#which does not seem like a truly safe idea but whatever

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: gn!Reader x switch!Mark

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Under the desk blowjob. Edging. Overstimulation. Oblivious.... oblivious Mark..... He's more on the subby side for this one.

| wc: 3k

“How does London sound?”

You looked up from your laptop to raise a brow at your boyfriend who was sitting on the couch with you, your legs swung over his thighs while he slowly massaged your feet as he got lost in thought. That was what he spent the last hour thinking about? Really? He knew better than to ask you to go with him on trips, work or not.

When you and Mark started dating, a clear rule had been struck which stated that you could never, ever get caught dating— Not because he worried about his career, who gave a fuck about that? Mark was consumed with anxiety about you being attacked and harassed by cruel fans who felt they could say or do whatever they wanted behind the safety of their phone screens… Or worse, they would confront you in person and threaten your safety. He tried not to imagine the worst, but the possibilities seemed to be endless, and he wanted to protect you first and foremost, so the most important thing was being as careful as possible; That usually meant no public outings. You two lived together, you slept together, you ate together, but you would never be seen together.

However, the past few months had taken a turn for Mark. He disliked being away from you due to tours and comebacks, so his clinginess had grown twofold, leading to some instances which you found to be tiptoeing the line between breaking your number one rule and just Mark being a good boyfriend. You tried not to care about it too much. You were both adults making adult decisions, and you knew how to play it safely… But that didn’t stop you from wondering why the Hell Mark of all people was willing to play with fire like that. Now he was throwing out the idea of London? That was supposed to be his sponsored trip for Wimbledon. You weren’t invited. You didn’t have a plane ticket. His hotel room was only reserved for one person in a king sized suite, thanks to his sponsors. There was no room for you, and the odds of getting caught were too high.

“Can’t,” you replied.

Mark rubbed his thumbs into the arch of your left foot. “It’d be fun. We can fly first class together, stay in a nice hotel, tour the city… I don’t think I could get you into the game, but… There’s plenty of other things for us to do together.”

“Can’t.”

He tsked his tongue with frustration. “Why?”

“Too risky.”

“Not if we put the flight in your name, get you your own room in the hotel so no one would think we’re sharing a bed…” He hit a sore spot, causing you to stop typing on your laptop and put your full attention on him. “I’ll put on hats and masks while we’re walking around—”

“We can’t.”

Mark sighed. “Come on. Just once. I promise, we’ll be super, super, super careful. And if you ever get too worried, we can bail. Just say the word and we’ll go back to the hotel, no questions asked. We can stay in all day, watch movies, order room service, fuck a ton—”

You kicked his thigh gently.

“Ow!”

But with a little more persuasion and a few solidified plans about how you two would pull off your incognito trip to London, you were convinced to go with him at the last second. Mark paid for everything. Your first class flight— Somehow there was still a seat available next to him, so he snatched it up immediately, despite the insane price gouging because of how soon the flight was; Your hotel room, a small one since you wouldn’t be spending time in it anyhow, it was just for appearances; And he made sure that all other expenses were attached to his card. He truly wasn’t wasting any time locking you into the trip. He wanted you there no matter what. Stupid or not, he wanted you there so badly… If it were at all possible, maybe in some alternate universe, Mark would’ve had you at his side throughout the entire trip, no masks or hats, no more hiding from the world. But alas… that wasn’t your reality.

You and Mark had to arrive at the airport separately. The paparazzi and fans were waiting for him because he was flying for a schedule which meant that it was public information, unfortunately; But you managed to walk through check-in and security smoothly without any issues. Boarding the flight, you were able to stand next to each other, but you couldn’t be caught talking to each other. That didn’t stop Mark. At one point, as the line was moving towards the flight attendant who was scanning tickets, Mark’s pinky drifted against yours, letting you know that he was there and that he so badly wanted to hold your hand. On the flight. That was the look you gave him, a promise that he could hold your hand for the entirety of the trip once everyone was seated and no one was looking. And that was exactly what happened.

Mark fell asleep on the plane, his hand clasped with yours under his blanket. He was in the middle of rewatching one of the Spider-Man movies when his head slumped to the side, his mouth fell agape, and he started quietly snoring under the noise of the jet engines that kept the plane moving in the air. He looked really cute. You’d never flown with him before, and you never really imagined that you would, so seeing the way he so comfortably fit into his spot in first class and accepted all the amenities and even fell asleep so quickly was baffling to you— But his fogged up glasses, and his brown curls falling in his face nearly took you out. You figured out about two hours into the flight that it was cuteness aggression which nearly had you cuddling him, if it weren’t for the fact that anyone could have spotted you two at any moment.

Mark organized having a driver pick you up at baggage claim because fans were waiting for him there too so he couldn’t go with you. You were pampered completely by the driver offering to take your bag, dragging it behind him as he led you to the nice SUV which had water and snacks waiting for you, and he even offered to let you control the music if you wanted— You were too shy to entertain the thought. When you arrived at the hotel, the driver helped hand your bag over to the bell boys who opened your door and guided you to the front desk where you found Mark already checking into his room as well. He grinned over at you while you both stood at the desk. The lady across from him was trying to ask him questions, but he was so locked into staring at you out of the corner of his eye that he couldn’t focus on the topic at hand. You, however, made your check in brief because your bag was delivered to your room despite the fact that you needed to covertly transport it to Mark’s room. Idiot was already there by the time you arrived. Life of a celebrity… Even though he procrastinated, he still managed to beat you everywhere.

“You like it?” he asked, looking around the suite before falling onto the bed.

You also looked around a bit. It was a big place with a living room, a big TV, a small kitchen, the large king bed, and a huge bathroom that you couldn’t imagine why it was like that. “It’s nice.”

Mark smirked. “You tired? Hungry?”

“Both.”

“Room service?”

You nodded.

Over the next few days, Mark was so busy with work that he was up early in the morning in order to let the makeup, hair, and clothing stylists in so that they could doll him up for the day, then he wouldn’t be back until late in the evening when everyone would return with him in order to take back all their work. It gave you plenty of time to explore on your own, but you wished that it were with him, like a normal couple. You knew what you signed up for. You weren’t stupid. But that was exactly why you declined the trip in the first place because you expected that being alone and missing him would suck. Yeah, the city was pretty in certain places, and it was kind of funny seeing fangirls running around with their Mark Lee photocards on their bags while they ran to go find him at his next public schedule. He even thought it was funny when you told him about your day when you two would be cuddled in bed together, catching up on what the other missed out on. He had a lot more going on than you did, but that was a given.

After the last day of his sponsored trip, Mark was finally free. Like he promised, he took you wherever you wanted, despite the many layers of clothes he had to wear in the heat just so he could go unrecognized, and you felt too uncomfortable to hold hands while walking around. Mark noticed. He was always observant about those kinds of things, so he didn’t want to push you, especially when he was slightly worried too about the amount of fangirls that were still roaming around the city in the hopes of “accidentally” running into their favorite idol.

In the evenings, you and Mark returned to the hotel to relax. Sometimes you would go out for dinner, most times not because someone could snap a picture of you two at dinner and have it in the tabloids ten minutes later with a headline about how the lead rapper of NCT was on a dinner date in London. That was a shit storm neither of you wanted to handle. And it wasn’t like staying in was a bad thing! You still got to see the city as much as you wanted to, and you finally got to spend time with Mark in London, so what was there to complain about?

Work.

There was always work. Being at the hotel meant that Mark got caught up in making music at his laptop for hours on end without realizing how much time was passing. For the most part you didn’t mind because he began around the time you were getting in bed, and you always woke up in his arms regardless, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. But there was one night you were annoyed. Before your room service dinners arrived, Mark was sitting at the desk in his pajamas, headphones on, music blasting while he worked on creating a new mix for his solo projects that he enjoyed messing with— You were pretty sure that he and Johnny were writing another song together too, so his focus was tunnel visioned on work, work, work and not his partner whom he’d dragged to Europe with him after begging like a pathetic puppy for so long. Was he stupid? Yuta probably would have smacked him upside the back of the head if you told him what Mark was doing. “Idiot, there’s a hot person in the bed behind you. Do something about it!” But Yuta would have to smack some sense into your boyfriend later… In the meantime, you had to make due with fighting to put his attention back on you.

“Baby,” you cooed from the bed.

He didn’t budge. Instead, he clicked a few things, opened another Chrome tab, Googled something, then went back to his mix.

“Mark.”

Still nothing.

You tsked your tongue and crawled off the bed. Mark was so lost in his own world that he didn’t even notice that you were only wearing blue underwear just for him; and he didn’t even budge when you dropped to your knees beside him. You rolled your eyes. There was no way his tunnel vision was that bad… Sure, he moved a bit to accommodate you as you skillfully made your way under the desk and settled in between his man-spread legs, but come on, really? He still didn’t take off his headset? What the Hell did he think you were doing down there, counting specs of dust? Sometimes he really could be oblivious.

When you started fiddling with his pajama pants, Mark hesitated, leaning back slightly so that he could glance down at you through his glasses with a raised brow. You hesitated. With a doe-eyed look, you acted like you weren’t doing anything at all, because he seemingly didn’t want to pay much attention to you in the first place, even though it was his idea to drag you to London. Mark warily went back to his work. Once his focus was elsewhere again, you continued to tease him. He let out a quiet gasp when you ran the palm of your hand over the crotch of his pants, feeling up his length that jumped with excitement. You grinned. Still, he eyed you suspiciously while slowly clicking things with his mouse and readjusting tunes with the mixer to his left. Then the tips of your fingers danced over his sensitive tip. His breath hitched, his eyes squeezed shut, and he adjusted slightly in his seat so that it would be easier for you to touch more of him. You didn’t enlighten him. Not yet. You just stared up at him with a grin, admiring how handsome he was, and how the blush on his cheeks was growing along with the erection in his pants.

To test the waters, you ran your hand along his cock again, content that he found you so alluring that he could get as hard as he was within a teasing touch or two. Surely he’d put his attention on you finally if you just… reached into his pajamas and pulled out his cock. Mark let out another quiet moan. But what really did it was when you held him upright as he was still getting harder, and you wrapped your lips around him, sinking down about half way.

“Oh— Fuck, baby—” His hands abandoned his music set up to tangle his fingers in your hair so that he could keep you on his cock. However, you pulled away with surprisingly not much protest from Mark who whimpered when your lips left him, and instead your thumb slowly played with his tip. “Baby, please…”

“Keep working.”

“What?”

You shrugged. “You’ve got a lot of work to do, right? You should keep working, or else Johnny’ll get mad when we go back home.”

“He won’t care—” He bucked his hips up in an attempt to get you to suck him off again.

“Oh? So it could’ve waited?”

“I—” He dawned on him that he’d gotten himself caught in your trap. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t even realize.” His head fell backwards when you suddenly licked the length of his dick from base to tip so slowly that you felt him pulse in your hand. “I’m so, so sorry, baby, please…” His hands unwittingly guided your mouth back onto him. Mark groaned loudly. “Just like that.”

He looked so cute with his headset slowly falling off his head, his glasses pushed all the way up the bridge of his nose thanks to gravity, and your name was being chanted like a prayer while it mixed with his moans and pleas for you to keep going. You couldn’t stay mad at that. Seeing him fall apart for you made you happier than anything else in the whole world.

“Use your tongue— Y-Yeah— Just… just like that… Don’t stop…”

You did as he wanted, patterning your movements between bobbing your head, swirling his tip with your tongue, and using your hands to play with his balls and the base of his cock. He whimpered pathetically. It seemed that you were getting to him, faster than you expected. The way Mark swiveled his hips desperately in his chair, and he finally knocked the headset off the top of his head and onto his neck, you could tell that he was already close to cumming.

You pulled away again, using that moment to catch your breath while Mark popped upright to look down at you with pouty eyes, wondering how you could possibly do such a thing when he was so close… Poor thing. Still, it was just as much fun to torment him as it was to see him falling apart thanks to you. When his breath was steady again, you went back to sucking him off slowly— Really slow in the hopes of working him up without getting him too close to the edge yet. It worked. Mark’s feet anxiously kicked against the floor. He groaned and grabbed onto the arms of his desk chair as tightly as he could to keep himself from grabbing you or fucking your face because he knew that would deter you from giving him what he desperately needed.

“Come on, baby,” he egged you on needily, “you look so good with my cock in your mouth… Wanna cum in your mouth… Wanna watch you swallow every drop.” He sucked in a deep breath to relax his body, recollecting himself. When he was calm, he put his fingers back in your hair and pushed you down onto his cock, letting you feel the way his tip hit the back of your throat, both of you moaning in unison. “Fuck, yes!” 

For about a minute, Mark fucked your mouth, thinking that he had all the control in the world, but once again, when he got close, you squirmed your way out of his grasp and sat back to look up at him from under the desk. He pouted down at you. Okay, okay, fine, just one more… It was fun edging him, but you couldn’t bear that sad look on his face.

