#about learning how to trust or in contrast. learning to never trust again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

endofthelinegang · 1 month ago

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the witchy type

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ thunderbolts x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ in a world frayed by shadows and war, each Thunderbolt finds an anchor in a witch whose magic threads through their wounds, memories, and buried humanity. love blooms quietly—in blood-soaked silence, stolen rooftop sunsets, and the spaces between survival and surrender.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ none besides bad words

John walker found himself with a Hex-Witch (combat-based, sigil-driven magic; rooted in practical mysticism and battlefield protection)...

At first, John doesn’t trust you. Not because of the “witch” thing—he's seen weirder—but because you're not predictable. You fight with whispers and flicks of your fingers instead of fists, and that unnerves him.

You, in turn, don’t like his aggression. His All-American soldier act rubs you the wrong way—too much ego, not enough awareness of what lies beyond the veil.

But he learns fast. Starts watching the way you carve symbols into the air mid-battle. Notices how you keep him alive without him realizing it—redirecting bullets, hexing weapons to jam.

He's not used to someone fighting with him like that—quiet, efficient, terrifying in ways he can’t define.

Over time, he becomes protective of you in a very "I don’t believe in magic but don’t touch her or I’ll break your jaw" way. You make him a sigil to etch into his armor. He acts like it's dumb. But he wears it.

You hex his nightmares once. Just once. He doesn’t ask again—but he sleeps easier near you.

There’s tension between you two, like gunpowder and lit candles. Controlled... until it isn’t.

John isn’t used to falling for someone like you. You’re unpredictable, untouchable in ways that unsettle his soldier brain—but God, does it keep him up at night.

The first time he realizes he has feelings for you is after a mission. You get hurt—not bad, just bloodied—and instead of patching yourself up, you use the last of your energy to cast a protective sigil over him. He’s stunned. Angry. Confused. In love.

He pretends to hate when you tease him with “witchy” stuff—blowing out candles from across the room, making his gun jam when he mouths off—but deep down? He gets a little soft about it. Thinks it's cute. Will never admit that.

He brings you practical things as gifts: a new combat knife, a fireproof journal for spellcraft, a custom patch to sew onto your gear with a barely-visible warding symbol. He acts like it’s “just tactical,” but the way he watches you smile after? Yeah.

You enchant his dog tags with a small hex of protection. He says it’s pointless. But he never takes them off again.

He’s touch-starved, but doesn’t initiate often. The first time you reach out and thread your fingers through his gloved ones, his entire body goes still. Then soft. Like he forgot what it felt like to be held without being used.

When he kisses you for the first time, it’s after a brutal mission. You’re both scraped up, bloody, alive. He cups your jaw like you’re breakable, like your magic doesn’t terrify him half as much as how badly x~~~he wants to be yours.

He calls you “witch” like it’s a love language—gruff, protective, a little mocking. You hex his coffee in return so it’s always exactly the temperature he likes. Balance.

When he sleeps next to you, your magic quiets. And he does too. For once.

🥀 damn soldier

The night hangs heavy, thick with fog that clings like a damp cloak, and the air tastes of burnt ozone and scorched metal—a bitter reminder of battles fought just beyond sight. Beneath your fingers, the rough concrete is cold and unforgiving, gritty with dust and flecks of ash you smear into a crude, jagged symbol. Your hands tremble slightly, stained with iron and the raw pulse of magic that hums beneath your skin.

John’s pacing nearby is a stark contrast to your stillness—boots scraping softly against cracked stone, breath shallow, the faint metallic clink of his dog tags whispering in the silence. His voice cuts sharp through the quiet, snapping like a whip. “You done whisperin’ to the dirt yet?”

You don’t meet his gaze. Instead, your eyes stay fixed on the symbol as your lips part in a slow, almost reverent murmur. “Almost. Unless you want to walk into an ambush and leave your bones scattered across the alley.”

He stops, jaw tight enough to see the strain beneath the skin. “I’m not afraid of a couple of mercs.”

“It’s not mercs,” you say, voice dropping, rough and low, the words coated with something older than him—an ancient warning. “It’s what’s riding inside them.”

The space between you shifts. The silence thickens, buzzing with an unspoken weight.

The final stroke of ash is barely a whisper as you finish the symbol, your incantation slipping from your tongue in a language older than any flag John’s ever fought under. For a heartbeat, the symbol burns a searing white-hot glow, then fades into nothingness.

John’s gaze stays locked on you as you rise, fingers brushing ash from your palms like shedding a second skin. “So what now?” His voice is rough, but there’s a hint of awe threading through. “You summon lightning? Melt their faces?”

“No.” Your smirk curves soft and dangerous. “Now, we walk in... and nothing will touch you.”

He finally meets your eyes—really meets them. The storm behind your gaze is fierce, but there’s something else there, something that threads through the tension and settles deep in his chest. “Why me?”

You step closer, the fog curling around your ankles like it knows to give you space. Your voice is softer now, but sharp with truth. “Because you keep stepping in front of me.”

His breath catches—a slow exhale, low and ragged, like he’s been holding it far too long. The rough edges of his voice turn almost tender. “Damn witch.”

You reach out, fingertips ghosting over the curve of his jaw—warm against the cold bite of the night. Your smirk deepens into something softer, a promise buried beneath teasing words. “Damn soldier.”

And for a moment, the fog parts just enough for two impossible people to stand on the same side—waiting to fight, to fall, to maybe… stay.

Yelena Belova finds solace in a Spirit Medium…

Yelena doesn’t flinch when she finds out what you can do. She’s seen too much to fear the dead. But she does flinch when she sees how it’s eating you alive.

You’re not flashy with your power. You listen to voices no one else hears. You light candles that burn cold. You disappear sometimes—drawn into the veil between life and death. She pretends it doesn’t scare her.

She watches you, silently. The way you close your eyes when you feel the grief around you. The way you speak gently to empty air. The way your hands shake after summoning something that didn’t want to be remembered.

You tell her the dead don’t lie. That they’re more honest than the living. She says, “Then I’m surprised you still talk to me.”

She brings you food when you’re drained. Tells you dumb jokes when your eyes go distant. She doesn’t say she cares—but she never lets you drift too far.

One night, you channel someone she lost. You don’t mean to. She doesn’t ask you to. But when it happens, she doesn’t walk away. She just... listens. Tears running down her cheeks silently. You never speak of it again.

She doesn’t believe in soulmates. But she ties a thin red thread around your wrist—“for protection,” she says. You feel the way it hums with her energy. You never take it off.

🥀 too much

The motel room is dim, shadows pooling in the corners like spilled ink, lit only by the soft, uneven flicker of a single candle perched on the battered nightstand. The wax drips slowly, a quiet rhythm against the stillness. You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers tangled in the worn, threadbare sheets—cool against your skin, rough with age—eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the peeling wallpaper and cracked ceiling, lost in the flickering light.

The scent of stale cigarettes and old coffee lingers faintly, mingling with the faint, earthy smell of sage burning somewhere deeper in the room—your attempt to cleanse the heaviness that clings to your bones.

Yelena leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, her silhouette sharp against the thin strip of hallway light. The leather of her jacket creaks softly with the subtle movement. “You’re listening again,” she says, voice low but steady.

You nod once, not trusting your voice.

“Anyone I know?”

You pause, swallowing the heaviness lodged in your throat. “No. A boy. Eight years old. Doesn’t understand he’s dead.”

Her expression tightens, jaw clenched, but you hear the slight hitch in her breath. “Can you help him?”

“I already did,” you murmur, voice barely above the candle’s sputter. “Just... had to let him tell his story.”

Without waiting for an invitation, she moves across the room, settling beside you on the bed with a quiet sigh. Her warmth presses against your side—steady, real. A balm to the cold edges inside.

“You take on too much,” she says, the words gentle but carrying weight.

“So do you,” you reply, eyes still tracing the dance of shadows on the wall.

A silence falls, thick and heavy, until she breaks it with a soft, tentative question. “What do they say about me? The dead?”

You glance at her, surprise flickering in your chest. “They say... you carry your ghosts well.”

She scoffs, the sound rough but almost tender. “Figures. Even in death, people lie.”

Your fingers reach out instinctively, brushing against hers—the rough calluses of a fighter meeting the softness of vulnerability. “Not to me.”

Yelena exhales—a breath caught between relief and something deeper, shaky but sure. Slowly, deliberately, she laces her fingers through yours, the touch grounding and electric all at once.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, eyes cast downward, voice steady. “So if you start slipping into some spooky dead zone, drag me with you. Deal?”

A smile tugs at your lips—soft, genuine. “Deal.”

The candle flickers one last time before settling into a steady glow. Outside, the veil between worlds seems to thin just enough to let the silence breathe. For now.

Bob Reynolds finds himself more than in love with a Threading Witch…

When Bob meets you, he doesn’t understand why the voices in his head go quiet around you. He’s used to fear, to internal war, to the Void clawing at his insides—but you’re like static turned into white noise. Not peace. Just... stillness.

You don’t look at him like the world does. You don’t fear him, even when you should. Especially when his eyes flash gold or his hands shake and he whispers, “I don’t want to break again.”

You tell him you’ve seen worse things than gods. That you’ve rewritten fate in blood. That theuniverse has cracks—and you live inside one.

Bob watches you work a probability hex once—make a bullet curve mid-air, miss him by a centimeter, and ricochet into someone’s gun. He doesn’t breathe for ten full seconds. “That’s not possible,” he says. You smile. “Exactly.”

You know how fragile he is under all that strength. You become his grounding tether. The anchor point in the chaos. The one constant that refuses to break—even when he does.

He once asks you what you see when you look at him. You answer without blinking: “Potential. To save everything. Or destroy it.”

And then, softer: “But I think you’ll choose right. Because you already did when you didn’t kill me.”

He tells you later, “You’re the only variable I can’t predict.” You kiss him like a question. He answers with a storm.

Bob’s a guy who’s seen hell and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty—emotionally or physically. He’s tough, abrasive, and quick to shoot down softness, but with you, that rough exterior cracks in unexpected moments.

Your threading magic feels foreign to him at first—too delicate, too precise—but he respects it because he can see how it calms you, how it can patch things even when bullets can’t.

When he’s frustrated or angry, you don’t push. Instead, you quietly thread a thin, warm line around his wrist or heart—something only he can feel. It’s subtle, but enough to ground him.

Bob rarely opens up about his past or his pain. But one night, when he’s too wound tight to sleep, you thread his fingers in yours and whisper a charm to untangle the knots inside him. His grip tightens, but he doesn’t pull away.

He’s awkward with affection at first—gruff “here, hold this” moments that slowly evolve into lingering touches and quiet, steady presence.

When you tease him about his bad luck or reckless attitude, he smirks and fires back with a joke—trying to keep things light, but there’s an honest warmth in his eyes.

Bob’s fiercely protective, not just of you but of your magic. If anyone tries to disrespect what you do, he’s ready to fight—no questions asked.

He’s not one for grand declarations, but he shows his feelings by small, consistent actions: offering you the last cookie, silently carrying your bag, or catching your hand when you stumble.

🥀 a star called the sun

The sky above is too bright. Not metaphorically—literally. The sun’s harsh light bends lazily around Bob in swirling spirals, like the universe itself can’t decide which angle to hit him from. The air hums with warmth and a faint electric charge, the kind that makes your skin tingle just being near him.

You sit cross-legged on the weathered rooftop next to him, the rough concrete pressing cool against your palms. The sweet, tangy scent of pomegranate juices drips from your fingers as you casually pop a seed between your teeth, the crunch sharp and satisfying.

“People don’t usually sit next to me when I’m glowing,” Bob says, voice low and gravelly, eyes fixed on the city sprawled below, avoiding your gaze.

