#so he gets it out and suddenly IM the unreasonable one for telling him that i dont want it and since he got it out he should eat it

[heather-chandlers-weirder-cousin]

i hate my family and myself so much

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair. 

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass. 

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut. 

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says. 

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster. 

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door. 

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus. 

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from. 

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment. 

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms. 

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis. 

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors. 

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key. 

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans. 

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel. 

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear. 

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his. 

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

[icallhimjoey]

okay so what if for once joe was the drama queen cos he’s Big Mad over some stuff…how would that play out

this guy's a whole idiot, im not sure i like him all that much... Wordcount: 2.3K

---

I Prefer The Moon Anyway

“I’m sorry...”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe was being an unreasonable little bitch boy.

“I said I’m sorry.”

But Joe is right there, ignoring you, and you’re apologising just to apologise. You know he wants to hear it, so you’re giving him the words, even if they’re empty.

“I heard you.” Joe’s remark is cold. He can tell you don’t mean it. That you are just avoiding a fight. He doesn’t blame you, he wants a fight even less than you, but you’re annoying him in a way he doesn’t have the words for.

If someone was to ask him without you in the room, he’d tell them this is the exact point of a relationship at which he’d usually turn into stone. This is where he grows numb. Cares less. Starts to protect himself in silence and prepares for the inevitable break up that’s coming.

The beginning of the end.

“But what do you want me to do?” you ask, sounding a little more desperate and helpless than you want, but you can’t help it. Joe’s asking something ridiculously unreasonable. Something you can’t give him. Don’t want to give him. It doesn’t help that you think he’s actually being a dramatic baby who feels like he’s not gotten enough attention. A coddled man who wants the whole world to bend to his needs.

Joe just shrugs. Knows exactly what he wants you to do.

And to be fair, the world has bent to his needs for ages, so who is to blame him for expecting you to do the same?

Joe’s pouting.

He looks like a child who’s overdoing a sad face to get a little empathy from his classmates. Like the kids all across the playground need to see that he’s hurt. Like he needs to guilt-trip them into giving him the toy that he allegedly saw first so he stops crying and they can all be friends again.

You fucking hate it.

“Can you hear yourself, though?” you try for some logic. For some critical thinking skills. Does he see, in the grand scheme of things, how utterly ridiculous he’s being?

Joe shrugs again, but this time it’s conspicuously uninvolved. Like he doesn’t give a single shit about how unreasonable he’s being. He’s gone from acting like you’re burning down the whole world to suddenly acting like he’d rather live on the moon anyway. Burn it, bitch. Whatever. He couldn’t care less.  

He won’t reach out to touch you tonight. He’s going to break your one rule if you keep this up. All because of schedules that never seem to coordinate – something that’s neither his fault or yours.

“I sure can. Can you?” Joe bites back, wants to hear a sincere apology from you. He wants to hear in your voice that he’s right and that he’s not selfish for wanting what he wants. For feeling the way he feels. Not his fault he loves you.

That’s what he’ll bring it back to – always.

He just loves you a lot.

How can you hate him for that, Big Wet Brown Sad Eyes™? Hmm?

Which... it’s so unfair.

And selfish.

He wants you to drop everything at a moment’s notice because he needs you right now. Doesn’t give a shit about what you need.

It’s fucking selfish, is what it is.

And the problem is that Joe’s selfishness is exactly what’s put you where you are now, in his living room, in a weird fight that you would both rather not be a part of.

“Please repeat what you’re asking of me.” You narrow your eyes at him as you look over your shoulder, convinced that he knows he’s wrong and that he should be the one apologising to you.

“Is it too much to ask of my girlfriend to spend time with me?” 

You sigh. You’re so frustrated. That’s not what he’s asking of you - that’s what he’s dressing it up as, which is unfair. What Joe’s asking is for you to drop your work at a moment’s notice because he’s suddenly found an evening off in his schedule and he decided he wants to spend it with you. But he hasn’t actually checked to see if you have the time. Just assumed that you did.

A risky assumption to make.

Because you don’t.

“You know I barely get any time to myself, I don’t know when I’ll have a night off next... could be weeks.” Joe places both hands on your shoulders to give you a little squeeze there. Massages the muscles in places he knows are tight just from the look of you. Gets his mouth close to your ear and lowly says, “Come on, baby. It’s just one night.”

You need to finish work.

There’s a deadline tomorrow you need to make, no questions asked.

Your evening plans surround you and your laptop and a wifi connection, and you were hoping you’d maybe get to sit in the same room as Joe as he would do some work of his own. Some prep for next day’s scenes. Some reading, some rehearsing.

Not this.

Not Joe trying to coax you into a bad performance review just because he felt bored that one night he suddenly found himself with a hole in his agenda.

“I’m here,” you say dryly, but you know that’s not what he means. “You can spend time with me whilst I finish all of this up.”

Joe communicates it with a look. A drop of his face and shoulders, letting you go and stepping away. Eyes rolling because, that’s not fair. He wants to take you out. Go some place nice. Talk and laugh and spend some actual time with you. See if some of his other current colleagues want to join, so he can introduce you. 

And it’s awful because that’s what you want too. But you feel like you’ve wanted that a million times, and every time you’ve tried to plan something, Joe’s been busy. Always so busy. Table reads, night shoots, long hours, long commutes, a party here, an event there. And it’s always, “Babe, it’s for work, I can’t just cancel.” 

Yet, that’s exactly what he’s asking of you now. 

“I don’t know why you assume that your time is more valuable than mine.” 

“I don’t think that at all! When have I ever said that?”

It’s how he’s acting. It says enough.

“Listen to what you’re saying; you’ve got a bit of free time. You do. You. Not me though. Not tonight. Does that sound familiar? At all?”

The tables have turned, just this once. He can just fucking deal with it like you have all those times before.

“Don’t. You know that’s not–”

“So your job is more important than mine?”

It pays more, Joe thinks immediately, but refrains from speaking the words into the room. Knows that won’t help, but it’s definitely telling how quick the comeback came to him.

“Hmm? Your time more important than mine?” You push.

Joe needs to realise that, if that’s actually how he feels, how outrageous the thought is. Just by your face, he needs to feel how those thoughts need reevaluating.

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

You’re not. You’re just reading his body-language.

“Your priority is you. You have a free minute and so I’m supposed to just work my way around your schedule and– mind you, you didn’t even know about this until this afternoon! This deadline at work has been there for months!”

You should’ve stayed at the office.

Finished up there.

Joe is pacing now. Walking around his own living room with flared nostrils, taking in your words until you leave enough room for him to say anything.

Which, when he finally gets a chance, he drops an insane bombshell.

“Well, if you hadn’t procrastinated everything until the night before, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are right now.”

Oh, what the fuck? 

Did it take too long for you to set the world alight? Did Joe think it necessary to douse it in petrol and hold a lit match between two fingers a little too loosely? One small move from you could be used as an excuse to drop it, and full blame could be placed with you.

Clever.

But so are you.

You don’t make a move.

Not a single fucking muscle.

You just stare at him over your laptop screen.

Frozen in place.

And Joe stares right back.

It’s like a fucking duel.

You remember a time where you were in Joe’s shoes. The ones he’s wearing right now. The difference being that, back then, there were actual plans made that you’d been looking forward to, and then two days before, Joe complained about having to cancel on seeing family. He added that it’d be the third time he had to dip out on something, and how that made him feel like an awful person, but his job was just too demanding right now. People wanted him everywhere, all of the time, and whilst he typed away at his phone to apologise to his mum, he didn’t see how your face fell too, because you knew if he was telling family members he couldn’t make it to something, he was also going to have to cancel on you.

Again.

You’d cried, then. Only silently. Wiped a tear away quickly and masked a sniff as a deep breath, because you didn’t want him to feel worse.

Trust Joe to feel guilty for having to cancel on family for the third time and forget about the person in the room with him.

You then wondered if he ever kept count with you.

“You okay?” he had asked when you’d fallen silent, and you’d smiled and nodded. “Yea, just tired.” which wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth that Joe accepted it as.

Idiot.

It was fine. It wasn’t his fault.

You’d taken your frustration out on him later that night, when he left your toothpaste uncapped on the side, and you’d grumbled until the lights in the bedroom got turned off, and Joe reached out to you under the covers.

The one rule.

Even if you were upset, or angry, or wanted to fully murder each other, you had to at least still touch each other in bed. To let the other know that, yea I’d rather fucking shout at you until I go hoarse right now, but I still love you.

It could be a big toe touching a shin, or an elbow digging into a bicep – a touch was a touch. An I love you hidden in the dark.

And you had accepted it easily then.

Yea, it was annoying that Joe’s work dictated so much of what your relationship could even be, but it wasn’t his fault, so there was no use blaming him for it.

That was then.

You don’t know when you’d grown past the point of simply accepting all the bullshit. When you decided to maybe not brush things off and be the cool girlfriend who was there for her boyfriend wherever and whenever, especially in all the moments he wouldn’t have been there for you had the tables been reversed.

Like right fucking now.

You are still staring at Joe across the room when you see how suddenly, he starts to blink his eyes rapidly. See how suddenly, his jaw starts working. You know he’s biting back tears and, no – you won’t fucking have that. This motherfucker can cry on command and you don’t doubt for a single second he’d use that to get his own way.

“Don’t fucking guilt-trip me into losing my job.”

Joe’s immediately offended.

He drops the match.

“Well, I’m sorry for being disappointed.”

World on fire.

“Do you want me to leave?” you spit out, louder than you initially thought you’d make your voice go.

“No, no,” Joe immediately says, but it sounds patronising, even though he’s on the verge of tears. Like he actually means yes, please leave, because what good are you going to be to him having to sit at his kitchen table and do work all night.

“Stay. Make your deadline.”

You ignore the sarcastic bite and take a second to sit back in your chair and assess what needs doing. How long it’ll take you all. What time you’ll likely be finished. You conclude that, if Joe’s gonna be moping around, giving big sighs from across the room, that it will likely take twice as long.

You should leave.

“No, I should go. Get this done and then see you after.”

