#but i had to do it for old times sake yk
Text
i’ll just leave these here
#i had to fight in the trenches to make these (watch ads for each one i saved)#2023 polarr is my worst enemy#but i had to do it for old times sake yk#icons#original post#mean girls musical#mean girls musical movie#mean girls#mean girls the musical#renee rapp#renee rapp icons#reneé rapp#angourie rice#aulii cravalho#auli'i cravalho#jaquel spivey#avantika#avantika vandanapu#chris briney#mean girls icons#mean girls musical icons#mean girls musical movie icons
169 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm starting to lose it with my fellow pjo book fans. Specifically about the pearls.
Have we lost the ability to think critically??? First of all,this is an adaptation,things are going to be different. Secondly, Percy has already had an instance (with the pen, albeit temporarily) of losing things, AND accidentally (with the spear) breaking things???
Literally the moment I saw four my first thought was "Well, one of those isn't making it to Hades."...... Like what??? And even if it does.... So what??? This is an adaptation. It's not going to be exactly like the books. Those fuckers are old. Not ancient but hey, times change and the next gen/People who didn't catch it the first time around deserve to be able to enjoy it the way we did.
Also, about the deadline shit:
This a.) Creates more tension cause now there is a war happening (which like.... I think is a cool element), And b.) It further cements these kids desire to do good and to be better than their parents. Which..... Yk..... Is kinda a major point in this story???
(specifically: they now have no real incentive to do this. They SHOULD just go home. But they actively choose 'No, we are better than this, and we can still fix it'. Hubris may not be their fatal flaw, but my god is it what makes them human, and what cements that they are still just kids! This is a great addition imo)
There needs to be tension. This will, Inevitably create it. There is still so much to go. And Rick is notorious for monkey wrenching shit. Hold fast y'all, for fucks sake.
Anyway, I personally loved episode six. I love the change in the deadline having passed, and the four pearls.... The lighting kinda sucked ass, and there weren't any super obvious cameos of the Di'Angelos but hey. It is what it is.
But seriously guys, let's think critically and not let our nostalgia cloud our judgement of this. Kill the cop in your head. Fr.
Edit (spoiler for ep 7): They lost a pearl. Shocker. I CALLED IT!!! Also this episode had way more changes than were- eh. But hey! Uncle Rick is evil and we love him anyway so really no big complaints still.
#pjo tv show#pjo series#pjo tv#pjo spoilers#pjo#pjo fandom#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#percy pjo#percy series#percy and annabeth#annabeth chase#annabeth pjo#sally jackson#spoilers#pjo stuff
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
have this request for a Johnnie guilbert x reader
Ok yk that one audio that goes like "everyone is always connected"
What if Johnnie and reader are dating and are streaming and someone sends them a video of Johnnie's old vlogs let's say he's in target and he accidentally bumps into the reader and she's like
"bro tf watch out" not knowing they will end up together years later
absolutely!
Because we're connected
tags: cursing, embarrassment, meet-cute
do not repost, copy, claim as your own, or translate. read only on this blog.
summary: the saying "everyone is always connected" proves to be more true than you wish it was.
a/n: istg when i first saw this i thought of that iron man scene where its him and the kid goes like "i'm cold" and tony goes "i know, it's because we're connected" 😭✋
Your POV:
Johnnie and you were streaming your favorite game together, laughing and joking as you both played. The atmosphere in your room was comfortable and cozy, with the warm glow of the computer screen illuminating your faces. As you continued to enjoy each other's company, you received a notification from one of your followers. It was a video link, and you couldn't help but wonder what it was. Curiosity getting the better of you, you clicked on the link.
The video started to play, and you immediately recognized the background. It was from one of Johnnie's old vlogs, back when he still did the "my digital escape" videos. You watched, feeling a mixture of amusement and nostalgia as he went about his day, visiting various game aisles and hanging out with his friends. But then, something caught your eye. There you were, standing in the background, talking to your friend about something you were both excited about, walking behind johnnie. You were wearing a black beanie, a blue hoodie, and a pair of black jeans, and you had your hair down. You were a few years younger, but it was definitely you.
Johnnie, on the other hand, looked just as you remembered him. He was wearing his usual outfit of a black long-sleeved shirt, grey sweatpants, and a pair of black converse. He was looking just as adorable as ever. As you watched the video, you could feel the warmth spreading through your chest, remembering the times you had together before you had become official. You turned to Johnnie, a huge grin spreading across your face.
"Hey, that's me!" you exclaimed, pointing to the screen. Johnnie turned his attention to the video, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw you. "Wait, that's you?!" he asked, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in his voice. You nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, that's me and my old friend Amy. We used to come here all the time before we found our way to streaming," you explained, chuckling at the memories.
Just then, the video skipped forward, and you gasped as you saw yourself and Johnnie in the same aisle. He was oblivious to your presence, and before you knew it, he had bumped into you, sending your books flying everywhere. You spun around, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" you exclaimed, your voice higher-pitched than usual. "Watch where you're fucking going!"
Johnnie's eyes widened in surprise as he realized. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there!" he exclaimed, rushing over to help you pick up your books. You rolled your eyes and took them from him, your cheeks still flushed with anger. "It's fine,"
you muttered, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. "Just be more careful next time." He looked genuinely apologetic, his cheeks also now flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, really." he trailed off, gesturing to the empty aisle around you both. You let out a small huff, trying to compose yourself.
"It's okay," you said, finally meeting his gaze. "I should've been paying more attention too." There was an awkward silence that hung between you for a moment.
"So, uh," Johnnie stammered, trying to find something to say. "Do you, um… want to, uh…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely in your direction.
You felt a blush creep up onto your cheeks again. "I dunno," you said, shrugging, and left. The video clip stopped, and your eyes widened in embarrassment.
"Oh my God, that was so awkward," you laughed, shaking your head. "I can't believe I was like that." Johnnie laughed along with you, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's funny how things can change," he mused. "I mean, here we are, streaming together and all. Who would've thought?"
You looked at him, really looked at him. There was something about the way he smiled that made your heart flutter. You remembered the first time you had met him, how you had been so nervous to talk to him. But over time, you had become friends, and then more than friends. The way he would laugh at your jokes, the way he would support you through everything… it was just so special.
#jake and johnnie#johnnie guilbert x reader#johnnie guilbert smut#johnnie guilbert#itsmealaiah#because we're connected
375 notes
·
View notes
Text
Headcanons for the greasers x s/o who flinches when they raise their hand in a fight
Tw: Angsty ig, light potential violence, slight abusive
Ponyboy Curtis
-you two were arguing about his smoking again
-you really hates when he does it, and he does it too much
-so you express that one night when it’s just you two having dinner at the Curtis house, Darrys still working, and Soda is out with Steve
-“You need to quit smokin so much Ponyboy! It’ll kill you!”
“I can’t quit y/n, yk how I get without my cancer sticks, y/n, just lemme have one more!”
-soon it turns into a bigger arguement, and you both get into each others faces, yelling
-he raises his fist, not thinking, and pauses when he sees the fear in your eyes
-he feels immediately sick to his stomach, at the thought of scaring someone he loved so dearly
-as you run out of the house he yells “W-wait! Y/n! Y/n! I-i ain’t mean to I swear!”
-he feels horrible and definitely breaks down on his steps crying a bit and soda and carry find him there ask him what happened
-he explains and they exchange looks, and they make him go apologize
-he comes to your house with flowers and a handwritten apology, getting ready to leave them at your door when you open it
-before you can get a word in he’s already rambling “Y/n I-I am so sorry I would’ve never actually hit you, I hope you know that I’m so so sorry please don’t break up with me but I understand if you w-“
-you hug him
-“Ponyboy Micheal Curtis if you ever raise that fist again-“
-he never does
Johnny Cade
-it’s so hard to imagine him actually doing this
-I feel like the only way you’d get that kind of reaction out of him realistically is hurting his friends
-but for the sake of the hcs let’s say you both get into a fight and you try getting in his face or sum and he pushes you back, a lot harder then he meant
-you slam into the wall
-with tears down your cheeks, you always thought Johnny was your safe person, the last person on earth who would hurt you
-it wasn’t really about the pain, it didn’t hurt that much. But the fact he did it
-for Johnny, his world just shatters…. He just did what he swore he’d never do… lay hands on you
-he drops to his knees in shock at himself, feeling the worst pain imaginable looking at your wet eyes, your… scared eyes
-he knows that look so well, the one he’s had so many times himself and he feels his heart rip out when you run away from the lot
-in canon it takes a LOT to make him cry and this does it
-he cries in his hands, he can’t believe what he just did
-feels the worst out of all the greasers ☹️
-he lets you come to him, he doesn’t go to you, he wants to give you enough space from him
-when you come back and meet him at the lot his stomach does a flip
-“Y/n I didn’t mean to push you that hard I swear I wouldn’t ever hurt you I’m so sorry I’m just like my old man and ma…. I don’t ever wanna hurt you I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry….”
-practically drops to his knees before you
-you look at him, sighing, it’s impossible to stay mad at him
-you look him dead in the eyes as he gulps
“Johnny Cade you best never lay a finger on me again in that way y’hear?”
-he never comes close to doing that again, and even months later apologizes
Sodapop Curtis
-him doing this is so ooc like johnny lmao so it’s hard to protest and I think he’d again only ever do this if you attacked pony or sum
-you’re frustrated with him, he’s smart, dammit! Maybe a little slow, but when he gets things he gets them!
-and you really wish he could see that
-you both have enough collective money to push him through college to get a better job than a gas station
-and even if he is happy, he could be happier
-you both get into another arguement, and he grabs your arm, pulling you closer, and you squeal a little as your arm turns red
-he turns to you and meets your eyes, dropping your arm instantly
-you look at him in bewilderment and… fear as he starts
-“Y/n c’mon now please, wait…”
-but you’re out of that house faster than lightning
-he immediately goes to your house with flowers, and some jewelry that he’s been saving up to buy you
-you open the door “Soda, you can’t win my affection back with a half assed smile and-“
-he cuts you off with a sheepish grin “I- I actually intended to win you over in a different way…. Like an apology. I’m so sorry. I-After Sandy… I just can’t lose you too, to something so stupid. I’ll never do it again.”
-he is a man of his word
Darry Curtis
-one day he comes home, already tired from work and sees you there, crossed arms
-he forgot your anniversary… again
-he tried to apologize and you interrupted, furious
-he shoots back, arguing he can’t remember because he works all the time and actually does something with his life
-you get furious at this remark, and yell up in his face and he shoves you, (pb Curtis style 💀💀😭)
-you sit up, looking at him with tears because hell yes getting abused by Darry’s muscle mass hurts
-you look so scared and when darry meets your eyes his jaw drops, and he tries to apologize but you’ve already ran out of the house
-you head home and he comes to your door the next day, and the next
-your relationship takes the longest to heal
-about a month later you let him in and he’s mostly quiet, he feels horrible
-he lets you tell and scream at him and take out your anger, just so he can at least let you get it all out before he tries to apologize
-“Y/n I-i am really sorry. Sorrier than I ever have been in my entire life. I made one of the biggest mistakes I ever have and I am real sorry.”
-you stand up, and let out a teary sigh “if you ever lay another hand on me again I will leave you faster than you can’t count to three DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
-he nods
-it takes a very long time to repair your relationship, but once you do, he never lays a finger on you like that ever again
Dallas Winston
-one night, he gets a bit drunk and a girl kisses him
-you get mad, and see the whole thing before he pushes her away with disgust
-you think he cheated and yell at him about it when you both get home
-you both get HEATED and get in each others faces, this is definitely the most fast building fight
-he raises his palm up, nearly hitting you but taking a pause when he looks into your alone angry eyes, now with a layer of fear
-for a look the he’s used to getting so much his way, this hits differently
-he drops his hand, and looks down at it then back at you, and immediately tries to apologize
-“C’mon y/n I wasn’t actually gonna hit you you know that stop making such a big deal out of it-“
-you run out and he actually feels badly
-he won’t ever approach you first, he waits for you to come to him
-“Dallas Winston you NEVER do that again. Please.”
-he nods, and even, for the first time, apologizes sincerely
-he doesn’t ever do it again
Two Bit Matthews
-you two were joking around when suddenly he cracked a joke a bit too close to home
-you told him off and annoyed, he argued back
-pretty soon it was a full on fight, and he grabbed your hand and raised the other one
-you looked up at him “Two… were ya gonna hurt me?!”
-he snaps out of it, looking at you and instantly pulling away
-“Y/n, I’m so sorry… I-i don’t know what came over me. You know I couldn’t do that.”
-he looks into your eyes genuinely and you pause
-“Never again?” “Never again, promise.”
Steve Randle
-he left Ponyboy out of another hangout between him you and soda and you were mad, you knew it hurt Ponyboy
-you bring it up to him and he immediately deflects and rolls his eyes
-after a while things get pretty heated and he snaps, and grabs the collar of your shirt
-you gasp, and look down then up at him, and he looks at you, confused then guilty
-he looks at you as you back away “Y/n…… don’t be like that… I wouldn’t- I couldn’t-“
-you run out of the gas station and sit under a nearby tree, your head in your knees
-he runs after you, and squats down next to you, looking you in the eyes
-“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I know never do that to you. I’ll never do it again.”
#the outsiders hcs#the outsiders darry#the outsiders dally#the outsiders ponyboy#ponyboy the outsiders#the outsiders sodapop#the outsiders johnny#the outsiders#outsiders curtis#sodapop curtis the outsiders#johnny cade the outsiders#outsiders#outsiders Steve Randle#Steve Randle the outsiders#dallas winston#dally winston#dallas winston x y/n#x y/n#x reader#hcs#Johnny Cade#johnny cade x y/n#johnny cade x you#two bit mathews#two bit matthews x reader#two bit x reader#darry curtis#ponyboy michael curtis#ponyboy curtis#the outsiders headcanons
72 notes
·
View notes
Note
Is könig the type of guy to put a picture of sneaky in his wallet?