“Most people don’t see what I see,” you reply softly, watching the way the sunlight catches in his unruly hair, setting golden edges ablaze.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, skeptical but curious. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

You chew slowly, savoring the burst of tartness. “You’re like a prism. All that power, refracting off a million cracks. It’s not broken. Just... scattered.”

Bob exhales sharply, a short laugh like a gust of wind. “Romantic way to say I’m barely held together.”

You reach out without hesitation, plucking a thread of shimmering magic from the charged air between you—fine, silver, and invisible to anyone else but you. It twists and coils in your fingers like liquid light, a fragile filament of ‘what if’.

“You’re held together,” you murmur, your voice almost a caress as you thread the glowing strand around his wrist like a delicate bracelet. “And now... slightly luckier.”

He stares down at the subtle shimmer wrapped around his skin, a flicker of wonder crossing his face. “What did you just do?”

You grin, eyes bright with mischief and warmth. “Nothing dangerous. Just made sure your shoelace won’t ever untie itself again. Oh, and your next coffee will probably be free.”

Bob blinks, surprised, then lets out an actual laugh—short, sharp, and genuine, like the sound surprises even him. “You’re a menace.”

“Chaos is a lifestyle,” you shrug, leaning back on your hands, feeling the sun’s heat seep into your bones.

He watches you for a long moment, this impossible person who bends reality with just her presence and doesn’t run away from the chaos he carries. Something softens behind his guarded eyes.

“I like you,” he says quietly, voice rough but sincere.

You smile, a secret shared between just the two of you. “I know.”

With a playful flick, you toss him the other half of the pomegranate. He catches it instinctively, golden eyes wide in the fading light.

The sky begins to settle.

And somehow, today, the world doesn’t end.

Ava Starr is more than happy to accept a Temporal Rift Witch into her space…

Ava is startled by you. Not because of your magic, but because you’re never entirely present—or always toopresent. You’ll speak to something two seconds ahead, react before things happen. She doesn’t trust it at first.

You never try to fix her phasing. You don’t offer pity or solutions. Instead, you exist beside her, synced in a way that makes space for her disjointed reality.

The first time she phases and you don’t flinch—just calmly wait—it rattles her. You blink in time with her rhythm. Like you can hear the tick of the clock she’s stuck between.

You call her “constant,” and she nearly snaps at you. “I’m anything but.” But you smile, patient. “You’re still here. That’s constant enough.”

You’re quiet with her. Not silent—but slow. Gentle. She’s used to being weaponized, watched. With you, she’s just Ava. And that’s terrifying. And addictive.

You anchor her. Not physically—but energetically. With whispered words tied to the rhythm of her molecules, and fingers brushing just close enough to remind her she exists.

Eventually, you teach her a trick—a breath pattern, a focus phrase—that lets her phase intentionally for a few seconds longer. She doesn’t thank you out loud. But she sits closer after that. Just a little.

🥀for her

Ava’s half-phased through a wall when you find her—her shoulder trapped in the crumbling brick, fragments of dust and mortar drifting down like slow-falling ash. Her eyes are squeezed shut tight, lips pressed thin, breath shallow and uneven like the fragile flutter of a dying bird.

You don’t panic.

You kneel across from her, the rough concrete cold beneath your knees, your voice steady and low, a soft anchor in the chaos. “You’re not stuck. You’re drifting.”

She grits her teeth, the tension pulling at the lines of her face. “Can’t pull back. It’s—loud. Everything’s too loud.”

Your fingers move gently through the air, weaving invisible threads of magic—silken strands of moment-to-moment, delicate as spider silk but strong enough to hold a fractured soul. You hum a slow, steady rhythm, a lullaby of time itself. “Then listen to me instead.”

She doesn’t respond at first—but you watch her chest rise and fall, slow and steady, matching the cadence of your hum.

“You’re here,” you say softly. “Now. Not yesterday, not tomorrow. Just now.”

Her jaw tightens. “I don’t know what that means anymore.”

You smile—soft, bittersweet—like a quiet promise in the dark. “That’s okay. I’m keeping time for both of us.”

Your hand inches forward, trembling slightly with hope and intention. Even though she’s barely real in this moment—half a ghost caught between here and elsewhere—she feels the warmth radiating from your skin, the steady pulse of your heart pressed into your touch.

Ava exhales, a breath that seems to carry all her fear and exhaustion. The phasing shudders, flickers like a weak flame caught in the wind—then stops.

She collapses forward, weight finally giving way as she falls into your arms, solid and trembling. Real. Tangible.

You hold her—not tightly, just enough to remind her she’s not alone.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice cracked and raw.

“For what?” you ask, voice gentle like a caress.

“For not knowing how to stay.”

You press your cheek softly against her temple, feeling the rapid pulse of her heartbeat slow beneath your touch. “You’re learning. And I have all the time in the world to wait.”

She closes her eyes, sinking into the warmth of your presence. For the first time in years, she believes it.

Bucky Barnes and his Bloodhound Witch…

Bucky doesn’t ask what kind of witch you are. He doesn’t have to. The first time you say his true name—all of it—he feels it. In his bones. Like something old inside him recognizes you.

You don’t touch his metal arm without permission. And when you finally do, it’s not in fear or reverence. It’s to draw a sigil against the cool surface, something simple. Protective. A tether. He asks what it means. You say, “It means you come back.”

He watches you prepare rituals like it’s an artform—mixing herbs with blood, knotting thread, burning names into wax. He doesn’t understand all of it. But he respects it. Deeply.

You both carry guilt like armor. But you treat his gently, never demanding he "let it go." You say, “It’s part of your blood now. But it doesn’t have to rule it.”

The first time he bleeds in front of you, you catch it in your palm and don’t flinch. You whisper a binding—not to hold him, but to protect what’s already his.

He never says “I love you.” Not directly. But he gives you his dog tags. Lets you etch an old protection rune on the inside of his vibranium wristplate. Learns to breathe through your grounding spells when his nightmares get sharp.

And when he finally lets you write his name—James—into a charm of blood and silver, he does it with a nod. Silent permission. Trust deeper than words.

Bucky’s instinct is to protect and to run from pain, but your magic reveals things even he can’t hide—from the blood on his hands to the scars in his soul. He’s wary at first, but slowly he learns to trust your insight.

When he’s haunted by nightmares or memories he can’t shake, you softly trace a circle on his wrist with your fingers, weaving a quiet bloodhound spell to keep the darkness at bay.

His metal arm and your magic feel like two halves of a whole—steel and spirit—combining strength and intuition. When you entwine your fingers, the threads of your magic pulse along his metal like a heartbeat.

Bucky is rough with affection—gruff touches, a hand lingering too long on your back, a quiet hand squeeze when words fail. Your magic threads through those moments, making them more tender, more profound.

You’re the one who finds him when he disappears, tracking his trail through blood scents and spectral whispers. When you pull him back, it’s not just your magic—it’s your quiet, unwavering presence that grounds him.

He’s protective, but he lets his guard down enough to let you “read” him, sharing pieces of his past he’s never told anyone else. Your magic weaves those fragments together, creating a tapestry of healing.

Late nights, he holds you close, your fingers lightly resting over his chest where the metal meets flesh. Your bloodhound magic hums softly, syncing your rhythms, sharing a calm only you two understand.

Sometimes, when the weight of the world gets heavy, you let him lean on you. Not just physically—emotionally, magically. He feels your magic tracing protective sigils along his spine, a shield woven from trust and love.

Bucky may never say it outright, but in the quiet moments when your magic brushes against his skin, when your eyes meet, he’s saying the words his lips won’t: You’re my home.

🥀remember me, remember you

Bucky sits on the edge of your work table, sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearm, the metal gleaming softly in the flickering candlelight. Shadows dance across the room, warm and intimate, wrapping around you both like a secret kept from the world. The faint scent of ink and iron hangs in the air, mingling with something more subtle—your own magic, electric and alive beneath your skin.

You stand before him, holding a shallow bowl filled with a thick mixture of ink and blood—a potent blend that carries both vulnerability and power—in one hand. In the other, a slender silver thread catches the candle’s glow, shimmering like liquid starlight.

“You don’t have to do this,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, but steady.

He meets your gaze without hesitation—those haunted, storm-grey eyes steady and unflinching. “I want to,” he says simply.

You swallow, the weight of the moment settling between you. “Once your name is bound,” you warn softly, “it’s not just protection. It’s memory. It’s weight. A tether to who you were—and who you are.”

His jaw tightens, but he nods. “I’ve carried worse.”

Carefully, reverently, you take the silver thread and dip it into the dark, viscous mixture. The ink coats the metal like a shadow, and you begin weaving, fingers nimble and sure. Each loop and knot hums beneath your touch, weaving layers of magic into the charm. Your lips part slightly as you speak, voice low and melodic—the cadence of your spell coaxing power into the delicate weave.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you murmur, each syllable rolling off your tongue like silk woven with sorrow, binding his full name into the spell.

The charm vibrates softly, a heartbeat in your hands, pulsing with quiet strength.

Slowly, you lift it and tie the finished charm around his wrist, just beneath the edge of his metal arm. The cool silver contrasts against the warmth of his skin, the thread shimmering faintly as it settles into place.

He watches your hands—steady, reverent, tender—like you’re handling something sacred.

“What does it do?” he asks, voice rough but curious.

“It remembers who you are,” you say softly, looking up to meet his gaze again. “When you forget. When others try to rewrite you.” Your fingers linger for a moment, brushing his skin gently. “It brings you back.”

Bucky’s eyes soften, and for a long beat, he says nothing. Then, slowly, deliberately, he covers your hand with his—flesh over flesh, rough against delicate—holding on as if afraid to let go.

“Thank you,” he breathes, the words rough and heavy with meaning, like it hurts to say, but it means everything.

A warmth blooms in your chest, and you smile—small, sure, full of quiet promise.

“Always.”

The candlelight flickers once more, casting long shadows around you, but for this moment, in this room filled with whispered magic and unspoken trust, everything else falls away.

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str4ngr · 2 months ago

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the first time. [megumi fushiguro]

cw: none, fluff, established relationship, gn! reader.

megumi's hand stuck to your waist as you shifted beside him. the movie droned on, the words slurring together at a lack of attention. your eyes stay trained on the screen, much to his irritation, his eyes traced the soft arch of your nose and plump curve of your lips.

his fingers pressed a little tighter, drawing you into his side, although there was no where closer to get. gojo always pestered him about teenage love, that 'young romance was so sweet' and he understood it all now.

the way his heart fluttered every time he saw you, the way his headache soothed when he listened to the gentle sound of your voice, megumi found the 'sweetness' that seemed so abstract. he wanted to taste sugary love when his lips pressed against yours, not with any... lucrative intent, as gojo teased. your touch alone made megumi feel like he was floating, like the weight upon his shoulder lifted, like every ache from the previous mission never existed to begin with.

megumi leans his cheek on your shoulder, nosing into your perfumed nape, sighing softly, content. his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction at the feeling of your fingers raking through his hair, no longer in chaotic spikes, but slightly damp from his shower, laying against his skull like soft silk.

the moment passed, the eccentric voices of the characters on screen continuing to capture your attention. a contrast to his airy sigh, cascading down the skin of your shoulder, slipping under the lazy collar of your (his) shirt. his hand slowly dragged up your waist, savoring how you flesh dipped and flared as his long fingers grazed the side of your chest.

there was something so complex about such a simple moment. megumi felt his heart begin to race again, even as the movie hit a calm scene, pumping him with the drug of his own affections. he couldn't look away, from your face, your nose, your eyes---your lips.

your lips.

megumi trailed his hand higher, slowly dragging over the curve of your shoulder, slowly snaking up the skin of your neck, gently cupping the soft line of your jaw,

"hey."

his voice was low, gruff, his words, although one, more important than his tone. but if anything was given to you, it was his thoughtlessness. you knew he thought through everything, and you also knew, he never spoke his mind so easily, even if it was just one word. knowing him, he would've been contemplating between 'hey' and 'hello', but he clearly didn't. his eyes were a little wide, a little surprised by his own words, not expecting himself to blurt something out. you smiled at the idea of his trust, glancing up at him,

"hi."

his eye twitches, clueless. guiding your face closer, his eyes were dark, focused on you, only you. your lip quivered under his stare, the racing thumps of your hearts matching pace when he mumbles,

"can i...?"

if you could stutter without words, the embarrassing way you just rushed to nod, was definitely an opportune contender. your cheeks were flushed, clearly bashful as you gave another stupid smile. he smiled back, your heart fluttering as his gorgeous eyes crinkled, his lips twitching upwards in a teasing smirk.

neither of you knew what you were doing. teenage love was sweet in that way, megumi thought. you were soft, sweeter than the sugar he dreamed of, perfect. his lips moved slowly against yours, learning what you liked, learning what made you both freeze.

the both of you pulled away, cheeky smiles on your flushed cheeks as you tried not to laugh at one another's cluelessness. playfully, he pushed you down, curling into the crook of your neck as you laughter fluttered through his hair, muffling his own sound as his hand trailed up and down your waist, thumb rubbing your blushing cheeks.

megumi pulled his head back, leaning to gently press his lips against yours in another quieting kiss. just as gentle, just as perfect as the first time.

directory.