It’s the last thing Joe expected. For you to go on your own merit. Because of your work that needs doing, and not because you’ve gotten into a huge fight. You’re not storming off and screaming how you never want to see him again. You have work to do and want to see him after you’ve finished it.

It’s stupid how fast everything inside of him flips.

He doesn’t actually want you to leave.

He wants you to shut your laptop and sigh lovingly and mutter, “How could I ever resist you?” through a smile before you kiss him silly and follow him out into the night.

But instead you shut your laptop and bend to pick up your bag from the floor to stick it into and, no, that’s not what he wants.

“No, wait... wait. I’m sorry.” he says he before he even realises what he’s doing. Unsure if he really means it. He just doesn’t want you to get up and leave. If anything, he’d like to talk more and get you to eventually prioritise him over everything else. “Stay. We can... you can finish work and then we could do something after.”

You drop your head all the way back and take a moment to let your eyes dart to all corners of his ceiling.

What if you don’t finish this until after 11? After midnight? Is he just going to watch you work from the sofa and ask you how much longer every three minutes because he thinks you’re taking too long?

You should leave.

“I should go. I’m probably better off at the office, actually. It’s where I’ll get it done faster, I think.” You say all of it kindly. Stick your laptop into your bag calmly, no jerky annoyance in your limbs. But you don’t make eye-contact so he can’t use the Big Browns on you, and instead of trying to stomp on the flames to make the fire go out, he wafts a fresh gust of wind right over them, making them climb much higher.

“All right, fuck off then. See if I give a shit.”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe needed a moment to calm down and you’d talk to him in the morning after you’d made this deadline.

You didn’t start the fire.

Joe did.

And he’d figure that out eventually.

If someone was to ask Joe without you in the room, he’d tell them fuck her, apparently she doesn’t give a shit about him, and actually, that’s totally not a problem at all, because he prefers the moon anyway.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevitalifestyle, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959

@hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

My Job

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You storm out after an argument with Dean, but then you get into trouble. Will he get there in time to help?

Trigger Warning: attempted sexual assault (not graphic), drugging

“It’s not rocket science, kid, we’ve had these rules since you were born.”

“Yeah, but I thought-“

“What, because dad isn’t here right now, I’m just gonna let you do whatever you want?”

You huffed, “Would you let me speak?”

“No, you’ve said what you wanted, and the answer is still no.”

“It’s just a few hours!”

“And you know the rules. When we’re on a hunt, you don’t go out. At all. For any reason other than the motel is on fire.”

“It’s a stupid rule!”

“It’s a rule that means that you’re safe. While monsters are out there, you’re not, it’s not exactly unreasonable.”

“It’s just one time!” Dean’s efforts to bring the volume of the conversation down just made you want to yell louder. “It wouldn’t kill you to loosen up!”

“It might kill you!” Dean matched your volume. “Im just trying to protect you, and dad would say the same thing if he-“

“You’re not dad!” You couldn’t take it anymore. You brushed past Dean, shaking his hand off when he tried to grab your arm, and stormed out the motel door, slamming it behind you.

Who was he to say you couldn’t go out? Dean, who had to be the most reckless person you knew.

Well, maybe you’d have to show him that he should practice what he preached. You were going to do as he did, not as he said.

You buried your hand into your pocket, pulling out one of your fake IDs.

You were going to show him.

…

Not fifteen minutes later you’d slipped into a bar and used your fake ID to order a beer. The bartender gave you a strange look, unsure about the “22” printed on your ID, but he’d served you nonetheless.

You sat at the bar for several minutes, wanting to spite Dean but not really wanting to drink. He’d gotten you the fake ID “in case anything happened”, and you needed to pretend to be an adult. He certainly didn’t get it so you could drink underage, and you honestly had never wanted to. You’d seen what it did to John, and how it was starting to affect Dean. You didn’t want it to somehow turn into your coping mechanism like it had with them.

Suddenly your fight with Dean felt really stupid. Was the rule really so unfair? It was his job to keep you safe, after all, and it made you feel horrible knowing that he’d never asked for that job. You weren’t his kid, you were John’s, but Dean saddled the responsibility anyway. And how did you repay him? Screaming at him and running off without telling him.

Oh gosh. He must be freaking out! He didn’t know where you were, and you’d already been gone for a bit. You’d seriously screwed up.

“Hey, princess.”

Just the sound of the grating voice made your blood run cold, and when it was followed by a hand on your arm, you visibly flinched.

“Do I know you?” You asked the stranger nervously.

“Not yet,” the man licked his lips, and your skin crawled. “Are you even old enough to drink that?” He gestured at the drink in front of you.

“Yes,” you hated how your voice quavered.

“Right,” the man grinned, clearly not believing you. “Don’t worry baby, I won’t tell on you.”

Whenever Dean called you baby, it always made you feel safe, like a baby sister Dean would always protect. When this man called you baby, it made you want to crawl out of your own skin and hide somewhere.

“You here with anyone?”

“No—I mean, I mean yes,” why, oh why had the truth slipped out?

“That’s ok, I can keep you company,” you curled in on yourself when the man leaned his body closer to yours, hating how small and pathetic you must look compared to him.

“No thanks,” your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“What was that, baby?” The man’s hand came around your waist, and he didn’t wait for an answer. “Why don’t you have a drink, you’re so tense.” He pulled your drink closer to you, and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with it.

You shook your head, finding that your voice didn’t want to work.

“Aw c’mon, just a little sip,” the man suddenly had one hand on the back of your neck, the other lifting your drink. You tried to squirm away but his grip was too strong, and a whimper escaped your lips when the cool feeling of the glass pushed against them, demanding entrance.

“Open up, pretty little thing,” he twisted so that his arm was holding your neck in place, moving his hand over to your jaw to pry it open. You felt the bitter liquid enter your mouth, and suddenly the man put the cup down, using one hand to cover your mouth while the other pinched your nose.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. Eventually it got to the point where you had no choice but to swallow, and once you did, the man released you.

“There we go, now that wasn’t so bad, was it baby?” He leaned close, and his alcohol stained breath invaded your senses. “The next part will be even better.”

Suddenly your head felt fuzzy, your body swaying in your chair. Surely this couldn’t happen because of one sip of beer, right? The scene played back in your head, and suddenly you saw it. The man’s hand hovering over your drink when he went to lean close to you. He must’ve slipped something in it, that’s why he was so desperate to get you to drink.

“S’cuse me,” your voice came out slightly slurred as you slid out of your chair, heading for the restroom. You sensed the man following right behind you, and you broke into a run.

It was a single bathroom, so you were able to lock the door a split second after you entered. You fumbled for your phone, not even hesitating as you clicked Dean’s number.

“Y/N where are you?” Dean didn’t wait for you to speak, his voice demanding and angry. You felt tears begin to stream down your cheeks as a pounding came from the bathroom door.

“I’m so sorry, Dean I’m sorry, I need help please.”

The anger dissipated, and was replaced with worry as Dean repeated his question.

“Where are you?”

“It’s-um…” why couldn’t you remember the name? Your brain felt so fuzzy, and you were so tired.

“It’s that bar we passed, um…”

“You’re at a bar?” You heard the Impala engine start, and your heart rate picked up when the door shook with the man’s pounding.

“Dean I’m sorry,” you sobbed. “Please hurry, there’s-there’s a man and he-he’s trying to…”

“I’m coming, it’s ok just hold on baby.”

Boom!

The door hinges shook.

“Dean…” you whimpered.

Boom! Boom!

The plaster around the door cracked.

“Baby? What’s happening?”

Boom!

You let out a panicked cry when the door flung open.

“Honey, talk to me, what’s-“ Dean’s voice was cut off when the man smacked the phone out of your hand.

“You didn’t have to do that,” your stomach knotted at the sickeningly sweet tone. “It’s not gonna hurt that bad, I promise. It’ll be quick.”

“Please…” you felt your knees give out, and you curled against the wall as your whole body shuddered.

“I’m gonna take real good care of you,” the man was reaching forward to grab you when he was suddenly flung backwards, and Dean took his place in front of you. He remained for a few seconds, looking you over for signs of injuries, before he turned his attention to the man, his whole body tensing with rage.

You slowly got to shaky feet as Dean began to pound his fists, his palms, his feet, everything, into the man, and before long the creep couldn’t hold himself upright, his face bloody and his body bruised.

“Dean.”

The beating stopped immediately at the sound of your terrified whimper. Dean dropped the man and turned to face you, and you ignored his bloody knuckles and bruised hands as you collapsed into his arms.

“I got you, you’re ok,” Dean’s strong arms held you tightly against him, and you relaxed completely as he picked you up, your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his torso as he carried you outside.

He set you down gently in the passengers seat of the Impala, and he moved to close the door but you grabbed onto his hand.

“Not yet,” your voice came out in a hoarse whisper, and Dean knelt down to look you in the eyes.

“You’re not hurt are you? He didn’t…” Dean trailed off as you shook your head, and relief settled onto his features. “Honey what happened?”

You recounted the story, and as you did you began to cry again. It felt like living it all over again, and soon you were sobbing in Dean’s arms as he held you close, rubbing your back and cradling your head.

“It’s over now,” he promised. “I’m gonna take you home.”

You finally let him pull away, and he shut your door before climbing into the drivers seat. You drove in silence for a few minutes, but you couldn’t hold back what you needed to say any longer.

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of what I said, I know why we have rules and I know you’re doing your best. I-I know-“ you broke off, pulling your knees to your chest before continuing. “I know you don’t deserve to be stuck in charge of me, and I’m-I’m sorry for being so difficult.”

Dean had been silent up to this point, but now he broke him, alarm on his features.

“What? Baby I’m not stuck with you, you’re my baby sister and it’s my job to-“

“But it’s a job you didn’t ask for!” You broke in, trying to keep back your tears for the third time this night. “Dad just left you here with me, and-and I know I’m not easy-“

“Stop right there,” Dean interrupted. “Sweetheart, this is the easiest job in the world for me, ok? I mean sure, sometimes you run off and give me a heart attack,” he gave you a pointed look. “But sometimes you also help with research, or bring me food, or talk Sammy through his nightmares. Honey we need you around here, just as much as you need us. We’re family, understand? It’s all of our jobs to look out for each other, so don’t think you’re just some burden on me. Don’t ever think that.”

