#i like my men a little pathetic and insecure

[robotbeetle]

Arise, Bloodpact nation; I bring forth an offering

Though tbh this is not very accurate to the characters. I don’t think Astarion would doubt even for a second if Wyll would reject Halsin or not. I mean it’s Wyll we’re talking about here. However, in my Wyll playthrough; after Halsin’s proposition and asking Astarion for his thoughts, I couldn’t help but pick up a hint of insecurity despite him giving his permission (i rejected Halsin regardless). Thus this comic appeared before me.

On a separate note, id like to shout out my friend who I’ve been slowly converting into a wyllstarion shipper and who also hates halsin

[seaweedstarshine]

This part was like half a year ago — but it's still cute that Forge and Ororo were both thinking of each other at almost exactly the same time—

—I love the fact that they agree on what the problem was in their relationship. I see fun things in the future for the reagent and the tinkerer—

—I have unreasonably high hopes they're gonna cross paths and do something interesting in the Black Panther arc in X-Force.

[humansofnewyork]

“I’m basically a big butch lesbian. I hosted lesbian parties for ten years. And let me tell you, they adore me. A lot of my closest friends are big butch lesbians. Certainly my best bodybuilding partners: amazing, aggressive, powerful women. Very dominant over the males in the gym. Not dominant over me, of course. Unless they’re busting my balls, because strong women are ball busters. They're just like the dudes. They are the dudes. They just happen to be dudes that are dudettes. They understand both sides of the fence; which is why we get along so well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still friends with a lot of ‘dude’ dudes. But a lot of guys are just too rough around the edges when it comes to women. I don’t want any part of it. I find it grotesque. One term I’ve been hearing these last couple years is ‘body count.’ I’ve heard men say: ‘What’s her body count?’ They’re referring to the amount of people a woman has been with. What a pathetic, disgusting, wormy question. How dare you? This is an independent soul. This is a human that needs to be treated with honor and respect. This isn’t some piece of property you can put in a box. Imagine thinking someone is not worthy of you because they were a little experimental when they were younger, or even when they were older. That’s their choice. Leave them alone.  A woman can be with whoever she wants, whenever she wants, however she wants. If you ask me, it all comes down to insecurity. A lot of men think: ‘If she’s had a lot of lovers, there will definitely have been somebody better than me.’ They feel threatened, and they try to make that the woman’s problem. What a sad way of viewing things. No matter how many lovers a person has had, they’ll have never been with another you. Every person comes to the table with what they bring to the table. All of us are exactly what we are, different. And that what makes us all so special.”

[dark-konohagakure2]

I just read your sexually abusive bf sasuke post and oml that made me feel smth. I was wondering if you could write something like that for Madara, Indra or kawaki. Please feel free to just do one of them, no need to do all unless you want to :) I hope you have a great day loves 🫶🫶

tw: noncon, abusive relationships, misogyny, age difference, breeding, dehumanization, neglect, possessiveness, emotional abuse

All characters depicted are 18+

Madara doesn't have a girlfriend or lover, he has a novelty, a womb with legs, a breeder. Nothing more nothing less. She is so far beneath him that he might as well be a superior species to her, and he treats her accordingly.

He rarely spends any time with her, having a myriad of more important things to attend to aside from humoring the worthless affections of some silly lass, but when he is around her, he isn't very pleasant to say the least, figuratively and literally keeping her at arms length unless he wants a certain something from her, that something being the only thing he ever wants from her, the only reason he keeps her around.

Being the head of the Uchiha clan, he's almost always either out on the battlefield or training himself half to death for his next battle, so Madara gets very worked up and stressed, and when he's pent up, all Madara wants to do is squeeze his favorite stress toy until she pops.

Her consent and feelings are less than irrelevant to Madara, she is his property, and that means he is allowed to do whatever he wants with her, including but not limited to filling her up with his offspring.

"Stop moving so much, you mewling quim. You're just a tool to me, and tools don't cry and struggle against their owners..."

On the rare occasion that he puts aside time for her, that time will be spend either degrading her, trying to impregnate her, or both at the same time. He'll spend hours on top of her and bullying her poor womb with with his cock, not stopping until he is absolutely certain that he's successfully knocked her up.

If Madara ever does take her out on a 'date', it'll only be after much pestering from her and for the sole purpose of showing off his property to the less fortunate men of the village. He'll keep his hands on her to make sure she doesn't wander off like a wayward child, whether it be an arm around her waist or shoulder or even a hand gripping her ass, signalling to everyone that she's Madara's bitch.

Despite his habit of showing her off, Madara doesn't let her around anybody besides himself, not even letting her near people trusted by him such as Izuna and Hashirama, it isn't because he doesn't trust them, it's because he doesn't trust her. She was a lowly stray slut before he so graciously tamed her, and once a slut always a slut.

If she ever dares to try and leave him, be it due to falling out of love or just plain old self preservation, Madara won't physically stop her at first, instead he'll attack her with his words, picking at her insecurities and keeping her in line with his words better than any fist ever could.

"You want to leave me? Fine then, go back to being an unloved little harlot, see if I care. You don't deserve all of my love and care anyway..."

Madara isn't a bad boyfriend to her at all, because he doesn't even consider himself to be her boyfriend at all, he's her handler, and she's just an unruly mutt who needs him far more than he needs her.

tw: noncon, abuse, power imbalance, master/pet, degradation, possessiveness, collars

Indra isn't as cruel as his reincarnation, but he's still very cold, and views herself as being far above a pitiful little human like her, he sees her as a pet, a pet he takes care of, but still a pathetic little kitten regardless.

He doesn't start off too bad, while he's still possessive and forceful, he still dotes on his pet in his own distant way, petting her hair and graciously forcing allowing her to sit on his lap, and he'll even gift her a lovely collar that symbolizes their strange union. Although the peace won't last very long...

When his father unexpectedly makes Asura the head of the clan instead of him like he had anticipated, Indra is enraged, believing that his dimwitted younger brother has stolen his rightful position out from under him, and he is in dire need of someone to take his anger out on.

Indra's sudden turn from coldness to red hot anger is as jarring as it is terrifying, his Sharingan glowing a bright ruby color as he holds her down, his face etched into a scowl as he forces her to bare the brunt of his fury.

"Don't resist me, stupid girl. You're my pet and it's your job to keep me happy, and I am the furthest thing from happy in this moment, so do your job, now."

After that day any semblance of fondness that Indra had for her is seemingly gone. He still keeps her around, but he no longer pats her head or acts affectionately, instead yanking on her leash harshly whenever he wants her close and forcing her to service his erection whenever the urge strikes him.

He doesn't let her out of his sight either, Indra doesn't want her to be around anyone except for him, especially not wanting her near his father or that damn Asura. She's like a consolation prize for him in a way, Asura might have gotten the position of their father's succesor, but Indra got the most perfect toy in the world.

Indra also won't be as forgiving of disobedience from her as he used to be, in the past he would simply lecture her or give her a slap on the wrist if she went against him, but now if she steps out of line his punishments will be much more swift and brutal, be it a slap across the face or a harsh face-fucking.

If she ever tries telling him that she wants to leave him, Indra will show some mirth for the first time in a while by laughing at her, although it's more of a mocking laugh than a happy one, letting her know that leaving him isn't an option for her.

"You're leaving? Oh how funny, but you seem to have forgotten something, little one. I own you, and you are never leaving me unless it's in a casket."

Indra is nothing short of cruel towards her, but the Otsutsuki doesn't see it that way, he truly believes that the way he treats her is justified because he loves her, because he owns her, and that means he can do whatever he wants with her.

tw: noncon, abuse, threats, semi-public sex, possessiveness, jealousy, victim blaming, noncon kissing

Kawaki actually makes a semblance of an effort to be an actual boyfriend, but he doesn't fully understand how to be one, he thinks that being someone's boyfriend just means having someone he can kiss and order around and nothing more, so that's how he approaches it.

He doesn't try to be mean, but she's always pushing his buttons, trying to hang out with other people that aren't him and not putting out for him, so he sees ever instance of her raising his hand or berates her as completely justified, she's being a bad girlfriend.

Despite how he acts, he doesn't hate her, but she's just so annoying and ungrateful, hardly worthy of all the love he's pouring into her, but he does love her quite a bit, but he isn't able to express those feelings without force and violence due to her tumultuous past.

His gruff disposition will give way to anger when he sees her talking to other men, Kawaki is paranoid when it comes to the people he claims to love, and seeing his girlfriend talking to other guys when she already has him just amplifies these feelings. Why does she always have to be such a bitch? Such a bad, bad girlfriend?

"Who the hell was that? Do you like him more than me? Huh?! If you really love me so much then stop being so damn cold to me and prove it for once.

Kawaki will take her right then and there. She doesn't love him enough to put out, he'll just take what he wants. Fucking is what boyfriends and girlfriends who love each other do, and he's going to fuck her extra hard so she can feel the full depth of his feelings for her.

He's incredibly rough out of both anger and inexperience, he'll try to make up for his harshness in a way by kissing her, but Kawaki is a bad kisser too, his teeth slamming against hers as he presses his lips onto her own, nearly choking her when he forces his tongue down her throat, his bad kissing just makes the entire experience worse for her rather than acting as a band aid solution to his harsh thrusts.

After their 'first time', Kawaki takes that as meaning that their relationship is good and healthy again. Couples are supposed to kiss and have sex all the time, that's the entire point, so he has no idea why she's crying. Maybe she's just shy, or maybe she's just trying to play the victim and make him feel like a bad partner.

Kawaki won't take her seriously if she says she wants to break up, dismissing her words as stupid empty threats, but if she persists, he'll get mad, threatening her with a fate worse than death if she talks like that ever again.

"What?! Leaving me?! Pssh, don't be stupid, if you talk that nonsense again then I'll just send you to the same place I sent Lord Seventh..."

Kawaki doesn't try to be a mean boyfriend, but his intentions don't match his actions in the slightest, but he still tries to justify it regardless, he's trying to be nice, but she just makes it so hard for him.

[archangeldyke-all]

this (https://www.tumblr.com/sirenserendipity/756663158124462080/girls-are-so-annoying-bro-why-are-you-asking-me-if) with Sevi & chubby!reader pls 😣🙏🏾

hhhhhh fuck. this is so... so hot...

men and minors dni

sevika knows you get insecure sometimes.

there are so many assholes in the world-- insistent to make their own sexual preferences for a smaller body everybody else's problem.

she knows the shitty quips people toss your way. even your family and friends. teasing you for the double chin she adores, for the big belly that makes sevika so aroused sometimes she has to sit down, for the thick thighs that she wants to suffocate between when she's old and ready to go.

people know not to say shit about your body in front of her anymore. she's broken enough noses in your defense for word to have gotten around.

but still. that doesn't stop the past from creeping up on you sometimes, or society's shitty expectations from bogging you down.

sevika tries her best to lift your spirits when you're feeling particularly insecure. she's always sure to keep you within reach, sure to touch you more often, place kisses on your cheeks once or twice an hour. she tries to hype you up each morning when you get dressed, always enjoying the way you get flustered and shy. she tries to keep her dirty talk more praising than demeaning when you're feeling shaky, replacing her typically fond teases about your whines and moans, her adoring little 'sluts', with whispers about how pretty you look and sound, how lucky she is to have you.

she knows you can't help it-- she knows it's not your fault. but it fucking kills her to see you feeling so shitty about yourself, because to her you're the most beautiful woman in the world.

but sometimes, she loses her patience.

like now.

"fuck, i love you so much baby." sevika whispers into your cunt where she's feasting on you.

you whimper above her, and sevika smirks just a little at the sound. your fingers tighten in her hair, her eyes roll back in her head, and then you whisper: "y-you do?"

rage flares up in sevika's stomach.

you guys have been together for four years, for fuck's sake, she's planning on proposing to you on your next trip out of town! hasn't she proven how much she loves you?

"oh, for fuck's sake." sevika growls as she snaps up from between your legs, storming over to her dresser to grab her strap.

you look up at her with worried eyes. "wha--?" you don't get time to worry much more, because sevika's storming over to the bed and flipping you onto your stomach.

"i. am so fucking sick. of you asking me that." she growls as she tugs your hips and ass into the air.

you gasp underneath her. "wha-- i--"

"you. are the love. of my fucking. life." she punctuates each phrase of her sentence with a smack to your ass, making you squeal.

you can make out the jingling of sevika pulling her strap up her hips, and you have to bury a pathetic moan against the sheets. sevika smacks your ass again, and pulls your head out of the mattress.

"lemme hear you." she grunts as she slips two fingers inside you. you gasp, sevika's fingers grazing your g-spot expertly, making your thighs shake and shiver.

"s-sev--"

"i love you, you hear me?" she grunts. you nod against the sheets, tears falling down your cheeks from the pleasure. sevika smacks your ass again, and it makes you clench around her hard enough for both of you to groan. "say it." she demands.

you sputter. "i-i-- what?" you ask.

"say i love you." she demands.

"i love you." you say. sevika snorts behind you.

"no baby. tell me that you know that i love you."

"i-i know." you whimper.

