#who knows if this was intentional or not but it's fitting nonetheless lol

[opalspring]

About Muu's murder possibly being an accident

Here are some ponders over Muu’s killing of Rei having been potentially unintentional, as well as some observations on her way of thinking.

I’ve been thinking about all this for a bit and wanted to share it. This is gonna be a little long. 

Cw: discussion about suicide

About the “Muu chasing Rei” scene

So, the scene in Afterpain where Muu runs after Rei has always seemed a little strange to me. Why are there so many cuts in the montage, on top of the tone of the song changing completely (not sure that’s the right term)?

It could have just been a way to save on the animation budget and fit the music’s rhythm better, but still.

Let’s have a look at some shots I think are important in this scene:

This shot could hint at the fact Muu’s school shoes were wet and slippery at the time. This will be important later.

Note how the hourglass looks balanced on both sides here.

We can’t see Muu’s shoes here. Why? This has to be important imo

Basically, I think the running scene is made up of two completely distinct scenes. From my understanding, there is one scene where Muu possibly confessed to Rei/ apologized for her actions and ending with Rei leaving, and another where Muu chased after Rei in her school shoes (probably slippery from stepping in the water) and accidentally stabbed her after tripping while she was planning to commit suicide in front of Rei.

Here’s a possible montage of how the chasing scene (with the stabbing) happened chronologically. Added some extras from inmf at the end too.

(This took way too long to make lol)

The ellipse with the screen turning white is important: we’re missing a lot of context on what happened before the stabbing. One way we could explain Rei turning around would be if Muu called out to her (explaining the crows dispersing). But maybe we’ll see in her 3rd mv.

In any case, Muu’s expression during the stabbing shows she’s just as shocked as Rei about what’s happening. Plus, the shoe falling far back behind Muu indicates she tripped with a lot of force, and there’s the detail of her shoes being slippery because of the water from the hose at school. This could reinforce the idea that Rei getting stabbed was an accident.

The other scene would probably just be Muu apologizing/confessing to Rei, then getting ignored. The biggest hint for this is how Muu’s shoes are hidden from view when this happens. This is probably a clue on how she actually has her outdoor shoes at that time. 

About Muu being in denial about the murder

One thing a little eyebrow-raising about Muu is how she keeps denying being in the wrong whenever asked about her murder. At first glance it looks like she feels unconcerned by it and maybe that’s partly true when looking at her second trial interrogation answers. However, I don’t think that’s all there is to it.

Muu might actually be so traumatized by the accident that she simply refuses to acknowledge it, or even think about it, period. This is hinted at in this interrogation question:

What’s the thing you’re most afraid of?

“Painful things, scary things, and also embarrassing things.”

From this we can guess Muu prefers to pretend like things she’s not happy with never happened, since they're painful to think about. It’s not the best idea when it comes to her murdering a person, but this might be what’s happening here and not her not caring about the whole thing.

In my opinion, Muu’s stubbornness about not acknowledging her murder could be partly because she doesn’t want to admit she killed the girl she loves, while she was (maybe) trying to stab herself instead. It was such a huge mistake for her that Muu’s mind likely refused to process it. 

Another detail hints at Muu’s repressed feelings about the crime. As much as she claims to not think it’s her fault, imagery from her mvs /where she can’t lie/ suggests she’s very affected by it in reality:

Whether Muu stabbed Rei out of her own volition or by accident, one thing was sure, she was not in a right state of mind when it happened. Her face here also looks too shocked for the stabbing to have happened intentionally in my opinion.

The trembling hands add to this. 

This is just my interpretation but here Muu really doesn’t look like she meant for the stabbing to happen, since she's hyperventilating and sweating. 

Why the attempted suicide in the first place?

A thing of note from inmf is Muu’s insistence on everything being “as she wishes”. The milestone post for inmf on the yt channel says this:

“God gave me everything”

“Everything is as I wish”

Looking at inmf, it certainly seems this way from Muu’s perspective. However, after this shot of Muu looking back (at Rei calling her out on her actions most likely), we get this:

I find this transition interesting. It’s as if the existence of Rei put Muu in such turmoil it spinned her life around, and led to Rei's demise. It was definitely the turning point moment in inmf. The details are still unclear, but it could be that, when Rei entered Muu’s life, everything wasn’t “as she wishes” anymore. Muu had found something (well, someone) that she couldn’t control (and make hers since it’s implied she loved her).

To complement this, please look at this quote from Muu’s first voice drama:

“I did kill her. But she’s the one to blame! The situation was to a point I had no choice but to kill her. I had such an awful time.”

While I think Muu feels horrible about her murder like mentioned above, this quote, depending on how we interpret it, could show us how Muu couldn’t bear the thought of not having full control in her life. The “awful time” part could be a reference not only to the bullying, but also to the fact she couldn’t control Rei/ get her to love her. 

While she didn’t mean to, she killed Rei, and to cope with the thought she comforted herself by thinking about how it was "the only solution". For possibly the first time in her life, Muu couldn’t get what she wanted, so this was the “only possible outcome” (though I don’t think she believes that deep down).

It’s more complicated than that even, Rei may have been the first person Muu fell in love with. It’s only a headcanon I have, but it’s possible Muu was overwhelmed by her feelings and did everything she could to get Rei to like her (maybe the part where she’s apologizing). She didn't know what to do with her feelings and wanted them reciprocated at all costs. But when Rei understandably pushes her off, with Muu being a bully and all, Muu snaps and becomes suicidal. Some time passes, and her suicide note on her, Muu runs after Rei to take her own life, though we know how this ended.

Muu’s conflicting feelings for Rei

We talked earlier about the visuals during the Muu running scene in Afterpain, but the lyrics during this part are also worth looking into:

“Let’s meet up inside the pain, a place just for me 

Postmortem makeup to hide my heart, how to solve it is a secret 

The stabbing of the little devil’s voice, counterattack being a suicide note 

“I love YOU” ”

In my opinion these are definitely the most important lyrics of the song. The whole thing is too difficult for me to decipher, but I think the “postmortem makeup to hide my heart” could refer to Muu’s romantic feelings for Rei, and how she plans to “bury them” with her suicide. Another thing is the “I love YOU”. I think this is probably the contents of the suicide note, as it goes right after its mention in the song.

Earlier we mentioned how Muu could have tried to commit suicide “because of Rei”. The catalyst for this could have been Muu realizing her crush on Rei, and how she became Muu’s sole weakness.

Do you have apologetic feelings for the person you killed?

“I think the person who wronged first should apologize”

This question was released during T1, but with the additional context from inmf we can infer a few more things here. In Muu’s mind, Rei was the one who did the wrong thing first. That’s quite something to say when Muu was a bully at the time she met her, and the implications of Rei calling her out on it. So why did Muu answer this way? 

It could be simply because of the fact Muu felt unsettled by both Rei having the courage to denounce her bullying, and Muu’s own feelings for her. Once again, Muu was probably scared of things that were out of her control, and so she made Rei "the bad one" in her mind.

Muu's romantic feelings for Rei are also hinted at with Muu’s fondness of tropical fish, that could be influenced by Rei (because of the fish on her backpack). 

This part from inmf is also noteworthy:

Muu’s visibly distraught from what just happened (whether it was an accident or not, it must have been traumatizing for her). This here could be Muu’s mind trying to cope with the situation. And these are the words she chose:

“可哀想なの” = “I’m always the drama queen” in the official English tl, or alternatively “I’m the one who should be pitied”

Why would she say that in that situation? No matter how one looks at it, she just stabbed someone. So why should we pity her? 

In Muu’s mind, it could be that Rei was a component in her life that, for the first time in her life that could make her lose face, like we discussed earlier. We don’t know how Muu’s parents would react to their daughter being a lesbian, but some part of society at least would shun her for it. And the thought of this might have been unacceptable for Muu, who thought since childhood she'd always be pampered no matter what.

That and the fact she accidentally murdered her crush.

So there it is, I hope this wasn’t too confusing! It was very hard to organize all this because Muu, much like Fuuta, keeps her feelings hidden and has sides to her that seem contradictory at times. Muu is a very complex character but very well-written imo, she has both redeeming qualities and bad parts that really make her feel human so it was really fun to come up with this. I hope it didn't look like I was trying to make excuses for Muu or demonize her actions because I feel like it's important to look at the whole picture when discussing her case in particular. 

[everydayyoulovemeless]

hiya, how are you doing?

I recently read one of your posts containing yandere NV HCs of certain characters, and it gave me an idea for a request if you're feeling up to it.

This'll be a Fallout 4 yandere headcannon, if that's alright with you. The characters would be:

Deacon, Nick and Hanock, or if you're wanting to, replace any character with Danse, Macready or Cait. I feel like you'd obliterate this, since I live off your writing, lol.

nonetheless, have a good one!

Yandere Deacon, Nick, and Hancock HCs

➼ Word Count » 1.8k ➼ Warnings » Stalking, Threats, Kidnapping, Possessiveness, Drugging, and General Yandere Themes. ➼ Genre » Yandere, Romantic ➼ A/N » Ah! You're so sweet Nonnie! I hope this was what you were looking for <33

Deacon

Deacon knows everything about you. He's constantly following you around and 'gathering intel' as he likes to call it. He'll end up knowing everything there is to know before the two of you even meet.

He justifies everything he does by telling himself that 'he has a job to do and he needs to do it well', even if he seems to have an entire shrine of you back at base.

He gets so scared once you both officially meet because it means that he doesn't have to stalk you for his job anymore. Now he has no reason to find out all these little things about your life, and it scares him that he doesn't have that cover to hide his true intentions behind anymore.

He's very aware at how unhealthy his feelings toward you are and distances himself as much as possible before disappearing from your life entirely.

Eventually, he won't be able to help it and will find a way to weasel back into your life once again, and everything will seem normal from there. You'll hardly realize the type of person Deacon actually is because of how easy it is for him to lie to you.

A lot of the times when he doesn't like someone you hang out with, he'll stalk them for a bit before killing them in a way he sees fit. Usually, it's just sniping, but he can get ugly if provoked. (he was a part of the DP deathclaws at one point)

You'll be none the wiser to the truth because of how easily he can spin it to make him look better. Everything will seem fine and peachy while on the flip side, Deacon's breaking the majority of his morals just to keep his state of mind at bay.

He tries his best to appear laid back and friendly but on the inside he’s screaming, fighting himself not to just grab you or rough up some sideman. He does so much to keep his composure and show that nothing bothers him that it ends up taking a toll on his health.

Even if you dismiss him back to a settlement, he’ll still be 10 steps behind you. He’s come this far and he’s not losing you. He’ll protect you to his last breath.

Deacon might even start sending threatening messages anonymously through caravans just to keep you on edge. He wants you to come running into his arms, hiding away in the Railroad HQ, afraid of your possible assassination while you’re out and about. He can manipulate you so much easier if you're scared.

"Yeahhh, you're 'friend' said that they didn't wanna stick around. Who needed them though, right?"

He might not be one for physical affection, but he ends up hugging you a whole lot as a yandere. They're far from welcoming too due to how tight they are. Bros got an iron grip on you.

Deacon is really protective of you. He doesn’t really care who he’s killing or what he’s doing, if he perceives it as a threat to your relationship, he’s gonna get rid of it. The two of you are partners now, right? You only ever really need him.

He and you will be best friends until he one day decides that he's going to confess to you, and if you even seem slightly against the idea he'll have no issue kidnapping you and keeping you locked away.

He’ll have you trust everything he says, every little lie will go right over your head until it’s too late. All of sudden a hand will reach out from an alley and drag you away from the rest of the Commonwealth, stashed away for Deacon's own peace of mind. Why wouldn’t you want to stay with him, though? He was with you from the start. He knows exactly what he needs to do for you in any situation. He's the one you really want—the one you really need, whether you realize it or not.

Nick

Has a case on you constantly open. Any slight change in behavior or new acquaintance is documented down in his files.

He's on a constant watch for any variable that might compromise your safety or well-being, and if he does find something he deems a threat, he'll take care of it promptly. Even if it's not an act you might've liked.

If he ever finds that you've been gone for longer than usual, he'll track you down and take you to the agency where he won't let you out of his sight for the next couple of days.

There's nothing in the world that would make him want to ever hurt you and makes a constant effort in ensuring that he doesn't accidentally leave a scratch from his busted metal hands.

He's WAYY too overprotective, and he's aware of it, but he convinces himself that since it's for noble-ish reasons, then he's good. I mean, protecting people is his entire job, why would him wanting to defend you be viewed as unhealthy? He desperately tries to convince himself that he's completely in the right, even when that nagging feeling doesn't leave.

He'll try to convince you to live at the agency with him and Ellie. He might even manipulate Ellie into unknowingly helping him out in entrapping you. Having a second-friendly face might just do the trick.

If you happen to own a terminal then bro Is gonna hack it and use any information or logs to his advantage.

Nick has a tendency to just kinda reach out and grab your chin. He does it for multiple reasons: inspecting you for cuts, feeling your skin against him, or simply just making you look at him. He doesn't even realize how often he does it.

Being a detective for so long has made him incredible at reading people, and he especially likes to read you. Every slight jerk or reaction tells him everything he needs to know and he plays off of it so well.

He’s a little insecure due to him not being human. He knows he’s not your ideal type, and he wouldn’t make you be in a relationship with him, as long as you listen and let him protect you then he’s happy. (although, that wouldn't stop him from occasionally slaughtering others out of jealousy)

He’s always there to comfort your or aid in whatever quest you doing to the point that you become emotionally dependent on him.

Nick's probably the most understanding and reasonable yanderes on this list. He never wants you to be scared or alone like he was and his goal will mainly be to keep you happy, no matter what that would take.

It gets to the point where he doesn't want you going to anyone else when you're in distress and would find himself getting a little jealous if you did. He'll end up taking them out if it gets bad enough. You don't really need them that badly anyway, he knows so much more about you and can help you so much better.

"Believe me, doll, they aren't the person you think they are."

Hancock

He's got an eye for you the second you walk into Goodneighbor. He's always going to be lurking around, popping out of corners, and throwing his arm around your shoulders before butting into whatever conversation you were already having.

He has a habit of lacing the things you intake (stimpaks, water, food, etc.) with drugs so that he can take you up to the Old State House to 'take care of you'. It usually ends up being him clinging to you and begging you to stay because you're not in the right headspace, even when you're fully sober.