You tangled your fingers with his so that he had something else to hold onto when you returned to sucking him off with hollow cheeks and your tongue swirling around. Mark’s grip tightened against yours. He boiled himself down to pants and pathetic little whimpers rather than begging you, probably theorizing that it was his neediness that convinced you to keep edging him for fun. However, you wanted to drag those cute reactions out of him to make him earn the orgasm you’d already decided on giving him; So you made sure to put enough attention on his sensitive tip until he had no other choice than to start moaning your name again, coupled with quiet, “Please, please, please, please, please, please…” that indicated his brain had broken so soon and so easily.

With another doe-eyed look up at him, you silently told him that it was okay to finally cum. Mark tensed in his chair in preparation. His thighs squeezed around your head, his feet kept anxiously tapping the carpet, and his hips wiggled desperately in his seat while you bobbed your head faster up and down his length.

“I’m cumming—” He moaned out so breathlessly you almost missed it. “I’m- I’m— Fuck—” With his hips hovering in the air, he finally snapped.

He came hard, his legs shivering, his hands tugging against yours, his cum spilling down your throat. You pressed his hips down onto the chair so that he could relax while you helped him ride out his orgasm. Mark hunched forward when “helping” turned into overstimulating.

“Ah, shit, baby, wait, wait, fuck—”

Finally, you gave him reprieve by slowly dragging your lips off his cock with a pop. Mark released your hands while his body completely slumped with relief, and he reached out to run his thumb over your bottom lip, collecting the little bit of drool mixed with cum that you hadn’t realized was there, then he slowly pushed his finger into your mouth. Take every drop…

“That’s it,” he cooed at you tiredly.

After you finished sucking his thumb clean, Mark rolled his desk chair back in order to give him room to readjust his pants momentarily before reaching out to help you off the ground.

“Come here.”

He welcomed you so easily into his arms and onto his lap. He hugged you close, kissing your lips desperately despite the fact that you tasted like his cum— Or perhaps because of that.

“I’m sorry I got lost in my work.” He pecked your cheek. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Better make it good,” you replied teasingly.

Mark chuckled. “Oh, I will.”

Carefully, he lifted you off his lap and navigated you towards the bed. There was a little more than twenty four hours until your flight home… Yeah, there’d be plenty of time for him to make it up to you and keep his full attention on you in the meantime.

[awearywritersworld]

i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you

sukuna x reader summary: you and sukuna go out for a late night meal. gojo finds out about your... relationship. sukuna is forced to take care of you when you come home drunk. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. fluff. lots of banter. cursing. jealous/protective!sukuna. gojo being a flirt. aged up!yuuji. features a teeny bit of yuuji x reader. drinking and drunk!reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: i think i like how this turned out! also, the first two sections could def be read as a fluffy lil stand alone. idc whats happening in the canonverse, sukunas just a tsundere who adores us very much<3 series masterlist // masterlist

"maybe if you stare long enough, food will magically appear," sukuna calls to you from the kitchen table.

"this is no joking matter," you scold from your place in front of the fridge. "i'm starving."

"well, here's an absurd idea— let's go eat."

you turn toward him, finally closing the fridge, and tilt your head to the side. "you eat?"

"of course." he leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "i typically prefer babies, but hell, i'd even go for an old man right now. i'm famished."

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. he lets the panic simmer on your face for a few more cruel moments. "i'm kidding, idiot. i eat food, same as you."

"i knew that," you assert. the way your shoulders sag in relief tells him otherwise.

"right," he smirks. after standing up, he grabs your purse and tosses it in your direction. "where to? you're buying."

with only so many places open at midnight, you begin your journey to a 24 hour ramen shop.

you've hardly interacted with sukuna outside of your apartment, so this is certainly an experience you didn't anticipate. and in fact, you're shocked at how normal it feels— almost as if it's a date.

as you walk down the street, people eye him suspiciously because of the dark lines they assume are tattoos. it doesn't bother you though, nor does the lateness of the hour. you know that you're safe because you're with him.

your hands keep brushing against one another's, and you're hoping that he'll eventually take a hint and reach for yours. he doesn't (i mean come on, do you even know who you're dealing with?).

he does at least pick up on your pouty expression with impressive ease. "what now?"

"nothing," you huff.

"don't be a brat."

you sigh dramatically. "you're supposed to hold my hand."

"sure princess," he says condescendingly, lacing his fingers through yours. "maybe use your words next time like a big girl."

he doesn't fail to notice the ensuing skip in your step, and he kicks himself for regarding it as cute.

when you arrive at the ramen shop, sukuna orders no less than three bowls, which earns him a glare once the waitress walks away.

"when i agreed to pay, i didn't know what a glutton you are."

"oh yeah? cause i'm just the picture of temperance any other time?"

you scoff. "well you've got me there."

a sly smirk settles onto his face before he speaks again. "maybe one day you'll learn how greedy i am when it comes to the things i've deemed pleasurable."

you choke on the water you'd just brought to your lips, your face heating up as if it'd been bathed by fire.

wiping at your mouth, you try your best to recover quickly. "whatever, you hellion. as long as that doesn't involve a fourth bowl of ramen."

you're no more than 10 steps away from the shop when you hold out your hand to him. "ahem."

he grabs it roughly and not without rolling his eyes.

"what?" you ask innocently. "that was a word."

"hardly," he jeers. "for as much as you read, i'd expect you to be more fluent than a child."

"and at 1000 years old, i'd expect you to be more charming than a teenage boy, but i guess we're both making concessions."

"see, this is the part that puzzles me. you never seem to have trouble with your words when you're being insolent."

"maybe it's a sign," you begin whimsically. "the universe decided you need to be taken down a peg."

"ah, yes. you as the executor of the universe's will. i don't know why i couldn't see it before."

you giggle, rather delighted that he's elected to play along with your quips. there's something that feels so warm and pleasant about it.

as you wonder if he feels it too, your hand tightens around his.

you're not quite ready to head back to your apartment just yet, because you're scared you'll lose the atmosphere surrounding the two of you. in truth, it's a bit intoxicating.

the perfect opportunity arises when you spot a small park up ahead. lights are strung around the trees, all of which are situated around a small fountain.

"we should stop at that park!" you hardly finish speaking before you take off in that direction, tugging him along behind you.

after you plop down on the fountain's ledge, sukuna takes his place beside you.

"let's sit here for a little while."

he doesn't respond and you take his silence as agreement. he's not really one to stifle his grievances.

as the minutes pass, the rush of the fountain is the only noise that fills the air, while you gaze at the trees with a serene expression.

sukuna, however, is looking at you. the only care he has for the trees is the way their lights reflect in your eyes. otherwise, he's fully occupied by the curve of your nose and the fullness of your lips.

"isn't this pretty?" you finally ask.

"it's pretty," he agrees, even when such a soft word feels foreign on his tongue.

his eyes still haven't left you, and you seem to be oblivious to this fact until he reaches up to stroke your cheek with the back of fingers.

when your gaze lands on him, the fondness written all over his face catches you off guard and you realize how close the both of you are. without really thinking about it, you lean into his touch.

"very pretty," he repeats lowly, as if he's talking to himself.

your heart lurches once in your chest, then hammers away at your ribcage without respite. he leans toward you a fraction of an inch, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a brief second.

truthfully, sukuna has never felt the way he does in this moment. it's a sincere sort of desire. he doesn't want the mindless devotion he once thirsted for from his followers. and he doesn't want the sex he used to crave from his concubines.

no. he just wants you— in whatever capacity you're willing to have him.

the way he's looking at you is just too much. there's a dull thudding in your ears and you swear your thoughts are moving at a million miles a minute.

so naturally, you blurt out the first thing you can manage. "we should take a selfie!"

his face shifts from whatever that expression was to one of confusion. "take a selfie?"

some twisted mix of relief and disappointment crashes through you.

"yeah, a selfie. a picture together. ya know, since the park is so pretty," you ramble.

he pulls away from you. not all the way, but enough that it gives you space to finally breath. he chuckles and it doesn't sound lofty like it so often does. in fact, he seems genuinely amused by you.

"a selfie," he deliberates. "that sounds great, but to the best of my knowledge, hell hasn't frozen over."

and just like that, your dynamic feels like it did during your walk from the ramen shop to the park— comfortable and fun.

"well i guess you would be one of the first to know."

ignoring his protests, you take out your phone and hold it far enough away that the camera captures both of your faces. you can see on the screen that he's put on an expression of complete boredom.

"c'mon," you nudge him with your elbow. "you look like you hate me."

the corner of his mouth curves upward. "that's because i do."

you think back on the way he was gazing at you just moments ago and laugh. "you're so full of shit."

then, without warning, you press a kiss to his cheek and click the button.

you decide that his vague look of contented surprise will just have to do.

when you and yuuji walk into the bar, you immediately spot one of the people you're there to meet. he's sitting at a hightop by himself, his snow white hair pretty hard to miss.

you tap his shoulder and his face breaks out into a grin. he slides out of the barstool. "if it isn't my favorite civilian!"

as he pulls you into a hug, you wonder if he's ever going to get tired of that joke. "if it isn't my favorite old man."

"35 is not old," he argues, moving to greet yuuji. "i'm still in the summer of my life, thank you very much!"

"gojo you're 36," the pink haired man remarks.

"gah! such betrayal, yuuji!" he presses his hand to his forehead and takes a deep breath. "now i'm going to need another round."

"i'll go and get drinks for all of us," you offer. "you two stay here so no one takes the table."

before either of them can respond, you turn and begin making your way through the crowd. you don't hear gojo when he calls out, "but darling! i should go with you!"

he takes a step in your direction, but stops when sukuna's mouth appears on yuuji's cheek. "you certainly should not, you insufferable half wit."

"relax, dude. he flirts with literally everyone," yuuji informs him.

gojo scoffs. "i am right here—"

"as if that makes it better?" sukuna barks. "she isn't some toy to be played with."

"of course she isn't! you can't honestly think i'd believe otherwise."

gojo is left forgotten for a moment as the other two bicker, so he interjects once there's a lull in the conversation. "do either of you care to explain what the hell is going on?"

yuuji turns toward him, trying and failing to hide the embarrassment on his face once he realizes that gojo is, in fact, still standing there.

his eyebrows are raised above his sunglasses and it's clear he is inappropriately amused by the situation (what else is new?). he moves to sit across from the younger man, looking at him expectantly.

having no way to talk himself out of this, yuuji relays the recent events regarding you and sukuna, sparing some of the finer details. gojo's face doesn't really betray much emotion throughout the story, though he does look thoughtful by the end of it.

leaning forward, he crosses his arms on top of the table. "maybe your feelings for her are influencing his own, forcing a sort of bond between them?"

"i don't think so," yuuji contends honestly. "other than her, you're the person i admire and respect the most, but he thinks—"

"that you are perhaps the most imbecilic rampallion i've ever had the displeasure of coming across."

gojo jerks back, as if the insult had hit him squarely in the jaw. the look of giddiness from yuuji's compliment, followed by the shift to indignation at sukuna's insult is almost comical.

he stretches his neck forward, cupping his hand around one side of his mouth as if it'd keep sukuna from hearing. "what'd he just call me?"

yuuji shrugs. "beats me, but i don't think he was singing your praises."

"i see your point." gojo pauses, glancing over his shoulder. you're approaching the table, so he turns back to yuuji and quickly adds, "we'll talk more about this another time, but for now, keep this between us."

a few moments later, you appear in front of them and exclaim, "look who i found!"

megumi and inumaki situate themselves around the table too, offering their greetings. you slide yuuji and gojo their drinks, both of which are filled to the brim of the glass. "now then gentlemen, shall we?"

when gojo teleports you and yuuji back to your apartment that night, it takes everything in you to keep from yakking all over your carpet.

"ta ta, hooligans!"

you turn to request that he never do that again, but he's already gone. taking one step forward, you promptly fall on your ass in the entryway with an unforgiving thud. yuuji staggers toward the couch, making it there just in time to face plant into the cushions.

looking down toward your shoes, you're dismayed to find that each one appears to have two sets of laces. you're fumbling with them determinedly when someone crouches down in front of you, their elbows resting on their thighs.

he doesn't say a word. brushing your hands away, he unties your shoes and carefully pulls them off your feet. you're lifted from the floor before you can register the arm that's looped under your knees or the other that's securely around your back.

"careful," you hiccup, your head falling into the crook of his neck. "'m gunna p-puke."

"i'd rather you didn't."

you groan. "s'not like i 'ave a choice in the matter."

he hums. "how much did you drink?"

"dunno. sss'much. nobara—" you hiccup again. "nobara n' maki made me."

he chuckles, placing you down on what you figure is your bed. "right, i'm sure you had no choice in the matter."