"you know what?" she asks. you gulp, choking on embarrassment and insecurity. sevika smacks your ass one more time, then presses her thumb to your clit as her fingers continue to ram inside of you. "say it." she demands.

you struggle some more stuttering and unable to find the words-- distracted by sevika's hands.

then, she stops moving. you gasp. "wha!?" you ask, pushing up onto your arms to look behind you at your girlfriend. "why'd you sto--"

"say it."

you gulp, and sevika wiggles her fingers inside you, just a bit. you whimper and collapse back onto the bed, hiding your face from her view and mumbling against the covers.

"you love me." you whisper.

"you're damn fucking right i do." sevika grunts as she starts moving her fingers inside you again.

you cry out in pleasure, and when sevika slips a third finger inside you, you gasp. "i'm gonna--"

"cum." sevika demands, giving your ass one more smack.

you tip over the edge easily, collapsing against the mattress-- sevika's hand following you, working her fingers inside of you as you shiver and moan through your orgasm.

she doesn't give you a second to catch your breath. instead, she flops you onto your back and pulls you to the edge of the bed, lining her cock up with your hole. "listen to me." she growls. "i'm gonna fuck you, and you're gonna keep tellin' me how much i love you. and if you stop, i stop. you understand?"

you gulp and nod up at sevika, and she grins, swooping down to kiss you, sliding inside of you easily.

you whimper against her lips. she starts a slow pace with her hips, letting you adjust, kissing you through the initial uncomfortable stretch.

and then, when you start to moan, she pulls away from your mouth and grins down at you.

you try to turn your face away from her, feeling shy and vulnerable. she reaches up with her hand and grips your jaw, forcing you to look back at her. "i love you." she prompts.

you gulp and scrunch your eyes closed, then speak shakily. "y-you love me."

"fuck." sevika grunts, her hips picking up their pace as she starts kissing a trail down your throat. "i love you so fuckin' much, baby."

"y-ah!" you gasp when she bites your shoulder. she chuckles against you, then continues her path down your body. "y-you love me so fuckin' much." you repeat.

sevika giggles against your tit, sucking on your nipple with her mouth while her hand pinches the other. "lub' y'r tits." she mumbles against you.

"you-you love my tits." you whimper when she bites your nipple.

she reaches down with her hand to grope your stomach, licking her lips as she ogles the way your belly shakes and jiggles in time with her thrusts. "love your stomach." she growls.

"you love my stomach."

"gonna put my fuckin' kid in it someday." she whispers under her breath. you clench around her strap at the words, and she chuckles. "fuck, i love you." she says.

"you love me." you repeat, too drunk on pleasure to feel any shyness.

"i do. so much."

"you love me."

"there you go. good fuckin' girl. keep goin'." she demands.

"you love me!" you gasp when she ducks back down and starts sucking a hickey into your tits.

"y-you l-love m-me!" you stutter as her hips pick up impossibly faster, slowly scooting you across the bed.

"oh, fuck! you love me! you love me! you love me!" you squeal as she sinks her teeth into your throat, one of her hands clawing your plush thigh, the other rubbing your clit. "you--!"

sevika bites your throat so hard you're pretty sure she draws blood. you cum instantaneously.

she cums inside you the moment you begin to cum around her, both of you lost in each other, animalistic grunts and howls filling the room as she continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

and then...

you burst into giggles, and sevika lifts her head up from your throat to look down at you. "you okay?" she asks. she knows she's been rougher with you than she usually would be.

"you love me." you sigh, content and confident in the words. sevika grins.

"yeah, i do, dumbass." she whispers.

you start to giggle again, and you manage to find just enough post-earth-shattering-orgasm strength to reach up and pull her down for a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react to different insecurities part 3

Pairings: Nanami x overweight fem! reader (requested by @deegausserr) Choso x fem!reader with big breasts (requested by anon)

Yuji/Todo x tall/curvy fem!reader (requested by @sitarawrites, @hitori979, @sophyr05 and anon, I see y'all my tall queens)

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: not 100% proofread, as usual don't read if you feel triggered by those topics, listen I literally have no boobs so I'm beyond sorry if Choso's part is shit, overweight and big breast parts contain insults (please note that this is definetely not the way I feel about it!) but also so much comfort from your favorite characters, you are beautiful just the way you are 🤍

Part 1: Nanami x reader with facial scars; Megumi x reader with small breasts; Sukuna x reader with acne (click here to read)

Part 2: Nanami x reader who doesn't want kids; Gojo x reader who gained weight; Megumi x reader with hooked nose (click here to read)

Nanami with an overweight reader

(Imaging him grabbing those ass bully girls like this okay)

You cover yourself up the minute he enters the room. He, the man who caught your eye since the beginning. He, who looks so effortlessly good in that suit. He, a well-trained man with a body like the statues in ancient Greek.

“Hey, the same as usual?”

“Thank you, (y/n).”

Just him, Kento Nanami. And you? Well, you have nothing in common with all those things. To be exact, you aren’t even sure if he ever noticed you. Why would he? You are nothing but a worker in a coffee shop, average-looking and…

You swallow. You are overweight. Not that it would bother you this much. After all, you work hard for your money each and every day, you do your best to keep your head above the water. You never really felt the urge to lose weight until reality, or rather other people, hit you.

“Oh, look who’s working again!”

“Did you already eat all those muffins? How is it possible that when you’re working, all the food is gone around this time?”

There they are again. Breathe in, breathe out. Everything is alright. Just suffering a few minutes, just letting their words hit you a little longer and they’ll be gone again. You just have to get through this. It’s not like you haven’t heard those group of actual grown-ups say those nasty things to you over a hundred times already.

But no. Today, it isn’t that easy. Because on the table in front of you sits none other than Kento Nanami who reads his paper and sips on his cup of coffee like he always does. Why do you suddenly feel the urge to defend yourself, to make them stop talking to you like that?

“Can you guys just leave me alone? I’m doing my job here, okay? Would you like to drink or eat something-“

“Fat pig”, one of the blonde girls suddenly spits at you.

This is nothing new. You should be used to it by know, all the countless insults especially that group of four girls always spits at you are too much to even count. Then why…Why do your eyes roam to his perfectly trimmed blonde undercut, why do you ball your fist in an instant?

What a dumb mistake. One of the girls follows the direction of your sight, breaking out in hysterical laughing when realizing that you were looking at Kento Nanami. No, please don’t make a stupid comment, please just grab a coffee and leave this place. Even though it hurts to get reminded of the stinging fact that you are overweight almost every single day, what hurts even most is…

“I can’t believe you! Why would a fatass like you even look in his direction? Can’t you see that he’s out of your league? God, you are so pathetic it makes my wanna cry. I mean, don’t you have a mirror at home, can’t you see that you are nothing but a fat fuck? Nobody will ever want you, (y/n). Especially not a handsome man like him.”

It’s hard for Nanami to contain his temper, hand already trembling threatful. Who do these girls think they are to talk to you in such a nasty way? You are breathtakingly stunning with eyes that radiate nothing but kindness, you work so hard each and every day. You…

You don’t deserve this.

“Leave me alone”, you mumble again.

And for the first time in forever, your throat starts to burn as well as your eyes. At this point you were so used to getting picked on that you didn’t even cry about it anymore after some time. But this…this isn’t about your weight anymore. This hits you right where it hurts.

Kento Nanami.

You don’t even dare to look his direction, eyes pierced to the ground while their venomous laughs fill the room with hatred. The urge to just get out of here, to leave this place and never return becomes almost unbearable. Maybe…maybe you should really lose some weight. Your eyes dart towards the counter in whose glass your figure is reflected.

You feel absolutely horrible and disgusting. A silent sob escapes your lips. Yes, why would someone like Kento Nanami ever want someone like you?

“Awww look at her, now she’s crying!”

You can’t take the shame anymore. Without thinking twice, you storm out of the coffee shop, ignoring your co-worker calling out your name behind. It began to rain in waterfalls, your tears now mixing with the drops from above.

There was probably never a moment in your life where you hated yourself as much as now. What where you even thinking, getting all excited every morning because of that force of a man? Were you really too dumb to realize that Kento Nanami would never fall for a girl like you?

A fat pig, a person so undisciplined that it shows, a girl that could never wear his t-shirts as a dress. You are a nobody, an ugly figure in a world full of skinny models-

“(y/n)!”

That voice makes your guts turn in an instinct, heart pounding against your chest. You pick up your pace immediately, almost running down the rainy streets of Tokyo into an alley. Of course, he followed you. After all, Kento Nanami is a gentleman out of romance books, the perfect man. But you’d rather die that let him comfort you. No, you don’t want to hear that he’s sorry about their cruel words, you don’t want him to look down at you with his pity-filled eyes.

You simply can’t take it.

“Hey, (y/n). Please look at me.”

With a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and turns you around. You feel like dying right here and now, his chocolate brown eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.

But then…

He pushes you against the wall and just kisses you. His lips collapse onto yours with so much passion that it simply takes your breath away, his eyes roaming around your body hungrily. You stare at him in sheer disbelief. Is this really happening? Are you dreaming? Countless lonely night, you imagined what it would feel like to have him this close, to feel his body against yours. And now…And now that gorgeous man pinned you against a wall.

“Don’t you dare to believe a single word they said. I promise you that they’ll never speak to you like this again. I made sure of that.”

It feels so surreal, almost too good to be true. Is he only doing this out of pity, because he doesn’t want you to feel bad? Your heart sinks painfully. Is that what this is about?

“You don’t have to do that so I’m feeling better”, you mumble against his lips.

Instinctively, you cross your arms in front of your chest, hiding you like you always do around him.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel better”, he replies in an instant, hands gently untucking your arms to place his own around your waist.

“I’m saying this because I can’t take my eyes off you since I saw you the first time I stepped into this café. You have to be the most beautiful person I have ever seen, (y/n). I adore your delicate curves, your inviting smile, your unshakable character. I love the way your hair falls and how you prepare my coffee. I adore you just the way you are. Did you really think I’m there because of the coffee? It’s not that good if you’re asking me.”

His comment makes you giggle your tears away and shaking your head at the same time.

“Yeah, the coffee isn’t that great to be honest”, you comment.

“But you are.”

He looks down at you all serious again, his intense gaze making your knees go weak in an instant.

“And I want nothing more than to take you out to a nice restaurant.”

Choso with a reader who has big breasts

You were never keen to meet new people, especially men. Not because you aren’t talkative or enjoy others company. No, it’s because you never know how they’ll react when seeing you for the first time.

Even though especially other women are jealous of you because of how big your breasts are, you truly hate them. It seems like the second you meet someone, all they have eyes for is your cleavage. No matter if you wear a baggy shirt, your uniform or one of the dresses you normally adore so much, your boobs come first. And you fucking hate it.

“Hey, why are you so nervous, (y/n)? I’m sure you and Choso will get along just fine!”, Yuji tries to cheer you up with a kind smile.

“And probably your-“

“Shut up right now, moron”, Megumi mumbles instinctively.

You sign to yourself. It’s clear that he’s just trying to be nice and funny, but to be honest you want to cry. Since puberty hit you, no one ever saw you like an individual anymore. No, you are either sexualized or body-shamed.

“Would you crush me with your melons for some money? C’mon (y/n).”

“There she is again. Look at her tits!”

“She’s just showing off. What a slut.”

“I bet those would be a good ass pillow.”

You are so damn tired of it. Tired of all the people talking about you behind your back, tired of being nothing but a sex object, tired of having no character. Even though here at Jujutsu High, people seem to finally get that you are indeed a human being all by yourself and would never talk badly about you, you can feel their looks.

“Oh, there he is! Come on, (y/n)!”

No, no, no. Is it too late to just turn around and leave this place? Maybe Maki is still free, you should go and grab a drink with her. Or even better, barricade yourself into your dorm and return when this man is gone.

“You must be (y/n). My little brother told me a lot about you”, a dark voice introduces itself.

Your eyes dart up in panic. Oh, you just know how this goes. First of all, he’ll look down at your breasts. If he’s having at least a spark of decency, his eyes will dart back to your face and roam around when he thinks you’re not paying any attention. And maybe, just maybe, he won’t mention your cleavage for quite some time.

“Nice to meet you”, you mumble annoyed already.

Huh, his eyes rest right on your face, a small smile forming itself on his lips. You tilt your head to the side, squint your eyes in confusion. Well, this is definitely new. He didn’t even look at them, not a single glimpse onto your body.

“Is it true that you have a thing for blood manipulation? Yuji told me you are interested in learning more about that technique.”

“Well, yeah…”

You have to blink a few times. He is so…different from everyone else. Not even Megumi resisted the urge to look down at you, you even heard him talking about it with Yuji someday. But this man…what was his name again? Choso? He seems to be curious about…

You. Nothing but you.

“I am quite skilled when it comes to blood manipulation. If you want, I will gladly show you a few things.”

“Y-yeah…I mean…That would be nice. Like, today?”, you stutter awkwardly, completely caught off guard by this unexpected change of scenery.

“If you have time, of course.”

“Okay, then…I’ll change now.”

“I’ll meet you at the training field.”

“Yeah…”, you mutter.

As soon as you leave the room, Yuji seems to finally regain your voice.

