#never mind me i need to get this out of my system lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bvidzsoo · 1 month ago

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So, you are Yunho...

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

Warning: lots of weed consumption, cursing, unprotected sex Word count: 7.2k Rating: mature Genre: smut, stoner au, post uni setting, one-night stand au, humour(?) Summary: Your friend, rather your dealer, invites you to a party where you know few people, but the promise of a good time and most specifically weed convinces you to go. You have work the next day so you can't stay for too long, which prompts you to leave early. With your senses dulled and your mind hazy, you fail to notice just how badly you have to use the toilet, so that leads to you walking inside a kind stranger's home who just wants to help out...maybe in more ways than just one.

A/N: Hello, hi, yes, my lovelies, we don't speak of this! Whatever this man did to me at the concert needs to be studied because I haven't stopped thinking about him ever since--I think Mingi is actually quite in danger with being my nr1 as of now, only time can tell whether he'll get knocked down to nr2 lmao (although I'm keeping myself strong and not giving in to Mr. Jeong, as we can see with the existence of this damn drabble...) The smut isn't that big of a deal, once again, but I had to get this out of my system or else I would've gone crazy (guys, I haven't stopped thinking about Yunho since the 14th of February, I need to see my therapist again-). My brainrot was influenced by his outfit too, which you can't see too well in the pics since they are small but oh well, he was hot that's all you need to know (those pics are actually mine because I couldn't find anything on Pinterest and Twitter so, uhm...anyways). Lmk how this was, I promise to update Mingi's mini-series tomorrow! <3 I hope you enjoy, your feedback is much appreciated! ^^

Ending up in this place wasn’t part of your plan. If one would ask how you got here, you’d need a second to remember who in the first place had even dragged you here. There were only two people, though, who could, and it was most likely your friend—who wasn’t even your friend—but he’s adopted you into this weird friend group that wasn’t exactly a friend group, just a bunch of stupidly hot men who got together once in a while to smoke their minds out. If you recall correctly, it was the birthday of one of them, San, and you wondered how Yeosang even knew him. Maybe it was through Wooyoung, that’s how you’d met the pretty guy called Yeosang half a year ago, or maybe it was by pure chance on a night out when both Yeosang and San were, well, high…like right now. Laughter echoed around in the room, the music less loud compared to the living room where a makeshift dance floor was improvised by Wooyoung and someone called Seonghwa, who was hauntingly gorgeous, so you never spoke to him. His eyes seemed kind but his glare scared you shitless whenever you even as much so as looked in Hongjoong’s direction, at least you think that’s what the shorter one was called.

You had long stopped smoking, declining the joint being passed around a few times already. It’s gotten your mind all hazy and fuzzy, and you were sure that a little bit more would either knock you out or send you into an anxiety spiral that you didn’t need right now. Wooyoung, the only person who you knew relatively, seemed to be busy with making the birthday boy laugh any time he got the chance, so you knew no one could look out for you in case of an emergency. Maybe Yeosang, but his unfocused eyes told you that he couldn’t take care of himself in case of an emergency, let alone of another human being. It was alright, you didn’t mind since you knew your limits and just shook your head again when the guy next to you tried coaxing you into taking a whiff.

“Why are you even sitting in the circle if you won’t smoke?” He asked, finally breaking the slightly tense silence between the two of you. He’s been giving you judgmental looks for a while now, and while it was funny, you had a loose mouth while high and didn’t wish to get into a fight with one of Wooyoung’s friends…or, well, sort of friend.

“Does it say somewhere that this is a puff circle or something?” You quirked an eyebrow, your tone a bit sharp as the guy raised his eyebrows and passed the blunt to the intimidatingly tall guy sitting next to him, his lips pulled into a constant smile ever since he had sat down into your circle.

“It’s quite obvious, it doesn’t have to say so, sweets.” You chuckled, placing your chin in your palm.

“Already giving me petnames? I almost thought you hated my guts, not that you were trying to get into my pants with all that judgmental staring.” The man smirked, his pretty lips pulling into an amused grin as he leaned slightly closer to you. His manly perfume hit your nostrils and you needed a second to collect yourself, its scent too potent for your sensitive nose at the moment.

“The only person whose pants I wanna get into is Yeosang’s, sweets.” He winked as your eyebrow raised in question, eyes looking around the room blindly to find the mentioned man. He wasn’t here, making you realise that you were now in a room full of mostly strangers. That wasn’t an issue since you made conversation with anyone easily, but there was something underneath your skin tonight that made you a bit jumpy. It was strange, but weed did make you antsy from time to time if you didn’t feel completely safe in your environment, “I’m Jongho, by the way. I’ve already introduced myself, but I bet you’ve forgotten.”

You grinned at that, extending your hand for Jongho to shake, “Right, I can’t even recall when that happened.”

“Three months ago, sweets.” He snorted under his breath and took the blunt that was being passed back to him, different than the one he had been smoking, and you wondered whether mixing and matching right now was a safe option. But if Jongho thought it was alright, then it must be, he was a responsible adult after all, “How do you know San?”

“I’m supposed to know everyone sitting in this circle,” You pointed out, eyebrows furrowing when you still couldn’t recall the man’s name sitting next to Jongho, “But Wooyoung and I ran into him one time when we were running errands.”

“Did those errands include mind-blowing sex?” So, Jongho knew more than you thought at first, and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as the extremely tall man next to Jongho laughed, leaning forward to look at your reddening face.

“Wooyoung’s not that good in bed, Joongie.” There was affection in his voice as he lightly pushed Jongho’s shoulder, and you wondered how close the two were.

“How’d you know?” Jongho wiggled his eyebrows, grabbing the guy’s chin to squeeze his cheeks together, “Thought you didn’t sleep with friends.”

The man giggled and sent a flying kiss at Jongho, which made him immediately release the very smoked-out guy’s chin, “I’ve spoken to enough people to know, besides, all it takes is one look at him…right, babe?”

A beat of silence passed as you looked at the two men, not realizing he was addressing you. He just blinked at you with his small eyes, lips jutting out as he waited for your answer. You blinked again, slightly more confused than you were before and Jongho snorted, throwing his arm around the guy’s shoulder and yanking him down to his height, “Y/N, this is Mingi. A bit of a flirt, a bit of a goofball, a sloppy kisser, but a great company.”

You spoke before you could think about it, grinning at the two guys, “And how’d you know that, Jongho?”

The guy cringed as Mingi tried to press a kiss to his cheek, instantly pushing him away and making you laugh at the murderous look on Jongho’s face, “Dare gone wrong, don’t make me recall it, please.”

“It wasn’t even bad!” Mingi exclaimed, sulking as the joint magically appeared in his hands since it was passed back by Yeosang, who finally came back inside the room holding three cups. He handed one to Hongjoong, whose eyes were rather red and glossy. Seonghwa sat beside him, whispering things before he helped the guy drink his water, a small thankful smile on his lips as he thanked Yeosang for the water.

“What wasn’t bad?” Yeosang asked just as your alarm went off, making you jump and Mingi yelp as it sharply cut through the somewhat serene atmosphere of the room. You got a few questioning glances as you tried to put the alarm out, but the words were blurred together on the screen of your phone so you needed a second to figure it all out.

“Don’t mind Mingi, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Jongho mused as he grabbed Yeosang’s wrist and roughly yanked him down, the not-so-petite man looking jostled by the sudden move. He gasped as he landed in Jongho’s lap, the liquid from his cup splashing onto his leather pants, a pout appearing on his face.

“You made me spill it.” He muttered to himself as Jongho hummed, his hand patting down the leather pants. You watched the two as you grabbed your cardigan from the floor and wore it, more than sure you’d be shivering outside in the late summer night’s refreshing breeze. You always felt too cold when you smoked weed, even if it was way too many degrees outside. Jongho’s palm settled on Yeosang’s thigh once he was done patting the water off, and you noticed the way his fingers flexed, Yeosang averted his eyes with a nervous gulp as he nudged Mingi with his elbow, “I mixed it for you, just don’t drink it fast.”

“Thanks!” Mingi grinned, necking the drink instantly, and you snorted as you made sure to pocket your phone to avoid what happened last time. It took Wooyoung three hours to find your lost phone, and then it took two more hours to listen to his nagging and chastising while you were trying to sleep, Wooyoung’s body heat making you sleepier and sleepier despite his sharp tone right by your ear.

“I’m going, guys, I have work in the morning.”

“Party popper!” Mingi shouted, making you laugh as others glanced at you again, “Be safe, though, do you want me to walk you?”

You grinned as you shook your head, making the room sway with you as you closed your eyes for a second. It didn’t help much, but at least it didn’t make you feel nauseous, “Thanks, but I know my way around…it’s not that late yet.”

“Call me if you need help, though.”

“She doesn’t even have your number, jackass,” Jongho muttered under his breath and Mingi huffed, turning his back to him and Yeosang, who didn’t look like he’d get off Jongho’s lap anytime soon.

“I’m not speaking to you, where’s Yunho?” You waved at the three men as you started walking away, catching Yeosang’s answer as he sighed and leaned back into Jongho’s body.

“Left a few minutes ago, said he was hungry and wanted to stream.” And with that, you left the house. You didn’t attempt finding Wooyoung since he was most probably entertaining the guests, too busy to notice either way that you were gone. You didn’t want to disturb his fun, so you made a mental note to text him once you had gotten home that you were safe and sound, ready to get into bed. Your apartment wasn’t too far from this neighbourhood, but you had to walk a good ten minutes until you reached the bus stop which had the right route to take you home. Your legs felt a bit heavy and the soles of your feet ached for some reason, but that might’ve had to do something with you standing on your feet all day long at work today. The call from Wooyoung was random this afternoon, and you accepted his invite without a second thought because you felt too wrung up, your boss getting on your last nerve. You were planning on quitting, but you had to find another job first and that wasn’t going as smoothly as you had wished. Being a receptionist wasn’t really your thing, and you’ve decided to finally make use of your business degree and find something that suits your interests better.

The evening air was cool, just like you had predicted, and you hugged your cardigan closer around yourself as you shivered, your feet not working as fast as you would’ve liked them to. The buses didn’t come and go as often as during the day, and you hoped you wouldn’t have to wait for too long at the station, goosebumps now covering your body as you walked down the sidewalk, glancing this and that way. The houses had almost all the lights turned off, most people were usually asleep after midnight. You should have been too, but you deserved to unwind after a long day and strenuous week…and it wasn’t even over yet. In your state, however, what you failed to notice before leaving the house was the fact that you had to pee, and badly at that. You licked your lips, wondering whether you could trick your mind into believing that you didn’t actually have to pee so badly and that you’d certainly be able to hold it in and get home first. But walking further down the street, you started to realise you were very wrong. You stopped and took a deep breath, debating what to do. You could just find a bush and do whatever, but were you ready to commit to that? It was a bit embarrassing, and if a police car could pass by—let alone a random person—you weren’t ready to expose yourself like that.

Deciding that walking would do for now, maybe you’d find an open store and ask them to let you in, you took off again and almost cried at the pressing feeling in your lower abdomen. It was terrible, you were screwed, and your smoked-out brain wasn’t actually helping with finding smart and safe solutions, it was only making you panic and almost hyperventilate. You jumped as a door closed loudly to your right, and as you turned your head, your eyes fell on a really tall guy who was walking towards you. A dark trash bag was in his left hand while a cigarette was in his right hand, raising it to his pouty lips to take a drag of it as he continued walking towards you, his eyes on you. You gulped, suddenly feeling frozen in your spot as he opened the small gate separating his front lawn from the sidewalk, his eyes still on you as he held the cigarette between his lips to open the trash bin closest to you, throwing the bag inside. You licked your lips again, eyes falling on the cigarette and intermittently on the guy’s puckered lips, and you felt a sudden pull. A strong one at that, your inside coiling as your eyes raked all over the man’s body, slightly off thrown by how handsome he was. And before you could think first and feel ashamed, your mouth was already moving, “Can you let me go inside to pee?”

The guy paused, his eyebrows shooting up underneath his blonde hair, which framed his forehead as a black beanie was pulled over his head, “Like—inside my house?”

You nodded quickly, crossing your legs because you genuinely were on the verge of giving it all up. The guy gave you a look of slight concern mixed with amusement, then nodded his head towards his house, “Sure, come on inside.”

And before he could open the gate for you and lead the way, you sprinted past him, hearing his loud snort as you practically barged inside his home. The lights were mostly on and you whipped your head around as the guy walked up behind you, nodding his chin to the only door in the hallway, “That’s the bathroom, go on.”

He wasn’t finished speaking and you were already messily stepping out of your sneakers, almost tripping and embarrassing yourself even further in front of the hot guy. You barged inside the bathroom and fiddled with the light switch before you found it, locking the door behind you as you then raced towards the toilet, your skirt above your hips before you had even sat down. A groan left your lips at the instant relief and you lowered your head, holding it in your hands. It was warm inside the bathroom and you could feel your trembling limbs finally ease up a little bit, your head swimming around now worse than before due to all your hectic movements just now. You wondered how to thank the guy for letting you inside as you finished up, flushing the toilet and then walking over to the sink. Your cheeks were red so you splayed some cold water on them, groaning at the feeling as you dried your hands in your black skirt. You sighed as you looked at yourself, trying to tell yourself that this wasn’t as embarrassing as peeing yourself would have been, and that you were just really lucky that a kind stranger allowed you to use their bathroom. Which reminded you of the fact that you had to walk out before he started thinking you were doing something weird inside his bathroom.

You opened the door and peeked your head around the doorframe, finding the guy sitting on the table, which was pressed up by the wall behind the front door. You jumped in fright as you didn’t expect him to be there, and cleared your throat when you realised that he had been watching the bathroom door the whole time. Smoke wafted from around his lips as you flipped the switch and then closed the bathroom door behind you, trying to keep your eyes on his face, but you were just too embarrassed. He looked…more amused than annoyed or judgemental, and he even chuckled when you stumbled into the wall since you failed to notice the huge Golden Retriever underneath your feet.

“Oh my God,” You muttered to yourself as you looked down at the cute dog, its tongue out as it stared up at you, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

The dog then plunged off the floor on his two back legs, jumping up on you and making you yelp as your back hit the wall again. A laugh left your lips as you ruffled the fur on its head, petting the dog while it tried licking at your face. The guy just continued to sit on the table, watching you with an amused look on his face, cigarette held between his thumb and index finger.

“Get down, boy, you’ll make her fall over.” He called out, whistling to get the dog’s attention. You didn’t mind the friendly animal, but its weight was getting a bit too much, so you were thankful when it finally got off you and headed towards its owner. The dog’s tail was waging as it barked lightly, rubbing its head against the guy’s leg to make him pat it. You grinned as you readjusted your cardigan, its sleeve having fallen off your shoulder.

“That’s a cute dog.” You heard yourself saying, making the man look at you again. He wore dark grey loose jeans, a long-sleeved black blouse and over that a black t-shirt that reached just below his crotch. There was also a chequered-patterned shirt tied underneath all those clothes loosely, and you wondered if the guy had just arrived home. His street-like outfit paired with a black beanie with his dirty blonde hair falling into his dark eyes made the guy really attractive, and you needed to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be staring at him so blatantly. But the weed made your brain process everything slower, so you couldn’t exactly help yourself this one time.

“Cute and harmless, seems like he likes you.” The guy commented, his lips pulled to the side as he pushed the dog’s head away playfully, making it bark again before it ran off further into the house. You didn’t turn to watch the dog go, not wanting to peek further inside this stranger’s home. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, and that made you realise you had definitely overstayed your welcome. You cleared your throat and smiled, trying to seem like you had your shit together while the world whirled around you, “I don’t assume you want to also sleep over?”

You gulped, surprise coating your expression as you felt your cheeks heating up, “I was just about to go, I’m really sorry about all of this. The bus stop is quite the walk away and I would have—I mean, yeah, I really had to use the bathroom, so, thanks.”

The guy watched you with even more amusement on his face, and you averted your eyes when he took a whiff of his cigarette, rounding his already pouty lips and puffing out circles. You tried not to watch but it was incredibly hot, you gulped, your throat feeling rather dry all of a sudden.

“Pity,” The guy smirked, getting off the table as he walked over to the front door to open it for you, “I’m a great cook, could’ve made you something nice in the morning.”

Well, fuck that. You hummed with a forced smile on your lips, trying not to ogle his body as you passed by him, his sweet perfume permeating your senses as your jaw clenched. He wasn’t just hot, he smelled good too, and that was maybe your undoing. You reached the door and stopped next to him, looking up at him with a loud gulp as he continued to smirk at you, extending his cigarette towards you. How was it still lit? Had he gotten a new one while you were in the bathroom? But then again, it didn’t stink like the usual cigarette, and the realisation hit you at the same time as the guy spoke up, “Want a hit? It’s not too strong, I’ve rolled it like twenty minutes ago.”

You bit your bottom lip and glanced at the blunt, debating it. But there were multiple reasons why you shouldn’t accept it, and yet you were still debating it, “I mean…I have work in the morning.”

“That’s not a no.” He smirked, stepping slightly closer, and then pushed the blunt into your hand, giving you no choice but to take it, “I saw you at San’s party, you came with Wooyoung, right? Where’d you leave him?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you raised the blunt and took a tentative drag of it, glad that it didn’t taste as disgusting as the one Wooyoung had made at the party, “He’s with San, I didn’t want to bother them. Who are you?”

