#just don’t let me wax poetic about him

[thebaffledcaptain]

for someone who allegedly doesn’t believe in past lives I can tell you a lot about my past life. picture: I am a young fifer for the british army during the american war of independence. I have no connections and no prospects, just a talent for music and a zeal for my country, and my fellow infantrymen regard me with a strange mix of pity and fondness for my quiet but hardworking demeanor. I die prematurely and unceremoniously by way of rebel musket ball

#I know it’s stupid but also I am intensely fond of this nonexistent character #just don’t let me wax poetic about him #where else can I post about this and still be regarded as sane other than tumblr #I’m having like. thoughts about this a lot #I dunno! I just like the idea #amrev #this is your captain speaking #awi

[teamatsumu]

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES

content warnings: fem!reader, fluff, sfw headcanons

XAVIER - PHYSICAL TOUCH

Xavier knows he is smart, and witty enough. But when things get a little too real, he finds it hard to express himself.

And the feelings he has for you are the most genuine ones he has felt in his long, long life.

While he might not be someone who can wax poetic about his affection for you, he shows it in other ways, and physical touch in his favorite way to get his feelings across.

When you walk next to each other, he sticks close, arm brushing against yours. Occasionally, the back of his hand makes contact with your own. It's almost as if the tension builds and builds, until he finally connects your fingers, either intertwining your hands together or linking his pinkie with yours. No words leave his mouth. His touch says enough.

If the train is too crowded, he will pull you closer to him with a firm touch on the small of your back, making sure you don’t receive any unwanted bumps from strangers.

For a few weeks in your relationship, he developed a strange habit of pinching your cheeks and lightly pulling on them. You let him do it, knowing he would eventually move on and find some other part of you to focus on. Though the action did make your face heat up.

Another weird hyperfixation he has is nibbling at your fingertips absentmindedly. He plays with them often, but when he is distracted by a movie you two are watching, he will bite at them every so often. Sometimes, he is so focused on the screen that you doubt he even realizes what he is doing.

(He realizes. He just thinks every part of you deserves love. Don’t question it. It makes sense in his head.)

Cuddling with him is the perfect gift for your senses, stimulating you wonderfully.

Small nips on your skin, little lingering touches. He traces your skin with eager yet gentle hands, as if trying to memorize every curve and dip.

He buries his face in your neck and breathes in deep, and in that moment, bodies tangled with each other and the sheets, vulnerable and open, he will whisper, “I love you”.

It’s an affirmation more than a revelation, since his actions up until this point have all shown you that he really, truly does love you. So you whisper it back, trying to pour all your love into it, before slotting your lips together and using physical touch to convey your feelings right back.

RAFAYEL - WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

Rafayel is, in the simplest of terms, a yapper.

This man could talk for hours if you don’t stop him. About his art, about the meaning of life, about his experiences. He can express so much while also having an impeccable talent of being completely vague. Sometimes, you don’t even understand the things he says. And you’ve given up trying to decipher his every word.

But when Rafayel is talking about you, he makes himself abundantly clear. There’s no ambiguity about it; he loves you. And he will say it a million different times in a million different ways. Whether it be a bold declaration of how much his heart yearns for you, or endless teasing that is meant to rile you up and get a reaction out of you.

“I don’t think your talent lies in art, babe. It’s a good thing you’re a walking art piece yourself. No wonder I’m in love with you.”

“You’re leaving so soon? But I don’t think I’ve admired you enough for today. Don’t leave me!”

I’m impressed, Miss Bodyguard. You’re talented, and easy on the eyes. No wonder you captivated me from that very first day we met.”

Expect to wake up with a lot of voice notes on your phone. Minutes long. Sometimes rambling, sometimes actual ideas for new pieces that he wants to run by you. You better reply to all of them individually.

When you cuddle at night, you can talk for hours. No topic on earth is off limits with him. He will lay you down on a blanket on the beach, and as you watch the stars, he will tell you stories from olden times about star crossed lovers and tragic fairy tales. And he will turn to you, tell you how beautiful you are, how ardently he loves you, how he will never forget any moment he spends with you.

It’s almost like you can tell the exact moment he falls in love with you. Because he tells you. He never stops telling you. He voices his fears of you leaving him, he makes you promise you will never go away. He is clingy and he is whiny, and he is so endearing.

It’s hard to dismiss him when he is so loud about his love. And it’s hard to not fall for him just as he falls for you.

ZAYNE - ACTS OF SERVICE

This is an indisputable fact. Dr Zayne shows his love through acts of service.

He is intensely aware of your needs, and is miles ahead of you in determining what you require at any given moment.

It’s his way of showing you that he cares. He worries for you, and born from that worry is the urge to take care of you.

If you have had a long day, you will come home to a text from him saying he has ordered takeout and it will arrive at your house shortly, since he knows you are too exhausted to cook anything. It is always something different, but it is always food that he knows you enjoy. He will mix it with some healthy options too.

If you ever crash at his place, you will wake up to a tall glass of water and two aspirin on the side table, along with a note in his neat handwriting telling you that there is fresh cooked breakfast in the oven (he made it before he left for work).

Once you two are in a steady relationship, he keeps his house stocked with products you use. A spare shampoo and conditioner, toothbrush, a bathrobe of your size, a hair brush, you name it.

When you mumble something about the hand cream in your purse that is nearly running out, you will find a brand new tube next time you open the purse, and there is no need to even ask. You know Zayne put it there.

He is intensely observant. Even after knowing him for so long, it catches you off guard. He knows which of your clothes need to be dry cleaned and which ones are good for the washing machine. He knows which scents you use. Which products are harsher on your skin. He knows that contacts irritate your eyes after long hours of wearing them, so he keeps a small bottle of eye drops in your side table for that very purpose.

He scolds you for neglecting yourself, and he won’t hold back the harsh tone if he thinks your behavior is particularly destructive. To him, the best way to show love is to make sure your beloved is living the best life they can.

It is the littlest things, the tiniest details. And it shocks you, even after so long.

#love and deepspace #xavier #zayne #rafayel #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #lad #lnd #l&ds #xavier fluff #xavier x you #zayne fluff #zayne x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel x you #love and deepspace fluff

[mistiell]

The one request that’s bouncing around my head is Astarion dealing with a sick mc like fever chills and no sense of balance because of vitiligo

Hope you enjoy <3 WC: 1.3k

---

You feel like shit. Total and utter shit.

What started as a sore throat has evolved into a fever and chills, along with an absolutely skull splitting migraine. The sheets twist uncomfortably as you turn onto your back, clinging to your sweat slicked skin. You can’t bring yourself to kick them off. Not when the ache in your bones makes it feel like they’re breaking.

The sun has been up for nearly an hour, now. If you don’t come out soon, one of your companions will come get you. A strangled whimper forces it’s way out of your throat as you force yourself up, curling in on yourself and dropping your face into your hands.

After trying to decide between attempting to take a breath through your sufficiently stuffed nose or through your mouth, you choose the latter. Which you realize is a terrible mistake when it suddenly feels like a thousand tiny knives are skinning the inside of your throat. It makes you cough, which makes it a million times worse, which makes you cough even more.

It’s a good minute until you can finally breathe again; throat raw, beads of tears drying on your lashes. You’re sure you’re a sorry sight. It makes you glad no one is here to see you in all your disease ridden glory.

“Sweet Hells, are you hacking up a lung in here–?” Not even all the way inside your tent yet, Astarion stops immediately after he lays eyes on you. The disgust is immediately replaced by a hesitant sort of concern, brows just barely creasing, “Oh dear.”

“Do I look that bad?” He grimaces at the way your voice grates, gaze flitting over various parts of you before he meets your eyes again.

“You look dreadful.” You think it’s meant to be playful, but he looks and sounds just a little too concerned for it to land that way.

You snort anyway, rubbing at your sweaty forehead, “Thanks.”

He hovers there, uncharacteristically quiet as he glances outside before sighing and coming the rest of the way inside. He’s still in his regular clothes, which makes you think the others haven’t started getting their armour on yet. Thank gods.

He sits down in front of you on your bedroll, knees barely a hair’s width from yours as he cradles the nape of your neck in a gentle hand and presses the inside of his wrist to your forehead. Eyes fluttering shut, a small sigh of relief escapes you when his blessedly cool skin meets yours. You barely think about it as you place a sluggish hand over it to keep him there.

“You’re nice and cool.” You sound listless.

“And you’re about as hot as the hells.” He sighs. You can hear the frown in his voice, “This has gotten out of hand.”

Peeling your eyes open, you blink at him in confusion, “What?”

He lets his wrist fall but keeps a kind hold on your neck, looking deadly serious.

“I know how much you love flattery, but you should know you really don’t have to go to such lengths to get me to wax poetic about your eternal beauty.” It seems like he can’t help the smile that cracks that through the act he’s putting on, “I truly appreciate the effort, but a simple, ‘Astarion, my dearest love, tell me I’m pretty.’ would do just fine.”

A giggle bubbles up from your throat, and you list forward to hide your face in his shoulder as you rasp weakly, “I do not sound like that.”

He hums, giving your nape a gentle squeeze before stroking a little line behind your ear with his thumb. You can feel his teasing smile against the side of your head, “Thankfully not. Should you ever call me your dearest love, I fear I may just drop dead a second time.”

Your laughter dies down, and you’re left with an astronomical wave of fatigue. He wraps his free arm around you when you slump further into him.

“Darling?” He jostles you a little bit. Again, he attempts a joke. Again, he’s too worried for it to come out right, “Don’t go dying on me now. With all we’ve been through, it would be such a waste.”

You huff a small, breathy puff of laughter, turning your face so the bridge of your nose rests against the side of his neck, “I won’t.”

He eases his hand up and down the length of your spine. You barely register it when he turns his head just enough to nose at your temple briefly.

“You should lay back down.” His voice is softer now. The feeling of his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear makes you shiver. Although, that could also be the fever.

You sigh, pulling yourself away from his shoulder. The movement sends the world tilting over and over in one direction. Breath hitching, you feel yourself sway as your eyes squeeze shut.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds a little alarmed as you drop your head into your hands.

“Vertigo.” You breathe. Everything keeps spinning behind your eyelids.

You can hear him shift before his hands find one of your forearms and your shoulder blades, guiding you to lay back.

“I have to–.”

He cuts you off, suddenly stern, “The only thing you have to do right now is rest.”

“But the others–.” You try again. It’s in vain.

Scoffing, he turns his nose up. “The others can shove it, as far as I’m concerned.”

You huff, ready to argue until you open your eyes and notice the anxious quirk of his brows. Instead, you sigh, sluggishly placing you hand over his, “Fine.”

You just barely manage to hear the small breath of relief that escapes him as he turns his hand to give yours a squeeze. He leans forward to press his lips to your forehead before pulling away, “I’ll be right back.”

You only nod.

He comes back five minutes later with a small bowl of water, a cloth, and two slices of bread balanced carefully in his arms.

“You don’t have to eat it yet.” Is all he says as he sets the plate down a little ways away. After wetting the cloth, he rings it out into the bowl and folds it in half before laying it over your forehead. You sigh as it cools your skin. It only lasts a few moments before your skin has warmed it again.

He tries again, then again, before huffing; frustrated.

“I’m sorry.” You croak, and he tuts, shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, darling. It’s not you.” He sighs, looking properly perturbed now.

“Maybe Shadowheart–.”

“I asked. There’s nothing she can do.” It comes out bitterly, but you know it’s only because he’s worried.

You suddenly have an idea, but first you have to ask, “Can you get sick?”

Looking confused, he shakes his head, “No, I can’t. But, what-?” Pulling back the covers, you open your arms. It clicks, and he chuckles as he climbs in beside you, “Plan to use me as an ice pack, do you?”

“That’s the plan.” It comes out more deadpan than you mean it to. It makes him laugh a little harder, and you can feel the vibrations as your head settles over his chest. Having him next to you is like a balm in more ways than one.

Eyes heavy, you sigh as his hand trails idly along the length of your bicep. You guess he can hear your breathing and heart rate slowing when he whispers, “Sleep, my love.”

And who are you to deny him when he asks so nicely?

#astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3

[tragedy-of-commons]

bare (my soul)

kaeya x gn!reader | wc: ~550

tags/warnings: domestic fluff w kaeya's baggage, he's soggy

notes: i love him

“Kaeya, this is egregious.”

You gesture wildly at his barren walls and the desolate living space more fitting of a Favonius jail cell than a home (or so you complained moments earlier).

“Shatter my heart into pieces, why don’t you?” he sighs, then pokes your side in jest. You’re just too adorable not to play around with - even when you’re critiquing his admittedly subpar interior design skills. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on moving in with me?”

“Only because I’m generous enough to consider proximity to your workplace,” you grumble, trying in vain to balance three boxes of your things in your arms at once. “If you had moved in with me, you’d probably have to run a marathon everyday to captain your non-existent cavalry.” Kaeya plucks the top box from your stack, revealing your unimpressed face to him. He grins. “Careful. If you keep saying things like that, I just might think you like me.”

You move to set your boxes down on the floor beside his boring, singular sofa. “I could wax poetic all day about my love for you–” “Oh, I’m dying to hear it, sweetheart–” “–But we seriously need to do something about your.. lifestyle.” You imitate a pompous noble, splaying the back of your hand across your forehead in distress.

Kaeya Alberich has heard many complaints about his lifestyle. Sometimes it’s in the form of Jean criticizing the way he handles certain intel, or the way he ostensibly slacks on the job. Other times, it’s in the form of rumors that he’s especially privy to; Captain Kaeya who loves his drink a little too much, or Captain Kaeya who uses underhanded methods to deal with threats to Mondstadt.

“We’re going furniture shopping at your earliest convenience!” you beam.

Yet you’re just referring to his apartment. What a miracle you are.

