#i know he’s not supposed to be very expressive but consider
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The Silver Dragon (7)
Cold Fire
Having been worse than ignored by Daemon at the funeral, Arianwyn finally comes face to face with her father.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)
Warnings: none
Author's Note: daddy's home...
Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter
The first time Arianwyn called someone ‘papa,’ it was not Prince Daemon Targaryen.
King Viserys had come to the nursery to see her dragon. He’d made a habit of doing so about once per week. Arianwyn and Aemond loved when he came, for they would get to sit on his big, soft lap and listen to him tell stories.
Aemond fell asleep halfway through the first story. It was about a beautiful Valyrian princess who lived her life confined in a tower, who only escaped when a handsome Valyrian prince fell in love with her without even seeing her and rescued her on his great dragon. That story was a particular favorite of hers.
She snuggled closer to the king, holding her dragon – who was also asleep – in her arms. “Read another one, papa?”
The king frowned, his face crinkling. “Oh, little Aria, I’m not your papa.”
How could that be? Aegon and Aemond called him ‘father,’ and Helaena called him ‘papa.’ Why was it different for her? “Why not?”
“Because someone else is your father,” the king said. “Your father is my brother – he is your papa. I am your uncle, your kepa.”
She considered for a moment. Aunt was her aunt, not her mother, and Aunt was married to the king. She supposed it made sense. “Where is my papa?”
“He is…” the king, Uncle, looked away from her, out the window to the sea. “He is far away.”
“When is he coming back?”
“I don’t know, my sweet.” He looked sad. Very sad.
Arianwyn did not want him to be sad. If he was sad, he wouldn’t read to her more. “Which story is your favorite, Uncle Kepa?”
He laughed, but she didn’t know why. But he began reading again, so it was fine.
That evening, once Aegon and Helaena had returned from wherever they went during the day, Arianwyn explained what she had learned to Helaena and Aemond. But Aegon laughed at her when she mentioned her father and how she couldn’t wait for him to come back.
“Why would he come back?” he asked.
It seemed like a silly question to her. “To see me.”
Aegon shook his head. “He doesn’t want to or need to. He has a new family across the sea – two new daughters. Besides, he’s had more than ten years to see you. If he wanted to, he would have done it already.”
Aemond started to yell at him and threw a stuffed velvet rabbit at him. But Arianwyn said nothing.
What Aegon said felt like the truth. She could feel it in her chest like the weight of half a dozen books. Her father stayed across the sea because she did not want to see her – he did not want to be her father.
She never called anyone ‘papa’ again.
The main dining room at High Tide was as lavish as the rest of the castle. A great table, some twenty feet long, ran through the center of the room. From the uneven grain and sun-bleached color of the wood itself, it was clear to all who laid eyes on it that it had been constructed of driftwood – Lord Corlys was many things, but subtle he was not. The twenty-two chairs set around the table were made of the same wood, backboards reaching up in points shaped by the sea.
Prince Daemon Targaryen sat on one of these chairs – at the head of the table – slouching with disinterest as he picked at the wood of the armrest with his fingernails. He did not look up when the queen entered the room, his daughter trailing sheepishly behind her.
Arianwyn thought her heart would burst out of her chest for how fast it beat. She could no more decipher her own churning feelings than the expression on her father’s face. She curtsied, just as her Septa had instructed. But she said nothing.
Neither did Daemon.
After long moments of silence, the queen spoke. “My Prince, may I introduce the Lady Arianwyn.” She fixed him with her most withering glare. “Your daughter.”
“Yes, I can see that,” the Prince drawled, at last looking at the girl. He scanned his violet eyes over her like she were livestock to be appraised. “She has her mother’s piggy little nose.”
Arianwyn clenched her fist to prevent her hand from flying to her face, resisting the instinct to cover the apparently offensive feature. A fire ignited in her heart, setting her blood boiling.
The queen herself had to bite her tongue to hold back a curt reply. Instead, she smoothed the front of her dress and spoke again. “I am pleased to say that she is a fine, accomplished young lady. She has excelled in her studies, and the Dragonkeepers report she is equally talented as a dragonrider.”
Daemon grinned as if he had been told a foul joke. “I’d heard the egg hatched. Let me guess, a bronze she-dragon?”
Forcing out a shaking breath, Arianwyn shook her head.
Her father pursed his lips, “Pity. You could have called it after your mother. Few enemies would stand a chance against the Bronze Bitch.”
“How dare you?” Arianwyn spat, her oath of silence and indifference entirely abandoned. “How dare you insult my mother?”
Alicent placed a hand on her niece’s elbow to calm the girl’s rage. But Arianwyn ripped her arm away, stalking around the massive table to advance on her father. “You’ve never cared about me for a single moment of my entire life. And now, after ten years, you finally ask to see me only so you can insult me and continue to defame the woman you tortured in life?” She reached the end of the table, fire blazing in her grey eyes as she stared down at Daemon. “What kind of cowardly monster are you?”
Sighing, Daemon pulled himself from his chair. He was so much taller than her, even when he leaned to brace his hands on either side of the driftwood table. “I did not ask to see you.”
Something cracked in Arianwyn’s chest at those words, as the last shred of a primal, desperate hope for reconciliation with her father – a hope she did not know she still held – died. Tears finally spilled from her eyes, and she whirled around toward Alicent.
The queen’s heart broke when she saw the utter devastation on the girl’s face – knowing she had been its architect. “I am so sorry, Aria,” she breathed. “I thought… A child should know her father.”
Before either woman could say anything more, Daemon strolled casually around the opposite end of the table, a self-satisfied smile across his lips. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, but there are people in this castle I should like to meet.”
Neither Alicent nor Arianwyn moved a muscle until the door had thudded shut behind him. Then and only then did Arianwyn fall to her knees, letting out a cry that would shatter the frozen heart of an ice dragon.
Arianwyn cried for hours, despite Alicent and Brynna’s attempts to soothe her. But there was no calming her fury. It continued to grow, burning brighter and hotter than even the black fire of Balerion, a ferocity that could only come from a shattered Targaryen heart.
She had told herself that she did not care what Daemon thought of her, that she had lived her life happily enough without him, and even that she hated him after what he had done to Rhea. Yet, true as those feelings were, there remained a piece of her soul that yearned for the love and approval of her only remaining parent. To have that piece destroyed, even when it was suppressed for so long, was a wound from which most would never recover.
But Arianwyn was not just any girl. She was the blood of Old Valyria and the daughter of Runestone. She would endure.
When her throat was raw from screaming and her eyes at last dry of tears, she let the fire that burned in her soul cool. It was not quenched – nor would it be for many years to come. Instead, the sprawling red blaze in her chest joined together in a single flame of crackling silvery blue. This fire burned not with heat, but a cold that made the icy fields beyond the Wall look like a scorching Dornish desert.
Fire burned in the soul of every Targaryen born – but precious few had ever burned cold.
Alicent offered to have dinner brought up to Arianwyn, but she refused. She would not hide in a tower like a damsel from a story. She would walk once more into that dining room with her head held high and look upon her father with her mother’s grey eyes. She would show him just how like Rhea she was – that even bent and cracked, she would not break.
#aemond#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond imagine#prince aemond#aemond x oc#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd aemond#aemond fic#hotd fanfic#aemond xf!oc#aemond x original female character#aemond x original character#the silver dragon
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About that Barbie bot ask which I love! Can we get the reactions of the tfa bots and cons helping her out and her getting so excited and grateful she unexpectedly gives them a brief kiss before skipping off waving another thank you.
Barbie-bot is called Millisecond (or Millie for short) as suggested by @curespectra
-Optimus' processor comes to a screeching halt, unable to quite fathom what just happened. He makes it all back to base on autopilot, back into his private room, and it's only then that it finally sinks in. He covers his face with his servos as his face turns a brilliant blue as he blushes. Oh stars. He only now realizes just what a massive crush he's got on Millisecond. How is he supposed to look her in the optics now without thinking about that kiss? Impossible. He'll just have to hide away forever.
-Ratchet sputters, takes a step back, stares at Millie's retreating back, touches his lips and finally just loudly exclaims "WHAT". Look, kissing is a human thing but he knows what it means. He knows that it's meant to be something intimate, something done between lovers. And for the first time in millennia, Ratchet feels like he's a young newframe again, experiencing his first crush.
-It takes a few seconds for Bumblebee to compute what is happening. When it finally dawns on him, Millie is already leaving. Of course, he's going to follow because ok, wow, that was- that was GREAT. Greater than great, AMAZING. Bumblebee is trying so hard to come up with something smooth and suave to say but instead he stumbles over his pick up lines, acting like the flustered fool he is.
-Bulkhead's jaw drops. Literally. He stands there, frozen as he watches her Millisecond away and it's only when one of his friends intervene that he remembers that he has a body. The biggest, goofiest smile appears on his face and he practically skips back to base, immediately preparing a new canvas and starts painting because love is inspiring and he's got to express his feelings with art. If it turns out good then maybe he'll even give his crush the painting.
-As someone who prides himself with rarely being caught off guard, Prowl is, admittedly, caught off guard by the kiss. He gently touches his lips before retreating somewhere more private, somewhere where he can consider his feelings regarding what just happened. As cold as he might appear, Prowl is actually quite in tune with his own emotions and so he doesn't feel flustered or at a loss, simply befuddled. Befuddled and very, very happy.
-It takes a moment but then Megatron is smiling, well, more like smirking. He had originally only helped her out because he wanted to manipulate Millisecond, make her think that she can trust him, but this just made things much easier. He's familiar with the human gesture and its implications and so his mind is already conjuring up ideas on how to turn this into his favor. It doesn't hurt that Millisecond is also an incredibly attractive bot.
-Similar to Ratchet, Starscream freezes before letting out a loud "WHAT" that shatters windows, triggers car alarms and sends birds flying. He's not upset, just caught off guard. People don't feel grateful towards him, they just don't, and they especially don't express that gratefulness through physical intimacy! Once he's calmed down however, Starscream feels incredibly smug about it. Of course she would reward him with a kiss, he's such a gentleman after all. It goes straight to his ego.
-Blitzwing is swapping faces so fast it makes him dizzy. The face that got the kiss is immediately attacked by the other two because they are jealous and petty even at themself. Hothead is the worst affected because now he can't stop thinking about those soft lips on his and how it would feel like to actually kiss back and oh dear, he's got it bad. Meanwhile, Random wants Millie to take it a step further and actually eat his face. Icy is the only one even remotely normal about it all.
-Lugnut straight up screeches and trips over his own pedes as he scrambles backwards. Begone, temptress! He's happily conjuxed and faithful to his one true love! Secretly though, he can't stop his spark from spinning out of control because he's got a crush on Millie and it makes him feel so fucking guilty.
-Initially unfamiliar with this gesture, Shockwave does some research on what it means and when he does, oh boy. He's got to kill her now. It's the only way. Because his frame should not be burning so hot with an emotion that he can only call a crush. He does not know how to deal with this. This is, this is- lord Megatron, HELP!
-Blackarachnia is used to being the one doing the seducing so being on the other side of things throws all of her into a flustered mess. And it wasn't even meant to be seductive! It was just a token of appreciation, a way to show how grateful Millie felt. But somehow that only makes it worse! Blackarachnia is so out of depth, she doesn't know what to do.
#transformers imagine#transformers animated#optimus prime#ratchet#bumblebee#bulkhead#prowl#megatron#starscream#blitzwing#lugnut#shockwave#blackarachnia#OC
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Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:
Dream & Ponk - Rabbit
@sixteenth-day-event
(Did I totally misread the prompt and have to reword the fic to make it work? No, totally didn’t, no idea what you’re talking about)
(Also, thank you to @simplepotatofarmer for inserting rabbit!Dream in my head. May have accidentally stolen an idea from their Rabbit Run fic. If you haven’t yet, go read Rabbit Run, it’s very good! Can’t stop thinking of c!dream as prey hybrid types now.)
Sixteenth Day Event:
Dream & Ponk - Rabbit
Ponk finds an injured Dream in the woods by his house after a prison break. He’s not one to leave an injured man to die.
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“So, I’m not the only one Sam decided to fuck with,” Ponk muttered.
The masked rabbit hybrid in front of him shrugged. He stared down at the hand Ponk was wrapping with bandages. He sat on the kitchen chair stiff and uncomfortable. There were more bandages wrapped around his torso and limbs under his trousers. His rabbit ears were heavily bandaged, which wasn’t helping his already damaged hearing. His right foot was missing, a rudimentary prosthetic attached to the stump of his lower leg. Ponk didn’t want to consider the implications of a rabbit hybrid losing a foot. Especially when he knew Dream could shapeshift.
“Seriously, what the hell did he do to you in there?”
Another shrug. Ponk sighed.
“Dream, you’re going to have to talk to me at some point. I can only help with so much if I’m guessing what hurts and what might be infected. You’re lucky to be moving while missing a foot like that,” he chided.
Dream’s ears wilted as he hunched his shoulders in response, as if trying to curl in on himself despite the fabric wrapped around his body. Ponk’s eyes softened.
“Just take your time, okay? I’m not turning you back over to Sam anytime soon.”
“What about the others?” a hoarse voice coughed out of Dream’s throat. “Would you turn me over to them?”
Ponk sighed. He’d been doing that a lot lately. When had the server become like this? His best friend taking his arm over a couple of tokens. That same person torturing their former friend. The Egg corrupting the others and driving them to hurt and kill on a whim. When had it all gone so wrong?
“No, I won’t be. I’m not a snitch, Dream. Have a little faith that I have some sort of conscience after all this,” he huffed, letting out a small, humorless chuckle.
Dream turned away. As much as Ponk would have liked to see Dream’s face, see the expressions he was making… he understood Dream’s desire for privacy. It seemed to have been ripped from him in prison.
The tension building in the room caused Ponk to switch subjects.
“Why did Sam… why did he torture you? Was it supposed to be a punishment?” he winced at the words leaving his mouth. But he also couldn’t help his curiosity. His need to relate to someone who had suffered abuse at the hands of the same person.
Dream flinched. Ponk bit his lip to keep down the concerned reassurance that tried to leap from his throat. Dream wouldn’t want that, not right now.
“It… Sam didn’t lift a finger. Not really. He just… he just condoned it,” Dream mumbled. His voice was so quiet Ponk almost didn’t hear him.
“What? He let… he let someone else torture you? In his prison?” Ponk couldn’t keep the incredulous tone from his voice.
Dream nodded.
Ponk swallowed. He could see Sam torturing someone. Hell, he counted what he went through as torture, and that only lasted a day at most. But to hand someone else the tools and sit back and watch…. That was almost worse.
Just who on the server would feel comfortable to get close enough to Dream of all people to torture him?
“Wh—?”
“It was Q-Quackity,” Dream said, voice breaking ever so slightly on the other’s name.
Ponk frowned. He didn’t know Quackity particularly well. He had seen the other when they had gone to the vault to detain Dream. But otherwise, they barely interacted. The younger man must be power hungry then, enough to try and take something from a man already locked up and unable to touch anyone.
“Huh.” It was all Ponk could think to respond.
There another long silence. The air felt thicker and stuffier by the minute, and Ponk debated opening a window before deciding against it. It would cause Dream to panic more, and Ponk had barely managed to get the young rabbit hybrid to his house after finding him bleeding out in the woods.
Ponk turned back to the masked hybrid to finish off the last bandage. His frown deepened as a line of blood dripped from Dream’s chin.
“Dream, is your head bleeding?”
Dream flinched, before reaching up and dabbing the skin under his mask. His fingers came away red with blood. Ponk watched as the young man’s chest stuttered, his lungs not quite working properly as he began hyperventilating.
Ponk took his hand and held it firmly but gently, rubbing circles on bandaged knuckles.
“I need you to breathe, Dream. It’s all right. You’re okay. I can treat the injury if you take your mask off. Can you do that for me?”
Dream went still, ears flattening against his head. His hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. He shook his head. Ponk’s eyes softened.
“I promise no one will hurt you, Dream. I just want to make sure it’s not infected, okay?”
Dream was quiet again. For a good moment, Ponk thought he would have to leave the wound alone and pray it wouldn’t become infected.
And then Dream slowly raised his hand to the white disc that sat on his face. He undid the strap and lowered it.
The face that stared down at the ground was covered in scars and burns. As if a hot knife had been dragged across his cheeks. His little nose was inflamed and torn. His whiskers were almost shaved, which couldn’t possibly be good for his stability. There was even a small “Q” dug into the jawline. No part of Dream’s body had been spared the torture then.
Ponk was glad his own face was covered, but he knew his eyes would betray his horror. He quickly composed himself and got to work on the gash in Dream’s forehead, newly opened from whatever activity Dream had done after escaping the Vault. The young man stayed quiet, despite flinching at how close Ponk got. His dull, green eyes never left Ponk’s hands as he worked, and his ears were still pinned against his head.
“Why are you helping me?” The question was unprompted, maybe to deal with the unsettling silence that had fallen over the two of them.
Ponk sat back for a moment. “Because you used to be my friend, Dream. And you’re injured. I don’t actually enjoy seeing people suffer.”
Dream scoffed but remained silent.
Ponk placed the last plaster on Dream’s skin and stood from where he’d crouched beside the other. He stretched his arms over his head.
“Well, that should be everything. You can stay here for the night, and I would highly recommend you do so. I don’t want you to tear open any stitches,” he said, gesturing to a nearby pullout couch.
Dream shook his head. “I… I have somewhere to go. Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”
Ponk wished he were more surprised by the sincerity in that remark. It would have hurt less to hear than the gratitude oozing out of Dream’s voice, how his ears perked up just a little at Ponk’s offer. As if Dream thought he should have died out there alone and afraid.
“Of course, Dream. My door is open if you need anything, all right? And I promise, I won’t tell anyone.”
Dream nodded, strapping his mask back on.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as he pulled his hoodie back on and donned his armor.
He stood from his chair and almost immediately stumbled, catching himself before Ponk could react. He waved Ponk off and grunted as he stepped towards the door. It swung open with a push, and Dream peered out for a moment, glancing at the surroundings. And turning back to Ponk one last time, he nodded his thanks.
And then he was off again, hobbling down the path to the woods nearby.
Ponk stared out the open door to starlit sky above. He sighed, closed the door, and moved to clean the table of bandage rolls and dots of blood. A deep sorrow built up inside him as he thought of the dull eyes of a man he had considered a close friend. And of the maniacal look on their abuser’s face when he’d taken Ponk’s arm. One he probably had when Quackity had taken Dream’s foot.
