#i love the tiny differences in the animation between the two of them
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When I Kissed the Teacher
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genre: fluff, humor
Summary: Mr. Kim has a crush, to his students that much is clear. It's also clear that you like him too. What happens when a group of meddlesome ten year olds decide to play cupid for their two favorite teachers?
Warnings: science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee
Length: ~5.2k
Note: it's here! thank you to @gyuwoncheol and @gyuswhore for beta reading and to my lovely @tomodachiii for fact checking my knowledge of primary school lol
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Turning from the white board, Mingyu faces the room full of weary children. Mondays are hard. Early mornings are hard. Learning the difference between reptiles and mammals first thing on Monday morning is downright torture. But it’s nothing a little bribery (read: candy) can't fix.
"Alright class, today we're learning about animals! Who remembers what a mammal is?"
Mingyu barely finishes his sentence before a sharp knock interrupts.
“Mr. Kim,” you seethe from the doorway.
Mingyu turns around immediately, eyes wide in fear at your tone. “Yes?”
“Can I speak with you? In the hallway?”
The class of ten year olds “ooooh” as their teacher trails after you like a kicked puppy. If they weren't awake before they sure are now. He shoots a silencing look back before dipping out the door where you wait, foot tapping impatiently.
“Would you like to explain where all my printer paper went?”
Mingyu tries to play dumb. “I don’t know?”
“Oh really?" You blink. "Because I found the box in the workroom and guess what was on the printer? More of your worksheets for your class!”
“How do you know they were for my class?”
You don’t answer, in favor of shoving the animal themed coloring sheets into his chest harshly.
“Listen, anyone could have…” He trails off under your withering glare.
“If you need paper, ask!”
Mingyu burns under the reprimand. “Oh, like you asked to use my paints last month?”
“That was an accident!" you argue, eyes wide. "And I replaced them.”
“Alright, then I’ll replace the paper I took.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
With a curt nod, you turn to leave; unaware of the blushing cheeks and heart eyes following your retreating form. But the gaggle of elementary students waiting for Mingyu's return see them clear as day; their fits of shrill giggles and whispers falling on deaf ears as he shakes off the stars clouding his mind.
Mr. Kim, their goofy science teacher, has a crush. And like children are wont to do, they hatch a scheme to help him out.
—
“Alright. Do we remember the difference between fragments and sentences?”
The classroom ripples with tiny voices shouting “yes” with varying degrees of confidence. Their last quiz grades are proof they haven’t quite grasped the subject yet but that’s why you’re planning for an intensive review with them today.
“Awesome! So our warm up today should be a piece of cake. I’ll help with the first one so let's all look at the boa—”
A knock at the door cuts you off. Mingyu stands in the threshold, looking positively mischievous.
“Sorry to interrupt, Ms. y/l/n. But can I speak with you in the hall?”
Forcing a smile, you respond. “Certainly. Class, why don’t you all work with your desk partner on the worksheet and when I come back we’ll go over the answers?”
They break into groups, chattering about everything but the work you’ve assigned; most notably the way Mr. Kim beams as you follow him outside. However, once you’ve crossed beyond the border of the brightly decorated room, twenty pairs of ears strain to hear why Mr. Kim interrupted their morning lesson.
“What's this about?” you ask.
Mingyu smiles, eyes shifting to the floor. “Here's the paper I owed you.”
“You’re kidding.”
Three hefty boxes are stacked next to your door. It’s far more paper than Mingyu used for his color sheets, and more than you’d probably need for the rest of the semester.
“I thought you could use extra since you’re too stingy to share.”
“I’m not stingy!” You scoff.
Mingyu simply flashes another self-satisfied smile before heaving a box into his arms and carrying it into your classroom. He could certainly carry all three boxes at once; anytime there were desks or anything else remotely heavy to be moved, Mingyu did so with ease. But the kids don’t think anything of the way he so obviously drags out the torture.
The kids watch Mr. Kim weave through the maze of tables towards the back of the room.
“Lia, can you open the door for me please?”
The little girl jumps from her desk and bolts for the supply closet, braids bouncy with each step.
“In here okay?” Mingyu asks.
Blinking from your stupor, you turn back to your desk as you answer. “Yeah, it’s…whatever.”
Your class stopped their work to focus on the unfolding drama between their two favorite teachers. They don’t know why you can’t seem to stand their science teacher, and it’s anyone’s guess why Mr. Kim has decided to interrupt their grammar lesson for something so silly. But it’s clear that whenever you two meet an argument is clear to follow. And in the guidebook of elementary school, if you like a girl, you always argue with them.
So enthralled in your silent battle of wits with the peppy man, you miss the two girls plotting in the corner.
Hana turns to her friends with breakneck speed. “Did you see the way Mr. Kim smiled at her?”
“He’s so in love,” Arin sighs dreamily.
“And Miss y/l/n is blushing! We should help them.”
Their whispers are cut off when you clap. “Alright! Back to work!”
Mingyu lingers by the front until you forcibly shoo him away, huffing at the permanent smile stretched across his lips even when the door slams in his face.
“Meet at the tree during recess.”
The two girls nod and return to their worksheets.
A new week comes with new challenges. Today’s is the universe’s determination to make your life as difficult as possible.
Your alarm didn’t go off, your shoddy dryer left you with damp clothes, and your car battery decided a short strike would be a great way to start the freezing morning. There was barely time to wash your face with cold tap water let alone put on makeup or style your hair. To top it all off, the green lunchbox with leftovers from your favorite restaurant sits on the shelf of your fridge which means the crumbled granola bar at the bottom of your purse will finally see the light of day.
Flicking on the lights, you rush to prepare for the day. By the grace of god your first period is planning time so no students witness your near breakdown from the absolute shit storm of the morning. Not much is to be done since you already organized everything you needed Friday afternoon but the tense events of the day leave you feeling off. Not even a cup of coffee with the creamer you reserve for days like these helps the overwhelming unease rippling in the back of your throat.
Your allotted private time washes by and before you know it, a gaggle of students filters into your room, giddy on holiday spirit and sugar. The first five minutes of class are spent reminding them their butts belong in chairs at their own stations, that the warmup is for them to complete on their own, and if they aren’t feeling well enough to do classwork they need to go to the nurse.
Twenty minutes into the lesson and the worksheet for their quiz on Friday finally manages to capture their attention. A few students struggle but most are sailing through. Its the same material as last week just with a new puzzle for them to complete once they have all the correct answers.
“Alright, who can tell me what word fits for number six?” you ask.
The attentiveness you’ve sweated to cultivate all morning dissolves when a volunteer knocks to distribute candy-grams.
“Delivery!” a young woman sings as she enters, dressed in red from head to toe with heart shaped sunglasses and a sparkly headband. Her wicker basket flows with candy bars wrapped with shiny ribbon and cardstock penned with confessions.
The shrill symphony of oohs and ahhs as the kids receive pieces of candy raises the vein on your temple.
“And for Ms. y/l/n!” the young woman sing-songs, heart headband bouncing as she approaches your desk.
The cardstock reads one of the cheesy messages the school provides for the Valentine cards they sell as a yearly fundraiser.
‘I like you a choco-lot! - your secret admirer’
You throw it into a drawer in your desk, oblivious to the crestfallen faces of two little girls watching with rapt attention.
“I don’t think she likes chocolate,” Arin whispers.
“No. Remember during Halloween? She said her favorite candy is Twix. She gave Gabi an extra point on the spelling test when she brought in her halloween candy and gave them to her.”
“Well maybe she’s mad because it wasn’t a Twix!”
“Maybe. But Mr. Kim didn’t react to the note on his desk this morning either,” Hana huffs. “But he was late so maybe he didn’t see it.”
Your second attempt to put class back on track falls flat. Instead of group review, kids come up to your desk one by one to check their answers while you nurse your headache until the bell dismisses everyone to their next destination. Another crop of students flood the seats, emotions running high from who did and didn’t receive candy in their last class. Two students end up arguing about who knows what and then proceed to break into frustrated tears.
You bite your tongue to stop from doing the same and put on one of the movies you reserve for days like these.
When Mingyu walks into your room after school ends and all the kids are dismissed for pick up, you give him a look that sends him turning around and exiting the way he came without a word.
Tuesday brings a better attitude. Mostly because you get to take all of your class to the library for silent reading. But the homemade stirfry sitting in your lunch box in the teacher’s lounge helps too.
Your second period kids spread out through the room, some sprawled across the worn rugs on their bellies while others curl up in the much coveted bean bags; a few choose to hide between the imposing bookshelves, crowded on all sides by the smell of old paper.
With an overly sweetened latte sitting in one hand, and a new novel in the other, you perch at the long table near the librarian's desk to ‘supervise.’
“How did you manage to get a copy of The Gate? I couldn’t even get the pre-order before it sold out.” Elise, the librarian, asks.
You smile into your coffee cup before responding. “Eh, I know a guy.”
“You do? I thought you didn’t date?”
“I don’t.” You nod. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t have connections.”
“Well whoever your ‘connection’ is, send them my way when you're done with him.”
You pretend to ponder before answering, “I’ll think about it.”
Snapping your book shut, you rise to gather the kids to return back to class. It takes several minutes as a few refuse to join the line until their current chapter is finished and Kai pulls out the puppy dog eyes, begging to stay all day to finish his book.
You corral them out the door with promises of more reading time on Friday if they behave well the rest of the week. Some roll their eyes but most nod enthusiastically at the opportunity to skip on their weekly quiz.
Unlocking the door, you unpack your things and find a basket of Valentine’s on your desk to be passed out. Almost all the kids receive at least one, some find two or even three heart shaped sugar cookies on their desk. Your heart squeezes when some of the students decide to divy up their cookies and gift them to the students who didn’t receive a note.
The last cookie at the bottom of the basket has a note with your name on it and a message in the same swirly script as yesterday’s.
We go together like milk and cookies. - your secret admirer
As far as cheesy Valentine’s go, you’ve seen worse. But free snacks are free snacks and the confection tastes great dipped in your coffee.
Your fourth period class focuses on their worksheets, silently deciphering the reading and ticking of questions. You promised whatever group finished first with the most right answers gets a special Valentine treat; full sized candies and extra credit on Friday.
Whatever it takes to keep them focused while you work through grading everything for your other classes.
You don’t notice the man waiting at the door until one of your kids greet their science teacher; a ripple of tiny ‘Hi, Mr. Kim!’s following.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Mingyu announces from the door. “But, ugh, the volunteer accidentally gave me this.”
“Oh! Thanks Min—Mr. Kim.”
You take the can of orange soda from his hand and skim the note.
I have a ‘crush’ on you. - your secret admirer
None of the students can read the note from their seats but you and Mr. Kim look equally bashful.
“What are you guys working on? Mingyu asks, hoping to diffuse the tension.
A cacophony of voice race to explain their assignment. Mingyu pretends to understand, smiling at their enthusiasm and grabbing a worksheet for himself.
He plants himself in one of the tiny plastic chairs next to your desk meant for ten year olds rather than a grown man of his size. It’s comical the way his knees brush his chest and any small move across the slippery seat threatens to land him on the floor.
Reviewing the sheet, Mingyu announces, “Alright, how about if you guys finish your work before me, we can have a pizza party in my class on Friday?”
More screams bounce off the walls.
“You guys can’t finish if you’re talking to Mr. Kim,” you remind them.
The room descends into a cozy calm; the sound of pencils on paper, your keyboard clicks, and the soft jazz from the computer speakers blending together.
You don’t look up to grab the answer key from the corner of the desk, Mingyu huffing from his seat at being caught.
“No cheating,” you smirk under your breath.
“Creative strategy,” he argues.
Instead of answering you shake your head and continue to focus on your own tasks.
Ten minutes and twenty emails later, two groups of students rise and approach your desk at the same time.
“We finished first!”
“No, we did!”
“Guys,” you interrupt them. “I’ll grade them both and whoever has more right wins. Besides, Mr. Kim owes you a pizza party anyway.”
The entire class cheers at the news while Mingyu playfully pouts. Maybe if he hadn’t given up on his worksheet to snoop through the basket full of snacks on your bookshelf, he wouldn’t be eating his own words.
The second group of students to approach your desk ends up victorious. You mark down their candy orders to pick up on your weekly grocery shopping trip on Thursday night before sending them to back up their belongings so you can all head to the cafeteria.
“What’d you bring for lunch?” Mingyu asks as he walks with you to the teachers lounge to retrieve your lunch boxes.
“Pasta salad.”
“Wanna trade?”
“What’d you bring?” you ask, handing him the black grocery bag you know carries his lunch.
“Pasta salad.”
You roll your eyes and kick the fridge shut.
—
After lunch you have another free period. The printing room is empty so you take advantage and make enough copies for the rest of the week. Perhaps Mingyu wasn’t wrong to bring you three boxes of paper.
Lugging the stack in hand, you turn down that hall only to find a familiar face standing guard outside your classroom.
“Arin? Why are you in the hallway? You should be in class.”
“I was just…going to the bathroom!”
“Really? Because there's a bathroom right outside Mrs. Lee’s classroom if I remember correctly.”
“It was gross!”
Considering Mrs. Lee’s classroom sits on the main hallway and intersects with two other grades, it probably looked more akin to a battlefield than a restroom at this time of day.
“Okay…but hurry back. And I’m gonna let Mrs. Lee know what took you so long so she isn’t worried.”
You side step around her but she moves right into your path. And then again. And again.
“Arin, what are you doing?”
“Sorry, Ms. y/l/n. I don’t feel good. Can you walk me to the nurse?”
Crouching to her height, you rest the back of your hand against her forehead. Arin never admits she doesn’t feel well even when she’s tinged green and hacking up a lung. It’s the perfect admission to keep you from peering past the threshold of your classroom and blowing the entire operation.
Until a loud crash and high pitched scream breaks the silence of the hallway.
You jump back up.“What the—”
“Wait!” Arin shouts, throwing her arms and legs wide to block your path like a three foot tall ‘X’.
“Arin, what is going on?”
“Mr. Kim said animals make themselves bigger to be scarier,” Arin says, tiny face scowling.
“And why are you trying to scare me?”
Another bang echoes out the classroom forcing you to pick the little girl up by her armpits and carry her inside with you. She slips from your hold as you stare with a wide mouth at the scene. A desk is pulled up to the board allowing Hana to balance atop it as she scribbles across the chalkboard.
Wil you be my Valintin? - Mr. K
“Hana! What are you doing?”
“Arin!” Hana huffs indignantly.
Arin opens her mouth to respond but the look on your face silences both girls. You help Hana down from the desktop before crossing your arms in front of you and taking a deep breath.
“Sit. Now.”
They trudge to the seats next to your desk; heads hung low, tears brimming in their eyes. Neither has been on the receiving end of such a reprimand before; they’re usually your best behaved students.
You allow them to stew in silence as you right the two chairs Hana knocked over. She doesn’t look injured which is a relief but your nerves are shot from the perplexing situation. Hana and Arin can be troublemakers but they’ve never done anything like this before.
Once you're certain the urge to yell at them is quelled you approach your desk and take a seat. You watch them expectantly. Arin chances a glance up and swiftly looks back to her lap while Hana focuses on the picture at the edge of your desk, blinking away tears.
“Girls,” you sigh. “What were you doing in here?”
“Ms. y/l/n,” Arin blubbers.
Presenting the tissue box, you wait several moments while they both dab their eyes and blow their noses before speaking again.
“We just thought…” Hana starts, glancing at the other girl.
“Thought what?”
“Mr. Kim’s in love with you and we wanted to help!”
“I see.” You nod. “Did Mr. Kim tell you that?”
They look at each other before shaking their heads ‘no.’
Your temple throbs from the situation. A measured breath through your nose sends the girls into a frenzy.
“We can tell!”
“You’re perfect for eachother!”
“And did Mr. Kim ask you to sneak into my classroom while I wasn’t here?”
“No ma’am,” they mumble in unison.
It dawns on you that the two girls have been behind all the gifts you’ve received this week.“Are you two behind all the Valentine’s I’ve gotten?”
“We were just trying to help!” cries Arin.
Moving to crouch in front of them, you wait until they both look up at you.
“It’s very sweet what you were trying to do and I’m sorry I yelled at you. But you can’t sneak out of class. What if something happened and you got hurt climbing the table?”
“I’m sorry,.” Hana says.
“Me too.”
You pass them more tissues to wipe their noses.
“How about we get you two back to class?”
“But what about Mr. Kim?”
“Yeah! He needs to know how you feel.”
“That’s between Mr. Kim and I. Understand? Those are grown up things.”
The repulsion painting their faces forces you to bite back a snort. Instead you offer your hands, pinkies extended towards them both.
“How ‘bout this? I promise to talk to Mr. Kim if you two promise no more meddling. Okay?”
All three of you share a smile as you intertwine their pinkies with your own.
“Now,” you say whilst jumping to your feet. “You are supposed to be in Mrs. Lee’s class. And you are supposed to be at the library.”
Escorting them both back to where they belong, they can’t help but giggle when you pass Mr. Kim’s room and he waves. The question is clear on his face but you shrug your shoulders.
You’ll explain everything later.
You smile knowingly at the corner of the classroom where two little cupids sit as the volunteer brings you a lollipop with a note reading ‘I’m a sucker for you.’
Part of you feels guilty they pooled their own money together to supply you and the teacher next door with treats all week in an effort to play matchmaker. But another part can’t help but laugh. And when you get the chance to tell Mingyu what they’ve planned you’ll no doubt laugh harder.
But because the universe somehow knows you lied to your students the day prior you find your reckoning in the cafeteria.
It was Mingyu’s fault. Or at least that’s what you argue. You barely made it three steps inside the room before the large man bulldozes you; sending his lunch and your own down your fronts in a palette of greens and browns.
His eyes widen in horror as a slice of tomato peels off your shirt and flops to the floor. “I am so sorry!”
“Seriously?” you choke.
The entire school watches with baited breath. Students and teachers alike watch with abject horror as you skirt around the taller man and flee with shaking shoulders and your chin dipped into your chest. Mingyu gapes like a fish as you run by, frozen in place. As hundreds of eyes settle on him, he realizes they all saw how he drenched you in salad and coffee.
Mrs. Lee dismisses him with a nod, silently agreeing to watch his class so he can trapeze out to his car and find something suitable to wear.
—
Mingyu watches the game of kickball unfold across the field, keeping an eye on the rowdier students as they pick teams. But even from a distance he recognizes one face is notably absent.
He finds Kai slumped on a bench at the far corner of the playground using a stick to draw lines in the dirt at his feet.
“Hey, buddy. You feeling okay?” Mingyu asks.
Kai never misses a game of kickball. Even when his arm was in a cast at the beginning of the year, he insisted he only needed one good arm to play defense and neither to play offense. Kai’s mom simply laughed at Mingyu’s concerned email and said her son was exactly like his dad and there was no stopping him if he was set on something.
So to have the little curly haired boy isolated on the far edge of the field is serious cause for concern.
Kai looks up briefly at Mingyu’s approach before returning to his mud art. “Mr. Kim, have you ever liked someone?”
“Liked someone?” Mingyu drops onto the bench next to him.
“Like,” the little boy inhales trying to explain himself. “Like a girl?”
Mingyu snuffs out his chuckle at Kai’s innocent question. “Yeah, why do you ask? Do you like a girl?”
“I–My friend does!”
“Okay,” Mingyu nods.
“And he doesn’t know how to tell her.”
“Well that's tough.”
“How’d you tell the girl you liked?”
“Well,” Mingyu drops to a whisper. “Once upon a time, I had a crush on this girl. And she was the prettiest girl I ever saw. Smart and funny too.”
“Did she run fast?”
The question confuses Mingyu at first but then he remembers he’s talking to a ten year old and the rules of attraction hinge on who gets the swing the highest and jumps off.
“She ran really fast,” he nods. “And she made me so nervous I couldn’t talk to her. My palms got all sweaty and my face turned red.”
“That happens to m—I mean my friend!”
“And it feels like there's a bunch of frogs jumping around your stomach?”
“Yeah,” Kai nods. “So how’d you tell her?”
“Well one day, I finally decided to introduce myself. Walked right up to her, opened my mouth and…poof.”
“Poof?”
“Poof.” Mingyu hangs his head. “I forgot everything I was gonna say to her.”
“What happened after that?”
