#it just really pisses me off when people say that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunasilhouette · 3 days ago

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「your intentions」 - s.rintarou x f!reader

✧summary:

what happens when a notorious manwhore, stoner, and player, encounters someone who doesn't seem all too interested. or: you piss suna off so much that he wants you

✧wc: 5.2k

✧au: college!au, freshman!suna, freshman!reader, miya twins side characters

✧ tags + warnings under the cut

♪♬ intentions - starfall

✧warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, bratty!reader, experienced!reader, sadist!suna, dom!suna, fuckboy!suna, stoner!suna, sexual tension, alcohol consumption, fwb, suna is an asshole with standards,

✧tags: fingering (f.), oral (m.f.), teasing, degradation, pet name (kitten/ princess), unprotected sex, rough, edging, mirror sex, dubcon, creampie, face-fucking, cum swallowing

frat parties themselves were frustrating—loud, crowded, sweaty. but on the bright side, they always accompanied themselves with free booze and weed. a lot of the guys here played for various sports teams on campus, most of them on the volleyball team.

one in particular, suna rintarou. the guy you so happened to sit next to in the blunt rotation and the very guy your friend warned you about yet also praised. rumour has it suna rintarou only calls up girls when he's high but he was an insane fuck. you didn't take much notice until it was your turn in the rotation. with a tap on your shoulder, you turned to the tall, foxy-featured volleyball player.

“hey. you want some or not?" rintarou suna said lazily, expression blank. his sharp, foxy features complement the entire vibe he was exuding. plus, you were surprised that you could smell a sexy, earthy cologne on him and not just the weed.

you turned around, meeting his eyes with a similar blank expression, not really vibing with his tone. you might have had a resting bitch face... but, you didn’t say anything as you took the offered blunt, taking a big puff and blowing it at his face, saying, “thanks," clipped with a fake smile and then turned back to your friend, dismissing the surprise on her face.

what you didn't notice was how suna raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by your boldness yet intrigued. as you blew smoke in his face, he had taken a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes never leaving yours. even when you turned away, he kept his gaze drifting lazily over your body in a way that was both assessing and appreciative.

leaning back casually against the couch, he pulled out his phone but continued to sneak glances at her from the corner of his eye. a slow, sly smile spread across his lips.

meanwhile, your friend yui was erratically sputtering about your passive-aggressive interaction with the known ‘manwhore’. honestly, you didn’t get the big deal and continued sipping at your drink and making conversation with the other sports guys, purposely ignoring suna.

sure, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive but he was surprisingly not the kind of guy you usually go for. suna’s and your mutual friend osamu was more up your alley since you shared an elective with him and he seemed way more of a green flag than a notorious womaniser.

yui was in the middle of not-so-quietly warning you about him, no doubt painting him as some kind of villain suna thought. with that, you felt as though a certain someone was staring a hole into the back of your head causing you to shift your gaze briefly—mr hotshot himself already looking with that same lazy, blank yet sharp expression of his. he quirked the side of his lip. you rolled your eyes at him, something suna definitely wanted to see again.

you were alerted to a ringing and a name that pissed you off reading. “shit… sorry, I gotta take this call.” you told yui, putting your drink down and leaving the group, trying to find your way through the crowded living room and up the stairs into a hopefully unoccupied room.

you waltzed upstairs and managed to find an empty room where people weren't fucking in to take the phone call. it wasn't a very fun one.

"christ, anzai, I told you not to call me again. do I really have to block you?" the conversation was pointless and getting on your nerves. you sat down on the bed, rubbing your temples out of frustration. sighing and about to cuss out your ex-fwb over the phone, the door opened, letting a bit of light into the dark room.

suna rintarou. your eyes grew at the coincidence but you needed to end the phone call. suna was just quiet, watching you with that blank expression and stare of his.

"you're blocked. don't call me."

the invader leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you with keen interest as you hung up. you sighed as you rubbed your temples which probably struck a chord in him—you're sure he knew this feeling all too well. the room fell silent except for the muffled noise and shit music from downstairs. wordlessly, he pushed off the doorframe and moved further into the room, closing the door softly behind him. suna came to sit beside you on the bed, close but not quite touching. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a joint and lighter.

"trouble in paradise?" he asked quietly, sparking the lighter. his tone was devoid of its usual sarcasm, surprisingly gentle. he took a long hit before offering it to you, exhaling smoke slowly through barely parted lips. his eyes, usually sharp and mocking, had softened as he regarded you in the shadows. for now, the game was on hold - it seemed he was simply offering a moment of quiet understanding.

this was the infamous manwhore on campus people were dying to get in bed with? you glanced at the joint that he offered. you didn’t take it, saying, "can't a girl get a little bit of privacy? I prefer escaping the party alone, actually."

"this is my room, actually," he replied calmly, taking another drag from the joint.

“shit- sorry.” you started, about to stand up and leave but he didn’t seem bothered or react as if he was so... you slowly sat back down.

suna exhaled slowly and shrugged. "don't worry, I'm not going to try anything. just thought you could use someone to vent to, if you want." his tone was casual, non-threatening. holding the joint out to you again, he added, "or... we could just get high and forget about our problems for a while."

his expression gave nothing away as usual, but his eyes were open and attentive, implicitly letting you know he was genuinely offering an ear. the ball was in your court now - you could take the outstretched joint as a peace offering and relax in comfortable silence, or tell him to fuck off.

“well, guess I'll take you up on that,” you said in reply, the faintest hint of a smile on your glossy lips.

a ghost of a smirk tugged at suna's lips as you accepted said peace offering, brushing against his fingers slightly (intentionally or not), clearly pleased with himself. he leaned back on one arm, mirroring you, close but not quite touching and watched the end of the joint glow orange as you took a hit.

"so, what's with the aggressive call?" he asked casually, your brief contact sent a subtle spark through him, though his expression remained as bored as ever. "ex giving you trouble?"

he took another long drag, holding the smoke for a moment before releasing it. his hooded gaze remained fixed on you, waiting patiently. there was a comfortable silence as the weed started to take effect, blurring the edges of discomfort.

during the brief silence, you took him in, only now realising how long his legs were and how huge he actually was without that oversized jacket- arms, hands, fingers; everything.

averting your eyes, you instead noticed a few things about his bedroom. one - a massive wall-to-ceiling mirror on his built-in wardrobe and a volleyball as well as some trophies on display on the shelves. some of his clothes were thrown about, as you would expect in a first-year guy's room. not to mention his impressive PC set-up.

suna had followed your gaze around the room, catching the subtle once-overs of his physique and belongings.

you finally indulged him by replying to his question, “not that big of a deal. just an asshole that begged to tap again despite being a one-minute wonder," you smirked through the confession - subtlety not being one of your strongest suits.

"really? wouldn't know what that's like." you could practically hear the smirk in his voice too, confidence oozing through.

you rolled your eyes at his comment, "though, seems like you're the same in that you don't know how to take the hint. heard all about you." you continued before you could really think over what you had just implied.

he hid a smirk by taking another drag.

"hmm, really?" he replied lazily, "and what exactly have you heard?"

of course, suna knew the rumours that circulated about him - manwhore, player, only calls girls when he's high and or drunk. but he was curious what impression you in particular had gotten. his hooded gaze watched your expression closely.

the joint was starting to take effect now, softening the edges of his usual sharp demeanour. a pleasant buzz hummed through your veins.

letting out a soft chuckle, closing your eyes and replying with shrug, "you only call girls when you're high or drunk. and… you're an 'insane fuck'. a friend's words - not mine."

as you spoke, suna reached his arm past you, leaning over your thighs to stub out his joint on an ashtray atop the bedside table. your eyes grew wide at the sudden proximity.

"hmm, your friend isn't entirely wrong," suna hummed, his breath ghosting over your ear. he took his sweet time stubbing out the joint, not missing and clearly enjoying the subtle tension of your body.

when he sat back, he turned his head to meet your eyes, mere inches away. his gaze, usually sharp and mocking, had softened into something molten under the haze.

"but, what do you think?" he asked quietly, a hint of challenge in his tone. one of his long fingers came up to brush a lock of hair from your cheek, lingering there for a moment as his eyes dropped to your lips. the game was still afoot, but the rules had changed - this was no longer just casual banter.

this was an invitation.

and, your own gaze failed you too. for a split second, your eyes flicked down to his lips and then back up to his greyish-yellow eyes. you decide not to swat his hand away.

“well, shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and so on...” you whispered low and sultry, “as for ‘insane fuck’… let’s just say I don’t have the experience to give my own opinion.”

"wise words," his thumb tracing soft circles on her cheek. your admission both surprised and intrigued him. he liked the way you talked.

leaning in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away, he brushed his lips against the shell of your ear once more. "what do you say we change that?" he breathed, letting the question hang tantalizingly in the air.

his free hand came up to tangle gently in your hair, tilting you enough to expose the long, column of your neck. suna pressed a lingering kiss there, feeling that pulse quicken under his lips and forced a breathy sigh out of you, the pressure feeling so good.

"or d'you wanna continue our little game of cat and mouse?" he whispered, hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin. his eyes, when they meet yours again, gleam with promise and challenge.

"that depends,” you whispered out, “who’s the cat and who’s the mouse?” contrary to conflicting words, your own hands moved to slide up his shirt—to the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his brown locks. hands on his bare skin sent sparks through his veins, sharpening his focus.

"good question," suna murmured just above your lips, eyes half-lidded with intent.

in one smooth motion, he pushed you down, caging you against the plush mattress. his knee parted your thighs, making that tight mini skirt ride up just enough, pressing against your core, eliciting a gasp.

"for now, I think it's safe to say the mouse has been caught. but, I have a feeling you're more kitten than mouse," he gazed down at you with hooded eyes, taking in your flushed cheeks and sweet curves. "so you gonna let me kiss you, or...?

that shit-eating grin on his face made the idea of denying him so much more tempting. alas, suna rintarou was stupidly good with his words. but, so were you.