“Yunho,” The guy answered as you handed him the blunt back, surprising you by gently closing the door right in your face. You looked at the empty space now in front of you and felt goosebumps on your skin as you looked back up at Yunho, his grin not too menacing, “Wanna play some games?”

“That’s…that sounds scary.” You muttered, only now realising you really were just about to leave without your shoes. Just how high were you if you weren’t even sensing what your body needed anymore?

“I meant on the switch, Jesus.” The guy chuckled, turning around and walking further inside the house as he turned the light off in the hallway, leaving you alone and in darkness. Your heart raced both in slight scare and intrigue, “If you don’t want to, you can just go! I’ll lock the door later, Mingi’s supposed to come over either way.”

“You know Mingi?” You heard yourself asking, and then instantly realised, “Ah! You’re the Yunho who left the party because he wanted to stream?”

“And also eat ramen.” He appeared around the corner again with a smile, holding a cup of ramen up sheepishly, “I made too much, so, if you’re hungry…”

Damn, so he was one of Wooyoung’s friends…would it be too bad if you stayed for some ramen and maybe a game or two? You hoped not. Before you could convince yourself that staying to eat ramen and play games with a guy you didn’t know wasn’t smart, you found yourself nodding to Yunho’s silent offer, making his smile instantly widen. He turned and then led the way further inside his house, your eyes were a bit hazy and you struggled to see in the dark, but thankfully the next room was flooded with light as Yunho had led the way to the kitchen, his cute dog sitting by the counter and hungrily staring up at the other cup filled with ramen.

“Are you sure this is for me?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows as Yunho nudged his dog when it wouldn’t move aside, the two sharing a look as if they could communicate. Maybe Yunho could speak to animals, you almost giggled to yourself at the ridiculous thought.

“Yeah, sure, Mingi doesn’t like ramen when he’s high, it would only go to waste,” Yunho explained, then grabbed the cup of ramen and pressed it against your chest, giving you no choice but to take it. You nodded as you looked down at it, its scent was delicious and you couldn’t remember when was the last time you ate today, so you grabbed the chopsticks and went to town with it.

“How do you know Mingi?” You asked to fill the silence just as Yunho’s dog whined, looking up with puppy eyes at its owner and you chuckled, amused by the blush that suddenly spread to Yunho’s ears and neck.

“Stop that,” He muttered, eyebrows furrowing at the dog, “You’re embarrassing me, Shnucks.”

You paused, eyebrows furrowing as you couldn’t decide whether to laugh or not, “Your dog’s name is…Shnucks?”

When Yunho just nodded, very obviously letting some of the ramen slip to the floor for his dog, you burst out laughing, “What type of name is that?!”

“A silly one, just like this fella.” Yunho giggled, and the sound made your heart lurch as you stared at his handsome face, his cheeks lightly flushed and puffed out as he was munching his food, “Mingi named him, we were both high when we got the doggo. It’s ours, actually.”

“You live with Mingi?”

“Nah, we switch babysitting every other week.” Yunho shrugged, raising his eyes to look at you with mischief, “Don’t tell Mingi, but the fella likes me more than him.”

“Has he told you?” You teased Yunho with an amused smile as you gulped down more of your ramen, the warm food settling nicely in your stomach.

“Of course,” Yunho giggled again, licking his lips as he placed his cup down on the counter, rubbing his hands together, “So, how do you know Wooyoung?”

“Uh, well…that’s a long story?” You quirked an eyebrow, wondering how to make it simple for Yunho. It wasn’t actually that complicated, but you didn’t want to go into detail.

“Make it quick, then, I wanna go play.”

“And stream?”

“Nah, not anymore.” Licking his lips, Yunho leaned slightly down to be closer to your face, “I’ve got a playmate now.”

You gulped, trying not to think more into his words, but the way he eyed you up had your blood rushing quicker through your body, something burning low in your abdomen. You tried to ignore it as you smiled, placing your cup down next to Yunho’s abandoned one as you heard Shnucks’ paws pitter-patter against the floorboards as he walked away from the kitchen, “Right, I’m not good at games, though…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to take it.” You shrunk a bit in on yourself as Yunho chuckled, tapping the tip of your nose before he gently grabbed your elbow to veer you towards the living room, “My blows, I mean, I rarely lose so I hope you’re ready to face defeat.”

“You’re not being very encouraging right now.” You narrowed your eyes at Yunho as he chuckled, showing off his perfectly white teeth. You knew you were staring at him, but you couldn’t help yourself when the guy right in front of you looked like that. As you arrived inside the living room, which was a very simple space with a couch in the middle of the room, a TV with his switch station hooked up to it and a desk underneath the window, you realised you still hadn’t answered Yunho’s question about how you knew Wooyoung, “Back to Woo, uhm, well…we stumbled into each other at a club and hit it off well…and I guess we are friends now?”

“So, he’s your dealer, huh?” Your eyes widened minusculely as you whipped your head around to look up at Yunho, who had a knowing look on his face, “Yeah, that’s how we all met Wooyoung, don’t worry. He’s a funny guy but he can’t take a hint for the life of him.”

“Meaning?” You asked as you sat down on the grey sofa while Yunho went to turn on the TV as well as the switch, taking two gaming consoles before he walked back towards you. The sofa wasn’t huge but it had enough space for the two of you to sit comfortably without touching, however, that wasn’t the case as Yunho sat down so close next to you that your thighs were pressed up to each other. You decided to ignore it as his body heat permeated yours, your eyes meeting for a second as he handed you one of the consoles. Your fingers brushed together and your heart skipped a beat once again, but you quickly averted your eyes as Yunho smirked again, facing the TV.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it,” Your cheeks flushed at Yunho’s words, but before you could think more of it, he continued, “Are you ready to get obliterated in Mario Kart?”

“That’s really fucking rude, Yunho, I know how to play that game!” Yunho just laughed as he started the game, a knowing look still on his face. You, in fact, were not ready for the embarrassing number of times you’ve lost to Yunho in something as pathetic as Mario Kart. He was having the time of his life, teasing you and laughing at you at any given chance, only managing to work you up more and more until you couldn’t contain your rage and ended up threatening to exit the game while Yunho was scoring the most of points. He thought you were joking at first so he only laughed more, but after you did it once, he knew not to mess around with you anymore.

You had no idea for how long you and Yunho had been playing on his switch, but you were sure you were close to hitting the second hour. Your ass had gone numb and your legs were a bit antsy, but you were determined to win against Yunho in this round, finally having gotten the hang of the new game he had shown you. That was until you felt Yunho’s large hand sneaking up your thigh, just underneath the hem of your skirt to squeeze your thigh and tell you to be a good girl. It took one shared glance filled with heat to have you crawling over his lap, your lips meeting in a frenzied kiss. It was hot, messy with spit and full of teeth as Yunho’s fingers dug into your hips, pulling your body as tightly into his as he could. Your fingers curled into the blonde hair at his nape, the beanie still on his head, and you gasped when he started kneading your ass cheeks roughly. Ripping the beanie off his head, you yanked his head back and kissed down his neck, open-mouthed kisses that left marks on his milky skin.

Yunho was breathing hard as he let you have your way with him for the time being, and in your dazed state, you hadn’t even noticed the way he had started rubbing his bulge against your core, pulling you lower into himself. Sounds spilt from your mouth as Yunho grabbed the back of your head and pulled your face up, staring at you with hazy eyes before he smashed your lips back together, groaning into your mouth as you rolled your hips forward while pressing down a bit harder, gasping into his mouth as the friction finally increased. He was big but perhaps you weren’t too surprised by it, his height should’ve been a fair warning that he was packing downstairs as well. Your skin felt hot, and perhaps Yunho could feel it too because his long fingers hooked into the collar of your cardigan and slowly slipped it down your shoulders while grazing his fingertips against your arms, covering your skin in goosebumps. Your head lolled back as Yunho dived forward again, sucking bruises into your collarbones that you’d hate tomorrow but right now felt euphoric as his hot tongue swiped against the small bruises to soothe the bites.

“I’ve been eyeing you up all night,” Yunho whispered in your ear as you fumbled with the hems of his layered shirts, “Who knew you’d stumble right into my lap?”

You chuckled as your fingers finally found the button and zipper of his pants, making swift work with them as your eyes met Yunho’s, “Yeah? I don’t recall seeing you.”

“That’s because you were busy with Wooyoung…until he left you alone to entertain San.” Yunho smirked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “Much to my happiness…I thought you’d go home with him tonight.”

You smirked and yanked at Yunho’s pants, pulling them as down as you could due to him sitting on the sofa. His eyes fell down onto your hands, which were slowly slipping inside his boxers, a wet patch already staining the fabric. You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from grinning too widely, it brought satisfaction to know Yunho was in such a state so quickly and from just a little bit of sloppy kissing. It might’ve been the weed adding to it as well, but you disregarded that thought as you teased the skin underneath the elastic of his boxers, “Wooyoung and I aren’t a thing.”

Yunho scoffed a chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding it finally onto his dick. He gulped as your eyes bore into each other’s and you chuckled, gripping his shaft before very slowly dragging your hand up and down. He gulped, his pupils blown wide as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, the fingers that still gripped your hip now digging into your skin through your thin blouse.

“I would’ve fucked you even if you were a thing.” Yunho groaned out, face contorting in pleasure as you twisted your wrist, smearing his precum around the head of his dick. His cheeks were flushed, the redness spreading down to his chest as his eyes fluttered closed before you squeezed him a bit harder.

“Right,” You mocked, cocking an eyebrow as you fastened your pace, having Yunho whimper underneath you, “You speak as if you had the balls to approach me at the party, Yunho.”

Yunho gulped and closed his eyes, letting you do whatever as you watched the pleasure on his face, making your lower abdomen burn as you yearned to be touched as well. Yunho still held your wrist as he gasped for air, and you dove forward, kissing his neck and playfully biting his Adam’s Apple as Yunho’s dick twitched in your hand. That seemed to make him realise he was neglecting you, and before you knew it, you were being flipped over and pinned to the sofa. It was rather uncomfortable, Yunho was too big for the sofa and it felt like you disappeared completely underneath him, which only made the fire burn stronger in your stomach. You gulped as he smirked, finally pulling the many layers covering his torso over his head, baring his naked skin to you. Your eyes took in the dark brown spots, the little moles that littered his fair skin and you reached out to touch them, trace them as Yunho got rid of his jeans, clumsily shaking them off his legs. He tucked himself back into his boxer, then flipped your skirt up and grinned, tracing the outside of your thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched Yunho’s dark eyes trace your body hungrily, and he leaned down to press soft kisses against your navel, making your stomach coil. You tried to close your legs out of instinct, but Yunho stopped you by planting himself firmly between your thighs, gripping your left thigh with a bruising force. You shuddered as his finger now traced dangerously close to where you needed him most, and he smirked as he pressed down on the wet patch making you gasp.

“Look at you,” He chuckled then, pushing your panties to the side and not even warning you before two long fingers entered you, making you gasp loudly. You grabbed his arm as your back arched, eyes boring into his as he set a fast pace from the start, your breath quickening to the point you thought you’d start hyperventilating, “You’re even prettier underneath me.”

You moaned quietly, your toes curling with Yunho’s fingers as he plunged deeper, hitting sensitive nerves that made you see nothing but darkness for a second. He seemed to be enjoying your reactions as he added a third finger, stretching you out for something you knew you needed prepping for. Your hands trembled as your hips kicked off the sofa to match his thrust, and you called his name when he started rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Fuck, there, keep going.”

But instead of doing what he was told, Yunho stopped and chuckled, pulling his fingers out and making you sit up as you realized he was about to get off the sofa. He raised an eyebrow as his smirk returned, then, he leaned in for a kiss before pushing you back down onto the sofa, “Don’t worry, I usually finish what I start.”

“Then where are you going?” You snapped, your desire bleeding into your tone as Yunho clicked his tongue, grabbing you by the elbows and yanking you up.

“Don’t you want to ride me?” You cursed silently as he continued to smirk at you wickedly, settling you back on his lap. This time, however, you wasted no time and pulled his dick out of his boxers, allowing him to push your panties to the side as you aligned yourself, very slowly sinking down on his dick. The initial stretch was unpleasant and you didn’t try to rush as your eyebrows furrowed, realizing that the guys were right all this time. Wooyoung did have a small dick compared to Yunho, and your toes curled just at the thought of what he’d be capable of doing to you.

Yunho held your hips as he guided you down all the way and your fingers curled into his shoulder, nails digging into his hot skin as your eyes squeezed shut, “Fuck, gimme a second.”

“Too much compared to Woo?” Yunho’s voice was amused as he rubbed circles into your skin and your jaw clenched as your eyes snapped open.

“Don’t bring Woo into this, he’s not a terrible lay at all.” Your tone was harsh, maybe you weren’t too close with Wooyoung, but he was a decent person and you didn’t want Yunho making fun of him in any way. Besides, he was ruining your mood by bringing Wooyoung up right now, “He’s attentive, unlike many guys.”

“Can’t have that, then.” Yunho chuckled, an evil grin spreading onto his lips then, “Let me fuck you properly.”

And then he lifted you and slammed you back down on his dick, making your eyes round in surprise as you gasped, falling forward into his body. Yunho chuckled then fumbled with your blouse before he was bringing it over your head, burying his head into the valley of your breasts as you lifted your hips on your own, his dick dragging against your walls and making you keen. He was big and it reached places few managed before, you took a deep breath before sinking down again, the pace not too rushed since you wanted to enjoy the ride. Yunho’s teeth nicked at your skin, sucking a hickey right above your breast where the skin was thin and sensitive, making you moan as you let him set the pace by guiding you up and down his dick. It wasn’t too fast, but it was just enough to have your back arching towards him, fingers gripping into his hair and yanking his head back to look into your eyes. Yunho grinned before he smashed your lips together, finally thrusting up into you and meeting you halfway, a whimper leaving your mouth.

You clung to him like your life depended on it, gasps and keens leaving your lips against Yunho’s mouth as he quickened his pace, pistoning up into you as your thighs trembled trying to keep up with him. It hasn’t been long since you’ve had sex, but it has never been like this one. It was fast, hot, and loud as Yunho kept slamming back up into you, quiet grunts leaving his lips as you pressed your mouth against his jaw to try and keep quiet. You weren’t one to be loud in bed, but when Yunho hit a specific spot, your back arched and a loud moan left your lips as your arms circled his shoulders.

“Keep going, there.” Your jaw clenched as Yunho hummed, shifting his hands to grip your ass for better guidance, the slapping sounds echoing nastily in the room as your eyes squeezed shut.

“Feels amazing,” Yunho groaned against your neck, hissing as your walls clenched around his length. “I’m close.”

“Already?” Your eyebrows furrowed as Yunho hummed, continuing his relenting thrusts, and you found yourself unable to speak or even take a full breath as he drew you closer to your own orgasm as well. But you realized he didn’t use a condom, which wasn’t a smart idea, you had forgotten about it in the heat of the moment, and spoke up hurriedly, “You can’t come inside.”

“Fuck, please?” There was a whine to Yunho’s tone as his hand wrapped around your throat while the other continued to knead your ass, and you bit your bottom lip, eyes boring into his. You were tempted to give in to him, to just say yes and let him fill you up, but you couldn’t be so irresponsible, so you shook your head and kissed his lips instead to appease him. Yunho groaned but continued to hit your sweet spot over and over again, your body buzzing and trembling at the same time as you drew closer and closer, but then he was pulling out and jerking himself off, his throat convulsing as he came all over his stomach, his body going limp underneath yours. He looked hot, but you were clenching around nothing and you weren’t about to leave this place without coming too, so you grabbed his hand off your ass and guided it to your core, nudging his cheek with your nose.

“You’re forgetting something,” When he made no move, you smirked, biting his earlobe before whispering, “I always come with Woo, it really isn’t about the size but the skills, Yunho…”

That was all it took for Yunho to kick back into action, three fingers entering you at last as his thumb rubbed your clit fast in circular motions, making you choke on your next inhale. Your eyes squeezed shut as keens left your mouth, the closer you got, the higher they went in pitch until Yunho’s fingers managed to hit your sweet spot again and again, tipping you off the edge as your body locked and your back arched. You moaned into Yunho’s ear and he groaned, kissing your neck as his fingers guided you through your release, getting too much when his fingers didn’t stop plunging back into you. You stopped him and slumped against him, his sweet perfume on your lips, tongue, and in your nose, as you pressed a kiss against a mole on his chest. Yunho’s breathing had significantly calmed down, but you were still fighting to find your breath. Then, there was a noise coming from the front door and Shnucks came suddenly barrelling outside of a room, barking loudly.

“Mingi’s home.” Yunho said with a smirk as he suddenly stood from the sofa, your legs around his hips as he led you towards an unknown room, “Let’s get you covered up, unless you want him to see us like this…”

“He’s not my type.” You said with a lazy smile as you felt satisfied by how your night had turned out.