"tha's correct, yes."

unbuttoning your jeans, he tugs upward on your belt loops. "lift."

you do as he says, lifting your hips from the bed so he can slide your jeans off your legs. he knows you won't remember this— hell, your eyes are already closed— but he looks away as he does it anyway.

pulling your phone from your pocket and putting it on the charger, your pants are discarded off to the side. he only turns his head back in your direction once he's pulled the blankets up over your body.

"tuck me in?" you request.

sitting down on the bed beside you, he does so without protest.

he stares at you for a little while, worried about how poorly you're probably going to feel in the morning. he presses a kiss to your forehead, intending to get up and grab a water bottle for your nightstand.

instead, his body freezes when he hears you mumble, "i love you s'much."

his heart clenches so painfully, he honestly considers ripping it from his chest— it would probably be less agonizing.

but a thought that makes him feel like a fool occurs to him. of course it's not him that you love. "i'm not yuuji."

"well, duuuhhh. you're s'kuna." you're peering up at him through tired, hazy eyes. it's the first time you've ever seen him look bewildered, so a small giggle erupts from your throat. "s'okay. you don't 'ave t'say it back."

your eyes flutter shut and your breathing evens out before he even thinks to respond. all at once, it's as if his head is empty and as if it's about to explode.

love?

what does he know about love? it's a sentiment he's cursed for so long, but sitting here beside you, he can't quite seem to remember why. one thing he is sure of, however, is that there's never been a thing in the world he's loved.

suddenly, he's struck with remembrance of a quote from jane eyre you had emphasized with messy underlines:

"after a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, i have for the first time found what i can truly love—i have found you. you are my sympathy—my better self—my good angel. i am bound to you with a strong attachment. i think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

rochester says it as he begs jane to stay at thornfield with him, an act sukuna had previously regarded as ridiculous, but is that still the case?

were you to ever scorn him, would he fall to his knees and plead with you to change your mind? or if you were in danger of dying, would he drag himself to a shrine and pray to the gods he doesn't believe in?

is that what love is?

could he stand to be apart from you? are you special to him? does anything else in the world compare to you? does he seek out your company? is he consumed by you? can he know himself without knowing you?

does the definition of love lie in those questions?

sukuna hopes not, because he's terrified of the answers. being in love is not his way, nor is it in his nature.

he buries his face in his hands as realization settles into his bones. it feels as if they're splintering beneath the pressure, trying resentfully to stave it off.

he transcends any imaginable scale of power. he's bled entire villages dry, he's commandeered death, he's the king of curses.

so why now? and why you? is it divine retribution? a sick sort of joke that even he couldn't have dreamed up?

gods, you were right. the universe has sent you to carry out its will and he's completely powerless to stop it.

the worst part of it all? he doesn't want to.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @thepup356 @risuola *users in bold could not be tagged

[marshmallowwitharubberband]

Sad fic idea at 3 a.m.:

A few years after Wei Wuxian dies, Lan Wangji tries to follow him to the afterlife. Now, when Wei Wuxian comes back there's no one to recognize him and he is free to wander, as long as he avoids Jiang Cheng.

He keeps wondering where Lan Zhan is, why he hasn't seen or heard from him, and why the Lan disciples seem weirdly fixated on his demonic cultivation and on keeping him safe.

Eventually he comes to find that the Lan Sect Leader, with the help of Jin Guangyao, has been secretly tracking down demonic cultivators and dragging them to Gusu for an unknown purpose. This has put them at odds with Jiang Cheng and his "on sight, like mosquitoes" policy against demonic cultivators.

WWX ends up letting himself be kidnapped into Cloud Recesses under the guise of Mo Xuanyu to find out what is truly going on.

He receives a business proposal: either he helps them solve a very delicate, top secret problem, or... whatever Jin Guangyao's heavy silence and uncanny smile imply, which can't be good.

They take him to the jingshi where he is promptly locked up with what he realizes, to his horror, is Lan Zhan's half-reanimated fierce corpse.

LZ succeded in his attempt to die and Lan Xichen kinda went off the deep end, hiring demonic cultivators to try and do a Wen Ning on him, but they did an incomplete job and they hadn't found anyone who could fix it.

I'm sure Xue Yang might play a part in it but I'm not sure exactly how.

Wei Wuxian eventually manages to fully restore Lan Zhan's consciousness and they both have to grapple with the situation. This, of course, reveals WWX's identity because only the Yiling Laozu could have pulled off fixing a botched reanimation so quickly.

I'm not sure how to continue but I do want to give them a happy ending because fierce corpse lan zhan is hot and deserves love.

does it count as necrophilia if they both came back from the dead?

[lancerlovesick]

The Private Conference

(this lovely moodboard was created by @vintagedebutante ♥︎)

Pairing: President John F. Kennedy/Petite!Reader

Summary: As Cold War tensions rise, President John F. Kennedy calls one of his secretaries into the Oval Office to help him relax.

Word Count: 2.8k

Further Info: 18+, includes swearing and smut, specifically oral sex

A/N: happy Fourth of July, everyone!! i simply cannot think of a more patriotic way to celebrate than posting a fic about America’s hottest president. in this one, i tried to combine a few different requests, including one asking for the setting to be in the Oval Office, one asking for an angry/angsty Jack, and one asking for the reader to be on the petite side. i hope this fic at least somewhat does justice to those amazing ideas, and i hope you all have a wonderful, safe holiday! ♥︎

You froze for just a moment, almost like your shoe had caught on the carpet, when you stepped into the Oval Office and saw the President on the phone. This wasn’t uncommon—in fact, you’d estimate that at least half of all the “private conferences” you’d had with him since becoming his secretary had been interrupted, at some point, by a call. Typically, it didn’t put a damper on things (though you liked to groan and pout up at him whenever the phone rang, but that was only because you liked the way he would give your nose a playful, reprimanding pinch and tell you to “hush now, baby”). In all honesty, it made you feel oddly powerful, like a glamorous concubine of old, to sit with this big history book figure and listen while he discussed Castro and Khrushchev and all the other monumental responsibilities he carried on his wide, ex-Harvard-football-player shoulders.

On this particular afternoon, however, you immediately picked up on the fact that his call was putting him in a very bad mood. You knew tensions had been heating up with Cuba (you weren’t let in on any of the specifics, but you figured whatever threats Castro was making must’ve been pretty severe because, recently, you’d noticed your coworkers in the West Wing laughing less and pointlessly bustling around more), and you figured that was what the President’s call was about because you’d never seen him glower quite like he was now. His eyes were solid stone as he tracked you across the royal blue carpet; it was almost like he couldn’t truly see you through the dark film shadowing his gaze—he didn’t even offer you so much as a wink or a little throwaway smile.

As you came closer, you decided to test the waters and cast your usual finger-twiddling wave his way, but the only response you saw, and the only confirmation you got that he’d even registered your hello, was his eyebrows suddenly furrowing—drooping, almost—down his brow, as if your wave had actually stolen energy from him somehow. You quickly dropped your hand back to your side. The President was in serious need of some de-stressing today.

“Here’s the problem I have,” he was telling whoever was on the phone as you came up beside his looming Resolute Desk. “You can’t give me a definitive answer as to how long that’s gonna take.”

As he listened to the little voice (voices?) that jabbered away in response, he slowly swiveled in his chair to face you—and you supressed a delighted shiver. Since he was so tall (or maybe because you were so pitifully short), the two of you were exactly at eye-level whenever he sat down, and at this proximity, you swore you could feel the hot, agitated energy emanating off of him in thick, nerve-frying waves.

“Well, there’s no sense in you making any kind of official statement,” the President snapped abruptly, cutting the other man off (and making you flinch instinctively, which you normally would’ve been deeply embarrassed about after the fact, but the President hadn’t seemed to notice; at this point he was still looking more through you than at you), “until I can get up there and restore order.” You noticed then that his trademark East Coast accent sounded especially thick today, almost British. He pronounced “restore order” like ree-sto-ah oh–ah-dah, and he spit cigar smoke with every syllable.

Though the thought of turning around and leaving made your ribs clench around your heart with a yearning, almost schoolgirlish disappointment, you knew his needs ultimately came before yours. So, you started to mouth Should I come back later? as animatedly as your lips could manage, hoping you’d finally grab his attention enough to at least get a goodbye, when suddenly, his hand swung out to grab the skirt of your pencil dress and he pulled you, half-stumbling, between his large, knobby knees. Your hand flew to the edge of the desk so you wouldn’t trip over right into his chest (admittedly, if he was in a better mood, you probably wouldn’t have been so quick to catch yourself), and as you regained your bearings, you found yourself sucking in your cheeks to stave off a full-on beaming smile. You should’ve known better than to think John F. Kennedy was ever not in the mood, phone call be damned.

You were close enough to him now that, when you finished smoothing your rumpled skirt and looked up at him, you could smell the confused mix of cigar and minty toothpaste on his breath, and you could see the secret swirls of gray and green surging through the stormy blue of his eyes. He was definitely the most handsome man you’d ever been with—the combination of his boyishly-freckled, chronically-sunburnt cheeks with the square-shaped, no-nonsense masculinity of the rest of his face was undeniably endearing. During the quick half-second you two hung there staring at each other and his pupils (at last!) zeroed in on you and you alone, you felt a sudden sear of jealousy for the First Lady. It must be wonderful, you sighed inwardly, to be loved by a man so attractive. Sure, you were called in almost daily to the President’s office or the White House pool to help him “blow off some steam,” but you weren’t dumb enough to think that was love. You’d seen how he and his wife giggled like teenagers while they whispered in each others’ ears and how, whenever she spoke, he gazed down at her with eyes so soft and tender it made your heart hurt. The two of them simply sparkled. And though you liked to think you’d achieved a certain level of friendship with the President, he’d always made it clear, without ever having to say a word, that no one—not you or any other pretty young secretary, no matter how good you all got at giving blowjobs—could ever hope to reach the height of the First Lady’s pedestal in his mind.

As if to illustrate that very point, the President moved the receiver a few inches from his mouth and tore you from your thoughts with the very first words he’d spoken to you all afternoon, which were: “Don’t waste any time now, alright?” with a pointed glance down between his legs for emphasis. Then he added, “I’m having one hell of a day” and reached around to plant a firm pat on your butt.

And so, you began the familiar routine of stripping off your clothes and laying them neatly to the side—to ensure they’d stay wrinkle-free—until you were wearing nothing but your skin-colored stockings and the cross around your neck (for some depraved reason, the President liked it when you wore that necklace while you sucked him off).

You barely had time to kneel before he was clasping his hand around the side of your head and hooking his giant, hairy-knuckled thumb in your mouth to practically drag your face closer. Your throat tightened around a sharp intake of breath. Lord, he was impatient.

While you were in the middle of unzipping his slacks and pulling his penis out from the big bramble of hair beneath his belly, you suddenly jumped, startled once again as his voice sliced through the room, deeper this time and undercut with a predatory rumbling you could feel in your chest. “That fucker,” he snarled into the phone, which was now balanced between his shoulder and ear. “You oughta tell him he can stick that silly little ultimatum, if that’s what it is, right up his ass.”

Electricity sizzled up through your stomach. The President was going to be rough with you today, you could tell. You almost wanted to thank Castro personally for riling him up so much (you might’ve felt guilty for thinking something like that, but you were so confident the President would never let anything happen to his country that you truly didn’t see why Castro’s threats should be any cause for concern). Why the idea of the President taking his anger out on you was such a thrill, you weren’t sure. You were simply desperate for human touch as fast and hard as you could get it, you supposed—and in that way, if in no other, you thought you and the President were sort of kindred spirits.

You were practically leaning into his palm like a purring cat when he pulled his hand out of your mouth and ran it up over your cheek and back across your scalp to gather all of your hair into a makeshift ponytail. He was muttering into the receiver all the while (“Uh-huh. God, I know. Shit.”), his voice wet with saliva from the two or three painkillers he’d popped absentmindedly into his mouth.

Once your hair was all out of your face, you spit into your hand just like he’d once taught you to and gave the length of his gradually-stiffening cock a few long, indulgent strokes. But to your dismay, he gave absolutely no reaction. You watched, puffing your cheeks out with frustrated air, as he slowly set his cigar down in the ashtray and, like you weren’t even there, began tapping his pointer finger against his teeth like he always did when he was lost in thought—thought that clearly had nothing to do with you.

You didn’t waste any more time before bending over and wrapping your lips around him, eyes fixed frenetically on his face, and you swore your heart itself squealed with joy when, finally, his eyes flicked down to you, and he tilted the receiver away again to let out an appreciative, whistling breath.

You felt your hair tangle around his fingers as he moved his hand from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, and then, barely giving you enough time to adequately relax your throat, he pushed your head down with appalling strength, his tip jamming up into you with enough force to rub the insides of your cheeks raw. Your hands latched onto his knees.

“There we go,” the President said in a soft half-whisper-half-groan that made your inner thighs flush hot. “Atta girl.” Always the one to set the pace, he began moving you hastily up and down.