You felt your face light up with a smile, and you finally looked up at Dean.

“Ok.”

“Ok,” Dean nodded firmly as he pulled into the motel. “Now c’mon, you should get some food and sleep.”

“Dean?”

Dean hummed as he opened your car door and led you inside.

“Can…can I sleep in your bed tonight? It’s just…I’m still kinda freaked and I thought-“

“Of course you can baby,” Dean leaned down and kissed your head. “That’s what I’m here for. It’s my job.”

[weebsinstash]

Omega Reader being one of the only if not THE only Omega in an entire Spider Society of Alphas and Betas 😩❤️

Alpha F! Reader in a Spider Society where you're the only female Alpha and Miguel is Having Confusing Feelings because oh shit you can get him Pregnant Pregnant? Like you're packing? Hmmm.... 😳

Reader who is a normal human and doesn't understand or is maybe like "curiosity killed the cat" about "oh wow Miguel can purr and growl? What else can he do 😳" and you're totally unaware he can like, TELL when you're ovulating and you cant even tell when he or anyone else scents you (imagine hobie scenting you to piss miguel off lmao) 💦

Reader who is one of the very few Omega in a Spider Society of normal people but your pheromones actually still affect everyone lol so like yeah some people are yandere already and others are like "you know i dont know what it is but Reader is looking real submissive and breedable and im usually not even into that shit" 😏

Reader being a "late bloomer" where you thought you were like, a normie who didnt present, and you're suddenly struggling to function because all these people you've been bonding with suddenly all have special smells that make your knees wobble sometimes and occasionally your boss gets a little bit of a growl in his voice and you're suddenly thinking, "could I fuck him raw and just take plan b. I really want an extra large super sized buffet style creampie from this man" (and also angst/possessiveness because maybe you're really upset and want to go back to "being the old normal you" and you start avoiding people who mysteriously want to spend more time with you now more than ever, and I'm also a sucker for 'new Omega wants actual surgery or drugs to not be an Omega anymore even if it's blackmarket shit that could kill them') 🙏

I'm also a fan of like. "You burned me or deserted me or I quit the group we were in together because of how you treated me and after some time has passed now that you want me back I'm actually a single mom now and here's my cute adorable little baby that I won't let you even sniff at even though the dad isn't even in the picture"

Like I'm not a parent obviously but there's some real visceral horror in the concept of like being pregnant and you're surrounded by people like unreasonably obsessed with the fact you're pregnant, like to an extremely nosey controlling "all but hijack your life" degree. You put your baby down for a nap and go to check on then 5 minutes later and they're FUCKING GONE and you start absolutely losing your mind and its like "oh no it's fine, Peter B just felt entitled to break into your place because he wanted Mayday to meet her new sibling and spend time with their Uncle Peter"

Reader is in their home dimension maybe even refusing to be a Spider anymore and you've STILL got people CONSTANTLY literally warping to your location and robbing you of any and all privacy. You get woken up in the middle of the night by your baby crying and suddenly abruptly it stops and you turn around PANICKED and. There's Miguel bottle feeding them "because you've been so tired, let me help you 🥰" and you're freaking out because, one, Miguel what are you doing in my bedroom, and two, is he giving your baby fucking formula instead of your milk without your consent. Like. They're constantly touching your kid and borderline kidnapping them and they're just like "oh my gosh look how flustered you are, what a good protective mom 🥰" meanwhile you're contemplating actual fucking murder

[thelov3lybookworm]

Undercover (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: She just wants him to leave her alone.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: im sooooo sorry for the amount of time you had to wait for this part, but i promise ill try to write faster 😉

(again, its been almost one and a half years since i read the books, so theres a possibility i write something thats not canon. so if you see it, no you dont 😉)

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Shoving her clothes into her bag was not the best idea, considering it was only increasing the amount of work she'd have to do later on.

But it sure made her feel better, and who was going to stop her?

Dropping the lumpy backpack to the ground, Y/n stalked back over to the small cupboard she had been given, and ripped out the leggings, pants, shirts and anything within reach of Y/n's slender fingers.

A knock on the door drew Y/n's attention, and she scowled at the unmoving thing.

"What?" Y/n snapped, pushing her clothes into the poor bag.

Y/n was sure that were the bag a living being, it would have cursed Y/n to hell and back for the torture she put it through.

She was also sure living in hell would have been a better option than going on a mission with Kenji, that too as a last resort.

No one answered back to her angry inquiry.

Reigning in her groan of frustration, Y/n stomped to the door and nearly ripped it off its hinges as she opened it.

There stood Kenji, with his signature asshole smile on his ugly little face.

"Are you deaf?" Y/n hissed.

He had the audacity to blink at her, raising his eyebrows, like she was being unreasonable.

She probably was, but who cared about that?

"I think I should be the one to ask you that."

"What do you want?" Y/n sneered.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, his shit eating grin unwavering. "Just wanted to make sure you hadn't died of happiness that you were going to be working with me-"

The door slammed in his face before he could let more bullshit spew from his disgusting lips.

Y/n could hear his soft laugh through the wooden door, and she cursed Castle for the slow renovations.

Most of the Omega point had been upgraded, given metal and good quality doors through which sound was hard to pass unless people spoke through a microphone. But Y/n, as her luck would have it, had been assigned a small quarter in the part of Omega point that would be last to get upgrades.

It also did not pass Y/n's notice that the part Kenji lived in was the first to be renovated.

"Don't get too excited Y/n!" He yelled through the door, and Y/n whipped around, glaring holes into the worn wood.

"The only thing I'm excited about right now it killing myself."

"Nice one Y/n." Kenji laughed, loud and free.

Y/n said nothing, her anger dissipating at what she'd just revealed to him. Hoping that he would leave, she defeatedly walked back over to her backpack and dumped all its contents on her bed, settling down to fold them all neatly.

A moment of silence passed, and there were no sounds other than the soft rustle of the clothes on Y/n's lap.

Though a moment was all she got.

"You're joking, right?" Kenji called out.

Y/n ignored him.

"Y/n?"

"Go away Kishimoto."

Maybe he could hear the defeat in her voice, maybe it was the way she did not really scream, but he began knocking on the door frantically.

"Hey! Y/n!"

When Y/n did not acknowledge him, he suddenly began pounding on her door. "Y/n. Open up."

"Fuck off."

"Tell me it was a joke and I'll fuck right off."

"Leave me alone."

"Say it Y/n. Say that you-"

"I am not going to hang myself Kishimoto." Y/n yelled, frustrated, before mumbling to herself. "At least not today."

"Fine. I will leave, but remember, this conversation is far from over."

"If you don't leave right now, more than this conversation will be over."

A pause.

"And what's that?"

"Your life."

He laughed, and it slowly faded away like he was leaving, just as a small smile faded onto Y/n's face.

Asshole.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686 @eve175

Kenji Kishimoto Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

[deepwithintheabyss]

abyss I need Slade doing the am I the asshole but with his relationship with Dick. And he’s like “his father is younger than me. And disapproves. Problematic? Also my boyfriend is 23 and pregnant. Thanks.”

Tim would obviously find the account and flip his shit

This had me cackling, very specific request. (fuck how old is Slade again?), also this would probably be something he gets advised for going to the relationships thread (okay not anymore after I edited my first idea) (I'm talking like I know and use reddit xD I just see some screenshots)

fullfilled the first part of the prompt but not the second, hope you're happy anyways

AITA threatening to whisk my partner away after his father threatened to make us break up?

I'm gonna be frank, I only am writing this because my boyfriend thinks it's a funny idea.

Aparently the fact that I was a teenager while my partners adopted father was just a child is one of the man's main concerns and he tries to bring it up ever single time we see each other. If it's not that it's about my job and what I do and the rules he tries to impose upon me for being "part of the family now" or when I'm in his home city.

I think he's being unreasonable and needlessly concerned. It's not like the he is much older than my partner, age-wise they're more like brothers than father and son (not to mention that the whole family relationships are a mess anyway, I swear they change it every few months just to fuck with me)

After he learned my partner was pregnant he threatened me with several bodily harm and a promise to ensure that I would never be able to touch my partner again or be able to come near him, much less see my child. He even tried to imply that he would try to convince my partner to abort but we are all aware that my partner wants to have children and wouldn't listen to such a request. (Also the Bastard is weak for children as well so that was most likely a bluff to begin with).

Upon this I told him that if he even tried to seperate me and my partner I would flee the country and move somewhere where even the bastard wouldn't be able to find us.

He took this very seriously and got even more problematic, instead of backing down (not that that was to be expected). His... there is no good word to describe that person, my partners adopted grandparent disapproved of my choice of words and tried to tell me I was very out of line for it.

I do not think I am in the wrong whatsoever, nor does my partner. We are both allowed to do what we want with our own lives and I think it would actually be helpful if my partner left the controlling clutches of his father, at least for long enough to raise our child.

While the rest of the family is a bit wary of me it is for very different reasons and no one else has opposed our relationship yet. (Ignoring my partners youngest brother but that's more childish jealousy from suddenly having to share my partners attention with me.)

So am I the asshole for threatening to distance myself and my partner from his adoptive father until he learns to calm down about our relationship?

-

lillypads98 WAit wait wait wait we need more information, you are how old??? and you think it's just okay to be together with your patner? and whats up with the fmaily anyway??? hello is no one questioning this??

TforTimeSpentThinkingAboutSpleens lmao if this is who i think it is and i dont think im wrong then im going to make sure all the others see this too also i would NEVER let him vanish like that nice try

neoforhero NTA for sure, sounds like your partners father has some serious control issues, while I think you might have reacted a bit extreme it seems to be something that has been building up for a while. (He tries to control your behaviour when you enter the city??? Who does he think he is? Fricking Batman?