“Don’t worry,” Yunho chuckled then pressed a kiss against your nose as he closed the door behind you two, “He is mine…”

Masterlist

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meganegatari · 11 months ago

Text

currently thinking about edging sub!ellie...so...whoops

"hnnn- fuckfuckfuck baby, please." she'd whine into your ear, clawing wherever she could reach on you, scratching up your shoulder blades, digging into your waist. as soon as you feel the familiar flutters of her pussy around your skillful fingers, you'd pull away with a smirk, watching her gleefully.

you slow your movements until there's only a stationary pad of your finger resting on her pulsing clit. you stare down at her as she's gasping and bordering on tearing up, face all red and hair disheveled. auburn strands a stark contrast from the white pillow she's laid upon.

she'd try to squirm around to make you continue touching her, but you don't comply. frustrated huffs and grunts fall from her lips as her bare chest heaves up and down with desperation.

"hmmm?" you'd coo at her, voice sweet on the surface, but laced with a patronizing taunt.

she'd sigh, muster up her remaining energy and throw a deathly glare at you, sharp enough to kill a man painlessly. unfortunately for her it only amuses you further, and you bite back a sneer.

eyebrows scrunched together with her gaze not leaving yours, she sputters through a clenched jaw, "i'm gonna kill you." you can't help but chuckle at the threat. you know she doesn't mean it, it was always funny when she got feisty.

"oh you don't wanna do that, no one fucks you as good as i do, baby." you finish your rebuttal by re-inserting two fingers into her weeping pussy once more, curling skyward until you hit the spot that breaks her.

within moments her back is arching into you and eyes squeezing shut, a symphony of melodic moans and whimpers flooding the room.

"yeah, that's what you wanted?" you tease, but it's ignored. you'll allow it this time. pumping in and out of her, you can tell she's getting close again, and the thought to rip it away from her yet again crosses your mind, but you've lost count at this point.

she's gripping onto your other arm as if her life depended on it, holding on so hard you swear you'll lose feeling in it.

never letting up your pace her whines increase in volume and frequency, her pussy swallowing up your digits with ease.

you're entranced by her, she's done so well you'll let her cum, finally. she's earned it.

"pleaseplease, yes, ah-" incoherent strings of pleas and delicious begs escape her, you watch as her toned abs flex and cave in as the feeling begins to build for her.

"that's it, c'mon." you mumble a praise, which acts as the gateway for her to let go and succumb to the release enveloping her.

steadily working her through it, thumb rolling over her clit and fingers milking the orgasm out of her until it becomes too much.

she's breathing deeply once it's passed and seems finally at peace after so long, so much denial. you lay on top of her, peppering open-mouthed kisses against the side of her neck, running your hands over her waist.

"you're so mean." she mumbles, her voice taken on a drowsy aura from the exertion.

"i know. but you love it."

"i do."

um HELLO the fuck idk what came over me needed to get this outta my system ig LMAO literally typed this in like 10 minutes in the app bye

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ironladders · 5 months ago

Note

"I circled half the globe searching for him, but he was gone."

Starscream ;_;

RIGHT?? IT'S SO SAD .

and i have sooo many thoughts about this whole situation with skyfire/starscream that's been presented to me, if you dont mind anon im gonna use your ask to ramble a little

(disclaimer im sure nothing i have to say here is particularly new & has been said by those who've been deep into TF longer than myself but i need to get this out my system anyways. and also im still watching through g1 so if im horribly mistaken about anything #oops)

unless i missed something, i don't think it's specified in "fire in the sky" how long starscream looked for skyfire?? but just thinking about that line.... he obviously didn't immediately go back to cybertron, he didn't just give up on skyfire. starscream cared about skyfire enough to look for him, only leaving after (i assume) he realized he didn't have the resources to conduct a proper search for his companion. and i mean can you imagine being starscream in that situation???? your partner just disappears into a storm, and no matter how far and long you look you're unable to find them????????

i get starscream, man. i'd also become awful if that happened to me.

and here's the thing: i stumbled upon this post which posits that the decepticons happening to stumble across skyfire in the ice was no incident, but starscream's own doing, and i LOVE this theory/headcanon so much. when i first watched the episode yesterday i was thinking that it was funny they just happen to be mining right where skyfire was frozen so it's nice to see my suspicions affirmed LMAO

i honestly love that episode so much because as i learn more about starscream and transformers as a whole i think little tidbits like that offer a deeper look into who he is (or was, idk) beyond just megatron's second-in-command. he was a scientist, an explorer, a friend. "was" isn't even the proper word here, because he still is all of those things, he just...... applies them differently, i suppose. which is the real tragedy in who he is as a character.

beyond starscream and his search for skyfire, you wanna know what i've REALLY been thinking about a lot with these two? when skyfire becomes a decepticon (for like a day lol but still), starscream immediately declares that when he overthrows megatron, skyfire will become his second-in-command. not any of the other seekers, not either of the waves, not literally anyone else who's been a decepticon for more than an hour, but skyfire. his long-lost science partner. on starscream's end, virtually nothing about his relationship with skyfire has changed. he still trusts him as much as he did millions of years ago, to the point he'd be willing to have him at his side as leader of the decepticons.

but on skyfire's end... the starscream in front of him is different from the one he knew. war and being a decepticon changed starscream for the worst, something that unveils itself very quickly to skyfire. one of the first things he asks starscream after becoming a decepticon is if starscream is genuinely happy about being a decepticon warrior over the scientist he used to be. skyfire can't believe that the person standing in front of him could be the starscream he once knew before being frozen. still, it's starscream, so skyfire ends up going along with things up until he can't ignore his morals and deny that he's on the wrong side anymore.

that is where the second tragedy happens for starscream: betrayl, by the man he'd waited to get back for so long. he finally got skyfire back, only to lose him all over again.

if skyfire had never crashed that day -- if they'd never gone closer to explore the earth in the first place -- would starscream had gone down such a dark path? would he have taken countless lives, and become the ruthless decepticon he is now? does it eat at skyfire, knowing that in his absence starscream lost who he once was? or perhaps he'd still be the same starscream, but skyfire would be at his side serving the decepticon cause. maybe they both would've been so drastically changed by the years of cybertron's war together.

skyfire is a living, formerly frozen relic of the past before everything went wrong. starscream has aged far beyond that, to the point of no return. as much as they surely both want it, and regardless of what happens to them, their bond can never go back to what it once was.

god i just. i need more!!! i need to watch more transformers and read more of the comics and see more of these two!! i watched tfp + some of the live action movies as a kid but this is my first time learning about skyfire and this thing he's got going on with starscream and it's fascinating to me i can't believe i didn't know about this before!!!!! but it's also so fucked up oh my god!!!!!

ok yeah ive gotten the brainworms out my system. idk how to end this here's screenshots i took that i found funny

#i hope skybound explores this wild thing going on btwn them in a later issue as well #considering the flashback we got + how both skyfire/jetfire and star are alive but just in uhhhhh questionable conditions... hmm #like both of them have had their autonomy stripped in some way & cant transform now #maybe it's a coincidence. but maybe It's Not #i just think it could lead to an interesting conversation #theres also the ongoing thing skybound has abt how the war rly changed the TFs & considering issue 13 i want to see sky/jetfire directly #confront that with starscream. i want to see more of the emotions he feels about star's drastic change from ulchtar #right after skyfire left everything went to shit. genvo was murdered and ulchtar died to make way for starscream #i rly do wonder if he wonders what would've happened if he stayed a few more days just like ulchtar suggested. if things would be different #man.......................#ask #starscream #skyfire #skystar

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phyrestartr · 6 months ago

Text

Those Ghosts We Cannot Burn | Dabi x M!Reader

w/c: 1k cw: past trauma, canon-typical Todoroki family, mentions of child abuse, canon-typical violence, graphic language, difficult relationships #Eventual NSFW, bl, dunno who is top/bottom yet lol, hurt/comfort, angst, drama, reader is yakuza, reader and dabi have history, sorta enemies to lovers?? Notes: AAAAH short little snippet but I wanted to post anyway!! I need to get drafts out of my system or I'll go mad lmao...they're all just clogging up my google docs...it's so bad dude OTL so many WIPs

(ALL tags): @kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

1. Hello, My Past

The bodies of his victims hissed and burned with a life only fire could leave in the path of destruction. Dabi knew it well–he was made the same way, after all. But they'd go on to simply disappear, their ashes fluttering away with the Autumn breeze while he continued to conquer his fate.

“Hey, you're the one they call ‘Dabi,’ right?”

The man in question paused, ears perking at that shitty, monotonous tone. Hah. It pissed him off. It made his heart hum, too. Weird.

“Who's askin'?” He drawled, tucking his hands in his pockets as he turned to face you with languid steps. When he caught sight of you in that alleyway, he almost remembered something, but couldn’t find the will to dwell on it.

“I am, on behalf of Shie Hassaikai,” you said, adjusting the cuffs of your jacket. “You've been torching our men, y’know?”

Dabi smiled. “And? You want an autograph or somethin’?”

You quirked a brow, looked him up and down, and scoffed. “You got a pen? Or, even know how to write in the first place? Don’t look the type.”

“Oi–”

“Anyway,” you continued, “You wouldn’t be willing to stop murdering ours while our respective leaders discuss their deal, hey?”

Dabi clicked his tongue. Annoying. “Their deal's got nothing to do with me.”

“Guess you're not as high up as they said, then.”

“You're a real pain in the ass, y'know?”

“It's kinda my job.”

“Maybe someone should relieve you from duty.”

A torrent of blue bloomed and crashed through the alley with the vicious hunger of a tsunami. Sparks exploded and flames lashed against stone and concrete, engulfing sky, earth, and all in-between with his show of firepower–a show he never grew tired of, one that never failed to remind him just what he lived for, what he–wait.

He squinted. What the hell?

A bright silhouette stood in the centre of the violent cleansing, wholly unmoved by the villain's flame. It wavered like a candle tousled by the night breeze, but it did not fade away with the light, nor with the wane of fire. And in the aftermath, once the alley fell quiet and dim once again, there it still stood, staring his way with a light that might rival a god's true form.

“You done?” You asked, voice crackling through a veil of blue.

Thousands of questions and thoughts rushed through his mind–what the hell was that? Who were you? What was your quirk? Why was your fire blue, too?--but he couldn't settle on one, not long enough to spit it out, anyway.

“I'll consider that a yes,” you decided. Your form re-materialized with a small flourish embers, and you breathed in deep.

Dabi tried not to let on how bothered he felt. “What the hell was that quirk?”

“Does it really matter?” You hummed, smiling. “The only thing you need to know is what you just saw–you can't get rid of me. Not with those flames of yours.”

“Hah. You sure about that, pretty boy?” His fingers twitched, eager to try his hand again. “I could crank the heat up for ya, see just how much you can handle.”

“Maybe another time,” you said, half-distracted as you checked your phone. “For now, remember what I said. Our bosses are trying to work together. Don't make this difficult.”

You turned halfway through your thought, showing Dabi your back without a care in the world. You must've really thought you couldn't be hurt by him. You must have really thought you were better than him. You must have.

But the sirens roaring toward the alley ruined his chance at demolishing you. He could take them on, but he'd rather not deal with the headache that'd follow–heaven knows he'd get reemed by some of the other villains for taking the PR crap too far.

Fucking prick, Dabi seethed silently. He'd have to kill you some other day.

–

“Touya,” you called, voice quiet.

The boy next to you, the one you squished into that single bed with whenever nightmares found him, stirred. Only your voice seemed to pull him free from the lull of dreams and nightmares, oddly.

“Yeah?” He whispered, clearing his throat, grimacing again at the scratchy stiffness to it.

“Once the doc helps you,” you started, sounding too serious for your age, “I think we should leave.”

“What?” Touya rubbed sleep from his eyes the best he could without tearing stitches and skin grafts apart. “What the hell is–”

Whatever else he had to say died in his throat when he caught a glimpse of you in the filtered moonlight; your calm, passive look of day had shifted come the night. Your face was kinder, exposing flickers of forbidden thoughts for none but one to see and soon forget, come the beckon of sleep.

“What the hell's your problem?” Touya breathed.

Your brows furrowed. “I don't want to be here,” you answered. “Have you even considered trying to go to your family? We could–”

“I did go back. Nothing's changed.” He smiled, bitter. “Those fucking sheep abandoned me already.”

“I won't abandon you,” you promised suddenly. “We can talk to them. Together. Come on, Touya–”

Touya laughed a pathetic, little sound. “Are you serious? They don't give a shit about me, they're not gonna give a shit about–do you think you're better than me? More special?”

Your eyes grew round. “Wh–I never said that.”

“But you think they'd listen to you, and not me,” he hissed, something igniting the hollow paths of his nerves and revving him back to life. “You think I'm not–”

You covered his mouth with a quick hand, and he held your wrist with a weak grip. “Shut up. You don't know what I think, so–so just shut up.”

I know what you think. And he was determined to prove you wrong, one way or another, even if he had to rip himself apart to do it--but you saw through him so easily. You always did; you always knew how to push his buttons then reset the system before he blew up.

And when you leaned in and kissed the back of your hand, the one still clasped over his mouth, he did indeed reset. Completely braindead once again, he was.

“Forget I said anything,” you huffed, turning your back to him and settling back in.

And Touya tried to forget, even though his mind buzzed and his heart thudded against his ribs. He tried, and he tried, and he tried.

#past trauma #canon-typical Todoroki family #mentions of child abuse #canon-typical violence #graphic language #difficult relationships #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #todoroki touya x reader #male reader insert #male!reader #bnha x you #bnha x male reader #toya x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x you #dabi x y/n #phyrestartr

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lucysarah-c · 10 months ago

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Do you think that Canon Levi (While he is in the scouts, not post-war) would want a serious relationship or even a family? I love reading fanfictions about him falling in love with someone who is also on the scouts and even having a wife or kids, but he canonically is not a huge fan of marriages and Idk, maybe he doesn't like the idea of putting children in such a dangerous world, you know what I mean? What's your opinion?

Hi, sweetheart! How are you? Ah, first of all, thank you for stopping by my inbox and asking for my opinion. I always get a little giggly when people ask for my thoughts on anything haha. I promise to do my best to reply to everything to the best of my abilities!

I agree with you to a certain degree, especially since you mentioned not "post-war Levi." I think post-war Levi is a completely different story, you know? This man sat down with two kids to tell them about his childhood and mother. Let's remember that Hange didn't even know about Kenny's existence during the Uprising Arc, which leads me to think that Levi didn't speak to anyone about his past before. Now he does? I mean, yes, it's a literary device—using characters completely alien to the idea to present a first-person POV of the character telling their past. I've used it myself in my main fic. But let's say that's not the case, and Levi is opening up like never before. He seems to be redoing his life and living happily after the war. I wouldn't be surprised if he decides to pursue a partner and kids for himself (if he wants, as kids and romantic relationships aren't necessary for happiness).

But Canon Scout Levi? Let me tell you, first of all, I don't think Levi really "believes" in marriage per se. I think he would treat his girlfriend as if she were his wife; he doesn't think of marriage much beyond "a tradition." Now, I do see him getting married if it would enhance the life or rights of his girlfriend. What do I mean by this? Let's say there's "social judgment" if his girlfriend is publicly in a relationship with him and "being with a man outside of wedlock" causes her social scrutiny—he may marry her. He knows firsthand how women are judged based on their "status" by his mother, so if he can step up and do the right thing, he will. For example, if he were to die and his partner couldn't land jobs because people judge that she's unmarried at her age, he would marry her. Or if she could get a pension from being married to a soldier, and every coin counts, Levi wouldn't mind it. That's what I personally think. Levi knows he won't be the one getting the sour end from not making it official, so he sees it as beneficial to make it legally official.

Then about kids, I don't see Levi "seeking" kids while he's in the Scouts. It's rather clear that Levi likes kids across the story, but he probably wants to give his kids the childhood he didn't have. And yeah, "kids only need someone who loves them, etc.," but the truth is kids need time, dedication, and MONEY. Three things that Scout Levi doesn't have lmao. So I don't see him canonically "seeking to become a dad." If there's contraception in Paradis, he's for sure using it. If there isn't, or accidents happen, and his girlfriend ends up pregnant, he would probably state that it's not the best timing for kids (especially if she's a Scout, as I doubt a woman would be allowed to be a soldier and also raise a kid. She would lose her job and stay behind to be a mother, which was usually the case back in the day). But if she decides to carry on, Levi, being an adult doing adult stuff, will take responsibility and be the best father he can given the circumstances.

Finally, about relationships… I'm a firm believer that you don't truly choose to fall in love or not haha. Like when it happens, it happens, like the cat distribution system lol. Once it knocks at your door, it's your time. Once again, I don't picture Levi going out of his way "searching" for romance. But if he slowly gets to know someone and likes them, and that person likes him back, then well… I don't know. Now that I'm rereading the manga, I'm more sure about this. Levi hardly seems "unapproachable," like "I'm so hurt, I don't want to let anyone in." On the contrary, you see he has good relationships with almost all the Scouts, even telling Nifa about Kenny out of nowhere. He's not one to fall easily, but if it happens, it happens.

I hope this was a good enough answer <3 Thank you so much for your ask.

Have a lovely day!

Stay safe!

