#the level of intrusive thoughts she has... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barnacles34 · 8 months ago

Text

Momentous Entropy (Yujin x Male Reader)

Yujin x Male Reader

Warning: Smut, 7k+ words

The door accelerated open, showing a peek of a small dorm. Yujin’s head popped out from the door’s side, her face entirely shaped by a beautiful smile— eyes morphed into two crescent moons facing downwards.

Despite her giggling shyness, she stopped hiding behind the door. She welcomed me in, still with a brilliant smile, “Welcome Professor Eunwoo! Welcome to my dorm.”

“I know it’s small compared to your penthouse or whatever you were talking about with your coworkers, but it’s great for deep, focused work.” She snuck in the stalker-level information in between two welcoming remarks.

“Thanks for welcoming me here.. Wait.. What?” I only caught the intrusion mid-sentence.

She knew I heard her—word for word. It was mutualistic to not ruin the moment with heedless questions in the specifics, we’d forgotten whatever we talked about a moment ago; rather, focusing on each other's faces.

Of course, I would never let her know. It’s an apprenticeship after all, I’d be brought down with all the academic reputation I have if I even considered anything remotely intimate.

As I entered her dorm, I noticed something unusual. She wore a formal skirt with a white shirt and even her hair seemed to have been carefully molded for a grueling amount of time. Why did she dress up so vibrantly even though all she wore outside were casual clothes? Of course, I would never look her up and down, that would be a grave mistake, my peripheral vision was enough, my imagination did the rest.

I looked away immediately when my imagination went onto a wholly inappropriate tangent, instead I appreciated the clean place, clean of a single speck, the wallpaper matted with a freshness that couldn’t be faked with a single day of cleaning; the nice smell loomed over the place, something flowery, something inherently feminine, I was beginning to feel out of place.

There’s something poetic about a beautiful person being a beautiful human being as well, though I used two synonyms to describe something inherently different, I’m sure you get what I’m saying. She was good-looking, diligent, smart, clean, the list goes on and on. Sometimes attractive people have some of the most vapid, vanitous, vain lives; sometimes, it’s refreshing to see someone just so contrary to that common belief.

I was walking slowly while she went to her room to set up, I paced my steps to not seem awkward by standing too still or pacing around her entire dorm.

She came out of the door, her eyes were not morphed by a smile, rather two large pupils akin to a labrador stared straight at me.

Some people’s stares immediately make you uncomfortable, angry even, their voided personality that can only be filled with continued staring. Yujin was rather supplemented by the stare, her intense rich inner-life always apparent, her natural charisma exuding throughout.

The thought was broken when Yujin said, “Mr. Eunwoo, before we get started, I know you forget some of the essential parts of life, like breakfast.” She swiftly went to the countertop, opening some cupboard and pulling out an already-prepared breakfast.

“Why do you have a full meal in the cupboard?” I was completely stumped, there is never anything consistent with Yujin.

“I don’t know, just in case, you know, if you tried to stop me from serving you breakfast.”

“Why do you want to serve me breakfast in the first place? This is inappropriate. Wholly.”

“Please!~ Just try it!” Her eyes glistened, displaying how determined she was to get me to taste it.”

I obliged her for once. The breakfast was great, it was just too foreign, everything was opposite of what I’ve lived on; familiarity lied in the dusty libraries, the cramped, yet cozy study rooms, the decrepit dorms. Yet, I’ve gotten too successful, my quality as an academic has deteriorated too quickly, the distracting throes of fame, money, power however unattractive were always pushed onto me by those I used to hold close. I’ve resented success for however long I’ve held it, never has it ever contributed to my learning.

Yet, could this be an aspect of success? An attractive young lady, serving breakfast, serving a jet black coffee with enough caffeine to sedate rather than stimulate. Hold on, how does she-

“How do you know my coffee preference?” I asked, again, alarmed.

“That’s–um, I don’t know, based on my deduction, you know, like your disheveled appearance, I just assumed you lived off of caffeine.” A smile formed again, this time, a smile of victory over me, a rare enough event for a celebration.

“You’d be right.” Slightly, I scoffed at her remark, gladly sipping the bitter coffee.

Just like that, she already made me feel welcome, warmed up to the most foreign of places.

How could she do that? Is it on purpose? I can’t just ignore the influence she has over me, even if she is a student and I, a professor. I’ve always fought, fought and fought for everything, everything; the simplest of things failed at least a dozen times. Do you understand the disparity of it all? From failing at least a hundred times to now, an empathetic kindness, a warm smile greeting me regularly. I’m aware the description is akin to describing a drug, an addiction, I’m completely aware of it, and I’m desperate. Desperate for this continued exchange, and that’s why I willingly, so perpendicularly of my nature, succumb.

When I snap back to reality, the calm environment filled my sensory world. The white walls are furnished with small plants attached to the wall. I looked back at the kitchen, to check if Yujin was still there—she had planted her elbows on the countertop that I was sitting at, on the other side, her chin held up by her two fists, her cheeks were slightly squished and she was staring directly into my eyes.

“What’re you doing?” I ask.

“Nothing. You were so focused on that wall, I just thought it’d be interesting to stare at you.” That’s right, she’s also adept at mocking.

“Alright. Alright you brat, let’s get on with it. Where did we leave off last time?”

“Something about an assessment for me to continue being your apprentice.”

“Right. Right, I remember.”

“You don’t even carry around notes? For your ‘apprentice’?”

“Don’t need to”

“Ok, well, follow me, you’re gonna have to sit cross-legged on the floor.”

“Fine by me, lead the way.”

“Tired or sitting on gold-plated chairs, Mr. Eunwoooo?” Though her teasing was getting a little obnoxious, maybe the first-time visit to her dorm has her more anxious.

I scoffed at the reply, and followed to sit next to her on the coffee table, with enough distance as to make our apprenticeship obvious.

As do all our sessions, it starts cold, detached, at least compared to the end. Near the end, it becomes a warm haze, a studious discourse turns into something enjoyable, something that genuinely complements your life beneficially.

That’s also a reason why I continue to speak to Yujin. These unforeseen, unconsidered degrees of freedom had gone out of control, and inevitably, the attachment I had to being an academic was on its last string, its last stitch.

Only a fixation, a continued mutualistic companionship with Yujin has seemed to crutch my skill. And, I’m willing to go against all my morals to continue it.

It can be easily inferred that I’d let Yujin pass with flying colors to be my apprentice. Hiding it, though, is an entirely different story that I’d have to consider deeply through the assessment.

Of course, there’s always an optimism to expect in the radius of Yujin, the soft carpet, the flimsy coffee table.

Despite this, the assessment was rough, she was missing questions on purpose, and I couldn’t call her out for it because I was purposely trying to modify it in a way that she was always somewhat correct; in academia, this was enough, more than enough, even ground-breaking. But, this wasn’t even close to enough for Yujin, she was already suspicious of my bullshittery and in the 5th question, a free-response that I’d modified. She frowned deeply, her eyes glistened in a sort of sadness.

She spoke with disappointment, mostly with herself, “Why are you trying to make me pass? It’s obvious that the answers that I have are completely wrong, I can tell in the glint of your eyes.”

In order to trick Yujin, I’d have to have a near perfect system—a small gear falling out was all it took for Yujin to catch it.

“Before you freak out, these are questions for my PHD students, you’re a freshman, of course I’d have to modify it.”

“But why are you teaching me, an undergrad, instead of your usual PHD students?”

“Huh?” I was stumped, she was as intelligent as a fox.

Her eyes were melancholic, dark with a sort of sadness, disappointment.

“Why do you teach me?” She added on, then continued, “all your students did nearly the same thing as I did to gain some sort of favor, perhaps I tried slightly harder. I guess I argued with you a little more, challenged your authority, but anyone that did that was swiftly punished by you. I guess I was more insistent to be taught but you shoved off anyone that did that, except me. Why me? You’re not doing it for the money, you have plenty of it and I don’t have any. This doesn’t progress your career as well, you’re teaching a freshman about something that’s so ingrained that you don’t need notes for it.” Slowly her deduction processed what she was saying, and she was getting dangerously close to the answer.

I’d have to go on a tangent to another reason.

“I don’t know, maybe that you’re particularly bright, and I mean it, I know you feel like an idiot sometimes; it’ll never be as bad as how I felt it, god, if I was half as smart as you are when I was a freshman, I might’ve found the philosopher’s stone by now.”

“You’re so bad at giving compliments.” She laughed into her forearms that went to wipe her not-yet flowing tears.

“I mean it.” I replied quickly.

“No you don’t”

“If I tried to do an apprenticeship with my freshman self I’d be on death row the second day.”

It seemed to brighten the mood, she laughed harder, and.... and cried harder into her knees.

Confused by the contradiction of her actions, I just looked away, trying to offer some measure of comfort by just being present.

“I’m sorry, when I sta-start crying I just can’t stop.”

Even when she’s crying, a torrent of emotions pouring out, I don't feel uncomfortable.

“I’m here, Yujin, I’ll wait.”

“Thank you, Mr. Eunwoo-hick-it’s not your fault, I just feel extra emotional these days…”

Everytime she tried to continue with the assessment, her tears seemed to continue flowing, albeit a little slower.

“Hold my hand Mr. Eunwoo.”

“What?”

She sniffled, “Just hold it, it’ll help me stop crying.”

“Alright, alright.” I said as calmly as possible, not saying anymore, grasping her hand tightly.

She was sniffling—not crying—beside me, the distance that we had had closed a little. To say this was a foreign experience was an understatement, a relevant example would be to compare it to would be: a cat in zero gravity, I’d recommend watching some videos of it.

Yet I didn’t feel any reflexive reaction to this novel experience, I only held harder and felt ever-present in the experience

Suddenly, she whimpered, her hand reflexively moved.

“Ow, sorry, I’m not yet used to the tight grip.” She softly said.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, I like it, continue.” Her head finally seemed to release from her damp forearms, her eyes were slightly red.

As I grasped her hand to a firm level, she put her head on the couch seat, her hair slightly splaying out, her eyes looking at the ceiling.

She whispered, “I know you like me.”

“I-” A flourish of heat went straight to my face, everything seemed to be burning down today.

“I like you too.” She continued.

“Please, think about what you’re saying.” I sputtered out, trying to adjust her projected advance.

“I can’t hide it anymore, I just can’t. I’m delicate, I have my heart on my sleeve… but I’ve never been so sure of it—nothing else has ever made me feel this way: no friend, no family member, no passion. You can continue saying that I’m naive, that it’s my first time, that it’ll pass…” Her words start becoming a jumble, as if all that she wanted to get out in a short manner wasn’t enough, as if all that crying was because of what she had to say.

She continued, “I know you’re a professional, that no matter what I say, you’ll decline, even if you liked me. I had to cry because of it, not because I was getting things wrong, I could care less about that… It was the fact that I can no longer handle admiring you from afar, I had to vocalize my appreciation, even if it was all for naught.”

After a brief silence, she continued, “I just had to get this off my chest, even if you despise me now, even if you run away now.”

She looked away, expecting me to walk away while giving her a stare of pure hatred.

She was still looking at the ceiling, trying to prevent more tears from flowing down. I leaned my head back on the couch seat and looked at the ceiling.

“I love you.” I finally said, shaky with a risky determination.

“What?”

“I love you.”

Her hand gripped tightly, her hands were noticeably shaking.

“What now?” She stuttered out.

“I don’t fucking know.” I sighed—sighing deeper than I’ve ever sighed—I also felt an immense pressure release from something grabbing me from within.