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honey-doc · 1 year ago

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Why I appreciate Kabru and Mithrun's relationship in the story (with pictures!)

I just want to express how much I loved reading through the chapter with the 6 days they spent together and how I think their relationship developed in a pretty sweet way.

I feel like a lot of people reduce their dynamic to "nurse and patient" and that makes me sad because I personally got a lot more from it than that.

I do wanna start off by saying I'm here appreciating their dynamic as it is in the text.

Read more (spoilers ofc):

The beginnings

When they first met, there was an air of intimidation surrounding Mithrun as the captain of the ominous Canaries. He demonstrates his proficiency as a fighter and leader which worried Kabru because he knew it would lead to the dungeon falling into elven hands once again. But this threatening aura begins to dim in Kabru's mind as they get to know each other.

Even before they fell down the hole, the both of them ended up relying on each other's abilities a number of times (when the underground governor turned out to be corrupted Mithrun defeated him and Mithrun needed Kabru's deduction skills during the battle on the first floor) which is already the beginning of a great dynamic

(Kabwu is scared but Mithrun just asks for his help)

After Cithis tasked him with "taking care of Mithrun's needs" for the time being, Kabru treated Mithrun with proper respect and doesn't take advantage of his disability, even using his title “Captain” when he knew Mithrun wouldn’t have cared either way after learning about how he lost his desires. This is in contrast to Cithis who immediately took advantage of her position to mess around with Mithrun when she was taking care of him.

(When Cithis was put in charge of taking care of Mithrun)

The whole time Kabru is with Mithrun, he treats him like a person and more than just someone to be taken care of, as also he relies on Mithrun's fighting skills, knowledge of the dungeon, and teleportation magic.

When you reduce their dynamic to just "caretaker and patient", you're ignoring Mithrun's own capabilities and making him seem totally helpless. It actually feels rather ableist. They have a more balanced relationship with what Mithrun brings to the table than you may think. Mithrun couldn't have survived down there on his own, but it's the same for Kabru (who famously dies every time he fights)!

Kabru doesn’t show signs of trying to manipulate Mithrun either, and he's no longer intimidated by him in the slightest once he learns he’s not a threat or after his life. Though he does instinctively revert to his "sparkly" persona to get Mithrun to eat the disgusting mushroom, it doesn’t work so Kabru just has him eat it normally and never tries it again. This is the beginning of Mithrun unintentionally encouraging Kabru to be more honest with others.

(Kabru realizing he can chill out)

(Kabru being unreserved and Mithrun being silly)

bonus funny moment:

Bonding

Throughout the journey they talked to each other, shared things with each other, and ate with each other. And Kabru expresses genuine concern about whether Mithrun is comfortable (which is something he could live without and wasn't something the Canaries told him to do).

(Kabru showing he wants to make him comfortable by making food for him which is a very important part of the narrative)

(Kabru sharing intimate memories with Mithrun)

(Kabru initiating conversation without hesitation or worry. This part also is referencing how Mithrun shared very important details of his life with Kabru. Kabru also ends up trusting Mithrun with information about Laios despite knowing he could possibly tell the other Canaries about him and impede his plans..which he does lol they do end up knowing about Laios before meeting him.)

For a bonus Lycion implies Kabru was taking better care of Mithrun than they had been which is interesting to me.

Mithrun also shows that he has come to trust Kabru's decisions over the Canaries' when he says he wants to stay in the dungeon after fulfilling the caretaker requirement. They did talk to each other a lot, during that time. I wonder what Mithrun's Shapeshifter double of Kabru would look like now?

Here, Kabru goes out of his way to make sure Mithrun doesn’t overexert himself by knocking him out after the demon leaves with Marcille (again, when his time taking care of him is already over), and I think that demonstrates an extra level of concern he holds for Mithrun.

(Kabru holding back a hellbent Mithrun)

(KNOCKOUT!)

He even managed to make Mithrun mad. It's probably because he "let the demon get away" but I think it's cute and funny because would he huff like that at anyone else? Lol

When the demon breaks through the surface

Kabru begins panicking after Laios turns into the giant monster because he's wondering if he made the right decisions etc. If Mithrun didn’t care about Kabru at least a little bit, he would’ve just left him alone when he started losing it (right after Marcille did the same thing and she is technically more to blame for empowering the demon than Kabru was for not allowing Mithrun to go after it), but he went out of his way to snap him out of it.

It also means a lot to me that Mithrun even says Kabru's name, because in Japanese you can go your entire life without referring to someone by name and it wouldn't sound wrong (just rude) and it's the first time Mithrun says Kabru's name on screen (I checked).

Though it was with a slap, I think it says a lot, because if Mithrun didn’t care at all he wouldn’t have done anything and left him alone. It's not like Kabru could've done anything to stop the demon. He didn't even to tell him to do anything even though Kabru looked ready for an order.

(To be honest I don't know exactly why Mithrun starts beating him up here but you can say it's another rare demonstration of emotion Kabru was able to evoke in him lol. Maybe it's payment for Kabru stopping him the first time. That can be interpreted as paying it back and/or paying it forward I think.)

The last few chapters

And in the end when Kabru’s motivating Mithrun to continue living his life, he speaks to him like they’re friends/have no rank between them despite using the Captain title for him the whole time. Even Lycion initially gets upset that he’s acting “too familiar” with Mithrun.

It feels like Mithrun changed so much in the short time he spent together with Kabru and before the final battle, and it’s thanks to Kabru that Mithrun finally starts to be able to move past his lingering obsession with the demon and begin to really heal.

This is despite the fact that he spent so much time with Milsril and the other elves who never managed to break through to him like that.

(Before Kabru) (After Kabru)

And even after his role as Mithrun's caretaker was loong complete, he still shows concern for Mithrun and tells him to take a break when he's using up all his magic to slice the Falin meat (lmao).

He didn't need to do that! But it shows how he at least slightly considers Mithrun some kind of friend.

It all culminates with Kabru helping Mithrun regain his wil to live and Mithrun confiding in Kabru. Their relationship is important. Kabru continuing to do things for Mithrun to me is more of a sign that he just plain cares about him. Isn't it normal when a friend needs medication for you to remind them to take it? I think it's like that.

Kabru is there with Mithrun when he comes out about his feelings of uselessness AND when Senshi helps him put a spin on the 'vegetable scraps' metaphor and he find meaning in his life again. He's the first one to see him cry :')

Along with the fact that it feels like Mithrun is the first person we see Kabru doesn't feel the need to change his personality with or put on airs for since Mithrun doesn't need buttering up and he won't get offended if someone were to say something socially awkward, I think they made a pretty good team!

BUT ALSO the REAL reason I became endeared to them is cute shit like this:

GOD I love them!!!!! There are so many funny sides to Mithrun Kabru was able to bring out, and really show his charm as a character. Mithrun also brings out the best in Kabru while Kabru’s the most genuine he’s been since his debut with Mithrun. We are able to see that he’s just a kind and caring person, rather than the shady obsessed guy most fans have come to believe him to be.

The true depths of their dynamic also grew on me over time :)

TLDR

All in all it’s so nice seeing how even though Mithrun is a really deadpan person, and Kabru is a really secretive and withheld person, they clearly seem to have developed some kind of bond while they traveled together and even changed each other to an extent.

Doesn't Kabru feel more honest near the end? Maybe it's because of how much he talked to and shared with Mithrun during those 6 days so candidly...because they taaaalked a looooot like wow.

They mean so goddamn much to me. I don’t need them to be in a romantic relationship but I do want them to be together forever :'))) or like at least hang out when they have off time since they're still in the same country lol. Praying for Kui to make another side comic of them some time (crying).

Thanks for reading if you made it this far, I mostly arranged this because it makes me sad to see people reduce their dynamic to only one singular aspect.

Anyways ya...love 'em (heart hands)

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #mithrun #kabru #kabumisu #MITHRUN DESERVES MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIPS TOO DAMMIT!!!!!#i wasn't gonna ship tag it buuut w/e #omg i just came up w something #you can reduce their dynamic...but all you'd end up with...is a nice sauce #for like..steak..get it? reduction..cooking..no ok #also for an extra i think it's highly unlikely kabru met mithrun as a kid because he showed NO signs of recognizing him when they met #like KABRU of all people would remember lol

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youraverageaemondsimp · 1 year ago

Text

“Thou Shalt Not Covet.” // Angel!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: An angel's duty is to protect and guide humans; never to desire them, for it is a sin. Yet Aemond, the most trusted angel of God, finds himself yearning and desiring for you, a human.

WARNINGS: nsfw, mdni, smut, dubious consent(?), afab! human!fem!reader x angel!aemond, masturbation (m.) unprotected p in v sex, tiddy sucking, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f. receiving), forbidden relationship, body worship, blasphemy(?), creampie, cumming inside breeding kink, slightly disturbing content at the end, religious themes. + NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 4.5k

A/N: so I'm officially breaking my hiatus with this piece, I know I haven't posted for over two months and I apologize for that! Exams and everything practically ate my life away! // divider creds to @cafekitsune

God's most trusted angel, Aemond Targaryen, was no ordinary angel. He was sincere, always performing his duties without fail. He was respected amongst his peers, the most obedient angel of god.

Lately there have been rumours about the curse of being God's favourite, whispers about the old tale that all knew very well started resurfacing, the tale of the fallen angel. An incident that is now used as a way to warn angels from disobeying God and trudging the path of temptation.

Must all angels that were favoured by God fall into the way of sin? It has happened before, it might happen again.

Aemond decided that he would never be like that, he wants to prove that he is nothing like the fallen angel and how being God's favourite angel is not a curse, but rather a blessing.

And he did just that. Until a day arrived when he was sent to the land below on an urgent mission.

Aemond was reluctant to descend down to the land of people but he had to on the order of God, his mission was simple, to guide humanity through the famine that was occurring along with the drought that was caused by the devil to wreak havoc amongst the villagers. Messing with God's treasured creations has always been the devil's hobby after all.

And so he disguised himself as a human, helping men, women, children alike to recover, he blessed the land with fertility so that the land could produce crops once again. It was not an easy task, he had spent many weeks on the land, learning how humans function and go about their life which was quite a contrast to angels.

He also learnt how frail the human body is, how much energy is required to perform tasks and an unfamiliar feeling of hunger which he never felt when he was an angel. Every sensation was new to him but he overcame all the difficulties in order to finish his duty.

