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sluttywoozi · 1 month

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Interlude No. 7 | wjh x f!reader

Interlude No. 7: You snap at Jun and he teaches you a lesson in the art of patience.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.6k | Pairing: wjh x f!reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: fingering, edging, orgasm delay/denial, piv sex, creampie

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, referred to with she/her pronouns

You regret snapping at Jun the very moment the words leave your stress-bitten lips.

“Can I not have just five minutes of goddamn peace in this house?”

You shudder thinking about the frustration and impatience in your voice, the ringing of your words in the otherwise silent bathroom, the way Jun immediately shrunk into himself and left without a word.

You were in the middle of your skincare routine when he came in, coming up behind you to settle his hands on your hips before asking where the extra formula was. You told him, for what had to be the fourth time, that you keep it on top of the fridge, that it’s exactly where it’s been since you bought it.

He hummed and nodded, squeezing your hips in apology before saying, “Right, I remember now. How much should I use, though? I don’t know how hungry he is, you normally feed him.”

You took a deep, centering breath and responded, “Half a scoop in the bottle, fill the rest with water.”

“Okay, perfect. And where are the-”

That third question, that’s when you snapped.

You shouldn't have, and you know this, but if you’re being honest, all you wanted was to get through your skincare routine uninterrupted. You don’t think that’s a big thing to ask, especially when you haven’t been able to carry out the sequence in a timely manner since you brought the baby home.

There’s always something to be done, a mess to be cleaned, a question to be answered. It’s been weeks since you had even a modicum of personal time, both by yourself and with your fiance, and you knew you were stretched thin, but you didn’t realize you were about to break.

However, you have to admit that Jun isn’t to blame for his lack of knowledge, not when he’s working and you’re doing the brunt of the caring. You hate that you got irritated with him for asking questions you wouldn’t have known the answer to if you were him, and you hate even more that you couldn’t keep it inside and instead let your frustrations out on him.

After that, you barely even felt like finishing out your routine, though you went through the motions anyway, not wanting it all to have been for nothing. You also, perhaps, wanted to hide from him and your shame for a little bit longer.

Now here you sit on the bed, psyching yourself up to approach him and apologize.

He’s your fiance, it should be easy to say sorry to him, you tell yourself.

Truthfully, you don’t want to come face to face with his downturned mouth or his muted spirit or his big, sad eyes. You’re expecting all three, and you just know the combination will feel like a punch to the gut. It’s what you deserve though, for the way you acted.

So you force yourself to stand up and amble to the door, your steps weary and your shoulders tense. You’ve just opened it and entered the hallway when you hear Jun’s soft voice, barely traveling to where you stand.

“We’re gonna be spending some more time together, baby. I think I’ve been working and leaving mommy alone with you too much, she needs to be able to take care of herself too.”

You tiptoe down the hall and peek around the cased opening, finding Jun sitting on the couch with his back to you and your seven week old foster kitten held up in his hands so they’re eye to eye. Peanut blinks his big eyes, seemingly listening to Jun and content to be cradled in his big, warm hands.

Every hint of exasperation melts away as your heart swells, leaving you feeling weak enough you have to rest against the wall to hold yourself up. You’re about to stumble your way into the living room when a knock sounds on the front door, making you jump and wonder who could be here at this hour.

Sure, it’s only nine PM, but it’s nearly your little family’s bedtime, your schedule much more regular now that you have a kitten to care for. Jun doesn’t seem fazed by the visitor, rising from the couch smoothly and hugging Peanut to his chest as he turns to walk toward the hall.

He does startle when he sets eyes on you, before he sends you a boxy grin and smooches your cheek on his way to the front door. You follow him on light feet, watching as he carefully sets Peanut in his carrier and picks up a canvas bag. The door opens to reveal Wonwoo, who takes both the cat and the bag without much fanfare.

“See you tomorrow, Peanut. We love you,” Jun calls, waving as Wonwoo returns to his car before closing and locking the front door. He faces you next and smiles a bit more shyly, taking your hand and guiding you to the bedroom without speaking.

“What’s going on?” You ask cluelessly, your fingers clinging tightly to his when he tries to pull away.

“I thought you could use a night off, so Peanut is having a sleepover with his cousins,” he says nervously. “I hope that’s okay. I can go sleep on the couch if you want to be completely alone.”

“No!” You exclaim before continuing, “I mean, the sleepover is sweet and thoughtful, and I do need a night off, but I don’t want to be alone without you.” Your other hand flies up to grab his and pull him to sit on the bed next to you. “You’re not upset with me for earlier?”

Jun shakes his head rapidly, his hair tousling on his forehead, “Of course I’m not upset with you, baby. You just needed a break.”

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway,” you frown, playing with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It happens,” he shrugs easily, brushing the moment off like it’s nothing.

You’re lucky to be engaged to someone who balances you out, who can withstand your high strung tendencies, who understands when you’re overstimulated and stressed and knows how to make it better.

God, you love him. And you want him to fuck you brainless.

It’s been hard to find time for intimacy lately, between raising a kitten and trying to get enough sleep, and you’re aching for him in a way you haven’t felt since his last long business trip.

His sex drive is even higher than yours so you’re sure he’s missed you too, and it takes little more than a look into his eyes and your hand dragging his up your thigh for him to get on board. His lips are on yours before you can take another breath, his other hand freeing itself so he can cup your neck and angle your head to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance immediately.

You grant it without a second thought, your lips parting for him as his fingers slip into your pajama shorts and skim over your pussy. He loves to tease you, loves to make you gasp and plead before giving you exactly what you want as if he never withheld it from you in the first place.

Usually, you can endure it with no problem, but tonight, you’re desperate.

It’s been weeks since you had the time and energy for more than a messy makeout in the dark, and already you can feel heat gathering deep in your stomach, feel your cunt starting to throb for him.

You pull away to whip your shirt over your head and scooch further onto the duvet, smiling at the way his eyes immediately zero in on your bare breasts. He follows you, climbing up and straddling your waist, pulling his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss you again, his lips hungry and his hands wandering.

His fingers roll your nipples, tugging them, pinching them until your back arches and you whine into his mouth. He swallows it eagerly, responding with a low moan and dragging his hands down your stomach. They can only go so far with him on top of you like this, and you feel him huff against your lips when he realizes he’ll have to move to get your shorts off.

A giggle bubbles out of you as he heaves a dramatic sigh and shifts to lay at your side, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your pajamas and wrenching them down to give him access. You bicycle your legs until you can fling them away, uncaring of where they land now that Jun is slipping one arm under your neck and pulling the leg closest to him over his own to open you up.

His fingers swirl over your stomach and down between your legs, the light touch making you tense in anticipation. You expect him to tease you, to make you wait for it, so you cry out when his fingers coast over your clit and sink right inside, curling into your sweet spot before you’ve even gotten used to the feeling of fullness.

You turn your head to look at him with shocked eyes, and he just smiles to himself and spreads his fingers, scissoring them inside of you and grinding his fingertips against your front wall again. You find you can’t look away now, not when you can watch every expression play out on his face, watch the way his eyebrows furrow when you clench around him and the way he bites his lip when your hips buck into his touch.

He’s so beautiful, your Jun, and so, so, so good with his fingers.

It helps that they’re long, lithe, agile, his knuckles dragging against your squeezing walls as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. They crook into your g-spot every so often, not frequently enough to build you up but enough to make you want more. You always want more of Jun, it’s part of how you got together in the first place.

When you were friends, you wanted more.

When you were dating, you wanted more.

Now that you’re engaged, you still want more.

You have a feeling that this desire for him will never fade, that too much could never be enough, that even after you’ve spent your life with him, you’ll still. want. more.

Thank goodness Jun is always willing to give himself to you, even if he does make you work for it.

You’re working for it right now, fighting not to beg him to just make you cum already, your pussy wet enough that you can hear every thrust of his fingers. You know he can hear it too but you’re long past being embarrassed with him, especially when you get this wet for him every single fucking time.

He’s pleased by it, you can tell by the light flush on his face, the dark look in his eyes, the weight of his gaze on your pussy as it sucks in his moving fingers. Finally, he starts hitting your g-spot with every thrust, his thumb shifting to press flat on your clit and rub tiny circles that make your brain melt.

You gasp and let your head fall back on his arm, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself get closer and closer. It’s almost in sight, your orgasm, you just need a little bit of focus and maybe one more finger.

You open your mouth to ask him for it, but before you can even get a word out, he’s saying, “No, I don’t want you to cum yet.”

“What?” You ask despondently, blinking your eyes open to stare at him in disbelief.

“I want you to wait,” he tilts his wrist to get a better angle, fucking his fingers into you even harder, even faster. “I’ll let you get close, but I don’t want you to cum until I’m inside of you.”

“Why?” You whine brokenly, your hand coming up to grip his arm for strength as he denies you.

“It’s an exercise in patience,” he smirks, his eyes playful when they dart over to connect with yours.

You don’t ask any further questions, gravely accepting his decision and resigning yourself to this new form of teasing.

For what feels like hours, he builds you up and brings you back down, tapping directly into your g-spot then leaving his fingers stagnant inside of you, rubbing your clit with his insistent thumb then shifting it just to the side.

You take it all, blubbering half the time and moaning for the rest, your eyes filling with tears as he pushes you right up to the edge then pulls you right back.

It’s a method of torture you didn’t know him to be capable of, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s more you don’t know. You almost hope there is, because that just means there’s more of Jun to learn (and you always want more).

You wonder how he’s got so much self control. You can feel his dick twitching and leaking under your leg, even through his pajama pants, and if the roles were switched, this would already be over.

It’s getting to the point where you’re on the verge of cumming every other minute, needing less and less from him to work you up, your orgasm dangling so close you can almost taste it.

“Juuuun,” you whimper desperately, unsure of how much more you can take.

He glances over at you and can’t seem to look away, his face growing closer to yours until he’s nose to nose with you, your watering eyes connected with his.

Then he pulls his fingers out, tears down his pants, and fills you with his cock before you even register the emptiness.

The stretch is immaculate, the heat of him otherworldly, the pleasure all consuming.

You suck in a breath, feel yourself bear down, and cum harder than you ever have in your whole goddamn life. It steals your voice and your vision, leaving you to listen to every choked out sound leaving you and every grunt and whimper coming from Jun. His hips smack into yours rapidly, wildly, the drag of his cock inside you intensifying every feeling in your overwrought body.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you shudder against him, your legs trembling and your pussy spasming as he bursts within you, his cum painting your rippling walls and filling you to the brim.

When it’s all over, you don’t move for eons, your eyes gently closed and your body limp in his hold. You sense him pulling out, leaving the bed, cleaning you up with a warm, damp cloth. His fingers smell clean when they drift over your face, he must have washed his hands before coming back. He’s whispering to you as he dresses you in new pajamas, murmuring words you can’t make out in your muddled mind. They soothe you anyway, bring you to the surface enough to blink your eyes open and gaze at him.

He smiles when he notices, cupping your cheeks and brushing his thumbs under your eyes, sweeping away the tears that fell without your notice. You summon enough energy to pucker your lips, and he smiles even wider before pressing his mouth to yours in a sweet, soft kiss.

Soon enough, you’re drifting off again, his head resting on your chest and his arm banded over your stomach, keeping you safe.

He fucks you three more times that night, and when you wake up to a knock on the door and a kitten to care for, you actually do feel like your patience has grown.

AN: i still don't feel super confident writing Jun but I'm glad I tried! I had a good time and I enjoy him immensely!

