#bc truly i'm on the edge at this point

[hoseoksluna]

PRACTICE | jjk

pairing: dom!jungkook x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.9k

summary: you make jungkook proud by practicing what he taught you.

warnings: jungkook smiling and being all dominant!!!, also manly as fuck, use of his korean name cuz it's hot, masturbation, reader is horny and just a girl!!, biker mask (gasp), edging, orgasm denial, oral sex (f. receiving), dom/sub dynamics, squirting, desperation, porn, use of a sex toy, brief nipple play, spanking, bratty behavior <3, degradation, praise, the beauty of cumming together, mentions of sex, aftercare

note: it's entirely jungkook's fault that i wrote this bc he made me h word. i hope you enjoy the very first of the many smutty one shots i'm planning to write!! i had the time of my life writing this, imagining 3D!jungkook cuz he's just so delicious there. my weakness. fuck my life!! pls let me know what you think <3 like and comment (reblogs r very useful but i won't pressure u angel). love you!!

side note: i rly fucking miss jungkook. that's all. byebye

Stars fill your vision as your hand works wonders between the softness of your legs. You are fucked. Oh so deliciously, majestically and colossally fucked. And you whimper once the wave of that pleasure you burn for unfolds within your body. Arch your back. Roll your hips. Huff and puff until you near your breaking point. Then you lift your hand. 

The surge ebbs away and you sink your teeth into your puffy bottom lip, desperation scorching each and every perimeter of your skin.

You enjoy this. The smug on your face couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried. You've been going at this for a dozen of minutes, sitting on your dark green couch with your legs spread, one hand rubbing circles on your needy bundle of nerves, the other gripping your phone with all its might, how it hasn’t cramped yet is beyond you, as it plays a dirty porn that does very little to quench your thirst. Your closest friend for the time being, have been ‘for the time being’ for much longer than you care to admit, a small pink vibrator Pinkie, keeps you company beside you while you swallow every grunt and whimper the couple in the video makes. It's turned off, however. Resting in the shadow of the threatening calamite that your shaking thighs are. You can't edge yourself with it when you're this fucked, so deeply lost in the rosy maze of lust. You would have to keep the head on your clit for merely a second, otherwise you'd be coming, and you'd be coming fast but not very hard. And where’s the fun in that? It still keeps you thirsty, your insides begging you again and again for another hit of dopamine, for just one drop of cum. Well, your pussy mainly.

It’s a persistent problem for you. You get horny, you touch yourself and you come under two minutes or less. The hit so small in quantity, so weak in quality that you inescapably need more than one round to be satisfied. The situation is even more problematic when you get down to it with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter much when you’re on the receiving end; you enjoy yourself, you look forward to his dick splitting you open, so it just cuts time. Although it does matter when he fucks you like the man he is. You clamp down on him, and he comes as fast as you do. You can’t help it. You’re so enamored with him, with his masculinity and his dominance, it burns your body alive. Who are you to tell your body no? It’s impossible. He’s impossible, and absolutely irresistible. Though you wish you could get lost in the pleasure, and you truly do each time you have sex, and it gets unfairly swept away from you. You’re just a thirsty girl. This unjust treatment pisses you off.

You opened up to your boyfriend about this and he laughed in your face, stroking your cheek. Told you it’s what he loves about you and you just rolled your eyes, dismissing it. Then he took your hand and sat you down again, offering you a solution that changed your life. For the worst at first, for the better the more you did it.

He suggested you try edging yourself when you play with your pussy. He showed you the ropes the first time, guiding you through a long process of denied orgasms, and you wanted to strangle him. You had to lift your hand when he said so, otherwise you were getting spanked. The joke was on him because you enjoyed the harsh sting, the roughness of his palm on your skin. But then it was him who was laughing when he pinned your arms above your head and confiscated your pleasure. You squirmed. Whined. Waited. Then he fingered you and you came so hard you saw stars, the orgasm just kept going and going. You were satisfied after one round. Problem fixed.

“Practice it until your body learns,” he had told you and you almost came again.

What a man.

The memory of this teaching lesson is what got you thirsty right now, actually. 

You pay attention to the way the guy in the video squishes the tits of the lucky girl in the video and fucks them with his cock. You moan, lowering your fingers to your clit again and starting a series of slow circles. Your fingers are slippery from your leaking essence and the sweat on your folds from your marvelous torment, and it turns you on even more. You feel your orgasm coming, despite your pace, and you eat your fist in exasperation. Should you say fuck it and finally make yourself come? You hear the order uttered by your boyfriend in the back of your head, remember how long he told you to edge for that one time, and you want to make him proud (you do!), but then the girl licks at the slit of his cock and you clench around nothing. You want that so bad and you groan, anger and desperation creating something so sinful, so unhinged inside of you.

Resuming your movement on your bud, you pick up the pace because fuck it, you can’t take it anymore. The pressure, the anticipation of chasing after what you desire is so sweet and it fills you with energy and giddiness. Fuck jogging, now you're sprinting, clenching your muscles, nearing closer and closer to the finish line. You lift your knees, riding your hand, moans spilling from your mouth. You'd come right on the spot if it wasn't for the ding of a sudden text message snapping you out of your daze.

Your heart thuds in your chest. Fuck, did you not turn on 'do not disturb'?

koo: I'm here

You stare at the notification in disbelief. Beneath it, the guy is fucking the girl's throat. You screech, burying your face in your hands. What is your boyfriend doing here so early? You aren't supposed to see each other until later tonight, or are you forgetting something? Your mind is spinning, another denied orgasm taking a toll on you. Sighing, you slip your legs into your panties and your plush pajama pants, your feet finding their comfort in your fluffy slippers. Since he's here, he's gonna make himself extremely useful, you decide, putting on your warm bathrobe with Mickey Mouse on it and grabbing your keys.

As you descend the stairs from your apartment, the sticky wetness between your legs makes you uncomfortable. Your eyebrows furrow in anger. Does a girl really have to suffer in order to reach a mind-blowing orgasm these days? You scoff to yourself, sinking your key into the lock of the door to the main building. The key doesn't budge, though, and it almost makes you punch that fucking door. The lock has been sporadically working and not working for months, hence why the door needs to stay locked properly at all times, and nobody has so far taken the time to call someone to repair it. You kick the door with your knee and you hear a laugh behind it. You recognize it belongs to your boyfriend and you smile to yourself, finding the sweet sound stupidly cute. Your hand reaches for the key again and you turn it. To your surprise, the lock doesn't fuck around and actually lets you see your boyfriend.

Jeongguk is standing beside his motorcycle, black helmet under his armpit. Your eyes widen when they discover his face is hidden under a biker mask of the same color. You haven’t seen him with his bike in quite some while. He prefers to drive you around in his car lately. It’s winter after all. He keeps you warm, sneaks his fingers between your legs, rubs your pussy through your jeans to tease you because he likes it when you’re needy for the rest of the evening. Oh, and you eat there so icicles don’t hang from your hands. Food, that is. You get it.

It’s a wonderful surprise, nonetheless. Only his orbs and eyebrows are visible, his pouty mouth creates shapes on the mask that almost causes you to see stars again. Yeah, you think you could come like this, staring at his tall figure dressed in a puffer jacket and gray baggy jeans laying dangerously low on his hips. Even though you know how big his dick is, the size of them makes him appear even bigger and you salivate. Your pussy drools, too. You're about to get on your knees right now, you don't care.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to fix that fucking lock myself," Jeongguk remarks.

Oh, fuck. He's so manly.

Just one suck. Fuck, please. Just one.

You're going to scrape your fucking knees on the ground for everyone to see, you genuinely don't care. He deserves it for looking like that, for acting like such a man.

Your clit gains a heartbeat (again) and you blink up at him, desperation once again unfurling its flames under your skin. You smile behind the pain, finding the whole situation completely ridiculous now.

"I'd be grateful," you purr and Jeongguk walks towards you, smiling like the little shit he is, helmet still under his armpit. You lift the hem of his mask to reveal his delicious lips, piercing-less. You kiss him, moonstruck. "I'm tired of this shitty lock."

Jeongguk nods. "Noted." Then he kisses you again. "It was funny how you kicked it."

You laugh. He takes off the mask entirely and you both walk up the stairs to your apartment, though a pang of disappointment hangs onto your heart. You wish he kept the mask on. It was nonsensically hot to you. A lightbulb flares to life in your mind abruptly and you hide your smirk beneath the curtain of your hair.

Yeah, you’re going to make him wear it as you suck him dry.

Your giddiness extends to another level and you hurriedly walk up the rest of the stairs to your apartment, your butt jiggling under your thick robe.

Jeongguk walks in like he owns the place. He sets his helmet on the kitchen island and his mask right beside it. You watch as he empties out his pockets. Wallet, phone, keys, a pack of cigarettes and a purple lighter. Leaning over, he hangs his winter jacket on one of the barstools. His back muscles ripple under his oversized black T-shirt with each movement of his arms. What steals your attention, however, is the sliver of skin that he unwittingly lets you see as he fixes his jeans to rest a little higher on his hips. 

White Calvins. 

Oh, yes. 

The dip of his spine on his lower back.

You lick your lips.

The smallness of his waist that grows into such a vulgar broadness of his shoulders. 

Fuck, you do everything you can to not bite onto your finger; instead you opt to hide your drool beneath your hand as you continue to wait behind him, tracing your lower lip with the acrylic nail on your thumb, diabolical with your stand and your plan. Crossed arms, needy pussy and all.

What a man.

What a fucking man.

You squeeze your thighs together.

When he turns away from the kitchen, you leap to the counter. You snatch the mask and gaze at it lovingly. Such an innocent thing, and it made you this hot and bothered. You shake your head at the bizarreness of it all, but your smile remains.

"What the fuck were you doing here?"

You gasp at the sternness in his tone, hiding the mask under your armpit similarly like he did with his helmet downstairs. You don't understand where his abrupt austerity stems from, but it makes your legs wobbly, so much that you bump into him as you hurry to see what he sees, grabbing his arm as if to say sorry. And then your heart drops.

A round wet spot adorns your dark green couch, where you sat and pleasured yourself before he came. Your best friend Pinkie, sticky and lifeless, almost beams at you in mischief. A smile of your own begins to quiver on your lips before you burst into giggles, a tiny amount of shyness painting your cheeks with rosiness.

“I was practicing?” you answer truthfully, lilting your voice a little bit.

Jeongguk closes his eyes at your words, his lips forming a thin line. Hangs his head. Slouches in your grip. It is a stark contrast to how he entered your apartment. His breath quickens and you watch the raise and the fall of his chest. You realize this means only one thing.

"Are you crazy?" Jeongguk says, eyes still closed. "Do you even realize what you've just done to me?"

He finally looks at you and your heart drops further down your belly. Fire splashes around in his eyes, akin to yours. He straightens his posture, turning his body to face you. Feet spread apart, he crosses his arms across his chest. Veins prominent, muscles like strings oscillating on his forearm as he taps his fingers on his elbow.

Your weakness.

Fuck.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"And what's this?" He points to what you stole from him. He doesn't take it from you.

You suddenly remember your plan. Being so absorbed in his masculine energy, you forgot everything. Even your own name. 

"Well, I had this idea," you start.

He hums in interest. Butterflies break havoc in your stomach.

"And what idea was that?" He cocks his head to the side, studying you.

You started, but you don't think you can finish. Not when you're so wet that you can feel your slick trickle out of the confines of your thin panties. Not when his stance makes you feel like you did something very bad and the next word that comes out of your mouth decides your punishment. Not when it thrills you this much.

Swallowing dryly, you avert your gaze. Do you say it or do you play dumb? Sweat prickles at the back of your neck, eyes falling to his crotch. Those cursed fucking jeans do a poor job of hiding his growing member and you tremble, itching to sink onto the hardwood floor, itching to palm him through the harsh fabric just to hear him hiss through his teeth. The impulse to do it, to simply be a brat and do what you want while he stares you down, fills your every vein, but you know better. Once you hit a nerve, Jeongguk doesn’t let you cum (at all) and you can’t sit on your bottom for a week. You can’t afford that right now.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You need your relief, and you need it desperately. You will behave if it means you’ll receive it from him.

"I was thinking," you mutter, fluttering your eyelashes open. “You could put this on while I make you feel good."

Nodding once, Jeongguk hums again. You feel the deep vibrations of his voice coursing down your body, starting from your cheeks. They warm them and paint them in pink, then they continue over the swell of your chest, leaving behind little pearls of sweat, until they reach your cunt. There they strengthen the pulse of your needy bud and you can’t take it anymore. You sigh audibly, hoping it prompts your boyfriend to do something. 

“Make me feel good how?” he questions you.

You look up at him. His eyes are lowered into slits, woozy from arousal. You truly did turn him on with the mere evidence of your self-indulgence. You buzz from this achievement, a puckish smirk appearing on your mouth. 

Jeongguk pries the mask away from your hold, keeps it in his grasp and with his other hand, he unravels the knot of your robe with his fingers, sliding it off your shoulders. He cocks his eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer.

Fuck it, you’re giving it your all. Anything to get fucked in the way you want, in the way you know he can give it to you.

“I get on my knees for you. Play with your tip, take you as far as I can until I choke on it, then I suck on your—“

He grabs your chin harshly and raises it to his level. That’s enough, he said with that gesture and you leak down your thighs. No matter how strongly the words, ‘can I finish my fucking sentence’ hangs off the top of your tongue, you remain quiet. Obedient.

He cups your pussy through your pajama pants with his other hand, inching closer to you until his figure swallows you. His soft moan reaches your ear once he discovers how slippery your pussy is against your silky underwear and your stomach flips. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much where you need him due to the thickness of the material. It adds to your frustration quite plenty, though. This what you get for being good? 

Inhaling deeply, he levels his eyesight with yours. “How many times did you come, hm?”

Your breath hitches and you lower your eyes, shyness caused from his dominance taking every bit of confidence you had left. His words blaze your insides—he knows you so well. He knows how obsessed you’ve become with playing with yourself ever since he told you to practice. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The latter being more frequent, hence why you exerted yourself today. He knows this. For some reason it makes this moment even more intimate and stimulating for you. But you don’t let him know that. 

“What makes you think I lost this time?” you retort, the brattiness slipping through before you could control it.