Because I feel like he is🧍🏻♀️
After the whole removing his shirt fiansco it might as well be a spicy-but-not-too-spicy-because-he-is-protective-like-that picture yk?
Ok so I know you've literally said that it could be something spicy *right* there, but for the sake of this super cute idea we're getting something fluffy ✨ with a hint of Sneak being naughty
You could hardly believe your luck. It was incredible, but you'd managed to find a day that both you and König were free after work and the rest of your team were too busy to question your absence from base. Price was dealing with something that required he and Gaz out of the country and Ghost and Soap were sent off on a mission elsewhere. None of them could track your movements and no one else was nosy enough to bother.
That left you and König time to wander into the city together, riding the bus like a couple of teenage runaways giggling to yourself in the stuffy shuttle, uncaring of the few nicotine addled people that rode with you. König leaned against the window and held you close to his chest, stroking your arm as he filled you in on the team’s antics. Apparently, despite heavily warning the 141 off of messing with their least favourite KorTac operator, the shits had decided to go ahead and do it anyway.
“MacTavish tried to jump out at me the other day, but I heard him blabbing to Ghost about it from way down the hall, so unfortunately for him it didn’t work! After that Price had tried to give me a telling off, but I ignored him of course, at which point I get assaulted by Ghost and Garrick when I walk out and-“
“Assaulted?” you groaned, cutting him off as he was in the midst of telling you.
Ghost had informed you that he’d had a polite word, but neglected to mention any kind of ‘assault’. At the time, you’d taken his lack of bloody knuckles to be a good sign, though according to sharp bitter tones in your lover’s voice - that wasn’t the case. You could only imagine what Ghost had done to König in the heat of his anger.
“He pinned me against the wall and practically strangled me, talking all this nonsense about ‘if you don’t leave Sneaky alone, you’ll find more embedded in that back of yours than nails’ as if he’s capable of that,” König snorted.
“König that’s awful!” you moaned, wrapping your hand around his arm.
“What was awful was the punch to the gut I gave him,” he said with a grin. “He let me go pretty quick after that.”
“He just let you go? Just like that?”
“Well, I might’ve run from him and his little companion, but that’s neither here nor there,” he said with a chuckle.
A whoosh of laughter burst free before you could stop it, but nevertheless you’d slapped König’s chest playfully and told him not to do stuff like that. It wasn’t worth riling Ghost up any more than he already was, he could be quite formidable when he felt slighted and the last thing you wanted was permanent damage on behalf of your so called ‘protection’.
Then, after the long winding journey had rolled to a close, you stepped out into town and grabbed something quick to eat. At which point you’d demanded to trawl the streets in search of a decent bar, looking for somewhere quiet to grab a cocktail. It was important you not go anywhere too crowded, but at the same time you knew that most of the old fashioned quiet places that König had pointed to were unlikely to make you anything nice if at all under the basis that cocktails ‘weren’t real drinks’.
Eventually, after a lot of discussion, sore feet from all the walking around, and whining on your part, you agreed to venture into a quirky little place with ocean themed decorations, ironically called ‘the dive bar’, that had a few customers and a relaxing vibe. The inside was lit by blue neon and dim yellow halogen bulbs and all the tables were made from old wood, like something off of a ship’s hull. It was cheesy, but it did a great Daiquiri and most importantly König wasn’t crawling out of his skin with crowd anxiety.
“I like this place,” you’d declared, looking around at the kitschy décor while you sipped your fruity drink. “It’s cosy.”
“It’s not so bad I suppose,” König replied, picking at the dewy label on his beer bottle.
“Oh c’mon, admit it, it’s fun!”
“If you think pirate decorations and hardly being able to see is fun,” he shrugged. “Then yes. Very fun.”
“Don’t be a spoil sport! Plus look, they have pool over there and foosball and… oh my god a photobooth!”
He groaned at that and narrowed his eyes, giving you a look as if to say not in a million years.
However, never one to deny you, he’d dutifully marched over for a game of pool (which you’d let him win of course, just to butter him up a little) and watched as he smiled victoriously when he’d potted the black ball. Though, he wasn’t so easily convinced into your next suggestion. Apparently getting König into a photobooth was harder than any other feat you’d accomplished yet.
“Those eyes won’t work on me,” he shrugged, taking a gratuitous sip of his beer. “I’m not falling for it.”
“But…pleeeeaaasseeeee,” you whined, dragging out each letter like it was molasses pouring from a tin.
“In case you’ve forgotten I can’t have pictures of my face floating around, Sneaky, you know this.”
“But you can put on your neck warmer!”
“I don’t have it,” he sniffed.
“Liar! You always keep it in your back pocket if you’re not wearing it,” you challenged, poking at his chest.
“Been staring at my arse much, hm?”
You felt your cheeks heat up, but nevertheless stood your ground. You were determined, you weren’t going to let him change the subject. You were high on the light buzz of overly sweet alcohol and you desperately wanted something to hold onto when you couldn’t have him near.
“You know I have been,” you winked, recovering quickly and embracing him. “And look – I’m right.”
He growled out and snatched the cloth from your hands, his eyes narrowing down at your ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ face. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead or held up by one of the decorative nets on the ceiling, but by virtue of being you, you were allowed to remain standing. Hell couldn’t beat the heat firing from his eyes, but even despite that, he broke and started to put the neck warmer on.
“You’re paying.”
You could hardly believe it, but you weren’t going to waste time standing there contemplating where the depths of König’s devotion lay. You followed him into the booth and planted yourself on his lap, excitedly slotting the coins into the machine, listening to them rattle, watching as the screen flashed and presented you with your options. Apparently you could choose a range of different filters and frames, though, ever a fan of the classics, you opted to go for a black and white filter and no frame.
“Look happy, grumpy man,” you chastised, looking over at him while preparing for your first photo and fixing your hair.
“This is me happy.”
“Don’t seem to recall you looking like that in the hotel room,” you whispered, brushing your lips against the side of his neck. "And I seem to remember you were very happy then."
The first photo flashed and you sniggered as you saw it dissolve into view, you looking sultry and pleased with yourself while König looked flustered under the mask. That one was a keeper for sure, no matter the protests that he made. He didn’t have much of a chance to put it down though. In a matter of seconds the timer was counting down again and you tried to do a silly pose, sticking up peace signs until König broke you by tickling your side.
“Hey! That’s not fair,” you said, half giggling half groaning.
“You got me, so I got you. Fairs fair, Sneaky,” he chuckled.
“You’re such a meanie!”
“Yeah, and you love it,” he said, his eyes glinting with a smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.”
The third and final photo was taken when you were looking into each other’s eyes, locked in a gaze that betrayed the sickly lovebirds you were underneath all the playfighting and cool exteriors you both tried to preserve. Neither of you said a word as it came and went on the display, both admiring how the other looked, stuck in your adoring silence.
Though soon the screen went dark and König sighed, petting your thigh so you’d stand from his lap. You obliged and wandered out, going to fetch your paper strip of photos when you were beat to your prize. König snatched them first and held them up at a height, inspecting them again while you jumped and screeched like a Tasmanian devil.
“Hey! I paid for those,” you growled, trying to grip onto his shoulders for leverage.
“Maybe so, but I’m afraid I have to confiscate them,” he said in a fake somber tone, easily batting your hands off of him like a kitten. “They’re classified, you don’t have the clearance for them.”
“But they’re mine!” you whined.
“Mine now,” he grinned, slipping his temporary mask down so that he could stick his tongue out.
You huffed, but eventually you vowed to steal them later, not missing König sticking them in his wallet and making sure to secret it away in his front pockets away from your sneaking reach. You would get those photos somehow, someway, you’d told him. His bullshit arm span couldn’t protect him forever!
473 notes
·
View notes
Text
TMNT Headcanons: Japanese
For every installment of TMNT I’m providing why each turtle would speak/practice/appreciate Japanese, enjoy!
TMNT 2003
Leonardo
- speaking in Japanese strictly to speak formally to Splinter
- doesn’t curse
- nothing informal, iykyk
- I honestly think he would be great at writing kanji, I headcanon that Leonardo has the neatest handwriting out of his brothers
Raphael
- definetely uses that shit to degrade EVERYONE and EVERYTHING that pisses him off.
- You know that man gets mad at everything, even BUGS.
-Expect it to be very informal, likes to use it around Casey to confuse him
-can’t write it as good as Leo, but it’s legible & that’s what matters y’all
Donatello
- uses it to curse…but a little for the sake of speaking it just to speak it.
- Still working on informalities and formalities, but whatever
- not the best at writing it
-chicken scratch fr fr
- don’t ask him to write anything for you
-secretly uses duolingo, emotionally attached to the duo bird xoxo
Michelangelo
- uses it to curse
- can translate (when nobody asked,)
- also to joke around, observe:
Raph: *incoherent cursing in Japanese*
Mikey: so what he means to say is-
Leo: I know what he said!
TMNT 2007
Leonardo
-loves to describe different things using Japanese. Like, he'll compliment the weather or the way something looks
-liked to use it in South America to scare people into thinking it was a ghost
- sort of kind of writes it, not all the time, I think 2007!Leo would fuck up some Japanese poetry though <3
Raphael
-you guys remember his police radio right? Sometimes he'll go on there and talk in Japanese just to fuck with them.
-they dont know what he's saying
-observe the phrase Raph loves the most:
"クソ制服からゼリーを舐め続けろ、ろくでなし！"
-ill let you guys search that.
- uses it around Mikey to confuse him, but only for short phrases
-doesn’t write it as much, I headcanon he has the second best handwriting in this one since he’s canonically left handed, (I’m ambidextrous) but I speak for all left handed people that we dislike the lead stain on the side of our hands A LOT.
Donatello
-like raph, he uses it someitmes to fuck with the customers on the other line of his IT Tech Support job. If they're giving him a hard time, or being plain stupid, he'll start describing what to do to fix their problem in a different language.
-uses it freely, except one time he was helping a guy who was fluent in it.
-all it took was a "yokai" in response and Donnie was bamboozled.
-he doesn't use it as much on there anymore after that.
-definitely had one of those learn kanji books where you trace the symbols so he can better learn the linework
Michelangelo
-i like to think in this universe of tmnt, Mikey and Splinter watch J-dramas together
-its already mentioned that Splinter is into soaps, imagine him and Mikey watching a good old J-Drama from the 90s.
-Without english subtitles
-Splinter likes it that way, it's more dramatic
-has definitely taught some kids from the parties he hosted how to write pizza in Japanese
TMNT 2012
Leonardo
-okay, he definetely has watched Space Heroes in the Japanese Dub
-A1 voice acting, he loves it
-He sometimes like to say the orders in his head he says to his brothers in Japanese, to see if he still got his translating skills yk?
- would try and speak it around Karai to impress her no doubt
- called inanimate objects by their name in Japanese- couch: ソファー table: テーブル mutagen: 変異原, you get the gist yall
-while splinter was teaching them all how to read and write, Leo got his hands on some post-its and stuck them on every piece of furniture and machinery around the lair and wrote their name in kanji
-convinced that it works and don’t tell him otherwise
Donatello
-would 100% teach April a thing or two
-Master Splinter offered to teach April
-cue Donnie coming into the cut saying he could do it instead
-one on one study sessions with him and April, she enjoys it a lot
-donnie is actually a great teacher
-until he gets into the phonetic and semantics- ie; the science on why in the Japanese language they pronounce certain things the way they do
-she doesn't remember much about that part
- talks to himself while he’s working on an invention, sometimes to Timothy
-Timothy definitely doesn’t understand what the fuck he’s saying
Bayverse TMNT
Leonardo
-most likely uses it while on missions and fighting and in stealth mode, but mainly uses sign language during said stealth mode
-he practices his writing all the time, is really into line work and origins of the language/the evolution of it from ancient to modern Japanese
- enjoys reading it in his downtime, that man definitely has a stack of old Japanese literature that he likes to read!
Donatello
-Reddit man for the win
- anything about Japanese culture/aesthetics, he can answer!
-doesn’t speak it much, but he enjoys learning about the culture a lot!
-REALLY loves Japanese City Pop, probably bayverse Donnie’s favorite genre of music no doubt
-Donnie passes notes under the door of his lab to whoever’s passing by when he needs something, not a full sentence at all, just one word notes.
Observe:
After some loud knocking coming from the other side of the lab door, Leonardo comes to it as if it’s a habit at this point. He’s so used to Donnie not coming out his lab for hours, and he’s come accustomed to retrieving any item he needs from the “outside world.”
So when he sees the neatly placed slip of paper of “food!” written in chicken scratch kanji, he’s trudging his feet to the cupboard where Donnie’s secret stash of lab snacks are. Yes, a whole bin that’s labeled “lab snacks.” He reaches for the usual packet of strawberry frosted Pop-Tarts, noticing that there’s only one box left. He would have to ask April to get some again soon.
Leonardo wonders if he should attempt to toast them for Donnie, but as he glances at the silver toaster that Donnie fixed (again) a few nights ago, he thinks about how badly it would end and how pissed Donnie would get for having to fix it the 4th time this week. He picks out the aluminum wrapped strawberry Pop Tarts as is, placing the bin back in its secret place to where Mikey can’t see it.