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rush-the-stars · 11 months ago

Text

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART III

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.8k || ao3 || <- part ii || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

━─━────༺༻────━─━

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, one slap from the reader to suguru and he sorta likes it, fainting, fainting from lack of food, reader refuses to eat because she doesn't want getou to feed her, getou does not let reader eat unless he feeds them; forced feeding. forced bathing, smut; masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: happy mother's day to alpha suguru getou <3 this is the third and final part of this lil series for @lorelune 's spring fever collab! pls mind the warnings, i added some! i will be honest this part feels like a fever dream to myself lol...,.not beta read..,.i barely read it back bc im terrified of my own smut JFDKLSK enjoy LMAO but on a real note, thank you to everyone who has reached out and been so kind ab this fic! i hope you enjoy this last part! let me know your thoughts <33

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When Suguru first offers you food from his own hand, you push it away. He cooked it for you and you refuse it, turn your nose up at him and shut your mouth resolutely, feel your lips cage your teeth like a muzzle

“I’ll do it myself.” You tell him firmly.

But then he holds the food away from you.

You go nearly a day and a half, feverish and woozy, without eating.

You do not plan on conceding, but end up fainting not long after. Your body is under too much stress; you need sustenance. You need food and water.

So he begins to feed you as your lashes flutter and you are too weak to deny him this time.

It’s easier, when you can hardly keep your eyes open. His hands are impossibly gentle. You feel his fingers against your lips, careful, and loving.

When you’re feeling better, you glower at him.

He is rather pleased, though.

The next time he tries to feed you by hand, you turn and bite his hand, sink your teeth into the meat of it.

He laughs warmly, fondly.

“Feel better to get that out of your system?” He asks, when you finally pull away.

You don’t respond to him.

He grabs your face swiftly then, big hand fitting around your jaw and bearing down. This time, he holds you steady, and brings the slice of orange to your mouth.

You squirm, but he says, “I will not have you fainting again.”

“Let me feed myself then.” You manage to get out, but he holds you tighter, presses at your jaw to get it to unhinge.

The orange pops into your mouth.

“You’re insufferable.” You say around it, cheek puffed with the fruit.

Unfortunately, it’s good. Sweet. A little cool. Refreshing. You do want more.

“This doesn’t have to be so difficult.” He responds evenly, peeling away the next piece of the orange. It looks so small in his hands.

You swallow the piece in your mouth.

“You’re right,” you respond stubbornly, “it doesn’t.” You reach for the next piece but he holds it away from you.

Frustration overcomes you, chokes you like thorny vines strangling out the softer plants around them. Heat hits your face again and you have to wonder if you’ll ever get over it all. If he’ll ever stop making you feel this way.

Tears prick your eyes again.

You turn your face away from him. He sighs.

“It isn’t so bad,” he says softly, “if you’d just give in.”

You sniff. “I could say the same of you.”

“I’m trying to take care of you,” he says, “and at every turn, you are still trying to refuse it.”

“I don’t need—”

“But don’t you want it?” He asks gently, hand reaching out slowly, knuckles first, so they skim your cheek. “It’s okay to want.”

Stubbornly, you remain silent.

“You’ve been so alone, for so long, my little stray. It’s okay to be taken care of.” He consoles softly, voice just a rumble that warms to your ears.

“I’ll not think you any less strong, if you let me feed you now.” He promises, “if you let me care for you this week.”

You don’t know why, but a tear slips down your cheek. There’s a lump in your throat, hard and aching, and threatening your resolve.

He catches your tear with a thumb. “Poor thing, so torn up.”

You sniff hard, trying to hold everything in. It’s trembling and tender, though, your heart. The ache in your chest.

You don’t think you’ll win this one—

Your head is foggy and throbbing. You don’t even know what you’re winning or losing. Or what you’re fighting for, when he puts it that way.

You feel silly for denying him.

Perhaps worse for agreeing.

Finally, in a voice smaller than intended? you ask, “can I have another piece?”

Suguru studies you for a moment.

He lifts the curved bend of the orange up to your lips, testing. Waiting. It's a half moon curve, ripe and tempting.

You give in and part your lips, accept the crescent into your mouth like holding the moon on your tongue for him.

He presses it inside, on your tongue, and you accept the crescent like holding a soft, tangerine moon in your mouth for him. His fingers skim your teeth, placing a world there, on your tongue.

“Good girl,” he says, pleased and warm, when you close around the slice.

And then you obediently swallow it down—worldeater that you are, hungry dog that you are.

Another tear slips free as you chew it slowly. It’s tangy and sweet and lovely. You feel the well of emotions inside you open up, threatening to drag you down into its depths—you think if you start to cry now, you won’t ever stop.

Suguru dutifully peels off another piece of orange, making sure it’s free of rind or unwanted seeds.

When he lifts it to your mouth, you open readily for it now. Close your lips around his fingers gently, around the sweet orange.

With tears in your eyes, you look up at him, through wet lashes.

His scent has darkened, pungent and spicier. It lingers in the back of your mouth. It’s—it makes your head spin.

And there's a strange look in his eyes now.

Almost hungry himself, if you didn’t know better.

A cramp rolls through you, hips and lower back churning, and you whimper, reaching for him.

He takes hold of you easily.

“Hurts?” He muses softly.

You nod, tense and quick.

“Breathe,” he urges, shifting between your knees from where you’re sitting perched on his counter.

Instinctively, you cling to him.

You let yourself pull him closer, fit himself to you—

“Breathe,” he says again gently.

But you can feel him between your legs, you can feel his own desire, and it strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Like crashing to earth.

He’s hard and heat sweeps through you in a whirlwind, so fast it makes you feel dizzy. Your head spins as you sink your nails deep into him, bear down with your strength like a bad dog, like you could get him to stay.

Distantly, you think he’s such a strange, awful man.

Is he so turned on from feeding you? Or from the fight?

“Suguru,” you mewl, clinging to him desperately. And he holds you, keeps you close, until your hips twitch.

You seek friction and he denies you.

Frustratingly, tears spring to your eyes again.

“You’re so—“ you try to get out, “why are you also denying yourself?”

“Because I made you a promise.” Suguru responds evenly. He pauses, eyes flickering over you, a lightning flash of violet, “and, perhaps,” he squeezes your waist, “to teach you a lesson.”

A noise of frustration works its way out of you, a little growl or whine, somewhere in the back of your throat.

“Won’t you do anything to help me?” You get out, pawing at his shoulders, his chest.

“I’m feeding you,” he says, “I’m caring for you.”

And then he draws away, back to the orange, and your fingers grip the edge of the counter until pain presses into them. You have to force air into your lungs, try and make your head stop spinning.

The wooziness and the aching is perhaps the worst part. You feel out of your mind, wish you could crawl out of your body.

When Suguru returns, he has another piece of orange between his fingers.

You glare up at him with glassy eyes.

“Open,” he says, warm and low.

Pleased.

Turned on.

Your lips part and you accept the fruit and his fingers into your mouth. You let yourself close around them, feel his knuckles on the inside of your warm, wet cheek.

You’re slow about it, or maybe he is.

You hold his gaze furiously.

Maybe it was time you taught him a lesson, too. You bite down hard into the orange. It bursts in your mouth.

***

The third day is perhaps the worst.

You’re so hot and somehow both overstimulated and undertouched. Your skin crawls until Suguru touches you. You ache in a way that makes you fear for your own health; several times you start to cry—not just cry, but bawl—from the pain. From the frustration.

At one point, you beg Suguru to take you to the hospital. To help you. To save you.

You babble that you’re going to split apart. You’re going to lose your mind.

Like a colicky baby, you can’t calm down.

And this time, he can’t quite seem to soothe you, either.

You twist and turn and pull at your clothes and your hair. You dig your nails into your own skin and drag them down in vicious, curving marks.

You press and scratch at inflamed, painful scent glands.

Your jaw hurts strangely in the joints.

(You realize you want something in your mouth. Maybe you want it between your teeth.)

Suguru tries to hold your hands away from yourself, tries to keep you from tearing into your own skin, but it only worsens you. It only makes you fight harder and cry harder. You lash out more, using more force with yourself, with him.

When he snaps finally, pinning you roughly and with a flash of his sharper, greater canines, something inside of you howls.

All you can do is beg and plead and cry. Press up against him desperately. Sink your face into his throat and inhale and—

Bite.

Your teeth close around the skin of his throat and bear down harshly.

He inhales sharply, spine going rigid with the pain for a moment.

You taste his blood on your tongue and feel your eyes roll blissfully to the back of your head. Darkness as your lashes flutter shut. You whimper into his throat—

“Is that what you needed?” He hisses, slipping his hand behind you to cradle your head to him, to keep you at his throat, “you just needed to get your teeth into me?”

As if in response, you twine yourself around him, hitching your legs around his waist. Your arms winding around his broad shoulders, as if you could absorb him into your very body, your very soul.

“Too bad it won’t take, hm?” Suguru muses, unmoving, allowing himself to melt into your vice grip on him.

You make a soft noise; one that would be embarrassing if you didn’t—if you weren’t so—

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To Mark me properly?” He continues, voice bedroom soft, “you want to scar me with your own teeth?”

As if in response, you try and fasten your mouth down harder, grinder your teeth into his flesh until he groans. The sound reverberates through you, rattles around inside your head until you’re mindless with it.

When you finally manage to unlatch your teeth, he hisses and pulls away to grab your jaw.

“What a little beast,” he sneers at you, “with my blood all over your mouth.”

Something inside of you snaps.

Unintentionally, you shudder into your cursed form—teeth elongating, nails sharpening. Strength rips through your otherwise feeble, heat-laddled body. In a sudden move of power, you shove him hard, and throw him off you.

In an instant, you are back atop him.

This time, when your teeth sink into the juncture of his other shoulder, they are far longer.

He actually cries out in pain.

The sound sparks beneath your skin, roars to life like a sudden fire and when he tries to grab your jaw and pry you off him, your claws sink into his wrist.

You struggle with each other, using your cursed energy, using all the strength you have.

Blood drips down his chest, dampening the collar of his shirt.

He barks out a pained laugh, “you really are a curse.”

And then he is forcing you off of him, wrenching your teeth out of his skin in a brutal drag, shoving you away from him.

You hiss, baring your dripping fangs at him and he growls back. The sound low and primal. Warning bells ping around your head, but you lunge for him again.

This time, he isn’t so ill-prepared.

He grapples with you on the bed, shoving you down into it with his forearm bearing down hard into your chest.

You make a noise of pain but he doesn’t let up.

He’s panting and bleeding, his long hair slipping from its usual half-up appearance.

Something inside of you is quite pleased at the image of him.

Not so pristine.

Perhaps unsure, for once in all the time you’ve known him.

“Calm down.” He says low and soft. Part growl, part purr. “Your aggression is misguided.”

Your teeth are bared in a snarl, “you are my tormentor.”

“I am only respecting your wishes.” Suguru says and there is a horrible, smug lift to the corner of his lips. Maybe it’s more a threat of his teeth, which gleam in the lowlight. “I made you a promise and I’m keeping it.”

“Let me up,” you snap.

“Will you be good?” Suguru asks.

Your fever spikes, tears pricking again at your eyes, and you finally lose your transformation. It melts from you, until you are fangless and drained once more.

So drained, in fact, that your eyes gutter.

Suguru is off you in an instant. Air rushes into your lungs, the pressure from your chest lifting and he lets you heave for breath rough and hard.

You don’t catch him move, but suddenly a glass of water is brought to your lips. When you can breathe, you drink. You let him guide it to your lips. And this time, when you try to pull away, he stops you.

His hand cradles the back of your head, keeping your mouth to the glass.

“More,” he presses, “you’re weaker than you know.”

And for once, you don’t fight him.

You gulp down the rest of it, some of it slipping from your mouth, down your chin, rolling down your working throat. It’s cool but barely a balm to the oppressive heat inside of you.

When you finish, Suguru pulls the glass away. He sets it down and studies you.

He tsks softly, “you’re a mess.”

You take him in, though your eyes are growing heavy, all of that fighting took a lot out of you. It’s catching up with you quickly now.

But your eyes land on the bite marks you’ve littered him with. The one, specifically, that is still ringed and bleeding, dripping down his chest.

“So are you.” You reply, words slurring.

You don’t catch what he says next, muffled, as you fade from consciousness. Darkness sweeps in to cradle you, much the way Suguru is now, and you fall into a restless sleep.

***

Suguru wakes you at some point.

It’s pitch black outside the window; there is very little light in the room at all, which adds to your confusion. Your head is throbbing.

You whimper.

“Sit up for me,” his voice is a hush, “can you do that?”

“Let me sleep,” you reply, pushing weakly at him as he forces you up. Everything swims. Your head lolls like a doll and he catches it so you don’t give yourself whiplash.

“You’re burning up,” he replies, “I need to get the fever down.”

You don’t have the wherewithal to understand this.

For a moment, you hope that he means—

“I’m going to give you a bath.”

You make another noise, this one in disagreement. Fussy.

He tuts softly at you, the way mothers do at bad children, and then he disappears, allowing you to fall back against the bed once more.

You’re not sure for how long, but you doze off again, unable to keep your eyes open. You only awake when Suguru lifts you clear from the bed and into his arms. Again, you make a noise of protest, pushing weakly at him, but he pays you no mind.

You open your eyes and wince against the bathroom light.

The bath is running, filling with water. You frown and squirm in his hold, just as he gently sets you on the floor beside the tub.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he murmurs and you push his hands away.

“No,” you snap, “leave.”

He sighs, “you can hardly sit up right now. I don’t trust you in the bath alone.”

“I’m not a child,” you protest.

“No, but you’re experiencing a compounded Heat, after years of not having one and you don’t have a knot to soothe you.” Suguru’s voice is cool. His eyes are, too.

You level him with the best glare you can manage, “and whose fault is that?”

“I’m only keeping my promise.” He almost sings.

You swat at him but he catches your wrist easily and pulls you up further as you begin to slouch further and further down against the edge of the tub. “Come,” he says, “don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

This time, when he reaches to remove your shirt, you only grumble in protest. He peels it from you carefully, revealing bare skin. Despite how hot you are, you shiver hard.

You ache.

This is the worst fever you’ve ever had. Perhaps, this is one of the worst you’ve felt ever.

You can hardly move enough to allow Suguru to slip your bottoms off and you feel so miserable that you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed or frustrated or angry.

Tears bead at your eyes again but it’s purely because you are in so much pain.

Suguru lifts you into the bath.

It’s lukewarm. Tufts of bubbles smell like lavender. The water is milky and gentle.

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started to cry again, reaching out for Suguru. You realize he’s cleaned and bandaged his bite mark. He also coos to you, rolling up his sleeves to reach you in the water, stroking at your throat, your cheek.

And then he takes a wash cloth in hand and begins to do the same. He bathes you with a strange gentleness. A gentleness you have not given him. Your tears continue, tracking down your face, which he dutifully washes, too. He wipes away your tears, any sweat and grime, until you feel shining and new.

Eventually, you rest your arms on the lip of the bathtub, folded, and lay your cheek against them. You’re exhausted and still hurting, but at least quiet for now. At least you are cleaned and—

Suguru strokes at your cheek, traces the curve and folds of your ear, gently strokes through your hair.

“Poor thing,” Suguru murmurs, knuckles drawing across your jaw, down your throat. When he passes along your scent gland, you shiver, you wince a little.

“Hurts,” you get out and he coos more to you.

Babying you.

And you don’t have the strength to deny him any longer, so you let yourself be babied. You whimper at him and let him try to soothe you, you let him quiet and pet you.

You’re looking at each other rather frankly, through the haze of your Heat, through all the lust or aggression or fear. In a rare moment of peace, you gaze up at his face and he looks down into yours.

“Do you hate me?” You ask and your voice is rather raw from all the crying, “is that why you’ve led me here?”

A strangely fond smile touches his lips, “on the contrary,” Suguru replies, fingers careful along your cheek, “I adore you.”

“You have such a strange way of showing it.” You tell him.

“I’m only keeping my promise,” he says again and all you have in you is a deep, dejected sigh.

“I’m going to make you pay for this, Suguru.” And though your tone is docile, even sleepy, it is a promise.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll try.” He agrees, touch growing stronger, bolder, as he pets down your throat, your shoulder. You lean into the touch like a cat, too exhausted to deny it. “And I’ll still be here after—your ire or punishment will not scare me away.”

You look at him for a moment, long and hard, and only find the truth there. Something strangely raw.

After a moment, you say, “I know.”

He hums softly, leaning forward to give your burning forehead a rare and gentle kiss, “do your worst, then.”

You pick your head up barely, tilt your face to his and catch him in a sudden, burning kiss.

You pull away as quickly as you’d done it.

You can tell you’ve surprised him only momentarily, it passes over his features like a bird flickering through the sky, there and gone.

And you say, “no,” soft, and against his lips, “I’ll do my best this time.”

He pulls away, creating carefully controlled distance. “Come,” he says, urging you up and out of the bath, “let’s get you to bed.”

“Carry me?” You ask as he bundles you into a soft towel. “Let me wear your shirt?”

His eyes glint violet, dark and quick, but he says, “of course.” And indulges you.

He even holds you all night and lets you sleep in late.

The fever only worsens.

And you can’t tell if your resolve crumbles or strengthens; but either way, you’re born anew with the sun the next day.

***

Suguru woke up before you. He let you sleep in. But now you're awake and waiting for him. When Suguru returns to wake you in the early afternoon, instead of sleeping, you are half-lidded and sun-warmed, laying in his sheets still. The fever has reached a pitch inside you. You’re sure it’s done irreparable damage to your mind and psyche because of how you find yourself.

