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explosionkatsu · 3 months

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Pairing: ProHero!Bakugo x F!Reader

Summary: Y/n, a young woman who was once living in Tokyo, made a tough decision to move away and start afresh after the death of a loved one. The loss left her heartbroken, and she decided to close her heart to romance. However, fate had other plans for her. One day, she saw someone who bore an uncanny resemblance to her deceased loved one. The sight took her aback. What it would be like to meet this person and whether it would bring the memories and emotions she had been trying to leave behind.

Warning: NONE

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Prologue

It's been years ever since the death of her fiancee. Y/n just couldn't go back to dating thinking that it was disrespectful to Kudou.

Although his family encouraged her to find herself a new partner, and that Kudou would understand, Y/n just couldn't. She couldn't love anyone but him. Only him.

She is aware that every single day, she was like a lifeless doll, walking in the street as she made her way to her workplace. That is when her family suggested she should start a new life where she could mend herself away from Tokyo.

She didn't like it. She was against it, not until Kudou's family approved of this.

"Y/n, my daughter.. Start a new life, please. Kudou wouldn't want you to be this way. You're making it hard for him to leave the world. He should be where he was supposed to be. I love you like my daughter. Like my own. But please. This is for your good…” Those are the exact words Y/n could never forget.

They were right though. Her grieving is probably holding Kudou back from leaving this world.

Y/n made a life-changing decision and decided to start anew. She took their advice and got on the train to Musutafu, Japan, where she hoped to find a fresh start. After a few hours on the train, she finally arrived at her destination. Stepping off the train, she hailed a taxi and told the driver the address of her new apartment, which was near the agency where she planned to apply for a job.

Y/n had enough savings in her bank account to cover her expenses for a few months, including rent, food, and utilities. As the taxi drove through the busy streets, Y/n wondered if she had made the right decision. But she quickly shook off her doubts and focused on the positive aspects of her new life.

Finally, they arrived at her new apartment building. Y/n stepped out of the car, thanked the driver, and made her way to the main door. The security guard greeted her with a bow and handed her the key to her new apartment.

"Welcome to Musutafu, Miss Y/n," he said with a smile.

Y/n smiled back and thanked him before heading to the third floor where her apartment was located. As soon as she saw the door with the exact number as the one in the message, she inserted the key and pushed it open.

The apartment was small, but it was just the right size for her. The walls were painted in a soothing pastel green, and the floors were a warm coffee brown. The rooms were bright and airy, and Y/n felt a sense of dread yet calm wash over her.

Hours passed as Y/n unpacked and arranged her belongings with the help of her friendly neighbor. She had bought some furniture, a few appliances like a microwave oven and a rice cooker, and some essentials like a mattress, pillows, and a blanket. She also had a small closet where she could temporarily store her clothes.

As she settled into her new home, Y/n felt a sense of sadness but still hoped for a better future. She knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter in her life and this was for the best.

---

Y/n woke up early at 6 am and stretched her arms, reaching for her phone. As she scrolled through her emails, her eyes widened at the sight of a new message from the agency she had applied to. They had invited her for an interview that very afternoon. Her heart started pounding with excitement at the thought of a potential new job. She sat up instantly and looked for appropriate clothes to wear, eager to start her day on the right note.

After finding the perfect outfit, she went to the bathroom and took a relaxing bath, allowing the warm water to wash away any lingering sleepiness, and hopefully, the sadness. "This is a good start," she thought to herself, feeling slightly satisfied with her progress. Everything seemed to be falling into place for her.

Once she was done, Y/n went out for breakfast, feeling a bit energized and ready to take on the day. She grabbed the thick orange scarf that Kudou had given her before the incident happened, a cherished reminder of the past. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, not too tight, just enough to keep her warm, and put on a black winter jacket to keep the cold at bay. After taking an extra look at herself in the mirror, she exited her apartment, locking the door behind her.

As soon as she turned towards the stairs, she was met by her neighbor, a sweet green-haired lady who was preparing for work. Y/n greeted her with a slight bow to show respect, "O-ohayo."

"Ara. Ms. L/n, ohayo," the neighbor smiled, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "Are you headed to work as well?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and kindness.

"Oh, um, no," Y/n smiled back. "I'm on my way to get breakfast," she answered, feeling grateful for the company. "I have an interview in the afternoon though."

"Oh! Good luck to you then! I apologize as well, I forgot to introduce myself last night. My name is Inko Midoriya," Inko once again bowed as she introduced herself, feeling embarrassed but not losing her smile.

"It's alright, um, Miss Midoriya," Y/n slightly panicked but giggling, feeling a sense of warmth from her presence.

"Come on, I'll let you know where there's a good bakery nearby," Inko motioned Y/n to walk with her, making Y/n slightly stumble on her step. She felt grateful for the offer and took her up on it.

"D-do you mind?" Y/n asked, feeling comforted by the offer.

"Of course not, dear. Besides, you reminded me of my son," Inko giggled, feeling a sense of nostalgia.

Y/n blushed slightly at the comparison. "Your son?" she asked, curious to know more.

"Haha, yes. He might be a little older than you," Inko smiled and continued walking. "He lives alone now that he has become a pro hero."

"He's a pro hero? That's so cool," Y/n smiled with admiration as she listened.

"Mhm," Inko nodded, feeling proud of her son's accomplishments. "He was able to achieve his dream to be number 1."

Hearing this made Y/n stop in her tracks. "Number 1?" she said, feeling shocked and impressed. "Are you saying that Deku is your..." She was surprised to hear this.

"Deku, the number 1 hero of Japan," Inko giggled at Y/n's reaction, feeling happy to share her son's achievements.

"What?!" Y/n said but soon covered her mouth, embarrassed of her outburst. She started walking again, feeling grateful for the chance encounter. "I can't believe I'm talking to his mom." Now that she said that, she could see the features of Deku, similar to Inko's. How could she have not noticed it before?

"Haha. I can't believe I am his mother, either." Inko said. "We're almost there." She added as the bakery appeared in her view.

"You must be proud of your son," Y/n said admiring the hero.

"I am," Inko said. "But I couldn't help but worry sometimes," Inko added.

Y/n noticed the worry laced in Inko's voice. She couldn't blame her though. Her son's life is always on the line. She felt the same way when Kudou was still alive.

Y/n and Inko walked towards the bakery, with Inko's mind still preoccupied with the conversation they had earlier. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts, but Y/n noticed her distress and tried to lift her spirits. "I understand what you feel, Miss Midoriya," she mumbled. "But let's hope for the best, okay? Let's be positive!"

Inko looked at Y/n, respecting her positivity. She nodded happily in agreement, hoping that her optimism would help her cope with her worries.

As they entered the bakery, Y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement at the sight of the bread and cakes. She made a beeline for the cake slices, eagerly examining the different options available.

Inko watched Y/n with amusement, noticing how her eyes lit up with delight as she gazed at the cakes. She really did remind her of Izuku, "I see you like sweets," Inko said, smiling.

Y/n was so engrossed in her selection that she had almost forgotten that she had company. Feeling embarrassed by her actions, she covered her face with her hand. "I'm s-sorry.." she mumbled, feeling self-conscious.

Inko laughed, finding Y/n's embarrassment adorable. "Haha! It's fine, sweety," she said, teasingly.

Hearing Inko's laughter, Y/n extracted her hand from her face, her smile returning. She felt at ease with Inko.

Y/n paid for the slices, and as they turned to leave, she handed one to Inko. "T-thank you for taking me here, Miss Midoriya!" Y/n said, blushing.

"E-eh?! N-no! It's okay! You don't h-have to!" Inko waved her hand, refusing the cake. She was touched by Y/n's gesture but didn't want to impose. Although, the cake looks good.

"I insist!" Y/n said, pushing the slice into Inko's hand. "This is a thank you slice for accompanying me!"

As Inko was about to return it, a woman's voice interrupted their conversation. "Inko??" she said, calling out to Inko.

Inko turned to see Mitsuki, a close friend of hers, approaching them. "Ah, Mitsuki. Ohayo," Inko greeted, happy to see her friend.

Y/n was now quiet as she stared at the stunning woman walking towards them. Mitsuki was strikingly beautiful, with fiery blonde hair and a confident stride.

"I haven't seen you in a while! How was Izuku?" Mitsuki grinned, seeing her best friend. She then turned her gaze to Y/n, who was staring at her. "And who is this attractive young lady with you?"

Y/n couldn't believe her eyes. This woman in front of her looked exactly like Kudou, the difference was the hair color and gender.

"Oh. This is Y/n Ln. Our new neighbor," Inko introduced Y/n. "Y/n, this is Mitsuki Bakugo, a close friend of mine."

Y/n felt a bit shy and overwhelmed as Mitsuki's piercing velvet eyes met hers. She blinked out her trance and bowed. "N-nice to meet you! My name is Y/n Ln."

"Ara, ara. Such a formal young lady," Mitsuki said, snickering. "You don't have to bow, you know."

A blush crept up Y/n's cheeks as Mitsuki turned to Inko and said, "Haha. So anyway, I didn't expect to see you here."

Inko explained that she had been accompanying Y/n since she had moved to the area just the previous day and was still unfamiliar with the place. She had decided to take her to the bakery, and they were enjoying a slice of cake as they chatted.

Mitsuki then went on to say that the cakes there were delectable, especially the ones filled with fruits. "Katsuki loved them," Mitsuki laughed as she reminisced about him forcing her to buy him one. Inko laughed along, and Y/n watched cluelessly as the two adults conversed, feeling a little out of place in their company.

Mitsuki noticed this and explained "I have a son who was sadly the number 2 hero, Dynamight."

Y/n was once again taken aback, realizing that her new place seemed to be filled with the parents of prominent heroes.

Mitsuki confirmed it, and Y/n found it bizarre that Deku and Dynamight were rivals yet their mothers seemed to be getting along so well. Y/n paused and asked, "Wait, um… Deku and Dynamight are rivals, yet…"

Mitsuki grinned and said, "We get along so well? I know, right? It's just my son who's an idiot. He's been very competitive ever since he was a kid."

Inko then speaks up, "Deku and Dynamight were childhood friends," which piqued Y/n's curiosity even further.

---

Alright, this is an upcoming series as well. I am confused about what to write next since the 'Age Doesn't Matter' is ending. And if you haven't read that, you should.

Maybe I'll make a poll about what series I should do next? Haha! Enjoy!

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader

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munsonkitten · 29 days

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Sub Eddie Week - Day 1: Accidental Subspace / Manhandling - AO3 Link - @subeddieweek

Out of all the times Eddie’s been to the Harrington mansion for a party, he’s never ventured upstairs. Everything he ever needs has always been on the main level or the basement. He can set up shop in one corner of the house and have his entire stash cleaned out in an hour. Home before eleven with cash burning a hole in his pocket.

The house is even busier than usual. It’s February, and Eddie doesn’t recall ever coming to a winter party at the Harrington house. Usually people are out in the yard and in the pool, but tonight the house is jam packed, everyone keeping out of the cold outside. It’s good for business though. He’s out of coke, still has a couple grams of weed, a few odds and ends in pill form, and he could easily sell the rest out in no time if he could think about anything other than his full bladder. The bathroom in the hallway near the kitchen has had a line all night because of all the people in the house.

He knows there’s a bathroom in the basement, but he knows it doesn’t have a lock on the door, and he’s not risking anyone walking in while he’s taking a leak. At least there’s less people upstairs. People tend to think it’s off limits even if Harrington’s never said anything to indicate that. Not to Eddie, at least — not that he really talks to Eddie much. He came by when he first got here, bought out half his weed, said something about making himself at home, and then disappeared somewhere, and hasn’t been seen since.

