#Don’t actually hate him just very much aware he’s an asshole | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captain-hawks · 6 months

Text

THE LINE BETWEEN LUST & CONTEMPT

♡ — kento nanami x f!reader

As you glance down at the skimpy, khaki skirt and blue shirt that’s missing far too many buttons on the top end, topped off with a silky, patterned yellow tie and heels that may actually kill you, you find yourself wondering again who in their right mind let Gojo pitch Secret Santa-style costumes for the Halloween party.

18+ ONLY

wc — 5.5k

content — enemies to lovers speed run, protective Nanami, soft dom!Nanami vibes, "fucking it out", gagged with a tie, oral fixation, spit kink, spitting in mouth, fingering, squirting, handjob, choking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, washing machine sex, wall sex, praise kink, Nanami’s big dick

— AKA what if nobody went to Shibuya and everyone went to a Halloween party instead?

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“You’re joking, right?”

There’s a familiar chuckle that rings out over the phone, one that often signifies nothing good is to come when you’re on the receiving end of it.

“Does everything fit?” Gojo asks coyly, as if he’s incapable of hearing the thinly-veiled threat in your prior question. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You glare at your phone where it’s perched atop your dresser before returning your gaze to the mirror in front of you, readjusting the blue button down shirt once again in an attempt to keep your chest at least modestly covered—it’s a lost cause.

“Well, this shirt’s somehow missing half the buttons from the top,” you respond dryly, moving on to fix the silky, yellow tie with black spots that’s secured loosely around your neck.

This is a disaster waiting to happen.

“And?”

“And my ass is basically hanging out of this skirt,” you continue, roughly tugging the khaki-coloured material down in vain, as if that will persuade it to extend past its otherwise permanent resting place against your very upper thighs.

“I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Kicking at the precariously tall pair of heels sitting on the floor waiting to wreck your feet, you grumble, “I can’t even walk in heels.”

“Shoko’s house is small. You’ll be fine.”

You walk over to your bed, eyeing the gift bag that Gojo had left sitting on your desk at the school earlier this morning. Something still remains neatly placed at the bottom—a lacy, red lingerie set.

“Should I ask why you bought me lingerie, too? I don’t see how that’s part of the costume. Unless Nanami likes wearing thongs on his days off.”

There’s that fucking chuckle again.

“Nanami-kun loves the color red, don’t you know?”

An unwelcome flash of heat flares white-hot in your gut at the implication behind his words, and you’re mortified. “You’re aware we hate each other, right? Have you been living under a rock? He’ll probably turn around and leave as soon as he walks in and sees me wearing this.”

Gojo’s chuckle turns into an outright laugh, and you can practically hear him shoving his stupid blindfold up to wipe away the tears of amusement prickling at the corners of his ridiculously blue eyes.

“Hate? Yeah, sure. Alright.”

Asshole.

You hang up on him.

–

You had the (dis)pleasure of becoming acquainted with Kento Nanami just over a year ago, shortly after Gojo roped him back into the world of jujutsu sorcery, despite his best efforts to avoid it during his stint as a salaryman. Given that Jujutsu High isn’t exactly brimming with a large roster of full-fledged sorcerers, the two of you have—naturally—been paired up on your fair share of cases.

To say that you don’t work well together is an understatement.

Nanami’s straightforward and calculated way of operating in the field is a direct contrast to your fast and loose approach, one that relies heavily on acting on your feelings in the heat of the moment, rather than calculating precise, measured ratios that guarantee a critical hit.

You’re too reckless.

Too emotional.

Too spontaneous.

Too sentimental.

You grate on him much in the way Gojo does, but whereas there are years of friendship that give Nanami the patience to put up with the strongest sorcerer’s antics, he has no reason to extend that same courtesy to you.

Needless to say, he’d outright balked when Gojo happily announced that you were a grade 1 sorcerer as well, something that never fails to ruffle his feathers as he watches you flirt with dangerous situations time and time again just for the thrill of it, saving your finishing blow of cursed energy for the last possible moment.

“I can’t work with someone who’s actively trying to get themselves killed,” you’d overheard him snapping at Gojo after your second mission together. “She’s worse than you.”

“She always gets the job done, doesn’t she?”

“At the cost of my sanity, I can’t say it’s worth it.”

Admittedly, you may or may not exacerbate the issue on occasion, exaggerating the aforementioned behavior that you know gets on his nerves just to further get a rise out of him in your attempts to try and dislodge the perpetual stick that’s lodged up his ass.

–

When Shoko opens the door to her apartment later that evening, the sounds of music and laughter spilling out onto her front step, she takes one look at your costume, eyes wide, and laughs, “Oh, Nanami is going to love this.”

You exhale dramatically through your nose, though the exasperated gesture is thrown off by the way you then proceed to shiver, your meager outfit doing little to protect you from the crisp October air. “Tell me again why we didn’t veto Gojo’s Secret Santa Halloween?”

She shrugs, stepping aside to let you in as she offers you a knowing glance. “I seem to remember you saying how fun it would be to surprise each other with costumes.”

“That was before he picked my name,” you lament, glancing down at the outfit that you’ve now begun to refer to as The Slutty Salaryman.

“Guess I’m lucky you picked me, then,” she winks, waving a hand to show off the far more modest and fun rendition of Principal Yaga that you’d put together for her, complete with a faux cursed corpse seated on her shoulder with large googly eyes glued to its little bear face. “If it makes you feel any better, someone with a sense of humor clearly got Gojo.”

Careful not to trip and fall to your death in the heels as you head through the entryway to the party beyond, which is bustling with a mixture of familiar faces and strangers alike, you scan the room for a tall head of white hair. True to Shoko’s words, you’re not at all disappointed when you catch sight of Gojo dressed as Gakuganji, looking completely ridiculous with fake facial hair, crudely drawn makeup to add decades to his appearance, and loose-fitting pants that are amusingly unflattering on his lean frame.

It’s not quite revenge, but it’ll do.

–

Two hours pass without a sign of the man you’re dressed as, and for a moment, you’re relieved at the thought that perhaps you’re off the hook. Every little smug, knowing grin Gojo’s been tossing your way will have been for naught.

But perhaps just to spite you, the front door swings open the moment you take a celebratory swig from the glass of wine in your hands, leaving Shoko to pound on your back while you start choking on the liquid at the goddamn sight standing before you.

Nanami’s dressed as Gojo.

Sort of.

His blonde hair can’t quite disobey the laws of gravity like the other sorcerer’s stark white locks, so it hangs soft and loose over the white blindfold on his face, which is lifted just enough over one eye so he can actually see. Rather than don Gojo’s typical uniform, Nanami’s in an all-black suit (save for the tie he never goes anywhere without), the well-fitting material leaving little to the imagination as it snugly hugs his muscled arms and thick thighs.

You’re too distracted to respond to the way Shoko’s snickering in your ear, and when Nanami turns around to talk to someone—thus offering you a view of the outfit from behind—you choke again.

Naturally, you spend the next hour doing everything in your power to avoid Nanami for reasons you’re not quite ready to examine, utilizing an excessive amount of mental gymnastics to justify the way you keep dipping out of conversations every time you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. The confusing mixture of feelings you’re experiencing has sent your fight-or-flight response into overdrive.

Your concerted efforts take a nosedive when a far-too-observant Gojo manages to wrangle the two of you into a conversation before you can find an excuse to be somewhere else. It’s disastrous at best, Nanami offering a blunt, disinterested list of every poor decision he felt that you made when Gojo asks how your joint assignment the other day went.

And just when you’re about to lay into Nanami about how difficult he made that mission, Shoko grabs you by the hip, resting her head on your shoulder with a smile as she turns to him and asks in a calculating tone, “Nanami-kun, doesn’t her costume look great?”

He glances at you with a gaze full of disinterest before turning to Gojo with an unimpressed look. “I’d never wear such a cheap tie.”

Nanami walks away to get another drink before you can think of a good comeback, though admittedly, the tie is a terrible knock off.

—

“Shit, sorry!”

Cold beer splashes across your chest and soaks the front of your shirt as a man trips and stumbles in your direction, and you groan in annoyance at the feeling of the sticky liquid dripping down your skin. Despite the fact that you wave him off, heading toward the kitchen in search of paper towels, he follows you, spilling out a string of apologies as he himself scrambles for a pile of napkins.

It’s an awkward shuffle of you trying to clean your chest off without flashing him and the man getting entirely too close as he awkwardly makes an attempt to dab your shirt dry. To your relief, he doesn’t make it that far, the fingers now wrapped around his wrist halting his arm midair.

“She’s fine.”

Nanami.

The blindfold is long gone, leaving behind the rare sight of him with no glasses and soft, tousled hair. Internally, you scramble to rustle up the familiar feeling of annoyance that always weighs heavily in your gut at the sight of him. Instead, it’s all you can do to try and keep the hitch in your breath inaudible as you feel your stupid heart trip over itself.

“I’m just—”

“Do you need his help?” Nanami interrupts the man’s slightly slurred words, directing his steely gaze to you.

For all of the endless comebacks you can normally conjure up to hurl back at him between one breath and the next, you’re temporarily rendered speechless in confusion as to why he’s helping you. So instead, you just shake your head.

“She doesn’t need your help,” he repeats, nothing friendly in the way he says it.

The man apologizes again as he drops your arm and scurries from the kitchen, and you turn away from Nanami, leaning against the counter as you attempt to catch your breath and school your expression into something that doesn’t scream, “Why the fuck was that so hot?”

“Are you alright?” he asks carefully, the tinge of concern in his voice sinking into your bones.

Hand coming up short from the now-empty paper towel roll, you let out a sound of frustration, though it’s moreso due to the infuriating way your body’s been reacting all night to a man you normally can’t even be in the same room with without arguing about something.

“Like you said, I’m fine,” you tell him sarcastically, spinning around and pushing past him to grab napkins from the table instead. When all else fails, deflect.

Unfortunately, spinning in heels is arguably one of your worst decisions of the evening, because you instantly lose your balance on the smooth tile floor. When you try to right yourself mid-step, the room tilts as the heel on one shoe cracks under the pressure. Your hands fly up to break your inevitable fall, but it never comes, a pair of arms wrapping firmly around your body and catching you.

Body momentarily on an angle as Nanami holds you against his warm, solid frame, you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression. If he did this in the field, you’d have jumped out of his hold with a snarky remark about not needing his help.

But right now?

Right now, you don’t know what you want.

He stares down at you, nonplussed. “You can’t walk in heels,” he observes.

You blink.

“I can’t walk in heels,” you concede, for once not brimming with the fire to argue.

“And you’re still dripping wet.”

Nanami lifts you back into a standing position, napkins clutched in one hand as he stands on your side with the broken heel and wraps an arm around your waist, helping you to walk. You desperately try to ignore the way it feels to be tucked against him.

You hate him.

Right?

He has you facing the short hallway that you know leads to Shoko’s laundry room instead of the living room. “Should I ask where you’re taking me?”

He looks at you, sighing and shaking his head as he walks you toward another door, flicking on the light before he suddenly hoists you up without warning. You yelp at the feeling of something cold touching the backs of your thighs, short skirt and thin tights doing nothing to protect you from the metal surface you’re now sitting on. Glancing down, you realize he’s put you on top of the washer.

“Here,” he unceremoniously drops the pile of napkins into your lap. “I thought you might want to clean yourself up somewhere more private, given that you seem to be missing most of the buttons on your shirt.”

Is that fucking sarcasm in his voice?

He waves his hand in the direction of the damp blue button down, as if it’s not meant to be an imitation of his trademark outfit.

“And what are you going to d—”

You’re cut off by your own gasp at the feeling of Nanami’s hand wrapping around your ankle, the gentleness of the gesture a stark contrast to the way he’d nearly manhandled the stranger in the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow, holding up the broken-off heel in his other hand.

“Can’t have you limping around Shoko’s house the rest of the night, can we? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

You can’t bring yourself to argue, too mesmerized by the way he drags a hand through his blonde hair to push it out of his face, the stubborn locks fighting their way back across his forehead as his brows furrow together in concentration.

You want to card your own hands through it, to see what kind of expression his face will morph into.

No.

“I think they’re a lost cause,” you sigh, leaning forward to take them off and admit defeat. You’re sure Shoko has a pair of slippers somewhere.

You get a face full of Nanami’s hair instead as he beats you to the punch, his long, deft fingers making surprisingly quick work of the tiny buckles as you try not to make it too obvious that you’re now purposely inhaling the scent of his shampoo for whatever fucking reason has compelled your traitorous body to do so.

This entire night is a write off at this point.

Head elsewhere, you belatedly realize that your legs are spread far too wide for the microscopic length of your skirt, which may be why Nanami’s gaze has remained dutifully trained on your feet, rather than the bright red thong you know is staring him in the face. You try not to make it too obvious as you inch your thighs back together.

Putting your shoes on top of the dryer, Nanami goes to leave, turning his head to the side once he’s facing the door, “Do you want me to get Shoko?”

You should say yes.

You should say yes and watch him go back out to the party, letting the door swing shut on this strange, baffling detour in your contemptuous, stormy relationship.

You’ll go home and sleep off the tightening of your throat and the pressure in your chest, these hazy, confusing feelings sure to fade in the night, long gone after sunrise like the evaporation of morning dew.

But you’ve never been one to make things easy for yourself.

“So that’s it?”

Nanami turns around fully, eyes meeting yours. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“You’re just going to go back out to the party?” You’re not sure why you’re pushing him.

He takes two slow steps back toward you, hip brushing against your knee when he comes to a stop. “Are you incapable of getting off of the washer without hurting yourself, too?”

There’s an unfamiliar, teasing lilt to the way he says it, and you shift in place, blood prickling hot beneath your skin. What’s wrong with you tonight?

“You really have nothing to say about my costume?” The words are out of your mouth faster than you can take back the idle thought that’s been nagging you since he walked in the door.

Since you caught him looking at you from across the room several times after his initial biting remark about the tie, his expression unreadable.

Nanami scoffs quietly, the scent of his cologne licking its way up your nostrils as he leans one hand atop the washer, just beside your thigh. Veins bulge against his forearm, and you find yourself wondering when he rolled his sleeves up.

Electricity shoots down your spine as a caress of hot breath tickles the shell of your ear. “What do you want me to say?”

You stare straight ahead, not turning to face him. “How much you hate it.”

The air in the small room is thick with the tension that hangs heavily in the scant space between your bodies. Nanami’s quiet for a moment.

“I do hate it.”

Why do you feel so disappointed by the response you knew you’d get?

Then, his dress shoes scuff against the floor, his right hand coming to rest on your other side as he slides over and cages you in entirely.

“I hate how badly it makes me want to fuck you,” he breathes out.

Suddenly, you feel far too hot and dizzy to be perched atop Shoko’s washer. “What?”

He chuckles darkly. “Don’t act stupid, princess.”

The air feels like it’s rattling in your chest as you inhale, your increased intake of oxygen doing nothing to clear your clouded brain. “You hate me,” you say dumbly.

His thumb twitches, brushing against the outside of your thigh where there’s a small run in your sheer stockings. The contact is so minimal, you barely feel it, but it leaves a burning hot brand echoing through your nervous system all the same.

Despite the fact that he has you caged atop the washing machine, he’s barely touching you, his body arched just enough to avoid the idle sway of your legs. His tie dangles in the space between your bodies, and you have to fight the urge to wrap your fingers around it and tug.

Nanami stares at you, an odd expression on his face. “I hate the way you make me feel,” he corrects you.

Oh.

“But you—”

“You’re reckless.”

“I’m—”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well—”

“You’re too fucking smart to be risking your life in jujutsu sorcery.”

“You’re one to tal—”

“Too talented—”

“Well that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever—”

“—you have no regard for your own life in the field.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“You infuriate me to no end—”

“Are you hitting on me or trying to hurt my feelings I really can’t te—”

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps, chest heaving.

You stare at him, blinking slowly. “The feeling’s mutual.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. “I can’t stand it.”

You can hardly hear the sounds of the party anymore.

“Then do something about it.”

Nanami’s lips come crashing into yours, and every flickering ember in your body flares to life.

There’s a dizzying precision to the way Nanami kisses, mouth claiming yours so thoroughly that a moan crawls its way up your throat before he’s even begun to skirt the seam of your lips with his tongue. Your lips part for him, and he deepens the kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head as his tongue slides over yours.

He explores your mouth like he wants to devour you, and you let him, already dangerously addicted to the taste of his saliva mixing with your own, keening when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

His hand drifts from your thigh to your shirt, and he grunts as he feels the still-damp material. Without hesitation, you begin to undo the few buttons Gojo hadn’t torn off before giving it to you, overcome with the need to feel the pressure of Nanami’s large, callused hands against your bare skin. He slips the loose tie over your head as you toss the soiled shirt aside, a groan escaping his mouth when he finally takes in the unhindered sight of your bright red bra.

While the straps are lace, the cups are thin and sheer, leaving your peaked nipples on display. You almost hadn’t worn it after realizing how little it left to the imagination.

But now, seeing the way Nanami’s jaw ticks as he stares down at you, fingers twitching where they’re resting against the tops of your thighs, you don’t regret it one bit.

Your breasts feel heavy and tender under his rapt attention, and the coil nestled in your gut tightens.

Nanami looks like he’s holding himself back, and you feel a surge of arousal drip between your legs as you watch him teeter at the knife’s edge of his restraint.

“You don’t need to be gentle with me,” you tell him, overcome with the need to feel exactly what it is that he wants to do to you.

He cradles the side of your face, fingers curling behind your ear as he slots his mouth against yours. The kiss is thorough but brief, and soon he’s dragging his lips along the curve of your jaw, mouth blazing a trail down the side of your neck, tongue exploring the dip of your collarbone.

While you know where he’s headed, your entire body still arches hard into him when he finally cups your breasts with both hands, leaning in to wetly mouth at one of them through the material of your bra. He licks and sucks, the sensation making you tremble, and you throw your head back and moan, one leg hooking around his waist to pull him in as you scoot closer to the edge of the washer.

You’re about to take off your bra, but Nanami beats you to the punch, fingers easily flicking open the hooks and allowing your supple breasts to spill out before him. He dives back in, groaning as his lips close around your bare nipple, tongue dancing along the sensitive skin that surrounds the hard bud. His mouth is hot, and slick saliva coats your breasts as he goes back and forth between the two, kneading and sucking.