[mxrtified777]

okay, i completely switched gears to somewhat coherent ideas, thoughts, and rambling instead of an essay. this doesn't really have anything new or groundbreaking, its more or less just me thinking out loud about nevin; so here, take what ive written in the last 2 hours

☆ I don’t believe that Nevin has the textbook-definition of a victim complex; he’s obviously going to be more complex than the first google result of a Victim Complex/Mentality, but he absolutely shares behaviors and tendencies with said textbook-definitions. He has been shown to deflect blame (“I’m sorry you feel…” / “I-I… It wasn’t a fight, I didn’t hit him, he…”), as well as (seemingly) having a tendency to catastrophize (“...No… but Nevin tends to assume the worst,...”). A key difference between him and a typical victim mentality is his optimism. He believes that things can and will get better and that he has control over elements in his own life. (“I wouldn’t say it’s too late.” / “The only way to go is forward. As someone who has lived in four different states, things aren’t going to stay the same forever.”) He’s hyper-vigilant about possible threats due to negative past experiences, particularly about people (loud coughing Edward). This is shown through Nevin complaining about Drew’s choice of friends, both being people that Nevin actively dislikes and doesn’t trust. (“Is that fucking Quinton?” … “Where the hell are you going with him? / “I said, I'll tell you later,” … “I can’t talk about this right now.” / “Have you been hanging around him behind my back?”)

☆ Nevin doesn’t actively use his trauma to elicit sympathy from others. The thing that separates Nevin from a victim complex the most is intention. He isn’t like “boohoo im so traumatized no one likes me let me do what i want im so damaged”. When he’s talking about his personal hardships and emotions (a rare occurrence) he’s not doing it to manipulate others into feeling sorry for him, he’s literally just sharing how he feels. So his feelings of being a victim are internal for the most part, but. I mean. Yeah, he was the victim

☆ Chris’s tendency to be blamed for things paired with Nevin’s tendency to deflect blame is. It's not going to be fun. Because yes, Chris is a pushover, but he didn’t hesitate to call out Nevin for being unreasonable in their bathroom screaming match. What I'm wondering is how/if this will alter as their relationship develops; will Chris become more tolerant of Nevin’s unjust behavior? Will Chris call him out for outbursts like this in the future, and will Nevin take offense to it?

☆ This is why you do your research, kids. So you don’t prepare for 5 hours for an essay and then you realize your topic makes no sense and can’t actually be proven

☆ Nevin lashing out when offered help by Drew (“What do you think you’re doing?... / “I’m healing you. What do you think?” / “You shouldn’t have. I did this to myself.”) is also considered to be a common behavior for people with a victim mentality. This scene also makes me wonder about how Nevin reacts to being helped/assisted, and a step further than that, being coddled/babied. He’s been the caregiver all his life. He’s been the protector; suddenly, having the tables being flipped on him where he’s the one being cared for is gonna be fun to watch. Like don’t get me wrong, Grandma Jovel is an awesome parent, nothing but unconditional love for her, but it’s obviously gonna be different coming from say Drew or Chris, and it’s also gonna be different between those two as well. We’ve already seen Drew be kind of that way with Nevin, at the end of their argument (“You’re not alone, Nevin. You have me,” … “Even so… I do need to be a part of this because I love you, and I don’t want you to feel alone.” / “Drew, stop that…” … “You’re going to make me cry, too.”)

thanks for coming to what i spent a collective 6 hours on today, im gonna return to being Silly with my boys now

[ihatemisinformstion]

I hate TikTok so much you have no idea how much I hate it they hear one little thing out of context and then they suddenly say it’s canon hurting like half of there own community because they hate queer black people for some god awful reason I don’t even know about the micro aggressions or the fact that people think HOBIE x miles is a proship I will say this once and I will say this again I will LIGIT clear everything on hobie having a canon age because he does not. And I’m tired of people on TikTok and anywhere else saying the same thing and I might change this into my second acc just for flowerpunk and I’ll actually put my name but I’m not gonna cause I don’t wanna have this turn into a big thing if they do confirm he’s over 18 but anyways I’m going to give all my points cause I think people see something and they automatically think it’s true

To the people saying he's 19/20 that was a director talking about his concept design and could be more based on the comics it's safe to assume that Sense another director said it's up for interpretation and Gwen said he's about her and miles age then he's most likely a teen below 18 and was aged Down for the movie and it's kinda obvious because he hangs around the teen squad don't litsen to the misinformation everyone is sayin as well as the clip that people are talking about is completely out of context and so I need you to all stop it!! I’m not even an adult and I despise pro shipping it’s one of the things that triggers me into things it’s weird and it’s weird your putting a silly ship into this horrible topic so many think it’s ok to put in because the age is unconfirmed half of you people just don’t like queer black people and I am one so for the love of god stop calling people proshippers when they view hobie as a kid!!!

Phil Lord who's also a director said it's up to interpretation/headcanon plus even likened him to Sex pistols who started off young. Alsp like I said the whole Gwen and Hobie implied/jokes about being together thing would be weird as f https://twitter.com/sillyabtspiders/status/1666405777009958913?t=ct4kf0PoYIeUHwsP3tsHDQ&s=19

Of course there’s the other video but again that is concept hobie and prowler hobie not even the hobie we See as well as HOBIE is Most likely aged down and based off teen hobie stop bringing it up because it doesn’t matter!!! I’m literally so upset with being called a proshipper and such and it’s actually really stupid that I have to fight on this because everyone other ship is fine except when there both black and queer it’s weird to how much people care and I’m so tired I’m so very tired of it. I literally cannot take it anymore it’s weird you people are just as weird I’m just so upset right now and by the way I’m writing you probably have already seen me post a bit on my main but it’s embarrassing how you all cling to one thing

I feel great comfurt in this ship I do with a lot of dynamics and I don’t even ship punkflower hard I just think it’s cute but the way you people look at soemthing and think “wow proshipper” is insane because eTHATS NOT WHAT IT IS IM SORRY ITS NOT IT MAKES ME SO FRUSTRATED and I can’t tell if it’s cause I’m getting hyper fixated on this or what but I hate when this happens because wir causes so many people stress for no reason but your stupidity

Unless every single director comes out and says that HOBIE is older than 18 and not with Gwen and miles I will delete this and actually admit to it ok I’m not unreasonable I’m angry but that wouldn’t make sense because why would they tease romantic relationship as well as having hobie be with the minor coded charachters all the time

IM SO SORRY IF YOUR STRESSED BY THIS BECAUSE IM THE SAME I JUST FEEL LIKE WE WILL NEVER WIN and it’s so AKWARD I seriously hope that this whole situation gets cleared up and people will be able to ship and have there family dynamics and I’m sorry for anyone who doesn’t wanna see discourse just wanted to finally clear everything up because I know it stresses me out so I can’t imagine how other people feel

[stedebonnit]

The holidays have been hard on me, and its got me thinking about how I wish we talked more about the uncomfortable side of autism in Stede.

Namely, I'm thinking about overstimulation and irritability. I'm thinking about Stede having a hard day where the noise and the crowds and the smells just don't stop, and everytime someone speaks or shifts or fucking chews he just finds himself more and more on edge. He knows hes no good like this, he hates feeling this way and he knows he's unpleasant to be around.

But Stede is determined that he'll be different with his crew. He tells himself that this isn't his father who would tell him to sit down and stop melting down over a little bit of noise.

These arent his school mates who would notice him getting agitated and pin him down while they banged pots and pans until he was squirming and crying because it was all too much.

This isnt his family who would avoid him on a regular day, and who he'd shut himself in a room for to avoid getting snippy with them when he was struggling.

This is the crew, this is Ed, these are the first people who have ever accepted him, and he wants to be worthy of that. He doesn't want to snap, he doesn't want to criticize them for living their lives, for eating and laughing, its just that every time a fork clinks on a plate Stede feels like someone is sticking a pin in his head.

He snaps when Ed unexpectedly leans in and whispers some sweet nothing in his ear, a private sort of moment that Stede usually adores, but the mix of the hot breath against his cheek and the noise so close to his ear just pushes him over the limit, and his shoulders draw up as he flinches away from Ed, snipping.

"Can you not right now?" Quick and sharp, a surprise to him as much as it is to everyone else.

It takes a second for the sound of blood rushing in his ears to calm down, and for Stede to register the shocked expressions around the table. Worst of all he sees Ed pull back from him, his eyes wide, his lips forming into a heartbreaking frown, brows drawn together with confusion or fear.

The guilt hits Stede belatedly, still muddied by the anger that he knows is unreasonable, and he mumbles out an apology, the anger and guilt causing tears to form in his eyes. He knows he can't stay there, suddenly terrified of the way some stupid noises have made him snap at the person he loves the most.

He scrambles out of his chair, suddenly desperate to get away.

"I-Im so sorry. You did nothing wrong. I just...need to be alone."

And then he scrambles off to the cabin, diving into the auxiliary wardrobe where he pulls down the thickest coats he has and stuffs them over his ears, finally letting the tears break as he soothes himself by rocking back and forth.

Because it isn't always pretty. It isnt always gentle.

Sometimes anger comes out against the people we love the most, sometimes the one we love isn't going to be able to fix it.

Sometimes Stede needs to be alone to calm himself, and to apologize properly to Ed later when they're cuddled together in bed.

Only then will they discuss how to help Stede in the future, to be sure that he voices his limits before he reaches a snapping point, to figure out how Ed can best support him in the moments when he's struggling, and to decide how that looks different from what he normally likes or needs.

[minalblood]

Ep 2 is here now and I gotta say, the fact that Lata just finds all things monster fascinating is my fav thing cuz that is just me. Her playing with the jaw of the zombie was adorable and I wish i could've done the same. Carlos finding it disturbing just added to the charm of the whole scene.

Millie immediately yelling at John before he even got the chance to exit the car was oof, big oof. Mainly cuz it reminded me of my own mother's control tendencies. And because of that, I also tend to try and understand her point: admittedly John could've died and she wouldn't have know anything til after the fact. I get that fear, especially after the 2 years of no contact and likely a not good break before that with John at war. But fuck if she didn't just make it way harder for John to ever try bridging that gap or learning actual skills on dealing with conplex shit like that because she was just unreasonable about it all and taking it out on him. And the fact that La Tunda is actually calm when talking to John later is sooo interesting. I can't say she was nicer than Millie, cuz she wasn't but it def counts as another of those [insert crowley here saying :so my demons were too polite?] moments. I just found it all soo interesting and I have to add thay sadly her story at the end of the episode where she tells John about her and Henry's dealing with arguements doesnt actually help her case too much because of how she reacted initially. All thay teaches John is that he can take out his fear on others and then smooth it over with an "ull understand when ure older/had kids/been through similar shit" she is somply not constructive at all. But it a bit of an improvement because she, i believe, meant it as an explanation and apology despite it sounding as an excuse to me.