Because of how Suguru finds you.

The shirt of his you’d worn to bed is pushed up to your chin, revealing your bare chest, your stomach, flexing and twitching, with your legs spread. Your fingers between them, working messily against yourself, against where you’ve needed since your Heat began.

For once, you have shocked Suguru.

Enough that his lips part.

Just a flash, a ripple of his features, before he smooths them out quickly. Effortlessly. But it is enough to spur you on regardless, to feel just slightly triumphant.

You keen softly, arching your back, pushing your fingers gently through silken folds.

“Suguru,” you mewl his name, all soft and broken, arching your hips into your own touch desperately. Beyond your desire for revenge, is simply your desire, the need to feel full, to feel pleasure like this. And you reasoned with yourself, all night, and all morning, that you’d win regardless; either you’d wrestle his tightly held control from his grasp, and get what you so desperately want from him, or you’d still get to touch yourself and find some brief moment of reprieve.

Beyond either of those two things, you could not think. They ran around your mind like wild, starved dogs hunting down the possibility of a rabbit.

(Or are you the rabbit? Running around and around your mind, trying to escape the bite? Or are you looking for it?)

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks and for a moment, he doesn’t dare step closer to you or the bed.

You push a finger inside yourself, it goes in easy—so slick and easy—that the next pass, you add a second and gasp.

What are you doing? You feel half out of your mind.

“Can’t help it—” you get out, “it hurts so bad. It’s—I’m so—”

You watch a muscle in his jaw feather and tick. His scent is—

It hits you like a blow to the chest, the way he smells. It’s dark and spiced with warmth; tobacco and the oud in his scent has become heavier. You can almost taste it in the air.

“Suguru—“ you mewl again, pleading and cloying. You tilt your hips up towards your hand, towards him. You’re trying to entice him.

You can nearly hear the way his teeth grind together.

“You’re a brat,” he hisses but you can sense the way his control has slipped and thinned. You can nearly feel it fraying in his voice alone.

You practically purr, fingers pushing desperately inside yourself.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” you simper, “I’ve been so good letting you feed me and bathe me—I’m wearing the shirt you put me in, too.”

For a moment, you watch as his eyes slowly dip down the length of your body, to where your fingers are. You watch his expression flicker, the tilt of his eyebrows, the slight parting of his lips. You whimper, knowing he’s watching, and try to curl your fingers.

But they don’t reach as deep as his might—not thick enough, either, and the ache inside you grows monstrously.

Perhaps only soothed by the way, for once, you’ve rendered Suguru Getou rather speechless. You toss your head back and moan at the thought.

“Suguru—won’t you help me? Even a little?” You arch off the bed and catch his gaze when his eyes fly back up to your face.

“No,” he snaps quickly, “I promised you—“

“Then tell me what to do—talk to me.” You beg, “it hurts so bad, Suguru—“

The muscle in his jaw feathers again. But this time, he wades carefully into the room, stepping closer to the edge of the bed.

The moment he’s there, you adjust so he can see you better, move so your foot is just nearly touching his thigh at the end of the bed. And even that small potential for touch has you crying out again.

“I’m not sure I should, after the way you’ve been acting.” He says and though he’s trying for casualness, you can sense the tension lurking underneath.

“Touch yourself then,” you breathe, your own eyes drifting down to his sweatpants—to the noticeable bulge—

In a bold move, you place your foot on his lower abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes as your fingers gently push in and out, walls fluttering desperately around them.

He catches your ankle before you can move another inch. The way he squeezes you makes a thrill run through you, race up your spine, pool somewhere low and hot in the depths of you.

“Is this your way of trying to make me suffer?” He asks and despite everything, a hint of a smile flickers across your heated, panting face.

“Is it working?” You ask.

All he does is hum, thumb stroking along the bone of your ankle.

Even that is enough for pleasure to skitter and flare beneath your skin.

“Wanna see you,” you get out, breathy and soft, “wanna see what I’m missing.”

Suguru curses and you laugh, delirious and soft.

Pleasure blushes and surges beneath your skin.

“No,” he says again but he has to grind the word out, pull it and wrestle it from his own mouth. “You won’t get the better of me here.”

“Don’t you get tired of your tightly wound control?” You get out, twisting a little so that you might free your ankle from his grasp, but he holds firm.

“I should be asking the same of you—but clearly,” his eyes flicker again, “you do.”

“Need you so bad—“ you get out, almost pouting.

You can nearly hear his teeth grind together. He inhales sharply, as if to try and steady himself, but you can tell it only worsens him. Your scent must be thick in the air, sweetened and cloying.

Your fingers slip messily, desperately, over your clit, down inside of yourself and back out. You whine, a little frustrated, trying again and again to satiate the ache inside of you. But anything you do, isn’t enough.

It almost feels as if it’s made it worse.

“Poor thing,” Suguru finally says and you realize, he’s regained some of his composure, “look what you’ve done to yourself.”

You curse this time.

But you press on, unwilling to give up your win yet, “you’ve also done this—because you wanted the upper hand so bad.” You press inside yourself, hips lifting towards your fingers, “you didn’t have to take the suppressants.”

His brow flickers up, “I did it for you.”

“Did you?” You gasp, adding a second finger.

He swallows, eyes falling to the apex of your thighs, watching, as you fitfully try to pleasure yourself.

“You didn’t have to—you could’ve let me trigger your Rut. Then we both would’ve been like this—” your voice hitches, “then you would’ve gotten what you wanted sooner and you could’ve feigned innocence.”

“You didn’t want that,” he says, watching you carefully, “who's to say you won’t come out of this Heat and resist me again?”

“I won’t,” you breathe, “I did—” you mewl, hips arching and falling, trying so hard, working yourself up so horribly.

You bite off a groan.

Suguru clicks his tongue, makes a soft, disapproving noise. “And now look at you,” his hand slides along your calf, so large, and—

“Don’t even know how to properly touch yourself.”

“Suguru—”

Suddenly, he tugs you gently, so you’re down at the edge of the bed, your legs on either side of his thighs as he stands above you.

He leans down slightly and you sit up, towards him, hoping, desperate—

“Such a terrible, little Omega. Do you need me to teach you this, too? Do you need me to help you?”

You cry out, kitten soft, as needy and tender as a child.

“Please,” you beg, “please, I need you—”

His hand traces up the outside of your calf, up to your thigh and you squirm, hope fluttering, heart racing—

“Don’t move,” he murmurs, “or I won’t help you.”

“Suguru,” you growl in frustration.

“Ah, ah, I thought you were being good?”

Your head spins—you have no idea how he managed to flip it on you so sharply, but suddenly he has, and suddenly you're nearly underneath him, and he’s leaning over you and watching so intensely—so—

You try to go still for him. Your chest is heaving.

“That’s it,” he murmurs and his hand slowly arcs over the bend of your hip, and towards your stomach. Your hips twitch and he stills, “careful—” he warns.

You force yourself to freeze, still panting.

And then he lays the broadness of his hand on your lower stomach, his thumb just barely brushing your mound.

“This is as far as I’ll go,” he says and with the way you almost fall into a frustrated groan, he seizes your chin with his other hand, “I’ll not touch you sexually. This is all I’ll give you—be grateful for even this.”

You sneer at him and he takes his hand away.

Instantly, you miss the warmth, the pressure, the—

“Be good, or I’ll leave the room now and let you suffer even worse than before—see what you’ve done to yourself? Worked yourself up so horribly, and all for what?” Suguru’s voice is soft and smooth and so, horribly in control again. When did he get it back? When did he take it from you?

“My attention? The hopes that I’d give in?” He asks.

When you don’t respond, he squeezes your face, prompting you, “answer me, pet.”

“Yes—I want your attention. I want—” the words break over you like a wave, the realization like a blow. You want.

You desire.

You want him. You want an Alpha and not just any Alpha but Suguru, despite everything, maybe because of everything. Maybe because you made him chase, and he did. Maybe because you have run your whole life from this—this attention and this desire and this intimacy—and you have finally found someone willing to hunt you down like a fox, and in the face of your gnashing teeth and growling and yipping, to treat you gently. Like you’re a beloved house pet and not a snarling, wild beast.

“I want you,” you say honestly and his hold slackens on your cheeks to let you speak, “I hate you and I want you and—there’s no one but you—it’s only you and you’re awful but I am, too, and I need—”

It cracks out of you, voice raw, a half-sob.

Your tears make him smile.

He hushes you gently, “oh, sweet girl,” he soothes, and his other hand slowly returns to its place on your trembling, lower stomach, “you’re so torn up about this. How much grief have you given yourself? Hm? Just for wanting?”

You heave, unable to respond, suddenly reaching with your free hand for him, pulling on his shirt, closer to you.

He gives in and goes, lets you claw at his back and bury your face in his shoulder. He finally lets go of your face, in favor of letting you fall to pieces beneath him. His knee dips on the mattress. But he holds himself above you still.

“I’ll guide you now,” he murmurs and his voice is by your ear. He turns his nose to nudge against your temple, inhaling slowly.

You can feel the rumble of a groan through him that he holds back, a soft growl.

And then, “look at me.”

You sniffle and with a great deal of reluctance, you pull your face away from the safety of his shoulder to find his gaze. Midnight violet. Depthless.

“Hate me all you want,” he says, “but I adore you—no matter how you are. Willing and pliant, or vicious and biting. I’ll always adore you. And I’ll always do what’s best for you.”

Something inside of you cleaves open. Fractures in a way that is irreparable.

You want to say something but you don’t know what, you have something so tremendous and terrifying inside of you, because of him—all you can get out is a soft cry.

“Now,” he continues, eyes flickering over your body, and his thumb gently strokes over your lower stomach. “You feel empty, don’t you?”

A whimper eeks out of you. You nod slowly. Empty and torn apart and open and aching.

“Use three fingers, not two.” He commands gently, “you want something bigger, hm? I’m sure it hurts so badly—you’re so wet.”

Without thinking, you obey him.

You press three fingers carefully inside of you and it’s the first stretch you’ve gotten, the first spark of relief.

You cry out, clinging to him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “in and out for me.”

You tilt your hips up into his hand, towards your fingers, and he doesn’t scold you. The pressure on your lower stomach makes pleasure bloom and strengthen there. For a moment, it’s just the soft, slick noises of yourself, and it’s so—

Embarrassing. So horrible.

You must look out of your depth, you must look lost or terrified, because he finally speaks again, “curl your fingers for me, darling.”

You do just that and moan the moment you press deeper inside yourself.

“Good girl,” he praises, “does that feel better? Answer me.”

“Yes—yeah.” You get out, crooking your fingers inside yourself. “I still want—”

“More?” He murmurs, pressing his hand gently against your lower stomach, “this time, you have to make do with just this.”

You bite back your whine or complaint, head hazy—fingers moving desperately. But you don’t complain, you don’t fuss.

He smiles when he realizes how you’ve caught yourself, “oh, look at that,” he purrs, “you can be tamed after all.”

And before you can ruin it for yourself, Suguru sweeps his thumb just barely over your mound again, and says, “rock your hips now, gentle.”

The moment you do, the friction against your palm makes you moan, head falling back, baring your throat.

Perhaps without thinking, he dips forward, nose tracing over the cure of your neck, following instinct. You make another soft noise, and in your haze, wish desperately that he would just bite down—

All you get is the brief skim of his warm, soft lips. No teeth and you miss them, achingly.

He presses his hand down just a little more and—

Pleasure bursts beneath your skin with enough force that your back bows off the bed, mouth parted.

You sob.

You feel your walls flutter uselessly around your fingers, feel your body desperate for something you can’t have this time, and fall apart.

Suguru is there to catch you.

He coos to you, soft and easy, and even kisses at your damp, tear-struck cheeks. He lets you arch and twist and chase your pleasure, lets you be wanton and shameless and desperate. He lets you claw him and bite him and cry into his shoulder.

And when you begin to quiet, he suddenly hitches your legs around his waist and lifts you clear from the bed. You lope your arms weakly around his neck and bury your face into his throat.

You don’t protest or fight him, you are grateful and eager for all the places you touch, feeling incredibly fragile in his broad arms.

You don’t bother to look where he’s taking you—can’t find it in yourself to care, if you can feel him against your center, feel where he’s hard and aching himself, even with the suppressants—

But between one breath and the next, you’re in the bathtub again, and the water from the shower blasts on from above.

Ice cold water pours on you.

You shriek and Suguru has the nerve to laugh, which makes you lunge for him, yanking him towards the spray of water.

It soaks his shirt, his hair, as he holds himself over you, before stepping carefully into the tub to join you.

He sits with you, beneath the cold water, and pushes his hair out of his face as you clamber into his lap.

You pull at his wet shirt and he lets you take it off of him, throw it over the side of the tub in a heap.

He reaches to do the same to you, ridding you of the only article of clothing you’d had on.

You grit your teeth, “does it have to be so cold?” You ask, feeling the spray now rain against your back, your shoulders. You lean away from it, into his arms.

“You needed this.” He says fondly. And then, as he strokes your wet hair, “I did, too.”

“You’re an awful man,” you curse him, shivering.

“I know,” he agrees with a soft, fond smile.

You look at him, hair inky and dark, lashes damp against his cheek, and the pleased way he smiles. Like an insufferable, giant cat. You’re aching and furious and freezing and so—so tender.

“I hate you,” you tell him but it sounds more like a confession, soft around the edges.

He kisses your temple, lingers there, and you can feel the curve of his smile. You can hear it color his voice;

“I know.”

***

Something shifts between the two of you after that. And the following day, your Heat finally begins to wane slightly.

You try to touch yourself again and Suguru forbids it this time. You fight and snarl with him, but you let him hold you and lull you to sleep. You let him feed you. And bathe you. You sleep bare against his naked chest and are soothed by it the way a fussy baby is calmed by the bare skin of their mother.

You feel infinitely closer to him.

You lounge with him in bed, in his living room, hanging off him all that you can.

He indulges this behavior, encourages it, even.

And on the eighth day, your Heat finally breaks.

When you wake, still curled on his chest, with his hands stroking tenderly over your bare back, he asks, “how do you feel?”

“Sane, I think.” You murmur it into his chest.

“Your Heat broke in the night.” He says and touches your head, your forehead, like he’s taking your temperature. “You’re still a little warmer, but it’s over now, I think.”

Slowly, you pick yourself up to look at him. To hover over him.

He looks up at you, too, uncertain. Waiting. You’re sure he’s waiting to see if you’ll return to your usual self, if you’ll snap or snarl or chew him out—will you storm out? Or seethe? Will you fight him still, after everything, even as he holds you in his arms now?

“Thank you for respecting my wishes,” you say instead and lean down to suddenly press your lips to his.

You feel his surprise, the way his lips part, the way he freezes and you sink down into it. For a moment, you worry he won’t reciprocate again.

But then, his hand comes up to cradle your face, and he nudges into the kiss. Hungry. Deep.

You give into him, you encourage him, coaxing him with soft tongue and eager mouth.

When you pull away, you grab his face this time, the way he always grabs yours, squeezing his lips into a little pout, “but if you ever make me suffer like that again through a Heat,” your nails dig into his cheek, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

He laughs, canines flashing, and surges forward to kiss you again. Harder. Meaner.

It’s all teeth and heat, a little vicious, the way you are. He wrestles you beneath him, kisses you into the mattress. And when he pulls away, he says;

“If you ever make me suffer like that again, you’ll wish you’d killed me first.”

You feel your own smile against his neck, against one of the ridges of your own bite mark, and with all the satisfaction in the world, you sink your teeth down into it again.

It’s like a key coming up against a lock, fitting snugly to their own indents, and finding their own, well-worn place.

It’s like finally coming home.

#suguru getou x reader #getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru getou x you #getou x you #getou suguru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #cw: omegaverse #cielo's writing!#cielo writes!