"I'll let you do more if you hurry up."

you could hear suna curse under his breath right before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. he rolled his hips against yours, grinding his hard length through the thin layers of fabric. a low groan rumbled in his throat at the exquisite friction.

breaking the kiss, he trailed his mouth down your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking marks into the tender skin. “so you’re the impatient type, huh?” he teased, hands making quick work of that skirt. "alright, I’ll give you what you want.”

not a second later and you’re stripped bare. he’s settled between your thighs. no more teasing—he delved right in, lapping eagerly at those dripping folds. his reputation precedes him, ministrations focused and skilled, clearly well-practised in the art of reducing his flings to a quivering mess.

you didn’t know what to expect but suna going full-throttle was definitely not on the list. either suna really was a god with his hands and tongue or the weed in your system was making you feel pleasure tenfold. you hoped it was just the latter.

you couldn’t even stop to think about trying to avoid the mounting orgasm. suna didn’t help with the way his tongue perfectly circled your clit. or how his fingers curled and prodded that sweet spot in your tight, soaking wet cunt.

it wasn’t your fault how your thighs quivered and threatened to close around him—but suna kept you spread, happily lapping up the slick and wetness from your cum.

you cursed and could feel his fucking grin, taking his time kissing and nipping down your inner thighs. only when you stilled did he crawl back up your body, grabbing at the flesh of your curves.

his lips and chin glistened with your essence, kissing you once more and letting you get a taste of yourself on his hot tongue.

suna nipped at your swollen lips, erection straining painfully against his jeans. “your turn,” he said, taking your hand and guiding it to the tent in his pants.

your brows frowned and smirked somewhat irritably. that nonchalant, confident arrogance of his really did a good job at pissing you off (and turning you on). two could play at that game.

recovered from that mind-blowing orgasm, you pushed against his chest, making him sit up and lean on one arm. “you really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

you claimed his lips once more, undoing the belt and unzipping his pants with practised ease as he helped by kicking them off.

his grunt out of surprise was delightful to hear as you gripped him by the base, cock twitching eagerly in your grasp.

“guilty as charged,” he breathed when you parted, watching with that lazy grin and hooded eyes. “but you seem to be holding your own just fine,” he reached down to stroke your cheek. suna’s expression softening from his usual mocking edge into something almost tender. almost.

now that you were quite literally face-to-face with his cock, you couldn’t think anything else other than, ‘fuck, he’s big’. stupid volleyball players and their stupid big hands, big build and big dick apparently.

“you’re not the only one who’s been around,” you confessed, teasing the tip, flicking salty pre all around, all while looking at him doe-eyed through your lashes.

suna sucked in a sharp breath, hips twitching slightly from the teasing touches. “mm, I’m learning that,” he replied, voice roughening with barely restrained desire. what he would give to shove his cock down that diabolical mouth of yours. the mental image of your full, pouty lips stretched wide around him might have been enough to send him over the edge on its own.

his fingers tangle into your hair, not pushing but definitely encouraging, giving it a light tug. you took that as the go signal, licking up a stripe from the base of his cock. your spare hand, already coated with the juices from your cunt came up to pump once and then twice.

and, just as you finished licking up that stripe, you closed your mouth around the tip, bobbing your head and experimentally hollowing out your cheeks.

the throaty groan suna let out was more than satisfactory, head falling back as you sucked harder. “fuck, just like that…” he growled encouragingly, hips wanting to jerk up into that perfect mouth but he held back, letting you set the pace.

furrowing your brows at him, you swallowed him deeper until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, moaning, sending waves through his cock. he was in so deep. you could feel it twitch inside your throat and taste what was uniquely suna rintarou.

"f-fuck," he stammered, hips bucking up helplessly at the sensation of your throat fluttering around the head of his cock. oh, you were taking him so well, like you were made for swallowing his length. "so fucking good," he praised roughly, stroking your cheek. his release was coiling hot and tight already.

just before sending him over the edge, what could a little more teasing do? with a lick of your lips, you gazed up at him from below and with a smirk saying, “you holdin’ back or somethin’? I’m not a stranger to being face fucked," and licked another swipe down his cock.

suna scoffed. his eyes flashed dangerously.

in a flash he flipped you backwards, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his cock jutted heavy and eager between you, glistening with his pre and your saliva.

"you asked for it, kitten," he warned, a wicked gleam in his eyes. without further preamble, he plunged back into your mouth, setting a punishing pace as he fucked that perfect throat.

suna's hips snapped forward relentlessly as he took what he wanted. one hand tangled roughly in your hair to hold you in place for his merciless punishment.

"such a naughty little slut, begging to be face fucked," he growled, feeling his release coiling tighter with each slick thrust. "swallow it all when I come, got that?"

his groans and grunts were honestly music to your ears. a few more hard thrusts and he was spilling down your throat with a guttural groan, pounding into your mouth through the entirety of his climax.

you weren't immune to having tears well up in your eyes as white hot cum spurted down your throat, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling and to not choke around him.

when suna ‘generously’ (not) pulled out of your mouth, you puffed your cheeks and swallowed hard, turning to cough. you faced suna after, licking your lips and swallowing all while looking at him dead in the eye almost defiantly, “people usually stop fucking moving when they blow,” you complained, voice slightly hoarse but that just made suna even more prideful.

he just chuckled at your complaint—that same evil laugh accompanying that shit-eating smirk. "dunno who you're tryna convince since..." he shifted, fingers tracing your hips and tapped your sopping wet cunt, wetness practically dripping down your thighs. "you're ruining my sheets."

you detested that suna rintarou face-fucking you made you wet to the point where you dripped all over his bed. it was now clear to him exactly how he should continue treating you.

rolling smoothly atop you, he caged you in with strong arms and settled between welcoming thighs. "I’ll clean that up for you," he purred, dipping his head to sample the sweet flavour lingering on his tongue.

suna let his fingers do most of the work stretching you out, making you mewl, moan, and arch your back. “s'that what you say to all the girls you fuck?”

suna chuckled darkly against her slick flesh, tongue delving deeper in response. "not always," he replied, lips and chin glistening when he pulled back to meet your eyes. two fingers scissored inside you, curling to stroke that sweet spot, while his thumb circled your aching clit in lazy eights.

"now quit your yapping and enjoy the ride." he resumed his oral devotion with renewed vigour, determined to reduce you to a quivering mess once more before claiming you fully. only when you were sobbing his name and gripping the sheets in abandon would he deem you ready for his cock.

fuck— his fingers really were magic. you were questioning why he was so adamant on stretching you out. though, after taking his cock in your mouth, you were actually wondering how it’d fucking fit inside. you were so, so close to coming for the second time that night. but, you oh-so badly wanted to cum on his cock. you’d rather die than admit it though, stubbornly biting your lip, muffling cries so as to not give him satisfaction.

suna hummed, smirking around the mouthful of flesh his lips and tongue were lavishing. he could feel your inner walls fluttering, body coiled as tight as a bowstring on the edge of release.

pulling back with an obscene pop, he withdrew his fingers to your disappointed mewl. "tsk, so impatient," he chided, nipping at your inner thighs. "don't you want the real thing?" he purred, rubbing the thick head of his cock through your slick folds in slow, teasing circles. he was fully hard again, ready to plunge deep.

"beg for it like a good girl and I'll consider it," he challenged, grey-golden eyes glittering with mischief. his thumb returned to rub tight, fast circles around your clit, keeping you right on the razor's edge.

your brows furrowed, eyes closing tight in hopes to stop yourself from coming. you swallowed hard and managed a smirk despite your hazed eyes, closing your legs around his torso, pulling him in, playfully nipping at his bottom lip. "not until you ask me for my name, asshole."

suna growled low in his throat. little minx was going to be the death of him. his cockhead nudged insistently at your entrance, aching to breach that tight heat.

his voice was low and smooth, lacking its usual teasing edge. for once, his full attention was focused solely on you, "alright then, kitten. what's your name?" you waited on his question, and then you'd give your answer, along with the fucking of a lifetime.

whispering your name into his ear, you continued, "but, you can call me your slut if you let me cum on your cock this time. and, if you’re good I might even let you have my number."

the way your voice stayed low and sultry almost lulled him into some sort of spell. it didn't help suna's patience when your legs tightened around his waist, making his cock kiss the entrance of your cunt.

suna's eyes darkened at the sinful proposition, cock twitching eagerly. oh, he was going to make you beg for release before the night was through.

he purred your name, tasting it on his tongue as he rolled his hips, "such a pretty name for a dirty slut." he chuckled, nipping your lobe.

in one swift thrust, he finally sank home, burying to the hilt in one smooth stroke. your velvety heat clenched so tight around him. it was exquisite torture. the moan you both shared together was downright diabolical and the proceeding muffled cries that you let out in your mess of a kiss felt delicious on suna’s tongue.

bracing himself on muscular arms, he set a punishing pace, hips snapping forward to grind against your clit on every pass. "you'll probably be begging for mine once I'm done," he mumbled against your lips, grey eyes alight with primal hunger.

with the way your pussy clenched down on him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders and the way you moaned his name: how could he not feel like he was running on pure ecstasy.

suna gripped your hips and flipped you over, leaning over your arched body. he nipped the shell of your ear with a smirk. his free hand gripped your chin, pulling your head up, making you look up at that full-length mirror on his wardrobe, "remind me how you want it, again?"

you wanted to curse him out so bad with how badly your walls fluttered achingly around nothing. biting your lips, you let out a shaky sigh as your cheeks flushed an even deeper red. finding the strength to lift a hand to turn his head and whisper devilishly into his ear, "rough."

with a breathy chuckle, he replied, "sure thing, princess." without further warning, he gripped your hips once more and slammed back in. you cried out, whether in pain or pleasure or a sick mixture of both, you neither knew nor cared. all that mattered was the feeling of suna wrecking your insides.

suna's hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the debaucherous reflection in the mirror. the muted sounds of the frat party downstairs faded, replaced with the noises of sex and slapping skin.

your skin flushed pink and red from the marks he left on your body. looking up for a brief second, you met his blown-out pupils in the mirror, managing to get out, "a little fucked in the head, aren’t you-"

suna's lips curled into a feral smirk at your words, meeting your gaze unflinchingly in the mirror. "takes one to know one, princess," he growled, angling his hips to drive even deeper. his thrusts were relentless, pounding into you so hard the force shifted you forward.

leaning over you and reaching around, he splayed his large hand over your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock. "feel that?"

of course you fucking felt it—he was practically splitting you open. and you'd hate to admit it but you felt high and it was definitely not the weed.

he caught your mouth in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue. his eyes bored into yours in the mirror, a feral challenge gleaming in their depths.

you couldn’t stay up. you lowered your head, body high on firey pleasure as suna pounded a second orgasm into you. you cursed and sputtered out, "f-fuck...! I'm gonna..."

his own face twisted in ecstasy. fuck, he needed to fill you up. your cries raised an octave and walls began to spasm around him, making him groan deeply into the crook of your neck. as much of an asshole he was, he found a slither of control inside him to care enough to ask.

he cursed, his control hanging by a thread, "you on anything?"

his cock pistoned in and out of your walls, hitting that spongy sweet spot every single time. the slap of skin filled the room along with your mingled moans. suna's orgasm was coiling tight, ready to explode.

somehow summoning the last shreds of willpower, he panted against your skin, "hurry, tell me before I lose it…" the decision was yours, but he wasn't sure he could stop even if you said to. not when you felt this fucking good.

part of him wanted nothing more than to spill deep inside, and claim you as only his. a few more erratic thrusts were all he could manage, hanging on the razor's edge for your reply before the dam broke.