“Why don’t we go ahead with the assessment?”

“After all that?”

“Yeah, I mean I feel like a huge burden has been lifted, I just wanna see if I perform better.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want.” I pulled my head from the couch seat, and sat—facing her.

After a lengthy discourse, one that stretched for more than an hour judging by how we both had to correct our posture at least a dozen times. And, within that discourse, Yujin was infallible, every question was answered with lengthy consideration with the nuance, the specificity, the word choice.

Near the end, it went something like this: “Foucault’s theory states that the evolving system of penal systems aligns, or in parallel, with everything around us. Before, in medieval ages, violent spectacles of blood and gore were prioritized as punishment, no additional consideration for the esotericism within. Whereas, now, the spectacle of violence is wholly shunned and penal systems focus on shaping the soul, rehabilitating the mind. However, the application of this idea has been rather controversial, and it could be explained with the idea of the panopticon: with the growing concern of shaping the mind, which is almost like a black box, penal systems have a growing habit of surveilling more and more.”

Yujin stared at me for some sort of confirmation.

“And?” I waited expectantly.

“And, this panopticon can be applied to anything, schools, hospitals, even changing cultural norms.”

“Wow, I have to say, how much did you prepare prior to this?”

“Prior to this? A lot, a lot of work.” Her voice was confident, a far cry from her whimpering only a moment ago.

“How do you not sleep in my lectures considering the fact that this material is so much more advanced than the class you take?”

“I can just stare at you.” Her head was getting closer—I didn’t care. In the beginning of the assessment, we were separated by plenty of space—enough to clearly show it was a professional exchange. By the end, we were shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side, speaking cordially, even despite our physical contact.

“Awfully bold for someone who cried in front of her professor for like half an hour straight.”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me.” Her face cringed.

I bit my lip, looking down—the mood was serene, it’s just that I keep getting reminded that I’m willingly participating in a mutual seduction between professor and student.

Fuck all of it.

I pulled my hand out of her hand—before she could demand that I return my hand—I wrapped my arm around her upper back, with my hand wrapping at the end of her shoulder.

Her posture straightened during the process, of course the forbidden path was still on her mind, still latent and not yet brought to fruition. But she quickly adapted, she looked to her side, at me, smiling warmly.

“It’s so amazing. How many hints have I had to give out?”

“Don’t act like you manipulated me to do this.”

“How else would the great Eunwoo betray his values? Just a wisp in the wind?”

“You brat, don’t forget my honorifics.”

“What? I couldn’t hear you… Eunwoo.”

I quickly pull her in, with my hand shielding the back of her head before I pushed her onto the floor, a soft tuft sound. I was on top of her, between the couch and coffee table, with her legs locked between mine.

Her doe eyes were on full display, her large pupils were somehow dwarfed by her eyelids which opened wider, the whites of her eyes under and above the pupil visible. She was shocked, taboo aside, it’s likely she’s never even experienced something like this.

“Can I kiss you?” Four words. These four words were all that I could think of, fantasize about for these past months. She’d accept of course, they all did—in the past. Still, there’s an immeasurable tension, an uncertainty without even weighing in the consensual agreement.

Perhaps some part of the tension was the taboo, that a professor was about to ruin the makeup of a freshman; smudge her lipstick, suck her lips until they were swollen; the condensation of love-making staining, blending in the carefully sculpted makeup with her natural beauty.

I didn’t hear the agreement, in part due to the fact that Yujin herself brought her head up to kiss me. Unfortunately, some care was forgotten, the way I had to grab Yujin's head led to a soft collapse onto the carpet, her head making a soft thump, our teeth clicking from the force. A collaborative soft chuckle escaped through the smallest of air leaks between our lips—a testament to our dedication to continue kissing, then it was airtight again, her soft lips glided over mine, her taste so feminine, so ephemeral.

It was obvious she was chaste, perhaps even ‘unclaimed’, her virginal lips were erratic, confused, yet so fucking shamelessly hot. Her low moans vibrated more in my mouth, goading me further, to enter deeper into her soft, welcoming mouth.

Slowly, steadily, our tongues entwined, the kiss was less air tight to allow for a more dynamic, sensual french kiss. Her mouth was begging, I was obliging, there was never a fairer exchange, as if her mouth was made for mine, and hers for mine.

Suddenly, she managed to push me over, until I was face-up, staring into Yujin’s eyes. This was the first time our eyes met during the makeout session, there wasn’t a single word that could explain what we needed to do; besides, our glazed eyes, slick with lust, spoke more than a one-dimensional tool like language. A small chuckle escaped our lips when our lips met in the middle, her head positioning lower, my head higher in the air, until my goading hands, entwined in her angelic soft hair pulled her head down. Our lips slotted in like perpendicular lines, no matter how awkward it felt, it just felt right, as if it were the most lustful way of expressing our unbridled affectations.

My hands explored her clothed body, exploring the beauty on me—who is restlessly, yet in a fierce, virginal way exploring every inch of my mouth—her beautiful curves were soft, pliant, firm, any press had an opposing force—an illegally soft opposing force. She was an angel—an angel on top of me, unaware of how much I wanted to ruin her.

“You’re going to regret it.” I say, in between wet kisses on Yujin’s lips. “This is the only thing I’ve been sure of.” Yujin replied, her voice husky with a sort of mindlessness that only the kiss could’ve caused. I reply, scaldingly, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” Still trying to warn her, of course, there was a mind and body separation. I was completely, utterly, under the seduction of Yujin, no matter how much I warned her. We both knew, that I wouldn’t hesitate to fuck her all over the dorm—not even for a millisecond. “Please, huff, that's all I’ve ever wanted, all I could think ever about… to be by your side through it all.” She pressed another kiss, a brief one, “The messy way you keep your desk, and how happy I am to organize it, how obliging I am. You’ve seduced me without knowing, before you ever even thought about me I’ve imagined millions of scenarios with you by my side.” Another kiss, a light peck, “Imagine the pride I felt when I found you left your suitcase by the chair in the library, to serve you measurably. It was just ordinary for you, but, but… it was the seventh heaven for me…”

Yujin was systematically removing every screw, with a perfectly fit screwdriver. Whether Yujin was conscious of it or not; she was kryptonite, the way her soft thighs brush against the sides of your abdomen, the soft feeling of her breasts, dipping onto my chest.

I needed to do more, with our mouths still connected, I sat up. Her ass was on my lap, the changing sensory world didn’t matter to her, all she wanted to do was oblige in the kisses. It didn’t even phase her once when I picked her up, standing, only, her legs locked herself in place to continue our mouth-to-mouth connection. I began my march to her bedroom, optimized to the utmost degree, every small peek I had of her bedroom perfectly aiding in this desperate situation—where I have to fuck Yujin for the remaining day, then the next, perhaps even forever; if only time would allow it so.

Her body clung to mine as I pressed her against the bed. This time, I had to pull off the heat of my loins unbearably tight, wanting—of new sensations. I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked, given how swollen Yujin’s lips were, I could only imagine how bad it must be—of course, the imagery was supplemented with Yujin's soft giggle, her eyes staring at my mouth.

I finally got to rid Yujin of her treacherous t-shirt—one that blocked the view of her perfect breasts, her perfect abdomen. Her lithe, firm body was running every gear in my head, on how to perfectly ravish—to perfectly mark with my actions. Yujin could only stare, wide-eyed, she doesn’t know what happens after, a little virgin, there needn't be a single statement clarifying this—I’ve already explored her enough to conclude so. I press into her, my mouth near her ears, “Don’t worry Yujin, you’ll just be under the greatest pleasure of your life, helplessly moaning—squealing on your professor’s face.” All she could reply with was a deep, sensual moan that would seem like someone pressed into her lungs, that’s how deep it was. Slowly, but surely, I shift down, letting my fingers grip onto her godly skin, leaving vertical white trails on her skin until her pelvis; when I hook her skirt, off.

I could immediately feel the goosebumps on her thighs, where the warmth, the security of the skirt—or the lack thereof—provided some protection of her core, her wet little core. I stare into her eyes again. My stature of a well-respected professional is gone—only an animalistic drive to nail the hottest woman in the world through the bed. The dynamic of professor and student, no matter how fucked up, no matter how morally corrupt—or nefarious; began to turn me on instead of inhibit, it seems so to for Yujin as well, the stain of her arousal clear.

Her arms seemed to retract to her chest, her forearms squeezed her breasts together; though, I’m sure that wasn’t intended, rather, it was likely to protect her little throbbing heart from the sensations, that heart she had on her sleeve. Despite my raging erection, my raging lust, I was inclined to treat her like porcelain, at least that part of me wasn’t totally exhausted. Except when Yujin said, “I’m not so fragile, daddy, break me.” Uncontrollably, greedily I pressed my mouth against her wetness, kissing around the soft skin. The wetness radiated, even under a layer of cloth, albeit a very flimsy, sexy, cloth.

Small whimpers rung out, vibrating the surface of her glossy skin around her heat after every small peck I placed on her inner thighs. Her legs were between my head, her thighs rested above my shoulder. As Yujin stared with a dogged innocence, a beautiful hesitance—-I hooked the side of her panty. I pulled—softly, making sure the wet cloth makes as much contact, frictional force with her pink core. The gift wrapping revealed something divine, the lightest pink you can imagine, glossy with something that only be arousal. Slowly, I dipped my tongue into her core—it was unimaginably comfortable, the way her pussy felt on my tongue, a sort of hot soft-serve that got molded by your tongue. But it didn’t taste like anything, that’s when a realization hit: she spent an inordinate amount of time preparing, making sure that every part of her was ripe for a nice fuck, and slowly guided me into her siren-like seduction. I patted the side of her ass, giving a grin—as nasty as I could make it, a sign of things I was about to do, a sort of payback for her masterful manipulation. She stared back, her open mouth, the visible teeth morphed into a half-smile, still focused on how pleasurable my tongue was on her pussy. Immediately, I placed my finger on her clit, pressing softly against it, then circling it before I dipped my tongue deeper into her unimaginably tight hole. Her breathing went faster, her lower-half rubbed softly—even resisting when the pleasure was far too much. Of course, that’s not what she signed up for—she signed up for a grueling fucking, a rough marking by her beloved professor.

10 seconds, only 10 seconds after the eye-contact, she came all over the bed. Her juices flowed freely, painting her inner thighs in some beautiful glossy coating. Her abdomen tensed in a rough hyperventilation, her cries grew higher and loud before she released into a deep moan. I tried to get as much of her juices on my fingers as possible, before letting her take it in the mouth—making her taste the fruits of her efforts, then spreading the saliva on my fingers over her chin.

“You taste amazing by the way.” I stated, waiting for some explanation.

“This is how I taste, always.” She panted, justifying it all.

“It wasn’t just a carefully constructed ruse to bed me?”

She scoffed, “What kind of evil bitch do you think I am? I’m beginning to worry about what type of woman you bedded before me to make you think pussy tastes bad.” Scoffing, her chest heaving, all glistened up.

“I’m a virgin too, I wouldn’t know.” I replied, jokingly.

This time, she whimpered, “That’s… Ugh” I felt a resistance, then a strong push, she was suddenly saddened at the prospect of being just another lady bedded, another number. While she focused on the sentiment, my eyes, my lustful gaze only landed on her body. Of course, there’s always an opportunity after every resistance—an opposing force against the applied force. Her head was positioned away, stubbornly opposing, but she left her bare neck—her smooth, thin neck—too openly.