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 months

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Feral: First Christmas

Summary: It's Dean's first Christmas since being free and no longer feral. However it's only been a few weeks and he's not quite ready to do everything a typical Alpha would, especially one as famous as him. But Y/N has an idea up her sleeve to give him a fun Christmas experience...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: language, smidge of angst

A/N: Enjoy!

______

“Hey, Peter,” you said, quickly rushing inside the house, following him upstairs to your bedroom. He pushed open the door, Sam giving you a weary look before his gaze drifted over to the figure staring out the window.

“He hasn’t moved in two hours,” said Sam. You shrugged out of your winter coat and boots, patting across the hardwoods in your wool socks. “Or talked. He won’t-”

You smirked when you saw Dean’s face, Sam cutting himself off.

“Is he having a breakdown?” whispered Sam, Peter rolling his eyes at Sam’s overprotectiveness.

“No, no nothing so serious,” you said, lightly grazing your finger against Dean’s bonding gland, his body lax. You gently guided him to the bed, helping him sit and lay down, his eyes quickly shutting. “He was sleepwalking.”

“Sleepwalking?”

“I told you so,” mumbled Peter, heading for the exit. “Let me know if you’re going back out Y/N.”

“Will do,” you said, urging Sam out after him, gently pulling the door shut when you were in the hall. “And yes, sleepwalking. It’s incredibly common in formerly feral Alphas. Dean’s only about six weeks out from being feral so it’s expected. It normally stops around the three month mark.”

“Huh, never knew that,” said Sam, staring back at the door. “Sorry. I know I’m still a little nervous about him sometimes.”

“Hey. It’s understandable. Dean’s rehab wasn’t like everyone else’s,” you said, heading down the hall with him, Peter seeming to have grabbed your coat and boots for you. “So Christmas is in a few days. I wanted to make it extra special for him.”

“I mean we decorated the house and got him presents and everything in between. What were you thinking?” he asked.

“He’s so nervous to go out in public. I know there’s still a lot of attention on him but I wanted to try and take him out. To walk through the light show at the park. Go ice skating at the little Christmas village there. Let him have fun without being afraid.”

“Y/N,” he said as we walked downstairs. “I thought you said it’s going to take him a long time to get to that point. How are you going to take him to the most crowded place in the city when he has to psych himself up to go visit Benny? In a private space?”

“I have an idea,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “But I need your help.”

Dean was grumpy the next day. He knew you were taking him out of the house that night which he didn’t have a problem with if it was to see Gil and Sophia at their place. But you weren’t telling him where you were headed just yet which meant your Alpha was in a mood. A mood you very clearly felt through your bond.

“Dean,” you said that evening, knocking on the doorframe of your room. He sat angrily on the couch by the fire, crossing his flannel covered arms and frowning. “Alpha. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go wherever the hell you’re taking me, that’s what’s wrong.” You sighed and knelt down in front of him, Dean reluctantly letting you take his hands in yours.

“I know you know I’d never hurt you. We both know you’re scared and I don’t blame you. The media still very much wants to know all about you. It’s invasive and scary when all you deserve is good things in life.”

“I’m not ready,” he said quietly. “Please not yet.”

“If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to,” you said, Dean’s body relaxing. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“I can try.” You titled your head, Dean smiling back when he opened his green eyes, a gentle nod given to you. “There’s a lot I didn’t think I could do when I met you and you keep proving me wrong. I want you to keep doing that.”

“This will be fun. I promise. We can also come back home if you decide you don’t like it.” He hummed, scent nervous but a tinge of excitement underneath it. “But we do need to get you in some warmer clothes first.”

“Warmer clothes?”

Dean looked handsome in his tan wool hat and the new navy winter jacket Sam had picked up for him earlier that day. His winter boots squeaked when he stepped out of the car, gloved hands immediately grasping yours when you got out beside him.

“That’s a lot of people,” said Dean, watching people wandering around the Christmas village, his gaze assessing the scene carefully and ignoring the pretty Christmas scene before him.

“Smell the air,” you gently urged, Dean’s nose twitching up for a moment, his brow furrowing.

“That’s…a lot of Alphas,” he said as you pointed at the luxury buses in the parking lot, not the usual cars that would be there. “What’s-”

“Oh you kids made it!” said Sophia as she jogged over, giving Dean an extra big hug. He melted into it, Sophia kissing his temple. “You smell so tense, sweetie. Go have fun with the others! I think I saw Gil and Sam with Benny over by the ice rink.”

“Benny’s here?” he asked when you looped your arm through his, walking with him towards the entrance.

“Of course! All of the stage three and beyond Alpha’s from the facility are. Y/N had the idea of a field trip for everyone and their families so they could celebrate the holidays without any outside pressure,” she said, an Alpha you recognized from the facility coming up.

“Dr. Insler! Avery is asking for you over at the light tunnel,” they said. She gave a quick goodbye, leaving you and Dean to wander slowly inside. Dean stopped you both once you were there, his gaze wandering out as people shuffled around from one activity to another.

“How the hell did you shut down one of the most popular Christmas spots in the city two days before the holiday?” You shrugged, Dean shaking his head.

“Sam did most of it. I just had the thought,” you said, Dean looking around at the lights, the decorations, a silly smile spreading onto his cheeks. “You deserve a night of fun along with all these other Alphas.”

He leaned in and kissed you slowly, grinning through it and lighting up your insides. “Thank you for making me come out tonight, for making a whole lot of messed up people’s nights.”

“You guys aren’t messed up. You’re just in need of some care,” you said, Dean giving you a side hug, kissing the top of your head. “So. Since this is your first Christmas in a very long time, what would you like to do? Skate? Games? Do the light walk?”

“That hot chocolate looks pretty good,” he said with a smirk. “Ladies first.”

You woke up the next day with a sore butt from a hard fall on the ice rink. Dean hadn’t skated since he was a boy but he picked it up again instantly, teasing you for having two left feet and clutching him the whole time. You hadn’t cared though.

Dean had smiled the whole night and that boy deserved a lifetime of that.

You were surprised when you made your way downstairs and found Peter and Dean putting on their winter coats, Peter twirling a pair of car keys in his hands.

“Morning,” you said, getting a kiss from Dean, Peter going outside to start the car. “Where are you boys off to? Visit Benny?”

“It’s Christmas Eve and I realized, I haven’t done any shopping,” he said. You pursed your lips. You and Sam had both made it clear to Dean that having him was the best gift you could ever ask for. He pressed a finger to your lips and chuckled. “I won’t be gone long, just going to pick up a few things and then I’ll be home to wrap them.”

“Dean you don’t have-” He shushed you, pressing his forehead against yours. “The stores will be so busy-”

“And I have Peter and a hat and sunglasses. This is my first Christmas in forever and I sure as shit am going to do it the right way and make sure my family has gifts from me.” You stared at him, wanting to argue but if this was what he truly wanted, you weren’t about to stop him.

“Do you want me to go with you?” you asked, his head already shaking. “Alright. Be safe and have fun.”

“I will,” he said, pecking a kiss on your cheek. He slipped out the door, Sam padding downstairs with a yawn in his pajamas.

“Is he going out alone?” he asked. You hummed, Sam nodding once. “Good for him. I know he wanted to pick out your engagement ring himself.”

You felt flush, Sam chuckling. “I told him I don’t need one. We’re already mated.”

“Try telling him that. He adores you,” he said, heading down the hall for the kitchen.

You smiled, ducking your head down and feeling a flurry of warmth in your core you knew Dean would be feeling.

“Yeah. I love him too.”

___________

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #alpha!dean #alpha!dean x omega!reader #abo #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

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littlespoonevan · 1 year

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left half my heart in our living room

that episode did severe emotional damage to my psyche and then i turned on grow by sigrid and proceeded to make it worse :) i don’t know what this is i just needed to write some words because buck and eddie said So Many words in this ep and i felt all of them 💔

spoilers for 6x15

I feel like she sees me.

The sentence sticks in Eddie’s head. Niggling at the base of his skull like an itch that won’t go away.

“You’re quiet,” Buck says when they’re on the way home from the cemetery and it’s around that moment that Eddie realises he hasn’t said anything since they got in the jeep. Too consumed by their conversation from before.

I feel like she sees me.

He looks over at Buck now, one hand on the steering wheel, one resting on his lap, and he looks…comfortable, on first glance. But then Eddie notes the tense set of his shoulders and the way he seems to be staring at the road a little too hard, like he’s purposefully trying not to look in Eddie’s direction.

For one bitter moment, Eddie wonders if Natalia would notice those things but he shakes the thought away. He shouldn’t put this on her. She only knows what Buck’s told her.

“Do you really believe that?” he asks finally, voice quiet and a little bit too tentative. “That she sees you better than-“ me “-than any of us?”

Buck’s mouth parts and it’s clear he hadn’t expected the question. Eddie watches him while he works himself up to an answer – the way he shifts in his seat, the way his eyes dart to the rearview mirror instead of Eddie himself, the careful intake of breath before he finally decides to speak.

“I mean, it’s different,” is what Buck settles on. “Her perception of death and how it affects you, it’s-“

“Because none of us have ever had any experience with death,” Eddie can’t help cutting in.

“Eddie,” Buck sighs and it sounds like please.

“Chimney’s heart stopped last year,” Eddie says. “And when I got-“

“She doesn’t look at me like I’m a ghost, alright?” Buck says, sharp and slicing through Eddie’s intended comment about his own brush with death.

The words make him stop short. He clenches and unclenches his fists in his lap as he digests them. "What d’you mean?”

Buck sighs again and it seems more upset than before. “Maddie, Bobby, you- you all look at me like…like you’re not even sure I’m really here. Like I’m gonna disappear at any minute. You think I don’t see it but I do.”

“Because you died, Buck,” Eddie exclaims, frustrated and weary and more vulnerable than he’d planned on letting himself be. “You died. And for three minutes and seventeen seconds I thought I was going to have to live in this world without you and I didn’t want to.”

That makes Buck clap his mouth shut and he doesn’t say anything else but Eddie can see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. The car stops abruptly then and he takes stock of his surroundings for the first time since they got in the jeep. They’re outside his house now.

He takes a measured breath and unclips his seatbelt, shooting a wary look in Buck’s direction. His hands are still gripping the steering wheel and he’s staring straight out the windscreen but he cut off the engine, at least.

“Come inside,” Eddie requests softly, climbing out of the jeep and not waiting to see if Buck follows.

He lets himself into the house and hears the slam of Buck’s car door as he’s dropping his keys on the side table. He hesitates when he gets to the living room, unsure whether he should keep travelling to the kitchen or just drop down on the couch and bury his head in his hands.

Buck comes inside before he can decide, the click of the door soft as he closes it behind himself.

“You looked at me like that too,” Eddie says without turning around. It’s easier saying it without Buck looking at him, even though he can feel Buck’s stare like a brand on his back. “After the well. And- and the shooting. I remember.”

“I’m used to losing people,” Buck says after a beat. “The fact that I got to keep you felt like a trick somehow. Like if I looked away for too long you’d be gone again.”

Eddie huffs a humourless laugh, feeling tears sting behind his eyes. He finally turns, finding Buck standing in the entryway. He gives Eddie a helpless shrug when their eyes meet.

“And I’m not allowed to feel like that?”

“You are,” Buck insists, body shifting like he’s about to charge forward but in the end he only takes one step. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”

“Why not?” Eddie asks and they’re teetering dangerously close to a conversation they’ve never let themselves have before but he doesn’t know how to stop pushing either.

Buck answers anyway.