“And? What do you think about her?”

“I think she seems quite nice for a human being.”

“And what else?”

A big pause that makes your heart shatter for a brief moment. Maybe he isn’t as different as you thought. Maybe he’s just thinking about your cleavage like everybody else does, maybe-

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Haven’t you seen her,…y’know…Megumi?”

“He means her breasts”, Megumi clarifies.

“Why would I look at her breasts when she seems to have an interesting character?”

Your heart almost beats out of your chest, ears literally unable to comprehend what you’ve just heard. It really shouldn’t touch you like that. But oh, the second you begin to realize what that stranger just said your eyes get glossy. It might only be a little statement for him, but it surely means the world to you.

In a world that shames on you for something you can’t change, in a world in which men only took you on dates or talked to you because of your breasts and not because of your personality.

Choso seems to be the first person who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck about the way you look. And oh does it feel nice.

“Maybe you’re not as bad as I thought”, you mumble to yourself.

Yuji and Todo with a cury/tall girl

Just one look at him seems to sweep you off your feet. The way he walks, the way he talks, simply the way he carries himself. It wasn’t hard to fall for Yuji, but it was definitely rough to find out he isn’t interested in you.

“What kind of woman is Yuji actually into?”

Nobara looked at you up and down, visibly bamboozled about what you’ve just asked. There aren’t many things she doesn’t think about, but Yuji Itadori’s type is definitely one of them.

“I don’t know girl…But I guess he’s the type for rather short girls, don’t ya think?”

You hated the way your heart instantly began to ache in your ribcage. Of course he does. Aren’t all boys nowadays into petite girls with a bubbly personality? And to be honest, you are none of that.

Taller than all the other girls and even some boys around Jujutsu High, curvier than anyone else, probably uglier than the rest. You never put much thought into all of these things, but right. Why would Yuji be any different from all the guys you’ve met before?

“Who the hell is this woman, Itadori?”

Todo can’t help but shamelessly stare at you. This is too good to be true, a sight straight out of his dreams. You…You are even better than Takada-chan.

“Huh? Oh, that’s (y/n)”, he replies with a small grin, just one look at you making his heart stumble all over again.

He hasn’t seen you in quite some time now that he thinks of it.

“What kind of woman is your type, Itadori Yuji?”

The pink-haired boy has to blink a few times, eyes still set on your delicious curves and gorgeous long legs.

“I like tall woman with a big ass.”

“Is that your final answer?”, he huge boy next to him urges, grabbing him by his uniform so roughly that his eyes yank away from you.

“Yes!”, he replies immediately.

“Then get going, we need to talk to this beauty over there”, he announces, dragging Yuji behind him before he is even able to reply.

You tilt your head to the side. What the hell is going on over there? Who is that shirtless guy and…is that Yuji he drags behind him as if he’s taking out trash?

“You!”, he shouts into your direction, eyes seem to pierce right through your soul.

What the hell is this about? Should you run away, cry for help? He definitely looks pretty dangerous to you with the way his muscles seem to grow with every step he takes towards you.

“Hey, let me go! I can walk by myself!”, Yuji protests.

“Now talk to her”, Todo hisses, almost pushing him into you.

“Oh, hi (y/n)!”

“Well, hi Yuji…”, you answer rather confused.

You look even better from over here, your body lingering over his own by a few centimetres. Yes, you have to be the biggest woman Yuji has ever seen with a character so badass that no one can hold a candle to you. And those curves, those oh so delicious curves…

“Tell her what kind of woman is your type”, the guy next to him demands harshly.

“Stop being so damn loud, she hears you!”

“Oh, I definitely do. What is all of this bullshit about and what kind of freak are you exactly?”

“Itadori loves tall woman with a big ass.”

Well, that’s rather unexpected. Yuji turns as red as a tomato, not daring to shoot a single glimpse your way. But Nobara said that he likes petite girls and somehow, this always made sense to you. Still, his body doesn’t lie. And the fact that he doesn’t say anything against it tells you…

“You like tall woman with a big ass”, you repeat.

“Well, to be honest, I just like you, (y/n)”, he mutters along with scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“I like you too. You have to be the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. Let me cherish you for the rest of our lives”, the guy named Todo purrs.

“Hey, I thought you were my wingman and now you’re trying to steal my girl away from me!”, Yuji protests.

“When did I ever say that, moron? We might be brothers, but this right here is my girl-“

“WE ARE NOT BROTHERS AND (Y/N) IS NOT YOUR GIRL!”

“I’ve been crazy about you for so long. I can’t believe you actually find me attractive, Yuji”, you interrupt their little chitchat.

Your heart feels light as a feather, so good that you are almost think about giggling out in sheer joy.

“Are you kidding? You are what dreams are made of, (y/n)! I was just too shy to admit…”

“I’d never be too shy to show my love. Pick me, (y/n)!”

“GET AWAY FROM HERE!”

“I’M NOT LEAVING MY GIRL BEHIND!”

"That's enough, I'm leaving. See you around guys", you announce with a sly grin.

"OUCH, DID YOU JUST SLAP ME TODO!?"

"JUST THE WAY YOU DESERVE IT, ITADORI!"

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz

[ultravioletrayz]

a request? what about your edging miguel and so you let him cum since he begging it however we continuing to do it? and so what about this but with cumplay ? you know,and he.....like into it,like you playing with he cum, on his body.thigh. abs, idk anywhere and just licking it idk?

so a kinda dom/sub!miguel x fem!reader

yea im crazy for a whiny men whos loves anything we do and espically whimper and beg

you with me girlie?

Yes yes yes, totally with you.

The plot for this was inspired by this ask, btw!!

@ce3stvu tagging my bby girl <3

Pairing: sub!miguel o’hara x dom!f!reader

Warnings: 18+, handjob, edging, cumplay, cum eating, dacryphillia if you squint, themes of jealousy

Summary: you remind miguel who he belongs to

A/N: i love dom!migs, but something about imagining that big man all whiny and crying is sooo hot

Word Count: 1K

It’s all that stupid bitch’s fault. The thought is swirling around in Miguel’s head on repeat as his hips pathetically twitch and spasm upwards to try and loosen the grip you have around the blushing tip of his cock. Still, you merely apply more pressure, squeezing his poor head so hard your fingers act as a makeshift cock ring, making it impossible for Miguel to acquire any sense of relief as your other hand fondles his heavy, aching balls with little skill, your only goal being to tease him. 

This was a much better way of reminding Miguel of your loyalty to one another than talking it out. Frankly, you didn’t even know how to approach discussing the topic. You were supposed to be Miguel’s angelic, bubbly little girlfriend. You didn’t want to cause a fight over some random spider-woman from work. 

Instead, you smile from ear to ear as you watch the beads of tears that cling to Miguel’s gorgeous, thick eyelashes as he sobs and begs to cum, after you’ve denied climax after climax with your possessive grip around the thick circumference of his dick. 

There’s no doubt in your mind that other spider-people can hear Miguel’s unapologetic whines from outside his office, and the thought makes your mind a hazy fog of lust and pride. Hopefully, that new girl that Miguel was training, the one that kept running her grubby hands all over his arms and back like you were an idiot and wouldn’t notice her blatant flirting. 

You had initially felt guilty when you pulled Miguel away from his sparring session with the girl, leading him to his office with one goal in mind: reiterating that Miguel is yours and yours alone.

But now that he's been forced into becoming this mess of desperation and sticky pre-cum, your worries and shame have vanished. Only your touch can make Miguel feel this way, making him lose all of his self-control and dignity. And he does the same thing to you. Sure, an outsider would probably say all of this jealousy and possessiveness is toxic or overbearing, but you and Miguel can't help but cling to one another. You're each other's soulmates. That new girl could never compare.

"Hah- ah, fuck! M-Mami, por favor… need- ah! need to cum. Please, please l-lemme cum-!" Miguel begs, his tear-stained cheek squished against the smooth material of your spider suit that conceals your tits, but the warmth of his face seeps through the fabric, his breath causing your nipples to perk up at the subtle contact as you lean over him and giggle. 

You keep your fingers squeezed around his tip, rubbing his swollen head in circular motions as your other hand cups his balls in the comfort of your palm. The tension around Miguel’s tip is almost torturous, making him curse and thrash around in his office chair as he desperately attempts to make your hand slip even slightly so that his dick can breathe again. 

The thick, chocolate-brown hair that adorns the tan flesh from his belly button down to his base caresses your forearm each time Miguel fails to push through the restraint of your fist and thrust into your closed hand. 

You feel bad for taking your insecurities out on your poor, unsuspecting boyfriend, who was just trying to be a good boss and do his job, so you decide to give him a break.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, guapo?" You coo teasingly, releasing the pressure around the leaky head of Miguel's cock and instead starting to pump his shaft, your pace fast and sloppy as you make up for the time spent prohibiting Miguel from having any kind of release. 

Miguel's climax hits him like a freight train, his back arching drastically and his claws digging into his seat as his rock-hard cock spurts bucket loads of cum up into the air, the gooey strands of his devotion to you hitting his toned abs and coating the hair on his thighs and stomach, creating a pooling mess of semen, sweat, and tears as he slumps back in his chair and splutters.

You watch with wide eyes as Miguel's cum decorates his tan skin, like an abstract painting of your composition. And you couldn't be more proud of yourself. In a hypnotised state of desire and devotion, you scramble to your knees in between Miguel's spread thighs. 

With a smile on your face, you lick a fat, sloppy stripe from Miguel's pelvis up to his juicy pecs, gathering his cum on your flat tongue and swallowing. He tastes divine.

No other bitch would treat him like this, using her hands and mouth to worship him like you do. You lap up every thick glob of shimmering cum from Miguel's panting body, not even able to savour it due to your desperation to taste all of him.

"You taste so good, Mig." You moan, eyes fluttering at the salty, decadent flavour of Miguel's cum flooding your senses. Your hand keeps pumping him slowly, milking every last drop of his delicious cum from his cock as you worship his body and devour his essence as it glistens on his stomach and thighs. 

Your free hand scoops up some of his mess to watch how the strings make your fingers stick together, before shoving your digits in your mouth and sucking the cum off your fingers. 

Miguel chuckles and moans at the sight of his pretty girl so desperate to please him, all to ensure his loyalty. The fact that you're more willing to drag your wet tongue up and down his cum-covered, shivering body than have a conversation about your feelings is a little odd, but Miguel's not complaining. It's sweet to see how much you love him, and how much you hate that new bitch for thinking she stands a chance against you.

Miguel holds your chin in his hands and stops you from feasting on any more of his cum, directing your gorgeous face upwards so that you're staring into his eyes. You rest your tacky hands on his thighs, making him tremble ever so slightly at the way your skin sticks to his, binding the two of you together. 

Breathlessly, Miguel whispers to you, his girl, his one and only, the love of his life, with a crooked smile on his sweaty, fucked-out face.

"Sólo para ti, hermosa."

sick and tired of miguel being depicted as the “jealous and possessive” one in the relationship. If I had a man like that, I’d be just as crazy

[carolmunson]

caught like a fool without a line. (older!modern!eddie)

part five of who knows how many. orange colored sky setlist.

summary: we've been seeing eddie for a month and the fear starts to settle in. with eddie's past and present making things difficult and your own insecurities brewing, things come to a bit of a head one night when you're out at a bar. featuring older!robin and our favorite guy older!steve from @loveshotzz series 'all i really want is you'.

tw: age gappy (reader and eddie are 12 years apart, but reader is late late 20s/early 30s and eddie and late late 30s/early 40s throughout this story so it's not like so bad). drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, discussions of eddie's promiscuous past (i know some people don't like when eddie is a slut), implied that reader wears eddie's clothes to bed but not that reader is small. gifs by: @keerysbrandnewbg and @eddiemunsonsource

songspiration: open | rhye and feelings | lauv

You swirled the big ice cube in the tumbler with an unenthusiastic flair, making the orangey red liquid in the glass nearly spill. “And I don’t get it, we had a really nice first date and then made out again the next week and talked all the time and now he’s barely texting me back,” you complain, the tart grapefruit of your friend’s new take on an Aperol Spritz floods your mouth at your next sip.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” your friend Charlie suggests from behind the bar, “He’s older, you said, right? He might just not be on his phone as much. Do you like the drink? Is it too bitter?” 

“It’s bitter but not in a bad way, in a good citrussy way,” you nod, “And yeah he might not be on his phone as much but then why just sort of suddenly drop off and barely respond? Like, look at this.” You take out your phone, laying it on the bar and scrolling through a plethora of blue texts with some sprinkles of gray in between, “I look so pathetic.” “I think you just really like him,” she shrugs, smirking, “And I think that’s good, you haven’t been this excited about someone for a little bit.” “Yeah, but every time I’m excited about someone it bites me in the ass,” you lean on the palm of your hand, flipping your phone over, “Plus like, I’m not trying to be with anyone like that right now.” 

Your friend gives you a look, “Okay, sure.” 

“What do you mean ‘okay, sure’?” you scoff. 

“You’re not trying to be with anyone like your ex,” Charlie corrects, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, “You go on and on about how you just want someone to take care of things for you. Maybe he’s that kind of dude.” 