Some blonde girl with huge hair and bright eye makeup comes out of one of the doors upstairs. Eddie figures that’s probably gotta be the bathroom if no one else is following her out, so he tries that door.

It’s not a bathroom.

Steve Harrington is laying there in his bed without any pants on, and Eddie realizes that girl probably just hooked up with him and dashed, but — but no, Steve’s dick is still hard. His dick is hard and huge, and his hand is wrapped around it, but not moving at all, and Eddie — Eddie is just staring.

He’s just standing there in Steve’s bedroom doorway staring at the huge dick in his hand. And Steve glances over and sighs, like he doesn’t even care he’s been found like this. He almost looks defeated, which Eddie supposes makes sense if he’s still hard and his hookup just left.

“What are you doing? Waiting for someone to just come sit on your dick?” Eddie asks.

“What, are you offering?” Steve shoots back.

He grabs his blanket and covers himself up, hiding his huge dick from Eddie’s view. He’s not urgent in his movements, probably comfortable being naked in front of guys after all these years of playing sports and changing in locker rooms.

“Don’t cover up on my account,” Eddie says. “I’m just looking for a bathroom.”

read the rest on AO3

#subeddieweek #steddie #my fics #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve/eddie #steddie fic #stranger things #trans eddie munson

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lincolndjarin · 10 months

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Best Kept Secret

chapter six : torment (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.1k

summary : you confront the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, teasing, lowkey brief orgasm denial, din djarin is a little shit, helmet stays on

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through.

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. You’re always alone with him, why is this any different than the days upon days you’ve spent together completely alone in the library?

Well… the library isn’t dimly lit.

And the library definitely doesn’t have a bed.

Why did you invite him in? What was the end goal with such a stupid and impulsive decision? What the hell did you want?

Him. That much is obvious, no point dancing around that fact anymore.

But it’s purely sexual.

Obviously.

Nothing else.

You’re friends. That’s it. You’re friends and sometimes you just so happen to have brief sexual fantasies about him. Can that really be considered cheating? Is it cheating if you didn’t want to be married in the first place? If you didn’t have a choice in the matter? If he’s a disgusting slob of a man?

It doesn’t matter because you aren’t going to do anything.

Then why did you invite him in?

Maker, you're an idiot.

A stupid, stupid horny idiot.

He’s just standing there. You should say something, but you waited too long and now it’s weird. This whole thing is weird. You invited him in as friends, you’re friends after all. You spend all day in the gardens together as friends, you read together in comfortable silence as friends, you hold each other intimately on the floor of empty hallways to reassure yourselves that the other is okay as friends, you think about him when you touch yourself as friends. Kriff you need to do something, you can’t just stand across from each other in silence. Do what feels natural, you’re friends, friends are comfortable around each other. What would you be doing if he wasn’t here? Get ready for bed.

You turn to the dresser to start looking for a night gown, but you can feel the way his visor is trained on you, burning into your skin, so you grab the first thing you can find, barely looking at it and tossing it on the bed. Finally turning to look at him.

“I’m just gonna change real quick…” You whisper it, no sense speaking any louder than that, you know he’ll hear it. He simply nods, turning to face the wall, it’s the first time he’s moved since he walked in.

You go to summon Elaine and Lysa but stop yourself. How the hell would you explain him being here this late? It isn’t worth the trouble, you can get out of a dress yourself.

Except you can’t.

You were wearing one of the overcomplicated blue gowns you wore on days where you saw Kodo and you’re struggling to undo the bodice.

Fuck.

This is fine. You’ll just stay in this until he leaves. When is he going to leave? Usually someone leaves when they are done doing what they came to do but with seemingly no objective here there’s no logical reason for him to leave.

“You can turn around.” Gods, you’re embarrassing. He doesn’t speak for a moment as he turns and stares at you.

“You’re stuck.” He says it so plainly that you know he’s certain that’s the case. You wish he would make fun of you. This would be so much easier if he was taunting you, like he usually was. You could hate him and send him away. But it’s getting harder to hate him by the minute.

“It’s fine.”

“I could help?” It’s a question. He doesn’t often ask for permission with you. But he won’t do this without your permission. Why should he need permission, this is innocent enough, he’s just helping you out.

Friends help each other. That’s what they do. So you turn around so he can unlace it for you. And he’s on you before you have a chance to move somewhere else, anywhere else, but it’s too late. Without even realizing it you’ve put the two of you in front of the mirror. Well at least it can’t get worse than this.

But it does.

Because he takes off the gloves. And you can see his hands as he gives them to you to hold. Tan, calloused, littered with scars. You only get a glimpse, but it’s enough for you to realize that the hands you imagined him having don’t compare to the real thing. They’re big, you could tell that from the gloves but you hadn’t expected them to be so defined. You could write a million stupid romance novels about the vast ridges of his knuckles, or the veins that spread across them.

Maker you’re so fucked.

You can feel the dress loosening as he meticulously pulls each ribbon free, you wish it were possible to watch him do it. Instead you’re stuck staring at your stupid dumbfounded expression in the mirror, intently observing him until he finishes and immediately steps back and turns around.

You wish he had taken his time.

But you quickly slip out of the dress and don the nightgown on the bed. For Makers sake could you have grabbed a skimpier outfit? It’s practically lingerie. You reach for the silk robe hanging on the mirror and try to make yourself look as covered as possible.

“I’m decent.” You hate how small your voice sounds. He turns again and you give him his gloves back, drinking in one final glimpse of his hands.

You need to talk about what happened. Just get it out of the way.

“We should talk about it.” You take a step towards him but he flinches back, just a hair. It’s off putting to watch such an imposing man react like that so you stop dead in your tracks.

“Nothing happened.” It’s gut-wrenching to hear his voice sounding so strained. It took weeks for him to warm up to you and in an instant he had put those walls back up.

“Don’t do that.” Gods, at least try to sound less like a wounded little girl.

“I’m not doing anything.” You want to rip that stupid modulator out of his helmet for making his voice sound so cold.

“So I’m just supposed to pretend like you weren’t hyperventilating on the floor a few minutes ago?” The sympathy you had for him is rapidly depleting as you take another step towards him, trying not to raise your voice.

“Yes. That is exactly what you’re going to do.”

“No.”

“No?” The anger in his voice is palpable. Good. You want him to get fired up, you want to fight about this because at least you’ll be talking about it.

“No. We aren’t going to ignore this, we are going to have a conversation about it because you scared the hell out of me.” He scoffs, it’s sharp coming through the filter.

“You’re fine.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

It’s like the night you met. He’s standing in the middle of the room. A cold, unmoving statue of Beskar, and you, the scared little girl, charting unfamiliar waters.

“ You weren’t.” You furrow your brows as you say it. The visor is trained on you but you’re sure he isn’t looking at you. “You couldn’t even move. It was like you couldn’t see me and I was right in front of you.” The chill that runs down your spine lets you know that he’s looking at you now that you’ve said that. He takes a long stride towards you and you hold your ground, tilting your head up to keep your eyes on his helmet.

“Why are we still talking about this?” His voice is so low it’s practically a rumble.

“Because we’re friends and friends talk about these things!”

“We aren’t friends.”

Ouch.

Well you should have seen that coming. Of course he wasn’t your friend, you can’t believe you were naive to ever think that he would be, he was probably just humoring you. Now you’re the one who can’t look at him as you stare at the floor, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded.

“Of course we aren’t.” You wish you didn’t sound so bitter, as he sighs loudly.

“Come on, don’t just stand there and pout at me, you knew we weren’t friends. We can’t be.” The contempt in his voice cuts deep.

“Fuck you. Get out.” You start walking in the direction of the closet but he grabs your arm before you can get there.

“Don’t do that.” His tone is a little gentler but it does nothing to sway your temper, shoving him off of you.

“Why not. You’re right. We aren’t friends, I’m just the ditzy little princess you’re charged with watching, I don’t know why I ever thought you actually might care about me.” You’re trying not to cry at this point as you throw your hands up in defeat. “Is that what you wanted to hear? You were right. I was wrong. You win Mando, was that little episode in the hallway just now an act to get me to this point? If so you’re a fantastic actor, really had me going. I almost thought you actually gave a shit about me.” You turn sharply to open the closet door, wanting nothing more than to retreat to your pile of blankets but his large hand lands just next to your head slamming it shut. He raises his other hand so they’re boxing you in, he towers over and you scowl, your faces inches from each other now.

“Why did you invite me in?” The crackle of the filter is low and it makes you want to tear the whole helmet from his head and slap him. And maybe do a few other things while it’s off.

“I want you to leave.”

“No you don’t”

“I hate you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make all of this okay?”

Smoke. Metal. Fresh Linen.

“I hate you.” The back of your head is against the closet door as you take a step back, he leans down, closer to you, your forehead is practically touching Beskar.

“That’s what I tell myself to justify it all.” Gods, why do you wish you could feel his breath on your face? “So why did you invite me in, sarad’ika?” Your knees buckle slightly and his hands fly to your waist to support you. When you don’t respond he leans just an inch closer, your breath is fogging up the steel of his helmet now. “Say it again.”

“I hate you.” It’s practically a squeak as you say it this time. He hums softly in response.

“I can’t stand you.” He murmurs. “It’s like you were put on this planet to make me suffer .” His hands put the slightest bit of pressure on your hips to accentuate the end of his sentence.

“Do I really bother you that much? What have I done to you that is truly that terrible?” You do everything in your power to make it sound cold and harsh but your voice still trembles.

“Don’t play dumb cyar’ika. Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me.” The words are labored as you savor the heat coming off of his body. “The way you torment me.” He’s practically snarling.

“I have no idea what you mean.” Of course you do. As you gingerly bring your hands up to rest on his chestplate, trying to put a distance between the two of you uselessly. You know exactly what he’s talking about because it's exactly how you feel everytime you stare into the cold and unforgiving steel of his visor. The misery of absolutely loathing a person purely because you cannot have them, because you cannot escape them. Because it’s not just that he’s always physically there, he’s there when you close your eyes and when you sleep, he lives in brain, there is nothing you can do to get rid of him. To free yourself of the brand he has burned deep into your psyche.

That can’t be what he means though.

“Why do you do it? Hmm?” He brings the helmet down to rest against your cheek, you can feel the vibration when he hums, the sensation has you arching your back before you can stop yourself but thankfully his grip holds you in place against the door.

“Do what?” You groan softly, he squeezes your waist tighter.

“ This.” He grunts. “You do all of this. You wear that green dress, read those dirty books right in front of me, for fucks sake look at you. You invited me in and you put on this?” His fingers yank at the loose hanging fabric on your hips. “ This pretty little black slip of lace? You must truly despise me to put me through this lovely little bit of torture…”

“I don’t do those things for you.” You manage to spit out. It’s sort of true, you don’t entirely do those things for him, sometimes they just happen by accident.

One of his gloved hands comes up to grip your chin. “Don’t even get me started on this filthy mouth of yours, the way you talk to me sarad, when you insult me, berate me, all I can think about is how I could make this pretty mouth talk so sweet, make you beg and whine just for me, never talk back to me again.”

Maker this isn’t real, it can’t be. You must have fallen asleep again, but he feels so solid, and palpable, and the wetness pooling between your legs certainly felt real. You’re speechless at this point as you just let out a little whimper that has him chuckling softly.

“Is that really all I had to do to make you behave? Whisper vulgar things into your ear? If I had known all you wanted was a little attention I would have done this the day I met you mesh’la. Is this what you want? I need to hear you say it.” He’s sweetened immediately and it’s making your head spin. You need to think clearly, be realistic, you can’t do this. No matter how badly you want this.

But right now it’s hard to do much of anything besides lightly scratch at his chestplate and whimper.