Raphael
-likes the art aspect of Japanese culture, has the kanji for “family” etched on his shell
-since he knits in his past time, he makes small things that reflect the language or art in some way, whether it be making a cherry blossom rug for Splinter’s room, or making Mikey his requested mits for the winter time patrols with his name written in kanji
- like Donnie, he doesn’t verbally speak it, but incorporates it into his life in some way
-will engrave anything if his that he can with kanji
-since he can’t exactly get a tattoo, he reverts to engraving, hence his shell
Michelangelo
- 100% calls the pizza shop and orders in Japanese
-they don’t understand what he’s saying
-when the Hamato family is feeling some Japanese food, he hits them up and orders in Japanese, he gets all giddy when they respond back
Rise!TMNT
Leonardo
-him and Donnie argue in Japanese 110%
-he’s struggling with memorizing certain kanji symbols, so he’s using Rosetta Stone
-doesn’t like the Duo bird
-has a conspiracy theory that the Duo bird tracks his every move???
-will switch the TV to a J-Drama or put Splinter’s TV to the Japanese Dub version of whatever he’s watching just to fuck with him
-secretly enjoys said J-Dramas
-pretends to be leader and barks orders in Japanese
-yeah nobody listens to him
Donatello
-using his “platinum library card,” he loves those Japanese picture books of modern art
-DOES NOT lend them to Mikey, since he’s missing some now
-overdue library books because of this
-really enjoys those learn kanji trace workbooks, will trace the symbols with a purple colored pencil
-also, everything he writes will be in purple
-he doesn’t care what you think about that
Raphael
-calls animals by their name in Japanese
-cats, dogs, whatever! He’s naming them out loud
-had a pet parrot once that he got to speak back to him in Japanese
-he loved that
-until Leo got his parrot to curse in Japanese
-didn’t know how to make him stop, so he had to deal with that for a while
Michelangelo
-participates in changing the TV around to the Japanese Dub with Leo to mess with Splinter
-the cause of Donnie’s overdue books
-he really likes the art! Preferably the modern art
-100% prank calls people with Leo pretending to be foreign realtors & telling people they’re overdue on their car insurance
Masterlist
#tmnt#tmnt 2007#bayverse tmnt#tmnt 2012#tmnt 2003#raphael#donatello#leonardo#tmnt imagines#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt imagine#tmnt headcanons#tmnt 2018#tmnt 2016#tmnt fandom
431 notes
·
View notes
Text
Brand New; Bakugouxreader
After chasing you away when it was revealed that you were pregnant, you start a new life. The baby didn’t survive so your life was your own withiut trave of him. A life without Bakugou. Can he do the same as good as you? You’re happy. Is he?
TW: hurt, angst, no comfort for Bakugou, unwanted pregnancy, miscarriage, break ups, fighting (verbal), good ending for reader, not proof read, unprotected sex, hatred.
I was just in that angsty mood yk? Yall btw, i wanna cut my vagina off fr. And i dont want myears anymore. Whats the point of hearing if it only works sometimes?! Ugh.
You resented him. Bakugou was officially dead to you. In fact he had been dead to you for a while. But when he decided to pop up into your life and try to ruin it again. You were pissed.
During your sophmore year of highschool you were dating Bakugou. You two were childhood friends, attached at the hip. But when he decided that fucking with a faulty condom would be a good thing, even when you protested, it all changed.
He got you pregnant. All because he didn’t wanna wait to get his dick wet till he could get a new condom to replace of the one he’d been carrying in his pocket for the whole span of the 3 day camping trip you two took.
Didn’t he understand that this was a huge change for you too? No, he was selfish.
“I don’t have time for a damn child! Im trying to be a hero for gods sake!” “Okay?! You can’t just try to force and abortion on me like that you piece of shit! This was all you! And you think I don’t have shit to do with my life to?!” “Your life isnt as important as mine!”
You packed your shit and left that week. You never looked back. And you regret nothing.
You moved out to the far countryside of Japan. Somewhere hidden in the fog of a deserted, closed off town. You finished your highschool years in that small little village. You got to know everyone in the town. You went to college in another side of the outskirts and graduated with a degree that would keep you happy.
The baby didn’t survive, you didn’t even have time to think about whether or not you wanted to keep it before it died. You remember going to the doctor about a day or two after the incident to check on the parasite in your stomach. It was gone.
You remember laughing biterly, tears whelling up at what the doctor told you. All that bickering and loss just for a false alarm. You were sick.
Now, for the first time in a long time, you were happy. You were 24 with a house and car, a stable job, plenty of non-judging allies, friends and good relationships, financial stability, a nice area of living, and most of all; you were without him.
You swore never to step back into the city again unless absolutely necessary. Not even for family visits. The family that did want to see you came out to you instead of vice versa. You also made sure not to tell any of your old friends where you had gone.
You knew he patrolled the streets. Even if theres a small chance you’d see him again, you wanted to prevent that at all costs.
But apparently no matter how far you ran, the past ran faster.
Everyone in the town knew eachothers stories and you were no exception. The town knew that you had been betrayed by such a famous man. They were kind, they took down any advertisements for the man, they talked shit whenever he came up on tv, etc.
So of course all hell broke loose when he came to your small town to work on a case. They knew they needed to keep you away from him and they knew how.
So, as Bakugou was roaming the streets, spreading his bitter aura like the plague on everything he touched, you hid.
The plan was almost compromised when he met eyes with you breifly. You were in a neighbors house when it happened. Everyone had just been notified that he came through so you weren’t ready.
You dissapeared from the window as quickly as you came. Even though he beckoned himself a fool, a crazy man for even thinking his first love was in this building after all these years still as gorgeous as he remembers; he still found himself walking up to the door and placing a firm knock.
It was not you whom answered his knock but the neighbor. A tiny brown woman with glassy green eyes who looked about 25. A coldness wafted off of her as she questioned his reasoning for knocking. He felt like a borderline schizophrenic. According to himself, he was just so deperate to see her again that when he saw a woman around the same age as you he was stiff and stunned.
He packed his shit and left that week. He looked back. He regreted everything.
#bakugou headcanons#bakugou x reader#mha x reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou katsuki#katsuki x reader#bakugou smut#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou angst
590 notes
·
View notes
Text
There is something so delicious abt the intertwining of failure and success when it comes to the narratives of pathologic.
Daniil enters the town a success, a celebrity doctor, well know and well liked, desperate to save his lab and secure funding but ultimately it isn’t the end of his life if the Hail Mary doesn’t turn out- he still might find a way to save it. Even though the details are uncertain, Daniil Dankovsky enters the town mostly a success. Artemy enters the town hated, suspected of patricide, denied his inheritance, in p2 he didn’t get the degree his father wished of him (it was more about the actual learning than the degree but still) because he was drafted into the war. His old friends dislike him and all hate eachother, by all metrics, Artemy Burakh enters the town a complete failure.
However, even when Daniil gets the Utopian ending, his entire time in the Town is a never ending cycle of little victories that ultimately end in failures. He barely does jack shit, even his medicine sucks ass and doesn’t work. He’s technically the only person here with a medical degree even if both Rubin and Artemy are qualified, yet he functions as a bureaucrat most the time. Even if he gets the utopian ending, he still has failed to save his lab and his old life, it’s all still in ashes.
In Daniils quests, even the ones you do well, half the time it still feels like you’re losing. Daniils story is the story of a man who lost everything he held dear in the span of 2 weeks, the entire time getting punched in the balls.
However, Artemy, even though he enters the town as a failure, retakes his place. He manages to disprove his guilt, he finds his fathers murderer, takes his revenge, he takes his rightful place in the kin (debatable how much he wanted to but like, he didn’t want literally anything so yk), he reunites his friends, his medicine is so good, even when you’re playing as Daniil it’s THE most useful medicine you can create by far. HE ADOPTS CHILDREN FOR FUCKS SAKE.
If Daniil wins, he’s destroyed the town and the people will forever hate him for taking it away. If Artemy wins, he’s the town hero, the one who successfully filled his fathers shoes and saved the town from a deadly outbreak.
Does Daniil deserve such a title for his ending? Absolutely not lmao, he’s an outsider afterall. This was never his world to come in on, merely all he had left. But it’s simply showing how Daniil is doomed to be a failure, and Artemy has the chance of being a hero.
AND the way this feeds into burakovsky is great I feel, the town hero and the disgraced doctor. The one who had it all and lost it all vs the one who lost it all and gained so much more than he ever could’ve expected. Not to say Artemy has only won, but he comes out of the outbreak with far more of a purpose and direction in life, he has a job to do. Daniil has nothing at all, the closest thing being his old friends who spend all their nights drinking away their lives mourning the dream of Utopia. Artemy has set up the future of the town, the children who will ultimately succeed him. Daniil has lost the closest thing he had to a child as well as his own hope.
The story of Daniil is getting beat into the ground where the story of Artemy is climbing your way out of the pits of hell. And idk. I think. I just think it’s fun. (AND both of these things do LITERALLY happen- with Daniil getting the shit beat out of him in the abattoir and whenever you talk to Clara before Artemy jumps in the pit. Or in p2 whenever it’s arguably even more clear that he jumps in a glowing red pit and makes his way out of the bowels of the earth yk)
#Daniil saying he’s used to winning is such a cruel joke when his whole route is him repeatedly losing over and over again#before eventually losing himself#ITS SO GOOD. I just love how you never feel like you’re winning as Daniil. it’s fascinating.#he gives me so many feelings#truly a man doomed by the narrative#I fear this is mostly nonsense but hey#first pathologic text post#innane ramblings#probably relatively milque toast observations but whatever#daniil dankovsky#pathologic#pathologic 2#artemy burakh#wont tag burakovsky because I don’t go into much depth but know it is about them in that way.#and yes I mix p1 and 2 events with little regard for how much sense it makes- sue me#I make my own canon
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
(you are a) natural, baby - Sam Winchester/Reader
read it on ao3.
Pairing: Virgin!Sam Winchester/AFAB!Reader (vaguely s1 or 2)
Tags/Warnings: blowjobs, deepthroating, Impala sex, whiny/submissive Sam (with hints of the opposite). nothing too insane. yk the deal.
Word Count: 11034
Notes: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. i've been. thinking about sam lately. and i MAY or may not have had the most vivid wet dream of my life... which may or may not have inspired this slightly........... enjoy! there will be a sequel btw ;) for plot's sake, yes, Sam is 23 and is still a virgin 🍾
Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!
You couldn't believe your luck.
You notched the car into park, lips parted in disbelief. Holy shit. Rain bore down on the car from all sides, making an already dark night impossible to walk in, nevermind drive. Baby—or the Impala, you corrected yourself, since Sam always poked fun at you for picking up Dean's little nickname—had puttered out her last huff of warm air a few miles back. That left at least another hour’s worth of driving until you were back to Dean, who was waiting back where your present job was. There was no way you could get back in this weather. It'd be past midnight soon anyway, so…
You played your fingers on the wheel. Bent over it, squinting at the rain. Slumped back in your seat. All the while, Sam watched you go through the motions passively. He already knew what you knew: you'd have to camp here for the night. Just the two of you. Alone.
The universe had done everything short of smashing you together like kissing barbies. In this week alone, the messy line of feelings between you and Sam had been tested at least a hundred times. It was obscene. Ever since Sam's twenty-third birthday, all the forces of nature had woken to remind you at every turn how stupid horny you were for him. Sam was no longer the beanpole you could easily throw while sparring; there was a man in your passenger’s seat, a good deal taller than you on miles and miles of leg, with handsome, veiny arms and a lap made for sitting in. Your childhood crush had been nursed so long that it'd grown into love. But now that you were a twenty-five-year-old, full-time hunter, there was little room for a childhood novelty. You had instead made space for a covetous, needy desire that the universe loved to throw in your face.
Monday. Sam had helped Dean out with one of the less-than-junk cars in Bobby's yard, bent up under the bonnet, sweat and grime making his tee cling to the landscape of his back. And Jesus, what a landscape it was… Sloped and firm with experienced, long-developed muscle. Tuesday. Dean got on the subject of blowjobs, and Sam immediately got off the subject. Significantly, you learned he's never had one. Your mouth watered just sitting next to him. Wednesday. You risked using the last towels in the pile for your shower, each just big enough to close and cover your modesty—if you don’t stand up straight. Sam caught you coming out of said shower. He looked, looked some more, and you sniped at him for it around the saliva building in your mouth. All you wanted to do was claw his jeans around his ankles and blow him until he forgot his name. Sam lingered like he wanted the exact same thing, and both of you pretended to ignore the tent in his pants. Thursday. Sam coached you in long-bowing. You stood just inches apart in an empty field, Sam's shoes between your in the grass, and you fucked up every damn shot because Sam's massive hands were on your waist and your hips and in your belt-loops. He'd lean in until he was almost kissing the shell of your ear and say, S’ alright. Just focus on your footing. You're doing great, even though you hadn't hit a single target. Friday. You, him and Dean left for a North Dakota case. You had to share a bed with one of the boys, and Sam reminded you what sharing meant the whole night, huffing soft moaning breaths against the back of your neck in his sleep.
You resist the urge to clamp your thighs together. It'd been freezing cold in your room and you’d been sharing beds since you were young; to have just your backs pressed together was impressive. At one point, you turned over and Sam stretched back to meet you, his warm spine flush to your chest without hesitation, flaying you instantly. He’d seeped back into the mattress as content as could be. You resisted the urge to run your fingers through his floppy hair, or caress the smooth strip of flesh that the seam of his shirt didn't cover. You failed at the first—but to be fair, Sam's hair was in your face and it was annoying you and you had to be close, because the room was so cold. And your hand just ended up there. And then it ended up under his shirt, your nails stroking his stomach, because Sam was a tease who'd dragged your arm around him in the first place. He'd been shaking, it was so cold. You couldn't just let him freeze. Regardless, it was hard to say no to him when he was smoothing your palm against his ribs like that.
“Think we can make a run to get the blankets from the trunk?” Sam invited. “I can do it if you give me the keys.”