“He has someone come every Sunday to clean his house for him,” you sip the drink again, “I don’t think he can take care of anything for me, considering I can clean my own house.”  The bar slowly starts to fill up with the after work crowd, leaving Charlie to run back and forth between you and pouring beers for incoming patrons.

“He can afford to have someone come and clean his house,” she says with a smirk, holding down the tap while she fills a glass with Lagunitas, "That's kind of hot." You flip your phone back over and sigh, no new messages.

If anything is true in the music and art world Eddie is involved in it's that Eddie Munson is a professional loverboy. Never with someone for too long, never long enough for them to want something more than fun -- never long enough for 'Are you my boyfriend?' never long enough for 'What are we?' It got easier the older he got, the less women and men cared about labels. You were right to make that judgement about his key carabiner hanging on the front of his keys. Eddie Munson is a slut, and everyone knows it but you.

He had two actual girlfriends in his early twenties, but nothing quite like his friendship with Steve. 'Platonic life partner, sometimes,' they'd list it as -- never too afraid to get affectionate. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, Eddie held him so many nights when Emma died he felt like they left an indent in the center of the bed. He touched and loved the people who loved him back, but to anyone else – he never wanted to get too close. He always gave out just enough of him – enough for people to keep wanting more, a satisfaction he basked in now since he was such a loner in high school with no notches to his belt. 

But now he’s blabbering on to Robin over a huge plate of nachos about how you texted him all day. You texted him all day and he had his phone charging in the kitchen while he was upstairs in his office so he didn’t know and now it’s very clear that you’re upset. 

"Okay? How is this different from the girl you were seeing over Christmas?" Robin laughs over a mouthful of loaded nachos, a frosty pink Frosé next to her to beat the heat. Her eyes crinkle closed, a smattering of freckles stretching on the apples of her cheeks when she smiles. The heat of a sunburn runs soft pink over her nose, outside of the gray in her sand blonde hair that she'll never dye, she looks almost the same as she did in high school. “So you didn’t text her back,” she shrugs, “You leave her alone, she fades off into the distance – just like the girl before that, and the guy before that, and the girl before that. Why're you talking about it like it's the end of the world?”  "I care," he groans, turning his phone to show Robin your messages. You'd sent them every few hours, but most of the messages from the morning and afternoon were from when he was working -- phone nestled on the charger down in the kitchen while he clacked away on code upstairs. By the time he saw them he was embarrassed, and you were probably already at your friend's bar. Eddie tries to explain the whole situation while Robin scrolls through with a careful and soft expression, a tiny smile forming on her face. 

“I already fucked it up,” Eddie sighs, pulling his hair up into a ponytail with volume hair stylists would envy. He runs his hand over his jaw, following the edge of it to land behind his neck where he squeeze gently on the muscle.

Robin shrugs again, passing his phone back to him, “Par for the course, kid.” 

His eyes narrow, “I’m older than you.” 

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “You always fuck it up, Ed. That's your thing. You walk into a room and someone leaves crying. You've never done the whole sappy love thing with someone, why do you think you're changing your tune now?”

“I know but – fuck Robin, I didn’t even sleep with her yet,” he says a little louder than he intends. His tattooed hand wraps around the Pilsner glass in front of him, dripping in condensation, bringing it to his lips.

“That’s a new development,” she raises her brows, crossing her legs, "You never wait this long."

“I just…I don’t…I shit – I don’t know.” 

“What did Steve say?” Robin asks, teeth biting down on the straw to her drink, “He always has good girl advice.” 

“I haven’t even told Steve.” 

“At all?!” she nearly spits out the frose all over the nachos.

“Rob we just buried Em,” he explains softly, “Like, she’s not even fuckin’ cold yet. I can’t just come out of the woodwork five months later like ‘Hey man, think I actually met a girl I’d consider a future with. We’ve been seeing each other for a month’. And like – what if I’m just psyching myself out? What if this is just an early midlife crisis?” 

Robin takes a slow sip, nodding while he speaks before taking a pause. “Ed, I think you’ll feel better if you tell Steve,” she offers, “I think he’d get your head straight about it. But in the meantime, you should text her back.”

“What do I even say?” he huffs, shoving a loaded nacho into his mouth.  “Try honesty with a woman for once in your entire life, Rockstar boy,” Robin plasters on a customer service smile that makes him let out a frustrated ‘tsss’, “It won’t kill you.” "Here, I'll text Nance and ask her -- she's our next best bet," Robin takes out her phone and types with the fervor of a teenager with a sugar high. Eddie sips his beer, looking at the screen of his phone while the cursor to type blinks back at him.

You stumble out of the bar, too crowded now to have fun with your friend. Over tired and over served you make your way down the street and around the corner, stopping to lean against the brick wall of a different bar when you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You take a minute, taking in your surroundings. People are so loud down here, and everyone is so pretty. Street lights are there and gone and there and gone as cars whiz passed on Delancey, the bustle of the Friday night life in the LES is a buzz with excitement. You're already a little down for the count. Your phone feels like a paper weight in your hand, sighing with satisfaction at the notificaiton on the screen. But your chest still aches with annoyance, how many times were you gonna get drunk at a bar with a swollen heart over some dumb boy? Man? Guy?

You don't want him to come save you, you know how to get home. You can see the green bulbs of the train entrance and the glow of the McDonalds 'M' on the corner in the distance. Down the stairs, one train into Brooklyn, cross platform transfer -- you've done it drunker than this countless times before. You text Charlie with an air of victory before putting your phone back in your smart black faux leather bag slung over your shoulder. The warm summer air flows over your legs, catching the hem of your a-line skirt -- the light material flowing in the breeze. Time isn't working quite right for you but it feels like it's been five minutes and he hasn't shown up, so you make your way to the edge of the corner to cross.

"Whoa there, Peach," you hear Eddie's gruff voice from the side of you, the pull on your arm the same as when he steadied you at Trader Joe's a month ago, "Careful now."

You pull out of his hold, glassy eyes focused on the black and white stripes on the street ahead of you, "I know what I'm doin'."

“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks softly. Eddie steps in front of you, guiding you to the light post to get out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Home,” you slur, “M’goin home. Trainssright there.” 

“I don’t think you’re good to take the train,” his voice is gentle, hand coming out to hold you at the waist, “I can get you a car.” 

“I’m fine.” It's the only sentence that comes out lucid, his jaw ticks.

"You don't look fine," he looks down into your glassy eyes, a look he's seen before. The way his mama would drown herself in whiskey and stumble into the kitchen so the bruises would't hurt so bad. The way an old fling would slur to him about how she can't live without him. The way you look so sad and it's his fault.

"I'm. Fine," you reiteratie. The light changes, the bright white of the walk sign flashes across the street. You go to pass him but his hands place themselves on your shoulders. "You really wanna get boiled alive on the train?" he asks with a smile, "You don't wanna take a car?" You sigh, why does he have to be so handsome? The gin from your last two drinks travels from your head to your thighs, pulling them together at the sight of his smile. He has that ratty vest on, a CBGC t-shirt sticking to him under it, the sleeves completely torn off. He smells like cedar and citrus again, a hint of a left over cigarette. His grays catch the light of the over head lamp, bouncing like tinsel in his pony tail sitting on the crown of his head. "Can we go to your house?" you ask, voice raised a higher octave than normal. His face blanches, "Aw honey, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to think that I --" "Please?"

"Thanks, have a good night," Eddie waves off the delivery man with a smile as he rides away on his bike. With plastic in hand he makes his way back up the stairs where you've set up shop on one of the stools in his kitchen, head down on the island counter.

"Food's here," he says quietly. Dealing with drunk you was very much like dealing with drunk Robin in the early 2010s, overgrown toddler in a bad mood. You let out a half hearted 'Yay', head coming up, eyes half closed in the kind of sleepiness a few mixed drinks and some beers can send you into. He goes into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Poland Spring and a beer for himself. The waters get placed in front of you while he tends to getting the food plated up.

You ignore the water -- Blue Moon bottle staring right at you, and to be honest -- a cold cirtussy beer sounds sooo good right now. You reach forward, the glass ice cold against your palm now that the liquor has fully settled, heating up your skin. The sound of glass on the counter cobbles through the kitchen when you slide it closer to you, alerting Eddie to the noise.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, snatching the bottle out of your hand, “Can you behave?” 

You pout when his eyes narrow at you, heart thumping guiltily in your chest, shame brewing in your skin. You nod back at him with sad eyes, a twinge plucking in your heart strings.

“Don’t give me that face,” he warns, “Don't act up."

“I don’t like when you’re mean,” you mumble softly, running your fingers in shapes over the butcher's block counter top. He sighs, plating your sandwich and pulling your fries from the bag. He kisses your temple while he slides the plate in front of you. "I'm sorry, honey," he says quietly, but gin always puts you in the mood to argue. "You don't have to talk to me like, like -- you don't have to talk to me -hic!- like I'm a kid," you hurtle out, surprised at your own gumption, "I'm not."

"I know," he says, putting the bags into his recycling bin under the sink, "I'm not talking to you in any kind of way Peach I -- " "You don't even like me," you state. His head cocks to the side, leaning on his hands while they hold on to the edge of the island. "Who said that?" "I was -hic!- I was talking to someone at the bar about --" you start, lump building in your throat, "About you and um -- they said, they said it sounds like --" Your eyes water, "Like I'm just for fun." "Oh," he says, looking down at his hands. The weight of this conversation falling into his stomach from his chest like a deep pit.

"Like I'm just fun for you to play with -- but like, you don't even wanna have -- you don'even wanna h-have-have seggzwithme so like -- you don't even like me." More and more if your insecurities flow out of you like a broken faucet, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

"And like you probably don't even think I'm pretty."

"Oh, baby, no," he coos, brows tilted in sympathy while you drunkenly let all your sober fears out, "I think you're so pretty."

"So pretty," you repeat, wiping your face with your hands, "But that's it."

Eddie takes a deep breath, coming over to you and pressing his warm soft lips to your cheek, "Let's talk about this in the morning, sweetheart. I'm gonna get upstairs ready for you."

"I should just go home," you sniffle, embarrassment starting to flow through you with your bloodstream, burning all your pores, "I'm sorry." "No, no, don't go home," he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek, "Stay. Just stay."

He makes sure you eat, watching you come back to yourself the fuller and more hydrated you get. You're easy to lead upstairs, pliant and tired now, needy almost -- not that you'd ever admit to it. You tease him about his 'old man pills' when he takes out his perscription high dose Motrin he got for some old back pain. Great for when you might get a killer hangover these days. You grimace at the Pedialyte mixture he has you drink before you get tucked into his bed -- out before you can even feel him grab the pillows and a throw from the other side of you. He settles in downstairs on the sectional, sighing while he thinks about the way your face scrunches when you're about to cry. He flicks through his Hulu options on the big screen in front of him but nothing really seems to catch his attention. Mind wandering to you asleep upstairs but knowing better than to crawl into bed next to you when you're not yourself enough to say it's okay. The familiar buzz of his phone goes off on the coffee table, when he picks it up his face is on the front screen while someone calls in on FaceTime. "You're callin' late, man," Eddie grins lazily, socked feet sticking out to rest on the worn walnut table in front of him, "You okay?" "Yeah me and Bandit just got in from camping. Got some pics of him to send you, he's such a scamp." "You have fun?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. Eddie's voice is quiet while he speaks making Steve's head cock to the side. The lights changes on his face while he walks from the living room to his bedroom. "Yeah we had a lot of fun," Steve starts, "Why're you whispering?" "What do you mean?" Eddie asks, getting up off the couch to pad back into the kitchen. "You're talkin' all quiet," Steve smirks, "You got a girl over or something?" Ed puts his phone down and huffs while he grabs a bag of chips from the cabinet. Steve giggle, leaning his head in closer to the screen. "You do, don't you?" he guffaws, "Am I interrupting?" "She's sleeping," Eddie says softly, picking up the phone again and leaning against the counter. "Aw, so you ended up texting her back? Good."

"What the fuck? Who told you that?" Eddie's brows furrow, spitting through a mouthful of chips. "Robin, obviously." The light changes on him again while he makes his way to his own kitchen. Bandit's little pants and huffs echoing into the phone, "You think Nancy came up with the 'Hey pretty girl,' opening? She's never been a flirt."

"Well it worked so, congrats."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Steve pulls his own bag of chips out. They crunch together. "It just didn't seem right," he shrugs, "Y'know with Emma it's hard to be like, 'Hey I think I might actually see a future with this girl I've only been seeing for a few weeks.' Like, you just lost the love of your life."

"I'm not gonna be sad to hear that you're into someone, Ed," Steve smiles softly, voice calm, "Tell me about her."

So he does, he tells Steve about how he kept running into you that day at Trader Joe's and how he felt so stupid for not waiting at the doors for you but he was too scared. You were so cute in your bike shorts and sneakers, so careful in how you chose the fruit you were gonna get. When he saw you on the platform he knew it was like he was getting a second chance -- "Maybe Em thought you should stop being such a whore and sent her over," Steve laughs. Ed rolls his eyes but can't hold back his chuckle, watching as Steve rests his chin on the heel of his hand while he listens. Eddie talks about the picnic date, how he immediately felt comfortable telling you about his mom. The rain, the kiss in his apartment -- how he could've fucked you but didn't. How all your little dates had gone since.