“She waited a few minutes and then said ‘okay, I’ll meet you at 6:30 for dinner.’”
“She knew you liked her?”
Mingyu nods gravely before imparting his most sage wisdom. “Girls are very smart, Kai.”
“So I should try and tell her I like her?”
“Your friend should at least try,” Mingyu shrugs.
Kai blushes, having been clearly caught. “But what if she doesn’t like him back?”
“That’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“Thanks, Mr. Kim. You’re the best!”
“You’re welcome, buddy.” Mingyu gives him a fist bump before shooing him back towards his friends. “Now go play kickball, the boys need your help.”
Kai runs off but a new presence fills the vacant seat on the bench.
“I thought we agreed to keep our romantic life a secret at work.”
Mingyu smiles sheepishly before turning to look at you. “Oh, you heard that?”
“Yeah, I heard,” you smile. “They already think you have a crush on me.”
“Smart kids.” He says, enjoying the way the worn sage button up swallows your figure.
Mingyu loves when you wear his clothes, he told you this morning when you stole his favorite jacket. Which is why you both took almost twenty minutes to gain your composure after he spilled an entire tray of food on you.
Mingyu swears he didn’t do it on purpose. How could he have known you were coming through the door at that very moment? But he’d do it again if it meant seeing you in one of the spare shirts he keeps in the truck again. Even if it meant he’d also sustain minor coffee burns.
“They think I have a crush on you too.”
You watch the way he traces your collar bone, catching the twinkle of the diamond pendant resting at the hollow of your throat; his birthstone. It was the first piece of jewelry he bought you when you started dating almost a decade ago.
You hadn’t taken it off since the day he gave it to you with shaky hands and red ears.
“Do you?” He asks.
“Do I, what?”
“Have a crush on me?”
“Oh Gyu,” you coo at him. “I have the fattest crush on you.”
“Damn right you do.”
Sitting outside with an entire audience of other teachers and students doesn’t allow either of you to fall into the familiar comfort of adorning kisses or airtight hugs. But Mingyu’s pinky brushing yours in the ample space between your figures is enough for now.
Friday is Valentine’s day which means all the kids don red and pink outfits and prepare for a day of candy filled fun. You spent all morning helping the art teacher set up paint stations. Why she cashed in on the long owed favor with such a simple task was beyond you but the monotony is a nice change from the chaos you’ve experienced all week. When second period rolls around, you shuffle back to your classroom; welcomed by the line of students waiting outside your locked door.
“I swear! I saw Mr. Kim and Ms. y/l/n at the grocery store last night.”
“Hana, Ms. y/l/n said its grown up business. Maybe you just saw people that look like them,” Arin shrugs. “And I don’t wanna get in trouble again.”
“It had to be them!”
They quiet down as they walk past your figure, smiling like cherubs when you greet them.
Students file in one by one, shrill voices echoing from excitement. Most cheer about their pizza party with Mr. Kim later that afternoon, a few squeals about the set of Valentine’s their parents sent with them to handout.
Your ears catch a few other snippets of conversation as you wait for the stragglers to make it by.
“Oh my gosh those are so pretty!”
“Those look like the flowers my mommy likes!”
Curiosity gets the better of you, forcing you to step into the room and see what the kids are talking about.
An explosion of pink camellias resting on your desk. Huge blossoms with pale pink petals spill over the sides of the vase, slips of greenery sprinkled throughout. Approaching your desk, the floral aroma fills your nose. The blooms feel like soft velvet under the pad of your finger tracing the largest one in the center of the arrangement.
Who on earth?
As if on cue a mop of black hair peaks in from the hall. Mingyu eyes the bouquet and the pleased look on your face before allowing his own to break into his infamous smile.
“Just wanted to make sure they got here safe,” he calls.
You whip your head up, eyes wide and mouth open at the can of worms he just spilled.
“What?” Mingyu asks innocently. “Can’t a man buy his fiancee flowers?”
He disappears with a wink but his laughter at the chaos he’s stirred up can be heard miles away.
“MISS Y/L/N YOU’RE MARRIED?” Mark screams.
Another shrill voice answers, “Fiancee means they’re almost married, idiot!”
“You lied to us!” Arin and Hana chorus.
Dropping into your chair, you hide your burning face in your hands. Coincidentally it also hides your shy grin from the hoard of ten year olds jumping in their seats at the news.Mingyu is in so much trouble.
A few weeks before the new school year starts, a group of nearly eleven year olds crowd into the pews of the massive church at the center of town. Stained glass reflects patterns over the marble floors, casting them in a rainbow of colors.
Some sit on their hands to calm the adrenaline pumping through their tiny veins. Others rock back and forth in an effort to watch Mr. Kim strut down the aisle in a fancy looking suit.
But all of them gasp when you turn the corner.
You look like a real life princess in your wedding dress, floating towards their science teacher waiting at the altar with tears and a smile matching your own.
When you and Mr. Kim kiss, the girls squeal and the boys blush.
Several rows ahead sits a small group of older students, who’ve long graduated elementary school and are headed to college in a few days. They exchange satisfied smiles and pat themselves on the back for getting their favorite fourth grade teachers together all those years ago.
Maybe now your new classes won’t try playing Cupid like they do every year given Mr. Kim finally married their favorite teacher.
-
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ FATHERLY COMPETITION — GETO SUGURU.
contents. non curse au, girl dad! suguru ft the twins, fem! + mother! reader, satoru is megumi’s father <3, silly lil family shenanigans and suguru having a one sided rivalry w satoru bc he’s a bum like that
suguru loves being a father—it’s just as they say it is. one day, you’re free and young and opposed to the idea of being tied down, and then the next second you’re cradling two newborns that make you want to dig to the earth’s core with your bare hands, all for the tiny humans in front of you.
he loves his two girls—they make the world go around and the stars come out and they make something as bright as the sun look dull and lifeless compared to those sweet smiles. but sometimes, he’d really appreciate being able to sleep in on a saturday morning.
“daddy, wake up,” there’s a poke to his cheek. mimiko is at least gentle with her disruptions—nanako has simply taken to jumping on the mattress by his feet.
“daddy, you promised,” nanako whines—it’s makes you stir with a soft groan, eyes opening to peer up at the two (very cute) troublemakers in your bed.
“what’d you promise this time, suguru?” you raise a brow, making him sigh as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“said i’d take them to the zoo,” he grunts, “but it’s not open for—” he looks at the time on his phone. seven thirty two am. “for another two and a half hours.”
“girls,” you start, “we have to wait a bit. why don’t you go back to bed—”
“we can stay here, mommy!” nanako brightens, squeezing between you and suguru to wrap her arms around your neck.
it’s cute, you suppose. it’s always endearing to be snuggled up by one of your little girls, but something tells you that you won’t be sleeping again any time soon. so you sigh, turning towards suguru and wrapping nanako in your arms as suguru does the same with mimiko and gives you an amused grin.
“i think we spoil them,” he murmurs, making you scoff.
“you spoil them. i’m the voice of reason in this household.”
“so now it’s a crime to give your kids fun family experiences that not everyone is fortunate enough to have—”
“you know what the not so generous parents out there probably have more than us? sleep.”
“that’s probably true,” he mutters, yawning before he presses a gentle kiss to mimiko’s forehead. “but at least we’re the world’s coolest parents. right girls?”
“megumi is going to the beach today,” nanako says as a matter of factly, “his dad is super cool.”
“and funny,” mimiko adds.
suguru’s face sours at that—you try your best not to giggle.
“oh so now satoru is cooler than me? he shouldn’t even be trusted near the ocean with children, they’ll drown—”
“satoru is careful,” you chuckle, “well….most of the time.”
“okay,” suguru raises a brow, looking expectantly at nanako, “but has satoru ever taken megumi ice skating? bet he hasn’t done that—”
“yeah they did,” nanako says instantly, “that’s why we asked to go.”
“well have they gone to the zoo?” he asks petulantly. she nods, and his lips curl into a pout.
suguru looks positively fumed at the idea that his best friend seems to be cooler in the eyes of his own children. you can practically watch the gears work in his head before he looks smugly over at the blonde girl curled up against your chest.
“okay, but have they ever been to a petting zoo?” he raises a brow, “there’s a difference.”
the two girls exchange a look before slowly, the excitement creeps up on their faces as they look at him in disbelief. suguru looks hopelessly smug with himself.
“you mean we can pet the animals?” nanako asks in wonder.
“yup,” suguru nods, grinning widely. you snort at his petty one sided competition.
“can i pet a giraffe?” mimiko asks, poking his arm as he nods excitedly.
“yeah, and you can feed it too.”
they squeal at that—and if suguru throws you a look of pure victory on his face, you decide not to ruin his moment just yet. because you already know it won’t last long until—
“what about whales? can we pet those too?”
“and a shark?”
“i wanna pet a tiger!”
“well, i don’t think those are really the safest options for a petting—”
“daddy, you’re so cool,” they gasp. suguru gives you a look that screams for help, but you only giggle, pecking nanako on the forehead as you send a sly wink to your husband.
“you are so cool,” you agree, “i can’t wait to see the tigers we can pet.”
he looks at you with betrayal in his eyes as the pout returns on his lips. “i trusted you,” he huffs.
“that was your fault,” you grin cheekily. it’s all a bit funny at his expense—but you also can’t help but be endeared at the way suguru does his best. for your girls. for you. for your sweet little family. so you take mercy on him, turning to your daughters as you murmur, “i think you’re a bit too young for those animals right now. let’s start small, yeah?”
they nod along, and you and suguru share an amused look. and then—
“make sure you guys tell megumi all about your trip next time you see him, okay?”
suguru be bragging to satoru like “my kids went to the petting zoo” and satoru’s clueless ass is like “oh !! that’s so nice !! i’m taking my kids to disney !!”
#teepods.writings#drabbles.#geto x reader#geto x you#geto fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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Have been a time since i had made a full post for the cartoon critters, so time to give them some love
I present to you... The Smiling Critters's Family Tree
1- Dogday & Catnap - Queen Gaia
''Everybody call her your highness, but for us, mom is just mom''
Her introduction in the cartoon is a surprise for everybody, since nobody knew Catnap & Dogday were actually sibling (even when the two refer to the other as brother, they thought it was a best friend thing), even less knew they were princes! Queen Gaia is a calm, motherly figure, but after lost her husband in a war with another kingdom, she decide to hide her two babies from the public, and when they became old enough to have a pendant, let them live with their people in hope to teach them to overcome their weakness (arrogance in Catnap and cowardice in Dogday). Her original pendant was able to move both the sun and the moon, but she divide it to let her sons the responsability (the one she have now is a fake one, something important for the season finale of the cartoon)
2-Picky & Kickin - Mr. Piggy
''Our dad is the best!'' ''No comparation needed!''
Mr. Piggy isn't a recurrent character in the cartoon, making his debut in Kickin's birthday just to tell the story of how he found a egg with legs running around his farm (all the episode is basically a retell of the poor pigman trying to catch the egg while also having her daughter in his back). He's a good apple, loving dad that enjoy spend time with his kids, been cooking something with Picky (he teach her about healthy ingredients) or going fishing with Kickin (is the only calm activity Kickin can do without get bored). The Apple pendant was originally his, while the star pendant was found by the own Kickin.
3- Bubba - Mr. and Mrs Tiny
''I'm just... A tiny Bubbaphant''
The stork made a mistake, and Bubba end up with two parents that only shared with him the big ears, but not for this the Tiny couple stop loving their son, nor Bubba stop looking at his parents as the best he could have. Their debut is subtle, and they don't have a lot of relevance in the cartoon, but is funny to see them from time to time over Bubba's head in a event.
4- Bobby - The Bearhug Family
''Don't worry! They don't bite, i teach them not to''
Yep, Bobby come from a ''wild'' family. Their debut episode talk about the differences between a ''critter'' and a ''wild'' (basically, any real animal is a wild in this cartoon), been the whole episode a explication of how Bobby become the critter she's now (and how she got her pendant).
5-Hoppy - The Hopscotch sibling
''We're a team! A team that hops together stay together!''
There's no a debut of Hoppy's parents, but it's implied that they're still alive, just really busy. Meanwhile, her sibling show up from time to time, been as background characters, or with their our episode, been two: one where Hoppy is wants to participate in a sibling deportive event and can't find the perfect harmony with any of her sibling ('cause none of them are as sporty as her), and one where she need to babysit Huppy, but the lil' troublemaker end up causing troubles for all the critters. In the sibling event it explain that Hoppy got her pendant from her big sister, 'cause she wasn't able to control the power like it was suppose to.
6-Craftycorn - King Canvas
''I... had never been enough for him...''
No showing his full design yet, but only leaving something clear: he's a villain, having his debut in the season finale, but there's mentions of him around all the cartoon, incluying the implication of him killing Queen Gaia's husband. Craftycorn isn't a big fan of her dad.
#poppy playtime#smiling critters oc#smiling critters#dogday#catnap#picky piggy#kickin chicken#bobby bearhug#bubba bubbaphant#hoppy hopscotch#craftycorn#family tree#character study#nova say
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They’re about 20 minutes into the movie when Steve feels the familiar dip of weight against his shoulder.
He can’t stop the pulse of fond bemusement that surges through him. After all, Eddie had insisted on picking the movie this week, insisted that it was “an unfathomable travesty” that Steve had never seen it, insisted they had to watch it despite the bruise-colored circles under his eyes, the discreet flex of his hands disguising the tremors he gets when he’s over exhausted. Steve says nothing, lets the movie run, and once Eddie conks out instead of switching to something more his speed, he keeps watching.
The movie’s not Steve’s taste, but it’s not bad. He hasn’t been big into cartoons since he was a kid. The animation is strange yet fascinating, the characters’ movements equal parts natural and off-putting. He drifts in and out of the story, though enough of Dustin and Eddie’s ramblings have sunk in that he’s able to follow along. Whenever a name or location he recognizes pops up he turns to Eddie and says, smugly, “I know what that is.” Eddie replies with a soft exhale that ends in a low hum. His breath skitters across Steve’s throat. Steve shivers.
Eddie’s got this little bank of noises he makes when he’s sleeping. When he crashes after drinking too much, he snores. When he’s asleep but not deep enough to rest, he mumbles—sometimes giggles, too, which is really unsettling if you’re not expecting it. And when he’s dreaming, good or bad, he hums.
They’ve been doing this—whatever this is—for long enough that Steve can tell when Eddie is having a good dream and when he’s having a bad dream. (It’s not weird, he counters to the tiny, horrible Robin voice that lives in his head.) The bad dream hums are low, dredged up from the base of his chest. The good dream hums are high, slipping out from behind his teeth. Steve can’t read music but he took chorus in middle school and he’s hung around Robin while she learned a new piece for band so he’s got an idea of how the note…thingy works. If Eddie’s dream sounds were a song, the good dreams would be at the top of the bar, and the bad dreams would be at the bottom.
Except now, as the movie nears its end, the song changes.
At some point Eddie’s legs had curled up beneath him, his face buried in the join between Steve’s shoulder and neck. Steve can’t hear as much as feel the noises vibrating against his skin. He feels the thrum of bad rising into good, then dipping into something in the middle and holding there. They’re stuck at the center of the stanza (Stanza! That’s what it’s called!) and Steve doesn’t know where to go from here.
“Eddie?”
The arm Eddie is leaning on has gone a little numb, so Steve uses the other to sweep aside the curtain of hair drawn across the side of Eddie’s face, his fingertips grazing his cheekbone. Eddie’s lips part. A new sound, a different sound escapes him. He pushes in close enough for those pink plush lips to press against Steve’s collarbone. Heat curves around the back of Steve’s ears.
“H~eeey.”
He doesn’t want to wake him if this is a good dream. Eddie’s an open book. Eddie’s told him he’s been sleeping like dogshit, that the night terrors have been particularly horrible this week. It’s a joke, a little. The two of them share weird hours. They create bits about how bad things are, how awful they feel about their relationships with people they love, how awful they feel about themselves. It’s fun, until it isn’t. Steve’s seen Eddie’s whole personality swallowed by the wet sand of sorrow. He’s seen him sink into himself and surface with something else, something bright and exuberant and loud and false. If Eddie feels good Steve doesn’t want to ruin it. But if Eddie feels bad—
“Hey.” Steve hooks his palm to rest beneath the ridge of Eddie’s jaw, his thumb pressed into his dimple. “Eddie. Wake up.”
Eddie’s eyebrows cinch, a sigh gliding across Steve’s knuckles. His eyelashes flutter, dark and spidery, his lids hanging low over hazy eyes. He blinks, owlish, then tilts up to meet Steve’s gaze with a slow, dreamy smile.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” Steve chuckles in reply.
“W…” Eddie’s mouth works like its full of sunflower seeds; deliberate, purposeful. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Why’dju stop?”
“Stop…what?” He glances to the muted blue static of the screen. “The movie’s over, bud.”
Eddie blinks again, slower. He’s so sweet like this, soft and syrupy, so when he breathes a laugh Steve can’t help but mirror it. “Oh,” Eddie exhales, then leans forward and kisses him.
The hum of Eddie’s dreams are now against Steve’s lips. Those lovely little middle sounds are now inside Steve’s mouth. He swallows them, feels them knife down his throat, wedge between his ribs, twist into the open valves of his heart. He pulls back.
Eddie giggles again. Pouts. “You stopped again.”
“Oh, honey,” The endearment wrenches out of him, involuntary. He smoothes the worry lines out of Eddie’s forehead. “You’re tired, huh?”
Eddie makes a non-committal noise.
“Okay.” Steve sets his feet and secures his arms behind Eddie’s back. “Okay,” he groans as he lifts him, spins him towards the stairs. “Okay. Time for bed.”
Eddie’s still in a half-conscious limbo as Steve navigates him upstairs, mouthing indelicately at any piece of Steve’s skin he can find. It’s untenable, and Steve’s not proud at how he launches Eddie in the direction of his bed, sprints to the en suite to splash cold water on his face before helping him undress.
“Take it,” Eddie murmurs when Steve unbuttons his jeans, and Steve needs to sit in the center of the floor for a moment before proceeding.
“That’s not what this is.”
“Wantchu t’aveit.”
Steve shoves him into a pair of flannel pajama pants and stuffs him beneath the sheets. Eddie curves onto himself like a mollusk, and Steve sinks at his hip, brushing his bangs away from his closed eyes. Steve feels himself split down the middle: One part already downstairs; one part already nestled in the contours of Eddie’s body.
“Go back to sleep,” Steve says, and moves to stand. Eddie’s hand closes around his wrist.
“Stay?” His eyes flit open, brief, earnest, pleading. “Please, stay.”
And, well.
They’re going to talk about it tomorrow. They’re going to talk about the movie they didn’t watch, and the moment they half-shared, and the reason its so hard to sleep apart yet so easy to sleep together. Not now. Now Steve shrugs into shorts and a t-shirt, slides in beside Eddie. Now, when Eddie’s limbs tangle around his own, he tugs him closer, lets something deep within himself settle.
“Stay?” Eddie asks again.
“Go to sleep, honey.”
And he does. And they do.
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With the power of an Addams
Based on a request
Summary: your in baby fever and Wednesday a bit overwhelmed
Warnings: slight fluff, bad grammar?
A/N: I wanted to give the person the awaited request. It’s short. And you probably imagined it different. I hope you can still enjoy:) I’ll defiantly try better again. I took a note and will work on it. It’s my first Wednesday fic I love her but I find it hard to write her, cause her character is next level shit and I love it.
Wednesday was watching y/n and furrowed her brows at the high pitched tone that came out of you when you saw a little child walking past you two while waiting for lurch to pick you up for the planed family dinner with Wednesdays family.
„You cute… tiny little thing you“ said y/n wit a high voice looking with a wide smile after the kid that tried to hold the hand of her mother. Wednesday rolled her eyes. First it started with videos of cute animal baby’s on y/n phone. But with every passing week it became more and more and suddenly y/n began to see baby’s everywhere… or children. And since Wednesday was always with you it meant she also saw all those baby’s or puppy’s… or videos of small cats falling with their whole face into their food.
Y/n turned around to meet Wednesdays dark cold eyes „Wednesday she looked like you! With those cute braids wearing all black“ said y/n excited hoping Wednesday would understand why she reacted like that.
