bit of privacy. You pull away, "Stelle what the-" she kisses you again before you pull her off gently "wait till we're on the express k?" You blush softly. She pounts a bit but still waits pulling the trashcan lower.

Turns out she forgot when you got back to the express a few days later when she does remmber tho she nearly runs at you slamming your door. "Eh what?" You rub your eyes seeing the raccoon in all of her glory "Stelle?" Your eyes a bit hazy yet you could still tell it was her, she nearly jumps on you immediately taking off her jacket. "Youre always up to something-" she cuts you off putting a finger to your mouth "shush" she smirks teasingly "been waiting for this for a long while now~" her voice is so calm yet you could almost feel mischief radiating off of her.

She kisses you for a long while, only pulling away to catch her breath quickly going back to it moments later. She didn't even care when March came knocking, wondering where she was. If anything, she just became more passionate. She adores your little tired noises every time she does something to fluster you. The infamous rubbing circles in your back always managed to get an embrassed squeak out of you. As soon as you pull her off breathing heavily, she'll notice just how flustered she made you. Her job was complete staying with you that night so she could do it all again in the morning.

He isn't too open even when in a relationship

You know he loves you he just doesn't say it outloud. You usually have to make moves and he'd slowly respond to those things, he's almost confused. "You're so stiff" you hug him from behind "as stiff as a board~" leaning into him a bit. As you hug him he's not really sure what to do. Does he hug back backward? Does he turn around and hug you? Does he just embrace it? So may questions running through a very straight faced man

The quickest way you flustered him is when you ask about the future while laying your head on his lap. "Blade... you think you might settle down with me when there's no longer stellarons to hunt." He didn't move, but it was clear to see the blush on his face. As he softly pats your head, you could almost hear him mumble a "I want to..."

He offen tries to sneakily hold your hand. "Oh?" He would stay straight faced, holding your hand behind your backs. Gripping your hand a bit tighter sometimes. "Is this your way of being flustered?" "No" he'd squeeze your hand. "Uh huh"

He wants you to braid his hair. He'd sit down with his back facing you, and you'd be so confused. When you finally offered, you could tell he almost ran but didn't wanna embrass himself. "Alright, sit -" he sits with his back turned to you in the same spot as usual. "Oh...so THAT'S what you meant." "What did you think I mean?" "That you were mad at me. " "...." he got his hair braided but still sensed undying guilt

He'd be so confused if you bought him any sort of gift. He's grateful, but... how to use it. "Blade...it's a fake flower, and when ya open it!" You carefully twist off the bud. "It's a chapstick!" He looks down at it, then back at you,"are my lips that crusty. " "No! No! I just got it cause I thought you wanted one! Always notice you staring at mine when I use it" he doesn't tell you, but he's been wondering about indirect kissing via chapstick.

All this thinking of kissing is gonna get in the way of stellron hunting it's too the point Kafka picks up on it and starts teasing him. "Bladie~, you seem flustered." "..." she smirks. "Is it that cute person you're dating!" He's pink trying to hide it, but he's blushing just thinking of you. "Your little play thing surprised you haven't given up on revenge just to stay with them longer." she walks in circles around him, annoying him but fluttering him none the less

He caught you asleep while waiting for him, so he tried to sneak into your arms without waking you. He'd fail...horrendously. you'd feel soft breaths and your arms going around a figure patting your head as you slept. Jokes on him, after you caught him doing this for a multitude of times, you just decided to pretend not to wake. Hopefully, making him feel like he's getting better at this.

He hides his cravings to wanna kiss you, but when he wants them, it's so odvious. He stays around you more often with almost no room for air, his frown deepening and eyes softening almost as if softly begging for something.

When he finally acted on this urge, it was only when you figured it out, kissing his cheek as he turned into a blushing mess. "Oh ho~, it seems someone got a bit excited for that," you smirk teasingly, hugging him. "Did you want one of these too?" His breath was heavy, his hair covering some of his face, but you could tell you had him on the ropes. Suddenly, he cups your face and leans in hesitantly before kissing you, slowly getting more passionate as he grips the clothes near your waist. You softly laugh at this, hearing him scoff, taking this chance you kiss him again in a slightly teasing way as he fully embraces your affection. He gets more egar gripping your clothes a bit tighter as his small kisses turn into deep, long ones with short gaps for air. He'd look so ashamed whenever he pulled away for breath. "If you're tired, we could save it for later." You smirk teasingly. "...just one more," you kiss his cheek. "..." You smirk, kissing his lips. "You're cute whenever you want something, you know"

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