He sets the box he stole earlier down, humming thoughtfully. “Is it truly that horrid here?” (It is. He steps out every chance he gets, preferring a noisy tavern or your former place over whatever husk of a building Kaeya Alberich calls “home” these days.) “Yes. Minimalists shall never be forgiven.” “Well, I’d hate to be in your bad books.” Not once do you let him slip away during the unpacking process, practically shoving your trinkets and knickknacks into his hands for him to “make the call” about where they should live. You also sneak into his closet to try and scare him, but the jingle of one of his ornate belts catching on your person gives you away. He throws the doors open with a flourish. When you pout about him being no fun, he just slides in there with you, clicking his tongue and simpering about how you’re such a troublemaker. It’s quiet and you squint through the slits of the closet door at the surrounding bedroom. “Kaeya, I know what’s been missing!” you whisper-yell at him, head knocking against a hanging cape. 

You, he wants to say, It’s always been you. What comes out instead is your voice, effectively cutting him off. “An ugly vase!”

He can get behind that too. Maybe one day he’ll show his full hand, lay out every card, and wait for the swinging axe to take off his head - and maybe you’ll just pull him along to haggle with antique dealers in the name of ironic decoration. “You read my mind, sweetheart.”

#✧ my works #—stellaronhvnters. #genshin impact #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin kaeya x reader #genshin impact kaeya x reader #kaeya x gn!reader #genshin x reader #idk i might delete this later #i don't think it's an original concept?? #LMKKK #also i think he lives in the knights' quarters or smth.. whatever

[softdoctorreid]

warm hugs | spencer reid

summary: another agent makes a comment about spencer’s ‘dad-bod’, but how can he want to change that when being a dad is his favorite thing? anon requested platonic dad-bod spence whose kid says he’s comfy like a teddy bear 🥺🧸

• mentions of body image, food

+++     +++     +++

When your name lit up on his phone, it was a welcome sight in the midst of a day that had Spencer feeling down. “Spence, I’m so sorry,” you said. “I’m gonna be stuck at work a little later today. Could you pick Lily up from school?”

“Of course. Is everything okay?” he asked, leaning back against the wall of the empty office he’d taken refuge in.

“Yeah, just a last-minute meeting, it’s all good. How about I pick up some dinner and dessert on the way home as a treat?” He hesitated, and while he was the profiler in the relationship, you’d gotten good at reading him over the years. “Babe, is everything okay with you? You’ve never thought about turning down something sweet before.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, trying to backpedal. “I don’t know, it was just a stupid comment another agent made.”

“What did they say?”

“Just pointing out that I don’t look the way I did a few years ago. Something about domesticity and putting on weight.”

Agent Hill had once been an assistant agent around the BAU bullpen until his transfer up to the New York Office. A training seminar had him back in the area for the first time in years, and he’d popped by Quantico to make a round of reunions. While he was chatting with everyone and making quips, he’d locked eyes on Spencer. “SSA Reid,” he’d said. “Haven’t seen you in a while! Looks like there’s a little more of you to see, huh? Domestic life must be treating you well.”

Spencer knew it was meant to be some sort of joke, but it didn’t lessen the way he felt suddenly too much, too conscious of the little extra weight he’d been carrying around his midsection since their daughter Lily had been a baby. It wasn’t something that normally bothered him, but then again it wasn’t something other people normally commented on, outside of you resting your head on his tummy and waxing poetic about how comfortable he was.

Spencer pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he drove to the school. Lily was always a welcome distraction from whatever he was ruminating on, but the way the four-year old was frowning in the backseat demanded particular attention. Her answers about her day were short and vague, unlike her usual cheerful self. It wasn’t until they got home that he finally got her to admit what was on her mind.

“I just wanted to finish my book during nap time, but Teacher got mad at me and she said I wasn’t allowed. The she took it for the rest of the day. It wasn’t fair,” she grumbled. “I just wanted to read my book!”

Spencer would talk to her later about rules, and maybe try to get permission from her teacher to let her read instead, but that could wait. Right now he just needed to get his little girl out of this funk.

“So you had a bad day, huh? And you’ve got some bad feelings now?”

Lily nodded, sticking out her lip in a perfect pout.

“Then I guess it’s up to me to turn that frown…” - he snatched her up in his arms, maneuvering her over his shoulder - “upside down!” Holding tight to her he spun them around until she was giggling, her little feet flailing, hands clutching at his sweater.

The moment he dropped her back onto the couch he began to tickle her, ensuring her laughter had no chance to subside. When she seemed to have tired herself out from laughing he finally let up. “That’s much better, isn’t it?” he asked. “I like seeing your smile. So tell me, what would help make these bad feelings go away?”

Lily thought for a moment, pressing her lips together in a thin line the exact way her father did when he was deep in concentration. “Can we make brownies? And maybe watch the Elsa movie?”

“Of course we can.” Both tasks had once been a challenge for him, but he’d learned to make a box mix without burning the house down over the years, and had long since surrendered to the fact that he could not escape the endless loop of children’s movies. While Frozen was ingrained in his memory after the first watch, he learned to tolerate the repeat watches and soundtrack plays for the joy it brought to his daughter. She in fact treated him to her own rendition of the songs while they stirred the brownie mix, her energetic demeanor returning as he probed her with questions about the movie’s characters and what was happening in her favorite books. Just before he placed them in the oven, she insisted on adding handfuls of brightly colored sprinkles into the mix, saying it was a magic ingredient.

Lily insisted on changing into a pair of pajamas with Anna and Elsa on them while Spencer set up a cozy nest of blankets and pillows on the living room couch. He started the movie while the brownies baked, slipping away to take them out of the oven while Anna sang about the impending coronation. With one brownie on a plate and two cups of hot cocoa, he returned to her side on the couch. “Here you are, princess,” he said with a small bow, placing the plate in front of her.

“Where’s yours?” Lily asked.

“Oh, I’ll have one later,” he lied. “After all, princesses have first dibs.” The truth was he hadn’t stopped thinking about Agent Hill’s comment. Maybe it was time to get back in shape, shed the new-dad weight he’d never quite lost. That would mean cutting back on sugar - his favorite of the food groups - and the time he spent lying on the couch instead of hitting the gym.

Lily inched close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head resting on the top of his tummy. Spencer pulled the blanket up over her and draped an arm around her. It was his job to make her feel better, but cuddling with her on the couch was helping to dispel his own sour mood as well.

 “I think Olaf would like your hugs, Papa,” she told him. “You give the best hugs.”

“Is that right?” he asked.

She nodded, the movement tugging his shirt. “Yeah. I like hugging you. You’re soft.” That kernel of shame swelled up again at the comment only a child could make with such innocent bluntness. “And warm. Good for snuggling. You’re like a teddy bear! I love teddies, but I love you better, Papa.” As if for emphasis, she squeezed him in a tighter hug.

That bit of shame immediately began to melt at her words. Lily continued, her eyes never leaving the screen. “Cuz you can do all the things a teddy can’t, and you make brownies with me and you carry me when I’m tired and you’re the most comfy ever. That’s why your hugs are magic.”

They sat on the couch, Lily enraptured by the movie on the screen, and Spencer ruminating over her words. Warm, soft, good for snuggling. Wasn’t that what you were always saying too?

“Papa, are you going to eat a brownie?” Lily asked. “I put the sprinkles in so they’d be extra good!” The puppy dog-eyed pout was another expression she’d picked up from him, and he just couldn’t resist this time. Maybe he didn’t need to. He ventured back into the kitchen, returning with three brownies on the plate. She watched as he took the first bite.

“You’re right!” he told her. “These are the best brownies I’ve ever had!” And they certainly were when saying so produced such a huge smile on Lily’s face. She returned to her position snuggling up with him and he was content to indulge in the sweet treats before them. So maybe it wouldn’t help with the problem of his tummy, but maybe it wasn’t such a problem after all. How could it be when that softness was something his daughter and partner found endearing? If his hugs could make Lily happier and eating desserts was a moment he could share with her, why would he want to change that?

His body was proof of the thing he was proudest of in his life - being a dad. A dad who was always there, who loved lazy weekends snuggled up with his family and treating Lily to sweets she always offered to share with him. He loved that he was someone his daughter felt safe with, that his arms could offer comfort on the bad days and the good days and all the days in-between. 

When you returned home, you found them like that on the couch watching the end of the movie, Spencer caught red-handed with a brownie in his hand. Lily rushed over to greet you with a hug, happily babbling about her day as Spencer quickly finished the brownie before walking over to join you.

Distracted by the closing credits, Lily wandered back to the couch to sing along while Spencer welcomed you home with a kiss.

“Mm, you taste like chocolate. So you’re not still upset about that comment today?” you asked.

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t want to cut out the things that make life sweeter. Lily says my tummy makes me good to hug. Like a teddy bear. How could I give that up?”

You smiled. “She’s right, of course. I mean, I liked hugging you even when you were practically a bean pole. But you are much more comfortable with a little extra padding.” You gave his belly an encouraging pat. “And it’s nice to have more of you to hold onto.”

So his cardigans were a size larger these days, and he had to buckle his belts a couple notches looser than he had before. But those were signs his life had changed, his world had grown, filled by the presence of so much love and sweetness. Maybe there was a little more of him now, but he didn’t care so long as he had a little more to love in his life.

+++

tell me what you think here!

#spencer reid x reader #fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #imagine #reid x reader #softdoctorreid #z writes #tum tag

[beesspacedotorg]

thinking about tinky winky (purple lino) and begging cute boyfriend minho to dye his hair purple again and because bunny loves loves loves compliments it turns into a “so you think i’m pretty huh☺️” fest of him fishing for praise from his partner -🌸

cherry blossom anon, I may have accidentally forgot to put in compliments and instead it turned into a 750 word fic about dyeing his hair. I hope that's okay. Mayhap I'll revisit this featuring the compliments and ... other thing.

You aren’t above begging. You aren’t above a lot of things, actually, as proven by the way you’re currently on your knees in front of your boyfriend, hands clasped together like you’re praying.

“Minho, please. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. I’ll unclog the tub drain myself next time, I’ll give you earth-shattering head, pleasepleaseplease.” He looks at you, mildly confused from where you’ve ambushed him at your front door before the realization dawns and his eyes narrow.

“You’re kidding me right now.” He toes his shoes off.

“I’m not. Please, you looked so hot I don’t see why you won’t let me.” He’s walking towards the kitchen and you follow after him, still on your knees.

“Are you saying that I don’t look hot now?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. You just looked so good with the hair, please. Stay will literally thank me.”

“They’ll think it was skzigi.”

“I’ll roleplay as JYP Entertainment staff if that’s what it takes, Lee Minho.” He sighs, throwing his head back towards the ceiling while mumbling. Your boyfriend isn’t religious, he’s one of the few members of his group who has never had any particular faith, but you think he might be praying for something right now.

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’m mostly just doing all of this for the bit.” You’re standing now, hand on his shoulder as you peer at him, worried that you might have taken it a step too far.

“Shh. I’m trying to think of how I’ll explain this to our manager and Chan without getting my head lobbed off.” You smile, wide and beaming as you clap your hands excitedly, rushing off to the bathroom and reappearing next to him with a bag in your hands.

“Great! When you come up with a good excuse meet me in the bathroom.”

“How did you- Why- You didn’t even know I was going to say yes!”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I was going to save it for a rainy day, or use it on myself.” And with that, you’re gone, leaving Minho alone in the kitchen as he imagines how hot you would look with purple hair.

“Wait,” he calls after you, setting his half-opened ramen packet on the counter and turning, “did you buy enough for two people?”

-

“Are you sure you don’t want me to shower?” He asks, sitting backwards on the toilet lid as you mix the bleach.

“I didn’t go to hair school, so I’m not an expert, but I did dye my friends’ hair all throughout highschool and we had better results with less damage when their hair was gross so, yes. I’m sure.”

“That smells awful.��

“It’s almost like its chemicals.”

“I’ll leave.”

“There’s already bleach in your hair, if you leave now you’ll have awful streaks that even the most diehard LeeKnower wouldn’t be able to justify.” He huffs at that, mumbling something about how Stays aren’t that shallow and you reply with a comment about Hyunjin’s Maxident hair that shuts him up.

“He looked good,” he starts and you sigh, head dropping forward. “I don’t see what they were so upset about.”

“I know, dear.”

“He suits short hair!”

“He does.”

“It fit the concept!”

“It did.”

“Yah!” He turns, hitting your arm lightly and almost knocking the bleach bowl out of your hands. “You aren’t listening.”

“My apologies for not wanting to hear my boyfriend wax poetic about another man’s hair.”

-

“How long does this have to sit for?”

“Ask me that again and I’ll leave it in until you go bald.”

-

The bleach is washed out and his head’s half purple before he looks at his phone and his eyes go wide.

“What’s up?” You’re busy drawing shapes on his head with the dye.

“Hannie is calling.”

“So answer it.”

“It’s video.”

“Say that you’re naked.”

“Like that’s stopped me before.”

“Say that I’m naked.” The call promptly drops.

-

“How long does this have to sit for?”

“Do you give the hairstylists at the company this much trouble?”

“No.”

“I’m shaving you bald.”

-

His hair has been rinsed and blow dried and you’ve been making eyes at him for the past ten minutes while he shoves ramen noodles in his mouth.

“Can you stop staring so hard? My head’s about to catch fire.” His mouth is full.

“No. No I cannot.” His eyes roll and he sets his now empty bowl down.

“So… about that ‘earth-shattering head’ you mentioned?”

#in:box #🌸 anon #guys my first anon that's so cool #ft.lino #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #skz fluff #skz x reader #lee know x you

[vampcubus]

Fluffy Yushire Dating headcannons ?

(Anything SFW or NSFW we don’t get enough of this handsome man 🤌🏻)

Thank you if you choice to do this request!

ik my reqs are closed but i need this ok? i love him. still getting a feel for him so bear with me.

𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐂𝐒

SFW

— In typical tsundere fashion, Yushiro tries very hard to convince himself (and you) that he doesn't like you one bit at first. But you're just so beautiful, and kind... and intelligent... it was impossible not to fall for you.

