puckinghischier · 21 hours ago
Note
jack & luke loving quinn’s gf almost as much as he does bc suddenly they have an older sister they can call for advice on the most random things…
“so, hypothetically, if i wanted to get a pedicure, would they give it to me since i’m a guy?” jack asks you over the phone.
you stop in your tracks, right in front of your car, baffled at the question. “jack, is this seriously what you called me four times about?”
“i mean, yeah. you weren’t picking up. thought you and quinn might be screwing and wanted to break that up as soon as i thought about it,” he admits like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
“jack!” you scolded, scoffing at his crudeness. “i was picking up some snacks for the guys before their game today. i couldn’t even get to my phone if i wanted to,” you roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you.
“you make it sound like you were ignoring me on purpose,” he says, basically being able to hear the pout on his face.
“i wasn’t not ignoring you on purpose.”
he smacks his teeth at your answer, returning to his original question. “anyways, will they do a pedicure on my gnarly man feet or no?”
you don’t even try to hide the laugh that escapes you, opening your door and finally sitting down in your car. “yes jack, they’ll give you a pedicure. are you actually going to go get one?”
“yes! dude, have you seen my feet lately? they’re disgusting. plus, quinn was telling luke and i about that time you made him do one with you and how much better his feet felt in his skates afterwards.”
you think about the fact that quinn now has monthly pedicure appointments with you, not shocked at all that he shared the information with his younger brothers.
“jack! is that y/n? i need to talk to her!” you hear luke yell in the background of jack’s call, stopping whatever response you were about to give.
you hear shuffling, insinuating the exchange of the phone. “hey! y/n! so, i need your advice.”
“hi, luke, i’m good, thanks for asking! how are you?” your voice drips with sarcasm.
“yeah, hi and whatever,” he dismisses you. “so, if you were a girl, would you rather your date wear a pink shirt to show he’s not a toxic guy, or would you rather him wear blue or black to show he’s serious about the date?”
once again, you pause. you look over to the side, as if there’s an invisible camera there and mouth a ‘what?’
“okay, well first of all i am a girl-“
“well yeah, but like…a real girl. one that isn’t dating quinn and would be ready to hop on the luke train,” he interrupts you, earning his own roll of your eyes.
“as i was saying,” you ignore his interruption, “i am a girl, and i don’t think it’s that serious? wear whatever you wanna wear. if she likes you, she likes you. if she doesn’t, she doesn’t. i don’t think wearing pink is going to either hurt or help the date.”
the line is silent for a moment. “i think i’m going to wear pink anyways. you know, just to let her know i’m not a douche,” he finally speaks.
“okay, well, if that’s what you want to do, then do it-“
“thanks, y/n! bye!” you’re cut off yet again, hearing the line go dead. groaning, you call quinn, letting him know you’re on your way with the food.
“hey, baby! you get the catering order yet?” quinn’s excited voice fills your car as you turn it on and put it in drive.
“yeah, i got it. on my way now. just got off the phone with your idiot brothers,” you tell him, pulling out into traffic.
“oh god, what did they want this time?” he asks you, knowing how often you’re plagued with calls from his siblings.
“well, jack wanted to know if he could book a pedicure appointment even though he’s a man, and then luke wanted to know if he should wear pink on his date so he doesn’t look like a douche,” you give the short version of your conversations.
quinn lets out a laugh, not at all surprised at his brothers.
“quinn, we’ve gotta set some ground rules. i can’t keep doing this. i don’t know how you dealt with this by yourself for all these years. and god, your sweet mother. i feel for her,” you say not entirely seriously, knowing they call ellen more than they call you, if that’s even possible.
“baby, they love you. you’re the big sister they never had, they’re just excited to finally have someone to ask this stuff to other than mom. because mom usually tells them to figure it out on their own,” he chuckles, knowing how much both luke and jack have told him they loved having you around.
“well, i’m about to take the ellen approach because they make me want to pull my hair out sometimes, those disgustingly lovable heathens,” you tell your boyfriend, never really being able to say anything bad about the brothers. they’re like excited puppies anytime they get to see you in person, and it does melt your heart a little bit each time.
“i’ll talk to them about it,” quinn’s still laughing at how you can’t help but talk about how much you love his brothers, even when you’re aggravated at them. “just focus on getting here. i miss you, wanna see you before game time.”
“okay, be there in like-“ you stop talking when your ringtone blares through your car.
“god, its jack again. i gotta go, i’ll see you in a few minutes,” you groan, ending the call to answer the interruption.
“what is it this time, jack?”
415 notes · View notes
aurumalatus · 3 days ago
Text
𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟔]
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing. kinich x fem!reader
word count. 3.5k
genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, descriptions of blood and injury, panic attacks and anxiety
summary.
in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.
author's note. first off, sorry for the late chapter ;-; but the next chapter sort of marks the start to the second half of the story, so i hope you guys look forward to that! some parts of this chapter are a bit intense so please heed the warnings! please let me know if you enjoyed! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!
↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣
Tumblr media
𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗜𝗧'𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧
As you make slow progress toward recovery, Kinich can’t expel the image of you bleeding out from his mind.
The village doctor had rushed to your home, undeterred by the blanket of night falling over the land. The woman practically thinks of you as her own daughter, after all, with the amount of work you’ve done for her over the years. She stitches up your wound with a careful, practiced hand.
(Kinich stands at your side as it happens, your hand grasping his in a bone-crushing grip. He tries not to cry when you start to scream out in pain.)
She commits you to bed rest. You whine and argue against it. Kinich fights with you about it. You make up like you always do, but you stare longingly at the door every day when he leaves to work.
Time passes, and you do get better. He thanks the archons before he sleeps for that fact, truly.
But the guilt doesn’t cease. 
It prods at him in the dead of night, wrapping his stomach in knots as he tosses and turns. Even when he can hear your soft, even breathing across the room, a deep terror takes root in his chest. Nightmares lurk and haunt his rest, and sometimes, even when he wakes up, he has trouble believing that you’re still alive—it all feels too real when it’s in his head.
Even in reality, you’re decidedly…different. The weakness of your smile, of your hand in his—he can’t quite get used to it. It’s all part of your healing process, he knows that deep down, but he can’t shake the feeling that he had a role in all of this. 
On one night, the feeling of sin finally manages to gnaw through his chest.
He wakes up in a cold sweat, shirt sticking to him like a second skin. His blankets are already strewn about the floor, likely from his erratic movements. His gaze slides over to you, still peacefully resting, and he sags with relief. The pain keeps you awake sometimes, so it’s a miracle that you’re sleeping soundly for once.
With that in mind, he eases himself out of bed quietly, tiptoeing past you and into the hallway. He heads for the bathroom—a splash of cold water over his weary face might be just what he needs. The moonlight filters lazily through the window, uneven slivers painted over the wall. He yawns, letting the door shut behind him.
The mirror sits above the sink. 
It’s one of the more expensive things you have in your house, but you’d gotten it for a good deal at the flea market—Kinich had bartered for what felt like hours. You’d gushed over the artistry of it, the glass intricately framed with braided knots of silver. Kinich hadn’t really understood back then—a mirror is just a mirror, after all—but he’s not keen on saying no to you. He never has been.
His reflection stares back at him, haunting in the gloom. 
When he looks at himself like this, he sees his mother. He doesn’t really remember the sound of her voice anymore, but he remembers her eyes, her hair. So much of him had been inherited from her.
Most days, he tries not to think about where she might be—he doesn’t see a point in asking questions he’ll never know the answer to. But he does wonder if she thinks of him, if even for a fleeting moment of her day. Then, he wonders if she remembers him at all.
(Maybe she doesn’t want to.)
His reflection frowns.
Locks of dark hair shine in the lowlight, the streak of blond distinct against the plain backdrop. The paleness of it, even when braided back, still reminds him of his father. A flash of a rage-filled glare strikes through his mind.
“Kinich—Kinich, help me, please!”
The voice—
He chokes.
Kinich stumbles back from the mirror, the sight of his own reflection suddenly horrifying him. No matter where he moves, he can’t seem to escape it, golden eyes—no, his father’s eyes—following as he staggers around the room. A ghost’s frigid fingers grip around his shoulders.
It was his fault.
The room suddenly shrinks inward. Something icy and unseen grabs at Kinich’s heart and yanks until a struggling gasp is ripped from his lungs. The vase on the windowsill tips and cracks against the wall, shards skittering across the floor and water splashing against the backs of his calves. It’s shockingly cold, shooting shivers up his back and fraying his nerves.
Someone is screaming. His mother.
“Kinich?”
A faint voice reaches his ears, but he ignores it in favor of the thoughts pounding around his skull. The memory of his father’s corpse hangs at the edges of his mind. He looks back to the mirror, fingers curling into his hair, scratching at his scalp.
The blond streak is still there.
He sees his mother, begging and screaming, bruises littering her skin. Actually, she’s not screaming at all—he still can’t remember her voice. But she’s looking at him, grasping at his feet, and her lips are moving but he can’t hear—
“Kinich? Are you there?”
His hair—his father—seems to leap out at him, bursting from the mirror and grasping at his neck. The pressure leaves him scrambling to breathe. He thinks of the cliff, of his choice.
Echoes of footsteps pad down the hall, and he panics.
No, no. You’re going to see him, and you’re going to know what he’s done. You’re going to look at him with disgust and fear, and you’re going to leave. He hadn’t been enough back then, and he still isn’t now—no matter what he tries, nothing changes.
It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!
Another voice roars in his head, the hatred almost palpable with each syllable.
He clutches at his chest, desperately feeling for the heartbeat there—he feels like he’s dying, rotting from the inside out. His hand slams against the wall, nails digging painfully into the wood, clawing.
“Kinich?!”
Your voice comes again, more panicked now. You can probably hear the chaos from outside.
There’s no time.
He seizes the blond lock in his left hand, the right scooping up a ceramic shard from the floor and holding it to his head, right near the roots of the hair. He has to get rid of it—he’s panting, mouth dry and burning at the same time.
A firm knock on the door has him halting in his tracks—only a few strands of hair catch the sharp edge of the shard, floating uselessly to the ground. His chest heaves, uneven breaths puffing from his chapped lips.
He pauses. The shard clatters to the ground next to him, dropped from his grip. Slowly, he clambers to his feet. He brushes his clothes off once, then twice, before steeling himself to face you.
When the door swings open, it’s your face that greets him.
“Is everything okay?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. Hesitant, you reach for him—your shirt rides up with the movement, revealing starch-white bandages tinged with red. You’d irritated your wound in your panic to get to him.
He almost vomits at his feet.
He catches your hand before it reaches his cheek. He doesn’t deserve your comfort right now—maybe he never did. But your gaze is still so fond, so soft, as it falls upon his face.
“You haven’t been sleeping well,” you murmur, lacing your fingers with his. A faint frown paints your lips, wrought with worry. The thought is almost ridiculous—you both have only been worrying about each other all this time. “What’s going on?”
And Kinich knows he should tell you. He should do a lot of things when it comes to you. He should tell you he’s sorry for everything he’s put you through, that he knows he’s not good enough for you right now but he hopes to be, that he hopes you’ll wait for him to be that person. 
But he doesn’t say any of that.
Instead, he lets a deep, shuddering breath escape him. The only way to repay everything you’ve given him over the years is to be strong. If he can protect you, he can be useful to you.
So he takes the weakness sprouting in his chest and crushes it in his hands, letting the ashes go. He’ll bury them with this night—starting tomorrow, he won’t worry you again. 
Gently, he raises your hand to his lips, brushing over your pulse point. The steady drum of your heartbeat brings him some semblance of comfort, at least. The weight of your stare lifts from his shoulders when he meets your gaze head-on.
“I’m fine, just knocked something over,” he finally chokes out. “Let’s go back to sleep.”
/
A few days later, the whispers of a rumor begin.
The sky is still reddened with dawn when he heads out, greatsword secured to his back. It’s newly-sharpened, courtesy of you. With your range of movement limited, you don’t leave the house much these days—you pass the time by cleaning and cooking, despite Kinich’s pleas for you to remain in bed. You’re antsy to do more, even while your healing progress slowly chugs along.
The outpost is already bustling by the time he shoves the door open, slinking inside. The place usually runs rampant with work, with people searching for deliveries or other odd jobs. They seek him out often, knowing how often he visits, and he welcomes the extra Mora. 
For some people, it’s a more social place—they enjoy a drink at the small bar between deliveries, chatting and laughing. There’s one such group already here, the clink of glasses audible even this early in the morning. Kinich’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the stench of alcohol.
On the back wall is the request board, a place for people to advertise any long-term jobs. Kinich favors these sometimes, on days where the weather is better, just so he can maximize the amount of Mora he takes home. When he makes his way over, there’s already another man scrutinizing the requests. Weathered papers dot the wall, some yellowed with age, some pristine white and newly-posted.
“Hey, kid,” the man greets. It takes Kinich a moment to realize it’s him he’s referring to—he offers a short nod in reply, a bit confused. Most people are familiar with him to an extent, but rarely do they try to interact.
He just starts to read another Saurian hunting job when the man speaks again.
“That earthquake a week ago…they found some ruins in the South. Rumor has it that it’s holding some kind of awesome treasure, and no one’s quite made it through yet.”
He gives Kinich a once-over, sweeping eyes reflecting a faint respect—his reputation precedes him, apparently. Kinich shifts his weight, arms crossed, a challenge. Seemingly pleased by his confidence, the man chuckles.
“I’ve heard you’re a strong one. If you’d like, we’d have you join our party.”
Kinich regards the man with his own criteria—he looks experienced, arms criss-crossed with scars as evidence of battles long won. But even Kinich himself is still young, so he knows years don’t equal strength.
“What’s in it for me?” he sighs, feigning boredom. “For all I know, I could head in there alone and not have to split the spoils.”
The man’s smile widens, practically splitting his face.
“I like your spunk, kid. How about this, if you make it all the way down there with us, I’ll even let you have first pick.”
Kinich ponders that for a moment—it’s not a bad deal. Though it’s not his preference, working in a group can make long-term investigations like this go much faster, and he suspects that he’ll be able to assess the value of whatever treasure they find better than anyone else. In short, he’ll be guaranteed the greatest share of Mora, without using all of his own personal effort. Objectively, it wouldn’t be his worst decision.
If he can make a good amount, he can buy one of those cakes you like from the market.
Your smile would be well worth it, he thinks as he shakes the other man’s hand.
/
The dangers of the ruins had not been overstated—even halfway through the place, Kinich finds himself matted with blood and grime, muscles aching with overuse. Already, many have turned back, and as many lives have been lost. Only a few remain, those desperate enough to see the task through to the end, resting in one of the safer areas before continuing deeper toward the treasure.
Kinich reaches back, testingly feeling the stone wall behind him—it’s damp, but stable, so he leans back against it, sliding down to sit on the ground. Even down here, flowers grow through the cracks in the stone, tenacious in their bloom. It reminds him of you.
He wonders if you’re resting well, if you’d stayed in bed like you promised. 
“You got a girlfriend back home?”
He flinches at the sudden address, and he turns to see the man next to him—he can’t remember his name—smirk and nod at his bandana. He’d been thumbing at it unconsciously, the only source of comfort in this dark, stinking place.
“I know a woman’s work when I see one,” the man chuckles.