„They were probably at the funeral of her father…“ said Wednesday monotone. I widened my eyes and Wednesday stayed cool „what? I didn’t see a man on the side if that exhausted woman“ she said before turning and walking towards the gate to have a better look on lurch if he would arrive.
Y/n was still a bit speechless and looked after the little child and mother. Thinking about Wednesdays words. She then approached Wednesdays side quite and said with a soft tone „funeral or not… she looked like you and that was cute…“
The fact that y/n saying that she liked the kid because it looked like a younger version of herself made her heart race faster. Now y/n looked nervously at Wednesdays side profile not sure how to tell her about her thoughts.
„Wednesday…“ y/n began when suddenly lurch appeared in the Addams car.
„Let’s get that torture evening behind us“ said Wednesday monotone and greeted lurch before getting in the car. Y/n smiled weak and greeted lurch while he put the suitcases of both girls into the car.
Y/N sat down beside Wednesday in the car and looked out of the window. Watching the raindrops falling down the window.
It was a quite drive to the Addams mansion and after a few minutes smiled y/n and said shyly „when I was a kid I watched the raindrops and made a race between them…“
Wednesday looked with furrowed brows at y/n saying „why would you do that?“ you laughed slight and shrugged your shoulders „it was fun… and car rides can be long“
Wednesday huffed in a not impressed way while looking straight forward to the road saying „I was rather reading perfume by Patrick Süßkind…“
U looked at her softly „sure you did“
While you were looking out of the window again you said „I wonder what a child version of us would be like…“
Wednesday looked at you emotionless „this doesn’t make any sense… we were child’s once“. Y/n smiled shyly and said „not us… I meant… of us… a baby… our baby… I wonder what kind of human we would create“
Caught off guard Wednesday looked with wide eyes at the floor of the car. Her heart beating fast and mind racing like crazy.
Wednesday didn’t said anything to Y/n. She kept staring down a bit traumatized.
„Lurch… can you imagine what your child would be like if you have one someday?“ y/n asked with a smile.
Lurch huffed. Not saying much as always and that made y/n chuckle. Meanwhile the car drive was silent again. Wednesday catched a glimpse of y/n phone while she was scrolling through her socials and exploring cute baby bedrooms or baby pictures.
After twenty minutes they arrived. When lurch got out of the car and wanted to open y/n the door Wednesday said „leave us for a second alone lurch“ y/n looked confused at Wednesday and lurch left them alone in the car.
Wednesday kept looking down with a hard stare „I have to admit that I recognized some changes…“
Y/n looked now a bit worried at Wednesday and kept listening.
„You talk way to much about your childhood and asked me pretty much things about mine the last few months. Your Uncontrollable affectionate feelings also increased and you react to anything that has to do with children or baby’s. Your obsession with baby animal videos started to irritate me. Beside that your stopping at the baby sections every time we go out…“
Wednesday looked up at you with her dark eyes and gave you a softer look, reaching out for your hand to hold it. Her cold hand wrapping yours while saying „I assume your pregnant?“
Y/n saw the love and softness in Wednesdays eyes but she also saw the fear in them. Something that was rare for Wednesday. You chuckled slight and shook your head holding tight her hand „no I’m not…“
Wednesday looked down and felt suddenly a hint of sadness a quite „oh…“ leaving her.
You looked at her with a tilted head, surprised about her reaction „wait… did… did you… want me to… to be pregnant?“ I asked nervous.
Your eyes met Wednesdays dark ones when she adjusted her posture „I tried to understand why you were acting all that weird the last months and today you asked so many questions… I tried to find a answer to that the whole drive. While doing that I was getting fine with the thought of you being pregnant… with our child“
Y/n eyes softened and she found herself falling more and more for the raven haired girl. She held tighter Wednesday hands and kissed them „I have to admit that I was… in sort of a baby fever… and I wasn’t sure how you think about having kids, so I tried to find out and… and I didn’t knew how to talk to you“
Wednesday looked with a hard stare into y/n eyes and said „I think our child would have my head and your looks. Your ability to care and protect your loved ones and my knowledge of probably anything beside the great powers of being an Addams. A little devil. Looking like a daydream but could kill you. To answer your question“
You smiled wide and leaned in to kiss her softly „So you can imagine having a family with me?“. And then Wednesday gifted me with one of her rare smiles. A mix of pure evilness and love „I married you with a reason…“
I blushed slight and kissed her again. This time deeper.
#wednesday addams x you#wednesday x reader#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday#wednsday addams#fanfiction#jenna ortega#ghostface#tara carpenter#samantha carpenter#actress#celebrity#scream#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x y/n#tara carpenter x female reader#jenna ortega x y/n#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x reader#vada cavell#vada cavell x y/n#vada cavell x you#vada cavell x reader#finestkind#mabel finestkind
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romance me with mosquito facts
mosquitoes, when in a condensed enough space, sound like gentle rain.
i work with a specific mosquito species, called the aedes agypti, which carries diseases like dengue virus, west niles virus, and yellow fever. the males are generally smaller than the females, though emerge into adults sooner. you can tell the difference between males and females by the fluffy antennas of the males.
gay mosquitoes everywhere.
mosquitoes tend to be social, if stupid creatures. if you stick two mosquitoes alone in a cage, they probably wont chill (and wont mate). it's just not their style. this is especially frustrating when trying to set up specific genetic crosses.
although i never met them, there used to be a researcher at the lab who did the most batshit stuff. we keep our mosquitoes in mesh cages, so they can't escape but they can feed through the mesh (so we don't have to reach in and out of the cages and potentially let some loose). this old researcher used to grab the morning newspaper, roll up his pants, collapse in a chair and settle his calves over the mesh cages for literal thousands of mosquitoes to feed from him. for hours. i want to meet this man so bad.
mosquitoes are stupid and annoying and prone to killing themselves akin to a goldfish constantly getting stuck in a filter. but strangely enough, you grow to love them. they are simultaneously fragile and durable, easily discernible and difficult to hunt. you can tear their hind legs off and put them through shock a few times and they'll be fine, but a single finger will smush them (quite inconveniently, when you know that bitch could've moved!).
directly after bloodfeeding a female mosquito, if you kill her—often by clapping her directly between your hands (female mosquitoes are the only ones to bloodfeed)—the blood will still be warm.
although i dont screen larvae for traits as often as I used to (I tend to do more database/mosquito caretaking work now), certain gene-linked traits can be found physically in the larvae and pupae stages—sometimes they glow bright blue/green under fluorescent lighting, for example.
like I said though, i mostly work with caretaking. i do the bloodfeeding, i replace their food and water, and i make sure they're in good health and can lay eggs on a proper surface. the mosquitoes under my care live for about a month and a half, though if they're still alive by the time we need to hatch the next generation, we simply fridge them and kill them off. put mosquitoes in the fridge for a few minutes and they'll go to sleep. put them in for a few hours, and they'll usually die— we keep them in for 24 hours to make sure, though.
mosquitoes are difficult to contain. compared to other biochemistry departments, you have tiny creatures that are mobile and can fly, and can't always be seen by the average person unless they're specifically looking for it. I've worked in microbiology labs before, but if there was contamination, it was solely on the researcher. contamination from a loose mosquito is hard to track. this is all to say that I work in a bunker—double doors, minimal vents, no windows.
mosquitoes are the deadliest animals in the world. mosquitoes kill over a million people a year (hence my research). i sit in the back of the bunker sometimes, in the side warm room where we keep our cages of mosquitoes, hundreds of different genetically modified lines in progress at a time, and I have blood on my palms— blood that I fed to my subjects before I squashed them because they escaped from their cages, and I think about the fact that for over 200 lines of this species, I grow them from eggs to adults to death and hatch their offspring again and again and again. i think of lovecraftian horror and I hear gentle rain and remember images of war that keep me up late at night, and I wonder what's the point, for a few numbers in my bank account, and then another mosquito has gotten loose and lands on my arm and doesn't bite me, because it's already full; because i already fed it; because it's just looking for a small, dark place to rest in the folds of my jacket.
mosquitoes love to hide on black surfaces.
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like a stallion • r. braun x black fem reader
reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together.
cw: pervy reiner (honestly just simping for his wife), black fem chubby reader, car sex, oral sex, reverse cowgirl, squirting, spit play use of pet names and daddy, breeding, self indulgent bc I am a whore first and human second. This isn’t a full fic, just a drabble
📝: minors get the fuck off of my page, you are not welcomed.
reiner loves taking you to the rodeo. It’s one of the places that the two of you love frequenting in terms of spending quality time together. The different shows, the various stands selling food and souvenirs for first time attendees and all the other like minded country folk that you guys found yourselves mingling with. But his driving force behind dragging you along to these events? The outfits you wore! It wasn’t uncommon for him to catch you sporting something skimpy, sexy and revealing. A tight crop top with cowboy boots and a hat to match. Complimenting that curvy body, tiny little skirts that barely covered that thick ass as he dressed in his t-shirts, thin silver necklace with a cross dangling from the end, Wranglers and matching shoes that compliment yours. His six foot five, three hundred fifty pound frame standing starkly over yours as you two walked hand in hand through the bustling crowd. The Rodeo was always the highlight of many people’s year but for Reiner..the main attraction was always you. Oh yes, he could barely contain himself as the two of you settled into your seats, excited to watch the bull riding competition. That glowing, rich skin glistening in the sunlight..your complexion the prettiest thing he’d ever seen and only amplified by the glittery sun oil you slicked yourself up with. Big bouffant curls tucked up underneath that hat and your gorgeous face peering up at him in excitement. It’s enough to make his heart flutter and face burn red, as it got him every time. “Look, babe! Did you see that?” Your voice reigning him back in as he derailed his train of thought to those less than appropriate. He couldn’t be vexed to pay those damn animals any attention when he was too busy watching your big breasts nearly spill from that corset top. “Y-yeah. That was really cool.” Delectable and succulent like two ripe melons..ones he wanted to get his mouth on so badly he could taste it. Flicking his pink tongue around those brown nipples; his vision adverting to your thighs shortly thereafter. Seeing that thickness squished makes him only want to part them even more. So thick it was mere seconds from ripping your denim. Knowing what lies in the center and he’s practically salivating to sink his cock between it. And what really sends him over the edge? Is when you guys decide to check out the mechanical bull and he’s watching you bounce around, he can feel his pants become a tad bit tighter. The thought of him being underneath you instead getting him riled up. That body was like the finest thoroughbred..stacked like that of a stallion and it drove him crazy with every passing second.
so honestly, it comes as no surprise when it comes time for intermission and he can’t help but to whisk you away to his Ford F350 parked out on the grass lot. Propping your legs up on the dash and console as he ate your pussy right there in the front seat. He couldn’t even be bothered to get your clothes off fully; letting those tiny denim shorts dangle around your ankle and leaving your panties on as he sucked your clit through the thin material like a man unhinged. “Mmmm…Rei. Wait, baby! Fuck..” laughing as you had to all but push him away when you reached yet another orgasm thanks to his mouth. Sloppily devouring that dripping cunt and savoring every bit of the flavor. A smirk curdled across his lips as they were stained with your sticky nectar. “What f’r, darling? It didn’t seem like ya’ wanted me to stop from the way ya’ were moaning.” But you were afraid if he didn’t, you’d wet both his beard and his t-shirt up. But your husband didn’t seem to mind one bit! Especially when he sank those thick fingers of his into your tight little cunt and drew the liquid out, leaving you spasming on nothing more than air once you came. “Now look at that..best fucking show I’ve seen all day.” The excitement between you guys only grew tenfold when you practically whimpered; begging him to unfasten his big belt buckle and let you get a taste of your own. Wasting no time in grasping at his cock, pumping it in your palm..inhaling sharply through your teeth as he had awoken your salacious thoughts as well. It didn’t take long before he found himself engulfed..those plump, gloss slackened lips swallowing that dick in its entirety. Your desire to please and drain him dry all but apparent by your needy whimpers that hummed so gently against his shaft. The sounds of constant sloshing and sucking like heavenly melodies to his ears. Sloppily drenching all nine inches in a haze of saliva. Regardless of the gagging noises and cries you emitted. It wasn’t until you glared directly into his eyes, fixated on you as he watched his balls disappear between your jaws and that shaft enclosed between your acrylic fingertips. He had to all but pry you away; leaving that mouth a disheveled mess..one he added to by squeezing your cheeks together and spitting onto your tongue. “G-ahh..get on top of me, baby..right now.” Demanding in that deep southern drawl; breath shaky from being sucked off so fucking good. Allowing you to crawl onto his spread thighs, setting you atop his lap and fully erect dick. Pulsating the second it made contact with that fat pussy. “Put it in me, please Rei…” immediately after finding yourself filled to the brim and being bounced around on that cock..thrashing around inside of you with your breasts pressing the steering wheel. Reiner reclined the seats back, watching in a full blown trance as that round, thick ass ricocheting off of him; catching faint glimpses of that grip each time you slid up and down. That creamy slick puddling between your flesh each time you took him. “Yeah..ride that dick. You’re fuckin’ me so good, darling..making a mess all over me..”breath hitching as he struggled to form a coherent thought. Being ridden like this made anything else pale in comparison and what truly took it over the top were the sights of you only in your white boots and hat..something so sexy about it! You’d look back, tongue extended out and a toothy grin on your pretty face as you fucked him senseless. “Mmm…you know how wet this pussy gets for you, daddy… ‘wanna nut all over this dick.” Declaring as you cried out loudly. You didn’t give a fuck if anyone spotted or heard the two of you at this point. The tinted windows were already coated in a hazy fog and the frame began to rock from the outside. Causing a calamity of noise.. with the combination of nasty smacking sounds, thunderous clapping of skin and expletives being hurled back and forth at each other. You telling him to slap your ass and grab your neck..even commanding that he rub your clit with those fingerpads to him telling you how badly he wanted to nut inside of you.
no one had ever fucked him like this and vice versa…that pussy was his and he’d fill the entire womb whenever he felt like it. It was only shortly thereafter, among your exchange that he was only mere seconds from doing so. “Hold still..fuck!” Aggressively grunting in your ear as he grasped those hips and pounded up into that warmth. “Yeah! Fuck this pussy, daddy..fuck it..ahh shit!” Cursing as you clawed at the leather dash; whimpers choked out by his large hand around your neck. You could feel that shaft pulsating inside of you and before long, his strokes became erratic..to the point he couldn’t even maintain a rhythm and he emptied that hot, creamy load to the rim..with baited breath and quite honestly, bitch like cries. “Fuck..you came in me so hard..filled my little pussy..” that high pitched, dumbed out, dizzy voice making him twitch..you had successfully drained him everything he had to offer; the previous one residing in your throat and all over your tits. Needless to say, you guys had to cut your outing short but the night was far from done, as he plans to go for another round or two once he got you home…once he found the strength to get you guys there! But one thing he did know for sure..
“Yeah..that’s what you get f’r wearing that sexy ass outfit around me..ya’ know I can’t help myself..”
was that he’d never be able to resist you, no matter what.
#cherry’s drabbles🍒#cherry’s fics 🍒#aot x black reader#black fem reader#reiner brainrot#reiner x black fem reader#reiner x black y/n#reiner headcanons#reiner x reader smut#reiner x black reader smut#reiner x black reader#black reader#reiner braun x black reader#cowboy reiner#country boy reiner#black reader smut#reiner braun#shingeki no kyojin reiner#reiner smut#reiner aot#reiner snk#snk reiner#reiner x fem reader#reiner x y/n#reiner x reader#reiner braun headcanons#reiner braun smut#reiner braun imagine#reiner#black fanfiction
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Lost & found | Katie McCabe x Reader
Summary: Where Jake loses his favourite stuffed animal, and Katie helps you through a panic attack.
A/n: Part of the Mini Mate Universe
Woso masterlist | Words: 1.6k
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Over the past few months you had gone over to Beth and Viv’s place for dinner at least once a week. Jake loved his new aunties, and you enjoyed spending time with the couple and the many guests they seemed to have over at all times. Beth and Viv in turn were also enjoying having you and Jake around, you fitted right in with all Katie’s teammates, and well they just all loved Jake.
Today you would have brunch at their house, along with a few other girls from the team. Katie texted you she needed to finish up some things and head your way in 30 minutes, just enough time for Jake to finish his Bluey episode, you thought while you finished packing up his bag.
When Katie arrived, she greeted you with a kiss, “Hi baby, are you ready to go?” Jake’s show was still playing in the background, but it was long forgotten by the boy when he heard Katie’s voice. The sound of his tiny footsteps running your way made the both of you smile and look into the hallway. “Kawie!” You didn’t think you would ever grow tired of his excitement for your girlfriend, or the way he pronounced her name. “Hi mini mate, I’ve missed you!” She picks him up and twirls him around. “Let me just turn everything off, and I will meet you at the car?”
Each time you were heading somewhere with Katie, she insisted on driving to your house, and head to wherever you were going together. You had told her many times that you could just meet her at Beth and Viv’s, but Katie kept insisting to go together. Usually you took your car since Jake’s seat was in there, but now you walk outside and see Katie putting Jake into her car. “Wait, why are you putting him in your car? He needs his car seat.” Katie stepped to the side to show you the brand new car seat installed in the back of her car, and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Katie ruffled your son’s hair before closing the door softly. “What do you think?” You were still a bit shocked. “I think it looks great, but you really didn’t have to do that.” Katie takes your hand and leads you to her car. “I know I didn’t have to, but I’m in this for the long run, and I want to be able to go somewhere with the three of us and not make you drive every time.” You place a soft kiss on her lips, “You are the best, I love you.”
When you arrived it didn’t take long for Jake to run off to Laura who was playing with Myle. You loved knowing that any one of Katie’s teammates would look out for your boy when you were in a group setting, and that even though as a mom you would still keep checking in, you could also let it go a bit, knowing that he was cared for.
You spend about an hour talking with the group of girls before Beth said that she was going to take the dogs for a walk. Since the weather was so nice, everyone decided to tag along. You headed to the little beach nearby, where the dogs could run around freely. Beth and Viv walked up front, with two dogs running ahead of them, you and Katie followed with Jake on Katie’s neck, and the group of you was followed by a giggling Laura and Vic pushing each other around. It was interesting to see the different dynamics between the girls surrounding you, but you loved all of their company.
When you got back to Beth and Viv’s you all had lunch together, before you made the short drive back to your house. Katie knew you were in need of some one on one time with her, so she had asked Linda if she would watch Jake during his nap and the rest of the afternoon. It wasn’t until you had tucked Jake into his bed with Katie and Linda talking downstairs, that you realised that Jake had lost his stuffed bunny. You found out because Jake started loudly crying. “Mommy, me want Benny!” He screamed at the top of his lungs. “Shh, it’s okay kiddo, Mommy is going to go look for Benny.” You held the boy in your arms as the tears rolled over his cheeks. The women downstairs had heard Jake’s screams, and Katie came running with a different stuffed animal that she found amongst Jake’s toys. “Hi buddy.” She says sitting down next to you and while letting her hands go through your son’s hair. “I have a Mister Bear here, who really needs some cuddles. Do you think you can give him some cuddles?” Jake took the bear with a little hesitation. “Good job kiddo, you’re making Mister Bear very happy.” You say, wiping his tears away. “Come on, nap time. Linda will be right downstairs if you need anything.” With a kiss to his forehead, you leave his room.
Once you close his bedroom door, you start pacing the hallway. Katie takes your hand, “Let’s get downstairs, baby.” You continue your pacing when you get to the living room. “Why can’t I remember where I last saw his bunny?” It was frustrating that you could not picture the last time you saw Jake holding Benny. “It’s okay, baby, I will text Viv and ask her to look at their place, and we will go to the beach and check there. We’re going to find Benny, okay?”
You made your way over to the beach, the route passed Viv and Beth’s so if they would find the bunny you could go there instead. Viv texted before you passed their exit that they couldn’t find the bunny anywhere in the living room, hallway or backyard, where Jake had been today. So, the beach was your last hope.
After walking every inch of the luckily rather small beach back and forth for the third time, you plopped down on the sand. The frustrations and emotions were getting the better of you as you started crying. “What am I going to do? Benny is his favourite stuffed animal.” Your thoughts started spiralling. How were you going to be able to explain this to your toddler? You could already see the pout and the sadness behind his eyes. Your breathing sped up until it was getting hard for you to breathe. Katie noticed what was happening right away, and sat down in front of you. “Hey baby, look at me.” Your vision was blurry, but you turned your head in the direction of her voice. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay. Can you take a deep breath in for me?” You tried to take a big breath, but after inhaling for a second you were struggling again. “That was good, let’s try another one.” She took one of your hands and put it over her heart. “Can you feel my heartbeat, baby?” You nodded weakly. “Okay good, focus on my heart beating, and try to take another deep breath in.”