— I think it's a given that no matter who or what you are, once you're in a relationship with him you'll be put on a pedestal. It's just natural for him to treat you like some sort of divine being. He is at your eternal service, at your beck and call for as long as you'll have him.

— Yushiro loves fiercely, but he's quite shy. He honestly doesn't expect you to be affectionate with him, which makes his gawking reactions even better. VERY grateful for every loving touch you spare for the demon, almost trembling with excitement whenever you kiss or embrace him.

— He's quick to thank you for these gestures, even when you insist that he doesn't need to.

— Yushiro is the ultimate gentleman, and quite persistent to be as respectful as possible. Opens doors for you, pulls out your chair before you sit, insists on carrying things for you, etc... acts of service is a vital part of his love language, so please, just let him do things for you.

— He's very protective, so much so that he has to bite his tongue if you're a demon slayer. It's not that he thinks you're a weakling, it's just that he wants you to always be safe.

— He's a bit of a nag, but a well-meaning one, always reminding you to be careful and clear-minded when you have to part ways. Ideally, he'd follow you to the ends of the earth and always watches you leave with a wistful expression.

— Possessive! and quite vocal about it. Easily made jealous and tends to lash out when he thinks someone is trying to compete with him for your attention. He bows his head in shame when you scold him for his behavior, but he perks up when you reassure him that no one could compare to him. That doesn't stop him from getting that smug grin on his face when he witnesses you turning down admirers, referring to him as your lover.

— A sucker for the mushy stuff! nothing's too cheesy to him, he swoons no matter how silly you sound waxing poetic to him about your love.

— You're Yushiro's muse and even before you were officially a couple, he was painting you almost obsessively.

— Yushiro always wants to be by your side, no matter what you're doing. Catching up on laundry? he's right there folding with you. Winding down for bed? he's gingerly removing any accessories from your hair and helping you slip into more comfortable clothes. Even if he doesn't eat human food, he'll sit at the table with you so you don't have to eat alone. He'll take a step back if you need some space of course, albeit reluctantly.

— He's always asking if you need anything of him, to which you always say, "Just your company" and he melts every time.

— Take him out on dates!! doesn't matter where to, he's just happy to spend time with you. Whether you're tugging him along to festivals with flashy entertainment, or stargazing in a secluded getaway, he's having the best time. He feels so human in those moments with you.

NSFW

— Yushiro screams service sub to me. He’s ready to sink to his knees and tend to your every need at a moment’s notice. I think Yushiro's sense of shame goes right out the window the moment your voice takes on that domineering tone.

— Wants to worship you, if only to express his devotion to you.

— Yushiro is at his happiest when he's got his head between your thighs, content to lap at your cunt for hours, and gets annoyed if he's interrupted. He's quite skilled with his tongue, only needing a few pointers before he's a pussyeating master. He prides himself on being the best at pleasuring you and shudders violently when you praise him for it.

— An enthusiastic eater that moans against your sex, especially when you grip his hair or grind against his slick tongue. Gets the cutest pink flush on his pale cheeks and this fucked-out expression like he's in his own little world while he fucks you with his tongue.

— Tell him that he's being such a good boy for you and watch his slitted lavender eyes roll back. Yushiro won't ever touch himself without your permission, but sometimes he gets too overwhelmed and cums untouched. He's always so embarrassed when that happens, unable to meet your eyes as a shameful wet spot soaks his hakama.

— Yushiro loves to give, but truly can't handle receiving at all. He's so sensitive to every touch, his body jerking wildly when stimulated. He always rushes to apologize when he accidentally moves without permission and is overall very obedient.

— He's a total hypocrite that tries to tell you that going down on him is dirty, like sir you can't say anything as someone who just ate pussy 🤨 kindly shut up and let me suck your dick til your legs are shaking.

— All protestations die as soon as you take him into your mouth, lips parted and eyes all misty. Yushiro tries to be quiet, whimpering and whining as softly as possible. But he can't help but moan sluttily when he's close to cumming. Always asks where you want him to cum, no matter how fucked-dumb he is <333 so so polite always.

— Yushiro's pretty vanilla by default, but he's open to all sorts of experimentation. Whatever makes you happy! And to that end, I think it would be wise to remind him that he doesn't have to agree with everything you propose. It's pretty easy to tell when he's uncomfortable with something, even if he won't say it outright.

— He gets emotional when you're soft on him. He'll scrub at any tears that spring to his eyes and denies that he's crying at all. You just make him feel so wanted, and he's eternally grateful to be yours. So pile on the praise, tell him how pretty he looks when he's lost in pleasure, call him sweet names, and pepper soft kisses across his pale skin.

— Can't help but tell you that he loves you over and over during sex.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #yushiro x reader #yushiro headcanons #kny x reader #kny headcanons #sub!yushiro #sub yushiro #female reader #fem!reader #dom!reader #dom reader #n/sfw

[bumpkinspice0]

Parallels: Chapter 14 The Predator

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: With Miguel in full rage mode, it’s up to you to save the day . But what happens after you finally stop the anomaly?

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, blood kink, biting, feral Miguel, borderline marking (don’t fucking look at me) fingering, oral f receiving , rough sex, possessive Miguel, waxing poetic about cumming (I said don’t fucking look at me!!!)

A/N:  Sorry this took a while! My only excuse is that I was WAY over thinking this chapter and I also started another fic because why not. I hope this being absolutely filthy makes up for the wait....

Previous - Next

Series Masterlist

AO3

_______________

Chapter 14

The Predator

This must be what mice feel like under the gaze of a cat. Like a rabbit that wandered into a foxhole. A spider caught in her own web— completely helpless.

The man you admire stalks towards you with inhuman, jerky movements. Whatever Kraven had poisoned him with had burned through his power suppressants and left you with the part of him you still didn’t fully understand. The part of him you both feared— now walking free.

He’s right in front of you now, your head hanging directly at his eye level. He leans closer and you shiver as you feel his hot breath against your neck. You need to break your restraints, you need to move but panic freezes over your limbs.

“Miguel,” You say softly, “It’s me. I-it’s me. Fight it.”

Your spider-sense is ringing in your ears and you’re not entirely sure what it’s telling you. You can only assume it’s doing the same for him.

“Arañita,” He draws back, his piercing red eyes shooting right through you. You can see the battle raging behind them. The struggle within himself. He recognizes you, yes, but is he in control?

Mocking laughter takes his attention away from you. Kraven is perched in a tree just above. 

“There you are,” he says pridefully, “There is the beast worthy of my prowess. Let the true hunt begin!”

Miguel roars, leaping after the crazed hunter. His movements are more powerful than you’ve ever seen. You feel every reverberation of his powerful claws as he scales the trees. You swear you hear the massive redwood crack through its center as he does so. His every move was lethal— deadly. A killing machine. 

And it’s exactly what Kraven wanted. 

The hunter bounds from branch to branch again, giving Miguel chase with a chorus of maniacal laughter. He was enjoying this way too much. And here you were, dangling by your own webs— helpless.

Miguel brought you here to help him, to be a team. So you’re going to help him.

You manage to swing yourself to the tree trunk the snare trap was attached to. You stand horizontally, your feet easily sticking to the bark. With yourself anchored down it was much easier to get the proper leverage to break your webs. With one final flex, you shrug them off and immediately follow Miguel and Kraven. 

You couldn’t see them anymore but they were making enough noise to alert the entire forest. Several small critters run through the branches in the opposite direction. Follow the sound of breaking twigs and masculine roars and you’d be on their tail in no time. Who needs a spider-sense. 

Even in the panic you still find yourself on high alert with your surroundings. Kraven had laid traps that stopped both of you already. Who knows how much of the forest he boobytrapped. Who knows if Miguel could even sense them anymore in his state. 

This wasn’t just about catching an anomaly anymore. This was about protecting Miguel. Protecting him from himself. You have no idea how you’re going to do it but you have to get them separated, get Kraven in a cage, and get Miguel calm and somewhere safe. 

You’re fucking Spider-Woman. This should be easy… That’s what you tell yourself anyway. 

They’re fast but you still manage to catch up. You keep a loose pursuit a few dozen yards back. The two men too distracted with fighting each other to bother with you. If you keep stealthy you can work this situation exactly like the Electro mission. Miguel distracts while you capture. You don’t have any of the cyber traps but you could still web him up. At least long enough to kick him into a portal.

If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

Miguel grabs Kraven’s ankles and they both plummet to the forest floor. Perfect. You shoot to the upper branches. With the higher vantage point, you’d have a clear shot with your webs. Luck seems to be on your side for once in this whole fucking ordeal. 

They grapple and wrestle wildly around the ground. You just needed a split second of an opening and you’d have him. It’s all you needed— Just a second.

Miguel pins the hunter to the tree you’ve perched yourself in. The force of the impact ripples all the way up the trunk. The wood groans and cracks in protest. They haven’t spotted you, your form still concealed by the branches.

This is it. It’s your chance to end this. He’s right there. Miguel raises a mighty claw to the hunter and you ready your spinnerets.

It happens all within a fraction of a second. 

You shoot a web. Kraven twists out of Miguel’s grasp just as his claw comes down. Kraven slips away with practiced ease and Miguel slices through the tree. With your web's original target now gone, it explodes on the ground at Miguel’s feet. His gaze shoots up directly to you— A gaze completely devoid of the man you know.

Well fuck.

He begins to crawl to you, Kraven completely forgotten behind him. A thunderous snap rings out of the wood from Miguel’s claw marks at the base. The tree gives one final groan before cracking under its own weight. The tree begins to tip backward, yet Miguel seems unbothered by it. He had a new target. 

Double fuck.

“Forget her!” Kraven yells as he pulls Miguel back, “I will deal with her next.”

You leap from the falling tree, swinging yourself to safety on a nearby branch. The two men below you continue their constant power struggle, seemingly unbothered by the falling giant next to them. Seems like Miguel took Kraven’s advice. He’d forgotten about you. 

You don’t know much about how Miguel works when he’s in this state. He didn’t have a strategy or the same carefully planned movements you were used to. It was only rage. Unbridled rage. 

There were only the things in front of him. Whatever caught his attention. That’s what he could focus on. That’s what he was capable of. You couldn’t take a passive role here and just wait for an opening like you planned. If you had any chance of getting to Miguel, you still had to separate them. 

What better way to do that than to forcefully insert yourself.

“Please be able to sense me coming, big guy,” You shoot a web across the clearing where the two were fighting. You grasp it tightly and take a deep breath that comes out more as an irritated sigh, “Tallyho.”

You swing. 

Your prayers are answered and Miguel seems to sense you, ducking out of the way of your dramatic entrance. Your feet make contact with Kraven’s face, your full momentum sending him flying several feet. You roll to a stop, poised perfectly between the two men.

You’re back to Miguel. You can feel his rage. His anger. His confusion. You slowly turn to face him, peeling off your mask as you do so. There was no need for it here. You feel the shared buzzing in your head amplify as recognition flashes across Miguel's face, just for a moment. He feels it too. Primal instincts ruled him now. The spider-sense tells him what your words never could. 

We’re on the same team. 

“Stupid girl!” Kraven shouts behind you, “You interfere with destiny!”

“You’re interfering with reality, so I think you have me beat.” You spit back. 

“Do not come between a hunter and his prey.”

“A little late for that, buddy.” You scoff. 

Miguel roars, bounding over you and directly for Kraven. The hunter leaps for him too. 

Within a fraction of a second, you make a decision. Maybe you couldn’t separate them like this, not when instinct ruled the fight. Not when they were so much stronger than you. If you couldn’t get them apart then you had to move them together, just like when you brought Miguel back home from his dystopian mission all those weeks ago. 

You don’t have to play by The Hunter's rules. Take Kraven out of his element and force him into yours. Get him in chains then help Miguel. And the plan was still the same as the old one… forcefully insert yourself.

Time seems to speed up again and the two predators are bounding for each other right above your head. In mid-air, they’re the most vulnerable. You leap between them, a portal springing from your wrist as you do so. All three of you tumble through together and blip across reality.

The trip back to the tower was long considering the position of this universe in the multiverse. You could jump to most realities in a matter of seconds, here you would be traveling through wormholes for just over a minute—a minute with these two raging men. An eternity by multiverse travel standards. You could do it. You could keep them under control. It’s only a minute. 

You’re quite literally trapped in the chaos. Both of them seemingly unbothered by the sudden change of environment continue fighting while you struggle to get free from the tussle. Not the most ideal situation but at least you’re out of the booby-trapped forest. Once you’re in the tower everything will be okay.

It’s only a minute.

Sandwiched between the two raging men, you kick both your feet as hard as you can, effectively using your body as a crowbar. You spiral through the wormhole with Kraven, Miguel trailing further behind. They’re both in front of you now, Kraven crawling to get closer to you and Miguel clawing to get closer to Kraven. 

You take advantage of the newly established distance and ready your webs at Kraven. If you could subdue him just a little, this whole thing would be so much easier. You shoot but he’s still too quick. He grabs the web and pulls you into him. It’s moments like this you wish you had claws.

He pulls you into a bear hug, squeezing every ounce of air from your lungs. You swear you hear bones crack.

“You couldn’t say out of it could you, dorogoy!” He growls in your ear, “You want this to be your fight so bad? Fine.”

Just past his shoulder, you can see Miguel is nearly on both of you now, claws ragging and fangs bared. With a loud grunt of effort, Kraven quickly flips you both around. Before you even have time to guess his plan, you feel it— a stabbing pressure in your neck and warm blood trickling down. Movements too fast Miguel couldn’t stop himself until it was too late.

He’d bitten you, venom now injecting into your veins. Paralizing venom meant for Kraven.

Miguel removes his mouth from your shoulder and the instant he does your spider-sense explodes in your head. Fear, confusion, anger, rage— you cycle through every emotion in an instant as venom starts to pulse through your body. In the slew of feelings, one stands prominent. Panic. Sheer panic.