After working through the first eye-watering, throat-burning few seconds, you thought you were adjusting pretty well—until his hips made a sudden, violent twitch while he was buried to the hilt in your mouth (which was accompanied by a heaving grunt that could’ve been either from pain or pleasure, you weren’t sure), and you hacked a loud, wet cough that made the guy talking in his ear falter and go silent for a moment.

Your eyes fluttered wide. Had the President’s men heard you?

The President certainly seemed to think so, because he suddenly jerked you still halfway up his cock, which only served to send you into a fresh fit of choking, your whole body wracking with every cough. In an attempt to drown you out, the President leaned back in his chair and spoke louder into the phone. “Well, that bastard’s incompetent,” he said, patting his fingers against your cheek as if that would somehow shut you up. “I wouldn’t have him running, uh, a cathouse.” His wedding band burned cruelly against your skin.

Eventually, he oh-so-benevolently relented and lifted his hand from your neck, and you instantly whipped your head up—not so much to catch your breath (you were pretty sure you would’ve gotten ahold of your coughing fit without having to interrupt your “de-stressing” session if he’d have given you just a few more seconds) as to gauge whether or not you’d only made him angrier with all your noise. But to your relief, he was actually smirking now as he looked down at you, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh, completely unfazed by the men now clearing their throats and timidly resuming the conversation in his ear. That figures, you thought. The President probably wanted those men to hear you, deep-down. You knew him well enough by now to understand that he occasionally got off on the fact that his bodyguards and cabinet members were plainly aware of how many doe-eyed, obedient women—not just secretaries and interns but Hollywood starlets, too—he had giggling and dropping to their knees at the snap of his fingers.

At least you’d gotten him to smile, though—if not exactly in the way you’d hoped.

After a long pause, during which you were trying in vain to wipe away all the spit and pre-cum that had dribbled down your chin, the President said with an air of finality, “Alright, there really isn’t anything more to say here.” Say hee-ah. You froze mid-wipe and let out an excited gasp.

He responded by scooping a strong forearm under your armpit and hoisting you up onto his lap like you were nothing but a tiny doll, forcing you to clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle a squeak of surprise.

Leaning against his warm chest was like reclining into a giant sofa back as you settled onto his muscled leg. His penis, now only half-erect again, stirred plaintively against the inside of your thigh, seemingly sulky after having been abandoned.

“I’ve got my hands full over here.” The President was grinning widely at his own pun as he took to rubbing his free hand down your body, the width of his fingers splaying across the entirety of your stomach as he inched toward your clit with agonizing slowness. In retaliation, you reached back over his shoulder to grab a fistful of thick auburn hair.

“Call me back this evening with some good news, would you?” was the the last thing the President said before, in a blur, the receiver was slammed into its cradle and his hand was around your neck, his fingers were in your mouth, his hips were twitching up into your backside with an eager mind of their own. Suddenly, you could feel his heart thunking between your shoulder blades and your ear growing moist with heavy, animal-like breaths.

“God,” he groaned as he finally let his hand fall to your clit. “God-fucking-dammit. You drive me crazy, you know that? You dirty little girl.”

He started nibbling on your neck (he’d never actually kissed you—this hungry, barely-restrained biting, like a wolf chomping at its muzzle, was the closest he ever came) and cupping your breasts and tugging at your nipples with the same fiery-eyed ferocity you’d seen when he was on the phone. You and the other secretaries teasingly referred to this do-or-die passion of his as the famous red-blooded Kennedy “vigor” the press always talked about. Though what the press didn’t know, you and the girls always joked, was that this eager, youthful energy—this incessant, almost pathological need to dominate and conquer—extended far beyond just bull-headed political policies.

“They heard you,” the President was murmuring between his little bites. “God, they all heard you. That excites you, doesn’t it?”

Unwilling to admit how right he was, you instead smothered your face in his hot, pulsing neck to cover up a whimpering moan, and then you were twisting around to loosen his tie, unable to stop yourself—when a loud knock banged against the Oval Office doors.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the President griped dramatically against your ear, making you laugh.

“I can come back later,” you said, more pleading with him than anything, whispering right into his mouth. You watched his eyes flick ravenously around your face as you wrapped your hand around his cock and added, with a small chuckle, “To finish you off.”

“That you will,” he said, “if you know what’s good for you.” Then he gave you that long-awaited wink and grin before wrapping his hands around your waist to stand you back up, and you were pleased to hear him groan softly at the loss of contact.

When you bent down with wobbly legs to pick up your clothes, he offered you his hand to hold and steady yourself on, and you felt yourself blushing at this perversely chivalrous gesture, even though he’d done similar things countless times before and was always unabashedly ogling your body as he did so.

“That knock means I’m going to have to head down to the Sit Room,” he told you then, wearily running his fingers through his perfectly-mussed hair while you tugged your blouse over your head, one hand still cradled in his. “But in about an hour, when I come back,” he continued, “I want you in here, naked and lying on that sofa over there.” He flung a finger towards the parlor area across the room.

You breathed a smiling sigh and shook your head, knowing you’d soon be in your office counting down the seconds. “Whatever you say, Mr. President.”

[ghcstao3]

Hello! Anon who was just asking how the blog worked here, arriving with the first, (of probably many I’m not even going to kid myself here,) cod hc! Not so anon anymore haha!

Okay. Soooooo…..

Soap having a soulmate string for ghost.

Ghost not being able to see that string yet for some reason or another. (Hasn't realized feelings yet, just can't see them, something on his end has to happen first. Whatever the AU dictates)

For years soap has been notoriously awful at finding exfil without being explained the directions like 3 times.

But now that ghost and he are on a team? Soaps just starts using the string to get to exfil.

He doesn't tell anyone why his sudden and

significant improvement to finding the RV, but

Price sure is wondering.

Also the fact that this new found ability seems to

"randomly" completely disappear sometimes (on missions without ghost) I bet the first few times the Sargent regressed to his old ways Price nearly threw a fit.

Sillies ensue.

:D !!

this is such a cute idea

-

It’s not Soap’s fault he’s always had a poor sense of direction. Really, it’s not.

He’s done many things to try and offset the problem of finding exfil—notes landmarks and anything else that stands out, writes down directions when he has time, sketches locations when he has even more—but nothing ever seems to work. It’s just an issue so ingrained in him it’s nearly tragic.

Truly, it’s just a damn good thing he excels in every other area of his work. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t still be here, he’s certain.

But then Ghost appears.

He shows up with that stupid invisible red string trailing after him, surely looped around his ring finger as it is around Soap's, tying them together. Connecting their souls.

And he seems so intent on never bringing it up to Soap. He never even shows the slightest hint of acknowledgement.

But while Soap grapples with whatever that could possibly mean for him—mean for them—he finds a plus side to this string of fate.

No matter where they are for work, that red string always leads Soap back to Ghost. All the while, it just so happens that Ghost has a fantastic sense of direction. So even if the whole soulmates aspect doesn't quite work out, Soap finally has his solution.

...When he and Ghost work the same job, of course. Otherwise...

"Sergeant, get your arse moving! Where the hell are you?"

Soap winces at the Captain's voice in his ear. Deployed elsewhere for the first time since he and Soap had begun working together, Ghost is not currently present to offer Soap his usual invisible guidance. Which unfortunately means for Soap a berating from Price for making a very, very late exit.

"What happened back there?" Price will ask, even as they all make it home safe. "You're usually good at finding your way out," he'll say, and Soap will cringe at his words.

Because he's not, never has been. He just so happens to work with the man tied to the other end of his string, is all, really. But he can't just say that, can he?

"Sorry, sir," Soap will mumble out his apology. "Won't happen again, sir."

It will. It does.

Price is upset again the second time. He's just exasperated the third time and afterwards.

Then Soap is only assigned to missions alongside Ghost. Every so often, one without him, and suddenly Soap is essentially glued to Ghost's side day and night.

Price must have figured out the pattern, then.

Soap just hopes Ghost might figure it out soon, too.

[feverishly-kpop]

Feverish Ateez Headcanons

Hongjoong

Hongjoong simply doesn’t have time to be sick. Ironically, however, it’s his workaholic tendencies that wear down his immune system, leaving him vulnerable to whatever bug is going around. He’ll try to hide it but won’t make it very long because, when he gets sick, he gets SICK. It’s never just a cold, it’s a full blown flu. Never a slight fever, but a shivering-sweating-can’t get out of bed-somebody make everything stop spinning fever. Despite the severity of his illness, Hongjoong needs constant reassuring that work is continuing to get done and that his dongsaengs are taken care of. Seonghwa has been known to instruct the rest of the members to stay tight lipped around Hongjoong when he’s sick, not wanting to stress him out any more than he already inevitably is.

Seonghwa

Putting himself first is a concept foreign to Seonghwa. If a member is sick it’s almost a guarantee that Seonghwa will be at their side making sure their every need is met, even when that means sleepless nights and long days. As far as he’s concerned, that is his job as the oldest hyung, but it’s only a matter of time before he has pushed himself to the brink emotionally and physically and falls miserably ill himself. Even then, however, he’ll keep testing his limits until he is incapable of continuing, at which point he will retreat to his own room where he’ll attempt to reject any efforts taken by the others to care for him. That is, he’ll try until Hongjoong pulls rank as leader, leaving Seonghwa no other choice but to acquiesce.

Yunho

Yunho absolutely hates feeling vulnerable which pairs very poorly with the fact that his fevers come on quickly and always run high - high enough that he immediately feels sluggish and dazed as soon as his temperature starts rising. That’s why Seonghwa or Hongjoong tend to realize that Yunho’s sick before Yunho realizes it himself, but from there things go downhill rapidly, leaving him achy, confused, and all around miserable. The members know to handle a sick Yunho with kid gloves, fully aware that Yunho likely has no idea what is going on around him. Seonghwa seems to have the magic touch when it comes to getting him to settle down, especially after he’s woken up by a particularly disquieting fever dream or nightmare.

Yeosang

A sick Yeosang is a grumpy Yeosang. The members can always immediately tell when he’s coming down with something because his usually sweet demeanor turns sour at the drop of a dime. The minute that he’s sent home from work or sent back to bed he makes no effort to hide how resentful he is. Of course he knows that it’s nobody’s fault that he is sick but that doesn’t change how frustrated he gets when he’s feeling “left out.” Everybody knows to give Yeosang time and space to sulk but, by the end of the day, either Wooyoung or Jongho has climbed into bed with him, partially because they know how badly the chills hit him when he has a fever, but mostly because nobody can stand seeing him so upset for too long.

San

San truly and honestly does not know when to stop. Even if he did, he doesn’t particularly know how to stop. He will continue to work through just about anything until his body finally quits on him. Best case scenario - he sits down and can’t get back up again. Worst case scenario - he faints. Both of which the members have witnessed too many times. Each and every time San thinks the embarrassment of this episode will be enough to keep him from going too far again, but somehow it never does. Once he’s been tucked safely in bed where the team knows he can’t do any further damage to himself, it usually only takes a matter of minutes before Yeosang or Wooyoung receive a text sheepishly asking them to come lie down with him so he has somebody to hold while he sleeps. Unless Yunho’s already asleep, in which case San simply invites himself into Yunho’s bed and wraps his arms around him, often times not even stirring Yunho awake.

Mingi

When Mingi is sick he just wants to be left in peace, quiet, and solitude. He’s insecure about letting people see him sick. It feels too close to showing weakness for his comfort. He knows it worries the other members but it is just easier that way for him. Mingi tends to push his boundaries. It isn’t that he doesn’t know what his boundaries are, he is extremely self aware in that respect. He simply values his art over just about everything, often including his health, and struggles to apply the brakes when he goes too far. But once he’s able to ground himself again he’ll see to it that he has what he needs and surrender to some rest. The members have come to respect his need for space, even the hyungs who fought him on it for quite some time before meeting in the middle - as long as Mingi was actually taking care of himself they’d allow it, with the caveat that the door opens if and when he gets too sick to be alone. Luckily for him, however, his symptoms tend to be milder than some of the other members when he falls ill.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is rubbish at listening to the signals his body gives him when he needs a break and coming down with a fever is no exception. He’ll work until Hongjoong, Seonghwa, or Yunho realize that something is off and bench him, which will make him emotional 110% of the time, convinced that he’s being forced to sit down because he was underperforming and disappointing the rest of the team. His emotions typically remain dysregulated until his fever breaks and the members have a difficult time calming him down once he’s upset. They can always count on lots of tears. Without fail, he craves attention from Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yeosang and wants nothing more than to cuddle and, of course, nobody can say no to Wooyoung.

Jongho

Do. Not. Baby. Jongho. He is independent and that doesn’t change in the slightest when he’s running a fever. He’ll avoid his hyungs at all costs and, when he does happen to come across one as will inevitably happen despite his best efforts, he tends to be distant, citing somewhere he has to be to do something important that he’s running late for. Eventually he’ll break though, once he’s worn himself down enough. Then he’ll slink back home and snuggle into the side of the closest hyung he can find. Jongho doesn’t have to say a word, they all know by now that this is standard operating procedure when Jongho isn’t feeling well. He truly doesn’t care which hyung he finds first, as long as they don’t say “I told you so.”