“f-fuck... just— fill me up…!” you couldn’t even think straight as you peaked. your back arched like a pretty moon with a death grip on the sheets, trying to at least hold on to a bit of your sanity.

a guttural groan tore from suna's throat at your permission, the last of his restraint shattering. he slammed home one final time, spilling hot white cum deep inside your clenching walls with a full-body shudder.

wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him as he pulsed into you, your climax dragging his out for an agonizing eternity. your velvety heat milked him for all he was worth, and he swore he saw stars behind his lids.

coming back to himself, he collapsed heavily over you, panting for breath. suna buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent as you both floated down together.

"fuck…" was all he could manage in a gravelly rasp, still nestled inside.

the previously faded noise of the party had now become slightly audible and matched with the beating of your heartbeats and panting breaths. holy fuck. suna rintarou really was an insane fuck.

pulling out slowly, he watched his seed leak from your abused cunt with a satisfied smirk. rollling onto his side, he tugged your limp, well-fucked body towards him, tucking you under his arm.

was he still high? cus the way he was looking at you was kinda dangerous… you didn’t say anything else and pressed your lips against his again, wanting to forget about everything else and enjoy the ‘insane fuck’ that was suna rintarou.

suna readily returned your kiss, losing himself in the feel of your pretty soft lips. for once, his mind had gone blissfully blank - all he knew was the girl in his arms and the taste of you on his tongue.

reluctantly breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead to yours, noses brushing almost intimately as you both caught your breaths. his fingers traced idle patterns along your flushed skin, committing every curve and plane to memory.

his eyes cracked open to meet your gaze, and for a heartbeat, something almost tender flickered in his usual sardonic depths. "stay the night?" he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft. fingers tracing the bow of your lips, he awaited your answer.

“what, can’t get enough of the girl that accidentally walked into your room?” you teased, biting the finger that traced your lips.

suna huffed out a soft laugh at your retort. he replied, "can you blame me? think I hit the jackpot with you." his fingers combed idly through your tousled locks, gaze roaming your well-fucked form with unabashed hunger and appreciation.

"besides," he purred, nosing along your jawline to nip at the spot below your ear that made her gasp, "you still need to answer my question."

his voice had dropped to a low, gravelly rasp that went straight to your core. he smirked against your flushed skin. "do I live up to my reputation as an 'insane fuck'?"

yes, you answered mentally—but you weren't about to feed his ego even more.

trailing his fingers down your spine, he purred, "and I believe someone promised me her number? for being 'good' and filling her up.”

despite the way you shivered at his touch once more, you huffed and pushed against his chest. “your volleyball friends not gonna miss you?” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.

"probably too busy getting shitfaced to notice I'm gone," he replied with a lazy shrug. "I'd much rather stay right here and wreck you a few more times before calling it a night." his hand slid down your stomach to tease that oversensitive clit, smirking at your involuntary gasp.

“you’re impossible.”

unfortunately for you, you did surrender your number to suna in the end. and, you even stayed the night, surprising a few of suna’s house mates from the sight of the smoking hot girl he managed to somehow get into his bed. you paid them no mind as you left his place. well- apart from giving your classmate, osamu miya, an awkward greeting before leaving.

it wasn’t long before you and suna would meet again, and again, and again…

#suna rintarou #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x reader smut #suna x reader #suna x reader smut #suna smut #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #potentially doing more with this au #what happens when suna begins to fall in love with his favourite fwb?#honestly he's probably already started falling #follow for next instalment o/

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1425fivefive · 2 days ago

Note

↻FLIP FLOP for Learned Behavior

Monaco afterparty toilets scene - Oscar's POV

would love to see a little sneak into what was going on in Oscar's head, the whole Charles thing, the sex, and especially after the kiss, poor guy has been dealing with Lando's mixed signals for months

Beloved anon, this took me ages. Have 2k of the Monaco toilets scene in Learned Behavior from Oscar's perspective:

Watching Lando from across the room—glaring at Charles, sucking angrily on the straw of his drink—Oscar can’t help but wonder about it. What Lando and Charles were to each other.

When Oscar had asked about it back in Miami, Lando had gotten all weird and cagey, done this awkward, forced laugh and insisted that Charles was straight. But Oscar’s seen the way Charles looks at men. Noticed the way Charles looks at Lando, sometimes, when Lando’s not looking. Something hungry in his gaze.

A part of Oscar doesn’t really want to know all the details. The thing with Lando feels delicate, breakable. Like if Oscar pushes too hard it might shatter, Lando looking at him with watery, hurt eyes, even as he’s telling Oscar to fuck off.

And, like—things are fine the way they are, probably. Good, even. Oscar reckons he’d put up with a lot of shit if it meant he could still have Lando fuck him every weekend, call him a good boy, get off on telling him not to come. Trace a thumb over his lip, pull his hair, tell him how pretty he looks getting fucked.

Oscar surreptitiously tries to adjust his shorts. It’s just—he hasn’t come since Imola and he’s fucking aching for it, keeps dreaming about how good Lando feels inside of him and waking up hard, dripping onto the sheets. Sometimes he thinks about taking a picture of himself, hard and swollen and wet, sending it to Lando, begging Lando to let him come, secretly hoping Lando will tell him no.

Watching Lando staring at Charles, still, Oscar wants to beg Lando to pay attention to him. To forget about whatever bullshit happened with Charles and drag Oscar back to his flat, take him apart until he’s crying, finally let him come.

But Lando can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Charles and before Oscar can really think he’s walking across the room, sliding into the pocket of space beside Lando.

Lando glances over at him and Oscar sees the way his cheeks flush, eyes going dark. It’s gratifying, at least, to know Lando’s attracted to him. But Lando goes right back to staring at Charles and it stings, being dismissed so easily.

Oscar tries to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he asks, “What’s got you all pissed off?”

“Nothing,” Lando says, still openly glaring at Charles.

Oscar glances over at where Charles is standing in a crowd of people, eyes bright, laughing and smiling. “You could at least pretend to be happy for him,” Oscar says.

Lando’s brows unfurrow slightly and he finally manages to tear his gaze away from Charles, looking over at Oscar.

It feels like a win, however small. “There you go,” Oscar says softly.

He thinks, for a moment, about letting it go. Asking Lando to take him home.

But Lando’s been ignoring him for most of the night, and Oscar can’t resist saying, “I’ve never understood why you two don’t get along. Charles is nice—”

Lando snorts. “Charles isn’t nice. He’s polite, yeah, but he’s not nice.”

Oscar wants to say, Of course you’d think that, you two have some weird, fucked-up psychosexual thing going on that’s honestly getting extremely fucking annoying.

Instead, Oscar tries to make a joke of it. “Dunno, mate, the whole adoption thing—”

“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Lando snaps, letting out a mean little laugh. “No one’s been able to shut up about it, honestly.”

Oscar can see the flash of regret on Lando’s face the moment he’s said it, the look Lando always gets when he knows he’s crossed a line. Normally Oscar forgives him. Knows Lando says shit without thinking and doesn’t mean most of it. Especially when it comes to Charles.

But Oscar’s sympathy can only go so far when Lando won’t fucking talk about any of it. Won’t even admit the basic fact that something happened between them.

“Right, well.” Oscar knocks back the rest of his drink, setting the empty glass on the bar. “I’m gonna leave you to it.”

Lando looks like he’s about to say something, but Oscar’s not really in the mood to hear it. He turns to go, accidentally catching Charles’s eye in the process.

“Oscar!” Charles calls, waving him over.

Oscar knows how it’ll look to Lando if he goes over to Charles, but he sort of wants to make Lando jealous. After Lando’s been, frankly, a bit of a cunt all weekend, even after Oscar finished P2. Lando hasn’t even congratulated him on the podium.

So Oscar goes over to Charles, lets Charles pull him into a hug, lets Charles crow about their father-son 1-2, lets Charles grip the back of his neck and smile at him. It’s nice to have someone care, but Oscar can’t help but wish it was Lando touching him like this, smiling at him and reliving the race.

But before Oscar can really say anything, he hears Lando’s voice saying, “Mind if I borrow Osc here for a sec?”

—

Lando drags him to a toilet and he’s on him as soon as the door’s locked, backing Oscar up against the sink, fingers digging into Oscar’s hips, mouth sucking at Oscar’s neck.

“Fuck, Lando,” Oscar moans, too loud by half for a bathroom in the middle of a club. But he can’t bring himself to care, too relieved at the feeling of Lando’s hands on him, Lando’s thigh slotting between his legs.

Oscar grinds down on the hard muscle of Lando’s thigh, whimpering at how good it feels to finally get some friction on his cock.

It feels like he loses any capacity for rational thought the moment Lando gets his hands on him, the second Lando starts telling him how good he’s being, gripping his arse with his massive fucking hands.

“You sound so fucking good,” Lando says, breath warm against Oscar’s neck, sending little sparks down Oscar’s spine. “So fucking hot, Osc.”

Oscar can’t help but whine, grinding harder against Lando.

“Fuck,” Lando groans. He slides a hand down, gripping Oscar through his trousers.

Oscar can feel his briefs get wetter, cock straining against the zipper, the friction unbearable as Lando rubs at Oscar through the fabric.

It’s insane how Lando’s hand practically covers him completely. How Lando barely has to move when he strokes Oscar’s cock, his hand so big it makes Oscar’s cock look tiny, only the flushed head peeking out of Lando’s fist. Lando calls it cute, sometimes, tells Oscar what a pretty cock he has, small and perfect. It makes Oscar feel insane, makes him want to come all over Lando’s fingers and lick it off, beg Lando to fuck him, ask Lando to never let him come again.

“Have you come since Imola?” Lando asks.

Oscar shakes his head, whimpers. “No, I—you didn’t say I could.”

“Jesus, Osc.” Lando tips his head against Oscar’s shoulder, still rubbing Oscar through his trousers.

At this rate, Oscar’s scared of coming in his clothes. But he wants it so bad, feels like he’ll lose his mind if Lando doesn’t get him off. He’d hold it, if Lando said he had to, but he feels tears pricking his eyes at the thought of not being allowed to come tonight. He just—he needs it so fucking bad. Needs Lando to make him come, needs Lando to look at him like Oscar’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, needs Lando murmuring praise while Oscar spills over his fingers.

Lando seems to be able to tell how desperate Oscar is, because he says, “You need to come, yeah?”

Oscar nods, frantic.

Lando’s already undoing the button of his trousers, tugging them and his briefs down his thighs, freeing his cock to the cold air of the toilet.

But Lando’s palm is warm when he wraps it around Oscar and Oscar can’t help the moan that escapes him, eyes sliding shut in relief, head tipping back against the mirror.

Fingers slide through Oscar’s hair, pulling, hard, and Oscar whines, eyes flying open.

“You have to look at me,” Lando breathes, stroking Oscar firm and fast. “You have to look at me if you want me to let you come.”

Oscar forces himself to look at Lando, forces himself to watch as Lando drags him closer and closer to the edge. Lando’s spouting nonsense and Oscar can’t help himself, whining and crying out as Lando rubs a thumb over the head of his cock, brings his hand up to Oscar’s mouth and tells Oscar to spit, before wrapping his hand around Oscar again, everything slick and hot and wet.