His fingers aren’t doing nearly enough to give you the relief you seek and you whine, grinding your hips against his curious fingers. Much to your dismay, he still keeps his pressure light. Pretends to be blind to your desperation. You let out a huff of air, hooking your thumbs beneath the waistband of your pants, anger fueling you on.

You barely manage to pull it down before Jeongguk turns you around. He locks your arms in his grasp from behind, tugs the pants beneath the swell of your ass and smacks your cheek, leaving a rippling effect in its wake. He then grabs your face from behind to make you look at him. 

“Did I fucking ask you to take ‘em off?”

You’d come on the spot if you could. But you’re still angry.

“No, I asked you a simple question,” Jeongguk continues. “And I expect you to answer.”

You bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows. “Jeongguk, I’m so wet there’s a fucking puddle in my panties. I can’t take it anymore. Please, I need to come.”

Jeongguk raises his at your answer and hums lowly, grinding his hips into your ass and arching your back even further in this position. You moan distinctly at the feeling of his member, engorged and hard. 

Jeongguk lets go of your arms and presses you against him fully, lowering his hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, the other around your middle. You love it like this the most, cocooned in his embrace from behind—you can’t see him, but you can feel him, you can feel the firmness of his touch, the solidness of his body, and you know he’s there. 

“How many times?” he asks once again, more gently this time, lips tracing the shape of your ear. He rubs your belly to soothe you and you close your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. A smile, a mischievous one, much like the one your best friend Pinkie had, threatens to appear on your lips. He has turned into a soft dom for you and it makes you weak. So much that all you want to do right now is give him pleasure.

You begin to rotate your hips against him and he hisses, cursing under his breath. Yes, that’s precisely what you wanted to hear. You put more pressure into your movement and he slides your hand down your mound to stop you, his tongue coming to play with your ear.  Fuck, okay. You listen, transferring your teasing elsewhere.

“Zero,” you finally answer, figuring he deserves the reward.

Jeongguk grabs your shoulders and turns you around, pinching his eyebrows together. “Don’t believe you. There’s no fucking way you’d leave it wet like that without coming at least three—“

“I was about to come before you so rudely interrupted me.”

His eyes darken and you realize you fucked up.

He takes his hands off of you and starts walking, causing you to walk backwards to your couch. 

“My apologies.” He pushes you to sit down on the soiled spot, taking a seat right in front of you on the coffee table. “Don’t let me interrupt you any further. Please“—He hooks his fingers under your pajama pants along with your underwear and takes it off in one go—“continue. Make yourself come.”

You gulp. Fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing you ever heard.

He scoots closer to you on the coffee table and extends your legs over his. You ogle him. The manspread, the tent in his pants, the serious look on his face. You slip your hand to your clit and start rubbing, your eyes closing as pleasure floods you. Finally. You moan, and you moan loudly. 

“Nuh-uh.”

You sigh before you open your eyes. There he goes, interrupting you again. A familiar buzzing fills your ears. 

You startle as the highest setting tickles your hand in an uncomfortable way. Jeongguk, wearing the mask now, wraps your hand around the vibrator and guides it to your clit, interlacing his fingers with yours in the process. Fuck, he did not just do that. You’re moaning before it even reaches you, your walls clenching around nothing.

“There you go,” he lifts his intense gaze from your pussy to your eyes. “Now come.”

And you do.

You squirt all over your intertwined hands, squirming uncontrollably while holding eye contact with him until he controls you, sliding his other free hand to your waist to hold you down. He moves the vibrator to your slit to give your puffy clit a break, collecting your juices. Then, another wave comes: Jeongguk slips the head back to your clit and presses down hard before quickly fixing a steady rhythm of going up and down. You’re just holding it, holding his hand. Taking the pleasure he gives you. Convulsing, clenching and screaming, coming so hard your eyes roll back—stars finally coming to stay.

Then, you’re pushing him away when overstimulation perfuses your body with a blunt pain. You close your legs. You thrash with yourself. But he’s stronger. The hand that was on your waist lifts up your bralette and uncovers your tits. The same fingers plunge into your mouth and you suck on them, calming down, earning an appreciative hum from him. He flicks your nipple, touches your breast, the nub deliciously rubbing against his rough palm. Pushes your other one to the mix so he can focus on both of your nipples at once, holds them like that as they bounce in his grip. You lift your pelvis, furiously riding the wave of an upcoming orgasm that will probably take you out.

You lose the sense of time and space when you come for the third time.

You’re gushing, leaking, bursting, both hands—yours and his—dripping wet with your dewiness. You think you’re levitating, but his firm touch grounds you, and when you open your eyes, Jeongguk is breathing hard. He’s watching you thoroughly; you can’t tell what he’s thinking, features still hidden by that mask. Your mind is empty, incapable of forming one coherent thought. You’re completely brainless. Fucked out.

Jeongguk gets on his knees and leans towards you. He tears his mask off, sweat pooling at his hairline.

“How pitiful,” he smiles. “So much for practicing.”

He gives you a filthy kiss full of tongue and you roll your body against his. His chest rubs against your nipples and it sends sparks of electricity through you. 

“You wouldn’t last. Not a chance.”

You groan into his mouth. He’s so close that his musky scent is intoxicating you, his T-shirt is wet and your core is pressed against the one part of his stomach that the cloth exposed. It’s so warm and soul-stirring to you. You whine from the overstimulation of it all, especially the degradation. 

“Jeongguk, I came so hard,” you tell him, coming up for some air.

He kisses your jaw. “I know. So fucking hot.” Takes his groans and presses them in the form of kisses into all the sensitive spots of your neck. “You made yourself come this hard, I’m proud.”

You moan. So moonstruck. So enamored. So satisfied.

Jeongguk lifts his head from the crook of your neck and grins at you. You reciprocate.

“That was so good,” you whisper and bite your lip, stroking his hair back. You find you’ve broken the skin already, but you don’t mind. “So, so good.”

His eyes drop to your mouth, then at the pearls of your pleasure on your chest.

“So filthy. Need to clean you up.”

Your stomach flips. 

He laps them up, collecting them with his tongue. One at the top of your sternum, the middle of your breasts, the long dip on your stomach. Pearl after pearl, butterfly after butterly breaking havoc again in you. You’re swaying your hips before he even gets to your mound.

“Needy again? I haven’t finished here yet.”

A little, but not as desperately as before. You’re enjoying it. Feels as though you’re allowed to. And you tell him.

He smiles. Starts a series of open-mouthed kisses on your inner thigh. Sighs against your skin when you play with his hair, gently scratch his scalp with your manicured nails. Rubs your wet thighs, sucking the skin and biting it. Hard and soft, the blend of it. You’re on cloud nine.

“Gonna reward you,” he announces. You suck in your stomach, biting your lip. He touches your cunt and the digits just glide. Straight to your hole that needs his cum. “For doing such a good job. Fuck, you’re so wet.”

He rubs it in circles, teasing you. Watches your reaction. You throw your head back, moving your hips in tandem with the pads of his fingers. Soaked enough, he slips them into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You mewl. Sense his hot breath on your pussy. Sense him shifting in his spot erratically and you figure he’s grinding his hard cock against the couch. 

“My turn now.” 

He closes his puffy lips around your clit. Swirls the tip of his tongue around it. Merry go round, you throw your head back, enjoying the sensation. Then he puts pressure around the muscle and goes counterclockwise. Now you’re spinning, unable to stop the sounds, inter-threaded with his name, from slipping out of your mouth. Then he decides to tease you. Widens his laps of circles. Reaches your folds, makes them wetter. And it makes you feral, the waiting for the pleasure. You grip his hair, grinding into his face. His moans reach your ears again, and suddenly it’s too much. He sucks on your clit, and he sucks hard. Lifts your hips in the air and just ravages your cunt, licking up and swallowing all that you’re offering to him as he fucks his cock into the couch. 

He’s grunting, rapidly shaking his head from side to side. You’re obscenely loud. His thrusts quicken as do the skilled flicks of his tongue. It’s way too fucking much and you’re screaming, but you let him. You let him until he rams his hips for the last time, until he sucks so hard that your hearing sense leaves you for a moment, and you’re coming. And so is he. 

You don’t even know how long it takes before you fully come down, but you know one thing for sure. That when he stands up and you’re blessed with the sight of his unbuttoned jeans, his cock dripping with last drops of cum through his white (almost see-through) underwear, he deserves to be cleaned up by you just the same. 

You make grabby hands at him when he returns with wet wipes.

“What is it, baby?” He sinks to his knees in front of you, taking out the wipe to clean you properly. 

“Need you in my mouth. Please.” 

He laughs softly and you think that sound will be your demise. 

“You’re exhausted,” he tells you, wiping down your folds. “What you need is sleep.” 

You don’t have the strength to prove him wrong. You’re spent. 

He picks you up in his arms and takes you to your bed. He covers you in your fluffy blanket, knowing full well you hate to be under the duvet when you’re just napping. Tucks you in. Sits beside you. Brushes your hair back. Fixes the blanket so it rests under your chin, and not over your mouth. You watch him with droopy eyes as he does it all.

“Did so well today,” he murmurs. “But no overworking yourself so much next time, arasseo?”

You nod. “We came together again.” 

He traces the dimple on your cheek caused by your contended smile. Finds himself smiling too. “That’s just how our bodies work together,” he tells you, hovering his thumb over your bloodied lip so as to not hurt you. “Can’t be helped.” 

You nod again, warmth swarming in your chest. “I love it,” you admit. “I love you.”

Jeongguk presses a kiss into your hair. “No, I love you.”

“No.”

He shushes you. “Sleep well, baby,” he strokes you. Kisses you. Pets you. Can’t get enough. Hates to leave you. “My baby, my love, my girl.” 

You hum. Sleep slinks you away to its land, smile remaining on your mouth. 

Jeongguk returns to your living room and gets some cleaning supplies ready. Breaks a sweat making your dark green couch spotless. Takes a shower. Settles beside you on the bed. Cocoons you in his arms. Looks for you in dreamland.

© 2023 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

[bonny-kookoo]

𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 | Welcome Home [Request]

Jungkook can't remember the last time you've been apart for so long. And with you gone, he might just go crazy- or make odd spontaneous decisions.

Tags/Warnings: Racer!Jungkook, established relationship, romance, they're so goofy, so much love, smut, lube? is that a warning?, bare sex (MC has an IUD), Jungkook got a haircut bc his girl was not around to make him contemplate his decisions before making them

Requested by: Miriwe on Patreon

Length: 2k words

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"I'm gone three days and you're already going crazy apparently." You laugh as you walk into the living room, where Jungkook is sitting on the couch, not having heard you walk in it seems like.

He immediately pauses his game to jump over the back of the furniture, almost tripping as he runs to you, picking you up to hold you close.

"Of course I went crazy!" He laughs, putting you down to your feet again to kiss you. "Had to spend three days in an empty bed without my fiancé." He laughs into his kisses, and you giggle. "Why didn't you tell me you were back? I would've picked you up from the airport." He whines a bit childishly, while you just shrug.

"Nah, would've caused too much of a commotion." You deny, reminding him of the fact that he's always causing some chaos whenever he's seen in public. "But putting that aside, when did you buzz it off?" You ask, fingers curiously running over the shaven sides of his head.

"Yesterday, actually." He chuckles. "My hair was getting in the way." He shrugs.

"So you decided 'oh yeah, I'm just gonna get even hotter while my girlfriend is away with her parents' like, excuse me?" You scold playfully.

"Fiancé, first of all, and I guess that already answers the question if it suits me." He laughs, happily correcting you in your own title.

"Ah, I can't believe I'm gonna get married to you." You swoon teasingly, smacking his chest once. "Now lemme go, I'm hungry." You say- but he's not letting you go at all. If anything, he pulls you even closer to himself.

"I'm hungry too." He tells you instead. You look at him in confusion.

"Okay? Then let me cook, idiot." You say, but he shakes his head.

"Nop." He denies, before picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom, hand loudly smacking your ass.

"Jeon Jungkook, no!" You laugh. "Please, I'm so jetlagged from the flight-" You complain, but he lets you down gently on the unmade bed, sheets unruly from his nightly rest. He's not really been sleeping well without you home- the three days of not having you around truly reminding him of just how much he needs you in his life.

Not just to keep order, but in general.

As odd as it sounds, he even caught himself multiple times the first day calling out to you, just to remember you're not home. His mind expected you in bed, in the kitchen, in the living room, every single time he'd enter the room- and the kitchen felt lonely, suffocating, with no company but the buzzing fridge and ticking cat-shaped clock on the wall. His house suddenly felt.. bland.

Especially on the second day, when he came out of the shower just to find the bed cold and empty, he found himself sitting on the edge of it, looking through pictures of you and him on his phone, browsing his gallery for hours until he finally fell asleep. It was a reminder, those few days. A reminder that he needs you, that you're a part of his life he can't really bear to not have around anymore.

A reminder that he made the right decision in asking you to marry him, entering the final stage of your relationship.

"I'll do all the work baby." He purrs, crawling over you as you stretch your limbs, visibly relaxing in the familiar home once more. "How was your trip?" He wonders, and you laugh, his hands helping you out of your sweater.

"Kook, I love you, but I'm not talking about my goddamn parents when we're about to have sex." You complain, and he chuckles, nodding.

"Alright, you got a point." He admits, pulling down your pants and socks to kiss up your leg. "I missed you so much." He hums against your skin, and you smile, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair.

"So much so you buzzed your hair off?" You laugh, and he nods, teasingly biting at your thigh.

"Exactly." He agrees. "Would've gone bald if you'd stayed away a day longer." He says, lips traveling up your stomach before his hands cup your chest, running over to the back of your body to unhook your bra.

"Oh no!" You jokingly exclaim. "But honestly I think your face makes every haircut work. Even that Dora-the-Explorer situation you had a year back." You say, making him roll his eyes as he throws your bra down carelessly.

"Stop bringing that up." He complains, and you laugh brightly so.

"But it's funny!" You tell him, before he bites at your chest. "Hey, stop biting!" You giggle.

"Stop biting~!" He mimics you, before he moves to kiss your neck. "As if you don't love it." He purrs.

"Caught me." You reply, legs moving already to wrap around him. "Now get naked, nerd." You flirt, and he can't help the laugh that escapes him.

"Can we be romantic at least once?" He whines, leaning back to rid himself of his shirt and pants.