When had it all gone so wrong?
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(You thought, oh cute fic prompt, maybe fluff? No, you get angst instead. No comfort, only hurt).
#sixteenthdayevent#c!dream and c!ponk#they were friends your honor#ponk still cares but dream is too paranoid#totally stole simplepotatofarmer’s rabbit!dream idea#it worked with the prompt#rabbit hybrid!dream#rabbit!dream#dsmp#mcyt#<for anyone who has those tags blocked
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LOVER'S QUARREL
- fushiguro megumi x reader
“i can't do this anymore.”
you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.
genre:
angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)
note:
dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!
a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.
And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.
But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.
You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.
You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.
So how dare he spout this now?
“I can't do this anymore.”
"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"
"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."
This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.
You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"
"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."
Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.
Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.
"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"
Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"
"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"
In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.
And yet...
"...I'm sorry."
Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.
And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."
As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.
Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."
You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.
Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.
Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.
"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.
"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."
"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"
"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."
"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."
. . .
"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.
Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”
Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”
“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”
He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.
Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…
How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?
Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.
With Hakari.
“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.
An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.
Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.
“Megumi?”
Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?
“Megumi!”
“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”
He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."
But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.
"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"
"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.
From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.
...huh?
Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?
What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.
Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—
Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.
How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.
How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.
But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.
“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?
Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?
They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.
What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?
You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!
You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...
"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.
You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."
This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?
Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.
"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.
Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."
You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.
Stay close, he said... So he is worried...
And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.
You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"
"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.
"You two seem close."
Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?
Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"
In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.
You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?
"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.
Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.
But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"
Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.
For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.
Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.
And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"
"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"
He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.
You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"
"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.
"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.
"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"
Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—
At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.
He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—
Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.
You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.
Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.
And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.
"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"
You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.
It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.
"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."
Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.
"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.
"Don't leave me."
It was like a distant, hazy memory.
Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.
The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.
You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.
Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.
Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.
Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...
You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.
"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."
When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.
"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."
You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.
“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.
He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.
"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.
However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."
...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?
"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."
"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"
"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"
“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”
Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.
"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"
You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.
You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"
"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.
He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."
And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."
Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."
And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.
“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”
A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.
But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."
And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.
"Maybe I am, yeah."
"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."
"Yeah..."
But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.
On one sunny day...
"Hey, are you alone?"
Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.
"No. Can I help you?"
The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"
The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—
Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.
"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."
Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.
"Megumi!"
Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—
He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.
"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"
#fushiguro megumi x reader#jjk x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader angst#megumi fushiguro x reader fluff#megumi fushiguro x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader fluff#fushiguro x reader#megumi x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines#fushiguro megumi fluff#fushiguro megumi x y/n#fushiguro megumi angst#jjk#megumi fluff#megumi fushiguro#jjk angst#jjk fluff
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𝓗𝓪𝓲𝓴𝔂𝓾𝓾 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴-𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵
Feat. Nekoma & Inarizaki -> Part 2 [Aoba Johsai & Fukurodani]
Premise: You had to do something else for a week and a half, leaving the boys alone for that period. Although they told the coaches that they could survive without you, the coaches ask a girl to help them out instead. They weren’t particularly excited, which got worse the more they spent time with her
Nekoma
You arrived later than you expected, just on time for the club, So you didn’t get to see your dear team until much later
When you enter the gym, you see a…strange view
No one in the team was happy
Yaku and Kai didn’t have any expressions on them, Lev was pouting aggressively, Fukunaga had a frown, Yamamoto was mumbling words and Kenma was nowhere to be seen.
The girl that was supposed to replace you for the week was walking besides a very annoyed Kuroo, who was pushing the cart with the balls
Weird, considering that doing that was the basics for being a manager
They were so out of it that none notice the sound of your shoes, weird considering how attentive they are
“Ah Kuroo senpai, thank God you helped me! I’m so small and weak that I wasn’t able to push it over” you heard her say, making you cringe at the sentence
“Yeah, whatever” said a disinteresting Kuroo
And that’s when you confirm that something was really wrong, Kuroo was never this dismissive
“What’s happening? Everything ok?” you asked making Kuroo turn around with a relief smile on
“Oh hi, Kuroo senpai was just helping me since you know, I’m so small and weak” says fluttering her eyes at him
“It’s just pushing the cart. It has wheels on it…” You gave a disbelief look to Kuroo, who just rolls his eyes “it’s not that hard”
“Maybe for someone as big as you it wouldn’t be so difficult!”
That was it for Kuroo, who quickly move to your side giving you a hug
“Well, guess you can leave now that our manager is back. Bye”
"Kuroo-senpai!! Stooop! I can stay here too!” says stomping her feet
The whole commotion cause everyone to look at you, and you swear you heard a collective sigh full of relief
Quickly enough you felt a bunch of arms around you, a bunch of head pats and a ton of screams of your name
Which quickly was interrupted by a loud scream by the girl “KYANMA!!”
You look at the stairs where Kenma was standing shaking slightly with big eyes. The girl tried to get close to him, yelling “They are being mean, Kyanma!” but he just runs away towards you
Yes. Run. He hated her, she was so loud and desperate, Kenma literally couldn’t stand her.
“You’re back” says Kenma hiding behind you, showing more happiness that you ever have seen from him
So happy that he went to hug you tightly, he really missed you
“Anyways, now that our team is finally complete you can leave. Please go out” says Kuroo
“Agh! Fine! I’m way too good for you anyways!”
She sends you a look full of venom, but you didn’t really notice it
After all, you had a clingy Kenma hugging you tightly and the rest of the team waiting for one
Inarizaki
After your small break reached an end you finally were ready to go back to your boys
They were having a small hangout in the Miya household
They tried to be sneaky about it, not wanting to invite the girl that was replacing you
But sadly for them, she somehow knew and crash into them before you could arrive
She’s the first person you see when you enter their house with the spare key they gave you
“Who are you?” she asks with her eyebrow raising
“Ehh…I’m Yn, their manager. You helped them while i was out?” You ask back, confused at her sudden presence
“Yes…I actually think I should be the new manager! After all I play like 17 sports and definitely know more than you about sports. What do you think this is? Cheer? Not like it’s a sport, but whatever” she says with a overconfident smirk
In the meantime the guys that were already in the house starting to appear into the hall, confused at how loud her voice was being
“Anyways! Why don’t you leave? A girl like you probably doesn’t even know a thing about sports! We’re gonna play videogames while you probably just want to paint your nails or whatever!”
“Who says you’re staying?” Atsumu says, frowning
“Ha Ha, you’re so funny Atsumu! Of course I’m staying” she says nervous
“No, you’re not” Osamu adds
“I’m sure we can all hang out tog-” you try to say
“You shut it! I bet you don’t know anything about the sport!”
She says to you despite you trying to help her
“Really? You barely even know what we play, you just join because you wanted to see hot guys” a voice behind you says, Suna entering the house as he passes his arm through your shoulders
The girl immediately went pale, stammering the next sentence “well…well, I mean, of course I know!”
“Sure, that's why you asked 'if we knew' the rules of basketball yesterday. Just leave, nobody wants you here anyway”
She scoffs annoyed, looking at the rest of the team as if asking for help, which she doesn’t receive. She scoffs one more time, walking towards the door and leaving as she shoots a glare towards you
“You guys are so mean” you say, receiving a chuckle
“She deserved it, if anything she just hinder our practice” Osamu adds
“Besides, nobody talks about our beautiful manager like that” Atsumu hugs you along side Suna
The rest of the team also comes to hug you, and while they were a bit rude, you knew that they only had good intentions
You love this foxes too much
----
Note: a little something about my boys, also, I cringed way too much while writing this
#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu#kenma x reader#kenma x y/n#kenma imagine#kenma x you#kenma fluff#kuroo testuro#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo x y/n#kuroo x you#kuroo fluff#nekoma#atsumu imagines#atsumu scenarios#atsumu x reader#atsumu x y/n#atsumu fluff#suna headcanons#suna x reader#suna x you#suna x y/n#suna fluff#osamu x reader
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button ; coriolanus snow. (m)
pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)
synopsis ; what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.
words ; 3.4k
themes ; fluff, mild angst, smut
warnings / includes ; unprotected sex (not very explicit), possessiveness, themes of classism, we meet reader's rich parents !! and grandma'am and tigris appear, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3
a/n ; there will be a third part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)
series masterlist. main masterlist.
Your home was the very definition of old money—wealth and grace and high status carved into the marble floors, hung up in the large oil paintings, found within the fibers of the expensive carpets leading into grand halls. Snow had to consciously remind himself to appear unphased. He had this sort of life, too, as far as you were concerned.
It was only expected, especially considering your parents’ high positions: with your father being the top admiral of the navy, and your mother a renowned physicist with several awards under her belt. Dozens of rows of medals and framed certifications from both your parents were more than enough for Snow to gauge the mass of their importance.
He shifted the weight of his feet in his too-tight shoes. Anxious. He wore his dress shirt again, though not before asking Tigris to try and rework the buttons. The buttons hewn from his bathroom tiles. Make them look the same, he had told her. They’re uneven. Snow turned away before he could see her mildly crestfallen expression.
It was a special occasion, hence his dressed-up attire. There was a rose pinned to his waistcoat, a deep shade of red, from his Grandma’am’s rooftop garden. Your father had come home today, after months of military work in the districts. And to celebrate such a momentous evening, you invited him to dinner.
To meet your parents. How utterly fraught.
Though, now that the two of you were officially together (albeit only recently—Sejanus asked if the two of you were a thing and Coryo replied with an instinctive, possessive yes, much to both of your surprise), Coriolanus supposed there was no use in delaying the inevitable.
“Don’t be nervous,” you told him, arm looped around his. The white rose he’d given you upon his arrival was tucked neatly behind your ear, a lovely contrast to your all-black garb. In a light-hearted tone, you added, “Father would be able to smell it on you. The fear.”
Coriolanus shot you an exasperated glance, to which you only smiled. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss onto his cheek, hand sliding down from his elbow to lace with his.
“You look… breathtaking,” he said, lifting your conjoined palms to brush his lips over your knuckles. Of the many lies that he told you, this certainly wasn’t one of them.
Your eyes gleamed with the light from the chandelier hanging above you.
“And you look handsome as ever.” A pause. You seemed bashful all of a sudden, averting your gaze to the gold patterns on the marble floors. “I know this is all very new, so I apologize in advance, if my father asks about our, uhm… our future… He’s a very forward man.”
A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he slotted his free hand beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly over the side of your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “I have no intention of letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
You smiled again, all sunlight and warmth, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but steal it away with one last kiss.
“Ready?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the dining room.
Snow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.
Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The food was better than anything the academy ever served—Coriolanus wondered how you could willingly go from eating such delicacies at home to basic, run-of-the-mill meals the cafeteria provided. There were courses, tender peppered steaks (his very favorite), rich mushroom soups, iced lemon cakes, and several sorts of breads and butters were offered all throughout.
Your mother was a delight, enchanting him with stories of laboratory mishaps and her dangerous adventures with radioactive material. You looked a lot like her, he realized.
Your father, on the other hand, was pressing at first, grilling Coriolanus with dozens of personal questions. If you hadn’t warned him beforehand that he was a military leader, he most definitely would’ve worked it out for himself then. There were times where you politely but forcefully snapped at him, telling him to lay off the invasive interrogation and to let the poor man eat. But Coriolanus really didn’t mind—he’d spent hours upon hours preparing himself for this. He answered all of the questions with effortless ease.
By the third course, your father was satisfied. Reluctant, but satisfied. By the fourth, he was already asking about marriage, much to your mortification. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, and quietly listened to you lecture your father about privacy and civility.
Yes, dinner was quite enjoyable. Several containers of food from unseen servants were wrapped up for him to take home, at your request, despite his polite protests. It wasn’t a common thing to do in the capitol, but your parents hadn’t batted an eye.
He was safe. They didn’t know. It was an ongoing mantra the entire night.
He was shown out the door by your father, who clapped a large hand on his shoulder and told him to take care of you, especially while he was gone. Your mother kissed him once on each cheek as farewell, and you did the same, though your kisses strayed far closer to his lips. He caught the mischievous gleam in your eyes.
The door shut behind him once he strode into the expansive courtyard in front of your mansion of a home. He glanced down at the rose pinned to his coat, wondering if you were still wearing yours behind your ear. A minute later, he jumped out of his reverie when the entrance creaked open once more. You peeked your head back out, eyes alight, pleased to see that he was still there.
You slid out from the entryway and made your way to him with quick strides, wasting no time to rest your hands upon his chest. To his delight, you were still wearing the rose. “Father and mother left to watch television in the estate’s Northern wing. Didn’t want to kiss you in front of them.”
There were wings to your house? Coriolanus blinked at you, accidentally letting his indifferent mask slip for a few seconds. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. It took him another moment to gather his wits, before winding his arms about your waist and deepening the kiss, nearly bending you backwards with his vigor.
He could never tire of this, he thought, fingers curling so his nails dug into the expensive black fabric of your top. Kissing you, touching you, entertaining the notion that you were his, and only his.
When you pulled away, your lips were wonderfully kiss-swollen and your pupils were blown wide, to his amusement. Were his eyes just the same?
“Thank you for being here today,” you mumbled, that smile-frown he was so fond of gracing your features once more. “I’m sorry if my parents were too—”
“They were wonderful. You’re wonderful,” he interrupted, tone soft. His hand lifted from your waist to cup your face. Cold fingers against flushed skin. “I’ll see you at the academy?”
A nod, a grin, and a relieved sigh. “Sleep well, Coryo.”
“You, too.” He pulled away, reluctant, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. “You look good with it, you know. The rose.” With a final nod, he turned on his heel and walked away from your estate, back to his own cold penthouse, where he had to burn newspaper scraps to keep warm.
The months drew by like a lazy stream of water, gliding over a bed of stones, languid and pleasant. Your time with Coriolanus was nothing short of utter bliss. He was a sweet lover, despite his possessive streaks, always making sure you were alright with what he was doing. The two of you went slow and steady, always asking, always gentle. He kissed you as if you were made of sugar glass, and you held onto him as if he was a fragile ceramic vase.
Exams were drawing nearer with each passing day, and the two of you found yourself studying and cramming more than anything. He would often tell you that there was no need for you to study so hard, especially when you were already at the very top, likely to claim the Plinth prize for yourself, but you always waved him away with a modest laugh. If the two of you weren’t at the library pouring over dozens upon dozens of books, you were finding ways to sneak him into your home: kissing behind stone statues in the gardens, hiding behind velvet curtains, pulling him onto your massive, four-poster bed.
It was only a matter of time until you asked.
His arm was draped over your bare midriff, drawing mindless shapes into your hip. Your head rested back against his chest, mildly sweaty from the lovemaking session the two of you were still dwindling down from. You stared out your window, watching the sun slowly bleed the sky a hazy clementine hue, teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip in thought.
“Why haven’t we ever studied at your home, Coryo?” you asked. “I’ve yet to meet your cousin. You talk about her a lot… she seems wonderful.”
You felt a cold breath billow over the back of your neck. It sent pleasant chills spider down your spinal column. And you could’ve imagined it, but his fingers seemed to flex over your bare flesh. Twitch. Almost antsy. Did your question make him uncomfortable?
Shifting in his grasp, you turned within his arms so you could face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything. I just… just know that I’d never judge you.”
His expression was near unreadable, the blue of his eyes even paler than usual with the sunset’s light casting a honey-glow over both of your sprawled-out forms. He kissed you again, hungrily, almost as if to distract you. You let him.
Kiss you, touch you, bruise you. Any of it, all of it.
A low groan barreled within his chest when you fisted a handful of his soft blonde waves at the base of his neck, gently tugging.
“Nothing you could show me would make me love you any less,” you muttered against his lips, nose nudging against his. “Nothing, Coryo.”
And he, in a moment of love-addled weakness, let himself believe you.
Come the next afternoon, you were at the door of the Snows’ penthouse, a basketed batch of warm cookies held in one hand, the other holding a heavy bag full of all your textbooks to study. If the two of you were going to study at all today. Your mother was aghast that you were about to visit his home without some sort of gift, and abruptly shoved the basket of goodies into your arms out of seemingly nowhere, as if materialized out of thin air.
“Coriolanus loves the chocolate chip ones,” she harrumphed whilst ushering you out the door. “Honestly, showing up to someone else’s home empty-handed? Who raised you?”
The irony was not lost on either of you, and you barked out a laugh before kissing her farewell and setting off to visit him.
You rang the rusted doorbell once—curiously regarding the little button once you realized that it was broken. Then, you knocked the door twice, then another two times for good measure. There was a muffled scuffling behind the door, a woman’s voice echoing from behind.
And when it swung open, you were met with an elderly woman, shrouded in a too-large, black tunic with embroidered flowers on the sleeves, the threads loose and pulled, the once-vibrant colors faded. She wore a turban, covering most of her white hair save for the few thin tendrils framing the sides of her face.
“Hello, I’m Coriolanus’ classmate,” you greeted, in an ever-so-capitol-esque manner. “You must be his… Grandma’am?”
She appeared confused for a moment, before slow sparks of recognition fired across her blue eyes. Coriolanus had the same eyes, you noted.
“Oh!” she crooned. “Oh, dear me! Coriolanus! It’s your lovely friend!”
There was a bit of commotion down the hall. The brief moment of pause allowed you to finally take in why Coriolanus hadn’t wanted you to come to his home all this time. The penthouse was still quite lavish, as the Snow estate was one of the most expensive properties in the capitol, but it was clear that the space was diminishing with the weight of its upkeep—flickering lights, dusty floors, tears in the wallpapers, mold on the countertops…
Your attention was drawn away from the view when Tigris and Coryo emerged from the same room, and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break across your features. His cousin was fretting over his lopsided curls, and he discreetly tried to duck out of her way to get to you.
“My, you are just as gorgeous as he said you were!” Grandma’am said in a pitching tone, wrangling your attention back to her. She lifted her hands to lightly pinch at your cheeks. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Her fingers fell away and she scuttled off, murmuring something about the Capitol’s First Partner—
Coriolanus breathed out your name and his hand was on your shoulder, apologizing once, twice, three times (what was he even apologizing for?), before Tigris popped up by his side, bumping him out of the way so she could shake your hand vigorously.