You wanted to say more to that, but you settled instead on taking the keys out of the Impala and dropping them in Sam’s waiting hand. “Thank you,” you murmured, and Sam bobbed his head once before braving the weather.
He was gone for less than a minute, but the clinging silence that rang in your ears could’ve gone on forever. The rain pounded across the car with a vendetta, plunking off the metal and hammering over your empty parking lot just as hard. It raced down the glass fast enough to make the outside world a shimmering blue mirage. Sam’s figure was a darker silhouette closer to the glass, and you busied yourself putting a sweater on as he dove inside.
“Dammit,” Sam cursed. He knew better than to shake his hair out on Dean’s good leather, so he tossed down the blankets in between you—and there was a generous gap—to hunt around the backseat for a towel. The amber streetlights gave you just one glimpse of Sam’s rain-streaked face. It shouldn’t have flushed your belly with want as much as it did, but that’s half the reason you were in this mess.
“S’ bad out there,” you said, obviously. Sam agreed with a hum, and together you sorted yourselves for relaxing before you slept.
Before, you’d had the car on and the heater going, so you were mostly okay with your jackets tossed in the backseat. Sam had on a tee and a moss-colored sweater to keep him warm, and you had the thought of his firm muscle underneath those layers to keep you warm. Though more cold had seeped back into the Impala, you didn’t put on your jacket, toeing off your boots in the footwell. You piled on your blankets and curled up against the seat, Sam doing the same. He hadn’t put his jacket on either.
You shared a glance. Well, it was more like Sam was already looking at you and you caught him, flushing up to your ears. “There’s no way we won’t make it there til morning,” he said, “I’ll text Dean.”
“Good idea,” you agreed. You brought your legs closer to your chest, bumping Sam’s thigh with a stray foot. To your surprise, he glanced up at you at the contact, and again you found one of his coy glances. You couldn’t believe it. Was he...?
All four burners in your body flicked onto a simmer at the same time. You bit your lip, taking him in as he was illuminated by his phone’s screen, wet twisting curls of hair in his eyes. “S’ okay. I don’t think Dean will care, with how slow this case is going. Though I can guess why you’re so eager to get back,” you tested the waters with a sly smile. “That witness—Miss Checknik, she was really aiming to get you alone, huh?”
Sam was still raw from Dean pressing his buttons on this, so he was shier than usual when he mumbled, “It’s… not like that… I’ve never even done that before.”
“What?” you blurted. “Had sex?”
Sam’s gaze snapped up to yours. Around you the rain roared, but you still caught his subtle hitch of breath. His pause went on for another telling amount of time, until Sam’s ears were red too. “...It’s not like you have either,” he muttered.
This had to be on purpose. You tossed an arm over the back of the seat, knuckles against your cheek and a growing, sly smile on your face.
Sam sat up. “You’re kidding. Really?”
You slouched, huffing. “What, is that a surprise or something?”
“No,” Sam spoke a little too quickly, like he’d been thinking about it. He swallowed. “No, not at all. I was just…”
You wet your lips and let your eyes drift over him. Sam sat stiff in your passenger's seat, legs crossed a little too tightly, his hands folded together over his lap, hiding a building, jealous hard-on. A muscle jumped in his neck. The shivery warmth that reigned over you every time Sam entered the room conquered you again, watching him squirm, and you couldn't help but do the math. You could… you could make an offer. If he said no, that was fine. All you’d have to do was endure a night's sleep in the car with him then a few awkward days afterward—but you and Sam had done that dance a hundred times before, after kissing for spin-the-bottle or getting caught lusting after each other, so maybe this was it. This week had been filled with omens.
You went all in.
“We travel a lot and it relieves stress, so… I’ve picked up a few dates. Bar-flings, heat-of-the-moment stuff with hunters, every once in a while.”
You risked a glance at him through your lashes. Sam had inched closer to listen, just enough for you to notice, and was clearly trying to sculpt his face into something less interested—but his eyes were glazed and his attention was rapt. You had him right on the hook.
Sam swallowed. His voice was thick with arousal. “I, um, didn't know that was your thing.”
You shrugged, “I don’t enjoy it as much as Dean does, but yeah. The guys I pick up, I mean—they’re okay. Most can't find their way around a bra, never mind… well, y’know. You get what you can get. But the other parts, the fun parts of sex…” Even you were blushing at how dirty your smile felt. “I'm real lucky, Sam. Most girls don't get off making their partners happy, but I do. It's… made me real good.” You twisted so your chest was pushed toward him, feeling yourself ache in your jeans. You hushed coyly: “I’m told I’m a real natural with my mouth.”
“Really.” Sam repeated. He sputtered out a half-hearted chuckle. His cheeks had gone all cute and ruddy with a blush, exposing the lighter moles on his face.
“Really,” you promised.
The look on Sam's face went beyond teasing, now. You’d told yourself you were just messing around with him, but Sam was twitching in his seat, suddenly unable to sit right, and all the years of play-flirting had apparently stacked too high. Something hot and magnetic had brought you closer and closer together in the Impala’s front seat. Sam was frozen like he wanted to crawl out into the rain and disappear—always so shy, so easy—but something else rooted him to the spot this time. One more motion and you could close that measly gap blazing between you, get his skin pressed firmly to yours. Your arms and back and belly crawled with a phantom itch, and Sam's hands looked so perfect and big that you knew they could fix that feeling. Your mouth felt wet and lonely. Sam's was right there, panting as he waited for you to do something.
“Have you really never had sex before?” You filled Sam's flushed silence. You scrutinized him, brows furrowed with sympathy. “Not even a blowjob?”
Sam's whole body hitched like a slow to start engine at the word. He temporarily forgot himself, choking on his breath and roaming his sweaty palms across his thighs—uncovering, for just an instant, the outline of something firm and big in his jeans.
Still, Sam's eyes couldn't shake yours.
“Um, no,” Sam admitted. “Never had t-the… opportunity, I guess. Or the right person.”
“Would you?” You scrambled to let the words loose, then resettled in your seat, lounging back and stifling your excitement. Sam's dick. Sam's big, virgin dick in your mouth. “If the right person…” you gestured vaguely, like this was still at all a hypothetical, “gave you the opportunity?”
It took Sam a second, eyes flickering fast over your face beneath his bangs, but eventually, he gave a single short nod.
A nuclear reactor’s worth of heat sizzled up from your toes. It bubbled out of you in a pleased, purring sigh, and you could barely suppress your grin, your butterflies, your nervousness, when you crawled into the cold space beside him on the bench. You leaned in slow by his ear. Your nails played across his thudding pulse, his taut neck, spurring Sam’s breaths into gasps. At an agonizing pace, you dragged your soft nails behind his ear, to the tingling nape of Sam's neck, and relished in the feel of his flesh like a vampire as you stroked him there. The blunts of your nails scratched gently at his hairline. Sam squeezed out a soft moaning sigh, so sweet and trusting that you closed your eyes to soak in it all the way.
After a few strokes of your nails to Sam's shivering skin, you fanned your warm breath down his shuddering collar and barely kept yourself from moaning in his ear: “I’m real smart with my mouth, Sammy… I could make your first time good for you. Better n’ good, even.”
He sat there in utter disbelief. Sam breathed hard, and now that your hand was on him, his squirming had stopped. After a deep, weighing pause, Sam removed his hands from his lap and slid them down to his knees instead, tasting the growing appetite in his mouth.
“...What would it feel like?” The rasp in his voice made you instantly wet.
You flushed. “You want me to describe it to you?”
Sam gave a shy shrug of his shoulders, playing innocent, but that clever smile of his had been haunting you all week. He knew precisely what he was doing. “Never had one,” Sam reminded.
The car was suddenly boiling. You had kicked off your blanket a long time ago, and so had Sam, which left you in layers that neither of you wanted anymore.
“Well,” you breathed out, amused. You gave yourself room to undo your coat, and Sam hung on every motion, making each exposed inch of you feel needy and overheated. “I really only know it from the giver's point of view, but, um, it's really fun for guys. I'm sure you've heard other men talk about it before. Unwinds your whole body and blows your mind, done right,” you talked as you shed your coat. “If they made it sound easy to give a good blowjob, Sam—it’s not. You have to know what you're doing, how to read your partner… know what they like… luckily for you,” you hummed, “I've never had a complaint.”
Sam nodded after nearly everything you said, unsure where to settle his hands or what to say. He looked more demure than you’d ever seen him, and it was so cute to you it was almost unbearable. You could imagine him making that exact face at you with his wet dick pushing into the inside of your cheek—all bashful but desperate, hinged on your every word, your every lick. The thought of all the pretty sounds he'd make when you blew him left you on sensory overload, and the only thing that would fix it was Sam kissing you breathless.
It struck you that Sam was really gonna let you do this for him, after years of him caring too much about you to let you take care of him. You were left with a peculiar rush; Sam trusted you.
“Blowjobs are… all the good bits of kissing and jerking off put together,” you explained. You settled back where you’d been before, hanging on Sam's shoulder and talking filthy in his ear as he quivered with want. This time your nails drew circles on his collar, and Sam surprised you by squeezing his hand around your thigh to steady himself. You could've cum on the spot. A flood of heat burned down your gut and throbbed between your legs, soaking your underwear clean through.
You’d never stopped looking at each other, but your faces were closer than ever and the eye contact felt explosive. It was dark but for the streetlight, and quiet but for the endless rain, both aspects of life you saw every day—monsters in the dark and a storm banging on the car. But with Sam there, these everyday mundanes felt… romantic. Passionate, like the movies. His eyes were this beautiful, soft fawn brown. You couldn't wait to see that slip of color admire you from between Sam's thighs.
“The girl, she’ll…” your mouth flooded with drool. “I’ll get down on my knees for you,” you corrected, boldly.
Sam sucked in a shaky breath, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you rasped. “And I'll get nice and comfy there, because I'm gonna waste as much time on you as I can…”
Your hand graduated into his hair again, since Sam forgot how to breathe each time you did it, and with it occupied you lingered on his face. Sam looked piss-drunk with lust; his head was on a swivel, lolling in whatever direction you went, his lashes fluttering low on red-patched cheeks. “I'm gonna take my time getting your pants off, y’know, tickling your legs.” A particularly dirty thought occurred to you, and it must've shown on your face because Sam's parted lips opened further. “Maybe, if you wanted, I could do this little trick I learned with my teeth… open your fly that way. You want that?”
Sam's eyes flicked down to your mouth, thinking. “I do,” he bobbed his head, “I really do.”
“Okay.” You pet Sam's chest, and coupled with the attention of your nails in his hair, a moan seeped out of him, vibrating somewhere deep under your hand. You grinned a shark’s grin. “...Then I'd look at you like that, cause’ that's what I've been dying to do for ages, see you all hard for me and nobody else. You might kill me cause’ you're so beautiful, Sam. And I'd kiss you everywhere I could… all over your thighs, your hips, the muscles in your stomach, your dick… your cock.” A whine jumped out of Sam's throat. Just the word made your throat feel open. “When you're squirming and begging for me to pull you out, I'll take off your boxer briefs, too, the blue ones I know you're wearing—” You’d seen him in them that morning, when he'd crossed his arms and his shirt had rucked up enough to flash some belly. Sam huffed an embarrassed laugh, and you kept going. “I know exactly what I'll do when your boxers are off, cause’ I've been waiting years for it. M’ gonna take your dick in my hand and just admire it, feel how big it is, imagine what it'll be like inside me—” Sam cursed aloud at that, “—inside my warm, wet mouth. I've been imagining what it looks and feels like for so long, Sammy, I think I deserve to see the real deal. Don't you think?”
You ran a finger along Sam's collarbone, and he rolled into it, chasing the slightest touch of your hand regardless if it was on his dick or not. You hadn't even drifted below his belt yet, and Sam was still arching into your touch like it would make him cum. He nodded mindlessly, sweat and rain making his hair cling to his face. “God,” he swore. “You do, ____—you d’serve it so much… so much…”
You cupped Sam's sweaty, tacky jaw, and he sighed like you’d rubbed him through his jeans. You resisted the urge to do just that, asking, “Can I have a kiss, Sammy?”
Sam peeled himself off the seat and rolled into your arms. The hand on your thigh was joined by a second, bracing his huge, sturdy palms on your legs in a way that made you grateful you weren't balancing on them, and with his face nestled in your hands and his eyes all dewy for you, Sam kissed you. You knew that that was it—every time you found your way to a kiss with him, it was the final straw. You loved him. Sam kissed you like he loved you too, pecking you soft and light like you were his dream girl, like he only wanted to treat you gentle, since so often his hands were forced to do the opposite. Quickly, your fingers were in his rain-tangled hair. Sam drew back to groan and then angled his head, pecking you in deep and loving bursts until you were giggling at him. He kissed those giggles too, smiling into his dimples. Sam never failed to make your heart go rabid when he did that, kissing you good; you had seen him kiss other girls before, and he never seemed as skilled or intuitive unless it was with you. Something tirelessly drove him to impress you.
You urged Sam's back flat to the seat again. With your leverage returned, you cupped his neck, then his shoulders, slipping your hands into his shirt, first through his collar and then up his stomach, palms seeking and appreciative. His flesh was warm and his figure was firm or yielding in all the right places. Sometimes, when you sparred and Sam was on top of you, or when you shared beds and his back was pressed to yours, you got glimpses of what Sam felt like. But now that you were free to roam where you pleased, only one signal could make its way through your nervous system: he is so beautiful. You uttered this to him in a frenzy. Sam couldn't get any redder, but you could feel his skin get warmer yourself, could press your hands flat to it and feel the life underneath, which was all the response you needed.