At least, that is what he had thought…

“Ser?! Are you okay?!” A voice shrieked in shock as he blinked his eye open to see an unfamiliar face with the look of concern staring down at him. You noticed how pale his face was and how dull his features looked, his lips were dry and chapped.

You were just taking a walk through the forest in search of medicinal herbs when you encountered this man lying unconscious in the middle of the path which made you panic thinking he was dead. You sighed in relief when he opened his eye.

“What happened to me?” He asks confused and you furrow your brows, “You fainted.” You tell him and he sighs “Why? I have been eating well though.” He mutters to himself and you clear your throat, you noticed how his face showed signs of dehydration earlier so you end up asking him a question “Did you drink water?” to which he replies with a “No, why?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in disbelief, “Water is an essential thing to survive, you fainted because of dehydration.” You explain his situation to him and he lets out an annoyed sigh, “Ugh, why are human bodies so frail and require so much material to sustain oneself?” He grumbles and you stare at him confused.

“Whatever, drink this.” You give your pouch of water and he drinks it greedily unknowingly, emptying the entire sac, he hands it back to you. Aemond tries standing up but immediately stumbles, however you catch him just in time so he doesn't fall. “It seems the dehydration was worse than we thought, my house is nearby, let me take care of you.” You offer him help and he just simply nods, “Lean onto me okay?” You instruct him and he does as you say. You lead him to your house.

It was a small house amidst the woods but not further inside, you opened the wooden door with one hand and pushed it with your foot and led both you and the man inside. You opened the door to your small bedroom and took him inside, helping him lay on the bed.

“Please rest comfortably.” You smile at him and he nods, “I will go and prepare medicinal tea so you can recover.” You inform him before getting up and reaching the exit.

“Wait!” He calls out and you turn around with a questioning look, “May I get your name?” he asks politely and you give him a small smile, “It's Y/N” You tell him and he smiles back at you, “ ‘Y/N’ such a pretty name.” He mutters to himself before looking at you, “Thank you Y/N.” He appreciates you genuinely which makes your heart flutter and you give him a nod. “What is your name?” You ask out of courtesy “Aemond.” He replies with a slight smile and your eyes widen, “Oh like the angel!” You affirm and he nods, “Like the angel, yes.”

“You have such an amazing name, that too it being after God's favourite angel.” You compliment him genuinely and he nods shyly. You take that as a cue to leave the room and prepare the tea for him.

Tying your beige apron; you quickly pull out the jar of dried hibiscus petals from the wooden shelf before taking a few of the petals and grinding them slightly, you added those grinded petals into the bot of boiling water and let it simmer for a minute before blowing off the fire and straining the liquid into a wooden cup.

You carry the hot beverage into the room only to find Aemond asleep, ‘his body must've been overly worked without any water’ you smile to yourself before placing the cup down onto the table, the slight noise startling and waking Aemond up from his slumber.

“Oh I apologise, I did not know that the noise would startle you.” You say in a slightly amused voice and he shakes his head, “It's alright.” he replies. “I bought the tea, you can drink it when it cools down.” You point at the cup on the table next to the bed and he nods, “Thank you.” He appreciates your hospitality.

You give him a small smile and he returns it, and then the room falls silent, awkward tension filling the air. You clear your throat in an attempt to break the tension before speaking up “So… I've never seen you around this area before or in the town, are you new here?” You question him.

“Mhm, I just recently got into this town after hearing the news of famine spreading here.” He answers truthfully, he had been going around the area into multiple villages and towns, solving the famine.

“Ah yes, there has been a shortage of food supplies since our land did not produce any crop this year.” You say sadly, thinking about how all the once healthy people in the town now look starved and unhealthy because of the shortage of food.

Aemond notices your sadness immediately and he grabs your hand, wanting to reassure you but the moment his skin comes in contact with yours, he feels electricity shoot up his spine that makes him retreat his hand immediately.

“Are you okay?” You ask concerned, reaching out for his hand. His breath hitches when you touch him, you examine his hand thinking something happened to it, all the while he's trying to control his breathing.

Why does his body feel hot when you touch him?

He gives you a quick nod and pulls his hand away from your grip and grabs the drink in order for the gesture to not seem rude, but luckily for him you don't dwell on it too much.

“Famines and Drought occur when the devil wants to mess with God, something he does for attention while thousands of people are affected.” Aemond grits his teeth, thinking about the reason why many humans are dying and you look at him confused, “And in these times of difficulty, many forget to pray, because all of their time is spent surviving, which further weakens the protection of the land.” He continues.

“So what do we do?” You ask confused.

“Pray, I was going to go to the centre of the village and start praying so that the rain falls tomorrow, but… I ended up like this.” He says embarrassed.

“Do you think God will really help us?” You question and he's shocked and offended by that question but he holds his composure, “He will. Have faith in him.” He tells you and you nod.

“Since you said you were new, you are free to stay in this house, besides you need to recover as well.” You offer him and his eye widens, “I can't, you've already done too much for me.” He refuses but you shake your head, “It's alright aemond, I was starting to stray from the path of God due to the recent problems, but after meeting you, I'm somehow comforted that everything will be alright, a feeling which I haven't felt since the start of the drought.” You admit honestly and he stares at you in awe.

And so you let him stay in your house.

You and Aemond have gotten undoubtedly closer, realising how you both held the same values and opinions, you helped Aemond spread the word of God and soon just like he said, the rain fell and the land began to recover.

You both were currently looking outside the window as the gentle drizzle of rain fell elegantly outside, making the lush greenery of the trees stand out and the smell of wet mud provided a deep comfort to your soul.

“You were right, Aemond.” You smiled at him and he smiled back, using his angelic powers in his human body exhausts him out, especially since the body of the human is so frail and weak, so he often has to recover in your house, but you just thought that it was because of dehydration like the first time.

You looked outside in awe, meanwhile Aemond stared at you instead, your face extremely beautiful as if you had been specially crafted by God himself, your eyes shone as brightly as the stars in the night sky and your hair that cascaded down your back like a waterfall. He couldn't stop admiring you.

He watched as your lips parted when you let out a satisfied sigh, wondering how they'd taste, would they be sweet as they look? He wanted to taste you.

His eye widened in realisation at his own behaviour and thoughts, mind spiralling down a hole knowing that he shouldn't be thinking this way, his closed his eye and took a deep breath, trying to push off all the feelings away but when he opened his eye back again, he was faced with you who looked at him ever so concerningly.

The warm feeling in his heart only growing stronger each and every moment. “Aemond? Is everything alright?” You ask and he nods, “Yeah everything is fine, it's just..” ‘I wanna kiss you.’ He wants to say it so badly, “I just feel under the weather.” He lies.

He lied.

Aemond never lied.

You find it odd but brush it off and leave the matter at that, focusing on the rain outside once again watching as the droplets trailed down the window.

Aemond feels hot on the inside, a burning sensation of itchiness that urges to be scratched, he excuses himself and goes into the bedroom, saying he needs rest, once again, a lie, he shuts the door to the room and you're left alone in the living space.

Deciding not to think much, you began cooking lunch, making soup for the hundredth time.

Aemond leans against the door, breathing heavily as his body grows hotter and hotter every moment, there's a weird sensation between his legs that makes it hard for him to focus on anything else, he looks at the bulge in his pants and touches it, wincing at the electricity that shoots through him.

It's painful.

He knows that whatever he's feeling is wrong.

But it's too painful to bear.

He closes his eyes trying to collect himself but he cannot contain himself, and so he slowly grabs the bulge giving it slight squeezes for it to stop the feeling but not enough to make it go away.

Why is the human body like this?

Why couldn't he control his desires like he did when he was in his angel form?

He slowly pushed his hand down the material of the breeches and held his cock, he grips it which makes him choke out a moan at the sensation.

It felt good.

And so he slowly starts stroking it up and down, curiously experimenting by brushing his thumb against the tip which causes him to whimper, he clasps his own mouth shut at the noise he made but doesn't stop stroking himself.

Muffled noises of soft moans fill the room as he touches himself wondering why the feeling isn't going away, he strokes himself faster which causes him to throw his head back against the door with a loud thud.

“... Aemond?” Your voice makes him stop all of his movements, “Y-yeah?” He replies, trying to sound normal, “I'm making soup, is that okay?” You inquired for his opinion and he replied a choked “Yes.”

He hears your footsteps walk away from the door and he continues to stroke himself, the memory of you calling out his name doing wonders to his imagination as he pictures you moaning his name beneath him, he rubs himself faster, grip tightening on his cock envisioning that he's fucking into your cunt instead of his own hand.

And before he can comprehend the imagery; he feels an immense amount of pleasure shoot through his entire body, making him see white and let out a loud muffled moan of your name o as he feels the wet liquid spurt out of his cock and onto his hand.

He's trembling by the time he's done, looking down at his now unclean hand, white liquid dripping down his palm, the situation of what he had done weighing heavily upon him, the feeling of dread seeping into his body- and so he lets out a soft sigh.

What has he done?

He quickly finds a cloth to wipe himself off and uses the water in the bowl beside the table to wash his hands, he sees his own reflection in the water, feeling disgusted at what he had done.

But it felt so good.

He quickly leaves the room to find you crouching down, tending to the fire as you prepare the soup on top of the heated slab. “Need help?” He asks and you flinch, looking at him with a flushed face, “Hm? O-Oh no need.” You look away quickly. He frowns wondering what happened, you stand up and reassure him that nothing has happened and push him towards the table to sit down. You slightly rub your thighs to ease the tension between them.

You couldn't focus; After all- you just overheard what he did inside the room, the muffled moans, the strokes, and when he called out your name. You heard it all.

The wooden doors aren't really good at covering noises.

A few days passed by quickly after that, the town began to see changes as the crops began sprouting quickly, and soon Aemond's mission was finally completed. Which meant he had to return to the heavens.

But he did not want to.

He actually feels guilty returning to heaven after what he did with his human body.

He was slowly putting his clothes away, ‘packing’ to leave when the door opens which reveals you. Your eyes glance over to the sack of clothes and you quickly realise what's happening.

“You're leaving.” It wasn't a question, but rather a statement which leaves your lips weighed heavily with sadness. Aemond felt something inside him crack as he looked at your solemn expression.

“I have something I want to confess before I leave.” He speaks up and your eyes glint with hope, wondering if he'll confess his feelings to you finally- “I'm an angel.”

…

“Aemond, now isn't the time to be joking.” You furrow your brows but he shakes his head, coming closer to you and holding your hand, “I am not, I came here on a mission to solve humanity's problems and now I have to return to the heavens.” He can't stop speaking, no matter how much the voice inside him tells him that he shouldn't be revealing his true identity to humans. “Aemond, this is not funny-”

“I'm not trying to be funny, I am not lying, here I'll prove it to you.” He lets go of your hand, and moves to the window, and your eyes widen as the sudden sunny weather darkens and rain begins to fall.

You shall not reveal your identity.

You shall not flaunt your powers.

“Is that enough for you to believe me?” He asks and you're shocked, “Are you really..?” You question and he nods. The air shifts and you realise that you're in a heavenly presence which makes you scared- “Be not afraid.” He tells you and your breath hitches in your throat.

He moves closer to you again, caressing your cheek, “I'm telling you all this because- I don't know, I don't want to leave you behind.” He admits truthfully. “But if you're an angel, then we can’t-” You try to speak, but he cuts you off, “I know.”

“Truth be told, I have no idea what it is about you that made me hold such feelings towards you, but all I know is that I want you, I desire you, I need you.” He grips your shoulders, hands digging into your flesh.

You must not seek out a human.

You must not engage in worldly pleasures.