“Hi! I’m Tigris—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”
You shook the blonde woman’s hand, smile seeming to grow impossibly wider. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I love your dress.”
Her mouth dropped open in a flustered manner and a lovely rose shade dusted over her cheekbones. “Oh, this old thing?” She absentmindedly smoothed a hand down the frills of her pink dress. “Yeah, I… oh, it’s nothing, really, I just made it myself.”
“That’s incredibly impressive! You must be a really talented seamstress.”
A sharp clear of his throat made your eyes snap back to Coriolanus.
“Coryo,” you greeted warmly. “I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip. Mother sends her regards.”
The two Snows in front of you eyed the basket with large eyes.
“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the basket from your extended hands and handing it over to his cousin. “Tigris, if you’d excuse us—we’ve got some studying to do.”
Coriolanus began to tug you down the hall, and you waved back to Tigris, telling her that you’d love to see any of her other dresses later. She’d already reached into the basket and had a cookie halfway to her mouth as she nodded at you with a toothy grin.
His room was in around the same state as the rest of the home. Furniture was old, torn, frayed, or simply broken. There were several boarded-up holes in his dresser. There was a box of rat poison below his desk, which was full with all sorts of papers and stacks of yellowing books. You skittered in and dropped your heavy bag down by his bed, allowing him to close the door behind you. You just barely registered the click of a lock.
“So?” he asked, voice sounding much louder in such a confined space. He seemed tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Are you disgusted yet?”
“What do you take me for?” you replied easily, having already gathered why he was so afraid of bringing you here in the first place. “I’m not a leech, nor am I vain, Coriolanus. I don’t want more money, and I’m not here to offer you charity to flaunt my wealth. I thought you’d know that by now.”
He stalked closer, observing you like a wolf would its prey. “What is it you want, then?”
When you took a step back closer to his small, rather wiry bed, he would take two longer strides, crowding you back against it. He dipped forward so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from yours, but just barely not touching.
“You know, I’m sure.”
“I do.” Coriolanus knew that you wanted him just for him, and nothing gave him more pleasure than that simple fact. His nose brushed yours.
“Would it make me a fool to stay?” you asked, the question fanning over his mouth. Inviting, ever so tantalizing. “You’re not planning on chopping me up and selling my organs for some cash, are you?”
He didn’t laugh at your little joke. Instead, he dove forward, one hand yanking your hips to his, the other winding over to the back of your head. He kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue, hardened lips and his knee slotting between your thighs.
“No,” he susurrated thickly, as if he’d swallowed honey and soil, pressing you down until you were fully laid down over his rickety bed, back arched. “You’d be mine. All of you, just mine.”
He swallowed any sort of gasp and moan that fell from your mouth. Greedy, lustful, determined to make you pliable. His kisses didn’t slow down whatsoever when he tore himself away from your lips, freckling them down your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones.
What did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt.
Misshaped. Odd. Not matching the rest of your buttons. His gift to you.
“You’re wearing it,” Coriolanus whispered. His voice sounded strained.
“Mmh?” You glanced down at the button. “Oh. Of course, I am. I like how it looks.”
His face hovered above yours once more. His stare was so intense you began to shy away, staring at a moldy patch on the ceiling. The silence felt suffocating as you waited for him to do something. Anything.
“I love you,” he breathed out, finally. Upfront and abrupt. It wasn’t often that he said it. Maybe once or twice before, since you said it more than enough for the both of you.
You laughed then—your wonderful, wind-chime laughter. It was more out of shock than anything. He kissed you soft and sweet, momentarily quelling your chuckling. But as the afternoon of so-called ‘studying’ drew on, the laughter melded into sighs of pleasure when clothes were shed, shifting towards wanton moans of desperation when heated flesh slid against one another.
You nearly choked when his length breached your entrance, scratching faint red lines down the expanse of his back as he pushed in, pulled out. Rhythmic. Again and again and again—you couldn’t seem to get enough of him on top of you, inside of you, all around you. Your chest was pressed up against his; could he hear your heart beating through your ribs, yearning to feel his? The coil within your lower abdomen tightened. He read your every microexpression just perfectly.
He’d unbuttoned your entire shirt save for the oddly-shaped one, hands groping all over your bare skin, teeth biting down onto the patch of skin just above the button as he rocked himself into a climax, roping you down into the abyss with him. Ragged groans and broken sighs.
Coriolanus dragged his tongue up your chest and your neck, leaving a cold trail in his wake, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he pulled back to stare at you—flushed, hair mussed, sweat beaded along your hairline, his pearlescent spend between your thighs, your eyes half-lidded… chest only barely covered by his one button…
“Thank you,” he croaked, kissing the space beside your left eye. “For not running.”
“Don’t make me a fool for it,” you replied, looping your arms over Coriolanus’ neck so he could kiss you properly.
#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow fluff#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x you#hunger games fanfiction#coriolanus snow drabbles#tbosas fanfiction#tbosas x reader#young!coriolanus snow x reader#young!coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow angst
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grumpy hotch x pregnant reader where he is just having an off day and the team calls reader in to deal with him and as soon she arrives in his office he just holds her and her belly as she scratches his scalp omg 🥹😭🫶🏻
You’re lounging in your husband's favourite chair with a book and an ice cold soda in your hand when your phone rings. You almost knock your tooth out pulling it up to your face without looking, wanting it to be Aaron, knowing it probably won’t be. Maternity leave can be excruciatingly boring.
“Hello?” you ask. Your book slides down your bump. You pull it back up.
“Hi, mom.”
You grin to yourself. “Hi, Emily. Please tell me you’re calling because you miss me and you know I have cabin fever.”
“I’m calling because someone misses you.” Her ire tone is unmissable and ever endearing. “I do miss you, I can’t wait for you to have your stinking baby and come back to work.”
“That would be fun, right? We’ll get Hotch on paternity leave.”
“It’s him I’m calling about.”
“Is he okay?” you ask. You know if he were injured she would’ve mentioned that first. You’re not so scared of his being grumpy.
“Moody as ever. I can’t believe I’m asking you to, but would you consider coming in for lunch? I’ll send a car, no walking, but he could really use it. He’s been biting off heads all morning.” Emily laughs down the line. “You’re the only one who can cheer him up.”
It’s not true, but you are usually the quickest. You bid Emily goodbye with a promise to be there soon and get dressed, with no choice but to wear some maternity pants and a peplum blouse. Any excuse to see your haggard husband is one you’ll take.
You look at your bump and you love the baby in there, but it feels weird sometimes to see yourself differently. If Aaron weren’t as nice about it as he is, you would’ve broken down by now; he’s sussed many breakdowns before they could begin, kissed fingertips and collars promising you’re just as pretty as always. And it’s reassuring, but it isn’t pretty that worries you. You’re a genuine walking beach ball right now.
The car Emily promises is none other than Anderson himself. “He’s bullying you?” you ask him.
He doesn’t say yes or no, but his smile is enough of a clue. You can’t get to the BAU quick enough (though you’re slower these days), pushing open the glass door with a tired sign.
Spencer comes across you first by coincidence. “Hey!” he says, ushering you in for a hug, his cup of coffee hot behind your shoulder. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.”
“He’s in a mood,” you say. Not without fondness.
Spencer grimaces. “Sort of.”
Emily attacks you from the side. “Thank god you’re here! I think he just told Morgan to go fuck himself,” she says under her breath.
She’s just saying it to make you laugh, and it works. It’s vaguely out of character, but if you know Emily, you know she has a crass, often dirty-minded side, and it’s been a while since you’ve heard her swear. You’re still giggling when the door you’d been making your way to opens.
Aaron emerges with an expression half bemusement and half confusion. “Honey?”
“My love,” you say, too quiet for him to properly hear, but he can read lips just fine.
He rushes in a very gentlemanly display down the steps to help you up them, but you’d only been going up them to see him, and you stop at the foot of them with your hand raised to his elbow. “Hey, handsome.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing. Just missed you, wanted to have dinner, and I figured you couldn’t say no. You know.” You touch your tummy. “Considering.”
He peers suspiciously past your head. “Yeah?”
You look where he’s looking, find Emily and Spencer not so subtly turned away. You laugh again, pleased when the sound makes him smile. “Come on. Take me to your office.”
He puts a hand behind your shoulders and leads you upstairs to his office. There are papers strewn haphazard across the front of the desk, his briefcase open and muddled, his pen lost within the mess. You’re smug knowing he’d been knee deep in paperwork but abandoned it all when he heard you laughing, like he just couldn’t miss it.
“Let me sit you down,” he says.
“Woah, slow your roll. Why are you stressed?”
He blinks at you. “There’s a lot to do?”
“Sure, but why are you stressed about me? I can sit down by myself.”
He must look at you for five whole seconds without saying a word, and the door’s not closed, there’s no answer to your question, and then he takes you into his arms for a hug. “I know you can,” he says.
It’s admittedly hard to hug him with the bump between you. You worry you’re hurting him as your cheeks press together, crushing his shoulders under your hands.
He usually asks first, but he knows by now that you’re two halves of the same heart, two sides of the same coin, his hand slipping between you both to nudge aside your shirt and feel your stomach.
You close your eyes.
“Rough day?” you ask.
“A lot to do…” His face moves down into your neck.
You know what he wants, moving your hand to the back of his head to thread your fingers into his hair. “I can fix it,” you say sympathetically, beginning a gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp.
“How’s that?”
“If I go into labour right now, you get a reprieve.”
“Honey, in the most loving sense possible, you going into labour now would not be ideal.”
“It’s gonna happen one day, babe. And you’re gonna be just as busy then. You need to take less on or–”
“No, I know.”
His hand slides still under your shirt to your hip, encouraging you away from him, his eyes flitting up and down your figure, checking you over. You let your hand fall to his shoulder, fingertips interested in the starchy fabric of a new suit.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, dipping down to give you a kiss. His eyes are dark, so close. “That helped. What can I get you for dinner?”
You give a fond, pitying smile. You’re not gonna get him out of this office today, that’s for sure. “Half your sandwich, probably.”
He kisses you again. You take it for a thank you.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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spoiled it
hyunjin x reader, fluff - wc: 566
barging into the studio, you’re shakily greeted by a confused christopher bang.
“where is hwang hyunjin?” you ask sternly.
“i- i don’t know… probably in the practice room across the hall…” he replies, a bit disoriented after your sudden burst through the door.
you thank him before quickly leaving, forgetting to close the door behind you. chan grumbles as he gets up to close it himself.
opening the door to the practice room, you immediately lock eyes with your lover through the mirrors on the surrounding walls.
“y/n? you’re supposed to be home resting by now, what are you doing here?” he questions, quickly standing from where he was sitting on the floor to greet you.
“don’t be mad.” you hesitate.
“why would i be?” he replies.
“well… you know how we were gonna wait until the baby’s born to know whether it’s-”
“y/n! don’t tell me you spoiled it!” he interrupts.
“i’m sorry! i swear it was an accident!” you exclaim.
“don’t tell me! i don’t wanna know!” he tells you, putting his face in his hand and turning away from you.
“hyunjin… i know you wanna know.” you tease, creeping up behind him as he remains facing away from you.
“you’re right… i do wanna know… but i’m still mad.” your boyfriend sighs, turning to face you once again.
he remains still, his head tilted downward with his dark hair in his face. you kiss his pout away, brushing his soft hair from his forehead. he instinctively wraps his arms around your middle.
“tell me.” he speaks amongst the silence.
“i thought you didn’t want me to?” you tease again.
“y/n… you’re not gonna be able to keep it from me for two more months. you might as well tell me now.” he huffs.
“i know, i know.” you reply as you continue to brush your fingers through his hair.
“she’s already given me lots of attitude, and people always say first born daughters are most like their fathers, so i had my suspicions.” you whisper as if there were anyone else in the room.
at first he doesn’t say anything, processing what has to be the second most life-altering news he’s ever heard (the first being when you’d told him you were pregnant at all. it was all very unexpected considering you hadn’t even made plans for marriage yet).
your delivery of the news may have seemed a bit backhanded in a way, yet hyunjin thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard.
“it wasn’t an accident, was it?” he asks softly.
you give a weary laugh. “i couldn’t help myself.”
“i think we were both gonna break at some point anyways.” he giggles.
as the news settles, hyunjin’s eyes brim with tears that threaten to spill. he doesn’t know how to express his excitement so he’s resorted to this.
“i can already tell she’s gonna be such a daddy’s girl.” you tell him.
that broke him. he whines, tears beginning to fall as you pull him close. it's ironic that he's the emotional one right now, considering you're very pregnant and always moody, and he's always the one to comfort you.
if he’s honest, he was hoping for a baby girl. he was hoping that one day he could pick flowers with her, dress her up, keep her as his lock screen, dance with her, draw with her, laugh with her. and the answer to his hopes was handed to him on a silver platter.
then chan walks in, confused as ever.
“what the hell did you do to him?”
#skz fluff#skz scenarios#stray kids#stray kids fluff#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin
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come for me | jjk
↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; it's a first proper date he's supposed to plan, unfortunately it does not go according to his plan
⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dilf!jungkook x reader
⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, fluff, smut, neighbors au, enemies to lovers (?)
⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, protected s*x, little spanking, rough and quick s*x
⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k+
a/n: this is one of the secrets I've been keeping and god it's finally here!! i wasn't even planning on finishing this today but I did and I'm so happy to share it with you! hope you like it <3
↳ previous parts
Jungkook is convinced the entire world sucks.
What should be considered as the most exciting time for some men, Jungkook finds it as a literal torture. Planning a date shouldn't be so tough. He has never truly done it before – not when he truly meant it. Whenever he went out for what could be considered as a pathetic attempt at a date, its purpose was clear. To fuck and end it with a mind-blowing orgasm on both parts.
He has never done it like… this.
Fuck.
Just the thought of it makes him want to throw up. He definitely can't mention that to you – who's pretty much clueless about his thoughts and would kick him in the balls if you knew.
“I don't know dude, you should bring her roses.” Taehyung proposes, watching his friend in a mild panic as he bounces Ruda in his arms.
“She's not like other girls.”
“What do you mean? Every woman loves roses! You can't go wrong with that!” Taehyung protests, offended that Jungkook rejected his idea right away.
“I wouldn't say every but yeah, it's the effort that counts. Plus, she knows you've never done this before.” Yoongi joins in that conversation, shrugging nonchalantly while Jungkook nibbles on his bottom lip.
Fuck! This is not like him.
It's already enough his friends share an amused look, one he definitely notices and finds really offending. They find this entire thing very amusing while Jungkook is having a midlife crisis.
“Okay, maybe forget about the flowers. What does she like?”
“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowns.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, “What things does she like to do? Does she like to eat? Likes to watch movies?”
Jungkook's a little taken back by those questions, a clueless expression clouding his face while Taehyung snorts in the background. He's too busy trying to think of a proper answer to glare at him in return.
“I–I don't know,” he admits.
“You don't know?” Yoongi deadpans, “Come on dude, you gotta know something.”
“I don't know!” he exclaims in distress, causing Ruda to babble as if to remind him she's there. He shoots her an apologetic look, looking back at Yoongi. “We never really discussed that kind of stuff. We fucked. That's what she likes for sure.”
“Should you talk like that in front of the baby?” Taehyung points out, met with another glare that shuts him up.
Ruda is too young to understand. He'll take care of his bad mouth by the time she understands, he naively thinks to himself.
“Then just fuck her.”
Jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at his friend and his stupid idea. “Seriously? I'm supposed to take her on a date. Beats the whole purpose of it if I just fuck her instead.”
“Look at him, so much progress.” Taehyung mutters amusingly, causing Jungkook to grab one of Ruda's plushies and throw it aggressively at Taehyung's head.
“Then just take her somewhere and fuck her after. If the date is awful, at least she gets her world rocked.”
They both start to laugh while Jungkook whines loudly, a groan following right after. “You guys are fucking with me. Literally, you're no help.”
“JK, we can't exactly help you when you have no idea what she likes. Maybe you should find out first and then think of something?”
“Oh, how did I not think of it sooner?” Jungkook mocks, doing a little stance with his arms while Ruda is in his hold. “Very smart, Yoongi. I don't want to make it seem as if I don't know what I'm doing.”
“What's so wrong about that?” Taehyung questions, “You just ask her what she prefers and it'll be easier to plan something.”
“Yeah, he's right.”
Jungkook sighs, pinching his brows. Ruda starts to fidget in his hold, causing him to sit down in a chair. He hands her one of her rattles as she starts to wildly shake it in her tiny hands.
“Won't I look pathetic if I just asked her?”
“You literally look pathetic right now.”
“Taehyung, God help me–”
“Just ask her.” He cuts him off.
Somehow, he made it sound easier than the thought of it is.
The next time you see Jungkook is when you bring him the dinner you cooked. You haven't had that much time to see each other, with you working and his sleeping schedule all over the place, you had to settle with a message for the time being. It hasn't been that long, only like three days since he asked you on a date.
You're not going to lie, you feel a little giddy thinking of it. It's weird because you can't imagine the famous Jeon Jungkook on a date. If someone mentioned the words date and Jungkook in the same sentence, you would laugh them off. But now that it involves you, you find it almost flattering. He's taking you on a date.
You.
And no one else.
You want to devilishly cackle at all those bitches that got to fuck him, wanted something more with him. Realizing that's kind of evil, you humble yourself because nothing's sure yet.
Since this is very new to not only you but Jungkook as well, it's hard to have any say when it comes to the future. You're trying to prepare yourself for any outcomes but it's tough. Tougher than you think it would be. The idea of this failing makes you weirdly sad and you can't stand it.
However the sight in front of you completely brings you to other thoughts. You've never been someone who would thirst over dads. The whole DILF thing discussed between women was a pure fantasy, something they would romanize or even sexualize. Not that you were purely against it. Are women who find young dads hot that bad?
The potential man would have to be hot in order to find them being a young dad hot. Some men just have that spark. And you've never really met one even remotely close to Jungkook.
And there he is.
He opens his front door, hair slightly raffled and messy, as if he hasn't brushed it the entire day. He has one of his oversized gray shirts on, a map of spit or whatever that is decorating the thin material. He has a baby cloth draped over his shoulder, momentarily widening his eyes at the sight of you.
Then realization hits him and he steals a glance at the watch around his wrist. He forgot you were supposed to drop in for dinner.
Other than he looks fucking hot, even in his messy state, you also find him adorable how he stares at you with big doe eyes before he ushers you to come inside.
