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#have you ever seen someone SERVE so much??
wouriqueen · 3 days
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Armand in love, dominating or dominated?
"My dear American friend, who thinks of me often and has dominated my mind ever since I laid eyes upon him. Don't."
This quote is so great in how it parallels the bits we've seen of Armand and Louis' relationship in Dubai, of Armand dominating and/or wanting to dominate (or at least lead) Louis and their relationship while also positioning himself as someone who serves, who worships, who's owned. Look at him using the vocabulary of defeat and surrender to express his attraction, while in the same breath... giving Louis an order!
Love and power
Throughout the whole conversation after "You carry yourself well", Armand's reaction to Louis' seduction goes crescendo:
-> distant ("Tricky")
-> inquisitive ("Pity she was made so young")
-> condescending ("You must work harder on [blocking your thoughts]...")
-> authoritative ("Don't"/"Shut your mind if you hear his name"/"Armand for you")
But Armand only whips out a confirmation of his attraction (the quote at the top) as he assumes a fully authoritative, all-knowing, master-like stance - one so overt it prompts Louis to call him "Maître"* - making their mutual attraction inseparable from the concept of domination.
And then he does it again! "Armand for you." (Call me something more intimate - I'm opening up to you, I'm vulnerable... and I'm not asking.)
The word "Maître"
*"Maître" in French means "Master". We know it's what Armand is called as the leader of the company in the show. Does he call it an "endearment" so he can pretend he doesn't have that much authority?
Also, the word is crazy because like in English, all its meanings are related to authority, and almost all of them fit one or more of these nuances:
someone who teaches
someone who leads
someone who owns
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2kmps · 2 days
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ROACH KING
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trust-fund baby!gojō satoru x tabloid journalist!reader | 1,046 words
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summary; you're a tabloid journalist on the brink of finally reaching the spotlight after an unsuccessful career. gojō is a self-serving trust-fund baby with nothing better to do than to see you crash and burn. it doesn't go well.
warnings; mc punches gojō in the face, gojō is a super shitty trust-fund baby, mc is a plagiarist, unwanted kiss, implications of manipulation on both sides, brief mention of blood at the end, not proofread.
thank u @stellamancer for the request!! 💙
a/n: my header for gojo needed to be as annoying as possible. I hate him. reblog this if u think it's cool ig.
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“You're a goddamn roach, Gojō.”
The Usurper King sat at his throne in perfect leisure, reclined in an ergonomic chair swathed in supple violet leather, long legs propped at an angle so anyone walking through the door would see his gleaming black oxfords—one new purchase among many others, and a white smile with elegant, symmetrical teeth. He had witnessed you enter his new office with a grin; a self-assured, imperturbable one that was immediately meant to put you in your place once you saw it.
It was rare that anyone saw his eyes as they were oftentimes hidden by a pair of blackout sunglasses. Gossip was a common topic at a tabloid firm, even more so internally than what was fabricated and published for soft-brained readers to chew on and shake around like a dog with a toy that cried when it’d get mean enough.
Most speculation was that he came to work high on something since he never liked to mingle among the peons on the main floor, a testament to his role in life as a trust-fund baby living the lavish lifestyle with the kind of time to put shit up his nose and in his veins. However, you'd seen the blues and whites of his eyes on occasion—pristine, but always a little dry from Japan’s seasonal agitators, so you knew that it wasn't the case.
It was simply that it fed into the perceptions he wanted people to have of him. Mysterious. Handsome. Rich. Those instead of the qualities you truly knew him for being: A lowlife, a roach, a fucking thief who’d never have to worry about the consequences of anything in life because he had money and half of the Japanese government on his side. It wouldn't do for the idolized poster boy for the country to fall into something so obscene such as a scandal or jail.
“You stole my article,” you said, leaning back against the door once you had it shut and locked behind you. “How dare you. That article was going to be my big break. But, instead you steal it and publish it. Why did you get Ichiji fired? He was the best editor-in-chief we had ever had. Did you do it to make yourself feel big, Gojō? Is this some double-whammy for getting back at me because I wouldn't sleep with you?”
That wasn't the case because Gojō hadn't slept with anyone, despite all the rumors proposing otherwise. The only reason you knew that was after an entirely too intimate dinner where he'd drank too much wine and not enough of his meal. He had confided that truth to you in the same manner as you had when you revealed to him that the article you were going to publish—your singular spotlight moment—had been someone else's idea.
A nobody. A new girl fresh out of graduate school who was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and brimmed with audacity to try to stand apart from the other tabloid journalists.
Miwa had wanted to change the trajectory of gossip; focus it on full-truths rather than the convoluted circuit of half-truths and exaggerations. She aimed for gossip to be pure and honest, extinguish those vapid fires of tried and true to experiment with something fresh.
She was intending to derail you before you'd even had your chance to reach the top. That was just something you couldn't have, so you pulled a few strings, finagled some things and ultimately ended up with her article in your lap instead, your name ready to be printed instead of hers.
Unfortunately, your repertoire of qualities lacked stealth and common sense, as Gojō had intercepted this early on and had decided that this would be easy entertainment to beat all the usual mundanity.
“Why are you getting mad at me?” Gojō slipped his feet off the desk and got out of his chair, posture slouched in a way equally cool and sloven. “You're the one who stole the article. I just gave it back to that girl you took it from. Don't you feel just a little ashamed?”
You lifted your chin as he got closer, tried stacking your spine as tall as it could go just short of standing on your toes to match up with him. “Don’t you feel bad that you kicked out an innocent, hard working man because you were bored and wanted to see how my life would explode?”
“This ain't about you, y’know?” Gojō was inches away now, black sunglasses tucked away in his chest pocket so he could see you uninhibited through those stellar blue eyes. You hated how he looked at you with fascination, a little thing he wanted to keep and bat around with his hands. “You're pretty self-centered, but I think you know that.”
You flattened to the door, feeling the slippery varnish against your fingertips as you tried to think of what to do with your hands while he studied you, leaning in closer.
Since this entire thing had begun, from the moment he injected himself into your life, you'd never known a moment of peace and be made sure you didn't. In a way, you thought this was God’s retribution for sacrificing every principle and ethics in favor of recognition in a career you'd never been particularly good at. What better way to smite than with a force veritably worse than you?
Gojō leaned into a stilted, passionless kiss, one completely different from others you had shared. But, those had come before you knew what he had planned to do to you, that his plan had been to steal away the glory that awaited all because he wanted to see how things unraveled.
You waited until he got his fill or was dissuaded, whichever came first, before winding up your arm and launching the peaks of your knuckles straight into the right side of his jaw. A slap wouldn't have sufficed, not with how pissed off you were, not for this asshole. So, you threw as much of your momentum and weight into that punch as you could, enough to catch him off-guard and send him crashing to the floor in a clamorous heap.
You licked your lips where he kissed you, where you saw blood trickle from the corner of his mouth when he looked up at you, for the first time ever, in pure shock.
“I'm gonna get fired anyway,” you said, flinging out of your hand and flexing each finger. “Might as well have made it count.”
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makeyoumine69 · 17 hours
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A Helping Hand (commission)
PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Pregnant!Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: You and Patrick are engaged and about to become parents. One day, during a fancy party, you face the difficulties of being pregnant, as your changing body, affected by the hormones, hurts, but your future husband is always eager to help you.
CONTAINS: Semi-public smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, nipple play/sucking, pregnancy kink (kinda), fingering, praise kink, body worship, dirty talk, pet names, sweet & horny Patrick Bateman himself.
WORDS: 1.6k
A/N: I'm so happy to finally post this! Hope you like it!💞
LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [COMISSIONS]
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After a lavish party on the roof of one of Manhattan's skyscrapers hosted by the Bateman family, the sun was setting and it was getting a little chilly, so the waiters brought everyone blankets to keep warm. You, wrapped in a blanket, sat next to your fiance on the small plush couch, waiting for the car to pick you up and take you home.
Sipping your hot chocolate that had been made specially for you, you looked at him with undisguised affection and embarrassment as you wanted to ask him a question. "Patrick, I... I'm so embarrassed that I... you know... bite and scratch you during sex. Is that a bad thing? I just don't think you like it..."
Thank God the other guests weren't paying any attention to you, but you still felt uncomfortable. Patrick's family was also out of sight, probably talking to someone on the balcony. However, you had already shown your appreciation for hosting such a great event.
While you waited for his answer, you stroked your little baby bump, your breasts already got bigger, so the dress you were wearing was too tight and your nipples could be seen through the fabric.
Patrick paused for a moment, considering your question with a thoughtful look that slowly changed to an approving one. The embarrassment in your voice was clear, but it only served to amuse him. 