With both of your legs now wrapped around his waist in the haze of your arousal, you inadvertently begin to rock into him, your short skirt hiked up around your hips and rendered useless. You moan at the feeling of the sizeable shaft that presses hard into the heat between your legs, his erection straining against the zipper of his slacks. Nanami groans as you start shamelessly dry humping him, and your panties dampen further at the feeling of the sound vibrating against your tits. He gazes one of your nipples with his teeth, teasing it a final time before he straightens, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Nanami stares at you intently, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, eyes tracking the way your pupils dilate in turn. He does it again, and your tongue darts out, grazing the tip. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, he presses the tip of his thumb just past the entrance of your lips, eyes darkening as he watches how easily you welcome the intrusion. He drags his thumb down the side of your chin, pulling down your lower lip with his pointer finger, and your lips part.

A small, eager thrum flares in your gut as you take his finger into your mouth, tongue wrapping around it as you coat it with saliva. Your panties are slick with arousal as you continue to chase the friction of his cock, moaning when he puts another finger in your mouth. You begin to bob your head on the digits, sucking on them so eagerly that you can’t bring yourself to care about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans, wiping off the stray saliva with his other thumb and licking his finger clean.

He’s said the same thing time and time again before, but it’s far more preferable in this context.

You whimper in relief when he finally slides that hand down your body, bringing it to rest at the apex of your thighs. The sound is muffled by the fingers still shoved in your mouth, and a sound of amusement rumbles in his chest as he watches you desperately keen and writhe for him.

He drags a finger down the length of your wet pussy, though the contact is muted by your stockings. You begin to shift your hips, a plea for him to tear them off of you, but his impatience wins out as he outright tears them open to gain access to the plush, dripping warmth of your cunt.

“More red,” he murmurs in approval, running his fingers over the matching sheer material that covers your mound, one digit sliding up to firmly tug at the thick, lace waistband that sits high against your hip bones.

“You like red?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

But he surprises you, still. “I like you in red.”

Nanami uses his thumb to push your thong aside, steadily dragging his finger down your soaking wet slit now exposed to him. The digit slides right through your sensitive folds, and he smirks before sliding one long digit knuckle-deep into your tight hole.

You gasp, toes curling as you buck into his touch, already greedy for more. Greedy to be filled.

“More,” you pant out as he slowly pumps the finger in and out of your cunt.

“Open for me,” he tells you, voice low and rough.

You don’t hesitate, lips falling open, and your body radiates with tremors of pleasure as Nanami spits directly into your mouth. Swallowing it down, you moan, drunk on the feeling of submission as he slides in another digit and continues fucking you on his fingers.

“Good girl,” he breathes out heavily. “So pretty like this.”

You shudder under the weight of his praise, something unlocking inside of you as you begin to realize maybe you’ve wanted this from him all along. Needed this from him all along.

“Fuck me, Nanami. Please.”

“Kento,” he corrects you, hair tickling your neck as he leans in, licking and sucking at the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Fuck me,” you moan, loosening his tie as your fingers trail their way down opening each button of his shirt. “Kento.”

He bites down hard at the sound of his first name on your lips, his gravelly voice like fire against your skin, “Come for me first.”

He picks up his pace, fingers squelching lewdly in your cunt. Your mouth falls open as you try to temper down the loud moans of pleasure you want to give him, aware that all that separates you from the partygoers is the closed door a few feet away.

Kento roughly spits into your mouth again at the same moment that he brings his free hand between your legs to tease your clit, the fingers buried inside of you curling as he strokes your sensitive, spongey wall. A choked out sob leaves you when you come, and he swallows it down with a messy kiss, meeting your muffled cries of pleasure with his own rough moan as he feels you squirt all over him, clear liquid spraying his shirt and pants.

“Fuck,” he groans, the wavering loss of his composure now evident in his voice as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm on his hand.

Overcome with the desire to feel the large erection tented painfully at the front of his pants, your fingers fumble with the button and zipper, a sigh of pleasure leaving you when you finally wrap your hands around his long, thick cock. Kento kisses you filthily, moaning into your mouth as you begin pumping his cock, thumb sliding over the precum dripping from the head.

His large hands grasp your thighs, pulling you as close to the edge of the washer as possible. Kento wraps his own hand around his dick, firmly dragging the head down your creamy slit. You rock forward, chest heaving, muscles clenched tight with desire and need, only to be met with a sharp burst of pleasure as he slaps his cock heavily against your pussy. You whimper for him.

Placing a finger over your lips, which have been far from quiet throughout this ordeal, Kento goes to grab the tie left discarded beside you. However, after his fingers close around the material, he raises a brow and shakes his head, letting it drop to the floor as he begins to loosen his own tie instead.

You make no effort to hide the shameless need on your face as he smirks at you, shaking his head before wrapping the tie around your mouth and gagging you with it.

“I like seeing you desperate,” he murmurs against your ear, before finally sheathing his thick cock inside of you.

His dick is so big, your tight pussy throbs from the stretch while he splits you open, flooding your body with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Suit jacket already discarded somewhere along the way, your fingers tug off his unbuttoned dress shirt, leaving your hands free to explore the firm expanse of his abdomen.

The washing machine begins to shake loudly with each thrust, and Kento grunts, arms wrapping tightly around you as he lifts you, choosing to fuck you up against the wall instead. The continuous push and drag of his fat cock through your slick channel leaves your mind begging for more.

Your lewd moans are quiet and muffled against the gag, but he can still hear it when you beg, “Harder.”

He obliges, the shelf leaning against the wall beside you trembling ever so slightly when he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your cunt. His cock relentless plunges in to the hilt, your pussy greedily taking every long, thick inch as he fucks you deep. One of his hands runs down the side of your neck, and you find yourself leaning into the pressure, whimpering against the wet material blocking your mouth.

“Should have known you’d like this,” he rasps, hand sliding to the front of your throat as he tightens his grip and starts to choke you. “Now come on my cock.”

The pleasure that erupts inside of you swipes every remaining bit of air from your lungs, a choked out sob crawling its way up your throat as you tremble and shake in Kento’s steady grip, cunt squelching wetly around his dick.

He looks down between your bodies, the sight of the creamy ring you’ve left around the base of his shaft drawing a rough, aroused noise of appreciation from him.

Kento goes to pull out, but you shake your head, a small whine slipping past the tie, and he groans heavily, forehead falling against yours as he slams his cock back in to the hilt. It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming, too, shaft pulsing and throbbing within the tight grip of your slick cunt as he dumps rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you to the brim.

When you’re finished, Kento sets you down carefully, his fingers tender as he undoes the gag and leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, tongue swiping along your lower lip.

“Are you alright?” He asks, thumb stroking your neck.

You don’t answer him for a beat, and his mouth curls downward in concern, meeting your gaze only to find the deceivingly innocent pout of your lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already?” you say.

You should be exhausted from how thoroughly he just fucked you, but instead, you’re already thinking about feeling the thick stretch of his cock inside of you again, and your cunt flutters and aches with a need that’s yet to be sated.

Kento laughs, the sound deep and rich, and you think you could get used to hearing it.

He pulls up your underwear, along with your now-ruined tights, lowering himself down on one knee before you as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your cunt while his thick, sticky cum begins to soak into your panties. You exhale shakily, already far too close to undone just from the sight before you alone, and he smirks, standing back up.

Kento takes your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, teasing your bottom lip. “We’re not done, we’re just going to go somewhere where I don’t need to cover your pretty lips next time.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #kento nanami smut #dee writes

530 notes · View notes

delta-piscium · 1 year

Text

I wrote this in September and it’s been collecting dust in my docs and staring back at me with judgement whenever I post or write something else so here

“Steve” a familiar voice shouts across the room.

Steve turns around, and there, on the other side of the crowded room is Tommy. It really shouldn’t be as big of a shock to see him as it is. Steve is at a house party on a Friday night, it would have been weirder if Tommy wasn’t here. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s prepared to see him, they basically haven’t talked in three years, ever since Steve ‘chose’ Nancy over him and Carol (aka finally dropped them because they were horrible and didn’t drop Nancy because she isn’t).

Still, he plasters on a smile, making it as polite as he can, and waves. Hopes it will be enough but of course, it isn’t. Tommy starts weaving through people, pushing and elbowing his way toward Steve.

“Its been ages,” he says clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “how have you been man.”

Steve resists the urge to shrug his hand off, but it’s a close thing.

“It has.” Steve doesn’t add ‘because you’re an asshole and I hate who I am around you’ and he feels very mature for it. “I’m good.” He very deliberately does not ask Tommy how he’s been.

“Me too, me too.” He responds anyways, at least he finally removes his hand from Steve’s shoulder which makes him relax marginally. “Still dating Nancy?”

And, okay yeah, he and Tommy haven’t really spoken since he and Nancy were still together but Hawkins is a small town and he’s sure Tommy knows that Nancy had both broken up with Steve, gone on to date Jonathan for two years, and recently broken up with him as well. Actually, he thinks he remembers a shower conversation with Billy just days after she dumped him and went off to Murray with Jonathan, a conversation that Tommy was also present for.

“No, we broke up years ago.” He dutifully replies anyways, because what else can he say?

“Yeah, heard she dumped you?”

Steve is gonna remain calm, play along in whatever game Tommy is playing, and not react.

“She did,” he agrees easily.

“And got with Jonathan right after? Should have listened to us and stayed away.” He grins as he speaks, grins as if Steve is gonna agree with him.

“We’re still friends,” Steve shrugs, letting the fall of Tommy’s smile bring one to his own lips.

“Was for the best that we broke up, we’re much better as friends.”

Tommy squints a bit, his hackles raising and Steve only notices because he once knew him so well. Why he’s still getting defensive talking about Nancy Steve doesn’t know.

“Oh Stevie, you still hung up on her huh?”

It’s deliberate, he’s trying to press Steve’s buttons. ‘Well, tough Tommy-boy.’ Steve thinks, ‘those ones don’t work anymore, have been defunct for ages. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want a reaction.’

“Nah,” he says, lets his smile be a bit more genuine when he continues, “she’s great but I’m dating someone else.”

“Rebound?” Tommy whistles, “she hot?”

Why Tommy is convinced Steve is still pining after Nancy he can’t say, or maybe it’s the only angle he has on Steve nowadays? Except they basically lived in each other's pockets all through high school and if Tommy really wants to get under Steve’s skin there are other things, better things. Things he has used against Steve before and seen the effect of. Why he isn’t he using them now when he clearly has some agenda Steve can’t say.

Steve is about to respond, has his mouth open and ready to speak when someone calls his name again. Thankfully this time the source is a lot more pleasant.

Tommy turns around to see who it is, completely exposing his back to Steve. It’s probably the last few years of fighting hell monsters that has ingrained a distrust in Steve. Making him hyper-aware of his surroundings and never willing to leave his back open like this to people he doesn’t trust. He knows this but still, he thinks there should be some primal instinct in Tommy to stop him from making himself so vulnerable to Steve, the action speaks of leftover trust that Steve isn’t ready to face.

“Munson? You know Munson?” He turns back around, an incredulous look on his face.

It snaps Steve out of his thoughts and reminds him Eddie had called for him. He leans to the side, stretching out so he’s visible behind Tommy, catching Eddie’s eye and waving him over.

“I do, yeah.”

Tommy’s face twists into something Steve can’t immediately place. He recognizes it, knows he’s seen Tommy make that face before. It’s not disgust or confusion but maybe something in between? Before he can figure it out it clears.

“Oh, King Steve getting drugs? Who would have thought?”

Steve rolls his eyes, the only reason he had stopped smoking weed for a while in high school was because athletes got tested. Why Tommy is pretending Steve ever had some moral issue with it now is beyond him but not much of this interaction has made sense to him so far so what’s one more thing?

“What Steve doing drugs? He’s a very responsible young man and would never” Eddie says, twisting past the last couple of people.

“Right Stevie? You wouldn’t touch the stuff?” Eddie–knowing very well that Steve would in fact ‘touch the stuff’–asks.

“Not with a ten-foot pole.” Steve–who smoked yesterday–deadpans.

“Knew I could trust in you to stay a good boy.” Eddie coos as he steps into Steve's space and kisses him despite where they are. It’s quick enough that no one who isn’t watching would catch it though and the only one who is watching is Tommy. When Steve looks back at him his face slack with shock.

“Hagan,” Eddie says with a short nod.

“You-?” Tommy looks between them, that same look as before flashing on his face, still just out of Steve’s grasp.

Steve contemplates what he should do for a second but Tommy already saw them kiss, already knows. And honestly, Steve doesn’t really care what he thinks and he knows Tommy won't say anything. Steve has too much dirt on him.

“Oh sorry, Tommy this is my boyfriend.” His voice is deceptively sweet as he introduces Eddie as if that’s what Tommy had been getting at.

Steve turns to Eddie, “baby, you know who Tommy is right?”

He’s laying it on thick, asks despite Eddie greeting him by name two seconds ago. Knows others' unabashed confidence and being on the outside are things Tommy can’t handle.

“I think so,” Eddie plays along, “you were friends once right? Before you found better people?”

It’s mean but Steve wouldn't have thought too much of it if it weren’t for the wounded noise Tommy makes. When Steve looks at him again his face is cracked open and it finally clicks what that expression is.

“Aw, you jealous?” Eddie says in a mocking tone, hitting the nail on the head because that’s exactly what that expression is, jealousy.

It’s the same look he had whenever Steve told him about a new girl, the look he’d have when Steve started bringing Nancy around. It’s deeper though, not only jealousy. He also looks like he did when Steve told him and Carol to leave him alone. He doesn’t just look jealous, Tommy looks heartbroken.

He tries to pull it together, scrunching his nose up in disdain, and scowls at them. Quickly looks away from Steve when their eyes catch and his mask falls a bit, instead focusing on Eddie who raises one eyebrow in response.

“Hardly,” he scoffs, it comes out strained, “I would love to stay and chat but-”

He doesn’t elaborate, just turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd.

Steve is frozen to the spot, a war going on in his head. Puzzle pieces he didn’t know were missing falling into place.

“Come on, let's get out of here.” Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and starts pulling him outside, away from the party. He gets them in his car and doesn’t try to speak to Steve, probably sensing he’s having some earth-shattering realizations right now.

“He liked me,” he finally manages to say. “That’s why he hated Nancy so much. He was...” he trails off, knows it’s true but can’t quite say it.

“Jealous,” Eddie finishes softly.

“You knew?” Steve asks because Eddie doesn’t sound or look surprised at all.

He shrugs, “I had my suspicions.”

“But how-”

“We looked at you the same,” his smile is wry, self-deprecating, “I recognized it.”

And Steve can’t really process this right now even though he knows it’s true so he grasps at straws, “Carol, he was with Carol?”

Eddie reaches out one arm and cups his face in his hand, glances at him quickly before he looks back at the road with a sad smile.

“If you’re in love with your best friend, your male best friend who you believe is straight, you do what you need to do to push it down, to hide it. Especially in high school and in a small town.”

“In love?” Steve rasps because he’d said ‘like’.

“Yeah, sweetheart. In love.”

Eddie brushes his fingers under Steve’s eye and he realizes it’s because he’s crying.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t know why I'm reacting like this.”

And it’s true, he really doesn’t understand why it feels like a big hole has opened in him. He never liked Tommy, not like that, yet it feels like he’s lost something, fucked something up.

“He used to be your best friend, it’s a big thing to realize.” Eddie parks outside of his trailer, turns to Steve making no move to get out of the car. “Kind of changes everything, or at least puts it in a new context, explains some things.”

Steve feels the blood drain from his face because he’s suddenly remembered something and oh god does it put it in a new fucking context.

“Baby?” Eddie asks when Steve sits frozen again.

“We used to get wasted and make out,” he whispers the words, shame coursing through his veins.

Eddie goes still and Steve rushes the explain.

“Not often and not after he got with Carol, just,” he takes a shallow breath, “It happened a few times. We’d steal my dad's whiskey and get so beyond drunk and, well, kiss a lot.”

He’d smile at the memory if he wasn’t so horrified by it at the moment.

“The first time Tommy had never kissed anyone, asked me to teach him so he wouldn’t fuck it up when it mattered. Then after that it just kind of continued to happen. We’d get drunk, make out, and pretend like nothing. It stopped when he started seeing Carol, he tried but I stopped him. Told him he didn’t need to practice now when he had the real deal. We never talked about or even mentioned it.”

Steve sees Eddie’s arms shake and when he looks up he sees Eddie holding back laughter, eyes filled with barely concealed amusement.

“Are you laughing right now?”

Eddie stops holding back, letting the laughter burst out of him and Steve is so confused because he thought Eddie would be mad at him. He’s not sure why, it’s just that this has been such a deeply buried secret wrapped in shame for years with a big ‘do not talk or even think about it’ sign placed in front of it. That it would be met with laughter was never a possibility.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps through it, “It’s just such a cliche.”

Steve’s confused face only makes Eddie laugh harder. When he calms down he takes Steve's face in both his hands holding him firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Steve, baby, sweetheart. Tommy used the oldest trick in the book on you, asking you to teach him how to kiss and you did it multiple times because what? he needed practice? That’s the flimsiest excuse to gay kiss your best friend and it’s also fucking done, it’s a cliche.”

Steve blinks, realizes that while he never had feelings for Tommy he had definitely found him attractive, had enjoyed kissing him. Had very deliberately not thought too deeply about his or Tommy's motives because that would have made it something he would have had to face.

“Oh,” he says.

Eddie smiles, wide and warm, “yeah, oh.”

“You don’t think I used him?” Steve has to ask, “if he had feelings for me and I didn’t have any for him.”

“No,” Eddie says, “not more than he did you. And you were kids, just messing around and trying to figure yourselves out in a not-very-accommodating world.”

Eddie squints a bit in thought, “though he probably thought you were more on the same page, that you could continue even though he was with Carol. Must have stung to be rejected.”

Steve snorts, “wasn’t really interested in helping anyone cheat, even under all the pretenses.”

“I know.”

Eddie's eyes are soft, looking at him with so much warmth that Steve momentarily forgets what they were talking about until Eddie's mouth twists into a sly grin.

“I can’t believe your first gay experience was with Tommy fucking Hagan.”

Steve gives him an unimpressed look, “at least I didn’t come in my pants ten seconds in, like some people I know.”

Eddie draws back, clutching his chest with his hands, “harsh words, love. It was at least a minute.”

#the amount of times i used the word realize- Steve in this and kylie jenner in 2016 #🤝 realizing so much #listen Tommy being in love with Steve and them kissing as teenager just takes up such a specific part of my brain always #like look at them- they would okay #don't ask me what this is beyond that #Steve and Eddie are assholes together b #but only (mostly) when it's deserved #Dels steddie thoughts #My writing #my post #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve x eddie #tommy hagan

512 notes · View notes

alwaysmicado · 8 months

Text

It's always been you

3.3k words | NSFW 18+ | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Warnings: angst, age gap (unspecified), swearing, brief mention of p in v sex, brief mention of disordered eating and suicide, mention of black eye, toxic relationship, drug use, reader's coping mechanisms are unhealthy Summary: After a year of dating Dieter Bravo, you are forced to face reality. All good things must come to an end, right? A/N: Nothing is more painful than realizing the person you love is not good for you.