Thus, my lips ended up on her smooth neck---squeezing out her pitiful moans. "Ungh~stop~! I'm still sensitive." She squeaked, her little throat muscles striated in trying to get her meek statement out. Fuel to the fire, it was only fuel to the fire, like a flame retardant---such as water---only strengthening the flame.

I marked her neck full of light bruises, ones that'll be dark tomorrow---dark in how badly I've wanted to possess her. Truly, I've gone insane. My mouth traced a path, from her soft, bruised neck down her bosom. Her nipples were framed with perky breasts, soft with a delicate femininity that she curated so diligently, so meticulously. Her little squeaks, pleads, exited her cute mouth faster, almost as much as when I ate her pussy. It was due to the multi-task that I engaged in, devouring her breast, whilst my hand massaged the other---less fortunate---breast.

Slowly, I released myself from her delicious breasts, still insatiable, pressed down on her breasts, my index fingers gliding, gripping against her nubs as if it were joysticks---literal joy sticks. Her breasts were painted in a beautiful pink hue, from how I used her, how I marked her---initially whitened from the pressure, then pink, then likely to be red for the rest of the day.

"Eunwoo..." she was splayed out on the bed, utterly satisfied---still with an enthusiastic gaze. "I want to suck your cock." She stated, matter of fact. "I want you to paint my mouth in your seed." she continued. "Let your seed fill my belly, the remains coating my chin..." her movements after each statement, in the silence, moved to push me on my back as she got up from her back. "Because, Professor, Eternal Love? Was that the title? And who was the love interest? If I didn't forget, it was... Khujin? As brilliant as you are, your naming conventions leaves a lot to be desired, I mean come on, it sounds oddly familiar." She completely pushed me over; I was slightly paralyzed with the discovery that she read what I was writing---it wasn't remotely family friendly, and perhaps, aimed towards her. Her eyes stared at me with knowing eyes, what exactly I desired from her at that moment; her lithe, perky body was positioned between my legs, kneeling, preparing to dip her mouth into eternal lust.

"From then on... Khujin took the face-fucking, dutifully, sexually, despite the size with which she was confronted with, took it. Her mouth ached, was pained, though, not in a conventional way; it ached in the desire to take him deeper." She just... requoted the entire sequence perfectly word-for-word from the paper.

Fuck!

There's nothing left to protect, nothing left to resist, we were unclothed, our secrets revealed, there was nothing left except our mutual wish to ravage each other until dawn. Our enlarged pupils---almost alien---met each other, glazed in some atypical determination. Finally, her head lowered and lowered before her tongue placed a meek lick on my cock. Then kisses, then a mix of licks while her hands clenched my wrists---signaling some sign that I shouldn't interfere, that I should enjoy this requited vindication.

Her mouth---even if virginal---provided some of the greatest relief. Her soft lips, erratic, still provided relief from my swollen tip. Her rookie mistakes, the slight graze of teeth, the meddling tongue only seemed to heighten the experience.

"You're a naughty fucking professor." She said, slightly biting down on the head, getting the intended reaction out of me---a great spasm. "Writing porn of a character that exactly resembles me. Mmmm naughty... so fucking naughty.."

"You're a horny, good-for-nothing student, Yujin."

We were fighting while she shallowly sucked in between her sentences, listening thoughtfully with a cock between her lips.

"I remember when you left that jacket at the library, I stole it. Then, I smelt it everyday, the cologne, the detergent, the natural smell. When you slept around I could smell it, the faint flowery smell alien to your scent."

She released her grip on my wrists, instead grabbing my dick, to better stimulate---to better punish. Her mouth hollowed out, the suction tremendously pleasing, the way she tongued at the underside of my shaft showing her real-time improvement. Then she popped my shaft out of her mouth again.

Somehow, she was angry again.

"Do you have nothing to say?" Yujin asked---irritatingly.

"I'm here now, Yujin."

"Idiot."

Her mouth went back, into the irresistible motions that she quickly figured out. Her head bobbed faster, I felt immensely relieved, yet I also felt an unbelievable greed, a sort of ripple between two identities in parallel, fighting for ultimate control.

I quickly and harshly gripped her hair, led her mouth down to the hilt---her low choke lubricated the hilt. Her fingers lightly tapped the sides of my thighs, with her perfect nails, the smooth skin, such a brave contrast to what was happening to her mouth. Her mouth suctioned again, not a word needed for preparedness, only the motions of our sexual organs were enough. Slowly, my grip on her hair went down to her scalp, a firmer place to grasp, to debase her identity further.

Her lips dragged long and hard, the suction felt stronger---the feeling of pulling out from her mouth harder than going in at this point. Her lips occasionally touched the base on my cock, only edging me closer. Until, I peaked, I growled as the first rope of cum landed deep into her throat. Even in this constricted, breathless stance where her dick was so deep in her throat that her throat reddened, her glazed puppy eyes stared back, almost a sign of some sort of sick victory over me. Then a second splash, the pressure so strong you'd think the flow was laminar---though I wouldn't know, her sexy throat hid it all. My head flew back, the relief of it all so strong, ropes turned into strings, strings turned into nothing---only the sensation of a suckling swallow could be felt on my sensitive tip.

There was no brief awkward silence, her mouth released in a godly erotic fashion. Her spittle still gathered on my cock, the spit strands coating her chin, her tongue clear and empty of the load I covered the insides of her mouth with.

She smiled so brightly - so happily. Her hands patted me on the thighs, trying to help me reconcile the fact that I throat-fucked a college freshman, the age gap already taboo, the fact that we were professor and student - only worsened it.

Her eyes were slightly red, the hint of tear trails on her face apparent. So badly did I want to hold her dear to my body, let the warmth of my chest keep her snug, let her rest. Yet, her reddened tits, her confused doe-like puppy eyes, her confused face, the slight glistening of her inner thighs goaded me endlessly. From that point on, I hadn't even realized I was hovering over her body. We were really gonna do it, I was gonna fuck her on her own bed, this beautiful, smart student.

"You really are an idiot" I say.

"Why? Because I like you? Because you're some respected higher up that I shouldn't entertain having a relationship with?"

It was that word: relationship. What are we gonna become-

"Eunwoo... master... professor... I don't just offer up my virginity to anyone... if you think I'm that easy to offer myself up to anyone - you're fucking crazy."

"You're a seduction master." I chuckle, letting her know the weakness of my self-control.

"If I'm a seduction master, then you're - I don't know - like Alain Delon." her hands hooked the nape of my neck, she was positioned so delicately, ready for whatever I wanted to do to her.

"I want this because I love you, Eunwoo."

"Who would've thought our little freshman is such a romantic, huh?" As I nuzzled my face into the side of her neck, give soft licks to her soft neck - her soft face a contrast to my stubbled jaw.

"Regardless of whether you insert your shaft inside me or not. I'll still follow you, to the ends of the earth, until you file a restraining order- Ah~!"

a single finger entered her, "Shh Yujin, An Yujin - all that pining to give up after a restraining order? I'll have to get you drunk on my dick, so that even the splitting of the earth won't deter you."

She squeaked, she definitely came, she definitely fucking came - hah. I let the finger exit slow, slowly trailing the wet finger up her abdomen - a sort of trail forming.

Finally, I palmed my dick, staring, realizing that I didn't have a condom. "Oh fuck - I don't have a condom" saying my thought out loud, she butts in, "Doesn't matter, please, anything - please." Her desperation clear in her tone - her fingers gripping dearly onto me.

"Who said anyone's leaving?" This time, her eyes were even wider. It was time, she knew it, I knew it, each step an acceleration to a barrier that we kept raising - was there even a barrier anymore? The depravity... the soulful acknowledgement of this cording relationship rose the hairs on my entire body; the blood in my chest frantically seemed to disperse, trying to control itself, to also control my entire body.

Though, if Yujin is under me, begging to be fucked - so hellbent, her glazed and aroused eyes pleading for some sinful contract. If only she knew - how much I'd do - there needn't be a single contract. I couldn't ever control myself anyway, what's there to deny?

Slowly - slowly - entered her, her sopping wetness gladly parted with some paradoxical resistance. The more I entered, the more her pussy resisted, the more her pussy pulled me in. The most sinful sounds, even more so than those of a minute ago, the squelch of a virgin hole being stretched - fuck, holy fuck.

"Ngghhh~ holy shit, please, more!" She desperately tried to close her mouth, aware of the lack of noise canceling. The way her mewls and moans exited between the tightest clasp of her mouth, the way her twinkled, the exasperation of a different type of pain stretching, beautifying her already goddess-like face. "I love it! Eunwoo~", that earned her a full stroke to the hilt. I grabbed the hand off her mouth - the way her face morphed into fear was beautiful, she was close to her neighbors - those neighbors who were about to hear Yujin's highest shrieks, highest orgasms. Another stroke, then another, I couldn't even describe how sinful her sounds were, shrieks, moans, deep to high - the sheer entropy of her mannerisms clearly showing her arousal. The next door neighbors would know, even the vertical neighbors would know. If they saw me entering her home, then I'm fucked - yet, I can't stop fucking her, the way her hips rotate and drift off my cock, the way her pussy lips wrap so tightly, so snug around my length.

I began pounding away, her thin waist acclimating to my tight grip, the way her breasts bounced when her ass slapped against my loins; who said missionary was boring? The way I kneeled, the way her body angled at a point - true rookie mistake - I kept pounding away at her g-spot. How many times she came - I wouldn't know - but the amount of liquid dispersed all over us, a mix of sweat and whatever else was definitely a clue. The way my length explored her insides so thoroughly, the way I'm pretty sure I bottomed her out, bound to bruise her cervix; the way her moans grew more unhinged, her eyes slowing going back inside her head, her arms almost unresponsive.

Until.

Until, Yujin grabbed onto me, it wasn't an ordinary grip, a nuanced grip that lovers of decades could understand - I'm sure there's some hidden meaning in that. The way her soft fingers grabbed my forearm while she laid down - panting with sweat, the glow of sex, possibly covered in her squirt. I made sure to stop at exactly when the base of my length met with her pussy - immersing myself in her beautiful warmth, sheathed in her velvety walls.

"Eunwoo - please slow down, I'm not going anywhere, by the next half-hour we'll be walking skeletons..."

This time, still plugged with my length I pulled her up, face-to-face where she sat on the slope of my kneel - adjusting myself accordingly to not destroy my knees.

"How could I Yujin? Light of my life, fire of my loin-"

She playfully slapped my shoulder

"Why are you referencing Lolita!?" in a giggling manner, understanding all at once.

"Careful where you slap your hands around, Yujin."

"Hm? What're you gonna do-mm!" A closed reaction to receiving a deep kiss. Slowly, my arms slithered around her back, to make sure that she doesn't fall - but, mostly to ensure that I could fuck her, utterly, fully under my control.

The way her eyes shined, with a deep desire - some atypical lust - yet still somehow looking so innocent, as if brilliant gems were in place of her pupils. Every time I get to stare at her, especially now that our eyes were separated by the width of a nose, I feel glad that someone - just someone like that exists, even better with the fact that we cohabit this area, and even better that our lips slip against each other. The act of exchanging saliva - a deeply disturbing thought - hadn't registered in us at all, only desire and love.

Slowly, her moans left her pretty mouth with emphasis - clearly enjoying the slower pace in which I gave these decrepit kisses to her cervix. Her velvety folds seemed to contract even more spastically - the movement easier, yet tighter, yet harder, parenthetically a paradox.

If only such paradoxes were this pleasurable.