Focussing on Katie’s heartbeat helped you to stay grounded, and breath by breath, your breathing started to get more regular. “What happened?” You ask while wiping away your tears. “I think you just had a panic attack.” You stand up and start ridding yourself of sand. “Take it easy baby, let’s take a moment.” Katie tries to make you take a break. “No need, we need to find this bunny. I already ruined our afternoon, I don’t want to ruin it further by not coming home with Jake’s bunny.” Katie is quick to her feet and places her hands on your shoulder. “You did not ruin our afternoon. I will gladly search over this beach ten more times, if that means I got to spend time with you, and make Jake happy.”
Before you could respond to Katie’s kind words, you were interrupted by her phone ringing. “Hey Viv, you’re on speaker, y/n is with me.” Katie said as she picked up the call. “Ah that’s great. I have good news, we found Benny.” You couldn’t believe it and fell into Katie’s arms. “Thank you so much Viv. That is so good to hear.” Katie wrapped her arm around you, and placed a kiss onto your forehead. “Yeah thanks Viv. We’re at the beach now, so we’ll come pick it up on the way, if that’s okay with you.” Viv agrees, “Yeah, just one thing. The reason we couldn’t find it before was because Myle is the one that found him, and he might have a severed limb now. We are so sorry, y/n.” You shake your head, just happy that the beloved stuffed animal was found. “Don’t worry about it Viv, I’m just glad I don’t have to tell Jake that the whole bunny is gone.”
Once you got back home with the bunny and his loose arm, Linda was quick to say that she could fix him. Linda got to work right away, and got done just in time, as you heard Jake waking up upstairs. She handed you the bunny, and you made your way upstairs. “Hi Jakey.” Your son looked up at you with big hopeful eyes. “You won’t believe the adventure Benny has been on today.” You say as you reveal the stuffed animal. “Mommy found Benny!” You had never seen the boy wake up so quickly. “Actually auntie Viv did, because little Benny went on an adventure with Myle today.” You made up a story about Benny and Myle in hopes the boy would forget about the sadness of losing his stuffy, and by the smile on his face, you think you were doing a pretty good job.
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#mini mate universe#katie mccabe#katie mccabe x reader#katie mccabe imagine#woso#woso imagine#woso imagines#woso x reader#arsenal x reader#arsenal wfc#arsenal wfc imagine#arsenal wfc x reader#awfc imagine#awfc x reader
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‧̍̊˚ᵕ⋆Part of Your World⋆ᵕ˚‧̍̊
After two months and several “Part of Your World” loops, my Yandere Mermaid AU has been written!! I hope you all enjoy these tragic fairytales featuring Capitano, Pantalone, Dottore, and Pierro ϵ( 'Θ' )϶
Tw:: yandere, violence, death, kidnapping
♡ 2.5k words under the cut ♡
Shark! Capitano x Coral Reef Fish! Mermaid
♡ Humans and mermaids alike are afraid of Capitano due to the misconceptions about sharks. It doesn’t help that he is considered intimidating even by his own species—a masked hunter who reigns victorious over every feeding frenzy, adorned with scars from his deceased opponents.
♡ In contrast to his fearsome reputation, he is actually one of the calmer creatures of the sea. He mainly keeps to himself and avoids unnecessary violence, confident in his ability to survive alone. So it comes as a surprise when Capitano swims into your coral reef and scares away the mermaids who were bullying you.
♡ He understands your initial fear of him. You are quite the little mermaid, a weaker species of coral reef fish, though your scarred tail is proof of your capacity to defy natural selection. And you achieve another victory as Capitano gently asks if you are all right.
♡ Your quiet “Thank you” results in more encounters. He soon becomes your attentive companion, leading to more peace in your coral reef. The two of you regularly admire the sea anemone and swim together, the distance between you disappearing in no time.
♡ You’ve watched Capitano hunt on a few occasions; and while his strength is terrifying, the spectacle reminds you that he can keep you safe from other species. (Come to think of it, what happened to your bullies?) Likewise, he accepts the algae and small animals you’ve hunted from tiny crevices, affectionately calling you his little hunter.
♡ You even visit his home! His cavern is located in the deep sea, with less sunlight and more aggressive mermaids who mistake you for Capitano’s meal. Don’t worry, he is quick to scare them away and escort you to his safe territory. Look, he has a pretty collection of sea anemone which he knows you’d love.
♡ It’s strange, really. To Capitano, you are no worthy competitor nor a species with symbiotic relations to shark mermaids. So why do you bewitch him? Why does he feel the urge to protect you? Why are his instincts telling him to bite you, not as a prey but as a mate?
♡ He tries to repress those urges. He really does—it would be an offense to your own resilience. How fitting, then, that his boiling point is triggered by the worst predator known to your kind, a group of humans who catch you in a net and drag you up to their boat.
♡ Needless to say, a rare mermaid attack is reported that day. In the wake of the carnage, all you can do is tearfully hug Capitano and thank him for saving you. But the bloodshed does little to calm him. His little mermaid was almost stolen from him. How many more predators are eager to harm you?
♡ It’s too late for you. Before you can swim out of his grasp, Capitano holds you more tightly and makes his decision. The world is merciless to the weak, so you are to stay by his side from now on. It is his only way to ensure your safety.
♡ Well, look on the bright side. With Capitano as your provider, you are never alone in the sea—not that you could leave his territory without him, given his predatory neighbors. He still allows you to swim freely so long as he is there to protect you, and who can forget the many sea anemones he brings home for you?
♡ You can only pray that you survive your new role as his mate. Capitano may be willing to accommodate your softer flesh and courtship rituals, but the difference in strength is apparent. If he isn’t careful, his bites could become fatal…not that he would ever harm his beloved.
Jellyfish! Pantalone x Exotic Pet! Mermaid
♡ Pantalone is regarded as the jewel of the sea. Everything about him is perfect, from his graceful demeanor to his ethereal jellyfish features. Beneath that languid veneer, he is quite skilled in navigating the dangers of the deep sea and preying on unsuspecting creatures.
♡ When a ship capsizes in the midst of a storm, he takes advantage of the situation. He kills stings several humans, collects their valuables, and comes across a new treasure. A pretty mermaid trapped in a large aquarium, gazing at him with wide-eyed wonder.
♡ He easily deduces your identity. You are a rare mermaid raised by humans, a pampered pet who doesn’t know how to survive in the wild. And you have nowhere to go, seeing how your owners have either drowned or abandoned you.
♡ In that case, why don’t you stay with Pantalone? He must be a reliable mermaid if he’s willing to set you free and welcome you into his territory! His cavern is larger than your old aquariums, furnished with a gorgeous collection of pearls, human trinkets, and other treasures. And you fit right in with your shimmery scales and bright smiles.
♡ It takes a while for you to adapt to the wild. Outgrowing your expensive meals is easier said than done, much less learning how to hunt. You’re also a slow swimmer due to being raised in captivity, but Pantalone is patient enough to wait for you. He is a warm presence, always watching over you and educating you in How to be a Mermaid.
♡ He is also incredibly beautiful, which is high praise from an exotic pet. How can you not approach him when he illuminates the dark with his bioluminescent features? How can you not accept his offer to share body heat on cold nights, tails intertwined? How can you not applaud his underwater dances, unaware that it is a courtship ritual?
♡ You’re really lucky to have met him, you know? That is what Pantalone says whenever he stops you from meeting other mermaids and leaving his territory unsupervised. Had you met another sea creature, you would’ve quickly succumbed to the natural order of the world. You’re so naive and helpless, but he is willing to put up with it.
♡ Furthermore, something must be done about your view of humans. Despite the truth to his horror stories, it’s still common for Pantalone to pull you away from the surface and scuba divers. How many times has he warned you against showing yourself to humans? Don’t you know that the creatures who imprisoned you are just as likely to turn you into sashimi?
♡ Your shared life is perfect. So why are you suddenly saying goodbye to him? Pantalone can only stay silent when you tell him that you’d like to find your natural habitat. Your species isn’t meant for the deep sea and you feel guilty for freeloading. At the end of your speech, you leave the cavern to give him some space.
♡ That was your plan until Pantalone reaches out and stings you with his tentacles. He is incredibly apologetic about it, checking your wounds with cold hands and a calm smile. Oh dear, he’s so sorry. It seems that he let his emotions get the best of him. Why don’t you come back inside, darling? In your current condition, you would be easy prey.
♡ You listen to him. Eventually, you agree with Pantalone that you’d made an unconscionable decision. How could you possibly survive in the wild without him? Why put yourself in danger when you already have a perfect mate to care for you? You’re already home.
Octopus! Dottore x Marine Biologist! Human
♡ Octopus mermaids are perceived as intelligent troublemakers, and Dottore lives up to that reputation. His curiosity of the human world has caused many near-sightings, human deaths, and criticism from his peers but who is he to shy away from forbidden knowledge?
♡ It is during one research expedition that he meets a like-minded scientist. You are diving solo when Dottore reveals himself, and you react with genuine excitement. Not conventional fear, greed, or cruelty but pure fascination towards a foreign creature—a sentiment which he reciprocates.
♡ He is cautious, of course, but you remain undeterred by his bared fangs and clouds of ink. You carefully approach him and communicate with hand signals, to which Dottore surprises you with a few human words learned from previous research.
♡ An unlikely friendship is formed. Over time, you and Dottore secretly meet in the same area to share information and learn about each other. The language barrier remains an issue but you soon gain a rudimentary understanding of his speech patterns.
♡ While most humans equate octopi to sea monsters, you are clever enough to discover the truth on your own. You politely study Dottore’s mermaid biology, marveling over his grip strength and the suction marks he leaves on your skin. Likewise, you allow him to poke your legs and squeeze you with his tentacles. Half the time, the latter is an involuntary action which he tries to deny.
♡ One day, he follows you to the surface! Dottore has visited the surface before but it’s different when you are part of the view. Above water, you can remove your diving mask and speak to him clearly. An important observation is made: You have an attractive face. He’d like to see your expressions more often.
♡ Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted by an approaching boat. Quickly, you push him underwater and speak with the sailors. Thankfully, they don’t notice your companion and offer you a ride back to shore. You comply, unaware that Dottore is still watching you.
♡ What an unwelcome intrusion, he thinks bitterly. Despite your sociobiological boundaries, he can’t deny his fondness for you. The involuntary hugs from his tentacles, this odd feeling in all three of his hearts…could it be? Is such an attraction pursuable?
♡ Well, Dottore hasn’t been accused of witchcraft for nothing. In your following visits, he is more rigid in his research. He collects more human data, takes a few DNA samples from you, and acts clingy during your departures. You brush it off as an ordinary change in mood; it’s not like you could ask about it, anyway.
♡ One day, he guides you to the deep sea for some local mermaid games. You’re having so much fun that it comes as a total shock when Dottore forcibly removes your diving mask. For a few minutes, he restrains you with his tentacles and watches your distress with a cold, calculative expression. A deep kiss follows, flooding your throat with a bitter sedative.
♡ You know something is wrong as soon as you wake up. Dottore is looming over you with a frightening grin and when he speaks, you can understand him? That is when you notice the gills on your neck, the scales littering your skin, the mermaid tail in place of your legs.
♡ Aren’t you impressed? It took him ages to create a permanent transformation potion, and he even accommodated your favorite marine species! Now he can see your lovely face all the time and show you parts of the sea which no human can explore. Worry not, Dottore will guide you through your adjustment. The two of you will be closer than ever.
Orca! Pierro x Rescuer! Human
♡ Orca mermaids are no stranger to animal cruelty. Pierro can attest to that, having lost his habitat and escaped captivity. So when he washes up on shore, too weak and dispirited to resist the currents, he thinks it is the end for him.
♡ Only to be proven wrong by a compassionate human who lives near the sea. Before anyone can see him, you bring the beached mermaid home and put him in your bathtub. You add some foam pillows, treat his wounds, and wait for him to wake up.
♡ Pierro is naturally distrustful at first but there’s only so much he can do inside a bathtub. Apart from your concern, you are naturally curious about him and surprised by his fluency in human languages, an ability exclusive to his species.
♡ For a human, you’re oddly empathetic. Recognizing the social needs of orca mermaids, you spend hours in your bathroom to chat with your new companion. You introduce him to human culture by providing personal stories and warm meals which taste a thousand times better than the stale fish fed to captive animals.
♡ As the weeks pass, Pierro grows to trust you. You treat him like a companion, not a beast or pet, and go the extra mile to keep him comfortable. While he is embarrassed to sit in an inflatable kiddie pool, he’s willing to set aside his pride for more interactions in your home.
♡ Once his wounds have healed, you bring him to shore and set him free. In the dead of the night, you have enough time to properly say your goodbyes and wish Pierro a safe future. He thanks you one last time and disappears below the surface, leaving you to resume your ordinary life.
♡ Months later, you are roaming your neighborhood when you bump into a familiar person. It’s Pierro, appearing distinctly human with his two legs and fancy suit. After the initial shock wears off, he explains that he took a transformation potion to visit you. The effect wears off in three days; until then, would you be so kind as to give him a tour of your world?
♡ You eagerly accept. In his human form, Pierro can properly explore your house and natural habitat. The two of you go on several outings, eat your meals at your dining table, and share your bed. He regards your bathtub and kiddie pool with endeared nostalgia.
♡ On the third day, you cook a special farewell feast and invite Pierro to visit another time. He thanks you again, for both your hospitality and your previous act of compassion, but makes one clarification: Who said that he is saying goodbye?
♡ You aren’t given a warning before Pierro physically overpowers you and twists your leg. Calmly, he carries you to bed and soothes your pained cries. Walking is quite inconvenient, isn’t it? All it takes is a single injury, a shift in balance or gravity, for a human to be incapacitated.
♡ Well, Dottore’s the Sea Witch’s potion was worth it. He still has a few days before the effect wears off, enough time to decide on what to do with you. You see, darling, you’re too precious to him. How can he search for a new home when he has already found one in you?
♡ Now he just needs to decide whether he’ll remain a human or drag you to the deep sea and permanently turn you into a mermaid. It’s a difficult choice, seeing how either of you must make a sacrifice. But one thing is certain: Wherever you go, land or sea, he will be a part of your world.
♡
Read the sequel + more mermaid lore ʚʘ͜͡))❨
Fufufu which Harbinger’s story was your favorite?? The mermaid brainrot and nostalgia was very strong in this one. If the couples seem familiar, that’s cuz I incorporated the characters and darlings from my Yandere! Harbinger longfic series~
A big thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this and putting up with more of my nonsense. And to the fishfuckers, I know you exist. I hope you are happy u_u
Tag a Harbinger enjoyer!! @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @nicebonescomrades @harmonysanreads @ansy-tea @leftdestiny-posts @thescribeoflostmemories @kocherry @gum-iie @oofasleep @crypticbibliophile @yanmaresu @frogchiro @lcveaesop @shumidehiro @mirdance @surveyycorps @theinnerunderrain @teabutmakeitazure
#capitano#pantalone#dottore#pierro#capitano x reader#pantalone x reader#dottore x reader#pierro x reader#yandere capitano x reader#yandere pantalone x reader#yandere dottore x reader#yandere pierro x reader#yandere capitano#yandere pantalone#yandere dottore#yandere pierro#yandere fatui harbingers#fatui x reader#genshin x reader#yandere genshin#il capitano#il dottore#tw: yandere#tw: dark#tw: violence#tw: death#tw: manipulation#g/n reader#jessamine-writing
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➸CUPID༊*·˚!
PROLOGUE
LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X CUPID! MALE! READER
FANDOM: HAZBIN HOTEL
GENRE: ANGST WITH NO COMFORT, SHORT FIC
STATUS: TO BE WRITTEN
NOTES: I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG THAT I DECIDED TO PUBLISH IT NOW INSTEAD OF COLLECTING DUST PFTT.
CHAPTER ONE | NAVIGATION
Cupid, isn't an angel who looks like a tiny baby with wings and is holding a bow and arrow. Cupid isn't a child who shoots people for fun.
Cupid is an angel who takes his job seriously, and what is his job?
Cupid's job is to make sure that living beings find their match, their soulmate.
That is the work of [Y/n], he goes by many names but he is mostly known as cupid, the angel carrying a bow and arrow to shoot arrows at two souls to match them.
He is one of the oldest angels to ever exist, and one of the few who does their job alone.
He believes that no one beside him can perfectly match souls with one another.
He was born with a gift, a gift to see a red string connecting souls to each other.
Which made his work a lot easier.
That's what he thought.
He started off connecting animal souls, helping an animal find its mate.
He never allowed himself to go in between the romantic lives of angels, angels are higher beings and doesn't need assistance in finding their other half.
Animals however... They need a little bit of a push.
You might be wondering, does he have a soulmate? Yes, he does.
He wasn't born with it but it appeared when his other half was born.
Lucifer Morningstar, heaven's most beautiful angel.
[Y/n] believes that love works in mysterious ways, despite being an angel of love.
Even without effort, Lucifer and him somehow always manage to cross ways.
Leading to a friendship.
It wasn't difficult to hide the truth from Lucifer, the truth that he was destined to be his.
[Y/n] just kept his mouth shut, allowing the universe to work it's magic. If they are truly fated together then they would end up together.
Then God created humans.
There are some instances where a soul would be born to be fated to multiple different people, three choices—the soul would choose one between the two souls he was fated or the three of them could work out.
[Y/n] has never seen a soul or those souls agree to a one big relationship.
If only he knew the look of dread on his face when he saw the second string manifested on Lucifer's finger.
Dread fills his stomach, as his eyes remain glued to Lucifer's pinky finger, the said male not noticing the string manifesting to his body as he continues to talk about his day to his dearest friend, [Y/n].
Fate is indeed cruel.
#lucifer morningstar x male reader#lucifer morningstar x reader angst#lucifer morningstar x you#Lucifer morningstar x male reader angst#Lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer x male reader#hazbin hotel#“CUPID༊*·˚!”#lxkeee writes
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A few people took exception to calling my car's CD player useless.
I actually think it is great there are a few holdouts still using CDs.
CDs are truly one of the most perfect media ever created.
And I can prove that mathematically.
Some will say vinyl is superior. And as much as I love records, the audio quality is preferred, not better. People have a *preference* for how vinyl sounds, but it still leaves out audio information and has noise and artifacts caused by the mechanics of the turntable and an imperfect manufacturing process.
In fact, the lesser audio quality is exactly what people enjoy. It has a warmth and comfortably compressed dynamic range that is not fatiguing over long listening sessions. It's like choosing a nice fire over a 100% efficient space heater.
But if you want perfect audio quality that does not exceed the limits of human hearing, compact discs are where it's at.
It all has to do with Dr. Harry Nyquist and his Nyquist-Shannon Theorem. (Sometimes Shannon gets left out and it is just called the Nyquist Theorem.)
The simple version is he figured out how much something needs to be sampled in order to not lose any information. As long as you sample something at a frequency greater than or equal to twice per cycle, you will have a lossless... whatever.
In this case, a lossless audio recording.
So the range of human hearing is about 20 Hz to 20 kHz. That's the lowest and highest frequencies we can perceive. The scientists creating CD audio figured they'd do 22 kHz for some overhead and then you double that to get 44 kHz. (Technically it was 44.1 kHz.)
You can imagine the smooth curvy line as an analog recording. No gaps. No information loss.
The black squares are digital samples recorded over a period of time. You can see there are gaps between those black squares. A tiny bit of time passes between the squares where nothing is sampled. INFORMATION LOSS! NOOOOO!
Clearly the vinyl nerds are correct and digital is inferior, right? You are going to get the dreaded... STAIR STEPS!
Not so fast, bucko!
By getting enough samples over a period of time, you can use math to infer that smooth sloping line connecting those individual samples. So the digital recording also has no information lost once it is converted back to analog and played through your speakers.
This connecting of dots is called "interpolation."
You could take the curvy analog, convert it to digital, get the same black squares, and then interpolate the black squares back into analog and get the same curvy line. It goes back and forth perfectly. And this is all verifiable with an oscilloscope.