“Because if I think about how much you see me – how much I let you see without you even asking – I feel terrified. Because I’ve spent years trying to get you to let me all the way in but it’s really fucking scary to imagine me doing the same thing. To believe that you’d even want that.”

Eddie works his jaw, swallowing against the heaving ache in his chest. He gets it, is the thing. No matter how much they’ve taken care of each other, no matter how much they’ve acted as one another’s soft place to land, there’s still a voice in the back of his head that says, you’re being a burden. Stop it.

“I don’t care if you want to start dating again-“ Lie. That’s a lie. “-but don’t- don’t say-“

As if sensing he can’t actually get the words out, Buck immediately starts shaking his head. “I won’t,” he says. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

Eddie nods, clears his throat, and glances between the couch and the dining room. He doesn’t know what to do now, doesn’t know how they go back to having a casual beer, but before he can come up with something to say to break the tension Buck is stepping forward, crowding into his space and folding him into a hug.

I don’t remember the last time we did this, Eddie thinks even as his muscle memory reacts. His arms come up around Buck, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other wraps around his waist. Buck’s face burrows into his shoulder and Eddie only hesitates for half a second before he presses his temple against the exposed line of Buck’s neck and breathes him in.

“I’m not gonna disappear,” Buck whispers and, ridiculously, it makes fresh tears spring behind Eddie’s eyelids.

“Me either,” he replies and Buck’s arms tighten around him in response.

And he thinks they’re at an impasse now, a sort of crossroads they can’t turn back from but aren’t able to move forward from yet either.

If this is where they have to stay for now, he thinks he might be okay with that.

#buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #my fics #911 spoilers #6x15 #everyone listen to grow by sigrid right now!!!!!#(and make gifsets please 😇)

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lou-struck · 1 year

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Safe Up Here

Keigo Takami x Reader

~After a bad day, Keigo knows just what to do to help you relax

A/n: this was initially a part of my Comfort Milestone Event, but I forgot about it for a while.

...Anyways, enjoy!

“Excuse me,” a man grunts, pushing past you on the street. He doesn't look back, even though his movements were unusually aggressive. Almost as if wherever he was heading was more important than where you were going. The push wasn't enough to harm you, but the hot tea in your hand could say otherwise.

The still-steaming liquid escapes the lip of your paper cup and gushes onto your exposed skin. The stinging sensation causes your breath to hitch, your eyes begin to water with tears of hot frustration.

All day long, it seems you have been getting pushed around like this. The only thing you want to do is head back home, curl up in the safety of your apartment and sleep till Keigo gets home from his patrol.

But as you make it to your front door, your cozy and quiet apartment gets bombarded with a symphony of crashing, hammering, and buzzing from the unit below.

Your Neighbors have been doing a remodeling project for weeks, but it has never been this loud until today; the absolute worst time. The sounds are too much for your worn-down psyche. You cover your ears, but you can still feel the ear-splitting sound of a buzz saw cutting through metal piping.

This wouldn't do at all.

You make it over to the couch and press one of the decorative couch cushions to the side of your head in hopes of muffling the horrid sounds. But it doesn't help. The bumping, the thumping, the noise. It's more than you can bear. You shut your eyes tightly and try to focus on something other than the chaos below.

A gentle hand lightly shakes your shoulder, you peek open your eyes and move the pillow from your field of vision.

“There you are Angel,” Keigo chuckles from above, his red wings folded neatly against his back. “I guess you couldn't hear me come in over all this noise.”

“It’s too loud in here Kei,” you murmur and he walks around the couch to face you. "M' tired."

Now in front of you, he scans your weary features with concern. "Did you have a bad day?" he asks, cupping your cheek. He gently rubs a mark from the pillow out of your soft skin with the pad of his ungloved hand.

Meeting his honey-colored gaze, you can't bring yourself to lie to him "Y-yeah." you admit, his arms wrapping around you. "All day long, people have been yelling at me, being rude, and knocking me over on the street."

"Someone pushed you?" His arms tighten around you protectively, the stubble from his chin tickles the crook of your neck as he deepens the embrace.

"They didn't mean to Kei," you sigh, "at least I think they didn't." Another series of bumps and crashes from below causes you to flinch in his hold.

"It's too loud in here, huh?" he says gently. "Can I help you?"

You nod, and he lets go of you and disappears from your line of sight. Immediately you miss his warmth, but I see his footsteps pad across the floor. You wonder if he is going to head down and talk to the workers downstairs.

But the front door never opens. You hear a faint shuffling sound followed by the zipping sound of his bag.

“Still there?” he chuckles, coming back around the couch. A pair of his noise-canceling headphones rest in his hand. Normally he uses them when the wind gets too viscous and he needs to hear any oncoming distress calls over the radio.

“I thought these would help you relax a bit?” he says, “Want to try them on?”

“Are you sure?” you blink, sitting up on the couch, “Don’t you need them for patrol?”

“Nah,” he says, giving you a persuasive smile that has you leaning into his outstretched hands. He gently opens the headphones up and places them snugly around your ears.

The world has gone silent, the buzzing, the sawing, the hammering. It has all stopped. Looking at Keigo, you see his mouth moving, but you can no longer hear what he is saying.

"What was that?" You say a bit too loudly as you pull one of the cups off of your ear.

“You couldn’t hear me, huh?" He grins. "These things work really well. I promise you won’t be able to hear anything if you don’t want to."

“Thank you Keigo, but are you sure it’s okay that I use these?” You ask again. “They’re a part of your costume, aren’t they?”

His features soften and he looks at you adoringly, touched by your concern, “Don’t worry, I have others. And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be much of a hero if I let my Angel keep having this bad day.”

“You’d still be a great hero,” you say softly. “But these are really nice. Thank you for letting me use them. I think I can relax now.”

With his headphones once again resting properly around your ears, the world returns to its peaceful silence.

Shifting in your seat, you get yourself situated deeper into the couch cushions. Stretching your arm out, you try to grab the end of the woven blanket that hangs off the back of the couch, but it's just out of your reach. With a stretch, your fingers manage to take hold of the edge of the blanket, but Keigo moves it farther away from you.

“Hey, I wanted to use that.” You pout, jutting out your bottom lip. And removing your headphones once again.

“did you really think I was done?” Keigo coos sweetly. Letting the stolen blanket drop to the floor. “I want to help you relax a bit more. "

“What did you have in mind? “you ask, raising a brow.

A group of feathers slides between you and the couch cushions suddenly. They lift you up and carry you over to him. Now in his arms, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. “You’ll just have to trust me.” he smiles, leaning back in for another kiss. “Can you do that?”

You nod stupidly and he carries you out onto the balcony. “Are we going somewhere?”

“Just on a little flight,” he smiles, looking at how perfectly you fit in his arms. “Is this okay?”

“Yea, I feel safe. I like flying with you,” you answer, recalling the many nights you have spent in the sky.

A proud little smile takes over his features as he types in something on his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Then hang on tight, Angel.”

A few flaps from his powerful red wings propel the two of you into the air.

The wind doesn't bother you, but it makes your skin tingle. Before any sort of yelp escapes your lips, a little chime from his Bluetooth sounds from inside the headphones and music begins to play.

“I thought a little bit of in-flight entertainment might do you some good,” he says. "Just put on the headphones and try to get some rest. I promise that with me, you are safe.”

“Thank you, Keigo,” you murmur, laying your head against his chest.

“You’re welcome, just relax, okay?” he says. "I made sure to make the playlist just for you.”

You have no room for objections. You take the headphones from around your neck and put them on properly. Giving your boyfriend’s arm a gentle squeeze of acknowledgment.

The gentle pulsing of his heartbeat against your skin, along with the soft sound of music from the cushy headphones around your ears, make it all too easy to let go of today’s events.

As you let go, your eyelids feel like lead from all of your exhaustion and you find yourself drifting off in the secure hold Keigo’s arms provide.

Keigo knows you have fallen asleep, and the fact that you have done so in his arms makes his chest puff up with pride. You trust him enough to be this vulnerable around him.

With you in his arms still snug, he touches down on your balcony. “I love you so much y/n.” He whispers placing a gentle kiss on your forehead hoping that you can feel his love in the dreams you will no doubt be having later.

#my hero academia hawks #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha #hawks x reader fluff #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #boku no hero academia hawks #keigo tamaki #keigo x reader #takami keigo x reader #bnha x reader #hawks fluff

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mysticallystilinski · 8 months

Text

vampire [2] | v. stiles x fem!reader | angst

summary: when void pushes you to the brink, you can’t help but feel helpless

warnings: angst, swearing, manipulation, abuse, blood, mention of harming others and mention of murder

♫ (vampire - olivia rodrigo)

a/n: [ here’s part two to vampire! send requests for more! - requested by @spideysimpossiblegirl - ]

and every girl i ever talked to told me you were bad, bad news

the lights are dim as you sit up in your hospital bed. your head was pounding, but you were determined to get answers. scott barged in the door with a blonde girl following close behind him. “i did what you asked, now can you just tell me what’s going on?”, scott huffs out. you breathe in deep and manage to say “let me talk to her first.” she comes from behind scott’s back and your first impression of her was she looks a lot like me.

scott walked out of the room as you slowly pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the cold, weary bed. “janie, so i’ve heard you dated void stiles before?”, you question. her look gazed upon you and her mouth droops open a little. “don’t worry, i’m not here to intimidate you.” her shoulders drop back down as you slowly say those words. “yes, i dated him, why are you asking?” she seems to laugh out.

her face contorts as the silence fills up the white room. “has he done anything to you?”, you say. her breathing starts to get heavier as the question seems to fill up her mind. “he’s bad, bad news.”

you called them crazy, god, i hate the way I called them crazy too

“void can you just listen to me for once?”, you scream out into the open. he emerges from the shadow with a sly look on his face. your blood starts to bubble, heating up as he makes his way closer to you. “i talked to janie, she told me everything you did to her.” void seems to laugh at the quip of your words.

“god she’s so crazy y/n, why do you listen to people.” he spits out. you start to question what he means by that. his words start to fill inside the brim of your head. it seems that every time he talks, his words engrave into your mind.

you don’t know if it’s his connection to you, or something else but he seems to know every aspect of you. he knows how to take control of your mind, and twist it into his own. “i guess i can see how she’s crazy”, you say hesitantly.

you're so convincing. how do you lie without flinching?

“she didn’t mean anything to me” you gasp sarcastically as his words. “she didn’t mean anything to you? SHE DIDN’T MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU?”, you blasted out. “of course she meant something, there wouldn’t be a reason why she wouldn’t.”

he grins in response to your words. “so you believe her over me, is that what you’re saying?” you laugh right back at him. “of course i believe her, she’s my bestfriend.”, you say echoing about malia.

your psyche of void was getting cloudier by the minute. void was never the brand of being to be honest. you didn’t know who to perceive in this moment of realization. “please, just be honest void.”

“i promise you, that i would never do anything like that”. your viewpoint of void shifted as the words passed through your memory.

oh, what a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked-up little thrill

you feel the paralyzing feeling hit you. you’ve never done this before and this it the first time you’ve felt this. you seem the blood in the corner of your hands. “NO, what have i done.” you scream out in horror. void emerges from the corner of your eye with a slight smirk on his face.