"I'm gonna cum, Yujin." The sounds were absolutely vicious, viscous with the repeated slapping of our loins, the cold strands of her juices landing on my thighs whenever her pink core left the base of my length. "Eunwoo, give it to me, inside, everything." I tried to object; "Eunwoo, shhh, don't try to talk sense with me - it's too late for that, if you don't spill your biggest seed inside me, I'll chase you around the world."

"A restraining order?" I replied, curious for a response.

"And that'll stop me? After getting drunk on your dick, as you said? " She replied back, serious.

"You're right baby." I pumped into her deeper, slanting a little to get topological synchronicity: my chest fully in contact with her chest, the warmth compared to the biting cold of the environment only goading us on further. The way her soft, perky breasts pooled on my chest made my pumps only deeper - kisses more passionate.

"What if I do? What if I cum inside you?" Our eyes were level, engaging in a seriously serious topic. All care should've been granted to the topic - of course, we both knew the pending event.

"Then, presumably, understandably, I'll be by your side - with your favorite tea, massaging your soreness. And maybe, just maybe, nursing a little Eunwoo." Fuck! I hugged her tight - too tight. The small of her back caved in with my tight hug as I mashed my dick inside her swollen pussy. The way she moaned was less noticeable, she was so focused on receiving the load - breathing into the side of my neck, playing with my hair, exacting some stimuli to wring me out dry.

Her body perfectly molded into my force. Her ass molded against my tough thighs, her hard nipples poked my chest expectedly. When, just when, the hypothetical situation with Yujin - of a filial future - flashed in my mind, the first release of semen launched inside her. Ribbons of her deepest desire filled her - indulging her. We kissed - the natural course as expected when I released inside her.

Ropes of semen turned into strings, then finally - nothing. We embraced each other, I still hugged her just as tight, she hugged back with the delicacy of an angel.

"Yujin..."

"Holy shit." She replied.

Holy shit was right.

"-Like holy fucking shit." I emphatically replied.

Her gem-like pupils looked at me, her entire face turned into a smile.

"You'll have to call me wife from now on."

"Hm?" Fully not processing her request.

"Call me wife behind closed doors."

"Why?"

"Because.. why not?"

After a swift thought - one that didn't really have any substance at all - "Wife... wife... rolls off the tongue nicely."

She gave a peck on my lips, "make sure that it rolls off the tongue as easy as it does now... I'll want to hear it everyday."

"Wifey... who's cleaning the bed?" I jokingly inquired - of course, the truth was that the bed wouldn't dry in a day, and the way we are right now: the overflowing semen was still plugged inside her - with my cock.

Though, that would be a worry that could be taken care of later. Right now, the half-life of our post-sex fatigue finished - the other half to be finished when our lips met again.

Fin.

#yujin smut #yujin #kpop smut #male reader #female kpop idol #f!idol #m!reader #kpop #smut #fluff

623 notes · View notes

multifandomlover01 · 3 months ago

Text

His Person

Spencer Reid (S1, early stages of relationship) x chubby!fem!reader (I’m basing this off myself mostly)

WC: ~2.5k

Summary: Spencer reassures his girlfriend that she is the only one for him and that she's beautiful to him no matter what she's wearing

Warnings: body talk, insecurities about body (specifically a pudgy tummy) and relationship/worth/value, one (1) intrusive thought, concept of a safety dress that one feels comfortable in, a mention that reader might be comparing her body to the bodies of others, uh dresses? little rusty writing so early seasons Spencer may be a little OOC but he's a sweetie

You tugged at the dress that you wore. It didn’t fit right. That’s all you could see, all you could feel. It didn’t look right either. No amount of tugging would crease out the pudge that was your tummy. You sigh and start looking for your safety dress that you were sure would still fit fine (or at least it might be looser).

You didn’t even hear Spencer come into your bedroom. He already had his suit and tie on, looking as uncomfortable as you felt. His gaze flits over your body before refocusing on the back of your head.

Neither one of you was particularly excited about this FBI Gala but the presence of every member of the BAU was mandatory. And being Spencer’s girlfriend, naturally he’d asked you to be his date so he could at least have his comfort with him at this stuffy event.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Looking for something…dear?” He was still trying out terms of endearment for you, determined to find a set of ones that felt right. Dear felt very formal and safe. He never imagined himself being able to call you "babygirl".

You sigh and look back at him. “This one dress.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, squinting for a second as his mind processes that information and his response. “What’s wrong with the one you have on?”

It was a simple question. So why did it make you wanna shrink? You pause for a long time. Too long, because he speaks up again.

“Have I said something wrong?” He had taken to asking this question when you paused for a long time. He knew you were probably just trying to articulate your thoughts but he very much was afraid of offending you. He wasn’t used to relationships. Professional relationships were difficult enough for him to navigate on some level so a personal, romantic relationship was still mostly uncharted territory where he’d rather not veer into choppy waters.

“No…I just…wanna try a different dress on.”

“That one’s fine.” He still doesn’t understand why you need another dress when you’d already put one on.

Fine. The word echoed in your mind. You knew he hadn’t meant it condescendingly. You knew he was being honest. And you loved him but you yearned for a moment when a man saw you in a dress and his brain just went “gorgeous”. Spencer, of course, hadn't gotten a good enough reign on the sails just yet to be there in the relationship. And you recognized this and loved his genuine awkward charm. But you still wished he wasn’t so…clinically honest sometimes. Because it didn't always hit as sweet.

“It’s just one other dress.”

He switches gears. “Can I help you look?”

“I swear it was in here.”

“If you just-”

If I were just thinner, I wouldn’t need my safety dress. Fuck off intrusive thought!

You huff louder than necessary (cutting Spencer off) and you stop searching.

“Is something wrong?” Spencer is getting more concerned now. He takes a step towards you. He was pleased that he could fairly easily switch to “my person’s sad, must fix” mode. He thought he’d blunder more when it came to that particular aspect of a romantic relationship.

You don’t answer right away. He assumes the answer is "yes" but has also learned not to say that he assumes that.

“Can you tell me if something is? Please?” His voice softens like it does sometimes and he looks at you with those stupid hazel puppy dog eyes.

You look at him and know instantly that he sincerely just wants to know what’s up with you. You’d already had a very deep conversation about honesty in the relationship so you know it doesn’t do either of you any good to maintain that you’re fine.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being…” you trail off.

“Hey, I won’t think you’re anything you’re afraid of, ok? I promise.”

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say.”

“You’re not "stupid". You’re not a "child". You’re not "too sensitive". I promise what you feel is valid. And I intend to treat it as such.”

You knew he was right. You knew he’d never make fun of you.

“I don’t like this dress on my body.” That was both harder and easier to say than you thought it would be.

He processes for a second. And then asks the simple question: “why not?” which has a simple answer…right?

Your first instinct is to say “because I look fat in it” but you stop yourself from saying that because you think you sound “like a complaining woman”. Your next thought is that Spencer’s first thought will not be: “Jesus, I don’t wanna hear anymore.”.

“I don’t like how my stomach looks.” You rephrase and clarify.

He looks down. That’s simply his first instinct. Your stomach looks like it’s looked like the entire time he’s known you (a year or so at this point). He doesn’t want to keep asking the same question over and over again. But he knows “you look fine” isn’t generally accepted by women as an answer so he knows that won’t fix the problem.

“What’s different about it?” He asks instead.

This gives you pause. “N-Nothing…” you’re forced to answer/admit.

“Does it not fit right? Does it feel too tight?” Your comfort. That’s what he’s concerned about. You were so afraid he’d just say “yeah? You’re fat.” even if he didn’t see it as a bad thing, that still might be triggering to hear. But his line of thinking is so far from that.

“It just…shows too much,”

“But it’s covering…” he pauses, knowing that line of thinking isn’t correct. “you don’t like how you look..” he reaches a hand out to almost touch your stomach but he stops short of it. “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with the dress.”

He hated unsolved mysteries (the mysteries themselves, he had nothing against Robert Stack personally) and he hated not having things figured out. He hated being confused but trying to navigate a relationship often left him feeling like he was up a creek without an oar.

You cup your stomach, hoping he’ll understand. He does not.

“That’s your stomach…”

“The dress is too small.” You try to clarify for him.

“Is it? Is it supposed to fit so…snuggly?”

“Who knows? I just know I’d feel better in my safety dress.”

“Safety dress?” He questions.

You freeze. You’d never told him about it.

“What’s that?” He asks, inquisitive as ever.

“It’s uh…a dress I look…and feel good in.”

“As opposed to…the dress you have on now?”

You avert your gaze and nod. He isn’t the type to grab chins and force people to look at them so he doesn’t do that.

“Sweetie? Can you look at me? Please?” He instead requested softly. Sweetie made sense because you were so sweet.

You meet his gaze and it’s as soft and warm as ever.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll help you find your safety dress but I need you to know that you look beautiful as you are now.” He swapped fine with beautiful because he felt the emphasis was necessary.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m not. I could walk out that door right now with you and be happy to have you at my side. You don’t need to be wearing any particular dress. I don’t care about the dress, I care about the person wearing it.”

“Th-Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. We both know we’d both rather be in comfortable clothes watching Star Trek tonight than going to this…Gala. I wouldn’t have asked you to suffer it with me but…I really want you there with me. It’s so many people and so much…pressure.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“You’d be in fuzzy pj pants right now if it weren’t for me.”

“Hey, no. It’s not your fault.”

“I kind of feel like it is. I don’t want you to go if you’re just gonna be uncomfortable all night.”

He starts to search for the dress, very determined to help you be comfortable.

“Could you describe the dress to me?”

“I-It’s uh…black…short sleeves, it’s got a satin body with a ruffle on the end and lace details over that.”

He looks back at you quizzically. “That’s your safety dress?”

“It doesn’t look like what you’re imagining.” You joke lightly.

“How do you know what I’m imagining?”

“Some sexy little number?”

“Some…cute little number…” He clarifies.

“There! Don’t move your hand! That’s it!” You point.

Spencer pulls the dress out. It’s black. It’s got short sleeves. It’s got lace details all over and the “body” or main part under the lace is black satin or silk. It’s knee length.

“Do you feel more comfortable in this dress?” He asked as he passed it to you.

“We’ll see.” You struggle to unzip the dress you currently had on. “Help? Please?”

He puts the dress on the bed. He comes up behind you to unzip the dress. You shimmy out of the dress. It falls to pool around your ankles. You pop the safety dress over your head.

You look at yourself in the mirror. You sigh. "No...it's too short...and it's not fancy enough..."

Spencer is just looking at you. He isn't saying anything. He's just admiring how you look in the dress.

"What do you think?" You ask Spencer as you run your hand over your stomach in the dress.

Spencer doesn't immediately respond. He's distracted by the skin that's showing.

"Spencer?"

"Hmm?" He meets your gaze.

"I asked you a question."

"Oh...sorry." He smiles, shaking his head. "What was your question?"

"Do you think this dress is appropriate for the Gala? Or should I find something longer?"

"Well I uh..." He trails off, not really knowing what is and wasn't Gala appropriate (he hadn't been informed and assumed you'd know so he hadn't asked).

"Oh! Wait! I know...I have this longer green dress..."

You look through your closet again to find it. Spencer distracts himself from checking you out while your back is turned.

"I found it!" You proclaim. "Size 10, ok...should be ok..."

"Size 10 is fine." Spencer hears himself say.

"Wish it were a 12."

"Hey...don't say that. Try it on. I bet you look just as pretty. Because...you always look pretty."