Oscar feels like he’s seconds away from coming, his abs aching from the efforts of holding back, thighs trembling.

But Lando looks like he’s enjoying it, like he likes seeing Oscar strung out and desperate. When Oscar meets Lando’s eyes, Lando’s pupils are so wide his eyes are practically black.

Oscar realizes, then, that he might never be able to walk away from this. That he’d let Lando behave as badly as he wants, treat him like shit, never talk about anything, as long as it meant Lando would touch him like this. Firm and confident and in control, looking like it’s a fucking privilege to get to see Oscar flushed and trembling with need.

It’s never—Oscar’s always felt fucking weird about how much it turns him on to be ordered around a bit, told not to come, fucked hard and rough. With his ex he just—shoved it to the back of his mind. Watched porn and otherwise tried to ignore it. There’d been a few blokes throughout the years, but—they all acted like they were doing him a favor. It wasn’t like Lando, who stares at him in awe, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing when Oscar begs for it, whimpers and whines and lets Lando tell him not to come.

Lando’s still stroking him steadily, asking Oscar all sorts of questions—whether he likes it, whether Charles would treat him like this. Oscar barely knows what he’s saying, just knows that he’ll do whatever Lando wants, say yes to anything, as long as Lando will make him come at the end of it.

“What’re you good for?” Lando breathes, eyes flitting over Oscar’s face, hand steadily stroking over Oscar’s cock.

Oscar takes a shaky breath, tries to figure out what the right answer is. He can’t work it out and, ultimately, he simply tells the truth. “Being used.”

Lando’s brain seems to short-circuit at that. He bites at Oscar’s shoulder, grip tightening around Oscar’s cock.

Lando’s hands are pulling at Oscar’s hair and his cock and he feels caught in Lando’s firm grip, laid out on display for him, here to be used however Lando wants. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

“By who, Osc?” Lando murmurs, staring at Oscar’s mouth like he’s thinking about kissing him.

Please, Oscar thinks. Please fucking kiss me, I’ll do anything you want.

And Oscar’s already telling the truth, so he says, “You.”

“Come,” Lando breathes, fingers pulling at Oscar’s hair, eyes locked on Oscar’s. “Come, baby, please.”

Oscar’s shaking as he comes, jerking forward as his cock spills messily over Lando’s fingers. It almost hurts, coming after being denied for so long but Oscar likes the edge of pain, likes how it feels almost sharp. Like he can’t do anything other than feel.

Oscar lets out a shocked gasp when Lando darts forward, pressing his lips to Oscar’s.

Lando’s lips feel incredible, warm and soft, swallowing Oscar’s desperate sounds. Oscar wants to fist his hands into Lando’s hair, pull him closer, keep him there. But his orgasm’s still rolling through him and he barely feels in control of his limbs, too overwhelmed by pleasure and the shock of being kissed to do anything other than moan into Lando’s mouth.

But Lando doesn’t seem to care, whining and licking into Oscar’s mouth, a shock of heat as their tongues slide against each other.

Oscar doesn’t want to stop coming, wants to keep coming in Lando’s tight grip, whimpering against Lando’s mouth, surrounded by Lando’s heat and slightly-sweet scent.

But soon enough he’s slumping back against the mirror and Lando’s blinking at him with a dazed expression.

Oscar’s about to ask Lando to kiss him again when Lando’s stumbling back, grabbing paper towels and wiping Oscar’s come off his hand, tossing them in the bin and banging his way out the door.

Oscar lets out a shocked laugh, staring blankly at the closed door. “Cool,” Oscar mutters, grabbing a paper towel to clean himself up. “Really fucking cool.”

It’s classic fucking Lando. Acting like Oscar’s the hottest thing in the world, like Lando will die if he doesn’t get to fuck him, then going back to being weird and distant the moment it’s ended.

This would all be a whole lot fucking easier, Oscar thinks, if he could stop convincing himself that Lando actually feels something.

#asks #landoscar #learned behavior #snippet

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annasellheim · 1 day ago

Text

We're sitting at the table I'm glaring at them. These heroes ("The Big Three" as they are known in the industry) are questioning me? ME? They're questioning ME???

These motherfuckers made me come to the Cape Crusaders big, tacky mansion to justify my actions to them?

The thing that pisses me off the most about their reservations is the fact that what I do IS SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT than anything they could possibly do. These idiots just punch bad guys in the face and send them to prison, just so they can escape and start the cycle over from scratch.

I've already saved so many more lives than they ever will. I've made more of a positive impact on this planet than anyone will ever know.

Because my power is to stop disasters, and the most effective way to do that is to prevent them.

No one knows how many wars I've stopped before they began, how many diseases I found vaccines for before they became epidemics, how many cities and countries I've helped create infrastructure for so they could avoid being over run by natural disasters.

And my job is made even more difficult than it sounds because no one can truly fathom how bad things would be if I don't use my powers. I have to fight ppl tooth and nail to get it anything to happen because they don't know how bad it'll be if it's not acted on.

No one sees what I see. They don't feel what I feel. They'll never know the particular ache in my chest that somehow has has an entire narrative wrapped in it whenever a potential disaster hits me. An ache that is so powerful that it's made my knees buckle multiple times.

And the feeling doesn't dissipate until the disaster is fully prevented. It means that when I know something needs to be done, I have to make sure it's dealt with, or-

It's destroying me in a way. Doing so much, all the time, with no compensation or recognition.

The heroes at least know about my powers and know that I have nipped a bunch of really bad shit in the bud.

The villains thing has come up before and it's irritating. For years I thought it was because they were lazy and just were angling for help over shit that I didn't have time for, and in the big picture, didn't matter. Asking for even more help than I already provide.

I'm at my limit already.

But looking at these three at this table in this enormous, extravagant kitchen, it hits me how wrong I am.

These heroes don't have my powers. They can't foresee and stop disasters. For all they know, these clowns that rob banks and occasionally attack and murder people, could cause major disasters down the line. I'm not perfect, I can't stop all disasters. I have to sleep and eat and work a fucking day job.

I still feel residual aches from time to time for every disaster I've failed to stop.

They aren't trying to get more free work out of me, they're trying their best to figure out what villains can do major damage in the future.

They're scared.

"So, the way my powers work," I say while leaning back in my chair, "is that at some point, I know something will go from being an issue to a problem to a disaster. I can only intervene when I know it'll be disastrous, otherwise I can't use my powers, it's like they don't exist. Until something goes over the thresh hold of becoming a potential disaster, it's like I have no powers at all."

"How do you know when a disaster is going to happen? Is it like a vision?"

"It's more internal than that- it's like a feeling I guess...I'm not sure how to articulate it."

Huh, no one has ever bothered to ask me anything specific about my powers or the work I do. I don't have a lot of answers if they keep prodding.

"So, yeah, it's not that I'm neutral to villains, it's just all of the ones you guys been dealing with don't-" I yawned "- don't give me that feeling. I'll let you know if it changes."

I put my head in my hands. Fuck, I'm so tired. It's not like I can stop being a hero, I see the alternate world where I don't intervene, I feel it. But I'm so, so tired.

"Go take a nap."

My head shoots up, "What?"

The Masked Crusader (dumb ass name btw, just like his dumbass mansion) says it again, "Go take a nap. I'll make us all dinner. Go use my guest room and pass out for a bit.

Damn it, did I say I was tired out loud? Or was mind reading one of his superpowers? I can't remember, things have been so overwhelming recently, my memory is shot.

"No, the Masked Crusader can't read minds, that's me" Brainiac says.

Oh. Shit. Right.

"We just, we see you burning out, let us support you for once," chimed in the Singing Banshee.

This was not how I was expecting this conversation to go AT ALL.

Banshee continues, "You've got a lot of walls up, probably from years of running yourself into the ground saving thousands of people without any help. So, we're now going to help you."

"That's not a request by the way," the Masked Crusader says as he slides me a glass of water. "We're doing it whether you like it or not."

Shit, I hadn't even realized I was thirsty. Have I drank any water at all today?

And then *BOOM* I get hit with it- the feeling of an impending but preventable disaster. But it's different than any other disasters I "felt" before.

It's me... It's me, in the near future, collapsing and being unable to do anything about, well anything. I won't be able to stop future disasters, hell, I won't be able to function. And the only way to prevent it was to lean on these people.

This is a lot.

I chugged the rest of the water and wiped my mouth.

"Ok, thanks..." I whispered.

It's too much to think about right now. It's too much to feel right now. I'm not used to, I don't know, being taken care of. I don't know how to be supported.

I'll figure out a way to properly navigate this later. Right now I need to lay the hell down.

You're a superhero who specializes exclusively in stopping disasters. The other heroes just don't understand why you need to remain neutral to the villains…

#autobio #it's 5am time for me to lay down

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xetlynn · 1 day ago

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Can I ask for claggor x a piltover reader? She was raised in piltover and is very smart but was never ignorant to the condition of zaun and always tried her best to advocate and help the suffering people. I can imagine she would have a strong sense of guilt for loving claggor because she doesn't really understand the struggles he went through but will always try to help. <33 thank youuuu

Of course, I think I made this a little more dramatic than I meant to😭 but I hope this is good!

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Mysterious

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: In which reader is from Piltover and makes a friend in Zaun. Feeling guilty for liking him since she doesn't understand his struggles.

My feet achingly moved seemingly before me. My back hurt as I carried a box full of stuff from Piltover to give to a friend in the undercity.

When I was younger I was so fascinated by the people of Zaun. About the difficulties they’ve been through. My mother was always bitter about them. Going on tangents about how the people from the undercity should be more grateful since everything is better now. And whenever she does that I have to remind her of their struggles to get to this wonderful position they’ve been creating for themselves. Supporting them only pisses her off further than before. She asks what about Piltover’s struggles which is never the point of my argument.

We’re privileged enough to never know what it’s like going without food, running water and a roof being over our heads. Most of Zaun could or still to this day can not say the same. It’s something I’ve written about in school essays, joining groups to learn more about the undercity.

As a younger teen I snuck into Zaun, wanting to understand them better, know them rather than read about their history. Hear it from the people themselves. I won’t truly ever know their struggles but I still wish to help them. Advocate for their history and their growth as a community. Help them be one with Piltover eventually without there being discourse of if they deserve it.

Everyone deserves happiness, love, and a life without ridiculous danger. They deserve peace as much as the next person.

I was reckless when going to Zaun. Sneaking out of my house as a teen and somehow to the undercity without being caught will forever blow my mind. The reason I kept doing it though was after I sat down in this bar. It’s called The Last Drop. I just needed a place to rest after walking for miles.

Talking with the people there. Not really a scene a young teenager should be in but I didn’t care. I just wanted to listen to their stories. And they always enjoyed having me around. Seeing me as a niece of some sort. Hearing the first one made me want to hear more. Hence why I kept coming back. And more recently there's a new reason.