"No, you'd burn the house down with those yankee-candles you got." You threaten, and he rolls his eyes yet again, opening the bedside drawer to search for a small bottle of scented lube, just in case.

"You really have no trust in me, baby." He shakes his head, putting the little plastic bottle on the side for now as he moves to pull your panties from your legs. "What if I used electrical ones?" He proposes. "Turn on some music. Cigarettes after sex- like, the band, not me smoking." He corrects.

"Obviously." You hum. "I'd leak your nudes if you smoked inside the house." You sigh, and he looks at you for a moment.

"That's a joke, right?" He asks, and you shrug, smiling at him. "That's a joke. You're joking." He states once more, but still, you don't answer. The funny part is that deep down, he actually believes you would indeed do that. You're a wildcard after all- he never  really knows if what you say is a joke or an actual fact you state.

Like when you said that he was fine accompanying his friend to his bachelor party, which was held at a nightclub, naked dancers included. You'd simply told him to have fun, but eat at home- and while for a moment or two, he didn't really know what you meant, he realized it soon after. You had no issue taking a look- hell, you constantly told him that some of the other racers were 'pretty hot', but he knows you'd never go after anyone but him. You might get your appetite up, yes-

but you eat at home.

"Jungkook you've never even sent me nudes you idiot!" You laugh after a moment of watching him clearly contemplating his life-choices up until now, finally realizing that you're right. "Or did you sent someone else some, huh?" You suddenly threaten, foot against his abs keeping him away from you while you glare.

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head immediately. "You can bet your pretty ass on that." He says, as you remove your leg from him, hands now reaching out, inviting him back in. "Only got you-" He hums towards you, kissing your lips hungrily. "Only need you." He finishes, and you sigh, hands on his arms.

"Missed you." You admit. "Couldn't sleep well at all." You say, and he smiles.

"Me neither." He shakes his head. "Thought about you way too much." Jungkook tells you, while his hand travels between your legs, touch reviving your soul it feels like as he works you up.

"We're so in love, it's actually kinda disgusting." You laugh, and he joins in on that.

"Nah." He denies. "We're just the definition of love." He shrugs, curling his fingers inside you, making you arch your back.

"Jungkook please-" You whine. "Stop teasing me, I'm way too horny now!" You complain, and he grins, moving to stroke his length with the hand still covered in your arousal.

He's just as impatient, but he also knows he needs to prep you well. Years of being in a relationship with you also comes with in-depth knowledge of your body, and how to love you just right. You might not realize it sometimes, but he knows that if he doesn't pay good attention to detail, you'll be sore tomorrow-

and he plans on making up for those three days, just to remind you what you've been missing.

He reaches for the tiny bottle on the bedside table to squeeze some of the clear liquid out, making sure to make it as comfortable as possible for you, before he lines himself up with your entrance, moving your legs up a little to pull you closer. It's been something you've been quite insecure about- having refused to admit to him for months that he's packing a bit too much for you to handle without any help sometimes, and he's felt bad that you thought you couldn't tell him. Back then, he'd been insecure himself- with no prior knowledge about anything regarding sex, you've been both a little lost in translation on some occasions.

There's been more than a handful of awkward moments during your times together- and by now, you're both comfortable to the point where nothing is weird any longer.

The sweet smell of sweet strawberries fills the air faintly as he pushes himself in, sighing in bliss at the familiar feel of your body welcoming him. "Good?" He asks you, and you nod, making him tap your nose so you open your eyes again. "Really?" He asks again, and you move a bit now, nodding. It's the confirmation he needed to start moving, leaning back on his heels to roll his hips forwards, your lower body resting over his thighs as he keeps you elevated like that with his hands holding your legs. You've got your arms relaxed into the pillows over your head, eyes closed as your chest sways with every thrust he delivers.

He loves having you back. Not just your body- but you, in general.

"I wanna come with you next time." He tells you, fingers gripping the flesh of your thighs. "Don't care if they like me or not." He growls, never slowing down his pace.

"Jungkookie~!" You whine, before laughing. "What did I say literally- like- twenty minutes ago?" You complain, and he laughs too, nodding.

"Sorry, sorry." He apologizes, letting go of your legs to lean over you, kissing you once more. It's the only way he knows he'll shut up for long enough- there's just so much rushing through his head, everything that's happened in those three days trying to break out his mouth just to talk to you- because he can talk to you now. You're back home, and he just missed you so fucking much.

Now, of course you talked over the phone daily, sure. But it's just not the same. It's not close enough.

Right now, he's out of breath, forced to part from you just a little, leaning his face into the crook of your neck as he presses his pelvis into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close, arms around his neck keeping him from parting from you. "I love you so much." He hums against your skin, picking up his pace, exhaling through his nose as his jaw clenches, orgasm approaching quickly. His hand assists you by finding your most sensitive spot, pushing you over the edge so he can let go as well, your core clenching around his length to keep him in, milk him for all he's got.

He's out of breath, and so are you- his body simply laying down close to you, moving you around to lay over him, still inside you. "Kook, I'm sticky-" You whine, but he just smiles, hands smacking your butt. "Jungkook!" You scold, laughing, and he simply reaches for your face, to peck your lips.

Twice. Because once is just never enough.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic

[pandorasfavorite]

-sharing a hotel room and overhearing him masturbate (and moaning readers name)

-a stripper au

-dom and reader are in a feud and yk

-more needy dom bc im a slut for needy dom

1 Hour of Privacy

AN: You already know the drill... this is filthy and I didn't read over it

...ya'll already know how bad I love the idea of him doing this...

You fell in love with him by mistake. For months you have been blessed with the company of Dominik Mysterio, and the proximity with him made it hard not to fall in love. Not that you didn't try and avoid the feeling. You were positive that you were hiding your feelings well, and that no one would be able to tell what was going through your mind every time you looked at him.

Without your knowledge, the Judgment Day knew, apart from Dominik of course. Lovers always tend to be oblivious in that way. So after a long 4-hour drive; with Dominik pressed beside you in the backseat of the van, The Judgment Day arrived at the hotel. Everyone gets their own room on travel days without any problems, but of course, there had to be a problem. There were 5 people and only 4 rooms... Rhea's face brightened in an instant.

"DIBS NOT!", she said quickly and touched the tip of her nose, Damian and Finn followed the action without even thinking about it. You looked at Dominik and the idea of sharing a bed and room with him, made your face flush a deep red. Dominik's brain has finally caught up after seeing all the eyes on him, he turns his head to look at you slowly. You felt like maybe you were imagining his lips turning up in a smile.

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

You turned the handle and pushed open the door, letting out a sigh at the single bed that you already knew was there. Not that it made seeing it any easier. Sure you weren't opposed to laying beside the man you love, but trying to act normal while doing it was the real challenge. He sniffs awkwardly and motions towards the bed with one hand, "You can pick which side you want". So he also wasn't opposed to the idea. You nod shly; doing your best to avoid eye contact with him while you could still help it.

You sat on the bed and closed your eyes, willing yourself to relax and not give yourself away. Dominik on the other hand felt the opposite, he was excited to have the night with you, to talk to you, and to be in your presence. Being around you made his heart rate quicken and his throat constricts every time he wanted to talk to you. Dominik noticed how tense you were and the way you were hanging off the edge of the bed; so far away from him. "You okay?", he asks to move just an inch closer to you on the bed.

Dominik's voice relaxed you in ways that could only be explained by the notion of love. You smiled at his caring question and the way the bed dipped at the weight of him moving in closer. You nod (though he probably couldn't see it) and you quietly say, "Yeah I'm okay". You turn around after speaking to smile at him. To show him and confirm that you truly are okay, that you didn't mind getting to stay with him. Dominik didn't have to know you were worried about him discovering your feelings, only that you were happy to be there with him.

Dominik nods and looks away bashfully. After the long drive, you were starving and wanted to go down to the lobby and find a place to get food. Therefore you told Dominik what was on your mind, “I think I’m going to go find some food, I’ll be back in uhhh, an hour maybe”, you say while standing up and slipping your shoes on. Dominik eyes follow your every movement, his silence made you look up for a response. He replied at your expecting look, “Yeah- yeah okay see you in an hour”. He sounded a bit conflicted like something just randomly started to distract his mind.

From that point on you left the room to go find something to eat as planned. While you were scavenging the hotel for assistance and food Dominik was stuck up in the room.

The moment the door clicked into place behind you Dominik threw off his shirt and laid back against the headboard. He was above the covers and his hand was moving down towards the hem of his pants. He hesitated, re-considering what he was about to do, and who he was going to do it to. But then his mind flashes back to memories of you just moments ago, and you never looked better to him. "Fuck it", he says to himself and pushes his hand down his pants and he pulls out his semi-hard cock. His pants are pushed down halfway down his legs just in case he has to stop in a hurry, but part of him knows you always make him cum quick.

Dominik sinks further into the bed, relaxing his body as he strokes his cock slow and tedious. Every tug of his hand has his mind reeling back to you and how'd you react to coming in and seeing him laid out on the bed jerking off. Would you be disgusted and yell at him? His cock twitches at the thought. Or maybe you'd walk in and do the work for him. Your bright eyes and perfect face looking up at him as the tip of his cock just barely slips inside of your mouth.

Dominik groaned at the feeling the idea brought to him, the image alone was making it hard for him to stop the face pace he managed. His lips are parted and his eyes are closed as he spends his time thinking of the different ways he would fuck you, and the ways you'd take him. What Dominik fantasized the most was about you on top of him in any way. He wanted you to sit on his face until it got hard to breathe, even then he wanted to devour you and never let you up.

The more he thinks about it the faster his strokes get and the precum is leaking from his tip down, making it only feel closer to what imagined you felt like. Subconsciously your name falls from his lips in sync with the jolts of his hips....

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

No places were open except for the fucking gas station, but it wasn't something you would let ruin your night. You walked inside and got a couple drinks and snacks you knew Dom would like also. You had only been gone for nearly 20 minutes, so you hoped Dominik was not looking forward to much alone time as intended. You rode the elevator up and again you felt that giddy feeling inside when Dominik was close. Each step closer to the door made your stomach flutter.

You stand in front of the door and a noise throws you off. Like you actually jolted back in shock at how it sounded. You check the door number and stare at it for a second, clearly trying to convince yourself this isn't your room. But the grunting noise happens again from behind the door and then the groan of your name. At the sound you let out a tiny gasp, setting the bags on the floor so you could properly press you ear to the door. And then you heard it again by that familiar voice you hear in your head all the time.

So Dominik was jerking off. NO BIG DEAL! 'but it was to me', you reminded yourself. Your blush and newfound wetness between your legs at the sounds were justified. Dominik liked you in that type of way at least, and you felt pulled by the magnet of his voice to push open the door. Therefore the door slings open and the bags you just picked up fall out of your hands. You knew what you were walking into, but you weren't expecting this....

Dominik's head was lolled back and his hand was vigorously pumping his cock that is steadily leaking precum. At the sound of the door and the bags falling Dominik sits up in panic and instantly starts pulling his pants up from his legs. He covers himself and can only bring himself to look at you with the widest eyes and a shameful expression. You don't say anything because you have been blown away at the sight. Dominik Mysterio (your long-term crush), had a thick cock and was moaning your name, in the bed that you both were to share. He is the first to talk, or more so stutter out an apology, "I'm sorry. I- I thought you were going to be gone longer" he rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

Possibly it was a strike of confidence or the undeniable feeling you felt in the pit of your stomach but you started moving towards Dominik. You sit down beside his legs, your eyes moving over his bare chest and his unbuttoned pants. Dominik's chest is moving up and down quickly and he's nervous about what you planned on saying. You smile at him and you put a hand on his leg while making eye contact with him, "I heard you moaning my name". Your outright acknowledgment of what you had heard made Dominik's eyes go back to that innocent look he wore so well.

You crawled over him, forcing his body to lay back a bit more so you could be face-to-face with him while being on his lap. "Now you have me here, what are you gonna do about it?", you're so close Dominik feels like he will collapse if his lips don't touch yours instantly. So he does, he pulls himself up just enough to press his lips to yours in the way he wanted to for months. The reality felt so much better than any fantasy that lived in his mind. He was so deprived of your touch, that when you pulled back a short sound of protest fell from his lips. He realized he was utterly under your control in every context. And you knew that too.

"What were you thinking about?", you ask him in a whisper that fans across his lips, the air only bringing him into another illusion of your lips. You sit and wait for his answer that never comes. Dominik is in a trance looking at you, he already looks fucked out and nothing has happened yet. Your fingers slide through his hair and you tug on it, bringing his glazed-over eyes to fully focus on you. "What?", he asks and you feel his nervous hands slide down your hips and then right back up. You grind down on him eliciting a moan, only to whisper in his ear, "What were you jacking off to Dominik?" you said with little patience now.

You analyze his every expression and every movement his body makes. He swallows, was he nervous or preparing himself to speak? He breathes out a shaky breath and his eyes are fighting to stay looking at you, "Thinking about you- on my face, on top of me" he exhales like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. Dominik is watching you take off your clothes at his admission and he swears his head is getting foggy. Every aspect of your body was beyond beautiful and even more perfect than he dared to imagine. You had pushed Dominik down completely on his back and your bare body was close to hovering over his chest. "Do you want this?", you pant in the excitement that is captivating your body.

"Yeah, more than anything. Fuck I'll do anything to taste you", he says and he almost squeezes your waist to the point of bruising. His cock was aching in desperation for relief and only you could give him what he needed. Finally, you hover over his face, waiting for Dominik's tongue to swipe across your pussy. Dominik's tattooed hands slide down your back and push you completely on his face. Your puffy pussy slides against his tongue and the taste of you and the feeling of you on his tongue makes his cock twitch. You can hear Dominiks muffled groans and praises that you had only imagined in your head.

"So wet angel. Soaked for me", he laughs as his tongue sinks inside of you only to be pulled back when you moan loud enough to wake up the whole hotel. With every swipe and suck on your clit and pussy, you feel yourself getting pulled closer to that desired feeling that you can't run from. The feeling is so intense and the way Dominik was squeezing your ass from behind only made the situation hotter. Your hand comes down into his hair and your thighs are tightening around his head. You're worried he can't breathe but when you try to get up Dominik yanks you back down, "Don't fucking try it" he grits and the vibrations of his voice make your back arch in bliss.