“Tell me to leave right now. I’ll do it, I’ll hop on the first transport ship off planet and you’ll never see me again.” You know he’s serious. He could easily do whatever he wanted with you in this position but you know him, and you know if you don’t explicitly ask for it he won’t go further than this. Why is this so hard? You know what you need to do, you need to tell him to leave, to get as far away from you as possible but you know that it would never be far enough. There is nowhere he could go that would free you from this agony .

“W-we can’t do this.” You manage to stutter out, your eyes are squeezed shut at this point, just trying to stop any more noises from slipping out.

“Then tell me to leave.” He says it almost like it’s what he really wants, that he knows, just like you do, that there’s no coming back from this.

“I hate you. Every part” Stars, why can’t you just tell him to go?

“I know you do cyar’ika.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, he can probably hear it. You need to convince him that you can’t do this, because you know you can’t stop yourself, it has to be him.

“Do you know what would happen if we were caught?” You breathe out, grabbing the sides of his helmet to pull him back slightly so you can stare into the thin black line.

“I know.”

“They’d hang us both.”

“They’d hang me.”

You know he’s right. They’d be substantially worse to him, you’d most likely just be locked away until it was time to produce an heir.

“They’d hang you.” You whisper.

“The moment anyone found out I would be swarmed by guards. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.” His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly

“They’d do worse than that.” For fucks sake, everything you’re saying is true and you know it, why isn’t this making either of you stop.

“They’d torture me.” He says it so plainly, like it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.

“They’d torture you.”

“They’d cut out my tongue if they knew what I wanted to do to you.” Then why does he sound like he doesn’t care?

“Then don’t do it, it isn’t worth it.”

“I could do most of it without a tongue.”

“I’d miss your tongue.” You need to stop.

“Would you?”

“I would.” You would.

“I thought you hated my tongue. Every part of me .”

“I do. But it would be a shame for them to cut it out before I get to put it to good use.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Maker, did he just growl?

“You don’t like it?”

“You’re supposed to be telling me to leave. Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Then don’t stop yourself.”

“Tell me to leave sarad’ika.”

“Stay.”

And that’s all it takes. He hauls you over his shoulder and before you can even process what’s happening you’re being thrown down on the bed. He’s hastily removing things, buckles and belts, tossing them aside with his gloves as he pulls his cowl over his helmet, letting his cape fall to the floor as he drops the pack on top of it, you can’t help it as you reach up and grab the edge of his chestplate pulling him closer.

“Don’t bother, can’t wait.” Is all you say as you trace your fingertips across his now exposed neck, you can work around the flight suit and armor. His now bare hands find your waist again, this time tearing the fabric to shreds as he rips the negligee off of you, tossing the scraps to the side. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed about your bare chest being exposed to him now as his hands found the hem of your panties.

“Do you need these?” He says breathlessly, his visor keeps moving ever so slightly across your body like he doesn’t know where to look as you shake your head no.

“I have plenty of others.” That’s all he needs to hear before those are ripped to shreds too and he’s crawling onto the bed to hover above you, his hands slide under your thighs to scooch you upwards so his head is closer to your stomach. He wastes no time as he pushes your legs up to bend your knees so he can access all of you. You can hear the soft gasps from the modulator.

“Sarad… bid mesh’la.” One of his hands presses to your inner thigh as he spreads your legs wider for him, his other hand moves up to swipe two fingers through your folds. “Cuyir ibic an par ni?” It’s like he’s talking to himself as he holds them up so you can see how wet they are. Your face turns red at the sight. “Is this all for me sarad?” You put your hands over your face sheepishly as you nod, you barely register the sound of air hissing as you peek through your fingers just long enough to watch as he slips his hand under his helmet to suck his fingers clean, letting out a low breathy moan.

Maker, you don’t stand a chance.

“Fuck, Mando, quit stalling.” You whine out, bringing your own hand between your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that’s building there. One of his hands gently grabs your wrists, effortlessly pinning them above your head as he clicks his tongue.

“Needly little thing.” He chuckles as his other hand traces down your body, stopping to palm your breast, going between them as you whined, squirming under his grasp, there’s got to be a wet spot on the sheets already as he continues to taunt you, lazily rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty mesh’la. I knew you’d be so perfect, smooth and soft under my hands.” He pinches the nipple he was playing with making you squeal. “You have to be quiet sarad. Can you do that for me?” He rubs circles over your tit with his thumb, soothing the ache as you nod. “Good girl.” You can practically hear the grin on his face as you flush red at the praise. He releases your wrists as he brings both hands down across your chest now, following the blush before finally one of his hands dips between your thighs.

“Please Mando…” You whisper as your hands grip the sheets. His fingers massaging your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding your core.

“Please what, princess?” Maker, he sounds so smug.

“Gods, I hate you.” You squirm uselessly underneath him, not bothering to try and touch yourself, you know he’d stop you. His gravely laugh seeps out of the modulator.

“I like you like this, my little star flower.” One of his hands smacks your thigh, it isn’t that hard but you still have to bite back a moan. “I wish I'd known how easy it was to make you behave. I’d have bent you over and done this weeks ago if I knew it would have the effect on you.”

“Maker, are you going to touch me or are you going to just talk all night Mand-” Your voice catches in your throat as he slides two fingers into you without warning. Your back arching off the mattress until his other hand rests on your lower stomach, pushing you back down. He hums as he slowly draws them out before driving them back home forcing a choked out groan from you. You were right, he does feel better than your own fingers as he slowly and deliberately fucks you with his hand, his helmet moving back and forth to watch his digits slip in and out of you to your face as you bring a hand to your mouth to try and quiet the obscene noises that start slipping out.

“Maybe next time you mouth off to me I’ll just do this, would you like that?”

Overconfident son of a bitch.

You’re having a hard time thinking of a witty comeback and when you don’t respond he hums softly, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Naughty. Speak up princess.” The warm drawl of his voice is suffocating as he curls his fingers again, your body trying desperately to writhe at the sensation but his other hand keeps you held in this position. “Use your words. I know you can, you’re always so mouthy” His tone is mocking as he curls his fingers again ruthlessly and your other hand flies down to his wrist.

“Yes.” You manage to yelp you as he withdrawals his fingers and you whine softly at the feeling, trying to keep hold on his wrist to bring him back against you. He tuts as he brings the hand to his pants as he unzips the flightsuit and you sit up on your elbows to get a good look as his cock springs free. He lazily strokes himself, using your slick as a lubricant, his visor trained on your face as you let out a small gasp.

Of course he’s so arrogant. With a dick like that anyone would be, he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen and just generally nice to look at. You didn’t even know it was possible to have such an attractive cock. It’s hefty, thick, veiny like his hands, the tip is such a pretty shade of pink as he swipes his thumb across the beads of pre-cum that spill out, drawing a sharp inhale from him. He leans forward slightly and slides the head through your folds making you fall back onto the bed, your head sinking into the mattress as you whine. You’re waiting for the delicious sting of him pushing in but of course he doesn’t. You lift your eyes to stare into the visor, he’s looking at you expectantly, you can virtually see the smirk on his face.

“Be a good girl, princess. You know what I want.” He rubs the tip against your neglected clit and you cry out softly, reaching up to grip his shoulders.

“You’re such an ass.” You manage to gasp out as you try to hook a leg around his waist to pull him against you but of course he’s able to stay exactly where he is as he continues to leisurely stroke himself, bumping the head of his cock against your clit every so often, watching as you squirm. After a few moments of watching you wriggle under him he pulls back ever so slightly causing you to whine, leaning forward to grab his arms, uselessly pulling him back towards you.

“I thought you didn’t want it?” He says in that stupid condescending tone. Even now he’s insufferable but you can’t help it, you’re so worked up at this point you’ll do damn near anything to get him inside you.

“Please.” You whine softly. He hesitates before he leans back down, one hand gripping your hips as his other lines himself up with your entrance. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, trying to get any sort of leverage to force him into you.

“Please what sarad?” He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.

Oh you’re gonna kill him.

After.

“Please, for Makers sake just fuck me already.” You groan out, you only get to roll your eyes for a second before he snaps his hips forward, pushing himself only halfway into you but the stretch is immense as you scratch into his arms, whining loudly, the dull pain is worth it though as he brings his helmet down against the mattress next to yours so you can hear the guttural moan that falls from the modulator. Both his hands are on your hips now as he digs his fingers into the skin, trying to steady himself, you’re definitely gonna have bruises. He lies breathlessly on top of you for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Are you okay mesh’la? Are you okay if I move?” His voice is tense and you can hear him panting, you’re surprised you don’t cum right then and there as you nod against his shoulder, your nails scratching at his back now to stabilize yourself.

“Yes, please, please Mando” You breathlessly mumble, shifting your hips slightly, wincing as you take a bit more of him and that’s all the permission he needs to grab your hips and gradually pull you down on to his length. By the time he’s fully inside of you you’re a whining mess.

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not when you can hear the Mandalorian groaning in your ear, mumbling incoherently in Mando’a to himself as his cock twitches inside you.

He isn’t moving, you know he’s trying to catch his breath but Maker he feels so good and you don’t feel like waiting so you gingerly pry one of his hands off of your waist and guide it down between your legs, that seems to bring him back to reality as he starts rubbing small circles against your clit which has you keening immediately. He still doesn’t move inside of you as he intently watches you gasping and moaning, you shut your eyes tight as he brushes his fingertips slowly across your swollen bud.

Of course he’s him so he doesn’t let you enjoy it for long because once you’re thrashing underneath him because you’re so close he draws his hand back and you breathlessly grab his wrist.

“Don’t you dare.” You give him as stern a look as you can but it sounds more like a plea. That gets a small laugh from him as he ever so slightly pulls out before slamming himself back into you, watching as your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckles as he repeats the motion, pulling out ever so slightly before fully sheathing himself once more, you’re seeing stars again.

“If you don't put your kriffing hand back between my legs I won’t ever let you do this again.” You try to scowl at him but all it takes is another snap of his hips before you’ve lost all your resolve. He finally picks up the pace, slamming his hips against yours, the thrusts growing brutal as he unravels you to nothing but whimpers as you claw uselessly at his shoulders. You’re pathetically whining now, it’s unfair how easily he’s able to get you there. It’s almost like he knows how close you are as he lets out a small groan when you clench around him, his hips stuttering slightly.

“Ask nicely, princess.” He grunts out as he picks up the punishing pace once more. “Use your manners and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He growls as he brings his hands to your thighs to force them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The feeling makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightens immediately as you let out a high pitched whine.

“Please… for fucks sake, let me cum or I’m gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we’re done.” You manage to grunt out through gritted teeth. He chuckles breathlessly as he brings his hand back to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it.

“We’ll work on that.” He laughs softly as you can feel yourself rapidly slipping back towards that edge and before you know it you’re right there again. He doesn’t let up on his ruthless motions this time as you finally reach your peak.

You’re loud.

Probably too loud.

But Maker, he loves it. It’s like it’s fueling him because he’s chanting your name and mumbling in Mando’a again as his thrusts grow sloppy and you manage to open your eyes just in time to watch him pull out and frantically stroke himself as he cums with a low growl, his other hand locked around your thigh as he shoots his load onto your stomach.

It’s oddly gratifying to watch as he writhes, kneeling over you as his chest heaves. Collapsing down next to you once he’s finished, gasping for air. A nice reminder that under all the talk he is still just a man. Your man.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You fucking idiot. That’s not what this was. This was…

Shit what was this?

Casual sex.

Friends with benefits.

You can’t just have sex one time and start calling him your man are you crazy? You’re still married.

Fuck. You’re married.

You turn your head slightly to look at him.