"(Y/n)," he began, sliding closer to you on the small plush couch, "your... enthusiasm is one of your most exquisite attributes." He placed a hand on your knee, his fingers tracing small circles through the fabric of the blanket that covered you. "I revel in your responsiveness, Kitten." His grin grew wider, a clear indication that your concerns were unfounded.
"Really?" You murmured back, averting your eyes, still feeling so uncomfortable. "I just remember how meticulous you are about your skin and stuff."
The man leaned closer, lowering his voice so it was just for you, a husky whisper that brushed against your ear. "Let's be honest," his eyes glittered with a mischievous spark as he bit his lip lightly, teasing you. "You know how much I enjoy making a mess of you."
"Oh, Patrick…" You giggled shyly and rolled your eyes.
Bateman’s hand moved from your knee, daringly creeping up the blanket to rest on your slightly swollen belly, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your dress. The tautness of your nipples, visible through the strained material, did not escape his notice. "These marks," he continued, his gaze flickering down to where your breasts strained against the dress, "they are a powerful reminder of the intensity we share. And I wouldn't have it any other way." Patrick smirked while his touch grew bolder, fingers skimming the outline of your baby bump before sliding up to the outline of your breasts. 
The sudden tingling in your nipples made you squirm in your seat; his words always had such an effect on you. "Patty," you pleaded suddenly, placing your cup on the nearby table and looking around briefly before continuing. "My... my nipples hurt... can you help me with that?" Embarrassed, you lifted the blanket, suggesting that it could hide both of you and no one would see you, since no one was around so far. "Sorry for asking," you added, averting your eyes, ashamed as ever. "It's just...the hormones...I didn't want to tell you…"
Excited, Patrick's lips curved into a knowing smirk at your bashful plea. The fiery blend of your embarrassment and the raw need that spilled from your words was a concoction he savored with every fiber of his being. Sneakily, he cast a cursory glance around the room, ensuring the relative privacy, before refocusing on you with the predatory gaze of a man who thrived on such deliciously improper requests.
"Do they hurt really bad, hmmm?” he echoed, his voice a low, silky ribbon of sound that wound its way around you with the tender brutality of a python. "And here I was thinking you'd have the restraint to wait until we were home. But if my little girl is in pain..." The man leaned closer, the scent of your arousal mingling with the warm, sweet aroma of the hot chocolate you had abandoned. "You want me to make it better?" the man questioned, his breath fanning over your skin as he lifted the blanket to create a hidden sanctuary for your naughtiness. "You always were sensitive to my words, Kitten. Can't say I'm not pleased to hear they still affect you so... intimately."
Panting, you bit on your lower lip to suppress any noises which could discredit you. "Yes," you closed your eyes and sprawled along the softness of the couch. "You know how to play with words…" gasping, you trembled beneath his hot breath. "...to set me on fire."
Under the guise of the blanket, Patrick's hand drifted to the fabric of your dress, deftly unbuttoning it just enough to allow him access to the tender flesh you so desperately wanted him to soothe. His fingers brushed against your skin, feeling the hard nubs of your nipples straining for his touch. "Is it so?"
Grabbing the plush material of the furniture, you were about to lose it here and now. "Mmm…y-yes….ah-Patrick!"
"Shh, baby," Bateman didn't falter, not even as he looked once more over his shoulder to ensure no eyes were upon you. "I’ve got you."
Then, with a dexterity honed by numerous clandestine encounters, he ducked under the cover of the blanket, his mouth closing over one aching nipple with a gentle suction that belied the fervor within him. The warm wetness of his mouth enveloped you, his tongue tracing the sensitive bud before drawing it further into the heat of his oral embrace. Purring softly, the man suckled with a rhythmic persistence, each pull designed to alleviate the tender ache as much as to stoke the flame of your shared desire.
Above the blanket, he maintained the expression of a man casually enjoying the evening with his fiancée, his free hand resting on the arm of the couch, the very picture of nonchalance. Beneath it, however, Patrick was entirely focused on you, on the softness of your breasts, the sweetness of your need, and the sound of your subdued moans as they were muffled by the fabric that concealed your indiscretion.
"Better now, Kitten?" Bateman murmured against your flesh, a dark chuckle vibrating through your nipple, sending shivers down your spine. His free hand wandered to your other breast, kneading it softly, ensuring that both received the attention they demanded.
The way his tongue danced across your hard peak was maddening, to say the least. “Uh-huh,” you stammered, closing your eyes, your cheeks burning from the inside. Then, you cautiously grabbed his large palm and moved it between your legs, making it press against your soaked panties. "I need you, n-need you so much, Patty."
Breathing heavily, you looked up at him, knowing that what you were doing was wrong and sinful, but the storm of hormones from being pregnant raged through your morphing body, making you a prisoner of the current situation.
Fortunately, you were still alone, and the car hadn't arrived yet. “A-aww,” you whimpered into his mouth as Patrick sealed your lips with his plump ones, not letting the sound escape from them. “Mhmnn…”
It was a silencing kiss, a masterful stroke of control that muffled your moan. Under the protective shroud of the blanket, his hand maneuvered beneath the delicate barrier of your underwear, his fingers tracing the soaked lace before delving into the slick heat of your pussy.
The soft, wet sound of his fingers sliding through your folds was nearly lost beneath the hush of your ragged breaths. Hot and bothered, Patrick pulled back from the kiss just enough to watch your face, your eyes fluttering closed, your lips parted in silent supplication.
"You're so wet, honey," Bateman whispered, the rough timbre of his voice sending a shudder through you. "This is what you need from me, isn't it? To be touched right here...where anyone could see what a bad girl you're being for me?"
The pressure of his fingers increased, finding your swollen clit, teasing it with a firm, circular motion that drew a whimper from you. "Be quiet, Kitten," he advised, his voice carrying an undercurrent of threat and promise. "Or you'll force me to stop, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"
Your hand gripped his wrist, a silent entreaty not to cease his ministrations. Patrick's chest swelled with a possessive pride—you were his to command, even amidst this semi-public setting. Your need for him, a need he had so thoroughly ingrained in you, was a testament to his mastery over your senses.
Your eyes met, his holding a compelling blend of dark yearning and authoritative control. Patrick’s fingers quickened their pace, coaxing you closer to the brink as he watched the storm of emotions play across your tensed face.
Patrick leaned in once more, his lips hovering over yours, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke. "Cum for me, (y/n). Quietly, right here on this couch. Let me feel you shatter against my hand." His words, laced with an illicit thrill, were a command that brooked no refusal.
And as Bateman brought you to the edge, as he felt the clenching and unclenching of your inner walls around his probing fingers, he savored the power he wielded. In the luxury of the waiting room, under the soft golden lights of the city outside, this man was the master of your pleasure—a master who would be worshiped in silence, in awe, and with the unspoken understanding that you belonged to him, completely and irrevocably, no matter where you were.
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P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
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kursedmayo · 3 days
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This is gonna be a a bit of a controversial take but to me Farcille to me is not very appealing since Falin and Marcille's relationship is a bit too complex to be boxed into a simple ship. There's both gay, platonic and familial implications and I don't think I've seen this type of relationship in media before actually.
In the Anime they really went all in on the yuri domtext- I refuse to call it subtext because its not, in fact sub (jk) but in the manga it's a bit more ambigious. In both media though they're portrayed as close, like way too close just to be friends. I think this might have to do with initial impressions, Marcille treating Falin like a little sister while Falin treats Marcille more like friend.
If you've read the Manga there was an implication that at some point Marcille wanted a younger sibling, but apparently she ended up being the youngest and the last child (if my memory serves correct). When she met Falin, she was a bit shy, tomboy-ish, and seemingly carefree when they met, which can sometimes be perceived as someone being pretty childish. Because of that, in her mind Marcille may have somewhat adopted the idea that Falin is younger than her and such, and then her subconscious childhood desires made her think of Falin as a little sister. I myself is more receptive to receiving or initiating touch with my brothers since I'm comfortable with them, so I can see why they're comfortable being physically close often.
This may also be why she dislikes Toshiro (Shuro) so much, she was particularly defensive of her little sister. I kinda doubt Falin discussed ever wanting to get into a relationship so maybe Marcille wanted to beat back unwanted suitors? At the same time this may just be her being jealous and not wanting to let Falin go, which can be interpreted to be something due to romantic feelings for Falin.
Meanwhile, when Falin met Marcille her impression was that she was a cool academic girl that took interest in her and befriended her. Marcille is most likely her first friend at that point and quickly became her best friend. She clearly admires Marcille and good LORD have you seen that bath house scene?? It was much less yurified in the Manga since Marcille was clearlu tired from using ancient magic and was having delayed reactions but I really dont think that was sisterly in any shape or form, it seems far too intimate. Keep in mind she was the one who initiated the hand locking in the bath house, not Marcille, so that may imply sometjing. So this brings me to my final conclusions.