Your pussy clenches around his tongue and your juices hit his tongue, Dominik's hips jolt and he is spewing out moans, cum coating his chin. His cock then spurts with cum and his tongue has slowed down significantly. After a few minutes of you combing through Dominik's hair while still sitting on his face, you make a better attempt at getting up. You grasp the headboard and you try to lift your body up from him. Dominik's hands are firm in keeping you rooted into the spot, and when you move he lets out a whine. "Please, I've been thinking of this for months. Please wait angel, let me taste you a little longer". You stopped hovering and gave him a smile, sitting back on his face so his tongue could work you out until his jaw hurt.

#dominik mysterio smut #dominik mysterio x reader smut #dominik mysterio x you #dominik my bbg #wwe #dominik mysterio fluff #dom dom #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio #dirty dominik mysterio

[igncrxntripley]

hi love! i’m here to request again 🫶🏾

can i get a rhea ripley x reader where reader and rhea are friends with benefits and after they get done fucking-reader spills her guts about her hidden feelings and we get a happy ending 😁

friends with benefits

a/n: YESSSSSSS TY FOR THIS - did headcanons bc they're a little easier for me to push out at this point, i hope you like this!!!!

mentions: NSFW 18+, top!rhea, softdom!rhea, bottom!reader, sub!reader, fwb!rheaxreader, fem!reader, fingering, grinding, kissing, heavy makeouts, slight scratching and clawing, break of kayfabe w/ use of rhea's real name, edging, slight overstim

taglist: @thesithdiaries @cassiesgreta @roseheartsworld @theworldofotps @babybatlover @ripleyswhore @auburnwrites​ @obl1vionblackhart @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkinn @blxxdshxteyes @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname​ @i-have-issues-lol @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia

by no means was there anything romantic going on between you and demi; this little...'situationship', if you will, is only meant to make the both of you feel good and fill in the spaces where both of you were feeling incredibly empty.

with every new city, you two always finding your way back to one another. it usually begins with demi sending a sneaky text to you and her coming over to your hotel room.

this latest instance would be no different; demi on top of you in bed, both of you just in the bare minimum clothing as you exchanged slow but still heated kisses.

her hands are roaming all over your body, feeling every curve and relishing in having her girl - no, her friend - underneath her gasping and moaning for more.

your hands keep themselves busy as well; one in demi's hair, keeping it away from her face so you can see her beautifully structured facade, while the other is slowly dragging your nails up and down her back.

gasps, whimpers, and moans escape both of your lips as the two of you move against each other's body. demi allows one of her hands to slide between your legs to feel just how badly you need her, and it won't take long for her fingers to begin teasing the needy bundle of nerves that so desperately ached for her.

demi may have this tough outer layer, but the inside of her was so incredibly gentle and was always needing to make sure you're taken care of. this is no different, but the fact that you two weren't an official couple is something that makes it all ache that much worse for her.

every time you two do this, demi is focused on taking care of you. her fingers, her mouth, her thigh - it's all about you and making sure you have what you need. of course you reciprocate it and give demi what she needs as well, but she's so caring and soft that it almost shocks you every time she gets up to leave once you two finish your business.

she'll do this for as long as she pleases; teasing you with her fingers, bringing you so close to the edge but then not letting you finish because she wants to keep it going.

"no no, babygirl. not yet." she'll whisper breathlessly as you whimper and squirm against her, desperately trying to bring yourself closer and release that tension she's been building up within you. "i'm not quite done with you, princess."

eventually she'll resort to slipping her thigh between your legs, allowing you to grind and move against her to make you believe that even for a second you're in control. once again though, that shifts every time you get close because she'll pull her thigh away to remind you she's truly the ringleader.

"demi...fuck, don't be like that?" you'd beg, looking up at her with the same puppy dog eyes that always got you what you wanted. and she'll give in, because even though she's tough and likes to be in charge she can't just not give in when she looks at you like that.

when demi gives into you, it's the same rush of kissing and touching that got you two there in the first place. but this time, each of you bring a hand down to touch the other and allow yourselves to bring the other to her climax.

your legs locked around one another, your lips melting into demi's, and the absolute heat radiating off of the both of you are the only things you register as you both touch one another; the only thing to bring you out of it is the sound of your moans mixing with hers, and eventually the two of you relaxing together on the bed.

usually demi would get up by then; she'd shower, change her clothes and give you one more teasing kiss with her usual "until next time, baby." before leaving the room. but this time, she...stayed there? with you in her arms?

let's be real, you don't mind and you aren't going to tell her to leave. but before you can even ask, demi looks down at you and you';d brush that dark fringe from her face as her words send a shockwave through you.

"i can't do this anymore."

you'll sit up a bit and look at demi in shock, but she sees where your mind has gone and will immediately calm you down; "i can't come over every night and pretend like i'm okay with not admitting how i really feel...because i really, really fuckin' like you."

demi spilling her guts like this makes your own insides twist into knots. "you what?" you'll ask, your cheeks turning bright pink as she sighs in slight embarrassment.

"i like you, y/n! shit, i don't know how else to say it. i've liked you for awhile now, as more than...whatever 'this' is."

demi will look at you expecting the worst, honestly preparing to even get out of bed to leave and pretend none of this ever happened; but you surprise her this time, and hold her beautiful cheeks before planting a kiss on her lips. you look at her with a smirk, and in that moment everything has slowly begun falling into place.

"i like you too, you freak."

#wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe rhea ripley #wwe smut #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley headcanons #smut headcanons

[dewedup]

would you be so kind as to provide us with a Mountain sick-fic bc I have the Flu and I'm projecting on my tall guy 😔🙏

please enjoy sick!Mount, pack dynamics, tour travel, and a concerned Zephyr 🖤🖤🖤

as per usual a huge and loving thank you to @jimothybarnes for betaing and making me feel like I wrote the next great novel 🥰

(i may or may not have started a part two of possessive mount breaking zeph's heat when he's feeling better, it ties into the ending of this one so if that's something anyone's interested in reading let me know!)

1.8k of fluff, comfort and cuteness below the cut or on AO3 HERE

It starts with a tickle in the back of his throat. Mountain finds himself clearing it periodically throughout the day, but never getting rid of the foreign feeling when he swallows. It’s a small thing though, something he can push to the back of his mind while he focuses on sound checks, travelling and performing- basically everything related to being on tour.

He wakes up a day or two later and feels exhausted. His bones ache, his brain is foggy, the cold grip of a headache approaching from the edge of his consciousness. The tickle has doubled down in its presence, now tender and sore with every breath, word, or swallow. He feels like getting hit by a vehicle on the highway they’re driving down would be swifter and less painful than the illness working its way through his immune system.

He’s like a zombie, sleepwalking through the motions. Luckily, it’s just a travel day, spent moving from their last location to the next venue. He’s stuck on the bus for the entirety of the day, tries to spend time out in the lounge area with everyone else. But Phantom is loud and overly excited, peering through the window in utter delight as he points out the unofficial eighth wonder of the world.

They’re driving past the Grand Canyon, which honestly isn’t that grand, Mountain’s seen bigger canyons in Hell. Being a ghoul of the earth means he’s very fluent in geographic abnormalities, erosion and rocks. Instead of giving Phantom a lesson in his rocky background, which Swiss seems to be anticipating, if the roll of his eyes as he looks at Mountain is any indication, Mountain simply pats Phantom on the shoulder. He mutters good ghoul under his breath, and retreats to the sleeping bunks.

His rest is pitiful, he’s hot and sweaty, then he’s kicking the blankets off only to be greeted with a chill that seeps into his bones, limbs shaking at the abrupt changes in temperature. He never succumbs to complete sleep, lingering in a half-state of lethargy and just feeling poorly.

It might be minutes, hours or days later, when he feels a cool hand press against his forehead. He’s hallucinating now, because it feels like the hand of his mate, the same one that’s still at home, a disgusting amount of distance between them. He knows it’s not real, their sweet scent of licorice and fresh linen doesn’t fill his nostrils. But then again, he’s pretty congested, hasn’t been able to smell anything in the last day and a half.

Mountain whines as the touch moves from his forehead, shifting down to his equally heated cheek and offering the tiniest bit of respite from the fever. He’s sweating again, wants to rip his own skin off to escape the burning inside of him, when a light breeze seemingly appears from nowhere. It dances across his body, giving him the first sense of relief since he laid down in his bunk.

“Pietra,” the demon caressing his face coos, and Mountain truly must have died and went to Hell, because there’s only one soul who calls him the Italian word for stone.

He squints open an eye, meeting the concerned face of his mate.

“Zeph?” Mountain’s voice wobbles, cracking on the singular word, as tears threaten to fall. Zephyr takes a second to assess their situation before climbing right into the bunk beside Mountain, pulling their mate close.

Mountain rests his head on Zephyr’s chest as he lets out a few pathetic sniffles, mainly just feeling sorry for himself.

“We’re at the hotel, love. The others went inside, they didn’t want to wake you. My flight landed early so I’ve been here for a bit, setting up our nest.”

Nest. That’s right, in Mountain’s deteriorated state he forgot Zephyr was scheduled to go into heat any day now. The Ministry opted long ago to pay for a flight for them if Mountain was away, rather than deal with an aggravated air ghoul who would take their frustrations out on the abbey and all who stumbled across their path.

If Mountain let out a few extra tears at the thought of his mate, already on edge from their own rising hormones, putting their needs aside to care for him, well, neither of them speak on it.

Eventually, Zephyr convinces Mountain to leave the safety of the bunk and retreat to their hotel room. It involves a lot of gentle encouragement and a few filthy promises for when he’s feeling better. Mountain can’t smell anything, so he misses the slight bite to Zeph’s scent, the telltale sign of the beginning of a heat that they push down forcibly with sheer willpower, knowing Mountain is in no shape to fulfill their needs at this moment.

They share a bath, slightly hotter than Zephyr would prefer, but the steam helps to clear Mountain’s congested airways and the warmth soothing the aching in his bones. It’s intimate in a nonsexual way, how Zephyr lathers up a washcloth and takes their time rinsing the sweat and sickness from Mountain’s skin.

Mountain’s soon dry and in his pyjamas, a steady hand at the small of his back guiding him to the bed in the centre of the hotel room. True to their word, Zephyr had created a fine nest, bringing blankets from their den at home to create a soft spot for them to connect with each other. Mountain falls into the pile, burrowing his way to the perfect spot and collapsing into the down pillows.

Zephyr seamlessly joins Mountain, wrapping their arms around him in a big spoon position. It is something Mountain usually takes up in their shared bed, but his need for comfort is apparent and Zephyr isn’t too put out by getting to hold their mate in their arms like this.

Mountain falls asleep to the soft hums vibrating from Zephyr’s chest, his own purrs mixing in at the same tempo, every single part of their being made for each other.

_________

Mountain wakes up, lying awkwardly on a couch too small for his big frame. He’s confused, disoriented, and doesn’t remember where he is for far longer than he’d like to admit.

His brain feels foggy, his eyes landing on a bottle of water left on the table in front of him, the condensation having dripped to the table, creating a small puddle of liquid around the container.

The bottle brings back the memory of Zephyr braiding his hair on this very couch, enthusiastically agreeing with Rain as the water ghoul tried to force some cold medication in Mountain’s mouth. He remembers putting up a good struggle, managing to knock Rain back a few steps before Dew intervened. With Zephyr yanking on his hair, tilting his head back and Dew lying on top of him, bodily restraining his movements, Rain was able to slide home a few of the abnormally large pills. Mountain fought valiantly, but Rain pulled a demonic move covering his mouth and pinching his nose until he was forced to swallow, begrudgingly and with a promise of murder in his eyes. 

Apparently, the cold medication was exactly what he needed. While he isn’t at one hundred percent, he feels the best he can remember feeling for the last week. His achy bones are no more, and he can even breathe through his nose a little, picking up the lingering scent of his mate all over his body.

A loud noise from out the hallway catches his attention, and Mountain realizes that he had the best nap of his life in the green room of the venue they were set to perform at tonight.

Except, no one else is hustling around in the usual pre-show panic.

The green room is usually filled with excitement and adrenaline, packed with bodies, as Swiss hogs the mirror to apply his black lipstick. But it’s empty, the remnants of the pre-show hurricane evident.

Mountain hears the opening rift of Kaisarion and bolts up from the couch, looking around wildly for his costume, but it’s nowhere to be found. He can’t believe they didn’t wake him up, what the actual fuck is going on. 

He gets to the side of the stage much quicker than he would have in the state he was mere hours ago, looking out from the wings as his band feeds the energy to the crowd before them.

His eyes shift over his pack, watching as they back up Papa who’s already pandering to the sea of people. A crash of cymbals pulls his attention to the back middle stage, to his drum set.

It’s like a punch to his gut, but in the best way possible, seeing who is undeniably his mate, in his costume, playing his kit.

Zephyr isn’t a small statured ghoul by any means, it’s just that Mountain’s well… Mountainous.

His costume fits his mate poorly, they’ve rolled the arms up, displaying the sleeves of delicate illustrations depicting the fall of Christ, ink woven in their skin that Mountain has spent countless hours admiring. The pant legs bunch up where they fall, too much extra material with nowhere else to go.

Mountain’s heart skips a beat when he realizes Zephyr is shoeless, exactly how he normally performs.

It shouldn’t surprise him that Zeph is a natural, they’ve spent long hours in the rehearsal room with Mountain, watching him work through tricky sections or just putting his own twist on Papa’s work. He’s filled with love, admiration, and just an all-around feeling of mine while watching his mate perform with his pack.

Mountain eventually just settles on the ground of the side stage, sitting cross-legged and just enjoying the show from his secret little viewpoint. He laughs along with the jokes Papa pulls out of his ass, his smile unshakeable as he watches Dew tease Rain from this angle. Swiss is chaotic, he usually only sees him leave his platform from the corner of his eye, unsure of what exactly the multi ghoul gets up to, but now he has his answers. He’s usually so focused on his own performance he doesn’t get the chance to just sit and watch the magic happen, and it is magical, the atmosphere they craft together and the beautiful music they create.

During Miasma, Zephyr opts out of a solo in favour of handing Dew and Phantom a drumstick each. Mountain grins wildly, watching lovingly as Zeph orchestrates with their free hands while keeping rhythm with the kick drum. They encourage Dew and Phantom to bang away at the snare and cymbals, Mountain cringing slightly at the force of some of the hits. A little wear and tear won’t tarnish the memory working its way into the deep recesses of his brain though, as the utter joy and happiness bubbles over into a delighted, trilling laugh when Zeph tosses him a smirk and secret little wave.