If you didn’t know what to say to him an hour ago you definitely don’t know what to say to him now.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut

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thetriplets3 · 5 months

Note

hi lovely! i have a request!!! could you do one where matt and reader are secretly dating and they go out on a date and someone catches them? like fan and they post it or something?? thx girl love ur work!!!

❝𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰❞

this is the jet lag and the covid brewing in my body that wrote this, not me. i have no idea if any of this is coherent or makes sense but i hope it’s okay

matt and i have been dating for nearly 2 years now having been friends since highschool. and we decided it was best for both of us to keep our relationship a secret public eye. his brothers, nate, and madi know but that’s it. just a few people we know would never say anything. their fans know of me and that i went to school with them so it’s no surprise to see me with them all but that’s the extent of it. matt posts a few soft launch photos of us but keeping me private. i don’t follow the boys from my main account so no fans have been able to dig through his followers to find who the mystery girl is.

matt and i rarely go out alone, always with his brothers or friends. there’s a small part of me that hurts that we decided to do this. not being able to spend time together in public without making things look very platonic, having to keep distance when we’re with friends who don’t know about us, or not being able to show my love openly for my boyfriend. i often turn down going to big events because i find them overwhelming, too loud, too many different things going on at once, it’s just too much for me especially when i can’t be with matt, my security blanket making me feel safe and comfortable.

it’s a blizzard outside, roads too icy for anyone to brace except those working. not to mention it’s the kind of cold that makes your nose hairs instantly feel frozen. using this weather to our advantage, matt and i carefully headed to our favorite little family run bakery down the road. one thing i hate is being cold. dressed in my comfiest thickest sweats, a fleece sweatshirt, a puffy jacket with a scarf just about covering my whole face you could hardly tell who i was, but i was warm and comfy.

we grab a table in the corner of the bakery decorated with warm christmas lights hung above the plush couch with a variety of plants aesthetically placed around the space. the atmosphere was beautiful, soft and gentle lighting, a fireplace adorned with christmas decorations and garland, instrumental music played quietly over the speakers, and to make it even better there wasn’t anyone in here other than the odd person that came in briefly here and there.

i leaned into matt’s side resting my head on his shoulder and his arm holding me closer to him. we sat there facing the large bay window soaking in the peace and beauty of the snow falling. we sat quietly in silence for a while before something out the window caught our eye. 2 teenage girls quickly putting their phones away once they saw us watching them, giggling as they ran away.

“matt” my voice falters, worried about what might be posted.

“i know it’s okay try not to worry, im sure you can’t even tell it’s us through all that spray on snow on the window. plus you’re so bundled up you look like cousin itt. no one will recognize who you are and if they do, they do. it’s out of our control love,” he tries to reassure me. he pulls his phone out and take a photo of us. “see? we’re good don’t worry”.

“omg i do look like cousin itt” i giggled.

“whatever happens, happens okay? sure they’ll know we’re dating but that’s all they know. we can still keep our relationship private just like we are now nothing has to change. i mean is it so bad that they know? i can take you on proper dates without having to hide you. so what if people see us? they only see a sliver of our relationship, they’ll see us together but that’s all they know. they don’t know our favorite song, the moment i fell in love with you, how you fit right into our family, how much my parents love you, mom’s told me you’re like the daughter she’s always wanted, nick and chris love you, everyone does. so i don’t care if they see us together, they only see the outside of our relationship. i know without a doubt in my mind that i’m gonna marry you one day. what they know doesn’t affect our relationship. i love you pretty girl”.

“i didn’t know you had a thing for cousin itt” i giggled earning a nudge to my shoulder from matt at my lack of seriousness. “i’m kidding, you’re right they can see the outside of our relationship and make their own assumptions. all that matters is we know our relationship. i love you”.

squeezing me closer to his side he rests his head on mine planting kisses to my head. “who doesn’t have a thing for cousin itt?” he joked making me laugh.

“i can’t wait to marry that laugh”.

taglist:

@antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @ssturniolo @20nugs @abbie13sworld @strniolo @luvsturniolo

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #readers pov #not edited #not sure what the whole cousin itt thing is about. again this isn’t me writing

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neverinadream · 6 months

Text

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Summary: What's a better way to watch horror movies than placing a bet on who will jump first?

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: for @thoseboysinblue

Song Inspo: Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu - The Maine

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, moments of fluff, best friends to lovers, mentions of the reader needing to wear glasses, soft dom!christian but also hints of sub!christian, sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names (baby, princess, good girl...), praise kink, body appreciation, nipple play, grinding, oral (female & male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, spoilers for paranormal activity and talk to me, not edited

Notes: happy halloween whores 🫶🏻 this is a very long one that has taken way too long to write and i apologise that it is being posted later than i normally would post a fic. this idea has changed so much since it was first shared by my lovely mutual/friend. i hope you like it. feedback is always appreciated, especially for a fic as long as this

"Gossip Girl? Again?"

"Stop judging my watch list," Christian huffs, resting his arm on the back of his sofa.

There's a pattern of rom-coms and TV series he had already watched in their entirety, with a sprinkle of recommendations from yourself in there. You fought back a smile knowing he took your recommendations seriously. "Give me your right hand," you request, setting the remote on your lap. He raises his eyebrow but doesn't question it. "Just as I thought," you mumble, nodding your head as you gaze down at his hand, inspecting his palm and scanning the long length of his fingers, "you need to stop abusing this hand and get yourself a girlfriend."

"Oh-" He rips his hand back with a sigh, rolling his eyes. "My dry spell isn't as bad as yours," he makes a good point, welcoming the vanilla and sweet citrus scent that hangs around you as you shuffle closer. Your leg brushes against his and a small smile pinches on the corners of his lips, little butterflies fluttering their wings in the deepest part of his stomach. "When was the last you got laid?"

"Hopefully, this week." You go back to scanning his Netflix account, missing the bridge of his nose turning pink. "Italy is full of gorgeous men," you hum, wrapping your arm around your tummy, caging it underneath as you lean forward.

"Just put your glasses on," he sighs, watching you squint your eyes, "you're making your eyes worse doing that."

You glance over your shoulder. "When did you suddenly change your career?"

He doesn't appreciate your smart mouth, getting up off the sofa in search of them. "It's called being a caring friend," he mumbles, taking one last look at you bent over and leaning forward, before slipping out of his living room.

He hears you call out to him, something about them being in his guest room, but he's already one step ahead of you, opening the bedroom door and taking a step inside. "Don't you mean your room?" He calls back, treading over a pair of heels you had complained about wearing.

Another smile, an even bigger smile, appears as he thinks about last night. Blood stirred and heated his cheeks as he thought about the simple yet beautiful way your dress hugged your body. His skin tingled remember the smell of vanilla and how it clung to every inch of your skin, so much that it made him dizzy. And he swallows a hard breath as he recalls being at the foot of the bed, his thumbs stroking over your soft skin, before unfastening the straps and helping you out of your heels.

"Ha! Nice one!" Your voice cuts him out of the memory.

"It can still be yours!"

You were a freelance animator, recently coming off the success of a short film for some company in London that Christian couldn't remember the name of. It was a dark piece, playing heavily on the tropes of loneliness and trying to find a sense of belonging, told through the POV of a colourless character in a world full of bright colours. Definitely not for children, Christian realised the first time he watched it, wiping away a tear as the credits rolled, a beaming smile on his face as your name flashed on the screen.

It won the company an award, and added a little more attention to your name, making it easier to do the whole "freelance" part of your job description.

It was that part of your job description that Christian used in favour of you moving in with him. Back in London, you were living four streets away from him, and there wasn't a day he didn't go without seeing you. He missed that. Italy was lonely without you.

Everywhere was lonely without you.

Your glasses are sitting on top of your open sketchbook, partially lost under covers, and Christian clears away a cushion, neatly placing it against the pillows. A hedgehog wearing a mask of sorts has been sketched onto the page, with an owl wearing clown makeup sketched on another area of the page, a knife dripping with blood held in its beak. Cute little woodland animals made to look like something from a horror movie. He didn't know if he should be impressed by your talent or shudder from his own dislike of horror movies.

Both, he had decided, grabbing your glasses and leaving the room.

"No."

"What?" Your arm hovers in the air, your hand wrapped around the TV remote, with the 'Horror' section of his Netflix up on the screen. "What's the matter?" You ask, with a coy smile, knowing exactly what his grievance was. If there was one rule for any impromptu movie night, it was no horror movies allowed.

Christian's rule, of course.

You, on the other hand, loved horror movies. The blood. The gore. The old classic slashers. Movies with a budget so low they either become cult classics or a painful ninety minutes. You loved it all. You loved the suspense and the anticipation of waiting for the next jumpscare. The adrenaline that pumped through your veins every time that it happened. It left you feeling more alive than ever.

"We are not, and I can't stress this enough, watching a horror movie."

"I'm not wearing them," you distract him enough to keep flicking through the catalogue. Saw. Don't Breathe. Last Night In Soho. Halloween. You flicked over each one of them, hoping at least one of them would spike your interest. "I hate them," you mumble, ducking and turning your head away from him. He grumbles something about you being stubborn under his breath, his body partially leaning over you as he places his knee on the edge of his sofa. "I don't- Ow!" You gasp, mouth hanging open and head turned up to look at him. "You just poked me in the eye-"

"Because you wouldn't stop moving!"

You readjust your glasses, your head still turned upwards, eyes squinting up at him. "God, is that what you really look like?" He doesn't appreciate your joke, rolling his eyes as you lower your glasses. "Seriously? I should've worn these things the night we met," you continue, adding a second act, "might have thought twice about falling into bed with you."

A deep blush sets on his cheeks, reaching his ears as partial moments of that night come to the forefront of his mind. Hands tracing soft skin. Mouths coming together in feverish exchanges. Him stumbling over his words the next morning, unable to bring himself to ask you if you wanted to get breakfast, settling on remaining as "just friends."

His teammates had even joked that he had fucked his way into the friend zone.

"Give me the remote," he stretches out his hand. You pull your hand into your body, restricting his access to the remote. "You know we have one rule for a movie night: no horror movies."

"Oh, come on," you tease, biting the tip of your tongue, the corners of your mouth turning upwards into a smile, "it's not my fault you're a big scaredy cat."

He rolls his eyes, despite liking the mischievous glint you got in your eyes every time you saw an opportunity to tease him.

"I think I might have to start telling people your tiger tattoo is just a botched job of a sweet, little Tabby, because a real tiger definitely wouldn't shit themselves at the likes of Scary Movie." You point the remote back at the TV, flicking through a subsection of the horror genre until one of them seemed the right fit for tonight's festivities. "It's not even a horror movie. It's a parody!"

"First of all," he reaches back, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn, "I didn't shit myself." He tosses the pieces of popcorn in your direction, the sweet pieces of confection bouncing off your shoulder and your cheek. You pick it up, the tips of your fingers feeling sticky from just one touch, and throw it back at him. He bats it away from him, and you stick your tongue out at him. "It was you who kept purposely making me jump by jabbing your finger into my side."

"I always find it funny how you and I recall events so differently," you mumble, clicking the down button and flicking onto the paranormal section.

"Okay," he talks over you, reaching forward for one of the two beers sitting on his coffee table, "just stick a movie on." He pops the cap off the bottle with a low grunt, flipping it onto the coffee table. It bounces twice, hits the edge of the centrepiece, a decorative glass bowl his parents gave him as a moving away/house warming present, and flips onto the floor. "And just don't pick a super scary one," he mumbles, taking a sip, "I actually want to sleep tonight."

"Scared you're gonna get nightmares?"

"I don't get nightmares."