Enjoy the hurt and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from you! 🖤

“Baby, please just listen to me,” Dieter implores. You huff and shake your head, avoiding his pleading eyes. “It didn’t mean anything. It really didn’t, okay? I- I don’t want her,” you can hear the desperation in his voice. He’s a good actor, you gotta give him that.

“Baby?” He takes a step towards you but knows better than to touch you right know. Even if that’s all he wants to do. Wrapping his strong arms around you, feeling your heartbeat against his chest, inhaling your scent. He says your name softly, his voice laden with anguish. You turn your head a little and your eyes find his. Dieter’s beautiful brown eyes. The eyes you've been losing yourself in for the past year.

“Please just tell me what I can do to fix this and I’ll do it. Anything. Please,” he takes another step towards you and whispers, “I can’t lose you.” Arrogant asshole. The illusion is gone.

You furrow your brow and tilt your head, studying the man in front of you. Dressed in his favorite pair of gray sweatpants, a loose white shirt that accentuates his tan skin, perfectly disheveled hair just screaming to be played with, sad puppy eyes. He looks like always - irritatingly handsome.

Something's off though. His body language, usually relaxed and confident, is teeming with insecurity. You smirk at that thought. Dieter Bravo, enigmatic celebrity and notorious playboy, insecure because of you. What a joke.

“You really think I'm fucking stupid, don't you?” Your voice is steady, every word filled with venom. “Just some silly girl you can use to get your dick wet and feed your ego.” He winces at that. Good. “I know you're used to people bending over backwards for you, blowing smoke up your ass and never saying no to you. But guess what, they don't give a shit about you.” Your face is heating up and you can feel your restraint slipping.

“I'm sure she made you feel really good, Dieter. Like a real star.” You snort sardonically and smirk, “Did you give her the same speech you gave me when we met? How you're this misunderstood guy just trying to get by and find real love?” You look around, shrugging your shoulders mockingly. “Either you're losing your charm or she's just a lot smarter than I am. Would've made everything so much easier if I'd left that first night, too, huh?”

Dieter huffs, averting his gaze and rubbing the nape of his neck. Your eyes follow the motion of his ringed hand, now clearly seeing the fresh hickey adorning his neck. Mother. Fucker. What the actual fuck is wrong with this man? And what the hell is wrong with you for putting up with his shit for so long? Seriously.

You’re actually very well aware of what's wrong with you, but that doesn’t really help you. Never has, if you’re being honest with yourself.

The hurt inside you becomes unbearable. Your lips start to tremble and you bite back a sob. You’re surprised at the feeling of wet tears running down your hot cheeks. What’s happening with you? You never cry in front of other people - especially not Dieter.

He hates it. Seeing you cry hurts him more than anything you could ever say to him. Unable to see you like this, he starts pacing around the living room, feverishly running his hands through his hair.

“Don’t you dare look away,” you spit out, making him turn around with an exasperated sigh, lifting his gaze to meet yours slowly. He cringes at what he sees in your wet eyes. The harm he's done. The spark in your eyes he loves so much, gone.

“You ripped my fucking heart out, Dieter,” you sob, tears streaming down your neck. You press both of your hands over your racing heart and claw at your shirt, nails digging into your flesh so hard it hurts.

Dieter reaches out to you, eyes wide, “Baby, I know I fucked up. I'm so-” “Fuck. You,” you shout at him, startling the both of you alike. You've never raised your voice at Dieter, no matter what bullshit he put you through. But you can’t take it anymore. Fuck always being the bigger person. Not like it ever got you anything.

And did he really just try and say he's fucking sorry?

“You ripped my beating heart out with your bare hands, felt my bleeding flesh in your palms and now you seriously have the fucking audacity to tell me it didn’t mean anything? That you're sorry?” You laugh mirthlessly and wipe your wet cheeks. Dieter swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He has no response.

Your head hurts and you feel weak despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Crying is exhausting. Having your heart stomped on is exhausting. Realizing the man you love will never be good for you is killing you.

You sit down on the sofa, close your eyes and inhale deeply. Dieter approaches you slowly and sits down on the far end, turning his body towards you, but giving you space.

Eyes closed, head resting on the backrest, you press the heels of your palms onto your eyes. You can hear Dieter's breathing, can smell his cologne. A birthday present from you he's used every day since unwrapping it. You remember that day well.

After the extravagant party with all of Dieter's fake Hollywood friends was finally over, you two went skinny-dipping in his pool. You started splashing water at each other, laughing without a care in the world. At some point, Dieter caught you in his arms, pulling you towards him, hooking your feet behind his back. He looked so happy, his beautiful features illuminated by moonlight. He kissed you slowly, passionately, savoring the taste of your lips. “I love you, you know,” he murmured, nudging your nose with his. “You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. Gonna do it right with you.” And you believed him. How foolish of you.

“It's easier for you like this, isn't it” you note quietly, turning your head to look at Dieter. “What do you mean?” His voice is raspy, brow furrowed in confusion. “Being the bad guy,” you scoff like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You've convinced yourself that you're a bad person who can never be good and that's why you act the way you do. Makes it easier. You can just point to your shitty behavior and tell yourself that's why people leave you.”

You furrow your brow and shake your head. “Don't you see? It’s you, Dieter. It’s always been you. It’s not the drugs, or the people you fuck, or the shit that happened in your childhood. You're the problem. It’s you.”

You huff and make for the door, in desperate need of fresh air and space.

“You think it's so fucking easy being me. Got it all figured out, huh?” Dieter's agitated voice yanks you back. “You have no fucking idea how it is. Everyone wants a piece of me and as soon as they got what they wanted - drugs, sex, fame - they fucking leave me.” He gets up and closes the distance between you two in a few strides. You don't back away.

You’ve never needed to be close to him more than right now and it positively kills you that you can’t. You can’t wrap your hands around his waist, press your face into his chest, hold him tight until your heartbeats synchronize. You can’t. Not anymore.

“You're the only good thing I got and I know I fucked up. I know I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you, but please,” he takes your hands in his, squeezing them gently, “please stay. I was high off my ass and I couldn't tell you her name or what she looked like if you asked me. Please let me fix this.”

Dieter leans in, leaving barely any room between your bodies. You can feel his breath on your face, feel the heat radiating off his body. His big sad eyes are piercing your soul, pleading with you, desperately seeking to convince you. Nice try. You know this will happen again. Dieter Bravo won't change. Not for you, not for anyone.

You take a deep breath, maintaining eye contact. “I’m not leaving you because you fucked someone else in our bed last night, Dieter. I’m leaving you because you're so convinced you're bad that you won't even try to be better. Not even for me.”

Hot tears are starting to make their way down your cheeks again. Dieter gives you a sad smile, gently cupping your face with his hands, wiping away the evidence of your sadness with his thumbs. “Please don't cry, baby,” he murmurs. His voice is strained, the corners of his mouth twitching.

You put your trembling hands around his wrists and slowly lower them from your face. “I'm done being just another person who got caught up in the whirlwind that is you and got lost on the way. I can't do it anymore.”

Before Dieter can say something, you interrupt him by softly pressing your right hand to his chest. His heart is racing. “It felt like you killed me last night,” you deadpan and Dieter’s breath hitches, his eyes going even wider. “I'm so so-” “But you know what?” you look into his eyes intently and shrug, “I’m still here, so I guess I’m not dead.”

“I’ll go on without you,” you nod, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “I’m done, Dee. Finally done.”

----------

You lean against the front door of Dieter’s mansion, chest heaving, trying to steady your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slowly. Over and over. The dull pain in your head gets worse and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to throw up. You turn around to face the concrete wall and empty your stomach contents onto the ground, trying as much as you can to not get it on your clothes.

Your throat burns, tears are streaming down your face and the throbbing pain in your head is all-consuming. Your vision starts to get blurry and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears - louder and louder - until everything is quiet. Peaceful.

----------

I’m sorry. I want you to be happy.

Dieter’s note on the nightstand does nothing to you. Your heart feels numb.

You see the glass of water and the Advil next to the note. You’re wearing a clean shirt, not the one you were crying and throwing up on a few hours ago. Dieter must have changed you into one of his. Your pants are neatly folded on a lounge chair standing in the corner. Light is flooding the bedroom you've woken up in every morning for the past year. Weird to think it's the last time today.

You sit up too fast and your head pounds violently, so you try and move as slowly and carefully as possible. The pill doesn’t go down easily. Your throat burns and even the tiny gulp of water you need to swallow it feels like someone’s dragging hot knives from your tongue all the way down to your bleeding heart.

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You know Dieter, you know what to expect from him and you also know yourself. Still, you let yourself believe. Believe that you could be loved. Believe that someone could know you - really know you - and still love you. But it’s always the same. To know you is to love you less.

It’s your fault. Dieter showed you who he was from the beginning and you still let yourself fall for him. You knew better than to open up your bruised heart to him and yet, you did. That was your decision, not his. And the most fucked up thing? You’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Loving Dieter hurt. Badly. But for a brief moment in your life, he showed you that you were capable of loving someone and being loved.

You know he was telling the truth about that. He did love you. Maybe still does. It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve had your taste of pure happiness and that’s more than most people will ever experience in their life. It’s okay. It was always going to end this way.

----------

Three months later

It’s hot outside. Too hot. So you usually just stay inside your new apartment after you come home from work. Shutters closed, AC blasting until the sun goes down and you can finally open the windows to let the cool night air inside.

You’re on your balcony, finishing up your nightly bottle of white wine. You can smell the summer night, hear the hum of cars driving by, people eating and laughing, crickets chirping peacefully. When you close your eyes, you feel a comfortable buzz. This is okay. You’re still here, haven’t jumped off your balcony or slit your wrists. Too final, you think.

You don’t actually want to die, you just want to be as numb as possible. Numb the pain that is simply too unbearable to face fully present. So you drink and you pop Xanax bars and you either don’t eat or stuff yourself so full you throw it all back up.

And you fuck Ben from work.

Turns out he'd had his eyes on you for some time before you went into his office with the goal to get bent over his desk.

Swaying your hips, batting your eyelashes, tracing his arms and shoulders with your fingertips, purring into his ear how you need him to take care of you did the trick. Two minutes after entering the office, Ben was already balls deep inside you. He made you cum on his cock, spilled his seed on your ass and drove you home after. You fucked him again in the parking lot of your apartment complex, riding him until you both were a sticky mess. He didn't ask if he could come upstairs and you didn't offer. “What did I do to deserve you, hm?” he asked when you were both laying in his bed a few days later. You lifted your head from his chest to look at him. He was beaming at you with undisguised admiration. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and buried your face in his neck. Ben was kind and attentive and handsome - he was everything you could wish for. What a sane person would wish for, anyway. But that wasn't you. And he wasn't Dieter.

You're alone tonight, sitting on your sofa, a glass of wine in your hand. You stare at your phone, index finger hovering over the Instagram icon. You shouldn't be doing this. Really shouldn't. 'Cause every time you do it, you end up crying yourself to sleep despite the alcohol and pills.

Fuck it. You open the app and are greeted with Dieter's face laughing into the camera. He's not alone, as usual. A pretty girl is hugging him and pressing her plump lips to his left cheek. You want to vomit.

He stopped texting and calling you a few weeks ago. Probably got tired of you never replying, you assume. And it's not like there aren't thousands of women out there just waiting to take your place by his side and in his bed. Why would he waste his time on a woman who broke up with him?

You're sure that Ms What's-her-face from his Instagram doesn't nag him about doing too much coke or fucking other women or meeting her parents or starting a fam- You throw your phone across the room and start sobbing violently. Three shots of Whiskey and too many Xanax bars later, you pass out on the sofa.

You stop stalking Dieter's Instagram after that night. You need to get your shit together before you do (even more) irreparable harm to your body and psyche. No more social media, no more alcohol, no more pills, no more Ben. He doesn't make a scene, letting you know that he'd like to stay friends. You know you don't deserve his kindness.

A few quiet weeks go by and you start to feel a bit better, now that you're not treating yourself like complete garbage. You eat well, take walks when the weather's nice and you've started dating a guy you met in the small coffeeshop near your apartment. Life is fine at the moment. You're fine.

----------

Loud knocking on your front door rips you out of deep sleep. You open your eyes in confusion and check your phone. It's 2:26 am. Probably someone coming home drunk and knocking on the wrong door. You wrap yourself in your blanket tightly and close your eyes again.

Another loud knock, now accompanied by a voice saying your name. You grunt and reluctantly get up, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders. You look through the peephole and your heart skips a beat.

“I'm sorry for waking you, babe. Thanks for letting me in, I-” Dieter looks down at his feet, fidgeting with his rings, “I didn't know where else to go.” You hand him a cup of chamomile tea, sitting down beside him on the sofa. “It's okay,” you nod, looking at his face intently. He's wearing his signature sunglasses. You assume it's because he wants to hide the evidence of his excessive drug use.

You both sit in silence for a few minutes before he lifts his head to look at you. He puts his right hand on the cushion between you two, wordlessly communicating his need for your touch. You gently place your left hand over his and move to intertwine your fingers. Dieter's breathing becomes heavier.

“What happened, Dee?” you ask quietly. When he doesn't answer, you move your right hand towards his sunglasses, watching carefully for any signs that he wants you to stop. You take the glasses off slowly and gasp when you see what he was hiding. It wasn't dilated pupils, it was a massive black eye.

You trace the swollen skin under his left eye with your thumb, causing him to wince. “I guess her husband found out?“ you ask with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood. Dieter chuckles, shaking his head. “I'm sorry,” he says, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You shrug your shoulders, “I already said it's okay you came he-” “That's not what I mean,” he interjects. “I'm sorry for everything, for hurting you. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness and you're better off without me, but I want you to know that I really am sorry.”

And just like that, the heart you've worked so hard on fixing over the past few months breaks all over again.

Tears are silently falling from your cheeks as you lie down on your bed. You're on your side, eyes closed, tears pooling on the pillow when you feel the mattress sink under Dieter's weight. He's removed his jacket and pants, now lying on his side, mirroring you, in his boxers and shirt.

He caresses your cheek and murmurs, “C'mere”. You lay your head on his chest, your right hand resting above his heart. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, kissing the top of your head.

“I do love you, you know,” he murmurs.

“I know.”

161 notes · View notes

bordysbae · 11 months

Note

1. "you're my tutor? absolutely not." with OP please!!!

“it’s a date”

owen power x reader

🦋 BORDYSBAE’S 500 CELLY

— ୨୧ —

math. the subject that you hate, and apparently also hates you just as much. the C- that’s sitting in the grade book is haunting you. so, you do the best thing possible. and that’s ask your professor if he’s aware of any math tutors. he sends you the number of one of his students, but forgets to tell you just exactly who the person is.

as you walk into the library, that’s where you see the douchebag hockey player, owen power. you’ve spoken to him a few times, but never have they been very pleasant conversations. he stole your nice pen from you, he’s always begging you for a piece of paper, and he’s also almost always chuckling with his friend in class. owen and his friend sit a couple rows behind you, and they’re such a bother. sure, you can move seats easily, but you mentally claimed that one at the start of the semester. you also refuse to give him the pleasure of seeing you move seats.

“you’re my tutor? absolutely not,” you scoff and turn on your heel, but suddenly a large hand finds it’s way upon your shoulder. you turn around, and see owen towering over you. his brown eyes are looking down at you through the glass lenses resting upon his nasal bridge.

“woah, what was that all about?” owen chuckles slightly.

“no offense, owen, but you’re not really my favorite person. i don’t really want you to see how bad i am at math and laugh in my face with your idiot friends, so i’m just gonna find someone else to tutor me. thanks though,” you falsely smile. you turn around again, leaving owen utterly shocked.

“y/n hold on!” he shouts, immediately realizing he’s in the library after he does so. you turn around and look up at the boy once again.

“yes owen?” you groan.

“just give me a chance please? i hardly even know you, so let me prove to you i’m not this douchebag you think i am,” he smiles hopefully.

you realize what’s on the line here, and agree. you’re only doing this because your grade needs to rise, and definitely not because you have a soft spot for boys with glasses.

you sit across from him at the table, and tell him about the assignments you need help with. before you even realize it, an hour passes by, and owen’s actually a really good tutor. you’re actually starting to understand, so you both decide to take a break for a few minutes. you look up from your scratch paper, and that’s when you see owen already looking at you. “still think i’m such a douche?” he teasingly asks.

you roll your eyes, “no. but you better not go report back to your friends how dumb i am then go and hold it against me,” you say pointing a finger at him.

he lets out a laugh, “i won’t don’t worry. but you’re not even dumb, y/n. you’re learning so quickly i’m impressed. i don’t even think we need a second session, but i wouldn’t mind one,” he shyly says while fidgeting with his fingers.

your eyes widen, “w-what? did you just- ask me out?” you stutter, very taken back by his words.

“um yeah, is that okay? you can say no, it’s just that i’ve thought you were really cute for awhile now,” he nervously smiles.

“of course i’ll go out with you owen. and i’m sorry for assuming you were some asshole hockey player,” you chuckle.

“well how about on saturday i pick you up and we get coffee? maybe then i can return your pen that i stole, and prove i’m not the stereotypical hockey guy,” he cheesily grins.

you gasp at his words, “you still have that pen?! and you remembered?!”

“i was actually planning on giving it back to you the next time we had class, but i totally forgot. it’s been sitting on my desk ever since,” he says with a bashful blush on his cheeks.

“well then, i guess you’ll have to give me it on saturday. it’s a date.”

#bordysbae’s 500 celly #owen power #owen power imagine #owen power blurb #owen power fluff #owen power x reader #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey

184 notes · View notes

fandsart · 10 months

Text

To Be Friends

I’ve exaggerated some of Nancy’s negative character traits slightly in this story, but it’s also for the sake of her developing past them.

Robin usually sits alone, as sad as that is. It’s whatever; she’s comfortable with it. She can usually get some reading done without any interruptions. But it’s the first day back at school since they took down Vecna, and she’s pleasantly surprised when Nancy sits across from her. They smile at each other, a little stiff without a common goal they’re trying to work for.

“You packed a lunch today,” Nancy states awkwardly.

“Actually Steve made this for me. He always dotes more after, uh… notable events. Sometimes it’s just a particularly bad nightmare. One time Dustin popped a bike tire and Steve bought him a helmet after it was fixed. He gets spikes in paranoia when he’s reminded how easily things can go wrong.”

“That does sound like him. You should try dating him.”

Robin’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Is that a real suggestion?”

“Oh! No, I just mean that he doted on me all the time when he was dating me.”

“Yeah, he’s a real sap.”