“good job little dove, i knew you could do it.” your mind was a blur from the past hour, but with the clues it has seemed that void put you up to doing something worse than ever imagined. you start to panic as you wipe the blood onto your shirt in order to get it off.

your breathing starts to get heavier and heavier as your mind comes to the realization of your actions. you feel a sharp pain in your neck as void stiles attached his soft lips onto it. he starts to suck, and everything becomes one, big, blur.

can't figure out just how you do it, and god knows i never will

“PLEASE JUST TELL ME HOW TO GET RID OF THESE THOUGHTS” you scream in agony. void looks up from his hands to stare into your cold eyes. “it will get better, please don’t worry.” void seems to get softer by the day, and you seem to get harder.

his hands fiddle as you stare into them. his fingers slowly mesh around into each-other and they find his way to his hair. you feel a sudden rush in your body to do something. you get off the bed, and head to where void is sitting.

his eyes were still placed onto the floor as you take his hands from his hair and interlock them into yours. “void, look at me”. his dark brown eyes slide their way up your figure as they shake in place.

you grab onto his face, and vastly place your lips onto his. his lips taste like honey as you five deeper for more. your tempo of motion was interrupted by the sound of a door opening.

“y/n?”, lydia asks. she stops in her tracks as she sees who you’re with. “void”, she huffs.

———————————————————

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twola · 1 year

Text

Seven Deadly Sins - IX

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)

Perdition: a state of eternal punishment and damnation into which a sinful and unpenitent person passes after death.

➵ AO3 Link

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“I’m really sorry for you son, it's a hell of a thing.”

Arthur’s world slowed. It shrunk down to the room in this doctor’s office in Saint Denis, closing in on him, choking, like something pressing down on his chest. Making it even harder to breathe than it already is.

“Wha- what d’ya mean?” He hoarsely asked the doctor, who frowned before turning toward the sink opposite where he sat.

Tuberculosis. Consumption.

“You’re real sick, it's - it's a progressive disease. You’ll be… well, the best thing is rest. And getting somewhere warm and dry and taking it easy now. Is that possible?”

“Sure, I can just take my winters in my country club in California. No, it's not possible.” Arthur retorts icily.

“Well.. like I said, I’m real sorry.”

The doctor moves toward the table, grabbing a syringe. “Let me give you some more energy today, at least.”

Arthur barely registers the pinch of the needle in his arm, but he does feel the rush of energy through his blood, a warming that goes to his head and jolts his weary bones.

The doctor goes back to the table, fiddling with the syringe he just emptied.

“Doc - does it, how - c’n I give it to someone by…?”

He turns around, slowly. The doctor’s eyes flit down to Arthur’s hands - his left ring finger that was conspicuously empty.

“Are you talking about a woman? One you’re intimate with?”

Arthur nods, an even larger pit growing in his stomach.

The doctor’s frown deepens.

Arthur Morgan has always been an unrepentant man. He stole, he robbed, he shot and he killed his way through life. He was sure he would get his someday - at the end of a revolver perhaps, or the hangman’s noose.

He supposed he deserved it, that the higher power he’s never truly believed in would smite him down one day for his deeds - and he had accepted that. Bad men don’t get to have a good life. Why bother changing if all of that blood was going to damn him anyway?

The horse beneath him whinnies as he pushes his spurs into her side, urging her faster, faster, through the tepid and humid marshes of Bluewater, north, north to where the gang had taken refuge after Lakay, at some old blasted hill country camp in the damp and dark hills of Roanoke Ridge.

Arthur found himself praying - to a God he’s never prayed to before - that the punishment he was going to receive would be enough - enough to satisfy the divine being his justice.

You don’t deserve that punishment.

You don't deserve to die. Eliza didn’t deserve to die. Isaac, that bright and bouncing boy, he certainly did not deserve to die.

The thoughts of damnation and punishment invade his psyche so much so that he does not even realize he’s reached Beaver Hollow, absentmindedly going through the motions of hitching his horse and starting to walk toward Tilly, at the edge of the camp reading a book on a blanket.

“Miss Tilly.”

Tilly looks up and smiles. He doesn’t even have to ask, “She took laundry down to the river.” She nods her head to the left, motioning down the hill toward the winding Kamassa carved out of the Roanoke Valley.

Arthur nods and quickly heads down the trail, unwilling to speak to anyone else at the moment. Thoughts of his impending demise were shoved to the back of his mind - he would face them later.

He needed to see you first.

You’re singing, singing, of all things. Scrubbing a shirt against a rock. One of his shirts. The domesticity of it all warms his heart for a short moment - a moment before he remembers he’s a dying outlaw on the run and you are not his wife doing laundry at your homestead. Your soft laugh, your sly smile; the way you sigh his name when he’s buried between your thighs. How could he ever be deserving of your love, of all things, with this much evil he’s done?

You’re a petty thief. A saint compared to him.

You’re simply the object of his transgressions.

He’s lusted after you, your nude frame in the moonlight in Flat Iron Lake. He saw you and lusted for you and took you, that night under the bright moonlight as you sighed his name.

He’s gluttonous with your body - the sweet tang of your slick, feasting upon you in some old boathouse, head between your thighs taking of you far more than his fill.

He’s a greedy, greedy man - collecting your moans and sighs like a rich man collects gold coin - to drown himself in the pile he’s ripped from you.

He’s envious of any man who touches you - to brush against your soft skin that should be blessed only for him.

He’s killed, he’s murdered and maimed, for you - a wrathful punishment against men who dared disrespect or hurt you.

He’s guilty of slothful want - ignoring and shirking responsibilities and jobs and getting money to lock himself in a room with you and spend the hours worshiping your body.

He’s prideful in his possession, wanting all to know that you belonged to him - that you chose him, the miserable bastard that he is, above all others.

Just when he thought he was given his deliverance, laid on his knees next to you after Guarma - the karmic forces of the universe threaten to take him away from you again.

Your song falls into humming as you move to lift the wet work shirt of his - the blue one he always manages to stain, wringing out the water from it before laying it out on a large, flat stone to dry.

God almighty, does he love you.

Maybe he will be spared this tiny bit of retribution for his incalculable sins and be damned to never touch you again. Never feeling your kiss or your warmth or the sweet clutch of your cunt on his cock again. That certainly is punishment for both of you.

Christ, he just wants to lay you down in the mossy grass and take you apart, loving each and every inch of you until he physically can’t.

But he won’t. If by some divine providence, he hasn’t cursed you, he swears he will never touch you again. He’ll put you atop his horse and take you to Annesburg and put you on a train with every penny he has socked away. To go on living, away from the gang that seems to be splintering by the day, away from him, slowly dying under the weight of his failing lungs-

“Oh, Arthur, there you are.” You turn and catch sight of him, a smile gracing your face as you slide across the rock to sit on the edge closer to him.

“Feel like I haven’t seen you in days,” you sigh, but cannot keep the smile from your face as he steps closer, a cold sweat breaking out over the back of his neck.

“Sweetheart, I-“

Arthur is cut off when you cover your mouth to cough, a wet, eerily familiar sound that sends his heart sinking to his feet.

“Sorry - think I’ve got a cold. Haven’t been feelin’ well since we got here, these damn hills….”

He’s been so busy since coming back from Guarma, moving the gang up to Beaver Hollow. The Pinkertons and the Indians and Annesburg and… he’s barely been around. He hadn’t heard a cough. His mind works a million miles an hour as he’s back in the chair in the doctor’s office in Saint Denis.

“There’s a good chance you’ve given it to her, son.”

“What were you going to tell me, cowboy?”

You wipe your mouth with your sleeve and he sees the faintest red staining your teeth.

This is his comeuppance. This is everything he’s ever deserved. Every terrible decision in his life, every person he’s ever hurt - it has all come to this. Damnation and hellfire and all of the pain he’s ever dealt out to others - it comes back in a crushing feeling in his chest far worse than the sickness slowly killing him.

He should have known. He should have known.

People around him get hurt.

They die, because of him.

Because he’s a bad person.

“Arthur? What is it-”

He moves to you in quick steps and falls to his knees, taking your hand and pressing it to his lips before moving against his cheek.

“I’ve damned us both.”

Your eyebrows quirk up in alarm, “What are you talk-”

“I- I’m dyin’. I got TB.”

“What? How - ?” You mumble incredulously, eyes like saucer plates.

“One o’ Strauss’s debts - beat him, he was already dyin’ and I beat him goddamn bloody….”

Your eyes start to lose their focus as you look down at your hand, small, pinkish splotches of blood faintly stain your fingers. You look back to him as color drains from your face.

A dawning of realization sweeps through your eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. I - I…” he stumbles as his heart breaks.

Words fail him.

He’s sorry, he’s sorry he’s sentenced you to death, a terrible fate of drowning within your own body. That you’ve been caught up in the punishment he was fated to receive in the life he’s lived.

His bloodshot eyes water over as he can’t look at you anymore. He presses your hand to his lips again.

You pull it away violently. You may as well have shot him, the searing, visceral pain he feels piercing his heart - he would rather be shot than feel this.

“I…I need… I need to...” You whisper, standing up from your seat on the rock. You stumble a step away before catching yourself, eyes distant.

You may as well have stabbed him in the chest and ripped out his beating heart. He reaches out to you on his knees and you bat his hands away.

“I need to be alone right now,” Your voice has gone low and you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Sweetheart-“

“ Leave me alone.” You snarl back at him.

You turn away from him, quickly walking further down the riverbank, stumbling across the smooth river stones. He jumps to his feet, quickly following you, catching up to you after several steps.

“Darlin' - let me- let me take you to the…”

You stop in your tracks, not turning around. Arthur tries to grab your hand, and you nearly hiss at him, drawing away. You finally turn your head partway toward him, and a burning, smoldering, naked hatred reflects back at him.

“Haven’t you done enough?” Your frame shudders as you try to hold in a cough.

Arthur stops - painfully close to you. Close enough to reach out and draw your small frame to his, but his arms don’t work.

Your eyes narrow before you turn and walk away, your body language obvious that you do not want him to follow.

He’s watched before as someone he’s loved walked away from him. The stabbing, crushing feeling as real as any bullet or knife, or blow. The slow bleed of being left alone. The exsanguination of his beating heart - where love is given, but not received in return.

Arthur lies in his cot. It feels so empty. It truly is only made for one person, especially one of his size, but he’s gotten so used to you being in it that he can’t bear to sleep without your warmth next to him.

Roanoke is cold. Damp. He’s stripped to his dark blue union suit, underneath a heavy blanket on his cot, staring at the flicker of the oil lantern as darkness settles in.

Arthur stumbled back into camp as the dusk was falling in, he somehow managed to avoid needing to interact with people and was able to pull the canvas shut on his tent as the hours wore on.

He’s listening for you, your soft voice or shy footsteps. Staring at the pocketwatch he left on the bedside table again, vowing to wait just a bit longer before storming out of his tent and going straight for his horse to scour the countryside for you. The nagging feeling in his chest was compounded by the damn Murfrees around.

Fortunately, for his sanity, he is not forced to make that decision.

The tent’s flaps are drawn back and a form slides between them. The burning lantern throws light on you, as you step closer, wringing your hands and staring at the ground. Your bare feet peek out from under your skirts.

“Sweetheart?”

You quietly pad toward the cot, and sit yourself down on the edge, swallowing and finally meeting his gaze as he sits up, shedding the blanket and placing his legs over the edge of the cot. Your eyes are red and bloodshot, and he knows that he’s the cause of it.

“If we’re dyin’, then I don’t want to spend any more time bein’ cross with you. I want to be with you as much as I can.” You say softly, almost a whisper.

“I’m so sorr-”

“Don’t. We’re here now. Ain’t nothing gonna change that.”