Marcille probably thinks of Falin like a little sister or at least perceives Falin as someone younger than her that she wants to take care of. At the same time though her relationship with Falin is also hard to define completely by familiar or platonic because Laois is literally there for comparison and their relationships don't seem very similar to me.
On the other hand, Falin most likely sees Marcille as her best friend, someone either her equal or greater in skill or talent. When she has a slightly embarassing problem (like her constant flushed cheeks) she wants help with, she trusted Marcille enough to go straight to her instead of figuring it out herself so that says quite a lot, considering Falin seems to be of the independent type and don't like bothering people. However, there are also some odd vibes regarding her behavior with Marcille that prevents me from also waving Farcille off, so again I hesitate to box their relationship nearly into a single category.
So yeah. No hate to Farcille but I think I'd rather label these two weirdos with "???" instead of just friends, sisters or girlfriends. It feels a bit more accurate that way.
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Hi there my bbg (big black guy 🥰🥰)‼️‼️‼️ I have a teeny weeny request to make. How about f!child reader x Hantengu(s)?
Here's plot:
So, basically, Hantengu is getting chased by slayers, right, and it's also bright out. So, he runs and runs, but bumps into a child who somehow catches the speedy lil fuck and takes him home, thinking he's cute and y'know "you're my friend now :D" type shit. But then, here's the thing, child reader is an orphan and the brothers and sisters and the caretaker aren't very nice to the lil baby ): (Hantengu is gone btw). So, she runs away and goes into the forest Hantengu came out of when boom bam, she's attacked by demons and faints out of literal fear. The next thing she knows, little friend is on top of her with four big scary men (and soon two more friends) who then vow to take care of her as a thanks for saving Hantengu (let's be realistic here tho she's gonna get turned into a demon if that's the case)
That's is all 😊😊😊😊
Here you go. This was very fun to write. I love writing Zoha as someone who is soft with children
Readers POV:
Yet again I had been shut out the house and left to fend for myself so I had taken to wandering the forest in hopes of finding something to keep me occupied. Off in the distance I hear the screeching of metal and thunderous footsteps which put little old me on edge as I back up into a tree in fear, my little ears picking up the tiny patter of fast little feet on the forest floor and out of instinct my hands shoot out and catch whatever was rushing at me and hiding behind the tree as many a armed men rush past us angrily shouting. I wait until they are long gone before opening my hands to be met with the sight of the smallest person I think i’ve ever seen, he trembles in my hands begging over and over again to not hurt him but the only thought running through my mind is ‘TINY FRIEND!!!’
I bring him up to my face and nuzzle my cheek against him gently which stops his crying, albeit probably out of confusion more then anything else, as I ramble on and on about how small he is and how i’ll protect him from the horrors of this world. When both of our heads swivel around at the sound of the angry men coming back our way, my hands feel a tab bit lighter as I look back down to see the little friend is gone and the angry men turn the tree to find me standing there. “Hey hey little one it’s alright, can you tell us if you’ve seen a demon around here?” One of the men crouch down to my level, asking if i’ve seen a…. demon? what the hell is a demon? I shake my head, not wanting to speak to the men that were running around screaming their heads off and slowly inching away from them and running off back ‘home’ as the sun peaks over the horizon.
I open the sliding doors to the house and am greeted to screaming from my adopted mother as she drags me to the stove to help her cook as I am still too small to cook properly (much to her chagrin). She shoves a knife in my hands and instructs me to start cutting the fruit and for 20 minutes, that’s all we do in silence. The silence is broken by a pair of running feet as my adopted family’s actual children round the corner, pushing and shoving each other playfully. My ‘mother’ turning around with a smile on her face, a smile that would never be aimed at me, and gently scolded them for roughhousing before turning back to me and demanding that I serve her children breakfast. I do as i’m told before scurrying off to my ‘room’ (the closet) so that i’m not yelled at for being seen.
I think back to the tiny friend I made the previous night, how cruel it seemed to be chasing him and if he was doing alright. I sat in that room until nightfall where the house fell into silence which is when I decided to run away. These people didn’t care for me and I could probably do better in the wild then here, at least that’s what my eight year old brain was telling me. So I packed my little bag and ran out the house into the forest to try and find my tiny friend. It had been about 20 minutes and no sign of my tiny friend but growls in the distance had me on edge for the second time in this forest, suddenly a creature of disproportionate size lunges out of the bushes at me and I scream as it lands its claws into my chest. Not enough to kill me but enough to hurt and the next thing I know, I faint out of a mix of fear and pain.
I groan in pain and manage to open my eyes to see…. tiny friend?! Whimpering and crying as he covers me with his body, from the peaks of his kimono I can see four other people beating the daylights out of the creature that attacked me. Looking up at my tiny friend as his tears drip down on my face, I reach up and with the sleeve of my tattered kimono I wipe his tears away and he stops his hysterical sobbing, quietening down to hiccups. “Don’t cry tiny friend i’m alright see?” I point to my chest, only now realising that the wound was gone, not even a scar remained as I gasp and pat at the area. “oh hey, where’d it go?” My intrigue turned back to tiny friend as if he knew. “I-I-I couldn’t help ittt, not my fault. I made you swallow some of my blood.” His explanation isn’t the best, especially when I don’t know what demon blood did to humans. Nevertheless, I cheer and throw my arms around tiny friend thanking him for saving me. By this time, the four men hand finished and were gathered around us, tiny friend shrunk to be picked up as the one wearing a kimono matching his, picks him up, eyeing me carefully. The winged one has no concerns, picking me up playfully, being careful of his claws as he lifts me up to his face and examines me. “This the one Hantengu?” He asks tiny friend who I now know the name of, Hantengu nodding his head and the four of them started walking further into the forest.
After a while, we come across a run down shack an we enter, it smells of blood and dust. A larger version of Hantengu turns the corner and takes tiny friend out of the red mans hands, eyeing me carefully. We all move into the living room (I don’t know if they had these but they do now) where I see yet another person, this one looked younger, although not as young as he. his brows furrowed as he sets an intense glare upon me. “Is this the one that protected Hantengu?” I am shocked, his voice sounds so much deeper then I would have expected it to sound. The one holding me nodded, throwing me up and catching me a couple of times. “Don’t do that, you’ll drop her and that’ll be upsetting” The blue man with a sad frown spoke up yet made no move to take me out the winged mans hands. The green one with no shirt on laughs out loud at this statement. “Oh Aizetsu you do say the funniest things! Urogi won’t drop her she means too much to the old man” I had learnt two more names as the largest one snatched me out of Urogi’s arms and settling me in his lap with Hantengu, who pinned himself to my side as the red one growled at the antics of the others. “God you lot are insufferable!” He snaps to which the youngest one nods in agreement, the furrow in his brow becoming deeper as he finally takes his intense gaze off me.
“Awwwah Sekido! You always ruin all the fun, you as well Urami” The green one whines although he doesn’t look too upset at the yelling like Aizetsu does. Yet another two names are learnt, the red man is Sekido and the one holding me and tiny friend is called Urami. The only two nameless men left are the green one and younger one. Sekido growls again. “Karaku…” His voice is threatening as I now learn the green mans name. “Enough both of you!” Urami growls from above me and Hantengu grips my kimono in his little hands which I awe at, he’s so small which I find cute. What I haven’t realised yet is the small horns and purple discolouring that decorated my face like the men in the room. Karaku keeps his giggling, poking fun at Sekido and Urami as Urogi joins in, Aizetsu having left the room, sensing the incoming shit storm. Urami’s grip on his arms tightens as he stands up and shoves me and Hantengu into the younger mans arms, storming up to Karaku and Urogi, grabbing them both and draggin them outside with Sekido following.
All three pairs of eyes follow them as they leave, a moment of silence passes over us as the younger one keeps a tight grasp on us and I risk looking up at him only to be met by an intense stare. “You saved Hantengu from those villians and for that you have our gratitude small one.” He raises a finger to prod my forehead and horns, which I now realise I have. “To show our thanks, we have made you just like us and we will take care of you from now on. Oh where are my manners, My name is Zohakuten” My head nods in acknowledgement as my hands reach up to touch my horns, they are short, stubby and very firm. I look back down at tiny friend and point to my horns. “Look! Now i’m just like you tiny friend.” I am ecstatic, not realising what demon life would mean for me. Hantengu nods about as cheerfully as he could. I yawn, regeneration having taken a toll on my weak demon body as I snuggle into Zohakuten, holding Hantengu in my arms. Drifting off into a dreamless sleep, I swear I felt a small kiss being placed on the top of my head.
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shininas-ideals · 22 days
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Immediately had to color this page, this is one of my favorite pages ever now (thanks to @nineofscans for the scan and translation!)
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mcmansionhell · 4 months
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we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven
Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to bring you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.
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Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.