I met a new friend. His name I still don’t know. He never properly introduced himself to me. Not by his birth given name but by the first letter. He wanted me to guess.

It’s been 3 months and he has yet to tell me what it is. Or in his words I didn't guess good enough.

I guess his father was the owner, Vander is his name. I’ve met him a few times but I never sat up at the actual bar. Just in a corner keeping to myself before I went to adventure out into Zaun after hearing random stories.

When I met C he had started working more hours at the bar to help out since it was getting busier and busier after some time with people from the Uppercity decided the place was a hit. I guess he worked earlier shifts so that’s why we never crossed paths when I first started going there.

C and I hit it off slowly in the beginning.

It was a rough start since we both had different upcomings. I didn’t know what it was like to have to get my hands dirty and work for things I want or need. I’ve always just… had it.

Talking about C’s childhood and things he went through as I had nothing bad to say except for the fact that my mother is a witch of a woman. It made me realize how weird I am for being so interested in others' lives. It made me realize I don’t have a life of my own. I want to fix people who don’t need to be fixed. They’re perfect the way they are, no matter what they went through. They don’t need me to stick up for them. I also figured out that I’m falling for a friend, who again… I don’t know the name of and we will never share a similar story. He deserves someone who understands the same livelihood he knows. Someone who can appreciate things more than I ever could.

“[Name]!” A voice shouts, shaking me from my thoughts. “C!” I grin, shimmying the box in my hands. “Is this everything?” He takes it from me with furrowed eyebrows, looking it over. “Mhm, every single thing you asked for.” I place my hands on the back of my hips, stretching to crack my back. Letting out a small sigh of relief afterwards.

“You alright?” He asks with a chuckle, leading me into his apartment that he and his brother share. “Yeah, I definitely got my exercise in for the day.” I half-heartedly joke, shutting the door behind us and he places the box down on the counter. “What is the food for, exactly?”

When he first requested the stuff from me, he told me it was for an experiment. Not really saying much after that. A few foods and then things you can really only get in Topside.

“To eat.” He grabs an apple and bites into it. My shoulders fall, not expecting that answer. For some reason I thought it was going to be something cooler. “Oh.” I let out a breathy laugh. “I was hungry when I was putting in that request.” He rubs his stomach sadly.

I shake my head with a smile. “It’s okay. So can I know what this project is now?” I hop up on the barstool in his kitchen. “It’s a secret.” He says briefly, putting the food away in his counters. I frown. “Dang, keeping another thing from me, C?” I tilt my head.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, by being a mysterious, interesting man. Don’t want you getting sick of me.” He quipped, now giving me his full attention after placing the box on the ground. I glanced down at it then back to him. “I’ll always find you interesting. Maybe even more if you just tell me your name.” I pout.

Have I mentioned that I don’t know his name? No? Yeah, don’t know it.

“Soon.” He reaches over and messes up my hair. I smack his hand away. Attempting to fix what he did. “I hope so.” I cross my arms.

“I wish you could guess it. You didn’t even try hard enough.” He exclaims, my jaw drops at his words. “I can’t think of anything else! It has to be some sort of crazy unique name!” I utter, throwing my hands in the air. He lets out a belly laugh, “It’s not super unique.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, jokingly annoyed. “I told you my name.” I murmur. “That’s because you’re not mysterious like me.” He purses out his lips, doing a little peace sign. “I know almost everything else about you. You are not mysterious.” I point a finger at his chest. “Really? What’s my favorite color?”

“You tell people it’s blue but it’s actually yellow. Like dandelion yellow.” I raise my brows, making a face that expresses that he should try me. “Okay, pssh, lucky guess. Favorite food?”

“Halibut, but only when it’s fried because you’re weird.” I tease, his eyes seem to widen at my words. “See, not so mysterious, huh?” I cross my arms. “Two things. That’s all you answered.” He walks away over to the living room. Plopping down on the couch. I stand up, rushing over to him. Bouncing on the cushion beside him. My hands holding his shoulder as I shake him. “Then ask more questions. I have the answers~” I sang out, leaning back.

“Fine, how old am I?” He raises a brow. I put a finger on my chin, pretending like I was thinking. “21.” I simply say. “Okay, I never told you that. How’d you get that?” He scrunches his nose in confusement. I laugh. “Honestly I truly guessed that time. I’m 21 and I always figured we were the same age.” I snicker.

“Wow, okay. Next question, how many siblings do I have?” I think back to conversations we’ve had or the time I bumped into his brother Mylo. He always talks about a girl named Powder. I want to say there’s one more though. I just can’t remember…

“... three?” I estimate. “Or two.” I perk up my posture. “Hm, it’s three. You really do listen.” He hums out. “Yeah, it’s Mylo, Powder and I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got the last one’s name.” I press my lips together, trying to rack it in my head. “Violet. She passed away when we were younger.” He sighs, I look at him through my eyelashes not wanting to make full eye contact as my heart drops..

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. “It’s alright, [Name]. You didn’t know.” He gives me a smile. It goes silent between the both of us. “Um… can I ask how? If not I totally understand. I don’t want to push that topic.” I shake my hands at the thought of forcing him to say something he wasn’t comfortable with.

“We were doing a stupid thing in Piltover. Sneaking into someone’s house. Just trying to get a few things for our dad. Extra money in his pocket. Something exploded. The impact unfortunately killed Vi.” He seems spaced out as he tells the story. I reach out and grab his hand.

I remember when that incident happened. It was all anyone talked about for a while. An undercity child passes away in an explosion after breaking into a scientist’s home. My mom… was an ass about the situation.

“Any more questions?” I make an effort to switch the conversation so he doesn’t get upset due to my questioning of his sister's death like the dumb idiot that I am.

He looks down at my hand that was on top of his. “Claggor.” He suddenly says. I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Claggor?” I question, was that something I had to answer? “My name.” He mutters out.

My mouth goes into the shape of an 'o.' Claggor... An interesting name for an interesting man like him.

“Hm… cute. It fits you.” I squeeze his hand before letting go. I didn’t even notice the dusty rose color across his cheeks. He mutters out a small thanks before we continue the conversation of me knowing certain things about him.

The entire time I think back to his sister, my chest aching. They were only kids trying to help their father. Not knowing that one of them wasn’t going to make it back home. How devastating.

“You okay, [Name]?” He sits up, turning his body to face me. I fake a smile, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking. Sorry.” How am I supposed to be his friend if I carry guilt that has nothing to do with me? How can I like him and not be able to understand him? It’s idiotic looking. It makes me look selfish, turning other people's problems into my own. “Thinking about?”

“Your name. How I never guessed it.” I force out a chuckle that sounds like a high pitched animal making me wince in embarrassment afterwards. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks me again.

“I’m fine, Claggor.” His name rolls off my tongue easily. Like it was meant to be said from my lips.

“I remembered I have somewhere I need to be. My mom will kill me if I’m late. See you later?” I ask him, blinking tears away as I abruptly get up. “Um, yeah. Tomorrow?” He gets up with me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, I can’t. Family thing.” I lied. “Oh, maybe the next night? Mylo wants me to go to this party where his crush is djing. I do not want to go.” He laughs, walking me to his front door. My stomach flips, not knowing how to respond. “Maybe, I’ll let you know the day of.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Okay, okay. I don’t mean to cling. I just like spending time with you.” He smiles softly. I avoid eye contact. “Me too, Claggor.” I whisper before pulling him into an embrace.

He lets out a small yelp of surprise before his hands slowly snake around my waist. “You’re a good friend, [Name].” He mumbles into my shoulder. Tears begin to threaten my eyes once again. “You’re a better one.” I pat his back before letting go. “See you.” I curtly wave before leaving.

Man, I’m an idiot.

It’s the day of the party, I haven’t left my bed since I came home after leaving Claggor’s house. My head racing with a million thoughts about how selfish and ridiculous I am. Cringing at all the conversations I’ve had with my friends about the Undercity. How incredibly obnoxious it always sounded.

How strange I look just being this upset about everything. I wonder if Claggor thought the same about me. How strange it was that a girl was so wrapped up into his struggles. I would never want to tell him that either because I’m overthinking. I know I am.

He’s my friend. He would tell me if I was being over the top.

Right?

Right.

Stop it brain.

A knock at my door echoes in my room. “Yes?” I call out, not bothering to get up. The door creaks open. “[Name] there’s someone here to see you.” A house worker tells me. I sit up, tilting my head confused on who would be here. “Um, tell them I’ll be right down.” I say, climbing out of bed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I grab my robe from my vanity, throwing it on over my pajamas. I slip my feet into my house slippers. I look like a mess but I don't care. It’s probably just a school mate to ask about some homework we have.

I exit my room, heading down the stairs. I see Claggor and my body freezes in place. Staring down at him. Shit. I look like a mess! And that is not a school mate.

He was looking around my home before his eyes locked with mine. His face erupts into a smile. “Just wake up or something?” He teases and my face flushes in response. “Uh- yeah, slept in.” I awkwardly chuckle, walking towards him. “How’d you know my address?” I asked him. “Also, why are you here?”

“Well, first I bumped into one of your friends I met before. She told me you lived here. Second ouch, I can just leave if you want me to.” He points to the front door and I roll my eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I was just wondering, I was gonna come to you.” I cross my arms, and when I do his eyes flicker down to what I’m wearing.

Suddenly I’m extremely aware of how I look. My hair a mess, face puffy, and wearing a fancy robe with slippers. Weird combination.

“I felt like when you left yesterday it was a bit… off? You seemed like you were about to cry so I thought I’d come here and maybe talk to you about that.” He fidgets with his hands, I observe his demeanor. He seemed extremely anxious. “Oh, I told you I was fine. Might’ve had something in my eye.” I shrug lying straight out of my teeth.

“You know how I said you are not mysterious like me?” He asks. “Vaguely.” I smile but not understanding why he’s saying that. “It’s because you aren’t a mystery at all. Maybe I’m not either since you seem to know quite a bit about me. Anyways, not the point.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You don’t hide your emotions well. You’re an open book just by looking at you.” He chuckles and I tense up, feeling a little offended. He notices and sighs.

“What I mean is, when I first met you I knew you were a very empathetic person. Your emotions are what drives you to be who you are. I really enjoy that about you. I never thought someone could cry over a bug they killed until I met you.” He laughs at the memory of when we were hanging out one day at the bar and a bug was on the floor by my foot. I stomped on it and immediately felt bad. Thinking about the fact that it could’ve had a family.

“You care so deeply for people you’ve never met. Wanting them to succeed even if it means you are risking your own happiness to do so.” He says softer than all his other words. “I hope you know that you have never upset me by asking your questions.” His eyes find mine and I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He read me like a book. He practically studied me. I don’t even know how to respond.

“I know that’s why you got upset. My sister passing away. I don’t mind that you asked. It happened as unfortunate as it is. You didn’t know and you wanted to. Because you care.” He places a hand on my shoulder. I look down at his arm then back to his face. “Please don’t feel bad for caring.”