“Where's my favorite baby?” you ask excitedly, keeping your tone down just in case she's sleeping. It's awfully quiet in Jungkook's apartment.
“You make it sound as if you knew dozens of them.”
You give him a look, hearing him chuckling as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Rude.”
“She's sleeping,” he answers instead, but a cocky grin is attached to his moisturized lips. “She's been a little cranky this night,” He lets out a yawn. “Barely got any sleep.”
You pout at the thought of it. “You should've told me. We could switch or something.”
He stares at you dumbfounded as if you just came up with the craziest idea. Perhaps it is one.
“You have a job, Y/N. I can't let you have a sleepless night.”
He has a point. Even if you were willing to spend a sleepless night helping him, you wouldn't really help much since you have to wake up early in the morning. You can't babysit during the day, unless it's the weekend. And babysitting during the night so Jungkook can sleep, even if for a few hours would cause you to look like a zombie the next morning.
You love your sleep. But you're willing to give it away for Ruda. And Jungkook.
Jungkook ends that particular topic, leading you further down his apartment and to his kitchen where you place the containers. “It's tomato sauce pasta with chicken and basil. Not exactly a trophy winning menu but I tried to cook something quickly.”
“Fuck, I'm so hungry,” Jungkook whines, opening the container as he inhales the scent, a steam coming off it since you just finished cooking. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”
“No worries, I told you I wanna help in any way I can.” you assure him.
He motions for you to sit down, already pulling out a glass for you where he pours you an apple juice. “Have you eaten?” he asks, already digging his fork into pasta.
“It's hot, be careful,” you warn him, even though the steam itself is enough of an indicator that it's indeed very hot. But Jungkook looks as if he's ready to swallow the entire thing with no thoughts. “And no. I came directly here but no worries, I will eat when I come home.”
“Nonsense,” Jungkook waves you off. You watch him stand up and before you can complain, he pulls out a plate for you and opens the other container you had prepared for him for tomorrow. “Here, let's eat together.”
“Jungkook–I have my food at home, I just came here to drop this–”
“Stay for a while.” he says simply, looking too irresistible and straight into your eyes for you to object.
“Okay.”
You dig into the food, not realizing how hungry you've become once again. Your entire apartment smells like tomato sauce, garlic and basil. You hope by the time you come there, the opened windows did their job because you would hate to sleep in a smelly apartment.
When you were cooking, you inhaled the smell a lot so naturally, you didn't feel as hungry anymore but now the hunger comes back. Without any argument, you both eat in silence while trying to talk about your days.
You and Jungkook haven't really talked that much before. You both know what you spent most of the time doing. That's changing and it is a pleasant change.
It does feel slightly odd to be talking about casual stuff like your work. But once Jungkook takes over and talks you through their day. He's got a lot on his plate. He has a baby for fuck sake. He looks exhausted, yet his eyes are sparkling and he doesn't make it sound as if he's complaining. He informs you, even laughs at Ruda's cranky mood and what work she makes him go through.
You're done and Jungkook takes it upon himself to clean the dishes and give you back your food containers, even though you told him it can wait. He protests and while he just as much protests with you cleaning the mess in his living room, you do it anyway.
There are toys and a few dirty and empty bottles laying around. There's not that much of a mess and it's done shortly after Jungkook finishes dishes.
You both decide to hang out for a while before you have to get home, take a shower and prepare yourself for the night.
“Hey, I meant to ask you about something…”
Jungkook starts unsurely, arm outstretched behind your seat on his couch as you're cuddled to his side. You could fall asleep like this.
“It's about our date.”
You pull away slightly to look at his face, “Are you backing down from it?” you muse, watching the way his face turns into panic and that alone tells you that's far from the truth. It's enough to let you relax as you giggle.
“No!”
“Then what is it?” you ask, cuddling back but in a position where you still can see him.
“What do you like to do?” he asks, a little awkward as he scratches the back of his head. “It sounds fucking stupid but I was wondering where to take you and I realized–we never talked about this stuff. And I–” Don't want to mess up. He doesn't finish.
Something warm collects in your chest and you try to hide a smile, not wanting him to feel as if you're finding him amusing or anything of that sort. Actually, you find him endearing. He's showing you a side of himself that you've never seen before.
“Whatever you plan, I'm sure I'll enjoy it.” You settle on saying, not having anything particular in mind which is not a help at all.
“Come on!” Jungkook whines, “I'm trying here. I've never done this shit before.”
“Did you just call our date a shit?” you tease him, watching him open his mouth before he closes it and glares at you.
“I didn't mean it like that.”
“I know, I just love teasing you,” you muse, met with another glare which causes you to giggle silently. “I've never seen you like this. I'm quite enjoying it.”
“Yeah, make fun of me.” he scoffs a little.
Realizing this might not be just as fun and humorous as you make it seem to be, you also realize this must be important to him in a way. Your smile drops and you sit up, watching him slide his arm off the couch and into his lap. He stares there thoughtfully, avoiding your gaze.
“I'm sorry, I didn't think you would worry about it this much,” you tell him gently, “Depends on what time we would go on a date.”
“I called my mom and she can babysit until 9PM. She has to go back home after that.”
“Hm, okay. And what time are we meeting?”
“I thought maybe around… four?” he says, stealing a glance at you as your purse your lips in thought.
“How about we eat somewhere nice–nothing fancy!” you warn him, not really sure if he's the type to go all out since he has never done this before.
But still, you want to make sure he doesn't spend a fortune on a single date. Plus, you would like to pay too. Not because he has a baby and other expenses, but because you're independent. You don't need a man to pay for everything.
Maybe eventually it would be nice to get spoiled a little. But at the moment, you can't imagine it. It wouldn't seem fair considering what a position he's in now. There's a little human here that needs more of everything than you do.
It's not something you've had to come to terms with, you've understood it from the beginning. Jungkook is a dad now. And it has a certain baggage with it.
“And then we could do something–I don't know. Maybe we could think about it after? To see what we're in the mood for.”
“You sure you'll be okay with it?” he asks unsure.
He's met with a confusion as you pull back and say; “Why wouldn't I be? I just suggested it.” you giggle.
“Just askin'. I've never done this before.”
“So you said.” you tell him, standing up. “I would go and check Ruda but I don't want to wake her up. So kiss her for me, okay?”
Jungkook looks like he's ready to protest, perhaps telling you to stay a little longer or even night, knowing it might be too soon for you. Once he checks the time, he remains quiet and the pout is the only thing visible on his face.
You lean down, kissing him on his cheek. “Don't worry about the date too much, okay?”
He hums, though keeps his pessimism to himself. You wave at him for the last time and it's until he hears a soft click that he's once again alone with his daughter. The one that announces herself shortly after you leave. A loud sigh leaving his mouth as he stands up and goes to check on her.
“What do you mean you can't come?” Jungkook shrieks, so out of his character that even his mother on the other line stays silent for a second.
“I'm sorry, Jungkookie. They canceled all train connections because of an accident.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing his mother scolding him but he pays her zero attention. “Can you grab a taxi or something? I'll pay for it.”
It's out of his budget but he's desperate.
“No, it's too expensive plus I wouldn't be able to make it in time. You know how it is here. It's hard to find a taxi.”
He groans, rubbing his face frustratedly as he stares out of the window. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He had it all planned. Even though you talked about getting food, he thought a lot – embarrassed to say – he even googled a few spots that were recommended around here. He would let you choose and maybe you would be able to visit them all within five hours that you would have for yourselves.
But now everything's out of the window.
“I could come tomorrow?” She tries to help, but Jungkook shakes his head.
You can't tomorrow. There's some kind of family party you need to attend.
“No, it's fine, mom. I'll call you later.”
“I really am sorry, Jungkookie.”
He starts to think of every single thing that he knows. Every person gets on his mind and he wonders if he should call them. In a moment of realization and reality hitting back to him, he realizes he can't just call anyone to watch over his daughter. He sits down in disappointment, realizing how selfish that would be of him.
He can't call Yoongi or Taehyung. They would not be able to take care of her and he would spend the entire date worrying, probably leaving to check on her. That's completely out of the question. None of his other friends, that probably fuck around as we're speaking would be able to help him.
None of his family members are around. Plus, they still haven't met Ruda – most of them – for some reason he thinks it's too early. He's still in a stage of trying to figure out to be a father.
It's only his luck that his mom calls him from the train station, having no other way to come here. Just because some dumb fuck decided to jump in front of the train.
He stops.
Fuck, he really is selfish.
He takes it back immediately, having more compassion now than ever since he has a whole baby to raise and take care of.
You're supposed to be here any minute. He had it all planned.
His mom should've been here soon, he would briefly talk her through Ruda's routine. He trusts her. She raised him and could surely take care of a baby. Plus, Ruda's sleep is better these days and she's too little to make a fuss about her dad not being here.
When a knock resounds on his door, his entire stomach churns and he prepares himself for the disappointment that he seems to be. It's even worse when he opens the front door and you stand there, fully prepared in a short dress. Your hair is neat and nicely done, so is your make-up. Not that you aren't pretty either way, but he can definitely tell the extra effort you've put into yourself.
It truly makes him feel like the biggest asshole.
You smile, telling him something but he can't hear. He just stares, both out of awe and then frustration when he realizes what he's about to tell you.
“What's wrong?” Your smile drops, making a note of his weird expression of pure sadness.
“We can't go on a date,” He forces the words out of his mouth.
It's weird how his heart drops when you suddenly grab the strap of your bag, looking as if you're shielding yourself from him.
“It's–My mom just called and she can't get on the train.”
“Oh,” you let out. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, um–come inside.” he says, gently grabbing your wrist as he pulls you inside. He doesn't need any nosy neighbors witnessing this very uncomfortable and awkward situation.
You stand in his entry way, looking around in awkwardness as he scratches his temple.
He's obviously styled and prepared to go out. You've noticed his nice outfit right away. He's wearing black slacks with a casual white t-shirt tucked inside it. His hair is trimmed and styled back. You can smell his aftershave and hair gel along with his cologne.
Clearly, he hasn't stood you up and what he's saying is the truth.
It's not like you doubt him but well – all of this is new and maybe it wouldn't be so out of character if Jungkook panicked and decided to make a lie to save himself.
“I'm so sorry–I really had everything prepared for tonight. And it's completely ruined. I fucked up.”
You frown, staring at him for a second. “You didn't fuck up, Jungkook.” you tell him softly. “It's not your fault.”
“I thought of calling one of my friends, but they're not able to take care of Ruda–I can't just let them–”
Probably they wouldn't even want to babysit, now that he thinks of it.
“Jungkook, it's totally okay. I understand.”
“I can't let just anyone watch over her.”
“I understand,” you emphasize softly, smiling at him. “How about we take her with us?”
Jungkook's head snaps in your direction, looking at you as if you're crazy. “You wanna take a baby with us? Nothing against Ruda but–we're not gonna be able to enjoy it. She will cry eventually and I had plans–I can't possibly imagine taking her there–it's too much work.”
He panics and you need to get a hold of his shoulders to stop him.
“We don't have to take her to the restaurant or wherever you want to go,” you inform him, “We could just take her for a stroll and see from there? If she's gonna cry and be cranky, we'll just come back.”
You're not a mother yourself, but somehow you can empathize with his situation. He hasn't taken her out for too long, not onto too many public places. Until you count grocery stories and nearby parks. He's by himself most of the time. While he finally got the hang of the feeding, bath and sleeping routine, the thought of suddenly taking her there makes him unsure. Even though he knows he'll have to do it eventually.
“Plus, I will be there. It's gonna be the two of us.”
Something about that specific line makes him pause as he watches you. You give him a look, wondering what's the stare for but he just smiles. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” you assure him. “Nothing's ruined. Plus, I think I'll prefer Ruda's company there too.”
He looks at you suspiciously, almost like he doesn't believe you. And perhaps he doesn't. But you giggle. “I'm serious. There's gonna be time to enjoy ourselves alone.”
“I–” he stops, “Wow. Okay. I'll prepare her and we can go.”
“Great,” you smile, “I'll prepare her stroller. Do you have any formula prepared?”
“Yeah, had one prepared for mom. It should still be warm.”
You both jump into action. Jungkook takes Ruda out of her cradle that he bought for her and has its place designed in his living room. She starts to wake up, her little face twisting as you coo at her while you walk past them. You prepare the bottle and stroller, watching Jungkook put her there as you bring some extra clothes for her just in case.
You're out of his apartment in a record time, fully prepared as you shoo Jungkook and take the stroller. He walks beside you with a teasing smile, but there's a huge relief and content behind it.
Jungkook's nerves are put at ease.
Not only you but the situation proves to him that he can still go and eat out, even with a baby. Ruda has been like an angel. Once she's awake, she just stares around before she falls asleep shortly after. You feed her in a nearby park which slowly lullabies her to sleep.
After walking and getting to know each other's interests through stories, you find a nice restaurant where you can eat outside. It's not probably what Jungkook had planned but it has its own magic.
Stroller kept next to you at all times, you fill up your stomach and even sleeping Ruda gets a few compliments along the way.
“Aw, what a cute baby! You have a very pretty baby.” The waitress tells you, beaming from a distance at sleeping Ruda, causing you both to smile.
None of you correct her. Why should you? She's a stranger and it doesn't matter what she thinks. You understand why she would think you're a family. It's a standard here. Nobody expects single dads out here.
Well, not so single anymore. You hope.
“Thank you.” you smile at her in gratitude, eyes dropping to the sleeping angel that's next to you. Okay, maybe you appropriated Jungkook's daughter but he doesn't seem to mind. Actually, it seems like he's enjoying the sight in front of him.
“Your daughter is a star around here.” you tell Jungkook once the waitress is gone.
He chuckles, “Stealing my spotlight from birth.”
“Oh, she definitely helps you catch even more eyes.” you muse, watching him laugh in confusion. “Everyone's staring at you. All those women we walked past. They're thirsting over you.”
“Are you sure it's because of Ruda?”
You roll your eyes while grinning, “So cocky as usual.”
“What? I've always caught a female's gaze if that's what you were saying.”
“Obviously,” you roll your eyes again, “But there's something hot about a young hot dad. You're a DILF now.”
“Don't call me that.” he groans, causing you to laugh.
“Either way, it does bring you attention whether you like it or not.”
“Doesn't matter, I only like your attention,” he says.
The two of you share a look as Jungkook cringes while laughing while you shriek in both excitement and disbelief. You probably look like a crazy couple. “That was smooth!”
He laughs, “I'm trying. I'm not romantic.”
“Are we having this conversation again?” You lift your brow. “Anyway, they can only look. You're on a date with me.”
It's a diplomatic way to say, aiming at something that hasn't been discussed yet. This is your first date after all. None of you have a certain plan.
Yet, you're sure to admit that you don't like the attention Jungkook gets.
“Does that make me your boyfriend?” he asks, tasting the way that words sound out of his mouth.
“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
“Hell yeah. If it means repelling all the men from you, I will be anything.”
You laugh, “You sound jealous.”
“Because I am,” he says, throwing a piece of sweet potato into his mouth. “I want you all to myself.”
“Hm, I'll think about it. Ruda has a place in my heart too.”
“I can share with her.”
You both share a giggle together, something you've barely done before.
“Does this make it official?” you question.
He shrugs, “If you want it to be. I know I do.”
“Me too,” you tell him giddily, sounding like an excited teenager. “I want to be your girlfriend.”
“Do people get together on a first date though?” he asks, finding you staring dumbfoundedly at him. “No, I'm serious. I really wanna know.”
You sit back, taking a sip of your drink. “Who cares? We kinda did it backwards anyway.”
“True,” Jungkook hums. “Who cares.”
Throughout those four hours of getting to know each other more, the connection between you grew some more. You've found out about Jungkook's secret hobby which is graphic art. It kind of explains the love for his tattoos as well. He's no longer just the boy that partied and fuck his way through his years. Actually, he's not that at all.
His guilty pleasure is eating snacks in the middle of the night, though he really tries to restrict himself from doing so. It's tougher to visit a gym these days, one of his obvious hobbies that you've already known. But he talked more about that and there wasn't a minute that it felt awkward or uncomfortable.
Ruda has been a pleasant company as well, her cuteness making both of you laugh and giggle. You were kind of bonding over her as well. Until it was starting to get darker and the two of you have decided to get back.
On your way to the apartment complex, Ruda has pooped which proved your decision to go back to be right. Jungkook invites you to his place, not too keen on ending your date just yet and you agree. Though, you have to wake up early to pack your things and get ready for your cousin's birthday party, you don't want to leave them.
You offer to take Ruda's nappy but Jungkook refuses, thinking it might be too much to ask of you but truly, you wouldn't mind. You try to tell him that but he just shakes his head, tells you to sit down and make yourself at home.
Shortly after, he comes back informing you that Ruda fell asleep. He joins you on the couch with what sounds like an exhausted sigh. The two of you share a look, both chuckling, silently of course because there's a baby sleeping in the other room.
“Did you like it?”
Jungkook fills up the momentary silence, voice slightly unsure and nervous.
He glances at you sideways, quickly looking away as he clears his throat.
“The date.”
“I did,” you giggle, nodding. “I really did. Thank you, it was very lovely.”
He allows himself to smile, mentally patting himself on his back for this going so smoothly. To be honest, he expected a disaster. It began like that, so he can't be blamed for expecting it to continue. But he's pleasantly surprised.
Too happy about today.
He feels like a freaking teenager and he gets this weird fluttering in his stomach. Urgh! He's not sure how he feels about it because it's new.
“Though you could've let me pay at least for the botanic park–or the museum.” you tell him, giving him a dirty but teasing look.
You've really managed to visit many places Jungkook prepared for you. At first – which you're clueless about – he wasn't sure how to feel about it because he never went to a freaking museum. Maybe when he was on a school trip. It was totally involuntary, of course. But he caught himself enjoying it – and maybe it was because you were there – but he realized he doesn't mind enjoying himself, knowing it's because of you that he was able to.
“No can do.” Jungkook shakes his head, teasing you some more which makes you groan.
“I will pay next time.”
“Next time?” he teases, wiggling his brow.
“Aren't we dating now? It's what couples do, going on dates–”
“We are,” he hums. “What else do they do?”
You smirk, inching closer to him as you cuddle up to his side. He welcomes your touch, throwing his arm around you as he pulls you even closer while he doesn't take his eyes off you.