#gloom writes #gloom answers #fic request #mountain ghoul #zephyr ghoul #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain x zephyr #mountain/zephyr #the band ghost ficlet #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic

[neverchecking]

A fall from Grace

Okay, so, i have made more friends. They have, in fact, influenced this. So here's a list of people to blame.

@angry-trashcan

@cloudninetonine

@desires-of-chain

@fanfic-fairy-fountain (you get to be included)

@wayfayrr (so do you <3)

Can be seen as a continuation of this, but I did not write it with that in mind. Happy accident. I can't promise a lot of writing bc Uni is just starting so I'm busy with that, but hopefully this feeds yall

Yellow was an ugly color. 

Hideous in the way it fell in stands around a porcelain face, caging eyes of pure sapphire with bands of white. White was meant to be a color of purity. A color to signify the untainted innocence of an unsullied soul. Touched by what was once believed to be pure divinity in and of itself, now revealed to be something much more sinister. 

Something with a gnarled grin, pinched by indented dimples and pearly whites revealed by pulled back lips painted a pretty pink. With eyes that shined in the sunlight like it was the great star’s only purpose to highlight those saccharine irises only to shadow over in the dark of night, hidden beneath the cloak of the twinkling stars, free to do as she pleased. Although, that was the humor in it all. It didn’t matter whether the dark of night was hiding her actions, repainting a saint over the real image of a sinner chained to their fall from grace, because the heavens sang her praises in a choir so loud it had deafened them all. Angels had preached her hymns to the point their ears rang with her acclaims and the skies thundered their applause for her. It seemed everything was built for her to toss or cherish as she so pleased. 

It made his stomach roll in a putrid anger that destroyed his senses, leaving him to act irrationally. He had been so blind. Content to follow like a blind puppy would follow the first person to drop them a scrap of leftover rubbish. 

But no longer would he be the one to write the very prophecies that proclaimed her a savior. A goddess fallen from whatever holy land she was born from to grace her people with her very presence. No longer would he be chained to sing the praises of an angel who plucked the feathers that lined her wings from the ones she damned to fall. 

He had been saved. 

Hands that knew nothing but boundless humility and grace had cupped his cheeks in an effort to shield him from the wrongdoings of the world around him. Skin that had not been blemished by a drop of bloodshed sheened in sweat underneath of him, imprinting their own unique mark on his own skin. Layer the scars that once laid there in new lines of red and white. Badges of honor bestowed upon him by a phoenix bred from the ashes of the damned fallen before them. Like an icarus who had heed the warning and rose to the heavens the way intended for them. Who held their wings of wax with bleeding palms until flesh and muscle did it for them. Until a halo of light was dipped into the golden rivers of luster and bestowed unto them on a velvet pillow proclaiming their ethereal welcoming into the place only murmured about in ancient texts. 

They had held him dearly while freeing the blindfold from it’s place cemented by a generation far older than him. Wound the satin curtains of crimson hooked around his face like blinders around a stake and watched glorious flames lick up the edges in a show of reds, yellows and blues, letting it burn in name of their glorious title. 

Sky had fallen before. He had fallen from Skyloft and it had freed him in a way that was unexplainable until far later into his journey. He had originally believed that fall to be the one to shatter the shackles around his wrists and allow him to fully experience everything his world had to offer. Looking back, that was not the fall he had needed to truly free himself. No, that wouldn’t come until much later. Until he had met his sword brothers. Until he had met you. Until he had let your aura engulf his being and lull his busy soul to a steady slumber. 

He hadn’t known true peace until meeting you. Not until you gifted it to him, cupped in gentle hands and shielded by your radiant smile. One that didn’t need the heavens to enhance it as it was already pure perfection. One that was only amplified by echoing bells of your laughter that spelled out your joy for all those around you. 

He wasn’t convinced you quite knew what you had done to him. How you had positively eradicated any hope he had of going back to normal after this was all said and done, because there was no normal without you. There was no way he could go back to that fraud clad in robes meant for your frame alone. There was no way he could hold back the rage that would boil his insides and ignite a fury filled inferno so powerful it would leave the rest of Skyloft balking at the devastation left behind. 

Because he was nothing without you. He was a loyal follower devoted to your significance. Nothing else. He wouldn’t let himself be disgraced in such a way ever again. 

Because yellow was an ugly color. 

But gold? Gold was something rich and divine, elegant. Something that, when graced upon your figure lit up the room like you were doused in holy light yourself.  Something that when laid upon your collarbone in fine chain links curved perfectly into the dip of the bone. 

Something that, when wrapped around your finger in a pretty little ring of gold, reminded him that he was nothing more than a worshiper of your gospel. 

#yandere linked universe #linked universe #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #loz #yandere lu sky x reader #yandere lu sky #lu sky x reader #skyword sword link x reader #ss link x reader #ss link #skyword sword link #cinder writes

[mrs--edge]

Hi Mrs Edge and Tom. I'm fairly new to your blog but my husband and I are in a similar relationship just for the past year or so. It started after he cheated on me and I didn't feel I could trust him anymore. Long story short he ultimately volunteered to be put in a chastity cage with me as the keyholder, which was very weird to me at first but turns out it was also sort of his fantasy.

Like you and Tom this isn't part of a larger "dom-sub" relationship or other kinks. And I honestly didn't want to do it at first. But it has evolved to an interesting point where I have a lot of control over him bc his cock is permanently (?) locked away and useless to him. Mostly he goes down on me and fingers me now which is how I like it. I do like him occasionally to use a fake cock on me.

At first he tried to treat this as kind of a fetish thing where he would get off on me teasing him etc but I basically just didn't go along with that.

My strategy was to just act like his cock being locked up was a normal and permanent thing. I almost never mention his cock at all, as if it isn't there. And that's honestly the biggest turn on for me. If I want sex his cock never enters the equation. It's just a question of, is he going to go down on me or is he going to strap on his cock? We both know that he won't be cumming. Its almost like he no longer has a cock.

Unlike Tom my hubby still occasionally asks to be unlocked but I always say no. I do it very casually, almost in passing, to make it clear it's out of the question. I make cleaning him a very sanitized, ritual thing that has nothing to do with sex. The cage comes off, he's thoroughly cleaned and then it goes back on. I don't acknowledge his cock as even a sexual organ at all.

I do think this has had a psychological impact on him. He definitely has lost some of his swagger. He doesn't show interest in other women now bc there's nothing he can do about it. If he ever tried to hit on a woman the ultimate result would be her finding out he's locked up.

He's extremely attentive to me now. Maybe it's partly because he cheated on me and broke my heart but I do believe it's at least partly bc he sees that as a way to eventually get unlocked and be inside me again. I honestly don't see that happening and I tell him that bluntly.

Wow. There is so much going on here. On one hand it does seem like you and your husband have a similar lifestyle as we do with your husband permanently locked and the focus being on you and your pleasure. On the other hand it's that you got there from a place of pain and heartbreak, and that you keep him locked as punishment, instead of mutual love and enjoyment.

I've had messages from men claiming that men should be locked up to prevent cheating but from what I can see it just makes them more focused on their dicks than ever. I'm a little surprised that you managed to go along with his fetish as a way to fix things between you, but I'm glad to hear that you have managed to turn this into something that (hopefully!) will bring you to a better place.

My husband has told me a few times that he sometimes fantasizes that I keep him locked because he was "a bad husband" in some way, but honestly I hate even thinking that way. I like to think about him as having made a commitment to honor and serve me out of love and loyalty... like a knight pledging to his Queen. The punishment fantasy turns me right off.

The other thing I see is that your husband may only be attentive because he is enduring his punishment (which is why he keeps asking to be unlocked). How will you know when he is being attentive because he has truly become devoted to you?

I hope that the both of you will consider some kind of counseling to learn how to better communicate with each other. I'm sure you're still in pain and I will pray that you are able to take this and build a stronger marriage from it all.

#chastity question

[techtalksfics]

If i may...

A migrane care fic would be nice. Wrecker using his inside voice and letting you sleep on his chest. Or maybe using his big hand as an eye mask bc you lost yours.

Totally NOT a fantasy of mine or anything 🫣

I loved this request! Whilst I've luckily never had a migraine, I've had friends suffering from them so I hope this lives up to expectations.

It's the first real thing I've written for the Bad Batch in a long while so I'm super, super nervous to post. I really hope it's okay!

Migraine Support (Wrecker x gn!Reader)

Summary: Wrecker comes to the rescue when you're having a migraine. Cute support is offered.

Warnings: None - this is pure Wrecker fluff

Word Count: 947 words

"HEY, babe! You missed one hell of a mission. I mean the whole thing was like... BOOM!" Wrecker's loud and energetic voice reverberated through the entire bunk room as he entered the space looking for you. But then he noticed you lying on the bed, blocking out the lights with your hand over your eyes. Your hand was rather unsuccessfully doing the job based on the pained expression on your face. You were having the worst migraine you'd have in a while. Every time you moved your hands from your eyes, the agonising flashes of light you saw and the worsened throbbing in your head were truly unbearable, and even with your eyes closed, you were still feeling nauseous and the pain in the your head was agonising.

"OW!" You winced and groaned in pain as his voice decimates your brain. "Inside voice, Wrecker. Inside voice." He all but yelps in dismay, albeit he tries to do so quietly as he sees you lying there; a truly sorry sight for his eyes. He takes the sight in. You lying on your side, facing away from him with you hand over your eyes, clearly trying to block out the fluorescent lights in the bunk room. He reckoned your little hands weren't doing much in the way of removing the light from your vision. He frowned at the sight. He really did hate seeing you in pain.

You then feel the weight of the bunk droop and a hand gently falls to your waist as he sits beside you. He lowers his voice to what can only be described as a Wrecker whisper. It's not quite a whisper but it's close enough to one, you supposed. "Is it one of your migraines, baby?"

You nod a little, wincing as this movement did your pain no favours, keeping your hand over your eyes. "Where's your eye mask babe?" You shrug, not having a single clue or care as to where you'd left it this time. You were pretty sure you'd left it on Ord Mantell, on your last visit. But to be fair, it could be in any star system you'd visited since Ord Mantell and wherever the hell you are now. Either way, the pain and confusion brought on the migraine was blocking any reasonable thoughts on the matter. You really did not care. He lowers his voice even further, "wait right here...I'll be right back." His voice is kindly getting quieter and quieter for your benefit. When the bunk bounces up slightly, you gather he must be walking away.

"Where the hell else am I gonna go?" You retort somewhat bitterly as the pain is putting you more than a little on edge. He chuckles a little at that, mumbling 'good point' as he heads out to speak to Tech in the cockpit.

"Hey Tech," he says, approaching him quickly, "do ya think you could cut the lights to the bunks for a bit? They're having one of them migraines and the lights in the bunk ain't helpin'." Tech sighs a little but agrees, resolving the matter quickly.

"The lighting systems to the bunk room are now off," Tech confirms in a rush as he quickly goes back to the previous maintenance work he was performing.

Wrecker thanks him and quickly returns to you, attempting to be as quiet as possible as he now enters the dark bunk room. He sits beside you on the bunk again, his weight drooping the bed a little again, making his return obvious. He carefully whispers, "does that help at all?" You nod only a little, learning from your previous mistake. But you were still too scared to take your hand away from your eyes, wishing to avoid any extra pain.

After a few moments of silence, he clambers over you carefully, lying on the inside of the bunk beside you. His arm adjusts you in a surprisingly delicate and careful manner. He guides your body towards him and you naturally cuddle into him, an instinct you'd developed over the course of your relationship. The arm closest to you, slips under your neck, your head now resting on it. His fingers gently stroke your hair. He is trying so hard to keep as quiet as he can; showing you affection through action instead of words that would clearly only make things worse. After all, his indoor voice was not that much quieter than his normal voice.

"Do you, maybe, wanna use my hand to cover your eyes?" He seems somewhat nervous and careful when asking this, wondering if that might be an incredibly weird thing to suggest. But when your hand slowly falls away from your closed eyes, he quickly replaces it with his much larger, coarse one. The sheer size of his hand covers most of your face, and it perfectly blocks out all remaining light. You sigh a little in relief. That was much, much better.

"Thank you, sweetie," you mumble quietly, burying yourself into him a little more with your hand now over his chest. "These stupid migraines," you complain, "I wish they'd just stop. I hate it." The statement was honeyed with desperation and distress in equal measure but Wrecker simply held you closer, his hand massaging your head gently, playing with your hair in intervals, just how he knew you liked it. "Did - did Tech cut the lighting systems off in here?" The sudden realisation that the darkness in the bunk room was a lot more potent than it had been just minutes earlier.

"Yeah," Wrecker whispers gently, his breath tickling your hair, "I reckun you needed a bit of a break from the lightin' in here. He'll turn it back on after your migraine goes away." Your heart could melt at the softness and thoughtfulness of this beautiful man whose hand covered your eyes. You knew Wrecker struggled with quietness, being such a fan of explosions and chaos. His love and enthusiasm towards the chaotic battles and loud music was unmatched by anyone.

Suddenly, you felt a soft, small plushie being placed between you. ‘Lula,’ you thought to yourself, and you smiled a little at that. You know how much he loves Lula, she was the answer to all his sadness, and he clearly hoped it would be the same for you.

After a little while, you finally managed to take a small nap, waking up hours later, feeling slightly better than before. Wrecker slept peacefully beside you. The hand that had been covering your face was now holding your much smaller hand over his chest. You smiled softly at the sight. His innocent face contented by his slumber. For now, you were happy to just lay there with him and Lula of course; your sweet and loving Wrecker, the cuddly, caring bear had made that migraine feel so much better.