"Oh so you like her," Steve nods.

"I'm scared," Eddie says quietly. "Scared?"

"What if it's just a fluke and I hurt her? Or I get hurt?" Eddie asks, "And like -- please don't take this the wrong way but like -- what if I put in all this effort and then lose her?"

"Like how I lost Em?"

Eddie nods slowly, not wanting to say the quiet part out loud. He talks about what you said when you got back to his place, how you think he doesn't really like you, how he doesn't think you're pretty. You're just for fun. "But this doesn't feel like 'just for fun', does it?" Steve challenges gently, "Cause if she was just for fun you would've texted me about if she could deep throat or not."

Eddie chuckles darkly, pink rising on his cheeks -- Steve chuckles too. Still gross boys who are gross.

"You should tell her how you feel," he encourages, "What's the worst that can happen?" "Everything."

"Okay," Steve shrugs, "I lost everything. And what happened?"

"We all came to pick you up." "Exactly. We'll be here to pick you up, too. Don't like..." Steve sighs, "Don't just immediately throw something away just because you're not used to it. The more you stand there and think about what you want, the less she's gonna think you want it."

"I know..." "So let her know you want it."

They talk for an hour, both cozied up on their respective couches -- Bandit immediately getting in the frame and yelping at Eddie's face on the screen. The seize in Eddie's chest loosens because maybe this could be okay. Now he just has to make sure you know it.

You wake up the next morning, groggy and dry -- but thankfully not nearly as hungover as you were expecting. Your joints hurt, your stomach's a little jumbled, but no headache and that's what matters the most. You shift in his crisp sheets, turning around to see that the bed is empty next to you -- pillows and throw blanket gone with him. You slept alone. You look at your phone on the bedside table next to a full bottle of water. You chug it while you check your notifications -- 6:11 AM. If anything was true, you always woke up too early when you drank too much the night before. The water sits heavy in your belly, pressing your bladder which was already screaming for you to go to the bathroom. With a sigh you stand up, and when you do, the embarrassment of the night before settles in. Your emotional hangover.

You pad to the bathroom and pee, seeing your face in the mirror like you did the night you got rained out. Your makeup is smeared, face a little bloated -- you do your best to wash it off. The cool water feels good against your skin, still hot from the liquor and dehydration. You pat your face dry and leave the bathroom, lingering at the top of the stairs where he's laying on the couch, already awake. "G'morning," you rasp out. He perks up, head tilting up to look at you from his place in the living room. "Morning, peach," he smiles, "You feelin' okay?"

You nod, ungracefully stomping down the metal steps of the spiral staircase while you get your footing, "Your old man pills must be magic or something."

Eddie pulls back the blanket, scooching back against the cushions to make room for you to lay down next to him, "C'mere, baby."

C'mere, baby runs down your spine, making your throat catch. You make your way towards the couch, crawling in next to him. The living room is quiet, with just some early morning sun pooling into the windows -- like you two are the only people awake on the street this morning. He covers you up, wasting no time wrapping himself around you and pulling you into him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nod into his chest, the scent of his skin mixing with the faint smell of cirtus and cedar, "Did you?" "Normally I'm fine on the couch," he says, voice grizzly and sleepy, "But I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've slept on the couch or I --" "No, it's not that," he shakes his head, catching your gaze, "Probably would've slept better if you were next to me." Your cheeks burn, a smile splittling across your face, "Well I'm here now."

"You are," he nods, leaning up to run his thumb over the apple of your cheek where a stray piece of glitter sits. Remnants of your makeup that you couldn't wash away.

"I'm um...sorry for how I acted last night," you confess, "That's not like -- that's not how I am."

"Don't be sorry," he assures quietly, "I understand." You're both quiet for a moment, the hum of the central air fuzzing the silence between you. "You're not just for fun, peach," he says, a seriousness to his normally playful voice, "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." "I um -- I'm sorry I kind of went a little insane," you shrug, feeling small, "I didn't mean to text all those times and then come here and cry and like --" "Stop apologizing," he says, thumb grazing your lower lip to stop you, "You were just feeling a way, that's okay. I get it." He takes his thumb away, leaning down to give you a kiss that sends you reeling. Warm and soft, delicate. His hands lead his arms around you again, smiling when you reach up to cup his cheek. "I like you," Eddie smirks against your mouth. "I like you, too," you smile when he breaks away. "The deli's open on the corner if you want me to run over and get a bacon, egg, and cheese," he offers quietly. "Why do I feel like you were gonna do that anyway?" you ask in the same tone. "I was," he grins again, "I just wanted to impress you by asking." He sits up, clamboring over you to get some coffee started so it'll be done by the time he gets back. You wait patiently for him, rolling your eyes while he shoves his socked feet in his slides, leaving the house in his pajamas of a t-shirt and black joggers. You prepare the coffees, feeling domestic like you live here -- getting used to where things are already.

He comes back twenty minutes later, sighing when the air conditioning hits him as the door opens, "It's already like, 80 degrees."

"Gross," you reply, face scrunching in the way that he likes, "Coffee is ready." "Oh, thank you." His eyes glitter at the gesture, seeing that you used the same mugs from when he had you over the first time. Those are his favorites, but you'll learn that eventually. The sandwhiches are tossed on the butcher block counter where you cried last night, but your embarrassment melts away when you feel him wrap himself around you again -- like he can't get enough. "I'm playing a show on Thursday at House of Yes," he says, "They're doing a metal theme'd night." "Yeah?" you ask, hands reaching for the plastic baggy and taking out both of your sadwhiches wrapped in foil. His arms still tight around your middle while you maneuver around your kitchen. "You should come," he asks, kissing the top of your head, "I'll get you a ticket."

"I don't know if that's really my scene," you shrug, twisting in his hold to face him, "I'm not like -- I'm not cool and underground like that." "So?" he quirks his brow, "You can be cool and underground for one night to hang out with your hottie rockstar boy-toy."

"That's so gross that you described yourself that way," you laugh, pushing out of his hug and opening your sandwhich, "Like, so cringey, babe." "Babe," he repeats back to you, "I like that. You can call me 'babe' whenever you want." "Duly noted," you agree, teeth sinking into the bread of the roll and breaking into the warm and gooey center. The jumble in your stomach starting to fade away while the grease of the egg soothes it. Eddie takes his sandwhich and coffee to the living room, taking his phone off the coffee table to open up his text conversation with Steve:

she called me babe.

i literally can't even breathe right now.

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[deakyjoe]

Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes.  That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

[cannellee]

Who were the other options you had in mind for parhetic alphas, considering you said there were so many choices for the number 3 place before you gave it to Hakkai? Who is in the top 10 pathetic whipped Alphas?

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! tokyorev x omega! reader (pairing : shinichiro, takemichi, hakkai, yamagishi, angry, naoto, kisaki, shion, kazutora, hanma)

— top 10 pathetic alphas of tokyorev (part. 1)

I struggled a bit to finish this, I honestly don't think there are 10 real pathetic men, shinichiro and takemichi easily take the first places. but after them, it's hard to choose. it's obviously not extremely representative but here's my thoughts on this!

MY MASTERLIST : ☆

𐙚. N°1 : ALPHA! SHINICHIRO

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𐙚. N° 2 : ALPHA! TAKEMICHI

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𐙚. N°3 : ALPHA! HAKKAI

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𐙚. N° 4 : ALPHA! YAMAGISHI

yamagishi is an awkward nerd who never felt the touch of an omega, he's sweating buckets the first time you initiate skinship. it feels too unreal to him, you have him malfunctioning and you simply enjoy his panicked look.

he's such a beta-passing alpha and that's what he's most insecure about, despite being told he needs to toughen up, he can't help but crave your validation. people often mock him for how your roles seem to have been exchanged, but what else is he supposed to do when his goddess of an omega talks ever so sweetly to him like that ?

you often laugh at him whenever he acts all serious and tough, you love it when he tries to impress you that way, thinking the way he glances at you to judge your reactions is subtle (it's not), but you play along and give him the attention he needs.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 5 : ALPHA! ANGRY

of course angry is on the list. he's so sensitive and attentive, always carefully analysing your reactions and what you say to him, making sure he never upsets his lovely omega.

you're such an important person to angry that he can't help but let his whole world spin around you like you're his sun. he cooks, he cleans and gives plenty of gifts. whatever you want is yours in the minute. he'll cry if you get mad at him or even show him the slightest form of disapproval. if you refuse to talk to him, he throws the little pride he had to beg and plead for you to look at him again.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 6 : ALPHA! NAOTO

naoto isn't that pathetic, but shy and nervous enough to stir up funny reactions from him whenever he's around you. what's best, is how composed he is with everyone else but you. he acts all serious and shit, but all of that crumble when you're looking at him with your big doe eyes, sweetly smiling at him.

how could such a tall and honorable alpha fold so fast for a tiny omega such as yourself ? that's what everyone is wondering. but naoto doesn't care about stupid gender roles and simply embraces the fact that you make him double check himself when you're about to meet up.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 7 : ALPHA! KISAKI

bro started a whole war and killed people 'for' his omega, you can't tell me this isn't pathetic behaviour. see it however you like, but when kisaki sets his eyes on something or someone, he is obssessed. never lets you out of his sight, desperately scenting you, having people spy on you... in my opinion, kisaki is giving stalker vibes and only loosers choose that option : they're too scared to confront their crush and end up caring for them from a distance.

kisaki is a red flag who wants to keep control of his omega but at the same, can't keep the conversation going because of his sweaty hands and sloppy speech. however, while some alphas are okay with appearing weaker, kisaki hates that and absolutely despises the way you make him feel. he has little outbursts here and there if you jokingly bring it up.

he just can't wait to make you his, turn you into a submissive omega who won't dare mock him anymore whenever he gets nervous. but for now, he'll settle for the photos he took of you and your faint scent of honey and candy lingering on his jacket after you grabbed his arms.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 8 : ALPHA! SHION

shion isn't exactly pathetic, he's just a dumb alpha who absolutely can't resist your manipulation and mind games. I don't remember where exactly I saw this, but it's somehow popular in the fandom (I think?) that shion is a bit of a himbo, and I agree.

he's got the muscles, but honestly, you outbrain him easily. yes, he's aggressive and yes, he does bark and bite. but not towards his omega! he follows exactly what you say without even fully grasping the whole situation, point someone with your finger and you can be sure shion is jumping on him, convinced he offended you. his protectiveness is just genuine and has that comical simplicity.

he might overcomplicate your relationships with others and see a rival in any of them. you have to be careful with your words just in case he misunderstands them and causes a huge ruckus.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 9 : ALPHA! KAZUTORA

similarly, kazutora isn't exactly pathetic but has his own special ways of showing he's interested which would make him worthy of the 9th place.

alpha kazutora who's absolutely wrecked and deranged by his background and relationship with mikey, can do no good. still, he has learned ways to control himself as to not scare you off. which is why he'd rather stay away from you and instead, look at you from a distance. he's very subtle actually so you won't ever catch him staring.

but what makes him slightly pathetic is how delusional he is about your relationship while still being insecure. he'll get aggressive at times when he senses a tiny bit of disinterest from you and get mad. he's toxic and hopeless, but can't make up his mind to leave you alone. his contradictory spirit is very hard to grasp, but what's clear is his dependance on you, his innocent omega. he's constantly checking and making sure you love him, asking questions he expects only one answer to. he's jealous and paranoid, often clinging to you and asking for your forgiveness if his possessiveness pushed him to go too far.

overall, it's his emotional instability which makes kazutora pathetic.

                                    · · ୨୧ · ·

𐙚. N° 10 : ALPHA! HANMA

hanma isn't pathetic at all, but I had to find someone for the last one sooo.

he isn't pathetic but he just has little to no regard to his dignity as an alpha and as a person. he likes the thrill of trying new things and getting out of his comfort zone, which is exactly what his sweet omega urges him to.

you like that side of hanma, you can do whatever and he'll let you, simply because he enjoys the unexpected, being surprised and not being stuck in a routine.

you can be temperamental, vulgar and mean all you want, he'll just laugh because that's unusual for an omega. his ego won't get hurt because he's confident in himself, he can fight, is part of a gang and has a lot of connections, pleasing his omega by doing a few shameful tricks is far from being degrading in his eyes.

but that only works if you also let him play with you however he wants. so with hanma, it's more like, how far are you ready to take it. you're not necessarily on top and you'll find out soon enough that he's the one with the less limits, which can be scary something.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Everything

Summary: Dumped by her boyfriend, Y/N goes home with her tail between her legs, praying that her roommate, Dean Winchester, isn’t there to witness yet another failed relationship. But fate doesn’t work that way, and what seems like the universe conspiring against her might actually be what she’s needed all along.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, language, douchebag ex, Dean’s a bit of a dick at first, insecurities, heart to heart, frenemies to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry. This summary is awful. I hope you enjoy whatever this is 😅 Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

My Masterlist     AO3     Ko-Fi

The rain pours down, and thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. You laugh bitterly at how the weather reflects your mood. Rain soaks your hair and clothing, your feet sodden and squelching; the stilettos you’re wearing offer zero protection from the torrents of water falling from the sky and running down the sidewalks.