You licked your way into Sam's mouth. He was pliant for you as you did, whole-heartedly enjoying the filthiness of your tongue lapping and sucking at his, even if it was new to him. You laved yours from his bottom lip, across his open, wet mouth and flat against his top lip, prying approving little sounds from him. Butterflies furled and unfurled their wings in your stomach.
When you finally freed yourself, you sucked down breaths open-mouthed and fell back on your haunches.
“That's how it's gonna feel on your cock,” you proclaimed, and swiped a line of spit off his chin.
“Yeah?” Sam panted.
You wormed your fingers under the seam of your tight tee and yanked it over your head, cursing at him in a wrecked whisper. “Yeah. Then I'm gonna put you all the way in my throat, every inch of you, lickin’ and kissin’ all I can get. And when you're ready to cum, m’ gonna play with you, n’ hold you in mouth and make you sit like that.”
Sam mewled, only making your craze to get your pants off even worse. “Why?”
“‘Cause you've tortured me, baby,” you swore. You rocked back onto your tailbone and wormed off your bottoms, sucking back spit at the sight of Sam puppy-dog-eying you and palming his dick—palming his dick because of you, because of your lacy black underwear and how it looked on you. You knew you looked hot. But Sam made you feel it, like you were a Victoria's Secret cover model, like you were the hottest girl he'd ever seen, naked or otherwise. And you were—Sam had never been with anyone else. “Look at me, Sammy. You've tortured me. Made me wait to kiss you and touch you like this for so long, I almost lost my mind. So you're gonna get a taste of your own medicine, just for a bit—and when I think you can't take it anymore, just like me, then I'm gonna let you cum wherever you want. On my face, my tits, on my stomach…” you choked back a wave of unbridled, insatiable want, groaning out, “...in my mouth… inside me...”
The low, guttural noise puttering out of Sam broke. He took you by the underarms and yanked you against him, genuinely hauling you off your ass with a strength you forgot he had, little pants and miserable snarling moans pouring from him. Your mouths slotted together hard and unprettily. It knocked a girlish laugh out of you—when Sam let you breathe between sucking your face off, anyway.
“You like that idea, huh?” You teased.
Sam dropped a hand across your temple. His hand was so big that it could cover the entirety of your face, or perfectly seal over your mouth. In ways no other man had ever done for you, he stroked your hair back all tender just so he could get a look at his girl. You nuzzled into the weight without any mind for where you were going, knowing nothing but Sam’s love and Sam’s chest expanding and shrinking between you.
Those big fawn eyes wondered up at you. “You’d let me do that? Already?”
“I’d let you do anything.” You dropped what remained of your filter. This was truly dumbfounding to him, apparently, because Sam sat there stupidly for a second with his mouth open. He snapped it shut as you neared your faces, making it even easier to press a kiss to the seam of his mouth. “Any other man would take advantage of that chance. M’ not stupid. But you’re the only one I can think of who’d… who’d,” you searched for the words, admiring Sam’s nosebridge with your thumb. He had such pretty moles. “You’d be good to me,” you concluded.
Sam blinked. “...I’d want to be,” he smiled, sounding dulcet. Again, Sam brushed back your hair. “I mean… Anybody who wouldn’t be good to you i-is… is an idiot.”
“Exactly,” you smirked. Slow and sultry, you pressed your nose and lips into the plush of Sam’s cheek and dragged, then a little more, just glimpsing the skin with yours. He was ready and shuddering when your lips were at his ear. “That’s why it’s you I’m thinking about when I’m fingering myself.”
Another weak sound wept out of Sam. Christ, the noises he could make. If your imagination had even come close to the real thing, you would’ve been this dirty-mouthed with him ages ago.
Sam cursed, “Jesus, ____.”
“It’s true.” You pressed this promise with a kiss into his cheek, then again, at his jaw, letting yourself sink into each one with boundless pleasure. Sam melted helplessly against you, ears perked. “Every day. Every time I took a shower, after sharing a bed with you all weekend. I was always soaking wet because of something you’d done hours ago that I just couldn’t shake, hot out of my mind…” you swallowed down another onslaught of drool. “I pictured you having a hard day, y’know, needing something to perk you up. I’d haul your jeans down and lick you all over like an ice cream cone.”
Sam’s whole upper body was blushing so hard now that steam floated off him. “God, me too.”
Your brows raised. “Yeah?”
He nodded himself dizzy. “That same thing. You having a hard day. I’d… I’d…”
You leaned in, blinking in shock. “How did you imagine it?”
“We’d be kissing.” One of his long, too-long-to-be-wasted fingers followed a thread of your panties. “On your bed, the Impala, wherever we could find. I’d lay back and… and you’d crawl on top of me…get your legs around my head—”
Sam’s hot, moist breath tickled your face. So close, with your lips wet from Sam’s kissing already, it was all too easy to follow along with his fantasy. Sitting in his lap in the backseat. Laying him down there, your palms flat and steadying on his chest. Curling your thighs around his face until his nose pressed up into you, then his mouth, slipping open, and his hot, silky tongue taking long drinks of you. The sensory ghost of it alone could’ve made you cum.
You blurted: “You’d eat me out?”
One man-paw of his smoothed down the planes of your back, palming big handfuls of your skin. Now, it was his turn to smile wolfishly. Sam confessed: “I’ve always wanted to.”
The admission temporarily launched you into orbit, and for a long time you hung there, clinging to him by the shirt, dully aware of the rainy smell of him and how hard your cunt was pulsing. Sam. Your Sam, sitting with these thoughts in his head. At the same time that you were pushing your knees together when he sat beside you at the dinner table, Sam was fantasizing about getting between them. The eroticism of it already had you close to edge. Anytime you’d ever been with him, at some point, Sam had to have thought about how his fingers would feel digging into your ass-flesh while he fucked you with his tongue, while you squealed his name, the flat of your toes curled against his shoulders. Uncensored. He could’ve revealed any fantasy on top of that, but he chose this one. The one that had him pleasuring you and fucking loving it. Sam didn’t just want you—he wanted the angle that could get him the most of you, the most exposed and honest position. You fucking loved him.
You were tonguing into his mouth before Sam could finish, both hands in possessive fists around his shirt. Sam started laughing, the asshole, but you persisted, closing him in with passionate dips of your head and kissing him senseless. Your hands feasted on him, clawing into his hair and down the back of his shirt and around again. Nothing was enough. You were convinced you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were Sam, or melded into him somehow, like chocolate chips in a warm pot.
“Thought about… tasting you n’ makin’ you feel good,” Sam hissed. “So good that you’d have’ta put your fist in your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. You’d put your hands in my hair a-and… and… shit, you’d taste so good. I want to taste you so bad, ____. Want you to—” he leached you into a long, surging kiss, purring deep in his throat, “sit on my face.”
You wrestled down a choked whine, which Sam swallowed. Every movement of his mouth went straight to your pussy, echoing there. Sam must’ve known this, because he kissed you exactly as he would between your thighs, all tongue and sucking lips, unbearably hot in comparison to your untouched cunt. You could almost feel the blazing front of his mouth bearing down on you there, his breath fanning over you and his tongue—god, his fucking tongue—flexing into your clit. You broke away.
Sam’s hands hesitated at the top of your back, then all at once took two whole handfuls of your ass, and pushed up with his hips to open your thighs for him. You let slip a helpless moan. His hands were warm and calloused and everywhere, except for the precise place you needed him most. But above all else, Sam was a selfless, loving man, so immediately he was moving to drag down your panties.
“Please,” he choked. “Please, ____, please, I can—I can do it for you—lemme do it for you, baby. Let me take care a’ you.”
“Sam.”
You pressed both palms flat to Sam’s chest in an order. Sam immediately stopped, though he did not look pleased about it. You took a breath to realize the pussy-eating fiend you were soon to have all to yourself, then stepped back to your initial focus. “You’ll have to wait. Want you first, pretty boy. Have you ever even done that before?”
Sam shook his head, sending his bangs fluttering around his face. He pouted. His hands coasted along your arms, dragging you down and into him still.
Bleeding with earnestness, he husked, “No. But I’ll learn for you. I’ll practice on you over and over again, til’ I’m better than anybody you’ve ever had that way. S’ all I want.”
You bit your lip and, god, was it impossible to say no to him.
“I'm all yours, Sammy. Whatever you need, you know I'll give it to you. But we’re gonna do this first, okay?”
You wanted his first time to be good, better than good, all because of you. You wanted to be his second time. His third time too, and every time after that. And if that didn't work out, then you hoped that every time he got a blowjob in the future, it was a good one. Even if it’d be downright pitiful in comparison to the way you were gonna suck his brains out now.
You reached between you and gave Sam's strained cock a generous squeeze.
Sam lost it. “Please, you, please please—” he all but sobbed. His hips rolled up and his knees snapped apart, making room for you, inviting you in, hands making marks on your arm in his scramble for touch. “Please. I-I need it, I need—I need you, god, I want to feel—”
You hung back, absorbing the result of your work. You’d barely touched him and Sam was already out of his mind. He'd had orgasms before—you’d heard him reaching them through the wall in the shower, and his desperate choking breaths were so hot that you had touched yourself right outside the door—but as good as they'd sounded, you were determined to blow them out of the race.
Sam started for his fly, which was your cue to step in. You waved his hands away, guiding them to his stomach, where they fisted in his shirt and drew it up over his sculpted naval. You shushed and soothed, “Sam, Sammy—s’okay, you're okay. I'll take care of you, alright? I'll start right now,” you peppered kisses on his face, bent beside him on your knees. “We gotta get the seat back. Help me?”
You pushed the Impala’s bench back as far as it could go, and you made sure to lay the backrest down a few more inches, too, so Sam could relax and you had a good angle on his face. He was equally considerate and folded up a blanket for you to sit on in the footwell. As soon as Sam sat up, you evaporated into his lap. You expected him to go shy on you again, but this time Sam helped you settle there, clenching his teeth and dragging his eyes up your figure. You stood still for the examination, and the longer it went on the warmer your flaming skin got. Both of Sam’s unreasonably big hands landed on your waist at the same time, and for a moment your roles reversed, Sam’s eyes smoky and heavy-lidded as he devoured the sight of you. You felt yourself throb pathetically in your panties. You were probably the first girl Sam had ever seen intimately; and, in true Sam fashion, he consumed the new sight, cataloging and learning things. A tiny whine slipped out of you when his fingers dug into your thighs, then again when Sam’s thumb brushed under the band of your bra.
“I'm all yours,” you reminded with a smile you hoped was confident. If it was, it was ruined by you shyly and awkwardly reaching for the clasp of your bra. “Whatever you want, Sam, I can do.”
He gazed up at you through his bangs, expression bleeding with love and boyish frankness. “What do you want?”
“To make you happy,” you answered, without question. “To make this night good for you, even if it's the only night we'll have.”
Sam shook his head, absent-minded. A slow, clever, panty-dropping smile developed on his face, something that was clearly common in the men of his family.
“You said that most guys you're with, like this…” he thought aloud. Sam brought you close to him, and when your shadow fell across him and you were nose to nose, he slid two warm fingers up your back and click—he was pulling your brassiere off your shoulders. “You said that most of them can't find a way around a bra, nevermind you,” he observed. “We're going to need more nights if I'm going to prove to you that I'm different.”
“Sam,” you whispered, “you were always different from them.”
You pushed him back against the seat, aligning his spine with it, and as soon as Sam hung his arms over his head you were kissing him wet and deep, both of your hands sliding and groping along the firm muscle of his raised biceps. Now only a flimsy tee stood between them, and you were as rude with it as you were with anything else keeping you from Sam. The long, muscular frame you’d been fantasizing about for years was exposed to you now, and you wasted no time getting acquainted with it. Only recently had Sam started to linger in wet t-shirts in front of you or guide your hands under his shirt as you cuddled—for longer, you’d had no clue what he looked like under his clothes. Dean got all the credit for being John's perfect hunter, but Sam had the perfect hunter's body, barrel-chested huge and wood-shattering strong.
You sunk onto your hands and knees, palming him, groping him, caressing him, outlining the lines of his muscles and his ribs with your fingers. Nobody could resist the temptation to kiss him all over, and in all fairness, you had promised. You dragged your mouth down Sam's chest, kissing the center seam of his body to his happy trail. You almost lost yourself pleasuring him this way; at the sound of Sam's deep breathing, you endured, hovering over your prize instead. You knew you must've looked beyond turned on: your dark eyes were wild, dilated and glittering with want, your panties were soaked through and your lip was almost bleeding you were biting it so hard.
“Fuck,” you cursed, settled back on Sam's thighs, “I've wanted to blow you stupid for years, Sam… it didn't matter what you looked like underneath here or not… but fuck, I feel like a schoolgirl, drooling over all these muscles. You used to be so lanky.”
“Hard to be healthy on the road,” Sam flushed. “We're fighting monsters every day, it’d be stupid to die to a heart condition…or… something.”
“Yeah,” you groaned before you could contain yourself, “but you're sure not making this crush I have on you any easier.”
Sam whispered, sounding coy as he plucked the waistband of your panties. There was that dimply smile again. “You got a crush on me, pretty girl?”
The next words poured out of you as sensually and devoutly as you felt them: “Yeah,” slow, you dismounted his thighs, folded your legs in between Sam's, and finally, finally, sunk on your shins into the footwell. “You wanna see what I do for the men I crush on, baby?”
“So bad. So damn bad,” Sam begged, and it was surreal to finally see what he looked like from this angle, since you’d been dreaming of it for so long. His head lolled back and all you could see of him was the sexy column of his throat and all the soft red lines you’d put in his skin there, just bright enough to see. His chin lowered so Sam could look at you, and sweet lord—there were those fawn brown eyes, drowning in the darkness and the black of his lashes. They boiled over with devotion and willingness and thirst, teased for far too long now. You almost felt bad enough to cut him some slack. But now you were here, with Sam's cock just inches from where it should be, and you couldn't just start going easy on him.