You settle in to sit next to him, and he puts his arm around you as he kisses your shoulder. For a moment you stare at the pitch of the tent before turning your head toward him.

His hand gently cups your cheek as he leans to kiss your forehead. “You’re… you’re the best thin’ that’s happened to me.”

You’re silent, and each moment that goes by drives the stake deeper into his heart as your eyes search his face.

“Darl-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. By throwing your arms around him and pushing your body against him. By crawling into his lap and weaving your fingers through his hair. He pants gently, eyes wide as you pull back only inches. He thought he’d never taste your lips again.

“Make love to me, Arthur.”

“Are y’sure?”

Your eyes flit downward to his lips before coming back up to his eyes. Your hand moves to cup his cheek as you lean into him again, pressing your forehead against his. You nod, slowly, to answer his question.

You press your lips to his and he drinks of you as if he were a parched man. His arms wind around you, pulling you against him, plastered against each other.

“Oh, darlin’…” He sighs between kisses, having maneuvered you to straddle his lap, his hands settle on your hips as you begin to slowly roll your hips against his.

Your knees settle on either side of his hips as he sits on the cot, and through the layers of cotton of your skirts and his union suit, he swells. A groan escapes his throat as his blood settles hotly in his lap.

With one slow undulation, you cant your hips so that his burgeoning cock settles against your folds, parting them through fabric. Arthur’s eyes flutter open as you sit up straight in his lap, and your fingers slowly move to the collar of his dark blue union suit, undoing the first two buttons with practiced ease, as if you had been undressing him all of your life instead of only a couple of months.

More and more of his chest becomes visible to you as you work your way down, the bones of his ribcage much more prominent under the layer of muscle than they ever had been before.

He wheezes. Your fingers stop haltingly, the third button of his union suit halfway undone, falling back against his sternum. His bloodshot eyes catch yours once he has recovered his breath, pained, vulnerable.

“We don’t have to do this.” He mumbles, gaze locked on yours, the blue-green of his irises betraying that while the low tones of his voice say one thing, his tortured soul pleads for another.

“I’m not leaving.” You whisper back at him, your fingers slowly moving back to the buttons of his suit. Your gaze flutters down to his chest again as you continue your work of disrobing him.

You’re completely caught by surprise when he lifts you from his lap and easily maneuvers your body to lay on the cot before he climbs atop you, pressing his hips into yours again before chasing your lips as he settles his elbows on either side of your head.

Even ill, even dying, Arthur has more than enough strength to move you however he pleases.

His lips trail from yours down your neck, nuzzling his beard against your skin, leaving warm, wet splotches as he works his way down. He pulls back, balancing on his knees, shrugging out of the arms of his union suit, letting the fabric hang at his waist. You pull your shirt from your skirts and up and over your head, letting it fall to the wayside over the side of the cot.

He leans down and catches your lips briefly before sitting back up again, unbuttoning his union suit completely and pushing it down to his knees. His swollen cock bobs before he places his hand upon it and strokes a few times.

You shimmy your bloomers down from underneath your skirts, kicking them away as you draw your skirts to lay limply around your waist, baring your lower half to him as he hovers above you.

Arthur’s hand moves slowly from his cock toward you. He slides the sleeves of your chemise down, and the cotton falls from your skin as his fingers tug at it. He traces the pad of his thumb over your nipple, and you shiver as the skin pebbles as he passes it over. Arthur’s large hand then moves to cup your breast, squeezing lightly. His other hand weaves into your hair as he kisses you breathlessly.

The hot line of him settles against your soft belly as he settles between your hips, your legs falling open for him as the cotton layers of your skirts fall away.

Arthur wants to spend every waking second he has left in his miserable life in the gentle warmth of your embrace, skin to skin, about to bury his cock in your hips.

And when both he and you are bare and tangled in each other in his dark tent, with nothing but the heavy beating of your hearts and panting of your breath in the tent, Arthur gently, slowly slides his cock into your folds. A soft groan escapes his mouth as your hips touch, and you wrap your legs over his hips, crossing your ankles over his back as you whine back, the stretch of when he enters you sweet and overwhelming.

He takes his time, waiting for you to grow used to his intrusion into your body. When he does start to move his hips, it’s slow, gentle, as if he were savoring each and every second of being locked inside you. He slides down your chest, leaving small love bites upon your skin as you squirm underneath him with each thrust of his hips downwards to press you into the cot.

Your fingers spread out over his back, his hands weaving through your unbound hair, and your hips moving together in the dance of lovemaking without rush or the ferocity of your normal coupling. His hips roll and you accept: the sound of wet skin on wet skin periodically interspersed between soft moans, cut off gasps, and the creaking of the cot as your bodies move together.

You come and it’s completely by surprise, a choked-off whine as you clutch at Arthur’s shoulders, trying to smother your noise into his neck. He grunts and continues his pace through your orgasm, whispering soft affirmations into your ear as he fucks you, until the clutch around his flesh is too much to stand.

“I’m gonna… god-” he rasps into your ear, you can feel the muscles in his stomach clench against yours as he careens toward orgasm, “Where d’ya -”

“Inside - always inside, until -” you whisper, and he presses his mouth over yours to stop you from continuing further, from speaking into the world the terrible, unfailing truth.

He hitches his hips into yours, and a stifled moan rumbles from his chest against your mouth, as you can feel his cock twitch within your cunt. Arthur pours himself into you, coating your inner walls with his warm spend. How many more times would he be able to do this before he or you couldn’t?

He gasps, far more winded than he should be.

Arthur pulls out and you feel the slow drip of his cooling spend from your body, knowing it doesn't matter anymore. He quietly settles himself next to you, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

The tears in your eyes spill over, and he knows, it’s not from joy or physical satisfaction. He pulls you into his chest and his throat gets tight as you sob into his skin. Your hands are gathered tightly between the two of you, and he’s afraid you’re going to feel the rattling of his failing lungs under your fingertips.

He’s afraid that he’s going to feel the rattle from your lungs as you’re wrapped in his arms.

You weep into the curve of his neck. You weep for the impending death of dreams, of futures, and for your collective demise.

He cannot stop the tears from spilling from his own eyes. They track down his cheeks, hollowed and gaunt, as he stares at the pitch of the tent where the two of you are slowly dying in each other’s arms.

He weeps for you, that you are a casualty of the damnation he was always destined for.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead smut #seven deadly sins #ao3 #twolafic

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winterwump · 11 months

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🤍Taejin x Jihan Couple Headcanons: Part 1🤍

Author’s Note: 🚨THIS IS A MLM PAIRING, AND IF YOU DONT LIKE MLM SHIPS, KEEP IT PUSHING🚨 AND THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR A FEW PLOTPOINTS This is the Redux of the previous Headcanon list I made for these two. My lovely moot @kawaiiwitchalpaca requested this so here it is. AU2: Okay so the timeline for this part is windows of time that we don't see Jihan working at the hospital so keep that in mind!

ENJOY 🤍

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that these two had an immediate attraction to each other. Like it was an instantaneous kind of connection, though I think that Jihan would pass it off as a normal amount of tension one would have when meeting someone who they know is shady.

Jihan is oblivious because he, rightfully, has the mission at the forefront of his mind. But Taejin is laying it on thick ass hell, like painfully thick.

Throughout their “shifts” as “first responders”, Taejin is an ever-present figure, looming over Jihan, stealing glances and making short quips about Jihan’s performance. Jihan tries to remain oblivious to these quips but, there are only so many times one could hear a sexual innuendo and not react. And react he does, though he [Jihan] tries his hardest to cover by turning his face away from the taller man. To Taejin, this is the most fun he’s had in a while at “work” (I guess beating innocent ppl gets boring after a while lolol). ‘It is too easy making the new guy flustered’, Taejin would note to himself internally after making a rather on-the-nose *pass* at Jihan, much to the other man’s dismay(excitement)

Prior to this interaction, Jihan has been psyching himself up to ask the other man about his intention, and because Jihan’s not a bitch, he made a scene during their break to drag Taejin away from the group that surrounded him. This little stunt earned the two of them stares of pure confusion from one half of the group, and blatant amusement from the other half. Once they were properly secluded, Jihan spat it out, as leveled as he could possibly be, before Taejin got a word in:

“What is your deal with me? What are you…like that?”

“Like what?”, Taejin inquired, his voice trailing off with a mischievous drawl.

“Don’t play dumb”, Jihan huffed- he was failing at keeping his voice calm. It was hard to maintain his phony Seoul accent when tensions were high, and God they were high what with them being so close together behind the row of ambulances.

“Why do you keep..hitting on me?”

There was an obviously fake laugh given in response, “You’re just now realizing that I’ve been flirting? God, you really are oblivious!”

The instant Jihan heard the taller man laugh, Jihan’s eyes looked onto Taejin’s smug expression, he[Jihan] sucked in air harshly before speaking: “I knew you were flirting for a while, I’m new here but I’m not dumb.”

Maintaining his placid amusement in the face of Jihan’s obvious exasperation, Taejin decided to make the other man wait for a response - even if momentarily. Just to fuck with him, Taejin retrieved both a cigarette and a lighter and lit the stick with languid movements, watching Jihan’s now narrowed eyes as he[Taejin] to a drag.

“So what now? You got me. What are we going to do about this situation?”

“We?!-”, Jihan started before cutting himself off abruptly. He had to calm himself down if he wanted this to work.

In the days prior to this confrontation, Jihan had come to the conclusion that he could be involved with Taejin if that meant getting close to his goal of revenge. After running his plan by Daniel, and getting a weary go-ahead, Jihan knew what the goal was. There was no way that he would let himself lose sight of why he was in the 1st Affiliate.

“We can do something about this, actually. We can be whatever you want us to be, just keep it between us”, Jihan finally replied sounding a semi-believable level of calm. Witnessing Taejin’s instantaneous expression change lit a tiny spark within Jihan, it made him[Jihan] a bit vindicated. Taejin was cute when shaken up:

“Oh? Really now? Whatever I want us to be? Well thank you for giving me the reigns.”

Yeaaaa, this is gonna be split into two parts. This, of course, is the first part! Think of this as set up to the actual relationship headcanons that are in part two. Hope y’all like this. BYE🤍!!!

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grey-sorcery · 2 years

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Getting into witchcraft can be nerve wracking and scary. Here are some tips that I think will be invaluable for online research. Even if you’ve been at it for a while.

Understand that social norms exist within online communities and cultures. Sometimes concepts and practices become common place, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re true or effective. A good example of this is New Age practices.

Aesthetics aren’t everything, nor should they be. Like visualization, aesthetics can be a tool to amplify, maintain, and/or hone headspace. Relying on aesthetics alone will cause your practice to stagnate. Magic is less about the objects and herbs involved than it is about the energetic processes, conceptualizations, and representations.

Intent is not magic. It is an element of magic, but it isn’t everything. Magic is not wishing. Magic is not about vibes and attracting or repelling what you think. Magic is a focused and controlled release and manipulation of specific energy and variables in order to reach a certain goal or desire. Intent, willpower/passion, focus/headspace, action, and awareness are all equally important.

Until you have more experience with the online community and research, stay away from studying crystals and herbs (within a magical context) The internet is wrought with diluted or inaccurate information on these subjects. Correspondences and energetic properties cannot be summed up in floral language. Be weary and alert when studying correspondences, and remember that you can create your own.

Do not just research. It can be difficult to gain the confidence to jump into something like witchcraft, but so long as you aren’t dealing with Spiritwork you’ll be fine. Start making your own stuff while researching. Create your own foundation and then let everything else inspire you or give you cause to readjust.