#the bad batch #reader insert #wrecker bad batch #wrecker bb #wrecker x reader #tech bad batch #requests open #request #taking requests

[wellofdean]

Just wanted to split this off from this post about why Mary Winchester is excellent because it's getting so long, but I wanted to respond to these tags from @kayliemalinza :

#sometimes i feel people hate john for reasons that while valid in our universe less valid in the spn universe#but mary gets it way worse#<-- prev tags yessss#also doing the math wasn't she like 28 when she died#i'm glad they didn't recast and of course samantha smith looks her own age#but mary is in fact YOUNGER THAN SAM AND DEAN AT THIS POINT#they are not children#and the tags copied above i think explains so sos ooo much#bc so many fans glommed onto dean because of similar family issues#and that means they are struggling as much as dean is in s12#and just can't disconnect that quite yet#but god#GOD how she struggles with that emotional intimacy#she was raised as a hunter you don't think she's chockablock full of maladaptive coping mechanisms too?

Because I whole-heartedly agree with this. John Winchester was not a good father in some major, major ways, and Sam and Dean had a childhood straight out of a...well, a horror/fantasy genre show...but I think people forget that Sam and Dean also do truly love John and truly are more or less at peace with their memory of him later in the series, and there has to be a reason for that, too. It's not that he's a mustache-twirling villain; it's complicated. He loved them, but he wasn't always able to do it right. They love him, but he hurt them and made the what they are, which is a double-edged sword.

It's really natural that we all identify with Dean, and get angry at people who hurt him, but I think it's important to realize that Dean processes his anger about Mary leaving pretty quickly, because it's not really anger and resentment, it's confusion, disappointment and hurt. And I think Dean is grown enough to own his own feelings, and able to accept that she needs time and space, and he's not such a child that he isn't capable of separating his legitimate feelings from her legitimate needs. It takes him time, but he gets there, because, and this is another conversation, Dean is really very reflective and emotionally intelligent, actually.

I also do agree that a lot of fans, in identifying with Dean, map their own feelings about their parents onto Mary, and dislike her for reasons that have nothing to do with the story being told on Supernatural, which is essentially a very healing one. Since I'm a Gen-X old, and the mother of an adult son, I actually had a pretty different experience, and as much as I love Dean, in this storyline, I identified a lot with Mary.

On the one hand, she has to be so proud of her two big, beautiful, brave and heroic sons, but at the same time she does not know them! They don't need her, and they are trying to protect her from the things she feels they should have been protected from, and at the same time, as adult men who are still, in some way, motherless boys, they are hungry (especially Dean) for her to be something that she never had a chance to grow into. I loved it that her own exigencies were too strong to LET her stay. I loved that she could not accept the role of mother that had been stolen from her, and could not sit still to let it just kind of settle on her shoulders.

It made me think that (aw yeah!) there was a difference between John's sainted white nightgown conception of his dead wife (his motivation to be what he was), and Dean's memory of her as the cutter off of crusts from his sandwiches, or the mother that he comforted when she was sad, and he was just a little man. I'm so glad that Mary turned out to be so much more than that. She is a woman with her own competencies, her own damage and baggage, and her own ideas about how to make things right, who doesn't agree with her sons all the time, who makes mistakes, who fucks the wrong guy, still loves her problematic husband, and can't actually cook, thank you very much. I love that her own disorientation and her own will are so strong that she really can't allow who she actually is to be subsumed into the communal role of 'mother'.

I think that socially, we don't really think about what we ask of mothers, or how hard we judge them. We underestimate what they give up of themselves to satisfy that role. My son was born when I was really young, and fellas, IT WAS HARD under more or less perfectly normal circumstances, to make the transition from being just me to being a mother. My magnificent son is amazeballs, and is a human being that I am so fucking proud to have made out of my very own actual body and raised to be the excellent human he is, and we are really close, but I was not always prefect, and even now when he is a grown adult, I still chafe against the perception of me as 'his mother' and not just ME all the time. One of the very greatest things about my son is his incredible ability to let me live, and make space for the fact that I am also a person, and not just his mother, and I am so, so grateful to him for that, so....

Yeah. As much as I didn't want to see Dean hurt, I LOVED Mary, and love that they wrote her as her a full human being and not a tropally perfect mother. I loved seeing her as a flawed parent that deserved her adult children's understanding and mature love, who deserved her own space and her own processes. What's more, I loved seeing Dean process his feelings about her, and seeing him become a son who was capable of loving a real human woman who happened to be his mother. So... yes. I love her.

Mary Winchester forever. A+.

#Mary Winchester #Supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sorry y'all for another long ass post about this #but #I just have a lot of fucking feelings about Mary ok?

[avelera]

I'm genuinely curious why a Lucifer!Crowley fan theory drove you up the wall? I mostly want him to be a nobody just bc I'm tired of "oOoOh the nobody is actually Somebody!!" twists, but I saw a meta yesterday that had me at least considering Crowley might be Lucifer 🤔😆

That particular theory drove me up the wall because it proliferated despite both Word of God evidence AND in-story evidence that was flat out against it. I’m all for fun headcanons but I’m just enough of a pedant that it sets my teeth on edge when a headcanon is contradicted by both the text AND the author.

- Neil flat out said that Lucifer and Satan are not separate people in the Good Omens universe. So the theory was already dead before he killed it again with this new ask.

- Crowley refers to Lucifer as a separate person. He’s not referring to himself or as being one of the “guys”, in context he’s clearly talking about a separate group and it’s needless conspiracy mongering to try to twist those words. The context was incredibly clear and it required willful blindness or perhaps unfamiliarity with English as a native language and its accompany tone to think Crowley was including himself in the group or referring to another person calling HIM Lucifer. He was clearly saying Lucifer is over THERE with the guys and I’m walking by them and then joining their table because I’m bored. Ergo he’s not Lucifer.

- Satan is a character in Good Omens! He was Adam’s father! He appeared on screen! He was voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch! I’d understand the theory if we never saw Satan or Satan’s identity and whereabouts were a mystery but they’re NOT. Crowley is not Satan! We’d know if he was Satan! We saw Satan! It was a whole big thing, the climax of Season 1! I get it if most GO fans care more about Crowley than Adam but it definitely happened in the text and on screen!

- And since Satan and Lucifer are THE SAME PERSON as is the case in the MOST popular perceptions of Satan and Lucifer if you don’t delve into truly obscure angelic and religious apocrypha, that means he’s a separate character from Crowley!

Like I get it, it’s a fun theory and a great premise for a fanfic that’s focused on Crowley but my god, this theory COULD NOT be more contradicted in the text in every which way. The conspiracy mongering to make it work is truly mind boggling. I promise you in no religious comedy intended for a broad audience is ANY author going to make Lucifer and Satan separate characters in a story based on Christian mythology with an assumption that readers will expect it. That is something you clearly lay out in the story if it’s true and people should be theory mongering around it, the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman didn’t is because it’s not true and because 99% of laymen ie, their audience, thinks of Satan and Lucifer as the same entity. It would be BAFFLING for most audiences not steeped in obscure Christian religious apocrypha to make them separate and if you did it would be clearly stated at SOME POINT, ANY POINT, IN THE TEXT.

For fuck’s sake, Crowley isn’t Lucifer! And I’m glad Neil murdered this theory dead!

#Crowley is not Lucifer #good omens #good omens meta

[hannyoontify]

lessen your burden - choi seungcheol

member | seungcheol x gn!reader

genre | angst, js hurt no comfort, breakup!au (i apologize in advance)

word count | 1.2k

synopsis | seungcheol loved you more than anything, but when he learns that you no longer feel the same way, he's still a little reluctant to let you go.

warnings | cursing, seungcheol is extremely emotionally codependent/unstable, reader is a bit of a dick (i think), arguing, reader loses their shit

notes | to be completely honest, i can't tell who's the "bad guy" here bc this is loosely based on true events from yours truly 💀 tag yourself i'm [name]

''i'm sorry. i'm sorry that i'm such a shitty boyfriend and i'm sorry that i keep having these bad thoughts about us and-'

'seungcheol, what are you saying right now?' you asked, a hint of sleep still laced in your voice. it's only been 3 minutes since you woke up and your boyfriend was sitting in bed next to you with tears in his eyes as he apologized profusely for absolutely nothing. you wondered if this was his fourth or fifth time crying to you this week.

'i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. i don't know what else to say, i feel like i should be apologizing right now, but i don't know. i'm sorry. i'm stressed and today just isn't a good day' he rambled on, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

'seungcheol, what the fuck are you talking about? it's only been 5 minutes since we woke up, what do you mean it's not a good day' you said. you would be lying if you said that you weren't slightly agitated by this whole situation because this wasn't what you wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

you noticed seungcheol flinch at your choice of words and you ran a hand against your tired face. 'sorry, i didn't mean to curse'

to say that you and seungcheol's relationship had been tense recently would be an understatement. with your upcoming performance test and potential promotion at work, you were stressed and under a lot of pressure to do well. seungcheol was also job hunting after he was let go from his previous company that was financially struggling. every day, he sat at his computer as he sent out resume after resume and only left your apartment to drink with his friends or for interviews which never ended well.

the two of you had been getting into more arguments as well. it first started out small; bickering when you found a miscellaneous sock on the floor when you got home that soon transitioned to screaming matches every other night. but now, you were both too tired for that as well. you knew, eventually, that you two would break up. it was inevitable.

it wasn't that seungcheol was a bad person or a bad partner, you were simply incompatible with him. that, and you also fell out of love with him at some point and grew tired of your relationship with him. it seemed like all you ever did was give, but you received almost nothing.

'can you please hold me?' seungcheol asked in a quiet voice. a small, exasperated sigh left your lips before you could register what you were doing. once you did, you tried to cover it up by rustling the duvet loudly and motioned for your upset boyfriend to come closer to you.

but seungcheol noticed. he always did. he noticed the way you slightly rolled your eyes whenever he came up to you on the verge of tears. he noticed that every night, you seemed to inch further and further away from him until you were on the edge of the bed, threatening to fall off the mattress. he always tried to brush it off, making up lame excuses for your distant behavior, but now, it was getting harder for him to think of excuses.

pressing his head against your chest, seungcheol listened to your soft heartbeat as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair.

'cheol, we should break up' you quietly said. seungcheol pulled away from your embrace and looked straight ahead. he couldn't look at you. he wouldn't.

'why?' oh he knew why. seungcheol knew why but he still wanted to hear it coming from your mouth–

'i don't love you anymore'

–he takes it back. he takes it all back. he never wants to hear those words coming out of your mouth ever again, it felt like a punch to his gut. seungcheol suddenly couldn't breathe.

'[name], you don't- you don't mean that. please. i need you to comfort me right now, tell me that everything is going to be okay. you can't leave me, not when i'm at my lowest point like this'

you silently slid out of your bed and put on your bathrobe, facing your back towards him. 'i'm sorry, seungcheol. i don't know if i can do this anymore. i'm tired. doesn't my lack of effort make you feel unloved? like you deserve better?'

your boyfriend–almost ex–shook his head profusely. 'no, you're perfect for me. please don't leave me [name]'

'begging isn't gonna get you anywhere, choi seungcheol'

hearing his full name coming from your lips made seungcheol's blood run cold. you only called him by his full name when you were on the verge of lashing out at him and against his better judgement, he apologized again. 'i'm sorry, [name]. if you tell me what i did wrong, i'll fix it and-'

you whipped around. for the first time that day, seungcheol saw your eyes though now he wishes he never had. your usual shining eyes were void of any love and joy that used to be there. instead, they were dark and stormy. full of anger and scorn.

'when is the last time you've comforted me, seungcheol? you go on and on about how you need me and you need to be comforted by me. think about it. when's the last time, you've held me in your arms and told me those 5 words that you want to hear all the time?' once the floodgates had opened, there was no turning back.

seungcheol sat there, stunned as you continued to berate him. what you were saying wasn't wrong. he had been so focused on trying to make himself feel better, he never bothered asking you what was on your mind. he wondered how often your words 'it's going to be okay' were actually meant for you instead of him.

'when i wasn't chosen for the promotion last month, where were you? you were out, drinking with your friends until 2 in the fucking morning'

'i don't understand why you're so obsessed with the promotion, you're still young and you have plenty of time-'

'I DID IT FOR YOU, SEUNGCHEOL. I DID IT FOR US' in the end, you had exploded. 'EVERYONE'S ON MY ASS 24/7 ASKING ME WHEN I'M GONNA GET MARRIED. HOW CAN I GET MARRIED WHEN MY BOYFRIEND IS UNEMPLOYED AND MY PAYCHECK CAN BARELY SUPPORT US BOTH?!'

you took a deep breath, not realizing until now that you were crying. there were tears streaming down your cheeks, similar to seungcheol. taking a moment to collect yourself, you rubbed at your eyes, trying to stop your flowing tears.

'everyday, i get yelled at and scolded by my seniors. i'm currently doing the workload of two people, do you remember me telling you that?'

seungcheol felt a pang of guilt in his chest. he did remember and watching you breakdown like this left him in horror–

'and then i come home, to my apartment that i pay for. and the dishes are still in the sink. the laundry isn't folded. did you expect me to do all the housework as well?'

–was he really this much of a burden to you?–

'i'm tired of this, seungcheol. please. i'm tired of giving and not receiving anything in return' although you stopped crying, your eyes were glistening with tears as you looked at him desperately.

–if that's what you really wanted, he would give it to you–

'i'll be out of here by the end of this week'

–because he still loved you.

#hannyoontify.works #seventeen #svt #seventeen scoups #svt scoups #scoups #seungcheol #svt seungcheol #scoups drabble #scoups oneshot #scoups angst #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen blurbs #svt x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen fluff #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seventeen x reader #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios

[buzzkillchainsaw]

Hallo! A question related to your Arc oc’s: what would the titles of the “books” be called? If you’ve even thought about them. :)

Oh man. OH MAN. I've been thinking about it ever since posting, bc I'm envisioning drawing book covers in the style of the canon books (but I don't think I could actually paint like that 😭)

Some of the character already had "titles" in their little refsheets that would make good book titles, some I still need to think about. Here are some ideas I've been thinking about:

Book 1: The animus maker (showing Ice with the glowing chains standing on the edge of the Sandwing territory at night, and maybe a silhouette of Datura on the backside of the book)

Book 2: The veiled princess (no concrete idea for the cover yet, maybe with the same setting as the first cover but flipped so that Ice is in the background. but maybe that's too boring)

Book 3: The true Seawing Queen (maybe one of the "worship" scenes with Pearl being surrounded by glowing eyes)

Book 4: No idea! Maybe something that hints at Lamprey's return & Agate knowing Pearl, like "Shadows of the past". Truly stumped on this one. The cover would maybe show Tetra in the throne room from Agate's point of view.