He'll start telling the people around town that he and you are a thing. Soon enough the guards are all keeping an eye out for you and will stop anyone who tries to hit on you.

He likes it better when you're reliant on him and will have people stage these incidents nearby to make you fearful of going out alone or at the very least more cautious so that he could swoop in and protect you more often

There were a few people who spoke out against what he seemed to be trying to do but they all kept disappearing and, eventually, people stopped questioning it.

Hancock is always going to be thinking about you. It comes to a point where even Farenheit is concerned about whether his crush is healthy or not and might even try to put an end to it as well. That being said, he wants you to be thinking about him just as much and would start slaughtering raiders in front of you so that you never forget him. It'll mostly just end up freaking you out because of how brutal it usually is, but that doesn't stop him.

His obsession gets worse and worse over time until it eventually drives him to do more drastic things like kidnapping you.

He'll manage to convince you that some raider gang has a hit out for you and he just wants to make sure you stay safe till it all boils over. Fahrenheit feels so bad for you as she's not sure what she should do. She just watches you tremble in the corner, knowing it's from Hancock injecting you with Med-X and instilling a false sense of danger into you.

You won't be completely stuck up in the Old State House, though, whenever he has to go somewhere or do something, he'll sometimes take you along. Only if you've been good for him. He likes to think of these times as dates because he tries to get to know you more and ask questions about your past and all that. He finds you really interesting and loves hearing you talk.

He'd love to spoil you with whatever you wanted. It could be something only found on the West coast and he'd still make the journey for you. It's not even funny how lovesick he is.

He gets kinda paranoid that you'd run away from him, so some nights he'll just tie you up, pull you into his lap, and shush your panicked sobs.

The good thing about Hancock is that he's not pushy when it comes to sex. He might flirt a lot and be kinda touchy, but he'd never dreamt of crossing any lines until you said you were ready. He'd wait till the end of time if he had to.

He'll try his best to keep you sheltered and away from the horrors happening outside. He wants to keep you as pure and ignorant as he possibly can. He thinks it's better that way.

As harsh as his actions can appear, he's actually really soft towards you. His touches are gentle, his voice is quiet, and his eyes are always full of adoration.

Friendly guy, just be careful what you mention to him. He has a habit of going batshit on people he deems wrong for you.

[fridayincarnate]

8, 18, 27 for kylux? 👀

(from this otp ask game)

8. What’s one way their personalities compliment one another?

Ah, but how can I pick just one when they are so many! Kylo and Hux are great narrative foils of each other. (Or at least they were set up to be in TFA; it deviated a bit after that.) The order/chaos dichotomy is pretty obvious, so I'll point to a different one.

Emotions wash through Kylo like a wave - a stormy, violent wave, but a wave nonetheless. He experiences them in the moment and reacts immediately, impulsively, without processing them or thinking them through. Hux is the opposite: he quietly files his emotions away, hoarding them under him like a sleeping dragon. They are very much still there, and he doesn't really "process" them in any healthy way. It's more like rumination, festering more and more resentment the longer he goes without releasing them. At first glance you might think of Kylo and Hux as a hot/cold dichotomy, but Hux is not actually cold - he only pretends to be. Kylo is powerful enough in a direct confrontation that he doesn't need to hide his intentions. But Hux can't usually attack his enemies directly, either because of First Order politics or because his attacks against the Resistance/New Republic require careful strategy (think of how poorly it goes for him in TLJ when he doesn't employ these tactics). He's every bit as fiery as Kylo, he just hides his fury behind a cold affect until the right situation wakes the dragon. By the time you remember that it breathes fire, it's too late.

18. What song fits them perfectly?

Nonnie, I have so many. (cracks knuckles, opens Kylux playlist)

No Children by the Mountain Goats and The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot by Brand New are both giving classic Kylux to me. So is Kiss With a Fist by Florence + the Machine. (So much so that I used its lyrics to name one of my fics!)

i did this all for you! by Xana feels like a really bitter Hux turning against Kylo after TLJ.

Lemon Boy by Cavetown (also covered by The Orion Experience) reads to me as Ben/Kylo being corrupted to the Dark Side by his attachment to Hux, which is a favorite trope of mine.

27. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

This is a fun and unique question! For Kylo, I think he thinks of Hux every time he has a tantrum and slashes up part of the ship, which counts as an everyday activity for him. He knows it will rile Hux up and he enjoys the attention. He also probably thinks about Hux when he's putting on or taking off his gloves, because Hux is so rarely seen without his. Before they become involved, Kylo is determined to get Hux to remove his gloves because even that tiny glimpse of vulnerability and intimacy is so rare from Hux. They're both so touch starved, lol.

Hux thinks of Kylo whenever he sees pen and paper or physical books because he knows about Kylo's calligraphy hobby and the ancient Jedi/Sith tomes he keeps. Hux finds physical media hopelessly archaic and impractical, and he's both annoyed by Kylo's interest and intrigued in spite of himself. Such objects would likely be a rare curiosity that he hasn't encountered often in his life aboard First Order ships.

[maybeturtlesweallare]

Yeah I’m also not the most articulate person so, taking the easy way out, I’ll just be non-specific while I add my two cents.

I agree that the post doesn’t cover everything and that it can’t/doesn’t have to. I still get the overall criticism it’s bringing up. People will always misinterpret things, or take them wrong, or just out of context, even if it was much more of a comprehensive explanation. Additionally, if it was so much more of a lengthy explanation then it would have lost a lot of potential impact on people. Nonetheless, criticism of the criticism is warranted lol.

Obviously there is no “one size fits all” rule for these types of situations, especially with the wording of things. In this case it’s a bit ironic with how the post itself is addressing how these sorts of words can be twisted. Balance the intentional, the unintentional, subtext, everyone’s different ever-evolving definitions/perspectives on things, etc. and you end up with a bit of a verbal/textual minefield.

So I’ll just say to be careful about taking this post as law, and rather carefully try to understand the specific language and situation as that it’s referring to. Try to recognize it not only in others, but also yourself.

Life is hard because the line of who’s “right” and who’s “wrong” is often blurry. Sometimes we might set boundaries for ourselves that are too restrictive and thus hinder our growth until we are pushed out of them. On the other hand we can be too loose and end up letting ourselves get hurt by others. Figuring out when it’s okay to be pushed vs when it’s okay to push back is a constant battle.

Also, regardless of where they’re placed, our boundaries tend to change how those around us act. So, like I think some of the above reblog is addressing, I don’t know if saying they’re not intended to change how other people behave is totally right? I get the point behind saying that a boundary is your refusal to interact with a person who does something, rather than your boundary being a restriction placed on that person themselves. But based on the situation, like maybe with a certain power dynamic, a refusal to interact could be more manipulative. Ooooooor it’s actually still fine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. And outside of close person to person interactions, there’s the strangers and the public too right? Like “Freedom” and “lack of censorship” vs “politeness” and “common decency” in communities. Ugh. Yeah it’s just complicated.

We have boundaries and preferences based off of how we feel and, as with everything, it’s good to question them. Like… What might make this a boundary instead of a preference and vice versa? What “cost” is there to enforcing these? What experiences and/or feelings are these things rooted in? Which feelings might be considered “valid” and which feelings should I work on? How does my “set” of boundaries and preferences look when compared to others? How does my “set” interact with the ones that those around me have developed? What type of relationship should I have with someone based on these interactions? (example: you might like travelling with someone who you wouldn’t want to house sit for you) Idk. Just some questions like that I think could be good for developing our relationship with the world around us.

Lastly, I’d like to say: prepare to forgive yourself and others!!! (Yes there are situations with extenuating circumstances where it can be worse to forgive someone, this is just a general suggestion) There will be bad days, accidents, areas where personal growth needs to be done, and so on. We all screw up at some point. Just a bit more kindness during these times would do a lot to make the world a nicer place.

Alright I’ll shut up now, this is a bit off the cuff so sorry if I haven’t said things properly, and feel free to add to my ramblings lol

[frodo-with-glasses]

Sort of going off the friendship ask game, do you have any headcanons specifically about Frodo as a kid in Brandy Hall and then being adopted by Bilbo? Unfortunately we know practically nothing about that in canon, yet it is a Very Important time period to me

Unfortunately, I don’t have as many headcanons about this as I would like! We know next to nothing about Frodo’s time in Brandy Hall, so there’s really not much for me to go off of.

I can only assume that Frodo would’ve gotten more or less lost in the wash of Brandy Hall; not forgotten or unloved, but not really the responsibility of anyone in particular, and therefore a little bit overlooked while everyone else was paying more attention to their own rowdy children. If Frodo had had anyone in particular who played a strong parental role for him during this time, I feel like he would’ve mentioned it in the story at some point, but he never did, so I guess he was kinda left to his own devices.

We do know that Frodo was a little mushroom thief during this time, LOL! I wonder if that was out of boredom, naughtiness, acting out for attention, or some combination of the three…or maybe Frodo just really loved those mushrooms in particular, but was too shy to properly ask for them, and learned the hard way that asking politely is always much better. In any case, we can safely say that Frodo wasn’t always a saint. I think he was always a well-intentioned kid, deep down, but still a kid nonetheless, and he got into a non-zero amount of trouble.

In any case, if I had just one headcanon, I think old Saradoc—the Master of Buckland, who would later be Merry’s dad—took a liking to Frodo, and seeing how the introverted little kid would often slink away to hide in a corner and read a book while the Brandybuck kids were being loud and obnoxious at supper time, Saradoc took it upon himself to build a little “treehouse” for Frodo in a hollow under the roots of a great old oak near the Hall. It was just a small gesture, but an appreciated one nonetheless, that Frodo would always have a place he could call his own, to which he could retreat if he ever needed it.

Frodo soon outgrew his treehouse, of course—he would barely be able to fit inside at all, as an adult—but he never forgot it. That was where he did all his early Thinking. And then, he was adopted by Bilbo, and it didn’t take long before one of the spare rooms became Frodo’s new Thinking Room. Bilbo always knew that if Frodo was nowhere else to be found, and the door to the Thinking Room was shut, if no one were on fire he’d best leave Frodo alone, because the lad was busy pondering himself, life, the universe, and everything.

Bilbo never saw any reason to worry about it. Frodo would always come out for supper.

[t0wnspersonb]

Twin Bed (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Anonymous said:

are u taking requests rn? 🥺 ive read ur tsukki fics and i know to myself ur the only one who can write this request amazingly: tsukki sneaking in to his s/o’s room at night bc he misses her and he saw how cute she is in her pajamas but couldnt help getting turned on as well bc she is wearing shorts and an oversized shirt it also didnt help that her bed is for one person only ;) UR AN AMAZING AUTHOR AND NEVER STOP WRITING TSUKKI OR HAIKYUU SCENARIOS COS THE PPL NEED U

~~~

Word Count: 2,475

Rated: Explicit

Warnings: SMUT, my shit writing, bad language