“They kiss,” you whisper, noses bumping into each other as you let your lips linger over his. Not quite kissing him but then it's too irresistible, he is, that in the end you press a soft kiss on his lips.
“They cuddle,” you continue, “Fuck.”
Jungkook chokes on his spit, “Don't say it like that.”
“Is Jeon Jungkook getting shy?” you tease, kissing his jaw. “You know a lot about fucking.”
“I–fuck–I do,” he agrees, voice sounding almost choked up. He tries to concentrate badly, he really does, but you're making it too hard when your kisses trail down his neck, making more parts of his body alive. “It just makes me–”
“What? Horny?” you tease and he groans.
“Well obviously,” he rolls his eyes, hands on your hips as you sit up and straddle his lap. “Wait–”
“Why?” you pause, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.
“No, wait, wait, wait–” He quickly says as if he could read your thoughts. He can surely see the starting embarrassment and the way you pull away, putting distance between you. “I really want nothing else than fuck you.”
“But?”
Jungkook presses his lips together, “I wanna take it slow. Won't it ruin if we just fuck right now?”
You give him a look, slightly caught off guard. “Why would we? We've done it before multiple times.”
“Yeah, we did but… but it was different, you know?” he says and weirdly, you do know what he means. However– “I just don't want to fuck this up.”
Your eyes soften, taking Jungkook's face into your hands as you press a soft kiss to his lips. “You won't fuck this up, Jungkook.”
“You don't know that.” He frowns.
“Well, yeah. I meant it in a more encouraging way. You're trying and I can see that. I do appreciate it.” you confess to him, silently and softly as if saying it out loud will make it embarrassing. You're a little sheepish when it comes to confessing such things. Talking deeply and emotionally with him. “I personally don't think us having sex tonight will ruin anything. But if that's what you're worried about, we don't have to. What I wanna say with this is–I respect it.”
He watches you, eyes clouded with restraint and desire. Currently having an inner battle with himself, he sighs and leans his head back.
“Plus, I think it's cute.”
“Cute?” he deadpans, moving his head down to look at you.
“You're cute,” you admit, giggling at the look of disgust on his face. “This really means something to you.”
“Does it not to you?”
You laugh, “Of course it does.”
He smiles, pulling you closer as he's the one who kisses you now. “Fuck, you're really making this hard.”
“Not just this.” you point out, wiggling your brows at him when you shift in his lap, feeling his hardening length under you.
“Stop!” he shrieks silently in horrification.
You giggle, “We could watch a movie instead. Or talk.”
He rubs his lips together, eyes dropping low. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. There's desire, lust and impatience clouding the air around you, just as much as it fills your gazes. Jungkook's eyes are the first ones to drop down your lips. Staring at them painted in a nice shade that compliments your skin tone. They're moisturized and never looked so tempting. He's not sure. He can't think straight right now.
“Fuck movie.” he pants, grabbing you by your sides and pulling you onto him.
The kiss is no longer soft and minimal, you both practically throw at each other letting your bodies act upon their biggest temptation. The making out is messy and fast, no longer staying at that as Jungkook lays you down and starts kissing you down your neck.
“Fuck, that feels good.” you gasp, moaning when Jungkook lowers down your dress and starts sucking the skin on top of your breasts.
You arch into his touch and warmth, craving for every inch of him. It leads you to become even more impatient, ushering him to take off his shirt. He does and you immediately salivate at his pecs and muscles, hands trailing down his back and abs.
“Fuck, almost forgot how hot you are.” you confess. Okay, that might be a lie. It's hard not to notice how Jungkook glows with hotness, even if there are traces of exhaustion every day.
“Oh, you forgot?” Jungkook teases, “Should remind you.”
“Mhm, you should.”
And boy, he does.
In a split second, the dress is ripped off you and thrown somewhere on the floor, underwear followed right after. You complain about Jungkook's upper body still dressed, though there's something incredibly sexy about him wearing slacks with chest on full display. It's almost too shameful that he turns you around, getting you on all four.
Both of you go completely feral. The position making your ass arch as Jungkook delivers a slap to it. He stops for a second though, freezes and waits for any sound coming from his bedroom. You watch him relax as he continues, a little smile playing on your lips.
You hear him unzipping his slacks, not wanting to get the sight stolen from you so you turn around and stare at the scene in front of you across your shoulder. He smirks, noticing you watching as he reaches toward his coffee table.
Once he pulls out a foil packet, you give him a look with raised brow. “How did it get there?”
“My wallet dropped the other day and someone rang the door, I panicked and put it there.”
You laugh at his story, wondering if he's telling the truth. He looks like it though and quite frankly, you don't care.
“Turned out to be convenient.”
“It did, thanks to whoever rang that day.”
He smiles, not elaborating any further as he takes off his remaining clothes. You hear the familiar sound of foil ripping and before you know it, Jungkook's tip pokes you at your asscheek.
You might be already impatient enough, both of you too hungry for one another, but you also know there is no time to fool around when you now have the chance to have sex. Any second Ruda could wake up and put an end to your and Jungkook's desire. Seems like he knows it too because he gives you an apologetic look.
“It's okay, just fuck me.” you assure him with a moan, arching your back for him.
He spits on his fingers, stretching you out with them and you sigh in content at the feeling. Giving you a few pumps to make you at least somehow prepared for him, you whine his name in ushering him and silently telling him you'll be fine.
That's all it takes for him to enter you, both of you swallowing down any set of curses and sounds. Jungkook pulls back just for him to thrust into you. He finds a perfect rhythm, rocking your bodies fast and roughly.
Jungkook growls, “Holy shit.”
He slaps your ass, trying to keep it down as you both giggle in the middle of it. It's soon cut off by his thrusts you try to meet. Giggles get switched by silent moans and pleas. Everything is heated and rushed, both of you ultimately aiming to orgasm knowing it could get interrupted any minute. Keeping that in mind, you don't hold yourself back and neither does Jungkook.
Despite your situation, he does not refrain himself a few slaps to your ass which only brings you closer to the end.
“Jungkook–”
“Fucking hell, I wish I could hear you moaning and screaming.”
You wish you had more time, though you don't regret it happening now. You wouldn't have it any other way. Thinking that you both would have to wait for each other sounds like a proper torture.
“You're fucking creaming my cock–fuck.” he groans silently, seeming to have as much as struggle to keep it down.
Still, it's kind of hot to experience it. You never had to keep it down. Sure, there were many times when you specifically had sex and tried to be silent because of neighbors. With Jungkook, you never cared about neighbors before. Not that much at least.
“Fuck–I'm almost–there.”
“Come for me.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping your ass so much that you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow.
And you do. Not even five seconds later, you bury your face into his couch and let moans disappear into its material. Jungkook follows right after you, not being able to hold it for much longer as he comes inside the condom.
He stays inside for a moment, softening slowly as he carefully helps you to turn around. He sits back on his knees, condom soiled by your cum and juices but none of you move.
You stare at each other, smiles coming up at the same time as you silently giggle.
This is the best date ever.
#networkbangtan#ksmutclub#btswritingcafe#ficswithluv#bts smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#bts fluff#bts angst#bts au#jungkook fanfic#jungkook drabble#dilf!jungkook
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Late night
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader
summary: Derek asks spencer about a late night he had.
warnings: mentions of smut, but just fluff
a/n:(obviously) I'm rewatching, and I got to episode 1x10 and I had to write about this scene(please tell me someone remembers it)
"Easy there tough guy, have some coffee with your sugar, "Derek said, a smirk appearing on his face as soon as he got a glimpse of the obscene amount of sweetener Spencer was putting in his coffee.
"I need something to wake me up" Spence explained, not showing signs of stopping.
He was tired,
God, he was tired,
He wasn't used to this, no, not at all,
and it wasn't like he was complaining, he had the time of his life last night,
He felt like he was dreaming, or hallucinating really,
it just didn't make any sense.
You didn't make any sense.
He was a nerd, a weirdo, a robot, things that until now, he had learned weren't appealing to the ladies,
but still,
there you were,
somehow interested in him,
enough to spend the night with him,
enough to let him get a mere 3 hours of sleep last night.
"late night?" Derek asked, grinning widely.
"very" Spencer couldn't help but smile, as flashbacks invaded his mind.
his mouth on yours, the taste of your tongue, the feel of his hands on you, of your soft skin, of your curves, the feel of you, and then finally of your voice, your sweet sweet voice murmuring his name, and moaning loudly into the thick air.
"my man" Derek said proudly, making Spencer cuss himself internally.
shit, that's right,
he wasn't supposed to know about it,
nobody was,
not until you knew what it was,
not until you were ready.
"not that kind of late night" he lied, and surprisingly, it was convincing, no pitching of the voice, or weird hand ticks, nothing, just his usual self.
"ok so tell me" Derek walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and right at that moment, you entered the kitchen "what does keep young dr. Reid awake at night?"
You stopped in your tracks, your lips involuntarily twitching into a smile as you heard those words.
Spencer glanced at you, his cheeks immediately turning a brighter shade of pink,
"wait let me guess" Derek started, thankfully too deep into his thoughts to notice the not-so-subtle looks just exchanged "memorizing some obscure textbook?"
You bit down a grin, going to pour some coffee for yourself.
sure,
if by memorizing a textbook he meant every single inch of your body,
"no, no, no." Morgan waved his hands, correcting himself " working on cold fusion" he tried again
You had to bring the mug up to your mouth to cover the wide smile on your lips, as you looked at the scene, Spencer's cheeks continued to redden as he felt your eyes on him.
"no, I got it, I got it, I got it" Derek tried to guess again
"watching star trek and laughing at the physics mistakes"
You couldn't help it this time,
a small laugh escaped your throat, and you opened your mouth to justify yourself once both the men turned to look at you, but Spencer interrupted you "Actually, there aren't that many scientific errors in star trek, especially considering how long ago it was made. there are certain improbabilities, but not that many outright errors."
Morgan raised his eyebrows at you, his eyes expressing very clearly -this guy huh?-, and you smiled knowingly, your eyes, in turn, saying -I know, trust me I know-
Derek smiled at your expression before going back to Spence "Right" he said, patting his shoulder before leaving quickly, not wanting to hear one more second of his rambling.
You smiled, walking closer to the now-beaming man.
"so, late night huh?" you asked
"the best of my life"
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid#spencer reid Criminal Minds#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fancfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#fluff#Smut#Criminal Minds#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#tumblr I know but please make these tags also work I love you pls
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Evidence that Kabru from Delicious in Dungeon is Indian, a Masterpost
(Some of this info is taken from my upcoming essay about the names and cultural origins of all the characters in Dungeon Meshi. There's a link in the source to the AO3 version of this essay.)
Since Kabru’s first appearance in the anime is upon us, I wanted to write something that compiles all the evidence we have that Kabru is meant to be a person of South or Central Asian ethnicity, or at least whatever the equivalent to that is in the Dungeon Meshi world.
Ryoko Kui can and does draw people of many different ethnicities, and the way she draws Kabru matches the way she draws other Asian characters in Dungeon Meshi. He doesn’t look Black, or Hispanic, or any other ethnicity because he isn’t supposed to. He looks like a dark-skinned South or Central Asian person, because that’s what Ryoko Kui probably intends him to be.
So let’s go through the evidence!
(There are no spoilers for the plot of Dungeon Meshi below, but there ARE spoilers for Kabru's backstory as explained in the manga, and in extra materials like the Daydream Hour and Adventurer's Guide book.)
KABRU’S NAME
The Dungeon Meshi Adventurer's Bible tells us Kabru’s real name is unknown. There are other characters whose real names are only told to us in the Adventurer's Bible and were never revealed in the manga, but then Kabru, Thistle and Izutsumi’s entries simply say their real names are unknown, and though Kui could tell us their true names, she doesn’t. I assume this means that the characters themselves don’t know what their real names are, and that the names they go by are not their birth names, but this is only a supposition on my part.
KABRU THE MOUNTAIN
Kabru (काब्रु) is the name of a mountain on the border of Nepal and India, and part of the Himalayan range. It’s the 65th tallest mountain in the world and it is very snowy and icy, with frequent avalanches. Because of this, even though it’s not the tallest mountain in the world, climbing it is challenging, and is not often attempted. Those few that have managed to climb it consider it a major achievement.
“This prohibitively fearful icefall… had thwarted numerous expeditions, perhaps even the 'thought' of attempting the mountain… Unstable seracs of the icefall, a complex maze of chasms, and delicate snow bridges spanning seemingly never ending, near bottomless crevasses… Each time the members stepped into the icefall, they stood a good chance of never returning.” (Kabru - Mountain of the Gods, Major A. Abbey, Himalayan Journal 52, 1996, editor Harish Kapadia)
WHAT DOES KABRU’S NAME MEAN?
Kabru is a character that is known for being very good at charming people, but who doesn’t express himself honestly, because he’s trying to manipulate the people and situations around him in order to maintain control at all times. I think nobody really knows who Kabru is deep inside, maybe not even Kabru himself, so a remote, hostile, icy mountain that’s hard to climb seems like an extremely appropriate name.
Some of the oldest English sources I found regarding Kabru suggest that Kabru isn’t the correct local name for the mountain (a common problem in early Himalayan exploration by Europeans) and might just be a descriptor, or that it’s a misspelling.
This makes the name seem even more appropriate, since Kui’s told us Kabru’s true name is unknown. It’s possible that Kabru was a place-name or a descriptor that Milsiril (Kabru’s elven foster mother) was given when she picked up a traumatized 7 year old Kabru, and she just started using it as his name, and that even he doesn’t remember his real name thanks to his severe trauma.
The fact that people in the real world can’t seem to agree on the mountain Kabru’s name, or what it means, reminds me of the running gag of Laios repeatedly getting Kabru’s name wrong in the manga.
"All the people near the Kabru massif call it 'Kaboor'." (The Alpine Journal, 1921-22 Volume 34, Edited by George Yeld and J. P. Farrar)
“It is also said that the name applies to a peak close to Kinchinjunga on the southeast, and not to the peak known to Europeans as Kabru… [The real name is] Pahung Ri [Pauhunri].” (Appendix I: Place Names in Darjeeling. The appendix says it was “compiled mainly from an article written by Colonel Waddell and published in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal (Vol. LX, part I, 1891)”)
“Kangchen is a Tibetan name… the Sikkhimese use it as the name for the peak called Kabru by Europeans.” (Charles Bell, Dyhrenfurth's Himalaya (Berlin, 1931))
“...Kyabru or the horn of protection. The name is… Kabur… possibly a corruption of Kangbur or the swelling of snow; it might also mean the white swelling (kar-bur).” (Appendix I: Place Names in Darjeeling.)
“Kabru literally means the 'White Avalanche' peak (Ka means 'white' and bru means 'avalanche').” (Kabru - Mountain of the Gods, Major A. Abbey, Himalayan Journal 52, 1996, editor Harish Kapadia)
I’ve seen one other mountaineering article cite the “white avalanche” meaning, and I think it’s plausible since the Appendix says it can mean “white swelling” or “swelling of snow”, which may very well be a literal translation for “white avalanche”.
WHAT ABOUT UTAYA? IS THAT INDIAN TOO?
Utaya means “raised” or “uplifted” in Hindi, but it’s also a real village and a Japanese boy’s name.
Utaya (ウタヤ) is the name of the village that Kabru was raised in before his mother died and he was adopted by the elf Milsiril. Utaya is located in the southeast of the Western Continent. It’s worth noting that Kabru probably wasn’t born in Utaya, since his mother had to flee from her home to keep Kabru alive, so Utaya may be some distance away from his birth place… Not so far that a woman with a newborn baby couldn’t survive the trip, but far enough that her husband’s family gave up on chasing her. So Kabru was probably born in a close-by area.
In the real world, Utaya (Yakut: Утайа) is in an extremely rural and isolated area with a population of less than a hundred people. It’s located in the Sakha Republic, which is in the Northeastern part of Asia in the Russian Federation. The Yakut/Sakha are a Siberian Turkic people.
The Turkic peoples are a collection of diverse ethnic groups of West, Central, East, and North Asia as well as parts of Europe, who speak Turkic languages.
Early and medieval Turkic groups exhibited a wide range of both East Asian and West-Eurasian physical appearances and genetic origins, in part through long-term contact with neighboring peoples such as Iranian, Mongolic, Tocharian, Uralic/Yeniseian peoples, and others. Turkic peoples share, to varying degrees, non-linguistic characteristics like cultural traits, ancestry from a common gene pool, and historical experiences.
JAPANESE MEANINGS FOR UTAYA
Utaya can be a Japanese boy’s name with several different meanings, depending on which kanji it’s spelled with.
In most of the spellings: Poetry, sing a poem, singing, compose poetry
In many of the spellings: The place where the sun shines, it's been a long time, distant, big, to shoot with a bow, to swear, affirmation, question.
The Utaya disaster happened a long time ago.
If Utaya is up in the mountains above the clouds it’s a place where the sun shines brightly.
Kabru has sworn to himself that he will prevent another Utaya tragedy from happening.
In only a few of the spellings: to mend, feathers, wings, a word for counting birds and rabbits, sort them out, washing with water to separate the good from the bad, roof, house with a roof, a world covered with a big sky, infinite space, song that praises the Buddha, Eight.
Counting birds and rabbits makes me think of divination and also that the people of Utaya were like little birds and rabbits (small prey animals) to the monsters that devoured them.
Separating the good and the bad could hint to the “judgment” of Utaya and the greed of its people that led to their downfall, also sorting through things to separate good and bad is something that’s done with food and other resources.
The Himalayan region is often referred to as the “roof of the world”, with a big open sky above it.
The infinite could refer to the dimension the demon comes from, or to the sky above the mountains.
Buddhism is a common religion in the Himalayan region, and eight has auspicious connotations in Buddhism.
With all that in mind, Utaya as a name for Kabru’s home village is an interesting choice, and adds another layer to his origins, maybe suggesting not just North Indian/Himalayan, but Central or North Asian cultural influence as well.
It is also possible that the name is just telling us that Utaya is “up” in the mountains, or that it was “uplifted” by the wealth of the dungeon, or even that Kabru was “raised” there… The Japanese name meanings are also extremely fascinating and hint at similar ideas, as well as the tragedy that happened to Utaya.
WHY ELSE DO YOU THINK KABRU AND UTAYA ARE HIMALAYAN?