NEAT!
Then of course you need a good dynamic range--the spectrum of quiet to loud. Anything above 85 decibels will damage your hearing, so they went with a 16-bit depth which covers roughly 100 dB. Again, giving them a little overhead for death metal and overzealous trumpet players.
And the final component is data bandwidth or "bitrate" usually measured in kilobits per second. This is how much data is read every second. The 1s and 0s of it all. The bitrate of a CD is calculated by multiplying 44,100 samples per second per channel by 16 bits per sample and then multiplying by 2 channels. After all that mathing is math'd, you get a perfectly uncompressed 1,411 kbps.
So you've got all the frequencies you could ever hear combined with as much volume as your ears can stand with a bit rate that will give you no loss of data.
The *perfect* audio quality all encoded into little microscopic pits.
Now you may be asking, "Why do I see "24/96" or "24/192" advertised on fancy audio equipment and high quality streaming platforms like Tidal? Aren't 24 bits better? Isn't 96 kHz MORE than 44.1 kHz?"
Dr. Nyquist might say... this is some bullshit.
This confusion comes from the fact that recording quality and playback quality are two different animals. This misunderstanding happens with video and photo quality as well. Recording in 6K will give you a sharper picture even if your final playback quality is 4K. You can get bad pixels and noise and stray photons that do not contribute to the detail in the video. By giving yourself overhead you can ensure you hit the desired quality target.
And recording at 24 bits and 96 or 192 kHz, you get a higher resolution to edit and master with, but it is only advantageous to the computer software... not the human ear.
From a photographer's perspective, I relate to it like this...
If I have more megapixels and more colors and more dynamic range I have more leeway when editing my photos. If you try to push a low quality photo in the edit, it has this tendency to fall apart. You can get ugly color banding and harsh contrast and sharpening artifacts. By capturing more quality than you need in the finished product, you can process the photo much more dramatically before it deteriorates and loses integrity.
Audio and video are the same way.
So let's say you have a metal singer that screams at the microphone as loud as possible from 2 inches away.
At 16 bits they may surpass that 100 decibel dynamic range and distort the recording. But if you record in 24 bits, you get 144 dB to play with. Or you can even do 32 bits and get 1500 dB--a volume that no human voice could ever surpass. It guarantees a clean, distortion free recording, but 32 bits would be pointless for human listening.
The same is true with the sample rate. Having a higher resolution allows you to zoom into waveforms and adjust things to an extremely granular level. You can do precise timings, tiny pitch adjustments, apply loads of digital effects, and just have more room for audio activities without degrading the sound quality.
But outputting 192,000 of those black squares is going to interpolate the exact same smooth curvy line as 44,100 when it is played through speakers.
The oscilloscope knows what I'm talking about.
Now I am about to reveal a secret that no audiophile who has invested in a $115,000 high resolution 32 bit/3,072 kHz DAC wants to acknowledge...
The master recording is always more important than the playback quality.
If you have a high quality source it will sound great even in a highly compressed MP3. Just like the 6K video is sharper on the 4K TV. And the high megapixel photo looks better in an Instagram post.
If the source is good, the media will be good.
And since high resolution audio services often seek out the best masters available before encoding their playback files, it gives many people the illusion they are getting better sound quality due to the boosted specs.
When in reality, it was just a better copy of the original recording.
According to Nyquist, your human ears are not computers and all you need is double the frequency to hear perfect sound with no loss of information. So anything above 16 bit/44.1 kHz/1411 kbps and you are just wasting bandwidth on a server.
And I don't want to hear anything about "stair stepping."
IT'S MATH.
Your ears aren't better than math, okay?
If you don't believe in math, then you and Jack White can sit in the naughty math corner with his bespoke overpriced vinyl pressings.
I will say, there is a gap between your standard music streaming service like Spotify and your bullshit audiophile service like Tidal.
Free Spotify uses heavily compressed files. Which means the bitrate is quite low and there can be information loss. Or "lossy" compression. Modern compression is actually pretty amazing, but I'm afraid anything below 320 kbps may cause some songs to not sound as intended.
Depending on the content, some songs are more suited to compression than others. And even with premium Spotify, they cap songs at 320 kbps which still may not be enough for busier, harder-to-compress songs.
Also, I don't know if Spotify cares about getting the best quality master for a given song. Which, again, is the most important aspect of sound quality.
But services like Tidal waste bandwidth with their super specs and that isn't great for the environment. What I'd love to see is a company that makes their best effort to seek out high quality masters, and encodes their files at 16 bit/44 kHz with a lossless variable bit rate compression. Variable bit rate or "VBR" will do more compression during simpler parts of the audio and less compression during more complex parts. It's smart compression, basically. And as long as you use a high enough bitrate to achieve lossless compression, the sound quality will be the same as if there is no compression at all. So you still get smaller file sizes that use less bandwidth and have a smaller environmental impact.
That would be a streaming service I would consider paying for. Especially if they put great effort into getting high quality original recordings for their content.
In conclusion... if you are still using CDs you don't need to worry about audio quality. You're all set. There is a sort of beauty in what the audio scientists who created compact discs did. They figured out the limits of human audio perception and created a format that just slightly exceeded that. No "bigger number is better" marketing. No audiophile bullshit.
They said, "Here is what you need and nothing more."
They made a perfect thing and they should be proud of that.
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- canine, but mine (pt. 1: acquaintances)
pairing: huang renjun x reader
au/genre: hybrid!au, fox hybrid!renjun, human!reader, virgin!renjun, smut, fluff, angst (?), the au is kinda unserious
don't like it, don't read it, okay... *sighs*
also, don't publicly shame me for any inaccuracies. i admittedly do not ready many (read: any) hybrid fics...
word count: 2860 words
warnings: HYBRIDS!, bullying, comforting, petting (not the sexual kind), semi-public diddling, mentions of virginity, cumming untouched, the base of renjun's tail is very sensitive......., sub!renjun ig
a/n: happy renjun day! 🦊
taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @i6renj
Ever since Renjun remembers, life has not been kind to him. Born not out of love between two people, but created in a laboratory for scientific research purposes, born not to be a part of society, but as an experiment for a potential weapon; part animal, part human, but not really part of either of those worlds.
Only after hybrid-rights-protests forced the government to take action against hybrid experiments, he was freed; free, but not really free, because that he'll never be. Instead, unloved by his creators that he could never bring himself to call parents, he continued growing up in a foster home, surrounded by kids that were nothing like him, kids that looked different than him, and kids that did not believe in the concept of "thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself". The days he was not kicked by them, he was at least laughed at, mocked, or judged.
Renjun, objectively, knows that it's not his fault that he looks different, that he is different. He was just born, or rather: brought to life, with a set of orange fox-like ears on top of his fluffy, brown hair, a soft, bushy tail, tiny little fangs, and claws that he always keeps neatly trimmed to not accidentally hurt anyone.
The bullying did not stop when he started going to school, nor did it lessen the older he got. Kids are mean, Renjun knows that by heart, and he's never even had a friend. When he was 14, the girls in his class dared each other who would be brave enough to "kiss the freak", when he was 16, people started inviting him on dates only to laugh at him with their friends when he showed up all excited, and when he finally finished school and started going to university, he thought it would all be different. To be fair, he was no longer pushed into lockers, he was no longer spat at and people stopped pulling at his tail for fun, but the mocking did not stop. And even when he met another hybrid, a popular, big white tiger hybrid, he didn't receive any sympathy. God how he wishes to at least be a cool, strong hybrid, like a lion or a bear... or even a wolf! Why did they have to make him a stupid fox...
Ever since that day, he's told himself one thing: you're going to work hard, get through university and get a good job in the big city... where there are lots of hybrids and lots of supporters.
At this point, Renjun is fairly used to the bullying. With his goal in mind, he doesn't fight it, he just lowers his head, his ears laying flat against his fluffy hair as he waits for it to be over. He guesses that people are just not ready for hybrids yet.
One can only imagine his upmost shock when on the first day of the new semester, someone willingly sat down next to him. Admittedly, you were 5 minutes late and there were no other seats available, but you didn't beg anyone to please scoot over just so you didn't have to sit next to the weird guy with the tail. Renjun vividly remembers this day in philosophy class, as the professor went on and on about Henri Bergson and how the sand wasp instinctively knows where to sting the caterpillar to paralyze it, while Renjun was just smitten by the girl sitting next to him without gagging.
Unable to talk to you, he was just sitting there, smiling shyly to himself at this small act that seemed so big to him. He remembers almost falling off his chair in shock as you "psst!"-ed at him and awkwardly asked for a pen since you forgot yours. He remembers having to pinch himself as you smiled and thanked him, and told him you thought his shirt was cute. He remembers looking around in case you weren't really talking to him as you said, "see you next week!"
And when in the following weeks, you kept sitting down next to him even though there were other seats available, he was almost sure this had to be a dream. But it wasn't, and when during the third lesson, you softly asked for his name, he was this close to bursting into tears.
A few weeks into the semester, Renjun is currently sitting at the library, trying to memorize the different forms of utilitarianism. As always, he's sitting in a separate study room that he booked just for himself – a precautious attempt to not get made fun of as he's trying to concentrate. He crosses out his second attempt of trying to spell deontology correctly as he notices someone passing by the glass door to his study room. A moment later, the person backs up and looks inside, and he realizes it's you.
His heart stops for a moment as you begin smiling and waving at him, and he slowly lifts his hand to mimic the action hesitantly. Of course, you take that as an invitation to come in.
You close the door after slipping inside, still talking in a low tone as not to disturb anyone outside.
"Hey~" you say and sit down across from Renjun. He smiles and bites his lip nervously, "hey."
"You here all alone?" You ask softly, "is it okay if I sit with you?"
Renjun blushes. He knows you didn't think anything of it, but mentioning his lack of acquaintances is a bit of a sore spot for him.
"Sure... if you want," he says shyly, still not completely trusting that you're not going to turn this all around and make fun of him.
"Only if it doesn't bother you," you smile, "I'll be super quiet, promise!"
His smile is getting more genuine as you talk so casually to him. He just starts feeling a bit more comfortable, when sudden movements in front of the glass door make his head lift up.
A group of guys is standing there, pressing their faces against the door, clearly mocking his fox ears with their hands behind their heads. His heart sinks, he should've known this was going to happen today, it always happens when he's out in public.
"What-" you ask, noticing the pained look on his face and the way his ears are pointing down as he feels a wave of shame overcome him. You turn around, taking in the group of guys who're still silently making fun of the fox hybrid. "What the fuck..."
Renjun's ears twitch in surprise as you stand up, and he waits anxiously for what's about to happen. You rip open the glass door, lifting your finger into their face before speaking to them, hushed but still loud enough for a few people to lift their heads. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Did your mom not teach you manners? You should be ashamed of yourselves, you're university students, cut the crap with your preschool bullying, you fucking assholes," you tell them, and Renjun's eyes widen comically. You... you're standing up for him? For him?!
"If I see you doing this one more time, I'll get you kicked off campus... Now go back to being worthless idiots somewhere else. Leave him alone, I swear to God..." you say before closing the door, flipping them off, pulling down the blinds, and heading back to Renjun. To Renjun's upmost surprise, the guys actually left, and looking embarrassed at that, possibly because you just made one hell of a scene – and it's probably the sexiest thing Renjun's ever witnessed.
You sit down again, this time next to him. "You okay?"
Renjun breathes out shakily, ears twitching, tail swaying back and forth nervously. He's not sure what to make of this, someone standing up for him, it has never happened to him before. And before he can stop himself, he blurts out the question he's been asking himself since the moment your ass cheeks touched the surface of the chair next to him in that first philosophy lesson. "Why are you so nice to me?"
You halt, furrowing your brows. "Why wouldn't I be?"
He seems even more confused by that answer. "Um... You know, I'm a hybrid? Maybe you find that weird?"
You blink at him, "why is that weird?"
"Don't you... think I'm weird?" He asks. "Odd? Repelling? Freaky? Off-putting?? Anything???" He keeps listing adjectives as you keep shaking your head no. "Why... would you stand up for me?"
"I just don't like bullies," you state nonchalantly, "plus you're really cute."
Renjun's eyes bulge out of their sockets, tail curling up so suddenly that he feels like he's almost broken something in there. Maybe you're an animal friend, maybe that's all he is to you? "Cute? Like the fox parts or...?"
"Everything about you is cute. The fox parts are cute, but you'd still be cute without them."
Renjun just stares at you. This can't be real. He pinches the palm of his hand several times without you noticing, but he's just not waking up. If this is a dream, which he's almost certain it has to be, he could do anything he wants right now... like making your head explode- just to be sure! He concentrates greatly on it, but your head stays intact. He gives up. "You're not disgusted?"
"What?!" You look utterly confused, then your features soften into a look of concern. "Are people... usually disgusted by you?"
He nods without hesitation. "Usually, they just point and laugh, sometimes it even gets worse than that..." Renjun can't even bring himself to cringe as you put on a brave expression and tell him you're going to protect him from now on, because this is honestly the best thing that's ever happened to him. His heart melts at your words and it's hard to believe he's actually being comforted. There are no jokes being thrown around, no mockery, not even any pity. For once, Renjun feels like there's someone who wants to protect him. His lower lip quivers slightly as he holds back tears, and without thinking, he leans forward and places his head on your shoulder.
He hears you coo quietly, lifting your hand to his back and pulling him closer. "Is... is it okay if I stroke your hair?"
Renjun closes his eyes and nods. The warmth of the hug is comforting, the touch of your hands is gentle and soothing. His tension quickly dies down as he melts against you as he realizes that he has never felt like this before. And as you begin gently scratching and massaging his scalp, his ears begin twitching and relaxing at the feeling of your nimble fingers. He tries to hide the innocent pleasure that's shooting though his body, not sure if you would think it's odd, but his heartbeat is increasing rapidly. Your fingers feel like magic as they brush against his ears and scratch the base of his scalp. Suddenly a little too unhinged for his liking, he begins purring and nuzzling your neck, enjoying every single bit of your touch.
"God, you're adorable..." you say softly, making sure to pet him behind his ears and Renjun's entire body fizzles with pleasure at the feeling. As if it has a mind of its own, his tail curls around your legs. "Is this okay? Have you ever been pet like this?"
Renjun hums in delight, "I've always dreamed about getting pet like this..." Your fingers begin gently playing with his ears. At first, they twitch nervously, but soon, he relaxes into the touch. He notes that his ears are very sensitive when being touched by someone else that isn't himself, and he loves the sensation.
"They're so soft... I could pet you like this all day," you say softly, making Renjun smile.
"Do you...," he hesitates for a bit, "want to touch my tail too? It's even softer..."
"Do you want me to?"
Renjun nods shyly, lifting his tail a bit for easy access. The moment your fingers begin brushing over his fur, he shivers, whimpering slightly. Every other time, whenever someone's touched his tail before, it was rough and mean, but the way you oh so gently run your fingers through his fur makes him almost lightheaded.
"Your fur is so soft...," you whisper and he hums in response, eyes already closed as he gets lost in the feeling. His tail makes small circles behind your leg when you brush over the fur, he whimpers softly as your fingers move further up towards the base of his tail.
Your fingers feel so good, unlike anything he's ever felt before. He keeps questioning if this is love, or if this is what it feels like when someone really cares, but all he knows is that he craves more and more of this all consuming feeling, when suddenly, he lets out a short, loud moan. The tips of your fingers have unknowingly reached the base of his tail, causing a jolt of pure, white, hot pleasure to shoot through his body.
Shamefully, he buries himself into your shoulder, his tail curling around your leg. He's mortified as your movements pause for a second, he's sure he's messed up now, but then your scratching picks up again and he breathes out shakily, body twitching at the feeling.
You keep going and going, and he begins moaning softly.
"Is this still okay for you?" The softness of your voice makes his heart melt.
"Mhm..." is all he is able to bring out at the overwhelming sensation of being touched there for the first time.
"Have you been touched here before?"
"N-never..." Renjun whines softly. He's feeling himself harden in his pants, cock straining against the fabric of his jeans and he's sure you noticed.
"Are you a virgin, Renjun?"
The question catches him off guard, but honestly, he's too far gone now to feel shy about it. It seems that you have picked up on how sensitive he is, and he can't really blame you for your assumption. You seem so open and accepting of him that he doesn't even hesitate before slightly nodding his head, "yeah..."
"And you're sure that you want to experience... this with me?"
The feeling of your fingers on his tail intensifies with every second, Renjun feels dizzy, there's barely any blood left in his brain at this point, all of it damming up in his cock and every other sensible part of his body. "yes.. yes...!"
It seems like this is all you needed to hear to speed up your movement, fingertips scratching and petting him in the most arousing way possible, forcing whimpers and moans from his mouth. "Aahh... Ah..." He tries to hold back, but the sensation is too much for him. Your touch is too nice and it's making him lose control as he bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a vocal response, but it's not enough. He's starting to tremble, breath getting heavier as he begins panting harshly. This sensation surely feels very close to how he feels when he's about to cum.
And just the attentive person you are, you speak up about it. "Are you gonna...?"
"I... Aahh... I think so..." He says, his voice shaking as he speaks. "It feels so nice..."
Experimentally, you move your fingers to the underside of his tail, and Renjun's body jolts in pleasure, his whole body jerks as he moans out, mouth slightly open while keeping his voice down as much as possible given your current location. He reaches up and grabs your wrist to make you keep touching him there. "Please..." He says in a thoroughly pleading voice. "Don't stop.."
As he forces his eyes to open, he notices your eyes on him, your face so close to his, and his eyes inevitably dart down to your lips as he gasps for more.
Of course, you take it as an invitation to kiss him, and as soon as your soft lips merge with his, Renjun knows that he's going to cum. He feels like he's actually going to faint as the pleasure reaches new heights, your kiss building the tension up and up, his head spins as he feels himself tighten up.
Your movements quickly send him over the edge. The intensity of the sensation is making his body shudder as he pulls you closer toward him and he lets himself go, muscles tightening even further as he releases into his pants with a high-pitched moan.
Your hands carefully stroke over his tail again, your unoccupied hand coming back up to his hair to help him calm down. He's breathing heavily, body feeling fuzzy inside at the attention and from his intense release. "O-oh, God..."
"That was so hot...," you whisper, gently kissing the top of his head. He lets out a soft giggle. You successfully have made him blush once again. But just as he's really, fully calming down, he inevitably notices the sticky feeling between his thighs and cringes.
You chuckle softly as you notice the look on his face. "Maybe we should get you to a restroom..."
© 2024 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.
#renjun#renjun smut#huang renjun smut#nct renjun smut#kpop#smut#nct#kpop smut#nct fanfic#fem reader#nct dream#nct x reader#nct dream smut#huang renjun x reader#renjun x reader#renjun angst#renjun fic#i love renjun#renjun fluff#nct dream renjun#nct renjun#huang renjun
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anonymous said: what would flawless tomura do if they were at a party and he left reader alone for a few minutes and came back to some guy talking to her?
character: shigaraki tomura
genre: smut
notes: okaaaay so it’s a teeny tiny bit more than just talking to her but ah anon! this ask immediately sparked an idea in my brain and i just had to write it for you! this is set within my flawless AU and it’s pretty much a prequel to part two!
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, daddy kink, semi-public sex, toxic relationships (jealousy, possessiveness), minimal prep, rough sex, noncon nonsexual touching from a stranger, size difference, implied yakuza
words: 4k
Tomura hates these things.
As far as he’s concerned, these overly extravagant ‘work functions’ are nothing more than an excuse for a bunch of bigwigs and hotshots to get together and jerk each other off.
Really, it’s not much different than a college house party; if you take away the opulent venue and the nice clothes and good food, it’s practically the exact same thing.
He hadn’t wanted to bring you, fucking despises the thought of having you in the presence of any of these animals at all—disgusting and crude and primal and dangerous—but Kurogiri had insisted.
It looks good to include her, Tomura, he had said. You know how important these events are to your father.
And he knows how important you are to Tomura. But Tomura supposes that doesn’t matter nearly as much in his father’s eyes, now, does it?
In his mind, you’re just some silly little girl, a shiny new toy for Tomura to play with, to occupy his son’s time until he needs him, until he once again deems him useful. Then it’s expected you’ll be cast aside in favour of the family business, because nothing could ever be more important to Tomura, poor little orphaned Tomura, saved from the clutches of poverty by the Shigarakis, than the family business he’s being groomed to own one day, right?