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It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism yet remains unable to let go of the kookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.
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The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.
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It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.
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And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Or so you think. Everything the interior design tries to hide, namely how unceasingly peculiar the house is, it is not entirely able to because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.
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Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.
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A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.
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Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.
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At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.
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And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.
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fuckyeahisawthat · 3 months
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Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.
We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.
I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.
But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.
Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.
And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.
It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.
It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.
And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.
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tarrynightss · 4 months
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what happens when sukuna’s precious little jewel actually does get pregnant ???
I’m so glad you asked Anon hehe
Concubine!reader x Sukuna thoughts part 1 here
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Tags; Pregnancy, Concubine!fem!Reader, smut below cut, breeding kink, size difference, bit of lactation kink
Sukuna is not surprised when it happens after all the hard work you both put into realizing his dream. He notices a subtle change in your smell, in the energy that pulsates around you when he caresses his hand over your body. A wide grin splits on his face as he lays his hand over your lower stomach, his chest sturdy against your back. He can’t help but nuzzle his face against the side of your head, inhaling more of your intoxicating smell. “It took.”. Those simple words have your eyes widening and your heart pounding in your chest, looking back at him to ensure you understood correctly. “You’re with child.”
He’s overjoyed with the prospect of having a baby, an heir of his own. He’s more affectionate than he ever was, taking time to settle you close against him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the growing bump on your stomach. He even caresses your hair and kisses you in an attempt to comfort you when you feel pain, all of it shockingly gentle for Sukuna. In his mind there’s a simple explanation. You did as he wanted, and you continue to do your duty well, ensuring his child is safe and growing strong inside you even when it hurts you, so you should be rewarded for it.
Sukuna has always been wary of others, but with the pregnancy he turns outright paranoid. With the amount of enemies he has he worries that one might now lash out and target you and your baby. He focuses more on maintaining barriers around the house, has someone sample your food in front of him before it’s allowed to be served to you, and you never sleep alone anymore, him always curled protectively against your side. He also decides to dismiss a large portion of his harem, not trusting them to have your best interest in mind. He knows how jealous humans can get, had seen women scratch each others eyes out just to get ahead of the other, and so the only other concubines allowed to stay are the ones you claim are your friends. He still keeps a careful eye on them, only truly allowing it because he knows that when the time comes, you will need women to aid you through it, and he doesn’t trust random midwives more than he trusts them.
Sukuna will spoil you more than ever, making sure you are comfortable in whatever way he can offer. The pregnancy is clearly taking a toll on you, your stomach having grown large and heavy, and he almost worries the size difference between you that excited him so might become the death of you. He carries you basically everywhere the last two months, wrapping you up in his strong arms and doing anything you need of him. It’s quite ironic; you used to be the one helping him get dressed, fawning over your master, and now he does the opposite for you. Though you know it’s out of necessity, it still makes your heart flutter.
That Sukuna is stressed out when you finally give birth is putting it lightly. He waits outside as customary, trying to appear stoic but panicking on the inside at your pained screams. As soon as he hears a baby cry, he barges in, watching as another concubine places the child against your bare chest. He quickly finds himself on his knees beside you, brushing one large hand over your sweaty forehead to comfort you as the other joins you in holding your baby. It’s a daughter, but she’s healthy and strong, screaming her lungs out for a minute more before calming down. You laugh, and he breathes in deeply, knowing you both made it. Relieve makes him bend forward and press a kiss to your forehead, leaning back just in time to see the child’s eyes open. Four in total, just like her father, but with the scarlet stare replaced by the lovely color of your eyes.
It surprises everyone, including you, how much of an involved father he is, holding his baby as often as he can, a large finger prodding at her pouty lips till she smiles and coos. When you apologize to him for not giving him a son, he stares at you blankly, gesturing for you to rise from where you kneel before him, putting one hand on your cheek as two others still cradle your baby. “I don’t need your apology. The child is healthy, and you will give me a son next time.” The surprise is evident on your face as your eyes snap to his. Not only is he being benevolent, but he also just said he wants another child with you. You were afraid he would discard you like a broken toy after this, no longer interesting enough to him, but it seems you still manage to hold your position as his favorite, bringing a smile to your face.
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It has to be said that Sukuna can’t take his eyes off of you from the moment that tiny bump appears on your stomach. There’s something about it, about you, that makes every fiber of his being crave touching you. Maybe it’s that famous pregnancy glow, or maybe it’s the fact that he knows he’s the one who fucked a baby into you. You’re his, more clearly now than ever, and it excites him beyond his own comprehension.
Luckily for Sukuna, the hormones coursing through your body have you seeking him out desperately throughout most of your pregnancy. The first few months he fucks you like he wants to ruin you, rutting into you like an addict, but as soon as you really start showing he becomes more gentle. He wouldn’t risk seriously hurting you or his child, often seating you in his lap as he thrusts into you, his mouth lapping at your sweet neck. You still mewl so sweetly for him, so eagerly, and he already knows he might want to do this all over again after you’ve given him his first child.
Sukuna takes such good care of his little jewel, even massaging your poor sore breasts, teasing your aching nipples with his tongue. The changes to your body have him drooling all over you, his hands constantly on your growing breasts or belly. It becomes a guilty pleasure of his to touch you there, enjoying just having you on his lap as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, loving the way you squirm against him.
You find some of the changes quite embarrassing, especially when your breasts start leaking milk as you enter your third trimester. He only grins wolfishly when he notices the wet patches on the fabric covering your breasts, tutting as he pulls you to his chambers. “You need to relieve the pressure, little one.” And of course your benevolent master knows just how to do it, massaging your breasts till more drops come out, making sure he’s right there to help you through it all. This definitely gets far worse after you’ve given birth and your milk fully comes in, aching painfully to be released, Sukuna hot on your heels after ensuring your baby is fed to ‘help’ you.
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rizsu · 2 months
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the husband and his type of style jujutsu kaisen ⭒ fem-reader.
⤹ list ﹢ nanami kento, toji fushiguro, gojo satoru, choso.
﹙ syn ﹚ headcanons — as husbands, they all have their own unique characteristic.
+ love ‘su: “i thought you hated cho—” 🔇🔇🔇
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NANAMI KENTO : the “get dressed” husband.
nanami's a man of his word. you want to eat out for dinner? get dressed by 7:00 p.m. you feel like doing a random grocery run? be ready by lunch, he'll come pick you up.
to nanami, nothing is more important than his wife's wants. having necessary items serve their purpose, obviously, but who doesn't like having their wants satisfied? he can never be one to hold you back from it.
happy wife, happy life. the motto he worships. as a man of tradition, he'd take a sick leave from his job if you wanted extra attention. a spoiler to the bone. whatever you want, just say the word and he'll tell you when to get ready.
TOJI FUSHIGURO : the “i'll make it” husband.
the king of craft. toji not only serves as eye candy for your eyes only, he also serves as your person handyman! whether it's to make, break, fix, or repair, he'll have the job done in no time. give him two hours, a beer, and a hammer.
to be loved is to be seen. for toji, he knows when you wish for something to be added to make daily activity easier. since you often crave snacks during the night, he reworked the nightstand's drawers into a small pantry filled with snacks.
sometimes you like to continue watching your show despite what you're doing. with this in mind, his new project is to either make a space into the shower wall where you can safely place your phone, or make a table for the bathtub when you're relaxing.
GOJO SATORU : the “don't you dare throw that away” husband.
a hoarder. most of the time, the items that gojo's been piling up in his studio are things that no longer serve him any purpose nor value. he simply doesn't feel like trashing it.
he'd run up the excuses that it's there for nostalgia, but if you ask him where or who the object came from, he'd be unable to answer. many times this led to unnecessary arguments. there was a time it got bad to the point he'd place the objects around the house out of pettiness.
this downside has its upside. with his hoarder mentality, you're guaranteed to find something you swore to the heavens you lost. there is always good in bad!
CHOSO : the “i miss my wife” husband.
doing grocery runs alone? he misses his wife. seeing a couple holding hands? he misses his wife. someone holding something that's enjoyed or liked by you? he misses his wife.
it's gotten to the point where if he's ever invited to a boys' night, the sentence “i miss my wife” is banned. if he says it he'll have to clean everyone's vehicle. to them, it's annoying. to you, it's peak husbandnity.
choso depends on you as much as you depend on him. oftentimes he needs a moment alone and you're always there to hold his hand. he's gotten used to such behaviour, so when he's set apart from you, the “i miss my wife” gets wicked.
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sayuri-of-the-valley · 9 months
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On how Crowley and Aziraphale felt during the kiss (but mainly Crowley here):
Ok so first, the main idea for this huge meta is that a LOT of us noticed how the music from the kiss scene is similar to the nebula one, right?