You can’t see his face behind you, but you can feel him— the same as you. Panicking, even amid his animalistic rage he’s still a man. Still your Miguel. You swear you can hear his thoughts screaming in your head.

What did I do? What did I do?!

A mocking chuckle starts in Kraven’s throat again. You don’t want him to have it, a moment of victory. He hasn’t stopped either of you. Not yet. You still have precious seconds before you’re paralyzed and useless. Seconds you won’t waste.

You swing your head forward, colliding with Kraven’s. You feel his nose crunching under your forehead. It’s enough for his grip to loosen just enough. You leap from between the two of them, webbing Kraven’s hands together in the process. You pull him forward away from Miguel, now left trailing behind again. 

The exit portal sneaks up on you— your one minute is up. You burst into the 2099 reality dragging the Kraven anomaly on a leash. You pull him from the portal and swing him into the closest wall. You’d teleported to Miguel’s lab. You can feel your brain fogging. Limbs weakening. Contain him— now. That’s all you had to do. 

You quickly look around for anything you can use. By some stroke of luck, a pile of cyber traps sat on a nearby desk. You throw one without hesitation. Before Kraven can get back on his feet he’s trapped in a glowing cage of energy. 

It’s done. The bots can take care of the rest. It’s over.

Finally, Miguel bursts from the portal behind you. Oh yeah, you think briefly.

It’s not like last time though. He’s not all ragging claws and gnashing teeth. He sits there, crouched down and completely still. The portal blips from existence and an eerie silence fills the room. It’s then that you notice something. You feel— fine.

The effects of Miguel’s venom are nearly instantaneous, you’d seen it before, yet here you stand completely okay. You lightly touch the wound on the apex of your shoulder and neck and pull your hand away. You don’t know what you expect to see, maybe neon green mixed with crimson red, something alien and inexplicable, but it’s just blood. It’s just blood and you’re just fine. 

But what about Miguel?

He still sits there, unmoving. You dare to take a step closer. “Miguel?”

“Don’t” he growls, his shoulders tensing. “Finish it.”

You glance down and see his claws digging into the floor, pulling up the metal paneling. He’s trying to get himself under control. You quickly turn to grab a dose of his suppressants when that fucking voice stops you.

“Oh, this I did not expect,” Kraven laughs from his small prison in the corner. “A viper can not poison one of its own. And here I thought I’d get you out of the way. You two are of the same making, no? Well, what does this mean?”

“Shut. Up.” You sneer at him. You hear Miguel’s claws digging deeper into the floor— holding himself back. 

Don’t let him provoke you.

“Perhaps this is still your fight, dorogoy,” the hunter tuts, “A shame I’m not part of it, though.”

Miguel turns to him, his face completely cast in shadow. Only the reds of his eyes seen from the dark void, “She said… shut up.”

Kraven’s expression shifts. His eyebrows raise in amusement, a sickening smile curving in the corners of his mouth. “Oh. Oh, I see. Not a fight but… perhaps something else. You both reek of it. Desire.”

“Shut up. Shut up.” Miguel heaves. You feel like you can’t move.

“You’re part of her now, flowing through her veins. You’ve claimed her,” His disgusting words send shivers down your spine, “Or have you claimed her already, beast?”

The tension snaps. Miguel hurdles toward the cage. Claws and blades clash against the force field with an ugly static crack. He moves so fast his arms are almost a blur, struggling to break past the barrier. A raging frenzy to get closer to his target. Kraven doesn’t move, standing still with that gut-wrenching smile never once faltering. He didn’t win the fight, sure, but he’s enjoying taunting Miguel. 

You’ve decided you’ve had enough of this madness— from both of them.

“Miguel!” you scream so loud it echoes through the entire lab. Miguel freezes, glancing over his shoulder at you. You should be afraid of him, and maybe some part of you is, but you know who he is. The man underneath all of this, “He’s not worth it.”

He remains frozen. You’re not sure if he’s debating if you’re right or not— or if he’s just trying to fight the animal inside. Eventually, he steps away with a loud grunt, crawling back into the shadows. 

A faint sigh of relief passes through your lips, “Lyla, get him out of here.” you call to the room. Several bots crawl into view and begin taking the cage out. 

Kraven’s eyes were glued to you, that sickening, amused smile still there, “Do svidaniya, dorogoy.” You hold back the urge to spit in his direction until the door shuts behind him. 

He’s gone. Now just one more thing to deal with. 

You grab the injection gun from his desk. Miguel sits in a dark corner facing the wall. You approach him cautiously, dampener serum in hand. 

“Mig?” You coo softly, “Let’s take care of you.”

“Leave it.” He growls through gritted teeth, “I’ll… do it myself.” 

“You can’t,” You take another step closer. 

He whips around, a spine-chilling sound rumbling from his throat. “Just… go.” his words dripped with rage. With something inhuman. He’s fighting so hard to be present. 

You can’t just leave with him like this. How can he expect you to just walk away now? Even though you're annoyed by his insistence, you understand why. He’s still ashamed. He’s scared of what he’ll do and with good reason. 

I don’t want you to see me like this.

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to just leave him.

“No.” You stand your ground. “You don’t scare me, Mig.”

“I should,” He stands, lumbering toward you, massive arms hanging low at his sides. Each heavy step closer sends a shock wave up your body, “Look what happened.”

He grabs your injured shoulder forcefully. He stares down at the fresh bite mark, blood still weakly dripping from it. There was almost no pain with it anymore, but maybe… something else.

You feel the spider-sense stir between you. 

“But it’s okay,” you assure him softly, “I’m okay. Nothing happened.”

“But we didn’t know that,” He grits out, “We didn’t know you’d—” 

A pained moan escapes his lips and he steps away. You feel it rising— the heat in your belly. 

“Please,” he whimpers, “Just go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You stand still for a moment, debating if you really should. If you even could. Is something calling you to stay with him or is it just your own selfish desires?  You decide you don’t care. You feel it now stronger than you ever have. The need for him. His smell. His taste— everything.

You step towards him again, into the shadows. You place your hand on his chest, letting the touch linger for a moment. You feel his heart beating at a record pace. 

“You could never hurt me.”

It all comes crashing down, both of your paper-thin resistance. He attacks your mouth hungrily, bringing you both to your knees. You drop the injector gun, leaving it long forgotten on the floor. He crawls on top of you, you cling to whatever part of him you can. 

It’s a frenzy. A feverish, lustfully brawl you want to surrender your entire body to. In a way you already have. The sense sings and moans with the two of you in a way it never had before. Something deep and primal and sick— you loved it. 

His mouth is on your neck, trailing across your throat to the bloody mark he’s made. He pauses when he gets to it, his lips hovering just above the bloody bite. Your skin pricks in anticipation, for what exactly, you don’t know. 

He licks a long, hot stripe across the mark before bringing his mouth completely down on it. You don’t expect it.  Electricity shoots through your entire being. You grab at his head, not to pull him away, but to push him closer— impossibly closer. He moans at your encouragement, drinking from your neck like it’s the holy grail itself. 

You fucking love it. Why do you love it? Why do you want him so badly this way? Questions that shoot through your head at warp speed but you decide you don’t really care to answer any of them. You don’t care about the why anymore. You just want him.

He comes off you with a gasp, blood smearing his mouth. His eyes are lidded and dazed as he looks down at you. The look sends a wave of arousal straight to your core— and it doesn’t go unnoticed. A predatory spark flashes across his face and he descends on you again.

His massive hands wrap around your midsection, squeezing roughly. You can feel him trembling. He drops his forehead to yours, “Do you feel it, Arañita?”

“Yes.” you breathe. 

He closes his eyes, breathing you in slowly, “Tell me to stop.”

Your hands come up to his chest again, his suit fading away in an instant. His breathing is heavy and ragged. You could stop this all now. You should stop this— but—-

“Never,” you pull him into another kiss, blood still fresh on his lips. He moans into you before taking control again. 

He turns you around onto your hands and knees, ripping a sloppy line down the back of your suit. The material falls away, exposing you to him entirely. He grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back and licking a long stripe up the length of your spine. The sensation nearly makes your knees give out. 

“Oh god,” you hear him murmur against your skin, “Look at you. Fucking look at you.”

“Miguel, please,” You whine. You need him. You fucking need him now. 

“Poor thing,” He growls, fingers ghosting over your waiting cunt. He pushes one in, slowly. You bite your lip, suppressing the moan he’s pulling out of you, “So wet for me. Always so goddamn wet for me. Such a good girl.”

He adds another finger and the air in your lungs dries up into a breathless gasp. He pumps into you, once— twice— Three times. Lude wet sounds fill the massive space. He rips his hand from you, and you almost scream at the sensation, the sudden emptiness. Then you hear it again, lustful, sickening wet sounds followed by muffled moans— He’s licking his fingers clean of you. 

His wet hands grab your hips roughly with a loud slap. He pulls you back towards him, dragging you along the floor. You preen under him, arching your hips higher. 

“So filthy,” he growls, squeezing your hips to the point of bruising.

He comes down on you again. You scream when you feel his tongue dragging through your slick folds, stopping just at the edge of your seam, the bridge of his nose nudging at your hole. He greedily laps at you, pulling the most sinful sounds from your throat. You fall on your forearms, displaying yourself even more for him. The position was so vulnerable yet so delicious. You were at his full mercy.

And again, he fucking pulls away. 

You whine, nearly screaming from the loss this time. But he doesn’t let you move, hands still firmly grasping your hips.

“Shhh, Arañita.” His wet lips hover along your back again, kisses placed along their trail up your spine. You finally feel his hard length resting on your ass. He pulls himself down and slicks himself through your folds. Already overstimulated, it feels like heaven. 

He jerks you back, and in one fluid motion completely buries himself inside you. Your face contorts into a silent scream, the stretched pain easily melting into pleasure. He holds you there, just for a moment. His breath is already heavy and ragged. You feel every inch of him. You feel him throbbing inside you.

“T-take me so well, baby,” You swear he spits it through clenched teeth. He drags you off him painfully slowly and slams you back at light speed. You choke out a delighted moan, “Tan jodidamente buena.”

He starts a punishing pace, using you as he sees fit.

You reach down to your aching clit in dire need of relief. His hand instantly swats yours away, his fingers quickly working over your swollen bud. He leans over you, his free arm practically caging you in while his hips keep up their brutal pace. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, right next to the bite mark.

“Who makes you feel this good?” He growls in your ear, “Say it.”

By some divine miracle, you're able to form speech.

“Y-you do,” you moan back, “Only you.”

“That’s right. Only I can fuck you like this. Only me.” He says it like the most assured thing in the world, and you know he’s right. His fingers work quicker over your clit, sending you to a new high. You’re close. So fucking close.

His mouth comes back down on you, suckling again at the bloody mark he’d left. He’s consuming you in every sense of the word— at his full mercy.

You know you surely scream loud enough for the entire tower to hear, and you don’t fucking care.

You come like a crack of thunder, loud and ungodly powerful. It surges through you, ripping you apart and rebuilding you again from the atomic level. A numb, euphoric moment where you're drifting on the clouds of the world, experiencing all of creation at once before plummeting back down to earth in a flaming ball that threatens to burn you up entirely. You almost want the flames to consume you if it meant you could be like this with him forever.

Then you’re finally gasping for air again, Miguel still pounding into you like a fever dream.

“Oh god,” A pained groan drools out of his mouth. “S-so– so tight when you come.”

He pulls you both backward, holding you there on your knees while he continues to fuck up into you. He held you close to him while he chased his pleasure now. You arch back into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck. His fingers haven’t left your throbbing clit, nearly blinding you with how sensitive you were now. His other hand drags along your body, coming up to squeeze your breast. Every small movement on your skin was like fire.

You’re an absolute mess. A stammering, over-stimulated, cock drunk mess. You feel your vocal cords straining yet can’t seem to stop yourself from wailing out in pure ecstasy. 

His movements have become more desperate so close to release. He pounds harder and harder until he’s falling down around you with a choked gasp. His quivering muscles cage in around you as he pumps you full of everything he has. You feel him throbbing, his cock straining inside you until he’s completely spent.

He relaxes, his giant form pinning you down to the floor. The steady breathing of his chest pushing into you as you both gather yourself.

It’s seconds, it’s years, you don’t know how long it is until you both move. He rolls off of you slowly, a pained grunt he tries to hide when he slips out of you. It all leaks out of you, trailing down your thigh and instantly sending a cold shiver up your spine when it meets the air. You both lay there shoulder to shoulder, naked in a glistening mess— completely unsure of what to say now.

Whatever you’d both just done, what you’d experienced, was indescribable. 

You see him reach over and grab the injector gun, shooting the dose into his shoulder instantly— though you’re not entirely sure he needed it anymore.

“Told you I could do it myself,” Miguel sighs as he lays back down next to you.

“Such a big boy,” You taunt him, rolling over to cuddle up to his side.

He pulls you in without hesitation. He places a kiss on the top of your head before letting a final deep breath sigh from his mouth. You expect him to suddenly come back to reality. To remember all the blood and start profusely apologizing. To beg you to leave so you didn’t have to look at him anymore and get back to work, his whole usual shtick. 

Instead, he says something you never expected. 

“Let’s go home.”

__________

Miguel needs to stop making promises to himself he can’t keep. 

You’re in his bed again, curled up in one of his shirts fast asleep. You’re staying the night— again. It didn’t feel right to just send you home after what you’d both been through, but maybe he just didn’t want you to leave either.  

He can’t sleep, sitting up and watching you as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. Part of him hopes you would just vanish, then it would mean none of this was ever real. There’d be no consequences and he could go on living his life without the looming threat of you being gone one day. 

To his simultaneous disdain and relief, you’re still soundly sleeping in his bed.

He runs his finger over the bandages now adorning your neck. Various other scrapes and bruises from him were scattered around your body. It should be completely healed by morning but he’ll always know what he did to you. He’ll always know what you both did tonight. 