"No, of course you don't," you shake your head, "you're Mr Captain America! How could you let yourself get scared over something that's not even real?" He rolls his eyes, giving you a soft shove to the side with his elbow. You pluck the brown stained bottle from his hand, noticing the not so subtle way he was watching your lips as you take a sip. "Do I have something on my face?" You ask, the bridge of his nose blushing red. He turns his head away from you, mumbling something under his breath but you didn't catch it. "Sorry?" It was like poking a sleeping bear. "What did you say?"

"Come on," he mumbles, motioning his hand in the direction of his TV.

"Don't rush me," you hiss, catching your tongue between your teeth, the tip poking out from between your lips. It amused him greatly how serious you took picking the movies for movie night, but it was just one of those 'little things' that he loved about you. "You wouldn't want to be rushed whilst taking a penalty, or something."

He pulls a face. "I don't see how those two equate to being the same thing."

"I-Shut up."

You settle on an old favourite: Paranormal Activity.

It was scary enough that you knew Christian would jump a few times, but not scary enough to have him crawling into your bed in the middle of the night. A single creak could be a footstep. Pipes cooling down could be a ghost groaning. Silly tricks of his mind and all enough to scare him into your bed, with his tail tucked between his legs like a scared puppy. If you wanted that, maybe you would've picked something like The Ring or The Blair Witch Project.

"Shouldn't be too scary for you," you tease him, grinning over your shoulder.

———————

"You don't use-" Christian lifts his head from the cushion, his mouth turned down into a frown, his focus turned away from his television and now on you. You had moved to the end of his sofa, moving to give him space to stretch out, with your knees pulled up to your chest, toes wiggling as they sat over the edge. "Are you going to sit there the whole time?" He quizzes, meeting your eyes as you turned to look at him.

"Yes?" You pan down to his body stretched out on the sofa. One knee was pointed to the ceiling, his other leg stretching the length, with his foot tapping against you. It wasn't deliberate, almost like he was still checking to see if you were still there. "Where else am I meant to sit?" You fire back your own question. "For a little guy, you sure know how to take up a lot of room."

"We both know I'm not little," he replies nonchalantly.

"I don't know," you shrug, biting your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling, "it didn't really leave a lasting impression." You giggle, his foot tapping against you deliberately this time. "But, seriously, where else am I meant to sit? On the floor?" You motion in front of you. "On you?"

He grins, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to hold back his thoughts, but you roll your eyes like you had read his mind. "Just lie with me," he mumbles, patting his hand against his chest.

"What, and crush you?"

It was now his turn to roll his eyes. "You're not going to crush me."

"I might."

"Do you see me?" He pans his hand down his body. "Do you see this? I can take my shirt off so you can better look-"

"Please don't."

He taps your leg again. "We both know you like me better when I have my shirt off," you avoid his eyes as he teases you like your eyes might deceive you and tell him he was right, "But, c'mon, I'm getting cold over here." He pouts, eyes looking rounder as he tries his best at 'puppy dog eyes.' He grabs at the air. "Please?!"

"You're actually the worst," you mumble, giving in to him, "the worst of the worst." Your bodies become a tangled mess, legs wedged between each other, his thigh half-straddled as you rest your head on his chest. His hand travels down your back, his fingers skimming along the band of skin exposed above your jeans. "Also, I call total bullshit on 'getting cold'," you add, unconsciously tucking your hand under his shirt. Your touch makes his skin tingle.

"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrows, looking down his nose. "Why's that?"

"Because you're perpetually warm."

Christian's attention flickers back and forth between you and the movie, pressing his fingers harder into your skin whenever Katie screams Micah's name, which you didn't mind, even though it would happen a lot. When he wasn't subtly trying to hide the jumping, he was glancing down at you, focusing on the steady and relaxed movement of your breathing. He would half-smile at the way you mumble your reactions under your breath, humming a simple "yes" or "okay" to acknowledge them.

He takes in a deep pull of your scent, closing his eyes as he lets the smell of honey and vanilla wash over him. Everything about you could make him dizzy. From your laugh to your smile. To the way you would always cut your sandwiches into four small squares because it made you think of the nostalgia of the school lunches your mum would make you. But nothing was like that honey and vanilla aroma that managed to stick to you like a second layer of skin.

"You better not be falling asleep, mister!" He grunts as you pinch his hip, his eyes snapping open at the sound of your voice. "I didn't lie down with you just so you could take a nap," you prop your chin against his chest.

"Then why did you?"

"Like I already said, you're always warm, and your apartment is freezing!"

Our apartment, he thinks to himself, knowing he'll bring the question up once more before you have to leave. "It's not cold," he says instead, tucking his free arm underneath his head, "and I wasn't falling asleep."

You raise your brows. "Yeah? Then what just happened?"

"He's just shown her the quija board and you just commented on them being stupid for using one." Your eyesbrows drop and the corners of his mouth twitch. "See," he gloats, giving the small of your back a soft pinch, "I wasn't falling asleep."

You chew your bottom lip. "I am right though, you should never use a quija board."

"No?"

"No!" You shake your head. "You don't know who you could be communicating with, or what you could be inviting in!" He smiles, making you squint your eyes and frown up at him. "What's that smile for?"

"You've thought about this before, haven't you?"

You turn your head down, mumbling your answer into his chest, using it to hide the embarrassment in your voice. Yes, you had thought about it. You had thought about it multiple times and every time you watched a movie where one would be used to contact the vengeful spirit haunting the unsuspecting couple, but it's the last thing you would admit it to Christian. It would just be another thing for him to tease you with.

"Sorry," he laughs, his whole chest shaking, "what was that?"

"I said I'm putting another movie on," you lie. He bites his tongue to stop the soft groan that nearly slips out when you straddle his waist, silently praying that his body can stay calm for all of two seconds. "This is getting boring," you stretch across and grab the remote, "I want something proper on."

He lets his hands travel down from your hips and onto your thighs, drumming his fingers against the dark denim. "This is something proper."

"Babe, this is two tropes away from being a parody!"

Babe. It makes his heart beat twice as fast. He clears his throat, doing his best attempt at dislodging the feeling from his chest. "There's not much left," he mumbles, lifting one hand away and following yours until it's out of his reach. He chuckles, the soft sound growing a little louder as you beam down at him with a triumphant smile. "Just leave this one on."

"Or," you press pause, silencing the screams, "we could have some fun."

"Fun?" His throat bops. "You and I have very definitions of what fun is." Your lips twitch. "And I don't like that smile."

"You shouldn't," you giggle, letting your weight sink further onto him, your core pressed firmly against his crotch. The not-so-subtle way his mouth parts on a slight groan makes your stomach flutter. For a second, you slip back into the memory of his hands grabbing at your hips and guiding them, as he threw his head back into his pillow, groaning your name which back then was foreign to his tongue. "Let's make a bet," you snap back to reality, "the first person to jump has to go down on the other person."

He mules it over for a second, a deep blush forming on his cheeks and spreading to his ears. "But what if neither of us jumps?" He asks, keeping his focus on something that isn't the movement of your hips as you shift above him.

"Then no gets to come today."

"You mean: you don't get to come today," he fires back, "you don't know what I was doing this morning."

"So, that's why I heard my name coming from your bathroom?" You throw him a wink. "Don't worry, I've basically nicknamed my vibrator CP." He rolls his eyes and mumbles a soft 'ha, ha' under his breath. If your current position wasn't already bad enough for him, then hearing about you using a vibrator on yourself was nearly tipping him over the edge. "So, do we have a deal?" You raise your eyesbrows.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Why not?" His tongue darts across his bottom lip, looking at you like you might be his last meal. "I've been looking for an excuse to eat your pussy again."

———————

Christian frowns. "I don't get it." You lift your head from the comfort of his shoulder, unable to hide a half-smile when you catch sight of the crease in his brow and the slight way his bottom lip would pout. Flashes of confusion fill his eyes. "She was the one sucking on his toes?"

"Yep."

"But she thought it was that...other thing?"

"Yep."

He sighs, running his hand down his face. "This is so confusing."

You prop your hand under your chin, using your free hand to poke his cheek. He bats your finger away, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "You're very pretty," you mumble, bringing your finger back against his cheek, touching the constellation of freckles that reside on his face. They were his prettiest features, after his eyes of course. "How are you single?"

"Me?" He slides his hand down your back, bunching up the fabric as he reaches the small of your back. His touch is warm and it makes you shiver. "What about you?" He counters, tucking his head down. His nose brushed against your temple, and you could smell the faint smell of beer and toothpaste on his breath. "You're a lot prettier than me."

"I go on dates," you shrug, finger drifting down to his bottom lip. It was soft and light shade of pink. And very, very kissable.

"You do?" His body tenses and the jealousy he feels churns in the pit of his stomach. "Oh..."

You wish you could say that your dating life was a story of success and one that involved you finding true love but, unfortunately, that just wasn't the case. The apps were full of guys looking for a night of easy sex or carrying bouquets of red flags. And the dates you were set up with either talked only about themselves, were hung up on their exes, or talked about their mothers at an alarming rate.

Oh, and none of them were Christian.

"But clearly none of them have worked out for me," you sigh, removing your hand and settling your head back down on his shoulder. His body relaxes, pulling you firmly against him. "It doesn't matter though, I don't need them," you mumble, breathing in the smell of the cologne that stuck to his skin. After being apart from him, you had come to realise that it smelt like home. "I've got you."

"For now and always."

For now and always.

It was your thing, you could say, a promise that neither would be alone.

You first said after Christian suffered one of his first injuries whilst at Chelsea. His stubborn ass had ignored your messages after the injury occurred, a part of him, he supposed, didn't want you to see him like that, but your ass was just as equally stubborn as his and you didn't take his silence as a final answer. You were there for his recovery every step of the way, and for every disruption that came afterwards, repeating the words: 'for now and always.'

You sit up on your elbow. "Christian?" He hums but doesn't look at you. "Chris..."

"What's u-" You silence him, pressing your lips against his, moaning softly into his mouth when you feel him kiss back. "Uh," he pulls back, touching his hand to your face, his fingers softly stroking your jaw, "hi-uh, what?" He nervously laughs, the tips of his ears turning red. "W-W-What was that for?"

"I don't know." You shrug, touching your hand to your mouth. "I'm sorry."

His eyes widen. "What? No! Don't apologise for kissing me. I liked it."

"You did?"

"Should that even be a question?" He scoffs, smiling at you. His thumb brushes gently across your cheek, the softness of your skin shooting goosebumps up his arm. "Of course, I liked it. Why wouldn't I have liked it?" His gaze lingers on your mouth. "Come closer and kiss me again, please?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely..."

It's with a smile on both of your lips that you lean in and press your mouth to his. His lips are soft and willing, parting to welcome you as you run your tongue against his bottom lip. At every groan he made, you would whimper, and Christian would swallow each of the sweet little sounds. They were his to keep. They were his to remember when you left at the end of the week.

His hand grabs your thigh and pulls you to straddle him, rutting his hips up as you settle on him. "Feel that?" He grabs your ass, squeezing firmly as he pushes you down onto his bulge. You grind your hips against him, your movements slow and torturous. "That's it, baby," he bites his bottom lip, groaning your praise and grabbing your ass in both hands, "keep grinding like that for me - make us both feel good."

Your lips roam his jaw and neck, imprinting your whimpers into his skin. "I guess the bets off then?" Your laugh is sultry and yet still sweet.

"Bet or no bet, I would still love to eat your pussy," he purrs, flipping you onto your back, "can I take this off?" He fingers toy with the hem of your shirt.

"Only if you're taking yours off."

You prop yourself up onto your elbows, watching him sit back on his knees. He grabs the back of his collar and removes his T-shirt with one sharp tug. "Beautiful," you whisper, letting your hands roam freely over his chest. They start at the waistband of his jeans, your fingers stroking over the soft trail of hair, before travelling over his naval and feeling every muscle.