Second, a lot of us also correctly noticed the parallels between the kiss and how it was to taste food for the first time for Aziraphale: bc of his reactions, the hand on lips, the similar way MS acted both scenes, the little inhale etc. So how was it for Crowley?
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Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss is practically a puzzle to solve on its own, so it's fun to analyse it, but basically, in a few words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley and he discovered he was physically starving for him, longing for him, yearning for him, for his kiss, and he had no idea. Just like with the ox. And now he needs to gorge himself in him but he can't. Great amazing heartbreaking chef's kiss someone give MS an Emmy.
But there's already so much amazing meta out there about Aziraphale x Ox ribs x The Kiss that I want to focus on Crowley here, and on the music.
So back to the music. The song in "Before the Beginning" and the song that plays during The Kiss (I Forgive You + Don't Bother) are so similar. They're not *exactly* the same, but they're totally reminiscent of each other. The viewer is immediately reminded of those chords that played in the opening scene. It's no coincidence that the fandom was talking about this fact only minutes after first watching those final fifteen minutes. This is an obvious intentional choice for storytelling reasons (David Arnold is a genius).
I have no expertise whatsoever when it comes to music, so I asked our friend @otsanda to see if that made sense and not only it does and she explained it, but she also uncovered so much more hidden meaning in all of it (musicians are amazing), so check out her meta about the music that not only serves as evidence to what I'm proposing here but it also has so much more juicy information in it 💖.
Back to the point: WHY thought? Why choose a similar song? Why intentionally COMPOSE a similar song for that moment?
Hear me out. WHAT IF, by reminding the audience of the creation of the nebula, they meant to convey to us that, for Crowley, kissing Aziraphale gave him the same feeling that creating his stars did?
THAT'S what the music is telling us. THAT'S why it makes us remember "Before the Beginning". It may sound cheesy, but Crowley may have literally seen stars when he kissed Aziraphale. He couldn't react accordingly (just like Aziraphale couldn't), bc it was an overwhelming and extremely sad moment (the music is also telling us that) for both of them. They knew it was ending . They were both having a moment of huge revelation that was fated to not come to completion. Crowley was right, it was too late.
It makes sense to show Crowley's feelings through the music, bc he was the one who started the kiss, and also he was wearing sunglasses in that scene, it's different from a character like Aziraphale that has all his million expressions for everyone to see at all times. And they've been doing this ever since s1 with the Queen songs that play in his car or in the background.
So my point is: the same song being used there makes me wonder if kissing Aziraphale finally gave him what he lost. His purpose. What Aziraphale was trying to give back to him by taking him back to heaven. There's no need for Heaven. Just kiss him, Aziraphale, and there he'll find the stars you want to give back to him. There you will one day see that smile on his face you saw Before The Beginning. Neil Gaiman and David Arnold I am in your walls 😭
This is what may lead us to see this happiness in Crowley again (not the action of kissing itself, of course, but what it represents to their relationship, them being together, them being an Us).
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As @otsanda said: from the music we can interpret that that moment was a Revelation for them. Almost a religious experience. Crowley found his purpose again. What he'd been missing the whole season (or even his whole life since the Fall, but we've seen him especially depressed this season).
I'm not even getting into the poetry of how one can interpret the parallel to the angel's reaction to the kiss as carnal, and the demon's as religious; that would be another whole essay but let's just agree that it's incredibly beautiful. (Let me be clear that I mean here Aziraphale's reaction is carnal specifically for Crowley, and Crowley's is religious specifically for Aziraphale, not religious as in "worshipping god")
"Do you ever wonder what's the point?" Crowley asked in s2e1. The point, for him, is Aziraphale (if you've seen The Good Place you know what I mean). I hope he figured this out with that kiss, even as heartbreaking as it was. Even if it was a (temporary) separation kiss. (I hope Aziraphale figures this out with time too, that he's more than enough to make Crowley happy, that Crowley doesn't need Heaven, or stars, that Crowley needs him.)
Maybe that's why Crowley didn't leave and kept waiting outside until the very last moment.
Aziraphale and Crowley both bit the apple at the end of s2. There's no turning back from that Knowledge now.
Edit: I just have to add here this brilliant colour analysis of the nebula scene by @halemerry. And it's pointed out that during the nebula formation there's a moment when it looks like two people embracing. And the fact that a similar song is used in the actual Kiss scene I just... I have no words
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melzula · 2 months
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I JUMPED WHEN I SAW REQUESTS OPEN
zuko unintentionally saying something he doesn’t mean to reader (ex. ur clingy/annoying) and makes the reader like kinda distant cus they don’t wanna be annoying or clingy yk? then he comforts them and says sorry and it’s very much a angst to fluff moment!
a/n: i love this trope
summary: your sudden disappearance makes zuko reevaluate his behavior
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The apartment is empty when Zuko returns from the tea shop. His bones ache from standing all day and his mood is sour from having to serve customers, but it doesn’t distract him from the fact that something is missing. The place feels dull and lacks its normal warmth, and the change unnerves him.
“It seems y/n has not yet returned home,” Iroh observes as he flicks on the lamps to rid the room of darkness.
“Where did she go?” Zuko murmurs, doing his best to mask his anxiety over your absence. It’s not like you to stay out late, especially considering your apartment isn’t exactly in one of the safer rings of Ba Sing Se, and it worries him.
“I’m not sure. She seemed to be in a hurry when she left this morning,” the older man recounts as he scans the room to look for any trace of her left behind. “She didn’t even have her morning tea!”
“She could be in danger. I’m going to search for her.”
“Would you like me to come with you?”
“No, one of us should stay here in case she comes back,” Zuko states before making his way out the door. “I don’t want her to come home to any empty apartment.”
“Be sure to watch your temper if you do find her, nephew. Y/n is struggling to adjust to this new life just as you are, and it is important you are patient with her.”
The Prince says nothing in response to his Uncle’s words, but he immediately feels the guilt and shame that they bring him. His warning serves as a reminder for his recent behavior, and Zuko is then able to figure out why you were nowhere to be found.
You’d been eating breakfast together that morning before he had to leave for work, and despite his irritable mood you seemed to be eager to start the day.
“I was thinking of visiting the market place to buy fresh groceries for dinner tonight. Maybe I could stop by the tea shop and bring lunch for you and your Uncle,” you suggested with a pleasant smile.
“Sure,” Zuko had grumbled in response before forcing another spoonful of bland porridge down his throat.
“And after dinner we can visit the fountain,” you had said with an excited smile. “I’d love to take a walk through the city and get some fresh air. We hardly ever leave the apartment.”
“This city is nothing but dirt. There’s nothing to see out there.”
“Oh,” you had murmured, your features deflating slightly at his negative comments. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can just stay in and play a game of pai sho instead. I’m not exactly sure how to play, but I bet you could teach me! It could be fun!”
“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing yourself speak?!” Zuko had finally snapped harshly, his patience finally having been worn thin by your ceaseless suggestions. He didn’t want to take a stroll or play pai sho or have any sort of fun, and he didn’t understand why you couldn’t get that. “This isn’t some little vacation. I failed to capture the Avatar and now we’re stuck here, do you understand? Go play pai sho with someone else.”
The room had grown deathly silent after Zuko’s outburst, and he was too annoyed to notice the way you kept your gaze glued firmly to the table to avoid him see the welling tears in your eyes. Without another word, you quietly excused yourself from the table and made your way out the door without an explanation or a goodbye. Zuko hadn’t seen you since.
“I’m such a jerk,” he curses himself as he roams the streets in search of you. You’re not in the market place and you’re not by the fountain, so where could you be? He’s beginning to worry, his mind conjuring up multiple scenarios where you’re in trouble and he can’t help you. It’s pure torture.
A familiar laugh floats through the air, and Zuko feels the hairs on his neck stand up at the soothing melody. He’s quick to follow the sound, and as he shoves his way through the crowded streets he finds himself coming to a stop at a small noodle shop. The shop is practically tucked into a corner and isn’t much to look at, but the inside is full of life as patrons eat and converse and enjoy the camaraderie. At the heart of the restaurant sits a table full of people focused on the game of pai sho before them, and at the center of the table you sit with a large grin and a white lotus tile in your hand.
“I can’t believe I won!” You exclaim with an excited clap of your hands before looking to the older woman sitting next to you. “Thank you so much for teaching me how to play. This is the most fun I’ve had in months!”
“Y/n?” Zuko calls, garnering the attention of you and your new friends at the table. The airy laughter and pleasantries die down at the sight of him and the room is suddenly filled with tension.
“Oh, hello, Lee,” you greet dully, your cheerful demeanor immediately disappearing when you make eye contact with the boy.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home?”
“You said to go play pai sho with someone else, so that’s what I’m doing,” you state bluntly, and Zuko looks away guiltily after hearing his own words repeated back to him.
“Can you please just come home? You shouldn’t be out on the streets this late, it’s dangerous.”