You smile before you change dresses. Spencer respectfully averts his gaze so he isn't checking you out in your underwear. But he looks back when you're situating the green dress out.

"Wow...definitely more...Gala. I especially like the um...outer layer? Is that what it's called?"

"I wouldn't kn-"

"Overlay!" He interrupts. "Sorry." He says sheepishly.

"That's a good word for it." You smile.

"It's really pretty. Y-You're...really pretty. The dress is pretty on you. You look pretty in the dress." He blushes slightly like he's embarrassed he seemingly couldn't settle on what to say, so he'd just said every variation he could think of (because it was all true).

"You really don't have to say all that, you know."

"Why not? Why can't I? Why shouldn't I?" He was genuinely curious as to why he couldn't compliment his girlfriend. That's what a boyfriend did, wasn't it?

"You can just say I look nice."

"But what if I feel more and I want to articulate that to you?" It was a simple question.

And it makes you pause, because you’d never before considered that he might want to wax poetic about your beauty.

"I'm not lying to you." He reassures.

"I-I know..." You nod.

"Do you?" He queries, but not in a condescending way. "Do you truly understand that I'm not just saying nice things to make you feel good? Do you comprehend that what I tell you is truly how I feel?"

"I guess I'm just not used to receiving compliments."

"Not used to receiving them or unwilling to accept the genuine ones as being genuine?" Because there was a distinction.

"Th-The latter, I guess." You say softly, averting your gaze to the floor.

"Can you look at me please?" He requests softly.

You look into his hazel eyes and see nothing but genuine admiration and affection for you.

"Do you believe that I love you?"

"Yes." You hesitate for only a second.

"That's good." He doesn’t mention the hesitation. “And would you believe me if I told you that I believe that you look beautiful in any dress you put on?”

“Yes. I believe that you believe that.”

“What do I have to do to make you believe that?” He asks softly, genuinely.

“I-I don’t know…”

He sighs. He steps closer to you. “You have looked beautiful in all three dresses I’ve seen you in.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be on my arm and look pretty.”

You share a look. That sounded weird coming out of his mouth to the both of you. You share a smile.

“Arm candy.” He muses. “That doesn’t do justice to all that you are to me.”

"It doesn't?"

"Not even close."

"What do I mean to you?"

"So much. I could have a million years and I still would not be able to find the words to describe how much you mean to me, or to describe what you mean to me."

"What am I to you?"

"I truly believe you are my person. I walk into a room you're already in and nothing else matters. All I see is you. And you are...beautiful to me. Does that help explain why it doesn't matter what dress you wear or no matter how many other women are around you, I only focus on you? No one compares to you. I enjoy your company. You enjoy mine. Being with you just...feels so easy and effortless. From the minute we met, you were just...easy. You're easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to touch. I had never warmed so fast to a person. And you know what it was that hooked me?"

"What?" You manage to ask after being awestruck but his words.

"Not your body, well, nothing below your face. It was your eyes, your smile. So...kind and sweet..."

"Spencer..." You say softly, tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

"You're my person, my perfect puzzle piece."

You hug him and he hugs you right back, adoring the way your body fit against his. His arms wrap around you as he holds you to him, his chin tucking in on your shoulder.

"I love you." He whispers softly.

"I love you too." You say back.

"We should go. We're gonna be late." He goes to pull away from you.

"Can you hold me for just another minute? Please?"

"We can be late. Five minutes."

"Thank you."

He buries his face in your neck, smelling your hair.

"You smell like home."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x chubby!reader #chubby!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

258 notes · View notes

thistlerock · 4 months ago

Text

I think it'd be really funny if Riz joined the Aguefort LGBT+ alliance mainly just because it counts as a club and he joined all of them. And he doesn't really show up often because he doesn't have time, and Kristen is currently its president so she just fills in that yeah he's here he's helping, and she vaguely clocks that he probably is queer but doesn't actually have time to think about it because so much is going on in their junior year and she vaguely knows that Riz signed up for a bunch of shit to get into college easier.

But like. A whole year later she finally asks like hey Riz that alliance is kinda a queer thing and you're welcome to hang but like idk and he just goes yeah obviously I'm queer I hate sex and love men. He doesn't say it like it's just funnier to me. And it's a whole thing. Full on spit take. "Why didn't you tell me???" "What the fuck do you mean why didn't I tell you I'm in your lgbt alliance." He's oriented aroace I think. Like he's gay (Baron's a he) but it doesn't really matter because he doesn't want to date or anything and any time he gets even close to thinking "oh that guy is attractive" his ocd brain decides to blast him with sexual intrusive thoughts and he's so repulsed by them that he fully doesn't clock the initial feeling as sexual attraction for maybe a year. Men are pretty but asexuality is stronger slash lighthearted. He openly calls himself aroace the gay thing is more something for him to privately take comfort in because exact labels make him feel like he's on top of things. But yeah that's off topic the thing I wanted to say is it's funny to me if Riz is very openly queer he just doesn't have a "proper" coming out so none of his friends know and are all shocked when he casually brings it up.

Kristen like, figured he was ace and maybe aro but just didn't know yet and didn't wanna be pushy meanwhile Riz fully owns a pride flag. Him technically liking guys does surprise her though, I think. Also he's surprised that his friends are all surprised, Riz for some reason assumed they'd all catch on eventually. "Why is this news to you I said Ragh is hot." World shattered. Horrifying. Fabian and Fig would be SO dramatic about it too. Actually Gorgug is the only one who isn't surprised because "yeah he's in the lgbt+ alliance of course he's queer I thought we all knew" he really didn't think about it that much LOL. But yeah. That's how I do Riz, I think it's funny. Love that guy. (Like I cannot stress enough how funny it is to me to not make him "no attraction, doesn't really think about sex" but instead "yes some level of attraction, thinks about sex against his will, hates it." He HAS to suffer. I am NOT letting that kid catch a break.)

#rambling into the void #riz gukgak #aroace riz gukgak #dimension 20 #fantasy high #headcanons #the bad kids #queeries

382 notes · View notes

dessarchive · 3 months ago

Text

now introducing the future of music and entertainment, endless options of sound (eos)

eos is an app that i script into most of my drs. i got inspired to create it after coming across a video on youtube of someone re-designing spotifys UI. i’ve used spotify, apple music, amazon music, youtube music, and many more music streaming services and none of them ever lived up to my expectations, so i thought why not create what i’ve always wanted? i took a long hard look at all of the features i wish the current apps had and put them all into one. i posted about it before on my previous account but didn’t go into the actual details much. it started as a music streaming app when it was launched but became much more than that. it’s one of my favorite parts of my drs because i’m an avid music listener and the features are to die for. eos is the only music streaming app in my drs. i also have a ceo dr where i’m the ceo of it because this app has basically become my child!!! anyways here’s what i have after working on it for months!

eos was launched on october 31, 2001 by robyn fenty (she’s older LMAO) and aliyah haughton. the app immediately gained popularity as the first and only music streaming service. it was created as a space where everyone could enjoy music. years later it implemented audiobooks, podcasts, music videos, interviews, merch, and concert tickets. it stands out with its flawless performance that never crashes or has bugs, its exceptional algorithm for fresh experiences each playtime, and its features like eosoulmates that connects users through shared music tastes.

lyrics and subtitles are always available in any language desired by the user and the platform includes organization like no other. exclusive presale codes are able for top listeners of specific artists because the app has its own ticketing system. eos is free for all users as the founders wanted to make a space to unify people during life’s challenge. to maintain this while making sure artists are fairly paid, revenue is generated through a share of concert ticket and merchandise sales, in-app donations directly supporting artists, non-intrusive sponsorships and partnerships, and grants from philanthropic organizations. this guarantees that eos stays true to making music accessible while supporting creators and users globally.

to expand on existing sounds of music and entertainment, the service implemented dolby atmos to its highest quality with no extra price to artists for using it.

eos also features eos karaoke: sing it your way. within this are lyrics that are displayed in perfect sync with customizable highlighting options, while users can adjust the original vocals (mute, reduce, or add harmonies) for a personalized performance. advanced pitch tracking gives real-time feedback, along with timing guides and a practice mode for perfecting songs. voice effects like reverb, autotune, and fun filters are available to take things to a higher level or have fun with friends and family. dual-screen mode connects to tvs for party setups and users can enjoy duets with friends or group singing for up to 10 people. karaoke playlists are curated based on mood, listening habits, or vocal range. sessions can be recorded and shared with friends or on social media. a scoring system with feedback helps users improve their singing while earning fun badges. eos karaoke also offers live virtual karaoke rooms, offline mode for downloaded tracks, and customizable themes for lyric screens and backgrounds. a special kid-friendly mode ensures the fun for all age groups.

eos allows music and entertainment to be accessible, fun, and, immersive to everyone.

360 notes · View notes

barabaraoranges · 1 month ago

Text

welcome to your new life!

ft. gn!reader, sam, dorian, mentions of dishy

brief mentions of reader's "microflora" in relation to washing sex toys in dishwasher. does not specify what microflora. reader is called "dude" by Sam

explicit content: none. there's an anal joke, discussions of fucking dishy, discussions of arson, and brief imagery of fucking dorian but nothing explicit. regardless, please remember this is a primarily 18+ nsfw blog when interacting and scrolling.

wc: 2.2k

written before game release. this is a laundry list of the author's initial thoughts and immediate sex jokes when it came to this game. will probably be inaccurate to canon. reader has also not discovered everything is alive. this is also straight up the first i've written in upwards of half of a year so apologies if it's rough.

"Do you think my dishwasher knows I looked up if I could wash my sex toys in it—I mean, him?"

A stranger turned their head as you walked down the sidewalk. You, oblivious to the mortified stare, continued your pitiful attempt at a calming stroll through the neighborhood, loudly chatting with Sam on the phone.

"First, gross. Microbiome flora and stuff," Sam replied. You could hear water running in the background. Dishes, probably. "Second, why would it know that?"

"Oh, he's, uh… He's connected to the—uh—the wifi."

It had been a week since that the thing. The glasses. The thing that made you question every single thing in existence, that made you look into the trees and ask, are every single one of these leaves secretly alive? And do they die each winter? appeared in your life. A single item that introduced a level of existential horror and dread you could have never dreamed of.

You were thankful for your friend Sam and the fact that the outside, well, still existed. Even if the outside consisted of family homes snatched up by corporations that butchered them into grayscale or beige per-the-room rentals for semesterly college students. Or became a revolving door for GroundInn users, shutting out any potential families to settle down. There was at least somewhere to debrief that didn't feel like there were a million things watching, listening to you at all times.

Briefly, you wondered if the HOA had a human form. An image of a businessman popped in your head—grayscale, beige, lifeless like the homes that filled your street. Your grass is too tall! No native wildflower habitats! Your house color is too bright! The bylaws, the bylaws, pay the fine!

A sweat pearl rolled down your face.

"… Okay, that's fucking weird and super intrusive. So like, yeah, he probably does know. But like, dude-"

She paused.

"-I think you're edging your dishwasher."

So casual. So passive with the delivery. And yet, it felt like a truck with how tight your chest felt. You needed somewhere to sit to process.

Thankfully, at the end of the neighborhood was a small café, its windows shuddered and door boarded up. Café au Café had been an established, family owned café that you remembered fondly from childhood. It'd grown with you over the years, in all the good and bad ways. It's where you celebrated many birthdays, had many of breakdowns in over college work, and celebrated your eventual graduation. Its croissants warm and flaky, buttery and to die for. The pastries delicate, a work of art to brighten even the dreariest day. The coffee and drinks, always perfectly tailored to fit your mood, like the machines had a magic in them to make everything right.