Kinich wonders if he should mention that he actually taught you how to weave, then decides against it—he doesn’t really care what this man thinks anyway. Somehow, he doesn’t feel an urge to discuss your existence with strangers.
“No, I don’t,” he replies quietly instead, and it’s the truth. There’s no title between you two, nothing to define the course of your relationship—in fact, the closest thing would be something informal, like “roommate”. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
The older man observes the way Kinich gnaws at his lip, bothered, before offering a comforting pat on the back. It’s a bit friendlier than Kinich is used to, but he supposes it comes with the wisdom of age—somehow, the act reminds him of Elder Leik.
“Not a girlfriend, then, but something, right?”
Something feels wrong to say—too vague, too uninvolved. When he imagines the pulsing in his chest, it’s your hands cupping his heartbeat, holding the very core of him. 
Everything would likely be a more proper term.
His teeth grit, flashing in the dark.
“Sure, something like that.”
“You should tell her, you know,” the man sighs, leaning back against the wall. Kinich wonders how the man is practically reading his mind. “At least before you get old like me.”
Kinich knows he’s a bit more mature than other people his age, a result of his upbringing. And usually, it can be an advantage—he’s independent and self-sufficient, unlike most others. But it’s times like these that he wishes he would’ve lived a normal life, going to school and playing until dusk fell. Social skills have never been his strong suit, and he often finds himself saying the wrong things.
He can’t afford to do the wrong thing anymore when it comes to you.
It’s always been entirely unintentional, but these days, he can’t seem to do anything but hurt and disappoint you. And now you’re at home, alone, while he goes out and risks his life. Briefly, he ponders what would happen if he never made it home.
Would you cry? Would you move on?
Would you find someone else?
It’s hard for him to imagine a version of himself that doesn’t have you by his side. 
He wants to keep it that way. 
He really, really likes your smile.
Kinich finally turns to face the man next to him, jaw clenched with determination. The man smirks, seemingly expecting that reaction.
“Got somethin’ to say, kid?” he asks, raising a brow.
Kinich nods, staring down at his hands. 
“After this,” he affirms, more to himself than anyone else. “After this, I’ll tell her.”
/
And, as always, Kinich finds himself alone. 
He can’t exactly say what had happened to the others—then again, he hadn’t tried to look. Monsters seemed to leap at him from every turn, and he couldn’t focus on much more than his own survival. 
On his way back out of this place, he’s sure he’ll come across their bodies one way or another. He’ll try to give them a half-proper burial, he thinks. 
The ruins descended far further than he had expected—a pulsing warmth seems to emanate from this place, layering sweat over his forehead. A heady scent of smoke lies thick in the air, rising toward the unseen ceiling. Kinich has to be careful with his steps—the place is so weathered and worn, he fears that the floor might give out beneath him.
He isn’t sure what he expected to see at the bottom. Treasure doesn’t usually appear in cartoonish chests filled with shining gold coin, after all. But when he inspects the ruins around him, all he finds are pale stone walls with a single pedestal in the center.
Cautiously, he approaches, eyes sweeping for danger. If the treasure is something truly valuable, it wouldn’t be out of the question for it to be booby trapped in one way or another. But he walks up, each step light and gentle, and nothing happens.
He sheathes his sword, peering down at the treasure laying over the smooth stone. 
It’s a wristband, thick and engraved with a language he can’t understand.
The style of it is different than most he’s seen—somehow, it looks a bit more modern. But even historical fashion items don’t tend to sell for too much, he thinks in disappointment. 
Essentially, he’d wasted his time coming down here.
He picks up the wristband, inspecting the design of it. Then, tentatively, he slides it on.
A burst of heat cracks through the air.
“Who dares disturb the Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw?! Speak now, mortal, or I’ll pound your puny face in!”
A tiny, yellow, pixelated dragon bursts forth, and Kinich’s jaw just about drops. 
Treasure comes in many forms, of this he is sure, but this seems to be more of a burden than anything.
It—no, K’uhul Ajaw—whirls on him in apparent rage. Kinich can’t really tell with the ridiculous sunglasses sitting on his face.
“Hey, I’m talking to you! Is there a brain in that puny head of yours, or are you just deaf?”
Kinich sighs. Whoever had started this whole rumor must be having a great laugh at his expense.
“I can hear you,” he replies monotonously. “I just don’t particularly want to talk to you.”
Ajaw grows angrier. Kinich wonders if it’s just his default state.
“Then why did you come all the way down here? Are you stupid?!”
“Well, I was told there was some sort of powerful artifact here,” Kinich admits. He glances toward the ceiling, gauging how long it’ll take him to climb out of this place. “But it seems that they lied.”
Ajaw reddens in rage. “I’ll have you know that I am that artifact! My awesome power is beyond anything your mortal mind could possibly hope to comprehend!”
Kinich thinks it’s obvious why this dragon would’ve gotten locked in these ruins for so long—his personality is loathsome. Whoever sealed Ajaw likely had only done it to rid themselves of the grating sound of his voice.
Still, he can sense the deep thrum of potential within him. He’s likely not lying about having incomprehensible power.
Ajaw fixes Kinich with what he can only receive as a judgmental stare. 
“Why did you come all the way down here anyway? Are you looking for revenge? Trying to topple a nation?”
Ajaw proceeds to list a series of awful atrocities—Kinich zones out halfway through the war crimes. He’d come down here for Mora, but mostly, he’d come down here for you.
He thinks of your smile, and a pink flush washes over his face.
“I have someone I want to protect.”
It’s silent for a moment as Ajaw absorbs the implications of his explanation and the blush on Kinich’s face. Then, he laughs, a shrill sound like nails on a chalkboard.
“You come all the way down here seeking power, all to protect some puny, peasant, mortal girl—”
It’s quite an assumption, not that he’s necessarily wrong. Kinich’s jaw tightens.
“—don’t speak about her.”
A sobering chill crackles in the air, filling the cracks in the ruined stone and sinking onto his shoulders. Ajaw seems to feel it too—he hesitates at the pressure, suddenly devoid of his earlier haughtiness.
“...I see,” is all he replies, calculated.
Ajaw floats languidly towards Kinich, circling him. “Well, I’ll admit, I can sense something different about you. So, luckily for you, I’m willing to make a deal with you.”
The tone of his voice is laced with foreboding. Kinich crosses his arms, cautious.
“What kind of deal?”
Ajaw chuckles—the sound echoes hauntingly, running a chill down Kinich’s spine.
“Don’t be so scared,” he barks. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little dying.”
251 notes · View notes
crepezinhos · 19 hours ago
Text
Mummy or Mommy?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
POV: What happens when you take the quote: ‘Halloween is the only day a woman can dress up like a whore and not get criticized for it’ too seriously to a point where your own best friend can’t handle it?
Tumblr media
⚠️ WARNINGS:
— This is a NSFW Oneshot
— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns
— Bondage, blindfolding, hair pulling, slight mommy kink and a lot of degradation.
Tumblr media
“What the fuck were you thinking, huh?” He grunted in your ear while brutally fucking his cock inside your pussy over and over again. “Dressing up like some fucking cheap slut… You were looking up to this, weren’t you?” His passion while degrading you was noticeable, which just made your horny pussy grind around him even more.
You wanted to innovate this year’s Halloween party, but not this much.
Your costume was simply thick white stripes tied around the core parts of your body, leaving your legs and belly mostly exposed although it was a considerably cold day. It obviously called most people’s attention, including your friends. All the girls thought you looked sexy and praised your efforts with the makeup, but Scaramouche, one of your few male friends, but your best friend, didn’t actually say much.
He spent the whole party quietly staring at your body up and down, avoiding any comments, even when you asked for his opinion. You two only found yourselves fucking in the house's bathroom when you were alone with him in a sofa and you asked why did he have a pillow in his lap. It turned out he had a boner... an aching one.
“Ass up, mummy whore.” Scaramouche slapped a buttock of yours, causing your whole body to quiver.
Although Scaramouche has never shown off himself to be a common guy, you'd never expect him to be so aggressively kinky. He had pulled the bandages you had in your face up to blindfold your eyes and the ones in your arms to tie your wrists in the towel hanger of the room. He also almost ripped apart the ones in your boobs and crotch just because he was that desperate to see them. It was definitely humilliating and it would take you a while to redo all of that work, but you couldn't deny that being manhandled like that was making your pussy throb in pleasure. Scaramouche was incredibly good at .
“Fuck, Scara! Slow down!” You tried turning your face to him to beg for mercy, but that pathetic look of your blindfolded face and ruined makeup just made his cock twitch in arousal.
“Oh-ho? Begging already? But I have barely started yet...” He mocked you, continuing to hammer you in the same pace. “But maybe if you admit that you’re a cock-hungry slut, I might change my mind.” He proposed a game to you, leaning closer just to tease you further into that mind-numbing pleasure.
“F-Fuck! I am a cock-hungry slut who whore this outfit to have your attention!” You screamed whatever came to your mind at the moment to make him feel satisfied. “Y-You look so fine dressed as a vampire, I couldn’t just ignore it..! It got me so wet when I saw it…” You babbled between your outrageous moans.
“My costume, huh? I bet you’re loving to have your wrists tied up by my jacket then…” If he knew that you’d be such a perfect slut for him and his necessity to fuck rough, he would’ve done it centuries ago.
“Y-Yes! I love it! I love being dominated by you like this!” You suddenly felt your hair being pulled in his direction, which caused you to scream in shock and slight pain while your body spasmed and your eyes mired stars.
“Then, right after this, I want you to wear it for the rest of this party. I don’t want anyone else seeing you in this outfit, you hear me? No one. From now on this outfit belongs to me.” He whispered in a more dominant tone that took you off guard.
Scaramouche was melting your brains and muscles, causing them to be useless to you, especially now that you were cuffed and arched to him. All you could do in such position was to nod to his orders and moan, and you were shamelessly letting every single one of them out of your mouth, which made Scaramouche’s ego skyrocket. Having his hot best friend inflating his ego by acting and dressing like some cheap, submissive slut was ecstasy to him. It even made him feel a little emotional than he expected to feel since you were a nice and t(h)rustable friend.
Perhaps he likes you more than a friend? Or was starting to like? That’s something he still has to reflect about later because all he wanted was to milk your pussy dey right now.
“Such a fucking perfect slut… Who would’ve guessed that you’re a hidden masochist whore under that pretty face of yours?” He let go of your hair just to hold your hips with more precision, but still kept his back leaned close to you so he could put his tongue to use.
He started in the side of your neck, kissing it and licking it already aggressively. He was focusing specifically on the muscle of it that was slightly stretched out because of the position you were in.
“You taste so fucking good…” He purred while his warm breath made your skin sweaty. “I might just suck you until you’re bleeding…” He laughed at his own pun, but immediately went back to his mission of fucking you until you regretted your choice of costume.
But you had just acted so mean to him this entire party when he was supposed to be the mean one in the group, he had to scold you back to your submissive place.
The way you walked up to him when you two first met and immediately spoiled him that you weren’t wearing any underwear was enough to make him fantasize with his hands ripping your costume apart to see your nudity under it. There was also the way how the lack of bra usage made your boobs jiggle with every movement you did, especially when you were dancing, which made his eyes completely stone in them for most of the party. Of course it got him hard and quickly. But the way you laughed at him when you found out he had a boner was what triggered him into scolding you in his own peculiar way.
“Tch…” He got a little annoyed remembering those moments. “You were so proud of yourself some minutes ago… mocking me and laughing at my boner… But look at you know… getting off with me referring to you as a cheap slut… It’s pathetic, really, but I’m proud to be the one that will teach you about knowing your place…” He ranted while admiring every single moan that came out of your red lips, who had some chapstick dragged outside of them because of the sloppy kisses you shared while he prepared you for his cock.
He took a look to the side where the mirror was located.
God, he thought he looked so sexy with those marks of your chapstick kissing him in various spots of his face and neck… it all just made him more praised by you. And the way your crotches moved in rhythm made him feel like he was watching his own personal porn movie.
“Oh? Suddenly getting extra tight here?” He grunted huskily while he felt your pussy suddenly tightening around him again with no warning. It was like it was trying to milk an orgasm out of him desperately.
“G-Gonna cum!” Your voice was already becoming hoarse in exhaustion, which made Scaramouche just more thirsty with what he was doing to you.
“Perfect, because I’m cumming too and you’re gonna take it all inside, ok?” His pace managed to become even more erratic, punching your cervix with no care at all while his hand ran under your belly and started circling your clit violently just to make you more helpless under those cuffs.
“Yes, yes! I’m gonna..! I’m gonna!!” You were desperate for your climax, screaming like you were going to die.
“Come on, whore.” Scaramouche slapped your ass again, trying to stimulate you into climax the fastest he could with that jolt of pain.
And finally, both your bodies had that moment of peak together. Scaramouche sliding a thick and long string of cum inside your womb, and you exploding cum all around his cock. Your scream was feral and his grunt was very powerful, both of your bodies shaking and twitching with that peak, enjoying every noise you heard from each other.
“F-Fuck!” Your body quivered while he spilled his burning seed inside you, demonstrating how overwhelmed you were feeling. But no matter how much your body agonized, he still kept his hips stoned in place, looking forward to brand you as his with that load of cum.
“Good girl… taking all of me inside even if it is too much for you like a true-spirit whore…” He giggled meaningfully while gently tapping the same buttock he slapped previously, watching you twitching in a sadistic kind of joy.
He quickly pulled out, wanting to check just how much you came around him. His cock was entirely wet and full of stains of your essence.
“Look at this mess you did in me… Oh, you’re absolutely cleaning this up.” He reached a hand to his jacket and pulled it away from the hanger, making your body finally become free again. Since your legs were extremely weakened by sex, all they could do was crumble and kneel down in the floor, your face resting against the cold white wall.
But your moment of break didn’t last as much as you needed it to. Scaramouche was determined to make your ruined face suck, still blindfolded. That’s why your hair was suddenly fisted by his hand and forced to turn around.
“Say ‘ahh’…” He rested his cock on top of your lips, aching to make its way inside your mouth. His hands also moved to your fringe, pushing it all the way to the back of your head until he could clearly glare all of your face breathing in and out exhausted.
“Ahhh…” You obliged to his orders and stuck your tongue out, which impulsed him to immediately place his cock on top of it, pulsing to feel your warm tongue licking it like it was your source of water.
You, thankfully, obliged to that too and started licking him up and down, all around his length, since you couldn’t see where he was stained. You looked so destroyed licking cum like a kitten, but that made you look so beautiful to his hungry eyes. He deadly wished he could spend more time messing with you, but the constant knocks on the door to go inside the bathroom were annoying him to a point he wanted to kill whoever was doing that.
“A-Are you clean now..?” You asked while pulling yourself out of his range, a chord of saliva connecting you and his cock for a second before it fell in your chin.
He took a look at his cock, meeting it perfectly clean transparent, but still wet with your saliva, while using a hand to wipe your chin.
“Yes, I am… Good girl.” He patted your head gently while grabbing a piece of toilet paper to finally wipe his dick dry. “Get up.” He shifted his tone as soon as he zipped his pants back to their place.
With the help of his hands, you stood up, still struggling with your shaky legs. But Scaramouche held you against the wall while rearranging you with a knee. He firstly took off your blindfold and tried tying it back to its spot in your forehead, which made you also available to help him out. Of course you didn’t look perfect. Your mascara and lipstick were ruined and you couldn’t get the straps in breasts back to their place, unless you took it all away from you and did it again.