You did exactly what you said you would, so Sam knew what was coming. As promised, you hunkered down on the blanket Sam had folded, letting your knees settle comfortably on the floor. Then you started in on him. You played your nails across his legs, stroking the sides of his thighs, feeling how his pants clung to his skin. On his lap, it was impossible not to fantasize about Sam sitting you on one of his legs and inviting you to rut across his solid, powerful jean-clad thigh. It took a lot to make you feel tiny—but Sam did just that. Crouched down at his feet like this, Sam only seemed bigger and his body better built than usual. You pressed your cheek against his inner thigh and just basked in him.
Sam writhed having you so close to the source of his suffering. “Please,” he sighed below his breath.
“Please what?” You grinned, wolfish.
You turned inwards and kissed the inner seam of Sam's jeans, right on the denim path to his aching cock. Just inches from your face, angled down Sam's pantleg, was a heavy, massive tent more than the width of both your hands put together. Fuck, it'd been even longer since your last good blowjob than you’d thought it'd been. Just seeing the outline made your cunt pulse. Pressing your kiss-swollen lips to the denim above the head bolted molten hot desire straight to your core, and for Sam it was no less extreme, his hands curling into fists on his chest.
His eyes squeezed shut, and the little hoarse squeak that left him made you forget your gag reflex entirely. Sam moaned, “Please please please put me in your mouth—____, p-please.”
“I think you're a little ahead of me, Sammy…”
Your voice dripped with liquid sex. You steadied your hands on Sam's knees and bent forward again, nuzzling his cock with your nose and cheeks, glittering obsidian eyes devouring Sam's softest reactions. He was sensitive—even more sensitive than you’d been hoping for. Just the tiniest lick through scratchy fabric had his toes curling. Again, your nails scraped down his thighs. This time you leaned forward as the gesture drew back, bringing you up to Sam's happy trail. And man, happy it was–it was the centerpiece for miles of twitching, gleaming, sweaty muscle, soft-blended abs, hard-cut v-lines and all.
“Let's start by getting these tight, constricting pants off your first.” you smirked. “How does that sound? You must be uncomfortable, Sammy.”
He was, to the point that just the thought of getting them off had his hips arching toward you on the seat. Pitifully, Sam pleaded, “____. C'mon. Anything.”
“S’okay…” you whispered. You kissed the button of his jeans. “I'll get it off and you'll feel so good, darlin…”
Sam watched you from over his heaving chest, so hard that he was delirious, quavering miserably when your touch disappeared. His soft desperate gasps reminded you of the noises he made when he had dirty dreams sleeping next to you. The few times it'd happened, you just endured it until you drifted off to fatally horny sleep. But once it'd been your name he was sighing like that. It took every ounce of strength you had not to roll over and jerk him off right there. The scene was so vivid it was painful, and you could easily imagine yourself cuddling up to his back and stroking him sweet and slow half-out of his pajama pants, your cheek to his shoulder. Or even better, crawling under your shared sheets and deepthroating him awake. You wondered if Sam had ever heard the dreams you had of him. Or how many times you’d fucked yourself in the shower, imagining him reaming you into the tile like an animal. You had never dreamt of another man that way, or loved a different one so terribly that it made you reckless.
Sam watched you with wide, long-lashed eyes. Nobody else could look so innocent watching somebody get ready to suck their dick. Every time you glanced past his chest, you expected the perverted revelry you got from your other partners to reveal itself on his face. But, god. Sam. He basked in you, in your touch, arching up to meet your hands and worshipping your with his gaze. Love downpoured from every molecule of him. All his reserve had shredded away, taking any reason he had to hide right along with it. I love you I love you I love you, his body wept.
The second you got the fabric corner of his jean-opening in your teeth, Sam’s lips parted, and you remembered all the times you’d tie cherry stems in your mouth to impress him—how many popsicles you’d enjoyed all too slowly and vocally while Sam was watching. It took just one pull of your chin and his fly was off the button. One more and his zipper was in your teeth. You dragged down your head, sultry eyes never leaving his even when you got his fly open, and soaked up the look on Sam's face as he realized the kind of professional he was dealing with.
“...Wow,” Sam gaped. I've hit the jackpot, his wide eyes said.
“Up,” you instructed, and let your grin say the rest. Excitement was burning between your legs now. You tugged on his belt loops until Sam raised his hips, giving you the room to pile them around his ankles.
When you brought your eyes back up, your breath caught. Sam was hard enough to crack steel. You couldn't believe your own luck here. The boy you’d been head over heels for since before you could speak, the man you’d devoted half your life to, and he was so hot for you that he could hardly breathe.
“You don't know how long I've been fantasizing about this.” Your voice was almost too hoarse to hear over the rain, a prayer's voice. You drew yourself between Sam's thighs, and shaking from head to toe with hunger, you spread both palms over his hips and dragged your mouth up Sam's length in his boxers.
Sam had already given himself up to the pleasure. His nails seared into the upholstery, and he moaned, rocketing up, off his back, rocking into you already. The neediness of it burst another tank of heat and love and lust inside you—your Sam, above you, about to be yours, begging so pretty for you… Fuck, heaven would be boring in comparison.
“____, please, baby, please I need it,” he almost sobbed, “I'll do anything anything ____ I ju-just, I just want you. I want your mouth on me I wanna—god, please ____, how good you feel, I want it, please—”
“Anything you want, Sammy, you can have anything,” you soothed, muffled and slurred by your dragging kisses.
“M’ all yours, all yours, all this cock just for you, g-god yeah—your mouth ____ please I need your mouth—”
There was so much drool built up under your tongue that you had to swallow to speak—but you decided against it, saving it for your prize instead. You couldn't wait a second more. You were hooking your fingers in Sam's briefs before you could second-guess, before you could even think to judge if you should unravel Sam a little more—but he was there, bucking for you already, so there was no use waiting. He couldn't even lift his hips before you’d yanked his boxers out of the way. You felt him in your hand and all of it—the length of his cock, the weight of it, the fact that it was Sam, had you sinking into his lap like a priest into a sermon, flesh into the earth, and instantly you threw yourself into the task like you’d never done for any other man. This was for Sam.
You took in just a bit of him at first, enough to introduce him to the hot, velvety heat of your mouth and wet him with a single good suck. Sam's sob cut off with his breath. He was careful to treat you right, even like this. One of his hands had startled into your hair, the pleasure was so much for him. It never did anything more than jolt—he wasn't the type to just shove you on him, anyway. Your smile felt obscene with your lips slick and swollen around him; your tongue gave the lightest lap at the special spot under his tip, and Sam strangled down a filthy, whining mewl. His head was plump and comfortable on your jaw, so you gave it your first dose of attention, loosening your seal around it so you could share your drool with the rest of him. You hollowed your cheeks and brought him a little further into your mouth, shattering what remained of Sam's strength. He sunk back against the seat, exhausted, and watched you bracingly from above, sucking down breaths. Already, there was enough spit on him to make Sam's cock gleam like your lips. It clung to your chin and the tip of your nose in shining patches. Sam ran a hand through his hair and lazily studied you as you sucked him off, falling further in love with you by the second.
“That's it,” Sam cooed. He sounded broken and thready, but he insisted on curling your hair around his fingers, dizzy. “So good, ____—suck it, just like that, please, baby, j-just… ohh, fuckkk…”
Suck it, he'd said. You did as told. The command vibrated through your whole overshot body, and your throbbing, weeping cunt only felt emptier hearing the order. Sam filled up your mouth so well that your cheeks were puffy. He was the perfect size for you—a damn perfect masterpiece. His girth sat thick in your hands, veiny in ways that you wanted to feel with your pussy. Oral had always been enough before, but already you wanted Sam more than air, and more than that, wanted to blow him so good that he'd reward you for it. You tested out a few lower bobs, his cock slick and sticky between your fingers now, and every time you suckled on him Sam squeezed his eyes shut all pretty. The rain was dying out, so the liquid noise your lips made on him filled every crevice of the Impala louder than before. The pop of you slipping off his cock almost echoed.
“Tell me what you want,” you coached, your voice just as broken and hushed as Sam's. You couldn't even part from him that long, and dipped again to whorl your tongue around Sam's heavy tip. “Whatever you need, Sam,” you punctuated the reminder with a long, flat drag of your tongue from his base to the special spot under his tip, and beamed; Sam yelped. “I love it… I love,” you swallowed, “I love doing this for you.”
Sam worked his fingers into your untamed hair, and you did fucking love it. On the floor your knees were aching, but it and everything else was numb to the rolling glide of cock slotting into your mouth, of Sam reveling in your lips and tongue on him, watching you give it all just because he asked.
Sam’s knuckles caressed your cheekbone. “Wrap your lips around the head. Tight.”
You listened. He was more than comfortable on your jaw now, so your lips molded nicely to him, sealing and hollowing so he was even more snug in his new favorite place.
“Good girl,” Sam groaned, probably on instinct, but you stroked him faster for the praise, so he repeated it until his mind was muddy. “Lick the part unde—oh very, very good girl… I wish you could see yourself… I-I want…” he hissed in delight, “you look so pretty, ____… so pretty with my cock in your mouth, god…”
Holy shit. You had never really paid attention to that kind of talk before during sex, busied with the task at hand, but there was something euphoric about the way he said it to you now, your shy Sam, your Sam, his voice raspy, his pink mouth panting and open, his hands all over you, talking to you like he’d always wanted to say that. Your cunt ached.
With a deadly rumble spilling up from your chest, you slipped off his head and laved your gluttonous mouth down Sam’s soaking shaft, kissing, tonguing and sucking at whatever flesh you could find.
“Keep talking like that,” you begged into his base, breathless.
Sam listened. He cupped the sweat-slick nape of your neck, his hand easily broad enough to cover your back blade to blade, and in a messy, groping haze, dragged it up against your cheek. “Never seen you like this,” he purred, “eyes… all dark and… hot… lookin’ up at me… you’re so tiny between my legs like that.”
You couldn’t have restrained yourself if you tried. A weak whine seeped out of you. Sam’s thumb pushed into your cheek and you turned, lapping at it, then covering his hand with one of your own and searing kisses all over his palm. It was heavy and perfect for smudging your nose into. You sunk two open-mouthed kisses into Sam’s wrist where his bracelet was, then up his forearm, knowing only his body and how it could connect to your mouth. His pulse thudded furiously. Just as fast as you’d nuzzled up to him, you returned to Sam’s thick thumb, sucking it deep and right as he watched in rapture. The filthy delight written all over those mesmerized eyes had you praying to him.
“Wanna do this all the time,” Sam swallowed. He was all stream-of-consciousness now, too frenzied to filter himself. “Watch you suck me off… watch those perfect lips disappear around me, _____… y-you… oh, god, you are a natural, baby…”
His other hand, again, flushed your hair away from her forehead. All the love put into your face at once rooted you to the spot. It was miraculous, how special Sam could make you feel with just a few light touches. Bleeding with tenderness, he caressed your shoulders, your cheeks, your jaw, your hair, feasting on you as you had him.
Sam pushed the meat of his thumb into your swollen lip. “Open for me. Yeah… oh, yeah, let me watch you put it in…”
Your lips parted, mostly out of shock—when had Sam started thinking like this? A deeper part of your mind registered it all as innocent teasing, since Sam could never hurt or demean you; he was the basest definition of good to you. Regardless, you were more than willing to obey, and opened wide, tongue splayed for the heavy head of Sam’s dick. The extra kick of his pre-come had your toes curling every single time. But combined with Sam’s ruddy-cheeked, enraptured staring, just one touch to your clit would bring you over the edge. You forced your knees apart on the floor and held off. Just in case Sam intended to keep his promise.
The easiest way to put Sam’s dick into words was by comparing it to a warm, solid lollipop that took up your whole mouth, like the twisty kind from the carnival that eclipsed your whole face, chin to forehead. You’d been mourning Sam’s scrawniness after his four years away at college, but now you were nothing but grateful for the extra mass. Sam was really, really big. Bigger than anyone else you’d been with. He could’ve been any size and you would’ve been just as rabid for him, but there was something specifically hot about sucking him down as far as you could and failing to hit the bottom. It took effort to get there. You lazily pumped what you had left of his shaft, and in slow, deliberate surges of your spit-wet mouth, you earned an inch, then another.
Sam moaned so gutturally you felt it rumble under your palms. It was so Sam, in that it was like any sound you’d ever heard him make, sighing at a stupid joke, snarling during a fight, but this time it was him losing it because you were giving him a blowjob. Because you’d snuck away like idiot teenagers and you were blowing him good and filthy in Baby’s front seat.
“I-I thought about you all day,” he licked his lips, “all week, like this… it’s, you are so much better than I thought… m’ gonna make you cum so good for me.”
You wished that he could feel the way your cunt had fluttered at that. All you could do in answer was hum in approval, since you were so drunk off him, off the girth pressing against the start of your throat, that you couldn't even lift your head to speak. You did the opposite, pushing down and surging Sam's length in deeper and further than you’d gone before. The half-hour you’d poured into warming up for this was instantly worth it. You were by no means an amateur. Blowjobs, as a sexual activity, were with ease your favorite—but deepthroating was where your real talent lay. Wielding your skill, you relaxed your sore jaw and pressed forward.
The initial burn waited for you there, but Sam’s reaction was priceless.
Every muscle in his body snapped in, a taut coil broken in one motion. A strangled gasp broke from his throat. Sam's entire torso bore forward and his hips surged up to your face in a voiceless gasp, which you’d been expecting. You pinned them back down and dug for it, giving him no room to breathe, mashing your nose into his abs and hanging there, lingering, suckling, gagging, so all Sam could feel was the soft, hot, velvet pulse of your throat around his spent cock.