The atmosphere is filled with silence and tension as you look down, unable to form a sentence as your thoughts feel too complicated to process and Aemond just stares at you.

‘Do it.’ he hears a voice at the back of his head.

‘You want her, so do it.’ It encourages him.

‘If you want her, you must claim her.’ It's evil.

‘But I have to return to the heavens.’

‘Will you truly be happy in heaven?’

‘I'm not sure.’

‘Without her? Will you be able to continue to live without her?’

‘I do not know..’

‘If you do not claim her, she will fall in love with another mortal man, will you be able to stand it? Watch down from the heavens with the realisation that she was never yours?’

‘But I must not, I will soil myself, I do not want to give into the worldly pleasures.’

‘Hah, you're a fool, do as you wish, just remember that once you leave, she will never be yours, she will belong to another man.’

‘Stop.’

‘-She will be touched by another man, kissed, caressed, hugged, all the things you want to do to her'

‘Stop.’ Aemond tries resisting the anger that fills him when he imagines another man touching you.

‘She will get fucked by another man, and you'll watch it happen.’

“That's enough!” Aemond screams which startles you, “Aemond?” He looks at you, and your eyes widen when you realise something in his eye has changed, his pupil resembles that of a reptile. “What's wrong—” You're cut off from your words as he presses his lips against you, electricity courses through your body when you feel his soft lips against yours.

His lips move messily against yours, and he tastes just like honey, you try to resist wanting to tell him that this is wrong, and rationalise that he'll be cast out from heaven if he engages in intimacy with you but you aren't able to form coherent words because of the way he's constantly cutting you off with messy kisses.

“I want you, I need you, I can't let you be with any other man other than me.”

You're conflicted on whether you should encourage this but you remain silent, and aemond takes your silence as an agreement, he slowly slides off his robes and fully shows himself naked in front of you.

He's working on your clothes next, pulling them off you in swift motions before you're left standing bare just like him, he cups your cheek and tilts your face towards him, “Aemond… you'll be punished.” Your voice is laced with concern. “Look at you.. Always concerned for me, it doesn't matter anymore, I've made up my mind.” He pushes you towards the bed and onto it before climbing on top of you.

He places the soft pillow below your head for comfort before he trails soft kisses on your face, down to your neck, breasts and stomach.

“Beautiful, my beautiful lady.” He mutters against your skin, pecking and pulling it between his teeth. “Your body is so beautiful, your frame, everything about it is so beautiful.” He praises peppering kisses being placed on your breasts. He watches in awe as your nipples harden and poke up, and so he wets his lips before opening them and taking your nipple into his mouth, sighing softly in satisfaction.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, playing with the bud and flicking it up and down, the suckling noises that leave his mouth are sinful that makes you wet down there, you grind up against him to feel at ease.

The room begins to get hot and your small gasps and whines fill the air, accompanied by his grunts of satisfaction, that he finally got to touch you like this. He leaves your breast with a pop before focusing his attention onto the other one. “Aemond…” You wail and he looks at you, “... need you down here.” Those words leave your mouth unexpectedly as you rub your clit and he immediately listens to you letting go of your breast.

He travels down until he's directly faced with your cunt, he watches in amusement as your essence drips out of your hold which he licks up and brings up to your clit and suckles on it. “Hggnh!” You arch your back in pleasure as you feel tingles all over your body, your cunt pulsing around nothing when you feel his tongue play with your clit.

He nibbles on your clit, his teeth slightly poking it which makes slight pain shoot up your body. His tongue moves up and down, from your hole to your clit, he sucks on the flaps of your cunt harshly that causes you to whimper.

You feel his finger prodding at your opening before he slowly pushed it inside, “Fuck Aemond!” You let out a whine when you felt how his finger was stretching you out whilst his tongue worked magic on your clit.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out, letting you adjust to it before pushing another one inside which made you shriek but he hushed you with a kiss to your clit, and soon enough- the slow licking of your bud and the pumping of his fingers made you reach your peak. You clenched your eyes shut at the impact of your orgasm; feeling as if your whole body was set on fire, you saw plain white as your whole body quivered because of him.

He pulls his face away and draws back his finger only for him to put his fingers in his mouth, loving the way you tasted. He climbed upward until he was face to face with you and kissed you, making you taste your essence.

“So beautiful.” He says softly as he sees your dazed expression and messy hair, the way your lips are parted slightly as you take deep breaths.

He couldn't contain himself anymore.

He wasted no time in lining himself against your entrance and slowly pushing inside, you gasped when you felt how big he was, but you didn't stop him but instead held onto his shoulder as he pushed it inside inch by inch.

His hair cascaded around his face, making him look angelic, he closed his eye; gasping for air when he felt you clench around him. The way your walls were wrapped around him drove him insane; he couldn't hold back any longer as something in him cracked, his pace was messy and fast, almost desperate as if he was waiting his entire lifetime for this.

The sound of thrusts echo in the room as he speeds up, your back arches in pleasure when you feel him hit a certain spot inside you, his hands grip your waist as a leverage as he constantly thrusts deep and deeper inside you.

He feels like he is in heaven again, the feeling of you finally being his and how you're squirming underneath him, moaning his name, not anyone else's.

“You feel so good.” He grunts, “so fucking good— my love.” he places a kiss on your breast, before looking at you once again, your eyes staring directly at him. The sight of you beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist as you try to grind into him, indicating that you want him too makes him go feral.

His thrusts soon become sloppy, he knows he's gonna finish in mere moments, so he angles his thrusts upwards— hitting your sweet spot multiple times— making you see stars when you peak.

He's almost blinded when he feels his orgasm hit him, the intensity of the sensation being way too much to handle, he lets out a loud moan as he slowly rides out his orgasm all the while pumping you full of his seed.

He pulls out moments later and lays down beside you, trying to catch his breath, and you pull him closer for a hug.

Everything goes quiet for a few moments as you both try to recover.

Only for the silence to be broken by Aemond agonising screams.

“Aemond?” You panic not knowing what's happening.

Aemond feels as though his entire body was on fire, and then the flesh on his back distorts as his white angel wings spring out of it, you stand there in awe when you look at them, they're white feathers, but soon that emotion of amusement is replaced by pure horror when you see it be forcefully get ripped apart from his back by an invisible force of nature.

You scream in terror, while Aemond tries to bear the pain, he knew this would happen sooner or later, but he couldn't help but scream as the pain of having his wings ripped apart and pulled from his back is agonising.

Maybe the curse of being God's favourite was real.

And what Aemond is facing right now is God's punishment for trudging the path of temptation.

“Please- it hurts.” Aemond croaks in agony.

You feel helpless, not being able to do anything except watch, you just cradle his face, his hand grips onto yours tightly.

And soon it's done.

You could only watch as tears dripped down from his eye.

His once beautiful angel wings were ripped apart, the feathers all over the room and the only thing that remained of it were the scars of the wound on his back.

The scar that indicates the two wings were pulled out.

An angel without wings.

A fallen angel.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months ago

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John Walker - In a Relationship

John Walker x fem!reader

warning : kissing, hurt/comfort, fluff, mention of war, weapons, no use of Y/n

info : Finally! I saw the movie and omg I loved it, get ready for a lot of fics about sexy traumatized characters. Plus my fav John Walker that taco shield owner and now enjoy reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John Walker got a second chance after losing those closest to him and being dropped by the system that had wanted to make him great. But just because his wife was no longer in his life and he seemingly had nothing left, the opportunity with the Thunderbolts was all the greater...and on top of that, you, as his girlfriend, gave him hope for something wonderful.

°Walker may be superhumanly strong, but his heart is in the right place, especially when it comes to you. He would never drag you into one of his missions, never expose you to the danger and the past he had lived through. “You are more important than any mission, you won't get hurt like I did, I promise,” he told you whenever you offered to come with him, and he meant it.

°He was so grateful and wanted to show you his gratitude as often as he could for being there for him even in his darkest times. That you didn't see him as a 'dime store' Captain America, but as the soldier and savior of people he always wanted to be. “Never, John, the costume yes, but you no, you are my dutiful, handsome U.S. agent,” she said, John replied with a smile of flattery and truth.

°Those were words of love and respect, and they were rewarded every time with a kiss on the cheek while his rough, large hand rested on your hip to pull you closer to him.

°During the time you got to know each other, it was difficult for him to 'learn' what it meant to no longer be needed. His fear was understandable and his anger sometimes uncontrollable, but no matter how long and how often he disappeared to train to clear his mind, you waited for him, helped him with his training, and above all, it was he who said “Thank you...thank you for all this, sweetheart” every time. During training, he was the one who kissed you and couldn't have been happier when you kissed him back.

°In general, you quickly noticed that after John turned his back on the government, he could be very protective. Whether it was a call to check on you or a message after every mission when he came back to you, “Just one more mission, sweetheart, I'll be back soon. I love you,” he recorded the voice message before putting on his helmet to go on another “official” mission and somehow find that meaning he had almost achieved.

°You were waiting for him, he had someone waiting for him again, someone who believed in him, and that alone was worth continuing for.

°One of the most beautiful sights for the agent was seeing you cleaning your weapons. As cliché and stupid as it might be, he loved your knowledge, he knew you weren't helpless and could defend yourself, but this sight of beauty and lethality made his heart beat a little faster. “My dear weapon nymph,” he commented as he leaned against the doorframe. Your embarrassed smile spoke volumes, and John, as always, either cleaned his weapons or simply kissed you on the head and let you continue.

°When it came to leisure activities as a couple, it always depended on the missions and the time they had in between. Before Thunderbolts, it was rather difficult to find time for each other, but now, in the new team, there was suddenly more time and more understanding.

°Even Bob found tips in a dating book for his friend to give them some new ideas. “Trust me, just let your soft side out.” John heard his girlfriend say as he looked at the unpainted ceramic bowl. He had never been an artistic person, but seeing how beautifully she painted the bowl, he wanted to give it his best shot.

°In contrast to the colorful bowls that were displayed as souvenirs on the shelf, John insisted on playing football with you and the others as a team, which quickly became not only fun but also a battle for “Title and honor,” as Alexei put it, with John scoring every point like a god.

°In the end, he even lifted you up and carried you across the field. “Only the football queen gets that from her king,” he whispered before gently spinning you around and giving you another rewarding kiss. It was something none of you ever got enough of, because a kiss was simple but just as symbolic.

°Intimate yet brief, quick yet full of emotion, it was all the more important to John to always show you that he still loved you after everything.

°After all, he was still human. He may have been a super soldier, but he was only human. That's why his mind wasn't invulnerable and his nightmares about Afghanistan and what the terrorists had done sometimes kept him awake. “A former Captain America, a super soldier, and an agent, and yet I have this weakness,” he murmured, full of guilt and remorse, as he sat next to her in bed and hated himself.

°Your touch calmed him, allowing him to forget the war and the past. He focused on the present, on what he had, and especially when he had you right there with him.

°As you discovered, it was the little gestures and the things you did without thinking that John appreciated. Your hand on his, a kiss on his temple, a hug, or just leaning on him in bed when his mind was tormenting him. John knew he wasn't perfect, but he had learned enough in the last few months to become better, and with your love and his hope and effort, he would manage to improve himself and, above all, be the best boyfriend he could be to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@egotisticaleverything , @brisselfshipping , @hoebrowsalad , @littlebean2905 , @lilbit32 , @neska334 , @lillycore , @crimsonkingart

#marvel mcu #thunderbolts #john walker #john walker x you #john walker x reader #us agent x reader #thunderbolts john walker #male x female #reader is female

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ulteri0rm0tives · 3 months ago

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They sooo could've made Johnny romancable if they wanted to.