It’s not something he can explain, and if he’s being honest he doesn’t want to think about it either. Something took over him, of both of you— and he loved it. A part of himself he’d fought for years to keep caged was out and it felt amazing. It was amazing because you were there for it all. You did something to him. 

But what would happen if you weren’t there? This is the second time you’ve saved his ass. The second time he’d dragged you specifically into trouble he’d created. He’d never needed rescuing before. Had he gone soft? Or was he perhaps going at everything too hard? He doesn’t know for certain but he’s sure of one thing— it was better when you were there.

Yes… you’d definitely changed something in him, and he’s not entirely sure it’s for the better. 

He was a protector. He stood up for those who couldn’t do it themselves, for his community, for his colleagues, the whole universe at large. Yet here you were, saving him from himself again. It wasn’t right. It was unfair to put his burden on your shoulders too. You didn’t ask for any of this, but neither did he really.

You’d both known from the beginning that this wasn’t going to be anything. It was only an arrangement out of necessity until he could free you both. A freak coincidence. And now it’d become so much more, hadn’t it? He wants to kick himself for letting it get this far. He knows better. But when it came to you, he just couldn’t help himself.

It can’t continue. He had the means to end it and he will. The serum is ready and waiting. The cure. You’d likely hate him forever, and that’s fine. He’ll be fine with seeing you live your life from a distance, knowing you’d both be safer for it. That’s what you’d both agreed upon after all, wasn’t it? 

Yeah, he really needed to stop making promises he couldn’t keep. 

Tonight, he’ll just hold you close. Memorize every line on your face. Every valley of your body. The sound of your breathing. He’ll lock the memory of you deep down and hold it close so it never gets out again. Tonight, you’re still his. 

Tomorrow, he’ll finally put an end to this madness. 

____________

Translations:

Arañita- Little Spider dorogoy- Darling or dear Do svidaniya, dorogoy- Goodbye, dear Tan jodidamente buena- So Fucking good

And of course do Correct me if any of this is wrong <3 I'm gonna go touch some grass now bye

____________

Taglist:

@ineedgarlicbread @pinkiemme @thesilenthill @bontensbabygirl @fallenangelsongwolf @raerorigel @littlefreakymunson @viriexo

@w33ni3 @del-ightfulling

Taglist post here!!!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #parallels fic #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader

[mellowswriting]

i work this weekend so i’m sending this in early but; Soap with a breeding kink 😩 he wants a huge family idc

babe. you are so right. don’t even get me started on how crazy he would be when you’re actually pregnant 😩

sinful sunday

Johnny talks about it constantly. He muses about what life would look like with a few little ones running amok; a full house, the sound of little feet stampeding through the halls, raising little warriors that look like the two of you. He doesn’t push or pressure you, of course. He’s more than willing to wait until you’re ready - but that doesn’t stop him from waxing poetic about how amazing it will be. The moment you tell him you’re ready to start trying, his brain bluescreens from the rush of different emotions. 

“Dinnae say that to me, hen.” He whispers, eyes wide. “Not unless you really mean it.” 

“Well, I stopped taking the pill and I saw my doctor.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle in his lap. He looks at you like you’re blowing his mind and giving him the entire universe all at once. His hands come to rest at your waist, his touch gentle and reverent. “Plus, both my calendar and the test I just took say I’m ovulating.” 

John blinks up at you, still buffering as he processes. “So… you really mean it?” 

“Yeah, you dork. I really mean it.” 

Your over-preparedness was a necessity because you knew for a fact that the moment you told him, he would not rest until he knocked you up. Getting everything squared away meant all that pent-up eagerness would be put to good use - and boy, does John really use it. 

It’s been at least thirty-six hours since you’ve seen anything besides the four walls of the bedroom you share with your baby fever stricken husband. You feel hot, your body wracked with trembles as his softening cock slips out of your well-fucked pussy. Fuck, you never knew it was possible to feel so empty yet so full at the same time. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, how many orgasms he’s pulled from your strung out body, how many times he’s buried himself deep and filled you with his seed. 

“There you go, that’s my girl.” Johnny sighs, honeyed reverence dripping from his lips. His big, warm palms slide up your thighs and squeeze gently, tenderly helping you come down from the rigorous way he’s worked you over. His eyes are bright with affection as he looks over you for even the slightest sign of pain or discomfort. “You look so pretty full of my cum. Gonna look even prettier with my baby in your belly.”

“Fuck, John…” The roughness of your voice makes him smile. He’s always had a thing about this - you all sweaty and fucked out, your voice hoarse from screaming his name, your body prone and trembling beneath him. John thrives on being a good husband and right now, that means knocking up his pretty little wife. His cock twitches, already half hard and nudging your thigh. You give him an incredulous look and huff out a disbelieving laugh. “How are you still hard?”

“Can ya blame me?” John’s eyes trail down your body and he shakes his head. “I mean, look at you… my gorgeous wife, all fucked full a’ me…” 

His praise sends you flush with warmth, stokes the flames of arousal in your belly. The effect he has on you is intoxicating. Your body aches with overstimulation yet John gives you that appreciative look, his eyes bright with desire, and you ache for more. His hand slips down to trace the mess he’s made of you and you concede to him, spread your thighs and welcome the pleasure-pain of his touch. 

“Just one more, hen. One more and I’ll let ya rest. Gotta make sure it takes, don’t we?” He babbles as he presses close and hooks your legs around his waist. The kiss he drags you into is messy, all spit and tongue and desperation. He drinks in the sound of your cry as he slides into your abused pussy, meeting no resistance as his cum leaks out around his cock. “ I’ll do all the work, you just lay back and let me make you feel good, yeah?  That’s it, good girl…” 

#sinful sunday #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john mactavish x reader smut #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #john mactavish smut

[thedaythatwas]

I need to know what goes on inside akechi’s head on the evening of october 24th.

like. look at it from his perspective. he comes to leblanc early. he has his priorities straight: he’s going to play some mind games, really get under joker’s skin.

(bear with me while I get serious about a profoundly unserious conversation)

he’s staking his claim on enemy territory. he’s sitting patiently, waiting for akiren to walk through the door. surely, it will intimidate his rival to know that he’s made himself at home in his living space. look how close he managed to slip without akiren noticing! he even went so far as to strike up a conversation with his odd barista caretaker. akechi would drop some quick political jargon here, reference some continental philosopher’s name there— all in the name of making akiren look totally incompetent.

really, joker should be terrified. he should feel violated, even. akechi would! hence:

look— he’s so self satisfied! yes, he totally won this round!

🚨 BUZZER NOISE! 🚨

see, akechi is playing 4D chess. so is akiren! but they’re using drastically different playbooks. we know this because goro akechi procedes to get hit with the following:

I know you as the player don’t need to select that dialogue option (I could go on about the implications of that, but other posts have already said it better). but you can! and I, for one, do.

not to get too deep on what is obviously a joke post, but I think this offers some insight into those little rants that akechi goes on sometimes. you know what I’m talking about— “oh, you’re so special, so interesting, it’s like we were fated to meet each other!”

yes— they were basically fated to meet each other, but that’s not the point.

as silly as it sounds, the fact that dialogue options like this exist proves the oft-stated fact that akiren is the antithesis to akechi’s thesis.

akechi plans his interactions with akiren down to a tee, and still, akiren manages to throw akechi off his rhythm! every. single. time. nobody else does this.

part of this is because akiren sees his interactions with akechi for what they’re worth. it’s all a gamble, a chess match. akechi appreciates that akiren is an equal player in their game. he respects that. it takes intelligence to see a bluff for what it is, and to call it. flirtatiously, too!

that respect is what makes their relationship so compelling. it holds true whether you read what they have as love, hate, obsession, or, hell, even all of the above! you know it isn’t indifference, because that doesn’t make any sense coming from either of them.

call me crazy (I certainly deserve it) but if akiren responds “honey, I’m home” to akechi, he hears another message loud and clear: I see what you tried to do here, I’m calling you on it, and you don’t scare me. you’ve made your move, and I’m going to undo it with flair, because I’m joker, and you love it.

and when you look at it like that, it makes sense why little things might set off akechi’s thoroughly-stated appreciation of akiren. they aren’t “little” to him at all. I’m sure he doesn’t wax poetic just to fuel akiren’s ego, anyway. that isn’t quite his style.

and hey! even if akiren didn’t mean to communicate all of that (he totally did though), it doesn’t make the sentiment any less real to akechi! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. the guy has issues. let him plot the downfall of his enemies (real and perceived) in peace <3

#this started as a joke post I don’t know how I got here #before you say ‘there’s no way a reasonable person would think that way’ #consider! akechi is not all that reasonable! #I just want to hear his internal narration you know? #anyway october 24th is like being kicked repeatedly in the ribs this whole convo is a fever dream #persona 5 #shuake #goro akechi

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 10 - The Honeymoon (Part 2)

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette have a fun time on Erinnyes Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging with one of his kin

Previous | Next

 “Madame, we have arrived at Marcotte Station.”

The whisper in your ear was accompanied by a gentle shaking of your arm. “Ugh…?” you let out a moan and opened your eyes. Your head was resting on something soft—what was it? You turned your head and was met with lilac eyes peering into your own.

You had been resting your head against his shoulder.

“Oh!” your head practically flicked back. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I fell asleep…”

Great, just great. Way to start your date with a good impression! You glanced at his shoulder. It didn’t seem as though you had drooled on him, at least.

“No need to apologize,” Neuvillette said as you took out a small mirror from your purse and fixed your hair. “You should get all the rest you need. We have a long walk ahead of us, after all.”

“A long walk…” you repeated as you gazed out at the long walkway that stretched into the distance. Why did they have to build everything on the other end of the island? At least you wore comfortable walking shoes today.

You stood up and stretched, then thanked Elphane before climbing down the aquabus’s ladder. Neuvillette followed, and the aquabus soon departed after.

You started marching ahead. The burbling of the fountains and the chirping of finches, along with the refreshing morning air made a pleasant accompaniment to your walk. All your earlier nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced with a bubbling excitement. You now understood a little why people woke up early to jog in the morning.  

“There is no need to walk so quickly,” Neuvillette said, even as he easily caught up to you with his long legs. “We have plenty of time, and personally, a walk is much improved by enjoying the scenery.”

“Is there scenery to enjoy here?” you asked, confused. You had visited the opera a few times over the years, and while you always found the sight of the opera house rising into your field of vision awe-inspiring, you didn’t find the walk there very interesting.

“Of course. Why, just look at this river running beneath our feet and converging into the vast waters in the distance. See how clearly the water reflects the mountains, grass, and flowers. I have always considered Erinnyes to be the perfect combination of land and water.”

You couldn’t help but smile at hearing Neuvillette wax poetic about the water. Neuvillette might seem inscrutable on the surface, but he was really a man of simple pleasures and predictable habits. Although you suspected that you and him had different aesthetic tastes, you enjoyed the challenge of trying to see the world through his eyes.

“But don’t you get tired of seeing the same sights every day for hundreds of years?”

“Not at all. There is always something new and interesting to see, whether in the land or the people, particularly the latter.”

“The people?” you looked up at him. “You’re a people-watcher?”

Neuvillette rubbed his cheek awkwardly. “Is that such a surprise?”

“Yes. I mean, well…” you struggled to word your thoughts the right way. “It’s just that…you always make an effort to maintain a distance from people in order to stay impartial at all times, so I assumed that you didn’t have that much interest in humans.”

“You’re not entirely wrong,” Neuvillette admitted. “But I do in fact enjoy observing the citizens of Fontaine go about their daily lives. It helps with my duties as the Chief Justice as well.”

“That does makes sense,” you said. “Tell me about the kinds of people you see here, then.”

“Very well then, Madame, if you insist. I’m afraid I’m not much of a storyteller, however.”

Neuvillette then started to tell you about all the strange and interesting sights and incidents he had witnessed here. Though he claimed not to be much of a storyteller, you found him easy to listen to and happy to be interrupted whenever you asked for more details.

Before you knew it, the sun had climbed higher in the sky and the opera house stood before you. There were very few people around. The Fountain of Lucine danced high in the sky.

“You know, it’s funny how I've never attended a trial here since we’ve gotten married,” you said as you gazed up at the tall building. “Perhaps I should rectify that in the future.”

“I thought you didn’t enjoy trials.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “But lately I’ve started gaining an interest in them.”

It was true. Before, you would mainly read the newspaper for the news of the day and the serialized novels, but now you've started to read the judicial affairs section, particularly the court cases presided over by Neuvillette.

“Besides,” you added. “I’m a citizen of Fontaine too, so it’s my civic duty in a sense, to contribute my part to the power source.”

You had somewhat expected Neuvillette to tell you not to force yourself, but instead he said, “If you ever decide to attend one, tell me, so I may reserve a seat for you.”

The two of you turned left, in the direction of Erinnyes Forest. As paved stones gave way to uneven dirt, you felt the atmosphere change. Not just in the sky, which seemed to darken all of a sudden, but between the two of you. It felt as if this honeymoon-date was beginning in earnest. You glanced up at Neuvillette, wondering if he felt the same way you did, and found him looking down at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Both of you hurriedly looked away.

“This place is very beautiful,” you said, in an attempt to distract you both, but it was also the truth. You liked the feel of the pine trees lining one side of the path and the slate gray cliffs lining the other. It felt like you were being shepherded to somewhere magical. “It’s a shame that not a lot of people come here.”

Your hometown was to the west of the Court of Fontaine, located in pretty much the middle of nowhere. It was a peaceful—some might say boring—locale. The only time you had ever come close to running into monsters was when a group of hilichurls set up camp on the outskirts of your village, but they were soon cleared out by some hired adventurers.

“I agree, Madame. But there are reasonable justifications as to why that is. Erinnyes is different from the other regions of Fontaine.”

“Because of the strange fog and the vishaps? But I read that they don’t attack you unless you attack them first.”