In the real world, the Himalayan mountain range is an extremely popular tourist destination, and the amount of people who want to visit and attempt to climb the mountains far outpaces the local ability to support it. This makes me think of the dungeon of Utaya and how people overcrowded it in their desire to conquer and exploit it.
Dungeons as an unsustainable way for locals to make a living that leads to the destruction of their homes when the dungeon inevitably collapses is a major plot point in Dungeon Meshi, so I think the parallel is likely intentional. Characters often talk about someone “conquering” the dungeon, and “conquer” is also the terminology commonly used for climbing a mountain. This terminology obviously has a hostile, imperialist subtext in the real world, since it’s most commonly used by outsiders talking about proving their strength by climbing a mountain.
Also, there are local legends in the areas surrounding Mt. Kabru that there is a valley of immortality hidden on its slopes, which reminds me of the way that the dungeons can grant conditional immortality to the people inside of them.
This image of Utaya could be showing us a village built on a mountainside. The house shapes seem a bit more Middle Eastern than Nepali/Indian, but it’s not a detailed drawing and the roof styles are a mix of flat and peaked.
CULTURE
In the Daydream Hour sketchbook, Ryoko Kui included a small comic about characters sharing desserts from their home countries. A young Kabru is shown enthusiastically trying to share an unnamed sweet, and he is interrupted by his elven foster mother, who insists he present a type of elven cake instead. We know that Kabru hates this type of cake, and he seems disappointed to have to eat it and talk about it.
The white balls in Kabru’s dessert are very likely meant to be an Indian sweet called rasgulla (literally "syrup filled ball"). Rasgulla are a dessert popular in the eastern part of South Asia, made from ball-shaped dumplings of chhena dough, cooked in light sugar syrup. While it is near-universally agreed upon that the dessert originated in the eastern Indian subcontinent, the exact origin is disputed. Rasgulla are as culturally important to the Bengal and Odisha regions of India as Parmesan cheese is to the region of Parma in Italy.
Rasgulla are also popular in Nepal, where they are called rasbari.
KABRU’S PHYSICAL APPEARANCE
Kabru is one of several characters in Dungeon Meshi with clearly non-European features: he has brown skin and thick black/dark brown curly hair. He has almond-shaped eyes with long, dark lashes (fans like to joke that he’s wearing eyeliner). All of these are traits common to people from the Indian subcontinent. His blue eyes are not common for someone with his skin/hair color, but blue or green eyes are not unheard of in that region either.
(Indian man with blue eyes)
Blue or light eyes are often a cause for discrimination, like what Kabru experienced as a child. More on this in a moment.
Kabru is 5’7” (170cm) tall, which is short for a Northern European man (180), tall for a Nepali man (162cm), but close to the average height of Indian men (177cm). He has a slender build, which is also common for Asian people in general, and South Asian men in particular.
Compared to the European-looking tall-men in Dungeon Meshi (such as Laios, Falin, Delgal, Marcille’s father), Kabru’s facial features look more like the other Asian characters, such as Toshiro and his party.
CAN DARK-SKINNED PEOPLE HAVE BLUE EYES?
Yes. Light-colored eyes are very uncommon in parts of the world where most people have dark eyes, since dark eyes are a dominant trait in real-world human beings. That means that in order for two parents with dark eyes to have a child with light eyes, both parents need to have a recessive light-eyes gene (or for there to be an illness or genetic mutation), and that’s rare in populations that don’t have a lot of light-eyed people to begin with.
THEN WHY DO SO MANY DARK-SKINNED CHARACTERS HAVE BLUE EYES?
Anime and manga often give characters with dark skin light colored eyes instead of allowing them to have brown or black eyes, which is much more common in real life. It’s a hurtful design trope that makes many readers feel that their natural dark eyes are somehow ugly or inferior to blue eyes.
This trope is used over and over again by authors who want their characters to look “cool” and “exotic”, and for their eyes to be high-contrast to make it easier to show their emotions.
I don’t think this is what Ryoko Kui is doing in Dungeon Meshi.
UNREALISTIC HAIR AND EYE COLOR COMBOS IN ANIME
In a lot of anime/manga, blue eyes (regardless of skin color) don’t actually mean anything in the narrative, in the same way characters having green or pink hair doesn’t mean anything, the colors are non-diegetic, they don’t actually exist in the world, like the music that plays in the background without an on-screen source.
It’s an artistic shorthand to make characters visually stand out, instead of giving them all black hair and eyes like most real-life Japanese people… Which is what most anime/manga characters are meant to be: Japanese people.
Dungeon Meshi has a large cast of characters that are explicitly meant to be non-Japanese. We know this because there’s a group of characters that are Japanese, and they’re drawn differently from everyone else, they wear ethnically Japanese clothing, and have ethnically Japanese names.
Unlike other series, where eye and hair color don’t mean anything, Dungeon Meshi has no unrealistic skin, hair, or eye color combinations.
(Except for the elves, who seem to have different genetics than real world-humans. I’ll get into that another time.)
Ryoko Kui must be aware of the dark skin, blue-eyes design trope, because if she gave Kabru blue eyes just because she thought it looked good, surely she would have made some of the other Asian or dark-skinned characters have light eyes. Out of 9 Asian or dark-skinned tall-man characters, Kabru is the only one with blue eyes.
Kabru having light-colored eyes is central to his story, and Kui talks about it.
KABRU’S STORY AND WHY HIS BLUE EYES MATTER
Kabru’s father and his family tried to kill Kabru when he was born because he had blue eyes. Kabru’s mother ran away, and ended up raising Kabru by herself in Utaya. She didn’t try to return home to her own birth family, but instead struggled to raise a child completely on her own with no money or support, which implies she had no other options, due to the fear people of their region have for people with blue eyes.
This is a real thing that used to happen frequently in areas where most of the population has dark eyes, and it still happens to this day.
In a realistic story, this is logically what would happen to a character with dark skin born with blue eyes in a place like the Utaya region. It’s rare for manga or anime to show dark-skinned blue-eyed characters facing this.
WHAT IS THE “EVIL EYE”?
The “evil eye” is a supernatural belief in a curse brought about by a person looking at you. The belief in the evil eye has existed since prehistory, as long as 5,000 years ago. It is estimated that around 40% of the modern world's population believes in the evil eye. This concept is most common across the Mediterranean, the Balkans, the Middle East, and Central and South Asia, areas where light-colored eyes are uncommon.
In areas where light-colored eyes are rare, people with green eyes, and especially blue eyes, are thought to bestow the curse, intentionally or unintentionally. Just one look from a blue-eyed person is often considered enough to inflict a curse.
One of the most famous and widespread talismans against the evil eye is the nazar, a glass amulet featuring concentric circles in dark blue, white, light blue and black. It’s supposed to “bounce” the curse away from the wearer.
HOW DOES THIS APPLY TO KABRU?
Imagine Kabru growing up in a village surrounded by people wearing and hanging talismans that look like his eyes, because the people around him think blue eyes are evil. They call his mother a witch for birthing him, and a whore because she doesn’t have a husband. Imagine parents forbidding their children from playing with or even talking to Kabru. People crossing the street to get away from him, or chasing him away by throwing rocks.
I think the reason young Kabru was able to learn how to speak some kobold is likely because he was so heavily ostracized by the other tall-men around him, the only children he could occasionally interact with in Utaya were kobolds, who might not share the same cultural superstitions that the tall-man do.
This childhood trauma, combined with Kabru’s experience of the dungeon collapse in Utaya, and being raised by an elf that treated him more like a pet than a human being, set Kabru up as a character who has never had a home where he belongs. He has been an outsider from the instant he was born, and every place he has lived treats him as an “other.”
To his father’s family, he was a curse. To his mother, although she loved him, he was a burden. To the people of Utaya, he was a monster. To the elves, he’s a tall-man baby (no matter how old he gets) with funny looking eyes, to the people on Merini Island, he’s a foreigner from the West with elven ways and education.
CONCLUSION
I wanted to write this because I know some people will see Kabru in the anime for the first time today and think "Oh, another dark skinned blue eyed character! This is a bad character design that is evidence that the author is racist at worst or ignorant at best.” And I don’t think that’s a fair assessment of Ryoko Kui’s work in Dungeon Meshi.
This isn’t to say that Ryoko Kui has never done anything wrong, or that her work couldn’t be more inclusive, or that there’s no way in which she could improve.
But there are pages and pages of artwork she’s done that shows she cares about these issues, and I think it’s worth celebrating when someone makes that kind of effort with their artwork.
ANYWAY…
If you’ve read this far, you’re very strong hahaha. I hope you enjoyed this essay. I’ll be publishing more soon when I finish my Dungeon Meshi research on the names and cultures of all the characters. Wish me luck!
#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dunmeshi#kabru#my stuff#analysis#character of color#theories#Dungeon Meshi Research
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• — freedom overseas — •
GET INTO IT: feeling carefree each time he traveled shouldn’t be different for jungkook. as much as he wishes to feel like this back home, he can’t help but restrict himself at all times. - one thing about you working abroad and his schedules matching your timezones (better when it hits same destination), he could only wish and live for the best. ‘cause that’s exactly what he’ll get.
pairing: jungkook x reader.
word count: 3.4k
be aware of: graphic smut and unprotected sex (be always safe). reader can’t resist jk, car sex, jungkook smokes here so uhm.. y-yeah..
author’s note: since this is supposed to be a drabble (lol). hopefully my next work will end up being with more than 2k (lol) kisses and let me know what you think 😇. istg this story changed 2837 times hajaja
when you step outside the restaurant walking towards jungkook who’s smoking, footsteps froze at the sudden image.
he smokes? since.. when?
bewildered, you blink twice as your eyes carefully watch him take another hit of the small nicotine. this is definitely a whole new side of him you didn’t know about.. completely new, but it got you confused. you’re not crazy to remember him talking about his hate for cigarettes because of how much his dad used to do it back when he was little.. right? like that wasn’t a dream. you’re pretty sure he has expressed his disgust to you. almost agreeing with you.
sigh..
the more you look at him as you approach him feels like you can’t even get mad at him.
..why? well.. pinocchio wouldn’t be proud of you if you say he didn’t looked hot doing it.
ugh! what are these thoughts!
you definitely despise the smell of cigarettes! you even hate the sight of it, but why does he gives you quite the view? - you blame it on the way he carries himself with so much confidence yet— is so unbothered when he opens his mouth talking with your friends. his outfit too and how an all black combo always look so good on him.. but then, the simplest thing as him holding that tiny folded paper around his pointy and middle finger touching in between his soft and natural pink lips with a very boyish smile almost made you feel like having a lucid dream. why? because.. well, you were definely wet now.
what..? no!
yes, you are. you could feel it now. if only he could feel it through your panties..
mm.. no!!
mm.. yes!! you hated daydreaming fantasies with him like this but your body and mind could be very uncontrollable sometimes. feeling a single drop down your panties.. what can you do now? aren’t you supposed to hate this? you do! but why is your body reacting this way? it’s not wrong but it isn’t entirely right either considering you don’t like cigarettes.
deciding to ignore all the carnal thoughts running through your mind, you keep walking straight to him. as sticky and annoying as it feels.
“so.. is this your way of getting fresh air?” you start as soon as your friends started parting ways. tone rather calm compared to the troubled mindset you had a few seconds ago.
startling him, softly so. “ah.. ha. this.” he responds. eyes blinking on beat as soon as he grins. you watch carefully as his hand shakes the little tobacco rolled paper.
“yeah.. this.” shyly pointing at it, “how long has this being going on?” voice still calm, you didn’t put too much effort in questioning him. it’s his body at the end of the day and you know just how stubborn your boyfriend can get.
“mm..” smoke exhaling from his mouth and he’s mindfully careful when he does it tilting his head up for the smoke to follow that direction and not be even near close your entire face. “not long ago, actually. taehyung once brought this one vaper and i was curious by its smell each time he used it, so I bought one. strawberry ice cream, to be clear,” he laughed, you do too. “it was weird but I liked it.”
“hm..” slowly crossing your arms around your body you lean against his car in thought. not breaking eye contact even a second, jungkook could feel it. “what made you change your mind? m’not gonna lie. I’m surprised. I remember you once saying you hated it.”
and it’s like your gaze is looking for answers and jungkook can clearly see that. knows you too much. thinks it’s so cute too. the way your curiosity rises each time he takes another hit, he can trust your mind being full of unanswered questions for him. he knows what you mean as well as knowing how much you don’t like it either. but the fact that you aren’t mentioning none of it to him it just makes him look at you with nothing more but warm eyes. thinking he loves you too much.
“so do you.” he states by wanting to make that clear. so you know that he knows. so you know that he won’t and isn’t getting crazy about it, that he’s aware. but you could only understand that if he really explained why.
so that’s what he does.
“remember that day when I texted you about living one life?” you nod. “well, I decided to just give it a try. I want to try everything that I can when it comes to things that I want. be it temporally or not. during my whole life.. as long as I live, there’s probably not gonna be a second chance right?”
“right.”
“at least not in this body,” and he’s so soft spoken that when he shakes once more what’s left of the cigarette’s butt before taking his last hit, the sound of a familiar plastic sound resonates through your ears and that’s when you see him pull two tiny tabs of what seems to be gum off his pocket. and you can’t believe he just did that. suddenly the image you were seeing right now, not matching with his current actions. so you can’t help but give a small smile as soon as he handles one tab for you to take with his pretty big eyes.
he continues, “even though it damages my body a little, there’s a balance thing called in life. i’m not getting addicted and I don’t do it excessively-“
“I was worrying about that, actually..” you voice out, interrupting him. “you tend to get obsessive over things.”
it makes him smile, softly. “I know. but I won’t, I promise. you know my thing is drinking alcohol anyways.. even though that isn’t entirely good either..” making you laugh in unison as you lightly punch him.
“at least you’re aware.”
“hey!” he hugs you side ways. “candy isn’t so much good for your health either..” walking towards the side of his car so you can go.
“but i’m not obsessed.” you huff about it.
“could be. you do get a bit obsessive.” bopping your nose.
“stop!”
making him laugh, “okay.. hop on.”
“I hate you.”
“show me how much.” and.. he closes the door with the biggest playful smile.
oh.. no, not again.
and there you are, left with a big hysterical smile plastered on your lips as you try to breath in, breath out the sudden rush of your body. — come on! it’s not as if you weren’t fucking wet a few minutes ago as soon as you saw him do the things you hated the most.. right? ..you totally got this..
but who.. who were you lying to? it’s not like you could control your body when you haven’t seen him in weeks anyways..
yeah.. you were a mess.
still, you tried to play it cool. “are we heading back towards the hotel, right?” genuily asking.
he responds as soon as he closes his door. “yeah, why?” staring at you now. “wanna go somewhere else?” one palm touching your bare thigh when he asks.. you know there’s nothing wrong with it, and it should be normal at this point of your relationship too, but your hormones were getting the best of you so you just play it off, gently pulling his hand away as much as you didn’t wanted to. deep inside.
“not actually, was just asking.” it’s the truth, but jungkook only squinted his eyes before resting an arm on top of the handbrake, his face’s closer to yours. not enough for you to loose your sanity but close enough into getting a whiff of his rich cloudy scent. although, you can’t deny how fine he looked staring at you like that, his eyes always seemed to shine no matter the situation. only that this time around, everything you could sense from it was nothing more than desire flaming throughout his dark orbits.
“you know we can go wherever you want, right?” staying like that for a couple of seconds, all you can answer is a slight nervous “I know.” and jungkook can sense your sudden shyness. thinking is cute but this could only go one way or the other.. if you both play your cards right.
staring at you for a couple of seconds, jungkook’s piercing gaze switch between your lips along with your boobs and neck before getting ready to turn on the car.. making you exhale a little air after, as if you didn’t know you were holding your breath.
“originally, I wanted to get back so I could brush my teeth or something to be honest.” talking about smoking. “I’m not much of a fan of the aftertaste,” he laughs. “but if you want to go somewhere else,” a hand slides through your thigh.. again. only this time, he squeezes it two times. “I’m down for it too.”
one hand on the steering wheel, another one on your thigh.. it’s moments like these when you question if he knows how effortlessly irresistible he is.. sure, it might be something simple. he’s not doing much either. is just that his side profile and the way his hair lingers in his face and overall the way he’s shaped and how you can literally see the bump of his chest pop for how much he works out mark through his shirt that it makes you want to trace his pectorals with your fingers forever makes you want to eat him and that’s it but.. uh, isn’t that the definition of being so stupidly effortlessly hot?
when you softly press both your legs together, his hand seems to scalate close to your inner thigh..
oh jungkook.. perhaps, are you having the same thoughts as me?
still, you try your best to ignore it. “ah.. so that’s why you have gum with you, isn’t it?”
“caught.” rising both hands up as played guilty.
and as you stare at him.. you notice once again, he looked fine. your legs squeeze and you slightly arch your back when your gaze is back on the street still trying to ignore the finest hottie beside you. - jungkook, on the other hand, just smiles to himself and starts driving. you can’t help but give little sneak peeks at the way he gently but confidently grasps the wheel with one hand.. as soon as the other one approaches your thigh once again.. - he always did this but you were uncontrollable tonight. can’t help but immediately give him those eyes as soon as he reaches your beloved red light.
you swore going back to the hotel wasn’t the main priority. you wanted him now. - so slowly tilting your head to the side, your voice is airy when “babe..”
“mmh?”
and that’s when he sees you. you don’t say a word but he already knows what’s that thing you’re craving the most, and that thing it’s him. he doesn’t speak either. just staring at you under the red light, his hand traces a path towards your slowly opening legs. when you bite your lips into a smirk, his fingers are already pushing your panties to the side. confirming his most prominent thought. you’re wet as fuck.
“were you waiting for this?” eyes gazing up and down your body, his voice is cheeky when he asks. biting down both of his lip rings. “fuck. just how long were you this turned on?” playing with your clit “and why didn’t you told me..” as your body twitches. “it makes me crazy..” whispering more to himself.