There’s a lull in the conversation before Nancy speaks up again. “It is surprising you aren’t a couple. You’re both very attractive.”

“Uh… so? I mean, thank you? I mean… I’m not interested. He’s not my type.”

Nancy hums. “Don’t worry. I understand.”

“You… do?”

“I actually have dated Steve. It probably would have been smarter to be friends first. You’re smart that way.”

“... Thank you?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m sure you’re well aware of the bullet you dodged.”

Robin chuckles uncomfortably. “Maybe? I guess that depends on what exactly you’re referring to.”

“You said yourself he tends to dote. It’s so much more extreme when he’s dating you. I don’t need to use his jacket for the one minute walk from the school to the car. I don’t need him opening doors for me. I can do that myself.”

“Uh-huh…” Robin says, trying to keep her eyes from squinting.

“And he gets so clingy. And emotional. I swear sometimes it was more like he wanted me to be his mom than his girlfriend, which is honestly so privileged. He cut off his friends for me, so it became my job to comfort him about it?”

“He was friends with them for a long time, and he didn’t have anyone else to talk to about it. He’d kind of just cut off all his other friends,” she tries to joke.

“They were assholes,” Nancy says, maintaining seriousness. “He shouldn’t have been so caught up on them.”

“If he didn’t realize just how shitty they were until you, then he must have had a lot of good experiences with them too. A lot to be conflicted about.” She knows this is the case, because Steve’s talked to her about it too.

“He shouldn’t have been friends with them in the first place.”

“So why did you date Steve for so long? Like a year, right? If he was such a shitty boyfriend? You shouldn’t have been dating in the first place?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because Steve was popular. Everyone loves him, but the only other person I thought might want me was too preoccupied to look at me. I waited a month with nothing. Can you really blame me for wanting to feel wanted and liked after my best friend died?”

“No, but I can blame you for using that as your excuse while apparently hating anything he did because he wanted and liked you. You literally started your complaints about how doting he can be.”

“What, like you don’t think it’s annoying?” And Robin knows what she means by that, but ‘annoying’ would never be the word she would use to describe it. Just… overwhelming sometimes. But understandable. “Besides, that was more of a pet peeve. You were the one who brought that up. There’s a reason I moved my complaints to him crying over his positive choices.”

And that startles Robin a bit. “He actually cried over it?”

Nancy rolls her eyes. “It was a hyperbolic idiom. But my point remains. Everyone loves him, but he was just upset that those two assholes didn’t anymore.”

“If everyone loves him why did no one turn up?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You say everyone loves him like he could have anyone, but you were all he had after Tommy and Carol immediately turned on him for pushing back one time.”

“You know what, that’s another thing. Why even be upset that someone who was willing to turn on you that quickly, did?”

“Well under that logic Steve should hate you then, shouldn’t he?”

“Oh, is that what this is about? Fine, go shoot your shot. I’m sure he’d love to have you. But don’t come crawling to me when he becomes too much for you.” With that she gets up from the table and sits at a newly vacant table.

Robin’s never ditched school before, but now she wants nothing more than to bike over to family video and hug her favorite person.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

She manages to talk herself out of skipping. She only had 2 and a half hours of school left after lunch, and none of the classes left were her best. Steve would take his break to pick her up anyway, so why put in the effort to bike all of the way there? Still, she has such a hard time concentrating on the last classes.

When she finally gets out, Steve is already parked in his usual spot, and she plops down into the seat.

“Bad day?” Steve asks.

“You know how you were hoping we could have some kind of outing with Nancy and Jonathan before the latter has to go back to California?”

“Yeah?”

“Scratch that. We’re not doing it.”

“What happened?”

She hesitates. She doesn’t want to be the one to tell him, but she also isn’t going to keep this from him. “Nancy told me that she didn’t like dating you, basically.”

“Oh, yeah, I know that.”

“And what, you're just ok with hanging out with her now?”

“I mean, it’s not her fault. She tried to like it. It’s not her fault she didn’t.”

“But it is her fault for not telling you how she felt about it. Let you think everything was fine. That’s leading you on.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not like she was trying to do that. And it’s not like hanging out with her now would involve any kind of hope that we’d get back together. She didn’t like me as a boyfriend, but we can still be friends.”

“How do you know she likes you as a friend? If she lied to you about liking you as a boyfriend.”

“We should get to work before my break is up,” he says, putting the car into gear.

They don’t talk about it after that. They don’t talk much at all for the rest of the day.

↞⬡+¤+⬡↠

Robin doesn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria after that, not wanting to deal with Nancy again. She doesn’t necessarily know that Nancy would try to start up that conversation again, but even just seeing her in the hall sours her mood a bit, so she doesn’t need to be dealing with that.

So she’s sitting in an empty classroom eating lunch when Nancy finds her.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Robin glares. “Is this not mutually beneficial?”

Nancy sighs. “Look,” she starts as she sits in the seat beside Robin, “I’m not great at taking criticism. I’m a very defensive person. I’m not good at admitting when I’m wrong, but… I was, so…”

“So…” Robin prompts.

“So you were right. I just… needed to sit on all the points for a while before I could calm down enough to actually consider them.”

“Ok. But what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m… apologizing?”

“For what?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but answers anyway. “For snapping at you, and not listening to what you were trying to tell me.”

“Ok. So what about Steve?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to apologize to him too?”

“For fighting with you?” She lets out a confused breathy laugh. “I know you guys are close but is that necessary?”

“Are you serious right now?”

Nancy blinks a few times before jolting a little. “Oh! I was too focused on- yeah, I should. It’s just been so long I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“Do you want to be friends with Steve?”

“What do you mean?”

“He still respects you, and wants to reconnect after… everything. I don’t want you to let him drag you to hang outs because it’s easier than denying a simple request, then blowing up at him about it later. Again. I don’t know if he’d come back from it a second time.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Nancy sighs. “If I want to be friends with him. I feel like… he carries an association… The whole year I was with him I was in mourning, and we only reconnected recently because of, as you worded it, ‘recent events.’ I just… every time I’ve been with him in one way or another… something bad was going on. I feel like being friends with him would just leave me on edge all the time.”

“Make sure he knows that then.” She picks up her now empty lunch tray and moves to leave the room.

“Wait, Robin!”

“Yeah?” she stops by the doorway.

“Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t know… But we can be more than not friends.”

“Yeah… I’d want to be more than ‘not friends’ with Steve too.”

“Make sure he knows.”

“Yeah…”

We never really see how Nancy responds to being wrong, because she’s never written to be. My headcanon for how she responds to it is that she gets really pissed, but after sitting on it for a long time she has a hard time denying when there’s an imbalance. She’s logical enough to know what’s right, but she’s stubborn, and bias towards her own perspective, so things like this do need to get pointed out to her and it takes her a while to come around.

#platonic stobin #stobin #platonic with a capital p #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #anti ronance #fanfic #ficlet #stranger things #fandsart

152 notes · View notes

malice-ov-mercy · 7 months

Text

Dangerous

*REPOST FROM MAIN BLOG*

Summary: Don’t look at Noah’s girl—friend or colleague be damned.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x fem!Reader

Content warning: 18+! Implied criminal organization, Possessive/Jealous/Asshole Noah, mention of killing people (but no actual depictions/descriptions, though a slight Attempt of Jolly’s life is made but it’s really more of a threat), knives, brief mention of blood, mild spice but no smut (a spice that kind just makes you go oh!)

A/N: Inspiration taken from this post by @starsomens

Part 2

————————————

Noah didn’t understand why Jolly continued to test him. He knew damn well how he felt about this girl, that he was absolutely smitten and head over heels. Sure it wasn’t an ideal situation to have put himself in, she could easily become a target—but the way she smiled at him, clung to him, how she turned him into putty to get anything she wanted, sent him into a frenzy every time. He was dangerously in love with her.

It was asinine for anyone to try and stake a claim to her when Noah already had his claws sunk deep in her heart and mind. He would scorch everything for her—even if it meant losing everything he’s spent years building with the boys. Jolly knew that, everyone around him knew that. She was his number one priority. His crew was second, job third.

Truthfully, none of them had to do this anymore. At this point, they did it for routine and enjoyment. They’d been incredibly successful and lucky enough in their work to never have to work a day in their lives again. People always say crime doesn’t pay, but for them, it’s paid very well and handsomely. Noah planned to get her the shiniest and biggest ring he could find. Even if it cost him an arm and a leg. She was worth every dime. She deserved to be showered in the finest gems and jewels.

Yet still, despite knowing Noah’s plan, Jolly insisted on flirting with her. His hugs always lingered a little too long. He always stared too much. It was clear to everyone that he had a thing, but no one said anything—except Noah. Jolly feigned ignorance. It’s like he wanted Noah to kill him. Maybe he had a death wish he wasn’t aware of. If Jolly kept up his stupid game, Noah may just have to fulfill it.

“I’ve not seriously threatened to kill you in years,” Noah said, venom evident in his voice. If looks could kill, Jolly would be dead where he stood. “So back off before we lose a vital member of our team, okay?”

Jolly says nothing. He just keeps his eyes locked onto Noah’s. They’re filled with hate—pure, unadulterated hate. Jolly knows that look very well, though he’s never been on the receiving end. He knows his friend is deathly serious, but he still wants to push his luck.

“She’s her own person. Surely—“

His words are cut short as he feels the tip of a knife just below his ribs. Noah raises a brow at him.

“Are you sure you want to finish that sentence Jolly?”

Noah pushes the knife a little more. He can’t help the sick, sinister grin that spreads across his face seeing Jolly grimace. He hadn’t stuck him, but he may have nicked his skin. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little tempted to plunge the blade into Jolly’s side. He warned that man countless times about staying away from her. This is the first time though that he’d seriously considered killing him over it—friend and colleague be damned. However, that would leave quite a mess on his expensive carpet. But still, Jolly needed to learn.

“Now, fuck off and go do your job,” Noah spits as he discreetly puts his knife away. Jolly’s deep breath and glare makes him scoff. He flips Noah off and walks away. “And if I see you near her again—“

A different knife whirs past Jolly’s head and sticks into the wall. He stands there shocked. He can feel blood trickle from a small cut on his cheek. It’s a good thing he had his hair up or else he may have gotten an unwanted haircut.

“I’ve killed for more and killed for less, Jolly. It’d be wise of you to remember that—and who.”

Jolly whips around, anger bubbling in his stomach at the satisfied smug smirk on Noah’s face.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?!”

“So I’ve been told.”

————

You leap to your feet when Jolly comes out of Noah’s office. He looks royally pissed off. The smile he gives you doesn’t reach his eyes like it usually does. He greets you all the same, though something feels off.

“Is everything okay? Did I get you in trouble?” You asked concerned. His smile softens.

“No, no of course not! Loverboy’s just in a mood is all.”

You don’t fully believe him but accept his answer anyway.

“Okay,” is all you say, offering a small smile.

“There’s that beautiful smile! The one that would start endless wars!” Jolly teases.

Your smile widens and you look down at your feet. He’s always been so kind to you. The door to Noah’s office opens. You look up and are greeted by Noah’s smile and dark eyes. He was always so happy to see you. He made you feel like you were the only woman in the entire universe.

“(Y/N)! My precious little treasure!” He said cheerfully. It made your heart skip. “Come in! I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day!”

You waved goodbye to Jolly. He half heartedly smiled and nodded. Noah’s eyes stared daggers at him.

“Jolly.” Noah said his name rather harshly.

“Yep.”

Jolly sighed heavily, shoving his hands in his pockets as he made his way down the hall.

You look between the two, concern evident on your face. Noah noticed and gently hooked a finger under your chin, coaxing your face towards him. He grinned sweetly at you. His eyes fell to your lips, lingering on them for a while. Heat spread across your cheeks when he placed his thumb on them. He leaned forward until you were face to face. Noah’s eyes came back to yours. There was a deep desire and lust in them that made your knees weak.

“How have you been?” His voice low and sultry. The heat of his breath on your lips made you dizzy.

“Uhm,” you started. The hungry smirk on his face as you felt his thumb slightly dip between your lips set your body ablaze. You felt like you were floating

“The thoughts that are running through my mind right now,” Noah’s other hand slides down to your waist and pulls you flush against him. He moves his thumb back to your chin and tilts your head up. “Step into my office.”

Noah doesn’t allow any space between you. He walks backwards into his office, carefully pulling you with him. When your both inside, he take his hand off your waist and pushes the door closed. He keeps it planted above you so he’s looking down at you. His other hand still feather light under your chin.

“You never answered my question,” he husked, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. I missed you though.”

He smiles. His head dips low again and presses his forehead to yours. He placed a soft kiss on your lips. He nuzzled your cheek then moved to your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume deeply.

“I missed you too,” he whispered against your neck.

“Are— are you and Jolly okay?” You quietly asked.

“We’re fine,” Noah brushed his lips against your skin, “Nothing to worry your gorgeous head about, my treasure.”

Noah smiled, relishing in the way your breathing faltered when he slid his knee between your legs.

“Besides,” he brought his lips back to yours, teasing you, “We have so much catching up to do.”

You gasp breathlessly as his mouth closes on your neck. He nips at the skin then kisses it tenderly. You grab at his sides, sinking your nails in his shirt. The corners of his mouth curl and he bites your neck a little harder. One of his hands comes to rest on your hip while the other ever so slightly creeps under the hem of your shirt. His touch is light.

“Noah…” you moaned.

His hand crept further up at the sound of his name. You sounded so needy.

“Hm?” He hummed against your neck.

You struggled to get your words out. He was so persistent with peppering your neck with little kisses and bites. You groaned loudly when he bit the spot, sucking just long and hard enough that there would be a mark.

“What’s the matter, (Y/N)?” He whispered in your ear, “Cat got your tongue?”

“I-I’m sorry i-if me hanging out w-w-with Jolly has you upset with him. I-it was my idea and—“

“(Y/N),” Noah cuts you off, firmly grabbing your jaw.. His eyes are dark, dangerous. You haven’t seen that look much, but you knew what it meant.

“I don’t want to talk about Jolly right now, okay?”

You nod. His gaze softens and he smiles.

“Good. Now… where were we?”

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #Noah Sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omen fanfic

75 notes · View notes

yandere-genji · 2 years

Note

Helloo, I’ve never requested a fanfic before, or on tumblr so ur my very first I’m excited ^^ ~ could you do a highschool au of like a bully!gabriel x nerd!reader where he becomes frustrated by the reader not reacting or caring about his bullying, so uses “extreme measures” to really grab their attention. non-con or dub-con, and daddy kink, if that’s okay 🤎

ok i hope u don’t mind i took some “creative liberties” with this lovely prompt and also made it college au but yea. this is an S tier request btw anon and you sucked me back into this shit so props to u 🤎 reader is gender neutral ofc (yes princess is a gen neutral term this is the 21st century)

“You’re not funny, Gabe,” you spoke through gritted teeth in an attempt to intimidate your tormentor, “give me my stuff back or else!”

He responded with a hearty chuckle, tossing your school bag into his locker and closing the door with swift kick. He was bouncing with laughter and amusement at your widened eyes, completely entertained by his own antics, “Yea? What the hell are you gonna do, tell your fucking dean? Go right ahead, see where that’ll get you with me.”

You couldn’t help but close your fists in the tightest grip you could muster, your jaw clenched and face burning red. You hated that he was right, not only was your first instinct to tattle on him, but it would get you nowhere. Gabriel Reyes was untouchable. The school’s quarterback with a promising future that would surely put them on the map once he continued with his career. It made you sick that this asshole would only get a slap on the wrist and a stroke to his ego if you asked anyone to do anything about his harassment of you. What could you do, then? There’s no way in hell you’re just going to sit here and take it.

“No, I’m not running to anyone. Trust me when I say this, you’ll regret messing with me!” The threat didn’t come out the way you intended. Your voice fell out with a crack in the midst of your reply, and tears threatened to fall from your wet eyes. You had hoped he might second guess his actions and consider that you might actually fulfill your promise. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect on him. It seemed to have egged him on even further.

His smile widened and he pushed you against the wall. You gasped at the impact, you could feel a dull pain on your back. Hopefully it wouldn’t leave a mark. Before you could get out of your dazed state, Gabe caged you in with his arms, looking down at you like a starved wolf, “You’re really gonna make this fun for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not scared of you,” you whispered, breath unstable and heart pounding in your ears.

Gabe’s smile beamed. He looked like almost perfect, straight and impossibly white teeth. Full lips and sharp jawline with hints of facial hair. His eyes were dark, like a black hole pulling you in the more you looked into them. Keeping his gaze only revealed to you how weak you were under him. Something he must be aware of by the way he was forcing you to look at him.

He knew you found him handsome. You had told him as much the day you had met him. The day he set his sights on you. He had been much nicer to you then. Saying hi to you in the halls, asking if you wanted to sit with him during lunch, and not taking your shit and throwing it in his locker. But you never came around to him when he asked you if you wanted to go out sometime. You didn’t want to go out with anyone, you were far too focused on schoolwork and tutoring on the side. Dating and boyfriends was just something you didn’t have time for. So you had to refuse and be on your way.

Gabe never understood why you rejected him. How could you be too busy for him? You were always studying in the library, or just reading because you enjoyed it, you said. That’s what all this was about? Reading? That’s like asking your professor for more exams. What kind of masochist shit is that? You must’ve been into that considering all the shit you had to put up with from him.

But fuck, he just couldn’t help but taunt you. The way you insisted upon standing up for yourself even though your face read that you were completely terrified, it did something to him that he couldn’t describe. It made him want to break you. Tear you down and finally see you cry, beg him to stop, beg him to be nice. Just completely melt into him. He wanted to see you on your knees, on all fours, face level with his cock and crying for his forgiveness. For his attention. For any sense of mercy he had for you in his heart.

And you did nothing to quell his desires. Always so pompous in your academic achievements like you were to hottest shit in town. Just like when you became president of the debate club, you gloated about it nonstop until Gabe knocked the wind out of your sails. It didn’t piss him off that you were doing well. In fact, a part of him admired you for it. No, it was the fact that you pranced around so proud before him but you weren’t his. You weren’t asking him if you’d made him proud. Weren’t even talking to him about it. He had to hear about it from a friend of his who was into your nerd shit. Pissed him off to no end.

Now you were here. Trembling under him like a fucking pathetic worm. Yet, you still insisted on defying him. Denying him the pleasure of seeing you vulnerable before him. You were a tease through and through and Gabe was intent on getting what belonged to him. You stared up at him with wet eyes for what seemed like forever until the your phone alarm rang, signaling the start of your next class.

“Well, what do you know. Looks like it’s time for this bright little student to get to class,” he pushed himself away from the wall that had bruised your back, turning back to you, “Hope you didn’t need anything in that backpack of yours today, what a shame.”

……..