[mistressoftherant-blog]

Hypocrisy in the TMNT Fandom

I may come back to this topic at a later date, but I feel like I need to address the hypocrisy in the TMNT fandom when it comes to how 12 Donnie is treated for his crush on April, compared to other characters such as Bayverse Mikey and Mutant Mayhem Leo, or I might explode. Do I condone everything that 12 Donnie does in the name of his crush on April? No. Do I sometimes find the cringiness of his actions unbearable (keeping in mind that he is my favourite character in 12)? Absolutely. But is there context behind his actions that often gets ignored? Yes. Do the fandom vilify or make fun of behaviour from him that they let slide in other characters? 100% yes.

People love to bash 12 Donnie for his actions, without even considering the reasons behind them (poor choices from the show writers aside). April is the first human his age that Donnie really sees and gets to interact with. He's a deeply insecure character, who feels out of place even amongst his family and, as people have pointed out before me, April represents a wider level of acceptance to Donnie. If a pretty human girl can love him, maybe there is hope for him gaining wider acceptance from humanity. I do think he has genuine feelings for her, but I also believe that part of his obsessiveness is a desire to be more human, or at least be accepted by humans, and he subconsciously views gaining the love of a human to be a part of this. 12 Donnie (like most Donatellos), is keenly aware that he will never get what he wants, or deserves.

He is a genius, and that will never be acknowledged by the world. He will never get everything a human genius would get. He doesn't get go to school, or go shopping for new resources, or make friends who share his interests. He risks his life saving the world over and over again, only to be seen as a villain for the way he looks.

That's part of why he sees 12 Casey as such a threat, Casey is human and doesn't need the same level of acceptance that Donatello does. He already has everything that Donnie wants (he can go to school, make other friends etc), but yet he still wants to be with April. The first human to show Donnie any acceptance. One of the only people to even tentatively seem interested in Donnie's science. If April chooses Casey over Donnie, then that truly does mean that Donnie, as a mutant, and a nerdy outcast mutant to boot, can never find love or acceptance, (again, this would be Donnie's perspective, and it is not April's duty to validate Donnie's self worth by getting in a relationship with him - that being said, the mixed signals she sent definitely didn't help matters).

Also, his stalking is creepy, but this is a kid who grew up with no social interaction besides his brothers, watching shows that provably had dubious ideas of romance. All of his ideas of romance are influenced by media, which isn't exactly a healthy way to gain an understanding of how to express those feelings. And when he knows the exact distance to her apartment, I always thought that he was just insanely good at estimating distances? He's shown to be able to make advanced calculations around distances and things in seconds on the show, so this never really seemed that bad to me, even if the show itself deemed it creepy?

Moreover, for the most part, he does genuinely follow April when he believes she is in danger, or when she is distancing herself from them (again, absolutely not a healthy thought process, but he misses her and wants her safe, and thinks is the best way to handle it). Is it still wrong? Yes. But should Donnie as a character be completely dragged for this for eternity? Not really. Also, can we please move past reducing Donnie's character to nothing more than his failures at flirting?

There is also the fact that April definitely did flirt back with him on numerous occasions. Whether or not this was done consciously, or to manipulate him, or whatever, is a rant for another day, but 12 Donnie definitely does have reasons to believe that April could want a relationship with him. She kisses him, on the mouth, right after he had told her that he was going to stop with his behaviour.

People also genuinely forgive 12 Leo flirting with his sister more than they do Donnie calling April his sweet chinchilla (and yes, Leo and Karai are still flirty even after the reveal that they are siblings, though it is thankfully toned down later on, and though I've seen people jumping through hoops trying to deny it). And Leo's flirting with Karai (even before the reveal), is equally as cringy as Donnie's. He's the poster boy for the 'I can fix them' mentality, even when the person he was trying to fix was actively trying to destroy everyone he cared about. 12 Leo also puts his brothers in danger due to his obsession with Karai, hurting them both physically and mentally, but a lot of people sweep this under the rug and only focus on times that 12 Donnie puts the others in danger due to his crush on April, or see this as a positive thing, showing how Leo never gives up on the people he cares about.

Moving on, 12 Donnie can be possessive of April (again, not great behaviour, and not something I particularly enjoy or condone), but 12 Mikey is the same way about Renet, and no one mentions it? Donnie hugs her (or says he could hug her, I can't quite remember the exact context), and Mikey gets all pissy about it? He's known Renet for barely any length of time, and they have no relationship at this point, but he gets annoyed at Donnie having a friendly interaction with her, as if it hasnt been well established that Donnie is only interested in April? Why is this more acceptable than when Donnie gets annoyed at Casey (a confirmed love rival), shows off about being close to April?

Additionally, why are Bayverse Mikey and Mayhem Leo hardly ever given the same treatment as 12 Donnie? I see countless crossovers where 12 Donnie is given endless shit for his bad flirting, especially as it's towards someone who the other counterparts see as a sister figure, with hardly any of them ignoring how unfair it is to criticise 12 Dee for seeing April differently to the others when their circumstances are different, or bringing up anyone else's behaviour.

Bayverse Mikey is just as bad! In fact, some of the things that he says are far worse than anything 12 Donnie has said, and it just gets brushed over? Even in crossover fics where 12 Dee gets slaughtered for his crush, no one brings up the downright crude things Bay Mikey says?

He constantly calls her a babe (I think 90s Mikey also makes similar comments), and even says 'she's so hot I can feel my shell tightening' which is hella gross tbh. Sure, 'sweet chinchilla' is weird, but it's far less demeaning than babe? And Mikey keeps this attitude up throughout both films? Why is this treated as being more acceptable than 12 Donnie's behaviour? This is even worse as Bay April is clearly an adult compared to the teenage turtles, and is clearly depicted as an older sister figure. At least in 12 there is only a year age gap, and neither April nor her father had anything to do with them when they were babies.

Hell, a few chaarcters (I think 03 Mikey and either 90s Raph or Mikey) make a joke about getting to 'keep her' when they bring an unconscious April back to the lair, and no one bats an eye?? It's played off as a joke, but even so, it's still freaky, and I've never seen anyone mention it before. They don't even get admonished for it!

Also, Mayhem Leo is absolutely just as much of a cringefail flirt as 12 Don, but everyone is acting like he comes across as so much better?! We've only had one movie with him so far, but his behaviour so far isn't all that different to 12 Don's?

They basically act the same way upon their first meeting. The rooftop scene when he first sees her is almost exactly the same as the scene in 12. And the comment about her beautiful, perfect mouth? If 12 Donnie said that he'd be slaughtered, but because it was Mayhem Leo, it's considered cute? When 12 Donnie gets super excited about getting April's number even though they already have it on the fridge it's embarrassing, but when Mayhem Leo tries to get Mayhem Donnie's phone to swipe her number it's endearing? Both ramble and get nervous around her, but people think this is sweet from Mayhem Leo but annoying from 12 Don.

Plus, Mayhem Leo has far more experience with humans than 12 Donnie. He has been going outside of the lair for a while, he has definitely seen other girls before. In 12, Donnie had never left the lair before the night he saw April, she's genuinely the first girl he's ever seen in person.

This point may also be a little unfair as we only have the Mayhem movie at the moment, compared to entire seasons of the 12 TV show, but it's also irritating me a bit how many people are acting like Mayhem Leo has far more of a chance with April than 12 Donnie did, purely because she agreed to go to prom with him, ignoring her line about how it was just as friends, and the many instances in 12 where April reciprocated Donnie's flirtation (again, April kissed him on the lips in the cartoon. It is canon that she did so).

Why are there so many double standards around the turtles having crushes? Either address all of their behaviour, or stop throwing 12 Donnie's flirting in our faces. It's exhausting seeing people openly bashing 12 Donnie, ignoring all of his great characteristics due to his crush, and then turning around and glorifying 12 Leo, Bay Mikey, or Mayhem Leo, or just ignoring their behaviour. It's grating to see almost every chat fic (even ones I thoroughly enjoy!!), have a seemingly obligatory bash 12 Donnie's crush and flirting chapter, yet hardly ever address the way any of the others behave.

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #42:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

This is a distress call from Universe City… Old sport, the City is as cruel as ever.

With Thalia gone, truly gone, I believe that things have only gotten worse around here.

It may just be a coincidence, I suppose, but sometimes, I really do believe this City is testing me.

As for your weekly update, cyborgs are becoming old news. Their population has significantly decreased over time, as the government now states they are ‘so last season’. Instead, you should start preparing to fight your worst fears.

There are monsters taking form of popular phobias – whatever is hot that week! Do not be concerned at the sighting of more pools of dark fog clouding your home, or sudden steep drops to tremble your knees. Note that they will consume you.

You may also note, dear listener, if you are a resident of Universe City, that the volume of screaming has increased. The government advises you to not talk about it.

[...]

It’s becoming harder to fight back these days, old sport. Not only are the monsters in the City becoming stronger, my desire and want to fight just isn’t as strong anymore.

I only wish to explore. I wish to make new discoveries here that someone is yet to find.

But with exploring comes fighting monsters. And the government. And now the agency.

I wish I could go back to the time I was exploring new buildings and rooftops daily, without care. Without worrying about this stupid agency, without worrying I’d get caught.

But it doesn’t work like that, does it? The agency was still around when I had first started to explore the City. I just didn’t know it yet.

I didn’t know of the danger that exploring could have costed me back then. The biggest of my worries was the monsters, which took me significantly less effort to defeat back then as it does now.

The same level of danger still exists in the City and always has. I was just too young to know it all yet.

It’s funny how you think you know everything at such a young age, old sport. But I suppose it’s true that you will never truly know it all… If only the City had access to time travel. Maybe one of these days, that will be my next update.

[...]

The buildings I wish to explore have been mapped out in my hideout for so long. But now, with the knowledge I have of the agency, it’s hard to imagine that these buildings are truly as wrecked and abandoned as they seem.

If I were to accidentally come across a hideout of theirs, it would be over for me. I’d have to be recruited… By their standards.

It no longer feels safe to be ‘free’ in the City anymore.

The government was never a threat to freedom, never on this scale. The agency has thrown any ideas of freedom in a cell, and thrown the key off of one of those sudden, steep drops.

If I can no longer truly explore the City, is there even a possibility to find a way out?

[...]

[orangekittyenergy]

How do you think Gale handles jeaously? If you romance another companion, he does not seem jealous, and instead asks you to choose. Later, if Halsin asks to have a relationship he's very opposed to the idea. I do not believe it out of jealously, maybe a bit, but more insecurity.

We can see at the epligoue party that Gale seems more comfortable and safe in his relationship. I think with that comes feeling safe with more uncomfortable emotions such as jealousy.

Hi!! TY for the ask. Sorry it took me a bit. (I went in a mental spiral about a possessive jealous Gale).

So as much as the idea of a more jealous Gale makes my brain go brrrrrr. I actually don't see Gale as being a very jealous person.

For a couple reasons; but mostly, he is fully committed and trusts Tav. After all, Tav was there for him at the most vulnerable time of his life. The point when he was at his absolute lowest; Tav was there. I don't think he'd easily forget that. Even if Tav does approach him with the idea of adding another person, he answers honestly - it's not for him - and you can drop it there and as he says 'never speak of it again'. If he was truly jealous I think that would send him spiraling or he'd have a more heated reaction to that.

(Note: Now you could argue that's just the limitation of the game (and they didn't want to go into a telenovela style relationship drama scene in act 3) but whatever. I'm going to claim that at a testament to his character)

The one thing that held me back on this was that jealousy typically comes from insecurity but I honestly think his unwaivering trust and love for Tav outweighs his own internal insecurities. So, he might get mildly jealous internally (say, if he saw someone flirting with Tav) but he trusts Tav and wouldn't give into his jealous feelings.

Plus he's very logical and would probably take a rather pragmatic look at the situation. If anything ever felt like it was too much and Tav maybe crossed a boundary I think he'd approach them honestly and discuss it. Gale is very to the point and wouldn't dance around things. Which is another thing I think jealousy festers in.

Edit: I was rambling on and forgot something! So as time goes on and on I think he'd get more comfortable, more confident, and even less jealous. I can picture Tav telling stories of flowers getting thrown at them or someone proposing to them randomly (being the hero of Baldurs Gate and all) and Gale just chuckling and telling them he hoped Tav let them down gently.