And much like your job, it was shut down thanks to the robot cafe that had opened just down the street. Its croissants arriving frozen and simply needing thrown in the oven, the coffee bland and prone to triggering a depressive episode. But it was cheap and that was enough for everyone to overlook the lifeless husk serving them their morning meal. The family owned Café au Café was no match for it. In less than a year, your childhood had shut down permanently.

It did, however, make the perfect narrative backdrop for a Pastel Revelations Catholicism level mental breakdown. A last moment of comfort and reassurance from an old friend. You sat down on the once welcoming metal chair, now rusted from time and neglect. Elbows on your knees and hunched over, you rubbed your face with your free hand.

"Or is it foreplay?" Sam wondered, not giving you a moment of rest. "Like, dirty talk and shit. 'Oh, I'm gonna do all these dirty things I said I was gonna do to you' but with like, the weird shit you search."

"Sam." It took a moment for words to come out. "I'm not fucking my dishwasher."

"Okay, but like… It'd be an experience."

"Sam." You sighed, exasperated. "He's got two human legs and his upper body is a dishwasher. I'm not fucking a dishwasher with legs."

"Ugh, boring."

You thumbed through your mental archive of dishwasher anatomy. There was a drainpipe and something to let the water in, obviously. But what about the inner parts? The little squirting parts, the racks, the dish tab spot.

None of those seemed particularly pleasant.

Or was the dishwasher part just a mascot? Something he put on over himself? Maybe he was just, some guy underneath it all? No, that wasn't possible. The top half was your dishwasher, through and through. There was no mistaking it, not with how intimately you knew his inner workings from deep cleanings in the past. Clearing his drains, snaking out the clogs, scrubbing the gunk buildup away with a Father Scrub and a thick, heavy squirt of milky Dusk dish detergent…

… Had you been teasing your dishwasher this entire time? Did he expect you to…?

"I don't think whatever hole he's got would be fun to fuck," you concluded, shutting that down. "I think it'd be painful."

"Okay, but like… You don't have to be the one topping."

"… Didn't you just lecture me about microbiome flora stuff?" You retorted, exasperated. "I think getting fucked by the dishwasher would be considerably worse for my microbiome than fucking myself with dishwasher cleaned sex toys."

In the call background, you could hear the telltale signs of dishwashing. Water running, hard scrubbing. I guess that's an option, you thought. Or would he start getting weird about not using him? Would he understand? Does he have an ego? If he did know that you had searched if you could wash sex toys in home, it would be a bit less awkward.

You made a mental note to start cleaning your toys in your basement bathroom.

It never fully struck you exactly the gravity of your situation. So many people with different personalities. You had Dorian who stressed the importance of friendship and getting along with everyone. You had Dishy who seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Admittedly, you'd been avoiding using the glasses to find out exactly what all was alive, with Dishy being a complete accident. You didn't really want to know exactly what all was alive, with those two being enough to rattle your entire view on the world. But with the way Dorian stressed friendships and getting along with everyone…

How expensive would it be to move? The housing market was in shambles and renting seemed miserable. Shelling out a few thousand dollars would eat into your emergency savings you needed to live out the newly unemployed, single life. Plus if all your furniture was alive, you'd have to get all new furniture too. Or would the new furniture come alive too? If you got rid of the glasses before moving, you'd probably be able to avoid everything coming to life. Just toss it in the trash can, put it out for trash, and good-bye to all your problems!

Wait, the trash can's probably alive too, you thought, remembering Dorian's lecture on friendship. Shit, there goes that plan… Maybe…

"Ya know, I could just commit arson," you concluded rather reasonably, "claim it with insurance, then move and start a new life somewhere else."

A splash of water, followed by swearing and clattering dishes in the sink. You could feel the disappointment radiating from the other end of the phone.

"Well, now you can't because you just told me-" More muttered swearing. "-And I'm not getting involved in the investigation."

Mentally, you crossed a life of crime off of your "new career path" list. You wouldn't be able to shut your mouth, evidently.

"Besides, wouldn't you feel guilty burning everything down, knowing everything is alive?"

Now that… That was a question you could dwell on. Something to distract you from everything. What were the metaphysical properties behind your furniture? Did they have a soul? Did they exist in some quantum realm? Mentally you thumbed through an extra dusty, cobweb covered, steel filing cabinet drawer labeled "philosophy 101". Or was it a question of quantum physics. A pity you didn't study physics in college, that might have saved you from being taken over by AI.

But the possibilities. The possibilites of discovering a new philosophical concept that will stump the future generations to come. Something to leave your mark on the world. A question of "can something temporarily have a soul if you are specifically focusing on it through certain lenses?" How would this apply to court rulings? Legal proceedings? Would these glasses be required in court cases to determine damages to a living human being? This discovery could be groundbreaking and generation defining.

Triumphant in finding a proper course for your life that couldn't possibly be taken over by AI, you stood from the abandoned chair. Pride swelled in your chest, your chin held high.

"… Sam."

She groaned at the pride in your voice. She knew that tone of voice all too well.

"Would I be legally on the hook for killing them if I commit arson?"

"… Dude."

"Would the courts consider furniture that comes alive only when you wear specific glasses as human beings, thus making it murder if I commit arson?"

"Dude!"

"I should go back to school and become a lawyer. Or a philosopher. Think about it!"

"I think…" She sighed, audibly shaking her head. "I think you should go home and start applying for jobs before you completely lose it."

It was probably high time for you to head home. You hadn't been out for extended periods of time after losing your job, and you didn't want your now alive front door to worry too much about you. Idle conversation accompanied you as you walked home, consisting of Sam talking you down from going back to college to becoming a lawyer, explaining that people would probably think you'd lost if you tried to argue that furniture had souls. You wondered aloud if you needed to start getting more food, if your grocery budget would go it, if you could claim them on taxes.

Again, a stranger looked back in horror and concern as you had these conversations. Once again, you were oblivious to it.

You'd taken to saying goodbye a block before you got home, not wanting Dorian to overhear what was said in private. You deserved at least the briefest moment of privacy, knowing it ended the minute you put your key in the door.

At least it was useful, to a degree, having a front door that could tell you everything that happened while you were gone. Even if everything else felt like a weird, vaguely panopticon level of surveillance. Closing the door behind you, you slipped your glasses on and looked at Dorian.

The man had a… Puzzled? Puzzled look? Quizzical? Was he even capable of showing confusion? Whatever it was, it was clear he had a question on his mind.

"What's up?" you nervously asked, tensing instinctively.

The last thing you needed was someone casing your house.

"I've noticed something." His voice was straight, reliable. As usual. "If you don't mind me asking."

Stalker? You prayed for a brief moment it wasn't that.

"… Go ahead."

"Do you prefer coming in the back door?"

Such confidence. Such, nonchalance. Such poise. You looked at his face, desperate for an indication of what he was meaning. Was this a joke? An innuendo? Was this a statement about all the hookups and dates you brought to your house? Was this a genuine observation about your door using habits?

Mentally, you thumbed through everything he could possibly mean by that statement. You didn't have many reasons to use the front door nowadays, outside of grocery runs. Admittedly, you'd also been sneaking out the back to avoid any… Conversations with your now very alive door. So the statement wasn't exactly wrong, but-

…. Wait. Was the back door also alive?

"This is the first I've seen you in a while. You've been spending more time with the back door. I wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly between you two."

The back door was, in fact, alive. Because of course it was. Of course it was! Why wouldn't it be alive?

"Well, I, uh," you stumbled, searching for the proper words that wouldn't make this possibly not innuendo an actual innuendo. "I enjoy sitting out in the backyard. Sun is good for the uh, health and stuff. The vitamin D, ya know."

Would a door know about the benefits of sunlight? Does a door know what vitamin D is?

Does a door know about anal?

"Very well. I'll make sure his hinges are lubricated weekly and his knob stays clean. Smooth, easier entrance for everyone."

Lubricated. Smooth. Easy entrance. You thought about the first time you bought lube in college. Something about bullets? You figured a masc like Dorian would know all about that brand.

"I wouldn't want anyone to have a painful, unpleasant entry."

Somewhere in the background of your brain noise, the squeaks from your backdoor turned into moans, into groans, into heated gasps. The banging became actual banging, Dorian bent over in one way or another. His face flush, sweat dripping on his brow.

You weren't sure if you enjoyed the thoughts or if they simply happened because of the conversation's nature. All you could do was stare at him, your face as blank as you could possibly manage.

"… Thanks, Dorian."

"Anytime."

barabaraorange 2025

i only post on tumblr. if you see this posted elsewhere, it is not me. if you find this on ao3 or wattpad, please let me know if you find it so i can report it.

#—the orange writes #date everything #date everything x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #reader insert #author got distracted and horribly dizzy about the mention of “slutty masc bottoms” while writing #and stopped writing for a good two hours as a result #whoops. i am just a guy. what can i do about it

179 notes · View notes

technovillain · 2 months ago

Text

the fact that we never have any real conflict inside milla's brain was always weird to me, and that the only trouble you find is not only easy to miss but hard to locate at all.... this prototype with promo images showing party members getting snatched up by the nightmares is really interesting to me...

i was never really a fan of the nightmares' appearance in the milkman conspiracy. that level already has enough going on and the nightmares' presence is completely unintroduced and poorly explained. i'm thinking about how cool it could be if milla's brain had an actual lesson for the kids beyond levitation about the most important thing she learned from the psychonauts, how to focus your mind and maintain a safe mental space via distancing yourself and controlling recurrences of trauma within the brain space...

the same way that sasha's brain is ultimately just a test for razputin, so is milla's. in my first playthroughs of the game i thought that maybe raz had really messed up sasha's brain a little bit, but then i realized overtime that the whole thing is a totally controlled environment. sure sasha is a closed off person, and very straight-laced, but i don't believe that his brain is constantly *that* empty all the time. he gives razputin direct instruction to shut off all the censor valves, which is the thing that causes the problem. it was all a training thing for raz to learn about control, there's even a hidden game line from sasha about the whole thing being a test. i just think that sasha is a poor communicator. his failure to express afterwards that the whole thing was a test was what failed razputin when he meddled in the mind of hollis forsythe, and why sasha's disappointment in him afterwards feels a little strange (like "you let me mess things up in YOUR head and it was okay, how was i to know?")

can you imagine a version of milla's dance party where the party is bumpin and all the campers are having a good time, but the other guests keep slowly disappearing, getting snatched up by the nightmares?? eventually, the other campers disappear too. later on, the room with the "milla's children" vault is presented to you more in the likes of oleander's side room with the little red curtain, where you are obviously supposed to see it, but *not supposed to see it*, and milla still encourages you not to go in there. when you get to the platform with milla at the end, everyone else is missing. she plays "where could they be?" and you find the nightmare room. you have to fight the nightmares to get the party guests back. you find that you can't *kill* the nightmares, however, and you instead put them behind bars.

ultimately the level could end with a similar level of "brain intrusion" as sasha's. like how sasha was okay with you knowing a little about his past, but probably didn't need to *also* show you what happened when he read his dad's mind and accidentally saw his mother in an inappropriate light. like not everything went smoothly, and he was obviously uncomfortable after the level being all "no, let's never speak of this again" like i imagine he unintentionally overshared and maybe messed with his 'image' a little. this version of milla's level could end with her being happy that she taught the kids about meditation through levitation, keeping the bad thoughts at bay but still acknowledging them as part of you, but she didn't like, need you to see that vault about her children being burned alive. because that would be fucked up to show to the kids. and maybe she got a little in that headspace again during the level and 'broke face' and got a little "protect the children!" about the campers in the face of the nightmares, but settles back down and gets back to the party by the end.

i imagine this is how the level would go if it was written more like pn2 levels are written, where every single level has a clear real-world-applicable mental health topic to cover. i still love milla's dance party, don't get me wrong, but it always felt a little anticlimactic or lacking in story compared to the rest of the brains, and these early promo shots just set me off in wondering if they ever intended on there being a lot more conflict in her mind earlier in development.