“Shit…” You complained while looking at yourself in the mirror by your side.
“Here.” Scaramouche grabbed his jacket from the floor behind you and handed it to you.
God, he looked so much better without that jacket on him, although it did add more to his costume. But now that his wine-colored dress shirt without most buttons attaching to their hole was all he wore in his chest, it made him look twice sexy to you, especially since some of the many kisses you marked in him were visible there.
“Thanks…” You were a little embarrassed now that sex was over. “You might want to button your shirt again.” You started dressing his jacket and he immediately started closing up his buttons.
“Thanks. Can you walk?” He asked while reaching for the door, also awkward.
“I… don’t think so…” You looked away, but Scaramouche simply took your worst in his hand.
“Come… let’s get out of here.” His look was surprisingly very calm and smooth to you. A version of Scaramouche you’ve never witnessed.
“What a gentleman I got myself tonight…” You mocked while he opened the door.
“… Shut up.” You two finally stepped out, meeting a man right in front of the door that seemed to be waiting to use it for a long time.
Scaramouche ignored him, but you felt a little guilty and embarrassed to know that some minutes ago you were fucking with your best friend with degradation kink.
“Hey, you two! Where the fuck you two have been at?!” I’ve been looking for you two for hours!” Your friend in common, Faruzan, suddenly showed up in front of you two, dressed up as a sexy cat, but when she noticed the differences in your costumes, one of her eyebrows frowned. “What the hell happened to you, Y/N?! Weren’t you supposed to be a mummy mommy? You look like an actual mummy!” She laughed at you, but then she realized that you two looked awkwardly sweaty. “… Don’t tell me you two fucked.” She looked a little concerned.
“She was the one trying to fuck actually.” Scara suddenly started arguing with her for you. “Found her drunk ass trying to hit on Alhaitham. Even showed her boobs to him, but she failed so bad, she can’t even stick the stripes back.” Scaramouche and Faruzan started cackling together at his fake story, taking advantage of the fact that she was a little drunk to invent a really weird lie.
“Alhaitham?!” Faruzan acted like she had just heard the gossip of the year to you, who just stared at her still exhausted.
You breathed in and out.
“… Yeah, I tried.” You looked away, and she started cackling again.
“Oh my god! You’re sooooo stupid! Out of all hotties you could hit on here, you picked that geek?! Even Scaramouche was a better option!” She couldn’t hold back her giggles, barely spilling her alcohol out of her cup, while Scaramouche smirked at the unintentional compliment.
“Yeah, I know…” You avoided eye contact with Scaramouche.
“Let me take her home now. Her legs are, like, barely working.” He finally started talking more serious.
“Ok, ok! Don’t try hitting on him too, you silly!” She pointed at Scaramouche while talking to you, and finally walked away.
As soon as she was out of your way, you two went back to normal
“Really..? That was your lie? You’re lucky she was drunk enough to believe it.” You mocked him.
“It worked, so shut up.” He brushed you off, finally opening the doors to the exterior. “So you think I’m a better option than Alhaitham?” He asked in the same aroused tone he was using in the bathroom.
The cold air of the night immediately hit your bodies, making you shiver a little bit since your costume result wasn’t made for fall. You didn’t expect the weather to change so much in such a short matter of hours.
“Please… not even if he was as ugly as you.” You scoffed at him.
“That wasn’t what you were saying some minutes ago, mommy.” He opened the door to the backseat of his car.
“Are you trying to take me home right now? I’m fine! I still want to party! Gosh, and you can’t even let a friend sit next you…” You tried pushing him away, but he resisted and looked at you ready to laugh.
“… Don’t tell me you didn’t figure out we’re gonna fuck in the backseat.” He giggled at you.
And then you remembered what he previously told you before walking you around.
“I can’t predict the meaning of every puzzle that comes out of your mouth!” Scaramouche simply smirked and pushed the both of you in the cushions and smacking the door shut.
“You’re just slow.” He shrugged his shoulders while positioning himself between your legs. “Now… let’s go for round two. Shall we, mommy?” His pun made you smirk in anticipation.
“Sure… try being more gentle this time.” You shrugged your shoulder while sliding the zipper of his jacket down again.
“Gentle?” He laughed for a moment.
“I’ll fuck your brains out of your head.”
Tumblr media
Taglist: @alatusorrow @shyentsfoundherink @luminieee @the-stinky-winky @kindofshyent @amoyanderes
Happy Halloween for all the Scaramouche whores! 🎃
223 notes · View notes
muscleloverz69 · 2 days ago
Text
A Raw Deal
To a normal person one of the fae might appear human. In fact it is nearly impossible to tell the two apart. The only difference is the fae are always extremely hot. One of the most important rules of dealing with the fae is never make a deal. Unfortunately, Brian had no idea Nick was anything but a young vendor at the music festival. 
All the food looked so good to Brian and he was so hungry, too bad he realized he was flat broke once he reached the front of the line. He looked up from his empty wallet at Nick to apologize and completely froze. Brian had always been completely straight but even he could admit Nick was one of the most attractive men he had ever seen with completely chiseled features, perfect lean muscles that complemented his narrow waist and thick upper thighs spread out in his seat. Nick smirked “Hey dude, you good?” 
Tumblr media
“Oh yeah sorry I’m flat broke my bad I’ll step out of line.”
Brian was so flustered he completely missed the predatory gleam in Nick’s eyes. “Bro don’t even worry about it, I’ll make you a deal help me out in the back for a couple hours and lunch is on me.”
“Wow really, thanks!”
“Of course! The only rule is you can’t eat until we’re done or it’ll mess up my inventory count.”
Brian was so hungry but he knew he could struggle through a couple hours for a free lunch, so he nodded and followed Nick into the tent behind the counter.
The moment Brian entered the tent he felt his stomach cramp up, the most delicious smells of pies, cookies, and sandwiches were coming at him from every angle.
“So, I really just need you to stay here for the next two hours and make sure nobody sneaks back here and eats anything.”
Brian could only shake his head in agreement and watch as Nick walked away admiring his full ass move as he did. He rubbed his eyes trying to snap himself out of it. Brian had never so much as looked at a man in his entire life but maybe the hunger and partying from the past couple days was getting to him.
Not to mention Brian was a little sex-starved. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. Some would definitely think he was cute but it was always in a twinky nerd way. He looked nothing like Nick who was already occupying more space in his mind than another man should.
The first hour wasn’t easy, but Brian just tried to ignore the food around him and relax. He didn’t notice Nick peek through the entrance. Nick was starting to wonder if Brian would make it the full time and decided he needed to turn up the challenge. Nick walked back into the tent holding a large pizza. “Hey, this came a little early its for after you’re done working but it might be a little cold by then.”
Nick shrugged and walked back out. Brian sweated it out for a few minutes before finally stuffing his face with the pizza. It only took a few bites before Brian could tell something was wrong. First he felt a burning sensation on his arm, then in big letters NICK was written in black on his arm. He found himself frozen unable to move at all.
Brian stood there unable to move for the next few hours until it got late. Then Nick walked in with a wicked smile across his face. “Hello Brian, so it looks like you couldn’t wait to eat. Unfortunately, that means you are now my servant.”
Nick snapped his fingers and Brian found myself able to speak but my feet were still planted to the ground.
“WHAT. I don’t understand I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself.”
“Brian, it’s quite alright. These things happen you’ll come home with me and the details of your contract will be provided shortly.”
Nick walked forward to Brian wrapping his muscular arms around his waist. Nick brushed under Brians chin forcing them to make eye contact. Nick leaned in their lips brushing against each other. “We are going to have fun together.”
Brian woke up in a large bed sore and confused. As he looked around his eyes landed on a man. He was an attractive guy, large boulder shoulders and beefy pecs that shadowed over him.
Tumblr media
“You’re up,” the man walked over to him.
“My name is Jock how do you feel?”
Brian shook his head confused, “your name is Jock.”
“I don’t think it was always Jock but that’s what master said it is now.”
It was then Brian glanced down at his arm to the letters NICK and remembered what happened. Jock went on to explain that Nick was a fae and had tricked the both of them into becoming his slaves. They were now magically forced to do anything Nick asked. 
“Really anything master wants you’ll do, become, or believe,” Jock sat down on the bed. “I didn’t always look like this but this is what master wanted for when he has fun with me”
Brian was in disbelief at what a quick turn his life had taken. “So what can I do? I’m not gay and I don’t want to be owned.”
Jock shook his head “There really isn’t anything you can do, my only advice, Master offers everyone the same deal…take it.”
Tumblr media
It was then the door swung open. Nick walked in to the bedroom shirtless, his tight muscles reminding Brian of some predatory cat. “Jock thank you for watching our new guest, you can go.”
Like that Jock was gone. Now it was just Brain and Nick.
“So Brian I trust Jock filled you in. Now its time to make you more suited for my home. First I value fitness so grow your muscles for me.” 
Brian hardly had a chance to be confused before he felt his stomach ache and looked down to see a set of cobbled defined abs. He suddenly felt much wider as his shoulders and back spread. His pecs began to balloon and his biceps thickened.
Tumblr media
Nick smiled as he closed the distance between them. “Now you look tasty.” 
Nick kissed Brian pushing him backward on the bed. Brian opened his mouth to say something but Nick cut him off “You will participate and try to please me.”
Brian quickly got the message and allowed his lips to part for Nick’s tongue. Brian tossed his own shirt on the floor. Internally he was screaming, I’m not gay, but he couldn’t help but try to make Nick happy.
Nick groped Brian’s new arms before cupping his face. “Now time for a few more things. First Brian doesn’t quite suite you anymore, I think from now on you’ll be Thad and you can forget it was ever anything else.”
Thad was confused. Wait wasn’t his name always Thad. Was that right?” 
Nick interupted Thad’s thinking, ”The only thing is that name isn’t known for being intellegent so let’s dumb you down and make you a little more bro-y”
Thad felt a relaxing fog descend on him, he didn’t mind it. “Bruh that kinda feels sick.”
“Now just one last thing. I offer everyone this deal, now it’s your turn. You will live hear forever but if you agree to become gay I will make you happy to be here. Then you’ll have as much fun with our encounters as me. I could just make these changes myself, but honestly it’s no difference to me how you feel and the choice is more fun.”
Thad felt confused. A feeling he would probably have to get used to with his new intellect, but he needed to choose. Thad decided that if this was his new life he might as well enjoy it.
“Ok dude, do it.”
Thad felt it almost instantly. He was in the best place ever, and standing in front of him was the sexiest man he had ever seen. Thad almost lept forward, ripping Nicks pants off and began latching onto his cock. Nick gripped Thad’s new styled hair as his head bobbed up and down. Then Nick came. Nick chuckled Thad didn’t know it but the entire spell only would have lasted 24 hours then he could have gone home free, but now that he willingly drank Nick’s cum the spell was sealed forever.
Meanwhile Thad was in total bliss he was going to love being here with Nick and Jock.
176 notes · View notes
miifu666 · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
I finally drew LMK wukong... while also making him yandere because uh.. i like yanderes, we need more yan!Wukong content pls 🙏🥹 anyway Heres my rendition of what yandere lmk sun wukong would be like.. maybe ooc, ive only watched season 1...
Also not proofread— At ALL
Tumblr media
⋆˙⟡ — Cw : Yandere, Dub-con, ooc lmk Wukong?, art is wukong x oc but writing is Wukong x reader, not proofread.
I imagine Yan!Wukong to be the type who taunts you about his past actions, how feral and rebellious he was, able to defeat the entire heavenly army and scared the Jade emperor out of his wits just for existing in flower fruit mountain. This only happens when you disobey him ofc, you left the cabin? Denied his wants to feed you himself? Maybe its time to remind you who he is
" See how i was back then? I was a Savage, untamed even if i had that stupid crown around my head. You wouldn't want me to be like that now do you, Peaches? "
He's a sweetheart, Patience and Virtue is a thing he learned the most during his years of living. Yet, unpredictability is also his nature. Especially as a monkey king. There are times when he would tolerate you acting bratty, a bit Defiant is all fun, but when the day comes where he's fought too many Yaoguais, Demons, and Alike. All he wants is your comforting touch soothing him of his worries. The last thing he needs is your uncooperative attitude.
" Peaches... im not in the mood for this. Eat the food. Now. Ive been kind to you. It's either you eat the food or ill get rough."
Wukong is canonically someone who hasnt experienced any romantic nor sexual attraction, the moment he does. He doesn't have a clue on what to do. All he can think of is being in his monkey nature, which includes being possessive, territorial, dominating, and providing you with nutrients. He doesn't trust others enough to help him with his feelings, barely have the guts to ask Bajie if you're in a bad mood. He prefers to wait for others to give him advice (not that he'll take to account).
"MK doesn't know anything, he's a kid! He doesn't understand love like i do... like us adults do. Im doing this to PROTECT you, peaches!"
There might be times where he'll be more touchy than usual, conditioning you to feel comfort and used to his physical affection. Wukong is nothing but patient, he knows how to pavlov you into feeling relaxed once you feel his hands. You'll notice his punishments ranged from letting him groom you, cuddles for an hour, and finally letting him eat you out.
The euphoric bliss whenever he touches you or caught a whiff of your scent is tantalizing, Due to this, he prefers to be the one to serve you rather than you serving him. A king needs his Queen to bleed his heart into, not a concubine who perfoms.
" ah, ah ah~ Remember what i said? You either let me groom your pretty head or i might change things up a little..."
Wukong who gloats about the ring around your finger, making sure everyone. Even the heavens. Know, who you belong to. Theres no such thing as divine intervention, HE willed this fate, HE knit the red threads of fate till it spells your name. Theres an endless amount of love flowing through his heart for you, it seeps through timelines and past reincarnations. Even if your current life is done in this world, he'll continue on finding you. Binding you with him, gripping your heart so close till it beats in harmony with his. He'll make sure to leave an imprint of himself in your soul, even your future consorts needs to know him in order to understand you.
While you came from another world, your own destiny is temporary in his. Wukong will fight tooth and nails to defy the stars just to have you as his permanently. He'll create his own thread. His own happy ending with you.
And if theres anyone who dares to leak the rough details about your hostage love life... hes not known as the god of trickster for nothing
" if the moon and stars are reflection of the past, would they know how many lifetimes have i been loving you before our souls reconciled in this one?
Because i couldn't possibly have just learned to love you this much, all in this single lifetime"
Tumblr media
Artwork ©️ Miifu666
Writings ©️ Miifu666
272 notes · View notes
planetpedri · 3 days ago
Note
GAVI ANGST. He can always think too much into something, and that leads to him questioning reader sooo much to the point where she’s just like, ‘do you not trust me or something?’ and he’s all like well yes! And it’s this argument…. Or nah Lmk perhaps angst to comfort
Fine Line — Pablo Gavi.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader
Summary: Since failing to mention that you’d gone out with a few friends, one who happens to be a guy, Gavi cannot help but read too much into it, which leads to an argument.
Word count: 1.04k
Disclaimer/s: angst ! reader is slightly tipsy as well!
A/N: gulps..
Tumblr media
The crescent moon did nothing to light your path up toward the front porch of you and your longtime boyfriend’s shared home. In a slightly drunken haze, you stumbled over air, at one point having to lean against the fake cobwebbed railing that lead up to the door for a few moments just to gather your bearings.