~~~

Yoooo this is was legit so fun to write lmao. I hope I did your request justice anon and I appreciate your kind words!!! I know I have other requests sitting in my inbox and I will try and to get to them soon. I might be a bit inactive the next couple of weeks, I will be going vacation (I definitely fucking need it lol) this week and then I start classes again. RIP. I hope you guys enjoy this one and let me know what you think!:) I literally am at a lost for words with how amazing you guys are and how unproblematic you guys have been considering the bullshit that’s been going around in the community. I just want to reiterate that this is a safe and fun place for everyone, it is never my intention to make anyone uncomfortable and if I do please let me know so that I can apologize correctly for it! But to make things clear I will not tolerate any fuckery on this blog, I don’t have the energy nor the patience to deal with shit like that. We are all capable of being decent human beings to each other. No drama, no bullshit, just a fun and safe place for everyone that wants to be part of it. ANYWAY, enough of my ranting, please enjoy this filth and my shit writing lmao 😘😘😘💕💕💕💕

~~~

You frowned slightly as you looked at your phone, your eyes squinting against the harshness of the light. 

 Tsukishima had texted you, multiple times - at two in the morning - in fact. While you dearly adored your boyfriend of only five months, you didn’t exactly adore the fact that he woke you up at this time.

 Especially considering you had to be up in about five hours to get ready for an exam.

 You sighed through your nose as you tugged your blankets from your body and made your way to your door. 

 “Kei… it’s two in the morning…” You yawned, looking up at your tall boyfriend with sleepy eyes. “The dorm manager is going to get mad at me if she catches you here.” 

 “Well let’s not get caught then.” he drawled out, gold eyes flickering over your body. A blonde eyebrow arched up; “is that my shirt?”

 You blinked at him for a moment, not fully registering what he had just asked before a soft blush began to coat your cheeks.

 You were definitely wearing one of his shirts, a green Sendai Frogs shirt that was way too big for your body, given his tall stature. He had left the shirt at your dorm two weeks ago, and naturally you wore it to bed almost every night. 

 “No.” You said in a small voice, carefully playing with your fingers as you looked up at him through your lashes.

 A soft blush covered Tsukishima’s cheeks before he scoffed, his slender fingers reaching up to push his glasses back up his nose. “You’re a terrible liar. Looks good on you though.” he said, brushing past you to get into your room.

 You turned to see him plop himself onto your bed, and you couldn’t help but stare. It was a strange sight to see to say the least. His 6’4 frame was just a tad out of place in your room, especially sitting on your incredibly small bed. But more so he was out of place because, well, your boyfriend was beautiful. It was like a Greek god decided to pay you a secret visit before the sun came up, ready to disappear at any moment. 

 Tsukishima’s hair was tousled perfectly, the tight black shirt he wore complimented him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick biceps. You felt your mouth go dry as you realized that he was wearing grey sweatpants, clinging low on his hips.

 How could someone look so good at two in the morning?

 “Are you just going to stare at me the entire time?” He called out, his back leaning against the wall your bed was pushed up against, his phone in hand. 

 “You’re the one that wanted to come over.” you frowned, locking your door before making your way towards the bed. “You’re taking up all the space.” You whined. 

 He rolled his eyes before his long legs parted, creating a space on the bed. “Come here.” 

 You felt your face burn even more, a strange shyness overtaking you at the intimate position he wanted you in. 

 It wasn’t like you had never been close to Tsukishima before, you guys had been intimate, many times... but then why were you so nervous all of a sudden?

 “What are you waiting for?” he asked, a blonde eyebrow quirked up.

 “Shut up.” you grumbled, carefully climbing over one of his long legs. You settled yourself against him, your upper body fitting easily between his legs, your back resting against his stomach and your head gently pressing into his strong chest.

 Resting against Tsukishima was far better than resting in your tiny bed. 

 One of his arms carefully wrapped around your waist, his large hand gently pressing against your stomach, the other hand held his phone in front of both of you, a volleyball game overtaking the screen.

 It was silent for a moment, both of you absorbed in the video. It had only been fifteen minutes into the game when Tsukishima began looking over your body. His gold eyes taking in your bare legs before flickering up. He zeroed in on the exposed skin of your hip, the shirt you wore had been pulled up slightly. 

 He swallowed thickly, arousal beginning to spike in his blood. Christ, it wasn’t like you were naked right now; it wasn’t like you were wearing anything incredibly enticing, but… fuck. Tsukishima began wracking his brain for when the last time it was that he had seen you. That’s right, it had been a while, a little over two weeks in fact. 

 His sudden desire was because he had just missed you right? He couldn’t possibly be turned on from the simple fact that you were in the shortest shorts known to man, or the fact that you were in his shirt and you weren’t…. Christ, you weren’t wearing a fucking bra. 

 He could see your hardened nipples through the shirt despite how baggy it was on your small body. 

 “Can you hold the phone, my arm is getting tired.” he said quietly, hoping that you hadn’t felt his hardening member against your back just yet. 

 “Really Kei?” you rolled your eyes but took his phone nonetheless, your eyes completely glued to the screen. The game was just beginning to get interesting.

 It was silent again.

 But this time, Tsukishima trailed his hand down to your exposed skin, carefully sliding his fingers under your shirt, gently tracing against your soft skin.

 You sighed softly at his touch, your body wiggling slightly against him to get more comfortable. Tsukishima took that as a good sign, his hands traveling further up, the rough pads of his fingers felt incredible against your skin; goosebumps erupting over your body.

 You shivered slightly, desire spiking in the pit of your stomach as his long fingers began moving further up, until they rested just below your breasts. Your breath hitched, your heart thumping loudly in your ears now. 

 His fingers carefully dragged against the soft underside of your breasts. You felt Tsukishima shift, his upper body sitting up slightly, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your outer ear, hot breath rustled your hair. 

 “Who’s winning?” he murmured, lips grazing against your ear before carefully brushing down towards your neck.

A soft whimper tore through your lips. “It’s uhmm… uh - o-oh Kei.” your eyes fluttered shut as his tongue darted across your skin, tasting you before biting down softly. You could feel your cunt clenching at his actions, your bundle of nerves suddenly throbbing to be touched.

 “What was that?” he teased softly, the hand that was gently caressing the underside of your breasts suddenly moved up, carefully cupping your entire breast, long fingers gently tugging at your hardened nipple.

 You moaned loudly before immediately dropping his phone, both hands clasping your mouth shut tightly.

 “Oh, that’s right, if your dorm manager caught me here, she would be furious right? I don’t want you getting in trouble, so you best be quiet hmm?” he murmured softly against your skin before pinching your nipple hard between two fingers.

 Your breath hitched, your eyes squeezing shut as pleasure rippled through your body.

 “But you make the cutest noises when you're turned on.” he said, his voice incredibly quiet and calm, despite the growing hardness that was pressing into your back now. “You’re in quite the dilemma, aren’t you?”

 His other hand suddenly trailed down, his fingers curling against your through your shorts. 

 “Fuck… you’re soaked.” he groaned quietly, feeling your arousal leaking through your panties and staining your shorts.

 He suddenly leaned back once again, your head once again resting against his strong chest. But despite his composure, his heart was racing just as much as yours. 

 He suddenly bucked his hips up, his cock rubbing against your back. A soft sigh escaped his lips, the hand that was groping your breast pulled out of your shirt and tangled into your hair, gently tugging and forcing you to arch your neck, staring up at the blonde male now.

 His gold eyes held nothing but lust now as he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes. 

 You had never seen a more gorgeous man in your entire life. 

 “What do you want?” he asked, his voice deep with arousal. But before you could say anything, the hand that was grasping you through your clothes suddenly tugged your shorts and panties to the side, long fingers brushing softly against your weeping slit.

 Tsukishima exhaled loudly, his cock jumping against your back as he felt just how wet you were. 

 “Fuck…” he whispered quietly, and carefully slid his finger to the top of your cunt, his finger gently pressing down against your clit.

 A jolt of pleasure erupted through your body, your mouth falling open in a silent plea as your eyes fluttered shut.

 He began rubbing delicate circles against you, a soft pleasure beginning to build up in your lower stomach, your hips rocking up carefully with his movements.

 “K-Kei…” you trembled, your hand reaching down and grasping at his forearm helplessly. 

 “Are you close?” he asked, his finger pressing down just a little bit harder, but that was all that you needed to get your legs shaking.

 The way he touched you… the way that he took care of you… it was no wonder you were completely head over heels for him.

 He was just too good.

 You nodded helplessly against his chest, and then suddenly he pulled his hand away from your dripping cunt, a soft cry of distress tearing through your lips. Why did he… but you were so close…

 “Can you move away for a second?” he asked quietly, gently pushing you forward. You shakily scooted away from him and heard the rustling of sheets and clothes. You twisted your head to look back and - your mouth went dry.

 Tsukishima was still resting against the wall, his lower body easily sprawled out against your bed as you still sat between his long legs, but this time… this time… he laid with one hand behind his head, the other was easily grasping his member, lazily sliding up and down his shaft. His grey sweatpants were bunched up around the tops of his thighs, his black shirt pulled up slightly, exposing his lower stomach and the perfect lines of his Adonis belt.

 “Come here.” he demanded, you turned to crawl over to him, fully intending on taking him into your mouth- his hand flew up, halting your movements. “No. I want to be inside you.”

 Your lips parted slightly as you nodded in a daze, your cunt squeezing around nothing at his words. But before you could sink down on top of his cock, he stopped you once more. 

 “Turn around.” he commanded. Your lips trembled softly, your hands gripping his upper thighs as you situated yourself on top of him, you could feel his fingers tugging your shorts and underwear to the side again, and then something blunt and thick began rubbing up and down your soaked entrance. 

 “Don’t tease me Kei, please.” you whimpered out, but before you could plead further, he grabbed your hips, forcing you to sink all the way down onto his member in one movement.

 You gritted your teeth tightly, biting back the loud shout that wanted to escape your throat at the sudden intrusion, at the force of him already hitting the most devastating depths within you.

 Fuck you had never been quite this full, never had someone quite this deep until you met Tsukishima.

 “Shit.” he cursed, growling slightly, his grip on your hips tightening as his eyes fluttered shut as your tight heat engulfed him completely.

 He could never get used to this. 

 After a moment of adjusting to the new intrusion you began rocking your hips, carefully sliding back and forth, your lips forming into a silent o as pleasure jolted through your body at each drag of his cock against your walls.

 A soft whimper tore through your lips as he began grabbing handfuls of your ass, his fingers gripping tightly at the soft flesh, kneading and pulling your cheeks apart. Before his hand settled on pulling your shorts and underwear further away, his eyes taking in the obscene way your cunt swallowed his cock.

 The quiet room was filled with the sound of rustling sheets, the wet noises of your arousal leaking through your stuffed cunt as Tsukishima slid in and out of you, the soft and breathless moans that escaped your lips, and the soft grunts of Tsukishima as he fought back his release. He couldn’t cum yet, not until you did.

 But he could tell that you were close by the desperate way you rocked your hips, faster, sloppier, chasing for a release.

 “Cum for me.” he demanded, his large hand cracking down against your ass. Your hand came up, stifling the loud gasp that wanted to escape your lips, your cunt clenching tightly around him. You could feel it then, the pleasure mixed with the sharp pain, the tightness in your lower stomach finally releasing. 

 “Fuck that’s it.” He murmured, watching as you trembled above him, his hands coming down to grip at your waist, forcing you to move faster against him as he began chasing his own release.

 Tsukishima gritted his teeth tightly before carefully shoving you off of his member, a soft cry escaping your lips as you collapsed on top of his legs. He gripped his member tightly, shooting thick ropes of his warmth all over your raised bottom, staining your shorts completely.

 “Shit hold on.” he panted slightly, carefully moving himself from under you. He tucked his softening member back into his sweatpants before moving towards your closet, grabbing a towel and making his way back to you. His gentle hands easily cleaning you up before tugging your shorts and panties off, replacing them with fresh ones.

 You looked up at him sleepily as he began situating you both on your small body, half of your body resting on top of his as he drew the blankets over your guys’ form. 

 “You suck Kei. If I fail this exam because I’m too tired to focus, you have to buy me ramen.” you mumbled against his chest, your eyes drooping as sleep began to tug at your mind.

 “If you fail this exam just because you’re tired then that just proves you didn’t actually study for it. You should’ve been able to retain that information regardless.” he said, fingers gently running through your hair.

 “You suck.” you sighed again, softly nuzzling your face into his chest.

 A smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t say anything else. 

 Not that you would have listened anyway, considering that you were knocked out now. 

 Tsukishima’s body was definitely more comfortable than your twin bed. 

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T 

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo 

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!” 

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?” 

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement. 

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two. 

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media. 

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process. 

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head. 

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you. 

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!” 

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.” 

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind. 

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.” 

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.” 

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

[narrators-journal]

The final step

This is it boys! The final part! After this, I have no other fic to post, so I’ll probably return to original work or silence lol. But! I’ll try to post what I can to feed ya’ll content!

cw: descriptions of murder, Hint o’ Hisoka, reader’s pregnant

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi spent a while helping you pack before the butlers he'd requested showed up, than he returned to his home across the street to pack up as well. After all, with you now on the track to marry him, he would no longer need the home. Though, maybe we could keep it, and use it as something of a vacation spot to escape mother's unrelenting nagging. He mused.