As turns out, you would need that backpack of yours. In fact, Gabe must’ve been a stalker creep because his timing couldn’t have been any better - or worse, for you. You had to give a presentation for your language comp class and both your laptop and flash drive were in your backpack. Of course you hadn’t factored in the fact Gabe was going to steal your shit. So, for the meantime, you were screwed until you could get it back.

Maybe this was an opportunity for you to reconcile with him, you thought. Sure, he was hot-headed and seemed sadistically interested in making you miserable, but you couldn’t keep going on like this forever. What was his end goal? You hadn’t the faintest clue, truth be told, but maybe if you could just cut the bullshit with him, go right to the brass tacks of it all and lay everything bare on the table, maybe, maybe, maybe the two of you could come to terms with whatever issues you had. You weren’t unreasonable but you had been stubborn with Gabe. You had hoped he was stop acting like a dick or get bored with you, but nothing you had tried with him so far was effective. So screw it. Might as well try to compromise with the guy and hope he could listen to reason.

Your class ended at noon, the busiest time at your school. Everyone was racing out the door and headed for the cafeteria. Among the crowd, you were determined to find Gabe and, most importantly, your school bag.

You had caught him in the hall standing next to his locker, chatting it up with Jack Morrison, class president and all around golden boy. This was your chance, you thought. You eagerly made your way towards them, Gabe noticing you maneuvering in the crowd in an effort to reach him. An effort that already had him grinning from ear to ear as he averted his attention away from Jack. Before you made you way to them, he was already gone. Gabe shooed him away with words you couldn’t make out, and the two of you were standing side by side in the bustling hall.

You stared at each other for a moment, not saying a word. He knew what you wanted, knew you were going to approach him at some point, but the intent on your face was not what he expected. Your brows furrowed, eyes almost pleading. Jaw slightly slack and bottom lip hanging open as if to speak but all that was heard was the crowd of hungry students running through the halls like a parade. It left him speechless, the very sight of you. You were speechless, too, not sure how to approach him without some form of hostility in your voice. But the halls soon cleared and the silence was deafening. You took a breath, trying to start the conversation.

Gabe spoke, interrupting you, “What do you want?”

It had been so long since you heard him speak that way. Still voice, no sign of amusement or taunting. Almost as if he were genuinely curious as to why you were there. But you both knew that wasn’t true. You decided to play along, let him lead.

“I’d like to have my stuff back,” you spoke with your voice as aloof as you could muster, looking at his locker, “I have a presentation next class and I need my laptop.”

He hummed in response, “Well,” he began to play with the lock, twisting it mindlessly any which way, “guess that means you want me to fetch it for you, right?”

You shrugged, “Not necessarily. I could get it myself if you prefer, I just don’t know your combo is all.”

He chuckled. The sound was so jarring to you, your body instinctively flinched. He looked up at you from the lock, meeting your eyes with that same predatory look from earlier. Everything was still for a moment. Then, Gabe straighten his posture and spoke, “You don’t need to know it. It’s not here.”

“Wha-” your eyes squinted in frustrated confusion. You exhaled, trying to keep your composure, “Okay, where is it? Do you think I could get it back before my next class?”

Gabe could tell you were starting to drop whatever act you were playing. It was cute to see you try to keep your cool with him, the muscles on his face were burning with delight, “Sure.”

You crossed your arms and sighed, starting to grow impatient, “So where is it?”

He turned away from you, slowly walking down the hall, “This way,” he whistled at you like a dog while motioning with his two fingers for you to follow him. How insufferable.

But you did. It seemed that your method had some impact on him. This could be the break you had been looking for. You followed him down the corridor, wrapping around the halls with him until he came to a stop in front of the boys’ locker room. He turned towards you, leaning against the wall looking ever so smug.

You mouth fell open and eyes widened a bit. Huffing, you shook your head, “No way.”

“What?” he kept his eyes on you, “Don’t tell me you’re too prissy to go into a locker room.”

“There’s no way I’m going to go in there with you, Gabe!” you raised your voice a bit in frustration. He couldn’t be serious, right?

“Christ, relax, princess. Coach is out for lunch and I swiped his keys earlier,” he shook his pockets which rang with the jiggling of the keys, “Go on in, nothing to be scared of.”

What he was describing had to break some kind of law, but it’s not like he’d really get in trouble anyway. Not everyone can do this kind of shit, but Gabe could. Even worse, he could get away with it even if he was caught. So what option did you have but to walk through the doors into the dank locker room that reeked of sweat. Much to your unease, Gabe followed behind you and locked the door. He raised the keys in his hands, letting you have a good look at them, “Gotta make sure no one sees us, right?”

You shook your head in disapproval, “Where’s my stuff? Or are you just gonna drag me around all day?”

He scoffed, “You got a real attitude problem, you know that?” Gabe grabbed your elbow in a tight grip. You gasped, struggling to escape his grasp, “Calm down, just come with me.”

“You’re hurting me!” You put your hand on his wrist in some attempt to get him off of you, and he thankfully obliged by pushing you away from him.

“Don’t have a high pain tolerance, I take it? All bark and no bite. Didn’t take you for the type with all those empty threats you spill,” he began walking off, “you coming?”

Although Gabe was mean to you, he had never really hurt you before. Not physically. It shook your core a bit, the atmosphere seemed all wrong and the fact he was your only way to escape did nothing but frighten you more.

“Gabe?” you softly called out his name, not wanting to go any further.

He stopped. Your voice cut through him like a knife. You had never spoken to him like that. He could hear the fear in your voice, hear you on the verge of pleading for him. He turned his head, but didn’t dare look you in the eyes, “What?” he spoke sternly, demanding an answer.

You weren’t sure what to say. So many emotions were running through you - mostly fear and confusion. This was something different than a fight or flight response. You couldn’t describe it, you didn’t want to run away or fight back. You just wanted to appeal to whatever sense of reason he had.

“Why don’t you like me?” your voice was weak, a kind of weakness you hadn’t spoken with in a long time. Completely vulnerable, willing to bare everything for just one moment of clarification. Just one reason why things were like this. It was something you were wondering all along, but could never bare to ask. The kind of thing that is sunken in the deepest pit of your subconscious, never baring its head until you’re backed up into a corner just like this.

He turns around slowly, deliberately. The look on his face is almost pitiful, but not authentic. He’s taunting you with a false vulnerability. Now you’ve done it. You’ve completely unraveled before him. He didn’t know this could be so easy. The two of you had been chasing each other in circles for the better part of half a year and it’s finally come to this. There was no farce, no tricks behind your words.

Three steps was all it took for him to close the gap between the two of you. Three agonizing slow steps. Your hands were clasped together, you didn’t even know why. You felt so small. He wouldn’t answer you. He just looked at you with that look on his face that mirrored yours yet had no purpose but to mock you. Like he was teasing you, just like he had always done. No, this wasn’t working for you at all. None of what you had been doing was working. He had set a trap for you and you foolishly fell right into it.

“Gabe,” you spoke, just barely above a whisper on shaken breath. He raised a hand to your cheek. It had barely touched you but the feeling of his calloused hand and the tension in the air had your flesh burning. Your eyes stung, too, as tears threatened to fall from them. Just like always, you fought at your instinct to cry. But you couldn’t stop a tear from sliding down your cheek and onto his hand.

“Gabe, please,” you were starting to raise your voice. You wanted to turn away, step back, retreat in some way. But he hand kept you there.

He crouched a bit, eyes level with yours. They were dark. Hazelnut brown and an empty black center that was so close to you, you could make out your own reflection. You could hardly recognize yourself.

“Look at you…” his voice was low, but affectionate. Like he was speaking to a wounded kitten, “And all this time I thought you were nothing but a brat.”

He lowered his hand from you cheek and onto the back of your neck. You felt a light squeeze from his grip and swallowed at the sensation, “As much as I want to keep you here, I think we both got places to be. Right, honey?”

Your face grew red with embarrassment at the sudden sweetness in his voice. He was talking to you like his pet, a part of you was relieved that he might not harm you but another part of you felt belittled and tormented. Still, you wanted to comply with him in some desperate hope to get out of this mess. So you nodded, mouth knit shut and eyes brimming with tears.

“Good. Then behave for me,” In a sudden movement, his hands gripped your shoulders tightly and you knees buckled in shock. You yelped as Gabe continued to push you down onto the floor. Your hands grabbed at his arms, trying to get him off of you but it was no use. He was far too strong for you to move him off of you. A hand moved to the back of your neck like before and another grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged gently, “The faster we get through this, the sooner you can get your shit and get out of here. If you don’t behave, then this won’t be pretty. Not one fucking bit.”

Gabe isn’t like you. He’s not the kind of guy who just says shit to scare people. When he declares his intent, he means it. And whatever picture he had in his head of what he was going to do to you if you didn’t comply, you certainly didn’t want to see it. You tried to relax your body as much as you could to cope with whatever he had planned for you.

His hand moved from your back and wrapped around your throat, the other forcing your head to look up at him. He didn’t grip hard but you were already choking on weak sobs and felt suffocated. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to piss him off or provoke him anymore than you already had. Apparently he didn’t mind, and pulled himself closer to you. His crouch was getting disturbingly close to your face, you averted your gaze away from him onto the floor.

Turns out, he didn’t like that. He tugged your hair to get your attention, “What’s the matter, you getting shy on me? Crazy, I never took you for the type. Always talking up a big game, but now look at you.”

With one swift motion, he unclasped his jeans. His briefs peaked through his open zipper and revealed his hard cock through the fabric. You gasped, not realizing what was happening up until that point. You had thought he was just going to beat the piss out of you. No, you couldn’t handle this. Mindlessly babbling, you begged him not to do this, asked him to please stop. Tears were running down your face frantically as you took in sharp, panicked breaths. Gabe soaked in the sight of you, growing larger at your pathetic display. This is exactly what he wanted. To tower over you, commanding complete control while you sit helpless before him. He grabbed a tuft of your hair, pulling hard as he forced your face onto his crouch. Your tongue spilled out and your hands tried to pull away from him but the more you pulled the harder he would grind into you. You could hear him laugh above you and felt his laughter vibrate through his body. It was useless, nothing was getting through to him.

He pulled you off of him and onto the floor. Before you could move, his legs caged you in before him, “C’mon, we’re just getting started.”

He grabbed your hair again, pulling you onto your knees. The floor was hard and cold and it didn’t take more than a few seconds for it to hurt your knees. You tried to get in a more comfortable position, but Gabe denied you at every turn. So you leaned on your knees, certain it would leave a mark.

Your face was level with his crouch and he made a display for you in undressing himself. Slowly tracing the band of his briefs, pulling down to show you the dark hair on his body. He was toying with you and enjoying every second of it, moaning with every touch. Part of you hoped that this was all he wanted, that he wouldn’t make you participate in bringing him pleasure besides watching. But when he sprung his leaking cock out of his briefs, you felt your self wanting to sink into the floor.

He was big and you were not prepared at all to take him. He stroked his cock, precum bubbling and drooling at the tip, “See that, baby” he hummed and laughed, enjoying himself, “You’re gonna clean up Daddy’s cock real nice, aren’t you?”

You didn’t think your face could get any hotter, but it did at that moment. More tears fell and you struggled to let out a normal breath. Gabe pulled harshly on your hair, “You better fucking answer me.”

It was too much. The stinging in your scalp, the hot tears on your burning face, the heavy beating of your heart in your chest. All you could do is resign yourself to his desire and pray to God this would all be over soon, “Yes, Daddy.”

He threw his head back and stroked himself faster, obviously very pleased with himself now that he had your total compliance. Exhaling, he looked down at the sight of you. Desperate tiny frame right next to his hard, leaking cock.

“Take it in your mouth. Don’t make me wait. I’m a busy man, I have shit to do.”

You opened your mouth and licked his tip clean, salty and slimey precum covering your tongue. Inch by inch you took him in your mouth. You fit half his cock in your mouth before his started pumping into you, lewd sounds of your gagging echoing in the empty room. Gabe groaned, hissed, growled in pleasure as he gently fucked your mouth, covering your face in spit and tears and his juices. You were a mess and he felt so fucking good. His thrust became faster, deeper and you choked on him with every one. You didn’t think you could possibly take him all in, but he forced your head down until your chin met with his plump balls and you nose was tickled by his pubic hair.

“That’s it, so good for Daddy,” sweat made his skin glow as he forced you deeper and deeper onto him, “you’re gonna swallow ever last drop of me, baby.”

You could hardly breath. Your mouth was full of the taste of him and the air around you smelled like his cock and sweat. He was all around you and you had no escape.

You sucked on his cock so hard your jaw felt like it was going to break. You just wanted this all to be over and done with. Fuck, all this for a fucking powerpoint presentation. Every part of you ached and burned. Even between your thighs, your own arousal was stirring without warning, desperately squeezing your thighs together for any sense of relief.

“You like that, baby?” he asked hoarsely, “If you weren’t such a fucking brat, maybe I would’ve let you cum.“

You cried out on his cock, sending waves of pleasure through him. He was getting close, frantically fucking your face with more fervor. It wasn’t long before he let go of your hair, putting both his hands on your head and using your mouth like a fucktoy.

“Don’t fuckin move baby, Daddy’s gonna cum right down your throat,” sweat dripped down his chest, right onto your lips as he held your face flush against him. In a few jagged pumps, he emptied himself in your mouth. It was warm and tasted so strongly of his cock that you couldn’t help but instantly swallow, not wanted to gag. More tears came rushing out of you. Thank God, it was finally over.

He let go of your face and you tore yourself from him, coughing and gasping for air. Gabe had to catch his breath, too. Leaning against a row of lockers, he cleaned himself off with a roll of paper towels nearby and redressed himself. You curled into a ball, completely humiliated and unsure what to do next. What time was it? Oh God, you still had to go to class.

You were interrupted when Gabe approached you, towel in hand. His chest was rising and falling, but he wasn’t panting anymore, “C’mon, get yourself cleaned up. I’ll get your shit.”

Reluctantly, you reached for the towel and cleaned whatever moisture on your face that hadn’t already dried up. Your hair was a complete mess. You tried your best to untangle it but there was no way you could fully restore it with just your fingers.

Gabe came back, your backpack in his hands. Your heart soared, relief washing over you, “Consider this a reward. You really impressed me today.”

You blushed, ashamed and not sure what to say. You felt embarrassed at having been so violated but a shallow part of you felt superficially flattered. You wanted to pull that part of you out and punch it in the fucking face.

He tutted, “You gonna be shy around me now? Shit, I don’t mind, you’re kinda cute like this.”

His arms wrapped around you in a soft hug and your body froze. This was all too much for you, “It’s okay, baby. Let me walk you to class. No one’s gonna give a shit if I’m late.”

“I don’t feel good,” you said softly, throat sore and raw after the abuse.

“Poor thing,” Gabe pulled away to get a look at your face. You still wouldn’t look at him. He felt like a fucking king when you were blowing him but looking at you now… Well he kind of felt like a shit head. But damn if you didn’t like good, “Skip class with me. Let’s get you something to eat.”

You didn’t want to be with Gabe right now. But you didn’t want to go to class either. You just wanted to go to bed, “Can you take me home, Gabe?”

“Of course, baby,” He stroked your hair and gave you and gentle kiss on the forehead, you recoiled, “Let’s get you home, alright?”

#punching the air and screaming into the void with this one #ig ow2 have me back here oh well #yandere #yandere overwatch #yandere!overwatch #dark overwatch #dark!overwatch #yandere reaper #reaper x reader #overwatch au #yandere gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes x reader #gabriel reyes #yandere!gabriel reyes #daddy issues #tw: noncon #tw: dubious consent

472 notes · View notes

ceruleanwhore · 7 months

Text

Aang As a Father, in Response to LoK

⚠️CAUTION⚠️

This post is full of Aang and kataang hate. If you like Aang and/or ship kataang in any capacity, scroll on for the sake of your mental and emotional wellbeing. Thank you!

When Avatar: Legend of Korra came out, I remember there being tons of discussion around how much Aang sucked as a father and how surprised everyone was, even some of us who never really liked him as a character. However, I’ve been thinking about it today, and the conclusion I’ve reached is that not only is it not surprising that Aang was not a very good parent, but it was inevitable. The one thing I disagree on that I’ll get to at some point in here is how he sucked at parenting in canon as opposed to how I think he was set up to fail at it given the direction he was headed with his canon characterization.

I’d like to start by getting into that characterization and discussing some of the elements of Aang’s canon personality that I think are relevant. In the series, yes, as we all know and as Aang stans love to point out ad nauseum, he’s just a mere bitty child, but we can also see some of his flaws that, even in his 12-year-old self, have some serious consequences at times. Canon Aang is a messy cocktail of toxic positivity, selfishness, avoidant tendencies, impulsivity, and a dangerous lack of emotional control. He does things like casually throw away the fate of the whole world over his god-given right to have a crush on a girl and then, in the next season, compare that same girl’s experience of losing her mother to his radically different experience of losing his pet for a couple weeks as he tells her to get over it. He also has a tendency to go into the freaking avatar state when he’s upset about something and cause serious damage to everything around him until Mommy calms him down. Even when he doesn’t go into the avatar state, he does things like verbally abuse his friends and abandon them in the desert when Appa goes missing.

All of this is completely relevant to who a hypothetical adult Aang would be and what he’d be like because, all throughout the series, there is never any accountability from Aang. He literally never takes responsibility for the things he does and makes amends or even just apologizes in a meaningful way because he never has to — the narrative makes sure of that. That’s the key part of Aang’s flaws, that Bryke genuinely thought they made a perfect good guy and had nary a crumb of self awareness that they accidentally made him a raging asshole who is constantly being rewarded for his shitty behavior. Even when he’s clearly in the wrong, like with the Bato situation in s1, they somehow turn it around so yeah, I guess he fesses up and apologizes but, at the end of the episode, Sokka and Katara are apologizing to him and there’s no lasting consequences for the shitty thing he did. Because of this crucial element of the story and Aang’s character, it is very likely that he’d go his whole life being a dickhead while continuing to never have consequences for that and somehow managing to maintain his friendships and relationship with Katara.

I want to kind of go through these one at a time, starting with the lack of accountability. Since Aang is the avatar, literally no one in the whole world of atla actually has authority over him, at least once he’s an adult. His peers are his equals but, even though Katara, Toph, and Zuko taught him his bending, they don’t really have any tangible authority over him as his teachers. Combine that with the fact that none of Aang’s friends really ever criticize him or hold him accountable for his actions and it becomes very clear that, as a father, he will never actually be held accountable for being a bad parent. What goes with this is that he also won’t be open to advice because he assumes he always knows best and the narrative also supports and rewards that. Between the two, he’s set up so that when he inevitably turns out to be a lousy father, there will be nothing anyone can say (assuming they would even say anything at all) to help him improve.