You had been nervous about the vishaps, but assured yourself that with Neuvillette there, there was nothing to worry about.

And, there was the long-suppressed adventurous part of you that really wanted to see them for yourself.

“You are correct, but it is still better to be careful when you come here.”

You nodded, then looked around. So far, you haven’t seen anything even remotely similar to a vishap. You didn’t even see any hilichurls or Treasure Hoarders, even though you had also read that there were plenty of both that could be found here. Perhaps Neuvillette was taking you on a safer path.

You stopped when you passed by a small waterfall.

“What kind of flowers are these?” you knelt down and stared at a small azure flower growing by the water. “I think I’ve seen them in a book, although I don’t recall their name.”

“This is a Lakelight Lily,” Neuvillette knelt down next to you. “They mainly grow in Erinnyes.”

Then, after seeming to consider something, he picked it and held it out to you. “My apologies,” he said, suddenly looking awkward. “I am of the understanding that it is a custom to give flowers on dates, but I didn’t know what were your favorites. It’s not suitable, I know.”

You stared at the blue flower in his hand, feeling your heart flutter and heat rise to your cheeks. “I…um, thank you,” you carefully accepted it, and brought it to your nose. It smelled pure and refreshing, like a mountain spring. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

You could feel Neuvillette staring at you again. You wondered what sort of ridiculous expression you had on your face right now. “I…I wish I have my flower press with me. I would love to preserve this flower. It was one of my hobbies back home, you know, flower pressing. I had an album full of clippings from the plants that grew around my village. I liked looking at pressed flowers as well. Oh, Lakelight Lilies, I’ve read about them before! Do you know the legend where the previous Hydro Archon was said to have given one to the last Lochknight?” you babbled.

It was funny. You were able to talk to him relatively easily at home, despite the fact that it was arguably a more intimate environment than here, but now it felt like you were talking to him for the first time. Although, I was nowhere near as bad as this when we first met.

“Your album must be a sight to behold. Would you allow me to see it some time?”

“Oh, you can’t now. I threw it away a long time ago. It was just a childish pastime for me anyways.”

There was an awkward silence. Neuvillette looked caught off guard. You wanted to punch yourself in the face. This is why…

“Oh, um, by the way,” you said, your voice sounding too loud in tranquil environment. “I don’t really have any favorites. For flowers, I mean. It’s not something I really thought about before. So you don’t need to worry about buying me a bouquet or anything. …Do you have a favorite flower, sir?”

Your eyes were fixed on the flower, so you couldn’t see the expression on his face as he quietly said, “I am of a similar opinion,” He then reached for the flower. “May I?”

“Oh, sure…” you said, giving the lily to him. He took it, and then proceeded to tuck the flower into your hair, just above your left ear. Even through his glove, you could feel the warmth of his hand. It lingered in your hair for a moment.

“I don’t mean to go against your opinion, Madame, but in my view, flowers are most beautiful when they are alive and placed where they look best,” he said, then gestured to the water surface. You looked no different than before, except for the fact that there was now a Lakelight Lily in your hair, and yet you couldn’t help but feel that your reflection showed a stranger. “You see? It’s beautiful.”

You couldn’t look away from his eyes—you weren’t sure you even wanted to. Somehow, you managed to tear away and turned your head to the side and spotted another lily next to the one Neuvillette picked for you. You reached for it and, spurred on by a sudden spurt of boldness, picked it and tucked it in Neuvillette’s hair.

“There,” you said. “Now we match.”

A soft sigh escaped from Neuvillette’s lips. The distance between the two of you wasn’t so close, but you swore you could feel his breath against your hair.

After a charged silence, Neuvillette stood up. “Let us not tarry here any longer. I want us to spend as much time at our destination as we can.”

“O-Okay,” you nodded, still feeling flustered.

As you continued your walk, you soon encountered a wall of thick fog. As you remembered, this place was called the Foggy Forest Path, and it did indeed live up to its name. Instinctively, you reached out your hand, and it bumped into a silk-covered one. You held onto it tightly. The hand was limp for a moment, as though its owner was surprised, and then it hesitantly squeezed yours back.

“We should hold hands so we don’t lose each other,” you said and looked up at him, or rather, where he should be. The fog was so thick that you could only see the faint blue glow of the Lakelight Lily in his hair.

“…Yes, you’re right,” Neuvillette said. His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. His hand gripped yours even tighter. “Please try not to let go.”

“I won’t,” you said, and started walking forward. Everything except the dirt road right before your eyes was obscured. You couldn’t even hear the chirping of the birds. It was as though the whole world had disappeared, and the only thing anchoring you to reality was the firm, warm grip on your hand.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, the fog cleared.

“Wow…” you breathed out as you stared at the sight before your eyes.

It was the azure blue Weeping Willow, standing in the middle of the lake like a fountain spout eternally frozen just before its water droplets hit the ground. There were smaller willows standing on the banks of the lake, like the attendants of a glorious lady.  

You stepped forward, taking your hand out of Neuvillette’s grip. You didn’t notice him staring at his hand intently after you did so.

“This place is incredible!” you exclaimed, turning back to Neuvillette. He looked up at you. “I can definitely understand why this is your favorite place in all of Fontaine.”

You had seen pictures of the willow, but seeing it for yourself was a completely different experience. Your legs seemed to run forward on their own before you remembered yourself and stopped. This was technically supposed to be a date, after all, not a field trip.

“Ahem, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you said. “Shall we go on ahead?”

Neuvillette strode up to you. “But of course, Madame,” he said, then extended his elbow out to you. You stared at it for a few moments before realizing that he wanted you to link arms with him. How unexpected.

The sun shined brightly down upon the two of you as you descended the slope. You expected Neuvillette to move into the shade, but he didn’t. The tree was even more majestic and extraordinary up close. It looked as though it was floating in midair.

“If only I have a Kamera,” you groaned. “I need to take pictures of everything!”

“In that case, let me unveil another surprise for you,” Neuvillette said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-polished device. “A Kamera.”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you, sir?” You took it in your hands and examined it. It looked a bit different from the Kameras you were used to seeing. “I didn’t know you owned one.”

“It was a recent gift from the Melusines.”

“A recent gift? Was it a birthday present?”

“Yes, from about a hundred years ago.”

You nearly dropped the Kamera. “A hundred years ago? That’s not recent at all! This is an antique.”

Neuvillette looked genuinely confused. “It isn’t?”

It was easy for you to forget that Neuvillette was actually hundreds of years old. If asked how, you would have to say that he simply didn’t act like it. Not that you knew what a person who was hundreds of years old acted like. Perhaps it was the fact that he never talked about his past very much.

Come to think of it, the Melusines were hundreds of years old as well. Lately, you had been surrounded by people who were vastly older than you.

The thought of it made you feel small, but also exhilarated. You imagined that this was what explorers felt when they encountered ancient ruins for the first time.

The Kamera wasn’t difficult to operate. After fiddling with it for a bit, you figured it out and proceeded to snap photos of all the flora and fauna. Neuvillette followed behind you as you trekked around, occasionally directing you away from threats.

You could feel his gaze boring into your back. He followed you at a respectable distance, neither too close nor too far, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were being stalked by a starving beast that wanted something from you. It was unnerving, and it made you feel awfully self-conscious. But more than that, you felt guilty. Despite your lack of romantic experience, even you knew that this wasn’t how a date should be. Hell, not even an outing between two friends should be so one-sided. But you knew that if you brought it up with Neuvillette, he would just say something along the lines of “I’m happy as long as you’re happy.”

You had always been the type to follow the lead of others when it came to situations like this. It was easier that way, and you justified it to yourself with the reasoning that you were boring anyways. But now that you were dealing with someone who was content to follow your lead, you were beginning to understand the pressure it placed on others.

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” you turned around to face him after some thought. “I’m getting tired of this.”

Neuvillette’s face fell. “…I see. Yes, of course you would be. There isn’t much in entertainment here. I can take you back to the Court of Fon—”

“Not in that way,” you interrupted him. “I mean of this silence. This is your favorite place, and yet you’re not telling me anything about it.”

“I’m afraid that I have no talent for being a guide. I’m sure the books you’ve read are more than sufficient.”

“It doesn’t matter. I just want to hear your voice.”

Neuvillette was silent for a minute. “…Very well, Madame, if you insist. What would you like to know?”

“Well…tell me about the water here.”

Neuvillette brightened a little at that. He is so predictable, you thought. He started to tell you about the water veins that spread underground throughout Fontaine, and how the tree is affected by them. According to him, the water veins contained information, making Erinnyes a sort of information system.

“And you can learn that information by tasting these water veins?” you asked, fascinated.

“Yes, I can.”

“Isn’t that a bit…disgusting? I mean, drinking water straight from a lake is a bit…”

“Disgusting?” Neuvillette seemed genuinely perplexed. “Why would it be?”

Then, before your astonished eyes, he took out his cup and filled it with lake water and drank it. His face relaxed into a smile. “Ah, exquisite. Would you like to try some?”

“Um…no thank you, sir,” you politely declined. Sampling his imported water was one thing, but drinking lake water was something else.

“So, is this the lake where the maiden of the lake, Daeira, gave Hauteclaire to Erinnyes? Was this the place where Erinnyes threw her sword before she disappeared?” you asked a question that had been on your mind since you arrived here.

“It may very well be. I know that many of the prevailing theories believe that this is that very lake.”

“What do you mean? Surely you were…”

“No, Madame, I’m afraid I must disappoint you. I was not around during that era.”

“You weren’t?” You were mortified by how rudely you blurted that out and the genuine disappointment that sprang up in your heart. Your expression must have been equally impudent, because Neuvillette actually let out a chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand. But you could still see his crinkled eyes.

The air between the two of you was no longer quite so awkward. Neuvillette was smiling now, so everything was alright. You would endure a thousand humiliations just for that.

And now you learned something new about him.

“How old did you think I was?” Neuvillette asked, still smiling.

“I, um, shouldn't say. It’s rude,” you mumbled, looking away. “You do look very…er, good for your age, though.”

“What was that last part, Madam? I couldn’t quite make it out,” Neuvillette stepped closer. You couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing you.

“It’s nothing. Can we go to the tree now?” You awkwardly changed the subject. “I’ve been dying to take a closer look at it. I heard that people used to worship it in ancient times.”

“Why, certainly,” Neuvillette held out his arm to you. “Let us go.”

The lake spread out before you. It was bigger than you thought. You could see geese peacefully swimming on the surface. The water was so clear that you could see down to the bottom. The tree’s thick roots stretched out beneath the water, disappearing into countless underwater caverns.

“How are we going to get there?” you wondered out loud. You hadn’t brought swimwear, and you weren’t a very strong swimmer. Was Neuvillette going to…?

“No need to worry,” he said, then led you to one of the blue trees by the lake. There was something next to it covered by a tarp. He lifted it up, revealing a wooden rowboat.

“Oh, wow,” you said, walking around the boat and taking pictures. It looked newly painted. “Did you prepare this?”

“Yes,” Neuvillette nodded, looking a bit bashful.

“It’s wonderful. But where are the oars?” You couldn’t find them inside the boat or outside.

“We won’t be needing them,” he said. “You wished to see me demonstrate my powers, did you not?”

“Agh…” you scratched your head in embarrassment. He got you there. “You really don’t have to do this just to entertain my idle curiosities…”

“Nonsense. I’m doing this simply because I want to,” he said.

Neuvillette dragged the boat out to the water, then helped you into the boat before getting into it himself. He placed his hand on the side of the boat, and it started moving out on his own.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting—something flashier, perhaps. But this was just like him.

“Shall we take a tour around the lake before going to the tree?” Neuvillette suggested, and you agreed.

The boat moved at a leisurely, peaceful pace. The swans from before glided past your boat, seemingly unperturbed by the new arrivals. Neuvillette pointed out the schools of colorful fish swimming in the depths. You couldn’t see those water veins he mentioned, though. Perhaps they were deeper under the water.

You snapped as many pictures as you could, partly because you wanted to capture all the beauty of this place, but also partly to hide your face from Neuvillette’s stare with the Kamera. Occasionally, he would take a sip from his cup.

You wondered if he realized how unsettling it was. Maybe he was so used to being watched that he had become desensitized to it. You, on the other hand, fidgeted at being the focus of someone’s attention.

At last, you couldn’t take his stare anymore. Your face wasn’t that interesting and you knew it.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, would you like to take a picture of me?”

A breeze blew a strand of your hair against your eyes, and you tucked it behind your ear. Neuvillette’s eyes followed that motion. He didn’t say anything.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” you raised your voice.

He blinked several times, as though he was rousing himself from deep thought. “Pardon me, Madame?”

“I said, would you like to take a picture of me? You’ve been staring at me for too long now. Shall I return the Kamera to you?”

“Have I?” Was it just your imagination, or did the tips of his ears turned red? “I apologize for my discourteous behavior, Madame.”

“I would have thought that you understood how uncomfortable it felt after I did the same thing to you before. Was it enjoyable for you, at least?”

You said the last part sarcastically, but Neuvillette didn’t seem to have picked up on it. “Yes, very much so,” he said sincerely. You gave him a look. “Ah, my apologies, I didn’t realize you were being sarcastic.”

There was a short silence as Neuvillette looked anywhere but you. He took another sip of water. You noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. Was he that flustered?

At last, he spoke again. “May I have the Kamera, then?”

“Sure,” you said, handing it to him. “What are you going to take a picture of?”

“You, of course. Didn’t you offer?”

“Yes, but…never mind, do as you will. It’ll be good to have a picture of me for Lady Furina.”

“Lady Furina?” Neuvillette’s brows knitted together. “Why would I show it to her?”

“For proof of the date. I’m sure she’ll give you a hard time if you have nothing to show for today.”

“Furina,” Neuvillette said, his tone sharp. “Will have no choice but to accept what I say, proof or no proof. Please do not worry yourself about her.”