While he was shoving his clothes into his bag and mulling over that option, he spoke to said mother, or, more-so half listened to Kikyo squeal and giggle in pure delight at the news of your pregnancy.        "Mother, please refrain from shrieking in my ear," he said when his excitable mother had to stop for breath,         "I'm sorry dear, but this is such good news! Your father and I were hoping this woman would prove to be a good wife, and while I will say it's a little soon for a baby, this is good news nonetheless!" She squealed, making the assassin huff,        "I know, I should've waited until after I'd married her to consummate," Kikyo about blew a raspberry at his words, making him blink,        "Illumi, we don't care if you decide to have sex before you get married. My only concern is that this woman isn't the right one for you." she said, "Your father would prefer that you choose a woman a bit more suited for our line of work, but if she's really as submissive as you described, I'm sure she'll be a fine addition to the family. Oh! And I'm sure your child will be absolutely adorable! I can't wait to put little booties on them, and absolutely dote on them like you no longer let me do-"          "Mother," Illumi said, though his mother knew despite his monotone voice that he was annoyed.          "Well, you don't." she sniffed before changing the subject. "Anyway, when are you bringing her home? I want to meet her already!" she said, going into a bit of a rant over his failure to even show Kikyo a picture of you, but her son was no longer listening. Instead, Illumi's attention was turned to his surroundings, his senses on high alert from the waves of malicious intent he felt so suddenly from the direction of your home.         "Mother, was Hisoka released?" Illumi asked, his mother's voice dying at the palpable tension coming through the phone,         "I believe so? Your grandfather was apparently sick of the creep, so he had him thrown out." she offered a second before Illumi hung up. In a flash, the assassin was across the street at your home, his needles at the ready. As soon as he set foot in the house, the assassin was greeted with the familiar scent of blood hanging in the air like a heavy blanket and a silence that ate at his nerves. Your home was quiet. too quiet. It about drove the assassin insane with the possible reasons behind the lack of life. Of course, the butlers that were tasked with helping you pack your clothes were dead, so that helped to explain the stifling quiet, but the sight of the help mercilessly slaughtered didn't justify the way Illumi's heart raced and a strange feeling gripped at his throat until he felt he couldn't breathe. The only time that feeling seemed to finally leave, only to be replaced with wrath, was when the casually dressed assassin slipped into your bathroom, his needles poised to be thrown, and he was met with the one person he didn't want to see inside of your home.         "Hisoka." he hissed, his dark eyes narrowing and his aura reflecting the heated rage that boiled his blood at the sight of the brightly colored magician, who turned to look at him lazily, frowning as if the soulless man was as equally unwanted as the pink haired man was,         "Before you maul me and get no answers, I didn't hurt your precious (y/n)." He assured, plucking one of his signature playing cards and licking the blood of a butler from it before continuing "I believe she crawled out of the bathroom window. So, I suggest you go get her back before you focus on me. Don't want her to get too far away now, do we?" The magician pouted, knowing damned well Illumi wouldn't bother with him after that news, which meant Illumi wouldn't be fighting him, yet. The assassin did, in fact, leave the magician at your house, going out instead to find you. If the help wasn't so fucking incompetent this would be a lot easier. He thought as he forced his wrathful aura into zetsu while he coldly rushed by the corpses and returned outside to prowl down the chilly streets of town, turning that edgy, strangling, anxiety feeling in his throat into energy to fuel his possessive hunt for his wife, his property. On the bright side of the situation though, you were nothing compared to the dark-haired predator, so he had that to cool his unhinged emotions before running into you. You were a recluse, you likely didn't know your way around town that well, so your trail was pretty obvious. In times of life threatening danger, people, more-so women, usually went to crowded areas after all, and you didn't know of many places that would offer help, so you were likely going to head to your grocery store. Knowing that, Illumi was able to get ahead of you, scooping you up before you could slow from a mad dash fuelled by mortal terror to a speed at which you could avoid slamming into the hunter's chest.        "(y/n)," he growled, shaking you once, firmly, to put a stop to your flailing and squirming, "I am this close to jamming one of my needles into your brain. STOP IT." He ordered, the force of slightly panicked rage in his words making you freeze and stare up in terror at him with your wide (e/c) eyes. For a few seconds you stared at one another, your form squished to his in an inescapable grip while his soulless eyes glared down at you until you finally burst into tears.       "Please! Just let me go!" You plead, your voice quivering with barely restrained sobs, so he took a deep breath and ran his thumb down your already tear-stained cheek,       "Why would I do that? I'm only trying to keep you and our baby safe." he reminded you, but you shook your head vigorously, making bits of your (h/l), (h/c) hair stick to your face,        "You're scaring me! Please let me go, I'm begging you Illumi." you cried, trying to shake his comforting hug off,        "I thought you loved me," he said, not releasing you even when your upset tantrum stuttered to a stop. For a moment, you seemed conflicted, but than closed your eyes and tried to kick him to no avail,         "I...I don't know anymore. You've...become so scary recently, I have to p-put my own well being ahead of any shallow attraction." you sniffled, digging your nails into his t-shirt. He brushed a strand of hair from your (s/c) face as you shook against him          "(y/n), I would never do anything to harm you or our baby unless you force me to. Just behave and act like you did before figuring out you were pregnant, everything will be okay." he assured, making his voice as comforting, soft, and loving as he could manage to try and sooth you. Thankfully, he could see the fear and rebellion in your (e/c) eyes dim, returning to their usual, gorgeously submissive state. After that, you only gave one final attempt at escaping his arms before finally giving up. "Good girl, (y/n). Now, let's go home. My mother is about to implode in her excitement to meet you." After that, Illumi returned to the house he had bought for his bag of clothes, then made a beeline for the Zoldyck estate. On the trip there, the long haired assassin tried to make you happy, providing you food, comfortable places to sleep when need-be, and finding you little gifts related to your hobbies to try and entertain and make you smile. He could tell that you were still uncomfortable with him, but you slowly began to warm back up to him when your human need for companionship demanded it. However, the one thing he couldn't save you from or prepare you for, was Kikyo. The woman about tackled Illumi when he pushed open the testing gates, but as soon as you were through and safely on Zoldyck land with your husband protectively at your side, his mother began her fussing.       "She looks so ill! Illumi, did you make sure she's physically healthy?"       "She's not much to look at, maybe if she tried more make-up and clothes that fit her better?"       "Illumi, where are her things? Did you just snatch her up off of the street while she was pregnant?!" The only thing that saved you and Illumi from his mother's judgements and chiding was a firm look from his father, Silva, who was making a rare appearance to greet you in a much calmer manner.       "To answer your questions, I will get the family doctor to look her over, and her things had to be left. A threat came up and I needed to bring her here before harm befell her, so I will need to buy her new clothes." The dead eyed assassin assured his mother, who obviously had more hen pecking to do, but she refrained under the stern look of her husband. After that, Illumi got you nicely settled in to his bedroom, and while you did put up some more of a fight over staying there, you mostly accepted your role as his wife-to-be and mother of his child rather easily. He knew you were simply acting out from your hormones and the stress of your situation, so he did his best to keep his temper with you.         "It'll be okay (y/n), once you get comfortable here, we'll be happy." Illumi soothed one night after one of your bouts of sobbing and fighting to escape while he sat, cross-legged with you in his lap and his hands rubbing your belly. You weren't showing much yet, but it still pleased him greatly to now have his wife and child safely at home. That's right, he thought, letting a rare smile spread across his usually unreadable face, you're home now, (y/n)...

[fumiko-matsubara]

AssClass x Tower of God AU: Chiba Ryuunosuke and Tsuchiya Kaho (Full Body)

(Yes I'm still invested in this au...)

This was more of a self-indulgent idea but if Chiba were to ever sprout wings at some point throughout his journey in this AU... I want them to look like these - a translucent pair of white "fins" with a matching tail to booth.

Something that is very obviously dragon-like, true to Chiba's given name and the way I drew his eyes (thanks to whoever initially pointed that out). But like, a mythical sea dragon of some sorts... seeing as how I already made the water element his kind of main thing (aside from his exceptional long-range attacks, of course).

Intimidating but beautiful nonetheless. Yes, I purposely made Chiba look more evil here... yet pretty at the same time. I feel like it fits, especially with how his eyes were described in canon lol... and ngl, Chiba is peak morally grey in this AU - questionable actions = understandable intentions, kind of thing - so I made sure to show that in this piece.

So is Kaho, by the way. Her moral alignment is just as ambiguous... though more leaning towards evil but it's just how people would interpret her actions, when reality could possibly be far from their assumptions, who knows. (Yes, this is a jab towards how the fandom perceived her canon character when she really isn't all that bad... especially when compared to the likes of Seo and his friends 🙄).

And to be honest, I just drew Kaho just to see how she would look in that outfit lmao.

[white-tulips]

i have too many thoughts on happy!hero to coherently express but one thing i forgot to mention that im sure you gathered but is worth stating plainly nonetheless: he is not helping lol. he can be helpful, and he is, but as well-intentioned as he is and even as understandable as his concern may be, constantly being treated like an unpredictability violent potential Danger To Yourself And/Or Others, is not conducive to anyone's betterment or recovery and actually will probably worsen your mental state unless you confront your friend about how they're treating you. not going to dwell too much on like, the abuse of mentally ill ppl here bc that would be Way Too Much, both in general out of nowhere in an anon and for hero, who is a reasonably flawed person but not someone who would stand for, let alone perpetuate mistreatment of his friends, but, again, its worth saying outright that the notion that mentally ill ppl are dangerous or completely incapable of making their own decisions leads to them being stripped of all autonomy and abused, even and especially in medical/psychiatric settings

ANYWAYS, piggybacking off what you said about dichotomies, i imagine he'd be completely normal (/s) in reconciling his previous perceptions of sunny and basil with their recent actions and the Confession, dividing them between the sweet, timid children he knows and loves, and the Potential Dangers To Themselves And Others they become when they're Not Lucid, the sunny who murdered his sister in a fit of rage and the basil who faked her suicide, the sunny who stabbed aubery in broad daylight and the basil who maimed his best friend

yeah, I definitely don't see Hero as the type of person to be abusive or wanting to mistreat people, especially his friends, but you are right in saying that the way people/health care professionals view those with mental illness tends to lead to loss of autonomy. and since Sunny and Basil have done destructive things to themselves/each other... yeah

hmm I really can't figure out how to word this but... sometimes, even when someone's concern comes from a good place, it can lead to being Overly "helpful" so I understand what you're saying. one could take it upon themselves to keep another person safe from themself, kind of in a "I love you, so I know what's best for you" way, even though that mindset ends up being really stifling for whoever they're trying to care for. like you said, constantly being helicoptered because those around you see you as unstable and unable to care for yourself is not great for healing even when it's coming from someone with the best intentions. so in this scenario, Hero could be overstepping some boundaries and it wouldn't keep things from being messy and complicated, it would probably just get kinda worse F

[illusionsofdreaming]

Can I order headcanons from the tcf threesome with a sweet demon? She accidentally ran away from the demon world and started crying when the boys attacked her. Have a good day! 👍

Notes: Of course you may! We still don’t know much about the demonic race to be honest so if the novel reveals important information about them later everything here might become completely irrelevant lol. But from what we got so far, demonic race seems to be generalised as a big no-no and inherently evil but what if we have a sweet demon outlier?

These headcanons are written with Fem Reader.

Ft: Cale, Choi Han, Alberu

Cale Henituse

Cale really isn’t the type of person to attack another without good reason to do so - even if they just leapt out of the demonic gate

But expect to be surrounded by open hostility and all weapons bared at you by his protective allies and friends as Cale observes with a frown by the side

Well this is a problem? You don’t exactly fit into the image painted of the demonic race - a race so indescribably and inherently ‘not-good’ that the dragon race was created just to keep them in check

that brings in a lot of problems that Cale honestly doesn’t really want to think about

the possibility that there could be a misunderstanding and that the Gods are yet again fucking with him

Whether or not he believes your story of ‘running away from the demon world’ is 50/50. Of course he’s not going to rule out that you could be a spy sent from the demonic world either

Expect to be under monitor for a long while - either with a dragon placed to watch you, or some kind of device kept on you to keep you in place

You have to prove yourself over and over again to slowly gain his trust, and even then Cale will still have his reservations about you

There will be many tests, some are obvious, others less - Cale will always analyse your responses critically: such as when providing information about the demonic race, answer too quickly and it might seem as if you’re too eager to share, answer too slow then whatever you shared might have been filtered

Anyways, Cale’s an extremely cautious man and despite what everyone thinks, he does not randomly adopt people on a whim until he has some confidence they won’t hurt his family

Cale’s a man who has a very clear idea where he draws his moral lines, if you ever cross them, it’s a big. No. He is not a man who forgives or forgets easily, and to regain his trust anew after betraying it, will be extremely hard

Throughout monitoring though, if you’ve consistently shown good behaviour, Cale does soften slightly

His wariness of you is still evident, but he’ll be more willing to share, more willing to let you participate (and once he starts letting you participate in his plans, be ready to work hard)

Eventually, though it’s never formally addressed, you’ve integrated into part of the family, the transition wasn’t even obvious and no one’s sure when it truly happened. But it just did.

Welcome to the family

Choi Han

The first one with a sword to your neck and would’ve beheaded you if it weren’t for Cale’s timely intervention

Your tears threw him off and does sucker punch his heart with guilt - Choi Han is now thoroughly confused and at a loss as to how he should deal with you

On one hand, all the dragons are bristling at your existence, everything that they’re made of is just screaming to get rid of you, but on the other hand, you look a bit too feeble to look like the big threat you’re suppose to be

He’s confused yes, but his guards are not down

Any suspicious move towards Cale will guarantee that you’ll be sent flying immediately - so if you value your life, you’ll make no sudden movements towards Cale for the time being

He volunteered to be the one who’d monitor you 24/7 

And... it’s surprisingly uneventful because you genuinely have no nefarious intentions

In a way, one can say it’s easier to win his trust compared to Cale because Choi Han really leads with his heart in his palms

After a while of observation in which you have thoroughly melted away his initial wariness he becomes less of a jail keeper and more of a guardian

Still feels a bit guilty for scaring you during your very first meeting

You told him it’s alright since you knew the demonic race never had good reputation to begin with, it was to be expected

Feels even worse after hearing that

With Choi Han vouching for your person even Cale has to concede and shelve his wariness

and well, let’s be honest, with Cale on board, you can expect some kind of movement coming up to clear the horrible misunderstandings on the demonic kind

Alberu Crossman

Like Cale, his trust takes hard work and time to earn

But unlike Cale, his distrust and misgivings are hidden behind an amicable smile

Alberu Crossman is one who’d wear a friendly outgoing nature as a mask to lower other people’s guards so that it’d be easier for him to read them

An innocent naive demon like you would fall easily to his charms and glib tongue

While you receive hostility and wariness from others, Alberu will show sympathy and understanding (and send spies behind his back to investigate the truths of anything you say)

By the time you realise, you’ve already shared your whole family history, background and secrets with him and yet know nothing about the crown prince himself 