With this in mind, let’s start into the actual character flaws that, as concluded above, won’t be corrected at any point, starting with the toxic positivity. One of Aang’s most recognizable characteristics is his bright, cheery disposition which can be a good thing but also leads to him being very dismissive of anyone else’s problems or negative emotions. As a parent, he would never take his children’s problems seriously and would simply brush them off and tell his kids to practice detachment and just let go of whatever is bothering them, regardless of how serious the issue is or how much it matters to the kid. This will teach the kids both not to even try to bring their problems to at least one of their parents and also that any problem they have is actually inconsequential, so even when they do have really big, serious issues in life, they won’t be able to recognize it as such and get whatever help they might need. It also will convey to them that their own father just doesn’t really care about them, at least not enough to engage with them in any capacity about anything serious.

Next up is Aang’s selfishness. Throughout atla, we see time and time again that Aang struggles greatly with prioritizing literally anyone else over his own comfort and desires. He was more than willing to sacrifice the whole world for his ability to avoid having to engage in conflict and then, in season 2, he showed that he was 100% willing to sacrifice the whole world for his crush on Katara. It’s not just that he tends to thoughtlessly give into his impulses and desires without giving thought to how it affects others, it’s also that, because of who he is, that has the potential to cause immense damage and he still doesn’t care. As a father, he would always put himself before his wife and his children. He would treat Katara at least as badly and unfairly as he did in canon and his children would have the lovely experience of watching that and also growing up in a household where their wants and needs don’t really matter to their own father.

Another key factor when it comes to Aang’s personality is his avoidant tendencies. We see multiple times throughout the series just how far he’ll go to avoid doing things he doesn’t want to do, like preventing the world from complete destruction. In his household, I imagine he’d want no part of any of the real, ‘messy’ aspects of parenthood and would just have Katara do all those things. Anything to do with the mess of child care (changing diapers, cleaning up spit up, any sort of wound care for scraped knees, etc.), conflict resolution between quarreling siblings, or correction of misbehavior would fall to her. He, like plenty of real men, would only want to do the cute, fun parts of parenthood, like taking the kids to Disney, while making Mom the ‘bad guy’ who has to do all the real work.

Then there’s also the impulsivity. Aang tends to get these ideas of things he wants to do and then, without any further thought, just goes and does them. This can be pretty harmless when it’s something like wanting to go penguin sledding and then going off and doing it but, as we’ve seen, there’s plenty of times where it isn’t, like when he hides Hakoda’s correspondence from Katara and Sokka in s1 because he’s feeling pissy. In parenthood, I think this is where we ended up with the unfair treatment showed in LoK because it’s his impulsivity driving it, but I don’t actually think he’d be out here treating his kids differently based on bending abilities, I think they’d all be pretty equally getting the short end of the stick from him.

The way I see his impulsivity coming out with his family is either with grabbing the kids to go do something on a whim (like riding the elephant koi) or going off on his own or with Katara on some spur of the moment trip that leaves their kids alone or drags them away from home for weeks at a time with no notice. If they’d leave the kids alone while going off without them, that could lead to trauma around neglect and abandonment while, if they take the kids with them, the kids get stuck being dragged along and then ignored while Aang goes off to do all the stuff he’s there for that the kids weren’t really ever supposed to actually be part of. I think that, with stuff like this, the avoidance, and the toxic positivity, he’d think that he’s setting himself up to be the cool, fun dad with Katara being made out to be the ‘bad guy’ when, in truth, he’s out here fucking up his children and they’re going to know and hate him for it in the end.

The last part is the matter of his inability to regulate his emotions. It’s bad enough for anyone to have to sit there and watch as the same toxic positivity dickhead then struggles with anger issues he never even so much as apologizes for, but for his kids, I’m sure it’s unbearable. My dad has struggled with anger issues my whole life, as have I, but we take responsibility and we’ve both spent over two decades working on ourselves, trying to get better. Aang would never do that in any capacity. For his children, they’d get this environment where they can never be upset at all because it bothers Dad but then Dad can fly off into the fucking avatar state as soon as he’s even mildly inconvenienced. This model of ‘you being upset is just a little inconvenience you need to get over but when Dad’s upset it’s a huge deal and he’s actually allowed to be upset’ would be downright infuriating to live with and would definitely contribute to their children’s childhood trauma. It’s not just that you’re not allowed to be upset, it’s also that you always have to be walking on eggshells trying not to set this guy off.

Another thing I would add to this last point is something I learned from my family that I think is relevant here. My dad genuinely thought he was totally normal and didn’t have any anger issues until my brother and I were born, and he also was always really great with other people’s kids and never had problems there until he was working on the railroad with two babies at home. Yes, we’ve already seen Aang’s anger issues in canon, but I would also speculate that his mood and stuff would get worse once Tenzin’s born. This could either lead to him being absent for most of the kids’ early childhoods as he’d just avoid being around them if they’re triggering him or his anger issues could get worse and more prevalent once there’s kids in the mix. Either would be detrimental to his children’s mental health.

So I guess my point here is that LoK having it so Aang’s whole issue with fatherhood is that he treated his kids unequally doesn’t really cover the ways in which he’s set up to be a terrible father. I really don’t think favortism would even be an issue (I think all 3 kids would get dragged around to air nomad stuff, not just Tenzin) but Lord knows there’s other issues to be considered here. As a father, Aang would be selfish, impulsive, dismissive, thoughtless, and hypocritical as well as probably struggling with completely unchecked anger issues. His children would have trauma because of him and they would hate him, but not because he would leave two behind while dragging the eldest around on vacations. The cherry on top of the shit sundae of Aang’s fatherhood is that he would have no self awareness whatsoever as all of this would go unchecked by his wife and friends, so he would genuinely believe that he’s a good, fun, loving father all the way up to the moment of his death.

#anti aang #aang critical #aang slander #aang salt #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #a:tla #avatar meta #atla meta

65 notes · View notes

hopelessromantic5 · 3 months

Text

This is heavily based on a grumpy/sunshine skit that I’m obsessed with on tiktok. She deserves the credit for all of it, I just plugged our two favorite idiots into the empty spots.

Link to the video:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Wdm2VH/

“Your car is outside but you can’t text me back?” Arthur yells out before his feet are over the threshold of the front door. “So how was it? You have to tell me, is that his real hair or a wig to persuade cheap losers into buying ten pound shots?”

He froze as soon as he lifted his head and saw a face in the kitchen that was certainly not Merlin.

“Oh…” is what he gets out in response. “Sorry.”

The man, Gwaine, he’s assuming, simply grins back and shakes his luscious head of hair.

“No worries.” He chuckles. “It’s all natural, I’m afraid.” Then he tugs on one of the strands as if to demonstrate that it won’t come off.

Arthur is trying to find an excuse to walk back out the door he just entered but Gwaine stops him with

“Wait, I know you.” Smiling in good nature.

Arthur just looks at him.

“You come in with Merls sometimes,” the pieces seem to be clicking for him as he continues. Arthur was stuck on ‘Merls’?

“Oh! You work the corporate joint, that’s why we don’t see you much.”

Arthur can barely shrug.

“Yeah, it keeps me on the clock pretty late, don’t always get to join lads night.”

“Shame.” Gwaine mirrors his shrug. “You want a drink?”

“Nah, it’s a little late for me, mate.” Awkwardly he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and begged desperately for an out.

Thankfully, Merlin reappeared from the hallway at that second.

“I’ll take one!”

“There he is.” Gwaine smiled as he set about making the drink.

“I see you’ve met my flatmate.” Merlin smiles softly at him for a split second before turning his attention back to his date.

Arthur is suddenly very warm. And feeling asphyxiated by his tie.

“Yeah, we’ve seen each other around.”

Arthur is discovering that Gwaine probably doesn’t have a conniving bone in his body, which only makes him that much more irritated at how…irritated he is. Gwaine isn’t even an asshole. He’s just himself, and Arthur doesn’t know why he’s so angry.

Or maybe he does.

“That was fast.” Merlin said peering down at the martini glass Gwaine placed in front of him.

“Is this one mine?”

“Of course, go for it.” Gwaine encourages him.

As soon as Merlin takes a sip, Arthur knows by the look on his face, that he doesn’t like it.

The Pendragon heir scans the counter and finds exactly why.

Before he can catch his mouth, he blurts out

“You hate gin.”

“What?” Merlin turns impossibly innocent. “No, I don’t.”

“Hey, it’s not everyone’s drink of choice. I will not be offended in the slightest if you-“

“I don’t, though. I like it.” Merlin cuts him off.

“You’re a terrible liar, too. I always try to get him to taste a Negroni or something with a little more flavor and he always says ‘I can’t drink this shit, it tastes like rubbing alcohol.’”

“Well, that’s when you make it. When he makes it, it’s actually good.” Merlin tips his head back and downs the rest of the martini.

When he’s finished, still holding Arthur’s gaze, unwavering, he sets the glass down on the marble countertop and requests,

“Another, please.”

Gwaine, still smiling as ever, is happy to oblige.

“Comin right up.”

Arthur is a little lost, Merlin’s eyes on him and Gwaine standing there looking at him like he knows, but he doesn’t know, he can’t know.

There’s nothing to know.

In a panic, he pretends his phone is ringing, still unable to tear his eyes away from Merlin’s unmerciful face until the last second.

“I’m…um..getting a call. So I’m just gonna…” and then without grabbing his keys or his coat, he leaves out the front door.

Cold, September air knocking the awareness back into him.

What the hell is going on with him today?

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin and arthur #merthur fic #merthur drabble #scribbles basically #and they were roommates #gwaine #Gwaine the bartender #corporate Arthur #grumpy x sunshine

35 notes · View notes

our-death-means-flag · 1 year

Note

izzy hands x reader with enemies to lovers. that’s it. that’s the ask. im so in love w that angy little man

Bonding Under Duress

Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader Summary: Stede really wants the crew to get along or at the very least tolerate each other. Unfortunately that includes you and Izzy. So the two of you get sent on an errand for the captains with the actual goal of the two of you getting to know each other. A storm has other plans and you and Izzy learn much more than you wanted to about each other… Warnings: minor descriptions of injury, Izzy being very mean to himself, angst, hurt/comfort

“Absolutely fockin’ not!”

“As much as I hate to agree with that asshole, no.”

For once you and Izzy agreed on something, both of you glaring at each other when you realized.

Stede wilted. You immediately felt the urge to comfort him. “Captain, I’m not trying to question your judgment here, but really, no. There’s no need for this.” You reassured.

Izzy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Fockin’ ridiculous…” He grumbled under his breath. “I don’t take orders from you, you posh twat.” He snapped at Stede.

You immediately shot him a deathly glare. “God, you're predictable. Get some new material or just shut the fuck up.”

“Hey now, both of you. I’m not asking.” Stede puffed his chest out a tad. “It’s an order from your captain. I’m not expecting you two to become best friends or anything. All you need to do is go on that island and bring back some peaches! Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours and who knows, you may learn something about each other.” Stede seemed very optimistic.

You sighed, already nodding, well aware of how far Stede was willing to go for an idea like this.

Izzy seemed to be about to protest when Ed leaned in. “An order from both of your captains actually!” He chimed in.

“Edward…” Izzy all but whined.

“Izzy.” Edward echoed, even mockingly copying Izzy’s whiny tone.

You watched as Izzy’s face flushed every shade of red, though whether it was rage or embarrassment or maybe both, you couldn’t tell. You bit your lip to keep yourself from laughing. Izzy must have noticed since that seemed to set him off. “Oh fuck off. I’m not going to some stupid fockin’ island to get some stupid fockin’ peaches with this stupid fockin’-

“Bye! See you in a few hours! Have fun, you two!” Ed yelled cheerfully as he was towed away.

You waved while watching Izzy in your peripheral vision. The bastard looked furious. So much so that he was practically vibrating with rage. Then again he had been thrown over Ed’s shoulder like a bag of potatoes and all but dragged here.

“So…” You finally asked, drawing the word out, on guard in case he decided to bite you. “Let’s go find some stupid fockin’ peaches, eh?” You couldn’t manage to mimic Izzy’s voice but if you said so yourself, your ‘fock’ was pretty accurate.

Izzy snarled. “Piss off. We’re not working together. I’m going one way and you go the other.” He turned on his heels and stormed closer to the edge of the forested part of the island. You merely waited. He paused, deep in thought, glanced one way, then the other and then seemingly realized what you already knew.

You, of course, decided to rub it in. “I sure won’t stop you if that’s what you want. But I’d recommend against it. Not only is it against captains’ orders but when was the last time you did any navigating on land?” Izzy seethed and you grinned. “Also I have all the stuff, since rather than acting like a feral dog, I actually packed so… again, all your call of course.”

Izzy very obviously considered running off on his own if just to spite you but instead he turned quickly and stormed up to you. “Fine. You’re right.” He said it like the words burned his throat. “But I swear if you get us lost-“

“Yes, yes, I know, you’ll maim me and/or kill me in some creatively brutal and violent fashion.” You waved a hand dismissively. Deciding to go further you added. “Which you and I both know you won’t do since that’d piss off the captains.” You knew you shouldn’t keep teasing but you enjoyed watching Izzy turn red.

With a seething Izzy following you, you started trekking into the forest. Luckily you’d come prepared and had brought along your wide knife to cut through the foliage. The terrain of the island wasn’t quite the same as the ones you’d been on before but it was close enough.

The two of you walked mostly in silence with you occasionally warning about upcoming hazards in your path. You easily navigated the uneven terrain but Izzy had significantly more difficulty. Probably because he was used to a ship. As much as a ship swaying could mess up your balance, it was not comparable to uneven weird terrain like this.

The first few times you’d chimed in with a “careful” or “watch your step” Izzy had snarled back at you to “Fuck off”. But after nearly falling on his ass a few times, he started to take your warnings more seriously.

(Honestly you deserved sainthood for not laughing until your lungs failed every time he almost fell. Especially since he’d always flail and pinwheel his arms to keep steady. Something made even funnier by the fact that he was unharmed beside his ego.)

Luckily for both Izzy and your composure, you managed to track down the peach tree quickly enough. As you clambered up the tree and gathered up the requested fruit, Izzy stood around looking woefully out of place.

You really were trying to work on Stede’s ridiculous bonding plan but you couldn’t resist and pelted Izzy with a peach. You nailed him dead center in the chest. He jumped clearly not having expected the sudden fruit attack but somehow his reaction time was quick enough to catch the peach as it bounced off his chest. He shot you a glare which you returned with a smile. Izzy tossed the peach in his hand, clearly silently considering throwing it back at you. However you simply motioned with the extra bag you’d brought which was currently full of peaches, making it readily apparent that you would in fact, return fire and that you had much more ammo. He backed off.

You climbed down from the tree and just as you were sorting yourself out…

BONK.

A peach contacted the side of your head. You spun to face Izzy and he had the gall to look confused and innocent despite the fact that he clearly no longer had a peach in hand. You couldn’t help but smirk as you ducked down to pick up the peach and as you were standing up (but before you fully did) you threw it at him.

It just kept going that way as the two of you walked back. The peach being tossed back and forth with varied strength. Whether or not it was possible to break someone’s nose with a peach, Izzy sure as hell was trying to. Hell he’d nearly succeeded throwing the peach so hard you nearly hit yourself in the face with your own hand just from catching it. You on the other hand, had a simpler goal, you wanted to land it on his head. Izzy seemed to assume that you were aiming for his face so his defenses were focused there instead. You were certain you could land it before the two of you made it to the beach but you didn’t get the chance.

You noticed first. Izzy seemed really uncomfortable on land so that’s probably why he missed it. However you’d thought the air felt off all day. But it was only when the first thunder crack pierced the mostly quiet area that you realized that the off-ness you were feeling was the same way you’d feel before a storm.

Izzy had been mid throw when it happened. The peach hit you in the leg and was instantly forgotten as his attention immediately darted towards where you knew the shore was, doubtlessly worrying about Ed. “We have to get to the Revenge.”

Izzy looked genuinely concerned so you didn’t give a snarky answer. “We can’t. There’s no way they can get a dingy out in what’s about to be a storm.” Your words were immediately emphasized when rain started pouring down. “We can’t make it back now. Let’s find somewhere to hunker down and get back when the storm passes.” Izzy still looked moments away from booking it back to the ship. “Ed, Fang, and Ivan are all on that ship. You don’t have to trust anyone else, just trust that they can handle it. Don’t risk making them worry about us on top of managing the ship.”

Izzy cursed under his breath as he visibly struggled with the choice but luckily your logic won him over and you didn’t have to drag him. “Fine.” He hissed the word out harsher than any curse word.

The storm hadn’t been gracious enough to give the two of you any time to talk and the wind and rain was already getting stronger. Despite just having had to talk Izzy out of this exact thing, you couldn’t help but worry about the Revenge. The island was pretty much all tall mountains, you doubted that your crew had gotten much warning. But you had to accept your own logic. They’d handle it. You could trust Ed and Stede to keep the ship safe (admittedly mostly the former).

The wind and rain made traversing the nasty terrain even more difficult than it had been before. The wind knocked you off balance and the rain made the ground slippery. The warm day you’d been having moments ago had vanished, the rain coupled with the wind made you nearly shiver. Despite the cold, you couldn’t run for cover. You had to painstakingly walk carefully to avoid falling.

After you got dangerously close to losing your balance at the edge of a small valley, you decided to reach out a hand to Izzy since you could tell he was struggling. His frantic stumbling was significantly less funny when he was actually in danger. Of course, Izzy didn’t appreciate your offer. You took it as a testament of how much you’d seen Izzy swear that even over the deafening roaring wind, you could tell he was telling you to “Fuck off”.

You could feel the mud under your boots shifting and you were incredibly worried about it giving out in a mudslide so you tried your damndest to move as quickly as possible. You nearly fell when your boot slipped out from under you. If the wind wasn’t so goddamn loud, Izzy might have actually heard your warning. But the sound of your voice was easily overpowered by the wind.

Then the ground gave out from under both of you. You just barely had the time to launch yourself backwards, slamming none too gently into a tree for your troubles. Izzy wasn’t so lucky. You were immediately back on your feet and spotted him lying at the bottom of the small valley.

“Izzy?” You called out as loudly as you could. No reply. He didn’t so much as stir. Even if he hadn’t heard you, you doubted Izzy would just lay on the ground. “Shit.” You mumbled under your breath and quickly as you could, you made your way down, none too gracefully. You were at his side shockingly fast. Izzy was a little banged up but he was breathing thankfully, though it looked like he’d hit his head. He was out cold. “Well, shit.” You mumbled to yourself.