Eventually you did make it safely to the door, which you went to unlock only to realize it hadn’t been locked for the night. You mumble a string of curses before opening it as quietly as possible. He may not have been asleep, but you weren’t prepared for him to know you were home just yet.
But, unfortunately, he was standing in the hallway that separated the entrance from the living room. You give him a lopsided sheepish smile, “hey…”
“It’s one in the morning.” He states simply, and from his tone you can tell he’s agitated. In all fairness, you had told him you’d be home thirty minutes ago.
“Yeah, sorry, the girls wanted ice cream before we went home.” You take off your stilettos that matched your costume perfectly, might you add, before flexing your feet to rid them of the pain the heels had given you.
Gavi’s arms are crossed over his chest, his face cocked to the side in annoyance. “Girls, and Matteo?”
Right. You gulped hard. You recognized that tone in his voice. It was the one get got when he wasn’t simply upset, he was jealous. You hated when he got jealous, he always shut down and shut you out.
“Baby, he showed up last minute.” You sigh, padding your way toward him. “I didn’t know he was going to be there.”
Gavi’s jaw ticks, “right. That’s what you said last time, and the time before that, and—“ Your hands resting on his forearms gently shut him up mid sentence, and you could tell it was taking a lot out of him not to shrug them off.
“Gavi, hon, it’s not like that.” You attempt to assure him, mentally taking a note to stop with the pet names. Every time one rolled off your tongue, his tongue made a quick appearance in the side of his cheek. “Please look at me?”
He denied you of that simple ask, his gaze zeroing in on a random portion of the wall beside the two of you. “I just don’t get why he has to show up every time you girls’ partners aren’t there! It’s weird.”
Tongue darting out to lick your lips, you’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’d almost instantly sobered up, and now the weariness was catching up to you. “Pablo. Look at me.” You finally huff, using your index finger to push his face in your direction.
Once he was finally looking at you, you frown. “Do you seriously not trust me or something?” A small, simple question, but seriously. He was getting worked up like he believed you’d actually cheat!
“Yes!” He practically laughs it out, his head shaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Hurt flashes across your face, making your boyfriend feel a twinge of guilt, but he doesn’t take it back. Even if he didn’t mean it.
Your head bobs slowly as you stuff the hurt back into your throat. “Oh. Wow, okay. That’s insane! But thanks, at least for once you’re honest.” You scoff, hands dropping to your sides.
“I mean, come on. This isn’t a coincidence! He’s always everywhere you are, and you never tell me! It’s like a secret you seem to enjoy so much, since you were giggling your whole way up to the door.” His hands fly up to his head, brushing over his hair to pull it back. They stay there as he looks at you, disappointment and anger evident on his face.
And something else. Something a little like insecurity.
“Oh lord.” You groan, “Pablo, I swear to fucking God, I was just drunk. I was giggling because I was drunk and trying to keep myself up. I don’t enjoy the fact that Matteo shows up, he just does and I don’t tell you because I know how you react!” You motion over his body with your hands. “Jealousy is not cute anymore, we’re twenty, not fifteen.”
It’s Gavi’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh please.” He shakes his head in disbelief, a mocking laugh escaping his lips that only furthered you to get angrier. “Listen—“
“No. You listen.” You snap, finger pressing into his warm chest. “I want nothing to do with Matteo because I love you. I wouldn’t even want anything to do with him if I didn’t! You’re insecure and jealous and you not trusting me after three years together, well, it hurts.” When you finish, you feel all the energy that you once held, deplete. You needed a hot shower and good nights sleep as soon as possible.
But you hated to go to bed with unresolved anger, so you stay there, waiting for a reply that never comes.
Gavi stands in front of you, his face fallen as his eyes flicker across your face. He just nods, running a hand across his jaw as he exhales slowly.
Having enough of the whole situation, you give in. “If it makes you feel better, the next time he shows up, I will leave.” You didn’t want to fight anymore, you just wanted to go to bed.
Your boyfriend’s eyes soften, “that’s not—no. You shouldn’t leave early because of him, or me, I just want you to communicate these things. Is that too much to ask?” He reaches out to you, wiping a piece of the fake cobwebs off your sleeve.
You watch the motion while nodding. “Okay, I can do that. Sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” He purses his lips. “Please go shower before bed, you reek of alcohol.”
Nodding you turn in the direction of your bedroom, but Gavi’s hand on your bicep stops you. Turning to him, you’re met with a guilt ridden expression. “And, I do trust you, I was just pissed off. I didn’t mean that, I promise.”
Without saying anything in response, you nod twice in understanding, and make your way toward the bedroom.
Tumblr media
Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.
DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to !
116 notes · View notes
sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 day ago
Text
Love, Money, Fame
The three times that Seungcheol tries to show you he cares, and the one time you finally let him.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: mentions of anxiety and poor mental heatlh. A tiny bit of angst.
This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.
One
Seungcheol likes you. He’s liked you since he laid eyes on you. Admittedly, one of the things he likes most right off the bat is that you’re on the shy side. He thinks it’s cute that you flush bright red at the tiniest bit of attention. And heaven forbid he lightly touch you or flirt with you. He’s actually incredibly surprised when you agree to go out with him and he swears he’ll be on his best behavior for it. 
The first sign is actually when he’s walking you home from the first date. He puts you on the inside of the sidewalk so he can walk along the street edge and casually reaches for your hand. It’s sweaty and you apologize for it. He smiles kindly. “Do I make you that nervous?” It might sound like a tease, but he really hopes your answer is no and there’s another reason for it.
You can’t quite meet his eyes but he’s relieved that you don’t pull your hand away from his. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass you. “Maybe. The whole concept of dating does, to be honest.”
He hums. “Haven’t dated much?” He hopes you don’t take the question as a jab, because it’s not. He just wants to know where you’re at so he can meet you there.
However, you shrug. “I wouldn’t say that… I’ve just been burned pretty badly before. The idea of starting over is kind of intimidating.”
He loves that you can be honest with him despite your shyness. He squeezes your hand lightly. “It’s your pace, Y/N. I’m not in a hurry.”
You glance up at him and give him a shy smile and squeeze his hand back lightly. The two of you fall into conversation again as he walks you home, but once you’re safely inside your apartment, his mind wanders to what exactly you meant by being burnt badly before. It kind of makes him heat with anger. You’re so sweet. How dare someone mistreat you or take advantage of your love?
Later, while staring up at a dark ceiling, he resolves to make sure he doesn’t burn you too. 
Two
He brings you to a house party. Things are going really well between you it seems. You’re still shy, but there are moments that you seem to warm up to him over the last couple months. This is one of those warm moments. You’re leaning into his side while standing in the kitchen and talking to a couple of his friends. He’s kind of touched that despite your nervousness about meeting new people you’re braving through it next to him, and because of him, because he asked you to accompany him. He gently rubs your back as you stumble over the words you’re trying to get out. 
He’s also relieved that Jeonghan bites back the grin at your little stumble. He’s already warned all of them that you’re pretty shy and he doesn’t want to have to hit his friend for embarrassing you. 
You’re mid sentence when there’s a loud sound that echoes through the kitchen. Someone’s popped a balloon. He feels you tense against his hand and glances down at you. You don’t look nervous. You look scared, every muscle in your body tensed and tears pricking your eyes. Instincts take over because he absolutely does not like this look on you. “Come on. Let’s step outside.” 
Your feet are planted and he has to nudge you a few times to get you to move. By the time he slides the back door open and you step out into the night air, your breathing is a little jagged. He does his best to be gentle, because he doesn’t want to startle you anymore. “Talk to me, Y/N. How can I help?”
“I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” There’s something mean about your expression all of the sudden and it takes him by surprise. He really tries not to take it personally, especially when you back up to keep him at arms length. You pace for a second and he lets you. When you stop and place your hands over your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” Something inside him plummets at the crack in your voice. 
Cautiously, he steps forward, placing a hand on your back. “It’s fine. You were startled, I get it. Does that happen often for you?”
You nod and he thinks you look a little numb now. He hates it. “Why don’t we sit out here for a while? We can stick our feet in the pool.” 
Your eyes light up a little at the offer and he feels kind of proud when you lead him to the side of the pool and start peeling your shoes and socks off. You seem to do a 180 when your feet hit the warm water, the tension leaking from your shoulders. 
He loses track of time there by the pool while he talks to you. He decides he’ll ask you if you really want to go to something like this next time. Maybe this isn’t the best environment for you.
Three
Seungcheol is at dinner with you and some of your friends. He agreed immediately when you asked because you’ve already met many of his friends and he thinks it’s important to show the same courtesy. Your friends are nice. A little protective perhaps, but that’s something he can appreciate. 
They ask him more about what he does for a living - the long nights, the traveling, the working with other idols. He feels like he has an answer for all of this. He loves his job, but it is ultimately just a job and won’t last forever. This seems to be acceptable. 
They ask him what his intentions are with you. Again, a valid and totally expected question. He has an answer for this too. He’d like this to be long term and he really has a soft spot for you. He watches you flush from across the table and grins. He seems to pass this part of the test with flying colors. 
Then they ask how he intends to protect your privacy given what he does for a living. He knows this is a trick question. Either your relationship is out and your privacy is gone, or you’re like a dirty secret. He’s always hated the catch-22 of dating in the profession he’s in, because it will always be anything but normal. But the only reasonable answer is kind of a cop out. He’d follow your lead on it. If you want the relationship to be out, then it will be and he’ll be proud of it. If you want privacy, he’ll do everything he can to preserve it. Your friends seem to recognize it for the cop out that it is but don’t say anything else about the topic. 
Then the threats begin. If he makes you cry, if he mistreats you or cheats on you or lays a hand on you, they’ll be coming after him. He almost laughs and starts to brush it off, but the whole vibe at the table has changed. They’re deadly serious and you’re squirming in your seat, picking at your food. 
“I won’t be doing any of that, but if I ever do, I’ll deserve whatever you guys have planned.” 
He means it and he hopes you can hear it in his voice. He doesn’t need to know your history to know he doesn’t want to repeat any of it.
Four
You’ve dropped off the face of the earth. At first he thinks you both have just been busy. But when he gets a couple days off and reaches out to you, his texts and calls go unanswered. He starts to panic as the hours tick by. Has he done something wrong? Are you okay? 
He’s impatient and worried, so he stops by your apartment with dinner as a peace offering just in case he really has done something wrong. It takes a long time for you to come to the door and when you do his heart drops. “Baby, what’s wrong?” The food is unceremoniously dropped onto the entry table and he’s cupping your face. You look like you haven’t slept much recently and your face looks thinner like you haven’t eaten much lately. 
“Seungcheol, what are you doing here?” You look surprised to see him. 
“I hadn’t heard from you lately and I was getting kind of worried.”
You give him the same look you did by the pool a while back. Despite the red in your eyes, you look a little angry at the intrusion. “Well, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Fine, huh?” Seungcheol grinds his teeth. You nod. “Don’t make me do this the hard way, Y/N.”
“What are you talking about?” 
“I’m talking about getting you to open up a little bit. I’m here to help and I will not hesitate to throw you over my shoulder and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Seungcheol’s words bite more than he meant them to, but he’s frustrated. You disappear for nearly a week and this is the condition you’re in when he finally sees you?
“Have you always been this pushy?” You scoff. 
Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Have it your way.” 
You let out a little cry when he scoops you up, tossing you over his shoulder just as promised. With a free hand, he grabs the bag of food. In the kitchen, he carefully places you on a stool. “I had no clue you were such a brat,” he chuckles with the tiniest bit of humor as he unpacks the bag of food, placing a few items in front of you. You have your arms crossed, glaring at him, but he smirks. “Now do I have to feed you? I will.”
“We should break up.” 
His eyes narrow at the threat. “We’ll talk about that after you eat. Now what will it be?”
You huff, peeling off the lid of the take out container, refusing to look at him. The dish isn’t even a quarter of the way empty before he’s abandoning his own food to stand and wrap his arms around you. You realize you’re crying. He doesn’t say anything, just holding you against him, placing a light kiss on the top of your head. It makes you crack open. 
“I’m sorry. It seems like I have to keep apologizing,” you sniffle. 
“I guess it depends on what you’re sorry for,” he mumbles. 
“Being mean. Ghosting you like that. It’s just been a bad week.”
“Just talk to me, baby. I want to help.” He wipes your tears, sitting on the stool next to you. “You don’t have to tell me everything until you’re ready. But tell me how I can help when you’re like this.” He picks up your chopsticks, reaching for a bite of chicken to feed you. You push it away with a chuckle. 
“Are you sure you don’t want to break up with me?” You ask nervously. You didn’t mean anything by the threat earlier and you hope he didn’t take it seriously. 
“I’m sure.” He says it so solidly that there’s little room for doubt. He kisses your cheek for good measure. “Now, come on. You need to eat more.” You don’t fight him this time when he picks up the chopsticks again. There’s something warm in your chest at the way he takes care of you and you aren’t sure why you resisted for so long.
126 notes · View notes
xinganhao · 7 hours ago
Text
📑 nouns & adjectives ft. mingyu.
the one where mingyu befriends you, the admin of twitter's biggest pop culture update account. excerpt/teaser & bonus content under the cut.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⌗ ┆i think it's worth noting that this is a wip i've yet to fully piece together. i'm still navigating how the fic might flow, but it's the type of story where a smau is relatively seamless. <3 so, here's the first couple of words to nouns & adjectives, which— as of writing— remains deep in my drafts (lol).
Tumblr media
Mingyu's guilty pleasures have always been stupid, harmless things.
Cooking TikTok recipes for the members. Blowing an inordinate amount of money on Gundam figurines. Stalking Twitter's biggest pop culture update account.
The third guilty pleasure is just a touch less harmless, especially on nights like these. Mingyu is mindlessly scrolling through SNS from his bed when his phone pings in his hand, the banner popping up indicating that user PopBase has posted something with his name in it. A notification he's set up specifically for moments like these.
Mingyu sits up a little straighter in his bed and, like an excited puppy, clicks on the tweet. It's a reposted video from earlier that day, but it's the caption that he reads over.
SEVENTEEN's Mingyu flummoxes with his apotheosic arrival at the Moët & Chandon event.
He's grateful that Wonwoo is out for the night because a loud laugh escapes him. Flummoxes. Apotheosic. This was the work of one person and one person alone.
He pulls up his burner account and immediately goes to message not Pop Base, but you. It's been a while since he's struck up a correspondence with you— the myth and legend behind the pop culture source.
You had a tried and tested formula for making your content go viral: Using absurd adjectives to describe Mingyu. It had amused him to no end, enough for him to reach out to you about it.
It's a reckless thing, really, for him to be so buddy-buddy with a fan. But you're surprisingly chill about it, and so he just... keeps doing it. No one knows, of course. The other members would kill him if they did.
He jams out a quick direct message.
🐶: apotheosic? really? 🤨 🐶: that's not even a word. u're just showing off at this point
Your response comes in quick, in an equally casual tone.
🤓: excuse you 🙂 apotheosis means the perfect form of something. 🤓: i am literally calling you perfect. 🐶: yea but does anybody actually use it in conversation?????
The burner account was his little safe space on SNS. He could say or do anything there. The other members didn't follow it. Fans didn't know he was behind it.
There was no pressure to act in a particular way, like he had to every single second of the day. And he got to talk to you.
Win after win after win.