You’re grateful for it, truth be told. At least this way, no one knows the mascara that runs in black streams down your cheeks is from the tears you’ve been crying over that asshole. The asshole you’ve been dating for two months who just dumped you at your local bar while sitting next to his date for the night.

Fuck, how did this become your life? How did you become this gullible, desperate woman who keeps falling for these kinds of men? Men who date you and sweet talk you, saying all the right things until they get what they want from between your legs and then leave you for someone prettier. Someone younger.

Maybe the asshole’s right. Maybe you are the type of girl to have a fun time with, not the kind to take home to meet someone’s mother. But fuck, that hurts to admit and fuck, you lose more of yourself with every asshole that spews those kind of lines to you. If you’ve said it once, you’ve said it a million times. You’re done with men. And this time, you mean it.

You turn the corner onto your street and stop in your tracks. Dread settles in your stomach as you see your roommate’s car parked on the side of the road. He just had to choose tonight of all nights to stay home, didn’t he? That’s all you fucking need right now. You consider turning around and walking away. Hell, he wouldn’t miss you. You were meant to be staying at the asshole’s place anyway.

But, this is your home. Well, the place you live, at least, and you need to go there eventually. Might as well get it over with. Your lip trembles, knowing you need to face the one person you really don’t want to right now, especially in this state. He already thinks you’re pathetic enough as it is.

You walk up the stairs, dread settling heavily in the pit of your stomach the closer you get to the door. You cast up a silent prayer that the only reason Dean is home is because he’s got female company over. At least then, you can get in, grab some whiskey and get to your room quietly and unnoticed.

“Hey, what are you doing home so early? Thought you were staying at Chuck’s tonight?” Dean says from the couch, not even turning to look at you.

“Yeah, well, plans change. Why are you here? Thought you’d be chasing some skinny ass, barely legal bitch at the bar.” Your tone conveys pure disgust, and you curse yourself for it when he turns to look at you. And, of course, he laughs.

“What the hell happened to you?” he buckles, scanning your absolutely hilarious appearance. “You look like someone threw you in the river and left you to claw your way back out again!” Dean laughs, and you huff, desperately trying to stop the fresh batch of tears threatening to stream down your face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Dean, there’s a torrential downpour out there.”

“Yeah, that explains the puddle at your feet, but not the rest of you, bitch,” he laughs, and that does it. You know he’s not being serious; you constantly hurl insults at one another, and it doesn’t usually get to either of you, but this time, it hits differently.

“The only reason I kept you around so long is because you’re like a bitch in heat. Always needing to be fucked. But that’s all you’re good for, and it grows old pretty quickly.”

Your eyes water, and your lip trembles. A sob escapes unchecked, and you wish the floor would open you up and swallow you whole. “I’m going to bed,” you mutter and turn to walk away.

“Y/N, wait,” Dean says, his face softening into concern.

“What, Dean? What? You wanna laugh at me more? Call me a bitch again, huh? Look, I know you don’t like me, but you know what? A little compassion can go a long way. Some humanity might make me actually believe you have a heart.”

Your mind replays every conversation you’ve overheard Dean having about you with his brother, his friends, and his conquests, and your heart sinks to the floor at how true your words are.

“Who? Her? She’s just my roommate. Baby, you don’t have to worry about her. We’re not even friends, and she’s not my type. She’s basically my live-in maid. She cooks and cleans for me and pays me for the privilege.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, what happened?” Dean asks, stepping towards you, frowning when you step back.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sniffle.

“Come on, you’re upset. Talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

“Why? So you can make fun of me like you always do? We're not even friends, Dean. Stop pretending you give a damn about me.” The hurt furrowing his brow surprises you, and you scoff. “Don’t look so hurt, Dean. I’m only repeating your words back to you. I’m the live-in maid, remember?” you turn and walk quickly to your room, slamming the door.

Whiskey will have to wait until Dean’s gone to bed.

It’s been quiet in the main section of the apartment for over an hour now. It’s probably safe to assume Dean has gone to bed, and you can get the whiskey you’re so desperate to drown yourself in.

Leaving the sanctuary of your bedroom, you pad down the hall in your bare feet, trying to be as quiet as possible. Dean is a light sleeper, and he’d complained before about you waking him whenever you get up in the middle of the night suffering from a bout of insomnia.

“I was wondering when you’d come out,” Dean’s voice makes you jump as it rings from the small dining table by the kitchen window. He’s sitting in the dark, with just the moon’s light shining enough to see his silhouette. “I was getting worried,” he states, sipping from a tumbler.

“Oh, so you do have a heart?” you respond. It’s a bitchy comment, and you know it, but you’re in defence mode after Chuck. “Might want to show it once in a while.”

“Nah. Makes me look weak,” he chuckles. His joke caught you off guard, and you let out a little huff of laughter. “See? I knew I could make you smile!”

“Barely,” you quip back and sit across from him, grabbing the whiskey bottle and filling the empty glass Dean must’ve put on the table for you.

“What happened, sweetheart? You left here tonight looking stunning and happy, and when you came home—”

“I was crying, and you called me bitch,” you state, watching Dean’s head drop.

“Not my finest moment, I admit,” Dean says as he reaches for the bottle and refills both glasses. “I didn’t know how upset you were, and I was only teasing you. If I’d known that it wasn’t just the rain that made your mascara run, I’d never have said it, and I hope you know that.”

“I really wanna believe that, but you’re always saying hurtful things,” you say, draining your glass.

“The things you said earlier,” Dean nods. “I didn’t mean… look, Y/N, you’re a beautiful woman, and some of the girls I bring home get jealous, you know? I say those things to keep them sweet.”

You nod, thinking it’s a fair excuse. Dean does have a lot of women over, and you’ve pulled out the sting from more than a few of them.

“As for what I say to Sam and my friends, well, they tease me about living with a pretty girl and don’t believe me when I say we’re just roommates,” Dean continues. You have to admit that was also sound reasoning. It didn’t excuse it; he was still a dick, but you understood it a little better.

“It’d just be nice if you stopped for a second and thought of me as a person with feelings before you say those kinds of things in front of me,” you say, filling your glass again.

“Alright, sweetheart, I promise I’ll work on that,” Dean agrees, and you notice he’s watching you intently.

“What?” you ask, feeling uncomfortably exposed under his gaze.

“What happened with Chuck,” Dean asks again.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you sigh.

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you whine and hit your head on the table.

“Come on,” Dean says, topping up their glasses again. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise whatever it is, it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“I got to the bar, and Chuck was there with another woman. He told me we were over and that Anna was his date for the night. Then, to rub salt in my wounds, as I was walking away, he told me that all I was good for was a great time in bed. Always up for anything, like a bitch in heat.”

“And then you came home, and I called you a bitch. Y/N, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Dean takes your hand in his, and you can see that it’s a genuine apology, and he really does feel awful about it. “You know he’s wrong, right? You’re worth so much more than that?”

“I don’t think I am. He’s not the only guy to tell me that,” you shrug. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m done with men and dating.”

“You don’t mean that. You think I don’t know about all the romcoms you watch on Netflix? All those girly books you read.”

“Yeah, well, a fat lot of good they did me. I’m starting to see why people are boycotting Disney Princess movies because they’re filled with romantic disillusionment and give a false idea to women that their Prince Charming exists somewhere out there.”

“This is more serious than I thought if you’re losing faith in the Disney Princesses!” Dean chuckles, and it makes you smile slightly. “Seriously, though, I think this is more about the men you date than you, sweetheart. They are way out of your league.”

“I am not out of anyone’s league, Dean. If anything, it’s probably the other way around,” you huff a bitter laugh.

“I’m out of your league,” Dean says quietly.

“You have that backwards. I’m the one out of your league. You’re gorgeous and charming, and I have seen the girls you bring home, and they are the most stunning women I’ve ever seen. I can’t compete with that.” The words spill out of you before you can stop them, and you think Dean might be blushing, but it’s hard to tell when the only sliver of light comes from the moon shining through the kitchen window.

Dean laughs, and it takes you aback slightly. “I have called you beautiful or some other variation of it several times tonight, and not once have you picked up on it. Those women are hot, sure, but you… You are on a whole other level of hot. You are stunning and so much classier than they will ever be.”

You scoff at his words, not believing them but not wanting him to know they affect you. You know Dean’s type, and it is definitely not you. “You don’t have to try and make me feel better, Dean.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. There’s a reason Sam and Cas and Benny are on my case so much about you, and it’s because I really, really, like you—”

“So, all the insults and barely tolerating my presence was what,” you smirk over at him, “you pulling my pigtails and pushing me over in the playground?”

“When you put it like that…” Dean cringes. “I guess it was. Look, you’re hurt and sad, and we’ve had a lot to drink, so I’m not going to push you to tell me if this is one-sided, but I will talk to you tomorrow when we’re both sober.”

The warmth of the sun wakes you, and you stretch in its gentle heat. You’re not nearly as hungover as you should be, and for that, you’re grateful. Dean had some interesting things to say last night, and you’d rather your brain was running at full capacity.

Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen, mindful that Dean’s door is closed, so it’s likely he’s still sleeping, and start the coffee machine. 

You busy yourself with clearing up from the night before. You rinse dishes, put them in the dishwasher and put the almost empty whiskey bottle back in the cupboard. You grab your and Dean’s favourite mugs and place them next to the coffee machine.

Taking the cleaning spray, you spritz all the surfaces and wipe them down while patiently waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“How did I manage to find the only person in this city who likes cleaning?” Dean’s groggy voice sounds from the doorway, and you smile.

“Morning, Dean,” you say as you pick up the coffee pot and fill his mug. You place it on the breakfast bar and fill your own before hopping onto one of the stools and making yourself comfortable.

“Morning, sweetheart. Thanks,” Dean says as he picks up his mug and takes a sip. “So, about last night…”

“Wow,” you chuckle. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“I’ve wasted enough time, and now that my feelings are out there, I can’t sit on this any longer,” Dean pauses to take another mouthful of coffee. “I meant what I said. I like you, Y/N. I’m sorry if anything I did when I was in denial of my feelings hurt you. And I’m sorry for pushing you away and making you think I hated you so you wouldn’t find out how I really feel.”

“Dean, I don’t know what to say,” you say. “I used to like you in that way, but with how you were with me, I turned it off because, for the past year, I’ve been thinking you don’t like me, and I don’t know if anything is still there for you.”

Dean nods, looking a little deflated by your words, but it’s clear he accepts them. “Can I at least try and make you get it back?”

“I don’t know—“ you begin, but Dean cuts you off.

“Please, Y/N. One date is all I’m asking for,” Dean begs, and you feel your resolve waning. You know you still have feelings for him.

“I’ve seen the girls you bring home, Dean. And I’m nothing compared to them,” you try. It’s your last bit of fight, the last time you’ll be able to give him an out from this.

“You’re everything, Y/N. And I mean that. You are smart, funny, kind, beautiful… you’re everything they weren’t. Please,” Dean begs again. “Just one date. Let me prove it.”

“Okay,” you nod with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Dean says, breaking out into a boyish grin.

“Yeah. I’ll go on a date with you, Dean.”

“Awesome!” he grins, looking like he just answered the million-dollar question. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[icarusredwings]

Silence

He was SO wrong.

Chapter 2.

Goodbye, my Canadian Swetheart.

Cw: Kidnapping, Straight up torture, Various cruel and unusual punishments, Descriptions of pain and wounds, Angst, Loss of healing factor, loss of voice, guilt, insecurity, crying, hostage situation.

Everything hurts.

Except.. It was a different type of pain. The kind he wasn't used to. Yeah, he's been used to the hilt and left out to dry in his own puddle of his blood before, but he laughed and spit out his own tooth that day. His large intestines hanging out of his body, soaking in the dirty rain like a fucked up steak marinade only to fillet the asshole who dared touch him without a safe word.

But not today. He wasn't healing today... or.. yesterday? What day was it? How long has he been here? Either way, his cells were on strike, holding up microscopic signs with ‘Hey ho we won't go!’ written on them.

A small snort came from his nose, the tiniest smile at the thought. You could torture him yeah but the only thing you're going to do is make him more crazy. Even he knew that. Hell! Everyone knew that!

So what was he trying to accomplish? I mean really, how much more fucked up could he make him?

He couldn't see much. The light above him is off the majority of the time, leaving him in complete darkness but never silence, the screams coming through the wall acting as white noise by now. But at the moment? It was on, swinging from the upstairs movement.

While he wasn't 100% sure? He thought the musty, mildew covered walls and how cold his toes were meant he was in a basement. How many flight's down? A million for all he knew. He had no clue how he even got here.

So now, as he sits, strapped and chained to the chair (that was bolted to the floor by the way) he is staring at the blank wall, studying each crack, wondering where each one came from.

They reminded him of the veins that came out of Logan's arms when he was really pissed off and red with anger. He found himself thinking about Logan a lot down here, his body heavy and his neck throbbing from the collars around it. The fucks had double collared him, keeping him tame and well behaved.