John being clearly not a pro at hunting or even just the type of fighting style hunting requires (and especially with a group of hunters) sent me. It's soo good. And it just makes me think of SPN!John learning to hunt and with the trauma of Mary's death it suddenly seems like even more reasons he didn't engage with a hunter's network. He just isn't a team player in that sense, he's too hyperfocused on his own fight that he loses sight of anyone else, and more than that, he had to have learned to adjust the fighting style he'd known to something that would work for hunting. It was basically ego and refusal to change, surpise surprise. TW!John tho keeps trying even after he fucks up, and while Im sure the constatly getting splashed with monster guts isnt fun, he doesn't have the same hang ups about not being perceived as indestructible. He essentially rolls with the punches and learns and is allowed to have flaws on display. Its not the pedestal SPN!John is put and puts himself on.

Mary's bullheadedness is absolutely fantastic in an extremely frustrating way. She is so fixated on getting through the case as fast as possible so she can get back to finding her dad that I actually got some season 1 Sam vibes from her this episode. I will say I find it soo interesting we got a John focus, cuz we all know the Cambells aren't that off for La Tunda to go for. Carlos giving her a pep talk about it and also admonishing her for her behaviour is def deserved and just top notch friendship tbh. As is the Cabaret gag with Mary, Carlos and Lata. It shows in a small but important way that these 3 def have a history and it's a long and intricate one. And u see even more later after John gets taken. It's in the way they talk to each other even in a high stress situation. Also Mary ackowledging she fucked up and thanking Caelos at the end... ughhhh I love growth.

Ada get to show off a bit more in this one, her scrying was genuinely sooo good, like this episode does a fantastic job of making you ask yourself what is actually up with Ada, whats her deal?? Because on the one hand, she recognized the flower off the top of her head and helped Lata instantly, on the other hand the way the scrying was shot was almost unnearving. And im not sure if it's cuz spn got me/us used to seeing scrying done by villains or as a subterfuge tactic or what, but yea, it added another air of mystery to Ada. And then u you have her conversation with Millie which has a hell of a ripple effect cuz I genuinely believe it's that converation that led to her actually trying with John at the end a bit. It's not solving anything broken there yet, but it does help. And adding ehat we know of about Ada's past to this makes me cry cuz shes just trying to prevent Millie from making the same mistake she had basically.

Carlos was more mediator this episode. Between the Lata and Carlos show (as per usual their friendship is everything to me) and seeing the complexity of that relationship as it stands and their dynamic with each other, to lecturing Mary on her behaviour, to just being highly competent at the job overall. Like they might not have done too much in the foreground, but damn if it wasn't a shitton of background work there. You can tell here that for all the "Im a solo act " bravado, Carlos is actually very much a team player and it's due to the emotional inteligence they have thats on full display here, in their usual jokey manner of course, that thats the case.

Aaaannd we get the 1st mention of Betty in this. I won't touch on that in this one but I like Betty a lot.

The end of this episode is my fav thing. Because it's pizza and joking and hanging out beside having the plot move forward once Ada brings up what shes been up to this episode. And still the focus isn't on the demon memories, but on them bonding. Uhhhh I love it.

We also have the 1st glimpse of the Akrida and if you were skulking around here when the show was airing in autumn u know I think the Akrida are adorable and I want a plushy with them. So the pure joy the shot of who we now know is likely Roxy with all them little critters around gave me cannot be overstated.

This ep def is much better paced than the Pilot, and also just lays clear the main there of this show, which is intergenerational trauma. It literally slaps u with it, it's front and centre and will continue to be shown in its many varried forms as the show progressed and I fucking love it for that because ultimately that is what Dean is doing here, beside once more saving the world. He is like i said, woeking through his own intergenerational trauma through these young versions of his parents that haven't yet had more trauma pilled onto them.

Stay tuned for ep 3 whenever I find the time to rewatch it!

[fluffallamaful]

Wake up brain had returned with some fluff

Punz sitting on the couch rambling to Dream about how he's missing his older siblings. Dream immediately goes into big brother mode and just holds him for a bit, cradling him, rubbing his legs, playing with his hair, humming a random tune, until he feels him relax and cuddle into him a bit. Dream then remembers that both of Punz's siblings are older than him, cue tight squeezes, exaggerated baby talk, little baby teases. Dream accidentally nuzzles into his neck which pulls a yelp out of his playful giggles. Now Dream has Punz half laying in his lap, his shoulders scrunched, his head in his chest as Dream pressed exaggerated kisses all over his neck, ears, and face, while lightly skittering up and down his back, ribs, and sides, and tracing little cutesy things on his knees, like hearts and smiley faces, occasionally adding little squeezes to his knees, thighs, and calves to watch him jump. Even exploring his, as Punz put it, "unreasonably ticklish" shins, and the tops of his feet. He left the bottoms alone for now, not wanting to entirely wreck him but enough to give him that older sibling feeling he was missing

🥺🥺 big brother dream 🥺

gosh it’s cute coz my god he’d have to get punz so mushy and gushy for this to work. like he’d already have to have gained punz trust for him to even tell dream about his troubles,, and then thered be even more trust needed for punz to continue spilling his troubles once dream has coaxed him into his lap

like i can imagine that the tickles would start off so subtle. like just back traces that stray to the side too much, or possibly travel to the neck shoulder blades. just stuff that doesn’t get a huge reaction,, but definitely a noticeable one.

i like the image of dream asking punz if his older siblings used to do this to him too? 🥺 or if his mum/dad used to do it or something. coz either way it just gives dresm the opportunity to continue to ‘show punz what he had/has been missing out on’

like it’s just such a soft setting? a soft trusting setting with the tiniest of giggles from punz ☹️ im imaginjng that at one point dream would find a particularly good spot that would make him suddenly feel the need to fight back. but by this stage it’s pretty much too late. punz is already melting and dream has already located some good spots to try

i love the use of the rare spots here!! calves and tops of feet!! you don’t see them much and it’s cute that punz is “unreasonably ticklish” enough for the spots to work :D !!

[quarktrinity]

quark watches star trek season 1 episode 9

theyre beaming down giant... things? drug bottles?

ok this is cargo apparently. youd think theyd use something different for beaming cargo other than what they use to beam down people.

kirk says try not to fuck up so much beamer guy

wow! theres a person in that box!

beamer guy why the hell were you facing away from the teleporter. were you just looking at the wall. well ur knocked out now rip i guess

"penal colonies" so jail planets? icky

stowaway criminal aboard the ship! how the hell did no one notice he was in that box!!! what was even supposed to be in it????

i mean props to them for noticing the intruder in the first act

"interesting. you earth people glorified violence for 40 centuries, but you imprison those who employ it privately" spock holy shit

vulkans apparently dont have violence because they lack emotion. are you telling me vulkans wouldnt fight wars for solely strategic reasons. get real, spock, you were encouraging kirk to kill his friend for strategic reasons like 6 episodes ago.

"my name is..." what? my name is... who? my name is... chka chka slim shady

the prison planet is called "tantalus." i feel like it should be tartarus.

"my name is- *chokes*" what? my name is- *chokes* who? my name is-

this dudes fucked

ok so the prison messed with his memories? thats fucked up

kirk says the penal colonies are nice now and they rehabilitate their inmates like hospitals. ok?

mccoy is gut instincts georg

lotta tension between kirk and mccoy today. they should make out about it

ok theyre bringing a psychologist with them and she knows kirk and kirk thinks shes super hot. cool

her surname is noel. she and kirk met at a christmas party. get it

theres a girl here named lethe. like the river lethe. im sensing a motif.

ok wait. the river lethe makes you forget your life. and the prisoner on the ship has fucked up memories. and the lethe girl here is a therapist. hmmmmm

they remove their memories of committing crimes. yikes!

dr noels name is helen. the motif continues.

prisoner guy (dr van gelder) says hes not a criminal and has been driven to insanity by the memory eraser thing.

dr adams (guy running the prison) definitely used the memory eraser on van gelder. hes so evil

star trek says industrial prison complex bad

van gelder compared the memory eraser to death. underworld motif continues

were going insiiiiiide his miiiiiiind

the memory eraser also puts dr adams thoughts in their minds so he can reshape them. yeesh

van gelders actor is so good

kirk NO dont test the memory eraser on urself

ok so this is just creepyass hypnotism

kirk asks helen to give him an "unusual suggestion," helen hypnotizes him into thinking he and her slept together. um. yikes.

DR ADAMS GO AWAY

dr adams is hypnotizing him into being in love with helen. this is a scene from a deviantart smutfic

suddenly helen doesnt want kirk to be into her

unreasonably large air duct

dr adams is definitely into this :/

i think helen just killed a man

spock to the rescue!

oh shit dr adams is getting hypnotized now

it emptied his brain and he died :)

pretty sure kirk is still under the hypnosis effects

"its hard to believe a man could die of loneliness" "not when youve sat in that room" ok so this episode is definitely about solitary confinement

horrifying episode!

[beyondspaceandstars]

That Black Tee

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, penetrative sex, fingers, slight metal arm kink, sex against a wall, semi-public sex, dirty talk - 18+, minors DNI. Summary: It was such a simple thing. Just a simple black tee-shirt. But the way Bucky wore it had you practically melting -- and he seemed to realize it, happily granting your needs A/N: idk guys there was just something about that black tee-shirt bucky wore in episode 4 of TFATWS. it got my mind wandering. and i love practicing writing smut i hope im getting better at it lmao

Masterlist

You knew you absolutely, utterly fucked the second Bucky took off his jacket, revealing that damn black tee.

So simple yet so fitting, so accentuating. He looked casual and cool yet incredibly powerful and dominant with that metal arm fully on display thanks to the short sleeves. Between that damn shirt and the hard expression he wore, you were pretty much done for. It took all you might to not march over to him right that second.