Neuvillette’s touchiness about this subject was something you were well-acquainted with. It put you on edge as well. But you didn’t feel like arguing about it with him right now.

“How should I pose for the picture? If you want me to smile, then I must refuse. I am not good at smiling on command.”

“It’s fine. I simply want a picture of you. That is what people do on dates, is it not?”

Neuvillette looked around, and his eyes landed on something. The boat moved closer to one of the smaller blue willows growing around the lake. Lakelight Lilies grew in profusion near the roots. The boat turned so that your back was facing the tree.

Neuvillette took a long time with the Kamera, frequently looking up from it. He doesn’t need to take it so seriously, you thought. It’s just a picture. In the meantime, you tried to concentrate on smiling naturally. Despite what Neuvillette said, you wanted to smile for his picture. It was the least you could do.

You thought of all the things that made you happy. The pictures of Remurian ruins in my books, that spot in the woods near my house, the cake my old housekeeper makes for my birthday each year, my comfy reading nook, talking to the Melusines…Neuvillette putting my painting in his office…

“Pfft…” a laugh threatened to burst out of your mouth as you felt the corners of your lips lift. It still made you giddy just thinking about it. Ah, this is so embarrassing…I’m getting too excited over something so trivial…

Click. Click. Click. The sounds of the Kamera went off in succession.

“I thought you said just one picture,” you said.

“My apologies. My finger slipped.”

His finger looked pretty deliberate to you. “I thought the Chief Justice didn’t lie.”

No response. It appeared that you got him.

“Shall we go to the willow tree now?” you said to spare him the awkwardness of having to explain himself.

“…Yes,” Neuvillette nodded.

The boat made for the island at a quick speed. Once it made land, you stepped onto the ground and looked up at the tree in awe. Up close, you could see that the top part of the tree was in fact connected to the base by several thick blue roots. The drooping branches were like droplets of water suspended in air. They covered the entire island and practically blotted out the sky. You could understand why the ancients revered this weeping willow.

You asked Neuvillette for the Kamera back and resumed taking more photos. Unfortunately, there were no traces of any interesting ruins as far as you could see. Maybe they were underwater. Of course all the good stuff is there.

Neuvillette was looking at the branches as well, but not in the way you were looking at them. He was staring at them critically, as though examining them for blight. You remembered what he said about the tree reflecting the state of the waters.

You walked over to him. “Does the Chief Justice’s job extend to inspecting trees?”

“This is one of my duties, although it isn’t entirely related to my position,” Neuvillette said, gazing at a branch. He took it and displayed it in front of you. “Do these leaves look a bit yellow to you?”

You stared at the leaves closely. At first glance, they looked to be a vibrant blue, but comparing them with the leaves on the other branches, they did seem to have a greenish cast.

“I’m not entirely sure,” you said at last. “The color does look a bit different.”

Neuvillette looked thoughtful at your words. “I see,” he began to walk towards the water. “It would not hurt to check the water veins to see if there are any hazards that need to be dealt with.”

“Are you going to go underwater?” you asked, following him.

“Yes, but I promise to make it quick,” Neuvillette stepped into the water, still with all his clothes on, and submerged himself.

You watched him as he swam around. He was quite the swimmer.

It was noon now, so you decided to set the picnic up. You laid down the blanket in the shadiest spot and spread out the food, which consisted of sandwiches, a pie, and of course, plenty of water for Neuvillette. Your stomach was grumbling, but you needed to wait until Neuvillette came back before you could eat.

You sat down on the blanket. In the distance, you could see little cottages here and there. They must be summer houses. Ah, if only you had the money for that.

A pleasant breeze blew. The sunlight shining down through the branches cast your surroundings in a blue light. It felt like you were underwater.

This place was very different from your claustrophobic hometown, where everyone was in everyone’s business, and the big city, where it was easy to get swept into the tide of people and never make it out. Both places have their own charms, but Neuvillette had introduced you to somewhere outside of those two paradigms.

You doubted that you would be able to come here often, but it was nice to know that places like these existed and were accessible.

Just as you decided to go to the edge of the water again to see if you could see Neuvillette again, you spotted a flash of purple out of the corner of your eye. You turned and screamed when you saw what was there.

It was a large, purple beast with a long snout. It was covered in spikes. Its magenta eyes looked oddly familiar, but there was no time to think about that now.

There was a vishap in front of you.

“Neuvillette!” you shouted. “Neuvillette, please get up here! There’s a vishap here!”

There was a loud splash as Neuvillette emerged from the water. You rushed into his arms, hiding your face in his robes. You felt him freeze up.

“What is it, Madame?” he asked urgently. His arms wrapped around you, and he began to stroke your hair. “Are you hurt?”

You pointed behind you with a trembling arm. “It suddenly appeared out of nowhere…”

“Ah, I see…” you heard a note of sternness in his voice. He gently turned you around. “It’s perfectly natural to be scared, but I promise you that no vishap in Erinnyes will ever hurt you.”

You looked up at him. His lilac eyes stared back into yours. You could see the worry in them. You felt your heartbeat settle down.

“Do you trust me?” he suddenly murmured.

“…Of course I do,” you said, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Now that you were no longer scared, the gravity of what you just did came back to haunt you.

“Um…pardon my impertinence, sir,” you said, and nonchalantly stepped away from Neuvillette. Talking with him casually—okay. Holding his hand—questionable, but at times necessary. Pressing yourself against him—the height of shamelessness. Even if you were scared for your life, you had to behave in a dignified manner. I have to remember my place!

He did see you in just a towel, though, a part of your mind whispered. So what does it matter?

Oh, do be quiet! You thought back.

Neuvillette’s hand, which had been on your shoulder, lingered in the air for a moment before dropping. You could feel him looking at you, as though seeking something, but you stared resolutely at the willow’s trunk.

After a moment, Neuvillette went towards the vishap. You heard him say something in a language you had never heard before. He sounded cross. The vishap answered him back. Was it the language of the vishaps? Did Neuvillette have some sort of connection to them?

Oh, now you remembered why the vishap’s eyes looked so familiar. It and Neuvillette both shared the same slitted pupils. Hmm…

“Come here, Madame,” he said to you. You hesitated before obeying and stopped just behind him. Perhaps it was just your imagination, but you thought that the vishap looked a bit ashamed.

“I’ve reprimanded this vishap for frightening you. She shouldn’t have shown itself before you without my presence. She told me that she didn’t mean to surprise you. She came up from the water because she smelled an unfamiliar scent.”

“Oh, she must have smelled the picnic food…”

“She apologizes for the scare,” Neuvillette said. “She hopes you’ll forgive her.”

“Um…I accept…your apology,” you said to the vishap. The vishaps here were supposed to understand human language. “Sorry for screaming.”

Now that everything was cleared up, it was time for lunch. The vishap showed no sign of leaving, so you supposed that it was joining you two as well.

You sat down on the blanket cross-legged, making sure to leave enough space for Neuvillette without having to sit too close to him. He sat down across from you. It took a few moments for him to adjust due to his long spats. He could have worn shorter ones, at least, you thought. Perhaps you should have brought a chair.

“We’ve got tomato and lettuce sandwiches, an apple pie, and water from rivers of Qingce Village,” you gestured at the spread. “I made the sandwiches, and Marie baked the pie.”

“Thank you for your hard work,” Neuvillette said. He picked up one of the sandwiches and bit into it. He closed his eyes.

“Is it good?” you asked nervously as you watched him eat. “I hope it’s not too dry.”

“It’s delicious,” he said after he swallowed. He smiled at you. “You’re a woman of many talents.”

“It’s just sandwiches…” you said. Neuvillette could really go overboard with the compliments sometimes.

“Be that as it may, it was excellently made,” Neuvillette said, then reached for another sandwich. You started eating as well.

“So, Monsieur Neuvillette, how were the water veins?” you asked as you cut a slice of pie after finishing a sandwich. “Did you learn anything from them?”

“Yes, but it is nothing too serious, thankfully. It can be dealt with swiftly,” he said, as he sipped his water. He glanced at you a little, as if wanting to say something else.

“That’s good to hear.”

Before you met Neuvillette, your idea of a Chief Justice’s responsibilities was the same as anyone else’s. You assumed that he mainly dealt with trials and other court matters. But now you were learning that his duties extended beyond that. It made sense, considering he was an ancient being. Just what was Neuvillette, anyway?

The puzzle of his true identity was not something you had ever indulged in before, but now for the first time, you were a little curious.

The vishap was sniffing at the remaining sandwiches. Was she hungry? You picked up a sandwich and held it out to her. “Would you like to try one?” you asked, then turned to Neuvillette. “Sir, can she eat human food?”

“She can,” he said. His voice sounded a bit strange.

You moved your hand closer to the vishap’s mouth. She opened it, revealing rows of sharp teeth. You tried not to recoil. The sandwich disappeared into the mouth.

The vishap blinked her eyes, then made a noise. She seemed happy.

“Hey, that tickles!” you laughed as the vishap licked your hand.

“Ahem,” Neuvillette cleared his throat behind you. The vishap ducked her head.

“Oh, it’s alright, sir,” you waved your hand. “I don’t mind feeding her our food.”

“That is not what was on my mind…” Neuvillette murmured. But he didn’t elaborate any further.

After cleaning up, you and Neuvillette spent the next half hour taking pictures, chatting, and enjoying the scenery. The vishap would occasionally go underwater and bring you treasures like shells and Tidalga, which you carefully tucked away in your purse.

Before long, it was time to leave for Merusea Village.

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#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #the winding path of fate #my fics

[rollinouttahere-writes]

yandere jabra x woman reader

I'm on the Hunt, I'm After You

Yandere Jabra x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1

3.6k words

Warnings: harassment, unwanted advances and touching, implied stalking, yandere

“Oh (Y/N), your favorite regular is here~!” Gatherine called out in a singsong voice.

“No! Come on! He was just here for breakfast, you can’t be serious!” You slapped the order ticket onto the table and spun around to face her.

“Yes, and now he’s back for lunch,” she snickered, absolutely no sympathy for your plight. 

“My entire section is packed full, you’re just trying to pawn your customers off on me!” You hissed.

“Oh trust me, he’s in your section. When the hostess tried to explain that there weren’t any openings in your section, he went over there and threw out the people at one of your tables.”

You gawked at the woman, aghast at how casually she was telling you all of this, “Are you kidding me? I don’t suppose he got them to leave the money for their bill behind first, did he?”

“Probably not, but I’m sure you could get him to pay it if you play your cards right,” she winked at you, and the subtext was heard loud and clear.

“Ew, no thanks,” you had to suppress the urge to gag. “He’s so sleazy, how in the hell did you ever date him?”

“I mean, it wasn’t for very long, but he really wasn’t bad or anything. Kinda clingy, though. But now I’ve got my sights set on someone else,” she sighed dreamily.

“And how’s that working for you?” You asked dryly, rolling your eyes. How anyone could want to pursue someone like Rob Lucci was beyond you. Sure, he’s good looking, but that ice cold look in his eyes was extremely off putting.

“It’ll happen,” she spoke resolutely. “These things take time, you know.”

“Yeah, sure.” You had your doubts about her most recent romantic pursuit, but that really wasn’t your business. You ripped another order ticket off your pad and scribbled down your regular’s usual lunch order before placing it with the rest. Fortunately, that man was predictable in what he ordered, so you could spare yourself at least one trip to his table.

Gatherine was continuing to wax poetic about Rob Lucci behind you, but you had your own problems to worry about. You grabbed a bottle of sake from the liquor cabinet and an ochoko to bring with you to the table. 

The kitchen door stood before you, acting as the last barrier between you and the customers. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to relax. It’s just another customer. A creepy and annoying one, sure, but it was nothing to get so bent out of shape over. You’ll be fine.

With a nod, you confidently walk out and scan the room to figure out which of your tables had been evicted. It didn’t take long to do so, Jabra stuck out from the other customers. Much to your chagrin, he made eye contact and flashed you his typical wolfish grin. As per usual, he was happy to see you.

Making sure to keep your face as neutral as possible, you approached the table he had commandeered. He was here alone this time, which was less than ideal for you. If he was with one of his colleagues, the experience was much more tolerable since they would tend to keep him distracted. Kumadori, as dramatic as he was, kept Jabra more than occupied with his antics, and Fukuro was fun to have around because he would always let loose some piping hot gossip. It was especially funny when the tea he was spilling was at Jabra’s expense.

Alas, you would have no such fun today. 

The ochoko is set onto the table and you pour a generous helping of sake into it, “Good afternoon, sir. I don’t suppose you would know what happened to the people who were here before, would you?” Of course, you already knew what had happened, but you wanted to make the bastard explain himself in hopes that maybe, just maybe, he would feel a bit of shame.

Their plates and glasses were still on the table, though they had all been pushed to one side. You’ll have to flag down a busser to get that cleaned up, lest the manager complains about looking “unprofessional”.

Jabra grins, “Oh, them? They were already done eating, so they let me have their table.”

Your eyes drift over to the half eaten meals, “Is that what happened?”

“What? Are you calling me a liar? That hurts, you know!” Taking a page out of Kumadori’s book, he dramatically clutched at his chest as if your words were so sharp that they actually cut you.

You rolled your eyes, not caring if he saw it, “I would never.” Every syllable was completely flat and monotone.

“Well, maybe I pressured them a little,” he snickered. “Did they not pay before they left?”

More like before they were kicked out. Whatever, you don’t want to prolong this interaction by arguing with him, “Nope, can’t say they did.” 

Jabra gasped in mock outrage, “How could they do something like that to you?! Some people are shameless!” He could say that again. He dug around in his pocket, “Tell you what, I’ll cover their bill. I would hate for you to have to pay because they ran out on you.”

Thank god, you had been worried that you were going to have to foot the bill. Jabra acting like this wasn’t completely his fault was certainly annoying, but you could take it if it meant not losing a chunk of your paycheck over his stunt. A wad of cash was held out to you, but all you did was stare at it.