So what else was he supposed to do? Call out in hopes someone would slip from their training and come give him an opportunity to escape? But the top collar was too tight, two holes burned in the side of his neck from all the shocking with each noise he made louder than a whisper. Even a cough set it off.

He wondered, if he could speak now, would Logan come to him? Would he even hear him? Would he spare some time if he called? To come rescue his pathetic ass yet again?

Wade knew Logan loved him deep down, but he wondered if Logan even knew he was missing by now.. did he even care? Why SHOULD he care honestly? He was smart enough to know that Mr. Howlett was probably on the couch right now, unexpectedly waiting for him to come home…

And Honestly? He didn't blame him not one bit if he became buried deep in his memory, something that won't spark his attention until it's far too late.

He wondered- Would anyone come to his funeral? Would they even be able to find the body? Would Logan tell their friends about him? All the sweet gentle touches they shared? Each little date and stupid joke? Would he tell them the truth? Or would he lie and tell them how he saw him instead of how Wade saw himself..

He wondered if he could see the burning hole inside of him, that determination to keep himself from falling apart, how hard he was trying to be the best Deadpool for him.

Trying to prove to the world that he wasn't someone to wave a stick at, that he was a top notch hero just like the rest of them.. Could Logan see that?

Sure, the merc work paid well but what it did to his heart wasn't pretty. His morals have always been flexible. Too flexible.

Wade wanted to be a good person. It's why he listened to the stupid X-men to begin with. Stupid fucking virgin Colossus. Why did he have to go and make him feel like he was worth something? Like that 4 to 5 moments bullshit would actually work out in his favor?

He raised his hopes for nothing. Made him think that he too could be a hero that crowds cheered for when they saw him and kids would point him out and go “GASP!! Mommy it's Deadpool!” and he'd go “Damn right kid! Stay in school or.. whatever.”

Before kicking some major ass in front of them, to further prove just how cool he truly was. This was the only idea that was keeping him together at the seams.

To impress The Wolverine. HIS wolverine. To show him that he deserved to be on the team. One that's well respected and the government has no choice but to call HIM for help. Just a guy with regenerative cancer who really liked guns.

Well… now the ladder was only true but still. His point stood. Unlike him, whose legs were dull and numb from sitting so long in this piss scented concrete singular cell.

Tears came to his eyes as a terrible thought crossed his mind. How would he see him as a good hero if he would never see him again?

Now, he sits here, wondering about him.

He wished he could tell him what to do. Logan was good at this kind of thing. He was good at keeping calm and telling him what to do when he felt like this, when his body betrayed him with such unbearable pain. He would hold him and kiss him, tell him everything would be alright and somehow it always was.

Logan always made everything alright.

Logan has worked so hard to teach him how much he loved him, show him how to water it until it grew. And with just a bit of water and TLC, His rosey heart turned into something incredibly beautiful that he could hold in the palm of his big calloused hands once it blossomed.

Even with all its thorns, there was nobody better than him that he wanted to spend his (apparently) no longer eternal life with. Tears sting his dehydrated dry eyes as they drip down his cheeks, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, wishing this was all just a dream. But still he had the same request..

If only he could see Logan’s face again before he died… he'd be happy..

The heavy metal door opens, Sending just enough excitement through his body to sit his head up, looking at the man who was slowly walking towards him. Was he wrong?! Did he doubt him too much? Has he come to rescue him princess style and blow this place to smithereens while walking away in slow motion?

All he knew? There was only one other man that he wanted to see right now..

‘..Logan?’

[sameschmidtdiffname]

MIKE SMUT SMTH ABT HIS THIGHS AND HE S ALSO SUBBY PLSSSSS

DAAAAAAAAAARLIIIIIIIIIIING!

GUESS WHO JUST BROKE THEIR TWO WEEK BREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAK!

Pretty

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Men are so pretty. And they can be so stupid. And who doesn't like stupid, pretty toys?

Tags: No specified sex for Reader, Reader is referred to with a male title at one point for sexual purposes (which one I won't say, but it's not daddy! I will say that), otherwise no gendered pronouns used for Reader, sub! Mike, dom! Reader, dynamic switch, accidental kink reveal, thigh admiration (this was not as focused on thighs as I intended, honestly. I'm sorry lmao), Mike gets used like a BITCH, and I mean a BITCH. Bro gets DOGGED, bro gets USED, bro may be PREGNANT after this (he ain't, no mpreg, I'm just being funny), humping, biting, french kissing, marking, choking, just have fun with this. It's a treat for all!

Notes: I'M STILL ON A BREAK! BUT, you guys have been so sweet and so nice. So, a drabble, because I love you all and you deserve it <3

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I've always admired hands.

Strong hands, working hands. One of the first things I look for in men is if their hands look like they're capable of long lasting, almost back breaking labor.

The second thing I look for is shoulders. Preferably broad, capable of holding the third thing I look for. Which would be

Thighs.

I don't even have a particular taste for what those look like. The desire doesn't lie within the looks, although I could certainly spend a fair amount of my time stealing glances towards a fine, large pair. Straining against the material of their pants, spread out over a chair, doubling in size once someone sits. No, the desire lies in how sensitive they seem to be. Just a ghostly touch of your hands or lips upon the soft skin can usually send someone reeling. Can make someone sing such a soft, quiet note so raw and genuine before you've even drawn near to the area they want you the most.

I should've touched him sooner like this.

Mike Schmidt doesn't pretend to be a macho man. He's not insecure of his masculinity, he raises his little sister, goes to work, comes to bed. He doesn't have time to worry about being a man's man.

I can attest, however. Once in the bedroom, he has absolutely no issue with expressing his masculinity.

In any way, shape or form.

"Touch me," he moans breathily, bucking his fully clothed hips towards me in a desperate, needing manner.

I never said masculinity involves domination.

It'd just started with us cuddling on the couch. Abby out at a friend's, us snuggled under a warm blanket at home on the couch. The comforter to his bed, to be specific. Everything else was too small or too cold for us, so we just dragged it out. The old TV in front of us displaying a rerun of a movie we were only halfway paying attention to, both of us beginning to drift in and out of sleep. Mike had wrapped me under his arm, placing a soft kiss on my forehead every now and then when he decided it'd been too long since he last had. I was pressed against his side, one hand on his thigh, absentmindedly rubbing circles.

Here's the fun thing about guys. Half the time they are so touch starved, it takes nothing to get them going. And that's fun.

I didn't realize why Mike was beginning to shift in his seat some. Why his heartbeat against my ear had picked up, why his breathing was getting somewhat shaky. Tell tale signs of something, but honestly I figured it was the movie. It wasn't until he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, then trailed down to my cheek, my jaw, and began nipping at my neck that it began to dawn on me.

"What's got you in a mood?" I chuckled, my fingers digging I just a little more to his warm, covered flesh.

"Nothing," he said breathily in my ear, his tongue beginning to trace my jawline. "Just thought you looked pretty."

I call his bluff when I dig into a tense muscle, a loud, pathetic moan escaping him that he tries to quickly stiffle in my neck. Moaning and biting at me, his hand beginning to search my chest to graze his fingers against my sensitive nipples, easy to play with under the smooth material of Mike's stolen, cotton shirt.

"Ah," I say, continuing to rub as he pants eagerly against me. "I see."

Mike's trying to maneuver us so that he can position himself on top of me, and regularly I would agree, but I'm not quite done with my new toy just yet.

"Let me up," I say into his ear, trying to pull away. Mike simply moans into my skin, biting harder as his fingers finally wrap around my already stiff nipple, tugging at it, making me moan in harmony to him. "Mike," I say, trying to ground us both.

Mike doesn't care, his other hand searching for my thighs, knowing how much I like for mine to be played with before he spends hours between my legs, gasping, choking, and grinning ear to ear with pride after swallowing whatever amount of cum I'd given him. His teeth sink into my neck again, this time not just playful. Digging in and making me cry out in slight pain, yet pleasure coursing through me as my eyes roll back into my head.

"So pretty," Mike moans against me, his voice soft and high. His lashes flutter butterfly kisses against my forming bruises while his lips trail to my collarbone, his stiff cock brushing against my hand as he shifts.

This is what settles the idea in my mind.

My hand snaps up, pulling harshly at Mike's dark, almost black curls, tugging until his head had snapped all the way backwards, exposing the tan skin of his throat to me. Eagerly, I lick a long, wide stripe up his throat, from bottom to top until I can clearly feel the prickly stubble of his facial hair on my tongue. His adams apple bobs under the wet muscle as he moans openly, a moan that only increases in volume and pitch once I bite roughly into the side of his neck, not allowing him a chance to escape as I keep my tight grip on his curls.

"Fu-ck," he drawls, his voice breaking as he begins to allow me to guide him to my desires, laying him on his back against the worn down couch, his hips subconsciously rolling towards me in anxiety for my touch.

"So pretty," I breathe in his ear, a soft whimper escaping him as his blush deepens, accenting the subtle freckles that decorate his skin like the stars decorate the night sky. I've tried to kiss each one, knowing the task was futile, but was well rewarded by the puddle of mush he'd dissolved into as my lips had trailed against his tan skin. Mike tries to turn his face away from me to hide the blush, unsure of how else to handle the compliment.

God, I love men. They're idiots.

I grab his jaw, forcing his mouth open and adoring the pathetic whine that escapes him as I shove my tongue into his mouth, his eyes half open, watching me as he gives in to the kiss, his hands tugging at my shirt as he humps against nothing, pent up and stupid underneath of me.

They're so cute, right?

When I pull away, a long string of spit still connects us, his eyes obediently trained on me as I pin him down against the couch by his throat, anticipating my next move. I move myself to tower over him, his mouth still open as he pants, and I spit into his mouth. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't complain. Hell, by the glint in his eyes, you'd think he'd thank me. Though he doesn't.

It's fine. He will soon enough.

I lower myself along his body, my hands once more finding his thick thighs and squeezing them, admiring the firmness underneath of his shorts.

"Have I told you I love your thighs?" I ask, my breath fanning against his covered erection. Mike simply moans.

"I do. Watch them all the time. Don't even realize I'm doing it, honestly," I say. I lean down, placing a feather light kiss on his hip. He whines. "They're so pretty. Just like the rest of you."

His hips buck towards me, his cock obviously twitching underneath the material.

"Touch me," he moans, his face pink and halfway covered with his hand. I reach up and grab his hand away, smacking swiftly at his thigh.

"Be good," I snap, earning me a sharp gasp as he writhes underneath of me, mumbling some sort of agreement.

"Good," I praise softly. "Good. See, that wasn't so hard."

My lips start at his knee, kissing there and beginning to work their way up as he clasps his hands above his head, teeth gritted in an attempt to stay quiet.

"You can moan," I tell him, my other hand slipping underneath the pant legs of his shorts. "I like the pretty sounds you make."

Pretty. I didn't know that was his trick word. The word that could force him into a pathetic, begging mess that can't even keep eye contact. Oh, he's beautiful. Bite marks blooming against his skin, such a deep blush, tossled curls. His soft abdomen shutters with each unsteady breath, slightly exposed, his happy trail dark against his skin and leading to the place that shows how he wants me. His tongue darting out to lick his lips so often they'll be chapped by the end of the night from overstimulation. That's his tell that he's close.

"What, pretty boy gonna cum in his pants?" I ask, my hand trailing along his hot skin and digging my nails in to make him sing. His back arches slightly, eyes trained on the ceiling as his mouth opens in an almost silent gasp.

"No," he clearly lies, his hips subtly moving of their own accord.

"You look like such a pretty mess!" I chuckle against his skin, pressing a soft kiss on his lower thigh. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

He doesn't respond to this, clearly lost in his thoughts.

"Michael," I say, voice slightly firm. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Mike rolls his eyes, huffing and not obeying. Aw. Cute.

My hands grip underneath of his knees, quickly shoving them to meet his shoulders, eyes wide as he gasps at the maneuver he's done to me so many times I can't even count. Shoved into a mating press, I grind my hips against him, pounding against him quickly and harshly, relishing the broken sounds he makes as I hump him hard enough his head is bouncing against the arm of the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as they roll into the back of his head.

"It's a simple request," I hiss against his skin, rewarded with a loud moan. "I didn't ask for your fuckin' attitude."

The glint in his eyes when they open unintentionally shows he's fine with this response, happy to take more and more until he really does cum with hardly any stimulation to his cock. His mouth is open, tongue peaking out from behind his bottom teeth, his breathing on the cusp of hyperventilating as he submits to my touch.

"Is it so hard?" I ask, keeping even time with my abusive pace. "To just listen to me?"

"No, sir," Mike moans happily.

Oh?

"What was that?" I ask, leaning closer as I shove his knees harder against his shoulders. His eyes snap open, dead ahead on the ceiling as his mind clearly tries to process what to say next.

"Nothing," he says quickly.

"Bullshit," I snap, adjusting my grip so one arm pins his knees so that my hand can snake down between us and smack at his ass in scolding. "Repeat yourself."

"I don't know what I said," he says quickly, avoiding eye contact.

I smack again, this time hard enough he cries out.