You ducked down and were able to carefully maneuver Izzy into your arms. For such a small man, he was shockingly heavy. But the universe did give you a bit of mercy when you spotted a small cave, looking to be most protected from the storm. You managed to drag the two of you inside. You put both Izzy and the bag of peaches down and dropped down to the ground, exhausted. Even though you were out of the wind in the rain, you were still soaked and you were still freezing. You forced yourself to get back up.

Luckily, the wind blew quite a few sticks further into the cave so you weren’t stuck trying to build a fire with wet tinder. Cold and uncomfortable as you were, it was incredibly difficult to be patient enough to slowly grow the fire but your dedication paid off. Before long You were basking in the warmth of a newly made fine.

You pulled off your overcoat which, while completely soaked, had protected most of your clothes. Izzy had given you shit about it, how a long coat wasn’t practical in the Caribbean (ironic, coming from a man in leather pants and a leather vest).

Despite what you wanted to do you knew you couldn’t just sit by the fire. You had to take care of Izzy as well. You dragged yourself up and knelt down by Izzy. He had a small cut on the back of his head but luckily it didn’t seem to be that bad. You didn’t hesitate to tear off one of your sleeves to wrap it up. You pulled Izzy as close to the fire as you dared but he was still shivering a little. You managed to pull him up so you could start the daunting task of getting him out of his vest and shirt. His vest was pretty easy but his shirt was completely soaked and probably responsible for sapping a lot of his body heat.

As you untied his cravat you noticed the ring around it. You’d spotted the ring before (gotten a pretty close look when Izzy decided he needed to get into your face to yell at you). He always wore it. It was clearly important to him so you didn’t want to just set it aside and risk it getting lost, so instead you slipped it into one of your pockets. At least it would be safe there until Izzy was conscious enough to not lose it.

You had to rest his head on your shoulder so you could wrestle his dead weight out of his shirt. ‘Please don’t wake up right now. Please don’t wake up right now, ‘ you silently begged the universe, because, while you usually followed Stede’s ‘talk it through’ method, that was a conversation that you didn’t want to have. Luckily for once in this dumpster fire of a day, you at least got that and Izzy stayed unconscious.

You definitely did not glance at his chest, taking in the mix of scars and tattoos that you’d never seen before. And it definitely didn’t look incredibly attractive on him. Not at all.Your jacket was dry at that point so you laid it over Izzy as a makeshift blanket. You considered taking his sword since you didn’t want to get stabbed on instinct when he woke up, but you also figured he’d probably feel better if he had it with him.

You crumpled against the opposite wall of the cave and basked in the warmth of the fire. Since you were the only one who was conscious, you had watch duty by default. You glanced at Izzy. Hopefully he’d wake up soon. You doubted you could carry him back to the dingy and leaving him behind so you could get someone to help you made you incredibly nervous.

It was strange to see him so calm. With his face so relaxed and your sleeve wrapped around his head, he looked like a completely different person. You let yourself stare at him for a moment before focusing on something else. Luckily your bag full of peaches was within arm’s reach. Quite a few of them had been crushed or otherwise mangled by the rough journey but you managed to find one that was mostly intact.

At least you had snacks…

---

It wasn’t easy to gauge the passage of time in a cave but you’d have to guess it had been around an hour. You’d had to go grab more twigs and tinder for the fire and the rain seemed to be slowing. That was something at least. Looked like the storm was going to stop soon. Then you’d have to figure out how to get Izzy and yourself back to the Revenge.

Before you could worry about that a low raspy groan caught your attention. Izzy was waking up… He immediately grabbed at his head, hand going for the injury at the back of his head.

“Careful!” You said, more on instinct than anything else.

His eyes immediately darted to you and after a brief moment where he seemed to take in his surroundings, he immediately drew his sword and pointed it at you and skittered away as best he could until his back hit the wall. His whole body seemed shaky and uncertain, the hand holding the sword was trembling.

You held your hands up in slight surrender, not wanting to freak him out any more than you already had. “Well, good morning to you too…” you managed, voice shaking slightly with an awkward chuckle. He stared longer. Not knowing what to do, you cracked a joke to ease the tension. “I know, the one sleeve thing looks great on Ed but it sure looks stupid on me eh?” You motioned with your bare arm for emphasis.

“What the fuck…?” He managed to hiss out, he looked genuinely confused.

You furrowed your brow. “Do you remember what happened?” You weren’t a doctor by any means but memory loss could happen with head injuries.

“I…” Izzy managed. He lowered his sword and clutched at his head. “I fell?” He mused, more to himself before a look of clarity passed over him and he hissed out “stupid fockin Stede Bonnet. Stupid fockin peaches.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, if he was pissed off, then that was back to the status quo for Izzy. “So you definitely remember then. How’s your head?”

“How the hell do you think it is? It fuckin’ hurts.” He snapped at you. He glanced around getting a proper look at your surroundings. “What the fuck happened?”

Glad that he seemed more calm and had stopped pointing a sword at you, you explain what happened: how he’d fell, how you’d dragged him here. When you reached the part where you’d taken his shirt off, he’d immediately looked down and seemingly realized that he was in fact, not wearing a shirt. He pulled your jacket up to cover himself more, looking almost comically like a blushing lady.

“Why the fuck?” He immediately snarled at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Because it was soaking wet and you were shivering? You would’ve frozen your damn tits off if I hadn’t.”

He looked like he was moments away from snapping at you when he stopped himself and his hand immediately shot to his throat. Before he could say anything you jumped in, well aware of what he was about to ask. “I have it, don’t worry.” You patted the ring in your pocket. Izzy stared at you almost nervously. You probably would’ve teased him at any other time but you could tell he was genuinely concerned, so you didn’t.

You stood slowly and walked around the fire, choreographing your movements as not to take him by surprise. “Here,” you said as you gently placed the ring in his hand. He clutched it tightly to his chest, one hand clutching his ring and the other toying with the fabric of your coat. You sat back down and leaned against the wall of the cave.

You expected Izzy to break the silence with an insult or a sarcastic comment, instead you got a soft, shaky, “Why?”

“You wear that ring all the time. It’s clearly important to you and I didn’t want it to roll away or get lost or something. I-“

“Not the ring.” Izzy interrupted. You raised a brow. “This.” He motioned at himself and the cave around the two of you. “All of this.”

You didn’t expect to somehow get more confused after his explanation. “What do you mean by ‘this’? I mean, sure a cave ain’t all that cozy but it got us out of the storm…. Besides-“

“No!” Izzy snapped, clearly furious. You immediately shut up, not sure what to do. He luckily didn’t raise his sword at you but he leveled a finger pointing at you accusingly. “Why did you do any of this?”

You furrowed your brows, trying to figure out what he meant. “Uh, you know that if I’d left you back there, you could’ve died?”

He nodded as you thought he might get it then he spoke again. “You hate me.” He said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were just a given, a fact of the world.

You blinked. The pieces clicked together. “I don’t hate you.” You explained softly. Izzy scoffed, disbelief clear on his face. “No, I’m being honest. I don’t hate you. Granted you can be a fucking asshole. But, I only give you shit because you give my crew shit. I don’t hate you. And even if I did I sure as hell wouldn’t have left you for dead.”

Had he really expected you to just leave him there?

“Wait…” Though, that did raise a concerning question… “Are you telling me that you would have left me?”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You’re one of few people on that ship that knows what they’re doing. Besides, even if I wanted to, the crew wouldn’t believe me. Even if it was an accident, they’d all assume I killed you. But they actually like you. Even the captains. You could come back drenched in my blood and they’d still believe whatever you said.” Izzy chuckled humorlessly.

You stared, too stunned to speak. Suddenly, you felt awful about teasing him before. No wonder he was so incredibly hostile if he thought you could murder him and get away with it, that you hated him enough to do it. You buried your face in your hands. “Damn it, I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” You glanced up to see Izzy was staring at you, confusion clear on his face.

You hesitated, trying to figure out how best to phrase it so it wouldn’t sound patronizing. “I’m so sorry for anything I did that made you feel like you weren’t safe with me. I doubt my words mean much but, I really wasn’t going to do anything more than tease… or hit you with a peach… Sorry about that too.”

His expression only got more confused. You watched as he went from confused to a little scared then immediately to annoyed. “Don’t pretend to care!” He snapped. “If you're planning on lowering my guard for some later attack, it wont work.”

The ‘it won’t work this time’ was implied. Sure, you hadn’t been a pirate all that long, but you certainly knew how awful people could be. You couldn’t help but wonder about Izzy’s scars. Had he gotten any of them from crew members who hated him? Just waiting for a moment of vulnerability to pounce.

Izzy Hands was making far too much sense for you all of a sudden.

“That’s happened before?”

Izzy all but growled at you for that then he actually looked at you. He seemed surprised by whatever he saw. “Of course.” He replied, again his voice matter-of-fact as if that was somehow supposed to make sense.

But you were undeterred. “That may be how some people are… But you’ve made it pretty clear how soft and pathetic the Revenge Crew is.” He didn’t seem convinced. “If I really wanted to do something like that, we literally would not be having this conversation right now!” You emphasized.

“Unless you want something from me.” Izzy snapped immediately.

“Well, I don’t. Not really. You don’t really have to believe me. But I’m not going to hold this over your head. Really, I would've done the exact same thing if anyone else got hurt.”

Izzy stared at you, eyebrow raised. After a long moment, he huffed and broke eye contact. “I can’t understand you…”

You sighed. It seems like the two of you got completely opposite things from this. You could finally understand at least in part why Izzy was like that, while he was completely baffled by you. You were saved from the uncomfortable silence by noticing that the rain had finally subsided. “Ah, the rain’s gone. Finally, we can get back to the ship.”

---

Izzy watched, pensive, as you stood and stretched, grabbing the bag filled with those stupid fockin peaches, carefully putting out the fire and generally cleaning up. He couldn’t help but notice your bare arm, the one whose sleeve was currently wrapped around his head.

“Oh, here!” You tossed him his vest, shirt and cravat. They were all in good condition. You’d clearly taken care to take them off without damaging them. Eager to put all this strangeness behind him, Izzy wrestled his shirt and vest on, keeping an eye on you as he did.

None of this made any sense.

You hated him. He knew that. You’d made it clear from the moment you’d met. You were Bonnet’s first mate, loyal to your captain and protective over your crew. You’d made it no secret that you didn’t like how he did things.

Izzy had been hated before. Of course he had. He had a position that people wanted and he was well aware that he wasn’t all that likable. At least before people had a reason to fear him as well. You didn’t. You had an entire crew behind you and with Edward so wrapped up in Bonnet, Izzy didn’t have anyone to protect him.

Well, except… You, apparently. You, who’d had every opportunity to get rid of him on this stupid trip even before the storm came in.

And yet, here he was. Unharmed. Not only had you not tried anything besides the same teasing as usual, but you’d actually saved him. That alone was completely ridiculous. But you’d done more than that. You’d gone out of your way to take care of him. (His ring felt like it was burning in his hand as he put it back in place.) Even if you weren’t going to kill him solely out of respect for your captains, you wouldn’t have needed to do any more than drag him here. Yet, you’d not only torn your shirt to patch him up, you’d given him your jacket and even taken the time to make sure he didn’t lose his ring, just because you knew it was important to him.

He tried to stand but he was quickly overcome with dizziness and nausea so he stumbled. He braced himself to hit the ground but… Instead he found himself leaning against your chest, your arms wrapped around him.

“Shit! Izzy you okay? Ah, fuck dumb question, sorry. Are you feeling dizzy?” Your voice was still so fucking concerned. No mockery. You gently pulled away, seemingly unphased by the fact that he wasn’t responding to you, still supporting him so he didn’t fall. “You… uh… can hang on to my jacket if you like?” Your words made him realize that he was still desperately clutching your jacket.

He hissed out a “Fuck off” on reflex but… Fuck it. He slipped your jacket on. It didn’t really fit all that well but it was warm.

You smiled. “How about this…” You let him wrap an arm around your shoulder. “I don’t think you should be walking on your own but I sure as hell can’t carry you anymore. For such a tiny man, you’re rather heavy…”

Izzy scoffed. “Not my fucking fault you’re a giant.” He grumbled. There was less bite in his tone than usual but it was absolutely still there.

You smiled at the insult. “I’ll take that as you feeling a bit better. You’re already being a snarky asshole.”

It had been a pain in the ass to clamber back up the hill he’d slipped down. Honestly, Izzy was surprised you managed to clamber down in the middle of the storm and not fall as well.

The walk back was generally quiet only broken by your occasional comment of “careful” or “watch your step” which, Izzy was realizing, you’d done before. He’d assumed that you were being condescending. But now, considering everything else you’d done you must have been genuinely warning him. The more he thought about it the more he realized how you’d never really been that bad. You teased and occasionally the two of you would get into genuine arguments, but you never did anything particularly malicious. And you clearly cared about your crew. You’d check in on everyone (himself included he realized suddenly) after a raid, make sure everyone ate, and, while you were far too lax about it in Izzy’s opinion, you did make sure chores got done.

Hell, considering how much of non-captain Stede fockin’ Bonnet was, Izzy had little doubt in his mind that you’d been mostly running the ship.

You were still soft. Too soft. But, clearly, it was working to some extent.

You were actually making far too much sense for him all of a sudden.

Dammit.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for the two of you to find the beach. The Revenge was visible in the water and even from this distance, Izzy could tell that it was undamaged. A dinghy was also already enroute and its passengers all immediately waved at the two of you once they spotted you.

Edward, impatient as ever, decided he wasn’t going to wait and jumped off the dinghy and waded the last few feet of water before sprinting over to you. “Izzy! Y/N! You two okay? Nasty one that was, huh?” (Any other time, Izzy would have probably chastised him for jumping into the water like that (especially after a storm) but right now, he was just glad to see his captain was safe. )

“Izzy hit his head. Pretty sure it's not that bad but he might have a concussion.” You reported quickly. “Is everyone else all right?”

“Everyone’s fine!” Ed replied.

“The ship?” Izzy asked.

“Fine as well, Iz. No worries.” Edward assured. A pause. “Well… Aside from a few of Stede’s books.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. Of course.

The dinghy ride back was irritating. Roach seemed determined to check Izzy for a concussion right then and there. Though, it seemed that he agreed with you. Izzy would be fine. He’d definitely feel it tomorrow but he’d live.

The moment the two of you set foot on the Revenge, Stede was there. “Oh thank goodness! We were incredibly worried! I’m very sorry about all this! The storm really surprised us.”

Luckily, Izzy’s head had calmed enough that he could pull away from you and lean against the railing instead. He quickly glanced around, the deck was messier than usual but didn’t look all that bad. His attention couldn’t help but drift back to you…

You were giving a quick report of everything (far more professional than Stede Bonnet deserved) before presenting him with the bag full of peaches. Bonnet was quick to announce that everyone was getting some kind of peach dessert that Izzy had never heard of as a reward for making it through a storm. Izzy scoffed. The reward for making it through a storm was being alive.

As Bonnet ran to the chef so he could explain this weird dish, you walked back to Izzy, leaning against the railing next to him. “I can handle everything up here. You should probably lie down.” You explained softly.

“Don’t need to lie down.” Izzy grumbled back.

You rolled your eyes. “What’s the point of having two first mates on a ship if you can’t take a break? I’ll get Captain Ed to drag you if I must.”

“Fine.” Izzy spat. A long pause. Izzy glanced around. Everyone seemed not to be focused on the two of you. “Thank you.” He said quickly.

You smiled. “Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about it.”

“...I’m still going to be a dick.” He confessed.

That actually made you laugh and Izzy couldn’t help but think that he liked that sound. “Duh. I’m not expecting anything to change. And I’m still going to give you shit.”

Izzy chuckled himself and nodded. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You pushed off of the railing and waved goodbye. “Well, I’m off to ask Stede if I can borrow one of his shirts for a bit. See you around!”

“Good luck.” Izzy replied, both of you well aware that you were going to be dragged into Stede’s wardrobe and not return for hours. You chuckled.

Just as expected, the moment you asked, Stede’s face lit up and you were immediately dragged off into his pastel colored hell.

Before Izzy could even take a breather, Ed was all but leaning on his shoulder. “Hi. You’re going to lie down.” His voice held the same force as an order. Izzy sighed, well aware that resistance was futile.

As Izzy was all but dragged back to his cabin, with a promise that someone would go check on him later, Ed decided to talk. “So,” His captain began with a grin that heralded problems. “Nice jacket.” Izzy’s eyes widened as he realized he was still wearing your jacket. “Guess you guys really got to know each other huh?”

“Piss off.” Izzy grumbled but made no move to take your jacket off. “My clothes were wet.”

“Ooh! So they saw you naked too?” Ed teased and Izzy all but short circuited.

“I- Ah… My shirt and vest were wet.” Izzy clarified, somewhat shakily.

Ed merely hummed. Izzy knew him well enough to know he wasn’t done. “So… when's the wedding?”

“Edward.”

A/N: Izzy’s one of my favorite characters so I have to be mean to him. Also, I've gotten a few requests for enemies to lovers with Izzy, so, there will be more coming soon. (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

#ofmd x reader #ofmd izzy #our flag means death x reader #our flag means death #izzy hands x reader #izzy has all the issues #ofmd #israel hands x reader

206 notes · View notes

rotten-corpses-blog · 10 months

Note

could you do a jd x Reader who he hates at first like despises their existence but ends up liking them with some smut at the end? (If ur comfortable with it!💕)

I took this idea and ran with it. It ended up being kind of backwards.

The entire school knew you and JD had beef with each other, you were a Heather so JD hated you and You hated JD because he was a dick to you, Very simple reasons but you two still fought like cats and dogs every time you were around each other. You usually didn’t wish ill will on people, but you honestly didn’t care if JD lived or died. You were aware that if you left him alone he would most likely stop, but something always brought you back to fight with him. “God Y/N, just fuck him already. The sexual tension could be cut with a knife.” Chandler said, filing her nails. Her words interrupted your staring contest with JD, “Heather, he’s a dick. I would rather fuck Ram Swenney.” you said turning around and crossing your arms, “Yeah sure, Y/N.” Duke laughed. You just rolled your eyes and continued to eat your lunch.