🐶: i really could have just settled for gorgeous but u chose to get poetic 🤓: i would never disgrace you by settling for 'perfect'. 🤓: there's a dictionary and i intend to use it.
This. This was the difference between you and every other fan account, and it's the reason he keeps coming back.
Your wit and your sass. You never held your words back, ever. And he's not sure if you're like that with every celebrity you talk to on the Internet, but he likes to pretend that he's the only one.
🐶: wow u really care about me huh 🐶: i'm so touched rn 🤓: i care about getting 50k likes on my tweets. 🤓: don't get too big of a head, kmg.
Mingyu pouts. He's not sure why the words sting a bit.
He hates the way his heart constricts a little bit at your last line, though he brushes it off as a normal response when someone else jokes about him being a big-headed brat.
🐶: hey. no need to get mean 😔😔😔 🐶: i'm being so nice to you and u make a joke about my giant head ☹️💔 🤓: awww poor baby 🥺 did i hurt ur feewings? 🤓: want a wittle kiss to make it better?
He's biting the inside of his cheek now to hold back a smile. This has to be the most absurd thing he's ever done— getting teased like a little kid getting his favorite toy snatched away, by a fan. Of all people, a fan.
It's weird. It's definitely weird. He shouldn't be doing this.
But he is doing it, and damn it, he likes it a strange amount.
🐶: YES I DO. I WANT A KISS. NOW. 🐶: HUH? HMMM?? HUH?? 😡😡
When it takes you a beat too long to respond, Mingyu's mind wanders to possible scenarios. He doesn't know what you look like but he can imagine you laughing to yourself, can imagine you taking screenshots for a rainy day. It strikes him, then, just how much leverage you have over him.
If you really wanted to, you could send out one tweet to your 1.6M followers and his career would be over.
But that's the thing about it— he trusts you, and he trusts that you won't leak anything, so he sees no need to act cool or put together here. He gets to be himself.
He briefly wonders if his trust has been misplaced when your response finally comes through.
🤓: no kisses for you 🤓: unless you say the magic word~
Mingyu's fingers are flying across his keyboard before he can even think of it.
🐶: pwease 🥺🥺🥺
God, he's screwed.
Tumblr media
BONUS CONTENT .ᐟ
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
136 notes · View notes
lovegalor333 · 23 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media
˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .
im here
summary: you’re having a bad day so you call paige to come over so you’re not alone
content warnings: talks of depression
Most of your days were good now. You could get up in the morning, make breakfast, go to classes, study, eat and shower without any problems. But every now and then your brain reminds you that it has a chemical imbalance and you feel paralysed. Today was one of those days. Everything felt like a task that you couldn’t bring yourself to complete and that’s why it was 3PM and you still hadn’t moved from your bed.
You had woken up this morning with a familiar sinking feeling in your stomach and you knew immediately that today was not going to be a good day. You had tried to get up and push through but you physically couldn’t, it was as if you were chained in place.
You’re thoughts were dark and overwhelming and you didn’t know how to handle them. You’re mind was telling you the most evil things and you believed it. You believed no one cared about you, you believed you were a burden, you believed you were better off dead. Even after years of battling with depression it was so hard for you to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Your friends knew that you struggled and they always said you could go to them when things got bad, talk them, you weren’t alone, but you hated admitting defeat, you hated putting your problems on them. It made you feel weak, like a baby but you needed someone right now, you needed to be held and told everything was going to be OK so you called the one person you knew would be here in a heartbeat.
No less than fifteen minutes after the phone call, there was a knock at your door and it took everything inside of you to peel yourself out of bed to answer it.
“Bad day?” Paige asks emphatically as you opened the door to her. It looked like she had just come from a workout, clad in her UConn gear, hair bundled into a low bun at the base of her neck.
“Something like that.” You mummble in response as she steps into your apartment.
“Did something happen?” She makes herself comfortable on your couch which wasn’t out of the ordinary, Paige was a regular visitor to your place and had been since you first met in your freshman year.
“Just my stupid brain. I can’t take it anymore, it’s never ending.” You huff, feeling your eyes prickle with tears, “It’s exhausting.” You add and the tears begin to spill out.
“Y/N, come here.” Paige beckoned, tapping the space beside her.
Your steps towards her are small and slow, it’s all you can manage, if you moved any faster you might just drop to the ground and never get up.
You sit beside Paige and her arm immediately wraps around you in a warm embrace, whenever she hugged you, you felt safe and today was no different. She held you for a few moments in silence just letting you cry into her shoulder.
“I hate seeing you cry. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’re going to be OK, Y/N. You’re the strongest girl I know and you’ll get through this. These feelings are just temporary.” She consoles softly and you look up at her and even through your teary gaze, her face is radiant and glowing and her eyes are soft and comforting as they look back at you.
“Thank you for coming.” You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater, “I didn’t want to be alone.”
“I’m here and I’ll always be here, whenever you need me.” She tells you and her hand comes up to wipe a stray tear and it lingers on your cheekbone for longer than usual and your stomach flutters at the feeling.
Nothing had ever happened between you and Paige, you were just friends, really good friends and you didn’t want anything to ruin that.
Paige clears her throat as her hand drops to her lap, “How about a movie?” She suggests giving you a small smile, “I’ll even watch Harry Potter.” She says knowing that it’s your all time favourite film. She usually refuses to watch it, claiming she ‘hates’ it but you’re starting to think different.
“Really?” You ask taken aback at her suggestion.
“Yes, come on.” She stands up and holds out her hand for you to take and you hesitate a little because you never held hands but something felt different today and as you slip you hand into hers, she squeezed it slightly and your stomach flutters for the second time at your friends touch.
You get comfortable on your bed, gathering blankets and pillows while Paige flicks through Netflix in seach of the movie. You watch her intently from behind, her tall frame stood in front of you, toned legs slightly apart, her arms are crossed in front of her so her biceps are flexed perfectly and maybe it’s the low lighting of your room and the way it makes her skin look soft and smooth or maybe it’s your sadness induced state but you want to touch her, you want to feel your skin on hers.
“Paige…” You break the silence nervously considering your next words.
“Uh huh.” She responds turning her to look at you over her shoulder.
“Come here for a second.” You say shuffling yourself to the edge of the bed.
“What’s up?” She asks, coming over and sitting beside you, the bed sinking down under her weight.
You don’t actually know why you called her over and you couldn’t exactly say ‘I just wanted you close’, she’d think you were crazy so you wrap your arms around her in a tight hug and she doesn’t question it, she just hugs you back, her head falling into the crook of your neck. Her scent is sweet and vanilla-y and her arms are strong around your torso and your head begins to spin, “Kiss me.” You blurt out without thinking and you feel Paige tense around you.
“What?” She stutters, pulling away to look into your eyes.
You refuse to look at her, embarrassed at your desperation, “Um- nothing. Sorry, just put the movie on.” You say trying to move away from her but she still has her arms around you and she doesn’t let go.
“No, Y/N. Don’t apologise. I’m just- I don’t know, shocked.” She admits and you could be sick there and then, you’ve ruined everything with someone who cared about you deeply.
“I don’t know why I said that. Ignore me.” You mutter, eyes focused on your lap.
“Please look at me.” Paige urged, bringing one of her hands to lift your face.
Her blue eyes were beautiful and you felt stupid as you looked into them, someone like Paige wouldn’t dream of kissing you.
“I never imagined this was how it would go.” Paige utters, both hands now on your face, holding you delicately.
“What?” You ask stunned.
Paige had imagined you kissing?
“I always imagined I would initiate our first kiss.” She admits, cheeks flushing a light shade of pink.
“You want to kiss me?”
“Y/N, I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while.” Your heart skips a beat at her confession.
“What’s stopping you.” You whisper, leaning your face closer to Paiges and that does it, in a flash her lips are on yours and yours eyes flutter shut at the feeling you’ve unconsciously craved for so long.
Her lips are soft and subtle just as you imagined, she tasted like fresh mint and as one hand stayed on your face, the other explored your body, trailing down your arm and then your back, you felt like you were floating.
Your hands did some exploring of their own, starting at Paiges waist and making their way up to her chest where they rested for a moment before sliding onto her arms, your fingers finally getting a touch of her skin.
The smile on both your faces was cheesy to say the least as you both pulled away, slightly breathless.
“That was…” She begins but trails off.
“Yeah…” You reply, equally as lost for words as the blonde girl in front of you.
˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .
a/n: i love soft paige 🥺🥺
94 notes · View notes
hypnoneghoul · 1 day ago
Note
Hyp my good sir, I beg you for more on touch sensitive Dew 🙏
Touch for ghouls is a need. It might be said that it is for humans, too, but it’s different.
A ghoul that isn’t touched would…deteriorate over time, mentally and physically. They’d lose their mind and give in to the wild part of their soul.
The process had already started for Dewdrop, days before Rain was summoned.
Aether and Mountain had all but begged the young water ghoul to help with their mate once they'd noticed how Dewdrop fell in love with him at first sight. They realized quickly that Rain was that last chance; the last glimmer of hope.
And indeed, he helped Dewdrop slowly come back to life by reintroducing him to touch. Step by step the fire ghoul is healing and after a couple months he and Rain are preparing to take yet another step; sleep in one bed.
Before they do that, Rain sets up a wall made of bedding in the middle of the nest, to keep Dewdrop comfortable. The fire ghoul is grateful, wanting nothing more than to be able to sleep next to Rain, but scared of what unexpected touch would cause.
They decide on attempting to intertwine their tails—considering that the skin on Dewdrop’s is different than on the rest of his body, and that Rain’s own is very smooth; like the fire ghoul’s used to be.
“Goodnight, Dewdrop,” Rain mumbles when they’re all set. “See you in the morning.”
“Night, Rainy,” the other replies, and silence falls. Dewdrop’s anxiety makes it hard for him to fall asleep for a while, but when he lets it dissipate and focuses on the comfort of having Rain’s tail tangled with his own, sleep does take him.
Rain wakes up first in the early morning, to something heavy(ish) and warm spread out on top of him.
It takes a moment for him to wake up properly, open his eyes and realize that it’s Dewdrop.
At first he grins sleepily with pride, but then he panics.
What if the fire ghoul will freak out when he wakes up and fall back on his healing journey? No, no, Rain can’t have that. As much as it pains him to do it, he gently pushes Dewdrop’s sleeping body off of him and back onto the other side of the—somehow still existent—pillow wall.
Rain can’t stop chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for the other to wake up. When he does, Dewdrop doesn’t notice the water ghoul’s anxious behavior. It’s a good half an hour later when he decided to tell him what happened—and ask how he feels about it.
“Okay, so…” Rain starts, “I need to tell you something.”
“Yeah, sure,” the other smiles at him kindly, “is everything alright?”
“Yes, it’s just–I feel like you need to know you…you slept on me.”
“On you?” Dewdrop repeats with confusion. “Like…like I was touching you?”
“Yeah, you must’ve rolled over and you seemed–uhm, quite comfortable.”
The fire ghoul stares at Rain with his mouth agape for a little while before speaking again, “Uh–first of all, sorry–sorry for squishing you.”
“It’s alright,” Rain chuckles, “you’re not that heavy.”
“Sorry, uh–I…” Dewdrop’s voice cracks, “I have to process.”
“That’s fair, take your time,” the water ghoul assures and moves away to do something unrelated, not to stress the other out even more than he already is. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, too, to give Dewdrop space.
“So…looks like it’s all in my head,” he says when Rain comes back out.
“Seems so,” he agrees with a twitch of the corner of his lips.
“Do you think if–if I was able to sleep on you,” Dewdrop asks shyly, “do you think we could try hugging…now?”
“I don’t want you to–”
“Please. Please, Rainy, just for a moment,” he begs and Rain would be the most cruel person to have ever existed if he denied Dewdrop his hug.
He opens his arms and waits for the smaller ghoul to move. He’s nearly shaking—as excited as he is terrified.
Dewdrop closes his eyes before stepping forward. He gasps and clenches his jaw as Rain’s arm grazes his shoulder.
“I’m okay,” he whispers. He’s not giving up now.
Dewdrop lets out a hurt little sob and melts against the other ghoul, knees buckling. Rain wraps his arms around him and holds him up as the fire ghoul cries in relief.
He leans in and hits Rain’s chest and it’s…it’s fine.
He’s fine. 
“You–you’re so–you smell so nice,” he giggles through the tears. He can finally smell Rain like he's been wanting to for months.
“And you’re so warm,” Rain replies, nearly as emotional himself.
Just like that, Dewdrop is alright.
83 notes · View notes
whisperofwonder · 2 days ago
Text
Happily Ever After
Kita Shinsuke x f!reader - 1.1k words
Unbelievably sappy, I'm sorry to say
Tumblr media
You lean against the door frame, soaking in every part of this moment. This just might be your favorite time of day. Your husband is sitting on the edge of your oldest daughter's bed, both of your daughters snuggled in under the covers as he reads their nightly bedtime story. His voice is so soothing, it's almost lulling you to sleep. They love the different voices he does, and their giggles always bring a smile to your face.
No matter how long his day has been, no matter how hot it's been outside or how early he'd gotten up that morning, Shinsuke always makes time at the end of the day to read your daughters their bedtime story. As in everything else he does, he's unerringly consistent. You just know that this is something they'll always remember, no matter how old they are.
"And so, they all lived happily ever after." He finishes the story, and slowly closes the book. They're already drowsing, and you join him to press a kiss to your oldest daughter's forehead as he scoops the youngest into his arms.
"Goodnight," He leans in to kiss her after you're finished with your own goodnights. "I love you. Sweet dreams."
"Love you too, Papa," She murmurs. Your heart swells with emotion - you think it always will, no matter how many times you witness this.
"Okay, now it's time to get you to bed," He whispers to the one in his arms, already drowsing with her head against his shoulder. It isn't long before she's tucked in as well, and you have your husband all to yourself. With teeth brushed, you're finally both ready to crawl into bed.
"That story is one of their favorites," You comment as you snuggle up to Shinsuke, pillowing your head on his shoulder. "I don't think they'll ever get tired of listening to it."
"I don't care if they don't," He says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll read it as many times as they want."
You can't help but smile. "I know you will." You fall silent for a few moments. "So where's my bedtime story?" You ask, teasing.
"Oh?" You hear the soft chuckle in his voice. "Alright then. Once upon a time, there was a rice farmer."
"Shin," You give his arm a squeeze, "I was kidding. You don't have to tell me a story."
"I want to. This one's my favorite," He insists. "Can I tell it?"
"Oh, alright," You murmur, surprised that he seems so set on it.
"Once upon a time, there was a rice farmer." He repeats. "He was happy enough. He had just taken over his farm, and it was hard work, but it was satisfying. He told himself he didn't mind going inside to an empty house each night, and eating a simple meal all by himself."
You pull your head away from his shoulder, looking at him with a slight frown. He only smiles, then continues. "Then, one day, his grandma told him she'd found just the girl for him. Now, mind you, this isn't the first time he'd heard this, so he didn't give it much thought. Still, she insisted, saying that her friend at the senior center had a great-niece who was also single. Somehow, she made it sound like it was some sort of disease, rather than a perfectly normal stage of life."
Here, you can't help but breathe out a laugh, and he joins you. "So, to keep her happy, he agreed to go on a date with this mysterious girl. He didn't truly expect much to come of it. After all, he knows that rice farming isn't the most glamorous profession, and most girls just aren't looking for that kind of life. He'd accepted that.