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prosciuttoon · 11 months ago

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Toshiro/Shuro is overhated

(mirror of my thread on twitter)

ever wanted to talk abt something so bad but u have so many thoughts so u cant even begin to organize a sentence. thats me abt shuro and its why i cant give my thoughts on him. i NEED to get this out of my system bc its takign up so much memory in my brain i need that space for thinking.

so i was really surprised to find so much hate for him even tho he seems pretty normal and rational out of the whole cast. ive deducted that its mostly abt his laios fight and that the ppl who hate him probably had bad experiences w social cues and relationships w neurotypicals bc of that. theres no way to avoid it bc its pretty much Right In Your Face that laios is ND. but thats not the only factor in why their relationship is rocky. its also the culture barrier. u have to understand toshiro was raised as JAPANESE NOBILITY ofc he would be a little conservative

also culture shock. idk if u know this but jp culture is very Mind Your Own Business like a lot of other asian cultures . ofc hes gonna be weirded out by a stranger invading his space. also his names not even Shuro. its just yt ppl not pronouncing his name right and settling for whats easiest.

img src: fan translation by savaralyn2 , i think its from the adventurers bible Complete Edition bc i dont remember it in the old one

ok you get the gist of the culture aspect of it. lets go into the ND/NT clash aspect of it. yes i understand its pretty hurtful to never be told when youre acting inappropriately. i am autistic too lmao. but you have to understand that shiro is one guy and he even does realize that repressing things is one of his fatal flaws. again. asian culture. non confrontational. that sorta thing. but these are genuine frustrations. if i were him id be annoyed too but id speak out about it. set boundaries. bc im blunt. shiros not. he was taught crazy strict manners (hierarchies, respect, politeness, etc).

his problem isnt ableism its a culmination of culture barriers, how he was raised to behave, and terrible lack of communication as thing caused by "all of the above" plus he just generally keeps to himself a lot which means repressing frustrations that will explode leading to a pathetic fistfight while hes starved, exhausted, and dehydrated. also. if he was ableist he would hate laios. he doesnt hate laios. at the end of the day, they are friends. NT and ND ppl can be friends u know. there will be rifts (like their fight) but you just have to communicate misunderstandings. theyre gonna be fine lol

anyways that was my whole spiel abt it. i think i got everything out that i wanted to? my head still feels a little full so i may add more later when i remember something

also i think its a little unfair to rule out the possibility of laios and him just being 2 very different kinds of ND bc its very common for misunderstandings to occur even then. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT BUT WE NEED TO COMMUNICATE TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER! but for the sake of interpreting the Fight as a commentary on NT social rules and ND frustration, ill say toshiros NT. will we ever know? hes so far in the sidelines... youd really have to dig in the extra content to see the intricacies of his character.... please give him a chance

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #toshiro nakamoto #shuro dungeon meshi

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oswildin · 4 months ago

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The Good Kind (President Loki x GN!Reader)

Summary: You and Loki are rivals. Then why did he never harm you? Why did he never truly want you dead? Loki is complicated, but underneath it all… Perhaps he was more simple than you expected. (Enemies to Lovers vibe, slow burn, kinda angsty?)

Rating: SFW, All ages

Warnings: Mentions of blood, stab wound

A/N: Okay, this took me far too long to finish. Don’t know if I’m completely satisfied but I just cannot give anymore brain power to this idea lmao. Probably would’ve worked better as a fic series but like I just can’t mentally give that! Hope you enjoy!

Surviving in the void was… Well, how do you think surviving in the void was?

Cruel, harsh, dangerous…

You get the idea.

But it was especially difficult when you had rivals. In a place where everything came to die, still there was time for such things. It all seemed rather futile and pointless… But… Perhaps it made the days go by a little faster - or ‘void days’ anyway. Funnily enough, time moved differently at the end of time.

One of the most common variants found in the Void were Loki’s. Truly, take a walk for a few minutes and eventually you’d come across one. But the problem with encountering a Loki is trying to figure out whether they were the ‘good kind’ or the ‘bad kind’.

Now, of course, that was a generalisation. An easy way to box them in your mind. You weren’t naive, you understood the nuisances of Loki’s, you lived with four of them.

They found you when they were out searching for supplies in the wasteland, and you were thankful they did. If they hadn’t, Alioth would’ve devoured you or worse… Someone else may have found you. Cassandra was someone who most Loki’s - if not all - stayed well away from. They weren’t stupid. In fact, there was a tale that one Loki was brave, or foolish, enough to try and face her… And well… Let’s just say, it wasn’t him who told the tale.

(Dead. He was dead.)

No, Loki’s tended to keep their fighting amongst themselves. It would be comical if you hadn’t witnessed their hostility and attempts at backstabbing first hand. Surely they could see how ridiculous and ironic it was? Even at the end of time, Loki’s were fighting against their greatest enemy…

Themselves.

The group you had been taken in by were just grateful to have someone who wasn’t a Loki variant around. You brought some sense of order to their self-created chaos. The older variant was the most visibly exasperated most of the time, and you could hardly blame him. You felt exasperated too and that was without the factor of constantly arguing with yourself.

Aside from Alioth, pirates and the general savages of the void, your groups biggest rival was another group of Loki’s, lead by the variant who was known as ‘The President’. A title that you always refused to use. Even with the child, you never called him ‘King’ or ‘My Liege’. Although, he didn’t seem to mind so much, knowing you had no interest in acquiring the throne or any interest is the chaotic politics of the void. It all seemed rather pointless in such a place. Or maybe that was the real problem, that unlike the world you came from, trying to implement any form of order or system seemed like a moot point, especially when so many fought over wanting control over the wasteland.

You were currently sat on the edge of the manhole, your boots resting on the ladder. You knew not to go far, and being in such a position allowed you to warn the others of any danger and make your own quick retreat back inside your hideout. You sighed, the breeze brushing your skin as you enjoyed a moment of peace - or at least what you considered ‘peace’ in the void. However, you quickly spotted an approaching figure in the near distance, walking over a grassy mound as your eyes narrowed.

Your hand moved to rest on the hilt of your dagger in your belt, a precaution, ready to defend yourself if need be. However, you relaxed slightly as you realised it was the one who you refused to address as ‘The President’. He was alone, and he hadn’t seen you yet. You pursed your lips, thinking for a moment before shifting, turning your body so you could push yourself to stand on the grass, quietly closing the manhole cover. The last thing you needed was him finding your newest hideout spot after he discovered and recked your last one.

You made the decision to follow him, keeping a safe distance, your curiosity getting the better of you. It was rare you ever saw him without his little gang of followers. And something told you that something was amiss.

After a minute of following the variant, he came to a halt, spinning around as his icy eyes narrowed in on you. Shit. You quickly reached for your dagger, the metal making a slight noise as you removed it from your belt, seeing him conjuring his own dagger as you both began to stalk towards one another.

“Did you really think you could sneak up on me?” President Loki asked lowly, arrogance colouring his tone, that familiar sly glint in his eye.

“I wasn’t sneaking, I was following.” You replied, your own voice steady, your steps slowing as you both came to a stop, a few feet between you.

“Hm, either way-“ Loki raised his dagger, pointing the tip towards you. “You failed. You are rather bad at being inconspicuous.” He quipped, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Why are you out here alone?” You ignored his comment, raising a curious brow. “Where’s your loyal possy?” Loki’s eyes narrowed further, darting around you both briefly to check for any sign of your own group, ensuring this wasn’t an ambush.

“They’re busy.” He simply stated, raising his chin as his gaze fell on you once more. “And what of yours?”

“Also busy.” You shrugged faintly, your fingers twitching around the hilt of your dagger. A tense moment of silence fell between you both before Loki lowered his dagger, satisfied it was safe to do so. Well, safe for now. With a flick of his wrist, the dagger disappeared in a green shimmer, allowing you to relax slightly.

“Do you have a death wish?” He asked, a hint of amusement on his features.

“In this place? Probably.” You said wryly, sheathing your dagger back into your belt as you let out a sigh. “Trouble in Loki paradise?” You asked, raising a brow. Loki’s jaw twitched faintly. “Oh dear, did one of your own try to backstab you?” You continued, voice filled with mock sympathy. “Even you can’t keep yourself in line it seems.”

“Watch your tongue, mortal.” Loki hissed, taking a step closer, his hands moving behind his back. “Or I won’t hesitate to cut it out.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Maybe it was because of how much of your time you spent surrounded by Loki’s, but any threat given had lost its effect after hearing so many of them. You folded your arms over your chest, tilting your head as you regarded him.

“Have you ever just… tried to talk it out? Instead of threatening your… followers?” You asked, making Loki blink before a breathy, mocking laugh left him.

“Threats invoke fear and fear makes others more… cooperative.” He replied smoothly, his own head tilting faintly. “Kings do not get their thrones by simply ‘talking’.”

“Maybe not, but Kings don’t get to keep their thrones without it.” You countered, the distant rumble of Alioth sounding through the air. Your eyes flickered over to the left, seeing the giant cloud monster lurking, searching for its next meal. Loki’s eyes lingered on your profile, a look of thought passing over his features before his gaze followed yours.

“I suggest you head back.” He muttered lowly, turning on his heel, facing away from you. “Before Alioth decides he fancies a rather defiant-tasting dinner.” You bit your lower lip lightly, knowing he was right. You looked back at him, seeing him beginning to walk away, continuing on his original path.

Good kind or bad kind? You were still figuring him out.

You’d had a few run-ins with him, and never once did he harm you. Never one did he even attempt to take you, use you as bait for the other Loki’s, or at all factor you into his schemes. It was confusing. Why? He had plenty of chances, this being one of them. Perhaps he just didn’t think you were worth his time. You were just a mortal after all, he had bigger fish to fry.

Unbeknownst to you, President Loki did indeed keep you alive for a reason… Probably the same reason as his fellow variants…

You weren’t a Loki.

Spending so long in the void with only himself, literally… Well, having someone who wasn’t him was… a strange comfort. He’d never admit it, of course. You were the potential of a different perspective, a different way of thinking, a different attitude. Even if you were just a mere mortal. But most mortals perished within the first few minutes of their arrival, and you… You survived. That was the only thing about you that was even remotely close to a Loki. Survival.

If he had stumbled across you when you first arrived, he was sure he would’ve killed you, or left you to Alioth. But his other variants had taken pity. But perhaps his way would’ve also been him taking pity, stopping you from being subjected to the harsh reality of the void. Maybe his cruelty would’ve been a kindness.

And maybe, he did hold a… tiny spec of respect for you. Not in the typical sense, but in twisted way. Perhaps he respected you, because you weren’t one of him. He didn’t even fully understand it himself. And he didn’t care to.

“You did what…?”

President Loki’s voice held a dangerous edge, his back straightening as he turned to look at the two fools before him. The two Loki variants shared a look of confusion at their leaders tone, clearly expecting him to be pleased with their actions. Loki took a slow step closer, his golden horns making him look even more intimidating as they glinted in the dim light of their hideout.

“Speak!” Loki’s voice barked, command lacing the simple word as one of the variants obeyed.

“W-we caught the mortal.” The woman Loki variant spoke, her blue eyes darting to her accomplice. “They were split from the others, and we saw an opportunity…” She paused. “For you, my liege.” She quickly added, brows furrowing faintly. Loki exhaled a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his hand moved to pinch to bridge of his nose. “We can use them to lure the others, ambush them!”

Another Loki variant walked past, holding an old chalice of wine in his hand as the President whirled around, smacking it from his hand, the cup clattering to the ground. He didn’t pay the innocent variants offence any mind, his hands moving to his hips, pushing back the hem of his blazer as they settled there.

“You beef-witted… Oafs!” Loki insulted them, irritation clear on his face as he whirled back around to face them. “You were sent to survey them! Not capture one of them!”

“We saw an opportunity for the upper hand and took it!” The other variant finally spoke, stepping forwards. “Which is more than you have been doing as of late.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. But it was too late for apologies, Loki had summoned his dagger in a heartbeat, advancing on his idiotic variant, grabbing him by his makeshift armour. His dagger moved to press against the variants throat, his followers all pausing their chatter in the decrepit room as they watched with half amusement and half caution.

“You undermine me?” Loki growled, a snarl curling at his lip. “Your fierce leader? Your future King? The superior Loki?” He pressed the blade of the dagger closer to his variants neck, making his variant try and move his head further back, trying to put space between him and the cold metal.

Loki knew there had been whispers amongst his ranks, doubts about his leadership, his resolve for the throne… And he knew it wouldn’t be long before those whispers turned into action, a rebellion… And he couldn’t have that. No. He worked too hard to get here.

With a low sound of frustration, Loki pushed the variant back, the dagger disappearing in a flash of green. The variant took a breath, composing himself as he glared at his leader.

“If I hear any more treacherous words, any more doubt about my ability to lead us to victory…” Loki turned slowly, eyeing all of his followers, ensuring each one felt the gravity of his words. “And I’ll make sure Alioth is well fed.” He threatened, tense silence following. Satisfied he had made his point, he turned on his heel, stalking off towards the stock kept further inside the hideout, leaving his variants to stew over his warning.

Pushing aside the tatty curtain, Loki’s eyes fell upon you. You were sat on a crate, wrists and ankles bound with rope and tape over your mouth and you were… glaring at him. He could hardly blame you.

“Shoddy workmanship.” Loki remarked, raising a brow as he nodded towards the ropes, a hint of a smirk on his lips despite the lingering irritation. “I personally would’ve used magic, but some of my variants lack… finesse.” He added, letting out a short sigh before stepping through the curtain into the small room. It was filled with random scraps of metal and wood, cans of food and other items that could be useful to their survival.

Quite frankly, you were pissed.

Loki summoned his dagger once more, twirling casually between his fingers, his eyes narrowing. You eyed the dagger, feeling a hint of uncertainty creeping in. You had heard part of the disagreement that had just taken place, and couldn’t help but worry that… perhaps he would use this to his advantage now. He may as well, right? You were right there. Maybe he would use you to lure out the others or maybe he would just kill you, just to make a point to his doubters that he was still as fierce as he once was.

Silently, he stepped closer, your breaths quickening as you felt your heartbeat pound in your chest. He held your gaze, an unreadable expression on his face. He lifted the dagger, moving it towards you, making you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the harm to befall you.

But instead…

You heard the sound of rope being sliced through, the slight tug of your wrists before they fell free. Your brows creased, confused as your eyes reopened, looking down to see the rope in your lap. Your wrists were in fact now free.

“I assume you’re capable of untying your ankles yourself.” Loki commented casually, as if he hadn’t just toyed with you, once again sending his dagger back into his pocket dimension. “I don’t want to get my trousers dirty.” He added wryly, gesturing towards the stone floor, well aware that his trousers were already rather tatty.

He was… letting you free? Or at least, free from your restraints?

You felt suspicion and skepticism rise as you reached up to remove the tape from your lips, pulling at it as the sound filled the small space before a ‘fuck’ left your lips at the sting of it pulling at your skin. You took a breath, throwing the tape aside with distain before leaning forwards to eagerly untie your ankles.

“Think of this as a… I scratch your back, you scratch mine situation.” Loki continued, stepping back to give you some space, his eyes flickering around the stock.

Of course, there was an angle. There always was with a Loki.

“I’d rather you just killed me.” You muttered with a huff, making Loki’s lips tug into a brief smile - one that was toothy and sly.

“You see… Not everything I do involves a threat.” He mused, leaning against a nearby rickety shelving unit. “It’s a fair bargain, is it not? Your freedom for a favour. A favour which I can call upon at any time.”

You kicked the rope from your boots, pushing yourself to stand, an ache in your muscles from the fight you’d tried to put up against his two lackeys. “And by favour you mean betrayal.” You said lowly, narrowing your eyes. “Let me guess… I rat out my group, help you scheme your way to the boys throne?” Loki averted his gaze for a second, giving you your answer. Scoffing, you shake your head in disbelief, beginning to move towards the tatty curtain, giving him your own answer.

Smirking, Loki pushed off of the rickety shelving unit, watching as you shoved the curtain aside, features frowning. “I take that as a ‘we have a deal’?” Loki called after you in amusement, hands moving to clasp behind his back. He swore he heard you mutter a ‘asshole’ under your breath as you disappeared from view, and it only made his smirk widen. After a second, he followed you out, heading back into the din of his followers, seeing them all watching you stride confidently away, unfazed by their eyes all watching you. Loki’s gaze flickered over his group, a scowl forming on his face.

“Let them go.” He ordered lowly, sending one last warning glance before turning on his heel and venturing further into the hideout, away from prying eyes. As soon as he disappeared, a few members of the group shared glances with one another, seemingly skeptical of their leaders decision to let you walk free… Only adding to their suspicions that, perhaps, their leader wasn’t as ruthless as he made them believe.

Loki lounged on his makeshift throne, his mind elsewhere as his variants chatted amongst themselves. He really did grow tired of his own company. It was the same routine over and over - bickering, fights, backstabbing… Maybe his brother had a point to be irritated by his antics. He was disrupted from his thoughts by three of his followers rushing into the hideout, the three he had sent to do a perimeter check. Loki straightened in his throne, eyes narrowing. Something was wrong.

“My Liege-“ One of them began, a little breathless. “We spotted a group of Cassandra’s ruffians.” They informed him, making Loki’s grip on the arms of his seat tighten, irritation flaring. How dare they trespass on his land? But what another one of them said next, only heightened his attention.

“The mortal was there.”

Loki didn’t need a name, he knew exactly who they were referring to… And much to his own surprise, his blood ran cold. You were capable, yes, you had survived this long in the void… But Cassandra’s lot… They were a whole other level of savage.

Loki pushed himself to his feet, the variants that were sat instantly following suit, awaiting orders. He took a sharp breath, trying to remain calm despite the tug of concern that nagged at him in his chest, still clinging to that composure and strength he knew his followers needed to see from him.

“Gather your weapons and secure the perimeter.” Loki ordered, his voice steady and commanding. “Ensure they do not find our hideout.” Loki stepped down the few steps, his shoes clicking on the stone floor as his followers did as he commanded, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket - a habit he had when he was on edge or anxious. “If any of those savages get close, you strike.”

As his variants moved about the hideout, Loki strode towards the three who had brought the news, a determined look in his eye. Stopping before one of them, he leaned in, eyes boring into theirs. “Where was the mortal?” He asked lowly, his tone holding no room for arguments or questions. The female variant raised her chin slightly, glancing at the other two before meeting his gaze again.