Of course, as Crown Prince he does not have all the time to investigate you himself so if anyone he really trusts can vouch for your innocence, then he’ll choose to believe in their judgement

You’ll begin to learn the difference between his ‘public’ smiles and genuine smiles and you’re just glad you receive the latter nowadays

Once you earn Alberu’s trust , he’ll feel a need to protect you since he feels sympathetic and can understand the pain of being judged because of what you were born as

One of his personal goals is to end racism and he is ashamed to admit that he too had made unfair assumptions about your person due to your race

The crown prince falling to his knees shocked everyone and you hurriedly waved off his apologies and asked him to stand 

The public’s opinion on the demonic race had received a blow - after all, if their beloved Sun of the Roan Kingdom had the humility to admit his wrongdoings, shouldn’t they as his citizens also learn from his actions?

It was the first step in breaking free the borders between races

(He’s a little sorry he used you in this way, but his apologies were nonetheless genuine and sincere. It’s just slightly more efficient to kill two birds with one stone correct?)

He’ll treat you like his little sister

Call him older brother and he’ll die of family feels

[kellyvela]

GRRM has said in interviews that he’s purposely played with the romantic tension between the hound and Sansa. What do you think the endgame purpose of the unkiss and that playing is meant to be for?

This is all what he said about the matter in question so far:

The Hound and Sansa, romantic or platonic? It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you!

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR:  It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

When will Sansa be “legal”?  **ºª@”¡¿x<%$!&?

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe’s board. Sansa’s youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa’s age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a “man grown” at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant… and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding.

A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A “maid,” in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers.

In the “general Westerosi view,” well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood.

Maidens may be wedded and bedded… however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted.

As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business (*), on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[Source]

(*) It was Arya who misremembered the name of Joffrey’s sword tho…

Unreliable Narrator 2.0

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

… this is an inconsistency with ASoS more than an outright error. In ASoS, Sansa thinks that the Hound kissed her before leaving her room and King’s Landing. In ACoK, no kiss is mentioned in the scene, though Sansa did think that he was about to do so.

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 3.0

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

Here’s a really particular question (which I realize means it probably won’t get asked in a general interview): In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something? —Valdora

GRRM: It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] ”Unreliable narrator” is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things.

[Source]

Sansa may be dead but Alayne is alive

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

[Source]

A lot more dangerous than romantic

AUGUST 2, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT…

weltraummuell: The Hound Oh please don’t cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn’t bear if it’d feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that’s me making demands. LOL

GRRM: Re: The Hound Old guy? No, but… the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive… you know, those hideous burns and all that… he’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

kestrana: The Hound Yeah its a “girl always wants the bad boy” kind of thing although Sansa seems to pull something else out of him. It feels so wrong sometimes but I want to see them together again tee hee.

weltraummuell: The Hound Hehe, George, maybe you didn’t intend it, but he turned out to be a very erotic character to female readers. Especially since he’s mutilated and dangerous. Makes him unpredictable and vulnerable which is the most explosive aphrodisiac for a girl’s fantasy. ;)

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for

JUNE 22, 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

GRRM: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions, of women in particular, to some of the villains. The number of women over the years who have written to me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister or Sandor Clegane [the Hound] or Theon Greyjoy… All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides, who have done some very dark things. Nonetheless, they do draw this response, and quite heavily, I think, in the case of some of them, from my female readers in particular.

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Veronica Belmont: Yeah, the Hound… Maybe it’s not because I feel any compassion towards them, I’m not really sure what the attraction is. Ah, I’m not going to call it attraction, actually. Let’s just say it’s a fascination, perhaps.

GRRM: [Chuckles] Well, I mean, fascination is one thing, but some of these letters indicate that there really is like a romantic attraction going on there. And I do know there’s all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the “San/San” fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that’s interesting, too.

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for 2.0

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

Question: “Is there any fan reactions that you have been surprised by, like is there a character that’s more popular than you thought or have people been shocked by something you didn’t think we would be shocked at?”

GRRM: “I’m reasonably certain what people will be shocked by. I knew that the Red Wedding would provoke a big reaction and it did. I was pretty confident that, you know, throwing Bran out the window and then killing Ned in the first book would get reactions, and indeed they did. All of those worked exactly the way it did to the extent that things that have surprised me, they tend to be smaller things. I guess I… Maybe I should not have, I don’t know. How do I phrase this without getting myself in terrible trouble… I guess I don’t understand women, but I was definitely, you know, way back when, surprised by the number of women who reacted positively to characters like Theon and the Hound as dashing, romantic figures. The san/san kind of thing took me by surprise, I must admit, and even more so the women who, and there are some, who really like Theon. So that surprised me.”

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 4.0

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT S@N/S@N

My question is regarding Sansa Stark. Her sexuality has evolved through every book and yet the memory that seems to stick the more with her in this regard is the night of the Blackwater. So I was wondering if you can expand on your view on what this is, since as before that night her interactions with Sandor Clegane weren’t really physical.

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh… Well, I’m not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha… Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh… you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can’t do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories… thoughts, which you can’t do in a TV show… Ahhh… You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as “unreliable narrator”… Ahhh… Which again, they don’t have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater.

[Source]

Do with it what you will.

[reinvent-and-believe]

another taste of heavenly rush

So this was supposed to be a silly little breathplay PWP drabble as a birthday tribute to the lovely @witchertrashbag but then it kind of...evolved??? Mutated??? lol who knows what happened, I sure as hell don’t. Anyway happy late birthday Wine Aunt, you’re a credit to this fandom, I hope you enjoy this belated smutty mess 🖤

Jaskier is utterly bewitched by the sight of a huge, leather-clad hand on the man’s throat.

He should be paying attention to the words being exchanged, seeing as he started the quarrel that led to the aforementioned hand-on-throat situation. Well. Hadn’t started it, per se, but he had certainly escalated it, and gods know Geralt won’t appreciate that particular nuance.

But the red-faced man currently gasping for breath beneath the witcher’s considerable grip had simultaneously insulted Jaskier’s songwriting and Geralt’s honor in one ill-begotten, unoriginal sentence after Jaskier’s performance in the tavern common room, something about “don’t clap for that little prick’s filth, praising freaks and monsters.” The bard had simply smiled sweetly, taken a sip of his ale, and intimated that the man’s wife was something of an expert on the subject of little pricks.

And then the man tried to hit him with a chair, and Jaskier can hardly be blamed for that, although Geralt will, inevitably. He’d scurried away from the onslaught and called out an only vaguely panicked “Geralt!” which led them here, the ugly sour-breathed man pinned to the tavern wall, his feet twitching desperately for solid ground, held up by one huge, bulky hand.

This little misadventure won’t make it into one of his songs. There’s nothing poetic about a prejudiced drunk man being rude and getting choked for his efforts.

Although...Jaskier’s eyes are drawn again to the sharp contrast of the brown leather of the gauntlets against the greasy pink of the man’s skin. Maybe there is something poetic to choking, after all. Choking, choking out, feeling the life drain from your body by a huge, leather-clad hand. Choking as in choking something else, draining something else from...jerking off, choking as in jerking off, and it’s not his best work but he’s fairly distracted at the moment because the thought of a huge, leather clad hand gripping a swollen, leaking cock has burrowed its way into Jaskier’s mind and fuck, how is he supposed to think about anything else now? Slick red head squeezed a little too hard, beading pearlescent drops disappearing into a supple russet fist that’s a little too coarse, too cold, too dry but feels divine nonetheless…

“Jaskier!”

Fuck.

The innkeep is shouting at them to get out, holding a broom as menacingly as one can hold a broom, and Geralt is glowering at him. “Go, bard! Roach!”

Right. He grabs his lute and flies out the door, the cool night air a shock on his overheated skin. He sprints to the stables and sets to work quickly tacking up the mare as he coos at her soothingly. “Deepest apologies, my dear lady, but it seems our plans for the evening have been altered somewhat.”

He’s leading her out and back toward the tavern when the door flies open, Geralt charging out. He fixes Jaskier with an exasperated glare and snatches the reins from him. “Dammit, Jaskier,” he mutters, swinging into the saddle. “If your cock doesn’t get us both killed, your mouth will.”

And if Jaskier’s arousal had flagged in the process of fleeing and fetching their escape horse, all it takes is a reference to cocks and mouths in close proximity to bring it roaring back to life as Geralt drags him up behind him and spurs Roach into a gallop out of the village.

It’s new, this thing with Geralt.

He’d met the witcher just over two years ago, back in Posada. They’d travelled together and parted near half a dozen times since, but this current sprint is by far their longest together, going on four months. They’ve fallen into a routine, found ways of traveling that make both their paths smoother. Jaskier’s songs are more lucrative when he can theatrically proclaim that their hero, his muse, the town’s savior is in their very midst; Geralt’s presence protects him from beasts and monsters and bandits and keeps him fed on fresh game between towns when they make their camps beneath the stars. And though Geralt’s never mentioned it, he can tell he’s come to appreciate Jaskier’s contributions, too: he sets up camp and builds a fire while Geralt hunts when they stay in the country, procures rooms with less humiliation and rarer downright refusals from rude innkeeps and for significantly less coin when they stay in the village. Noticing Jaskier’s penchant for picking wildflowers on the roadside, Geralt’s even started teaching him the herbs, flowers and berries he needs for his potions.

Traveling together does have its drawbacks, of course, particularly Geralt’s reticence to stay within the confines of civilization. He’s perfectly content to go weeks without sleeping in an inn if the town doesn’t have any contracts available, wont to ride away from perfectly good villages where Jaskier would be able to find perfectly good lovers.

This came to a head a few weeks ago. Jaskier tried to settle on the lumpy ground for the night, tried to ignore that prickling restlessness beneath his skin, but he couldn’t will it away, couldn’t force himself into a fitful sleep like he had the past several nights. He tossed again, unable to stifle a sigh, when the witcher rolled onto his side to glare at him.

“Would you stop your fussing?”

“Fussing? I’m not fussing, Geralt, I can’t sleep.”

“Can’t you not sleep quietly?”

He snorted. “What a very stupid question. Weren’t you just saying yesterday that I don’t even think quietly?” Tired and frustrated and horny as all hell, Jaskier opted for the truth. Watching Geralt get that uncomfortable, vaguely constipated look he got when Jaskier talked about sex always provided an amusing distraction, at least. He sighed melodramatically, adopting a most put-upon voice. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve indulged in the wondrous carnalities of a companion, Geralt?”

“Don’t really care.”

“Ages, Geralt, it’s been ages. At least a week. Some may bear the cruelties of celibacy with stoic fortitude, my dear witcher, but alas, some of us simply are not so equipped. We really should stop in the next village. It’d do us both a world of good to sleep in a bed, particularly one that’s warm, if you get my drift.”

The witcher looked at him with that inscrutable expression. “Plenty of chances for you to get your dick wet once we reach Gors Velen.”

Jaskier darted up, horrified, all pretensions forgotten. “Gors Velen?” he whined. “You said yourself we’re still a month away from Gors Velen!”

Geralt shrugged. “You’ve got a hand.” With that, he turned his back to Jaskier.

And well. It had been Geralt’s suggestion, after all, and Jaskier may have many attributes to his credit and otherwise but shyness has never been counted among them. And if perhaps he put on a bit of a show, fucking up into his hand with a little more bitten-lip moaning, a little more breathless panting than was strictly necessary, well, it served Geralt right for brushing off his perfectly legitimate concerns so rudely. And if he came particularly hard with a surprised gasp that was all too genuine when he shot a glance at his companion and saw the witcher facing him again, perfectly still, with an intent, impenetrable expression that Jaskier thought looked almost intrigued, well, that served Geralt right, too.

And that’s how this thing with Geralt started.

The next night, Jaskier made no such fuss when he laid down atop his bedroll, brazenly pulling his cock from his smallclothes and stroking himself languidly as he met that golden stare with something akin to a challenge. “You too?” he asked, breathless, and moaned as he watched Geralt’s hand drift down to palm himself through the rough cotton.

A few nights later Jaskier laid out their bedrolls side by side, not touching but nearly. “It’s not quite fair, is it,” he explained, rolling his balls indulgently with one hand as he set a lazy pace with the other. “You with your extraordinary superhuman witchery senses, you get to hear every little noise I make, see every little expression on my devilishly handsome face from all the way across the fire. Seems like we ought to level the playing field, as it were.”

“Don’t need witcher senses to hear you,” Geralt groused, but the corner of his lip crooked in what could only be the hint of a grin as he settled in beside him without protest, taking himself in hand and echoing Jaskier’s tempo.

(Geralt can maintain his blank expression fairly well while getting off, Jaskier knows now, but he’s slightly less guarded when it comes to sound, to the noises too soft and unintentional to be noticed without such proximity. The little hitch when he twists his wrist just so at the head; the low rumbling of a moan in his chest that never reaches his lips when he’s close, so close; the voiceless exhale when he comes that sometimes, when it’s really good, sounds as though it’s been punched out of him; the abortive, shuddering breaths as his strokes turn into the gentlest trailing of the fingertips down his shaft just past the point of oversensitivity, prolonging that sweet touch until it can no longer be endured.)

The next night, well. A hand’s a hand, and there’s not so very much difference between wanking and assisting your very best friend in the whole wide world wanking, really.