And I know technicalities were a big part of it, it being Keanu Reeves' face. But honestly I don't even think V and Johnny's romance would've needed a sex scene. I don't think I would've even wanted it. And I also know reception can play a big part of it too, with the fact half the dudebro fan base would've flipped the fuck out if they weren't being catered too, but. I don't know. I just wish the option was there.

The thing about Johnny is, I don't want a romance with him like I have with the other romance options. I'd want it to be something different, not necessarily deeper as I feel that just minimizes the other relationships you can have in the game, but definitely something forged through a connection that is literally quite not possible with the others.

Something just.. knowing. Something that if you choose the right dialogue options and actions, it's a slow natural build up to something unspoken, something that you know they feel for each other by the end of the game and the tragedy of that. Where the only 'physical' affection they can ever show each other is that lingering handshake at the bridge before V gives up the body.

Something to contrast with the other romances. Something that highlights the tragedy of not being able to physically exist with the one you love, the tragedy of knowing one of you won't be able to make it out of this, that one of you will have to leave eventually, always eventually. That one of you will have to sacrifice yourself for the other.

I wanted the lingering looks, the quick turn aways of being caught, the trail offs of meaningful dialogue, the cut offs of almost saying something too revealing. I wanted the subtle snark of jealous dialogue, or even possessiveness, the ones that are played off as jokes and teasing while V is with the other romances. I wanted him sitting on the couch during hangout dates with the others trying his hardest not to look bothered, distracting himself by playing music. I wanted Johnny saying shit with the same vulnerability as him admitting how scared he was for V at the bridge (the closest thing will ever get to a confession I swear).

Something to really, really drive home like a slap across the fucking face how much he changed, how much he learned about himself, how much he learned about how to genuinely care and love for others in ways that weren't just destructive and selfish, but in ways that were literally transformative and life saving, and how fucking sad that is that it comes at a time that's too late. That it's too late for him to do anything about it besides give up his life for V, or betray V, or watch helplessly as they give their life up for him when that isn't what he wanted.

Something. I just wanted something.

Like maybe they didn't add the option because Johnny being a romance option was never something they had in mind, but you cannot tell me Johnny and V's story doesn't play out like a tragic love story. That they weren't starcrossed, doomed from the start. Doomed from the moment they realized they started to care for the other or at least like each other in some capacity.

V would've never given Johnny the keys to the body again after the talk in the oil fields if they didn't start trusting the bastard, caring enough about him to help him find closure or make amends with his friends or reconcile with his past. Johnny would've never entrusted these tasks to V, or open up about them, or open up about how he finally saw how much everyone had hated him yet it seemed like V didn't. He would've never asked V for a second chance if he didn't think V could do right by him, if he didn't care about V. If he didn't trust them. If he didn't want that from them.

And the fact that none of that will matter by the end, how they feel about each other, because there will always be a choice to be had. Which of them will get to live? And which of them will have to leave?

If anything, it'd just make the choice all that much harder. Do you sacrifice yourself for the one you love, or do you sacrifice the one you love for yourself? Do you watch and stand by as the one you love sacrifices themselves for you, or do you try to convince them that it should be you instead? Is this a choice either of you could make?

There could've even been a secret option in Mikoshi if you had achieved a romance with Johnny just like the reaper ending if you had achieved a high enough affinity with him after selecting all the right dialogue. Where if it wasn't a decision either of them could make, or V didn't want to make, which one of them to sacrifice, that V could've convinced Johnny that they could both just leave behind the blackwall, that they both could be homogenized into Alt's code. At least then they could've been together. At least then, in some way, they could still live with and within each other for the rest of their digitally constructed lives. At least then, they could've been something.

(The calls from the others in the end credits could've been much like the ones you get in temperance too. Where it's either assumed V died or offed themselves or ran off, or that even Johnny took the body and ran off. Just a lot of accusations and assumptions and grief that could still come with an ending like this.)

Idk, I just wish we could've had the choice with Johnny is all.

#and b4 i hear oh so u hate pancakes #i get y others want a sex scene w johnny hes hot man theres no judgement there i get it i do #its just.#the tragedy of wanting that physical closeness with the one you love #and never able to achieve that. to never know their touch.#to never know what they feel like. to never have them close in the ways you want or need them.#is so heartbreaking to me. has so much potential. can add such an interesting layer.#if we got a romance with Johnny i wouldn't have wanted it to be like the other romances. id want it to be its own different thing entirely #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #v cyberpunk #silverv #masc v #fem v #female v #male v #nonbinary v #cyberpunk v #ult speaking #writing 💚💚#bc it kinda got a little away from me in the end 😭😭😭#(god i hate these dumbfucks theyre ruining my life like im just making myself upset about what couldve been UGH 😭😭😭)

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moonsaver · 1 year ago

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Finished penacony. Sunday. Oh dear oh dear.

Yan!Sunday who seems obsessively off with you for the early start of something like a relationship. Calm, but underlying warning tones. One wrong word and you might tip him off too much. You've learned one way to decode his emotions are his wings. They tense up whenever you mention something.. unpleasant. Its a warning. You cut yourself off in the middle of your sentence. The silence passes, and his wings relax. He turns to you with a calm smile on his face. You barely squeezed through, this time.

Yan!Sunday who's just a bit delusional. He deludes himself into thinking about righteousness, and you're some sort of reward for him, for him to keep, and shelter, and nurture, like a christmas gift pet, but something more tender. Tender like a bruise, anyway.

Yan!Sunday, who seems.. to be slipping indisputably. In the corners of your eyes, in private, where he meticulously plans everything, every second where you breathe. He helps you dress and laces up your clothing just as he normally does, but huffs, and insists on doing it again. The first few times, he redid it only twice. His frustration would bleed through his fingers the more things proceeded in time, tightening the lace so much, your limbs almost went blue. He apologizes through gritted teeth, and you forgive him. It doesn't help the fact he practically suffocates you with the way he kisses you, though. His lips land on yours a bit too harshly, and you wonder if he actually hates you. Those thoughts dissipate when he relaxes more into it, though.

Yan!Sunday, who stares at you unblinking, waiting for you in the dreamscape, in the reverie, anywhere. Robin's.. departure has put him under more strain, so just for his sake.. ignore the way he tightly grips your arm, fearing it'll snap.

Yan!Sunday – you can't leave his watchful gaze. The last time you did it, he practically forced you to walk through the real dreamscape, deathly shivering as the atmosphere almost froze you, being forced to walk through unyieldingly harsh and twisted paths, doors never staying in the same place, being forced to use rough traversing methods, the dizziness of the memoria almost feverish. He waits for you at the end, a much gentler version of him. You fall into his arms, sobbing and weeping, and for once he handles you with care. Gently wiping your tears, stroking your hair, his hand guiding the back of your head to his shoulder, burying your nose into the crook of his neck. You notice just how much more warmer he feels in the dreamscape, not just due to the cold atmosphere. His wings gently flutter on your face. Let's leave now, he says. I trust you've learnt, my dear.

Yan!Sunday, who decides that maybe keeping you in the alternate dreamscape, Golden Hour, would be much more preferable. He seethes watching you be eyed by everyone – officials, businessmen, representatives, whoever it may be. He gently lulls you into the dream fluid, kissing your hands, up to your arms, neck, til your cheek, until you finally fall asleep. He places you down and gets to work in a second. When you panic, not being able to wake up, he's right beside you in a heartbeat, telling you there's just been a slight error.

Yan!Sunday, who would even go as far as to construct an entirely new dream for you and you alone. No one would be allowed to visit except him. He tells you it's for the better. Everyone lies in Penacony. Stay put and let him take care of this. Let him take care of you. Of everything. You dont miss the way his hands harden their grip around your waist. His gaze settles gently on yours. It's a harsh contrast to his eerily peering one, in reality. If you even remember what it's like being there, of course.

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sunday x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr

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sharkylass · 1 year ago

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YOU I LIKE YOU @faislittlewhiteraven These questions are a little hard to answer with doodles but I tried my best- Nil generally has a pretty heroic and brave personality overall. She's loud and brash and ready to jump into things super quickly.

She's not the best with words, but she is very reliable overall

More art and writing under cut, it's just a long post man-

In terms of helping about during travels, she likes doing a lot of heavy labor jobs- She's the type to fix broken fences, gather supplies for folks, carry stuff around, tend to crops or lend a help wrangling animals. Nil wouldn't be great at things like sorting and organizing tho- Just tell her what you need and where to put it and she will! I mentioned she's not really the best with words (she is very emotionally intelligent just sometimes struggles to communicate stuff), HOWEVER, With folks that have been frozen she connects with a lot. How it's scary that you've been frozen for so long when your entire belief is to change and evolve, how (if Mal Du Pays is anything to go by) they had to fight their own demons in there, how everything can change so easily without you even noticing- It's terrifying to think about.

Actually- a while ago I made battle sprites with Nil- I wasn't happy with them so I never shared them BUT

Specifically I wanted to contrast her frozen sprite with everyone else's- Cause if she were to SOMEHOW be frozen again, knowing what it feels like, what could happen while she's out- It would TERRIFY her instantly. Not just a mild shock or surprise, it would stick with her for a while-

Speaking of battles tho-

Nil is super brash and lively as a whole. She puts up a brave face for a LOT of things, including fighting. She jumps in without really thinking, and as long as it goes their way, she'd have a smile on her face doing it.

However, while brave, it does come from both a place of coping and naivety. She's not used to genuine fighting, in fight or flight situations she actually tends to flee. (Which is why honestly, if she had to fight the King I don't think she could do it-)

If a battle were to start going south, she'd actually start to panic more then anyone else- Physical wounds and seeing the people she loves hurt would lower her accuracy and general capabilities, despite the brave face she puts on.

And due to her lack of experience, especially in bigger groups- Nil tends to... miscalculate sometimes

She had to learn the hard way not to just jump at any opportunity she sees. The party can see where Bonnie got it from (also after the battle Nille proceeded to heal Sif, profusely apologizing, I forgot to doodle that whoops-) (Also gameplay wise, imagine every second turn she does an action of her own without your command)

Also just the Sif image by itself cause I liked it :]

As for chores and stuff-

She does foraging and stuff! Honestly I don't think the other 5 would have done so before they traveled together.

Mira would have most DEFINITELY learned about it but didn't feel confident in her abilities. Bonnie will grab stuff they think is edible from what they remember Nille telling them and they'd grab a stick to cook. Odile would not be interested and would prefer buying the ingredients rather then wild scavenging. Isa doesn't read to me as a biology student, I see him more of a math history type of guy, so either he doesn't know, or him and Mira did it occasionally together, but only as a last resort type of deal (maybe when it was just the two of them and they had to manage alone) And Sif in my mind is an accident prone goober who'd forget which ones are edible and which ones aren't so I wouldn't trust him personally.

SO! LONG STORY SHORT! I don't think any of them are really experienced with foraging. And as a means to make money management easier- I imagine Nil (nature being a passion of sorts to her) took up the mantle! Probably taught the rest how to do it too!

That's it when it comes to stuff specific to her- Other then that she's kind of ready to help out with anything! She can help set up tends, do odd jobs for money, help cook if for WHATEVER reason Bonnie wanted her to or wanted to do something else in that time, bring water, wood, fish, help with weapons- She's not the best at those things, but if anyone needs a hand to be lent- she is there!