My eyes begin to water and I pull him into a hug. “I don’t deserve your friendship.” I mumble into his chest. “I think you do.” He disagrees.

“I like you, Claggor.” I told him. “Like a lot. I care for you more than anyone else I’ve ever met. I’m scared that I can’t be what you need. I want to be. Everything and more.” I confess, pulling away from him. “Did you know that? Was I not hiding that emotion well either?” I try to uplift the mood.

“I didn’t have a clue actually.” He grins. “I like you as well. Like a lot. You are everything I need and more. I promise you that.” He pulls me back into his arms, looking down at me as I look up at him.

He closes the distance between us, his lips landing on mine. It was a short, soft kiss but it was something I never felt before. Shivers sent down my spine. I flutter my eyelids open, both of us smiling ear to ear like giddy little kids. Taking in the moment for a few seconds.

“Does that mean you’re going to join me at this party that I’m soooo excited about?” He sarcastically asks and I giggle in response. “I guess so. I definitely need to clean myself up first though.” I motion to my hot mess of a state that I’m in. “I think you look beautiful in this. Don’t even need to worry about changing.” He jokes and I lightly hit his arm.

“What a liar.” I fold my arms. “Hm, maybe a little. Want me to come back to pick you up?”

“You could hang out in my room while I get ready. Maybe choose my outfit?” I propose and his eyes light up. “Yeah, let’s go.” He happily responds.

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yan-lorkai · 2 days ago

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @kurtswld

"Human nature is something fickle," The words left Chrollo’s mouth, and they weren't pretty and charming as he always presented them. He was far too pissed off to care how he was presenting himself to you. Right here and now, he wasn't a gentleman, a well-mannered man who liked to read and discuss.

Looking at him now, he was the Phantom Troupe's leader. A killer and a monster. Your heart was beating louder at each step he took in your direction. It was a dangerous symphony, a requiem you weren't fond of. Yet, he seemed amused, fond of it, even.

"They lie, betray and kill," He kneeled in front of you, and while you tried to put distance between both of you, trying to crawl away, Chrollo pulled you back to him by your neck, his nails digging into your soft skin, making you whimper. 'You did all three of them in the span of two hours, darling. You lied to me,"

He chuckled. You weren't sure what he thought that was funny. You didn't want to know, you were far too afraid to move or talk to even think about what would he consider fun. Chrollo is a strange man, always were, always will be.

No... not man.

He was something else. Him and his little family. All murderers, all bad people.

He caressed your face in a tender way. The same way he used to when he first fell for you; the tears started to fall from your eyes at that. Whether it was because you really thought you could have escaped him or because you didn't want to know what he was going to do to you now.

"You betrayed my trust in you," He muttered, nuzzling his face against your neck, his hand still holding it, depriving you of breathing as he exhaled. "You betrayed my troupe's trust. And trust is something important for us. We have our backs, we're family, and when you lied to me, you lied to them."

"I didn't kill anyone..." You struggled to say, your last defiance slowly disappearing as you held onto his hand, trying to escape his grip, but it was impossible. "I'm... not like you."

Chrollo’s grip tightened slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he let out a low chuckle. "Oh, my dear," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "Not like me? Perhaps you think you're better, untainted. But isn’t it fascinating how far desperation can push someone? How quickly survival overrides morality?"

You flinched, the weight of his words pressing down on you like an iron cage. He pulled back just enough to look into your tear-streaked face, his thumb stroking your jaw in a mockery of comfort. "You may not have killed anyone," he continued, "but your actions led to consequences. If you understand what I'm saying."

You shook your head weakly, choking on your own breath. "I didn’t mean for this to happen," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"But it did," Chrollo said sharply, his tone cutting through you like a blade. "And now, here we are. You thought you could run, thought you could escape me. Did you really believe I’d let you go so easily?"

His hand slid from your neck to your chin, tilting your face up so you couldn’t avoid his piercing gaze. "You’re mine," he said firmly, like a promise and a threat, his dark eyes gleaming with a possessive intensity that made your stomach churn. "You’ve always been mine, and no amount of running or lying will change that."

The air between you was suffocating, and despite your trembling, you mustered the courage to whisper, "What are you going to do to me?"

Chrollo smiled then, soft and almost kind, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mask was back on his face. "What I’m going to do, my darling, is ensure you never feel the need to run from me again."

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead as though to seal his promise. "I’ll remind you of your place, remind you of the bond we share. And by the time I’m done, you won’t dream of leaving me again. You’ll know where you belong."

The cold finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. As he pulled you into his arms, cradling you like a precious possession, you realized there was no escaping Chrollo Lucilfer — not now, not ever.

#yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x y/n #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #tw yandere

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redishsunflowers · 3 days ago

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this is all my personal opinion as a somewhat new arcane enjoyer.

act 3 of arcane really ruined it all for me. one of the things that makes me love shows so much is when they make me just feel so so much. and arcane did this so well, especially in s1. act 1 and 2 of s2 also did this very well, tho not even close to as well as s1 in my opinion.

i felt sad about isha's death, but i don't really care about jinx's. this isn't bc i cared more abt isha than jinx, a million percent no, this is bc it didnt feel liek there was any weight to it. we saw a very small clip of vi sobbing then, boom, she's almost fine???? her humming powder's lullaby isn't enough, i need to see her grieve. jinx literally completely gave up because of isha's death. vi wasn't even close to being in the same position as jinx but that was still her sister. her sister whom she tried so hard to protect and get back and finally got her back. it just didn't feel real. and on top of that, everyone thinks she's not actually dead. i wish they showed the "proof" of that later or something because i needed that grieving period from vi.

i felt so strongly about jayvik and their whole dynamic snd ending this season. in act 2 i felt that the writing for caitvi wasn't as good as it was in s1 and act 1 but then it just pissed me off at the end. i kinda liked the fact that they were in a cell when they had sex lol but i feel like it was weird timing and also could be a weird setting. but what rlly got me was the fact they don't fucking talk. they dont talk it out. one of the bjggest reasons i love jayvik is because of their lines too eachother. theyre so devestating and beautiful and thats what we got with caitvi before act 2. i was hoping they would talk about alllll the problems they were having because they were having a lot but, either they didn't or we just didn't see it. the resolution to jayvik was so satisfying because we got to know all of their closing thoughts and emotions. we didn't get to see cait apologizing or vi talking abt jinx and it just felt so emotionless.

im really sad they got rid of all the political stuff. i feel like the first step to doing that was putting vi in an enforcer outfit but with that i thought theyd explore into it and the trauma around it even more. but they didnt at all. they put more of the oppressed into the oppressors outfits and called it "fighting against a greater evil" i think thats a fine thing to happen but not if you throw away the whole conversation about politics you were having beforehand. i felt enger towards the piltover people and council just because they were a part of the oppressive regime. after s1 i felt like they tried to act like those ppl were never in the wrong. they swept it all under the rug.

it really just felt like there wasn't a clear conclusion. what happened to zaun and piltover? the scene of sevika sitting at the table isn't enough (don't get me started on sevika I MISS HER). what happened to the firelights?? everyone says ekko lost everything but like do we know what happened to the tree or to the firelights??? i wanted to see the progress the two cities made and how PILTOVER compensated for their actions.

thats it ig, im rlly trying to be happy abt the ending and to do that i have to think abt jayvik bc theyre the only perfect ending in my eyes and i miss caitvi i miss them

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane act 3 #arcane ending #caitvi #jayvik #timebomb #ekko #jayce #viktor #caitlyn kiramman #vi #zaun #piltover

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until-my-teeth-fell-out · 10 hours ago

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[Image ID: A tweet thread that says "a common ocd fear is becoming a pedophile? uh what" replied to with "Yes it's one of the most common intrusive thoughts" the first user replies with "that's psychotic i have intrusive thoughts constantly and like 5 diagnosed mental illnesses and and never are my thoughts 'fuck kids'".

Another user shares this thread and adds "'that's psychotic' well, yeah, it's a mental illness."

Another user retweets this user and says "funny how people have very little sympathy for ocd, bpd, schizophrenia etc. when they're exposed to symptoms that they can't romanticize. There's nothing fun, pretty, or enjoyable about mental illness. We're not exactly having a good time." /End ID]

Maybe this is friendly fire but the "I have mental illness but I'm not like THAT" folks... I think they're really just "does not have this disorder but assumes they do because they're upset sometimes OR has something like low support needs autism or ADHD or mild depression and anxiety which still do have stigma around them but aren't exactly known as the 'wah scary murderer' disorder so they've never had to experience this for one day in their lives but pretend they could just to insert themselves in other disorder spaces and then push the people actually belonging to that space out"... if you know what I mean.

Also that person calling this "psychotic" PISSES ME OFF. That's not what that means. That's not what ANY of that means!

Not to mention, intrusive thoughts can't win! At least 90% of the time. Saying things like that can make OCD worse for people but really, you're not going to go out and become a murderer! You're not going to wake up one day and hurt your loved ones!

#captioned #mental health #ocd #tw pedophila mention #opinion tag #sanism

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hoes4matthew · 2 days ago

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Mamas Boy

Warnings: angst / traumatized!little!chris / cg!reader / flashbacks / poor little Chris / really short :c

Summary: somebody says two words that absolutely destroy Chris.

A/N: this full song kind ass but the one part is kinda what this is kind based off. Anyway this is also the introduction/part one of a series!

Chris wanted to go to the mall with you and your friends. Even though he hasn't outed with you a lot, he wanted to today. So you let him go along, texting your friends that he would be there and little.

He stayed as close to you as possible, one hand picked with yours tightly while the other was tightly gripped onto his stuffed animal monkey. He didn't talk one bit, just occasionally nodded when you asked if he was okay.

He wasn't a big shopping person, so he'd just watch you go in all different stores and pick out different things. Sometimes he'd get distracted at store windows by bright colors, even if he didn't even know what the store was.

Your friends were patient with him as he'd stop to look at random things. They'd hold things up that they'd think he'd like, maybe even sneaking something into their shopping bags that he said he liked.

After a while you all sat down and got pretzels. Chris laid his head on your shoulder as he reached out and grabbed the small bite sized pretzels from the cup.

"aw, he really is a mama's boy, ain't he?" You friend smiled, chris froze immediately. His heart sank right down to his stomach. Then suddenly he was in his toxic cgs couch getting yelled at...

"My god Chris! I'm so pissed off at you right now!" Her box is boomed through the house as she passed back and in front of the living room. She was yelling at Chris for "ruining her date" all because he started stimming at the dinner table.

"You always do this!" She groaned. Sitting down next to him on the couch. She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head disapproving. Chris was just being himself..he didn't mean to make her mad. He's had his head down the whole time.

"Look at me Christopher." He hated when she called him that. She knew he hated it. Yet shed still always calls him it. He slowly lifted her head, with tears rolling down his eyes.