“Why do you care?” You retort harshly. “I’m having fun here. These people actually want my company.”
“Y/n,” Zuko says with an irritated sigh, doing his best to remain patient. “Please. If not for me then for Uncle. He’s just as worried for your safety as I am.”
You hesitate at his words, but after a moment of contemplating you finally excuse yourself from the table. You bid your new friends goodbye and promise to return for another game sometime before following Zuko out of the restaurant and beginning your walk back home.
“The moon is out tonight,” he notes quietly in an attempt to make small talk, but you don’t reply. You keep your gaze forward and maintain a respectable distance from him as you walk. “Maybe I was wrong about this place.”
“Congratulations for figuring that out,” you retort sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. Having finally had enough, Zuko grabs your wrist to stop you in your tracks and force you to look at him.
“Y/n, please talk to me,” he begs earnestly. “I feel horrible for what I’ve done.”
“Good, you should feel bad!” You exclaim angrily, harshly yanking your hand away from him. “You’ve been nothing but a jerk since we got to Ba Sing Se, and now that I’m finally giving you the space that you wanted you come and ruin my fun!”
“I don’t want space from you,” he insists desperately. “I was being an idiot! Y/n, I didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just feeling irritable and I took it out on you, but that isn’t fair of me.”
“I’m not going to be your punching bag for the rest of my life, Zuko,” you relent quietly, blinking back the tears that begin to form. “All I want is to start over, but you’re making it so difficult. Why did we even come here?”
“We came here because I realized you deserved better than to constantly live your life on the run,” he admits softly, carefully taking your hands in his own. “I know I’ve failed to make you happy or treat you the way you deserve, but you have to know that I care for you. The best part of my day is coming home to you after work, and I never want you to feel like a burden because you aren’t.”
“Thank you for saying that,” you sniffle with a meek smile, and when he pulls you into his arms for a hug you don’t protest. “I know this has been hard for you, but you have to understand that all I want is to support you and make the change as easy as possible for you.”
“I know, and I’ll forever be grateful for everything you do,” Zuko says before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Now let’s get home before Uncle begins to worry.”
You say nothing more as he puts a protective arm around you and guides you through the streets of Ba Sing Se. The move has been tough, but he swears then that he’s going to do his best to improve his attitude and give you the support you need.
He has a lot of making up to do.
| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy
| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303
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harleehazbinfics · 2 months
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for cannibal!reader how about when she found catalastor (a.k.a. cursed cat alastor) and she gave it so much attention to the point alastor was annoyed and jealous he isn't the centre of attention😂 thought it was funny and a cute idea
The Fucking Cat
Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile
JOIN THE ART EVENT! :)
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"(y/n) where the fuck did you get that?" Husk asks you mildly hissing at the cat in your arms.
It was the cutest little thing you had ever seen. He was colored red with black tips, funny looking eyes and a sickly grin that reminded you of a certain someone. It was of course, non-other than Alastor himself, the little feline even donned a little monocle of his own.
"Him? I was out in town for a while buying some meat and this little guy followed me all the way here. I just couldn't leave him by himself!" you exclaim hugging him tightly. You peppered the cat kisses which he, surprisingly, accepted with a loud purr.
Alastor's eye twitching your display of affection for the cat. Despite being in his image, he disliked the intimacy you had for the cat. You just met the damn thing for only 20 minutes and you've grown attached to it.
He begins to regret asking you to go to town for him.
Seeing you play with the cat on the carpet while it snuggled closer and closer to your face with a contented look on its face made him pull his ears back in displeasure.
Alastor thought that the cat would go back where it came from after a day, however, he underestimated how much the two of you had bonded. Wherever you went, the vicious little thing would follow you and hiss at anybody that tried to get close, feeling territorial over you.
It didn't help that after serving Alastor his meals, you'd also feed the cat with food similar to his. You played with it a lot. You took it on walks. Hell, you even gave it a bath! And it didn't even try scratch you once!
The following days made Alastor irritated, his ears always pulled backward when you walked beside him with a cat on your shoulder. With a tantalizing smirk at Alastor, the cat nudges you, asking for your attention. Alastor narrows his eyes then finally pulling the cat away from you by pinching the back of its neck, then flings it off at the distance then closing the distance between you.
"Ah!" you yelp initially worried for the cat, but blush heavily when you feel Alastor's body nudging yours.
The little thing comes scuttling back on his tiny legs now armed with a knife which you cooed at. However, Alastor made his shadow pick it up and cage him.
"It seems you forgot the memo, but I dislike sharing," Alastor announces, hair flaring out, "Go find something else to latch on to, understood?"
The cat huffs and gives one final hiss at Alastor before scampering back to the hotel finding other (evil) things to do.
You glimpse at Alastor wide eyed mouth pursed before rolling your lips, "Sooo, were you jealous of--"
"Do you want me to shut that mouth for you? Now take my hand, we have much to do today."
"Yes, Sir!" 💕
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🔗TAGLIST:
@bonnie-02, @marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich, @rybunnie, @midorichoco
(art: alastor commits yeet on cat)
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ozzgin · 4 months
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Yandere! Yokai Harem Headcanons
Meet your (6) monster boyfriends!
Since the story will take a while to unfold, I decided to speed things up and properly introduce you to the characters. A little time skip to Reader becoming an onmyōji herself and renewing the bonds with the yokai men, this time at their request. They cannot bear the thought of separating from their darling and since she has reneged her life as a regular human being, someone has to keep her company. And so the days are spent exorcising evil spirits both in modern and feudal Japan, with a pack of demons following close behind.
[Main story] [Character Guide]
Content: female reader, monster smut, NSFW, obsessive behavior, reader is a monster hoe again but feigns mild reluctance
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Kiritsubo
Kiritsubo is your very first yokai encounter and he almost immediately falls for you. He's always been at the receiving end of his master's wrath for not being able to use his powers, so much that even after Nakamaro’s ‘death’ he couldn’t sleep without being plagued by horrid nightmares. His back is covered in thick scars from the frequent punishments. You first begun to suspect his background when you jumped in to protect him from an incoming blow and he froze in terror, unable to look up and awaiting the anticipated discipline.
Needles to say that when he learns you're not like the previous onmyōji he becomes extremely clingy and needy. He can only rest if you're next to him and will often hug you for reassurance. You've shared a bed before there was any hint of romance, simply because he found your presence so soothing. That's not to say he relies on you for everything. In fact, he unlocks his nearly unmatched abilities purely out of his desire to protect you. He’s found his purpose in serving you, someone who showed him kindness when he needed it most.
As you go out into the world, he begins to question his exact feelings for you. An example of his intense musings: he's asked you, perplexed, whether he can kiss you like the people he's seen on the street. He's spent his entire life being trained by Abe no Nakamaro, so he struggles to understand how relationships work. He will be utterly oblivious to other people flirting with him (it happens every now and then, he is a handsome demon after all), but simultaneously worry that everyone is out to have you. He’s already very salty about the other yokai joining your side and will frequently remind them he was the first to accept you.
When you complete your transition as an onmyōji, the priestess warns you that you may no longer partake in any kind of bonding with your fellow humans. Kiritsubo, seated next to you, responds almost instantly with eyes sparkling in excitement: "Well, that doesn’t extend to yokai, does it? I can still make you my wife.”
Kiritsubo is very clumsy when being intimate with you for the first time, but it doesn’t take long for him to become rather addicted to the feeling. You often have to scold him to behave and in return he’ll be pouting and fidgeting until you finally give in to his pleading gaze. He’s very vocal and touchy and will leave you covered in scratches from all the pulling. Towards the end he’s a drooling mess, mumbling about how much he loves you and begging you to never, ever leave him.
Murasaki
Murasaki is very cold and sarcastic on the surface, but you soon realize he is the most caring and responsible of the group, always looking out for everyone and trying to keep them out of trouble. In fewer words, he's almost like a tsundere mother hen (he won't hesitate to put you in a headlock if you mention it, though). He goes along with your wishes and will politely listen to anything you tell him, but to others he remains stoic and even rude. You’re sometimes reminded of the preferential treatment when witnessing his aggressive way of dealing with his suitors, shooing them away with the utmost disgusted scowl.
“Huh? Why can’t I be nicer to others? Bold of you to assume my tolerance is not, in fact, a limited resource spent entirely on dealing with you.”
He's been your guardian from the day you met him. He taught you how to use a sword and how to properly cast spells and seems to have a solution for all your troubles. When you introduced the yokai to the modern world you assumed he'd struggle to adapt, but he was extremely quick to learn and is, to this day, accumulating knowledge at a dizzying pace. One wouldn't be able to tell him apart from a regular city dweller. Murasaki is the concrete definition of a jack of all trades, excelling in whatever he sets his mind on.