(that said, it won't stop me from picturing all kinds of smutty scenes with a jealous Gale)

[fiction-is-the-new-reality]

needing you

Word Count: 1k

Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence and smut

He had been fighting for what seemed like hours; he had successfully busted a drug ring in downtown Manhattan, where he received a few blows but managed to take down the majority of the group. From there, he had spent the rest of the night following the few members who had scattered into the city like roaches. Fortunately for him, the members were stupid and shared the same pea-sized brain, which carried them to the “safe house”. The chuckle Matt had let out when he realized, would have made the devil himself terrified. Leaping into action he took two down at the same time, dodging bullets and snatching guns from hands, he broke hands, noses, and even knees. Focusing too much on the man he was beating he was unable to sense the guy coming up behind him, this gave the thug the advantage of surprise and allowed him to bash Matt in the ribs with a pipe. His breath left his chest in an awful noise and his balance was about to give out as he staggered back, his ribs throbbing.

“Take that douche-devil, you need to be taught a lesson.”

He shook his head to regain his bearings and took a deep breath but it wasn’t helping, the oxygen burned as it entered his lungs, and this further enraged Matt. Lunging forward Matt grabbed the guy by the middle and brought him to the ground, making the thug lose his breath. Taking all his built-up anger and frustrations out on the guy beneath him, he delivered two forceful blows. The man let out a stuttered breath and fell limp.

Matt's legs couldn’t keep him up and he didn’t have the energy or the care to keep himself up, so he crumpled. His knees hit the concrete first, next to his hands, and finally, his whole body was laying on the cold ground. He hoped it would help calm him, his skin felt like it was on fire, and the adrenaline leaving his body was taking his breath with it. He was so numb that he felt frozen. He had no idea how he was going to make it to your apartment. You. All he’s thinking about now is you, the way you smell, how you feel, how you're always so warm, and how you always welcome him with open arms, and legs. God does he need you.

He needs you more than he needs water. Needs you more than he needs air. He can’t think about anything else but you, can’t feel the pain in his ribs or the pounding in his head, but he can feel the whisper of your lips on his. He does however feel the way his pulse speeds up at the thought of you pressed against him. That's what gets him up. It lights a fire in him so hot it consumes him, just like you have. You’ve consumed his thoughts and his dreams, and his time. He couldn’t think of anything better, anything more worth his attention. He rises like a corpse from the grave, crawling slowly at first like he’s forcing his body through the earth. He moves quickly to his feet and starts stumbling, making it a few feet before he begins full-on running. And he can’t stop, not until he's with you.

You woke up to the sound of the bedroom door opening. Standing in the doorway in his full glory was Matt, the broadness of his frame took up what little space there was between the door and its frame, and the light from the billboard outside gave his figure a red aura. It made him look even more devilish and intimidating. If you hadn’t known Matt, you would have been terrified.

“Matt, you ok?”

Silence greeted your question.

He shuffled closer to you, “Need you,”

“I need you right now.”

He grunted out, his voice gruff and thick like honey, he was truly desperate. It immediately sent shockwaves through your body, straight down to your core. You propped yourself on your knees to greet him as he made it to the bed. Reaching he grabbed your face with both hands, his thumbs rubbing your skin before he bent down and kissed you. The kiss was forceful, and his grip on your face tightened as he forced his tongue into your mouth. You slide your tongue along with his, letting him do whatever he pleased with you like you always did.

He pushed you slightly back on the bed and you fell with ease.

He starts pulling off your shirt, letting his hands wander around your body while his mouth works on your neck. You quickly realized that he had taken off his clothes already, the only thing left were his boxers. Pushing them down you wrapped your hand around him and gave a few strokes, letting him moan into your mouth until he had enough, and pinned your hands above your head. As he planted his arms back around you, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, not wanting him to move away, not like he would anyhow. His lips trailed lower to your chest, and he licked around your nipple causing your back to arch. You pushed yourself into him as he continued to tease you, his mouth going everywhere but where you needed him the most.

“Matt please,” Your voice was like sandpaper, from the hours of sleep and the desperation Matt was causing.

He listened and placed his mouth around your nipple, he started licking small circles, then biting, and sucking. He repeated this torture over and over switching between both nipples, and as much as he wanted to continue to break you apart with his mouth he couldn’t. He needed to get inside you and needed to feel the warmth of you around him. He needed to feel you squeeze and squirm under him as he gave you everything you both needed.

“I’m going to take care of you, baby, gonna give you what you need.” Matt’s voice was raw, he was already spent and he hadn’t even gotten inside you yet. His grunts and curses were causing you to whine and you could feel your pussy flood with slickness as he rubbed your clit with the tip of his cock. He slid his cock up and down your opening before finally sinking in.

“Oh…fuck.” Matt grunted out, his head dipping back in bliss. Eyes rolling back and mouth agape as your tight warm pussy took him in, stretching to accommodate his size. This is what he had needed for the past hour and now that he finally had it, it was too good, intoxicatingly good. He wasn’t going easy on you, this wasn’t lovemaking. This was just pure fucking. He was taking what he needed and you didn’t mind, you loved it. Loved letting him use you.

“Matt don’t stop, please!” You didn’t know where to put your hands, you grabbed at his shoulders, his back, the bed sheets, anything you could get your hands on. The pleasure was too much, the feeling of Matt pounding in and out, the noise of your slick, and the slapping of skin-to-skin contact was too much for you.

“Matt I’m….I’m gonna,” You couldn’t finish the sentence, your orgasm was overtaking you. You were sure that you were levitating, your whole body felt hot like you were exploding and Matt wasn’t helping with his pace being so unforgiving. Even with Matt being selfish and thinking only of himself he still makes you feel good. He puts himself on his knees to hover above you and pushes your legs open more so he gets as deep as possible. Once he’s satisfied with how deep he is he begins rolling his hips upwards, his cock touching every nerve. The final step was him wrapping his hand around your throat causing you to move your hips down, meeting his thrust. His cock starts prodding your A-spot, and your body loses control.

“Matt!” You cry as you start to come, it’s a familiar feeling of all the pleasure building up and the dam breaking making you squirt. Matt loves when this happens, it makes him even more feral. His brow is furrowed and his eyes are clenched closed, he’s revealing in the feeling. He’s loving the sensation of the warm liquid on him, obsessed with the way your body shakes, your breath leaving in short rigid breaths. He would have traded anything at this moment just to get a glimpse of your face in this very moment. Soon he’s nearing his release, he's so close, he can feel it. The pressure builds up causing his thrust to get faster, he’s gripping your hips so hard but he can’t stop. The pleasure is too strong and like a match sparking to fire in an instant, he’s cumming.

“Good job baby, so good..such a good girl for me,” He’s talking without thinking, just words tumbling out of his mouth as he’s filling you up. You’re shaking and grabbing his back to keep him from moving even though the pleasure is over-stimulating, it’s way too good to let go.

For a moment there was silence, you both catching your bearings as you come down from the high.

“Are you ok?” Matt caressed your face, his voice a little shaky.

“I’m great, are you ok, seemed like you had a rough night.”

“Ah wasn’t too bad, was just ready to get back to devour you,” His smile was cocky, as always.

“Hope your appetite was satisfied,” You chuckled, rubbing his back.

“For you, never.” He pulled out and moved towards the bathroom, you heard the water start to run and Matt riffling in the cupboard. After a few moments, he made his way back to the room. He found you half asleep, moving your hair out of your face he watched as you stirred. Smiling he picked you up bridal style and made his way to the bathroom.

“Hope you’re ready for round two.” He laughed when you hit his chest.

[rengoku-loves-you]

Would you ever perhaps do Kyojuro with a reader S/O that is physically a lot bigger than him? Just a lot taller and wider and physically very strong? I love the idea of their hugs making him feel safe and protected, and also flustered Kyo from being totally scooped up so effortlessly. I feel like not a lot of people in the world could make him feel that way but he deserves it, given how hard he protects everyone else all the time. Thank you if so and if not no worries!

(my first one in awhile, so sorry it took so long dear 😭 i hope this is good enough!! i'm still shaking off the writer's rust, so my apologies if it isn't quite the peak of quality! <3)

rengoku x reader (in which reader is much, much bigger than him)

all his life, ever since his mother died, rengoku has been the bigger person. the protector. the one to hold senjurou when he cried and carry him when he fell, clean up after his father's mess, protect the innocents who knew nothing of the world from the wicked demons. he'd accepted his position with grace and a smile, just like his mother taught him. because he was strong, and he was good, and he could handle it. he was expected to handle it.

now, he's found someone bigger.

and it's strange.

he didn't think much of your physical appearance at first. he knew himejima, and you were around the same height... probably. he never saw you two next to each other long enough to compare. he only knew he had to tilt his head back about the same to look at your face. which hurt his neck, so more often than not he didn't bother and stared straight forward at your chest instead.

he wasn't really sure why you laughed when he did, but you didn't demand that he look at you properly, so he didn't mind. he laughed along before continuing whatever conversation you'd been having, and that was the end of it.

until you started visiting the rengoku estate to train together. and then went on to stay for dinner. and then kept going from there.

shifting from allies to friends to dating seemed so natural that he hadn't even questioned it. he cared for you, and you cared for him, so it made sense! he just... didn't expect dating to be so physically different from friends. and now he's constantly reminded of just how small he is compared to you.

the first true realization is during one of your training sessions together, just after the first time you manage to knock him flat on his back. after the initial surprise, you give a loud bark of laughter as you drop your shinai to the ground, seemingly in disbelief. he laughs as well, delighted by your very first victory over him.

"bravo!" he booms, clapping his hands together and beaming at you. "i knew it was only a matter of time before you bested me! our training together truly is paying off!" you smile proudly back at him.

"thank you! i learned from the best," you say. before he can get up, you take two long strides toward him, bending down to hold out your hand.

and that's when he pauses. standing where you are, your tall frame manages to completely block out the sun, rendering him entirely within your shadow as light surrounds you like a halo. head tilted back to gaze up at you from the ground, something in his brain clicks.

"oh," he says, "you're very tall." you blink. and then you chuckle again, though your expression shows confusion.

"thank you? it ran in the family." you curl your fingers, silently urging him to take your hand, and he does. you pull him to his feet with ease. your shadow still engulfs him, and he takes a step away, back into the sun. "did it take you this long to notice?"

"of course not!" he stares at a button on your uniform as you dust off his shoulders. his face is tinged pink. "i just haven't quite... understood until now, i suppose." you hum, giving his clothes one last brush.

"it's pretty easy to understand. i'm big," you pat your chest, "and you're little." you put your hand on his head, giving his hair a teasing ruffle.

"ah!" he says, ducking away from you and shielding himself with both hands. "no, no, i'm afraid you have it wrong! you're merely..." he takes a hand from his head to wave it in your general direction, and you grin wider when words seem to fail him, "...large."

you tease him for a bit longer before he distracts you with continuing the training session. though the conversation ends, the thought lingers, and he finds himself making comparisons whenever you're near. studying how the training swords seem like baby toys in your hands. how the uniform is that much tighter around your arms and chest and thighs. teacups and utensils almost laughably tiny as you handle them with delicate care.

how he fits perfectly under your arm when he sits beside you. the way his hand disappears when you hold it just as delicately as the teacups despite both of your scars and blisters. the way your arms wrap around him so completely and make him feel very small and safe and whatever the positive version of claustrophobic is.

and then you pick him up.

he doesn't expect it. he's meditating outside, regulating his breathing, when you sneak up on him. but not really, because he can hear your near-silent footsteps stop in front of him. he was going to let you have your fun trying and failing to startle him, but you don't fail.

you succeed so well, in fact, that when he feels hands under his arms lifting him from the ground, his eyes fly open and his leg swings up and nearly nails you in the jaw.

"whoa, kyo, hey! it's just me!" you sound half amused, half alarmed as you hold him at arm's length. he freezes, and then he stares with wide, wide eyes as you give a hesitant laugh. "yeah... probably not a good idea to sneak up on a slayer. sorry." his lips part, preparing to speak, but nothing comes out. he doesn't know what to say.

he can't remember the last time he was held, and with so much ease. like he weighs hardly more than a newborn kitten.

your grin fades, and you lower him back to the ground, clearly taking his silence the wrong way. he grabs your wrists before you can retract your arms, closing his mouth and inhaling deeply through his nose. by the time he exhales, he's managed a smile.

"that's alright!" he says. "you merely startled me, no need to apologize! i was prepared for a shout or a touch on the shoulder, not... not that." his voice fades near the end, unintentionally. you look prepared to apologize again, so he lets go of your wrists to clasp one of your hands in both of his, bowing slightly over it. "please forgive my poor reaction! i haven't been held in such a way for a very long time and let my instincts get the better of me!"

"oh, no, that's okay." when he glances up at your expression, you seem thoughtful. "is it... fine if i hold you? i wanted to, but if you don't like it-"

"of course!" he cuts you off, loud and dare you say, eager? he squeezes your hand tighter, then lets go. "i would only request that you don't surprise me in the future, or i won't be responsible for what i might do!"

"aw," you say. "you mean i have to warn you before i do-" you stoop down, sweep one arm under his knees, catch him around the shoulders before he falls, and straighten up, "-this?"