You were driving home from a party and you stopped for gas. You got out of your car and filled your gas tank. Then you saw JD, Just glaring at you as you were filling your gas tank. You finally had enough of this bullshit and walked up to him, “What the hell is your problem? You asked, the anger very present in your voice. “Why are you here?” JD asked, you rolled your eyes. “Filling my gas tank asshole, you don’t own the fucking gas station!” JD got closer to you, he was so close that his face was inches from yours. “Don’t talk like that to me, you're just some bubbled brained bimbo.” You scoffed “Excuse me, but I’m actually very smart. You're just looking for reasons to insult me.” JD breathed out with an annoyed face. “No girl that’s smart walks around in those slutty little tops, your tits are practically falling out of your shirt right now.” You looked down to your crop top, it did have a deep neck line to show your cleavage. “Why are you looking at my boobs you pervert?” you asked, JD’s face turned bright red. “That’s not important!” You felt your face get hot, “That is important!” He just scoffed “Oh please, everyone else sees them too. It’s not hard to notice.” “ I knew you were an asshole, I didn’t know you were a pervert!” JD got even closer to you, “Shut the hell up bitch! Your so fucking annoying.” JD said as he placed an aggressive kiss on your lips. “What the hell JD!” you said as he pulled you to your car and pressed you up against it. “Be honest, do you want this?” he said as he placed his erection against you. It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. “Why are you doing this?” you asked JD laughed “I have to find a way for you to shut up somehow, now answer my question.” you blushed and said “Uhh sure, why not? I'm sure you have a small dick anyways.” Even you had to admit he was hot, and you would be lying if you haven’t thought about him in 18+ ways before. He chuckled and opened one of your back car doors and pushed you inside.

Things quickly got heated as you two were making out and feeling all over on another. The shame you felt for fucking Jason Dean made you even wetter than before. “You getting wet right now? I haven’t even started.” JD said as he took your boobs out of your shirt. You moaned as he sucked and bit at your nipples, He only stopped to pull his pants and underwear down enough to get his cock out. “Suck my cock whore” JD said as he pulled you down closer to his crotch. You gave licks to the head and then took the tip in your mouth and started to suck his length. “Suck it like you mean it bitch.” Jd then thrusted into your mouth and grabbed a handful of hair and started to fuck your throat. You gagged as he fucked your mouth, it was starting to become too much. You felt him twitch in your mouth as he pulled out. “I’m going to fuck that pussy, speak now or forever hold your peace.” he breathed out. You nodded to give him permission, he the flipped up your skirt and pulled your panties to the side, then he slid into you and started to fuck you with a rough and fast pace. He was so fast you didn’t have time to think before you felt your orgasm coming very quickly. “Gonna c-cum!” you yelled out before you felt your orgasm crash through you. JD gave a few more sloppy thrusts before he came inside you and pulled out. You two sat in silence for a few minutes before your voice cut said silence. “You know, maybe you're not all that bad.” JD laughed quietly “Same to you, Y/N.”

#jason dean x reader #jason dean #heathers x reader

57 notes · View notes

tsukasalover · 8 months

Text

#1 tenma defender

(screenshots from saki’s first bday card side story) can people stop pretending like the tenma parents are complete assholes for UNINTENTIONALLY neglecting tsukasa and actually notice how they’re more morally gray for deciding to parent in that way than anything else

im not sorry but i had a good time reading this side story and i think it’d be funny if tenmadad and tsukasa were actually really similar bcs i imagined tenmadad with these extremely dramatic expressions that were just like Tsukasa’s every time he spoke

but really, people try and focus too much on ONLY the fact that Tsukasa was neglected, not the details, and dont care enough to think about the fact that the tenma parents CLEARLY didn’t intend for that to happen (do you think they would REALLY know that saki would be hospitalized for most of her life? come on pjsk is much more realistic and has better writing than that) and something that i believe is extremely important as well is that usually childhood neglect (well specifically the tenma’s somewhat complicated case) has a lot of pieces missing or kind of blurred parts, and it’s probablyyy going to take a while to really get more information on what the fuck was going on back then and more about the tenma parents because they still don’t exactly seem to play like REALLY big roles or anything AND even when they’re around it’s NOT like they’re bringing up the topic of the tenma’s childhood and describing it in more detail? (i mean specifically what happened with tsukasa) i want another Tenma event where we get cards where the tenma parents are in them and they’re all having a good time 💔💔this isn’t fair i want to get to know the tenma parents better WAAAHH

also tsukasa has like. some serious repression issues going on. that’s just been obvious for a long time now. so when both parents AND the god damn child who got unintentionally neglected and has memory and emotional repression issues don’t really ever look back on the past for a really long period of time or try and talk much about it from what they can remember… yeah. it’s just kind of a big question mark for now. i mean, I’m sure we’ll probably get more stuff about it down the road (maybe from toya too? who knows) but for now there’s no EXACT answer. it’s up to everyone’s different interpretations and I’m not here to hate on everyone’s own opinions, but don’t just slap on the “tenma parents are complete assholes and don’t love tsukasa” and call it a day without doing actual deeper dives into childhood neglect and how messy the effects and situations can be. i strongly believe that one day the tenma parents probably WILL mention Tsukasa’s situation or be aware of how Tsukasa’s childhood continues to affect him in the present, and they will actually care for him and try to be there for him more often. they love BOTH of their kids so much, but one happened to end up in a very unfortunate situation and that caused some very poor parenting choices to be made UNINTENTIONALLY. sorry for word vomiting but GODD this just goes to show how realistic and detailed pjsk is. like i find so much comfort in these silly characters from a rhythm game. it’s so clear that tons of love was poured into building the world around them and even their own personal lives. colopale really wants to make me cry for once with how much they manage to nail realistically writing rough topics like these.

anyways this is just how i personally view the tenma family and Tsukasa’s situation after analyzing my own experiences and how much of a messy situation (my bad i don’t know how to word this but like, hard to figure out?? piece together??) childhood neglect will ALWAYS be, and then if there’s also things like repressed memories and never really much or any discussion of “hey wtf happened back then and how do we all think of what happened from our own perspectives,” uhh yeah. that’s rough. i woke up in the middle of the night so this might be edited in the future btw

#tsukasa tenma #saki tenma #wxs tsukasa #l/n saki #tenma saki #tenma tsukasa #like one mention of toya sorry #i still do See him as a tenma but this is a tenma parents + Tsukasa focused word vomit #pjsk #tenma toya #project sekai #prsk #prsk analysis #we love the tenma family #i should go back to bed #im insane about the tenma family and that’s okay!#my brain is melting #sorry if any of this doesn’t make sense btw LMAO just had to get this out of my system #will probably edit later

41 notes · View notes

the-shinysnorlax · 8 months

Text

Why I think Miguel O’Hara is autistic

(Posted by me, a autistic person and Miguel O’Hara fan)

Before anyone attacks me for this post, keep in mind that this is MY OPINION and you do not have to agree with everything I say.

I will be mostly using the 90s comics, Dark Tomorrow, and ATSV as an example because I think that’s where it shows the most.

Ok without further ado time to send the evidence.

1. Miguel is absolutely horrible with communication

There have been multiple times where Miguel just fucks up communication unintentionally. This is definitely the most prevalent in the book Dark Tomorrow (Which is a banger read, even if it’s meant for young teens) where him and Arañas relationship is very strained in the beginning, mostly because of Miguel’s fuck-ups.

There’s also evidence in the 90s comics too, like in issue 2 where Miguel freaks out over saying something menacing to Venture and just goes “Hi” like the dumb guy he is (But he’s my loser love him so)

Also he’s much better communicating with Lyla about things than a actual human being. Like he rarely shows negative emotions or talks about his feelings to anyone, not even his own brother or fiancé. Only time we see his negative feelings is when he’s by himself or in thought bubbles. That’s it.

(Miguel honey pls get a therapist I BEG)

2. He has no spatial awareness and is oblivious to his surroundings.

This isn’t really as obvious as some of the other ones but yeah. He has like- no spatial awareness. None at all.

Again we can really see this in the 90s comics, specifically issue 2 of the series. Miguel looks down at his hands and just- doesn’t see he’s grown talons. The comics explain it as his vision was blurry but I still think he would’ve at least noticed something was off. Idk. Maybe I’m thinking too much about this 😭😭😭

3. He hates change

Oh boy this is (Probably) going to be lengthy.

If you read his comics, you know he does not like having powers. Even when he’s gotten used to them and control his powers he still doesn’t like that he got them and regrets having them. Hell, even in Dark Tomorrow, which takes place 6 years after Miguel got his powers, we still see him having regret of getting them. Regret of becoming a hero.

And yes, I know in most comics when heroes do get powers they’re almost always like “Well I never wanted these in the first place!” But they learn to accept this new responsibility of theirs and overtime embrace their superpowers. Miguel isn’t like that. He never fully accepts his powers. He does get used to them sure, but it’s such a big change for him that he can’t ever accept them outright.

Another piece of evidence comes from Spiderverse. When Miles doesn’t do what he’s told it pisses Miguel off. Miguel in the movie doesn’t like going off the plan. He’s very straightforward. He’s not the type of guy to improvise on the spot. He takes time to plan. And when things goes off course, he doesn’t like that.

4. Miguel is overly sarcastic.

Autistic people are either overly sarcastic, don’t understand sarcasm at all, or are a mixture of both. For me, I think Miguel is a mixture.

One of Miguel’s defining character traits is that he is extremely sarcastic. To the point where he could be telling the truth and nobody believes him (Like Gabe in issue 2 where Miguel just outright tells him he’s grown fangs). This can also tie into the fucking up communication part, because his overly sarcastic tone could come off as unintentionally offensive or rude (Except to Tyler Stone, where he’s just mean to him because he’s a asshole)

Miguel also has trouble picking up sarcasm too, though it doesn’t happen nearly as often. For example, in Shattered Dimensions Miguel is fighting a Hobgoblin clone when Miguel asks where he got nanofiber. Hobgoblin responds in a sarcastic tone, to which Miguel responds with “Yeah that’s why I asked”

5. Sensory issues

This is definitely more of a side effect of Miguel’s powers than actual autistic traits in him, but I still wanna talk about it.

Miguel’s powers include enhanced eyesight, which means he’s more sensitive to light as well. Which is why he wears his sunglasses. It’s not just to hide his red eyes, they help him with his light sensitivity.

Miguels fangs could also be an obstacle for eating too. Since they produce venom, he has to be careful what he eats and also how he eats because one wrong bite and he could be a dose of yucky venom in his mouth. So it’s possible he has sensory issues with food too. Maybe even touch if his talons effect how he can touch things.

6. He has trouble showing emotion

This is really shown in Spiderverse where he mostly just keeps a resting bitch face the entire time. I don’t think he doesn’t want to show emotion, he just has trouble showing it. We can see that he does show emotion, but it’s only under extreme circumstances. For the most part he just looks emotionless.

That’s about it from me! Miguel is a really complex character and as a autistic person he’s a character I relate to a lot, especially now since I’m also undergoing a major change in life (Going to college). He’s just a really special character to me and I will gladly infodump about him whenever I get the chance to.

Oh and also

Bonus: He does this

(This is from Dark Tomorrow)

He just walked out of the conversation like dude why did you do that 💀💀💀

#this is mostly me either projecting or infodumping lol #I really like this character ok #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #marvel comics #snorlax rambles

24 notes · View notes

strawmyberry · 10 months

Note

hi strawberry!! hope ur having a good day!! i absolutely loved ur headcanons for the main 4! they are soo cute i literally re-read them all the time 😭💗💗 do you by chance have any headcanons for butters?? <3

AAAA!!! more headcannons!!! makes my heart happy!!

cute little fun fact about me before we start- im a very indecisive person! basically meaning ive never really been able to choose a favorite character in South Park- i have way too many-

but i LOVE butters with all my heart! he’s a little guy and i wanna squish his cheeks! so of COURSE i have headcannons for him!! thank you for the ask toast <3

i hope you guys like them!

— ❤️🍓 strawberry 🍓❤️

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Butters!

HE’S SO TICKLISH

i am so certain he is just a ball of ticklishness!

i don’t know if he’s more ticklish than kyle though!

if anything- i think they’re tied!

has the cutest laugh ever ever ever!

his laugh 100% causes cuteness aggression

(i think someone intends to tickle him for only a minute- they hear his laugh- and they literally cannot stop. HE’S TOO CUTE!)

he’s a wiggly worm!

he leans into being tickled by accident- little silly guy <33

(he’ll lean one way to avoid it just to lean into the other side by accident!)

HE HAS A TICKLISH TUMMY!

im so normal about this you guys!!!!

(butters is a human version of the pillsbury dough boy!!!)

his worst spot is his stomach!! but his armpits are pretty bad too!

HE ALSO HAS TICKLISH HANDS

like- they’re not superrrrr ticklish- but they’re ticklish!!

he learned to do his own nails for that exact reason!

(yes!!! butters likes to have painted nails sometimes!!! let him have it!!!)

he has a little hello kitty sticker on his index nail! he’s classy! he’s stylish! he’s chic!

he really likes being tickled!!

(he’s touch starved :((( )

i think he could ask to be tickled for the longest time

could being past tense!!! because- poor little guy figured out that not everyone likes being tickled!

he totally thought everyone liked it as much as he did

( [f]artman burst that bubble real quick :( )

so now he’s a little bit more shy about it!

but there are certain people that are already well aware- so they give him his fill to cheer him up <3

he makes a lot of noises- squeals, squeaks, hiccups, you name it!!

gah he is SO CUTE :(((

teasing is SO effective he can’t handle it

if you wiggle your fingers at him it’s over!!!

he already starts giggling!!

(and i means GIGGLING giggling! you’re practically already tickling him!)

he curls up like a little hedgehog!!

i also imagine he cries when he laughs too hard- and it makes his lers feel SO BAD because they think he’s actually crying

he somehow becomes even more southern when getting tickled

his faint little twang gets amplified by a billion!!

HE COVERS HIS FACE WHEN HE LAUGHS!!!

i hate to say it- but i feel like mr. stotch (i hate him >:( ) has made butters practically hate his own laugh

he apologizes sometimes while laughing :(((

BUT HIS LERS ARE SO DEDICATED TO MAKE SURE HE KNOWS HOW CUTE HIS LAUGH IS

he takes teases SO literally!!

“awww, does that tickle?” “yehehehes!!! a lohohot!!”

(i always think back to wendy’s “are you just an asshole?” line!!! this HAS to be canon!!)

raspberries are SO bad for him!

and the poor thing falls for it every! time!

“hey, you know what my favorite fruit is?” “ohohoh chrihihistmas- i knohohow yohou’ve tohohold me behehefore!! im sohohorry-i dohont rehehemember! …ahahapples?”

he is also very aware that tickling is the first resort when i comes to getting him to do something

“no! i won’t! ….oh hamburgers- you’re gonna tickle me, aren’t ya’? please don’t! im sorry fellas, really-!”

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU GUYS :(((

and he’s such a sweet ler too!!

that’s not to say he doesn’t go all out- he definitely does!!!

but he constantly checks in! makes sure he isn’t crossing any boundaries!

surprisingly, he’s super duper teasy

“Awww! You’re just the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen!” (thing pronounced thang!!! southern bell!!)

tickles are always his go to for anything

(sometimes he looks for excuses to tickle people- just to hear their laughs!!)

he randomly pokes at people! just for funnzies!

especially Kenny- poor Kenny gets poked way too much

(butters totally does the thing where he pokes and quickly looks away, as if he isn’t the only one standing next to kenny who could’ve done it)

he has a BLAST- whether he’s a Lee or a Ler!!!

hes such a good sport about it he’s so sweet :((

“that was fun!!!”

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

Professor Chaos!

oh no!!! who’s this evil, totally unrelated, fiend who’s invaded my butters headcannons??

well- i guess since he’s here! we might as well!

very ticklish!!! it really works against him!

he has a little maniacal laugh that he tries to keep up while being tickled

(but that only works for like- 5 minutes! then he’s all giggles and squeals!)

his minions tickle him from time to time!!

of course- completely on accident!

(or maybe those hamsters ARE evil?!)

but he just giggles a little, catches them, and puts them back in their little balls!

getting captured by Racoon & Friends/Freedom Pals is very common!

he tries to act all macho and evil

(it never works!! doesn’t even last five seconds!)

it’s the same song and dance every single time!

“mwhahaha! you really think you can get me, Professor Chaos, to tell you where I’m conducting my next evil scheme? you are wrong!” “…” “oh! u-uh- you think you can resort to c-childish antics, huh? w-well! i-im not ticklish! s-so, yeah!!”

hes very dedicated to his character!!

he does this little silly thing where…sometimes…he forgets what info he’s supposed to confess

sometimes he gets lucky! (mysterion or toolshed quickly whisper in his ear what hes supposed to say- and he goes along with it!)

but sometimes…he gets stuck with Racoon & Friends

(they don’t care if he can remember or not- they just tickle him until he remembers again)

BUT HE ALWAYS GETS THEM BACK!

this evil evil guy is the most evil evil ler in South Park!!

(ooooooo! scary!)

professor chaos’ super evil super effective interrogation!

(he calls it “Interronation”!)

wether it’s because he physically can’t pronounce it or that he’s just clueless is for you to decide! it’s both!

tickling is his only resort. if it doesn’t work?

…well- that’s never happened before- so he doesn’t have a backup plan!

but he goes ALL OUT

he has feathers, he has hairbrushes, he has a pair of The Racoon’s claws (he stole them >:D) anything that you think could be used to tickle a person- HE HAS IT!

he keeps it all in a little teal lunchbox (it has cute little stars!!!) that he got from his mom

(sure, he doesn’t use it for lunch, but it’s getting used!!)

but strawberry!! isnt it impractical to have to carry around a lunchbox?

yes! yes it is!

that’s why he also has a cute little tool belt with little slots to put everything in!

it’s made out of tinfoil! (he made it himself <3)

and he has spares in the back of his closet!! jusssst in case!

he teases a BUNCH

“i think someone’s gonna have to give up soon…you seem really ticklish here…”

he says the word “tickle” and all its many variations millions and billions of times

mostly because it’s super effective!!

(but also because he thinks it’s a fun word to say!!)

he also sings a little while he does- he’s silly!!

“🎶 i think someone’s ticklish! 🎶”

he makes every single time a new experience

(like, he starts every time brand new- as if he’s “discovering” each spot for the first time all over again!)

but, despite the fact that he’s an evil evil guy (ive mentioned he’s evil right?) he’s still super sweet

he stops every now and then, does a quick check in!

thats some of the only times you’ll see him break character- it’s so cute

“…ya’ good, Kenny?” “whahat?” “are you okay? can ya’ breathe-? do ya’ need water?” “…uhuh…nohoho?” “and what about here? is it okay that im tickling you here?” “uh…yehehah?” “oh! oh goodie! …round two!”

and he has waters on hand!! he buys the jumbo packs!

(you know? the little mini water bottles with the little motivational quotes on them? those little ones!)

the little evil guy doesn’t really have the heart to hurt anyone- he just likes hearing his friends laugh!!!

deep down he knows they’re gonna get him back a million times worse but it’s all in good fun! so he doesn’t mind!

all is fair in love and superhero civil war!

#south park tickles #strawberry hcs #lee butters #ler butters #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK TOAST IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG🥹#butters is so adorable 🥹 i love this little guy #he deserves so much!!!! he deserves to giggle and laugh and be all cute!!!#please matt and trey? pretty please? with a cherry on top?

39 notes · View notes