Wrong.
But his father doesn’t give a fuck about that. He’s right if he says he’s right, end of discussion, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
So you’re here.
You had been cautiously excited to attend, desperate to earn his father’s favour, to prove that you’re worth it, worth all of the time and energy and love Tomura spends on you; that you can belong, if you really try to.
It’s sweet, really, how eager you are to be a part of the family. Impossibly, it makes Tomura love you even more.
Kurogiri’s been bouncing around the banquet hall like an efficient but headless chicken, splitting his time between checking in with guests and keeping a watchful eye on Tomura, since he has a nasty tendency to suddenly and miraculously disappear into thin air at these things.
The corner Tomura has the two of you wedged in is shrouded in shadows and at the back of the room, far from all of the excitement, the chattering voices and chewing teeth. It’s still loud, though, a mess of chaotic and indistinct noise, booming laughter tangled with confident speeches wafting over you in waves, carrying with them the scent of hors d’oeuvres from the self-serve table at the head of the room.
Your tummy growls, nothing more than a gentle rumble beneath Tomura’s palms, and he hugs you tighter, chin hooked over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck a little in apology.
“I’ll have Kurogiri grab you some food the next time he makes his rounds, baby, I promise.”
A dainty hand lays atop his own, fingers snuggling between the gaps of his own and resting there.
“Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur, the side of your head knocking against his own.
And, oh, that word.
That special word, nothing more than a sweet huff of breath on your tongue, five little letters that get his blood surging and his chest puffing and his spine straightening.
That one word that summons the true dominant that lays dormant at his core, slept and stomped on by inherent brattiness; that single word that pumps his whole body full of heady authority, muscles swelling with it, tense and gorged on the power it affords him.
But then your tummy grumbles again and Tomura frowns, fingers flexing as they sink into your flesh, holding you closer. Your ankles hook around his calves in response, body melting further into his—giving in, giving over, complete and total control—sagging s little in his lap, and he sighs.
But there’s no way you can get up, no way he can allow you to get up, to go anywhere near the food so meticulously laid out across a long, white table. Because Tomura has already seen the way these mongrels called men have been staring at you, eyes sick and starved as they try to swallow you whole, gazes nipping at your bare legs, tearing at your sweet little dress.
Instinctively, his body curls further around your own, shoulders hunched and chest curved as it molds to your back, almost as if he’s trying to hide you away within himself, within his flesh and bone and soul, far away from those ogling eyes and their gnawing little teeth.
Kurogiri returns not long after, though he is not able to fulfill Tomura’s promise, a slight breathlessness to his tone as he delivers a directive.
“Tomura, your father needs your assistance.”
“What?” Tomura hisses, head whipping to face his handler, eyes narrowed sharply. “With what?”
“There are some people he’d like you to meet,” Kurogiri responds calmly, unfazed.
Tomura’s features pucker, the mere thought sour in his head. “You can tell him to fuck right off, I’m not—”
“Tomura,” Kurogiri cuts him off, stern but not sharp. “Is this appropriate behaviour for a CEO-in-training? These are very important guests—important clients, and it is imperative that you continue to keep our relationship with them in good standing.”
Scarlet eyes dart between you and Kurogiri, settling on the crown of your head, a certain type of woefulness imbuing his features—mouth turned down, eyes drooping slightly, forehead woven with lines of worry.
“She’ll be alright on her own for a second or two,” Kurogiri continues, voice softening. “It’ll only be for a moment, Tomura. Just come say hello.”
“Fine, fuck.”
With the utmost gentleness, Tomura slides you off his lap as he stands, taking your jaw between his palms, bony fingers splayed across your cheeks, so long his middle fingers nearly rest on your temples.
“I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” you laugh a little, nudging forward to press a quick peck to his lips. “Promise I’ll survive on my own while you’re gone.”
“You better,” he threatens, cold voice contradicted by the mirth shimmering in his eyes and the love tugging at the corners of his lips. “Be back in a minute or less.”
“Thirty seconds,” you hear him growling to Kurogiri as he stalks off, vying fingers already gouging his own flesh, nails leaving thick divots that pool rapidly with blood in their wake. “Thirty fucking seconds, that’s all they’re getting from me.”
Your eyes trail after him as he weaves through the space, an ache, dull and heavy, settling behind your ribs when you spot the ribbons of crimson adorning his neck, trickling onto his crisp white collar, Kurogiri hastily attempting to dab at them as Tomura viciously swipes at his hands.
The ache throbs, expands and pushes against your ribs as if it’s trying to escape the cage, as if it’s trying to propel you forward, urging you to act, to move, to go be with him.
“Hey,” a voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you startle slightly, gaze snapping towards its owner. “You looked lonely—Like a lost kitten, or something. This your first time at one of these things?”
It’s clearly a lie, you know it is, can see the falsities glimmering in his stretched smile, wide and tense and hungry across his cheeks—there’s no way this man didn’t see you with Tomura only mere seconds ago.
“Uh—”
“I’m Shin,” he continues, eyes obscured by the chandelier lights glinting off his glasses. Even veiled, you can feel it, the man’s slimy gaze gliding up your body, slowly, studiously, and leaving a filmy trail behind it. Your flesh crawls along your bones, feeling wrong, dirty, bare, and you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your ribs. “Nemoto Shin. I work for a, uh, friend of the Shigarakis.”
“Oh,” you say, dull as your eyes skip across the crowd, feet shifting a little as you lean away, hunting for Tomura in a sea of businessmen.
“Actually, I’m a doctor of sorts.”
Your narrowed gaze drifts back to his, eyebrows knitted slightly.
“Of sorts?”
“A chemist, kind of.”
“Kind of?”
Smirking, he tilts his head to the side as if he finds you fascinating, revealing dark eyes as the light catches on his hair.
“I run clinical trials, collect data, and then revise.”
And it’s the way he says it, voice imbued with a sort of deranged glee that smears his sharp smile wider, as if he takes pleasure in conducting these experiments, that has shivers skittering up your spine, nails digging into your biceps as your arms squeeze your torso.
“On people?”
“Of course.”
“Oh. That’s, uh...”
Your eyes dart around the venue again, expensive silk suits and leather loafers all a blur as you search for an out, a familiar face, someone, anyone.
“You know,” Shin begins conversationally, taking a step closer to you. “You look like you’re about the correct age and height for our newest study.”
Large hands wrap around your own, fast and sudden, and forcefully uncurl your fingers, tugging your arms from around your body and holding them out wide, leaning back on his heels to fully appreciate you.
“In fact, I’d say you’re perfect.”
A discontented whine catches in your throat as you struggle in his grasp, attempting to pull your wrists free, Shin’s grip tightening to near bone-crushing in response.
Yelping, you wrench again, trying harder to jerk yourself away from him. He merely laughs in response, a sound that shoots spikes of ice through your limbs, and yanks your arms open further, tutting his tongue as if your struggle is so adorable, head quirked to the side with an egging smirk.
“What do you say? Want to participate?”
“No, you bastard! Ugh, let go of me!”
“C’mon,” he goads, eyes gleaming with poorly concealed sadism. “I promise it won’t hurt. In fact,” his head dips a little, looking at you over the wire of his spectacles. “You might even enjoy it.”
“She’s good. Thanks, though.”
Tomura’s voice has the man flinching, a jolt of panic surging through his veins and loosening his muscles, your arms dropped from his hands in an instant. He recovers quickly, though, any traces of alarm smoothed out from his expression a second later, features morphed into a perfect mask of professionalism.
“Tomura,” he says with a polite nod, a small but appropriate smile on his face. “You’re looking well.”
Tomura says nothing in response, glaring at him through sharpened eyes, crimson simmering with such anger you swear you can see the heat waves radiating from his sockets. He holds the man’s gaze until, finally, the man looks away with a cower, head hung in submission.
And then Tomura’s turning away with a sneer, catching your hands, busy mauling his biceps in desperation, with ease and wrapping a palm around your arm.
“Fucking vultures,” he’s spitting as he all but drags you from the venue, the fingers cuffed around your wrist tensing. “I leave for, like, a minute and they’re all over you.”
“I—I’m sorry,” you’re whimpering as your free hand winds around his forearm, jogging a little in your haste to keep up with his pace.
“Sorry?” he questions, the word seething on his tongue, as if you’re stupid for even apologizing at all. “It isn’t your fault, princess.”
And even though his voice is still scalding, the look he throws you over his shoulder is soft, stuffed full of love.
“Besides,” he’s continuing as he shoves past the heavy glass doors at the entrance of the hall. “I’m gonna show those fuckers who you belong to.”
The satin toe of your heels catches on the rough concrete, instantly causing it to scuff and fray as Tomura hauls you along behind him, the slap of his trademark red sneakers echoing out among the parking lot with each hasty stomp toward his car.
“Tomura, wait!” you’re calling as you teeter quickly behind him.
But he isn’t listening, your staggering not nearly fast enough for his liking, giving another harsh yank on your arm with such vigour it sends you stumbling right into his back, ankles wobbling a little as you almost trip over your own feet, a little yelp sounding in your throat.
He catches you easily, though, skinny arms wrapping around your form, offering minimal stability as they slam you against the driver’s door of the Bentley, effectively trapping you between the metal and his body.
Knobby knees are parting your legs instantly, sharp as they barge at your inner thighs and force them open, his feet framed by your own.
His hips slot up against yours, bones defined and protruding as they press into your supple flesh, his cock already half-hard.
And, God, you’ll never tire of how easily he gets hard, just the thought of your cunt enough to send a rush of boiling blood to the apex of his thighs, to fill his cock, a girlish giggle bubbling past your lips.
“Something funny?” he’s asking as large hands cup your jaw, fingers curling around the hinges and dragging your face upward, prohibiting you from answering as he all but smashes his lips to yours, keen tongue prying through your lips to lick at your teeth.
It’s messy and enthusiastic, just like kissing Tomura always is, smears of drool glistening across your chin and dripping off your jaws in fat, sticky globs to cool in little puddles on your collarbones, dribbling steadily from the corners of your lips as they move and mash and mesh.
His hands work in tandem with his mouth, large palms sliding up your thighs and beneath your dress, hem pooling around his wrists as he reaches your pretty pink panties, revealing your bare legs to the throngs of men clustered around the gilded doors, leering at you through hazy clouds of cigar smoke.
A squeak of his name is pushed from your tongue onto his, muddled and weighted with spit, eyes popping open as vying fingers begin to twist and tear through dainty lace, elastic band snapping audibly against your waist a moment later, leaving a lingering sting in its place.
“Daddy!” you whine as your panties flit to the asphalt in a ruined little heap, legs instinctually trying to snap shut only to be kept wedged open by his hips, a dark chuckle soaking into your skin as his lips glide clumsily from your mouth to your jaw and down the curve of your neck, painting your skin in slick strokes of saliva.
“I’ll buy you more, y’little brat,” he mumbles into your shoulder, teeth sinking into the muscle a moment later and forcing a pitchy cry from your throat, the sound embarrassingly loud, echoing through the parking lot.
His jaw flexes, tenses, burrowing sharp ivory deeper into your flesh until they slice through it, staining his mouth with your blood. His tongue laves over the wound, sops up the oozing blood like it’s sugary syrup tinged with copper, and seals the bite with spit that turns frigid the moment his mouth is gone.
A large hand squeezes your thigh, fingertips dipping into plush skin as they hoist your leg up, hooking it over his hip. You can feel his clothed cock, prodding your bare hole as he ruts unevenly against you, premature little thrusts that he can’t quite seem to quell.
A collection of baritone murmurs draws your attention back to the men, tendrils of smoke coiling in the air as they watch the scene in front of them unfold, exhaling little chuckles and comments among themselves, eyes never straying from your bodies.
It all feels so fucking grimy, their gazes sludgy as they creep across your frame, thick like glue as Tomura’s free hand traces up the curves of your torso to knead your breast much too hard, eliciting a low whistle and a smattering of claps.
“Daddy, Daddy, they’re looking,” you whimper, casting another quick glance at the men and wincing when your eyes connect with theirs.
“Let them look.”
“Tomura!”
“I want them to look,” he growls, a sort of petulant possessiveness bleeding into his tone. “I want them to see who you fucking belong to, I want them to see what they can’t touch, I want them to see who it is that makes you cry and scream and cum. ”
“No, Daddy, please,” little fingers curl in the cashmere of his dress shirt, attempting to use his body as a shield. “Not here, not like this, not all out in the open—”
“Oh, come on, don’t be such a baby.”
“No, no, no,” you’re nearly weeping, head shaking in shuddered little movements.
Panic rips viciously at your chest, rising high in your voice as protests pour from your lips, heated face burrowing into the junction of his neck. You’re pawing at his shirt now, a few of the buttons popping open to reveal milky skin stretched over a prominent collarbone.
“You can do it, angel,” he chides, voice just a hint gentler. “I know you can do it for me.”
A hiccup hitches in your throat, caught painfully on a breath, interrupting your stream of pleads, burning tears leaking from your crunched eyelids and staining his collar with salt.
“Please, please, please,” the word is humid against his neck, exhaled on shaky little gasps, letters disintegrating into droplets of condensation on his scarred skin. “I don’t wanna, please, Daddy, I don’t—”
“All right, Christ,” he’s groaning over your pathetic begging, pivoting your bodies quickly and keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he rips the drivers door open.
Collapsing heavily behind the wheel, he pulls you down with him, hands rough and cumbersome as they try to rearrange your body into straddling him.
It’s cramped, one knee digging into the centre console while the other leg bends, foot planted on the leather of the seat.
“Get my fucking cock out,” he’s spitting at you the moment the door shuts, hips pushing upwards in emphasis. “I can’t fucking wait any longer.”
You’re obeying in an instant, dainty fingers clawing at the buckle of his belt, leather cracking as you yank it free from the prong. Then he’s lifting his hips again, aiding you as your fingers hook in the waistband of his briefs and tug, pulling his trousers down with them.
His thighs spread instinctively, elastic and cotton cutting into thin muscle.
“C’mon, c’mon,” he’s muttering as his palms wrap around your hips again, dragging you towards him to hover over his swollen, leaking cock. A hand grips the base, holding it steady as he lines it up with your hole, the head bumping against your cunt.
For the breath of a moment, everything is still, your combined panting ragged as it rings throughout the car, dense and tangled. Your forehead knocks against his own, hands clamped over the back of his seat.
And then he’s shoving his cock into you with one quick, sharp thrust upward, a high whine escaping your lips as your face scrunches in pain.
Your cute little hole stings as his cock tears through it, rips you open wide and forces you to take it all, a loud cry spilling from your lips as Tomura holds your hips in place, savouring the way you spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to his girth.
The pace is brutal right from the start—not that you’ve come to expect anything less from Tomura—the snapping of his hips vicious as he pounds into you, sweet little snarls falling from scarred lips with each slam of his cockhead against your cervix.
There’s nothing for you to do but just take what he’s giving you, his grip on your waist blooming tiny blotches of blues and purples in the shape of his fingerprints into your skin as he holds you in place, thighs flexing in time with his powerful thrusts, the soles of his sneakers skidding against the rubber floor mat as he uses his feet for leverage.
It hurts, but Tomura doesn’t care, hips rapid, rabid, ruthless as they piston into you, so rough and hard and fast that it has your entire body shuddering, the thin, sharp heel of your stiletto skidding against white leather, tearing it open.
It hurts, but it’s also so fucking good, choked little wails of his name and his title knotted on your tongue, each one fucked out of you as he bounces you on his cock, easy and effortless like you’re nothing more than his favourite little toy.
And there’s something so hot about it all, something so wicked and disgusting and deliciously depraved about fucking in the middle of a crowded parking lot, open and on display for anyone to see as the sun begins its descent below the horizon, lacking the protective veil the night brings with it.
You can feel their eyes searing into your skin, glaring and gawking, wide and unblinking, the Bentley’s thick windows doing little to lessen the smoldering of their gazes as they roam your body, the Bentley’s bulletproof glass muffling the howls and the whistles.
It sends sick thrills racing through your veins, leaving your blood fizzy and muscles tingling, a loud moan, stuttered by Tomura’s incessant bucking, tumbling from your lips.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it, baby,” he says, but his voice is hoarse, straining under pleasure, edges of his words breathy, almost whiny in a way, as if he’s begging instead of instructing. “Show them. Show them how pretty my cock makes you.”
“Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy,” you’re whimpering out, head nodding in tiny, short motions with your words.
And you do—ever the perfect, obedient, good little girl that you are—cumming pathetically quickly, the fast, hard drag of his cockhead over that swollen patch of tissue buried deep inside of you combined with the peeping, prying eyes resulting in your sweet cunt convulsing almost violently around his cock, thighs aching and tense as his title shatters on your tongue.
It’s so much, slick gushing down his shaft to soak into the waistband of his pants, bare thighs slippery with your essence, sick and sticky with each slap against your ass, obscene sounds echoing throughout the car.
“F-Fuck,” he gasps, the curse cracking in his throat, head knocking back against the headrest and face contorting in ecstasy, watching you through lidded eyes and thick black lashes.
His thrusts have turned messy now, rhythm sloppy and irregular as he jackhammers into you almost desperately, clenched teeth bared and on display.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—” you’re mewling, grappling little fingers twisting in his damp shirt, nonverbal begging imbued in the motion.
“M’cumming,” he nearly moans, cutting you off before you can even ask for it.
He gives you exactly what you want, a mere two thrusts later, whole body going rigid as his nails gorge themselves on the flesh of your hips, holding you still as his cock pumps you full of thick, hot cum.
And he’s so fucking beautiful, breathtakingly so, so much that it decays your words and kicks them from your chest in frail little huffs.
Sliver tufts of hair have flipped upwards, clumped and curled with salt, tiny dewdrops of sweat collecting on the points, glittering in the waning sunlight. The white of his shirt has turned translucent, sodden and sticking to his juddering ribs, expanding and straining beneath his heavy, laboured breaths, the whole cage starkly defined, shadows outlining all of the curves and contours, bumps and ridges, each bone and every gap.
But then he’s pulling you from your admiration, gangly arms wrapping around your body tightly.
“Mine,” he murmurs as he hugs you to his chest, whole body finally deflating, soaking into your own.
“Yours,” you whisper with a little nod, pressing chaste kisses along his scarred neck. “Yours, forever.”
His. Forever.
He hopes they all understand who you fucking belong to, now, hopes they’ll keep their grubby hands and grimy gazes off of you, now, but should any of them forget—well, neither of you are necessarily opposed to teaching them this lesson again.
#shigaraki tomura smut#shigaraki tomura x reader#bnha smut#shigaraki smut#shigaraki x reader#eee hehe enjoy!!!! it's just something smaaaall but i really enjoyed writing it!
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Specter: Jason Todd x ghost!reader (pt 1)
Warnings: death of reader (duh!), death and resurrection of the other main character, angst
***
She was his best friend.
His only friend.
More than his friend.
Knowing each other since they were kids running loose on the streets of Gotham forced to tend to themselves.
He chuckled at the memory of their first meeting.
Fighting over few apples and a half loaf of bread she managed to rim from some man while batting her elalashes and making innocent face of a street-starving girl.
Well, she was a street starving girl, but as far away from innocent as they come, of which fact Jason was almost brutally made aware upon trying to steal some of it from her. Gaining a bruised eye and a scratch that left a tiny scar on his arm instead.
A well-deserved scar, cause even after all those years he was mentally cringing at the memory he was actually trying to rob a girl his age of food. Terrible thought. In his defence, he was starving himself.
Fortunately, they somehow came to an agreement and since then, there was always someone to care for and who could take care of them by their side.
Y/N and Jason.
Together even when not.
Inseparable even after that batmobil-tires accident, cause there was no way in hell Jason would start living with the Bruce Wayne and left his best only friend behind.
Nah.
So would anyone be surprised that after a while they actually started falling in love? Or maybe they were in love from the beggining since the apples but never noticed?
The point however stood, obvious to everyone but those two donkey level stubborn young adults.
So apart from a few stolen kisses, helluva blushing, talking through the nights, secret awkward hugs and one attempt at intimacy, nothing—
Ok, you know what scratch that last sentence. A LOT has happened in the span of a few weeks. And it brought them significantly closer. Hoping for more and actually trying to work towards more.