"hm," he says. you moved slow, giving him more than enough time to dance away or stop you. he did no such thing, and now he lies giddy and awkward against your chest, high above the ground, his cheeks as flame-touched as his hair as his smile grows wide and wild. he wrestles his arm out where it's squished between you, throwing it around the back of your neck. his other hand raises to your cheek.

"i told you. i won't be responsible for what i'll do."

he's still smiling when he leans up from your arms to kiss you.

[wazzappp]

ALRIGHT WE BALL. Time to get on with the story (i have a story planned thats. a real shocker. im ass at writing but ill get this drawn damnit I promise)

This argument is one that just needed to happen. Robbie cant think of the infected he's been killing as people because that would mean he has killed a truly UNCOUNTABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE. Lisa has done what she has to in order to survive, and that includes killing the un-infected (which, of course, to Robbie is totally unacceptable). So when he's trying to explain the difference it just comes across JUDGY AS HELL. They're both proud and defensive and bad communicators and the conversation goes BADLY.

This happens while they're on their way to the Beneviento house. Lisa basically goes 'Alright if youre so high and mighty go ahead and beat this one yourself then!' and fucks off back to Duke with the intention to kill as many Lycans in the way as physically possible. Robbie goes ahead to the SPOOKY NIGHTMARE HOUSE trust me I have plans for what he sees in there and its appropriately disturbing but it also spoils the ending I have planned for this whole thing so :) hang in there.

BUT he ends up having a BAD TIME when he's trying to head back and what @rokhal suggested slotted in SO VERY NICE HERE (i feel i have sufficiently LOST MY MIND over the fic you posted i am JKSL:FJSDFDS F UCk)

'Picturing Robbie alone in the Village foraging for gunpowder and cash (because it's a Video Game and they can't just hang out in Donna Benaviento's house throwing the creepy dolls in the river while waiting for rescue after reconnecting the phone lines, no, they have to wander around the entire map) and he's saving the herbs for Gabe and using all the chem fluid for sniper rifle ammo or whatever. And he's fighting off werewolves and it's fine because apparently his health regenerates like mana because he's made of mold.

But as he's wandering around it starts to get harder and harder to remember how much cash and scrap he needs. And he keeps missing shots. And then he gets a little turned around but now he's lost and there's more fkn werewolves, and he's seriously low on ammo and he just wants to get back to Gabe, but he needs to regroup and his hands are numb so he tries to warm them at one of the villager's stoves.

And then he discovers that he's slowly turning into a mindless mold creature, and realizes that the only way to keep Gabe safe from him is to get really really really lost, so lost he'll never find his way back before something kills and eats him.

This does not work, but it does ensure that he is incoherent and barely recognizable by the time Gabe and Lisa track him down.'

Which is all MWAH. CHEFS KISS.

Anyway Robbie is gone for a WHILE and Lisa realizes that the puzzles she needs to solve to move the fuck on require 2 people so she's stuck killing any lycans that stray too close to Dukes camp and hanging out with Gabe. UNTIL, of course, Gabe decides yeah no fuck this fuck that Robbie has been away for WAY to long and I'm going after him. Only problem is that Gabe's abilities are kinda rooted too wherever his sclerotia pods (is adding pods to that redundant? whatever we ball) have had enough time to take root and grow. Meaning, despite her anger towards Robbie at the moment, if Lisa doesen't want Gabe caught, dragged to Mother Miranda and dismembered, she's gotta go with him (also featuring @moosemonstrous hilarious idea of her being proud of Gabe's attempted intimidation).

When they DO track him down he's barely awake. He keeps wandering in one direction then looks like he wants to turn around and go another but he keeps FORCING HIMSELF to go the other way (generally I think he would be a decent bit stronger, but fighting his instincts this hard make him seem more aimless. Robbie is borderline unstoppable when trying to get to his brother, but right now he's NOT trying to get to his brother. you feel me?). Lisa goes up first to make sure he's not going to lose his shit or something. He basically falls onto her with the single saddest "m'sorry" ever heard on planet Earth. If it's for FALLING on her or if its for the CONVERSATION earlier, Lisa isn't quite sure. But it's been years since anyone has apologized to her for anything and thats enough for her to decide she should at least sling him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes back to Dukes camp.

They make it back to the Dukes camp and give Robbie a couple of med kits (GOOP JUICE!!!!!) and he's a little more coherent. He's still trying to stay away from Gabe even though everything in him is saying 'STAY CLOSE' but he's got SOME brain space available because at least he's in line of sight now. Scrambled brain time is not the BEST for trying at an apology but hey, Robbie isn't really known for his great ideas and he tries anyway.

(ft me being unwell about shoving them together)

They're on better terms after this. The communication is still weird but hey its them so everything is weird. Plus they get some extra bonding time because I also snatched rokhals OTHER suggestion of

'....Been thinking maybe The Duke has a recipe that would heal Robbie...requiring meat from a golden dancing fish and the breast of the blue bird that haunts the graveyard and the tenderloin of the magnificent boar that sires all the swine in the Village...or something. So Gabe and Lisa have to go hunting while keeping Robbie calm...'

Ah yes. the high end flesh of the Great Village Fuck Boar. Delightful.

Cause I mean he's BETTER but still not GREAT. I think now that he's with Gabe he would be unable to leave him again while like this. Gabe would HAVE to go with them (we can get >:] 'Robbie goes into an overprotective frenzy and sword hands himself to hack some poor lycan that got too close in half' its a good time [its not. sword hand is very disturbing to him])

So anyway what Im TRYING to say is that the brainworms will continue

[amethystfairy1]

What’s your writing process? Like do you do outlines or just jump right into plot etc… I’m a young writer (14) and really admire your work and want to get better myself. Ty!

✨WRITING PROCESS✨

...

this.

this is my writing process.

OK TO BE REAL THO

Firstly, I don't do outlines.

I KNOW THAT'S BAD BUT I JUST DON'T

What I usually do is word vomit whatever idea I have for a fic into a notes file.

For example! Here's a little random nonsense I just copied verbatim from my notes file that might look familiar!

Tango and Z in sky, blue cracks, Z decides to drop a container with info and his phone number into the rift. He wants to talk to the hybrids, maybe he’s some sort of researcher, he went AWOL from the biotech Institute, something like that. But he is human. Then, tango finds it, or it is brought to him, because he is a direct aid to doc in the labs. Tango ends up deciding to call Z, and they end up becoming really good friends, but only over the phone. Have some fun stuff, where both Z and tango are getting a crush, but how can you crush on someone you’ve never even seen? Tango is freaking out, because he’s not the type of hybrid that can pass as human. he knows he’ll never be able to meet Z face to face. But Z is a little more determined that he gives him credit for. Also have X be a side character in the labs, voidwalker, something like that! Maybe Z is an AWOL scientist, and scar, picked him up to work in his hot guy lab, with cub.

This is the blurb that spawned the Zedango arc in TTSBC.

In case you can't tell I use the dictation function in notes because like 90% of the time I have ideas while I'm driving so I'll just tell my phone to write down whatever I'm thinking and then talk it out

So yeah! I do this, which I dunno is kinda like an outline? I do it for more or less all of my fics.

As far as other stuff, I think the best advice I can give about being a "better writer", which has to do with your question about 'jumping into plot' is to know about your characters and your world , even if you don't plan to share that information in the piece you are writing, or even like, ever.

It's the way you make your characters feel like people. I was actually talking about this with @honeylashofficial not to long ago! You should know why your characters make the choices they do, even if that information never comes up. You should know what they like and dislike and why, if they have traumas then how would those traumas affects them in small daily ways?

Jimmy in TTSBC grew used to being threatened for his wings, so now he has a love-hate relationship with them.

Tango spent a long time without a truly safe place to sleep as a child, so now he has insomnia because he has an internalized fear of falling asleep/being vulnerable.

Zed was treated very poorly at his previous workplace, and he had a terrible experience where his professional lifes work was torn to shreds in front of him, so his self-esteem is very low, and he tends to be very self-deprecating even in a joking fashion.

Cub has sensory issues that severely impact his mood because of his warden hybrid traits, so he typically keeps himself very low energy as a baseline to avoid seeming like he has mood swings.

Even little stuff like what characters notice about their surroundings! Again in TTSBC, Jimmy pays close attention to the weather and the sky, Scott notices people features and expressions, Cub has more detailed thoughts about sounds than he does about sights, stuff like that!

Also I'm gonna give ya the piece of advice no one wants to hear when they're just starting. Just write. Write a TON.

Write even if you only have half an idea. Write even if you think it's gonna be bad. Write if you have even the slightest smallest bit of a motivation to do so, just WRITE WRITE WRITE.

And I will say while I could just be one of the lucky ones, I have been posting on various fanfic websites since I was 13. And in all that time I can count on one hand the amount of hate/negative comments I have received. Over a DECADE of writing and posting and I’ve written and posted A LOT and I have only ever been met with kindness, excitement, and encouragement.

Also, the delete button exists for a reason. You curate your experience on these websites. Especially on A03, with the ability to reply to comments, you can make very clear very quickly what sort of comments you want, which ones you don't, and the vast vast vast majority will be people who are excited about your work and want to encourage you!

If you need a mood booster or some encouragement, you can find my old old stuff on FF.net under the same penname, Amethystfairy1. Just promise you won't come back over here and send asks laughing at me for how bad those stories are, ok? 😆

My point is, you learn best by doing. As you write you will get a feel for your characters, for how they interact and react, for what your specific writing style is going to be and what you enjoy writing the most. And write what you enjoy! Of course you should stretch your writing style, but also make sure you never feel like you're slogging through your writing, especially if it's for fun or creative!

OH ONE MORE THING! 👏

I HIGHLY RECCOMEND DOING A WRITING CHALLENGE!

Stuff like Whumptober, Febuwhump, Novemcomfort, AU-gust, or different fandom weeks that come up, you can find them all over tumblr! Try to participate in one of those and get in as many days as you can! It'll make you write a lot in a short period of time, and you won't have time to overthink it, which I believe is really helpful for finding your writing style and getting comfortable with writing and posting content! It'll also give you a connection to a community of other writers who are participating, especially if you plan to post your updates to tumblr like I do!

Whatever you do on your writing journey, I hope it brings you much joy, fun, and creativity! You'll create something beautiful, I just know it! 💖

[brainyrot]

I said I would and so I did

Part one

Part two

----------------------------------------------------------

"I just feel constantly watched, that's it. It's creeping me out!"

"Maybe it's just the anxiety."

"I mean, the mind can trick you in many ways, maybe no one is really here."

"But what about the footsteps you and Felix heard?"

"I.. don't know yet but this place looks more abandoned than anything. it's probable some homeless people are here."

if that was actually true.

and if this mug could stop dividing his food to share with the others, it would be great.

honestly, he doesn't care that much, there's easier ways to get food and fast, the problem is that he can't right now. There's a certain follower here, which is already unusual, these weird toons following him everywhere and there isn't a place Wilson hasn't placed his stupid technology to keep him stuck in this form.

it's just annoying, that's it. he could lead them around, sure, but it's more dangerous for him than anything right now, he really hates this stupid form.

and he has no idea how to respond, in general, to them.

One asks about why he's so quiet, he tries to explain but they think he's just tired or just had..an ink attack or.. whatever. "His clothes are all full of ink!"

"The whole place is full of ink."

"Yeah but he literally has ink dripping form his hair. And have you seen his eyebags?"

such a weird observation.

what even is an ink attack? Like when he turns into the ink demon?

He wouldn't call it an attack but, sure I guess. Everybody's creative in their own way.

He needs to start being more creative because if they keep up with the cans and the lunch break room, they'll be stuck here forever.

He could wait until they are asleep, but none of them seem to be wanting to sleep.

those two dishes keep mourning over a dead body they haven't truly met before.

The girl keeps analyzing everything, and she's way more close to the truth than anyone, but it'll only drive her mad, like everyone here.

and the cat, acting sweet and kind, acting fatherly towards this demon he doesn't even know.

Either he's dumb, or something else. nothing positive though.

"Are you okay?" Are you?

"Do you need to lay down? Food?"

"Look once you feel better we can start looking for Boris." We can look for Boris right now actually, wouldn't hurt to pay a visit to that silly anxious wolf. Maybe those two can stop crying, it's pathetic really.

they don't even say why, they don't even look for comfort through the rest of the group, truly some kind of masochists.

and since no one here is gonna do anything, unless he does anything, he just got up and left.

They'll follow him like if they are little ducklings anyway.

he is not here anyway, anymore. He left. he's probably thinking of some sacrifice.

it's useless and stupid, you're not gonna get saved or spared, you're just living in an illusion created by your own mind to have some sort of comfort in this place we're all stuck here day by day until the end of time.

but it's stupidly funny how big this place is, very amusing, especially the reactions.