"Do you know how much you embarrassed me today??" All he could do was nod. His sad eyes locked with her angry rough ones. Her voice never lowered.

"You used to be so behaved. Where'd mama's sweet boy go?"

He snapped out of it as your gently shook his shoulder. "Chris?" He looked up At you with fearful eyes. He was so close to crying..he felt tears pooling up in his eyes. He hated having flashbacks like this. Especially in front of other people.

Sometimes he wished he just wasn't as sensitive.

@heartsforsturniolo567 @pvssychicken

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo age regression #sfw agere #swf agere #age regressor #little Chris Sturniolo

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nekrosmos · 1 day ago

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Tell me your silliest takes on Nikolai and Price? <3 Or any headcanons you have of either of them, really.

Silly NikPrice, I can do :3c

I think Nik is a hugger even in his sleep and sometimes Price wakes up in the middle of the night because he has to piss and can't escape those massive bear arms (and Nik would try to pull him closer even as he's sleeping) and it's a silent battle that ensues, often ending in Price giving up.

When Price is being particularly grumpy or strict for some reason, Gaz likes to act mysterious and say "I know a way to calm him down" to Soap and Ghost. He never lies, however, as all it takes is for him to send a text to Nik, and for Nik to send a picture of himself in various states of undress to Price. The face John makes when he glances at his phone, only for his ears to turn all red as he fumbles an excuse that he has to go check something in his office, is something the 141 never gets tired of.

Most of the time, Nik makes the big gestures. That man is a romantic and now that he finally has John, he's gonna make him feel like he's the most beautiful man in the world. However, sometimes Price surprises him too. The smile on Nikolai's face when John gets him with something he didn't expect is worth everything to John. The love making that follows is out of this world, too.

Nik loooooooves to find ways to sneakily touch Price when he really shouldn't be doing that. Maybe they're sitting around a table negotiating important intel with shady people from Nik's side when Price suddenly feels Nik's boots against his crotch and sees him smirks at him from across the table. Asshole. Or maybe the two are undercover in a van, eying an area at night for someone they need to crab, Price's eyes glued to his binoculars when Nik's hand suddenly sneaks past his belt and boxers and starts teasing him. Even worse, the person they were waiting to retrieve finally shows up and Price has to grab a guy while almost fully hard and unsatisfied. Thanks, Nik.

Sometimes they like to slow dance together. Just the two of them, in Price's house or his quarters, whatever. They put some quiet music and just start doing it naturally. It's gentle, it's quiet, it's just them and they can finally have a moment to breath and enjoy each other's embrace. John never feels more at peace than when in Nik's arms, and Nik is happy to oblige, big hands stroking through Price's hair and staring into his blue eyes. Sometimes one of them ends up saying a very, very bad joke, and they start laughing, almost uncontrollably, more out of exhaustion than anything, and they end up falling on a nearby couch or bed and they laugh and laugh together like nothing else in this world matters but them.

Nik watching Price struggle to order food in Russian while they're in a russian speaking country. He could help him, but it's just so damn adorable to watch him fumble through his words and see John's panicked glance turn back to him when he failed to order coffee for the third time in a row. John's revenge is to speak in slang he damn well knows Nik won't understand for the rest of the day.

Every time John is cold in bed, snuggling close to Nik, it reminds him of that time when they were way, way younger and got sent off somewhere in Eastern Europe in the middle of winter, and the two had to bunker down in a shitty hotel, in a shitty bedroom that (gasp) had only one shitty bed and whose heater was broken. It had been a little bit awkward at the time, and Nik had offered to sleep on the floor, which John had refused, offering it in return, only for Nik to also shut him down. Eventually, the two had climbed into bed, backs turned to one another, until John began to shiver uncontrollably, the thin blanket not helping with the freezing temperatures. Quietly, Nik had turned around and gently wrapped his arms around John. None of them said anything, no words were exchanged, and Price quickly stopped shivering. There were no mention of this happening the day after, or the day after, not until years later when the two began their relationship and Nik admitted it had been extremely difficult to stop himself from kissing the back of Price's neck that night, or let his hands wander. Price admitted the same, and the two had laughed it off. There had been plenty of opportunities to do just that since then.

#Nikprice #john price #cod nikolai #cod #WOOO thank you for the ask this was really fun to think about #the best kind of distraction #hope you like my silly little NikPrice scenarios #not all of them are as silly but hey #it was fun nonetheless #had to do a AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED at some point #I like the classics #:3c #ask so good I missed some important phonecalls and got yelled at VSVNHSUOVH #worth it

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jrkyy · 2 days ago

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Hello! I Love your young Howard designs (especially his Prince Charming hair) and his vibes. Do you have any headcanons or backstory for him that you can share? Thank youu <3

Dont call him prince charming, you’re feeding his fragile ego with that

As the matter of fact I do! I just keep it to myself most of the time out of shyness. Honestly idk where to begin, I have them scattered on my notes so here’s just a few of them

Before I go to his childhood, I want to establish that his parents were from a new money background and his father is new to biglaw. He wanted to blend in with the old money crowd so he started to mimic how they dress, act, etc. (And yes I do think he would pour this onto his son)

His mother on the other hand is a hairdresser. Unlike george, she doesnt want to dress like his “rich friends”. I havent thought much about her relationship with Howard yet but she mostly acts like the second voice of reason after Chuck (though Mr. Mcgill does that better than her)

I do think that George’s attempt to larp as those upper men is an attempt to get approval from them (that theme runs in the family I guess…)

So for me it really just connects the dots on how Howie’s financial background reflects the things he spent on (ex: gucci loafers, jaguar car, his tuscan style mansion)

When it comes fo his childhood, his parents werent really that stern to him (apart from what would he be in the future). They're the type of parents who would let their kid do anything they want, as long as they would end up being what the parents want. It would bite them both back though (especially george). George would definitely call young Howard selfish or ungrateful, when its his doing in the first place

This is based from one of patrick’s interview, but he was probably very an awkward kid back then. Probably due to him being an only child (or undiagnosed autism), but he struggles a lot on making connections so he would mirror other people’s action or read those “how-to-make-friends 101” books. He knows the right thing to say but he didnt say all that with his heart

A lot of his problems with his father just stems from disconnection. George wanted the very best for his son, but what he thinks that its best is just his tunnel vision of a dream. Whereas Howard just wants to be close to him but each time he does that, George would always do something that absolutely pisses him off so its back to square one

As for his mullet-thing??? Its an attempt to distance himself from his father. He’s scared that people would say he’s similar to George, so he styled it like his mom

Sorry, this is getting too long so I’ll stop here lol but I do have more to spew out

#my art #howard hamlin #better call saul #holy yapperoni

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showsandstuff · 1 day ago

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WHAT'S UP!

Welcome to my post where I praise the fanon original league version of Jayvik!!!

I'm gonna be real, I will miss the Og machine herald Viktor. I never played league, and I'm not going to, but before season 2 came out I read his lore and he's actually a pretty fun character.

Then after season two act 1 came out, I dove into the world of fanfiction cause I started shipping Jayvik and found kind a few fics about the league of legend versions of the characters. And here is what I will say.

If we go with fanon alone, I actually prefer the league versions.

League Viktor and League Jayce are actual enemies for most of the time. They used to be colleagues, then Viktor was getting into brainwashing whilst Jayce was a dick and got him kicked out of the academy. He also didn't speak up when some other scientist took credit of Viktors invention. Oh and there were misunderstandings about some crystal...

Long story short, they don't like each other. But in the fics they often times either clear the misunderstandings and make up or yearn for each other whilst on opposite sites. Or they fight each other which leads to make out sessions because why not.

The characters are also generally more fun to read about.

Jayce is a huge dick, that is literally his most defining personality trade. He is a cocky bastard and people like him until they get to know him because he's just such an asshole.

And Viktor is just... Really fucking silly. He wants to get rid of his emotions and says that he already did get rid off them, but then Jayce pisses him off and you can tell no way?? Where did you get rid off your emotions? You've been whining non stop. There's also still love, kindness and empathy within Viktor, but he somehow convinces himself that he is emotionless. It gets especially good when that's played for comedy, which it oftentimes is!

Also, the nicknames! They still call each other Jayce and Viktor but Viktor also calls Jayce "Defender" short for "Defender of tomorrow" which is jayces title, and Jayce calls him either V or Machine Herald, depending on the mood.

Arcane season 2 was too rushed and packed with so many seperate story lines that we didn't have enough time for the characters. We needed at least one more season.

But the fanon for the league version, as someone who never played it, gives me this huge time frame of them being enemies but they used to be colleagues or friends (or more than friends depending on the writer), and then a huge time frame of them being enemies.

Og machine herald League Viktor though??? PEAK, WHAT A FUNNY CRINGEFAIL LOSER!

Now more to Arcane...

I think as much as I love Jayvik there, it's all just too sad, especially if you don't necessarily want to read act 1 fanfictions or AUs.

Also Viktor is super hard to characterize because his personally changes with almost every act. That's why I don't buy it when people complain about the way he is characterized because Ik all yall want is sassy S1 Act 1 Viktor, but I prefer the less confident and workaholic Act 2 Viktor. We are not the same.

The Fanon of League is just, somehow, more consistent in a way, because it has existed just much longer and people probably get inspired by the same shippers for how to write their dynamic.

Arcane fics though depend on how the individual interprets the characters, and with characters whose arcs were rushed sm it's just impossible.

So Og machine herald Viktor, you will be missed. I hope people don't stop writing for them and drawing fanart!!

#arcane #jayce league of legends #viktor league of legends #league of legends #jayce arcane #jayce talis #jayce giopara #arcane viktor #jayvik #vikjayce

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bullet-prooflove · 2 days ago

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Pillow Talk: Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @caffeinatedwoman @elefrog25-blog @toheavenwmydrms

Companion piece to:

Left Behind - You come home to find Alden on the run with his ex-wife Viv.

See It (NSFW) - Alden returns to you after being on the run.

The Middle - Alden does not want to be caught in the middle of your case.

Alden’s in a mood, you can tell from the way he huffs as he flips onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. You lie beside him in the darkness, listening to the sound of his breathing.

“You’re pissed I invited her to stay.” You say and Alden sighs.

“No.” He drawls out the word. “I’m pissed you didn’t get her to tell Nick.”

He’s talking about Harper, Nick’s life partner. She’s been receiving gifts from a man calling himself Casanova, horrible intimate gifts. It’s been going on for months, Alden discovered earlier today, months without a word to Nick from neither you or Harper.

“It’s not my place to…” You begin but Alden cuts you off.

“We had dinner with them last week.” He hisses as he tilts his head towards you. “You both sat across from him and said nothing!”

“Alden.” You whisper fiercely so you don’t wake up your guest sleeping on the couch in the other room. “It’s a case, you know I can’t discuss my cases outside my department, the same way you can’t and I can’t force her to tell Nick if she doesn’t want to.”