So when Jason, at the mature age of 16 went for another Batman-related mission, he pecked her lips and promised to have the real talk about their future when he gets back.
Spoiler alert: He never did.
And when Batman walked to the Batcave with no Robin to follow him and broke the news it was like Y/N’s heart was gone with Jason’s life.
Torn from her chest since at that moment it stopped beating and everything lost its meaning.
She refused to eat, drink, talk and get up in the morning. Spending her days in isolation or sitting by his symbolical grave since the body was never found.
Withering her young life away at the graveyard.
No one ever told her the truth.
***
Miraculously Jason came back five years later. Completely different than a scrawny kid everyone used to know him. Raging terror upon Gotham for a while before actualy forming some kind of allegiance with the Bats. And at some point, the question had to be asked. And the hard truth had to be revealed.
„Where is Y/N?” he whispered, getting shy, gulit, regret and remorse filling him to the brim as he was searching through the entire manor in search for her.
A few saddened looks were exchanged between his siblings as those words rung in the air.
Oh, no.
„Where the hell is she?!” Jason yelled, ready to punch a wall, hit Dick in the face and beat the shit out of Bruce for keeping something from him.
„Jaybrird—„
„Do not fucking call me that Grayson! Where is my Y/N?!”
„No one told you—„
„She;s dead.” Damian muttered, unaware of the consequences of dropping such a bomb on his brother. „We burried her a year—„
Jason roared like a wounded animal, nearly making the glass in the window shutter.
„DEAD?!!”
„Jason—„
„STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!”
„I think you should-„
„YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD BE DOING DICKHEAD!”
The rage creeping inside Jason’s head and heart was suffocating. Beating the post-Pit madness multiple times and seeming neverending. He panted and wailed, wanting to destroy something. Kill someone. Anyone, but preferably the one responsible for Y/N;s premature departure from the world. Set a fire to the manor. Break into the League of Assasin’s headquarters and let them kill him. For good this time. Crawl into the deepest darkest pit and die.
„Jason—„
„WHO DID THIS?!”
„It was—„
„I WANT A NAME!”
„We don’t-„
„I WANT THAT PERSON;S HEAD ON A STICK!”
No matter how hard Dick, Tim, Cass, Steph and Barbara tried to get to him (cause obviously Damian was just watching with curiosity), nothign worked.
„It was an accident.” Bruce muttered, finally joining the family allured by the screams.
„AN ACCIDENT?!”
„A car crash. She was just a pedestian, did nothing wrong. The driver was DUI.”
„SO WHAT?! YOU’RE A FUCKING BILLIONAIRE, YO COULDN’T HAVE PROVIDED HER WITH A GOOD FUCKING DOCTOR!?”
„She died instantly.”
„SHE—„ Jason’s voice broke, all the anger finally subsiding replaced by the pain. „She what- ?”
„I am sorry jason…”
„SHE WAS YOUR RESPONSIBLITY!”
„No, she was your resposibilty Jason. You were the one who befrended her, fell for her, brought her into this life. Should have known better.”
„SHUT UP!”
„She stayed here after you died instead of moving forward, unable to forget you.”
„SHUT THE FUCK UP!” it was impossible to listen to Bruce only fueling up the guilt and pain iside Jason’s heart.
„She—„
„Master Bruce.” Now Alfred came into the scene, preventing another blood bath that were bound to happen between a father and a son. ‘Perhaps we should give master Jason some space now. Miss Y/N’s death took a heavy toll on all of us, didn;t it?”
”Hm.”
„Come Jay. Upstairs.” Cass smiled at him to the best of her abilities „You need rest.”
Hazily he took a few steps forward but didn;t miss Bruce’s pained whisper and haunted expression.
„You’re not the only one who lost her…”
***
It’s been five years since then.
But now, as Jason was standing by her grave it all felt surreal.
Y/N Y/L/N, daughter, friend, prankster.
That last word was something she would laugh at.
But he was not.
Five years. The same amount he was gone, same amount for which she believed him to be dead, visiting his grave.
Did she feel all those feels he was dealing with right now?
Emptiness.
Numbness.
Anger.
And that pressuring what if-.
They could have been happy together. Working though their difficulties and becoming real. Maybe starting a family. Escaping all this shitty vigilantism life pushed them both into.
Destroying both of their lifes.
One cold six feet under, the other cold six feet inside.
„I miss you.” He whispered in the space, putting a buquet of flowers on the ground next to the ledger „You will forever be the one to haunt me.”
With that he turned around, walking away with head hung low and hands in the pockets of his jacket.
Getting back to his apartment.
In which she could have been with him if things were to work out differently.
part 2 : phantom
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd x you#red hood x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood x y/n#jason todd angst#red hood angst
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Like Real People Do [d.d]
Summary: You and Mando have a history of broken hearts and are both looking for a place to land in the galaxy you live in, but you'll always have each other.
A/n: Not beta'd! mistakes are my own! and look a Hozier song to a Pedro fic what's new! I love this. I hope you do too! 6.2k
Cw: Canon typical violence, mentions of human trafficking, use of weapons, mutual pining, discussions of loss, discussions of war, brief mentions of grief, Reader is from Alderaan (trauma that comes from that), the reader has some of my tattoos because we love a self-insert, broken glass, pubic hair?, unprotected p in v, mentions of marking, hickeys, mentions of oral sex m/f receiving, fingering, the helmet stays on, breeding kink if you squint, as always touched starved Din, themes involving depression and loss, takes place post season 3 but has a flash back to season 1, I probably missed something but let me know!
It had been ages since you’d seen him. You’re not sure how many rotations, but not a day has passed that you didn’t think about him. But there, just passing the entrance to the trading post, his shiny beskar helmet flashes over the crowd.
You put your head down, looking at the spare parts you were hoping to auction off for some measly credits at a holiday festival for some caf and to help you hopefully buy some piece of junk craft to get you off this dusty and dry planet.
Maybe you’ll be lucky and you can slink away, and evade an awkward reunion all altogether. You found an outcropping and a small table covered in different smoked meats and small roasted animals.
You try to sell the fact that you look busy while you think about the last time you spoke to him. Your conversation about the rebel symbol marred into your skin with black ink, Cara had done it herself, and you’d helped her put the very same symbol on her cheek. The pain felt good, it mirrored the grief that felt immeasurable and it almost felt like a release of all of the terrible thoughts of your family’s final moments. Had your family suffered? Did they even know what was coming for them?
You were young and had just gotten off the planet in search of something greater, a higher purpose. Something to believe in, and the empire stole everything you’d ever known in one simple explosion.
It had handed you a purpose, for a time. Working with the rebellion, standing with your Princess, and fighting and punishing the Empire for the loss of Alderaan. Cara and you were hiding out on Sorgan after leaving your post as shock troopers. You were in the fresher when they started to tousle outside, you expected some gruff Klatoonian who she sharked in a bet, as it often was. Instead, she lies on her belly, a blaster pointed at a chrome-covered Mandalorian, who is lying on his back with a weapon drawn.
The only thing that holds your attention is a little green baby holding a cup of soup, mirroring your amusement waddling up next to you.
He coos, looking between you and his companion like he expects you to save him. “Sorry bud, I’m with her.”
An aggravated harsh pant cuts you off, “Stay away from him.” The blaster shifts to you, but you raise your hands and keep an even temper. He looks between the two of you, who clearly have no intention or idea what he is in possession of, and offers to buy the two of your dinner.
He didn’t speak much at first, but as you and Cara drank away a flagon of spotchka and you shared your interest in his ship, having to grow up around the rebel's fleet and wanting to see such an old military craft, he offered to show you.
“It’s a short walk, the kid is falling asleep in your lap anyway.” You look down at the little wrinkled green monster, blinking slowly with his massive eyes as you stroke his ears, you can’t help but fawn over him.
“I can’t believe they’re hunting a baby.” Whispering, as you feel the warmth of his tiny body, heartbroken at the idea of an imperial remnant looking for children.
“He is older than I am.” His surprisingly playful voice almost startled you, he’d been quietly walking by your side as you carried the little guy nestled into your chest.
“He’s” you struggle to find words, but you can feel an energy emanating from the little creature in your arms “magnificent.”
The Mandalorian hums lowly, agreeing with you. There’s a pause for a few moments while you look over at him, “Did you find a lot of purpose? With the rebellion?”
It's your turn to be broody, “For a time.” Suddenly feeling subconscious you speak a little bit more quietly, “Just waiting for the next thing to believe in I guess.” You sigh, gazing down into the dark black ink just above your rebel stripes, “It feels like I could keep fighting forever, but hearing all this, seeing such a small child threatened by the same evil as I was, it feels like I already have.” You’re not sure if he understands you, or even what side of the war he stood on.
“You feel like there’s reasons to fight.” He looks down into the baby drifting to sleep in your clutches. “But afraid that you have no fight left.” You half expect him to be criticizing you. Mandalorians have lost almost as much as you have, but are warriors by nature and have fought and continue to be feared across the galaxy as mercenaries and bounty hunters. His voice is soft, and understanding, as if processing his words himself.
You spot the ship ahead, falling silent in your admiration you trudge through the leaves and sticks that have fallen from the ship clearing its landing. The ramp hisses as it falls open to welcome its pilot, but you stop outside to admire the twin engines and their decades-long wear and tear.
Walking around the ship to admire her heavy laser cannons and her yellow markings. He watches you with a quiet but proud silence, as you eventually shuffle up the ramp to set the little one into a floating pram. Your eye catches a glimpse of a carbonite freezing chamber, and a little anxious butterfly seems to stir in your belly, how much do you trust him?
“I always thought I’d die looking for a bounty when I got too old, too slow, or just in plain luck.” You turn heel to face him, heartbeat clipping unsteadily in your chest, but you raise an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. He hesitates and sets himself on top of one of the shipping containers. “But protecting this child has made me dream of a life I never thought I could fight for.”
You can feel your body soften at his confession, cursing yourself for thinking lowly of a man whose been nothing but kind and trusting of you. “I’m sure it's lonely.” You take a small but calculated breath, “He is lucky to have you.” The smile is soft, and you try to reassure him despite yourself.
He looks at you standing but a few steps away from him, and nods, “I’m just as lucky.”
The bustle of the holiday market slows to accommodate him, traversing through the stalls as all shapes and sizes scurry out of his way. You swear to yourself, turning away and buying some meat you can’t afford. When you hear your modulated name fall out of his mouth like a prayer, soft and delicate. He steers around the crowd, veering right into your path as a child walks in front of you blowing bubbles from the straw of a festive drink.
The Mandalorian approaches you with purpose, his walk deliberate and commanding as if everyone in the vicinity answers to him. “Mando.” you smile briefly, warmth heating your cheeks, and the never-fading crush you have on this man skipping around your belly. “Hi.”
His gaze stays fixed as he reaches for your arm, touching a patch of ink that not only is new to him but you completely forgot about. His glove runs over it and when it doesn’t smear it might’ve made his knees buckle. “The Crest.”
You peer into the helmet, glad to have him near you again, and realizing how much you missed hearing his voice, a rush of blood washes over your cheeks again. “Yeah,” you fumble around doubting your reasons for getting that tattoo in the first place, “I’ve been adding a couple of ships that are important to me.”
You hear a small noise but are unable to determine the emotion behind it, “I was hoping to see you on Nevarro,” your heart rate picks up in your chest, and of course, his helmet picks it up, “the last few times.”
“I’ve been moving around, looking for something new.” There’s a sleepy squeal coming from his satchel, “is that?” He swings it around to the front and opens the top of the bag to reveal your favorite green forehead. “Handsome man! I’ve missed you little mudscuffer.”
Mando chuckles under his breath as you pull the baby from his confines and offer him a piece of the meat you just bought. He swallows it down greedily. “I swear he eats. He just woke up.”
You smile and give him a playful look, “Is daddy feeding you enough munchkin?” You hand the baby another strip, Mando is glad you don’t see him adjusting his pants as the word daddy slips between your lips innocently, “Don't worry I’ll get you something sweet too.”
Mando rests his hands on his hips, and shakes his head in mock defeat, “He’s not gonna want to leave.” He follows at your back as you carry the child through the marketplace, sometimes letting his palm rest on your back to keep close to you.
He would not be one to admit but seeing you carry the child around reminds him of the times on Sorgan, of the weeks you spent together and his floundering inability to court you. Even now the way you look at him has him hiding behind his beskar helm like a foolish schoolgirl.
“He doesn’t have to, are you here for business?” You cast a look over your shoulder, “He can stay with me while you take care of whatever you need.” You find a stall selling some fruity overpriced drink for the planetary holiday.
You look into your bag, coming up just a few credits short, and cursing at yourself. Starting to walk away, “I’ve got it.” He cuts in front of you while gripping your shoulder and standing over the top of you, handing more than enough credits to the man in exchange for two drinks.
Yet another blush creeps into your cheeks, “No need to spoil me.” You offer the child his drink and he snatches it away from you eagerly with a screech.
“I want to.” That causes your brows to knit together and a deep ache below your belt to settle and warm.
You sip away at the luxuriously sweet drink, wishing you could at least share it with him. “I have a room at an inn,” you offer, “or we could go back to the Crest, and catch up.”
You lean against one of the walls so that you don’t accidentally traverse even further from his bounty. “I don’t have the crest.”
Your drink turns to ash in your mouth, “What? Is she in disrepair? I’m sure Karga-“
“It’s rubble on the planet Tython.” He’s sad, of course he is, but his hand finds the mark on your skin again, and you can’t help but mull over the memories, the connection you shared on that ship eviscerated.
“I’m so sorry.” You let your head hang low, remembering how many conversations you shared hoping he’d invite you aboard as crew. “I loved that ship. I mean not as much as you I’m sure.”
He chuckles, thumb brushing over the silhouette as he speaks, “You don’t happen to know how to rewire an N-1 starfighter engine?”
“I’m sure I could look at it, but I don’t think I’d be much help. Where the hell did you find one?” You’re a bumbling mess, wanting so eagerly for him to scoop you off this planet like he had before, but also knowing your heart couldn’t bear to watch him leave a third time.
“I didn’t think so but I have no idea what you’ve been up to and-“ he pauses, stopping himself to watch you take a sip of the drink after licking some whipped cream off of the straw.
“And?” You prompt him to continue, but he stares between you and the child who have matching bright red tongues and are both sporting some whipped cream out of the corners of your mouths.
You catch a hint of strain in his voice, “We can rest at your place for a while. He’s due for a nap.” You squint at him a little, easily reading his stiff body language and the change of subject.
At the word nap, the baby babbles away while chewing on the straw of his drink, “There’s a lot of sugar in this, so we might have to wait it out.”
Mando lets out an exasperated sigh, “What have you gotten us into.” You’re both sitting on the floor of a modest single room with the little one taking turns climbing up and over the two of you.
“You bought it,” raising your hands in defense, smile splitting ear to ear, “I was going to split one with him.” You reach out to try to grab his surprisingly quick body but he darts away with a giggle.
“He’ll crash, eventually.” You could hear him talk about the baby for hours, to sit with him and watch the two of them play together always felt like a treat on its own. “Get down from there.”
“He’s fine, this place is a dump anyway.” You smirk over your shoulder as he climbs up onto your bed, rolling around and giggling half to himself while chewing on the mythosaur skull pendant around his neck.
“How did you end up here?” Your face falls a little, but he’s kind, and soft, and you can tell he doesn’t want to pry but his curiosity is getting the best of him.
“I was tracking a bunch of smugglers, the republic got word that they were hauling children to Canto Bight, and exporting them maker knows where.” You continue, trying to keep your breath even, “Cara had asked me as a favor, but I had a run-in with a group of pirates who saw my stripes and stole my ship.”
“Does she know?” He shuffles closer to you, folding his knees in so that he can run a hand soothingly across the skin of your leg.
“I don’t know,” You clear the tightness in your throat, “At least I don’t think so.” You find the words pouring out of you as if he is comforting you into realizing something you’ve been fighting for a long time. “I don’t think I can fight like this anymore, and I don’t know how to tell her that.”
He is quiet, giving a simple solemn nod, before pulling the rising phoenix from his back, and laying it on the floor. He scoots closer to you, settling next to you as you both lean against the foot of your bed. His beskar shoulder plate is cold on your cheek, as you lean against him, seeking reassurance you haven’t felt in so long.
Silently a tear falls down your face, and as if prompted by his little superpowers the baby, climbs into your lap nuzzling your cheek and touching your face gently with a warm hand. There are a lot of things this child is capable of, things you can’t begin to understand, over a lifetime that is marred with more violence and confusion than you will likely ever know existed. When he touches you, you can feel his pain and loss, but he also shares with you a joy and unfathomable curiosity over the smallest things he remembers.
“I can’t take you on the N-1,” his voice startles you out of your stupor with the baby, “but if you’ll give me a few days, I’ll be back to pick you up, and you can stay with us on Nevarro until you find somewhere else, something else to do.”
Your breath is shaking, and you’re not even sure the last time you felt safe enough to cry. A small piece of you wants to run because that's what you've been doing for these last 10 or so years of your life. Running from the Empire, running after them, and then running from yourself. “I don’t think I could.”
“Why not?” he reaches for your shaking hand, setting his gloved hand on top of yours, driving the energy in the room with the ease of piloting a speeder bike.
“You’re a family, he has a routine, you’ve settled into this beautiful life that you’ve worked tirelessly for. I couldn’t impose.” You try your best to sound strong like you’ve got a plan ahead of you, and the idea of not being around the two of them doesn't make your heart ache.
He hums, and for a moment your cry is less of confusion and more out of pain. His hand is gone from yours, and the lack of his warmth feels like a slap into reality, as you pinch your eyes shut to stop yourself from being embarrassed even further.
You jump. There's a much larger warm hand caressing your cheek, and turning your head into the dark stare of his visor. You can see the tanned skin of his wrist as he turns your face slightly, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “It is the greatest mistake of my life leaving you on Sorgan.”
You sniffle, the words sorting through the emotional fog of your brain, searching the blank emotionless canvas of metal for a hint of human connection, a flutter of an eyelash, anything. You can’t find anything, until you hear the faint sound of his breath from beneath his mask, stuttering and insecure, his chest rising and falling like he’s fighting a battle with his own emotions.
You feel it again, a swell in your chest of love and admiration and then you feel the tiny claws digging into the skin of your bicep. You look down at the tiny man as he steps between where your chests are separated by mere inches, “Could I have her come and get us?” You’re quiet as a loth cat, voice heady and rough. “I don’t think I could watch you go.”
He lets the little one settle into his lap after a moment, this time you can hear relief and a half-broken smile in his tone, “Let’s just wait until he falls asleep, I’ll go to the ship and send a transmission. I’ll come back with his pram, and then where we go. You go.”
You clear your throat again, wanting so desperately for this to be real and aching to touch him. “Okay.” your voice barely makes a squeak, he pressed the cold beskar helm to your temple.
Wondering if he feels as raw as you, you place your hand on top of his suppressing the need to comment on how large it is, and tangle your fingers with his. You stare at his hand, tanned and massive and warm. Human. You fold your legs in on themselves and shift your body so that you may properly look at him.
The glove sits in his lap, and he looks so imposing in this tiny half-furnished room, polished and chrome in the dingy and ill-lit space you've called ‘home’ for these last few cycles. You take his other hand, and look up to see if he’s going to stop you, but he is still and silent, so you slip the glove off his hand. You trace from the tip of his middle finger, down his palm and up towards the pulse point of his wrist.
He shudders beneath your touch, thankful for the mask to hide the crimson flush of his cheeks. He’s never had the opportunity to enjoy a tenderness like this, to feel his pulse quicken and the nervous butterflies he’s heard described during love stories on a holodrama. It’s terrifying, he feels like he could vomit, but the way your delicate fingers trace circles over the palm of his hand makes him want to run his hands over every last inch of your body until he knows it inside and out like his blaster.
The child settles into his lap, leaning his head against your arm as his head and eyes grow heavier with sleep. “Why don’t we walk to your ship together?”
Your eyes are bright, and he can tell by your posture that you feel better, but he can’t stop the audible grumble, not ready to let you or even your hand slip from his. He nods and swallows harshly to clear his throat, “Alright.”