#'just food for thought' and its a big wall of text #you know though #i've been stewing on sasha/milla/oleander *normal brain thoughts for a while now #milla vodello #psychonauts #hcs #.txt

170 notes · View notes

krennicswife · 2 months ago

Text

some krennic headcanons during andor ❤︎

i am perfectly aware he has like 2 minutes of screentime during the 1st act but this man has me on a chokehold ever since i was 12 & the lack of his on-screen presence can’t stop me from forming lots & lots of headcanons in my head (also: reader is female and there’s like a huuuge age gap & power imbalance so if u don’t like it, don’t read it !)

you’re an admiral’s daughter; you’re young, spoiled, bratty, quite intelligent too but you prefer to rely on your looks and privilege to get what you want because: that’s just the easy way. from the day you got promoted from the position as an intern to a proper worker in the ISB, you began to have your head poking into things that are none of your business. whether it’s you sneaking into high-level briefings, leaning over the shoulder of officers way above your pay grade, or constantly pestering people for information you absolutely don’t need, you’re always there. this would be the first aspect a certain cape-wearing director would notice about you.

the first time krennic sees you lingering outside a briefing room, pretending to read your datapad but actually listening to classified conversations? he’s fuming; it’s like you’re trying to be part of the grown-up conversation, and it pisses him off. you're unprofessional and immature, trying to maintain your relevance with desperation while he had to work for years trying to get into the position you're in now.

his first instinct is to remove you (how romantic ikr). you’re a distraction, an intrusion, and frankly, the sheer audacity of your presence makes him bristle. he steps into the room, locks eyes with you, and with a sharp tone that matches the icy glint in his eyes, he says, “move, child.”

krennic genuinely considers you a pest at first. like, he uses that word in his head; “she’s like a fly in the mess hall. no purpose, just noise and irritancy.”

at first, he’s convinced you’re just some naive intern trying to climb the ranks by riding on your father’s coattails. but then there’s something about you. you never ask directly; it’s more like a casual, persistent probing. you drop little comments here and there that make him realize you’re not as stupid as you seem. you might be spoiled, bratty, and a bit too eager to impress, but there’s an intelligence there. something sharp, underneath all that arrogance. that’s what gets him in the end, as he doesn’t seem to be like that type that would fall for bimbos.

you catch him staring once. he looks away instantly - you grin for the next three days straight.

he starts seeing you in a different light when you actually speak up. not in a bratty way, but in a sharp, calculated way that surprises him. your questions aren’t just curious; they’re insightful. you start pulling pieces of information together, drawing conclusions from small details that most people in the room completely miss. he takes his initial impression of you as a miscalculation in his brain and wants to be more annoyed of you, but surprise surprise, the absolute opposite occurs.

at the ISB, you’re nothing special, but you’re ambitious and persistent, and that truly sticks with him. of course, you’re also gorgeous as hell, always wearing those polished uniforms and, at special occasions, the most expensive luxury gowns gifted by your father. but that is secondary (at least that’s what he tells himself).

at some point, whenever you're missing, krennic finds himself wondering where you are. he shouldn’t care, but after seeing you around a few too many times, he starts feeling the need to know where you are at all times. he’s not watching you. he’s just keeping track of your whereabouts.

one time, during a tense ISB debrief, you dare to casually ask a question that no one else even thought to raise. it’s phrased innocently - but it exposes a flaw in the current operation, something small but critical. there’s a long pause in the room. krennic hates how impressed he is. he hates that it turns him on a little.

from that moment on, he actually starts using a slightly softer tone with you, but only when you're alone. in public, he’s still giving “disdainful professional disappointment” energy.

after that, a shift happens, and the more serious it gets, the more you start to change. you’re no longer the confident, teasing intern who used to saunter around with a grin on her face, throwing questions and remarks at anyone who crossed your path. you’ve become quieter, more calculated. your peers are even starting to tease you; “you’ve spent too much time with the director. you’re practically turning into him!” “now i’m just waiting for you to grow a white cape on your own”

to him, the change in you isn’t just external. it’s subtle, but noticeable: your posture is straighter. you speak less, but when you do, your words are measured, chosen with purpose. you seem sharper in a way that makes krennic realize just how much you’ve grown since the first time he met you.

as your supervisors and parents got more strict with you, you’ve learned when to speak and when to stay silent. you’ve also learned to anticipate krennic’s expectations. you’ve become more attuned to his preferences, responding with quiet obedience and even anticipating what he wants before he says it. your submission is subtle, but it’s noticeable, and it makes him feel a strange sense of satisfaction. we all know how much the director likes to be the one in control, don’t we?

and from that moment on, you’re bound to stay by his side.

-end of part 1-

#star wars #rogue one #andor #andor season 2 #orson krennic #director krennic #orson krennic x reader #krennic x reader #director krennic x reader #krennic headcanons #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons

133 notes · View notes

bairdthereader · 1 year ago

Text

Nick gets a lot of (well-deserved) credit for being an amazing boyfriend to Charlie, and we know by now that he's a great friend, too. But what's almost more interesting to me is the underlying core personality trait that enables him to be both of those things--his emotional intuition and intelligence.

You see this in the comics mostly through Nick's facial expressions (no one can look worried like Nick Nelson can), but the show takes it a bit further. He's incredibly in tune with Charlie almost from the get-go. Nick watches him for small emotional cues and recognizes what they could mean, most notably before the confrontation with Ben after rugby practice. He reads between the lines of Charlie's deflections and falsely cheerful texts and pushes (with trademark Nick Nelson sensitivity) for the truth. He notices when Charlie is beset with intrusive thoughts, even if he doesn't know (at least early on) what they're about, and proceeds to interrupt those thoughts. He can read Charlie so well not only because he pays attention, real attention, but because he already has the emotional intuition required to interpret Charlie's inner complexities.

There are many moments throughout the show where we see Nick display this keen insight with everyone in his life, not just Charlie. When Elle, who he barely knows at this point, is upset about being set up with Tao, he immediately seeks to alleviate her distress by offering a true explanation of why she and Tao were invited in the first place--to be part of a triple date. He wants Elle to know that it was important to him (and Charlie, Tara, and Darcy) that she and Tao be there not just to try to set them up, but because they wanted to include them in an important step for both couples (Nick and Charlie just beginning to share their relationship, and Tara and Darcy trying to find acceptance after coming out as a couple). Nick knows that Elle values truth and honesty, and he gives her that so she can feel comfortable with her friends again.

Nick is also incredibly understanding of Tao, who, it has to be said, barely even understands himself for much of the show. There are a lot of scenes where Nick is trying to connect with Tao but maybe oversteps just a tad because he sees more of Tao than Tao is ready to have seen. The moment outside Charlie's house when Tao tells Nick about Elle's art college ambitions, Nick cuts through to the heart of the matter--Tao's concern about missing Elle if she's far away. Nick is the first person in the friend group to connect the dots about what Elle's college acceptance might mean for Tao, and immediately tries to help Tao process those feelings. He's met with anger, but only because he managed to hit a lightning bolt of a nerve in Tao's emotional storm.

And of course there's Imogen, who Nick has known for a long time but begins to understand and appreciate on a deeper level as their relationship moves from superficial connection to true friendship. He sees how sensitive she is, how lonely in some ways, and is always looking out for her, keeping a concerned eye on her. He gives her the space she requests, but also comfort when she lets her walls down enough to ask for it. His innate understanding of what people need--especially when what they need is just someone to be there--is impeccable.

It almost goes without saying, but Nick's emotional wavelength with his mom is similarly strong and nuanced. When Nick comes out to Sarah, he makes sure she understands how important it is to him that she knows--not only that she knows that he's bi, or that Charlie is his boyfriend, but that she knows him. That their relationship is so important to him that he can overcome his fears to share this most vital part of himself. Nick's value of Sarah extends to caring for her when she's dealing with the stress of having his dad and David around. Of course, Nick is still a teenager and there are a lot of scenes that show Sarah's deft handling of Nick's emotions, but it's a two-way street. Nick takes care of her in his own way too.

Nick starts his relationship with Tara and Darcy leaning on them for advice and guidance, but by the end of the show they're leaning on him. Nick sees their struggles, especially Tara's, possibly more clearly than anyone else does because he recognizes some similarities between their situation and his with Charlie. When they're in trouble, he knows Tara needs care and honest advice, even if it's not the most comforting advice. He knows that what they both need is strength and security and tries, in his careful way, to give them those things.

Nick Nelson, always looking out for everyone he loves, keeping them safe as much as he can, hugging them when he can't.

406 notes · View notes

xjulixred45x · 4 months ago

Text

I'm really screwed and honestly won't be able to work on requests for a while, but I guess that doesn't stop me from sharing some concepts from my most recent hyperfixation: Twisted Wonderland, especially one that I really like.

IMAGINE A YUU (TWST) WHO IS LIKE HIMIKO TOGA

Obviously it remains that this Yuu doesn't have magic, however, she does have many of the problems and history of the original Toga (having an unspecified mental illness, not having support from her parents, developing bad habits to mask said "defects", being excluded, etc).

so when the carriage comes and transports her to TWST, she has a way of handling the situation that is quite... unusual.

don't get me wrong, I don't think Himiko! Yuu would want to stay (yet), she would still want to go back to what she knows, she doesn't want to feel abandoned by her own world now, but she handles the situation much better than one would thought.

She would definitely be fascinated with beast-like or strong-willed students (or protectors, that's probably why she likes Adeuce so much), and since her more extravagant habits aren't frowned upon in TWST, the intrusive thoughts start to dig deeper.

Especially if Himiko!Yuu also has her hyperfixation with blood. Not just any blood, blood from people she loves a lot, that she admires and aspires to be like...

If we go to general reactions on this matter:

There are those who are obviously worried about why the hell Yuu wanted to drink BLOOD? Did a vampire bite them? Did Grim give them rabies? ARE THEY OK??!

Even if they accept that Yuu is just... eccentric, I don't see them accepting the proposition, either because of the hygiene issue or simply not having the stomach for blood (characters like Idia, Trey, Riddle, Ruggie, Vil, Jamil, etc).

There are also those who are in between, yes, they don't understand, but they are somewhat curious, more so when Yuu goes deeper into the emotional meaning this has for her, which makes them think about it a bit...

They may or may not be convinced, but it would have to be done in a VERY good way, and if Yuu manages to do it, it will make them brush their mouths at least 3 times afterwards (Azul, Kalim, Leona, etc.)

NOW, here are those who match Yuu's level of freak, those who when she asks if she can drink his blood, practically extend their arm to her, with a syringe, and tell her with a smile to take her time.