Given his status and skills, the other yokai have always been rather jealous of him, including Kiritsubo. Ironically enough, by the time Murasaki accepted his infatuation towards you, you'd already gotten close to Kiritsubo. Which resulted in a lot of unexplained jealous bouts from a yokai too prideful to admit he loves you just as much. (You eventually get him to confess and reach the agreement to distribute the wealth among workers.)
He will occasionally be in a good enough mood to share with Kiritsubo, but it frequently results in a bizarre competition between them as you awkwardly squirm underneath, overstimulated. More often he prefers to pull you aside after you've done the deed with another yokai and aggressively fuck you as a way to assert his dominance. "Oh, was he that good? Then why are you moaning much louder now?" He'll demand with a firm grasp around your throat. Sadly his extreme competitiveness extends to this area as well.
Suma
Among the yokai, Suma is the most easygoing one despite his intimidating appearance. Most evenings he’ll have a drink in hand, eager to chitchat and ramble by the campfire, with his relaxed laughter resounding across the place. He is very loud and blunt and will often need to be reminded of the colossal power imbalance between him and regular humans and demons. Although after accidentally dislocating your shoulder (he was terribly amused by your joke and gave you a friendly pat), he’s gotten much better at adjusting the amount of force he uses, especially with you.
You’ve only witnessed him serious on two occasions: first one is a recurring event, when he’s training alone. When you’re together, he’s always in a merry mood, letting you try out moves and spells on him and frequently praising you even after failures. His whole demeanor changes when he’s by himself, swinging the spear with a calculated, focused gaze that remains unperturbed until the end of his session. The second case is when you get hurt. Now, he does encourage you to fight, and your confidence in battle is what caused him to fall head over heels in love with you. He will immediately put a stop to it, however, if the opponent ends up harming you. Seeing your lips curl in pain is enough to set him off and send him into a full blown rage.
Suma is destructive in all the ways you can think of. Given his massive size, as much as he’d love to, having his way with you is not something that can happen spontaneously. Borrowing his powers can of course help your frail body to not immediately tear apart, but depending on how much self control he has (or lack of), you might end up needing urgent healing from Sakaki. Suma will be extremely apologetic for nearly fucking you to death, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. A more common approach is riding his hand, as one or two fingers are enough to make you dizzy. He’ll be satisfied just hearing your needy whimpers. He also adores watching you whenever you give him handjobs as your little, delicate hands struggle to hold onto him. You’re insignificant compared to him and yet you persevere, feisty and horny. His precious, tiny warrior.
Yuugiri
Yuugiri is by nature a manipulative, masterful liar, so it comes as no surprise that you had a hard time trusting him in the beginning. His habit of teasing you certainly didn’t help, as you could never tell whether he’s serious about something or not. Perhaps the greatest irony is that even when he tries to be honest, it comes out crooked. Such is the fate of a deceiving demon, although most people are only familiar with fox spirits. On his end, he loves that you’re so transparent and obvious, even occasionally naive. And so it took a lot of awkward pleading to convince you to renew a binding contract with him, given everyone was suspecting him of ulterior motives.
For Yuugiri, being part of such contract is the most vulnerable offering he could've given you as proof of his love. As your souls become connected, you can perceive his feelings in ways otherwise impossible to achieve. He willingly allowed you to be able to read his heart, and thankfully it worked. It was his last, desperate resort to get you to understand his affections. Do you finally see the earnest adoration he harbors for you?
He is the best choice if you're looking for a best friend to gossip with. He enjoys listening to your stories and pays great attention to every detail. He's also frighteningly vengeful, especially when it involves you. So if you ever complain about someone to him, know that he will remember it forever and will make sure to continuously get back at the offender in the worst possible ways and will only stop when you tell him to.
Now listen, I’m about to be quite crass but it is what it is: as a serpent demon he has a long, forked tongue and let’s just say everyone in the household can tell if he’s eating you out because it will be loud. It will be followed by the walk of shame, when you eventually have to come out of the room red-faced and sore-legged, with Yuugiri donning a devilish grin for the rest of the day. You always swear to keep it in next time, but within moments you’re tightly gripping onto his horns, mumbling his name in a feverish, drunken haze. Naturally, he can read you like an open book and this truth stands for more intimate matters as well. Leave it to Yuugiri to know what his darling likes best.
Sekiya
Sekiya has been fascinated with you from the moment you stepped into the ancient Tomb. To see the anxious, quiet Kiritsubo happily wag his tail after you and the stern, irritable Murasaki readily at your service…It was a sight most unfamiliar to him and he wondered how a mere human like you managed to whip them into this kind of submission. He refused to believe you’d be stronger than Abe no Nakamaro himself, yet after the battle - from which you emerged victorious - it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn’t fear or obedience coming from the two yokai companions. Just honest, unadulterated love. He felt his chest tighten with envy, all the resentment of being sealed in with an evil, hateful sorcerer finally erupting its way to the surface.
So when you offered him and Sakaki to join you (“What else is left to do among these ruins?”), he couldn’t agree fast enough. To think he, too, could be spoiled with the affections of someone like you. On the other hand, Sekiya is an insecure, nervous wreck of an overthinker and he felt like he couldn’t offer anything worthy in return. He’s a demon that casts barriers. Nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t have Murasaki’s genius, or Kiritsubo’s raw power, or Suma’s brute strength…What use could you possibly find in him? Hence the constant need for reassurance. He will need you to pull him out of his melancholy every now and then, just a small nudge from the savior he so worships.
It’s an extremely rare occurrence, but Sekiya can get cheeky if his ego is stroked properly. So, for example, he’ll take advantage of the fact you’re both alone in the modern world and show you the handy usage of his barriers: a crowded intersection overflowing with people, and yet no one can see him greedily thrusting into you right in the middle of everything. It’s the high of sprawling you out in public without actually being seen. It’s also one of the reasons you no longer take him furniture shopping. Last time you asked him to help you pick a new table from Ikea and were confused by his requirement of it being “high enough”. Before you could ask for further explanations, the immediate vicinity started twirling into a blur and his heavy arm bent you over the surface. “Let me demonstrate”, he purred in your ear. Sure, no one saw you dripping with his cum, nonetheless scanning the items with your clenched legs and deep crimson face was humiliating enough.
Sakaki
Despite his gift to heal and revive, Sakaki is a terribly miserable demon, often plagued by gloom and death. He is especially receptive to negative emotions, and given your souls are connected, he is the first to detect any change in your mood. (You had to learn to block out the persistent throb of jealousy that tugs at your heart whenever the yokai is particularly insecure.) He takes great pride in the fact that he can understand your sadness better than anyone. The second you feel down, he’ll be right behind you: “Worry not, we shall suffer together. Such is the fate of lovers.”
The first time he joined you back into the modern world, you’ve perhaps mistakenly introduced him to classic literature you assumed he’d like. He indeed became infatuated with authors like Poe, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Shelley, Hoffmann. For the first time in his long life, Sakaki felt understood, and you’re glad to have played a role in his new interest. Yet you can’t help the shivers running down your spine whenever you become the target of his overflowing, renewed inspiration. Grim, ghastly paintings, deplorably obsessive poems…You’ve unleashed an authentic Romantic poet whose only muse is you.
He’s a master of eerie awkwardness, more so now that he has access to modern entertainment. You were excited when he asked you out on a picnic date, only to discover you’ve been taken to a foggy graveyard. He enthusiastically explained his choice: you can scout burial plots in case one of you dies (he’ll die with you, no worries), it is a stunning reminder that his love for you is eternal, and you might even find potential names if you ever want children. Another time, when you rented a boat during a sunny day at the lake, he cheerfully wondered how you’d look if you were to drown (still as beautiful as ever, he’s certain). Ah, but he does not dwell on dark things only. He recently took you to see the famous Cirque du Soleil and he was equally mesmerized by all the light and colors. It was Corteo: the story of a funeral cortège for a clown.
Sakaki does not like sharing and prefers to hang out with you alone, without the other demons. In fact, he’ll spend the day holed up in his room, writing or painting, or go out on lone walks if he knows you’re messing around with someone. He’d rather not hear anything that would cause him turmoil. The only exception is Sekiya, as they spent decades in isolation together within the sealed Tomb, and they both share a similar lack of confidence. In this case he won’t mind laying you on him and offering the above position to his friend, or casually joining your fun if he sees you together with Sekiya.
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heartfullofleeches · 10 months
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[brief mentions of non-consensual touching]
I kinda wanna flesh out yan cheater and "cheater" reader more. Fuel up the angst. I'm thinking high school sweethearts who promised to be each other's first as they went off to college. Yan sees the whole thing with reader with another person and goes to a friend for comfort. The friend sees this as an opportunity to tear the two apart as Yan was previously going to join their band instead of a straight shot to college. A few drinks down they're kissing the first person who makes eye contact with them at the party, forgetting all about their woes and promises - and skipping town without closure or a proper goodbye to their lover.