"Then, the evening of the date came. At the very least, he expected to have a pleasant evening and a nice meal. Then, he got to the restaurant. He met this girl, and she smiled at him, and he suddenly felt like there wasn't quite enough space in his chest for his lungs." You give him a slight shove, now completely realizing where this "story" is going. He ignores you.
"As the evening went on, he started to wonder if he should expect more, or if he could. He had a wonderful time. Talking with her felt like the easiest thing in the world. He desperately wanted to spend more time with her, so he was overjoyed when she agreed to go on a second date with him. Then there was a third, and a fourth. After that, she insisted she wanted to see his farm. He wasn't so certain. It felt like a big risk, and one he wasn't sure he wanted to take. But he trusted her, and so he took her to visit.
"As he watched her looking around at the farm, his pride and joy, with a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eyes, he felt like his heart might just burst right then and there. At the end of the evening, when she stood in his kitchen and kissed him goodnight, he suddenly realized something. He realized that the farm had been missing one very important thing all along, and he had finally found it.
"And so, with this realization in mind, he was determined to keep the girl close. He continued to spend time with her, and got to know and love her even more. Finally, he knew that the time was right. His grandma seemed to know, too, because she gave him a very special ring.
"With that ring, he asked the girl to marry him. To his relief, she agreed. And so, the two of them built their very own life on that farm, and had two beautiful daughters. Their family lived there happily ever after."
Speechless, you can only look up at Shinsuke. He's looking right back at you, expression unbearably soft, as the emotions swell in your chest. "Shin," You finally manage, "I love you so much."
He cups your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing against your skin. "I love you too," He replies, drawing you in for a tender kiss. "And I love sharing our happily ever after together. I hope you know that this life is everything I could have ever hoped for."
"You are so incredible," Is all you can say in return, leaning in to kiss him back, long and deep enough that you hope it just might tell him all that you can't quite put into words.
87 notes · View notes
cheynovak · 1 day ago
Text
Bound by Fear - Teaser
Characters: Soldier boy x Y/N Female character     
Summary:Y/N’s life with The Boys has been one of constant fear, especially when Soldier Boy joins their ranks. She knows his dark history, and just being in the same room with him makes her blood run cold. But when a final showdown spirals out of control, and her friends are moments from death, Y/N steps forward, putting herself between Soldier Boy and The Boys. Terrified but determined, she offers him an escape—an out that might save everyone, even if it means sacrificing herself to the supe she fears most.
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Some spice scene further in the series.
English is not my first language 
*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 
Tumblr media
I can still feel my heart hammering, louder than the chaos that unfolds around me. The Boys are ganging up on Soldier Boy, Ben, and it's not looking good. Every blow, every clash between them reverberates like thunder, and I know… he's not going to back down. He never does. They’re going to get themselves killed. Or maybe he’ll kill them, because he can.
The fear I’ve always had around him swells, but so does a sharper instinct—to stop this. My voice is shaking as I step forward, yelling, “Ben, wait!” The others barely register my words, but he does. His head snaps toward me, confusion narrowing his gaze.
“Run away with me,” I say, not knowing where the words come from. “You don’t have to do this. We can go somewhere else. Start over.”
He laughs softly, almost a scoff, and I know he doesn’t believe it, and I can’t blame him. How many times has he seen me freeze or flinch in his presence? How many times have I buried my horror at his past under a facade of polite distance? Yet here I am, forcing myself to stand still as he steps closer, his gaze locked on mine.
He’s silent for a long moment, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. His touch is gentle, though there’s a hard look in his eyes, as if he's trying to see through me. “You’re scared of me," he murmurs, the words cold but oddly intimate. “You don’t want this.”
I swallow, trying to steady my breathing. “Yes, I do,” I whisper. “Please, Ben. Come with me.”
His grip moves ever so slightly, his fingers lingering near my neck, his thumb following the beat of my heart under my skin, as he studies me, like he’s weighing the honesty in my words. For a moment, I almost feel the warmth flickering in him, a hesitation.
But then Ben’s hand moves up, his fingers wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer to him, just firm enough to hold me in place, to remind me exactly who he is. I try to steady myself, but the fear is thick in my throat, and despite everything, a tear slips free, tracing down my cheek. I see his gaze drop to it, his jaw clenching as if he’s fighting something within himself.
"You're terrified of me," he murmurs, his voice low, a mixture of frustration and something deeper I can’t quite place.
I try to speak, to hold steady against the intensity in his eyes, but my voice is a whisper. “I’m not—I’m not afraid. I want this, Ben. I want you to come with me. Please, let’s just go.” I say holding my hands around his wrist.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, his grip still firm, his gaze unwavering as if trying to understand what on earth I’m doing, why I’m standing here in the way I am. Then, after what feels like an eternity, his hand drops from my neck, and I exhale, feeling the lingering touch even as he lets go.
I turn just as MM steps closer, the sedative ready in his hands, his eyes hard, determined. I know what he’s about to do, what they’re all about to do. Without thinking, I step forward, my arms outstretched, blocking him from Ben. “Don’t!” I say, my voice breaking. My back is to Ben, shielding him, and I can feel the weight of everyone’s stares—the disbelief, the confusion.
MM’s voice is tense, frustrated. “Y/N, move. He’s not worth it, he’ll kill you the second he gets the chance.”
But I shake my head. “No. This isn’t the way, MM. He’s…let us go, please."
I can feel Ben’s gaze on me, that hard intensity still lingering, but it’s different now, softened somehow, like he’s caught off guard. Annie grabs my arm, her voice a soft, urgent plea, “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. Think about it. You don’t have to protect him.”
But I pull my arm free, looking straight at Ben. “Yes, I do.”
For a moment, it’s as if the whole world pauses, like this decision is hanging in the air, impossible to ignore.
Then Ben steps back, his shoulders relaxing, a flicker of something like understanding in his eyes. And without another word, he turns to leave, and I follow, feeling the weight of every gaze behind me.
There’s no going back now.
--
Taglist:
@jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma
@ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27
@globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99
82 notes · View notes
teenidlegirl · 1 day ago
Text
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓒hapter 𝓢even
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ military!miguel 𝓍 fem!neighbor!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡
ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. your friends decide to go to the fair and you invite miguel, spending time with him. while indulging in fun, someone from miguel’s past comes in to ruin it.
ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, angst, tension, swearing, derogative terms, shaming, sexual remarks, mild physical violence
❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜
Tumblr media
“he did what now?!”
lyla and mj said in unison.
you tell them about the whole joel shitshow. they knew about him and your relationship. oh they hate him as much as you do. thankfully, they never met him or else you believe they would kick his ass and honestly you would allow them to.
when you mention miguel stepping in, both women have mischievous smirks on their faces.
“oh so your prince charming came to your rescue, how adorable.” lyla teases.
your expression falls flat. “cállete. he was just concerned, nothing else.”
“but it’s kinda like that though, your charming prince rescuing you from a monster.”
you roll your eyes.
joel is no doubt a monster, though.
“i always knew there is something going on between you two.” mary jane adds in.
your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”
both of them give you a deadpan look.
“honey, i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that night at the bar, he couldn’t stop looking at you as if you were the most prettiest being in the world. also not to mention how many times he offered to help you. giving you a ride home, fixing your sink and bookshelf, now helping you telling your ex to fuck off. the man is head over heals for you.”
you stare at her, speechless. her words sinking in, each of those moments flashing through your mind. you did feel his eyes on your the entire time at the bar, making you nervous and bashful. his sweet offers for fixing things with no payment. it makes your heart flutter. the man is truly a sweetheart. every time you walk by your bookshelf, you get flashbacks of miguel fixing it. it always leaves a smile on your face, heart fluttering at the memory.
him standing by your side while confronting joel, providing safety, protection, and support. never felt so much relief when he showed up. not to mention how attractive it was seeing miguel so firm and authoritative. those military tactics were kicking in.
everything this man has done for you leaves you speechless yet swoon over the moon.
is mary jane right?
is miguel truly interested in you like that?
“well… okay yes, he is a sweetheart but i’m not sure he is head over heals for me. he’s probably just being a good neighbor.” your words betray your thoughts.
lyla groans frustratingly and mj facepalms herself.
“girl, the MAN IS INTO YOU!” lyla exclaims, hands raised in the air. “these are obvious signs! the man’s love language is acts of service, pun intended.”
“okay, listen…” mj starts. “peter and i were thinking of going to coney island with the group. how about you invite miguel to come with us? yes, he’s friends with peter and peter probably already or will ask him but if you ask him, he’ll 100% say yes.”
“it’s a perfect opportunity for you two to hangout someplace else besides your apartment. go on rides together and play games. he might even win you something.” lyla wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.
you roll your eyes again at her last comment, lightly nudging her arm which causes her to giggle. trying to hide your smile at the thought of miguel winning some type of prize for you at the park. although, you can’t ignore the heat slowly rising in your cheeks.
“you guys are really trying to set up a date for me?” you across your arms, leaning back in the chair.
“yep!” they say in unison with proud smiles.
another eye roll, finally smiling. “i hate you guys.”
the three of you laugh.
⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃
returning from your girls day out, you catch miguel exiting his apartment. the same black duffel bag over his bulky shoulder. a black tank top with a navy blue hoodie over it and a pair of gray sweatpants.
jesus, he looks fine as hell.
you approach him with a smile. heart fluttering up when he notices you and returns the same smile. but you miss the way his eyes widen a bit as he glances downward towards your outfit. a pretty lavender sundress with a matching bow in your hair.
miguel is mesmerized, enchanted.
you always bewitched him with your beauty and lovely sense of style. it’s not often he sees you in a dress, a sundress more or less, because you’re usually dressed in business attire like blouses with pencil skirts or pants. casual clothing when it’s your day off. but a sundress? it takes his breath away.
it makes him wonder what got you dolled up for. did you hang out with family or friends? was it a special occasion? did you went on a date?
for some reason, the thought of you going on a date creates an unsettling sensation in his chest. miguel shouldn’t feel this way. you’re his neighbor, nothing more than that… right? there’s definitely nothing with you going on a date. you’re an amazing, beautiful person. anyone is luckly to go on a date with you.
but the thought of someone seeing you so dolled up stills makes his chest ache in a strange way.
why is he feeling like this?
he shouldn’t.
he shouldn’t feel his heart beating faster whenever he sees you returning home from work or walking luna outside. or when you standing so close to him, making his palms sweaty and face warming up.
totally nothing… right?
“hey. going to the boxing gym?” you ask, smiling.
“yeah. you look… nice. a special occasion?”
really, nice?
miguel wants to facepalm himself. nice isn’t enough or justifiable for describing how beautiful you look in that sundress. gotta get his shit together.
although, he can’t deny the desperation to know the reason for looking so pretty today. not saying that you don’t look pretty all the time, you do.
“girls day out with my friends.”
that unsettling feeling vanishes, a big wave of relief coursing through him. it wasn’t a date after all.
“lavender looks pretty on you.”
both your cheeks warm up from the compliment. miguel flushed as hell for speaking his thought out loud. you feeling flustered by his sweet words.
there he goes again making your heart flutter.
“thanks.” you smile bashfully.
now suddenly your feel nervous. it’s time to ask him, invite him to come with you to coney island. why are you nervous? it’s just a simple question. you’re simply asking your neighbor, and friend, if he’s willing to go to the park with you and your friends. simple question and easy to ask, right?
so why is your heart suddenly beating rapidly in your chest? why are your palms now slightly sweaty? why is your body literally on fire right now?
it’s a simple question, just do it!
“so uh - i don’t know if peter asked you this already but um…” you awkwardly clear your throat. “do you… do you wanna come with us to coney island?”
god you sound awkward as hell. you can’t believe how stupid you probably sound.
but the smile on miguel’s face says otherwise.
“i would love to.”
a feeling of relief washes over you. “cool.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃
the park is full like usual. a never ending sea of people roaming around the park. the colorful attractions and vibrant lights illuminating each inch of the park. laughter and screams filling the atmosphere, sounds of enjoyment.
the weather seems to be nice, between high 60s and low 70s. you settle on a white turtleneck crop top and a brown pleaded mini skirt with black tights and comfortable shoes since you’d be walking around a lot. since it’s autumn and halloween around the corner, you want to match theme and spirit. when miguel first saw you while waiting outside your door, his pupils dilate drastically. miguel swore an angel was approaching him. you look breathtaking in that cute outfit. the colors makes your appearance so cozy. how the tights perfectly captures the curves of your legs. his eyes lingering on them a bit too much. warmth rose up to his cheeks.
still manage to snatch his breath.
“you look beautiful.”
your cheeks warmed from his sweet compliment, heart fluttering in your chest.
“thanks.” you bashfully smile.
with your friend group, you venture through the park. it was peter, mary jane, eddie and shockingly anne. you recall eddie telling you about their reconnection lately. it’s nice to see them together, even as friends. harry couldn’t come because he had a business trip to attend, the rich bastard he is but you love him.
miguel remains by your side as you walk around. your hands would accidentally brush against each other, sending jolts through both your bodies. you apologize the first few times but eventually stop since you continue doing it. neither of you minded. he still remains glued to your side while waiting in line for rides. more so you both glued together.
miguel was hesitant at first about rides due to his tall and bulky structure. you and the group reassure him it’s totally fine but ultimately understand his concern. although, he was able to go on most rides. most times you two would ride together but sometimes you would sit with mj or anne to mix things up. he wasn’t fond of sitting next to peter, considering how of much the man screams and takes a million selfies before and during the ride. eddie isn’t that bad but miguel prefers riding with you.
he adores seeing you smiling, laughing on rides. how happy you look. the joyful screams that sound like music to his ears. never he would thought a sound would make his heart swoon. he recalls you saying you’re a roller coaster person, you were definitely not lying. miguel adored watching you having fun. it’s a sight he loves to see, it brings a smile to his face.
after a good amount of rides, it’s time to grab some food. there is a corn dog stand nearby. you’re about to get in line when miguel steps in front of you, making you smile confusingly at him.
“i can order for the both of us.” he sweetly offers.
“no, it’s okay. i got it.” you softly decline.
“i don’t want you waiting in line for a while. it’s a pretty long line.” he gestures at the line, consisting more than 15 people. “i can take care of it.”
god, this man is too sweet.
“you drove here, the least i can do is pay for food.”
you want to be fair and miguel knows that. you’re so sweet and considerate. but he feels guilty for making you stand in a long line for simple corn dogs.
“at least let me wait here with you.”
your heart flutters at the suggestion.