Christian was right; you did like him better with no shirt on.

Your eyes pan back down to the bulge in his jeans. "Can I taste you?" You ask, looking back up at him as his hand nestles firmly on the base of your skull.

"Go ahead," he nods, with excitement in his voice, "take it out."

Your eyes shimmer with anticipation as you take a better look at the tent in his boxers, his jeans pulled low enough down. Peeling back the waistband, his cock springs free, slapping hard and heavy against his stomach. He was big, bigger than you had remembered, and your face grows hotter as you try to think of a way to fit him all into your mouth.

"It'll fit," Christian says like he could read your mind, "trust me." He wraps his hand around the base, pushing the tip gently against your mouth. "Give it a kiss." You pucker your lips and lay a soft one against the crown of his cock, tasting the pre-cum as you pull away and lick your lips. "Now open your mouth," he instructs, gliding it against your wet tongue, "already being such a good girl for me."

You swirl your tongue over the head, smacking your lips as you pull off him. "Definitely the prettiest dick I've ever had the pleasure of sucking," you tell him, replacing his hand around the base.

"Sucked many dicks?" His face quickly drops. "Don't answer that."

You run your tongue against the underside of his shaft. "Not in a long time," you answer anyway, giggling as he scowls.

You wrap your lips once more around his cock, focusing on the tip, sucking it lazily in and out of your mouth, as your hand worked the base. "Fuck, that feels good," he pants, hanging his head back, exposing the column of his neck and the beard that scattered the underside of his jaw to you. "But I'm gonna have to make you stop."

"What?" You pull off him, a string of spit still connecting you. "Why?"

"Because it's been way too long, longer than I would like to admit since I was last with someone, and if you keep sucking me off like that, this is going to end quicker than it started."

You wipe your mouth. "Oh."

"Yeah," he blushes, tucking himself back into his boxers. He tugs his jeans up but leaves them unbuttoned. "Now," he clears his throat, "wanna help me take your clothes off?"

———————

"Fucking gorgeous!" Christian touch sears your skin, burning his prints into you as he grips your thighs. You pinned to his mattress, with nowhere to go, looking down at a pair of hungry eyes. His tongue splits your folds and draws a line between your entrance and your clit. "This pussy has been a part of my dreams for years," he confesses, turning his head, kissing the inside of your thigh, "god, I think about it-think about you when I'm touching myself."

Your lips part on a silent breath. "You do?"

"Every time, baby." He blows hot hair against your clit, grinning as your squirm. "Every. Single. Damn. Time."

"Good," you giggle, cupping your breast and tweaking your nipple, "because I wasn't lying about nicknaming my vibrator CP."

His cock strains in his jeans at your words. "Don't say that," he growls, rutting his hips into the mattress, "not unless you want to be cleaning the cum off my cock."

You prop yourself up, looking down at him between your thighs. "Sounds tasty," you throw back, licking your lips.

His lips twitch. "Speaking of tasty..." He drags his tongue back and forth along your slit, groaning as your wetness pools in his mouth. You were intoxicating. A drug for him to get high off. "Tastiest thing I've ever eaten, baby," his praise has you throwing your head back into the pillow, "and the prettiest, too."

"Oh, my..."

He pushes the air out of your lungs, stretching you out as he slowly works two fingers into your pussy. They twist and curl up to stroke your g-spot, and you feel him grin against your clit when he wrangles out a pornographic moan. No one had made you feel this good. Not in a very long time.

"Christian," you pant his name, pushing your hips up. He groans, flicking his tongue faster over your clit.

He was playing like an instrument and eating you like were his last meal.

"So fucking tight," he licks his lips, tasting you on him. He twists and scissors his fingers, stretching you some more. "And wet, baby," he purrs, rotating his thumb in circles over your clit. His honey-dipped eyes look up at you, roaming every part of your naked figured. "If you could see the mess you're making - just dripping everywhere."

"I want you to look at me like that all the time," you stare down at him.

"I do." He kneels between your legs, dipping to kiss over the tops of your breasts, the dip at the base of your neck and then your lips. "I look at you like this all the time, baby," he presses his thumb harder to your clit, making you squirm, "I've just gotten good at hiding it." He crashes his mouth against yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting you taste your arousal off his tongue. "I'm gonna grab a condom."

You stop him as he reaches into his bedside cabinet. "I'm on the pill."

"You sure?"

"Yes," you answer, kissing over his stubbled jaw, nipping playfully at his ear, "now lose those jeans, pretty boy." He raises his eyebrows, the corners of his lips curving up with amusement. You give a sharp tug on his belt loop. "I said lose the jeans."

He chuckles, pushing to stand up. "What is this?" He pulls his jeans down, kicking them off as they reach his feet. You bite your lip, eyes zoning in on his cock bulging in his underwear. They were removed next, a smirk gracing his lips. He wraps his hand around his shaft, jerking his wrist a few times, wincing a little when he squeezes the tip. "Think you're in charge here?"

"Maybe."

He shakes his head, brushing his lips against your temple. "That's very cute." He kneels between your legs, tapping his tip against your clit, chuckling as you whimper. There was nothing worse than being teased. "But that's not happening, baby."

He slips the first few inches inside, watching your pussy swallow and clench around him. He waits, giving himself a second to adjust. "Just remember it's been a while, okay?" His cheeks blush, spreading down his neck onto his chest. "Don't be teasing me if I end up coming too quickly."

"Hey, look at me." You reach out to touch his face, your fingers brushing over his jaw. He leans into your touch. "We're in the same boat, remember?"

"But what about all those dates you've been on?"

You shake your head. "The last guy I had sex with was Kal." Sliding your hand between your bodies, you sink the last few inches inside. The feeling of fullness has you losing your breath, but you find it again when Christian leans over to kiss you. "Forget about the timestamp on your last time, and stop worrying about blowing your load too quickly," you talk against his mouth, soothing your hands over his chest, "just be here with me, okay?"

He nods, biting his bottom lip. "I can do that." His head dips and kisses the centre of your chest, hands exploring your thighs and the globes of your ass as he ruts into you. "Fuck," his voice is strained, "you feel...you feel perfect, like you just for me."

"Yes," you whimper, your heart aching as the words hit your ears, "just for you."

He nuzzles his stubble into your cheek. "Say it again."

"Just for you," you repeat, now grinding your hips up to meet each thrust, "just for you." You pull his head up and crash your lips together, exchanging a kiss like it could been your last. Never had you imagined this is where you would be when you got on the plane four days ago. "You," you managed to make out through a moan, breaking apart, nuzzling your face against his cheek.

He chokes your name on a sob, "I'm not gonna last must longer."

"Let go, Christian," you wrap your legs around his waist, and run your nails down his back, scratching lightly at the muscles that strained, "come for me, baby."

"Inside you?" His rhythm is sloppy and you have to keep grinding against him. "Can I come inside you?" He grabs your hips and clamps them against him, moaning into your shoulder as his whole body shakes above you. "Oh, god," he whines, his cock twitching and pulsing, "I'm coming-I'm..."

Silence.

For the next few seconds, Christian is silently mouthing your name against his skin.

You soothe your hands through his hair as he finishes inside you, letting your hands roam over his shoulders and down his back. "You okay?" You whisper, tucking your head to brush a kiss to the side of his head. "Christian?"

"I think I just had an out-of-body experience," he answers, audibly groaning as he pulls out. You giggle, tiredly rolling onto your front, moving with him as he collapses next to you. His arm comes up over his face, hiding his eyes, before ripping away to look at you. He looked worried like he was realising he had done something wrong. "You didn't come?"

You shrug, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's fine." Which it was.

"No, it's not." He tries to sit up but crashes back onto the mattress. "When I have recovered, you are coming," he declares, pulling the pillow over his face. His voice is muffled as he adds, "we are not leaving this bed until I've made you come."

———————

Taglist: @shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens @ofxinnocence @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

AITA for "causing" someone's ED? (massive TW obviously)

so i (18x) have a pr0ana sideblog. i say this in the LOOSEST sense of the term; while i interact with pr0ana tags and content, i don't make any myself, and my "platform" is nonexistent. i primarily use the blog as a way to feel less alone since i can't talk about my ED in real life. it's a vent blog. i don't have the name of my sideblog anywhere on my main blog, and vice versa.

a few weeks ago, my good friend (18x) found this sideblog and decided not to tell me. over the next few weeks, we had several conversations about my ED and their dysmorphia (though according to them not a full-fledged ED), all started by them. at one point i promised them that i would try to get just a little better every day, and i do! i do try that constantly! but about ten minutes after saying that i posted something on my sideblog about how paranoid i was about calories or whatever, because yeah i'm trying to get better, but that doesn't mean i magically stop struggling. i also told them i was NOT on pr0ana tumblr or interacting with that sort of content, because i wasn't comfortable sharing that about myself. i didn't know my friend knew about the sideblog at this point.

they dmed me a while after this post to ask why i had lied to their face, or as they put it in a vaguepost on their blog, "made a promise and then turned around and immediately broken it." i got very very frustrated, since i think what i do on the internet is my business, as is my mental health. this definitely reflected in my tone, so i think i was definitely TA, at least initially.

during this conversation, though, they basically said that i needed to talk to them about my emotions and stop hiding them, and that i had to take the hand they were extending. here's where the main problem started. they then said that they considered contacting my mother or friends but decided in the long run it wouldn't be beneficial. my mother is emotionally abusive, which this friend knew, and would absolutely involuntarily hospitalize me if contacted about my ED.

i became extremely angry, both that my friend would have my mother's and friends' contact information in the first place (we met through tumblr and have only met in person ONCE -- i do not, clearly, have their parents' contact information or even their names, and this was not information i volunteered to them) and that they would use it as an ultimatum. at this point i became extremely furious and basically told them to leave me alone because no one who genuinely cared about me would do that, and i didn't understand why my mental illness was seen as something i HAD to overcome if i wanted to avoid getting literally hospitalized by my mother. at this point they told me that i was refusing to accept help and that i was "aestheticizing killing myself." they then blocked me. i was still fucking angry. i never blocked them from my main, but i did block all their accounts from my sideblog and change the url.

they later unblocked me and we tried to remain civil. we never stopped interacting with each other's posts or whatever. they initiated contact a few times, which i ignored. the first instance they initiated contact was sending me a poem they'd written about the situation, which made me feel like shit, and the second time was just saying "hey." i didn't respond either time because i didn't know how.

i saw a vaguepost that they made on their blog yesterday that basically said they were fucking angry that, after an entire lifetime of struggling to avoid developing an ED, the "person they used to be in love with" was the reason they were developing one. it was clearly about me and i felt a rush of shame so overwhelming that i didn't really know what to do with it. i dmed them to tell them that i loved them and i was sorry, that i didn't mean to hurt them, and that i didn't want things to end like they did. reading back over the message now, it feels very "woe is me" (i was crying while writing it), but basically it just involved me apologizing a million times.

i woke up this morning to their response, which was: "are you saying this because you miss me or because you don't have anyone else left? i don't want to be your last choice." i hadn't gone into the conversation with the intention of regaining their close friendship because, frankly, i don't want that. i hadn't gone into it with a goal in mind. a problem i've had with this friend in the past is that they seem to view a lot of interactions and relationships as almost transactional in a way that i don't (demonstrated by their insistence that i had to talk them about my mental health in the first place). i told them this, and told them i just wanted to apologize and that i loved them. they said that they were sorry, too, but that the timing made them "suspicious," i assume because they know i've been extremely depressed and lonely lately (i just moved to college without any of my best friends and have been making vent posts about it on my main personal blog).

i know it wasn't the intention, but it made me feel like they were using my mental illness against me yet AGAIN, and i stopped apologizing. as i'm typing this i'm trying to decide whether to block them. but i feel like shit about the whole thing, because i was responsible for the formation of their ED, and i feel like i should be able to handle whatever anger they have towards me for that without getting my feelings hurt and being petty. i don't know. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #eating disorder cw

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riririnnnn · 2 months

Text

If we were to see the recent chapters of Blue Lock, then you can kind of sense that the storyline is getting Kunigami-focused which means that we are getting near the moment where the Wildcard backstory is going to be revealed. It makes the most sense to reveal it now, during NEL, especially when the Hero is battling his main villain, Shidou Ryusei.