Bucky appeared to be aware of all this as he turned to you, feeling your eyes wandering shamelessly over him in that shirt. He just looked so… him. Not a soldier, not some asset, just him. And he was hot.

He shot you a little smirk, making your eyes widen, suddenly unreasonably worried your boyfriend could read your mind.

You two must’ve been too caught up in your silent communication because the next thing you heard was Sam asking if you were okay.

You jumped and forced yourself to look away from Bucky. "Yeah, Sam," you nodded, "I’m fine."

He hummed, suspicious. "Are you sure?"

But before you could answer, Bucky felt it was his time to chime in. "She’s a little distracted."

Your eyes widened again, this time sending a signal to your boyfriend to shut the hell up. He wouldn’t look at you and instead just laughed to himself.

"Distracted?" Sam questioned.

"I- I’m fine, really-,"

Bucky cut you off, "Actually, I need to talk with her about something."

Your jaw went slack as you tried finding some words of explanation, something to save yourself from this situation as you could see Sam’s concern growing. But nothing was able to come out before Bucky was grabbing your hand.

"You can’t talk to her out here?" Sam asked.

Bucky shook his head, profusely. "It’s a very private matter. Incredibly serious. Just between me and her."

"Bucky-," you just about yelped as he started walking to one of the off-shoot rooms from the living space. Sam tried asking more questions but Bucky promptly shut him down by slamming the door. Hard. It was a miracle the thing didn’t just fall right off its hinges. For whatever reason, that suddenly turned you on even more.

You stood there in the middle of the room watching as Bucky slowly turned to you. He had a playful glimmer in his eyes as he took in your nervous yet needy state. Your thighs were practically in pain from how hard you were trying to squeeze them together, wanting some relief to your core that was set ablaze by him. Him and that damn outfit. That damn hair. His damn face- God, you just needed your boyfriend right now.

Bucky walked towards you slowly, intensely. You tried averting your eyes to save yourself from crumbling but he stopped you. His fingers came to your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. He appeared to be just as eager.

"What happened back there, doll?" He asked just barely above a whisper. He held your chin firmly.

"What- What do you-,"

He chuckled. The fucker chuckled at your flustered state. "What do I mean? I mean that look you were giving me. How those eyes were peeling off my clothing piece by piece. Made me want to take you right there."

Bucky’s words went straight to your core. The wetness was pooling profusely, practically soaking through your jeans. You let out a little whimper as his thumb brushed over your lip.

"It’s your tee-shirt," you whispered, surprised that you could even find any sort of words in your dazed brain. He was way too intoxicating.

Bucky’s face shifted in surprise. "My shirt?"

You nodded. "It just… looks good on you."

He couldn’t help but let out another chuckle. You pouted at his reaction which he took as the opportunity to quickly place a kiss on your lips. You tried moving into him, grinding your body with his to beg for more, but he stopped, forcing you two apart.

"Oh, doll," he mumbled as his hand left your chin and slowly made its way down your body. Over the curve of your clothed breast, down your stomach, to your hips… the hand finally dipped under the waistline of your jeans. Without much warning, two fingers traced your folds, dipping slightly in to collect the wetness. He gave a few thrust, teasingly. Bucky groaned. "You’re this wet just from how I look in my shirt?"

You gasped, nodding. Embarrassment wanted to coarse through you but the pleasure from Bucky tracing his fingers to your clit was too much. Slowly, he started with circular motions, making your body jolt. You squealed in surprise. Bucky smiled down at your reaction.

He kept it up, adding pressure every now and then as he continued. Your legs began to shake forcing you to grip his arms in support. Bucky noticed this and brought his metal hand to your hip, steadying you.

He picked up the pace, his eyes boring into yours intensely. You let out a breathy moan at the sight of him, looking at you so hungry and aroused.

"Come on, honey, cum for me," he mumbled, still working on your clit. Every now and then he’d stop to dip a finger in as if gaging your wetness. In those moments you’d groan, waiting for the contact to come back. He never let you suffer long, though, finding his way back to your clit quickly, keeping the pressured motions. "Be a good girl and cum for me, doll, and I’ll fuck you real nice against the wall just like you deserve."

That was the final straw. His words alone practically sent you over the edge. Your body shook as the first orgasm pulled through you, lighting fire throughout your body. Your hips bucked and twisted uncontrollably, almost trying to get away from the touch but Bucky didn’t lighten up. He worked you through it, whispering sweet praises in your ear, making you lose it even more.

Once you came down from the high, Bucky wasted absolutely no time gripping your hips and pushing your back to the nearest wall. You yelped in surprise before his lips attached to yours, rough and demanding.

He lifted you up and grabbed your legs, circling them around your waist. You took the opportunity to grind into him feeling his erection hit your covered core. It lit a new fire in you making you gasp at the feeling.

Bucky moved his lips down your face to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin. You whined and grabbed onto that fucking tee shirt, still trying to push into him, wordlessly begging him to speed up.

"Eager, doll?" Bucky asked. You could practically hear the dumb smile on his face and it made you want to slap it off. But all you could do in response was nod.

He placed one more kiss on your lips before his hand made its way back down your body. This time he popped the buttons of your jeans open. Briefly, he placed you back down to pull your jeans to your ankles. When that task was done, you were back wrapped around his waist, now feeling the erection more prominently. You let out a deep, uncontrollable moan when it hit.

As if he understood your annoyance, Bucky quickly undid his own jeans. In your dazed state, you must’ve zoned out because the next thing you knew, your panties were just pushed to the side and his cock was breaching your walls. You two were in sync letting our moans and groans at the warmth, the wetness.

His arms held you tight as he began his thrusts, so precise and strong. You were backed into the wall forcefully, enjoying the pressure and pleasure combining into one. Your boyfriend groaned above you, sounds going right to your core which was made evident by the squelching sounding in the room.

Bucky kept his thrusts up as his metal hand left your hip and made its way to your clit. His body held you up with his other arm, giving you a second to marvel in his strength. It was always such a treat when it came out in the bedroom. How he could hold you down or hold you up had your mind spinning half the time.

As his thrusts began to pick up, his metal hand started with the circular motions again on your clit. The coldness meeting your warmth was enough to drive you crazy. Your hands fisted his shirt, trying to keep yourself grounded. You let out a surprised moan at the whole sensation which Bucky seemed to like as he gripped you harder. Your brain was going fuzzy, drunk even, as he pounded you into the wall flawlessly.

"Bucky… B-Bucky…" you choked out.

"Hmm?" You could tell he was staring at you despite your eyes being fluttered shut. He was taking in every inch of your face contorting in glorious pleasure. It seemed to drive his thrusts faster, the circular motions on your clit picking up as well.

"I- I’m gonna-,"

"You gonna cum again, doll?" He asked, a little mockingly. You would’ve bit back if you weren’t in this state but you couldn’t do anything, just take what he was giving. You nodded weakly. "Alright, honey, that’s it… Cum for me, come on. I got you."

It was like Bucky flipped that last switch as his strength and speed picked up. You yelped, clinging to his shirt even tighter.

One final push on your clit was all you needed before you were crumbling in his arms. Your body shook as your orgasm flooded you with ecstasy. Bucky didn’t want to let up with the trusts, though, chasing his own orgasm and thoroughly working you through your second. He kept pounding, his hand opting to leave your clit to grope at your breasts under your shirt. The metal hitting your skin in a new place made you squeal again.

The sounds and motions were it for Bucky as the next thing you knew, he released inside you, coating your walls and thrusting in and out, letting it leak onto your skin. You moaned at the sensation.

Bucky gave a couple more weak thrusts before he let out a final groan and stilled inside you. Both his arms now were around your waist, pulling you close as you two panted, coming down from the pleasure.

Bucky leaned forward, his head resting on your shoulder. Your hands left his shirt and came up to his hair, where you ran them through his short locks.

"Was that what you needed, doll?" He asked, voice breaking through the heaviness of the room.

You giggled, "Exactly what I needed."

"Hmm," he sighed and straightened back up. He pecked your lips. "Guess I gotta wear this shirt more often."

You gasped, slapping his chest lightly as he laughed. But you couldn’t totally disagree. "I wouldn’t complain if it made an appearance every now and then."

Bucky shook his head, "I don’t understand how a black tee shirt can get you going, doll."

After he spoke, he slowly removed himself from you, letting you down from the wall. Warm wetness began soaking your thighs feeling so intimate, so hot, it almost made you almost suggest round two right then and there but that didn’t seem on the table after Bucky handed you some tissues to clean up. Not to mention the fact there were people in the living area.

You shrugged, readjusting your shirt and pulling your jeans back on. You watched as Bucky also readjusted his appearance. "It’s because it’s on you," you insisted. "You could walk around in the most ridiculous outfits and I’d still beg you to jump my bones."

Bucky let out the most joyous laugh at that. He walked back towards you, securely wrapping his arms around your waist. You placed a kiss on his lips, which he hummed happily into.

"I’m flattered," he mumbled. The light blush across his cheeks confirmed his words.

You smiled, "What can I say? I got a hot boyfriend and he should know it."

Bucky placed another kiss on your lips. "Oh, trust me, I think he knows it now."

You let out a giggle and pulled away from his grip, despite a little protest. "Come on," you said and motioned towards the door, "we should probably leave this room before we get any shit from them."

"Oh, you’re getting a lot of shit once you come out of that room," Sam called from the other side of the door, making both you and Bucky jump. "Might as well stay in here."

You groaned at the words, your face and neck suddenly becoming hot in embarrassment. Bucky just chuckled, somehow finding everything amusing, and wrapped an arm around you.

"Worth it, though," he whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek. You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t at all argue. Just glancing between the wall and that black tee made you suddenly hot and bothered all over again.

Bucky picked up on your gaze, once again practically reading your mind. With a suggestive smirk, he asked, "Round two?"

You bit your lip as his hand began running over the curve of your ass.

"Fine."