They are all confused and wary, especially because he knows this place despite "being his first time here", the girl is intrigued too, her curiosity will get her killed, the cat is too but he keeps to himself. Not like her.

She asks questions. She analyzes, she talks. The thing no one does here.

she points things out, she tries to find logic and reasoning behind madness and Ink. That's why she's driving herself crazy.

You can't find logic behind something that has nothing but no sense at all.

but it's not much of a problem for him, the rule here is that you are either mute, to keep yourself safe mostly, or you go mad. No in-between.

sometimes you're both too. Depends.

the more they go down, the more they ask questions, which he could answer, but he can't.

"the pipes are broken, explains the ink."

"People were surely obsessed with this joey guy."

"And bendy."

"what is even the deal with the ink demon?"

"Maybe they are talking about the ink illness?"

"Whoever wrote all of this is probably mad."

"I mean, have you seen this place? Who wouldn't be?"

they are there just not quite.

"this is probably an old abandoned studio some crazy lunatics used for either protection or just to have a roof on their head. they probably had some experiences with the ink illness, it could explain why they keep talking about this "ink demon", they could have used the word demon as a substitute for illness."

"like, when people say you're possessed by a demon when you act crazy?"

"Kind of. They think the ink illness doing is because of a demon, or think the illness is a demon itself tormenting them."

If he could sigh loudly, he would.

"why are we even exploring this place. We should go." He's right. This tall smoking cup is right. You should go.

"Because bendy has no intention to stop, and frankly I'm not leaving him here with who knows who." this cat is going to die first.

"is he looking for Boris?"

"Obviously! he's the only one that we haven't found."

"What about the others? Like Alice or..black hat, I don't know." oh? They know Alice too?

well he could do her a favor then.

"Wasn't Alice in heaven? And what would hat even do here?"

"One of his weird stupid experiments?"

"You think this is one of his experiments to figure out the ink illness?"

"Probably. He had a guy with the ink illness caged up like some animal."

He can't even tell who is talking and who isn't, they all sound the same, say the same thing. and he isn't bothering to make a difference between all of them.

"Oh my Lord!" But for the life of him he can't tune out Sammy's annoying voice.

and those finger guns again. They aren't pointing at him so he's fine, they are pointing at Sammy.

"hey! Don't you dare get any closer, ya weirdo."

A man now made of ink, willingly turning himself into a monster to please a lord that didn't exist in the first place.

"Oh, I'm so pleased my Lord! A gift just for me! oh you flatter me." The man says, holding his axe like his newborn child. A faint laugh from his lips.

"I'll make sure this time the sacrifice will make you happy." Ready fo attack, ready to slice their heads off. But how can you go against toons who can bend reality? How can you against things that were built to not follow logic?

Sammy is only human, a man pretending to be ink, he can't compete. but neither can they, truly a show worth to watch if it wasn't for that grip on his shoulder from the older cup, holding him like if he was some fragile vase that was gonna break any time soon, a friend to protect, something defenseless.

Which he was, but he wasn't in danger at the moment, not when Sammy was here, not when hundreds of lost ones have heard the chaos. Not when so many souls floating and swimming in the dark, lurking and waiting to meet the new guests.

no one is going to hurt him though, no one is going to lay a finger on him.

They all worship him, they all love him, he doesn't get why, but in times like this, he's glad.

but he doesn't want to be at the center of attention. He needs a corner, a table, anything to hide and be ignored until he can make a run for it and be finally free from this cage of a body that he's stuck with.

"I said back off!" He hissed, he surely knows how to act brave. He is not. He is nervous, he is slightly shaking. He is scared of the unknown in front of him, on his head, on the floor, kind of everywhere but he doesn't know.

"If any of you get any closer imma start shootin' and it's all over for you." But it's not effective on people whose life matters no more.

[skzimagines]

Part 13

Characters: Hyunjin x Female Reader | Lee know x Female Reader.

Genre: | Obsessive!Hyunjin |

Warnings: 18+ minors dni | Smut | Swearing | alcohol | dominant sexual behavior | drama |

Summary: As Hyunjin and y/n rekindle their relationship, Minho stands on the side lines, wishing it was him. Until Hyunjin comes up with an idea, trying to show y/n that he’s working on his anger.

—————————————————————————————

Minhos standing by the fire pit, watching y/n and Hyunjin joke around by the water. His heart is completely shattered. He thought it was for sure the end of you two, but he should have know. Considering you two have loved each other for a long time. He knows you two aren’t good for one another, but he won’t come between you.

“I’m sorry bro..” jisung says, walking up to Minho, setting his hand on his shoulder. “It’s whatever..” Minho sighs. “I’ll try talking to her, if you want?” Jisung suggests. “No, just let her be, she’s happy. That’s all I want.” Minho says. Knowing that’s not what he wants. He wants her to leave him, he wants her to be with him. He wants to do all of the things Hyunjin does with her.

•

“Minhos watching you..” hyunjin whispers in my ear. I quickly look over my should and see Minho standing next to Jisung, starring. “Don’t worry about it..” I whisper back to him. “I do worry about it, I know he likes you y/n.” Hyunjin says. “Hyunjin, I don’t want to argue, okay?” I sigh. Hyunjin pulls me closer to him, laying his head on top of mine. “I’m not arguing baby, I’m just saying… maybe you should go talk to him.” He says. I give him a confused look. “Talk to him about what?” I ask. “About last night? I think you may have gotten his hopes up about something.” He chuckles. “You want me to go talk to him?” I ask, making sure that’s what he really wants. He nods his head. “You wouldn’t be mad?” I ask. “I told you, I would work on changing, to keep us to together, and I meant it.” He whispers. “Now kiss me and go talk to him.” He smiles. I look up, and plant a kiss onto his lips. “Okay, whatever you say.” I say, standing up and making my way over to Minho.

•

“Oh shit, I think your starring paid off bro, I think she’s coming over here.” Jisung whispers into Minhos ear with a smirk. Minhos heart races and you make your way over to him.

“Hey..” I say awkwardly. “Can we talk?” I ask. Minho nods, taking my hand, following me inside. I take us to the living room and we get comfy on the couch. “Are you feeling better?” Minho asks. I nod with a smile, looking into his eyes, trying to read him. “Thats good, I’m glad.” He says, putting on the fakest smile he can show. “Are you actually glad?” I ask with a chuckle. Minho looks at me confused. “You don’t seem so happy, is what I’m trying to say.” I say. Minho shrugs his shoulders, looking down at the floor. “You can talk to me, ya know?” I say, grabbing his hand and squeezing it in mine. He lets out a long sigh. “I just.. I didn’t think you two would be back together so soon.” He whispers. I scoot closer to him, trying to give him comfort, to let him know it’s safe to talk to me. Minho isn’t very good at expressing his emotions, everyone knows that. “I just thought, maybe…” he pauses. “Maybe.. you liked.. me.” He says, still looking at the floor.

I sigh. I grab his chin lightly, making him looking at me. “I love him Minho..” I whisper, to which he tries to look at the floor again. I know those words hurt him. “Hey.. look at me.” I say, making him look at me again. “I love him, but… I like you too Minho, I really do..” I say with a small smile. It’s a hard thing for me to say, because I truly do love Hyunjin, with every ounce of my being and I do like Minho, a lot. I have strong feelings for the both of them. But having both wasn’t an option. “That doesn’t really help, but thanks for telling me.” He says with a broken smile. “I’m sorry Minho, I truly am. I’d be with you in a second if I wasn’t with him. But I can’t give him up, please try to understand.” I say, rubbing my thumb up and down his cheek. “I understand y/n.” He says quietly with a smile. “I can’t be with him and be with you, I can’t have you both at the same time.” I say gently.

“Who says you can’t?” We both jump, looking behind us. We see hyunjin standing there with his arms crossed. “Hyunjin…. You said you wouldn’t get mad if I came-” I start to say, but he cuts me off. “Who said I was mad?” He asks, walking around the couch and sitting on the coffee table in front of us. My hand drops from Minhos face and he quickly grabs it to hold on to. I can feel him tense up beside me. “What do you mean ‘who says you can’t?” Minho asks quietly. “Well, is there really a rule book to a relationship?” Hyunjin asks. Minho and I both look at him like he’s crazy. “I’m saying… we could both have her.” Hyunjin says, as if I’m not sitting right next to them. “Are you crazy?” Minho asks. “Yeah, no. I agree with Minho. You literally just dumped me last night because you found out Chan had a crush on me, and now you want to “share” me with Minho?” I ask obnoxiously. Hyunjin moves on to the floor in between my legs, taking my hand from Minho and holding it between his. I give Minho a question oh look before turning my attention to hyunjin. “Baby.. I told you I’d do anything for you, and this is one of the things I’m working on, I’m trying to be better for you. And I know you love him, you loved him before you got to know me.” He says. “Hyunjin.. I-” he puts his finger against my lips, forcing me to stop talking. “Don’t say anything, you don’t have to. I’ve known this the entire time. Why do you think I got so upset when he kissed you that night? Because I was afraid those feelings for him would have came back, and you would have left me.” He says.

I look at Minho, who is already looking at me in shock. “I… I don’t know, hyunjin.” I whisper. “You don’t have to know right now… let’s just try it out for a few days, and we’ll see how it all pans out?” He says with a smile. “Are you sure about this, hyunjin?” Minho chimes in. “I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life.” He says, standing up to sit on the table again. I grab Minhos hand again, giving it a squeeze and showing him a small smile.

“Under one condition…” hyunjin says. We both look up at him.

“Kissing, hugging, holding hands and cuddling are all okay to do alone together. But when it comes to being intimate, we are all to be together. Just because I’m trying to hold it together and work on my issues. That and i get jealous easily” He states with a chuckle, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing to say.

—————————————————————————————

Part 14

Tag list: @greysweaters-blog @mimihwang248 @armystay89 @berryberrytan @multeciahucho

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

Help

Warnings: fluff/ violence

Everything around him was different looking. Loki was in the past seeing Y/n talk to Kang. “If you do this deal with me, your memory will be gone forever. Is this what you truly desire?” Kang asked them. “It is. I cannot bare to think of my husband’s death any longer” they said as they saw him out of the corner of their eye

Kang turns to face where Loki would’ve stood, but he vanished. He stood in front of current Y/n. Tears were leaving their eyes now. “I remember everything, Loki. I didn’t wipe my memory after seeing you there. I’m aware you’re not him, but you remind me so much of my Loki that it seems inevitable to fall for the past version of my Loki” they said as he places his hand onto their cheek

“You’ve seen other things that no one else would really believe in since their memories were completely erased. But we can fix whatever this is my love” they said as they took his hands, and placed theirs in his hands. Loki went silent, wondering if he should ask them what they were doing with Kang to begin with

“But you’re not satisfied with what you saw in the past” they said with a frown on their face. “Y/n, I-“ Loki disappeared before he could say anything. Y/n was standing there staring into the void. Loki approached them once he made sure the coast was clear

He stood next to them, and stared at the void with them. “He’s trapped me here. Save me for, I made a deal with the devil” they continued to stare at the void as his worried eyes scanned them. “I’ll get you out of here love, don’t worry” they looked at him as tears left their eyes

“I doubt you will” they say as they close the space between them. “No, I will. I know now what’s happening, so I’ll get you out of here” he reassured them as he placed his forehead against theirs. Tears left his eyes too as they had gone away since he vanished again. He was just in the room with the Kang statues again

No Y/n in sight. Kang grins as he stood behind Loki. “I cannot believe I tricked the god of mischief! You must be feeling very naive right now” Kang says, which makes Loki look at him. Loki’s angry and ready to attack him. “WHERE ARE THEY???!!!” Loki shouts as his eyes glowed green out of nowhere

“Their safe, don’t worry Loki. They are quite the fighter too, which makes me completely see why you like them so much” Kang says as he approaches him. “Don’t you come any closer to me, I’ll-“ “What? Sneak up on me with a dagger?” Loki’s face went blank, but his eyes continued to glow

“If you couldn’t defat Thanos, what gives you the idea you could kill me? Are you gonna use fireworks on me like how your mother taught you? Oh wait, isn’t she gone too?” A huge green blast comes out of nowhere and hits Kang. Kang was away from Loki, which makes Loki teleport in front of him

Loki is breathing heavily, and had every intention to kill Kang. Kang gets up, and was super impressed. “So you do pack a mighty punch. That’s good” Kang says as a dagger appears close to Kang’s throat as he got pinned to a wall by a green force. “Tell me where they are, and I might spare you” Loki says as his hands glowed green as well

Before Kang said anything, he got split in half. He had screamed in agony as he does, and soon Y/n appeared. Loki looks at them, and was shocked. They looked at him as Mobius soon showed up. “Mobuis helped me” they said as Mobius was in shock at the split in half man

“That’s good” Loki says as he looks at Mobius than them. There was a comforting silence between the two now as Mobius looks away from the dead body. “Guy’s, I think that was a setup” Mobius says, which makes the two look at him