Leaving his variants to secure their hideout, Loki traipsed through the wasteland of the void, determination sharpening his features. Why did he care? Why was he so determined to ensure you were unharmed? He let out a sound of frustration, irritated at his own mind for stirring such thoughts. Caring was a weakness, especially in a place like this, in his position. Yet, something about you stirred memories of a simpler time. A time before everything went… to shit. Memories of connection… Connection to his mother, his brother… His father. Everything in Loki’s life had been complicated, at least to him, but something about you was… simple. And even that managed to stir such complex emotions he hadn’t felt in… centuries.

“Useless.” Loki muttered under his breath, shaking his head faintly. “Mortals. Weak and feeble.” He tried to remind himself, yet his eyes continued to scan the land around him for any sign of you. Maybe letting you go to the chaos of the void would be a kindness… Even as that thought went through his mind, his heart - something rather dusty - tugged in discontent.

He couldn’t.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, his head snapping towards it as he prepared to summon his seidr, to protect his territory from the enemy. But his posture relaxed as he recognised the figure.

You.

And you were wounded.

His feet moved quicker than his head as he strode towards you, his brows creased. As he neared, he saw your hand clutching your side, seeing the scrapes and cuts on your face. You had survived. That familiar flicker of respect appeared in his chest at that fact.

“You’re resilient.” Loki called steadily. “I’ll give you that.” Your gaze lifted, eyes meeting his when he stopped a few feet away. You watched as his gaze drifted over you, clearly assessing your current state. You were hunched faintly, clearly in pain, and Loki mentally cursed himself before he drew closer, stopping right next to you. “Why do you insist on wandering alone?” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Why do you?” You quipped back, voice strained. Loki let out a sharp breath, pursing his lips. Of course, the answer was peace. A bit of solace from the chaos you both found yourselves surrounded by - Loki variants. Clicking his tongue, Loki’s slender fingers reached towards your hand at your side, prying it away so he could take a better look. His jaw tensed as he took in the damage, feeling a wave of anger at Cassandra’s savages for harming you.

“You’re losing blood.” He stated lowly, making you scoff. Loki sent a warning glare, but you missed it, busy trying to remain on your feet. “Come.” His hand fell from yours, allowing you to once again grip your side as he began to head in the opposite direction to his hideout. Your brows furrowed in confusion. Where was he going? “Hurry up.” Loki snapped. “Unless you truly do have a death wish.”

With a sigh, you began to follow, Loki making no move to slow down. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps he was going to lure you away, out of sight and finally finish you off. You stumbled slightly, wincing at the jolting action of your body, making Loki halt and whip round to look back at you. He saw the way your face scrunched in pain, noticing the exhaustion in your breaths. With a deep breath of his own, he headed back towards you.

Without saying a word, he moved to your side, an arm wrapping around your shoulders before he bent his knees, his other arm slipping behind your knees. You barely had time to register what was happening as he lifted you easily, holding you in his arms. Your eyes widened faintly, looking up at his face. He refused to meet your eyes, keeping his own ahead.

“Do try not to bleed on my suit.” He muttered lowly, continuing to walk once again.

This was a strange way to lead someone to their death…

Loki kicked open the rickety shack’s door, the wood creaking as he did so, stirring you from your half lulled state. He hadn’t taken you far, but it was definitely not his hideout you were at. Lifting your head from his shoulder, he walked you both inside, heading towards a tatty cot in the corner of the room as he set you down - a lot gentler than you had expected. Your brows furrowed, watching him as he straightened, still not meeting your gaze. He turned away from you, striding gracefully towards the other side of the room, giving you a chance to take in your new surroundings.

It was dimly lit, a shattered window being the only light source, dusty books were littered on the rickety furnishings along with a few odd trinkets and such. It was only when you noticed the familiar splash of emerald green of a blanket at the end of the cot that you realised…

This was his space. His own personal hideout… Away from prying eyes.

“Yes.” Loki finally spoke, breaking the silence. “This is my… personal haven.” He added wryly over his shoulder, finally turning to look at you. When your eyes finally landed on him again, you noticed the lack of his signature horns that usually sat upon his head, now set aside on the old, small writing desk. Without it, he looked less… sharp. His features weren’t accentuated by the shadows from his horns, now looking much softer. In his hands were medical supplies, bandages and gauze.

He was… offering help?

“Don’t look so surprised.” Loki quipped, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Even I need a break from myself from time to time.” He mused, raising a brow. Purposefully, he approached, his shoes making the wood beneath his feet creak with each step, before he placed the supplies on the cot beside you, elegantly lowering himself to kneel on one knee before you. You had yet to say a word, still taking in the situation you found yourself in.

“No one else knows about this place.” Loki continued, his voice calm. “And I’d like to keep it that way.” His eyes held yours for a moment, searching yours - it was almost a silent plea. Reaching for the gauze, he gestured for you to lift your leathers slightly, a hint of tentativeness in the request. He wasn’t used to patching up others. This was… new for him. Shifting on the cot, you twisted yourself slightly so he could access your side easier, your bloodied fingers slowly peeling the leather up, revealing the stab wound you have received. Thankfully, you had managed to angle yourself defensively during the scuffle, making the attacker miss anything vital, but leaving a rather nasty gash. Loki’s azure eyes flickered to the wound, his jaw tensing again, and you swore you saw a flicker of anger go through his gaze.

“It could be worse.” He uttered through gritted teeth, moving to carefully press the gauze against your wound, making you hiss, body tensing. Loki felt a flair of regret, but he knew it was necessary. “Bear in mind… I’m not a healer.” He murmured. Being this close to Loki, you could see every detail of his face - the faint scars, the flecks of green in his eyes, the lines around his brows and mouth. He looked… human. It was as if Loki could sense you staring, his eyes snapping up from his hands to meet yours. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?”

“Sorry.” You found yourself muttering, finally speaking again, averting your gaze quickly. Loki’s lips tugged upwards briefly, eyes dropping back to his hands. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again.

“I didn’t say stop.”

You couldn’t help but let out a huff of amusement, which shifted into a wince. “Asshole.” You shook your head, missing the way Loki’s smirk widened into a quick grin. Within these walls, Loki could let his guard down - if only a little. This was his safe space, a place where he could hang up the role of fierce leader and trickster, just for a short while.

Gently, he pulled away the gauze, the material having soaked up some of the blood so he could see the wound clearer. “You’ll live.” He told you quietly, discarding the bloodied gauze to reach for another. “For now.” With a quiet sigh, he once again pressed the new gauze against your side.

“That sounds like a threat.” You murmured wryly, glancing at him. Loki met your gaze, letting your words hang in the air for a moment. It felt like there was a shift between you both, the underlying tension that had always been present bubbling to the surface. Ever so slightly, your breath hitched, suddenly feeling nervous - but not in the usual way the void elicited.

“No.” The word came from Loki’s lips, barely above a whisper, his head ever so faintly shaking. A pause. “It’s a promise.”

The statement was spoken with a softness that you hadn’t seen from Loki before, a level of acceptance. Loki was complicated, yet in these moments he felt… simple. No matter how reluctant he tried to appear, or how aloof and cold… Beneath it all, he did care… In his own way. And it showed, in his own way too. It wasn’t an outright confession, but it was as close as you would get… That he did have a reason for keeping you alive, for not harming you, for not wanting harm to befall you…

Finally, Loki tore his gaze away, feeling the weight of the moment in his chest. It became a little too much, a little too intense. But… it didn’t feel wrong. Delicately, he once again removed the gauze, reaching for a new one so he could finally wrap your wound.

“When you get back to your group, it will need properly cleaning.” Loki cleared his throat, voice clear once more. “And try to avoid any more sharp objects.” He added wryly, raising a brow and giving a pointed look. “It would be… a shame if my rival were to perish from such a boring form of death.” And just like that, your usual dynamic clicked back into place, making your lips curl into a faint smirk.

“I shall aim for something more adventurous next time.” You quipped, a softer edge to your voice.

The good kind.

He was definitely the good kind.

#loki x reader #president loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki fic #loki mcu #marvel x reader #loki oneshot #enemies to lovers #loki imagine

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theghostavocadoe · 2 months ago

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Headcanons about the remnants finally able to grow up in a somewhat normal setting? Compared to Sephiroth, who just.. Seems to have the most horrific corporation/war type life ever..

Would the fact that Sephiroth's life sucked ever come into the forefront of the remnants' minds as they get the chance he didn't?

alright I know it took me forever to get to this but I need to stop procrastinating on my asks LMAO

When the Remnants were given another chance at life, they were expecting to be thrust in the pits of hell again and have to claw their way out to achieve even a sliver of redemption. They WEREN'T expecting to be put in a warm home with food and a loving family.

This was unfamiliar territory to them. All they knew from birth was how to kill, steal, torture, and survive. They didn't know how to live. How to be happy. It kinda scared them.

But, slowly, over time, they acclimated. They learned the ins and outs of society. What was acceptable and what wasn't. They started to explore outside their original purposes; they found hobbies and interests that they liked.

Yazoo spent a lot of his time during the night staring at the stars when they would travel. So imagine his excitement when he found out that there's an entire field of study dedicated to them, as well as a heavily intricate belief system surrounding the stars and when you were born!

But as he looks at the stars, he remembers a dream he once had. A dream looking through a young Sephiroth's eyes; the only glimpse of the stars that Sephiroth had ever gotten were thanks to glow in the dark stickers on his room's ceiling, placed there by a man named Gast.

Does Yazoo feel a little guilty? Yes. But only for the man Sephiroth used to be. He's seen Sephiroth now, and that man could rot in hell. But he cherished the child that appeared in his dreams.

The other remnants have similar experiences. Kadaj through his love for rebellion; he is the embodiment of punk, to detest control, to live freely as he wants. He loves to be loud, annoying, and bright. "Fuck Shinra" is a daily affirmation for him. Sephiroth was never even allowed to think of disobeying Shinra when he was young; but his internal rebellion lives on through Kadaj.

Loz is never afraid to let his innocence shine through. While he's tougher than bricks and can put up a fight, he loves collecting stuffed animals and playing with children. Sometimes he doesn't like having such a large and menacing frame. Sometimes he wishes he had the small, nimble body of a child. Loz remembers how Sephiroth never got to enjoy his early years to the fullest, so he does his utmost to enjoy every second he can out of every day. And if something gets him down, he picks himself right back up.

Though they may not know it, the parts of Sephiroth that were suppressed or even killed in his childhood now live on in the Remnants. Given their second chance, they are now what Sephiroth was SUPPOSED to be, if the fates would've been kind to him.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #advent children #kadaj ff7 #yazoo ff7 #loz ff7 #sephiroth #kadaj #yazoo #loz

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qqueenofhades · 1 year ago

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what gets me is whenever any of these people says not to vote, and you ask them what the alternative is, they usually throw some tantrum about how it shouldn't be their job to fix this country and they're not expected to know (or start calling you a neoliberal or a bootlicker lmao) and i just. i don't get that? not voting, especially in the current climate, is a big deal. i don't think it's unreasonable to ask anyone who advocates for that what the alternative is. i'm not expecting you, online leftist, to magically know how to fix everything. i am expecting something from you if you're gonna tell me not to vote, especially when we both know that helps the gop. like, how dare we ask them to defend this big choice they're telling us to make?

their position boils down to helping trump and the republicans but any time you remind them of that they get upset. what is the alternative? what plan do they have? it would be one thing if there was another option that they'd come up with, but they haven't and don't seem interested in doing so. mutual aid and organizing is only going to take us so far and it'll be a hell of a lot easier to do it with biden in office than trump

The whole "it doesn't matter who's president/in charge of the government because mutual aid and organizing is the only valid way to do community engagement" is the leftist version of the Brexit nutcases who, and I swear I am not making this up, argued that it was fine if the UK left the EU trading sphere/single market/customs union with nothing to replace it, because "Britain is a nation of farmers and can grow food in our back gardens!!!!" Yes, because you're so devoted to your stupid ideology that you think the large-scale collapse of society, a major world power, a western democracy, and everything else will have no effect, and you can just do your little Facebook mutual aid groups and happily shout on Twitter at anyone who disagrees with you. Never mind the fact that this would obviously and immediately harm vulnerable people the most and that nobody, not even the Online Leftists themselves, actually wants to live in the Violent Revolution Total Anarchy World they masturbate to. Maybe this makes me a neoliberal corporate shill, but I'd rather that the world got better, instead of worse. I would actually prefer that myself, my friends, my family, my whole life, the whole country, and the rest of the world wasn't sacrificed on the Great Revolution Altar, but I shouldn't worry. We have mutual aid. At least as long as a) you have never said anything the Online Leftists even slightly disagree with, since they're sure as hell not the kind of people I would trust to have my back in any large-scale societal collapse, and b) I guess they'll all be growing food in their back gardens too, rather than using any of those dirty "government" or "society" things to supply their basic needs. We're saved! No need to worry. Bring on the anarchy.

Aside from the fact that Online Leftists, as I have said before, think that moral action begins and ends with posting the Right Opinions on social media at the correct timeframe and any other action or engagement with a flawed system or basic reality is heresy, they don't like being challenged -- i.e. "if we don't vote, then what do we do?" -- because a) it questions their authority as supreme arbiters of morality, and b) it means that there should actually be an action in place of cutting out something so consequential as voting, which likewise clashes with their "everything will be fixed by Magical Thinking" viewpoint. They don't want to be asked what to do in place of voting, or in anything at all; they want to think their correct thoughts and judge anyone who doesn't, regardless of how logically incoherent these things are or the inevitable outcome of those decisions, because nothing bad is ever their fault, or even the Republicans' fault, or anyone else at all except for the Democrats and/or "the West." I mean, yeah, if they're going around to preach the Don't Vote Because It's Actually Evil gospel, it's the bare fucking minimum to expect that they have something to offer in return besides Ye Olde Bolshevik cosplay fantasies. Since they don't, they get tetchy when you point that out.

Also, while I know it's the social media fashion that everything has to be the worst thing ever and we have plenty of the "Biden is also a genocidal fascist but I guess vote for him or something" utterly-minimum-standard posts going around, I will point out why that rhetoric is a) wrong and b) unhelpful. (Not that I expect it will make a single difference to anyone who has to get their internet cred by yelling about how Biden is a fascist, but still.) No, Biden is not a fascist by any logical definition of the word, you would have to do a lot of work to convince me that he is personally genocidal beyond what is demanded of any post-1948 American president who exists in an extremely complicated international sphere with long-standing alliances (such as, yes, with Israel) and indeed not quite a bit more progressive than literally every one of his predecessors, and it makes those actual words useless. If you claim that "Biden and Trump are both genocidal fascists," you are utterly effacing those categories as any kind of critical or useful distinction. You can't argue for any difference, you can't point out policy essentials or nuances, you can't make the most basic of empirical observances or come to a judgment on whether any part of that statement is true, because language has been deliberately stripped of meaning and used to score Cool Internet Leftist points. How can we explain what fascism or genocide actually are and what to do about them, if it's just what you call everyone as a matter of course whenever they disagree with you? You can't. That's the point.

Once again: I strongly disagree with the idea of just giving Israel/Netanyahu a blank check to keep committing atrocities, but I also need to repeatedly point out that Biden isn't doing that. His initial unconditional support of Israel after October 7 (which at the time was the correct response) has shifted to a much more measured and conditional approach where he has muted the overtly pro-Israel statements and started talking about a two-state solution and the need to protect the lives of civilians and trying to keep a lid on what could become a REALLY bad situation with all kinds of war-hungry powers eager to jump into the Middle East and blow it completely to hell. As I have said in my other posts, Trump will not do this. Trump will do the exact opposite. Which is why Netanyahu, who doesn't like having his hands tied precisely in the way Biden is doing, is trying so hard to get Trump back in. This also extends to the people who think that the West/the U.S. is the source of all evil in the world, but they're somehow the only people that can make actual choices or have real agency. Everyone else is just an American puppet; everyone is being lied to or manipulated by America/the West; nobody ever chose anything of their own free will; America/the West could roll in and put a stop to everything bad if they "really wanted to," but choose not to because etc. etc., Evil. As such, this completely fact-free belief is basically the central starting point for Online Leftism, which as I have also said, is now beyond useless and verging on just as deranged and actively dangerous as the fascists, especially since they are 100% willing to enable far-right fascism however and whenever they can because something something, That Will Show Us.

Anyway. Yes. Whew.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #israel hamas war #okay i think i'm done talking about this for today #but yes

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fuumiku · 1 year ago

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They’re really interesting foils in many ways. I’ve always thought that Marcille & Mithrun have underrated dynamic potential. Give me the cringefail dungeon lords. Give me the elves with ears-centric metaphorical self-image issues. Give me the academic elites whose deepest strongest desires will always remain unreachable and the only option is to turn to the corrupt forbidden fruit of a demon pact. I am so so normal about Mithrun and Marcille

I wonder if the resemblance between captain Mithrun and general Hagreus aka Marcille’s fave in Dalclan is intentional… They definitely look very alike. It could represent idealization vs reality? Something something the romanticization of elves and their societal drama in their fiction vs a very real and imperfect product of their military system. The canaries certainly aren’t glamorous next to whatever Hagreus is the general of. I feel like she never had the opportunity to notice the resemblance herself bc within seconds of meeting him he was wrestling her on the ground but. If she had… She would so think he should have been his actor in the tallman stage play of Daltian Clan in that new extra comic hehe. I love the little details like Hagreus’ lips being drawn with extra details because they’re full and pretty while Mithrun’s lips are drawn with extra details because they’re chapped lmao.