Bucky didn’t waste a single second before whisking you off your feet

[hinatto]

nighttime adventure (kaeya x reader)

a/n; I would pay to have nighttime adventures with kaeya

genre: fluff, comfort!! tw; reader will mention they’re struggles but nothing beyond stress, lack of direction and hating things sometimes ^^

'come with me to the park' you text kaeya, under the golden glow of the streetlight. he replies quickly, 'why 😏' 'bc there are scary people here' 'u think that if I come u will b safe? be careful who u trust bc if i see someone scary, i will teleport w/o you' 

the park is empty, all signs of life besides you missing from the half-lit scene.

'ok then dont come' 'okok im cominggg, let me go put on my new shirt' and its not actually a far distance since you guys live across from each other and the park is just around the block.

you sit at the swing nearest to you, the outer ring of the park cloaked with darkness. you cast a glance over your shoulder every now and then in case the mf decides to scare you. 

but he doesn't, he's sashaying along the path leading to the park with lamps stationed along the path and the streetlights illuminating both of you two and the park. 

and you're grinning as he does ridiculous poses and you already standing to meet him halfway, wolf-whistling even though he's just wearing the awful bright red shirt that belongs to diluc, you're hyping him up, still insisting he does a twirl which he gladly obliges. 

"hurry up and swing with me," you say and he sits on the swing next to you but he doesn't move.

A moment of silence passes and you turn to him and he's only swinging left and right. "I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to tell me why you're sad." Of course seconds after seeing you he'd be able to pick up that you weren't in the best state of mind and emotional state. Even with you still welldressed.

"But I'm not." "Suree, and I'm Diluc." He slips off his hair tie, giving himself a high ponytail that Diluc would wear his hair in, pulling at the sides of the ponytail for some volume. 

"How did you know?" 

"I told you, dear y/n, my empath powers are just like that."

Your gaze travels to the floor covered in woodchips as you think about your struggles and it takes only a moment before everything starts piling up to the top. 

The constant stress you feel, family issues, constant second doubting, lack of direction, like you aren't smart enough, and always a few paces behind.

You think about the sad expression that paints onto kaeya's face that he can't help and the thought of 'ruining the mood' but you know that kaeya won't budge until he hears at least one calamity of your life.

"I wish we could just slow down. And I hate that everyone expects you to be the best every day." And he's nodding frantically, and you can tell that he is thinking something but he's holding back. 

If this wasn't serious, Kaeya would jump in with something that happened to him and his eyes go so wide when he tells it like it's the most important piece of information. But it's really sweet that he tries so hard not to when your trying to vent. 

"Like I hate people's expectations so much, and I hate myself for not even meeting my own expectations...I just hate everything. I'm mad, sad, and disappointed. Or I was. But now let's just have our swinging contest, I might be able to beat you this time out of pure saltiness."

Kaeya is great at swinging. You like to blame it on his long legs though he's unreasonably good at it like you've seen him nearly make the swing do a 360 and so it wasn't a surprise when he scoffed at your challenge, still taking you up on it.

And you almost beat him, though when you started to get tired, he started to go higher until you both hopped off the swing, even competing about who flew further as you guys sent woodchips flying upon landing.

and instead of just heading home or over to his house, you guys gave each other staus updates on your lives as if you didn't just call each other for hours yesterday

kaeya starts playing music and suddenly your twisting his swing with him ready to be yeeted when you guys see diluc out for a jog and he sees kaeya in his shirt and with the ponytail.

and then it's just diluc chasing kaeya abt to throw hands over the shirt LMAO 

and then kaeya grabs your hand and runs with you and you wanna stop running but diluc looks like he's got murder on his mind

You guys keep running until he disappears from view, sinking into the grass of the field nearby and you turn to kaeya.

he's is out of breath but grinning and he's always been like that, getting you guys into silly situations and finding it fun. even he'll admit that sometimes his ideas aren't but not without slandering you too.

"I pray for your encounter with him at home." 

"Shut up," You laugh and he continues between breaths, "I'll climb through the window and put on my blue shirt and gaslight him into thinking that him chasing us was a dream." 

"What if I don't vouch for you."

"But you've got to, we can't be the 'issue's' squad without you!"

and now you're chasing him and after being chased by diluc, you catch up to him faster than usual, tackling him into the grass. 

"Wow, y/n. Not you out for me too." He whines as you join him laying on the grass too and wow, the stars look lovely tonight. 

He glances at you, clearing his throat, "when I was young, my grandma used to call me her special, adorable little boy. Of course, I'm still special and adorable..." 

You humored him, nodding like you knew where he was going with this. 

"But, I think we all are special. Special, and dumb but we don't think that we're special. We're different, we feel things differently, see things differently, and think differently but we all get sad and disappointed sometimes. Sometimes it's out of our control and it feels ten times worse when it's in your control."

"But..." he paused, waving his hands around in a 'you know what I'm trying to say.'

"You suck at ending stories." 

"Maybe I'll get better if you pay me, then."

Though in the silence that followed you dwelled on his words. You knew that he cared, a lot. Cried over you that time you went to the hospital and prioritizes the people he cares about.

"An ear or a dollar for my wisdom?"

"Did my lifetime subscription end?" You slid him a dime and he smiled. A kind one that held lots of comfort and love as he opened his arms for you to crawl into.

"But trying, being patient with yourself, and accepting that there's no way you will be perfect all the time has helped me." He spoke slowly and soothingly, you settled your head into his shoulder, trying not to cry because of how overwhelmed you felt at a simple thing to him. "let's be imperfect clowns together. Oh, and you can decide how you react to disappointment and that's a nice powermove too-"

You lift your head and turn to stare at him. "No refunds." He whispers.

You still ended up sobbing and laughing a lot through your sobs after a while and so he whined as he piggybacked you to your place, holding his hand out for a 'tip' only to gladly accept another brief hug.

"Bye and goodnight kaeya"  

"Goodnight sweetheart"

Kaeya will soon encounter a very unamused Diluc sitting on the chair at the porch- but y'all didn't hear that from me- 

note; i'd like to think that he had a feeling you were bothered by something earlier off the bat when you guys were texting and thats why he put on the whole performance at the start to cheer u up bc he’s just like that LMAO-

[starconsumer444]

“When Things Fall In Place” (18+)

Creepy Roommate!Kenma

(A/N: This is...about 3.1k of pure degeneracy, which I actually had no intention on writing, finishing, or publishing and just thought out as I went... There was no planning, no actual ideas prior to this {actually its based off this guy I met recently because im always stuck with the creeps}...I just started it late at night [basically the early hours of the morning] and finished it this afternoon. I haveeee to stop writing for haikyuu... But I’m probably gonna fall off, comeback and write one or two request with a bunch of other random bs, and then disappear again after this, but thats just how it is. I get bored of writing every three days then come back to write my heart out. I really have to write my requests soon or they’ll hate me...) 

(Cw/Tw: Fem!Reader, Stalking, Somno, Rape/Noncon,  Virgin!Kenma, Theft, Crying, Poor Writing, Kenma is a sweaty, friendless, looser in this one guys, I’m bad at tagging these but you get the idea... this is bad and nasty. 3.1k!!!! THIS IS LONG AS HELL)

You don’t know much about him, Kenma— your roommate. You’ve been living together for almost a year at this point and that can’t be normal. He stays in his room playing video games, doesn’t seem to have friends, leaves for work in the morning, and keeps to himself for the most part. Honestly, if you didn’t greet each other in passing you would’ve forgotten the sound of his voice by now. It’s low, unaffected, and monotone for the most part. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered?

But see, Kenma knows everything about you. You went to middle and high school together, but he was just as standoffish in those days too. He doesn’t expect you to remember him, you clearly don’t, but it still weighs on his heart. Was he that forgettable? It’s okay, because one day he’ll tell you. One day he’ll tell you everything.

He’s been obsessed with you since middle school, you were the pretty girl that sat in the front of the class and smelled so good. You would talk to give answers in class and he would be all ears, because to him your voice was his only source of happiness. To hear you speak and smell your perfume as you walked past him was a reason to live. Sure, it was weird, but so were a lot of things about him. He had no friends, could you blame him? Would you?  So maybe, then, in middle school it was an innocent harmless crush, not an obsession, but in high school he was definitely obsessed. 

He overheard you say it to your friends— where you were going to high school, and he told his parents thats where he wanted to enroll. The entire time he never spoke to you, much like middle school, he was off in a corner playing a game alone, inconspicuously keeping an eye on you. He used to trail you and your friends around the school and he always wondered how you were so perfect? How you were so good at making friends? How you stood out like that? Maybe that’s why you were so unapproachable... 

He remembers you were class president for three consecutive years up until graduation. You were so damn intimidating, but everyone loved you, especially Kenma and you were blind to it. You never ONCE noticed him or gave a damn about him and you were class president. He wanted to talk to you so bad, but he just couldn't. He would steal things from you with the intent to say he found them and maybe start a conversation, but he ended up hoarding them in his room at home. The biggest thing he’d stolen was a sweater because you hadn’t seemed to notice the erasers or pencils. 

He vividly remembers the sheer panic and urgency he stuffed that damned pink sweater into his backpack with, so scared he’d get caught and called a creep. He really did plan on returning it but he just— it smelled so good back then...he remembers. He took it home and hid it under his bed, only opting to take it out and hold it to his face and just smell it on special occasions when he felt up to it and guilt wasn't taking over his mind, body, and soul. He knew it was wrong but he felt the most alive in moments where he didn’t care. He’d tried to resist the urge, but at some point he started to pleasure himself with it too. It started happening so often that he’d get hard at the smell of you even when you walked by him in class. He still has that sweater.

At some point during that time, he’d picked up the strange hobby of following you home from school. You walked alone all the time so he’d lie to himself and say it was for your safety as he stalked around corners and made sure you never saw him. He’d always watch you enter your home from down the block, far enough so he wouldn't catch your attention. Those times he didn’t want you to notice him, he felt sick doing it, but it was something akin to an addiction and he just couldn't stop himself. This was a short lived addiction though...about a month or so. 

His mom started to pick up on his staying out later than usual and by then he’d actually started to go up in front of your house and just stare at it. He prayed to god that you didn’t see him being a creep like this, but sometimes he wished you did because at the very least you would recognize his existence. Still, you never saw him. He went back to being locked up in his room, playing video games until the early hours of the morning, rubbing himself raw against your sweater, and being consumed by you in private. All he wanted was for you to acknowledge him. Tell him that he exists to you, because he’s sure his existence is for you.