And that’s what this is. Jaskier has no grandiose romantic notions, not about this, not really. It’s not about the passionate heat of bodies entwined, it’s just hands and cocks to aid with sleep and that’s all it has to be. This thing with Geralt is about getting off, not about sex, and he’s not entirely sure he understands this arbitrary boundary he’s constructed but the distinction feels crucial nevertheless. It’s a matter of convenience, not lust. Jaskier is content with this arrangement. It’s more than he ever hoped to experience with his lovely, taciturn friend, and that’s enough. He can enjoy these encounters with Geralt without needing them, without craving something more, without deluding himself into thinking they’re...something else. Paramours. Lovers.

Anyway, this was all going swimmingly until Geralt throttled a man on his behalf and it was the most arousing thing he’d ever witnessed. Now Jaskier is pressed up against him on a horse riding from a town in which they are no longer welcome with what has got to be the most obnoxiously persistent erection of his life because he can’t stop imagining those hands around his throat.

“Whoa, Roach.” Jaskier feels the witcher’s body tense against him as he pulls on the reins, halting as they approach a small copse of trees. “This’ll do.” He dismounts gracefully and Jaskier scrambles behind.

He’d assumed that Geralt would be furious that they’d finally stopped at an inn only for Jaskier’s uncanny ability to find himself in trouble got them ousted, but he doesn’t seem furious as they set up the campsite. Not that he says anything, of course, and not that he would say anything if he were furious, but Jaskier has grown rather accustomed to reading Geralt’s silences. This particular silence doesn’t seem to be perturbed in any way. If anything, it almost seems amused. Surely he’s misreading something.

He’s just finished situating the bedrolls when he turns around and nearly slams into Geralt. “Bloody hell Geralt, are you trying to...oh.”

Geralt unceremoniously tugs the bow fastening Jaskier’s trousers loose, reaching into them and immediately setting to work with a sure, steady hand.

“...oh, you’re trying to...that.” He closes his eyes at the sensation.

Geralt’s hand stills, gripping him lightly. “Will I get some rest if we don’t?” His face remains impassive as ever, but there’s something in his grumble that Jaskier could almost swear sounds teasing, fond. “Rather deal with you now than listen to you toss about and whine for an hour pretending you’re trying to sleep.”

And Jaskier could protest because honestly, he hasn’t since that first night, but he allows it, lets Geralt have his excuse because something’s different tonight. They never touch until they’ve undressed and settled into their bedrolls for the night. It’s just a part of the routine.

Nothing about this feels routine.

He lets out a laugh that’s a bit higher than he intends as Geralt resumes fisting his cock. “My, my, someone’s eager tonight,” he breathes, and all right, he may have no room to talk, but Geralt initiating this is beyond uncharacteristic.

A hum resonates deep in his chest. “Felt you rubbing up on me since we left town. You’re not subtle, bard.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not…subtle? Fuck.”

The witcher rolls his eyes. “Smelled you before that,” and honestly, fuck Geralt for wanting to have a conversation all of a sudden now that Jaskier’s completely incapable of it, “back in the tavern. What was it?” Geralt is shifting them, guiding him carefully, his hand never losing its rhythm, until Jaskier feels the trunk of a sturdy oak at his back. “What got you so hard in the middle of a bar fight?”

A knee slips casually between his legs, and the hard line of Geralt’s still-clothed cock presses against his hip, rutting ever so gently. “Gods, Geralt.” It comes out a whine, and Jaskier’s sure he’ll hate himself later for how easily he’s undone but now there’s just contact, so much touch all over and hot breath against his neck and he lets his eyes flutter closed, lets himself feel.

“Did you actually fuck that man’s wife earlier? While I was at the armourer’s, maybe? Did she leave you with some good memories?”

It takes a second for Jaskier to catch up to the question with Geralt’s hard body leaned against him, a delightful weight. Right. Man in the bar. Implied he’d cuckolded him, that’s what determined the course of this whole bizarre evening.

“Or was it the barmaid? Was she what distracted you in the middle of that scene you caused?” Geralt sounds perfectly unaffected, somehow, that mild, ribbing tone he uses when he pretends to scoff at Jaskier’s antics. “The redhead. The one whose bed you hoped to be in tonight.”

And he’s right, of all the people in the crowded tavern she’d been the one who caught his eye, the one he’d be planning to direct his next song to. Of course Geralt had noticed. Geralt knows what Jaskier wants. Knows what he needs.

And that’s...that’s what this is, that’s what he’s doing. Jaskier had planned to find a lover for the evening, planned to slip into a blissful haze of fucking where he doesn’t have to concentrate on keeping this unwelcome longing at bay and even though it’s Jaskier’s own fault that opportunity slipped through his fingers, Geralt wants to give him some semblance of that release. It’s why he’s talking, why he’s bringing up these women he assumes drove Jaskier to distraction.

And with Geralt’s breath on his skin and hand on his cock and body leaned so heavily against his, Jaskier wants to give him an answer. Wants to give him everything there is.

What got you so hard in the middle of a bar fight?

Jaskier grasps the hand not stroking his cock and brings it to his throat.

The world stops.

His eyes fly open to meet Geralt’s, and he knows he’s made a mistake. The witcher withdraws quickly, stepping away, turning his back.

“Fuck, Geralt, no, I’m—”

“Stop.” Geralt doesn’t face him, but he’s not leaving, at least. “Don’t.”

Jaskier leans back against the tree, trying to catch his breath. He scrubs his hand over his face. Leave it to Jaskier to fuck up something this divine.

He watches those broad shoulders lower, his breathing even out, but the tension is still written in every line of his body. Geralt stands silent for a moment before he quietly asks, “That’s what...at the tavern?”

Wretched, Jaskier nods, but of course Geralt can’t see that, so he stammers out, “Ah, yes. It seems so.”

When he speaks again, his voice remains carefully flat. “You were afraid of me?”

“What?”

“Were you afraid of me? Back at the tavern.” He considers, then adds, “Or now?”

“Geralt, no,” and maybe he shouldn’t, maybe he should give him space, but Jaskier pushes away from the tree, scurrying over to him and clutching his shoulders frantically. “No, listen to me, Geralt, I’m a horny idiot, that’s the thing, it was just...I don’t know, it was sexy! It was sexy, seeing you manhandle him, imagining if you manhandled me, maybe, with your gloves and your hands and your muscles, I don’t know, it was just a fantasy, I suppose, it just happened, but certainly not because I was scared you’d hurt me.” An ugly, desperate laugh rises from his throat unbidden. “If anything it’s because I know you wouldn’t, Geralt, I know you’d keep me safe.”

The witcher looks past him, but Jaskier sees the tension in his jaw release, sees his chest move a little more freely with his breath. After a moment, Geralt nods. “Thought perhaps I’d misread this.” It’s low, almost too low to hear.

“I want you,” Jaskier blurts out, and he should stop talking, he really means to stop talking, “I want you. Quite a lot. The rough, ah, the choking thing, that’s all just...I don’t need that. Don’t want anything you don’t want.”

It’s all a little too raw, a little too genuine, and Jaskier realizes with a sudden sinking feeling that this may actually be worse than his initial blunder, that an unexpected predilection for rough sex is one thing but voicing that longing he’s worked so hard to keep sectioned away is something else entirely.

He’s about to apologize when he hears the low hum.

Geralt is studying him, head tilted to one side. There’s nothing on his face to indicate disgust or excitement, no rejection or acceptance; just those golden eyes meticulously examining him, just like they had that first night. Curious. Intrigued.

Fuck. Jaskier doesn’t need a hand on his throat to make it hard to breathe.

“No gloves.”

“Sorry, what?”

Rough fingertips map his throat lightly, not pressing, not caressing, just exploring. Jaskier recognizes this look, it’s the same studious evaluation he’d seen Geralt give that nekker corpse yesterday before he began harvesting organs from it and that should definitely kill the mood here but it doesn’t. He pauses, wide finger resting over a thunderous artery. “They’re too thick. Wouldn’t be able to feel if it’s too much.”

“Right,” Jaskier rasps out. “Right, yeah, good. No gloves is good.” And if the image of being thrown about like a ragdoll and forced against a wall had seemed erotic, it somehow doesn’t compare to the overwhelming potency of these careful, analytical touches with Geralt monitoring his breath, his heartbeat, his face.

“Do you still want to try?” It’s a low rumble, but Geralt’s eyes are boring into him and all Jaskier can do is nod aggressively, grabbing Geralt’s hand and pulling him back until he’s leaned against the tree again, pausing only to fling off his open doublet.

Geralt shakes his head, quickly disciplining the little entertained smile that flits across his features but not before Jaskier sees it. It sends a reckless, euphoric thrill through his whole body. “Ah Geralt, admit it, you think I’m endearing,” he grins, striking a dramatic pose against the tree.

“You’re a nuisance,” he snorts, but he snakes his hand down the front of the bard’s trousers again, stroking him with just enough pressure to coax him back to hardness.

Jaskier rocks gently into his fist, a small contented sigh morphing into something much more ragged when he feels that solid hand back on his throat.

“Tap my arm if you want to stop.”

Jaskier nods, delighting in the way his flesh shifts under Geralt’s hand at the motion. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the fingers tighten. “Good?”

“Good.”

“More?”

“Please,” and it’s a whine but he doesn’t care. His eyes drift shut. It feels like the pounding pulse is flowing straight from his throat into Geralt’s hand, or maybe the other way around, it doesn’t matter when all he wants is to lose himself in this swelling, living tattoo.

The pressure lets up and there’s a rush, a bright heady flood of exhilaration and he can feel every cell tingling in his body as his lungs work overtime to compensate and he can’t help thrusting forward faster into the tight fist on his cock.

Geralt’s other hand stays in place, loosely cupping his throat, idly stroking the skin. “Eyes open,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of Jaskier’s neck for just a moment, breathing him in, his own breath labored. When he pulls back he looks a little wrecked. “Eyes on me, yeah?”

Jaskier nods, leaning into both warm hands a little desperately. “More?”

Geralt groans as he applies careful, steady pressure.

It’s good. There’s something soothing about the gentle acceleration of that drumming, far-off and immediate at the same time, the only sound that exists here. Peaceful. Floaty, almost. He wonders vaguely if this is what Geralt feels when he meditates.

“Jaskier.” The voice cuts through the haze, low but firm, the softest command. He focuses on Geralt, that unwavering gaze fixed on him. “Stay with me.”

Where else would he want to be?

And he’s still floating but somehow those golden eyes are a tether, not grounding him entirely but keeping him from drifting away. And when the tension releases and the tidal wave of elation sweeps through him again it’s met with chapped lips on his throat and fingers scratching through the hair at the nape of his neck and a steadying weight against him, and when the dizziness settles and he rests against the reassuring stability of the oak behind him, then there’s shifting, moving, the harsh grinding voice asking a question Jaskier can’t make out but understands anyway, golden eyes full of that question staring up at him and Jaskier answers by threading his fingers through pale locks shining silver in the moonlight and the warm, strong hand stroking him is replaced with the soft heat of Geralt’s mouth.

He won’t last much longer, not with the way Geralt’s thick fingers grip him, digging into the meat of his ass, with the way he chokes a little taking Jaskier all the way down but keeps pulling him in, deeper, and it’s wet and messy and a little too divine.

“Fuck, Geralt, I…” he gasps, the closest to a warning he can formulate, but the witcher’s staring up at him through dark lashes and sucking him down harder and Jaskier surrenders, coming with a keening cry.

Geralt diligently works him through it, swallowing and dissolving into desperate noises around Jaskier as he feverishly strips his own cock. He releases Jaskier and buries his head in the crook of the bard’s hip, shoulders heaving harshly. Jaskier pets him soothingly, long fingers massaging his scalp tenderly through the broken moan, the shuddering aftershocks, the shallow breaths slowly evening out.

They stay that way for a few endless moments, neither willing to break the trance, the intimacy. Jaskier barely notices gentle fingers unlacing his boots, pulling off one then the other. Geralt deftly tucks the bard’s softening cock back into his smallclothes before carefully pulling off his trousers and folding them neatly. He stands slowly, guiding Jaskier to his bedroll and settling him there, crouching beside him moments later with a waterskin he presses to Jaskier’s lips.

“Best take care, witcher,” Jaskier teases softly, “a man could get used to such treatment.”

“Don’t,” Geralt grunts, but there’s no heat to it. He thoroughly inspects Jaskier’s neck, tilting his head one way then the other with two light fingers on his jaw. “Pain anywhere?”

“No pain.”

“Good.” Apparently satisfied, Geralt stands, undressing methodically and lying in his own bedroll. After a few moments of silence, he adds, “Wake me if anything hurts. Or if you have trouble breathing.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh, turning on his side to fix his companion with a rueful smile. “Geralt, have you ever known me to suffer in silence?” Those inscrutable eyes hold him, searching, so Jaskier reaches a tentative hand to his jaw. “Thank you. For your...indulgence.” There’s an entirely different tightness in his throat, suddenly. “For taking such good care of me.”

For a moment, Jaskier thinks Geralt may answer as he watches something unguarded yet still utterly indecipherable flit across the witcher’s scarred, handsome face. When he speaks, there’s something soothing in the low rumble. “Get some sleep, bard.”

And he does.

[hermannsthumb]

Wrote it a year ago!! How efficient lol Did you already do 79?

Anonymous said: Have you done 79 about the ex gift finally being done?

79. we broke up almost three years ago but you message me out of the blue saying that my gift is finally done and you… you built me a house? [or choose your own gift!]

from winter writing prompts here

almost new year’s! i imagine this takes place somewhere in the pre-2025 PR timeline, not using pen pal canon, for extra awkwardness

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

“You what?” Hermann says.

On the other end of the holographic computer display, Newton laughs sheepishly and ducks his head. The picture is a bit rubbish—Shatterdome tech is outdated across every base, it would appear—but even the graininess and ghostly blue tint to Newton’s skin can’t conceal his blush. “I said I finished your present,” he repeats. “The one I promised you—shit. Two years ago? Three?”

“Three,” Hermann says, automatically. It’s not because he remembers any sort of gift ever being promised, but because three years ago is the last possible time he could ever imagine Newton gifting him something. They were still on good terms, three years ago; they were beyond good terms three years ago. He and Newton still—well. Er. “Though I don’t recall you ever mentioning a gift.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have, dummy,” Newton says. “That would’ve ruined the surprise.” He fixes his glasses. “My tracking number says it was delivered today. Did you get it?”

A stack of mail was indeed dropped off at Hermann’s laboratory today, shortly after lunch, though Hermann has not yet had the time to poke through it. He squints across his desk at it now: there is a larger box at the bottom of the stack, larger than anything he had been expecting, which can only be Newton’s present. Hermann slides it towards himself with the handle of his cane. Newt Geiszler, in the corner, with the return address of his laboratory in his Shatterdome. “Can you open it on camera?” Newton says. “I want to make sure it—well, you’ll see.”

Hermann tears open the tape seal with the nib of a dried-up pen, and pulls out an absurd amount of tissue paper before finding…a sweater. “Ah,” Hermann says. He unfolds it. It’s nothing too terrible, like Hermann had (frankly) been expecting a sweater from Newton to be. A nice shade of brown, a nice thick wool, a bit simple and shapeless, but comfortable-looking nonetheless. He can’t imagine how Newton took three years to give it to him. “…Thank you, Newton?” Hermann says. “How…thoughtful.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Newton says with a grin.

Hermann shakes his head.

“It was ages ago,” Newton says. “We went out to that taco place for dinner, and I knocked your wine all over your sweater by accident, and you got super pissed, and I was like, dude, it’s just a sweater, I’ll buy you a new one, and then you—”