This art is all silly and surface level but in my head mithrille is like so dramatic and I make up daltian clan level big plots with them gbdgd. I made a spotify playlist for mithrun if y’all interested, rn it’s mostly centered around cravings that consume and losing yourself and illusions inspired from his time as dungeon lord but it’s branching out. Varied vibes, levels of intensity and degrees of confusion and await you ✨ I would emotionally rant about Chainsaw Man ost lyrics and how they tie in with Mithrun and the winged lion’s relationship but this post is already a monster

I want more of these two please please please pleaseee just one or two interactions in the new canon content coming up… All they ever did was debate philosophy on desires and human self-fulfillment and try to murder each other, please… I never get to gush about them and I can’t shut up so if you want more thoughts I talk about them more below

To get a girl to peacefully accept arrest follow these simple steps: in private, ominously stand above her and forcefully interrogate her, while in public, tell her you’ve met before (untrue and also not a pickup line) and interrogate her with a thin veneer of decorum. If all else fails, threaten and follow through on said threat. My guy needs more than just physical therapy I’m afraid

Sorry if most of these were Marcille-centric with Mithrun standing there looking cool, if I were doing these more from Mithrun’s pov things would be like "She’s a bit much but I guess I don’t mind hanging around her." or "Oh you’re a half-elf? -insert elven supremacist rethoric-" or "I have to keep her from becoming demon stew." immediately followed by "Did someone say demon? Kill kill kill kill kill" since these are set prior to like really knowing another. Then things would be more like "huh she has bad tastes in novels but her magic research is pretty interesting" and "I’m lonely and don’t understand myself— Oh she loves talking about feelings? Oh shi-" That last one is an aspect of why I like Marcille and Mithrun’s potential dynamic lol. She’s very… Emotionally intelligent alongside being impulsive. You think you have no feelings because the world has beaten them out of you? Think again!! Marcille be upon ye! -In a therapy sort of way but mostly in a connecting with people and your own self through interpersonal relationships and talking kinda way. I just think a lively, upbeat, annoying friend way too interested in your personal life would do him good, the canaries are nice but like if Marcille went to prison and was a sort of extra new bunkmate I think that’d be interesting and fun to read is what I’m saying

Unlike Kabru she wants all the useless messy filler of his backstory, eating chips while listening. Like two chibi sets side by side, "me and my fellow canaries, name name and name-" "Hold on that’s too much info we have to compact this" vs "Then we were to sleep on the third floor of the dungeon, which had the look of a mausoleum, and name and name got into a fight over the campfire placement." while Marcille is like uh-huh what next what next while kicking her feet. She thinks of pre-dungeon pompous Mithrun and is like omg you went through a character arc and became better as a person- and then he opens his mouth and she’s like nevermind let’s keep working on that. She would also go "ew ur hair is greasy" and give him a full hair care treatment. What I’m saying is I need them to be forced to spend time in a dungeon together and become besties through a life or death roadtrip

Marcille is insecure about her ears, long, like an elf’s pride should be, but rounder, inelegant. Seeing Mithrun though, the epitome of beauty, with his half-cut ears make it a sillier thought. Not sure if Mithrun is the best person to reconnect with ur elven culture with but it sure is an option Marcille would so appreciate being around someone both cool headed and kind, I genuinely think they’d get along, like not that Senshi isn’t that too most of the time but I think Mithrun would be in a way that’s more refreshing to her. I’d be so curious about them discussing Dalclan, I doubt he’d have read it but she could make him read it, maybe post-canon with the excuse that they’re trying to find him a new hobby hah. He’d tear into the writing and everything but it’d be a fun time, I like to think that it’d make him a bit less prejudiced. Marcille @ Mithrun "👉👈 Soo maybe you don’t know these books they’re pretty recent having come out 50 years ago but…"

I’ve been in a Mithrun phase I want to make and read Mithrun-centric fics and angst so baaad. I razz him a lot here but he’s literally a traumatized military man that became obsessed with revenge due to bad coping and neglects himself in the process idk not much for him going on and some of it is because he has to work on himself, but hey no one’s perfect it all comes from a place of love and relating though I prommy. He’s the one ungodly angsty squeaky toy blorbo with brain damage rep I have don’t take him from me

#Dungeon meshi #mithrun #marcille donato #I feel like i haven’t drawn in so long i’m so rusty #Mithrille #Mithrun x marcille #Marcille x mithrun #I finally did smth for these 2 yippee #Dust and dog hairs manage to get on my drawings while i take pics it drives me mad i can’t do this anymore sorry if you see any #Continuation of my Marcille: “LET ME LOVE YOU!!” saga #Sorry marcille i hate drawing your sleeves #There are a couple things I’m not satisfied with and might redraw at one point but i need to stop and get stuff done #Marcille has 5 cm of height on mithrun according to the adventurers bible neat #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #I’ll move those last two tags up when I get to my computer #Character playlist #I made a more formal mithrille post on another blog explaining what potential i saw in them just search in the ship tag if you’re intereste

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darkstarofchaos · 2 months ago

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since the writers and this fandom has a hate boner for prowl, if he has a support network, who would you include in that little circle? very much would not include every autobot that punches him because fuck them lmao. but yeah? who and why though? for me, and i know i shouldn't be looking into their relationship through a shipping lens, but jazz seems like a good choice, he is the only one i can see that could possibly be in that circle 😭

Oh, that's an interesting question. And a difficult one to answer if we're looking specifically at IDW, because it's not enough just to be nice to Prowl - the character(s) need to be a positive (or at least neutral) influence in his life. For example, I wouldn't count the Constructicons, even though they were outwardly nothing but supportive, because they loved Prowl for all the things he hated about himself. Prowl needs people in his corner who can help him become who he wants to be, or at least won't hold him back by praising him for things he regrets doing.

Another issue with the Constructicons is that their support was superficial - they just did what he wanted, and then dropped him for basically no reason (yes, they had a reason. I do not accept that reason because they've been in Prowl's head and knew he never wanted them or saw them as anything but tools, but liked him in spite of that. It makes no sense to know he would drop them if he could, then get mad at him for doing just that).

Arcee pretty much did the same thing: she was perfectly happy following his orders, but then she dropped him the moment she felt like he was impeding her personal growth. And no, I don't care if that's a misrepresentation of what happened, because this also happened:

Way to prove him right, Arcee.

So that's another criterion for being a part of Prowl's support system. If you consider yourself as bad as or worse than he is, you're happy to do things he expressly said he doesn't want to do, and then you get uppity because you were given a chance to change and he didn't, you're no better than the rest of the morally judgmental pricks that make up a large percentage of the Autobot ranks.

So with (some of) the ranting out of the way, who actually fits my unreasonably strict criteria of... *checks notes* ...Being genuinely supportive and neither pushing Prowl to be worse nor punishing him for not knowing how to be better?

My first choice would be Cerebros, for being the only person I can think of to ever apologize to Prowl for hurting him (I think Bumblebee actually apologized too, but Bumblebee grabbed him by the throat in a fit of anger, and Cerebros took over his body briefly to save their little group from Sentinel, not knowing he had trauma around being controlled. I'm gonna say the accidental harm with good intentions is more forgivable than straight up violence). Admittedly we don't see a lot of Cerebros, but honestly, that might be a good thing since there isn't time for the writers to turn him against Prowl.

I would also propose Red Alert, who similarly doesn't get a chance to turn on Prowl after their peaceful final interaction. I feel like Red might be one of the only people who wouldn't just dismiss Prowl's trauma around being controlled and having his mind messed with, having experienced both himself, and the romantic in me likes that the moment he was about to kill Prowl was the moment he broke free of Sentinel's control. I doubt it meant anything beyond being the most dramatic moment for him to return to himself, but with no evidence to the contrary, I'll read whatever I want into it (I don't actually ship them, but considering Sentinel's scoffing about sparkmates, it would be thematically appropriate for Red to break free at that moment because of genuine affection for Prowl. You know, if there was actually a theme there and it wasn't just the writer who wrote most of the romance in IDW using aromanticism to make a villain more hateable. But anyway).

I would not add Fort Max to the list, because even though he seems to at least accept Prowl's presence by the end, everything about their scenes together is so? Weird? Max is mad at him when he first shows up, but then apart from a few disparaging comments (mostly meant for humor) he's just kind of fine with him being there? And Prowl himself is completely out of character, the whole scene with him forgetting why Fort Max might hate him is one of the most "he would not fucking say that" moments I've ever experienced from canon material. Those two issues feel like Fort Max speedran forgiveness or something, and I really don't think it works. So yeah, Prowl can have the rest of the Luna-1 crew, but I'm not sold on Max.

Unfortunately, while I've come to like them as a pair (and I'm not sure why you "shouldn't" look at them through a shipping lens?), I don't think I would count Jazz as part of Prowl's support system:

As Prowl notes, that's a biased description of events, and one Jazz presumably got from Optimus or one of the others who was present for the Combiner Wars arc. But the fact that he accepts that version of events, and that he supports Optimus long after Prowl has had enough of him, makes me feel like he would actively choose Optimus over Prowl if he had to. At very least, if you told him that Optimus physically attacked Prowl after his arrest, I don't think he would believe you. Or he would believe Optimus' version of events, which is that Prowl "made" him do it (come to think of it, Optimus must have told people something to explain how Prowl "escaped". Wonder what it was).

So yeah. Looking at canon as it is, I really can't come up with anyone else I'd choose as a support system.

Now if I could choose to ignore parts of canon, I would definitely pick Jazz because it seems like he and Prowl got along really well during the war. I also feel like Arcee shouldn't have been so quick to turn her back on him, considering she was such an enthusiastic partner in crime, so I guess I'd add her to the list. Maybe Wheeljack, since he was willing to give Starscream a chance (though Prowl almost killed Wheeljack while being controlled by Bombshell, so I could see that maybe being too uncomfortable for one or both of them).

And if you want an option that's more a giant "fuck you" to canon than anything that could actually happen, I've always felt Prowl and Starscream should have been friends. Which sounds like it flies against the "no bad influences" rule, but Starscream himself was trying to do better after a while, so they could have done better together. Plus, I like the idea of outcasts standing by each other when no one else will.

#Transformers #Prowl #The Luna-1 arc and Combiner Wars are two more Prowl conversations I want to have sometime #Maybe I'll do it soon since Prowl is all over my blog right now anyway #A person would think he's my all-time favorite Transformer the way I talk about him #(That honor actually goes to Starscream for anyone wondering)#Though IDW Prowl is basically the Autobot Starscream so I love him for a lot of the same reasons #Prowl being more like Starscream than Soundwave or Shockwave is something else I want to talk about sometime

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firemenenthusiast · 10 months ago

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okay so uh hiii, first off I just wanna say you're writing is top tier, I consider you one of the best writers for Archie's characters, keep up the good work 🩷 ! second off all, the jann fic where he calls the reader mama has plagued my mind for DAYS, like literal brain rot I swear (in a good way tho lol). like I even went on character.ai and got him to call me mama on there like I'm truly down atrocious for subby jann because of you, you must've unlocked something in my brain or something 😭😭.

i don't know exactly if I'm doing this right so if I'm not just let me know and ill try to redo it but i was wondering I could make a request for you to write a few drabbles (if that's the right term, probably not) about casual dominance with subby jann please 👉🏾👈🏾, like not all of them have to be sexual, but best believe I'll have no issue with that lmao. again, I've never done this before so if it's like shitty, all over the place, and makes no sense I apologize 😭. I know you have a couple fics and stuff queued up and other things keeping you busy so no rush or anything.

domestic sub!jann

he’s a subby man, even casually. here’s some domestic headcannons of my little whiskers meow meow jann mardenborough (gt movie)

a/n: thank you anon for your kind words and request ! SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG 😭🙏🏻 i hope this is what you imagined when writing the ask :] also jann calling reader mama was stuck in my head until i actually wrote it. and i WILL do it again

- let’s start off by agreeing on the fact that jann is the clingy one in your relationship

- he’s a busy man, especially at the height of his career so whenever he’s home, he just wants to rest his head on your lap in front of the tv

- he NEEDS you to run your fingers through his hair, or gently caressing the back of his head or he’ll take matters into his own hands

- and by that i mean he will grab your hand and place them in his hair himself, but sometimes you just want to tease him. you would constantly pull your hand away each time he’d grab it and he would whine until you give up

- jann’s a snuggler cuddler. he would snuggle himself in your chest whenever you guys cuddle eventho he’s so much bigger than you. he doesn’t care, he just needs to be wrapped snuggly by your arms in your embrace

- jann does silly things at home with you, including opening his mouth at you whenever you eat together, asking you to feed him. then when you actually do he’ll chew his food with a smile that squints his eyes

- other silly things he does is INSISTING on brushing your teeth together after waking up. you’d be getting out of the bed when he’s still chilling around and he would SCRAMBLE out of the duvets to follow your back, like a puppy

- while on the topic, he really acts closely to a puppy around you

- you getting up to go get something from the fridge ? he’ll go: “where are you going ?”

- you pulling his head off your lap to go to the toilet for a moment ? he’ll go: “where are you going ?”

- if you’re slipping on your coat with the trash in your hand at the door ? he’ll go: “im coming with you”

- he knows that you’ll just make him go himself if he offers to carry it so he wouldn’t take the trash off your hand until AFTER you’ve reached the end of the hallway, before the elevator. just so he could go on that little walk with you

- you’ve never felt annoyed or irritated with him, you’ve grown accustomed to his clinginess. if anything you’re happy that he is the way he is cuz it’s not often that he’s home because his busy schedule

- he SO would beg you to play GT with him. he even bought you your own racing wheel and display, and built your whole set up in your favourite colour just so you could play with him

- you guys have your own racing room just sophisticatedly equipped with both of your set ups, a frickin fridge and a crazy sound system.

- he actually uses the sim a lot to practise, and would follow you around the house, watching you do stuffs that you told him you’re going to be busy for that you wont be able to race with him, until you’re done. THEN only he would be willing to practise happily

- if he’s feeling extra clingy ? he’d ask you to sit on his lap, facing him, just clinging onto him like a koala bear while he races

- you’re his first ever serious girlfriend, so he really cherishes you every second he could. scenario of you breaking up with him flashes before his eyes whenever you’re upset

- ego ? dont know her. he’s willing to kneel and kiss at your knees, begging for forgiveness while you sit on the couch, clearly upset with something he’d done

- most of the time it’s just you being jealous of him entertaining his fangirls, him taking selfies with them, sometimes they’re pressed up too close to him

- you love that he’s nice to them, and that he’s loved by many, but you couldn’t help but feeling jealous

- he knows you’d be, so right after the crowd dissipates he’s quick to go to you, pulling at your folded arms.

- “are you mad at me ?” “no”

- then he would rest his head at the crook of your shoulder until you give in

- jann’s also really sulky. he doesn’t really show it, but you’ll know. he’s not the type of person to be giving you the silent treatment when he’s sulking but you’ll notice he’s distracted. he would still do things with you or for you, just quietly

- sulking jann would include avoiding eye contact. jann is generally quite shy with other people, but with you he’ll make eye contact all the time. he would smile and just look into your eyes until you blush, then he’d chuckle. so when he’s struggling to maintain eye contact with you, you know something’s upsetting him

- you know how i mentioned he follows you everywhere ? so that also applies to when you go shopping for clothes. he’s your personal hype-men, a functional one at that too

- he’s not that type of boyfriend that just waits outside the store, just waiting for you to be done. if anything he’s more excited to walk into your favourite stores than you 😭 cuz he knows there’d be new clothing line that you’d want to try on

- he gives legit opinions too, he knows what type of clothes you like, the materials, the cuttings, you would be hearing him say things like: “that looks pretty but are you comfortable?” cuz he notices it’s made with material that you don’t like

- when it’s his turn to buy clothes he lives for your eyes, and your eyes only. you have a vision in mind for the clothes or outfits that you think would make him look cute, so you’d assemble an outfit at the store for him to try on. he’s not picky, he’ll get anything that you say makes him look handsome.

- guys im genuinely tweaking i need him to be my boyfriend

- both of you have your own careers so sometimes his racing schedule clashes with your work, but it doesn’t happen often

- when you actually have a very important thing to attend for your work, and he has a race on the same day, he’ll get really sad that you’re not gonna be cheering him on, or that you’re not gonna be there when he’s done

- you try to finish your work as soon as possible when he has a race, to come to his racing venue. you mostly work remotely, so you’d just finish your work in the hotel room before going to see him. you’re his emotional support, and he’d be really happy if you get to watch him on the track.

- one time he’d been informed that you wouldn’t be there because of work, and he was really sad, pouting his lips, shoulders dropped and all (he’s dramatic like that) but he’s understanding of your work, so he went and raced the best he could so he would get to tell you all about it after you got home

- unbeknownst of him, you finished early that day and were able to catch him on the track. when he got out of the car he noticed your face on the track displays, watching him from the vip viewing area, cheering him on.

- he was quick to take out all his comms wires to go see you, meeting you halfways as you were also running to go see him

- he’s a whole golden retriever puppy boyfriend, who becomes really subby in bed, whining and whimpering underneath you <3

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