Book 5: again, kinda stumped. I like "Make a wish" or "making wishes" but it sounds kinda corny and doesn't really fit with WOF book naming conventions. Maybe "The wish maker"? The cover would show No-one as a Rainwing lounging on a branch or maybe spying on Datura and Ice when they first enter the Rainforest.

Book 6: The last/final spell. (The cover would maybe show Sidewinder from a slight bird's eye perspective as she's surrounded by Icewing soldiers, although I don't really like this idea as she's actually close to Datura and No-one in that scene. Still thinking about it)

Feedback and ideas for both titles and cover images very much appreciated! 🙏

#ask #buzzkill wof arc

[steves-strapcollection]

here i have found some peace of mind [WIP snippet]

So bc I'm waiting until I have more of the fic actually COMPLETED before I start posting, I'm gonna... keep sharing snippets that I rly like and am really excited for y'all to see. a lot of these scenes will likely change and get longer, and some scenes i share might get axed, who knows? ANYWAY here's some Eddie POV from my modern rockstar!Eddie/housing coordinator!Steve AU!!!

“Dude, is that Chrissy’s phone?”

Eddie jumped and looked up at Jeff with wide eyes. Jeff was standing in the doorway of the “bedroom” of the tour bus. For a moment, Eddie was struck with the idea to eat the phone to hide it which he put a stop to immediately.

“Maybe,” Eddie said elusively, rolling so he was laying more on his side rather than on his stomach.

“You know she’s literally about to have an aneurysm out there trying to find that, right?” Jeff asked with a snort before he climbed up into his bunk across the small hall between bunks.

“At this point, if she hasn’t figured out that I have her phone one hundred percent of the time she can’t find it, that's on her,” Eddie said haughtily, going back to the game of Sudoku he was struggling with before Steve called.

“Maybe you should stop losing your phones, yeah?” Jeff suggested tiredly, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Eddie pouted at the puzzle. “I didn’t lose my phone,” he grumbled, and Jeff snorted.

“Okay, fine, maybe you should stop completely destroying your phones, plural,” he said, and Eddie felt his ears heat up.

It wasn’t his fault that they made phones more and more fragile while also making them too big to fit in his pockets. It’s also not his fault that he was prone to jumping up onto surfaces he shouldn’t be climbing around on and horsing around. He had a diagnosis for that and a prescription and everything, he was honestly doing his best.

Maybe goofing off on the half-wall overlooking the Grand Canyon while wearing his tightest pair of jeans with the least effective pockets last week wasn’t the best decision, but it wasn’t his fault.

The time before that, he was just trying to get a signal while they drove through the boonies. It wasn’t his fault that the bus driver hit a pothole the second Eddie held his phone close to the open window. It truly actually wasn’t.

And before that, he actually just lost his phone. Eddie was positive he had it in his bag, and then when they got to the next venue, it wasn’t there. That happens to the best of people all the time, right?

According to his band mates, no, that didn’t happen to people all the time, but he was pretty sure they were all just conspiring to make him look like a weirdo.

“Whatever, the point is Chrissy knows I always have her phone when she can’t find it. Her freaking out is just silly,” Eddie said with a sniff, glaring down at the Sudoku puzzle he was making zero progress with.

“Edward Munson!”

Jeff peered over the edge of his bunk to smirk at Eddie’s wide-eyed stare. “Uh oh,” he teased as Chrissy stormed into the room.

“You!” she practically shrieked, pointing at him as he shoved the phone between his body and the mattress as if she hadn’t already seen it in his hands.

“What?” he asked innocently, and he screamed as she dove into his bunk to wrestle the phone out from under him.

They tussled for a while, Chrissy yelling all sorts of expletives at him that were honestly still a shock coming from her sweet face. She was also a dirty fighter.

“Ow, shit! Did you just bite me?” Eddie hissed, grabbing Chrissy’s whole face and pushing her away as he looked at the distinctly teeth-shaped indents on his arm. They were deep, just barely not breaking skin and would definitely bruise.

Then Chrissy licked his palm like an animal, and he recoiled enough that he rolled off of her phone.

“What the fuck, Cunningham, that’s disgusting,” Eddie said with a glower, wiping his hand off on his shirt as Chrissy checked for new messages. When she didn’t respond, he added suggestively, “you have no idea where my hand has been.”

“I’ve had worse than whatever you’ve got going on in my mouth,” Chrissy muttered. 

Eddie grimaced. “Now I’m thinking about Jason’s dick, thanks for that, Chris,” he groaned, and Chrissy just snorted.

“I was actually talking about that pizza we were subjected to by the venue last week, but okay, bring my ex’s dick into this,” Chrissy said before smacking Eddie’s chest.

“Ow, my nipples,” Eddie pouted, and she just smacked him again, trying not to laugh.

“Stop stealing my phone!” Chrissy bit out through her teeth, trying to intimidate but honestly channeling the energy of a chihuahua puppy.

“I didn’t steal it! I was just using it! Secretly! While you were looking for it!” Eddie said, barely containing his laugh.

“You’re an asshole, you know that? We’re getting you a new phone as soon as we have time,” Chrissy huffed, tossing her phone back onto Eddie’s bed, which he immediately snatched it back up. “Don’t hide it from me.”

“Did you fucking delete all the answers I figured out on this stupid puzzle?” Eddie gasped, looking at Chrissy with wide eyes.

“Maybe I did,” she said huffily, puffing up her chest as she crossed her arms.

“You monster,” Eddie wailed, flopping back and laying the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically.

“Well, maybe you’ll think before you destroy your next phone, huh?” Chrissy said, reaching over to quickly and viciously pinch one of Eddie’s nipples through his shirt. As Eddie yelled, she quickly dove off the bunk with a shrieking giggle and fled the room.

For a moment Eddie tried to chase her, but with all the wrestling they had managed to get his blankets tangled around his legs. Did Eddie only stop trying to chase Chrissy when he ended up in an undignified heap on the floor of the bus? Perhaps, but only Jeff and him would know that for sure.

“You good, Eddie?”

When Eddie looked up to see Jeff’s phone out and clearly recording if the way he was stifling his laughter was anything to go by, Eddie groaned and dropped his forehead to the floor with a loud thump. Of course, Jeff would be recording this whole mess, just like Gareth had recorded the exact moment he realized his phone had fallen into a literal canyon last week. Naturally, all these moments would be edited together for their next “tour diary” on their YouTube channel.

And yes, the incident with Eddie’s phone falling out the window of the moving bus was also caught on video, and the fans had lost it. So yeah, now their tour diaries included an entire section dubbed “Cringefail Eddie” and it was all good fun.

Crawling back into his bunk, Eddie picked up Chrissy’s phone and started the Sudoku puzzle over again with a bright smile on his face. Yeah, stardom was kind of lonely, but he still had his best friends along for the ride with him.

Please consider reblogging if u like it!! And let me know if u want to be added to the taglist for when it goes live. If u wanna be tagged in WIP snippets too!! TAGLIST (of the ppl who seem to like to read my writing even if it's not finished yet pls just let me know if u don't wanna be tagged in all my snippets)!! @patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @indigohightide, @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa, @mylilplanet, @afewproblems

#platonic hellcheer #stranger things #stranger things wip #gerry writes

[bullagit]

it's just. it's just

if your take on aziraphale at the end of the day is that he is, ultimately, a wholly selfish person. that his relationship to crowley is him taking and accepting and asking for more from a partner who, lovesick and waiflike and unable to draw a line, continues to carve off of himself to supplicate, while aziraphale does not "for once" contribute back.

then honestly i think you missed a step somewhere. and i'll preface by saying no shade on that front because it would be a boring thing if everyone everywhere had the same idea about every character, but this particular read on aziraphale chafes me.

because coming at things from his angle i think the larger issue is that he's selfless.

not in a cutesy job interview "my only flaw is i care too much :)" way, not in the sort of way that negates selfishness entirely (because like ALL of the characters in good omens, he IS still selfish!).

but i think aziraphale is selfless in a terrible and passive sort of way. i think he does not love himself and he does not think that he's someone who is easy to love, and i think that like crowley, aziraphale believes that when it comes to himself, love is conditional. it must be. when he receives it straightforwardly, seemingly unconditionally, he balks, because to his mind he's never done anything to deserve it.

i think he's been taught that, when he's himself, he's somehow wrong. i think if he's the only one on the line, he wouldn't choose his own happiness over something he feels he has to do. and if he feels that something is right, truly fully right, and that it needs doing, and that he can do it, he'll always ultimately throw himself onto that proverbial sword.

he'll run higher and higher up the celestial ladder trying to save earth (and crowley) and when that gets him nowhere, he'll decry the entire war and throw himself down to earth to try to stop it anyway. he'll stand at the edge of the end with actual satan bearing down upon them and pick up his old sword and say we can't give up now. he'll hand the most important person in the universe their destruction in a tartan thermos and feel like the most wretched miserable creature in existence for doing it.

he'll love someone in a way he's never loved anything and make himself be the one who keeps the rehearsed distance, the walls of plausible deniability and loopholes and convenient coincidences, because the distance is the most concrete way to keep that person safe. (because that was always one of the first points he'd hit with crowley: if hell finds out, they'll destroy you.) i think he operates out of fear before nearly anything else.

i think that for all that aziraphale indulges in his material pleasures-- the books and souvenirs and drinks and food-- he's starved and repressed and made himself very carefully wall off the pieces of his heart that want only to love wholly and to be loved in return. especially where crowley is concerned.

and honestly i'm not even going to get into their relationship dynamics bc that's so much to get into that's like a separate issue separate post. except to say that just because aziraphale doesn't do the exact same things for crowley that crowley has for him, it doesn't mean that this relationship is not reciprocal. (my wording struggles here because in general the point is not to gain returns, crowley doesn't do things for aziraphale because he expects to get something out of it. he does things because he loves him and he's big acts of service energy)

and tbh i feel like if crowley saw or caught wind of any of this "aziraphale should sacrifice for crowley ~for once~ protect crowley ~for once~" rhetoric he'd be pretty fucking offended

if any of that even makes sense idk

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #spoilers #good omens spoilers #go2 spoilers #yk there are a lot of reasons 'you go too fast for me crowley' is painful #its painful for aziraphale too #like. he just handed crowley his own destruction bc it was safer than crowley trying to get it through other means #he just gave him what he thought was a suicide pill; like of course he wasn't ready to go have a hang and some drinks #he's sitting in that car nearly crying the whole scene he loves crowley so fucking much and he's so terrified for him all the time #i will never deny that aziraphale is so flawed and so frequently ruled by his own trauma; he messes up a lot he's hurtful to crowley a lot #but it's so night and day between fanon and canon #when ultimately what he wants more than anything in the universe is to just. be with crowley SAFELY for ONCE

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

so howd you like it what are your thoughts

Anon, I hope you don't mind it but I'm going to use this ask as an excuse to do my Full On Rambling post about my honest thoughts. I'll try to keep is as coherent as possible, but I can't actually guarantee it :')

Also putting it under a cut because some of it is going to sound negative (as I said, I want to exorcise any critiques I have so I can go back to Vibing asap) and I know many people (undestandibly!!) won't want to read that, and I don't want to burst anyone's happy bubble :) . And also because of s3 spoilers. Bear in mind that it's not a rant post, I still had tons of fun with the season. But since I'm going to be talking about the things I enjoyed forevermore and gonna try to keep all my 'didn't really like this :/'s contained in this post, it may come out sounding like I enjoyed it less than I truly did. Here we go, get ready for some Thoughts

-> Content

Okay, listen. This season was fun. I had a nice time watching the newest shenanigans. New characters (with one notable exception) were a joy to watch (yes, even the thing. We're in a toxic situationship) and I was greatly amused by their adventures; most of them kept me on the edge of my seat.

(ok, here's where the negativity begins. Please don't take me for someone who wanted everything to be done for Their Specific Standards or who thinks they know more than the professional and extremely skilled team that was behind the series. I'm just throwing around thoughts about how I feel, but in the end, the only thing that matters is that Luke Pearson and the team got to tell the story they wanted to. If that was achieved, I'm happy regardless)

However, I couldn't help but think that some of it felt... like it was "thrown" at us, in a way? To be fair, I think most of the negative points I'll discuss in this post are a consequence of this season being 6 epsidoes short of what the writers originally planned because, as I've mentioned before, I do think the show's writing is great and that the team puts their heart and soul into making this the best cartoon possible. Anyway, what I mean is that at times I thought the episodes seemed so worried with delivering all the information they could that a lot was left behind and some stuff didn't really tie together with the rest.

For example; I still cannot understand why aunt Astrid and Anders had to be these big surprises that had never been mentioned before if Hilda, the character who we see this world through, already knew about them? Don't misunderstand me, I am well aware that these nitpicks of mine are subjective and only my personal opinions that may very well simply be a consequence of not understanding what the writers were trying to achieve. I just feel like Johanna's family and Hilda's father are topics that have been discussed so at lenght in the fandom, precisely because they'd been so carefully skirted around in the previous seasons, that the reveal that nothing really dramatic had happened (between Johanna/Astrid and Johanna/Anders, at least) feels anticlimatic to me. It just feels (again, to me, personal opinion) that if this was going to be the case all along they could have mentioned these characters before, and it would have made the narrative make a little more sense.

(This is especially true to me in Anders' case. Bc it felt to me like they had been trying to highlight how irrelevant Hilda's dad was to the story in the first seasons by not bringing him up at all, by not even pointing out his abscence. But I can't really see the point in that if you're gonna bring out the man either way)

Ironically, at the same time I felt like some of the arcs were a tad overachieving, especially the Johanna's parents one. I just felt like it was Too Much Too Quickly, which once again is likely because of the season having been shortened. I feel like if they really wanted to do that arc, and that way, it would have been helpful to cut some other storylines so they could begin fleshing out this one earlier. They way it was done I just personally (can you tell I'm terrified of being taken as a hater?) felt like there was no time at all to get either used to the idea of Johanna being half faerie nor to get attatched to her parents. Like. I know the episode was the season's emotional peak, but it just didn't hit me the way I know it should.