—
when you’re gripping the head of his seat increasing the pressure between your arms so you could balance your jumps more deeper and precisely above him, he feels like he could cum in any moment. controlling his breathing, he tries to concentrate in order not to but the way your breast bounce and how you manage to leave quick steamy kisses over his neck makes it so hard. mostly when he has this desire to kiss all over your chest and suck on your titties. but his hands are also gripping so hard at the side of the seat, he barely touches your legs and he feels like a teenager are over again.
the fuck is this coming from him not wanting to last? he blames it on the long time you haven’t seen each other. 3 weeks exactly without your kisses and physical touch.. when he remember fucking almost (if not) everyday when you stayed at his house or he stayed at yours. - there’s always this deep desire whenever you’re close to each other, jungkook doesn’t think it will ever go away and to be honest he doesn’t even want it to ever disappear. always thinking about if it’s you, then everything will be okay.
but as you’re both very into it, something similar like a flash, lights up a little the dark street jungkook managed to set you up. - you both ignore it at first but after two more times, you stop bouncing hard on him switching to slow circular movements that still makes jungkook bite his lips for how good you feel.
“don’t stop.” he’s confident, palming your ass.
“I think there’s someone watching us.”
“I’ve notice too.”
but you both end up stopping your movements regardless.
quickly looking around, the flashes has seemed to be gone but as you keep searching for someone, jungkook just stares at you only to caught your attention back by squeezing your ass two times. making your eyes meet as he mischievously smirks.
“I couldn’t care less from last time, you know it.” sensually kissing your lips. he’s provoking you all over again.. “let them have a show. it’s what they want.”
and you know he’s referring to that one time you both fucked on a balcony being overseas too. - paparazzis had caught you fucking and while you were worried about him getting bashed for it (for the blurry clips that spreaded back then), he ended up being so calm about it to the point of fighting with his company saying he shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to fuck his girlfriend. - and while he understands the depth of why they asked him to be careful, he still thinks it’s just bullshit and that the people who love him for him, will just accept and be happy that he’s happy experiencing what every normal person does. so why everybody can be happy but him? he’s just the same human with needs and desires..
“but this isn’t-“
“stop worrying about me. I know you can’t help it, so let me just say there’s nothing wrong with us wanting to fuck.. I bet they’ve their own experience so why can’t we have ours?”
when you hold his face, you know what he means. knowing how hard it is for him to tell you to stop worrying about it since he once told you he couldn’t just tell that to you because it make him feel careless about your feelings, but you do really get him this time..
when it comes from his personality, a part of you loved that. love that he doesn’t care, love that he always chooses his happiness because at the end of the day he knows he might only have this one life. and even if he don’t, he still wants to enjoy it at his best and that’s why when he motions your hips to move by gripping the side of your waist, both of your bodies stick so close to each other that the image of him biting his lips as he contemplates your body makes you not want to regret this and so you don’t. realizing you’ll only have this from time to time.
“fuck this.” you moan to his ear when jungkook kisses are needy and steamy, confirming just how badly he wanted to try this.
talking about it it’s something but actually experience this feeling of sex in such a limited place (even when this car is very spacious) was really hot and adrenaline reaching. windows foggy and all, it almost feel like a movie. you believe that at this rate it’s even difficult to look at inside the car so if those strangers were really filming or whatever, they’re footage will be already ruined.
you smiled a little because of that. but it didn’t lasted long when you suddenly feel both of jungkook’s hands around your hips manhandling the way you were going to start bouncing on him.
“let them see if they’re so interested in me. I couldn’t care less.” he just doesn’t give a single fuck right now and that only makes you want him more.
see, whenever he’s on his ‘I don’t give a fuck’ moment.. you believe that’s when he’s the most sexiest and dangerous. - maybe you were too into him but each time he showed this side of himself.. you can’t help but love it and be turned on for it at the same time.
—
while he treats you like his personal fucktoy, he does gives you times were you could move at you own pace. but the sounds and the way he touched you were making it hard for you so there’s nothing left when you say, “I- I want to cum.” with such a tiny desperate voice, it makes jungkook grin.
“do it.” voice tender compare with his hot-messy image. “mm, i’ll cum too if you do.” moaning afterwards.
and the good thing is that he really can make himself cum once you do. all he has to do is concentrate in the way your walls contracts into him as if they were gonna swallow, he loves it each time. say it feels too rich, too tight for him to handle. - so when you’re both done, after driving for a while, you don’t see more cars trying to follow you.
“gonna sleep so well tonight, i’m so fucking happyyy” he singsongs as soon as he lays in bed, pulling you into his chest for a hug. “no more nightmares,” he kisses your forehead. “my princess is here.”
smiling to himself, you feel so shy and loved at the same time. gently kissing his lips. “I can say the same.” lovey-dovey eyes looking at him.
he caresses your hair. ”my pretty little princess.”
you smile. “I hope you don’t go hard on yourself.” saying after knowing what’s coming if there really was someone witnessing what happened earlier.
“don’t worry.” softly smiling, “I told you I didn’t cared, didn’t I?” caressing one of your cheeks.
“hm. but still.”
it makes him look at you with warms eyes. “keep being cute. i’m grateful that you worry this much about me..”
“don’t tease me.”
“I’m not teasing you. it’s the truth.” pause. “I just love how caring you are because that means you really must love me..” tone serious.
“of course I do, silly!” you tease him, making him laugh.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“let’s sleep now. we’ve so much things to do..”
“..and so much little time..” you follow.
“I know.” he sighs. “but we can make it.”
“we always do.” you proudly smile, he does too.
“I love us so much.” he says once again.
you laugh. “okay, let’s sleep sentimental boy.”
“you love me this way.”
“you know I do.”
and after teasing each other for a while, you both end up falling into your sleep for a brand new, busy and maybe more exciting day..
#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#jungkook imagine#jungkook x reader#jungkook drabble#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagines#jungkook drabbles#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jk#bts#bts fics#bts imagines#bts drabbles#bts scenarios#bts angst#bts smut#bts oneshot#jeoncopi
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: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to
You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.
[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours]
not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me
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liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others
yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!
809k likes. 304k comments
user: wait, you're in wonka?!
user: I LOVE YOU!!
user: mother giving us content, as always
tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me
yourusername: no
tchalamet: pls!!!
user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?
user: slayyyy
user: isn't wonka supposed to suck
tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see
yourusername: girls got to earn a living
tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow
user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!
user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us
wonkamovie: 😍😍
balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍
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you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'
'I need your help.'
'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.
'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'
you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.
'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.
'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'
you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.
'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.
you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.
you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.
timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.
'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'
'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.
'you killed it,' you assure, casually.
'thank you,' he smiled.
'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.
'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'
you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.
'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'
you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'
'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'
ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.
'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.
he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'
'thanks man.'
'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.
timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.
'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'
'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.
'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.
you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'
'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.
'i do love london,' you agreed.
'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.
they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!
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liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others
tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon
tagged: yourusername
1.1m likes, 609k comments
user: he posted! he posted!
user: we are getting FED
user: i just know this is all yourusername influence
user: not kylie liking...
user: statistics! statistics!
liked by yourusername
yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!
yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one
user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close
user: like fr she stealin my man
user: i love them!!!
user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth
user: she's just like us!
user: LOVE!!!!!
user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie
user: plssss, i love kylie
user: is wonka a musical
user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!
user: fave bob dylan song?
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others
yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!
tagged: tomblyth
1m likes 477k comments
tomblyth: lots of love my dear !
user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it
user: MOTHER
user: parents are parenting
user: I LOVED THIS FILM
user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf
rachelzeglar: my luv <3
yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!
joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me
yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you
joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??
tomblyth: she's the boss
user: how is she so amazing in everything
user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank
user: hi!
user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed
user: i need this film injected into my veins
user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!
tchalamet: very proud
yourusername liked tchalamet's comment
user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating
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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!
user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her
user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?
user: no because i thought the exact same thing
user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute
user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?
user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?
user: they haven't confirmed it
user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him
user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him
user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet
#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#timothée chalamet#tom blyth#i need him biblically#timothee x you#wonka 2023#timothee chalamet x reader#timmy#tom blyth x reader#the hunger games#wonka#actress#social media
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mother's day hc that you tell the genshin boys you're pregnant on mother's day so they decide to celebrate by getting you double pregnant?
YES MA’AM i had a randomizer pick four names for me out of all the guys i write for… kinda laughing at 3/4 of them being all the Serious, Stoic ones lol
fem reader, pregnancy, breeding, overstimulation (alhaitham) and knotting (gorou) below!
alhaitham
You can never be too sure, he says— a good, valid experiment hinges upon proper reliability. Do you know how many undergraduate experimental reports he’s dismissed on account of their supposed “results” being the chance of mere coincidence or random chance? It never hurts to eliminate the possibility of a false positive and to ensure that your positive pregnancy test result is a true positive by breeding you all over again and having you take another pregnancy test in five weeks or so.
When you tell him you’re pregnant, he responds with a quiet nod before almost analyzing all of the behavior you’ve displayed over the last few weeks. Yes, the news makes perfect sense— last week, Alhaitham overheard you wondering aloud if your period was late or if you had just tracked it wrong, and he’d have to be a fool to not know what a missed period is the universal signifier of. The news comes at a perfect time, so he couldn’t be happier— though your husband certainly has a… uniquely stoic way of expressing happiness.
That night, he replicates every last aspect of the night he imagines he got you pregnant some five weeks ago (it’s a simple calculation, really) down to your spot on the bed and the clothes he was wearing just to make sure that a false positive is out of the question. Perhaps he’ll have to come inside if you twice tonight just to really seal the deal that you’re pregnant— once is chance, twice is a coincidence, and thrice is a true pattern. You’d like to try and convince him that surely there’s no need for all of this, that pregnancy tests rarely, rarely fail or show an incorrect result, but there’s no pushing back against your husband’s logical calculations or sense of reason— not that you’re much in the condition to even try to speak with him anyways.
When your husband has you spread open wide with your knees pressed up against either side of your chest, a light conversation is absolutely out of the picture. You’d consider it a feat to muster up anything other than splintered whines of your husband’s name and delicate pleas for him to slow down— though, truthfully, it’d be an even bigger feat if you managed to successfully convince Alhaitham of doing the latter. He hasn’t stalled or slowed his pace for even a fraction of a second because he, of course, is trying to replicate the night he very likely knocked you up exactly, and he just so happened to be absolutely railing you that night.
“You can certainly take more than this.” That’s all he offers when you beg him to slow down again. “I’ve discovered, met, and exceeded every last one of your limits myself, and this pace, this position, and this fervor hardly come close to any of those. I’m simply validating your claim before I take to preparing the spare room for our child.”
You gasp and let your head fall back against the pillow, defeated and overwhelmed in equal tandem by your husband’s delightful Mother’s Day plans.
Alhaitham only chuckles once, a satisfied smirk so faint on his lips that you almost don’t catch it at all. “You’ll be alright. We’ll have nine entire months to be gentle.”
zhongli
Zhongli has lived a normal human lifetime nearly ninety times over— yet, fascinatingly, he always insists he’s come nowhere close in experiencing everything life, nature, humanity, and civilization have to offer, an assertion you’ve always found downright impossible to fathom. How does somebody not get bored after six thousand years of life? You know people who are bored after just four years of working in the same career before they jump ship and try to find something, anything completely different.
He offers the exact same explanation every single time you once again ask how he still finds things to do, places to go, and activities to enjoy after being alive for so long— he always, always smiles softly and explains that he never gets bored with life because you’re in it, and you show him new things, new foods, and new ways to love and enjoy the world that he never even imagined prior to meeting you.
You’ll admit that you’ve found his reasoning somewhat hard to believe on a few separate occasions— like he’s seriously been alive for over six thousand years, yet he’s never tried red bean ice cream from Inazuma before? It’s not exactly a rare or expensive good. However, there are other times when you think you understand what he means, and his logic has never been more evident than today because you told your darling husband that you’re pregnant this morning.
“I’ve never been a father before,” Zhongli hums as he presses a wide circle of kisses all around the cusp of your tummy. “I’ve tutored and taught many, but I’ve never raised a child as my own from their very birth.”
“Does it make you nervous?” You grip his left hand a little tighter as his right comes to rub a soothing circle over the apex of your soft belly.
He pauses for a moment. “I see no reason to be afraid of new experiences, let alone ones I have you to guide me through. I’ve found that sampling life’s uncertainties and navigating its surprises provide far more enrichment than routine.”
You laugh. “I don’t think I can do much ‘guiding’ here, my love— I’ve never been a mother before either. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Zhongli melts. How do you always know just how to tickle his heart with the most innocuous of statements?
“And that is exactly why I’m not nervous— because we’ll have each other to both learn from and learn alongside. I’ve spent the vast majority of my life being the teacher and not the student, so opportunities to learn with you excite me.”
All you can do is hide your face with your free hand, your cheeks warm and your grin obvious. Your husband chuckles and kisses a line down the bottom half of your tummy, down your hips, and all the way down, down, down until he runs into the fabric of your panties.
“I’ve read that intimacy during pregnancy has an array of positive effects for a mother,” Zhongli notes, gently sliding a hand down to tug your panties to the side. “We’ll have to try every last tip and wives’ tale, won’t we, my love?”
diluc
Completely opposite to that of Zhongli, Diluc’s perspective on celebratory sex on Mother’s Day is that it’s about as tired, cliche, and lazy as celebratory sex on a birthday, New Year’s Eve, or Valentine’s Day. Really, any other holiday where people feel the need to either supplement their actual present with sex because they fear what they really bought their spouse just isn’t good enough on its own or because they forgot to get them a present entirely.
Or so he says.
He’s always been of the opinion that love and intimacy expressed on a random day of the year without any special meaning bears more weight than celebratory holiday sex— why should sex be included as part of the celebratory experience when a married couple is expected to regularly display intimacy towards one another? You’ve teased him about this cynical, grumpy take plenty of times, but you’ve almost come to agree with him regardless— it’s hard to even have the energy for sex at the end of your birthday or on the evening of Valentine’s Day when you’re just so exhausted by everything Diluc planned for you during the day. Perhaps it’s entirely because he doesn’t take special occasions lightly that he sees no need to end the day on a cliche.
Well, there’s a first for everything.
“I thought you don’t do celebratory sex,” you whimper with a sharp inhale. You had meant for the statement to sound more teasing and alluring, but it’s damn near impossible to keep your composure when your husband’s spent the past hour and a half between your legs.
Diluc, for the first time in ninety minutes, actually pulls away from your slick, saliva-coated pubic mound to stare up at you over your tummy. How amusing— this is the smallest he’ll see your tummy for the next nine months, and something tells him he’s not going to miss it whatsoever.
“We’ve never celebrated Mother’s Day before simply because you were never a mother for any of them. Today is different— and of course this news deserves celebration.” That’s right— you did mention to Diluc that you’re pregnant this morning over breakfast, didn’t you?
You take advantage of this impromptu break to make eye contact with your husband, who hasn’t looked this… disheveled in quite some time. Bangs plastered to his forehead, nose and chin dripping with a mix of saliva and your fluids, and pupils blown wide with desire, this is a Diluc you don’t get to see very often— and you know how to revel in the treat.
“Making exceptions to your own rules doesn’t suit you.” There, that one actually sounded teasing.
He offers a sort of shrug in response. “I’d have to be devoid of all emotion entirely to not want to celebrate my wife’s body when she tells me it’s pregnant with our very first child.” He glides his soaked lips down the inside of your thighs elegantly and with purpose, taking care to stop just before where thigh meets labia to really relish in your scent.
“Besides,” Diluc murmurs. “I’d like to map out how your body looks now so I can properly appreciate how much lovelier you’ll look once you begin to actually show how well I’ve bred you.”
gorou
Gorou tentatively asks you to repeat yourself just to make sure that he heard you properly, which carries a good amount of irony given his exceptionally superhuman hearing. He just wants to make sure he heard you properly— telling him you’re pregnant on Mother’s Day? He can’t think of anything more perfect than that, so it’d be a shame if he just imagined you saying it— he’s dreamed of being a father for so long now that if you were to hit him with a “gotcha” now, he might faint from disappointment.
Realistically, he should’ve put two and two together three weeks ago, but leave it to your husband to miss something glaringly obvious without your explicit guidance or direction. It’s almost funny to think that, despite his keen sense of smell, taste, and hearing, his overprotective nature, and his well-developed common sense, it’s so easy for him to miss the elephant in the room and get distracted by something incredibly unrelated to whatever he’s supposed to be looking out for.
He should have known from the second he found himself growing more and more overprotective of you without any visible or tangible piece of evidence as to why— you weren’t sick, you weren’t injured, and you weren’t otherwise vulnerable… or so he thought. It wasn’t obvious to him at the time, but now that you’ve confirmed it for him… it makes perfect sense. His nose already knew you were pregnant then— he picked up in the slightest change in your hormone levels without even realizing it, and now that he knows you’re pregnant?
He won’t leave your side for a single moment these next nine months.
Apparently, his vow to stay by your side 24/7 started the very moment you first broke the news to him— with your husband pressed so close up against you, you wouldn’t be surprised if you two just simply combined. Gorou’s hips slap against your ass so roughly and so quickly the sound of skin making contact with skin bounces off the walls and fills your ears, almost threatening to drown out your husband’s elated rambling.
Almost, but not quite. Nothing will get him to stop talking once he’s already started running his mouth.
“I just— I’ve just wanted this for so long,” he pants, looping his hands around your thighs to press them against the front your belly. “It’s just instinct, I guess? I just— Archons— there’s no better way to spend my life than with a sweet wife and a big, big family of our cute little pups.” He’ll be sure to keep you pregnant now that the precedent has already been established— Gorou knows he’ll miss taking you doggy style when your belly gets too big to safely attempt such a position, but he’s sure he can figure out a nice, comfortable compromise.
“I’ll get lots of time off from work! It’ll be easy. I’ll spend every day taking good, good care of you and our family because that’s— that’s what good husbands do, right? I’ll get Thoma to teach me tons of nutritious meals for you because I only know how to prepare quick rations for troops,” Gorou notes with a sheepish chuckle before he hunches over your back and whimpers brokenly. Will you still be able to take his knot while you’re pregnant, or will it be too much for you? He can’t push you too far now that you’re the most delicate you’ve ever been, heavy with the promise of a big family, right?
“I love you so much,” he gasps, nails digging into your belly softly as he loses control of himself. “And I’ll be the best father possible!”
#happy belated mother’s day to all you gorjust people#reblog to get triple pregnant#cw breeding#cw pregnancy#spicy#alhaitham smut#zhongli smut#diluc smut#gorou smut#gorou x reader#diluc x reader#zhongli x reader#alhaitham x reader#fem reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader
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Omg imagine Reid being incredibly touch starved and literally having this very primal craving for affection to the point it's all he can think about but he cannot for the life of him get over his fear of germs and it's just all this angst and ahh
deprivation [ s.r ]
Summary:
Spencer needs support. He needs it. But he for the life of him just cannot reach out for it himself. And after one particular case, you make an effort to try and quell is emotional rampage.