Couple years down the line and they're now a big shot - carrying little resemblance of the person they once were. Shows sold out in every venue and a different fan on their lap every night. They all have some feature that reminds Yan of their former flame which they muddle over to the very day their paths cross again.
Their latest tour leads them to a familiar place. A town where nothing ever happened and everything stayed the same. They learn their ex is still working hard for their degree and takes night shifts at a nearby gas station. The tension is thick from the moment they walk in. They didn't even want to be there, but it was the only station in close proximity. What do you even say to someone who's caused so much heart break after all this time?
"That'll be 21.10... Cash or credit?"
That's it.... After everything you put them through. After all those nights they spent crying over you - and craving your warmth in their bed. The future that you pictured together. The life you dream of in each other's arms. You tarnished what little hope they had - and that's all you could say to them...
"A "how've you been?" would've been nice...."
"I have nothing to say to the person who abandoned me. Can't even say that much since you hardly remind me of them."
Really classy from the one who caused this mess in the first place.
"Don't act like you're free of any guilt in this... I saw you with them that day... You seemed a lot more cozy with that stranger than you ever did with me."
"Stranger, what are you...." Your eyes dart around the room as the gears in your head click. Pulling out your phone, you fight back tears as you show them a picture of that stranger. "Is this who you're talking about?...."
Please say no....
They scoff. "So you do know who I'm talking about. You still together or did you run off with someone else same as you did me?"
The sadness and pain just... vanishes. All these years, you thought you had been the problem. Made to many promises. Loved then too much or too little. From what it seemed like now - they were the one who never loved you enough.
"That's my cousin....."
They didn't hear you - they couldn't. Couldnt acknowledge that maybe...
"What?"
"That's my fucking cousin, asshole."
Everything they ever believed was the painstaking truth - was a only a cruel misunderstanding.
"We hadn't seen each other's since we were kids. Their mom had just died... I tried calling you when I got home, but you weren't there. Did you seriously think I cheated on you? And you just ran away?..."
"I....you...." Were their everything. When they saw you that night the pressure of every problem weighting down on them finally snapped. They couldn't think rationally at that time - if only if they'd put the faith in you they always prided themself in having.
"You coward...." You throw their change across the counter, adding issult to injury as you point for the door.
"Get out of my store. Get out of my life."
"Y/n, wait..please."
"I said... GET OUT!"
The foundation of their new self crumbles. After your alleged betrayal they rebuilt themselves from the ground up as an overconfident, self serving individual, but like everything else to this point - it was all a lie. There were always those days they wondered "what if". What if they had stayed. What if they had tried to fix what had broken in your relationship. Knowing the truth, those fantasies return with vengeance. The truth would've came sooner and the wounds to mend would have been lesser. You'd talk over the miscommunication and they'd apologize fully by taking you out to your favorite restaurant. You'd start school together the upcoming fall. You'd kiss and make love and enjoy fleeting youth as one. There'd always be rough patches, but in the end you always had each other.
That's how things should have been.
They spiral - crawling to the closest bar to relinquish their pain the only way they knew how beyond finding someone new to bed. The thought of sleeping with anyone that wasn't you made them nearly lose the alcohol poisoning their system. Had you been dating since then? Had you given yourself to someone? Did they make you feel loved and saved - just as they should've
By the end of the night they wound up too drunk to even stand on their own feet. The bartender asked for a number to call to have someone pick them up. They gave the only number they could remember after all these years - and intoxicated.
The drive to their hotel room is quiet. You had nothing to say while they had the world - but none of it was anything you wanted to hear. You just wanted this night to be over so you could go back to forgetting they ever existed.
You help them into their room and give them some water from the sink. Despite everything they've done, you didn't have the heart to leave them like they did you.
"Drink. You need to flush out your system. You'll probably have a headache in the morning, but that's none of my concern."
".....how many people have you slept with, Y/n?"
You place the cup on the nightstand. "This isn't the type of conversation we should have right now."
"Have you been with anyone - or are you still waiting for that special person? I've done a lot of shit I'm not proud of, but at least they've given me experience. I can make your first the best. I can make love to you better than anyone. I already know you better than they do...."
Their hands creep around your waist, hugging your midsection same as they use to on school nights when their parents forbade guests - and you crawled through their window anyway. They always held you like you meant the universe to them. You still do.
Their lips gloss over your exposed stomach as your shirt crawls upwards, heavy tears staining your skin. "Just one night. That's all I need to prove myself to you. We were made for each other. Let's forget about the past for one night and pick up where we left off. A promise is still a promise - even if it's broken.
Their fingers dip below your waistband. You immediately shove them off you and to the floor. "Are you fucking insane?! You can't forget something like what you put me through. I've been so afraid of connecting with anyone because I'm scared they'd just run off like you did. I'm finally becoming me again- and I won't let you take that back from me. Don't call me."
The door slams as you storm out - reverberations their sole companion in their misery. This is the same thing they did to you. They deserve to be alone, to suffer - but they can't. It'll kill them. They can't live without you...and soon enough you won't be to live without them. You're soulmates, meant to be. They have power now - influence. They can support you however you need-
And destory everything that gets in the way of your happy ending.
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mymegumi · 7 months
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03:47 ෆ ITADORI YUUJI
⠀ for: @driaswrld sorry pookie for the emotional dmg (-ω-、)
“yuu,” you grunt, hands flailing out in the darkness as you try to push your lug of a boyfriend away from you, “stars, you need to stop eating so much, you weigh as much as a tractor trailer.”
the response you get is a long snore, followed by the soft smacking of his lips.
normally, you wouldn’t complain about your sweet boy’s body weight or the comforting pressure of his limbs draped over you, but currently, you’re facing a singularly unique experience that no one has ever seen happen before—you need to pee. badly. yuuji has been bulking lately, meaning for dinner you have to make about three servings of food, all for him, and then a fourth serving for yourself (of which he usually finishes off for you if you can’t manage to eat it all).
not to say you dislike watching your boyfriend’s gym experiences, or even that you discourage them, but you’re just annoyed now that he’s gained about 5-10 pounds of muscle mass that you can barely manage to push him off of you.
he’s not a gentle sleeper. in fact, he’s single-handedly the most violent sleeper you’ve ever met and the first time you’d stayed over at his apartment, he scared you awake at least three or five times. now, you’re so used to his sudden spasms and uncontrollable snoring that it hardly phases you, or you can just ignore it and fall asleep again, but the discomfort of needing to pee has taken precedence over anything else.
yuuji is truly lucky you love him more than anything else, right now, because he’s star-fished himself across your queen-sized bed, an arm over your stomach and his legs flung over both of yours while the blanket is tangled between both of your bodies. he is happily snoozing away, blissfully deep in dream world as you continue trying to push him off.
this wouldn’t be an issue, because despite his bulking and the near constant complaint of ‘yuu, you weigh too much for us to wrestle properly because you always win!’, normally, you can at least shove him off enough to scramble out of the tangle of limbs.
tonight is an issue because he’s clingy.
yuuji is a stage-five clinger in his sleep only a third of the time. most of the time you’re free to come and go as you please, but sometimes, on rare occasion, he can psychically know you’re trying to leave the bed and stop you in his sleep. he’ll grab your waist and shove his face in your neck, he’ll snag a wrist and interlace your fingers, and on the one rare time, he’ll somehow hook his foot around your leg and make you fall back onto the bed. it was insane, the lengths he would go to to make you stay in the comfort of your bed—all while miraculously asleep.
so, you’d tried to sneak out of bed to pee and he’d grabbed your hip, forcing you back into bed with the grip of a man desperate to keep you by his side. you’d find it endearing if you weren’t about to pee your pants.
“i love you,” you whisper, turning your head to press your nose into his cheek and trying to burn a hole in his head, “but i’m gonna murder you if you don’t wake up and let me leave.”
“s’love you.” he mutters. he tilts his head towards you and presses a kiss to your nose.
you narrow your eyes. “what’s megumi’s middle name?”
“francis.”
he’s not awake. the poor boy wouldn’t have lied so easily if he was awake, and you are left to flop against the mattress helplessly.
you hate waking him up because he always looks like someone kicked a puppy in front of him and then told the dog it sucked. it just wasn’t nice and he deserved all the nice things in the world. you also hate waking him up because he is somehow such a deep sleeper. you’d have to be screaming your lungs off at an intruder for him to wake up in perfect lucidity.
you’ll have to find another plan to sneaking away from him and going to the bathroom. you wouldn’t give up, but you’d bide your time. eventually he’d have to move away from you and then, that’d be your chance to slip away.
(you end up falling asleep in his embrace and running to the bathroom frantically when the sun rises.)
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