“alright, but if i see that wallet of yours, i’m sending you back to the table.” you tease.
miguel chuckles. “alright, lo prometo.”
after a long wait, chitchatting to kill time, you finally get your corn dogs. miguel was thinking of slipping his card over the counter but decided to respect your wishes. just this once, he thought to himself.
you return to the group at the table with all your individual choices of food. afterwards, you all collectively agree to get pizza as dinner.
after devouring the delicious pizza, you decide to play a couple of games and try to win some prizes. peter wins mary jane a stuffed bunny with a pink bow. eddie fails to make any rings in water bottles. surprisingly, anne manages to get them all, leaving eddie impressed standing there like a fool. you win yourself a tiny plushie of gary from spongebob. you wanted it since you first laid your eyes on it.
wondering around the various games and prizes, a pink butterfly plushie captures your attention. making you stop in your tracks. it’s so adorable, you never wanted something so badly in your life. well, besides luna. that plushie is absolutely adorable. too bad the game to win it is shooting basketballs. you failed at it in PE back in middle school and high school. there is no way you’d win for sure.
miguel notices your cute expression and an idea pops into his head. making his way over to the game stand, he hands the booth guy a ticket and starts playing the game. grabbing the ball, he makes the first shot. then the second, third, and fourth.
the group cheers and applaud for him while you stand there visibly impressed. not paying attention to eddie playfully nudging your shoulder.
after thanking the booth guy for handing over the plushie, miguel slowly approaches you with a grin, holding the plushie in his hands. they are just so big, the plushie looks so small in them. he holds out to you, heart beating like a drum.
you stare in awe, fixating between the plushie and miguel. “this is the sweetest thing ever… thank you.” you say with a pout, gently taking the plushie from his grasp. the soft, fuzzy material brushing against your fingers. “you didn’t have to…”
“i wanted to, hermosa. i saw how much you loved it so i had to get it for you.” he sheepishly admits, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.
is it possible for your heart to flutter more?
this sweet man.
you smile bashfully, hugging the plushie to your chest. “thank you.”
what you both fail to see is your friends staring in awe of the adorable interaction between you and miguel. they even snapped a few pictures because it’s too cute. you two are too cute.
⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃
after drinking tons of water, you head to the bathroom. miguel offers to wait for you, standing outside as people walk by, arms crossed over his chest. as he waits patiently, he notices someone approaching him. a man with platinum blonde hair, very familiar hair that miguel only knows one other person with the same hair color. his blood suddenly turns cold. thick brows now furrowed.
it’s kron, that asshole of a half-brother.
the devil himself, or actually his offspring damien since tyler isn’t the greatest man ever.
it’s a curse to be related to that son of a bitch. miguel doesn’t even consider kron a brother or family in general. the only connection they have is half their blood coming from the same, real devil himself.
fuck, what is he doing here?
“well, well, well… nice to see solider boy out here having fun instead of killing people.” kron taunts, a smug smile on his face.
miguel’s jaw clenched. “que quieres, kron?”
“oh nothing, nothing.” he lazily raises his hands. “i just was walking around until i saw your bulky ass here. y’know, you suck at trying to blend in. pretending you’re a normal guy but really commits the most brutal things just for stupid badges.”
his blood began to boil in frustration. he does not want to deal with this shit, especially not in public. “look, i know the shit i’ve done and i live with it every damn day.” he learns closer, whispering. “drop it.”
“yeah, the shit you know it’s fucked up, just like it’s fucked up that you got gabriel killed—”
miguel was about to punch kron in the face when you finally return from the bathroom.
“hey, i’m all set.” blissfully unaware of the tension between the two men in front of you.
kron, like the smuggest asshole he is, eyes you up and down. a smug smile on his face, licking his lips. “well… who’s the hottie here?”
you immediately are disgusted by him, especially with that smug attitude. “and you are?”
“kron.” he hands out his hand but you refuse to shake it. he seems unfazed by it, only smiling more. “so this your girl, huh? finally getting some, huh?”
you scoff in disgust and miguel is fuming, growing more infuriated with kron’s stupid behavior.
“leave, kron.” miguel said sternly, stepping in front of you to protect you from this smug bastard.
“whaaat?” he slurs out. “i just wanna know who’s actually willing to let you get your dick wet.”
your mouth drops open in offense.
miguel yanks him by his shirt collar with aggressiveness, eliciting a few gasps from bystanders. “say one more fucking thing and you won’t have that tongue anymore.” his hot, angry breath hitting against his face.
“oh yeah, it’s what you’re good at, huh soldier boy?” kron taunts. “do it, in front of miss hottie right there. she sure has you by the balls.”
just as he’s about to do something ugly, you push the two men apart, stepping in the middle.
“unlike you who won’t have any.”
before he could say something back, you kick kron right in the balls with harsh force. making the idiot groan in pain and crumble to his knees. hands cupping his now fucked up balls.
miguel, on the other hand, is impressed. no, more mesmerized by you. witnessing you kick the shit of his stupid half-brother was fucking incredible. but also impressed you stood up for him.
after informing security of the incident and kron being escorted by them, a big wave of relief washes over you and miguel. the asshole is finally gone.
“i’m so sorry you had to deal with that asshole.” miguel looks at you with a remorseful look. “all the disrespectful comments he said, it was wrong.”
those derogative and disrespectful words towards you made his skin crawl. miguel was about to let go of all his morals and show kron what disrespect looks like but luckily you arrived in time. supposed kron was lucky but next time probably not.
“it’s okay, someone had to shut him up.”
“nice kick.” miguel compliments.
“thanks, i don’t think that asshole would have kids after that. i may sucked at basketball but soccer wasn’t that bad.” both of you laugh as the rest of the friend group rushes over with concern faces.
“hey, you guys okay?” peter asks.
“what happened?” eddie follows up.
“yeah, we’re fine. just some asshole who was bothering us.” miguel explains.
looking past miguel, peter sees security escorting the troubled individual and recognizes him.
“oh shit, is that kron?” he sounds in disbelief. “wow, honestly not surprised it’s him.”
“who’s kron?” mj asks, confused.
“no one—”
“miguel’s stupid half-brother.”
your eyes widen in surprise.
half-brother? that asshole is miguel’s half-brother? now you understand the tension between them. you actually feel bad for miguel being related to him.
you look up at him to see miguel already looking at you, knowing what you’re thinking.
“through my father.” he reveals.
now it makes even more sense.
“like father, like son: major assholes.” peter jokes.
although you’ve never met miguel’s father, nor will ever meet him, by what miguel told you about him and meeting kron, you don’t doubt it.
“well, lets end the night with some fun and not let that asshole ruin it, yeah?” anne suggests.
all of you agree and enjoy the rest of the night playing a few more games and rides.
while waiting in line for one last ride, it starts to feel a bit chilly, causing you to shiver a little. goosebumps forming on your skin. shit, you should’ve brought a cardigan or a flannel, a dumb mistake you made. the fabric material of your turtleneck is thin so the cold breeze flows through very easily. you wrap your arms around yourself, an attempt to warm yourself up but obviously not enough. although, it doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain pair of brown eyes. taking off his leather jacket, miguel offers it to you.
your eyes land on the jacket then up at him. “oh no, it’s okay! i’m fine.” you kindly declined.
“i saw you shivering, please take it.” he pleads.
unable to say no to those eyes, you accept his offer and he helps you put it on. the inside is very warm, the leftover of his body heat. it feels like a jacket heater, very smoothing. you also smell his cologne, musky and rich. smells really damn good. the jacket is very big on you, reaching down passed your knees and the sleeves covering your hands that they barely peak out. the sight puts a smile on miguel’s face. how adorable you look in his jacket, how big it looks draped over your smaller figure.
⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃
you and miguel return home from the amusement park. you recall tonight’s adventure as you make your way to your apartments. trying to not talk or laugh too loud and disturb other neighbors.
as you reach for the door handle of your apartment, you suddenly realize you’re still wearing his jacket.
“wait, i gotta give you this back.” as you go to take off the jacket, his response stops you.
“keep it.”
you look back at him in surprise. “what?”
“keep it, chica.” he chuckles at your expression.
“but it’s yours and i’m not cold anymore. i can’t keep something that isn’t mine.”
“i have other jackets, losing one won’t be the end of the world. don’t feel bad about it.”
“are you sure?…” you ask hesitantly, making sure he is actually allowing you to keep the leather jacket.
“i’m sure, hermosa.” miguel said sincerely, smiling.
but the real reason is that miguel loves seeing you in his jacket - his own clothes.
part of you still feels a little guilty but you believe him. “okay… i promise to take good care of it.”
that elicits another chuckle from him. “alright.”
neither of you realize how close you’re standing towards each other, closer than ever. now you understand why you feel a small burning sensation in the back of your neck because you have to crane your neck all the way up just to meet his eyes. miguel really is a giant. yet, you don’t mind the sight pain.
standing so close to you, miguel can’t help but briefly drop his gaze to your lips. painted with lip gloss, giving it a shiny look. those very same lips that taunt him. as if they were a magnetic force, drawing him in.
should he be looking at your lips?
he should stop but doesn’t. why?
you do the same with his, guilty as charged. plump lips that seem a bit too plump, too kissable.
should you…?
as the both of you slowly, very slowly lean closer towards one another, you back away. you act nonchalant about it and say goodnight to each other before heading into your respective homes.
you hugged your butterfly plushie throughout the entire night, smiling in your sleep as you dream about the memory over and over.
little did you know miguel is having the same dream.
Tumblr media
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer
© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡
66 notes · View notes
allsadnshit · 1 day ago
Note
How do you mantain your relationship exciting and not feel daily routine as boring? Obviously being mindfull of the small things but also do you do actual fun/ new things together?
I'm not entirely sure what you mean by boring? everything is fun with the person you love? we definitely try new things every once in a while, sometimes small stuff like walking in a different forest path or like cooking something new - and big stuff like moving to a new place together. but just talking to him each day is fun to me, I think just talking is the majority of what we do together rather than hobbies in common. I think grocery shopping with him is "actual fun", so is the gym, watching youtube eating dinner, and getting coffee at the same place most mornings. I don't think I really subscribe to the idea of needing "date nights" in any specific way or like shaking it up for the sake of it - we are always changing and have our own interests that we support one another in, but I've always felt very in love with my husband's mind and what he thinks or worries about and the plans he schemes up and sometimes even abandons all together. I consider it a "who you're with" rather than a "what you do" sort of thing if that helps?
honestly this felt like a funny question to me - sometimes I think our love and bond might be different than other peoples and this sort of language is what tends to make me think that. we actually have a joke we always say to each other that comes from the first time I met his friends after we'd been together a while living in my hometown before we had the chance to go to his and they were like "what is it that you guys like DO?" and we didn't have an answer cause it seemed so trivial, and now whenever we have a funny moment of like being goofy in our own way together that isn't really "anything" we ask that to each other like "so like what do you guys even do together" and it always makes us laugh really hard
64 notes · View notes
sashi-ya · 3 days ago
Text
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー2024> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT
Tumblr media
ONLY MINE 💦 GRIMMJOW X F! READER KINKTOBER DAY 24: PUBLIC SEX
🐙 Requested by: Anonymous: Day 24 and Renji? Or Grimmjow? Afab reader. But just being so needy can't help himself 😩 ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. grimmjow being a possessive kitty. public masturbation and vaginal, hard sex. 🐙 wc: 838 // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist
Tumblr media
“Grimmjow, honey… you seem a little uneasy… are you ok?” “Do you really think I could be ok with you wearing such a short skirt outside?” 
You giggle, still naïve about the consequences of your skirt’s lack of centimetres.
“Ah… come on, it isn’t even that short!” you joke, as prying eyes of random strangers on that club scan your legs up and down.
Grimmjow grunts at them, he is probably about to use his own hand to poke a hole in their chests. 
“Calm down, babe… they are just looking, you have m-“ you still playfully tease him, getting completely shut by a snatching claw that pinches your cheeks to look at him. You almost fell from your bar stool, as both were sitting at the counter. 
“Shut up…” he barks, as he slides his hand from your knee to under your skirt and up to your core. 
“Gri- Grimmjow… calm down… we are in public ~” you inform him, as if he didn’t know, and especially, cared. 
The blue haired man, well aware of your surroundings, realizes nobody is really watching at you, but only your body… cause that’s with some men, they don’t even care about the human attached to a pair of legs and breasts… 
“Didn’t you tell me you were mine? Let them look how mine you are” he whispers in your ear, smirking before even taking lips from there. 
Your toes curl; you were sure you were finishing this night with raw, hot sex… however, you must have miscalculated when and most importantly, where.
Fingers “discreetly” reach for your thong, moving it out of the way, finding nothing but pure wetness covering your folds. And how could you not, if the moment Grimmjow grunts you are his, your core is ready to agree with him. 
Under your skirt, and the counter, his hand plays with your sex. Touching your clit from time to time, sliding inside your cunt. Your inner thighs tremble, your hand squeezing your glass that’s been empty since a long time now. A little bit more and you are sure you might crush it with your own palm. 
“Gri- babe… s-stop… I can’t” you whisper, trying to make him stop as it has become very noticeable you are indeed being <touched>. 
“Why? Aren’t you mine?” he scoffs, using index and middle finger to slide it inside you in a violent ram. 
You moan, knowing probably nobody heard you over the loud music, but your cheeks turn to fire from the embarrassment -and also since you are very, very close to climax- 
“Why don’t I put my dick inside you, mh?” Grimmjow comes closer, again, murmuring into your ear. 
You gasp, looking at him from the corner of your eye. Where, exactly, he wants to do that? 
“WH-WHERE?” you ask, opening your eyes like two full moons. 
In a matter of seconds, you are dragged against a very close, dark corner next to the bathrooms. Is it the most romantic place? No. Is it risky? Of course it is, but probably you are not the first couple to ever use such “love nest”. 
“Here?”  “Here. I can’t wait no more, turn around” 
You are soon pinned against a wall covered in stickers and who knows what else. Yet, you have no time to care, as your feral lover has lowered your panties until they reach the floor, and his sex has been freed from his black jeans. 
A few pumps get him ready, his hardness has been painful the last half an hour, and he is indeed desperate to be buried deep inside you. 
Lifting your leg just a little from behind, and crunching enough to reach your core, Grimmjow guides his sex into your wet folds.
You whine, loudly. This time you forgot about the rest; every time your lynx lover fucks you everything around stops existing. 
Grimmjow grabs your face in between his fingers. Like claws they manipulate you to look to the side and receive his concupiscent kisses. Tongues in and out, so lewd, so lustful. A picturesque lustful show that probably belongs to a different type of bar. 
“Let them see you, come on… show them… I want them to see how much you love my dick” he grunts, biting your shoulder from behind. His body weight, and the violent trusts makes your body hit the wall nonstop. Breasts plastered against it, that will soon be trapped by his hands… to squeeze them, to pinch them, to enjoy them. 
The sound of loud music and the humid atmosphere reaches you, remind you of where exactly you are. And the thrill of people discovering you adds a special spice to the moment. You know there are probably some eyes on your lustful show. Grimmjow said it himself, and he is probably more interested into showing those exactly how well he fucks his own prey… but what can you do? You are his, and that short skirt was indeed, for him to enjoy… in private, and here too. 
Tumblr media
Taglist of amazing babes: @awas-posts @missfuriosa @theneighbourhoodferret @cyberdazetragedy @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919
75 notes · View notes
vidavalor · 2 days ago
Note
I've had to disconnect from my dash because of all the negativity; I honestly do not get why people are acting like a semblance of justice+a movie is the worst thing in the world?
I'm mourning for the full six-episode season we lost because ng couldn't pass the utmost basic sub-zero bar for not acting like scum and of course I wish amazon had kicked him out and then sprung for it anyway (and honestly, as long as you're blaming the right person, I think it's fine to feel upset? We deserved better, the cast and crew deserved, Terry deserved better, and this one guy ruins it for everyone because the bar was buried six feet deep beneath the ground and he still managed to go lower, and that does suck, and it is miserable and unfair, so take a moment if you need it 🤷‍♀️) but let's face it, we got off lucky. Arguably, considering this was a standalone novel from the nineties, that then got made, in one of the best book adaptations I've ever seen, into a limited standalone tv miniseries (and, again, emphasising the standalone here, so even if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, we'll still always have S1 and the book; people have been ignoring the Jurassic Park sequels for nearly three decades), and then got a surprise sequel, we were pretty lucky the whole way through.