I'll be entirely honest, I don't think I understand your last question- But I do wanna say that Nil and Isa become like. Best buds real quick. He is the first one she instantly trusts, since she rivals with Mira, is prickly with Odile and Sif is someone she wants to help rather then ask for help. So if she needs someone to turn to, or needs a partner in crime- Nil would turn to Isa And now I just imagined Mira and Nil bonding over how to grow plants. Cause Mira tried REALLY REALLY HARD and couldn't do it, so Nille would actually love to give some tips- Imagine Mira genuinely walking up to her with a little alive plant with a proud glint in her eyes and have Nil fully support her- Honestly I could keep going for forever, I have so many thoughts on her and her dynamic with everyone- Bro I even have nicknames, you don't even know-

BUT I'M GONNA CUT IT HERE, HAVE FUN, I'VE BROUGHT SOME FOOD FOR NOW-

#isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #only cause of mal du pays tho honestly #in stars and time #isat nille #isat sif #isat mira #isat petronille #in stars and time nille #in stars and time petronille #lord give me strenght (its 5am I am not awake-)

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prettycottonmouthlamia · 7 months ago

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Some time should be spent as we talk about Path of Life of the parallels between Horatia and Gladiia, as well as Aegir and the rest of Terra. I don't believe this is a particularly inspired point of commentary for me to actually discuss, because the game itself juxtaposes them against each other, but I think it's worth talking about and providing my own commentary.

Horatia raised Gladiia by herself despite being told repeatedly she would not be a fit mother to do so. This isn't some triumph either: Horatia raised Gladiia very poorly. Her status, work, and disposition caused her to neglect Gladiia, causing deep emotional scarring, even if Gladiia tries her best to not show it to anyone. She doesn't see Gladiia's rebellions are proof of her lack of ability either. Since Gladiia became a Hunter and put her life on the line for Aegir, Horatia sees herself as ultimately having done the right thing.

This is, essentially, mirrors how Aegir feels about the rest of Terra. Aegir can easily step into the role of worldwide mediator, Heratia feels, despite the best objections of Kal'tsit. They can solve everyone's problems, because they've experienced them all as a nation. A little diplomacy here, a little Collapsal extermination there, Aegir can solve it all. In a way that the land nations themselves couldn't do. You can even still see this in their final message. They'll be the ones leading the new alliance against everything. Over and over again, it is repeated that pride and arrogance are the flaws of the Aegir. To put it a little more aptly, just like the Greek and Roman folklore of our time, their fatal flaw is their hubris. They dramatically underestimated the Seaborn, their capacities against them, and their infiltration by the Church of the Deep. They rejected the idea of getting help from others. Horatia felt she could raise her own daughter just fine. Aegir feel they can effortlessly lead the land nations into the coming threats. They are but mere babes in the eyes of Aegir.

This, ultimately, is contrasted against Kal'tsit. While Aegir have the records of their past struggles, none of them are old enough to remember them directly. They can learn from history, but it is merely that: history. Kal'tsit, on other hand, has the direct experience with the peoples she talking about. She knows about the Ursus, the Bolivarians, and the Sami more than the Aegir possibly could. Kal'tsit, herself, has been humbled time and time again. Made painfully aware of her limitations and the consequences of exceeding past her grasp. What it means to have knowledge and still fall short. Kal'tsit is the voice of reason to the haughty, prideful Aegir, warning them of their obvious mistake.

Is it no real surprise then that Horatia remarks that the only person she's ever seen Gladiia put her full trust is Kal'tsit? Calm, collected, ever careful Kal'tsit? Who never assumes she can plan for every contingency, who understands her own limits? Who, ultimately, puts the life of Gladiia above the potential benefits of the mission? Compared to her mother, who seemingly very quickly declared her own daughter dead? Who deliberately obscured the actual plans?

Kal'tsit, is ultimately, not her mother. She reminds Gladiia of her mother, but Gladiia puts her full trust in her, unlike Horatia.

#arknights #path of life #arknights spoilers #gladiia #horatia

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fushiglow · 2 months ago

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[Exclusive] Getō Suguru is this week's cover star!

Here's a preview of his interview where he discusses his collaboration with Satoru and much anticipated album, Your Blue. Read the full story in chapter 14 of Over the Threshold!

“I’ll never return to Blue Spring again”

The quiet resurrection of Getō Suguru

This year marked Getō Suguru’s long-awaited return to the radio waves, but this time, his voice is nowhere to be heard. The singer-turned-producer discusses raising the next generation of musical artists and forging fast friendships in unlikely places. Read the full story below the cut.

Once upon a summer, Getō Suguru’s sunny smile lit up every street in Tokyo. You couldn’t round the corner without seeing his billboard, bold and bright and brazenly blue. The man I meet at a quiet café in Kagurazaka is a far cry from the fresh-faced youth Japan remembers. Crowded behind a tiny bistro table, he seems almost too big for his surroundings, both in presence and in stature. It’s a quality he shares with his collaborator, Gojō Satoru (known mononymously as Satoru), with whom the producer made his emphatic return to music this year. But over the course of forty five minutes and an English breakfast tea (milk, one sugar), I learn they share little else. “Satoru is the most honest person I’ve ever met,” Getō says of the story behind their implausible partnership. With his all black attire and neatly crossed legs, he’s the picture of understated elegance, despite the tattoos and piercings. Though he lacks the otherworldly looks of the singer he’s talking about, Getō is just as striking to behold. He’s beautiful for a man, with soulful eyes that bely how terribly young he is, even after all these years away from the industry. Unlike his counterpart, there’s a certain warmth to him, evident when he says, “It’s the reason he’ll go down as the greatest artist of our generation.” A bold claim, especially considering the as of yet unreleased album marks the K-pop idol’s first foray into the Japanese language market. Satoru’s individuality has won him hearts overseas but, despite his staggering talent, his aversion to discretion risks alienating him on home turf. Only this week, he caused a stir when he described the “old geezers running the music industry” as “a collective erectile dysfunction flopping around in a poorly fitted designer suit”. Indeed, “honest” is putting it generously. But perhaps you’d expect nothing less from Getō, whose brand of charm is suave and sophisticated where Satoru’s is cheeky — to put it generously. “There’s a heart of gold beneath that rough exterior,” he insists, surprisingly serious. “You can hear it in his songwriting.”

Maybe he’s right, or maybe Getō simply brings out the best in Satoru. In music and in conversation, Getō has a way of polishing Satoru’s harsh edges to reveal the hidden jewel within. It’s a marvellous gift he possesses, and Satoru has undoubtedly reaped the benefits of his proximity to Getō. The reverse, surely, cannot be said to be true. From stampedes at Shibuya station to speculation about his sexuality, this year has seen the producer catapulted into the public eye in new and uncomfortable ways. Is Getō bothered by the seemingly relentless scrutiny the superstar invites, inevitably bouncing off Satoru and onto him? “Not at all.” Getō’s smile is warm, fond even. His effortless charisma makes it easy to trust his word, but if Satoru is honest in his estimations, then Getō’s admission that the pair of them are “opposites in lots of ways” raises question marks. Unrelated, I was instructed not to ask any questions about the mysterious reasons behind his lengthy hiatus from music. There’s a common English proverb that says ‘opposites attract’, often used to suggest that ideal partnerships are built on contrasts. Research proves otherwise, and in Japan, we tend to prefer the notion that ‘birds of a feather flock together’, but perhaps Gojō Satoru and Getō Suguru buck the trend, because the art they’ve created together (and it is art, despite what their naysayers declare) is undeniably impressive. Ahead of its release on December 24, Your Blue has already garnered a number of wins at the prestigious Japan Record Awards. Though there was no prize on offer for best producer (a title that would surely go to Getō), all three singles due to be announced during the ceremony on New Year’s Eve. It marks the first time in history that multiple works by a single artist have been nominated in the category in a given year. But is he worried that Satoru’s untimely comments have dashed their chances with the voting committee? “That would suggest I think the awards aren’t really about the music.” Ever the diplomat, Getō neither confirms nor denies that’s the case, though it’s perhaps of note that Getō will not be attending the awards with Satoru on December 31. “For me,” he says with a shrug, “New Year’s Eve is a night for family.” One might imagine Getō is rooting for Sugar, a masterclass in pop production on his part, or Limitless, which earned him his first lead songwriting credit on a professionally released record since his debut. His favourite for the win? “Blue.” A predictably magnanimous choice by the producer, considering it’s the only song on the album he didn’t have a hand in creating. In the face of such humility, it’s not hard to remember why the Prince of J-pop was once touted as the ideal role model for Japanese youth. In recent years, Okkotsu Yūta took that title for himself, though one could argue that Getō Suguru paved the way for a great many of the young artists climbing the charts today. Prior to his collaboration with Satoru, the producer worked with up and coming group, Resonance, on their debut album. The trio are overwhelmingly tipped to win Best New Artist at the Japan Record Awards, less than a year after they burst onto the scene. With his tracks widely lauded as the standouts on their album, is Getō Suguru the key to unlocking an artist’s potential? He thinks not, at least when it comes to Satoru. “Satoru is perfectly capable of unlocking his potential by himself. He doesn’t need Getō Suguru—

I actually lied. This is the full story. This is all you're getting, here and in the chapter itself. So, what do we think? How's that for a WIP Wednesday, huh? Please please please scream at me to help me get this thing over the finish line at last! ♥

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ttodorokiii · 7 months ago

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hi again! im the anon who requested the yan dragon king bakugou, if its ok ,, can you make the reader really nice, soft, and super trusting??? like when he kidnapped them, sure they cried a lot but they eventually got used to life with him and didn't even need punishments to behave! i feel like thats a really good contrast with his personality!!

warnings: flüff, fïèry bákúgó, cütè.

•••

The first few days are rough. You cry a lot. It’s terrifying, being taken away, not knowing what’s happening or why. But slowly, you start to notice the little things. How he makes sure you have food. How he never lets you go hungry, even if he’s gruff about it. His anger still flares, but somehow, it’s like you know it’s not aimed at you.

•••

One evening, you ask, “Are you hungry? I can make something for you.” Hoping that he would respond to you.

Bakugou looks up, narrowing his eyes. “I’m fine, idiot. Quit trying to be all sweet.”

You frown, a little hurt, but then you remember, that’s just him. You don’t take it personally. “Alright, but if you get hungry, I’ll be here.”

He grunts and looks away. But the next day, he hands you a cup of water without a word. You’re starting to realize that the more you talk to him like this, the more you can feel him soften, even if he doesn’t admit it.

You keep trying. It’s strange, but you can tell he’s not as angry all the time. Sure, he still yells a lot, but it’s not like before.

You realize that his anger is just a part of him.

It’s like the yelling is just his way of getting out whatever’s on his mind, and somehow, you’ve stopped being afraid of it.

•••

Then again, One day, you say, “You’re not as mad as you used to be.”

His eyes widen for a split second, but then he scoffs, “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not mad. I’m just pissed off.”

You smile. “That’s what I said.”

He shoots you a glare, but it’s different now. It’s not as fierce as it used to be. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out, brat.”

You laugh, not afraid. “I’m lucky? You wouldn’t last without me.”

He huffs, turning away. “Tch. Whatever.”

You feel more comfortable around him now. He’s still got that temper, that explosive edge. But you’ve figured him out. You’ve learned when to stay quiet, when to talk, and when to just be there. Like when he’s pacing around, angry, and you can tell it’s not your fault. You just sit quietly and wait until he calms down.

•••

Another day, you ask, “Can we go outside today?”

Bakugou’s eyes narrow. “Are you crazy? You’re gonna run away or something?”

“No,” you say quickly, “I just want to feel the sun for a bit. Please?” His red eyes narrow

He stares at you for a moment, then lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But you better not get any funny ideas, you hear me?”

You smile, relieved. “I won’t.”

You step outside, breathing in the fresh air, and Bakugou follows behind you, arms crossed, but not saying anything. The quiet feels different now. You don’t need him to yell, don’t need him to say anything at all. You’re starting to trust that he won’t hurt you.

You’ve figured out his mood swings. You know when to talk and when to stay silent.

“Thanks,” you say softly, looking up at the sky.

He grumbles, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

You laugh, but there’s no fear in it. “Yeah, I know.”

And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like he’s just tolerating you. It feels like something more. Maybe, just maybe, things are starting to change.