“Oh, God, I remember,” Hermann groans. It’d been towards the end of their, er, relationship, and every little thing about Newton had started to set Hermann off: Newton’s humming in the lab, Newton’s jokes, Newton’s clothing, Newton’s smile, even (a thought which made Hermann feel horrendously wretched), Newton’s insistence on Hermann getting a proper sleep, Newton’s coffee runs and lunch runs and fixing Hermann breakfast every morning… The wine spill had been one of the final straws, and one to which he—admittedly—far overreacted. Hermann could simply not see a way in which it wasn’t intentional, in which Newton did not do it deliberately and maliciously, and the row they’d had over their bloody burrito bowls and Hermann’s merlot pool had been one of their finest. I’ll buy you a new one, Newton had said, and Hermann had shouted back about that not being the point—how Newton could knit one and it still wouldn’t be the point—and called a cab to take him home. Separately from Newton.

Newton was knocking on the door to his bunk an hour later, eyes fixed on his shoes as he mumbled out another apology, and he’d looked so pitiful, and Hermann felt so guilty over leaving him with the bill that he had sighed out one of his own. They didn’t touch in bed that night, not even an accidental bumping of shoulders. In the morning Newton did not fetch Hermann coffee. They ended the whole thing two weeks later, and Newton was transferred to another Shatterdome by his own request not even a month after that.

And now, here he is, Skyping with Hermann. This is not a new development in their working relationship—each of them does, after all, gather information that could be crucial to the other party, and they’ve occasionally had to ring each other up for a virtual discussion that typically ends in bickering—but it is the first time they’re doing it outside typical laboratory hours. And it is the first time one of them has dared to bring up…certain events. Usually, they just skirt around the fact they dated for two years like their lives depend on it.

“Thought you might,” Newton says, with another uncomfortable laugh. “Anyway, I know you said it wasn’t the point, but, I started teaching myself knitting a few days after that, because I really wanted to replace yours, and I’ve been super busy, so I kinda just finished a couple weeks ago.” He shrugs. “You can throw it out. I don’t really care.”

A closer examination of the sweater confirms the story. It’s far too lumpy to be anything but homemade, and the stiches fluctuate in dexterity and neatness throughout the whole thing, though grow better overall the further up from the hemline they are. It is indeed a similar shade of brown to Hermann’s ruined one. Hermann feels an odd lump start to swell in his throat. “Oh,” he says. He brushes his fingers over the hem; when Newton made those stitches, Hermann realizes, he still thought he would be gifting the sweater to Hermann as his boyfriend. “It’s—a very lovely gift, Newton. Thank you.”

“Try it on!” Newton urges.

Hermann obliges, though he flushes when he realizes it will require him to divest himself of his blazer and sweatervest in front of Newton. Newton’s sweater is a perfect fit, of course. Better yet, it’s comfortable. “Thank you,” Hermann repeats.

Hermann has always felt no small amount of shame over the breakup. It wasn’t really because of Newton’s humming, or his clothing, or anything quite so shallow, after all; it was because Newton was too damn affectionate. Loving. He loved Hermann so unabashedly and unashamedly, and Hermann—who has never been unabashed or unashamed in anything in his life—simply did not know how to handle it. It scared him. His feelings for Newton scared him, too, so he did the logical, Gottliebian thing and repressed them. The worst of it all was that Newton understood why.

Now, though—now his feelings, which he’d ignored for so long, threaten to bubble over. Of course he still loves Newton. It was foolish of him to pretend otherwise. “Newton,” he begins.

But Newton doesn’t hear him. “I was thinking about transferring back to Hong Kong,” he says. He fiddles with his glasses again, one of his nervous tics. “I don’t really have a team to lead anymore here—everyone’s been fired, or quit, or…well. I was thinking I’d probably be more useful back there with you.”

“With me?” Hermann says.

“I submitted a request, anyway,” Newton says.

Hermann wants Newton back here with him.

“There’s not much laboratory space, in case you’ve forgotten,” Hermann warns him. “We’ll have to share again.”

“Eh, I don’t really mind,” Newton says. Sirens suddenly begin going off on his end, and he winces. “Shit, that’s loud. We’ve been having kaiju drills all week, it’s driving me fucking insane. I gotta go, dude, talk to you later.”

He waves as he flickers out. Hermann’s holographic display clicks off with a small whir. “Goodbye,” Hermann murmurs.

He goes to sleep that night wearing the sweater, and hoping—foolishly, and perhaps selfishly, for he’s sure Newton’s work has been invaluable across the Shatterdomes he’s bounced between—that Newton’s transfer request is approved.

[liliesoftherain]

YouTube Challenge!

Request: Ok so I’ve been watching a lot of youtube couples (not the cringey ones lol) and I reallyyy wanted a head canon for maybe bakugou, shoto, and kiri with a s/o who is a youtuber, and they shoot a couple video like those “my boyfriend rates my outfits” or “chapstick challenge” videos. Could the prompts (42)“(58)(18) Also boys to be pro heroes already...if that’s ok. 

A/N: I hope you enjoy this hun, @pletopliito​ and also as each one is written it gets shorter and shorter lol IM SO SORRY

Prompts: 18. “Have you lost your damn mind?” 43. “Why don’t you kiss me already?” 58. “Are you flirting with me?”

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, Eijiro Kirishima x Reader, Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Katsuki Bakugou!:

“Hey guys, QueenExplosion here! And I have a surprise! Drumroll… It’s King Explosion, as a guest!”

You excitedly pulled your boyfriend into the chair next to you, laughing as he grumbled about the name.

“Right, right! Sorry Mr. Pro Hero, I meant Ground Zero is joining me today!”

“Against my will, might I add.” 

You smacked his arm without looking for the snide comment,

But knowing your boyfriend,

This video was bound to be full of them

“Alright, so today I look a little bare don’t I? That’s because this hunk is going to be doing my makeup.”

“Get ready to look like shit.”

“ANYWAAAAYS, let’s just jump right in, yeah? So I have all my makeup set out on the desk here, I’m not telling him what does what-”

“Like I need to know, this shit isn’t rocket science.”

“And it’s his job to make my look as fine as I always do.”

You watched as Katsuki faced you, grabbing a random brush and your highlighter.

“This is like the base coat for your foundation crap, right.”

He huffed to himself as you stifled a laughter, side eyeing the camera

He brushed it all over your face before picking up your stick foundation,

“Now this just kinda goes.. Fucking everywhere.”

He narrowed his eyes in concentration and you thought he was adorable,

“What are you doing Katsu?”

“You put dots all over your face. So that, stupid.”

He grabbed the beauty blender and you were shocked to try to see him dab it all over your face

He lightly grabbed your neck to maneuver your position,

Making it easier to blend in the makeup

“Do you think I need this much makeup?”

“No.”

“Awhhh-”

“You need a fucking crap ton.”

You smacked his arm again at the rude comment,

But you knew he was kidding with the way he was smirking

“Now that your face is done or whatever the hell, guess it’s the eyes.”

He picked up one of your newer palets and your heart skipped a beat,

“Oh man I just got this… Don’t mess it up please.”

“Yea, yea shut up.”

“I’m serious Katsuki-”

“Shitty woman I won’t mess it up. Now quit talking so I can make your eyes fucking pretty.”

“Haha okayy~”

He grabbed a small brush and opened your eyeshadow pallet,

Staring intently at the colors

“What are you glaring so hard for? Just pick one, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You use these two the most. Let’s mix them.”

“Wait, what-”

You watched with wide eyes as he dipped the brush into one color,

Roughly grabbing the powder onto the brush before-

“Have you lost your damn mind, KATSUKI!”

“EH!? WHAT!”

You watched as he selected another color,

Lighter than the first,

Blending them together on the pallet instead of on your eye

LIKE HOW A REGULAR HUMAN BEING DID IT

“YOU CAN’T JUST MIX THEM THERE, YOU RUIN THE COLOR!”

“HA? YOU BLEND SHIT ALL THE TIME!?”

“ON MY EYES DUMBASS!”

“So.. Like this?”

He brought the brush up to your cheek and smeared the makeup all over

“Whoops. Missed.”

“Katsukii!”

Laughing and whining you tried to push him away but he kept sneaking makeup all over your face,

Grabbing your hands and holding them so you couldn’t stop his onslaught

It was all fun and games till you heard a crash,

Looking down you saw your pallet on the ground,

Face down

“... Bakugou Katsuki…”

At the tone of your voice he stopped,

Looking down to where he saw you gaze on your fallen makeup.

“Oh fuck.”

Let’s just say that video ended with a bunch of cut scenes until you said goodbye,

Smiling face full of misused makeup and Katsuki with a smug look on his face,

Even if he did have matching makeup stains where you wiped your cheek against his.

“Fellas, if you’re asked to try this, just don’t-”

“Ignore him!! Thanks for the stopping by and watching the explosion duo! See you guys soon! ”

Eijiro Kirishima!:

“Hi beautiful people, and welcome back to my channel! It’s your host, RockkStarr here with my own, rock star- Red Riot! And today we are going to be doing the Chubby Bunny challenge!”

“Yosh!! I’m hyped up to eat some delicious sweets, oh, and the marshmallows too.”

Winking at the camera Eijiro pulled you in close,

You laughed and tried to squirm away as he left playful bites along your shoulder

“Oh stop! If you guys are unfamiliar with the challenge, it’s a winner-loser game-”

“That I’ll definitely win.”

“That you win by seeing how many marshmallows you can fit in your mouth while still being able to say, ‘chubby bunny’!”

“Oh then I’ll definitely lose, you see these cheeks? Made for this.” 

“Owiee!”

Eijiro laughed as you swatted his hand away while he pinched your cute cheek.

“Let’s get onto the marshmallows!”

“YOSH!”

The first few times didn’t go so well since he kept eating them,

“Ei babe you gotta keep it in your mouth!”

“That’s what she-”

After a few more failed attempts you were both up to five, and you both could still talk pretty clearly,

But Kirishima was not making this easy for you,

“What was that??”

“You heard me!!” 

You covered your mouth as you tried to hold back laughter,

Making it even harder to do so as you saw your boyfriend's cheeks puffed out so wide,

With a pursed smile to make him look funnier

“Say it again!”

“CHUBBY BUNNY!!”

After another 4 more you were getting to the limit,

Eijirou was tearing up in laughter about how cute you looked with puffed cheeks,

And every time you opened your mouth to talk they would almost fall out,

“Why don’t you just kiss me already?”

He teased with an almost clear voice,

You rolled your eyes at his smugness but did it anyways,

As soon as your lips touched you couldn’t hold back the giggles,

Spitting out wet marshmallows all over your boyfriend you began dying of laughter,

His shocked and disgusted face made you laugh even harder as his own came out of his mouth

“THAT WAS SO GROSS BABE!”

“AHHHH I’M SORRY!”

You both ended the video,

Your chin slick with drool and Eijiro covered in soggy marshmallows,

But you were both smiling and laughing nonetheless

“Thanks for tuning in! See you beauties next time, RockkStarr-”

“And Red Riot!”

“OUT!” 

Shoto Todoroki!:

“Hello friends, it’s me, IceeBaby! Don’t be alarmed, I know it may be hard to recognize me behind all this Gucci-”

“That’s a store brand tee-shirt, don’t lie.”

“Aaaaaand I’m here with my ice ice baby, Shoto! Thanksforruiningtheintro.”

“Anything for you, love.”

“Thanks babe..  today we are going to have a fashion show of sorts. I'll be trying on my closet for you all to see, and he is taking time out of his busy day to rate them for me!”

“She looks good in anything, so you’re going to get 10/10s everytime.”

“Oh my gosh. Are you flirting with me?”

“I most definitely am.”

“You do know I am dating a top pro hero right?”

“What is he going to do?” 

You giggle as Shoto pulls you onto his lap from, squeezing you tight while he did.

“He can try all he wants but he can't have you back.”

“You’re such a dork-Oh no!! You’ll wrinkle my clothes, let me go!”

“Wrinkled or not this outfit is still a 10 for me.”

You wiggled out of his hold, messing his hair up as you stood.

You tried on a few different outfits, explaining where you got them and why you liked them so much.

“Oh and this shirt-”

“Is my favorite actually.”

“Ohh?? Why is that?”

“This is the shirt you were wearing when we went on our first date.”

Your jaw dropped and Shoto swears there were hearts in your eyes,

“Shoto.. You remember that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It was one of the best days of my life, you were wearing that shirt and that one pair of jeans that makes your ass look fat-”

“aahhhHHHHHHH! you know about my butt enhancing jeans!?”

“Well, then I didn’t but I know which ones they are now.”

“Kya, you’re so embarrassing~!”

“You were the one wearing them, trying to impress me.”

“Well of course! I was on a date with an up and coming hero, who has tons of pretty heroes who could snatch you from me.”

You pouted looking away from him,

He once again pulled you onto his lap,

“No one is more beautiful than you. I want no one else.”

You looked over to the camera with a smug smile,

“Hear that? Sorry thirsty guys and gals, this man is all mine!”

“Thirsty??”

“Uh yeah, you know how many people thirst over you?”

“Do you know how many thirst over you?”

“Not as many as you, sweetie pie.”

“Whatever you say love, in that case,”

Shoto glared at the camera, shielding you with his body,

“You thirsty people cannot have her either.”

“KYAAA SHOTO-KUN HOW EMBARRASSING!!~~”

You look up at the camera the best you could, a big smile on your face,

“That’s it for today’s video! Go find other people to thirst over!! But I really hoped you enjoyed this! Comment down below if you’d like more content like this! Thanks a bunchies friends! Icy Hot 1 and 2 reporting for outro! Bye!”

[ficsnroses]

Used To Be - John Wick x Reader

❧ Prompt : “Did you at least think of me, when you were having sex with her?” 

Summary : John and you were in love, and still are. Only difference is, you’re now married to other people. You meet secretly often, and on this particularly emotional night you spend together, John decides he can’t be without you any longer.

Warnings : smut. car sex. loads of angst, loads of fluff.

Word Count : 3.8K

A/N : This was originally a drabble for my prompt fics, but it spiraled into a full length fic because I loved it quite a bit. Love me a good angsty smut! Feedback is so greatly appreciated 🖤

John’s wife’s name will be Helena in this cuz I can’t do my girl Helen like that lol

The sun sinks down the New York horizon, traces of earthy light; vanishing. Tonight, no stars seem to peak the sky. Tonight, it seems the sky understands. Tonight, the sky holds deep ash clouds, blackened shadows drifting with the wind.

The heavens cease to exist, for tonight- the sky mimics a ceiling of gray black rocks, trapping, confining her to the depths of her soul.

Tonight, she feels suffocated, in more ways than just one.

In the dull passenger seat of his car, John holds one sturdy hand firm on the steering wheel, gaze intent on the ash clouds that drift by out the crystal windshield. She sits adjacent, hands folded delicately in her lap, images, reminders of what they used to be channeling each crevice of her mind.

What her and John used to be.

How had they ever let it get to this? It was never supposed to come to this. It was always supposed to be her and John, and perhaps if she’d realized that earlier, she would have saved herself the guilt. The shame, the pain, the energy drained in weary half attempts to carry on their lives as they were; make do with what they’d done.

But she couldn’t, and neither could John. For her and John, it seemed that time had only made things worse, hung their hearts on a frayed loose thread that never seemed to break, despite how hard, how long they’d fought to forget each other.

By now, the rain had been long pattering on the car windows, John’s features softening when he notes the drown of ache on her lips, the glint once coated on her eyes long forgotten. It scrapes him each time to see her this way; hurts him deeper, burns him harder. A never ending burn, each time they’d end up back here, back together within the regret ridden walls of his Mustang. Back within the graveyard walls of a dream. Back within the death, the slaughter of the dreams they’d once dreamed together.

Coursing the tense air, John begins, a callous hand moving into his lap.

“How’s Ben?” John asks, awkwardly, tone thick with unease. With his hand firm on the wheel, he squeezes. Clenching, grasping, anything to ease the aching burn in his chest, with the words flying off his tongue as if normal.

-as if they didn’t break a piece of him each time they soared into the air; as if each time they fled, they weren’t building a burial ground of debris. Weren’t killing him inch by inch.

As if the words didn’t rationalize. Didn’t prove that his Y/N, had gone to another man. Had ended up in someone else’s arms when perhaps, it was all

  his

  fault.

“John, please come back. Please come home.”

“John, I’m falling weak here without you. Please come back.”

She’d begged him time after time, again, and again, and again.

But he hadn’t come. He didn’t come for her when she needed him the most. He wanted to be more; wanted to leave the life of sin behind him for good before he returned. Wanted to be good enough for her to ask for her hand in marriage;

Yet, when his dreary bones returned that somber evening to the town he called home, she was gone. She’d been married off, and there was nothing he could do to get her back.