Take notes. When recording information, make sure to note the source. This way, when you come back to it, you’ll be able to go back and check to see if you missed anything or verify the that information/source. You can do this easily with digital notes by just copy pasting the URL.

Grimoires and magical texts from history are fascinating, but remember that we lack the historical and cultural context to accurately understand them. A lot of them are religious-coded or straight up religious practices. Because of these, they should never be a primary source of information.

Regardless of what media may portray, magic isn’t flashy. It’s quiet and personal. It’s an extension of your psyche and awareness. Blood is hardly ever used in real witchcraft because it is self-binding. DNA is the most potent taglock that exists.

Don’t start with divination. I know that it seems easiest because it has all those beautiful products and artwork and has a well defined process; but, it can become a rabbit hole that is difficult to climb out of. Beyond that, divinatory practices are much more accurate when you’ve gained a foundational understanding in magic.

You do not have to jump into any theological practices. In fact, I would recommend obstaining from it entirely unless you were religious beforehand. Mythos-based pantheons are a deep web of information and lore. Like divination it can be a rabbit hole that’s difficult to escape. If you feel a call from the divine, be aware and alert that it isn’t coming from exposure via the internet. A lot of pantheon related content is very aesthetic and attractive. Be sure your faith is formed for the right reasons.

While researching, find what is sacred to you. A lot of media is disconnected from portraying sanctity in a realistic sense. Figure out what it means for something to be sacred to you. How would you express it and interact with it? How do you feel is a show of respect and reverence. This is different for everyone, even if there are a lot of commonalities.

Magic is as much conceptual and analytical as it is emotional and headspace. Critical thinking is crucial. Look for underlying patterns, experiment, be skeptical. There isn’t any “One True Way”, but not everything works or is effective.

Realize that no spell you find online will function the same for you as it did for the creator. Pretty much every spell you’ll come across in any form of media will lack the circumstances, details, and nuance that is necessary for accurate reproduction. Rather than using a spell you find, construct one for yourself towards the same end using your practice.

Start a book for magic. Keep a book for information, correspondences, etc that is separate. Start creating spells, sigils, and rituals. Make them yourself. Try them out. Feel around for what feels right until it clicks. Don’t wait until you think you’ve researched enough. So long as you aren’t jumping into Spiritwork, you’ll be safe. Create your own protection spells. Create spells that fit practically into your life.

Everything is fair game, Anything can be magical. You aren’t limited by pre-existing practices. The only limitations that exist are the laws of nature and your imagination. Go wild.

Other recommended reading:

Researching witchcraft

Visualization

What to avoid

Everything that a beginner witch could want to know.

Fundamentals of energy work

Spell design

#beginner witch tips #baby witch tips #witch tips #witchcraft for beginners #beginner witch #baby witch #researching witchcraft #witchcraft basics #text post #Gintro

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cativiascorner · 7 months

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Let’s talk about EP 7’s Title: Dreams and Madness

I firmly believe the original intent of the titling is a tie to both Baylan & Shin. Master & Apprentice. It trickles down to Ahsoka & Sabine as well but I’ll get to that later. MAYBE ILL EVEN GET INTO HOW IT TIES THRAWN AND MORGAN ELSBETH TOO anyway:

Baylan has gone mad, over this dream of his, this ancient power. He pulls unexpected moves this ep and straight up ABANDONS Shin. Seeing as he mentioned he literally raised her: To have acted in this manner, all on a unknown (to them) planet in an unknown galaxy, he’s lost it. You wouldn’t leave someone that you RAISED, and KNOW isn’t ready for events to come. He is acting on whims of a faraway dream that is unfortunately likely going to be his undoing. At the expense of Shin? We’ve yet to see and I fear for it.

Moving onto Shin’s relationship with the title: Shin can clearly be seen nearly taking Ahsoka’s offered help. She literally took a step toward her hand, looking really, really weary. Poor babygirl. To her, the idea of working with them is a Mad Dream. It’s mad because all she’s ever known is Baylan’s teachings (as far as we’re aware. He raised her in the wilds from what lines we got.) and it’s dream because it’s so out of her realm of potentials. But she didn’t expect to lose her master who was chasing his OWN mad dream. Fuck.

At this point it may seem clear the thought path I follow but I’d like to talk about the other two pairs briefly.

Ahsoka: Her dream is finding Sabine. It can also be seen as her dream to help Shin. (Sobbing don’t mind me) The madness is the path that lies ahead. Taking on Thrawn. Or perhaps she finds it mad to have found Ezra after all these years. Ow.

Sabine: Do i really need to explain these ones?????? Dreams: Ezra. Shin. (Gayass.) Becoming a Jedi. Madness: How she got to Ezra, what she has yet to tell him, etc. That’s quite a long list if I start thinking about it critically…

And bonus rounds!

Thrawn: Thrawns dreams of course are to leave this forsaken galaxy and begin reforming the imperial remnants. You know, the ones Senator BitchassXiorno says “dOeSn’T eXiSt.” I sincerely hope he sees the err of his ways. Don’t fuck with Hera Syndulla. Anyway, his madness is also the same as his dream. With a the very real possibility of Sabine and Shin forming a temporary at minimum alliance..( maybe, just maybe, a really scary powerful Baylan) his plans could quickly be turned to ruin. But he’s ready for that so I am eager to see how this plays out. But fighting this fight would be one of madness. He is overextended and TIRED. He wants his Sheer force back so he can emit his extreme tactical prowess. He literally has an UNDEAD ARMY. FROM MAGIC. IF THAT ISNT MAD I DONT KNOW WHAT IS.

Morgan Elsbeth: Her dreams are smaller and more centric, as pointed out by Thrawn. She dreams to crush any presence of the Rebels immediately and without hesitation. We also haven’t gotten that deep into this characters psyche but I really think a deep part of her has a good reason for being so frequently valuable to the core plan. She’s quite intimidating, and I think they’ve been slowly prepping her for something even more grand than her construction of the warp ring. The night mothers, of course. Not Thrawn himself. Madness, could also be tied in with prior reasoning. Many would think her mad purely based off the fact she’s a Nightsister in the first place.

That was a lot more than I thought I was gonna write that was fun. I hope my rambling has some coherence!

#star wars #shin hati #sabine wren #ahsoka spoilers #wolfwren #ahsoka tano #baylan skoll #morgan elsbeth #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #can you tell i have brainrot #im soooo normal #does any of this make sense

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noxxha · 1 year

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Iwagakure conflict reveals quite a lot about Hashirama

The Iwagakure negotiation (conflict…?) reveals quite a lot about Hashirama (if looking at this situation from a particular angle, that is)

We know not when exactly this incident takes place in the timeline of Naruto Shippuden, other than it being sometime after Konoha has been established.

It is most likely not during the early days of the village either, as both Madara and Onoki are wearing the symbols of their respective villages, which means that all the villages (Konohagakure, Iwagakure, Kumogakure, Kirigakure, Sunagakure) are established, functional and working for their own interest(s).

Whether this incident is before the Five Kage meeting, or after, is a touch trickier to answer.

Objectively I would say that it occurs before the meeting in question as Madara appears to have not yet distanced himself from the village - he even bears the symbol of Konoha on his person (and that is a rarity). It is, however, the words he speaks that indicates that he is still loyal to Konoha (as loyal as he can feel to a dream that was never his).

In my eyes - as I have mentioned in a few posts beforehand - this conflict is what causes Madara to consider turning his back on the village (in canon it is the modified stone tablet that, at the very least, does his psyche in once and for all) but this conflict/disagreement could honestly have been enough for Madara to conclude that staying in the village was pointless; both for personal reasons and reasons related to the village itself.

Madara’s expression in the above panel…there is something about the way he is drawn here that shows that Madara just…does not enjoy speaking the words he does (the first words, that is). He looks almost weary (melancholic even), which is not the gaze someone should have when they enjoy feeling superior and happy to get to “enslave” someone (a whole nation even) - “From here on you will obey the leaf.” Obey - that’s a harsh word.

In the german version Madara says the following:

“Es gibt kein Bündnis! Folgt Konoha, unserer Macht!”

Which translates into the following sentence in english (1:1):

“There is no alliance! Follow Konoha, our might!”

“Our might” is the keyword here. He presents himself as part of the village, as being an extension of Hashirama’s will - because it was probably Hashirama that sent him there in the first place. I doubt Madara would have gone to Iwagakure if not under the order to do so.

But for what reason?

The words also imply that Madara was not in Iwagakure for a pleasant chat or a diplomatic discussion (he was at the very least prepared for resistance judging by his attire)…then again diplomacy might have been the case, but Madara phrased himself rather poorly - which I do not agree with entirely.

Madara is honest - blunt but with an elegant edge to his speech - and he knows how to strike with his words to hurt, anger and psyche out his opponents (The Five Kage in particular come to mind).

“There is no alliance!” - these are some interesting words that carry a lot of implications. And to put them in context we have to look at what Onoki says before Madara answers him.

And Onoki says the following words in german (Onoki speaks in dialect in the german version, I have chosen to use the “understandable”/translated part in the glossary for this because the dialect is gibberish for those not knowing the language);

“Warum?! Das stimmt nicht!”

“Why?! That’s not right!”

“Meister Hashirama hat uns…”

The second part is a bit tricker to translate into something coherent from one language to the next. It looks like Onoki is about to say something akin to “Hashirama-dono has told us…” (has = hat and us = uns) this sentence is honestly wacky to translate into english - as we are missing the exact word to make the sentence make sense. In the german language the verb would be (almost always) at the end of the sentence (“Meister Hashirama hat uns gesagt”) and it’s the word after the … that is interesting. It can be anything really (said/lied (to us) depending how to interpret Onoki’s words in the end.

If I were to translate the sentence 1:1 it ends up looking like this (it looks more like a mathematical formula than a sentence):

“Hashirama-dono has …. (to)us…”

And in english the tone in this sentence (if translated 1:1 that is) becomes nearly ominous or sad and could almost be interpreted like a monologue.

But I’m derailing this post already, so I will stop the speculations and come back to the topic at hand.

For the sake of this analysis, I will say that Onoki wanted to tell Madara that “Hashirama-dono said to us that-….” to which Madara replies that “There is no alliance!”

It could mean everything from Iwagakure was planning an alliance with another of the five hidden villages (not that such would be a hinderance to Konoha, as long as it did not mean war?). It could mean that Konoha planned to form a more “loose” alliance with Iwagakure (as in exporting/importing specific wares), but Hashirama changed his mind and wanted to subjugate Iwagakure entirely to get their power on Konoha’s side. Or it could simply mean that Konoha (Hashirama) lied to Iwagakure, for whatever reason, and always intended for a more “brute force” method to get his will (through Madara).

Going over the tone of the words once more (and pretending Onoki meant to say something close to “Hashirama said to us that there would be an agreement”) the situation could be seen as Madara going to Iwagakure without orders to do so. If that is the case…this situation does happen after (to shortly around) the Kage meeting. As it was during that specific meeting that the Kage, at the time, were distributing the Tailed Beasts to achieve balance power-wise. And that can be seen as an “agreement”, but there are probably many more to which this situation can refer to honestly - as Madara makes no mention of a Tailed Beast. But it could, nevertheless, refer to one of them. The words are vague enough to imply any and every conflict, that was one of many, possible causes for the First Great Ninja war happening.

(I personally headcanon that it was Hashirama who ordered Madara to Iwagakure. It is just more interesting in that way. Both for Madara and Hashirama.)