Not sure if this was a me problem, but I felt like the audience wasn't given enough time to process what had even happened when they got stuck in the fairie island, nor to even consider that they'd truly be stuck there forever, much less to fully process the sacrifice Johanna was making when she left it with Hilda. I didn't get to get attached to Johanna's parents or to the dynamic they have with their daughter. I didn't suffer the way I wanted to when I saw them having to part ways, because I couldn't become invested in their bond when I was still trying to wrap my head around what their backstory even was and pay attention to the action heavy scenes that were to come.

What I'm gonna say here is way meaner than the people behind the show's writing deserve and I know, I can absolutely tell it isn't the case because you can see some of the foreshadowing once you have the benefit of hindsight, but it felt to me like some of Johanna's backstory was written for shock value alone. Which, considering the previous components of the season that I have already mentioned felt underwhelming, was even more jarring.

Another thing is that I feel like a lot was sacrificed in order to do these overachieving arcs. This maaay just be the side character lover and change hater in me, but I do feel like in order to present to us all these new concepts that would be necessary for the backstory to make sense, we were deprived of some elements in Hilda The Series that are arguably what the show does best. It felt like they all but scratched all of their previous stories, characters and components to switch them up for new ones. Pikablob has said it better than me, tbh.

However. I do feel like saying that none of the fears I had for the season came true. No character feels ooc, no one was left with an incomplete arc, and though I can't see how Anders contributes to the story, if he had to be there I feel like the way that was it done was the right one.

-> Pacing

Frenetic. Run for the hills kind of thing sometimes. Which, once again, I can't bring myself to believe was the writers' fault, not when they had other 6 episodes planned that they didn't get to do. I absolutely understand that they had to condense everything they wanted to show us into half the runtime. But it did become an issue (to me) when instead of the trademark Hilda Idyllic Tranquility I usually feel while watching (even plot and action heavy content like TMK), I felt like I was watching a completely different cartoon. Carmen Sandiego, or something like that (please note that I do also love Carmen Sandiego). Many times it just felt like there was no breathing space, which isn't necessarily bad when done well, but I hadn't gone into the season prepared for that.

It wasn't a problem that was all around present, though. I do want to point out that imo "The Giant Slayer", "The Laughing Merman", "Strange Frequencies" and even "The Forgotten Lake" still felt like Hilda to me. Which is where I realize what the main issue I had with the season was. That a lot of it just felt like a different show.

-> ~ vibes ~

I am bringing back the disclaimer that if the team told the story they wanted to, then good for them, I'm pleased as can be. I do enjoy that the series played with some different concepts. The musicality and colours in The Laughing Merman, for example, were absolutely delightful to me. Seriously, I want an entire Hilda musical now.

But some things I just couldn't help but feel were so disconnected from the previous feel of the show that it felt to me like they didn't belong. You can sum the rest of this post up by saying that season 3 would have been one of my favourite ever cartoons if it had been its own thing. But it's not, so I can't help but compare it and try to understand how all of the installments work when together.

The faeries, for example. I was so excited when I saw the trailer and knew it was going to be one of the plots, because I thought it was going to be another adventure of the day type of thing that would span over three episodes max. And listen, I've talked about how much I love Celtic folklore, and maybe this is just my consistency loving brain being annoying, but it felt a bit... clashing? that this season was based on tales and creatures and treaditions that weren't the scandinavian ones that inspired the rest of the series. It just felt like a major shift in tone that I don't really understand (once again, me problem, may very well be a skill issue on my part & I'm not saying they shouldn't have ventured so far just bc I didn't quite vibe with it). It just feels a bit off to me, knowing that Johanna's backstory was likely planned from the start, that there wasn't any celtic lore at all in previous seasons to make this sudden detachment from nordic folklore feel less out of the blue.

You know that joke that Disney movies like Aladdin and Raya take concepts from different cultures and smash them together like they're not completely different? I felt to some extent (bc OF COURSE Hilda is much better researched and has a lot better quality than that /gen) like they did that this season. But with white people. Which, fair, I can appreciate the irony.

Back to the topic of bold storylines, I understand what the Hilda team did with all the Johanna backstory. I understand that it's something that everyone wanted to see soo bad and they wanted it to be great (and it was). The thing I got stuck on is just that it ended up changing the vibe of the show to me. Whereas previous seasons feel like "slice of life in a magical place", I felt like this time I was watching a magic centered fantasy. Especially when they got into trying to explain the origin of magic and everything. Which is ironic, because I enjoyed the concept a lot and will explore it in the future, but it still felt like something that I wouldn't have expected Hilda the Series to tackle. Like there was a giant shift from folkloric to fantastic that isn't bad, but it is different and I hadn't been prepared for that lol.

God, I feel like I just wrote all of that and just to be A Bitch. I just wanted to get these thoughts out but I don't expect you guys to agree or anything. I genuinely liked watching this season, and I will continue to reiterate this in the future. And even if it doesn't beat s1 or s2 in my heart, I'm still grateful we got a final season at all, and everyone who was involved in it deserves all the praise <3

#me while writing this: dont say retcon dont say retcon #retcon is the word toxic 'fans' use when something doesnt go exactly the way they want and they can't interpret media DONT SAY RETCON #(<- friend just brought to my attention that I wasn’t clear on this - I don’t mean to say that retcons don’t exist #or that bad writing isn’t a problem!! I just mean I’ve seen so many discussions where the word was used badly #that now I can’t take it seriously nor use it anymore #) #I don't mean to say no one can critique the writing or that it's wrong to not enjoy what was done #I just don't trust myself to do it right KJSHDFKJHDS #& I don't want to soundl like a whiny and entitled jerk :( #kinda traumatized about it after that One ao3 commenter #hilda spoilers #hilda s3 spoilers #hilda critical #I cannot BELIEVE I just used that tag #should I tag for negativity?? I will just to be safe #negativity #hilda netflix #hilda season 3

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey, I can see you're busy, but I know you like to see our OCs and I finally have two of them finished, at least their profiles. I don't have any sketches of the sort yet. Anyway, I'll send them seperately bc, as I said before, they are pretty damn long and I was not sure in the slightest what to cut out. I had a lot of revamping to do since I started these years ago and now that season 1 is out and done, changes needed to be made XD. Anyway, here's the first one and I'll send the second one shortly. Changes may be made in the future, but this is in fact the bare bones of the character and I'm quite proud of it :D.

Name: Jeanette “Jean” Sawyer

Gender: Female Born in: 1956 Died in: 1973 (age 17)

Cause of Death: Suicide/Hypothermia Height: 5’2 (alive), 5’10 (current)

Appearance:  pale blue skin; black hair with white frosted tips on the end; eyes with icy blue sclera and a white iris; body type on the slender side, inverted triangle body type; forearms are larger than normal with white scars going down the length; often seen wearing warm clothes and arm warmers Species: Sinner Nickname/s: Jean, Jeannie, Shrimp, Kid, Kiddo, Shortstack, Toots Likes: cooking, skating, milkshakes with french fries, mini golf, listening to music, watching movies, carnivals, singing, dancing, trying new things, board games, cats, people watching, anything soft and warm, stargazing, camping Dislikes: the Vees (Vox and Valentino in particular), the cold, the dark, her arms, pineapples, most electronics, being the center of attention Sexuality: Lesbian Sins: Suicide Job: Hazbin Hotel Patron Background: It is difficult to get a grasp on what kind of person Jean is at first glance considering how much distance she puts between herself and others. In life and in death, stability was a luxury that Jean never truly had, making it difficult to open up to others, let alone fully trust another person. The only trustworthy constant in her life was her hardworking mother, whom she always looked to as a role model, confidant, and caretaker. 

Life was rather difficult, but both felt that having each other was all they needed. One day, Jean’s mother died, leaving her with nobody to care for her. For two years after, Jean was passed around in foster homes where she was beaten, scolded, and (the final nail in the coffin) had a foster parent attempt to sexually assault her. In a flash of panic, she killed her would-be rapist and she couldn’t help but fall into despair, deciding to take her own life after fleeing the current foster home in the middle of a blizzard. 

Upon entering hell, Jean was more confused and helpless than ever. Once her first extermination came around, her mother found her and brought her to safety where they would essentially live life from where they left off. Jean rarely went out on her own with the fear of the sinners often leaving her frightened for herself and her mother who often left to provide for them both. At a sudden point, her mother seemed to vanish for a few days before returning to her. Things seemed to change after that. It seemed her mother was bringing in more money than ever before, leaving them much better off; however, many things felt off as well. For one thing, her mother seemed to be more on edge. She also wouldn’t allow any electronics other than what she tinkered with and any time Jean ever went out, she never went alone. Then one day, her mother never came home and couldn’t be contacted. Concerned for her mother’s wellbeing, she searched for any leads and she found one in her work-related files:  a business card belonging to VoxTek. 

Upon entering Vee Tower to inquire about her mother’s whereabouts, she was swiftly intercepted by Vox himself. He told her she was indeed in the building devoting herself to a new project he put her on and offered her a tour as the daughter of one of his ‘top employees.’ She hesitantly accepted, wanting to heed the warning her mother gave of interacting with strangers yet drawn into the shiny new world she had just entered. Jean had never seen technology so advanced before and began to wonder why her mother never showed any of it if she indeed worked there. The answer became all too clear once two people inserted themselves into the situation:  her mother, who found out she was there and rushed to protect her, and Valentino, who spotted the young sinner with no master and was drawn in immediately.

One thing led to another and, upon Valentino harming Jean, her mother incapacitated both of the overlords in order for Jean to escape. Unfortunately, her mother was not so lucky.  For ten years going forward, Jean lived in hiding and fought to survive on the meager resources her mother stashed away and what little she could receive from her via care packages. Jean often read the hand-written notes her mother included with them in order to feel close considering the danger of meeting with each other in person. Even from a distance, her mother always relayed the same message, which was also the last words she ever heard from her mother:  ‘Keep your soul. Don’t trust these dealmakers.’ 

After some time, Jean accidentally trespassed onto the turf of a mysterious entity (at least as far as the other residents of Hell save for a few were concerned). She was quick to find out the entity’s true identity:  a powerful sinner named Sibelle, a girl around her age that perished centuries ago for witchcraft. She allowed Jean to stay in her territory and over time, the two grew extremely close even to the point of Sibelle wanting to make a deal. Jean was quick to try and decline until she heard the terms of the deal:  Sibelle was offering her soul and in exchange, Jean was free to summon her and use her power so long as it wasn’t for selfish reasons. In the former’s eyes, the latter would be able to call on her should she need help while she was outside the territory. As Sibelle would explain, her power is prone to force her into violent rampages and she had been in search of someone she had full trust in to form a soul contract with in order to keep her in control. After a while of asking, Jean had been worn down and accepted the deal. Not long after, Jean had decided to move on despite Sibelle’s protests and pleads to stay for her safety. However, she was sure that she couldn’t stay forever as she was now determined to find a way to free her mother from her contract with Vox.

One day, Jean encountered Charlie and Vaggie as they were recruiting patrons for the hotel. Charlie was more than eager to drag her along and talk Jean’s ear off about her idea and, with the short amount of time they had known each other, that she’s positive that she had an excellent chance at redemption. Mainly because of curiosity, hope and really having little else to do, Jean accepted and moved into the hotel to see she was one of two patrons. Once Alastor and his crew enter the picture, she does feel her walls coming down and finally confides in Angel Dust about her past, feeling he would understand considering their connection with Valentino. In Angel’s words, if Valentino ever found out she was there, it wouldn’t be from him.

Outside of redemption exercises, Jean can be seen throughout the hotel interaction with the other residents doing a number of things such as:  playing cards with Husk, babysitting Fat Nuggets, and being Alastor’s unwilling little helper. She would grow especially close with Angel Dust and Husk, growing to see them as an older brother and father figure respectively. Personality: As previously stated, Jean faces some serious trust issues due to lack of stability in her life and (the very obvious) trauma inflicted on her by those she was told she could trust. It would take a great deal of work and time to break her walls down, which is honestly what she is hoping to find (basically, too afraid to initiate steps to build trust and needs others to take the first step…s). She’s quiet, almost to the point she sneaks up on people and spooking them with no intention to do so. Many initially found it creepy save for Alastor, who found the startled reactions to be quite amusing. 

Despite this, the persona Jean puts on in front of others is one she copies from her mother:  a no-nonsense spitfire that refuses to submit to anyone. Of course, it is merely a front she copies as she’s seen her mother use in order to deal with the more threatening individuals. Dying at the age she did, Jean did find it easy to be rebellious though it clearly proved to be her downfall many times. Although her age makes her more prone to naivety and recklessness, it does allow Jean to remain open to new ideas (hence willing to try redemption) and not become set in her ways like a lot of adults tend to do with age. Unfortunately, this also means that Jean’s younger mind isn’t able to handle emotions and stress as well as an adult would, making her prone to emotional outbursts and meltdowns. 

Habits & Quirks: 

Jean wears arm warmers constantly even if she is wearing long sleeves

Is a quiet person to the point where she ends up sneaking up on people

Is always cold, most likely due to dying partially to hypothermia; strangely the intensity of how cold she feels depends on her mood

Has a terrible sense of direction. One of the very few reasons she owns a smartphone is for the GPS. It’s also why she studied astronomy when she was alive in order to read the stars for direction.

Trivia:

Jean has a baby face, making her look younger than she actually is. It’s especially amusing when Charlie practically exclaims “not in front of the baby!” or “she’s just a baby!”  while covering Jean’s eyes and/or ears. It can be quite embarrassing yet she can’t help but feel slightly flattered. But mostly frustrated and embarrassed.

Jean gives nicknames to all her friends and family, using them in her journal and as their contact name in her phone. She rarely addresses them with these names in real life, but likes to do so on occasion

Charlie:  Princess Bedhead 👑🥱

Vaggie:  The Warden ⚔️

Husk: ♣️King of Clubs♣️ (AKA ♥️Dad♥️)

Jean is seen to be very sentimental. Considering how little she had in life, it made sense to her to place value in the very few things she did possess. Her most prized possession is a photograph she managed to hold onto as she died of her and her mother at their local state fair. 

Since the confrontation with Vox, Jean had developed an aversion to most electronics, even the ones not developed by VoxTek. She still gets anxiety any time she has to pass by any screen.

STOP WHY CAN I PICTURE HER AND FAT NUGGETS CUDDLING I CAN'T-

#THE AMOUNT OF LOVE #AND THOUGHT YOU #PUT INTO HER #AMAZING #I'M JEALOUS #NEVER STOP