“I’m. I-I—”
You sucked harder, bringing a wave of spit with you, and closed a hand around Sam’s closest fist. Drool seeped over your knuckles. He spasmed. His voice tore, cutting off.
It was a little hard, but with practice—and you could practice on Sam for days, if that’s what it took—the ache would fade. All the pleasure was in the act itself, in your own slobbering sounds, the drool, and above all else the punch-to-the-teeth thrill it gave. Every inch of Sam’s pretty virgin dick was stuffing your throat. You could barely hollow your cheeks around him, Sam was so thick. His cock pulsed, once, then twice, then over and over. No other person in the world could claim him like you could, and no other person would ever have him like you had.
Sam came, and hard.
His thighs snapped closed around your ribs. He hung in place bent up over you, twitching mid-sob. Both of his hands snapped around your head, then his arms in full, scrabbling across your back, crazed, heaving, coating you entirely in the woody smell of him.
You flattened your palms to his thighs and drew upward. When it was just half his shaft in your mouth, so coated in saliva that you were connected to it in cloying strings, you persisted. The first spurt of him on your tongue detonated a ruthless orgasm deep within you on the spot. You latched onto him as it crested through you, digging your nails into Sam’s rolling hips, back and toes curled, pressing closer and swallowing the mouth-watering load you’d been dying to taste for years now. It came with its own gratified explosion of ecstasy. Your pussy sobbed, clenching without end, wracking your whole body with delicious waves of mind-whiting pleasure. The taste of him conquered you—fuck, he tasted perfect, salty and organic and human and Sam. It was a sugar rush of earthy sweetness that burned straight to your overwrought core.
You could’ve unburied yourself and let Sam finish anywhere, since he was already so mindless underneath your spell that anything would’ve pleased him. But there was something potent and intimate in being able to taste him. His body—every divine inch of it was yours, and a piece of him was filling an empty place in you.
You should’ve guessed by the size of him alone, but christ, Sam came whole glassfuls. His cum bubbled up into your mouth and spilled out of the corners of your lips, and you relished in it, drinking him down, whorling your tongue around his fleshy head, soaking up every second of your hard work’s result. The taste of him overwhelmed and surrounded you. The act did. It was in every facet a religious experience, angels singing, clouds parting, the sun glowing over them—all of it. Sam went down your throat piping hot, and you swore you could feel his cum gliding all the way to your stomach.
You slipped off him with a gasp. Hoarse, weak sighs huffed from your blazing lungs.
Slowly, as your orgasm ebbed further from your mind, your surroundings filtered back in. Peeling yourself away from him effectively rebooted all the systems in your body again. You could hear the rain bearing down on the Impala’s windshield overhead. Both of your palms were sticky and cloying with saliva. The whole lower half of your face, your abused lips, your aching jaw, your glistening cheeks, were slathered with slick. Your throat felt raw but recently balmed, like you’d swallowed a spoonful of honey to heal a soreness. Each of your knees had been stuck in place for so long that they were both numb, so the scratchy blanket beneath them seemed to ripple with pins and needles.
And Sam. Sam’s weight was braced in his hands, pressed flat to the dash, putting your face between the long bridge-arch of his shoulders. He’d collapsed around you in the footwell, shuddering and gasping for breath, and through the sea of endorphins and hormones, he managed to press his tacky forehead to yours.
You panted together; you inhaled and so did he, atoms apart, nearly mouth to mouth. Sam’s hot breath fanned across your face, cooling the saliva there.
It was something out of some old Italian sculpture, a Pietà, two nude figures entwined, expressing their love in form alone. You were collapsed on your knees, a worshipper gazing up at your saint. Sam was bent over you almost uncomfortably, every fiber of his body yearning for closeness, but close wasn’t close enough to you, his face smushed into yours and his jaw slack.
He looked nothing short of lovesick.
Hands shaking, you cupped Sam’s face. You pressed your thumbs into his warm, flushed cheekbones, then his dimples when he smiled dizzily at you, his girl.
You swallowed. “Did you like that?” You closed her eyes, hoping aloud, “...Did I… did I do a good job for you, Sammy?”
Sam surprised you. The haziness in his eyes cleared more and more with each inhale, until eventually, he was blinking down at you without guile. He burst out laughing.
“...There’s no way it was that bad,” you deadpanned. It didn’t hold for long, with him giggling over you like that. You fought against a mean, vibrant smile and its matching flush. “Alright, Sam, shut up! Quit laughing, you ass! What the hell did I—”
With the seat pushed back as far as it was, Sam had the room to get his hands under your arms again and drag you up onto his lap in one sturdy motion. Your shoulders quaked with laughter the whole time. Suddenly, his face and chest and throat were flush with yours. It was enough to drive a person crazy. Like before, Sam slotted your mouths together. The difference this time was that his cum was all over your face—but Sam could care less. You went from kissing him to gaping, since Sam dotted each filthy lick of your tongues with a heavy lap across your cheek or your chin. Tasting himself. On you. Fucking hell.
“Stop gawking n’ kiss me,” Sam insisted. He pawed at your back for emphasis, then your shoulders from below, adjusting your weight on his thighs since in your shock you’d dropped on him completely.
(And that was definitely a hard-on scooping against your inner thigh. Fucking fuck. Jesus Christ. Holy shit, Sam.)
“You were better n’ good,” he shivered. Filthily and innocently all at once, he grinned, “...I can’t believe… that was how my first time went. I can’t believe you… You, you just…”
He struggled for words. Eventually, Sam purred: “You are a natural.”
I love you, you almost blurted. You deliberately filled your lungs to calm yourself down. Your arms were around Sam’s neck and he was gazing up at you, brimming with satisfaction and gratitude and boundless, unhidden love. Dangerous territory. His taste had sunk thick and sweet on your tongue, so you both moan when you share it with him in a surging kiss.
“Anytime,” you rasped, maybe sounding a bit desperate. You were. Sam was everything you wanted in a thousand different ways, so you refused to let the moment go. In the black darkness, you laid kisses into him until your lips tingled. “I fucking—ugh. That was perfect. You were perfect. If… if you ever want me like that again—”
“I do,” was Sam’s immediate, unflinching answer. “But… I have a condition.”
He swallowed. At first, you figured he was nervous, and knowing it was his first time you doubted he wasn’t. But then Sam’s eyes flashed. Both of his enormous hands smoothed down your waist, kneading the flesh, squeezing you around the sides so his thumbs were in your belly, then his fingers were sliding flat to your hip and down. They plucked under the waistband of your underwear—the last and only layer between you.
“Every time you go down on me,” his hungry, sultry gaze devoured yours, “I get to practice on you, too.”
-
part two.
#sam winchester#sam winchester x y/n#sam winchester x you#uncouthspn#supernatural#spn#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester imagine
678 notes
·
View notes
Note
sokka’s treatment in lok was astonishing tbh but i’m actually glad he was dead by the time the series started bc toph being a cop??? aang being an awful dad???? they would’ve ruined him and suki’s characters lbr.
as far as any possible kids go idk we didn’t meet suyin till book 4 we barely saw izumi i think they just didn’t want to make the new series be a atla reunion plus lok was only meant to be one season so they were making that shit up as they went along lmao. and back in 2012-14?? they didn’t know themselves what happened to sukka lmao.
sokka and suki are definitely the type to break up bc of long distance but then find their way back to each other a few years later especially as they settle into their roles in life.
while bryke definitely neglect suki and sokka to some capacity also they do have a soft spot for suki after bringing her back. many don’t consider her to be team avatar but they’ve stated they do so idk ! she shows up a lot in the comics which have obv been created post-lok and it’s been said that they’ll utilise it’s plots and characters in shall see in future projects (crane fish town becoming republic city maybe??? where suki currently is working?? and sokka later lives!!)
i’m p sure suki will be in it at some capacity anyway and that there’ll stick with jennie as she’s one of the few asian og va’s. she’s doing a lot of work atm for avatar studios.
also random but i literally found out today that it’s not bryke-confirmed that mai and zuko end up together. it was a comment on a panel by the old comic writer. it’s not technically canon. izumi is the spit of mai anyway but hmm! interesting!!
btw btw suyin’s father was def a sandbending outlaw who toph had a secret relationship with that couldn’t be public bc of her role as police chief x
oo big ask ok let me break this up into different paragraphs …
fist point - one thing i will admit about lok is that it fell short in incorporating the original characters into the new series in an interesting way with enough verisimilitude (realistic-ness) that it didn’t feel like they were just throwing a popular character into an episode for the sake of it. such as the whole ‘aang is a bad dad’ thing because they under-utilised him as a mentor figure to korra and instead focused on his supposed favourite son (i have thoughts on this re. aang NOT being a ‘Bad’ dad but i will make another post on it if u are interested (or have i alr made one? i’ll make another one.))
i have to agree that they would’ve probably done something shitty to sokka or suki if they were included. especially with the entire first season of lok being about bender/non-bender equality… i can just imagine they’d make sokka say something dumb about the equalist movement being 100% Bad instead of him actually supporting some of their completely valid arguments. idk. i’m sad there’s no sukka but at the same time…. quit while ur ahead yk.
second point - sukka long distance relationship is so real ESPECIALLY during their first few years together. i can see them just kinda calling it off because of commitment issues due to their work, etc. but not ever really losing feelings. they’d be endgame tho🥰
i can absolutely see suki being in upcoming projects! especially since she and the other kyoshi warriors expanded their reach across the nations - it would be hard to ignore them completely if we’re assuming they’re including comic canon into the universe. i hope jenny returns!!
third point - yeah! how crazy that maiko as izumi’s parents isn’t canon confirmed… though she’s so clearly mai’s daughter. i wonder if mai’s role will be expanded in upcoming projects / if she’ll be featured more. hmmm.
fourth - would honestly prefer this to the theory sokka is her father lol. it kinda baffles me that TOPH became a cop.. not bc she opposes authority - there’s something different about enforcing it than there is having to follow it. i can see toph in authoritative positions, and she fits them well. but i think it baffles me moreso because why would toph even work as a COP? isn’t that boring as hell for her?? go do something awesome like probending or professional underground fighting (adult blind bandit anyone?? this would make a good fic) or literally just construction idk i feel like toph isn’t a Hard Worker type that would want to be stuck in such a rigid career.
#ask#atla#lok#sokka#suki#toph#zuko#mai#ok now i’m obsessed w the idea of toph being a probending champ#fuck it LoK rewrite time:#*suki* puts together the republic city PD and *toph* invents probending#that’s it that’s the whole rewrite#everything else stays the same#except at the end of every episode there’s a post-credits scene where it’s just mako or someone else cool going ‘RESPECT WOMEN’#to shut up the korra haters#🤭🥰#and also unalaq doesn’t destroy the past avatars bc what#wouldn’t korra getting raava back just bring back all the past avatars too??#idk man#a post for another time#what was i saying?#oh yeah probender toph#yeah🥰
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
thoughts I've had while re reading poa as a marauders fan, part 2 (chapters 5)
chapter 5
- girlfriend???? girlfriend???? Percy doesn't have a girlfriend Penelope and him are just very gay friends, his boyfriend is oliver
- everytime it's mentioned Percy has a girlfriend I want to die (I have nothing against Penelope at all but they're both very very gay whyyy are they together)
- Remus jdjdjdnd
- did Ron just say a murder wouldn't mess with harry if him and hermione were there wow the audacity
- the way Remus casually has a bunch of chocolate with him
- wonder what memories could possibly help Remus cast a patronus since most of his better ones probably cause more pain than everything
- also Remus saying sirius' name i am not ok you know that's gotta hurt him
- idk why the fact remus knew harrys name is pointed out cause he's famous and basically everyone knows him just by his looks
- also who in hell was like yep let the soul sucking demons around the little teen wizards uwu
- I think chocolate is really associated with like dementor trauma recovery since sweets often act as like dopamine or whoever you spell it for some people
- I forgot McGonagall had glasses
- did she in the movies? if she did I can't remember
- what's up with the glasses erasure in the movies 😒 /jk
- Pomfrey and McGonagall are married prove me wrong
- also literally the adults in this book have no logic yes let's give a 14 year old a magical item that allows you to go back in time so she can take more classes but not use it and go back before mold voldy was born and make sure he never is born cause he was basically a product of,,,,, forced love to put it nicely,,,, anyways and shouldn't exist
- Dumbledore, "It was just Harry's canon event, his parents had to die or he would never become the chosen one"
- Miguel ohara shit going on fr here
- Spiderman harry confirmed?????