Many characters feel resentment towards Madara (as in this particular instance) when their anger should be directed at Hashirama for being the one giving (most likely) the order for Madara to even be there. The latter is nothing else but an extension of Hashirama’s will at this point in time (most likely).

It is almost as if Hashirama uses Madara as a scapegoat and shield to escape punishment and dirtying his own hands…

There are many implications with this confrontation, but it is no denying that this confrontation caused a rift between Iwa and Konoha.

In the english dub the conversation goes as follows;

“What? But why?! That wasn’t the agreement, lord Hashirama said-“

“There is no alliance now. You’ll merely bow down to the might of the Hidden Leaf.”

But no matter, the end result is still that they clash (in the anime Madara uses Susano’o to destroy the building behind him and wound Onoki and Mū).

There is something about his expression that just…makes the whole situation feel wrong. Weariness and melancholia is what I mentioned above, but it could be interpreted as a look of disgust even…but whether it is directed at Onoki and Mū, or at something else (be it his thoughts in that moment, himself, Hashirama or Konoha itself) is not easy to answer.

It is quite telling that he is losing faith/has lost his faith in Hashirama as well, by the fact that he does not want to hear his name being mentioned. This indicates quite the rift between them, that something has gone wrong. Terribly so.

It is mostly likely some sort of disagreement. And it is most likely a disagreement about peace and/or about Konoha.

They have yet to speak by the stone tablet is my claim, but I will also claim that it is here that Madara understood what Izuna tried to warn him about. Despite being stoic, I imagine it left not even someone as stoic as Madara completely unfazed.

After all, he gave this peace of theirs a chance - despite his condition not being met (this peace was first and foremost for Izuna and their clan) and he has been met with disappointment after disappointment since then.

But the questions remains why Madara was even sent to Iwagakure (if he was) in the first place.

He is frowning here it looks like, he looks even thoughtful and a bit lost in his thoughts. But whether it has to do with the present situation, or something internally, is impossible to say as we are seeing Madara (once again) through the eyes of another character (Onoki).

It is here that we can piece together a possible philosophy for Hashirama’s view about peace.

Hashirama’s method of assuring peace is through dominance and power (mixed with a sense of compassion - that extends only so far…), while fear is ultimately what keeps the power balance in check. You could say that he is keeping peace upright through bonds and cooperation, and in a sense that is correct as well, however - somewhere along the way - Konoha changes Hashirama.

From this idealistic, dreamer who truly wanted the world to change;

To this terrifying and ruthless person willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for ‘his’ village;

While not identical, Hashirama’s way of achieving peace is similar to how Pain wanted to achieve it.

In the case of Hashirama, his method works for as long as he is alive. But, according to the Naruto timeline, he is said to have died quite young.

Considering the fact that the first Great Ninja War broke out sometime after (to shortly before) Hashirama’s death, it is quite telling how the power balance shifted so rapidly and readily once he was no longer there to keep things leashed.

Madara returns to Konoha, and he probably stays for a while longer, before he and Hashirama have their conversation by the stone tablet.

We can see here the philosophy behind Yin and Yang, and how Hashirama and Madara tried to achieve it in their physical reality by cooperating- but the results did not become what they hoped for.

While not a complete disaster, there was too little trust between them in the end. The friendship between Madara and Hashirama was never the most steady, but it’s here that it shatters once and for all.

Hashirama assembles as much power as he can, under one name (Konoha), but did he do anything for the clans under him? Did he do anything to soothe resentment/paranoia that had to fester in their hearts?

Not what we know, at least.

He tried to work together with the other villages - but it says nothing about what he tried to do for the clans living in Konoha.

In the above scan, Hashirama asks Madara to see everyone in the village as his “siblings” - “I want you to watch over everyone” and yet Hashirama, himself, cannot even have the back of the clan that founded the village with him. He cannot prove to Madara that he (Hashirama) is willing to watch over his co-founder and support him and his clan.

Then again, Madara probably let no one close to him at this point (or at any point after Izuna’s passing) which means that Hashirama could not reach him even if he may genuinely have wanted to do so.

He could not even stand up to his own brother (who was probably a thorn in Madara’s side and cause for concern with his politics). Hashirama could not be someone that helped foster some sort of begrudging understanding between Madara and Tobirama - despite not really knowing who Madara was as a person at that point (they were apart for at least a decade after all).

And in between them stood also the loss of Izuna (something Madara would never truly forgive Tobirama for).

We can also come to the conclusion that Hashirama has not really shown much resolve to “deal” with Tobirama over the years they have worked on this village. Madara knows Hashirama well enough by that point. He knows that his words are empty and that he will not back them up with action in the end.

He knows Hashirama well enough to know that the latter will not do anything. Not really.

He leaves the village. Knowing once and for all that the peace, he wanted so desperately to believe in, would not manifest through Konoha.

#madara uchiha #hashirama senju #tobirama senju #long post #naruto analysis #thoughts #ramblings #this conflict really is interesting to dissect #so many situations in the manga are #timeline wise its a bit of a mess #maybe #probably

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dukeoftheblackstar · 7 months

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Favourite Star Wars fic?

Oh dear, dear, this is a toughie ;/////////////////;

These are just some and are not in at all order except for the first three because those ones are very close to heart. Give them a read and a follow ♥ You wouldn't be disappointed!

I haven't read many yet since I stopped doing binge reads due to my eyes, but I might get in on that train again soon ♥

Name and Soul by Decepticonsensual will takes the lead because oh my god did this fuck me up in more ways than one with fluff and angst. It's in complete, but I will die on the hill this fic was written on.

Sheep Song by @syn0vial takes second because I need this in my life, okay? Psych horror between current and young Boba with Jango in the mix full of the unknown? Beautifully written that it takes you to the same journey as Boba's.

White All Over by @padmestrilogy is a fic/blog I came across by accident and nearly paid no mind because there was just one post or like not even a full page at the time. This is by far an in-depth POV fic from Jango's eyes mid-clone creation. All applause for this fic.

The Tiniest Councilor by Quiet_Shadow is one I read almost so many damn times because of how cute and fluffy it is. This is my ultimate comfort fic because Plo plus younglings while in a council meeting is more than enough to give comfort to my constantly bleeding heart.

Finish What You Start by @sinisterexaggerator I don't think I need to explain why I love this so much but Hondo silly dancing before you some really saucy stuff and him being overly all perfect and portrayed with such precision? B L I S S, I tell you.

Sovereign by @tits-fisto fills my stupid PloKitHeart with so much contentment and satisfaction, I have not read anything better in terms of PloKit fics. Sovereign is indeed Sovereign.

You Came, You Called by @toomanybandstocare is a fic very close to heart and is very personal to me. If you need comfort in times of dealing with really heavy shit, read this.

Nightshift by @wolffegirlsunite is the fic that broke me so damn much I literally wept for days to weeks because this is just pure, unadulterated, lost-love angst that has been my death. Still my favorite Fox x Reader fic of all time. All. Time.

The Merc and the Moon by @eyecandyeoz Darth Fett is my hidden ship that I am still so beyond grateful to have been accepted, embraced, and materialized with such glorious, glorious manner of writing and art that I am ready to just die for Candy (author), really.

Boba Has Baby’s First Identity Crisis & Jango Plays Hungry Hungry Hypocrite by @yellowocaballero This is such a fun shit!boy Boba read that if you're ever having a bad day, please. Do yourself a favor and read this because this has me on a wholesome hold ♥

The Hype by @blueink-bluesoul I'm not even gonna say something about this because I delayed this for so long because the sheer amount of FILTH in this fic is gonna make you thirstier than a bitch in a desert <: But I just wanna also say the skill on now making this fic cluttered with so many characters just blows my mind. And the amount of dick pleasure in this fic is enough to serve as balm to a weary soul.

[Ploffe] Plo Koon & Wolffe Friendship Fic by @wild-karrde is another comfort fic of mine that is s wholesome and such a warm read every time I go through my bookmarks of 'in case to read for duchii depresso' ♥

#♝#dukeoftheblackstar answers #♝-answers #ρℓσ∂υ¢н-recommends #fic recommends #these are just some i really really adore rereading #there's more but i hope these are enough for now :)#also i know you said fic #but i couldn't help but list a lot #;//////;

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mswyrr · 8 months

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Reading and enjoying "In Search of the Swan Maiden: a Narrative on Folklore and Gender," but the constant emphasis on whether a fairy tale is "feminist" or not is a bit wearying. I get why (the book is emphasizing gender!), I just want more of the tales themselves and less of that.

It's a great overview of the lit and types of tales! Just not quite doing what I want. I'll have to poke around for other sources.

I also think this 1994 book is in that interesting space of awareness of feminism and gender AND yet not aware of queerness as anything but a rare exception - so the idea that the themes of power in the animal groom tales, for example, can speak to broader, inevitable HUMAN issues in relationships isn't discussed.

Like, yes, Cupid and Psyche can and should be read in light of patriarchy - but you can also explore it as being about knowledge, trust, power struggle, betrayal and fighting for someone in love that's not gendered.

I want to do an F/F "animal groom" style narrative, and I find the endless: but can power ever be perfectly equal between men and women????????? questions annoying because, no, power is not ever perfectly equal between anyone?? That's taken to grotesque, formalized extremes in patriarchies (though there are multiple patriarchies, not one monolith, and their nature and scope varies over time and between geographic/cultural locations), but it's also kind of inevitable to being human imo. The image of F/F as a space of perfect, automatic equality and absence of power and struggle is really absurd to me tbqh. Absurd and specifically sexist in a "pedestalizing sexism" way, where being treated as somehow not fully human and capable of all the passion and power (good and bad) and everything being human involves is supposed to be a compliment.

#misc text posts #my writing

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rallentando1011 · 6 months

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Risetober 2023: Day 9 - Cat

“Woah-hoh, Mikey! That was amazing!” Leo gave his little brother a congratulatory knuckle bump.

“Oh, that old trick?” Mikey strutted confidently off the skate ramp in the center of the lair’s atrium. The box turtle played it off coolly before grinning. “I’ve been working on it.”

“I can tell,” Leo smiled before quirking a brow ridge. “Speaking of working, where’s Raph? I thought he said he would join us after finishing his workout or whatever.”

Mikey contemplated momentarily. “Hmm, I think I saw him walk in there earlier.” He proceeded to point at the dim, drippy drainage tunnel situated at the north end of the lair.

“Waitwaitwait, Raph wandered off alone? Into the dark, mazelike sewers? No one’s freaking out about this?” Leo questioned. Did nobody remember the last time Raph went out alone and got so freaked he almost hurt his brothers and tried to eat villains?

Mikey seemed to have a similar epiphany. “Oh, this is bad. This is real bad.”

“Fret not, hermano,” Leo placed a hand on Mikey’s shoulder to walk him up to the tunnel. “We’re gonna get ‘im.”

Mikey cautiously stepped in first, the grime and dampness of the grid beneath him leaving him indifferent, having spent as much time in the sewers as he had. But something felt off.

Sloshing sludge rushed underneath him through the tunnel, forming a vortex of an unnerving wind leading down the hall. It dually felt all too loud and hushed. Mikey had a feeling of unease, an apprehension about what would await him.

A glance back at Leo showed the red-eared slider had a similar nervousness, but the face man quickly tried to cover it.

Leo gulped and forced a smile before taking the lead.

The farther they advanced, the darker their path became. The rush of green beneath them only faintly irradiated the concrete walls around them, forcing the brothers to squint in front of them to make out the ground in front of them.