“Lisa,” He says and you can hear the undertone of agitation in his voice. “How do you think he’s going to feel when he realises his friends, the people he thinks of as his family kept this secret from him?”

Despite what Alden may say he is fiercely protective over Nick Torres. He’d been hurt, paranoid and suspicious after Gibbs had left for Alaska and it had taken Alden months to start building that trust.

“Look I know it’s hard to understand but I get where she’s coming from…”

“Oh you do, do you?” He says cutting you off again. “Is someone sending you diamond earrings and dirty panties that I don’t know about?”

There’s silence then and Alden’s gaze lowers to your hands. You’re playing with your wedding ring, your thumb rubbing lightly over the band.

“Lisa.” He says, propping his head up on his arm. “Do not tell me the same asshole…”

“No.” You say resolutely, your gaze lowering to the peach sapphire residing in the fitting of your ring. “Nothing like that. It’s Kris, he started sending me letters while you were away.”

Kris. Your ex-husband, the one that’s currently in prison for trying to kill you. The fact he decided to contact you when Alden was on the run was no coincidence. He can only imagine what those letters to you must have said.

“How many?” He responds testily. “How many did he send you while I was away?”

“Three.” You say quietly. “You weren’t here so I took care of it myself.”

It feels like you’ve plunged a knife into his heart and twisted. He’s sensitive about the time he’d spent on the lam, about disappearing from your marriage, turning your life upside down and leaving you to deal with the FBI. Those letters they’re just another example of his failure. He wasn’t there to protect you the first time Kris came after you, he wasn’t there this time.

He says nothing as he turns onto his side, his back facing you. He squeezes his eyes shut as he crosses his arms over his chest. He knows why you didn’t tell him, you knew he would have gone to that prison and torn Kris’s fucking head off.

“Alden…” You say softly but he doesn’t want to talk anymore.

“I’m tired Lisa.” He says, his voice devoid of emotion. “I need to get some sleep so I can be up to meet Nick off that chopper in the morning.”

“Oh.” You whisper and he can hear the sadness in your voice. “I understand.”

But you don’t, not really because Alden, he’s a shitty a husband. You just haven’t realised it yet.

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fresh2definitely · 3 days ago

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chief keef was so sick but its becoming more and more apparent that the concert experience sucks ass now like i get the hatred for the ppl that have their phone out the whole time like that is annoying and you're not truly present but I'm honestly cool with people taking a vid or two. what really kills me is when the whole crowd is dead or booing during the openers, it feels like most people aren't there to see a show or to dance or have fun. once ppl think the headliner is coming out, the whole crowd rushes the stage and crushes everyone at the barricade, usually ending up with the artist having to pause and ask people to back off and let people breath... it's like ppl come out just for the novelty of having seen and being able to say you saw the headliner... piss me off !! everything is just about how we are perceived by our own projection of audience ... but !

I still had fun with it 😌😌😌

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rambles-on-dragon-age · 11 hours ago

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It's word vomit time because I can't help myself when it comes to this franchise and particularly when it comes to Solas. Even some old blogs that I really enjoyed the analysis from I had to unfollow because it seems that all that's being taken from the game is "Solas did everything bad in history ever but actually it was also Mythal" and going wildly between completely absolving Solas of all responsibility because "Mythal made him" or "Solas is actually the root of everything wrong in the world". That they're just two dimensional cartoon villains.

Which???? That's not what Veilguard was showing us!!

Much longer rambling under the cut but the tl;dr is Veilguard showed us the build up and exposed just how high the stakes are and just how deep Solas's regrets are as he tries to wade through the mess he was born into. We got just crumbs in Inquisition/Trespasser and Veilguard just handed us the whole loaf. Looking at this as them saying he's just an uber villain is y'all eating the crust and being pissed about how crusty it is. Dig down to the fluffy center!!! He says time and time again that he's not a god, he's just a man that made mistakes. He's a man burdened by war and when all you have are horrible choices he tried to pick the least bad of them. It just added layers and reaffirmed that in war, there are no good choices. There's survival. You can't apply black and white morals to war; it's messy as fuck and there's no good choices. Veilguard exposed the motivations of a broken man drowning in guilt and showed us how he got there. It pulled back the layers like an onion and exposed the heart in glaring light; it added so much nuance and so many layers to Solas and his motivations and actions.

The cut hides me just rambling and breaking this down further, be aware it's a wall.

First off; the first elves were spirits. We've learned time and time again that spirits don't think the same as humans. Especially when speaking to Emmrich about Manfred and his rambling included teaching Manfred morals. Human morals. You can't really apply human morals to ancient immortal creatures that decided to fashion bodies for themselves cause they thought it looked fun and was new and novel. They probably didn't think ahead to the future where the creatures they struck down might be upset. They don't care; it's a rock to them. Why should they care? They're spirits mucking about in this new world and having a ball. They didn't stop to think about the consequences of it.

Which brings me to the second thing we got reaffirmed; THERE WAS WAR. Even now we live in war times. War is fucking scary. War changes people. We have so much media from survivors trying to express how terrifying war is and share that with people that haven't been through it. (LOTR I'm looking very pointedly at you and waving you around.) The first war was the Titans striking back at the Elvhen for what they had done. (Very justified.) This is when Mythal pleads with Solas to give up his very much loved form and Fade to help her. As they were originally spirits and are effectively immortal, they would have probably a.) felt emotions far more deeply and richly (if more narrowly/with less range) than modern mortals and b.) their morals are probably very different considering they're new to physical bodies and their own growing complexity instead of remaining as more simple spirits and c.) it's clear he feels at least some sort of trust and devotion to Mythal in a fashion we can't really grasp. (The writers confirm that a romanced Lavellan is the first time he's fallen in love so we know that's not what he has for Mythal. But devotion and service? Those are still powerful.) Anyway, that war is wrapped up decisively in one fell stroke thanks to Mythal again making use of Solas's wisdom to craft the dagger that would sunder the Titans. (Even though she, herself, apparently doesn't even do the final blow she again has Solas do it with the weapon he crafted. In the art book, it shows him trapping their dreams in a small black cube and he himself bringing that prison cube back. This is probably why he becomes known as her lapdog/attack dog.) War over, their people are safe. Oooooo elves are just so evil. Except. What were the alternatives? Continue hunting and killing the Titans until they're all truly dead? Would the dwarves have survived this or would they have died with their creators? How would this affect the physical world if the "pillars" are struck down wholesale? The elves can't just fuck off back to the Fade anymore, they have physical bodies crafted from this world now. They're no longer spirits. Do they all just roll over and die? It's in your nature to survive no matter what and this fundamental truth means there would be no peace between the elves and titans, even if the elves stopped their colonizing bullshit. Instead, they were sundered from the fade and left in comas alive. The dwarves were sundered from the titans and each other, but they also lived on. It was a terrible choice when all there were were terrible choices. There were no good choices. The elves sacrificed the titans for their own peace and their war with their world ended.

The second war was the newly named Evanuris against the Forgotten Ones for not helping the Elvhen in the war with the Titans. This is when the elves would have been fearful and already fallen in behind the strongest of them in want of protection. The fight of "those that protected us" vs "those that abandoned us". It just set the stage for more intensely divided elves, more intensely dependent elves. The Evanuris were powerful enough to protect them and end the war with the Titans, they would be powerful enough to protect them and end the war with the Forgotten Ones. (In Bellara's quest, we learn that at least one of them crafted an army of demons to fight for him.) We also learn through Solas's memories that the Evanuris aren't above propaganda and lies; they slaughtered their own people and claimed the Dread Wolf did all of it. This was a war of vengeance, plain and simple, prettied up as good gods vs evil gods. Even the later legends paints it as the good Creator gods vs the evil Forgotten Ones.

After that, the war focus shifts to Fen'harel and his "rebellion". The game shows us that after their war with the Forgotten Ones, Elgar'nan decides they deserve to be gods. Why not? They're already incredibly powerful and rule as kings/queens. Why not be gods? Their people already serve them in body, lets just amp that up to in spirit and in mind. They're marked in blood writing to show who owns them. Just take their minds and have their total obedience, love, and devotion. It's what they deserve after all being so powerful and cool! (Sarcasm in case you miss it.)

Solas pushed back at every opportunity. He started with letters and moved on to freeing their slaves and moving against them period. He was making such progress against them they got desperate and delved into the Titan's prison, using it as power. "They were blind to the horrors." They didn't realize how horrible this new power was because they were already corrupted. He begged Mythal to stop them and they instead murdered her with her own dagger/the weapon Solas crafted for her. To save the living world, he had to imprison them and the Blight away. The Veil locking away all of the Fade was a mistake on his part; considering the power of the magic he was casting, kinda understandable.

We can see, through his own memories, how he changes through this time. Where he begins to make more and more "acceptable sacrifices". Where he cuts problems off entirely instead of taking the time and risk to try and save people. The greater good is what drives him and he can't risk getting caught up in the small details. Like individual lives compared to all the lives they're working to save. Like the trolley problem but more extreme; does he let this person die, or does he let them carry their infection out to kill untold people? Does he ask these spirits to die doing what they love making the distraction or does he have their very limited bodied forces serve as the diversion and die instead?

The memories we play through in the Crossroads and hear through the murals aren't painting him and/or Mythal as the worst villains ever. They're not simplifying their motives or actions. I mean, they're not even justifying their actions either. They fucked up, they did wrong, but they fucking survived and tried to do so with the least casualties possible. The writers are handing us the story, colored only by Solas's feelings/memories. No longer are they colored by the personal biases and limited perceptions of the unreliable narrators like the rest of the game lore and history that has been given to us. These were practically straight from the source! And instead of it being given to us through the distorted lens of other characters, y'all get to distort it all yourself. :)

I had a good conversation with @hyperions-light in the comment section of this post where they also pointed out that the meetings show us just as clearly how this is happening in real time.

The game showed us, IN REAL TIME, how being presented pretty straightforward information is filtered by each person based on their own life's perceptions and biases and their own motivations.

I'm sorry y'all walked away from all that with the most basic surface level understanding colored in black and white.

The whole fucking thing was heartbreaking. What Solas has been through, the situations he was in both of his making and out of his control, were terrible. He did his best but it still wasn't good. Veilguard didn't cheapen what he did or what he went through; it added layers and honestly made it more tragic. He was born into war and desperately fought his whole life like he was the only one standing between his people and total annihilation. You can't live thousands of years like that and not fuck some shit up. I'm also not above that and I don't think any person would be. I'm in my 30s and have fucked plenty of stuff up; gimme a few thousand years and multiple wars and I probably also would have committed war crimes trying to save my people.

Every time I see a new post complaining that Veilguard reduced Solas and Mythal to cartoon villains that did everything wrong, I want to start biting.

#veilguard spoilers #batty is rambling #this is long as fuck #but i'm to the point of biting people for bad takes

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