Features stoic, yet her insides burn. A never ending burn, that only seemed to intensify with John around. The memories. The burning, sweltering, heart wrenching memories as they sat together now, a shell of what they used to be.

An empty, broken, hallow shell.

Lips taut in a straight line, she looks out the window, all efforts to keep her tears at bay failing nonetheless. With a burning globe seared out her soft orbs, she swallows thickly, the mere mention of her name bringing never ending hallow to her chest. “How’s Helena?”

John’s head turns out the window, unable to meet her eyes. Gaze softened, he barely turns and catches her from the peripherals of his eyes; her lips a gentle quiver, how her knuckles strain under the fragile skin.

His heart hurts for her, but he manages.

He manages, for her. “She’s alright.”

The air in the car space stills, and for a moment, just for a moment, John swore he’d heard the thud of his heart in his chest. Beating, thumping, waiting for her to say something.

But she doesn’t. She only stares out the window,

And stares,

And stares, and stares.

“Y/N,” John whispers, the scald on his heart intensifying by the second. His hand reaches for hers, palm resting over her hand that rests to her thigh, and when he squeezes ever so gently, gaze locked intently to her face, he sees the teardrops that singe her cheeks.

He sees in her, the same burn. The same never ending, agonising burn. “Sweetheart, I,” John starts before she cuts him off, a single finger to his lip.

“No, John.” She argues, moving from her seat, rising slightly out to lean over to his side. John watches her, as she moves over to the driver’s seat, positioning herself to straddle his lap. He pushes the lever of the seat back to generate more space, steering wheel poking at her back as she sits, so close to the man who held her heart.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She quietly speaks, gaze disheartened to their laps. Her eyes drag dreary, John’s arms curling around her to haul her body in closer. He studies each inch of her face, drinking her in. Something he wished he could do every morning as he woke, every night before he slept.

A life together was all they’d ever wanted. Yet here they were, locked away, confined and restricted,

in more ways than just one.

So close, their noses almost touch. John feels that flutter in his chest, the same flutter he feels each time he sees her. She always does this to him. Makes him feel this vulnerable, this fragile, this full of warmth that it practically scorches him to the bone. With his thumb soft and gentle, he cups her cheek, soothing softly under her eye. “I adore you, you know that right?”

She nods, feeble and fragile, more warm tears gliding her skin. Shaking her head, she places her hand to his chest, trying her best to keep at bay choked sobs and broken cries. Her time with John was special, limited, and she didn’t want it wasting away within her lifeless dirge of their remembrance of past. She watches John’s sad eyes gloss over her features, lips moving in to kiss away her tears.

Kiss away all the hurt he could. Because John knows, and John knows well.

John knows exactly how it feels to have everything in front of you, yet being utterly powerless to take it.

“Hey, no tears when we’re together.” John hushes, kissing her forehead as his hand takes hold of hers. “This is our time, right?”

And with a passionate kiss to his lips, Y/N cups his face in both her hands, whispering against his tender mouth. “I just need to feel you right now, John.” She manages, swallowing thick tears and throaty sorrow; her hands unzipping the buckle of his jeans underneath her. Hastily, she reaches into his boxers, pulling out his cock just enough to free into the air, enough for him to take her. Within a swift motion, she lifts herself gently, drape of her skirt pushed mindlessly away as she slides her underwear to the side, eyes never leaving John’s.

A feel of complete, full, uncompromised love. A feeling physical, to match. John found himself falling for her further, a little more each time they felt each other this way. A surrender of long overdue emotions.

Long built up fire that needed to be extinguished.

With John’s hands firm to her hips, he watches her take hold of his girthy cock, rubbing his swollen, rosy tip to her clit. Lining his member up with her entrance, she sinks down slowly, sat in his lap and they both sigh in unison. They sigh full of relief, full of each other, full of everything they’d ever wanted. With her arms looming around John’s neck, she feels him pull her body flush against his chest as she bounces, slowly, sensual up and down on him, soft moans and whimpers leaving both their lips.

This burn, is the only burn John ever wanted her to feel. A burn of pure, and utter, bliss.

Fragile body held close, John peppers kisses all over her skin, wherever his lips may reach. Her hair, her temples, her forehead, grasping so desperately, so wholly, in fear that she may just disappear. Disappear away from him again like she had before,

Disappear, to some place he may never be able to find her.

She feels divine around his member, warm, wet, perfectly fit as if a glove moulded just for him. Using both his hands to keep her hair out of her face, John admires her, cupping, grazing, touching her cheeks tenderly. She remembers how he likes it; slow, sloppy and wet. The way he bites his quivering lip when she clenches, the way his eyes flutter open and closed, the way his hands feel each inch of her skin as they mould together. She remembers every bit of him, every piece.

Every part of her John.

With each bounce, she holds him tighter, his toned arms and shoulders, the broad of his chest that heaves against her. The anticipation is building; it had been a while since either of them had been with someone.

Being with anyone other than each other, wasn’t right. It was never right.

Sex, without the one you love had never felt right.

“Please don’t stop, baby,” John moans quietly, pads of his fingertips bedding into her firmly held hips. “Please don’t stop.” Burying his face in the valley of her clothed breasts, John savours her, indulging in the feel of her so close. She’s here, she’s really here, and right now, in this moment, she’s his.

No one else’s.

Stifled praises for her leave his mouth as he watches, a muffle of messy moans under her touch. Picking up pace, she hears his groans get louder and louder, the sounds of her wetness bobbing his cock flood the car walls, swollen cock shining with her slickness each time she rises up, only to sink down again. Clenching tighter, she wills all efforts to feel him deep inside her, feel him pleasing her. It’s becoming too much; the memories, the past, the present.

She remembers of their lives now.

This love was only temporary, and soon, when the wash of relief would cast over them, and the few moments they could steal together would eventually fade into the light;

So would they. Back to reality. Back to the wretched, cruel reality. The one where they couldn’t be together. Slowly, yet so suddenly, she feels the tears brim her dreary eyes. Glossing her gaze, they glide her cheeks in steady, river streams. A tear drop falls to John’s skin, and he watches her in complete, and utter, sorrow.

“Baby…” John starts, cupping her cheek before he’s cut off cold, her voice raspy and broken to the tone. Movements halting, his cock stays buried deep, deep inside her to her end, her eyes fall downcast, quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Did you at least think of me, when you were having sex with her?”

And to the sound of her words, barely strung together through a quivering croak, John’s eyes sting. His heart breaks, yet again; shatters, yet again. His lips part to speak, yet the words choke in his throat. Choke as he watches the woman he truly loves break in front of him.

Gaze flickering, vulnerability shines in her weary eyes. His closeness, his familiarly, his warmth, all of him that came within his body holding hers, being this intimate with him again after so long,

it’s proving far too much.

“Why did you have sex with her, John?” She cries quietly, head shaking to the thought of her love with someone else. “Why?” Eyes clasping shut, she feels John’s arms hold her tighter now, a few tears brimming his own earthy orbs.

Thumb calloused, yet brimmed with the softest, most tender gentleness when he touches her, he wipes her tears away, holding her hand firm, tight, assuring her that he’s here. Slowly, his hands engulf in her own, soft and careful, staring as he rubs his thumb over the dips and bumps of her knuckles. “I love you, so much. He whispers. “You have no idea.” Her hands shake as her tears still fall, the built up dread bubbling inside, and she realizes that it was bound to come out.

Those words, those horrible thoughts, were bound to come out. She could only shelter them so long. With a deep and shaky sigh, her lips move to illuminate. “Every time I think of you, with her-” John’s words cut through hers, holding her so desperately in his arms.

“Y/N,” He saddens. “I only think of you, always, every minute of every day.” Jaw clenching to the thought, his gaze is intense, yet holds a softness. A softness reserved solely for her. “When I see this on you…” Eyes flickering to the engagement ring that gleams on her finger, John breathily exhales, collecting his words; vision growing blurry again with his fingers soothing over it. “It kills to think of this…that I didn’t give you this.” Voice breaking, her hands cup his face, locking eyes. “I miss you so much, Y/N.” John confesses unsteadily. “You have no idea how easy it was to fall in love with you. And for me to have to love you in secret now, I-” His words halt in his throaty croak, breaking.

She weeps quietly, holding him close. “I’m so sorry I let it get this way.” John apologizes, pulling her close with his face nuzzled in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry I let us…I let you…” And before he can finish the aching words that threaten to fall, she stops him, a tender kiss pressed to his head.

“No.” She kisses his lips again, fingers tangling his shadowy mane. “I don’t want to think about any of that right now.” Another kiss to the soft skin under his eye. “Right now is just for us, right?” She whispers, hips moving once again to slowly makes love to him, feel him slipping in and out of her as they relish. John nods, collecting his thoughts, eyes closing shut when he feels her bounce on him.

Their bodies together, so in sync, her heat throbs around him and she whimpers when his tip grinds her g spot. Bringing her hand over her lips, the cages in a particularly loud moan threatening to surface, the feel of John inside her, so heavy, so thick, the stretch of him filling her the best feeling to have ever felt. John’s hips buck up into her barely, sighing in sweet, sweet relief.

“Do you even take care of yourself?” She quietly asks, momentarily caught off guard by a rebellious strand of hair on his mane that never stills. Her finger lightly soothes over a mauve bruise just to the side of his temple, eyes falling sad thinking of John forgetting to give himself the care he needs. The care he deserves.

“Please, John, I need you to take care of yourself.” She pains, their hips still rolling into one another. “Do you…do you get enough sleep? Do the nightmares still come?” She inquires, gently soothing his nape.

With his lips planting a small kiss to her wrist, John lies through his teeth; he’d lie just for her. “No, sweetheart. They don’t. I’m fine, baby.” He assures, each vein, each curve and bump of his heavy cock pumping; twitching inside her. Breath hot on her lips, their foreheads connect, Y/N’s body trembling and whimpering from how good John is fucking into her now, how close to the brink of release they’re approaching. John’s member pumps, pounding spots inside her that nearly make her lose her breath, deeper, harder, pressure bubbling inside her core.

“I only think about you, sweetheart.” John whispers into her neck, lips leaving delicate, tender, soothing love bites into her skin. Nipping and sucking gently on her satin skin, John sighs at ease for the first time, in a long time. Pouring all his love into her, his lips move adoringly along her skin, spilling oblivion into her as his cock glides in and out of her pussy, her soft moans sending shivers down his spine as she strokes his hair, panting.

“John, please don’t leave marks,” She wearily asks. “I have to go home.”

She has to go home. She has to leave, eventually.

They’ll have to part, eventually.

“But you’re mine,” John quietly courses, voice gravelly, thick with ache. She’s his, but not. She’s his, but cannot be. “Please come home with me tonight?” John asks, taking hold of her hand again. “I need to be with you, Y/N.” Desperate, John laces their fingers, intent on her answer, although his wavering mind had already known well the response.

Eyes locking his, she kisses his lips softly, before replying. “You know I can’t, baby.” She hesitates. “I just can’t.”

The harsh reality. They can’t.

Their skin is flushed, clung to each other with piercing shocks snapping their nerves, John’s member hastily slapping against her bare core with each thrust in. She aids, tenderly moving on him, her own lips peppering kisses over his face, paying special attention to the violet bruises on his temples. The insides of her thighs coat with their mixed releases, staining the fabric of her clothes yet she doesn’t care. John pushes as much of himself into her as possible and she cries, yelps of bliss into his chest as she shudders for him, the burn building by the second.

John’s hands slip into her shirt, cupping her breasts as he kneads tender soothes to the swell of her chest, nipples hardening under his touch. He tries, yet his mind cannot seem to drift. The thoughts can’t seem to subside, the hurt piercing through each crevice of his mind.

“Do you sleep with him?” John blurts, unsure how the words had even slipped out. She feels far too good, far too divine, and he’s far too madly in love to bear the thought of her with another man. “Do you show him your body like you show me?”

With a whimper, she sobs from the pure ecstasy John feels like inside. Through barely attempts, she tries desperately to keep her eyes open, an assuring hand placed to John’s cheek. “Only you.”

Connecting their foreheads, she cups both his cheeks, jaw tightening with hard bites to her lip yielding minimal aid in encasing her cries of pleasure. She tightens around him harder, sizable cock making sinful noises as he slips in and out hastily, and she presses soft kisses to his lips through hot, trustful exhales. “I am only for you.”

Gaspy moans trudge both their lips as the end nears, John’s dick sloppily throbbing in and out her moist folds. She hasn’t felt this full in long, and he hasn’t felt this loved, this cared for in a while. With a few more particularly deep thrusts, the sting of each other’s bodies entwined together sending jolts of heat spiraling inside as they cum together, crying, sobbing, reciting each other’s names against the other’s lips through soft kisses.

She feels John’s cum spill inside her, buried deep, slick and heavy, warm to the feel inside. Proximate and close, John pulls her nearer in a bear hug as they collapse against each other, holding tenderly, arms circled around in the warmest, firmest embrace. His palms sooth up and down her back, lips pressing kisses to her luscious, tousled hair through highs ridden out. Chest heaving, their sweaty bodies cling together, entrapped within steamy glass windows and humid post sex air. He stops along with her hips, buried profound inside, still throbbing as her pussy pulses around him, tender, sore, delicate from the action.

With his voice deep and velvety, John tucks her head further into his neck, holding dearly, just as desperately as the entire session. Through warm succulence, he feels damp through the shirt on his shoulder again, knowing far too well that she must have allowed a couple more measly tears to slip her tired eyes, yet again.

Because even after release, even after desperate words of assurance, declared love for one another, their reality wouldn’t change. She would still go home, and so would he. They would still sleep in long empty, distant beds with the cold feel of another’s body beside them at night. They would still wake up alone, without the other’s warmth to subside any worries away.

Burn would return; the cold, foreign, unending burn that sears through out.

Blazes when without one another.

Staring out the window to the fallen rain, John realizes, that happiness won’t be, if they stay way.

“I don’t want to be without you anymore.” John expresses, more of a statement to himself in the dire nightfall that shadows outside. “No more.” She moves slowly, untangling from him just enough to meet his espresso gaze. Fingers soft, she soothes his cheek, empathizing, eyes shutting to the sound of his breathing. The assurance of knowing he’s real, he’s alive, he’s healthy, and he’s here.

And with his palms taking her hands into his, John whispers, confident, assured, threaded fingers fitting perfectly together, in the embrace of whom they were always meant to be within. “I’m done remembering what we used to be.”

She cups his cheek, and to the sound of the pelting rain dribbling the car windows now, the patter peppers down, gently, soothingly, a symphony of its own,

Pitter,

“What we are now, is what I want.”

Patter,

“What I need.”

Pitter,

“I lost you before, but I won’t lose you again.”

Patter,

And with a kiss to her palm, he locks their eyes, sincerely, genuinely, for her. 

        “I’ll make this right. I’ll make us right.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

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