For them, it's the ultimate display of affection! Not only because of Yuu's own explanation (which they find disturbingly novel), but because it's their equivalent of being part of each other, completely on board! (Malleus, Lilia, Rook, the leech Twins)

I hope i can't write more like this when i get better :D

_______________

(ESPAÑOL)

estoy hecha mierda y sinceramente no podre trabajar en las peticiones por un tiempo, pero supongo que eso no evita que pueda compartir algunos conceptos de mi mas reciente hiperfijacion: Twisted Wonderland, en especial una que me gusta mucho.

IMAGINEN UNA YUU QUE ES COMO HIMIKO TOGA

obviamente se mantiene que está Yuu no tiene magia, sin embargo, si tiene muchos de los problemas e historia de la Toga original (tener una enfermedad mental no especificada, no tener apoyo de sus padres, desarrollar malos habitos para enmascarar dichos "defectos", ser excluida, etc).

por lo que cuando el carruaje viene y la transporta a TWST, tiene una forma de manejar la situación bastante...inusual.

no me malentiendas, no creo que Himiko! Yuu quisiera quedarse (aun), ella aun querria volver con lo que ella conoce, no quiere sentirse abandonada ahora por su propio mundo, pero maneja la situación mucho mejor de lo que uno pensaba.

ella definitivamente estaria facinada con los estudiantes con apariencia de bestia o con caracter fuerte (o protectores, probablemente por eso le gustaria mucho Adeuce), y gracias a que sus hábitos mas extravagantes no son mal vistos en TWST, los pensamientos intrusivos empiezan a cavar mas profundo.

especialmente si Himiko!Yuu tambien tiene su hiperfijacion por la sangre. no sangre cualquiera, sangre de gente a la que ella quiera mucho, que ella admire y aspire a ser...

si vamos a reacciones generales al respecto:

Estan los que obviamente estan preocupados de porque diablos Yuu queria tomar SANGRE? ¿les mordio un vampiro?¿Grim les contagio la rabia? ¿¿¡SE ENCUENTRAN BIEN??!

includo si ellos aceptan que Yuu es solo...excentrica, no los veo aceptando la proposicion, ya sea por el tema de la higiene o simplemente no teniendo el estomago para la sangre (personajes como Idia, Trey, Riddle, Ruggie, Vil, Jamil, etc).

también estan los que son un intermedio, si, no entienden, pero tienen cierta curiosidad, mas cuando Yuu profundiza en el significado emocional que tiene esto para ella, lo que hace que piensen un poco en eso...

pueden o no ser convencidos, pero tendria que ser de manera MUY buena, y si Yuu lo logra, les hara cepillarse la boca al menos 3 después (Azul, Kalim, Leona, etc)

AHORA, aqui estan los que igualan el nivel de freak de Yuu, los que cuando ella pregunta si puede beberse su sangre, prácticamente le extienden el brazo, con una jeringa, y diciendole con una sonrisa que se tome su tiempo.

para ellos ¡es la maxima muestra de afecto! no solo por la propia explicación de Yuu (la cual encuentran comnovedora de forma perturbadora), sino porque es su equivalente a formar parte uno del otro ¡completamente a bordo! (Malleus, Lilia, Rook, los gemelos Leech)

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

#headcanons #fem reader #español #spanish #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst x you #twst x yuu #twst x mc #toga himiko #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x you #twst yuu #twst

147 notes · View notes

ruby-red-inky-blue · 1 month ago

Note

E for the ficprompt

(I'm assuming this is for Rebelcaptain/Rogue One?)

E. Signing a document.

"What do you mean, getting married?"

Jyn feels herself blush slightly, and rolls her eyes in an attempt to play it off. Force, she hadn't even really meant to tell Bodhi, it just slipped out - not that it's a secret. Well, it is. She has a very secret appointment tomorrow to go sign a triple-encrypted document to change two lines of the quadruple-encrypted, six levels of code and false leads and subterfuge deep general and medical record of a high-ranking intelligence officer and a Pathfinder with ridiculously high code-word clearance. Both the appointment and the subsequent change are, in fact, extremely, stupidly secret. But that's not really the point here. It's Bodhi.

The point is, she didn't mean to tell anyone, because they're going to make this a big deal, and it isn't, and even if it is - okay, fine, it is, maybe, a little bit - then it's only a big deal to two people on this planet and -

"I thought you are married!" Bodhi says, bewildered, roughly jerking her out of her thoughts, and saving her from having to blush even further.

"What?"

"Aren't - aren't you?"

[prefer reading on A03?]

Jyn narrows her eyes at him. Half the organics - humans especially - on base assuming they're married just because they share weapons, and a bed when it works out with their schedules and the quartermaster, is annoying enough. It's so weirdly traditional, and cliché - don't they know there's a war on? Why does everyone have this silly preoccupation with oh, what's your traditional wedding headdress? I wonder what marriage marks they will choose (Cassian's a kriffing spy, for Force's sake)? Should they not have performed a traditional Coruscanti wedding dance in the karking Rebellion hangar? (Yeah, okay, she knows why. Because there's a war on. She still thinks it's silly. Who cares about union beads when you're all likely to be evaporated by an errant Star Destroyer tomorrow?)

It's bad enough that everyone else is being trite and boring and intrusive about them - or rather, was for a year or so and then got bored of it - but for Bodhi of all people to have joined in on that is somewhat shocking, honestly.

"... No."

"Then what was that - that thing that you had to sign that Cassian lost like a week of sleep over?"

"Huh?"

"That - like, like three months after... after, there was this - this document that Cassian really wanted you to sign but was - stupidly nervous about asking? I thought -" Bodhi catches her nonplussed look and frowns a little more, clearly deeply confused now. "You - you don't even remember it? It was - He wouldn't say what it was, but he got, um, uncharacteristically drunk and told me there was this thing he wanted to ask you but it felt like - like too much, or too soon, and he didn't know how..." He stops, his frown ever deepening, then shrugs. "Looking back, I think maybe he thought I was Melshi. Or like, pretended I was. You really don't - don't remember what it was? I was so sure - it had to have been a marriage - wedding - whatever." He peers at her from underneath his worn goggles. "Is it possible you married him already and you just don't know it?"

"No."

"I've seen you sign stuff without reading it."

"Yeah, like a scandoc for incoming cargo or -"

Bodhi grins. "Frankly, I think - I think Cassian might have been desperate enough to just slip it in there."

"Very funny." She shoves him a little, mostly in a friendly way, and gets to her feet so she can glare at him better. "You know how often I've sliced into my personnel file. I would know if it said married."

Bodhi shrugs, and throws her a bright smile before returning to the machine part he was polishing. "Well, I'm happy to come to your second ceremony -"

"You're not invited, we're just putting our names on a dotted line."

"But I'm invited for drinks afterwards, yeah?"

Jyn huffs. Having friends again has its downsides.

---

"Kay? Can I ask you a question?"

"I hope this is not one of your questions that are actually requests, Jyn Erso. I had hoped to achieve a full recharge before take-off tomorrow."

"This is a question."

Kay inclines his head. "Very well."

"Bodhi says that I signed a document around three months after... after Yavin. One that Cassian was nervous about asking me to sign."

"His decisions and emotions in regards to you are often very incoherent."

She sighs. "Something important, I guess? I don't remember what it could have been. Any ideas?"

Kay's processors whir in a way that is oddly close to an exasperated sigh. How he achieves this with his updated body is a mystery to Jyn. She asked Cassian once, and he just shrugged.

"Requisition for a new pair of trousers, Standard Size medium, male bipedal, from the quatermaster due to your destroying Sergeant Dameron's in a regular sparring match?"

"... Probably not that."

"Written agreement to cease standing outside of General Draven's quarters and yelling until he comes out?"

"No."

"I do not think that should still be on file. You are clearly no longer adhering to it."

"Kay."

"Oh. There was also your code clearance paperwork."

Jyn, already half turned away, freezes. The code clearance. Granting access to most of Cassian's past operation files. A record of every dutiful, improbable, repugnant, brave thing he has done under orders. Every drop of blood on his hands, neatly filed, at her disposal.

Yeah.

She sighs, digging her finger into the crumbling stone of the droid bay wall. Yeah, that'd do it. Actually, she's shocked she hasn't looked at it this way before. She assumed it was a formality, a boring, procedural afterthought for him, but...

A koja-nut-sized chunk of mortar comes away under her prying fingers and crumbles to dust. It was a foolish assumption. Cassian is made of equal parts dedication and guilt, and this was a choice that could not have come lightly to either of those sides.

"Thanks, Kay."

"Was it that one?"

She wonders, briefly, if the information would help Kay compute Cassian's behaviour any better. But she also thinks he likes that Kay is bad at computing his behaviour - at least where she is concerned. Come to think of it, she probably also prefers that. Vastly, even. (There was that time he predicted time and duration of their "inefficient organic bonding rituals" much too accurately, and she does not want that repeated, or ever have to think about that again.)

"I guess I'll just ask Cassian."

"So I could have used this time for charging."

She rolls her eyes at him and taps the door frame in place of goodbye. "I'll see you on the ship. Don't let the outlet bugs bite."

"That is complete nonsense -"

---

"Bodhi thought we were already married," she mutters into the darkness, an hour or so later.

"Most people seem to."

"Yeah. Got me thinking, though," she says, running her hand up his neck to bury her fingers in his hair without accidentally poking him in the eye (she learned that lesson early in life, back when she was creeping into people's bunks in a barracks instead of enjoying the rare perks of sleeping with a ranking officer; back when staying quiet had been a primary concern).

He hums at her touch, so low she thinks she's only catching it because it's so dark and her senses heightened. This is the one upside of the quarters having no windows, and the dimmer being so unreliable it tends to throw out the breakers.

"Thinking what?"

"I guess we kind of are, in a way."

"Are we?" he asks, and he sounds like he's smiling.

"Yeah. You read my file. I'm cleared for yours." She lets her other hand roam over his chest, up to where she can feel his heartbeat, slightly too fast under her fingers. "I figure, that's spy marriage, right?"

"Maybe." His pulse is still a little fast, his muscles a little tense under her fingers, when he asks slowly: "Did you ever read them?"

"Most of them. It's a lot."

"Yes. A lot," he repeats, and she is pretty sure he doesn't mean what she does - namely, that his reports are both very dense and very detailed, so they are a painful thing to go through in more ways than one. She can feel him swallow heavily before adding, somewhat lamely and very quietly: "... and?"

She sighs, threading her fingers through his hair a little more tightly. "Well, I know not to get you Naboo Orange lemonade."

He doesn't flinch, but she can tell that it takes effort.

"Did you really think that'd be the thing to scare me off? Your files?" she asks after a while, and he shrugs.

"There was a chance. It's... a lot."

She sighs and curls herself closer to his side. "I'm not saying it wasn't a big deal for me, you know. But you've got it wrong."

"Got what wrong?" His voice has softened, and as he shifts her leg into position, he somehow finds a way to tug her a little closer still, and leaves his hand where it is, warm on her bare skin. She smiles faintly into the fabric of his shirt.

"It's... It made me stay," she whispers, and it feels silly to say, but maybe the lesson of the day is that they don't get to assume things, because they do miss stuff. Even with each other. "That you... that you made them give me that. That you trusted me."

He doesn't answer, but she feels his lips brush the top of her head.

"Well," he says finally, "I know it's a formality, but... I'm looking forward to being normal married."

"Seems less complicated."

He laughs softly, his thumb running idle circles over her thigh. "We'll see."

[leave a comment on Ao3]

#soooo this is not six sentences lol #i'm assuming this won't bother people too much?#jyn x cassian #rogue one #rogue one fanfiction #rebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #bodhi rook #my words #ask meme responses

87 notes · View notes