- oh no Dumbledore was subjected to glasses erasure too
- and percy
- literally trusting Dumbledore is ur worse decision every harry like dude literally pulls you out of class 6th year to go on some dangerous quests of death during school time he's like fuck ur education harry less go die
- im quickly realizing no one in the movies look how they do in the books like
- also it's super unrealistic that all the "better" wizards come from Gryffindor like yk ravenclaw probably has more people that are successful (ok look biased opinion but it's true)
- snape if ur homophobic just say that
- we all know ur wolfstars number one hater but for fucks sake man
- just say it
- why else would you hate remus sm for Sirius and James are ur enemies man
- it'd make sense if Neville was forgetful do to trauma yk
- but ok look Dumbledore stop fucking hiring mentally unstable teachers I mean for ffs old man
- hagrids a good guy but he should've never been a teacher
- and remus is very questionable
- love the man but questionable
#poa#prisoner of azkaban#harrypotter#remus lupin#harry potter#hermione granger#albus dumbledore#sirius black#james potter#lily evans#wolfstar#percy weasley
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
to clarify my opinion on "proper" english, idfc how people write in their personal lives/to friends or family/etc, but in professional/published works- or anything that is meant to be understood by a wider audience i think the clarity provided by adhering to certain grammatical rules and structure is veeerrry important eheheh. for the sake of ease of communication!
i try to be pretty careful about my word choice and order allll the time for that reason, even if i drop a lot of proper spelling/capitalization/punctuation for casual dialogue.
nonetheless, i think when people act intentionally obtuse just to shame people for speaking casually/colloquially/with slang/whatever thats stupid and evil etc. hate when people do that. i might not understand a lot of it, but it has the right to exist yk! it is just as worthy of respect ^_^
anyways i think this topic is very interesting as well its something i enjoy talking about :33
once again i dare ask, where does the professional/private begins and stops? thats a big debate we had in termonology class (terminology , the science of terms aka specialised & professional words). some terminologists argue that terms are only employed in the field by top-notch experts to top-notch experts and nothing else qualifies as a term. other terminologists argue that funk that: "spoonful" is a term because it belongs to the professional sector of cooking, disregarding how common/unspecialised it may be (they dont actually disregard it but yknow). also some guy who goes fishing as a hobby every week and starts talking about the components of his rod to his friends: not an expert (meaning doesn't work as a fisherman)! but using specialised words! should they count as terms or common words? should that be considered professional discussion cuz the terms or private discussion cuz he's talking to a friend? anyways it's just to say that the gap between professional and private discussions may not be so clear
on a same note, what is a wider audience? we're on the internet literally everyone could read that post, making it, by its nature, designed for a wide audience. should every tumblr post thus should have proper english? likewise, works that were only notes and scribbles, like Les Pensées by Pascal that were published post-mortem... it was not meant for a wider audience in that state and is not always using proper French. due to this, are thus Les Pensées not a piece of literature anymore? (kinda teasing w this paragraph hehe but you see the issue i'm poking)
like you said the most important task of a language is not to be proper. it is to be spoken but also to be effective. to enable communication. we could also go all in and dare say, funk the rules as long as a message or piece or literature is understandable, it is proper english!! arguably, every broken rule of proper english creates a new variation of english that could be its own proper variation english (like UK english, US english, NZ english, etc, coexist together as proper englishes)
also youre soso true about the shaming stuff. dawg that pisses me OFF. that's why fuck the Académie Française i wish i could dismember that bullshit of an institution. they are the ones "making the rules" of French but NONE OF THOSE FUCKERS ARE LINGUISTS AND ALSO ARE ALL 109 YEARS OLD HOW CAN THEY im cool im cool [insert the hades calming down gif]. anyways. language belongs to the people so whatever they do with it it's fine as long as they have fun and are themselves <3
on a final note i'm heavily arguing against you here but i think you're overall right nonetheless :p rigor may not always be needed in a language but languages need a strong basis and grammatical rules to exist and actually make the communication efficient!! i perfectly see your points and they are very legit
#rambling#ask#i'm a very laissez-faire kinda linguist if you hadnt noticed#maybe cuz neologism is my favourite subscience of linguistics#linguistics#sorry if some parts arent clear . unlike you i don't think much about the order of the words im using which . i should#happens to me all the time in french too#anyways soso interesting topic i love to talk about it hehe <3<3#thamks zapirn-bru <3#frens
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
this is never gonna be
pairing: grim reaper!yoongi x immortal soul human!reader
genre: crack, fluff, a little angst, exes to lovers
drabble wc: 889
warnings: main character death but it’s not that srs yk
summary: min yoongi is a grim reaper and you would do everything to be with him.
a/n: hey! writing blipped is not going where i thought it would be and it is now more angsty than ever so i thought i would write a smol crack drabble based on a tiktok that went on my fyp.
the grin on your face was evident when they found your body inside the trashed car. you were announced “dead on site”. the car had hit a huge boulder and you were obviously going over the normal speed limit on a closed road.
you have died
again
it was probably your 13th? 14th? you don’t know. you’ve lost count. well, you don’t really care.
“hmm.” you inspect your body inside the car. “I still look pretty,” you say with a shrug. your face was very bloody from the wound on your head but there wasn’t a damage to your face anywhere. that wasn’t the same thing you could say to the other times you don’t really want to get back to.
you climbed over the roof of the car to sit down, swinging your legs. you watched as the firemen take your body out of the car. “hey, careful now.” you shout to them even though you know they can’t hear you anyway.
what’s taking him so long?
and just like he was summoned, a man has dramatically appeared in a second. there was smoke all around him and over his suit is his black cloak that was floating, bits and pieces of the end were burning and breaking from it but it never strays from the end of the cloth. his black hair is longer than usual which fits him more than you will admit. it was slicked back and you always love it when it was. you used to give his forehead lots of kisses.
but his eyes.
oh his eyes.
they were FUMING.
you’ve known his eyes to be always bored. he hated his job as a grim reaper. he just hated seeing people dying and having to get them like he was an uber driver. and especially the old people. he hated escorting old people. he hates to admit it but you know he has a soft heart. that’s one of the things you love about him.
but there are days he loves his job.
it’s when he gets to drag people to hell when they deserve it.
and can you just say, he absolutely looks HOT when he does. the look in his eyes are so dark you can’t help but get a little turned on and rub your thighs together. but that’s not important right now.
what’s important is how he looks at you right now.
yoongi is a different kind of annoyed right now.
the kind of annoyance reserved for you only.
“for fuck’s sake, y/n.” he spits every word with a lace of venom, the poison you are so addicted to.
you squealed and hopped down the car to clap your hands. “yoongi, you wouldn’t believe what happened! the car’s break just won’t–”
he raises his palm in front of your face. “save it.”
you pout and cross your arms, waiting for his lecture.
“you’ve been granted an immortal soul. you have the chance to live your life fruitfully. you have the choice to be a human, whenever, however, and how many times you want, and this is how you choose to spend your time?”
you sigh and drag the collar of his dark cloak. “but the human world is so boring without you baby.” you flirt as you drag your finger down his chest.
he flicks your hands away from him and takes a deep breath.
“we’re over, y/n. i told you.” he says after exhaling. eyes closed in an attempt to stay calm.
you lose your teasing face and say with a straight face. “and i told you. i don’t care about my immortal soul. i want you.”
he watches as they put your lifeless body on the wheeled stretcher and put a white cloth over it. he points at your body. “do you enjoy that?” you look away from him. he shakes his head. “no, you don’t get to look away.”
he places his two hands on your cheeks lightly and forces you to look at yourself. “look at you. you’re fucking dead.” he says and drops his hands. you can’t help but to feel sad. you know he’s right. death isn’t something to be taken lightly. and you do feel the pain of death every time you do it. you have an immortal soul but you were still an immortal soul in a human body.
“and you force me to watch every time.”
you can’t help but stare back at his face when he drops his words with a lace of pain in them.
and you were right.
“you’re an idiot.” he spits out, but with tears in his eyes.
you can’t help but fill your eyes with tears too.
and when you wrap your arms around him, he’s putty in your hands.
“you’re an annoying piece of shit.” he says through his sobs. they were muffled as he buries his face in your neck.
with tears streaming down your face, you ask. “but you love this piece of shit, don’t you?”
he huffs and pushes you away.
he wipes the tears in his eyes and fixes his robe.
“no.”
he turns his back.
“come on, let’s get you to namjoon.”
he pauses.
“wipe your tears. he’s about to give you a better scolding.”
and you groan but smile.
sorry namjoon, but this won’t be the last time. this is never gonna be.
© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.
#yoongi imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi drabble#suga imagine#suga fluff#suga drabble#bts yoongi#bts drabble#bts x reader#bts exes to loverss#bts fantasy au#bts supernatural au#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#bts imagine#bts fluff#bts angst
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
Name: Muffy the owllet
Release Date: unknown
Date of adoption: early 2000s
Brand: unknown, from the 80s
Muffy is a hand warmer, traditionally called a Muff so not a toy but I do love her. She has a long string that you put around your neck to carry her by. My mum is making us get rid of her even tho she's been with us a long time so that's why I'm posting her, to always remember. I've brushed her fur out just to make her look extra good for the next family.
I will take 0 jokes made about the 1690s slag word.
I found a picture of what she looks like new and her tags! She was so fluffy, I never had her like that. She has always been well loved.
I worry about letting things this old go because what if they end up discarded in a landfill only weeks after they leave my hands? I know its out of my control but she's so old and has so much life left in her, I just don't use these things anymore but I could always try to for her sake, yk? 😔 It just makes me worry in this day and age of fast fashion and ageing youth
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay, I want your thoughts on poly! Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid with a BAU! reader, specifically during season 12. (MAJOR SEASON 12 SPOILERS, so sorry if you haven't watched it. Also, this is really angsty, so hear me out.) What if, you guys had just had a little girl together like 6 or 7 months old at this point. When you guys come home from cases Jack always talks to you about school and soccer, and he's become super animated and comfortable with you and Spencer. (I headcannon you have been dating Spencer for 7 years, all three of you have been dating for like 5 years, and all of you have lived together for like 3 or so.) He's always clomping around and playing games and he dumps his soccer gear in the doorway as soon as he gets home (this is important for later) And babygirl is starting to babble, she can't say full words yet, but she's crawling and babbling. Spencer always spouts off facts and is always talking, and everyone's just moving around. Basically, it's a very eventful, lively household and there's never a dull moment in your house. But then Scratch shows up at Jack's soccer game (Jack is 12 at this point and babygirl is 6 or 7 months like I said) So, obviously Aaron has to take Jack and your new baby girl into witsec (idk why you and Spencer wouldn't go with them, I haven't figured out the details it's just for the angst. Probably something about not being allowed to have three team members leave all at once yk?) Aaron would have taken the kids during the day, because he knew he wouldn't be able to resist telling you where he was going. So, just in general, you wouldn't have gotten to say goodbye to Jack (who's basically your kid) and your brand new baby. And you're just so hurt because she's so young, and who knows how long it's going to take to catch Scratch. So, you're scared you're going to miss babygirl's first steps and first words. I mean, this is YOUR baby for goodness sakes, and you're going to miss so many important milestones. And Spencer feels the same. So, it's just you and Spencer. And the first time you guys go home, after finding out about it, it's so quiet. The thing that you notice first is the lack of Jack's soccer gear in the doorway. Then you catch the silence. Baby isn't crawling down the hallway thumping on the ground, her toys aren't being thrown and banged, she's not playing with hee tots thst make music, Jack isn't running down the hallway to greet you and tell you everything about his day, Spencer isn't even ranting random facts at all, and there's just this lack of Hotch, he's not cooking, his briefcase also isn't in the doorway. Then you make it to the bedrooms, the kids aren't in there, some of their toys are gone, their clothes are gone, books are gone, it's pretty much all gone. Then you and Spencer get to the master bedroom...and all Hotch's clothes are gone, excelt for two sweatshirt or zip-ups. This is what causes the tears. His clothes are just gone except for one for each of you. And you guys just fall asleep bawling because you miss him so much. And you guys process and you're barely getting through the day, and barely sleeping. AND THEN, as if that isn't enough, Spencer goes to jail. When you find out Spencer is in jail, all he'll breaks loose. You wuite literally have no one. The house that once brought you so much joy and so much love is empty, and dull, and cold. You make the mistake of going home and it's bad. Nothing feels right. You haven't been alone in so long, and suddenly you are. You have no one to turn to, no one to talk to about cases, no one to hold and snuggle. It's all just gone. You'd probably spend about 20 minutes just wandering around the house, so unsure of what to do with yourself. There's no one who needs help with homework, not a baby to feed or play with, no dinner to be made, just no one to talk to. And after you walk around, you just lay down and stare at the ceiling. After that you'd stop being helpful on cases. You'd pretty much stop eating and you'd stop taking care of yourself. (THIS IS ONLY PART ONE, I'M SO SORRY, I HAVE SO MUCH)
part one!!
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
i feel weird posting here, but it seems like a nice space so here goes, i 'spose.
my moms great. love her to death. shes very old, coming up on her 70th birthday, and im about 14 and a half. (im adopted, not biological.) anyway. the only reason i mention this is cause somtimes the generational gap gets to us. me being genZ and her being a baby boomer. she was very understanding when i came out as trasngender, and before that as bisexual.
however, when i tried to come to her and explain my feelings on sexual attraction, she didnt seem very... exited. i explained what asexual and demisexual was, and that i was rather confident that i was somwhere on the asexual spectrum. i have since become most comfortable with the term demisexual.
The first time i tried to explain to her that i was, she used the old "oh youre too young to know" and "well thats just NORMAL" (about demi.) Could be better, but could also be worse. as i always like to say in such situations, it was ignorance, not hatred.
the second or so time we had a conversation about it, she began to cry. she doesnt cry particularly often, and when she does theres always a reason. she was so worried for my future relationships. shes never backed down from this thought process either. she says that ill be missing a large connection in relationships. she says that i wont be able to find somone because of it, or that itll severly narrow my options.
1. you do NOT NEED SEX to have a CLOSE RELATIONSHIP. for GODS SAKE.
1.5 i could even gain sexual attraction to them! im not strictly asexual! just on the spectrum. ffs.
2. the other person does not have to be asexual! im also polyamorus, so if sex is a must have for my partner, i do not mind them finding it elsewhere.
3. i do not want to date somone who values sex so highly that they only want that from me. i want to date people based on love, yk? if thats one and done no exeptions from somone, they arent for me. wether i was sexually attracted to them or not.
anyways
#trans#transgender#nonbinary#non binary#non-binary#nb#enby#asexual#ace#acespec#aspec#demisexual#coming out#aphobia#invalidation#polyamory#polyamorous
55 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
en-shichi8
Eee FA
muathegameonline
Mua Thẻ Ngay
koopsala
Koopsala
the-color-life
La Vida es Asi
ivyglow
melinda