I don't know about you, but for me, it'll feel out of place if the Wildcard backstory were to be revealed other than what is currently going on—it's is the perfect time!

That's why, I was thinking about it and went back to one of my theories that I had posted a while ago, and I realised something:

After the second selection had ended, Ego said this:

And before the second selection had started, Ego said this:

And to complete his sentence, we have this panel:

It's tough to say who is who but the top most silhouette low-key looks like Noa and the bottom most looks like Snuffy. The flags in descending order: France/Italy, Spain, Brazil, England, I don't know.

In present day, we have: Germany, Spain, England, Italy and France.

The above panel is from chapter 40 and the NEL starts about 150-ish chapter, so with 100+ chapter difference, some changes are bound of happen anyway.

Now!

Here comes the main focus of this post:

If you have read/remember my previous post regarding the Wildcard, then you might also remember that I had said that NEL wasn't planned.

BUT!

If we were to focus on Ego's words, then we can low-key conclude that NEL was supposed to happen, but in a very, very smaller scale compared to what we have right now.

And if we were to accept what I said above as the absolute truth, then it jumbles everything even more, you know.

Ego proposed the U-20 match during the timeline of Second Selection, so it means he had some time to think about the future. Then does it mean that he already visioned that BLLK Vs U-20 was going to be a massive hit? And when that happens, funds were going to pour in like waterfall and since JFU is money hungry, then they'd go in flow of whatever Ego says—did he see all of that?

What I said above doesn't sound much farfetched considering how intelligent Ego actually is.

To think that Ego made up the Wildcard after the U-20 match was scheduled makes more sense if we were to take into account that when the Blue Lock Man (Hologram Goalkeeper) was introduced, Anri complained that the funds are getting low. So, to run another program side by side seems quite tough.

I think Wildcard got more to do with Ego than Kunigami. The whole Wildcard thing feels like Ego's own selfish wish and Kunigami just, unluckily or luckily, happened to be the most suitable player for him.

The above thing makes more sense when we think about this:

If we dwell deeper into his words, then we get a deduction: Placing Kunigami in Bastard München was Ego's own choice not the former's. It seems like an indirect jab to Noa that, "Look! I created this dark horse, he is borne out of my ideal. I did it with my ideals, and he'll crush you."

You getting me?

Wildcard feels more like Ego's personal experiment rather than just a second chance to players who lost.

Old men angst Yaoi, LMAO.

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock theory #bllk theory #kunigami rensuke #ego jinpachi #雪 ranting

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accidentalshifter · 2 months

Text

Writing fanfiction is a gateway to shifting, I swear!

Before working on "Dawn Misplaced," my Originals/TVD fanfiction project, I didn't dream of characters breaking the fourth wall or know it was possible to interact with them within my sleep... And I certainly didn't think it was real that another version of me could exist in a fictional world much less this Universe! OK I did. But, I figured there were huge margins of separation between me & myselves. And I figured that it was "more logical" to assume that what I was really doing was ✨️ using my imagination to combat a deep sense of inner loneliness ✨️ with extra steps involved. The dream worlds I'm used to exploring seemed way easier to explain. They were metaphors for psychological forces or archetypes in my psyche. Not real. Not truly.

That idea has recently changed. It's real. It's all real. At least, it's very real to me. Antis get fucked.

When Netflix (*hiss*) removed The Originals from their selection, I lost interest in writing Dawn Misplaced, tried to move onto another endeavor, and put vampires out of my head. Tried. Apparently, my imagination had other plans. I started having weird, vivid dreams of being a character within The Originals-verse. Despite resisting these dreams, they ramped up, becoming much stronger, until they were leaking over into my waking life as intrusive daydreams. Sometimes, they lasted for just a second. Other times? It felt like hours had gone by even though it'd only been minutes in my CR. These daydreams felt like tugs on my brain from somewhere I couldn't explain.

Who is tugging on the other side is still very much unknown. Maybe it's my DR-self? Idk.

Half a year has passed doing my damnest to deny the pull. After all, I had my own dreams to play in!! And the (theoretical) Mikaelsons have plenty of shifters on their payroll... Why the hell would they want one more shifter???

Especially someone like me:

✅️ 35 years old

✅️ no money

✅️ no prospects

✅️ a burden to my family

✅️ frightened

No accounting for their taste but six months and countless intrusive daydreams later and I am FED UP with taking a passive stance on this. I've decided to treat this like any other dream world I explore and get to the bottom of these tugs! And possibly fist fight the one who's responsible for them. Before I do that though, I want to make a list of all the "mini shifts" or intrusive dreams that I've had since this ordeal started. Thinking back on them, I can see a disconnect between the dreams I'd have when I was asleep vs. daydreams I have when I'm awake. Tw: this list of scenarios are NOT for those uncomfortable with violence, blood, death, or manipulation. My version of the Mikaelsons don't play nice in my dreams.

Asleep dreams: Seem to play out as if I'm in the body of a character within The Originals and important to the plot somehow.

Awake dreams: Seem to play out as if I'm an invisible ghost of my CR self just watching things unfold around me while being unable to communicate or be seen by anyone.

List of TVD/Original-verse Minishifts (Part 1)

⚜️ Walking down the main staircase of the Mikaelson mansion (the one way out in the country) while hearing arguing voices. I see Hayley first. She's eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios nonchalantly. Rebekah is on her phone, swipping left on an app. When I get half-way down the staircase, Elijah and Klaus (the ones who are arguing) stop their bickering to drag me into it. Elijah turns to me, asking: "You agree with me, don't you?". Klaus makes a sarcastic face & asks "Surely you won't agree with my *morally tiresome* older brother?" At this point, I become lucid inside the body of this person I'm in. I pause for a second before responding, "Uh, maybe, I don't know??". Elijah looks at me weirdly at that reply. [Asleep]

⚜️ I wake up in a bed I don't recognize. It's a four-poster bed, carved out of polished dark cherry wood. The sheets smell clean & feel good to the touch. Morning light is pouring through a window. It's warm on my skin. I'm groggy as the body I'm in slides out of bed & stumbles over to the window to peer out of it. I can see an apple orchard and a driveway running straight through it. I notice how red the apples are, fixating on that for whatever reason. As soon as I do, I hear a sort of wind noise. Like an errant breeze just ran through the room. Elijah's voice drifts into my ear but I don't catch what he said. My body turns to face him, I feel my mouth moving. I'm saying something. I can't hear what I'm saying, tho. [Asleep]

⚜️ Kieran is kneeling at the foot of the altar inside St. Anne's. The heavy smoke of bitter incense clouds the air, wreathing around the priest as he mutters prayer after prayer. I'm not inside a body this time. I'm nowhere. It's like I'm viewing this scene remotely in a 3rd person perspective. The candles burning at the memorial altar in the alcove flicker, their flame suddenly growing huge. Whispers are heard all around. I hear Father Kieran reply to them, "Yes, I understand." [Asleep]

⚜️ "Now, Elijah, we've tried mercy and peace and leniency, but these witches are officially out of control-" I hear Klaus ranting before I gain my senses. I'm back inside whoever it is I'm possessing (?) standing in the kitchen of the Mikaelson mansion while Elijah & Klaus are arguing. Again. Rebekah makes a snarky comment about Klaus and how his tolerance policy usually involves a dagger, so she's on the side of the witches. Klaus snarls, pulling up the long sleeves of his shirt to display his arm. It's covered in a weird tattoo that seems to be growing, crawling towards his chest, & neck. It almost looks alive. "We have to think about this sensibly, Niklaus," Elijah says. And Klaus, in turn, snaps that's it's a little hard to think about anything but dead witches with this curse on his arm. I begin to speak. But, I wake up in my CR a second later. [Asleep]

⚜️ Again, I'm walking down the staircase. It seems like that's where I become lucid in my dreams the most. The mansion is silent, too silent. Maybe everyone is gone?? The minute that thought crosses *my mind*, I sense the air shift and feel the body I'm possessing get slammed hard into a wall. Even in the dream, it hurts. I look up to see the livid, pissed-off face of Niklaus Mikaelson. The tattoo on his arm has progressed. I can see it peeking out from behind the material of his V-neck shirt, nearest towards his collar bone. He tips my chin up with one finger while his other hand pins me to the wall of a secluded hallway I've never seen before. "You...haven't been honest," Niklaus says to me in a voice that's nearly a seductive purr. Well, it would be if it weren't so bloody fucking terrifying. "You've been keeping a secret from me and Elijah..." The body I'm possessing is going crazy with panic and adrenaline. I can feel my (?) heart pounding. It's distracting me from focusing fully on Klaus & his paranoid rant. He seems to realize this, tightening his grip on me. His voice is a threatening snarl when he speaks now. "You think you can just run off to your little world any time you want, don't you?! I don't think you understand-" And to be real honest, I don't, because I immediately woke up in my CR before I let Klaus finish his rant. [Asleep]

#desired reality #shifters #shifting #shifting blog #tvd shifting #tvd universe #shifting community #shiftblr #shifting realities #shifting stories #reality shifting #tvd dr #shifting to tvd #reality shifter #shifting diary #reality shift #mini shift #shifting to tvd is great until you have to deal with Niklaus

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ffc1cb · 3 months

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new art blog

the short version:

1. i made a new art blog: @cbge;

2. @ffc1cb will stay up as an archive.

the long version:

hi everyone. this announcement is somewhat late, since the blog in question has been up for a few months now, and i’ve already started posting art on it. the reason it took me so long to “reveal” it is because i’ve been trying to figure out whether a new blog is something i actually want, or if it's just me throwing darts at a board, trying to make myself feel better somehow.

i don’t know when precisely it all started, but ever since sometime last year i’ve been going through a hard time, both emotionally and creatively. i’m not sure whether being depressed is what made art harder, or art becoming harder is what made me depressed (a bit of both, i think), but lately, drawing has been a struggle.

i’ve found myself having less and less energy for art, and this lack of energy resulted in poorer quality of drawings, which resulted in me feeling like i’m getting worse at it, despite my efforts. i knew i could make good art, art that i’m proud of - i’ve done so countless times before, - but somehow it felt like i just couldn’t anymore, like my hands forgot how to. nothing looked right.

i’ve been trying to experiment. i’ve learned some new things, tried this and that - it was enlightening, to say the least, and even though i kind of liked how it looked, it made me feel a sense of displacement. i was at odds with myself, my art, and how i felt about it, when previously i was always in sync. i was making art, yes, and it looked nice, but it felt like it wasn’t mine.

i suppose part of it was also the growing lack of engagement, and i don’t mean likes and reblogs - i never particularly cared about those. they are all just numbers to me; dry and impersonal. what i’m talking about is actual, human interactions: personal thoughts in tags, asks, replies, etc. a conversation.