And regarding the whole what if it's bad thing, I was always going to be worried: I was anxious long before this shit went down, and I was anxious before S2 and even S1, as well. It's not like we ever had any guarantee it was going to be good beforehand either, and at this point, knowing what we do now, I'm not at all sure I'd have trusted ng to write this anyways. So while, yeah sure, I'm maybe a little more anxious now, I trust Michael and David with these characters and I trust Rob and Rhianna with Terry's legacy and story and that they wouldn't have fought so hard for this ending unless they planned to keep fighting and thought they could pull it off. Isn't the problem with this kind of thing normally that what happnes is the creator who cares deeply about the work gets pulled in favour of someone out-of-touch who cares not a jot about the story and needs to leave their own grubby fingerprints all over it? More the other way around here, no?
Anyway, what I also wanted to say was that I really appreciated your 'think of it as the final two episodes of season two' (and all your takes on this situation so far, very level-headed and optimistic, thank you). I mean, you're right, and it's hardly wildly out-there for a series to finish on a feature-length special, and although the filler material in S2 and the compression of S3 maybe means it doesn't exactly resemble what the second book would have been, it was only ever meant to be two books. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed S2 and was very glad to get it, even though I am a book/S1 fan and also had the most fun in that time fandom pre/post/around the time of the S1 release, but why does it exist? Ego? You can't tell me you couldn't have fit the important parts of S2 into one season with the S3 plotline.)
Basically, I'm grieving the could-have-beens (imagine if he'd been exposed way earlier and the TP estate had had control of this whole production from the very start!) and I'm a little worried that that hurt'll stick around no matter how good S3 is - which I need to fix, because that's more power over my favourite show and what it means to me that I want to give anyone, let alone someone like that - but at the end of day, I do think it definitely can be done with what we have, and I'm choosing to be hopeful it'll be done well, because, well, why wouldn't I?
(I will say this hasn't been great for my faith in humanity, because I really want to believe not all men are shit and some of them are making it very difficult right now, but that's an entirely different problem and so far believing most people are mostly good has always prevailed in the end so. y'know. we'll get there. might reread discworld, that's always good for that.)
Sorry for venting all this at you! I just kinda felt the need to write it all down once to get it off my chest... have a snack on me? I'm partial to cherry tomatoes, green melon and mandarines at the moment (I stop eating salads in winter, which means I default to eating even more fruit) but I can also offer homemade baked goodies fresh from this morning? 🥧
Hi there. 💕 You are welcome to vent away & thank you for the delicious-sounding snacks and kind words. I'm glad my posts on the movie boosted your spirits about it. I agree with and can relate to almost everything that you said here so assume that anything that I don't address just has a 'yes, absolutely' nod happening. 🙂‍↕️
The one thing I want to touch on here is S2 and this idea of it being "filler" that you mentioned that I think might not be quite accurate. I think you (and anyone else who reads this) might feel more enthused about the idea of a good ending in 90 minutes after reading this so hopefully this'll be another way that I can help?
On why S2 is really the whole story and actually had a lot more going on in every way than S1...
Tumblr media
Ok, I'm going to explain something that drives writers like myself bonkers 😂 and that is how some readers or viewers of fictional stories mix up plot and story.
Nothing grinds our gears than reading things like "filler" and "unnecessary subplots" because, while everyone is within their rights to have an opinion on written works, 95% of the time, the person who says phrases like this isn't talking about the quality of the work but of its very existence. They're saying "why did we have to read/watch this? it didn't connect to anything" and that's where they are very, very, very... argh, just tell them, Crowley...
Tumblr media
...thank you, dear. Right, so, why is it wrong?
Because what many people who don't write don't understand about subplots and more character-driven story arcs is that the writers sat down and decided to do that stuff for very, very specific story reasons. Readers and viewers mistake plot for story. Plot only exists in service of story and, so, all plots exist for a purpose in the story. They're all relevant. In fact, the stuff people usually label as "filler" in a story is really exactly where they should be looking to figure out what the story is saying. If you're big mad about all this time you spent with Maggie and Nina in S2, I'd say you might not still understand what S2 was about because you won't understand Aziraphale's story without understanding both Maggie and Nina's struggles in S2, for example.
A story is the whole, overall thing. It's the meanings, themes, and messages in the work. It's what's being said. It's the ideas being put forth by the piece. It's what it's about. It's different from plot, which is just the stuff the writers are making the characters do or not do in order to tell the story that they are looking to tell. Story is the art; plot is a tool used to make that art. Fiction writers can come at their story from almost anywhere to convey what it is that they are trying to say so there is meaning in the fact that they are choosing to tell their stories the way that they are telling them. They came up with these ideas for reasons.
When you dismiss stuff as filler, you're saying that it's lesser than more in-your-face and bigger plots (when, often, it's very much not), and you're telling a writer how they should have written their own story-- most of the time, without even fully seeing the ending of that story or giving any consideration to why it is that the writer wanted you to read or watch the stuff you're saying wasn't necessary. I'm not arguing that every story is perfect but you aren't getting anywhere near close to being able to evaluate a story if you're not willing to dive into what you were given and consider why it was that you were given those things and what they might mean.
Until the main question that you're asking about every single aspect of a story is "what is this saying?", you're not really fully engaging with a work. You won't get there by dismissing what the artists are telling you is important.
The secret sauce to interpreting fiction are subplots, actually. They exist to help highlight the themes of the main story, often in a slightly more direct way. If you want to understand Good Omens, starting with Ineffable Bureaucracy is actually one of the best ways to get at the core of the themes of the story. It's far from wasted time in the story.
There's actually a funny nod to the importance of subplots in 1941 when Aziraphale references Sophocles, the playwright who basically created the concept of the supporting character whose story mirrors and parallels the main character(s). The mention of Sophocles shows up in S2, the season that brings Gabriel more fully into his purpose as exactly that.
Tumblr media
The reason why S2's plot is centered around the honestly pretty easily solvable mystery as to what's happened to Gabriel is because Gabriel, from the get-go, has been the entire story distilled down.
If you follow nothing but Ineffable Bureaucracy in Good Omens, you're going to be closer to getting what it's about and where it's going and what its end game is than you are if you are dismissing it as wasted time when we only have few episodes left. If you haven't yet seen the secret wisdom in Jim-- not to mention understand that Jim and Gabriel are the same person-- then you're probably wigging out more about the movie.
You likely think that S2 was wasted on stuff like Gabriel, or Maggie and Nina's romance, when they should have been getting to Armageddon and The Second Coming already!
You haven't yet noticed that Armageddon has more than one meaning in the series.
It's not always the literal destruction of Earth but also a person's own life crisis. We are all worlds of our own and those worlds can be put at risk if we don't let others in and take care of ourselves and those around us.
When you realize this, you can start to see that S1 goes hard with a freight train of plot all over the place that is related to Armageddon in a more Biblical, apocalyptic sense while it establishes its universe for us but that, once we know how it all works, we can get something like S2... a time where we can step back and start using Armageddon in the more figurative way that the story is also presenting it.
We need to because the story isn't about Heaven or Hell-- it's about being a person. S2 is emphasizing the deeper aspects of the themes and rolling that out at a pace more in line with a person having a few days of inner crisis. When you see that Aziraphale's crisis is the point then you can see how S1 can be about The Four Horsepeople riding to the end of the world and S2 can show War (inner conflict), Pollution (mental health issues), and Famine (symptoms of the other two; lack of food and pleasure and connection; self-starvation and self-denial) as a mental health crisis.
The point is that if you're thinking these characters need to come together to overthrow Heaven and Hell and get to the South Downs Cottage and there's no time slajdflkfwjlkejlje!?!?, then you aren't realizing that not every revolution involves guns and bombs.
People all over the world can start a love train that's far more effective. You might think a subplot about The Hellhound and The Ginger Cat learning to play nice and that they have a fuckton in common and should maybe bury the hatchet and just become eternal bffs already is filler but Crowley and Gabriel aligning is set up for the end game. It's strength in numbers and finding peace and family. They can't overthrow Heaven/Hell without help and Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel. They literally will never have a South Downs Cottage ending without a plot that helped Crowley and Aziraphale see that Gabriel and Beez are on their side.
This is the revolution in Good Omens:
Tumblr media
It will take all the characters coming together to overthrow Heaven/Hell and set up something new for us to get a happy ending and we absolutely will. S2 is Gabriel-centric because Gabriel is the key to all of the characters getting a peaceful ending and because he's a split-directly-down-the-middle mirror of both Crowley and Aziraphale. In a season that is more about Aziraphale's inner Armageddon than about an external threat, Gabriel is vital to telling that story. The plot of S2 is every bit as important to the story as S1. I'd argue that it's even more important because takes the time to go at the themes in a slower, deeper way. It needs to because it's a story of a fall that sets up for a story in S3 of a recovery from one.
Good Omens is the absolute perfect combination of a show that is both very, very detail-oriented and full of depth while also being, secretly, an incredibly simple story. I do not mean simple in a negative way but in a chef's kiss sort of way. Simple in a tight and elegant sort of way. This is something that I think some people might not see when they're theorizing but it's something to keep in mind ahead of the movie. Not just because the movie is shorter-- this would have been relevant if we were having a longer S3, too.
Good Omens has a very engaged fan base that looks for the details, yes. *raises hand* I'm one of them lol. And there will be plenty to pour over in the movie, but... the big thing to keep in mind is that your theory needs to be something that is simple, that can be explained in under a handful of scenes, tops, and that is focused on where Aziraphale's story arc is going above anything and everything else.
If you're beginning with time loops and the birth of a new antichrist baby, I'm telling you from ages of experience reading and writing stories, you're going to be way off. If you are over here composing theories of the story that you are arguing are correct and this theory involves, idk... *makes something up* Crowley is really Elvis and Elvis is really The Bentley and when a rainbow hits Whickber Street at exactly 4 minutes into the new season, Satan will be revealed to really be Jesus, I think maybe you might be missing the point of the details that the show has given already. Like the plot, these details exist to reinforce the themes of the story. Story beats everything else-- it's what this is all about.
And what Good Omens is about? Is best summed up by Michael Sheen, in this single sentence that I really, really agree with and have paraphrased more than once in posts:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Good Omens is about the business of living. It's about the human experience, which is the experience of being a person. Everything related to Heaven and Hell and good and evil and Armageddon and supernatural things is plot that only exists to highlight a story about the complexities of being a person.
The supernatural is human and the human is supernatural.
That is what Good Omens is about.
While Crowley and Aziraphale are built as two halves of a whole and are both main characters, Aziraphale is the main character from a technical, story perspective, because he is the character whose story arc is driving both the plot and story forward. He's heading for a happy ending with Crowley in the South Downs by the end of the film. If you're making theories, start with what kind of plot would truly get him there and still fit with all of the themes of the story.
This 'it's about being a person' business is why if you look at S2 as filler and not as a season that is exploring the continuing themes on a deeper level, you're still worried about things like there being no time in a movie to show the story of a new antichrist kid being born or how they're going to fit the whole Second Coming into the movie. You don't yet see that Aziraphale parallels Adam and that being an antichrist is basically just being a person and that Aziraphale is presently the antichrist in the story. There is no antichrist child yet to be born. They won't be cutting it because it's not the story.
Armageddon since S2 has been Aziraphale's own personal one and the story from the end of S2 on is now how, if all the other characters can't come together to help him, it could also trigger Armageddon of the S1, Earth-destroying kind. It's tying a more literal Armageddon into a more figurative one. Because this story is about being a person so Armageddon is just metaphorical for going through a mental health crisis and shutting people out.
This story's themes include that every person matters and we all have to let others in and look out for one another. That there's strength in numbers. That found family and adopted family is as much family as biological family-- often, even more so. That labelling and categorizing people is bullshit and you should always open the cover and read the first sentences of people and help people whose stories begin with the same letters find one another. That it might be surprising who has things in common. It's about all of Heaven and Hell versus all of humanity, in the sense that ideas of being a perfect angel or being seen as an evil demon are concepts felt by human beings that get in the way of peace and healthy, happy living, but that fighting them is a common, human struggle, regardless of from where you come.
If you are too focused on the religious plot being the center of the film, you haven't yet seen the meaning of why the end of S1 was an eleven year old kid saving the world by telling off the bio-dad that was never there for him. You might be one of the people who thought this a silly, anti-climatic ending to that story, and don't yet realize that this is the entire story in a nutshell.
Tumblr media
Adam can only reject Satan and keep the darkness at bay because he is surrounded-- here, literally-- by a family that supports him. He has good people for parents and was lucky enough to grow up with resources that all kids in this world should have. He has an absolutely terrific group of friends. He has this witch lady and her boyfriend and these two gay uncles that just showed up out of nowhere 😂 and his human incarnate self has what it needs to make it through this crisis, in this moment, even if he'll probably have others throughout his life, just like all of us. He's not evil incarnate and he doesn't have to be perfect-- he's just a person.
Aziraphale tells Adam this but struggles to see himself in the same way. That's what S2 is about.
S2 is about that other kid who, like Adam, breaks the season down into a single line of dialogue, David Tennant's apparent favorite from the season:
Tumblr media
Jemimah knows who she is and she is happy to claim ownership over her art and contributions to the world. She's living her life with excitement and enthusiasm in a way that gets more complicated as we become traumatized adults. Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this. They have been making a life together on Earth for thousands of years and each struggle, in their own ways, to truly accept that they are people who are allowed to have a life because they struggle to accept that they are people, just like everyone else.
Their story is about getting to a better place with that. That's really all Good Omens fundamentally is. That's why their ending is going to be to go live in a little cottage together that isn't a business that covers up an angelic embassy that covers up a secret love den. It's just their house-- theirs together for the life they're going to live openly together.
If you want some peace with the film, I'd advise throwing over your theories about The Second Coming and Armageddon needing to happen and antichrist kids and how Jesus fits into everything. Jesus in Good Omens is Crowley romancing Aziraphale at the crucifixion and Aziraphale using what Jesus said to Crowley to reject temptation as invitation to fuck him. I thought Jesus in a single scene or less was the most likely thing for S3 and the same holds for the movie. It's not the story. The only time The Second Coming is mentioned in S2 is by the villain and, to get there, Earth would have to first be destroyed. It won't be.
If the story is about being a messy human walking the Earth and we're in the end game now, then the story is about Aziraphale and only Aziraphale. Everything-- everything-- will be in service of Aziraphale's story arc. We already had just a few episodes with S3 and we now have even less time but the way this is going is still the same. The story is Aziraphale's fall and the other characters coming together to challenge Heaven to keep Aziraphale from eternity in Hell. That's how Armageddon is stopped this time around-- overthrowing Heaven with Aziraphale's fate as the motivation to take on The Metatron. It's nothing to do with Jesus. It's everything to do with Aziraphale.
When you see that, you can see how feasible that is in 90 minutes, with plenty of time for things like 1941, Part 3 and other flashbacks.
I think, when all is said and done, you might wind up appreciating S2 more after the film but you can get there already if you start looking at it less as meaningless fluff and start asking why it is that we were shown this story, in this way, and what that can tell us about the story we're watching.
65 notes · View notes