He maybe a fiery dragon, but you know that deep down he’s soft bunny, but you don’t have to say it in his face he might snarl at you, but…

You both are getting somewhere.

#bnha #bnha fanfic #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #mha #yandere mha #bnha smut #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugou #katsuki x reader #yandere katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader

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julietcpulet · 2 months ago

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Resentment vs. Change

The palace women vs. Jinshi and Maomao

(Spoilers) So much of the end of LN 4 focuses on the different ways people learned how to respond to the resentment and abuse that has built up since the reign of the former Emperor. It’s contrasting Jinshi and Maomao who have both grown up suffering consequences from that reign but are using it to make decided change vs the palace women from that time who decided instead on paths of revenge and self-destruction, often becoming abusers themselves.

We see Jinshi who has been compared to the former Emperor multiple times by the women who only would’ve known him then, unfortunately because no one knows Ah-Duo is his mother and that’s who he resembles. As such he’s been subjected to fearful resentment and claims of illegitimacy as well as the terrible weight of guilt from these women for an accountability of the past Emperor’s actions that is not his own, merely for his looks. Instead of making himself a victim though he’s tried to improve the lives of those in the rear palace, the women trust him and as evidenced by his speech to the fake Loulan, he knows all of them there, down to the smallest detail. We could say that’s a frightening thing but Jinshi has shown incredible restraint for a person of only 19 years of age. He knows their names and details in order to care for them as people and individuals. Later he makes it clear this system of “a garden of women” doesn’t appeal to him and his whole goal is to keep those he loves away from it (namely Maomao). The point here being that instead of letting the abuse and trauma he’s experienced of living a life of others looking at him as if he’s at all similar to the former Emperor just because he bears a resemblance, he took that chance to make the line between them clear, to do something wholly different than that Emperor and his own father.

The same goes for Maomao. She was a product of palace politics in that her father was taken from her mother due to what happened with the La Clan because of Luomen’s involvement in the delivery of the consorts children. This pulled Lakan away from the family and while it resulted in Luomen becoming her adopted father, Maomao suffered immense trauma from her mother descending into sickness and abusing her as a baby. She also didn’t have the best upbringing with the courtesans. But instead of letting these things sour her towards revenge or bitterness, she uses her knowledge to help others even if she can act like she merely wants to be a bystander. She doesn’t let the problems that have come about in her life be a deterrent to helping people going forward. Like when the opportunity presents itself she maneuvers things in such a way that her father and mother have the possibility be together again. Also she puts forward Luomen to come back to the rear palace even though he was banished and it’s at great risk to suggest him. She believes in Gyokuyou and even I would say Jinshi to accept him back without treating him as a criminal. These choices show that while Maomao has been through a lot she manages to find opportunities to improve the situations of those around her without making it about being a victim.

As for the palace women, many took the opposite path like Shinmei and Shenlu. Yes, we know and are shown that they were brought into the rear palace and taken advantage of by the former Emperor, that is a fact not to be diminished. But I believe the whole point here is about what a person chooses to do with their past. Can they move past it and make better out of it or does it just become resentment never to be changed? The palace women chose the path of never ending revenge that got them nothing but fear, destruction and sadness. It was disheartening to see these women blame Jinshi for appearing in a way he had no control over. Like him taking the blame on himself and being willing to take the scar from Shisui so her mother could get revenge on a man long dead. It proves that some people (Shenmei) will hold onto victimhood and grudges to the point of becoming abusers to others who shouldn’t shoulder that blame.

To me the story is meant to portray the importance of the choice to acknowledge the wrongs of the past but learn to put them in their rightful place. Not to keep dwelling on what has gone and harming those who had no part in it but to help those who can be helped now. And that’s the difference Jinshi and Maomao show for the present. Taking steps to try and root out the problems of the rear palace, to change it for the better for the women now in the ways they’re able. Maomao with her medical knowledge and Jinshi with the power he holds. From eliminating face powder, disciplining harmful ladies in waiting and being able to help a difficult pregnancy, to so many other instances, it’s things like this that have shown Jinshi and Maomao are about change and not about making themselves the victims regardless of what they’ve suffered. Because no amount of payback would make a person feel better for abuse but proving that good could come from choosing not to dwell in the past, that’s a worthwhile endeavor.

#the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #jinmao #jinshi x maomao #jinshi #maomao #jinmao rambles

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mxl633 · 8 months ago

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a Web of Love

Spiderwoman!Yunjin x Reader

Synopsis: One night, after Yunjin returns from her crime-fighting duties, the two embark on an exhilarating swing through the city that brings them closer than ever. Between playful banter, stolen kisses, and heart-pounding adventures, Y/N learns that love with a superhero is full of surprises—but it’s also filled with warmth, laughter, and unwavering trust

Warnings: pure fluff ,synopsis says it all

Word count:2.3k

You had never quite gotten used to the idea of dating a superhero. Every night was a balance between quiet solitude and the thrill of knowing your girlfriend was out there saving the world—or at least your corner of the city. Tonight, like many others, you found yourself perched on the rooftop of your apartment, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as the cool night air brushed against your skin. Above you, stars dotted the sky, their faint glow fighting against the city lights below.

You checked your phone out of habit, not expecting any messages but still hoping for one. It was past midnight now, the time when Yunjin would usually finish her patrol. It wasn’t that you minded waiting; in fact, you enjoyed these moments of stillness, knowing that any second she could come swooping in, her playful grin lighting up the night.

And right on cue, you heard it—the faint whoosh of webs shooting across buildings. You looked up just in time to see her silhouette flying through the air, her figure moving with effortless grace, as if the entire city was her playground. Spider-Woman. Yunjin. Your girlfriend.

She landed softly on the rooftop, the moonlight casting a silver glow over her suit. Her face was still hidden behind her mask, but you could tell she was smiling by the way she carried herself. She was always full of energy after a night out swinging through the city.

“You’ve been waiting long?” she asked, her voice slightly muffled by the mask as she approached you.

“Not really,” you said, smiling up at her. “Just a couple of hours.”

She winced, clearly feeling guilty. “Sorry about that. There was a little more action tonight than usual.”

“Saving the world again, I assume?” you teased, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders as the breeze picked up.

“Something like that.” She laughed, finally pulling off her mask. Her hair was slightly tousled, but her eyes sparkled as they always did when she looked at you. “I missed you,” she said, her voice softer now.

You smiled warmly. “I missed you too.”

Yunjin sat down beside you, pulling you into a hug. You let yourself relax in her arms, your head resting on her shoulder as you breathed in her familiar scent, a mix of adrenaline and something distinctly her. It was always a strange contrast—how she could be out there fighting crime one minute, and the next, she’d be here with you, completely at peace.

“So, how was it tonight?” you asked, breaking the silence. “Did you catch any bad guys?”

“Just a few. A robbery downtown and a couple of guys trying to steal a car.” She spoke casually, as if stopping crime was no big deal. “Nothing too serious, though. Pretty standard stuff.”

You looked up at her, admiring how calm she was about all of it. “You make it sound like you’re just running errands.”

She laughed, her arm tightening around your shoulders. “To be honest, it kind of feels like that sometimes. You’d be surprised how much of this job is just chasing down petty criminals.”

You shook your head, smiling. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

She looked down at you, her smile softening. “Not as amazing as you for waiting up for me every night.”

“Hey, someone’s got to make sure Spider-Woman stays out of trouble.”

“Oh, is that your job now?” she teased, leaning in a little closer.

“Someone’s got to do it,” you replied, your heart skipping a beat as she closed the distance between you.

Yunjin’s gaze flickered down to your lips for a brief moment before she leaned in, brushing her lips softly against yours. The kiss was tender, full of warmth and affection, the kind of kiss that made the world disappear for a moment. You closed your eyes, letting yourself melt into the feeling, her presence grounding you in a way nothing else could.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes lingered on yours, a small, almost shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night,” she whispered.

You laughed softly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “You could’ve done it sooner if you weren’t out fighting crime.”

She chuckled, resting her forehead against yours. “You’re right. I need to get my priorities straight.”

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the city’s hum fading into the background as you held each other. These were the moments you cherished most—when it was just you and Yunjin, no masks, no superhero responsibilities, just the two of you sharing a quiet night under the stars.

But, of course, Yunjin was never one to let things stay quiet for too long.

After a few minutes, she shifted, looking at you with that mischievous glint in her eyes that you knew all too well. “You know what we haven’t done in a while?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Gone for a swing,” she said, her grin widening as she stood up and held out her hand to you. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You blinked at her, half-laughing in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” she replied, wiggling her fingers at you. “I promise I won’t drop you.”

You hesitated for a second, glancing down at the city streets far below. The idea of being carried through the air like that was both terrifying and thrilling. But then you looked at Yunjin, her eyes sparkling with excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile. You trusted her completely.

“All right,” you said, taking her hand. “But if you drop me, I’m breaking up with you.”

She laughed, pulling you to your feet. “Deal. But you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

With that, Yunjin wrapped her arm securely around your waist and pulled you close. You could feel her warmth against you as she fired a web at a nearby building, and before you knew it, the two of you were soaring through the air.

The wind rushed past your face, and your heart leapt into your throat as Yunjin swung you both effortlessly between the towering buildings. You clung to her, your breath catching in your chest, but the fear quickly gave way to exhilaration. The city lights blurred below you, and for a moment, it felt like you were flying.

Yunjin let out a joyful laugh, her voice full of pure, unfiltered happiness. “Isn’t this amazing?”

You couldn’t help but laugh with her, the adrenaline making your heart race. “Okay, I’ll admit, this is pretty cool!”

She grinned, spinning both of you in mid-air before gracefully landing on another rooftop. Your legs were a little shaky when you touched the ground, but you were still grinning from ear to ear.

“That was incredible,” you breathed, slightly out of breath. “I can’t believe you do that every day.”

Yunjin smiled, her arm still around your waist. “You get used to it after a while. But it’s a lot more fun with you.”

You looked up at her, your heart swelling with affection. “I guess that makes me your sidekick now, huh?”

“More like my partner in crime-fighting,” she said, leaning down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more passionate, the thrill of the swing still lingering between you. Her lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt yourself get lost in the moment, your arms wrapping around her neck as you pulled her closer.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and you could feel her breath against your lips. “You make everything better, you know that?” she whispered.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I could say the same about you.”

For the rest of the night, you and Yunjin stayed on that rooftop, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. She told you stories about her latest adventures as Spider-Woman, and you shared the little things that had happened during your day. It was peaceful, being up there with her, away from the noise and chaos of the city below.

As the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you yawned, leaning your head on Yunjin’s shoulder. “I think it’s time for bed,” you mumbled sleepily.

Yunjin smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, we should probably get some sleep.”

She stood up, helping you to your feet before wrapping her arm around your waist once more. “Let’s get you home,” she said, her voice soft and comforting.

With one last swing, Yunjin brought you back to your apartment, gently lowering you onto the balcony before landing beside you. You turned to her, still feeling a little light-headed from the adrenaline and the late hour.

“Thanks for the adventure,” you said, smiling up at her.

“Anytime,” she replied, her eyes full of warmth. “Get some rest, okay?”

You nodded, leaning in for one last kiss before turning to head inside. But just as you reached the door, Yunjin called out to you.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft. “I love you.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at her words. “I love you too, Yunjin.”

And with that, you disappeared into your apartment, leaving Spider-Woman standing on your balcony, watching over you as always.

#femalereader #female reader #kpop imagines #wlw #kpop x reader #wlw sfw #le sserafim #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim scenarios #huh yunjin #jennifer huh #yunjin x reader #yunjin x you #huh yunjin x reader #huh yunjin x you #le sserafim x reader #le sserafim x you #le sserafim x y/n

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