You walk across the market again, and the crowd parts before the two of you except this time you are holding onto his hand, and rather than trying to avoid his gaze like every other soul walking the market, you cling to his him trying to suppress the smirk curling the corners of your mouth.
Nevarro has changed so much, you spend the first few days just getting accustomed to the new layout of the town. Dropping the child, ‘Grogu’ (it took a while but it grew on you) at school, and then going to spend time in the market picking up some rations and some of the seasonal veg you’ve been coaxing into the little one’s belly.
The domestic bliss that comes with living with Mando is both welcome and intoxicating. You’re awake at odd hours of the night, talking and sharing stories about Jawas and your run-ins with Ewoks, and sharing your dreams and hopes for the galaxy.
He shares stories about Mandalore, about visiting there for the first time and bathing in the healing waters, about Bo Katan seeing a Mythasaur alive. All things you heard about as a young child, and symbols that brought hope and purpose to the entire creed were real and were aiding to heal the planet and its inhabitants.
Then there were times when you both laid on the floor, watching the little one interact with a metal sphere, using his magic to hover it just out of your grasp and giggling himself to a peaceful sleep. You’d lay together, wrapped in the comfort and protection of his house, and stare at the little man as he sleeps occasionally peaking into the reflection of yourself in his helmet, and blushing when you catch your own heart racing.
You want to tell him how you crave to be with him, how addicting his presence and his mind are to you, but you’re afraid. Afraid to move too fast, to step over his barriers, but also knowing that each second without knowing the softness of his mouth is torture.
The first time you see him in his sleep clothes, a plain dark green shirt with three buttons on the top and loose-fitting black canvas pants, no metal aside from his helmet, you choke on your cup of Jawa juice. He’s large even without the metal beefing up his silhouette, his back broad and the fabric thin enough for you to see his muscles move as he opens a drawer for silverware. Even treating yourself to a glimpse of his waist and the way it tapers to his ass and hips.
It’s become more common, in fact when he gets home, he almost immediately strips out of the armor in favor of something more casual and comfortable.
Tonight the energy is different. The kid passes out early and you’re soaking a pot you used for dinner in the sink when he emerges out of his room. You hear his footsteps, but they’re muted and soft, he’s barefoot. As you glance over your shoulder as he offers you a glass from his bedroom you see he’s in briefs, (the house is admittedly warmer as the seasons change) but the shock is plain as day as you turn so quickly away the glass slips from your hand and shatters on the floor. But the image of his chest spattered with hair that trailed down his soft belly and into the top of his black undergarments.
You both are silent for a moment, hoping the noise isn’t loud enough to wake the baby, in his silence you swear, “Kriff, don’t move I’ll get a broom.” You shy away, looking to the ground for a safe path.
He cuts you off arm darting in front of you to halt your movement, “I’ll get it.” His hand comes to rest on your hip stalling your movements with his warm palm.
His other hand reaches out and before you can grumble in discontent he's lifting you onto the counter. You sit there, flustered with your hands tucked between your thighs as he fiddles with the control of his helmet flicking through to see which would help him find the scattered pieces of glass the best.
It's moments, but it feels like an eternity as he searches for a broom, sweeping the glass into a neat pile before discarding it into the bin silently. He settles between your legs, silent as a mouse.
“I'm sorry.” You smile sheepishly, struggling to maintain eye contact as he hovers in front of you, inches separating your face, and if it were any cooler you would’ve fogged the front of his mask with your breath.
He chuckles dryly, “Don’t be, I’ll take it as a compliment.” His posture is full of confidence, but also comfortable and relaxed. You long to touch him, to run your hand over his chest and abdomen, to feel the muscles shift in his back as he- “Mesh’la?”
You blink yourself out of a daze, “You should, you’re so handsome.” He braces his hands on the counter next to your hips and leans ever closer.
“Yeah?” His voice is hot like a pant, stroking a fire in the room that neither of you are able to ignore any longer.
“Yeah.” You smirk at him, emboldened and smoothing your hands up the strong plains of his arms, squeezing lightly around the muscles of his biceps. You let your foot run across his calf, urging him closer to your body, his hands find your waist, firm but careful as his thumbs stroke the skin just below your breasts. You curse yourself for even bothering with a bra band.
“I like having you here.” His head tilts, you can almost see the gears turning in his brain as he continues, “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He uses his strength to pull you a little closer to him, so with each breath your chests touch and your core is flush to his abdomen. “Having you in my kitchen, sitting on my counter looking so pretty, so-” He swipes the hair off your shoulder exposing your neck and throat, “edible.”
Any chance you had of playing it cool is gone, you want nothing more than to bend to his will. His hand disappears from your side, and he tangles it in your hair, using it to fix your eyes to his through the helm, as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. You feel completely safe, but there’s something about him thats dangerous, hungry even, and it makes your skin damp with sweat.
He sounds like he’s in agony, like each passing moment without consuming you is torture, and you ache for him in a way that astonishes you, embarrasses you, not even sure that you could stand on your own two feet.
“I need you.” He whispers, breath uneven almost a growl, “Tonight. Now.” He reaches between your legs, letting his fingers ghost over you ever so gently, as if asking, no begging, for permission.
You swallow hard, his helmet tilts, admiring you, and you hardly manage to stutter a yes. Part of you expects him to be quick, tearing at your clothes and taking you right here in the kitchen.
He doesn’t.
He goes slow, letting the crest of his helmet fall to rest on your forehead, taking his time to caress your hips, tracing up your sides and taking your shirt with it. His hands are warm, but bring goosebumps to your skin as he touches you, hands squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipple. You keen, pressing desperately against his hands. You lean in, placing a kiss to his collarbone, gentle and moving slow so he may stop you if he wants, but he drops his shoulder and tilts his head to expose his neck.
You kiss his collarbone again, letting your tongue dart out to taste his skin, he’s vibrating beneath you. Trembling as you kiss the hollow of his throat and nibble at the skin of his neck. You run your hands down his chest, basking in the intimacy and living for the scent of his skin.
He lifts you in a fluid motion, whisking you out of the kitchen and into his modest bedroom. Laying you on the bed, he runs his hands down your legs and removes your pants. You blush, unable to hide your arousal but noticing the prominent tent in his briefs, your mouth waters and you get to consider getting on your knees for him briefly.
He’s faster than you, and not thinking about himself. Ripping your underwear from your body and running the tip of his index fingers through your folds. “All this for me?” He circles your entrance, gathering your slick before brushing across your clit with leg-shaking precision.
You chase his touch, the pleasure coating your tongue and fogging your brain even more than you can put into words. You beg for him to get closer, to press your bodies together until you weren't sure you'd ever part.
You're expecting to feel shorted by the absence of his mouth on yours. No taste of him, and not getting to hear his words directly from his mouth, but his touch is consuming. Like he's worshiping and waking each cell with caresses and adoration that's as palpable in the air as his sheets were soft on your back.
There are noises, words you think, that he is muttering between each supple squeeze and tease, words you've heard him say before but their meaning is only now defined by his actions.
Love. He loves you. You can feel it in the heat of his hands as he spreads your legs apart and admires the way you part for him, and he sinks two fingers into your fluttering pussy, pushing up and stroking something dangerous.
His erection is nestled against your leg, and he shifts his hips with every twist of his fingers for a few moments, pressed between your bodies he feels a glimmer of relief with a groan, as much as he wants to bathe you in attention, he thinks that if he waits any longer his heart might give out before the best part. “Mesh’la,” he twists his fingers as if to be sure you're listening, “Please.”
“Yes,” you nod, swallowing harshly as he slips free of his underwear, cock springing free of its confines. You gawk, unabashedly, as he did to you just moments ago. He's large, intact, leaning slightly to his left, and the skin is tanned brown, slightly darker than the rest of his body, thick and weeping out of the brilliantly flushed pink tip, the base adorned with sparse but dark hair that trails up to his navel deliciously. When he steps between your legs and lets it rest on your abdomen to press your forehead together again, you feel its heady weight against you and stoop so low as to beg, “Please.”
You're echoing each other's moans as he grinds against your folds, coating himself in your slick before sinking into you in a single brutally slow thrust. When he bottoms out, you do your best not to squeak as the girth of his member breaks you open, it doesn't hurt, rather it feels like you've both waited an eternity to come to this very moment, euphoric and fulfilling the needs of your body and soul.
He grinds his pelvis against yours letting his hand shift to cup your cheek, staring at you, he hopes somehow you can sense it. How he is barely able to stop passing between the pout of your lips and the deep pleading look in your eyes, begging him for the same thing his heart is calling for. He could weep, having finally shorn the armor to dedicate himself to you, because the truth is, all you needed was to ask. He would've dropped his creed, everything he had achieved, and the meek life he'd planned for himself to grovel at your feet for the rest of his human life.
Devotion, that's what it was called. He had felt at many moments of his life that he was in the right place, blessing along his journeys that started out as miracles, friends, familial bonds he didn't think he deserved. It felt misplaced, the little blessings that had entered his life so quickly that he swore they had to have been accidents. It had taken losing the child and abandoning you on that god-forsaken planet, for him to reflect, and to realize that the life he deserved was not determined by some blasters and an army, nor his home planet. He had the life he wanted in his palms once, and watched it slip through his fingers with the charred remains of his ship. His grip tightened instinctively, twisting the sheet in his fist.
It was you. You were the representation of all of the things he wanted but never thought he deserved. A family, a place to call home, and you even had committed something as passing as his ship to your skin with a permanence that scared him.
Here your skin was warm, surrounding him, nurturing him, squeezing him, and his mind was trying so hard to be a person, not a machine, loving someone else for the first time.
He found the words, he said it to you, over and over with his pelvis angled just right as he ground his hips into you.
He was throbbing inside of you, you could feel the slick slide and pulse of him with each thrust. The pleasure was so intense you were whimpering and mewling beneath him, wetness smearing onto your thighs and running on the sheets below.
You've had sex before of course, and now you seriously doubt you've been doing it right. You kiss at the hollow of his throat, and in response he hunches over you, arms on either side of your head, animalistic yet praising affirmations go straight to the building heat in your core.
You let your hands, come up to his back digging your nails into his skin. He moans in shock as his thrusts grow more frenzied, spurred on by the bite of pain at his back. He reaches between you and circles your clit with his thumb, pulling you headfirst into your orgasm. You're body goes taught and relaxes all at once, the pleasure blinding you as your vision goes white and each tilt of his hips makes you stutter out an overstimulated moan.
The fluttering of your sex around him would be enough to send over the edge but as you catch your breath you begin to beg for him to finish inside you. He does, still feeling you shivering through the after waves of your own, as he groans and revels through the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, complete with curled toes and a knuckle-popping grip on the sheets. He’s still looking at you, the rise of fall of your chests bumping into each other and your breath fogging the front of his helmet so much that when you kissed right over his eye, he could see the imprint of your lips for just a passing moment.
“I can’t believe we waited so long.” You chuckle, all smiles but looking as dazed and spent as he felt. A shiver coming over him as the small sounds cause you to tighten slightly around him as he softens, his body incredible sensitive.
“I’ll spend the rest of our life making up for it.” You note the sound of him speaking through the grit of his teeth, and do your best to lie still, not wishing to be parted just yet.
Months later, you’re married in a private ceremony in front of friends and his brothers and sisters of the clan. It's quick, and everything you had expected of a warrior’s wedding. You get the mudhorn symbol tattooed into the skin nestled behind your ear, wearing it proudly and with your vows you are made a family, a clan of three in front of all the important people you care about.
You’d be remiss if what had you most excited isn’t the filthy promises he’s made to you about that night, taking his helmet off and kissing you everywhere he can for as long as he wishes. Promising to leave a mark over your new clan sigil as he marks the rest of your body for him, as you’ve done to him many times over. You get to admire his face and the most handsome man in the galaxy who kneels before you with reverence and vows to take care of you with more than just his words.
#pedro pascal#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian#din djarin smut#din djarin#eatommos 🗞️#the mandalorian spoilers#the mandalorian smut#din djarin x reader smut#din x reader#pedro pascal fanfic
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The Blind Bandit
I had honestly forgotten that the Gaang were trying to find an earthbending teacher, so the 'previously on' segment was actually useful instead of spoilery.
Nobody's face is having a good time.
Look at this sweetheart. You go ahead and treat yourself honey. You've single-handedly escorted a pair of earth-shatteringly overpowered tweens around the world for months; the least you deserve is a shopping trip.
"You kids like earthbending?" Has the same energy as "wanna buy a sun dial?" from that animated Hercules movie.
This guy is one of those strip mall karate types.
I take back everything I ever said about Zuko's season 1 haircut. This guy has a dust bunny poop on his head.
Momo's bag now.
My absolute favourite girl power: incredible violence!
The acoustics at this earth rumble place must be great. I don't see any microphones.
"That's what I paid for." Sokka is a simple creature at heart. Likes food and violence.
Something very strange about this guy's face. I think his mouth moves but his eyes don't.
So apparently earthbending gets you mad air.
Oh! I get it. This is a WWE parody. Somebody on the writing team did their homework too. Don't ask me how I know, but this is a very accurate parody.
Sokka thinks listening to big muscles is a very good idea actually.
And here's the heel. Complete with russian accent. And oddly homoerotic anthem. And cowardice when challenged! Yep, total heel.
I LOLed at the zamboni badgermoles and hockey organ.
She's like two feet tall!
I'm. in love.
I could watch little girls beat up grown men all day.
Earthbending sonar?
Omigod it predicts. She can see moves before they happen.
Well it's a good thing Bumi said to look for someone who Waited and Listened rather than Watched.
"I don't really want to fight you. I want to talk to you." Says the guy who just volunteered, in front of a full stadium, to FIGHT her. Time and place, Aang.
Get back on the ground you flighty airbender. She sees with that ground. No fair.
This is about the face I made when Aang pulled that move. Does this boy think at all? I love him, but what part of stealing her well-earned title is supposed to convince her to talk to him?
You messed up.
I love sartorially inclined Sokka. It's a tiny an innocuous little trait, but it rounds out his character so well.
I get to watch two different girls terrorise idiots this episode. I am blessed.
So I'm guessing the two idiots at the earthbending academy are doing that excercise where kung fu people stick their hands in sand (I've seen videos of it) but it really looked like they were in the 'beat back the dough' phase of making bread.
In this universe of plot-convenient clothing blindness, how do Dumb and Dumber recognise Aang as the one who beat the Blind Bandit?
I think the voice actor for the dumb kid with actual hair did a bunch of voices in season 1. The soldier who gives Aang Bato's map comes to mind.
Have I said recently how much I love Sokka and Katara?
These wrestling guys keep switching between first and third person. Too many rocks to the head.
This could be a board for a murder mystery board game. Or a map for a DND dungeon.
It's her hair. I thought the Blind Bandit had a cap type thing with a little brim for her costume, but it's just a pile of her hair? Like a beehive?
A lesson in character writing: if you want to make someone look super dumb, have them earnestly believe in the credentials and authenticity of a guy you have previously set up as a borderline con artist. Lookin at you, Blind Bandit's dad.
"Basic forms and breathing exercises only." That line is just so funny. And they're all so stupid. She snapped like half a dozen spines last night and this guy is preaching breathing exercises.
Wow! I hate her dad!
I hate him more!
Sokka going ham on some rice rather than listen to the idiots. Good priorities.
This passive aggressive fight between the girl and Aang at the dinner table is so fun.
Looking for somewhere to store your meal after you've face planted into it? Try the top of your head!
I need to get a hold of some of those magic napkins. Wiped up a whole multicourse meal in like 5 seconds.
That is indeed the appropriate reaction to this pint sized badass. Glad Aang is learning. (Also this episode needs more Appa. The last couple have been sadly bereft.)
Called it. Earthdending sonar. Or is it more like echolocation? No! Whiskers!
How does this pint sized badass - who if I am understanding correctly, is not known to exist outside the walls of her house - have more emotional intelligence than the entirety of the Gaang put together?
So much for the guards in the garden. They'd actually be useful now.
Sokka. Priorities. Although given how many times Aang has escaped custody/kidnapping he's probably ok to take a minute to fangirl over an autograph.
These idiot parents don't know their daughter at all. That chafes.
"I'm not smiling." I LOLed at that too. Perfect delivery.
Hippo man having a snack before he gets down to business. No wonder he's missing teeth.
All this blind and tiny and helpless and fragile talk is really making me hope someone smacks the crap out of the dad. What an awful thing to say, nevermind saying it where your daughter can hear.
SMACKDOWN INCOMING
This is gonna be good.
If this girl does join the Gaang the writers are going to have to nerf her in every major conflict. She's too powerful. I bet she could take on the firelord now.
And that's why you don't announce sneak attacks.
So remember how Sokka was absolutely losing his shit over the Boulder? That's me right now.
She waits. All these idiots are losing because they're getting impatient and attacking first. Which means that, to her senses, they're telegraphing their moves. That is so cool. And so is this visual.
Here's your chance Dad. Are you going to mess it up?
"I love fighting. I love being an Earthbender. And I'm really really good at it."
me:
I don't have words for how much I LOVE when little girls STAND UP for THEMSELVES and THEIR INTERESTS.
This would have had me HOLLERING if I'd seen it as a kid. It was a message I needed to hear too.
Wow I want to kill her parents.
OH FUCK OFF
COME ON
You made my girl cry.
Get wrecked belt stealer. I LOLed at this too.
Sokka just beaned a blind girl on the head. Not a good look. I laughed though.
Fun fact: everyone in this picture is a piece of shit.
I haven't been this steamed since Zuko's dad burned half his face off.
Final Thoughts
IT WAS SO GOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Seriously, this episode feels like it's movie quality. This show is usually excellent, but this feels like a cut above. I feel like I could sense the love the writers, animators, voice actors, everyone had for this episode. They had a good time making it and were enthusiastic about it. And there were lots of tiny background details in this episode too. I'm sure I missed quite a few. Oh No! I'll have to rewatch it!
New team member! That hasn't happened since Momo. Actually, no wonder the episode was so good. Introducing the first new team member in at least a season's worth of episodes is a delicate operation. I bet they were workshopping this episode since early in the first season.
And Toph! (thank you credits for how to spell that - I was really hoping it wasn't Toff). Be still my heart I love Toph. She may well take Sokka's spot as my favourite character. Strength of character, self-assurance, emotional intelligence, badassery, mastery of violence, what's not to love!!!
How did she get so emotionally intelligent and articulate if her parents have kept her caged her whole life? I don't know but I'm not complaining!
How did her parents get away with caging her for her whole life? I do know (money) and I am complaining. Very much so. And yet Toph can still find it within herself to have an honest conversation with them, including apologising for leaving said cage. I never would have had the maturity to do that in a similar situation. I would have gone the Katara explosive rage route.
A little girl who stands up for herself. Against HER PARENTS. I just. Do you know how amazing that is? Especially in a kids' show? I was ROBBED by not being able to see this show when I was Toph's age.
Does bending work like a muscle, in that you build up stamina? Because if so, then Toph is the strongest human earthbender in the world by default. If she's using it in place of seeing, then she's using it 100% of the time that she's awake, all day every day. By the time she was like 5 years old she'd probably used her bending more than the average earthbender does in their whole lifetime.
My one complaint is Toph's voice. Nothing wrong with it; this is a me thing. It fits her perfectly, but my ears do not play well with nasal voices, which hers is. I had to rewind quite a few times and resorted to subtitles by the end. Hopefully I'll get used to it like I did Zuko's.
Sokka! My soon to be demoted beloved! He shone in this episode. I love that he has fashion sense and is not afraid to show it. I'm thinking, what with how hung up he was on masculinity at the start of the show, that the water tribes have a different conception of masculinity: one that classes fashionability as a masculine or gender neutral trait. Even back in season one it didn't take much to get Sokka into the Kyoshi warrior uniform, and he's shockingly good at applying face paint symmetrically. Which I still cannot do with winged eyeliner.
Katara! Not headed for a career in diplomacy but so satisfying to watch. I would love to have a Katara in my pocket that I could unleash on people. And her and Sokka bouncing off each other this episode was great. Every one was at peak performance this episode, except Aang. Not at his brightest this episode.
Checking for typos before I post this and I realise I'd already forgotten that Toph is blind! Just like in the Northern Air Temple, this is how you do disability right: as just a part of who they are, rather than an entire personality. This show is so good.
In sum, Toph:
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