WARNINGS: germophobia, self deprecation, touch deprivation, emotional breakdown
pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader
genre: ANGST, hurt/comfort
wc: 2.8k
masterlist!!
a/n: great minds must think alike because i was actually already working on this when the request came in😭
i made this less angsty than originally planned, but i hope it suffices nonetheless the less, thanks for the request! <33
Spencer Reid was exhausted in every sense of the word.
His muscles ached, his head pounded, and he was so burnt out he didn’t even have any thing to say when JJ had incorrectly mentioned a ‘fact’ about a certain sub-species of butterfly that was supposedly native to Oregon.
His exhaustion only proved to get worse as the jet took off for Virginia, but the unfortunate rampaging of his own mind proved any chance of him sleeping on the flight home impossible.
“Hey… Are you okay?” Your voice seems to echo across the silence of the cabin despite you practically whispering to avoid waking your teammates, and Spencer’s eyes flicker up towards you, clearly not having expected you to be awake.
You stand up from your seat, walking down the aisle to take a seat on the sofa next to Spencer, his head resting in his hands as his eyes followed you. “You’ve been really quiet since the case ended,”
“I’m fine…” He said the words, but it wasn’t reflective of his tone of voice. There was something there. Something more, something beneath the words.
A sadness.
An uncertainty.
And if you listened to his voice, not just to his words, you’d hear a hint of pain, a deep seeded sense of misery that he was concealing beneath the usual layers of stoicism.
“Spencer you’re talking to a professional profiler, which I don’t even need to be to know that you’re not okay.” You can’t help the soft sigh that escapes your mouth, turning to sit sideways to face him properly.
"I'm fine," He said the words again, and this time they held a touch of force. But the words did not match his tone, still pained, wounded, and silently pleading with him to just be honest with you.
And as the words came out of his mouth, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as if hoping that what he was feeling would be gone by the time he opened them again.
But when they fluttered open through his eyelashes he was still on the sofa of the jet and you were still sitting there and he still felt miserable.
“If you don’t want to talk about it then I won’t pressure you,” You dejectedly resign yourself at Spencer’s insistence, leaning your left side against the back of the sofa. “But just know i’m here for you if you ever want to get something off your chest okay?”
"It's just...It's just-" He paused, biting his lip as if unsure about what he was about to say. He knew it may be dangerous to let himself slip. So he considered his words carefully before he spoke again. "...it's just been hard...I’m so stressed and...I'm...feeling vulnerable. And I don't like it. I don't like it at all."
“Everyone’s gonna feel like that at some point Spence, especially in our line of work,” You tilt your head slightly at him, a soft expression painting your features that matches your tone.
"I know..." He said, " But...I don't like feeling like...like i can't cope. Like I'm scared. That's not who I am. I'm supposed to be the rational one. The smart one." Spencer dragged his palms up his face and back over his hair, leaning back against the sofa with his head leaned back against the wall.
“I don’t like being scared,”
And there, again, in that simple sentence was another hint of the hurt that his apprehension hadn’t managed to fully hide. “I’m meant to be better than that.”
“Spencer just because you are a functioning genius does not mean that you’re not allowed to be scared, that’s a part of what makes you human,” Your face furrows as you become increasingly concerned for Spencer and his mindset.
"I-...I know..." He said the words, but the underlying message was clear. He might know that he was supposed to have emotions and he might know that expressing them is healthy, but there was a part of him that was screaming at him to suppress them.
To bury his feelings and pretend to be the robot that his childhood (or lack thereof) had forced him to be.
He wasn't trying to be resistant, he was just...afraid.
“When was the last time you cried Spencer?” The question blurted it’s way out of your mouth as your concern for Spencer only continued to grow.
"Why would you ask me that?" His tone of voice was almost affronted by the question as if he were a little wounded that you had brought up something so sensitive.
He swallowed back the lump in his throat, and you swear that you could see his eyes glass over even in the dim lighting of the cabin. “Because i want to know exactly how much pent up emotion you’re dealing with right now,”
You make a conscious effort to relax your features as you look at him, sighing softly. “Please answer the question…”
Spencer took a second as he deliberated whether or not to answer your question, staring blankly across the cabin so he wouldn’t have to look at you.
"958 days ago."
He said the words coldly, but you could hear the emotion in the way he spoke them. This is the moment when he finally cracked. When he finally realised that hiding the way he felt wasn't a sustainable solution.
And its was also the point when he started to break down. The tears finally started to flow, and he couldn't stop them as much as he tried.
“Spence…” You reach out a hand towards him, but you barely get it up out of your lap before he firmly stops you.
"Don't..."
The words come out of him sharply, but there's something in his tone that saying the opposite. There’s a note of desperation in them. A plea. A cry for help. Because he wants you to touch him, he needs you to. But he's resistant to the idea, he keeps resisting it. “80% of communicable diseases are passed by physical contact. I don’t want to get sick.”
You curl up your hand into a ball as you let it fall back into your lap, pursing your lips as Spencer uses his statistical knowledge to stop you from touching him.
You knew he had an aversion to touch. That he was hyper aware of practically any illness that could possibly be transferred through human contact. You knew that he kept himself at a physical distance from everyone for a reason.
But you also knew that despite all of that he needed physical comfort. Words just weren’t going to cut it.
“It’s okay to need to be comforted…”
"I can get through this myself." He cuts you off harshly, and if you didn’t know that he was obviously mentally struggling his tone would’ve cut you deep.
He's in pain.
He's miserable.
And he's been alone for too long.
He needs emotional intimacy. He needs the affection and comfort of his friends.
He just can't bring himself to actually say that.
“Spencer, let me comfort you. please.” You bite the inside of your cheek as your eyes follow a tear that falls down his face, leaving a water streak in its wake.
“It’s not healthy for you to ball yourself up like this,” You plead desperately with him to let down his emotional barriers and just let you help him.
"There's nothing wrong with me." His words are still cold, but he's wavering now. His shoulders are lowering, his hands loosening from fists to lying flat on either side of him.
He wants you to touch him. He wants the affection that he's been deprived of for so long. But there's still that part in him that's resisting. The voice in his head telling him he can't.
“There doesn’t have to be anything wrong with you for you to need comfort Spencer,” You attempt again to hesitantly reach out a hand towards you, but your advances are again immediately shot down.
"Please.. Don't touch me." His words come out weakly. He's desperately resisting, but the tears are still flowing down his cheeks and you can tell that he’s trying not to completely break down.
“…Are you sure?” You hand retreats back to your side the second he denies you, but you both know he’s not entirely convinced of his own boundaries.
"I'm sure."
He's lying.
The tears were still streaming down his cheeks, and even one quick look at his eyes could tell you that he was desperate to be touched.
He was craving human interaction. But the words were still coming out of his mouth. He wasn't ready yet, not quite yet.
Your hand falls to the gap between the two of you on the sofa, a few inches left between his hand and yours as you suppress a sigh at the clear desperation coating his face despite his denial of your touch.
But you don’t want to overstep the boundary, even if he’s not 100% sure of it himself.
He stares back at you, still resisting the urge to reach out for your hand, even though he's not sure why. He knows that he would feel better if he could grab you and put his head on your shoulder, letting the weight of all of his problems wash away.
But there was still the little voice in his head shouting "Don't. Don't touch them. Don't." And he was struggling. Fighting with every inch of his being for self-control.
As the two of you fall into a slightly tense silence, you make a small movement to breaking Spencer’s self made barrier as you edge your pinky finger towards his own, just barely brushing his skin as you keep your eyes plastered on the opposite wall.
His eyes follow your fingers as they inch their way closer and closer to his. And when - at long last - you make contact, Spencer freezes. Time seems to just stand still as his eyes are transfixed on the single point of contact between your fingers and his.
He doesn't move, he doesn't speak. He just watches.
Over 200 breeds of bacteria are passed through people’s hands for every second they’re in contact.
But he can’t seem to pull himself away.
Because this is the connection he seeks. This is the release he needs. And finally, finally he gets it.
You continue to gently bridge the gap as your pinky finger links itself with Spencer’s, squeezing it with a gentle pressure as you try desperately to stop your eyes from averting back to him.
The second your finger links with his, a dam of emotions breaks. The tears flow faster and he lets out a whimper in the back of his throat.
As soon as you touch him, he leans into the feeling and turns his hand over, pressing his palm and his other fingers against your own, wanting more, needing more of this sensation that he's been starved of for so long.
You respond enthusiastically at his acceptance of the contact, interlacing your fingers together and giving his hand a soft squeeze as you finally bring your gaze back towards his face.
“You’re going to be alright Spencer…”
The moment your hand falls into his is a moment of sweet release. The flood gates have opened, the dam has broken, and there are no barriers between him and the overwhelming emotions he's been forced to bottle up.
And as the dam breaks so too does that small, insistent voice telling him to reject contact. That small voice that tells him he can't have physical affection.
Because that small voice is wrong.
And when you squeeze his hand he brings no hesitation into melting into you completely and burying his face into the crook of your neck.
You immediately shift to accommodate Spencer’s weight against your body, breaking the contact of your hands to pull him into a firm but comforting embrace, rubbing soft lines up and down his back as the other held his head against your shoulder.
With tears still flowing down his cheeks and his head buried in your neck, he lets out a soft, contented whimper.
His body relaxes in your embrace, and just lies there in your arms.
He's safe. He's finally safe, and it feels good. He no longer needs to hold himself together. And for the first time in years, he feels loved.
“I’ve got you…” You whisper the affirmation softly into Spencer’s hair as you rest your nose against the crown of his head.
He lets out more soft whimpers, his body relaxing as he leans into the comfort of your embrace, finally allowing himself to just let go.
He takes in big breaths, drinking in your scent as he tries to slow his breathing. He's still crying, but the tears aren't so severe anymore. He's finally started to calm down.
You lean backwards against the seat to support both of your weights comfortably as you focus on soothing Spencer through his emotions, running your fingers gently through his hair and massaging softly at his scalp.
The soft strokes against his head bring a wave of shivers, but they aren't like the shivers that he had felt when he'd been shaking so much.
These are better, these are warm and comforting, and it was like the tension was leaving his body from his head all the way down to his toes.
It feels good, it feels right.
Your touch was healing, and his whole body is relaxing in the gentle massage of your fingers.
“when was the last time you got a full night’s rest Spence..?” The question is soft against his ear as you continue to gently scratch and massage Spencer’s scalp, pulling him slightly towards you with your other arm to secure him safely in your lap.
“I… A while ago…” His words were hushed and sleepy, the exhaustion evident in the slight rasp that was present in his voice. He's been so caught up in the case and the work that he hasn't given a moment's thought to taking care of himself.
He's running on caffeine and willpower. He’s exhausted.
“You should get some sleep…” You carefully adjust the way yo two are sat until you are lying flat on your back with Spencer splayed out on top of you, burying himself in your presence at every point possible.
“I will…”
He's lying.
And based on the fact that his eyes are still squeezed tight against you and the way he's practically buried his body into yours it's clear that even he knows that he's lying.
There's no way that he can sleep right now. Not when he's finally feeling safe. When he's finally found comfort. He plans to bask in it for as long as possible.
“I’ll still be here when you wake up Spencer,” You know that he knows that you know he’s lying. “Get some rest,”
"But-"
He wants to hold this moment, to cling to this moment, trying to delay the passing of time just a little longer.
"I-“
He falters, realising that he's fighting against losing an argument that has already ended. He forces himself to breathe in and out in a slow and deliberate way as he resigns himself to the inevitability of falling asleep.
“…promise?”
He sounds less like a genius and more like a scared child when he says those words. A child who wants to be reassured. Who wants to be told that everything will be okay. That he'll be taken care of when he wakes up from his slumber.
“I promise.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#mgg#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds angst#spencer reid angst#asks 🫶
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Ok so She-Ra pulled such a great hat trick with Hordak's characterization, and I LOVE it
One of my favorite things about 2018 She-Ra is Hordak's story and development (and Entrapdak cough but that's not the point of this particular post), and the cleverest thing is that so much of it is actually being set up and told to us in seasons 1 and 2 before we even realize that that's what's happening.
When we first see Hordak in the show, he's giving "generic evil overlord" vibes. Garden-variety baddie. Maybe a little more reasonable than some and clearly capable of long-term thinking, but that just serves to make him intimidating. Everything about him--the way he runs his empire, his armor, his color scheme, his minion, his Villainous Eye Makeup(TM), even his name--are all projecting to the audience "yup, Acme Bad Guy here. Move right along."
But then, backstory. And everything snaps into focus. Not only is it one of the first big oh SHIT moments of the show, where we suddenly zoom out and realize that there is SO much more going on than we realized--it's also the start of the audience seeing Hordak as a character rather than an archetype. Suddenly we realize that he's not conquering Etheria because he wants power, or hates happiness and sparkles, or whatever--he's doing it out of a desperate attempt to prove his worth to his brother/creator/god. This moment where Hordak lets Entrapta in is also the moment the show lets us in on what makes our favorite spacebat tick.
On top of that, we've also seen him bonding with Entrapta and opening up to this person that he respects and trusts...probably the only person he's ever respected or trusted apart from Prime. And she's Etherian--someone of a lower species, someone he's supposed to subjugate, someone who he has been raised and trained and programmed and mind-controlled into believing is below him in every way.
But instead she's brilliant and creative and mesmerizing. She's not afraid of him, and she's fascinated with his work. For the first time since being abandoned by Prime, Hordak finally has someone that he can talk to, who is on his level and both understands and cares about the science! (because he is a giant nerd). She's kind to him, a mere defect. And it just sends his whole worldview into a spin, and that's all before--
Bam, mans is a goner. Entrapta's "Imperfections are beautiful" comment punches right through all the toxic bs that Hordak has been steeped in his entire life. You can see on his face here--I think it's the moment Hordak fell in love with Entrapta, but this is also the face of a spacebat reevaluating his entire worldview. If Entrapta, who is amazing, believes something different from Prime...what does that mean? If Entrapta, who is brilliant, believes that he is worth something, and that she herself is a failure...
Well. We know what happens after that, and how Hordak begins to doubt, and eventually fights back against Prime (and remembers his love for Entrapta after TWO mind wipes help my heart ack). But we also get to see what life in the Galactic Horde looks like: the only life Hordak ever knew before coming to Etheria.
It's not nice.
It's really not nice.
Prime operates in a very specific way, and we learn a lot about it in season 5. Prime expects complete obedience, devotion and worship from his clones. He allows no individuality from his subjects, not even a name. Failure or deviations are punished, mind-wiped, or destroyed. We even learn from Wrong Hordak that facial expressions are considered a privilege reserved for Prime (apart from, presumably, expressions of rapture caused by being around Prime).
And once we learn all of this, suddenly thinking about season 1 Hordak becomes very interesting indeed. The time we spend with the Galactic Horde and Prime throws absolutely everything that we know about Hordak into a whole new context. Now all those traits that made him a generic villain are actually hugely effective characterization! And what that characterization is telling us is that Hordak had already moved much farther away from Prime than we (or, probably, he) had realized, even long before he met Entrapta.
Horde Prime does not allow his underlings to have names, personalities, or any differences of appearance. Not only does Hordak allow this among his own troops, he chose a name for himself as well! Season 5 tells us that his very name is an act of blasphemy against his god. And yet Hordak took one for himself, and that name is part of the core identity he is able to hold on to when rebelling against Prime.
Horde Prime cast Hordak out when he showed signs of physical imperfections. Hordak not only keeps Imp (who is by all appearances a failed clone or similar experiment) around, he treats Imp more gently than we see him treat anybody or anything before Entrapta. Imp is not simply "generic evil guy's minion," he is proof of Hordak's capacity for compassion, and evidence that Hordak cannot bring himself to cast aside "defects" as easily as Prime. Considering where Hordak came from, Imp's existence is a huge, flashing neon sign telling the audience this guy here is better than the hell that molded him, and we don't even realize it until 4 seasons after it's been shown to us!
Very cool, ND.
There's more, though. Hordak's red and black color scheme? His dark eye makeup and lipstick? Very Evil Overlord chic. But nope! Actually these are actually expressions of individuality on a level that Hordak knows would be abhorrent to Prime!
Reading between the lines, I see this as Hordak desperately trying to reconcile two diametrically opposed beliefs in his head: (1) devotion to Prime, whose approval he desperately craves, and (2) maintaining some degree of unique personhood, of Hordak, from which to draw strength. Because a failed, defective clone cannot survive on a hostile world, cut off from the hivemind and from Prime's light. A failed clone cannot create an empire to offer Prime as tribute, nor build a spacetime portal from scraps and memory to call Prime back. A failed clone cannot create cybernetic armor to keep his hurting, weakened body alive; to force himself to keep going no matter what, to fight through the pain and the doubt by sheer force of will.
But maybe Hordak can.
And so there it is. Hordak had plenty of time to gain and explore his individuality while separated from Prime, but I think the reason he did it so effectively (while still deluding himself that Prime would forgive him for these little sins, if only Hordak could prove his value) is because he had to.
Wrong Hordak gained his individuality surrounded by kind, quirky people who took care of him; Hordak was ripped from the hivemind by Prime himself and had to fight for his survival against all odds. And that produced a dangerous and damaging foe for Etheria. But it also produced the one clone with the strength of will to defy Prime himself.
This is long and rambling, but ultimately my point is that 1) I love Hordak, and 2) I love love love love that the show was so clever about his characterization. We learn so much about him and how much progress he's already made in breaking from his psycho abusive cult upbringing, and we don't even recognize it until the show wants us to. Hordak had come so far, all on his own, before he met Entrapta. She just helped push him over the edge and finally realize (at least consciously) that Prime's worldview might not be the correct one.
Idk, I just don't know if I've ever seen all the trappings of Basic 80's Villain(TM) so successfully subverted, where looking back 4 seasons later is actually a smack in the face with the "effective character building" stick. Amazing.
#spop#she ra#she ra and the princesses of power#hordak#entrapdak#entrapta#horde prime#Spacebat#Deep character analysis#Gotta love clever writing#Seriously I could go on about this show for ages#I just love the characterization for everyone but especially Hordak#Best spacebat#I mean I love Wrong Hordak too but you know
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