i don’t mean to sound “old” or anything, but i remember when talking to artists online was more commonplace. my wife tells me it’s because the internet culture has changed over the years, that people have become more reclusive, less willing to be open with their thoughts, and she's probably right, but in my slump i find it hard to believe. somehow it feels like it’s my fault for being less “engaging”, for seeming unapproachable or perhaps intimidating. maybe it’s “just a skill issue”, maybe it’s because i have stopped churning out fanart for popular fandoms, maybe it’s because i refuse to torture myself emotionally by having an art account on twitter (i can’t fucking stand the place anymore; i still post nsfw art there, but only because it’s literally one of the only places on the internet that allows you to do so. i miss when you could post female presenting tits on tumblr).

i have always, ever since i started posting art on the internet back in 2012, done it for human connection. i wanted to talk to people, and have people talk to me. i wanted to inspire people with my art, and i wanted to bring them comfort. i wanted to elicit an emotional response, and have people tell me about it. it was one of the main reasons i drew in the first place; having lost that, i’ve been struggling to stay passionate about making art.

i miss being a small artist on the internet during the 2010s. i remember when i could make a post going, “hey everyone, how are you all doing today?” and it would not seem weird to people in the slightest. it is just me? does anyone else feel that way? am i too deep in my own head? the internet feels so unwelcoming nowadays, especially to artists. we are all just content machines; people scroll by our stuff, or maybe look at it for half a second and leave a like before scrolling away. i know it’s unfair to demand people’s attention, especially now when our lives are already so overwhelmed by everything - no one has the energy to pay closer attention; i myself am not immune to mindless scrolling. but it feels bad. i wish we were all sincere and enthusiastic again.

anyway (sorry for rambling. i hope i haven’t bored you to death), you might want to say, okay, but how is making a new art blog on a “dying” social platform going to help with any of that? the truth is, i don’t know. i just felt like i needed a change.

i’ve been running this blog since 2016 (that’s almost 8 full years!). i feel incredibly attached to it, but at the same time, i feel it weighing me down.

there are people who followed me years ago for one specific thing, still expecting me to post about said thing (i still find it mindboggling that some people follow artists for a specific fandom only, but that is a whole other matter for a whole other post that i will never write). a third, if not half, of my following are probably dead blogs. and with my current struggle with trying to regain the joy i once felt for making art, looking back at all the art i’ve done over the years makes me feel tired. i still love it all; it’s all very dear to me. i’m proud of it; looking at it makes me mourn my younger and more passionate self.

so i’ve decided to make a new blog, where i will let myself post whatever i want, in whatever stage of donness i feel like. maybe it will help me, somehow. maybe it won’t. but if you care about my art, if you want to keep following me on my artistic journey, i welcome you to join me there. similarly, feel free not to - no hard feelings.

thank you everyone for your support over the years; it matters a lot to me. i’m not planning to delete or private this blog; it will stay up, and i will still be reachable on here. i will still answer asks, if there will be any. i’m just not planning to post any art here anymore. this is it for my dear old friend ffc1cb.

i can be found in other places:

@cbge, as mentioned earlier,

@k0nstanta, an art blog dedicated solely to my wife and i’s ocs,

@inquisimail, a dragon age ask blog that has become my dragon age sideblog in general,

and multiple other blogs, none of which are art related, but feel free to ask, if you’re curious.

thank you very much for reading all of this. i hope you have a wonderful day.

#salt talks

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accio-victuuri · 7 months

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Weibo HS entries have been very fun today, lol omg. Sina Weibo is never on my good side but there are days like this that i am very amused. 😂😂😂

So earlier today, the entertainment hs was blowing up with Ren Min’s name because of her dating scandal. A paparazzi, released video evidence confirming that she is dating a director. So the top searches were all her name or that director, or both. I really don’t approve of celebrity’s relationships getting outed like this but what can you do. Then XZ gets into the mix, remember, She’s his co-star in Yuguyao / The longest promise. The reason why is kinda funny tho:

Their CP supertopic has changed their avatar into the words “fake” like what most accounts do when denying a rumor or melon, they stamp this word on it. It’s because of what came out, if RM is in a relationship, then their ship is not SZD. Which I think is not necessary, you can pair people up and continue to do so but not believe they are real. For example I love Dilraba and YY because of YAMG, but I don’t think they are SZD.

I’m not even mad when drama related CPs pop up or whatever co star the boys acted with. I mean, XZ & WYB started out like that too. It’s all good as long as they do not overstep and cause trouble and bad press for the boys. Poor XZ tho, suddenly getting dragged into this. Everyone should just focus on the 15 photos his studio released. It’s beautiful ♥️

NOW MOVING ON TO WANG YIBIS,

I already talked about the cpn implications of his photo today and meaning of the hashtag he used over here. The tag being 3rd on main HS, even tho if you look at the posts and the popular ones, WYB’s is the highest by a huge margin. So we know who gave traffic to that propaganda 😂 Please don’t use him for your rumors and to reach your KPIs, he will only work for free when it comes to the government’s projects.

On entertainment, he’s also there for other reasons, i’m capping it pretty late but it was much higher hours after he posted the photos. 📷

but my favorite is this one, which as of writing is not on the top 50 anymore. the initial post was that WYB’s photos were taken in Inner Mongolia. What’s hilarious are the comments 😂😂😂😂

everyone of the top comments are clarifying it’s because IM is a possible shooting location for Mermaid. what??? Why are they so defensive??? Can’t the account be saying that cause they wants fans to know where it is and maybe the fans can go and visit??? what are they clarifying for 👀

even a wyb fc account suddenly posted lol yet another “clarification”.

The lady (ies) doth protest too much, methinks.

It’s so obvious why they are saying this. Their CP alarm bells are ringing. I swear, these solos can deduce better than us. They saw our IM clowning so they decide to do this “damage control” lol. We know about Mermaid being potentially filmed in IM. We have been clowning since then so whatever explanations on the table is futile. I don’t think they will ever understand how to operate. Ignore CPFs. There is no sense in washing. CPN is all fake and speculation anyway. It’s not our fault. It is WYB who posted that and fed our clown minds.

and I think it will be so much better to post about that place and how yibo looks etc than make a clarification. they ( solos and other fans who have beef with us ) all say BXGs are “delusional” / “irrelevant” etc but they can keep on stalking our accounts and talking about us. In the meantime, we are still here, years later and THRIVING. 💛

#personal #yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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aoki553 · 3 months

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'bpd makoto teruhashi??'- a character analysis/yapping session because no one understands the siblings like i do

Time to turn the capslock on for this one! The writing might be incoherent, but I want to focus on getting my thoughts out with this one, so be aware. Let me start this post by clarifying - I am not a psychologist. This is for fun, done used resources I've found online. This is about an anime character, not about a real person's struggles.

Trigger warning for obvious sibling marriage romanticization mention sighhh like we aren't talking about it constantly when it comes to him apparently.

We all know the way Makoto has been protrayed in the series - a comically overexaggerated siscon. His portrayal makes many people uncomfortable due to his perverted obsessive behavior.

Except, I'm going to throw it all out the window cuz in this post I meant to take a look at his behavior from a fan's perspective without any biases like 'eww yucky siscon make me uncomfy'. NONE of that here.

I'll start by addressing the elephant in the room and the main reason i'm making this post: Makoto's obsession. Both of the Teruhashi siblings have obvious superiority complexes, however, Makoto is overshadowed by his little sister's charm, whom he idealizes and has an unhealthy attachment to. He's aware of his own charm and beauty, but only takes it to account to point out how he's the only one worthy of Kokomi's love and attention.

Kokomi has clearly been his whole world ever since she was born. A life-long fascination and attachment that went unnoticed. His perfect little sister is able to change his mood drastically whenever she's getting attention from anyone other than him or is even slightly dissatisfied with him.

He lacks a sense of self - only Kokomi matters for him. He's able to ditch his responsibilities in an instant, only to be with her. He's depicted as a cherub to Kokomi's goddess appearance in the mobile game and as a chauffeur in the Duet Shite KudaPsi anime end credits. Always below her, as her servant.

He becomes severely distressed and panics over even something so simple as a her getting a cold. (Just like everyone else at her school, but he's there for her.)

At all times he needs to make sure she isn't surrounded by men that are 'unworthy' of her, even to the point of stalking her to get some piece of mind. He craves her approval and cares for her like no one else in the entirety of the manga. (Example: Taking her to movie theatres and watch every movie he has ever starred in to show her.) These are signs of Kokomi being Makoto's 'favorite person'.

Awesome, but does it explain Makoto seeing her not as his sister, but as a future wife? Is it just him making things way creepier in his mind than they need? Yes, actually.

Makoto's overprotective and obsessive behavior is comically exaggerated, duh, but if we think about it for a second... Kokomi is a person he's been there for her whole life, he provides and protects her from unwanted attention. He dedicated his whole life to her and knowing there is an unavoidable future of his whole world collapsing because someone will take his place. Not as a siblings, but as a lover - something more important than family. How can he avoid this? By being the one to marry her, of course. No one but him is worthy of her anyway, right? Why should she need anyone else? No matter how messed up that sounds, it's his way of thinking.

Now let's go over some of the diagnostic criteria for BPD. I'll be using this site and infographic as my resource, just to give a few simple (but appropiate in my opinion) examples.

Fear of abandonment, rejection - while it's not explicitly stated, I believe his 'marriage' thing is just that. Not wanting to be abandonned and forgotten by the only person he loves and cares about. I don't believe he has any perverted motive behind it. Just fear and wanting her only for himself.

Idealization and devaluation - both extremes show up in his behavior. Most notably towards Kokomi or Kusuo. He's hostile and outright rude to Kusuo, but the moment Kokomi shows up he becomes all sunshine and rainbows. Another example of it is his indifference towards Kokomi's friends, compared to the excessive attention he gives to his sister. My theory is that Makoto doesn't have relationships due to a predisposition to making his relations with other people unstable, or never even bothering to try in the first place. (Like he is towards Ruchi, for example.)

Impulsivity and inappropiate anger - he rushes to anger the moment his love is threatened. A simple thought of Kokomi getting romantic advances enrages him. Even if it could cost him his career or his public image - something Kokomi cares about the most for herself, the opposite to her brother.

Emotional instability - we've only been shown his mood swings like the one below. If we got to see more of his personal life, this one would be much clearer, but it's something a siscon pun character doesn't get to have in a comedy manga, so I'll leave it at that.

Paranoia - Let the image below speak for itself... His delusions can be interpreted as a symptom on its own, too.

But what could've caused this? Since we never see what the Teruhashi siblings' parents are like, it's easy to assume Makoto has a role of her caretaker or a provider, due to only these two being ever shown living in the wealthy Teruhashi residency. The only time we ever see their parents being acknowledged is when Saiko spread a fake rumor of Mugami Tooru having an affair. Note: We never actually see them, we don't know if they're even there.

My personal theory is simple - Kokomi's charm and absent parental figures must've affected Makoto's development and made him emotionally dependent solely on Kokomi's well being. I'm taking his idol career into an account as well, since he must've been scouted into show business in his teens, or earlier. (He was already famous by 17.)

Conclusion: I think Makoto is an interesting example of a person with BPD in media, but I'm often disappointed how little we talk about it. Or maybe I'm just too obsessed with him to see him only as what he is on the surface. :3

PHEW. So after like 4 hours of trying to put my words into one big post I think that's all I had to say for now about this topic~! I have a lot of love for this boy and I really needed to get my thoughts out about this theory of mine. Sorry for unnecessary rambling and incoherence at times. Thanks for reading!

#even if you held me at gun point and asked me why am i so obsessed with this siscon i would just preferred to get shot cuz i dont know #genuinely #alex rambles #saiki kusuo no psi nan #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #saiki k #teruhashi makoto #kusuo saiki #makoto teruhashi #saiki kusuo #teruhashi kokomi #kokomi teruhashi #teruhashi siblings #teruhashi #the disastrous life of saiki k #borderline personality disorder #bpd

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