"Say it," I seethe, increasing my tempo and pounding harder against him until he looks like he may cry, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as he pants like a whore underneath of me.

"Sir," he finally admits, shame burning bright in his cheeks. "I called you sir."

I toss his legs onto my shoulders, my hand now finding his throat as I hump him into the bed, rewarding his honestly.

"I see," I drawl, not relenting my pace nor strength. "Someone's into getting used."

This seems to roll him over the edge, his face bright and relaxing as his eyes flutter shut, only for me to bite at his bottom lip, causing them to open again.

"Watch me," I command, biting harshly into his lip. "I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum like a good toy."

His eyes widen slightly, his mouth slack as he obeys. The moment I release his lip his tongue darts out to wet it, lingering over the soft bite marks.

"It's alright, you can do it," I say softly, choking him slightly harder. "Let me watch, then I'll let you fuck me however you want."

His eyes are pleading, begging for more.

"You want something? Use your words," I tell him, slamming particularly hard this time, hard enough his head slams into the couch concerningly. But he doesn't mind, does he?

"Kiss me," he breathes, so light, the request sounds innocent and sweet compared to the way I'm abusing him on his own couch. I comply, pressing my lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss that he whines into, his lips parting and tongue slipping against my lips in a sloppy, pleading, silent request. And how can I say no?

I part my lips for him, enjoying the way he arches into the kiss, moaning as our tongues slide together in a messy, graceless fight for control. My lips trap the tip of his tongue, sucking on it and tugging it upwards harshly as he cries out, his hips beating against mine as his lashes flutter shut once more, but this time I don't scold him. I simply grind against him as hard and as fast as my tiring body will allow, guiding him through his overwhelming orgasm, the sounds of his crystal clear moans cutting through the air, perfectly complimenting his red face, glistening eyes and shaking body.

"That's it," I coo in his ear. "That's a good toy. Just let me fuck you."

He's stupid and lost to the world, his cock twitching pathetically as thick ropes of cum decorate the inside of his shorts, making the material stick to his skin, overstimulating him as I begin to lessen my pace, beginning to give him grace he no longer has words to ask for.

"So pretty," I whisper as I try to kiss each tiny freckle on his beet red nose, his breath hot against my throat as he tries to regain his focus. "So pretty, and mine."

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Mike slurs stupidly underneath of me, his legs still trembling on my shoulders.

I giggle, smiling as I lean down to place another kiss, sweet this time, against Mike's swollen, glossy lips.

"I dunno," I say, shrugging. Mike whimpers as I pull away.

"Guess I just thought you were pretty."

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm 100% gonna be late for work because of this, but worth it

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[celestialprincesse]

can we get a mid/plus size reader feeling insecure x Soap :,) i love how you write his accent btw

UGHHH I forgot how much I love writing for Johnny he's just the cutest ever I want to squeeze his cheeks and live inside his ribs💕

Warnings: afab reader, tooth rotting fluff🎀

The mirror feels like your worst enemy today. You know, rationally, that you're being nitpicky and self critical, something that you're trying to stop, but today is just - it's not happening. Between PMSing and the giant crater of a pimple that decided to darken your day, you find yourself sniffling, glaring at your reflection like it's her fault.

"Hey, hey, hen?!" You didn't even realise Johnny had come in until you'd felt his calloused hands around your biceps, turning you to face him with his fingers tilting your head this way and that as though to discern what's wrong. "Now what's got ye all sniffly, hey? Ye gonna tell me?" He croons, brushing errant hairs that had been stuck to your face by salty tears. When you look at him, really look at him, at his unfairly blue eyes, framed by thick lashes and sheltered under brows furrowed in concern, you only serve to make yourself feel worse. He's so so beautiful it makes your gut wrench, and you're just you.

"It's nothing. Stupid." You grumble, trying to wrench away and hide your despair. Johnny, like a dog with a bone, won't have it. He's seen you're upset, and now he'll do everything in his power to make you happy again, anything to see that soft smile and a flush on your lovely soft cheeks. "Nah s'no nothin'. If it were nothin' ye wouldn't be crying now would ye? Hm?" It's practically impossible not to melt under that ever soft voice and the warmth of his palms cupping your cheeks, guiding you back out of your mind and towards him. "Just -" You grumble shyly, coaxed by a thumb brushing loving strokes across your cheekbone. "I dunno, I just feel insecure, I guess. Like I'm not pretty enough, good enough. I see all these girls online and on tv and stuff and they're so - so perfect. Why can't I be like that." "Right, ok." Johnny hums, taking a moment to process your words, looking at the wall as he tries to gather his thoughts, which are currently full of 'what the fuck' and 'how could she ever think that'.

"Ye're no perfect." He says bluntly, but the look in his eyes tells you he's far from finished speaking. "Ye're no perfect the same way I'm no perfect. The same way no one's perfect. So what if ye don't look like some shitty model or pornstar or whatever, ye hear me?" Johnny looks at you with an expression somewhere torn between reverence and frustration. "You think that?" You sniffle pathetically, wiping at your ruddy cheeks. "I think that if I wanted some perfect girl with no flaws whatsoever, I'd have to buy some fuckin' freaky sex robot or some shite. But I don't want perfect - and anyone who claims to be a man, but won't go near a woman with a pimple, or fuckin' - shite, I dunno, hairy pits or a wee bit of cellulite - is no man. You hear me?" You nod dumbly, a little surprised by the passion in his outburst, the way his blue eyes burn like the hottest part of a flame. "Real men want real women, and you, my beautiful, beautiful hen, are as real as they come, okay?"

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

thought to myself u know what. i havent watched falsettos enough. so here's a couple things i noticed in my latest impromptu rewatch (rewatch number 52th probably?? 67th?) + just some nice bits n parallel that are always Good (tm):

"he loves another" "i agree" with ("-man") going unsaid

the chess games following trina's song about stupid men and their little games

"that's the king. please protect him" That's marvin saying "please protect me. don't hurt me"

whizzer moves the pieces randomly in the revival but i like to imagine he's actually beating marvin at the game in the end... and the whole thing was him pretending to not know how to play, and that hurt marvin's ego more than anything

"now marvin, bend" as a sexy moment but later gets re-framed as a "unwillingness to change perspective" moment

"nothing is everything to me / except sex / and money" in that money whizzer is playing to marvin's insecurity that he's only sticking with marvin for his money- is so needlessly cruel (and thus such... delicious character writing lol)

"and he loves me so" that "so" at the end is sort of a "loves me so much" but also a dare. he loves me, so what can you even do about that?"

"ask me if i love him, it depends on the day"// "do i love him?… no"

"son with a brain, and nice bright mother" showing mendel is like marvin (+ many, many men) and wants a wife half just to do domestic labor for him (goes well with the "washing your laundry, washing your socks!" line)

"he loves his father" // "i love things i never had"

"im everything he wanted" here trina finally realizes how she was such a insecure woman for such a long time and why she could put up with so much / settle for so little ("love me for what i am, not what i try to be" etc)

i love that "what ive done to you is rotten" is the slap to trina, is not taking to jason about his sexuality, and is Also telling trina and jason he "never ever, wanted to love" them. triple treat of bad parenting lol (but our man gets there in the end #bless him)

"a man kid, you'll be kid, whatever your song" the kind of reversed coming out metaphor of it all. ugh. so good!! (also i always cry at this bit bc... i will never have this with my parents :) rip haha whoops)

"pretty boys are in demand" just a good line for the whole gay men dying everywhere + the 'dating frenzy' energy of the era

"im not a giant man" /"good" // "one day i hope to be / as mature as my son who is 12 and a half / and this tall… that's all i want to be, that's all"

"we'll spent BILLIONS of dollars" and then the actual thing plays the way it does

"making the most pathetical errors" as a metaphor for marvin's arc…. making constant errors in love but making a homerun at the end

"should i take this new promotion OR should i take this IBM job?" is an amazing, anti-corporate lyric that fits greatly w/ the most explicitly political (likely authorial) song in the musical that, imho, shouldn't have been cut in the revival. in hindsight tho i imagine the revival people felt very proud and """progressive""" when they made that cut lol is very much a typical liberal move: "cant have true emancipation or revolutions but u cant have some \~upward mobility in the job market xoxo". also on the same vein, cutting the line "i'll change my life, and hire a maid" from the og "and fire the maid" like it's this huge feminist moment lol ughhhh hh

(other line-cuts that frustrate me… "it's queer, mr. marvin", "i could use a little drink" and "i just bought a family" . i feel w/ all of these they tooks some "edge" of the OG characters and kind of attempted to make them "nicer". but it really just makes them a little flatter, a little less real) ( and also some scenes just plain make less sense (marvin's drink line leading to his outburst)

(but bc it's not All Bad sdklfj in fairness, i belie the whole "why don't we tell him, that we don't have the awnsers? (…) this is the start to his becoming a man" bit - is SUCH a great part for mendel, it goes so hard and from what i remember is not in the original falsettos? correct me if im wrong but if it was a new addition in the revival, imo it's a huge improvement to the scene flow… and dare i say, brings the whole climax together, and spells out The Aesop for people who hadn't gotten it by the end of Act 2) -"let me go, im not ashamed to have loved you" // "what's the matter trina, darling, why cant you let go?" -"feel all right for the rest of your life" The Message of the play implicit in it.. "even if it's cut short"

"you save lives, and i serve chicken fat / i can't fucking deal wit hthat" / "maybe is not dumb the way this whole thing ends / the food tastes really yummy!"

"it's about growing up, getting older, living on a lover's shoulder" /"but i confess, you grow up, you get old, you hate less"

"the ground shifting, the rules keeps changing" and it's when the set changes for the first time!!! (/eats all my walls)

"isn't it enough i love you every night?" "who?" // "we had trouble parking, just like on our second date" "i hyperventilate"

"good men never fail" // "but i can't help but feeling i've failed " proving once again those machista lessons marvin learned when young were wrong.... it's clear that him showing weakness at that moment to whizzer was The Right Thing To Do. and what the moment called for.

"the last little mountain ill climb" sound of music ref? maybe?

i only wanted to love and not be blamed " // "who would i blame my life on?"

[willalove75]

stop simping over women and pay attention to your husband. You clearly made your choice to be with a man and have his child rather than choose a woman. You bisexual women don’t get to exist in lesbian spaces when you lean towards men. Unless your husband lets to you step out on your marriage or lets you have delusional thoughts that any lesbian would want a woman knocked up by a man. You bisexual women who lean more towards men or are with men have no right to be in sapphic or lesbian spaces. And lady d is a lesbian so as if she would be with someone who let a man touch them let alone knock them up.

Oh, I'm sorry, did my husband tell you that I'm not giving him enough attention? Didn't think so.

Yes, I made a choice to be with him, because I fell in love with him. Because he's my best friend and my biggest supporter in everything I do (yes, he even supports my writing and fics and he tells me often how proud he is of me). I did not chose him because he's a man. Truthfully, his gender had absolutely nothing to do with why I married him. I just happened to fall in love with and marry a man, but that does NOT make me any less of a bisexual woman.

"You bisexual women..." and people question whether or not bi-erasure is a thing, meanwhile, this entire ask is such a great example of just that😒

"delusional thoughts that any lesbian would want a woman knocked up by a man." is truly offensive to not only every bi woman who has been with a man, but any woman who has. What about the lesbians that got pregnant by men?? Because this may come as a shock to you, but it does happen. It may not happen a lot or often, but it does. Does that mean that those women are "tainted" or "ruined" also??? No it fucking doesn't, you idiot.

It really makes me laugh when people try and use a fictional character to make a real life argument. You want to know why? BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT FUCKING REAL!!! So honestly, you have absolutely no idea if that's true or not because she's a fake fucking character from a video game. Are you also this upset at the fic writers who make her trans??? Or what about fic writers that make Alcina's partner trans??? Or are you just that much of biphobic person and this is the hill you're choosing to die on?? Either way, you're an actual bigot.

This post just SCREAMS biphobia and bi-erasure and it's fucking gross. You are so very obviously projecting your own issues and insecurities in this and honestly I would be embarrassed if I were you. Because not a single thing you said is true AT ALL or holds any merit.

Bisexual women who lean towards men or who are with men ABSOLUTELY do belong in those spaces. Just because a bisexual woman is married/with a man or leans towards men does not discredit or change their sexuality. No bi person automatically becomes straight if they date/marry the opposite gender or become gay/lesbian if they date/marry the same gender. It's called BIsexual. More than one gender. You do not get to invalidate every bi person with this shitty (and inherently wrong) opinion.

I know you wrote this trying to get a rise out of me, and congratulations because you succeeded. But I also know that people like you leave messages like this because they feel so broken and hurt and shitty that they want others to feel like that too. Unfortunately for you, I grew up in the era that birthed anonymous hate messages so you'll have to try harder next time. Not only that, but I am proud and confident in who I am and no pathetic anonymous (especially anonymous, you pussy) message is going to shake me.

I am a proud bisexual woman. I am proud to be married to my husband. I am proud that I will soon be the mother of a little boy who I will raise to be a much better person than you'll ever be. I am proud of what I've written and no, I will not stop.