All they could see was grid panel after grid panel and then silhouette.

Leo took a double take before stopping Mikey. It took Mikey a second before he also saw the shadowy figure laying across the walkway. Based on size alone, it was Raph. Just sitting there. Unmoving. Not unsettling at all.

“Hey Raph,” Leo hesitantly called and took another step forward. “Hey big guy. Sun’s gettin’ real low.”

The eldest snapped his head around to his brother before promptly shushing him. “Leo!” Raph whisper-shouted. “Quit yapping! You’ll scare ‘em!”

Leo and Mikey both blinked, exchanged a confused look, blinked again. If Raph was having a freakout, he was a lot more coherent than normal.

“Scare who?” Mikey whispered slowly, hoping it wasn’t another set of villains in peril like last time Raph was alone.

“These little fellas!” Raph gestured in front of him. His brothers could scarcely discern two smaller contours in front of him.

“What are th-”

Leo’s question was cut off by a small mew from one of the figures, and all three turtle mutants simultaneously “awe”d.

Convinced his brother was probably not going to try to kill him, Mikey laid down beside Raph on the steel wires of the floor to get a better look at the cats.

Both had short, black fur, although one of them had little brown specks along its back and a shorter tail.

They were both so mind-numbingly cute that Mikey just wanted to scoop them up and squish them, but he restrained himself out of courtesy. So, he just beamed at them brightly.

Leo, on the other hand, was still weary of the status of Raph’s psyche. He tentatively laid beside Raph but was still ready for an attack. “Raph, are you alright? We know how you get when you’re alo-” - Leo caught himself before he could trigger something - “I mean, the a-word.”

“Well, I heard these guys when Raph was working out, so I followed the sound down the tunnel. Raph started panicking at first, but then I saw these cuties,” Raph softened when referring to the cats before him.

“Huh.” It was weird that not only these cats weren’t actively tearing Raph apart like any other animal he came into proximity with, but Raph was also calmed down by them. But Leo didn’t want to look too far into it. He was convinced enough, so Leo turned his attention back to the cats.

The one closest to Mikey had its ears facing down as it carefully groomed its paw, and the one nearest him stretched and let out the cutest little yawn any of the brothers had heard in their life.

All three of them stared admiringly at the absolute abundance of delightfulness that was those two cats. Leo may or may not have cried; who’s to say?

Some people might consider black cats some superstitious symbol of malfeasance or bad luck, but these turtles were positively enamored by them.

(@sariphantom holy moly it’s already been nine days of October? woo!)

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #save rottmnt #rise season 3 #risetober #risetober 2023 #sariphantom #save rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #cat

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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imbue ; eren x reader.

971 words, anxious / gn reader (no pronouns), sfw, 18+ mdni; eren isn't the best at comforting, but he tries; angst lite, a lil fluff if u squint, reader is a psych major, modern au (college stuff).

fic request for @f4irycafe ; thank u sm for being patient, i hope you enjoy it <3

a thermos filled with coffee sits on the corner of your desk, several thick textbooks scattered around along with spiral notebooks filled with hurried writing, various uncapped highlighters, pens of different colors, and ripped up index cards. ink stains your palms and fingertips, as you attempt to rewrite your notes again neatly. you don’t know why you do this, why you isolate yourself in your dorm room — away from friends, from family, and from your boyfriend — why you’d rather stay awake three nights in a row, than deal with the inner demons you can’t seem to chase away.

can you still call them nightmares if you’re numb to it all? if you choose to ignore the pain that accompanies those vicious, terse words that anxiety hurls at you hourly. you’ve gotten better at dodging them, at allowing the shallow, petty comments to glide off of your skin and drip onto the floor, splashing around your feet in an attempt to drown you.

it’s precisely why you take to studying psychology — why you’re fascinated with the inner workings of the human mind, why you don’t like being bothered whenever you have a major test coming up, why you always seem to have an excuse whenever someone tries to remind you that you’re running yourself ragged.

eren is tactless as ever, unable to filter his honesty whenever his impulsivity gets the best of him. you’ve told him repeatedly, took the time to carefully explain, even went so far as to give him tips on how to get a hold of that desire to say what’s on his mind all the time. but, he still struggles with it.

his knocks are recognizable, you know it’s him after the first pound on your door. if you ignore him, you might actually be able to get work done — but that would be cruel. you take your time getting up from your chair, yawning and stretching your arms over your head before unlocking your door. he stares down at you, an impish grin on his face, green eyes eager as ever at your timely appearance.

“hi,” you say dully, a small smile tugging on your lips, “you know i’m studying.” you move aside to let him in; it’s best to see what he wants early, rather than drag it out for longer than necessary.

“yeah, that’s why i brought you snacks.” he shakes the bags in his hands before tossing them onto your bed. “i figured you haven’t eaten yet, right?” he suspects you’ve missed a few meals over the past few days; you get so wrapped up in your head, you forget to eat. his eyes land on the thermos and the chaos that is your desk. “coffee on an empty stomach?”

you don’t bother looking at him, because you can only handle his concern for so long before it becomes unbearable.

“i’m studying,” you remind him again, voice weary as you tug on the sleeves of your hoodie, choosing to sift through the bags of snacks eren brought you. “it’s not like i plan on stuff like that.” your fingers latch onto a bag of chips and some gummy worms. “are you gonna stay, or did you just come to bring snacks?” you sink your toes into the fluffy rug beneath your feet, enjoying the sensation that the fluffy fabric brings you. it’s a calming motion, one that steadies you, helps you focus on irrelevant things that don’t stress you out.

he watches you briefly, throat tightening at the helpless feeling that swells within him. he hates how he can’t crawl into the grooves along your brain, how he can’t prevent you from trapping yourself internally, how he can’t make you see that things aren’t quite what your thoughts make them out to be. frustration at his own emotional ineptitude has him walking to you, his hands warm against your skin as he cups your face.

“do you… want to talk about it?” it’s a question he poses quite often, one that you dodge repeatedly. today though, today you’re feeling a little more lost than usual. stress from not feeling prepared enough for your exam, doubts on whether you’ll graduate with the way you’re falling behind in your classes, and fear of not being good enough make navigating through the day extremely difficult. your stomach constantly in knots, palms and fingers tingly and damp; you’ve made a mess of the nails you’d painted only three days prior, the nail polish mostly chipped off.

with a slow nod of your head, you allow yourself to let go a bit, to allow eren the option of taking the reins. you like the tender way he’s looking at you and you also like how his hands are always so careful with you.

if you only knew how precious you were to him, maybe you wouldn’t question it.

“but first,” you declare, turning your face a bit so you can softly kiss the center of his palm, “i’m hungry, so let’s eat.” because you need something to do with your hands while you talk, or else your mind will descend into an unmanageable frenzy. you hop onto your bed and wait for him to settle in next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight, the warmth of his body a welcomed distraction.

he’s not entirely sure he can help with whatever it is that’s plaguing you, but he’s determined to try; if it takes him reminding you of your importance in his life on a daily basis, he will. so when he takes your hand in his, fingers laced together, you feel light and safe. and even though you both sit together in silence for a few minutes, he doesn’t press you — instead allowing you to move at your own pace so you can spill your thoughts uninterrupted.

#fic request #snk imagine #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger x reader #snk x reader #snk x y/n #aot x reader #aot x y/n #eren can be sweet sometimes #snk au #f4irycafe #aot imagine #snk angst #snk fluff #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren fluff

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 year

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tuesday again 4/11/2023

more concise than usual. don't get used to it.

listening

the trombone is an underutilized instrument in indie rock. this is a delightful music video, the vocals bother me a lot less now that i know they're deliberately going for a robotic effect.

youtube

if you liked the Killing Eve soundtrack (largely brought to you by Unloved and Junoire), that sort of very smooth lightly psych-rock flavored thinking woman's music to smoke clove cigarettes to while slouching around used bookstores, you may like this song! reading this back it sounds kind of snotty but sometimes you need a french woman main character song to make doing errands feel like being on a secret mission

i found one of their previous albums, Psycho Tropical Berlin, sort of a one-hit wonder with Hypsoline (the credits song for As Above So Below) but it really is a fucking banger

i want the album art as a shirt So Bad but not enough to pay $25 shipping from france about it.

i think this was off the spotify weekly discover playlist? can't imagine where else i would have run across it

reading

remember the vampire-adjacent private detective novels i was reading? not the ones from last week, the earlier ones. the author alexis hall chucks you a free short story Sand and Ruin and Gold if u sign up for his mailing list.

i think the orca comparisons are a touch heavy-handed at times, but the imagery in this thing...i really am a sucker for the rot of a coastal tourist trap. i bear no fondness, but i do give them a weary nod of acknowledgement. this town is a construct for other people to enjoy. i typed out a very long thing about how the economics of tourism shaped the town and everything about the civic calendar down to the school year, but--it was not really meant to have real residents or be a real place. there was absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to hang out without paying for anything in the off season.

It was just after closing on Reunification Day, the last of the stragglers gathered up and banished back to their world. A spiral of faded, plastic bunting from the celebrations had blown into one of the pools. I went to get a pole to hook it out but heard a splash and turned in time to see Nerites leap from the water in a gleam of skin and scales. The wind whisked the ribbon from between his fingers, and he reached after it, his body twisting sinuously in the air before he crashed into the pool again.

I’d never seen him—or any of them—move like that before. The jumps and slides we taught them were supposed to mimic their natural behaviours, but they rarely performed them spontaneously. And this was something else again: a wild leap and an ungainly splash, more beautiful to me than the most perfect bow or spin because it seemed so absolutely heedless.

He surfaced again, almost vertical, spinning in the pale-grey spray, one hand catching for the bunting’s tail. A tug, and it tumbled from the sky, nothing but a lifeless piece of string.

i am beginning to remember that all the shit that really sticks in my brain is in short stories and novellas you (general, including me) have never heard of.

watching

star wars resistance. i am finding this far more enjoyable than the bad batch or the mandalorian bc it has something of a storyline that it sticks to, even though most of the runtime is a teen... he's not really a teen, he was a new republic pilot so he's probably like twenty but in my heart he's like fifteen. part of the appeal of ds9 for me was a very consolidated set of recurring background characters and getting to see that there are other things/factions/people all working for their own ends. baby's first practice spy mission.

the ship design is really killer: it asks and answers the question "what if a pirate spaceship was also a galleon?"

i find myself excited to watch the next episode, which is not a familiar feeling when i watch star wars stuff. i really hope s2 holds my interest as much as s1 did.

why am i doing this? i have seen all the star wars except for: most of the LEGO stuff, most of the addendum and errata for tcw (including the crystal crisis arc), the holiday special, and most of the droids and ewoks animated shows. like i am Really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, even though i'm not really sure why this show fell into such obscurity.

playing

a bit cranky with weird west, bc i think to get past this stealth level i will have to dismiss my companion (can't seem to knock out guards unless i'm standing up, the companion AI has a very loose definition of "staying close" and is only "invisible" if you're also crouching, and you can't direct your companion to stay put in one place OR to stay close/stay crouched permanently. i may have exhausted most of the appeal of the world on my first fifteen-hour run through the first story. i am more than a little disappointed bc i did have a fuckton of fun in those fifteen hours and was expecting the good times to continue.

making

still halfheartedly poking away at the baby blanket, less than half a repeat this week and i don't feel like getting up, digging the blanket out of the catproof bag, and putting enough lights on for a real photo. this is repeat 7/10 tho so we are slowly approaching the end

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Bandcamp

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