Those days were hell on earth, he struggled to shower and his only motivation for getting up and doing anything was to see you, who didn't know he existed. It was a depraved cycle. 

Now he’s here with you, and the first time he talked to you was to respond to a “roommate wanted” ad. Isn’t it wonderful how things come full circle? 

Still, he struggles to actually hold face to face conversations with you. How could he? He fantasizes about you so much...it feels wrong.

These days he finds himself rutting into your sheets when you're out praying that you don’t catch him, stealing your panties just to hold them to his nose and eventually soak them in his cum, and even worse having disgustingly sadistic fantasies about you belonging to him. He pushes those fantasies to the back of his mind, though. He doesn't want to be fucked up, but then again, it can't be that bad to want to own your source of happiness.

His infatuation reaches a peak one night when he finds himself groggily trudging his way to your room in the dead of night with his fleshlight in hand. He tried everything, he didn't want to jack off so he played his video games like usual, but even that didn’t take his mind off of you. Typically, he’d jack off with his fleshlight alone in his room to depraved and deluded fantasies of you, but tonight he needs to be near you; to see you, to smell you, and to know you’re there.

Upon entering your room he flips the light on, and it’s actually really dim— not that he hoped to wake you up or anything. He tip-toes over to the side of your bed and stands over your sleeping figure. You look so beautiful when you’re asleep, a shame he’s never thought about seeing you like this before or rather...a shame he’s violating you like this. He wants himself to stop because he knows it’s wrong, but he’s wanted something like this for so long and right now it’s in the palm of his hand. He’s sick and he knows it.

Still, he pulls his sweats and underwear down just enough to where they’re right under his balls. The cold air of your ceiling fan hits his painfully hard shaft and it feels so good it makes him sick. He slowly sheaths himself inside the faithfully used toy imagining it was you. That’s even easier to do now that you’re right here in front of him.

His heart is racing, and he feels sick to his stomach...

“Gotta make this quick,” That’s what he says under his breath, but he want’s you to wake up and see him, he want’s you to call him a pervert and make him leave you alone forever. He wants to see you horrified by the sight of him pleasuring himself to your sleeping body. Is that so wrong?

Yeah, he knows it is. He can’t bring himself to care, though. He pumps himself in and out with hurried movements. He feels so gross and so good like this. Even with the fan on above him he’s sweating bullets like a madman, but he just can’t stop himself, he swears this isn’t his fault. His rational mind would never permit this, but when has he ever gone with that side of himself?

He starts to lose himself in pleasure, moaning out your name in his typical low voice rather than a whisper. He doesn't catch himself, and his moans start to get louder and louder. You start to stir and he can’t bring himself to shut up. You can’t be that light a sleeper, right? 

Wrong.

Your eye’s flutter open and then meet his and he cums unreasonably hard and his moan is gross and loud. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and he doubles over from the pleasure. His hand grabbing on to your mattress is the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor.

His heart pounds in his chest and his breathing is erratic, but that’s not why the look in your eye’s is nothing but terror. He's sweating so much, he wants to apologize, but he doesn't.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says sliding the toy off of himself. He thinks you look even more beautiful when you’re awake and scared out of your mind. 

You lie there, staring up at him, still trying to process how your aloof roommate could—

He climbs on your bed, fleshlight in hand, and straddles your waist and all you can bring yourself to do is shake your head.

“Kenma-” He presses his index finger to your lips and you freeze again.

Suddenly, he’s bringing the fleshlights opening to your mouth and you still can’t bring yourself to fight him.

“Please go away,” You ask like this is just some nightmare. You know it’s not, you can feel his weight on top of you and it feels too real. He’s so warm and so heavy.

“Lick.” He commands. He swears to himself that he’ll go away forever after this, the final piece to his happiness puzzle.

Tears start to fall down your face but he’s still insistent on having you eat his cum out of his gross plaything. When you don’t move, he leans over and presses it to your face.

“Lick.” 

This time, out of fear, you do. His cum tastes rancid, like battery acid. Disgusting would be more than an understatement. That doesn’t stop you from cleaning the toy with your tongue like your like depends on it, because right now...it might.

His eyes are tired when he smiles, almost dead, he looks sick. His hairs greasy, skin is pale, and he’s fisting his half hard dick while he watches you take his seed into your pretty mouth. You’ve never been this close to him before.

He strokes himself back to hardness like a delinquent. He knows he wants to leave you alone, but now he just can’t. When he tosses the fleshlight aside you’re shaking and crying begging him to go away.

“Kenma, please-” As much as he likes when you say his name, he can’t help but stifle your desperate begging with a kiss. 

It’s gross, wet, and all over the place, but Kenma doesn’t notice that. He’s never kissed anyone before and he’s beyond ecstatic that it’s you. You don’t bother with kissing him back, you just lie there, eyes open and crying. 

He savors this kiss, his first kiss. His lips are softer than expected, but he’s not— violence plagues his movements. His heart races even faster now, and when you try to turn your lips away from his he just grabs your jaw and holds you still. He gets drool all over both of your faces, and you can barely breathe. You can still feel him jacking himself off between your bodies and you feel nauseous. This “kiss” is so unpracticed and unrefined, he’s basically licking the inside of your mouth and breathing in your face.

Why is he doing this?

You feel him finally moving from your lips and pulling your shirt up to let cold air hit your tits. For a second, he pauses to catch his breath, chest heaving and spit covered mouth hanging open. He stares down at your chest in awe. You turn away in embarrassment, he doesn’t mind it; you must be terrified.

With one hand holding your shirt up, he brings the other from his dick to squeeze at your chest. You wince and struggle against him because he’s so fucking rough and it hurts. Then he gives one of your breasts a hard slap, and you start to writhe up under him. 

It brings a smile to his face, but he doesn’t do it anymore. He wants to try something different.

He carefully slides down off of you and between your legs. He grossly presses his face against your clothed cunt and smells you even licking you through your pajama bottoms.

He sees the shock on your face when you sit up to look at him and he simply brushes it off, too far gone to be considerate at this point.

When his hands pull down your pajama bottoms-

“No no no no nononono Kenma please stop it.” You whine and kick at him uselessly. You sit up to try to push his hands away but its all useless, he’s so unreasonably strong for someone his size. When he finally slides your pajama bottoms and underwear off of you and on to the floor he buries his face between your folds.

It’s like when he was kissing you, gross, wet, and unpracticed. He’s just haphazardly lapping at your labia and vulva. You push at his shoulders trying to get him off of you while crying your eyes out. It doesn’t seem to effect him though, he just locks his arms around your thighs, sliding you down onto your back. 

At some point his tongue washes clean over your clit and he feels your body jolt from the pleasure. He finds it again and your body stiffens. He looks up at your crying face and squeezes the meat of your thighs between his fingers as he abuses your clit to no end.

You’re sobbing at this point because to you this all feels without reason. For the first time in your life you are scared of Kenma. From what you remember of him, he was always voiceless and sweet, even during school when he decided to show up. He was a kid who always greeted the teacher, even if it was wordless, he got his work done on time when he could, and he minded his business. You never talked to him, but you did hold his understated presence in the back of your mind— for the longest you pegged him as a boy who could be pleasant if you got to know him. So, why was he doing this? Why is he hurting you?

You made him your roommate because you thought that he of all people wouldn’t do this. You wanted to be friends. What did you do?

Now he’s violating you after a year of little to no interaction and him being barely there. He knows it’s wrong and you're not fighting him anymore, you’re just laying there, chest heaving and silent.

He lifts his head to plant a wet kiss on your inner thigh and drags his tongue against the soft skin momentarily. He looks at your scared face and gives a crooked smile. He’s sorry, he really is but this feels like a dream to him. You're too good not to take. 

He finds himself positioning his dick right between your folds and rutting against you. You really must’ve given up, your fight is long gone as he holds you down by your pelvic bones—uncut nails breach your soft skin.

Excitement fills his body as your wetness begins to coat his length as he rocks himself back and forth. He’s careful and his breathing is labored.

“I-” He tries and fails. “You never noticed me, but I’ve loved you forever.” He’s shy. Kenma looks down at your stomach, too embarrassed to meet your crying eyes. 

“We went to school together for years...” He trails off, still staring down. He doesn’t have the guts to look at the mess he’s made of you. “I wanted to talk to you, but you wouldn’t like- no. I was scared.” He shakes his head softly and finally meets your eyes. You're still crying. He feels his throat tighten and he doesn't want to talk anymore.

“Don’t look at me like that!” He stops his movements to reach over and pull the pillow from behind you. He puts it over your face and thinks to hold it there, maybe to suffocate you for a second, but he doesn't. He’s already done enough bad. He just lets it sit there, you’re the one to grab it and hold it there. 

You hold it against your face like your life depends on it. You can't breathe very well, but what does it matter? You want him to go away.You want this to end. So, you cling onto that pillow and pretend like you’re anywhere but here.

It’s an illusion that fails quickly. You feel him press his length into you. It’s rushed, it hurts, and he doesn't know what he’s doing. You squeeze the pillow, and his sweaty hands play with your tits. You can feel the tears well up in your eyes. You don’t want this, it’s a nightmare.

He’s not that big, rather small actually, but he has girth. He hopes you can feel it. He moves slowly dragging every inch of himself against your walls. He mouths at your nipples and it feels yucky. At some point you’re sure you feel him lay a wet kiss on your stomach.

You don’t know. It’s over quickly, but it feels like forever.

 His thrusts were sloppy and unseasoned just like everything else he’s done. He’d never had sex before, but he hoped he was good. When he came his body seized and his fingers dug into your sides. He was glad you weren't watching because the embarrassment from coming so fast a second time was much easier to handle. 

You two sit in silence for a while after that, the only audible sound is you sniveling. He watches silently as your body shakes and tucks himself back in, to at least feel decent. It’s like that for five whole minutes until he finally decides to go back to his room. 

In the silence of his own dark room the water works start in full force as he comes to terms with what he’s done. He’s a degenerate who will struggle to sleep tonight.