“That is way too much.” Without even counting it, you knew that was easily three or four times their bill.

“C’mon, just take it. It’s a nice tip, isn’t it?” Undeterred by your hesitation, he holds it out more, trying to force the money into your hand. 

You took a decisive step back. You know what game he’s playing here. He isn’t being generous to make up for evicting your table, he’s trying to make it so that you feel like you owe him. Your hands fidgeted with your apron, “It’s too much, I can’t accept that.” The last thing you wanted was for him to have some perceived leverage on you and try to use that against you.

“Since when do waitresses refuse tips?” His fingers drummed against the table, the once relaxed smile had become rigid. “How about this: You can use this to cover my meal, too.”

Even if you took what his bill would be into account, it would still be an absurdly large tip. Now you were torn between standing your ground so as to not give him an in, and caving so that he doesn’t get upset.

Apparently, your internal debate was taking too long for his liking. Jabra reached forward suddenly, grabbed your apron, and yanked you towards him. You yelped as you stumbled and scrambled to stabilize yourself. The first thing that your hand found purchase on was his shoulder. If you hadn't grabbed onto something you would have fallen right onto him. Now that you think about it, that was likely what he had hoped would have happened. 

Sleazy pervert.

Jabra took advantage of the close proximity to stuff the money into your apron. Rather than retracting his hand now that his mission was accomplished, he rested it on your hip, thumb tracing circles over it, “See? You’ve got the money and nothing bad happened”

You begged to differ. Between the smarmy smile on his face and the unwanted touches, you had to fight the impulse to slap him. He deserved it, but unfortunately that would absolutely get you fired. You had to settle for wrenching yourself out of his grip and taking several steps back this time. Through clenched teeth, you mutter out a ‘thanks’.

Taking a moment to calm down, you try to excuse yourself, “I need to go tend to other tables now.”

You try to hurry past him, but he catches your wrist, “Hey, wait! You haven't taken my order yet.”

“You get the same thing every time, I already submitted the order to the kitchen.”

His smile widened, “Well maybe I want to try something new, you never know.”

This man was definitely trying to get a rise out of you. You haven’t bothered giving him a menu after the first time when he waved it off and said he didn’t need one. But if he wanted to play stupid games, then you suppose it was your right to let him have stupid prizes. For once, you found yourself to be the one grinning. Albeit maliciously. 

“Alright. I’ll cancel the lamb chops and fetch you our vegetarian menu to look over.” His smile dropped and he looked downright panicked. Deciding to take it a step further, you reach for the sake bottle, “My bad for bringing this out, I’ll switch it out for some water. Good on you for making healthier choices.”

Finally, his hand abandoned your wrist and snatched the sake bottle out of our other hand, “Whoa there, I was just joking!” Once the adrenaline rush of almost losing his precious alcohol passed, he chuckled, “Didn’t know you could be so funny, rabbit.”

The nickname made you scowl, you hated when he called you that. Any attempt at expressing as much only seemed to encourage him to use it more, so you’ve learned to bite your tongue.

Jabra leaned forward and propped his chin up on his fist, “It’s sweet of you to remember what I like.”

“I’m just doing my job,” you explained flatly before bolting out of there. You wiped your palms on your apron, they had become uncomfortably sweaty during that whole interaction. Him being touchy wasn’t anything new, but he was escalating it beyond the point where you could grin and bear it for the sake of employment. You don’t remember him being this bad when him and Gatherine were still together. Then again, you really hadn’t been paying that much attention, so maybe you just missed it. 

What had you done to be forced to endure this treatment? Even if you did get fired, you couldn’t escape. Working at a place as secretive as Enies Lobby came with pros and cons. Sure, you were being paid extremely well, but that came at the price of not being able to leave freely. If this job didn’t work out, you would be shuffled to a different, less desirable position. Waiting tables was among the better positions given that you made tips on top of a decent wage. You were only five months in on a ten year contract. 

Based on what you’ve heard from your coworkers, you would be pressured to renew your contract after it ends, and if you did choose to leave it was a grueling process involving being thoroughly interrogated to ensure you hadn’t overheard anything you weren’t supposed to. It’s been said that being allowed to leave was virtually impossible and unheard of, they always find something to justify keeping you here. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if speaking to Fukuro was an immediate disqualifier in and of itself. 

The odds of ever being able to leave were unlikely to say the least. This was something you hadn’t known until after you were hired and signed the contract, but that seemed to be the case for everyone. It was scary and disheartening, but you’re trying to stay positive.

If you could just keep this up, your family would be set for at least the next ten years. You sent them almost everything you made, only keeping enough for the most basic of living expenses. Even when you were living as barebones as you were, it felt luxurious by comparison to what you were used to. Your home island was so poverty stricken that your family’s only hope for survival was for as many of you as possible to leave and send back money to those who couldn’t. A handful of your cousins had also applied to work here, but only you were hired. Presumably because of your brother being a promising marine that was climbing the ranks. No doubt he put in a good word for you.

Was it selfish to wish he hadn’t? Probably, but there’s no point in dwelling on that, is there?

After you finished checking on your other tables, you went over to the register with the bill from the guests Jabra had thrown out. You paid it and couldn’t help but be awed by how much berry was still left over. It was enough for a month of groceries back home. You can’t fathom being paid so well that this would be seen as disposable income.

As uncomfortable as Jabra made you… your family needed this money. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing to indulge him at least a little if it meant keeping your loved ones from starving. Maybe you could learn to take it in stride and not let it get under your skin when he leered at you like you were a piece of meat.

You shoved the money into one of your pockets and lightly slapped your face. You’re on the clock, now isn’t the time to be getting hung up on your unfortunate situation. Spinning on your heels, you head for the kitchen to see if any of your orders are ready yet.

Someone was coming up on your side, and you turned slightly to see who it was. William, one of the busboys on shift today was heading for the kitchen as well with a tub full of dishes. Oh right, you needed him to clean off one of your tables.

“Hey, Will. After you drop that off could you clean off table 13 for me? Jabra’s at it, but he kicked out the people who were there and their plates need to be taken away.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and gaped at you, “He kicked them out? The fuck is his problem?”

You snorted, “Do you think I know?”

The tub was unceremoniously dropped on a nearby counter and Will less-than-subtly looked out over the dining room. His lip pulled back in disgust when his eyes landed on Jabra and the leftover remains of the previous diners’ meals. He ran a hand through his frizzy red hair and huffed, “What a fucking creep, he’s lucky he’s so high up because if he wasn’t I would kick his sorry ass myself.”

The bold threat made you chuckle. Will was like this with all of the staff here. He didn’t give a shit if someone was a high ranking marine or government agent, he would call out anyone for making the wait staff uncomfortable. Well, almost anyone. Even he knew better than to confront a member of CP9.

“Thanks for worrying about me, but it’s fine. I can handle it.”

Just like that, his attention was back on you. His arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you with an exasperated expression, “Just because you can “handle it” doesn’t mean you should have to. That asshole needs to learn to leave you the hell alone. He didn’t get handsy again this time, did he?”

The way that you immediately averted your gaze and grimaced answered his question. His expression darkened and he began untying his apron, “I’ll kill him.”

“No! No you will not! It will be the other way around, calm down!” You latched onto his arm and tried to talk some sense into your hot headed coworker. “It’s fine, really!”

Will was glowering in Jabra’s direction. His chest heaved with each agitated breath and his hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly. Sharply, he turned his attention to you. His rage contorted face slowly relaxed into a deep scowl and he sighed, “Fine. Whatever. He’s lucky you’re holding me back.”

“Sure he is. Now get back to work before Mal catches us slacking off.” The manager, Mallory as she preferred to be called, was a hardass. You did NOT want to be caught being idle by her.

“Yeah, you’re right. But hey, you better let me know if that creep tries anything else. Even if I can’t beat his ass, maybe we can get something worked out so that you’re less likely to see him.”

You shook your head, “Okay, mom, will do.”

Will grumbled at you to watch it, but ultimately decided to drop the matter for now. You approach and go through the kitchen doors, keeping them open just long enough for William to slip in before they can close. You check the counter and find that fresh plates of hot food are being piled on and one of the cooks slaps the bell a couple of times to signify that an order is ready. From the looks of it, there are a few orders done. 

A quick glance at the tickets confirms that most of these are for your section, so you waste no time piling them onto a tray so you can haul all of these out at once. One of the completed orders was Jabra’s, much to your dismay. You just got away from him and now you’re going to be forced to go back. Lucky you.

Wanting to prolong the inevitable, you saved his table for last. None of the customers you had leading up to him were feeling particularly chatty, so this wound up not being as much of a buffer as you had hoped.

Sucking in a breath and plastering a fake smile onto your face, you hurry over with the hope of dropping off the plate and running before Jabra could harass you again. The table had been cleared, and you can’t help but wonder if Will was mean mugging Jabra the entire time he was there. 

“Here’s your meal,” you state plainly.

You tried to just keep going, you really did, but Jabra’s arm snaked around your waist, effectively keeping you from running. Your mind was screeching for him to stop touching you, but such comments had to stay in your mind.

“What’s the rush? It’s like you’re trying to run away from me,” Jabra’s tone was teasing. If only he knew how right he was. Or maybe he did and this was all some sick joke to him.

“We’re in the middle of the lunch rush, I have a lot to do right now,” you’re surprised at how calm your voice is despite how irritable you felt. Hopefully he’ll accept the answer and let go of you. His grip was so strong that you couldn’t easily step out of it.

“I guess you’ve got a point, I won’t keep you here long.” If only he wouldn’t keep you here at all. “It’s a shame you have to work so hard. Why don’t you let me take you somewhere nice tonight?”

There he goes again. This was far from the first time he made this proposal. He’s nothing if not persistent, you’ll give him that. Your nails dug into your palm as you mulled over your excuse this time. Hanging out with Gatherine? No, you’ve used that too many times. It’s not like he was going to stop if you gave a masterful excuse, you suppose anything would work, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy cleaning tonight.” This wasn’t even a lie, you’ve been meaning to do a deep clean of your apartment for a month now.

Jabra huffed, “You’re going to work all day here only to go home and work some more? Come on, let me treat you to a fun night. It’ll be nice, I promise.” His arm constricted, forcing you even closer.

“I’ve been putting this off for a while, I really want to get it done,” you insisted.

A tense staredown ensued, and you weren’t sure who would win. Would you lose your nerve and break eye contact first, or would he give up? The hair on the back of your neck felt like it was standing up from the tension in the air. His jaw was tight. It appeared your string of rejections were starting to get to him.

“Alright, I get it,” Shockingly, he let go of you and looked down at his food instead.

For a moment, you were too stunned to move. “I get it”? Did he finally get the hint? He shot a questioning look over his shoulder when you didn’t immediately leave, and that was enough to prompt you into scurrying off. You’re not sure what made him see the light, but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? 

Despite the discomfort you just felt, you went about your shift with a skip in your step. The possibility that Jabra was going to leave you alone was downright euphoric. You felt bad for whoever was going to be his next unlucky target, but at least you were in the clear! The tips would be missed, but you would allow yourself to be selfish just this once.

The lunch rush slowly came down to a trickle as customers filtered out (of their own volition this time) and weren’t immediately replaced with more. One of the guests that left was Jabra, but you were surprised to find more money left next to his empty plate. You had already covered his bill with the money he’d given you previously, like he’d suggested.

Your fingers ghosted over the berry, then quickly slipped it into your pocket. Maybe it was an apology for his behavior? Unlikely, but not impossible.

Maybe things are going to get better for you now? You had a rough start, but it’ll be smooth sailing with Jabra having called it quits. Everything is going to be fine, great even! You’re finally going to be able to relax.

Surely that sensation of feeling like you’re always being watched will go away now that you’re no longer paranoid about Jabra.

#yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #jabra one piece #yandere #reader insert #x reader #one piece #jabra x reader

[blouisparadise]

There are so many amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of December. We’re entering a new year feeling incredibly grateful for the amazing fics we got in 2023, and excited for the many we’ll get in 2024! Happy reading!

1) Say Yes To Heaven | Mature | 2818 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Ethan Hawke.

 Later when he’s back at the apartment with Oli, as Louis is somewhat dreamily waxing poetic about Ethan, Oli interrupts.- “Does he quote Shakespeare when you fuck?” he asks, poking at the sizzling eggs on the stove. Louis’ cheeks turn suspiciously pink. Oli peers at his face. “Oh my god, he DOES. I KNEW IT.” He triumphantly brandishes his spatula in the air.

2) Shut Your Mouth, Baby | Explicit | 3028 words

While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.

3) Bank Holiday Weekend | Mature | 4135 words

Louis Tomlinson is a twenty-two year old omega who doesn’t give a shit. The omega knows his heat is coming up but still decides to attend Reading and Leeds Festival with his nineteen year old alpha co-worker Harry Styles.

4) Walk In Your Rainbow Paradise | Mature | 4151 words

Louis feels emotional after he watched Harry told the interviewer about the fish in his latest music video, leading up to him thinking about their 'secret' relationship throughout the years. Harry comes home to his husband who's feeling pissed off and needy of his comfort and warmth.

5) One | Explicit | 4188 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Tommy Shelby.

When omega Louis Tomlinson becomes pregnant after an unexpected encounter, he decides his only option is to flee his pack. But Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, might not be willing to let him go so easily.

6) Dreaming of a Green Christmas | Explicit | 4226 words

Harry opens the wrong package by mistake and finds the sex toy Louis ordered for himself. That's not an opportunity Harry can pass up on.

7) Never Felt More At Home (Then When I'm In Your Arms) | Not Rated | 5361 words

Louis and Harry are on tour with the band when Louis is struck with an unexpected heat. He's always known in the back of his mind there was something between him and his best mate, and when opportunity strikes... well, it hits hard.

8) Cat Got Your Tongue? | Explicit | 5523 words

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry screeches and jumps back in surprise. The man drops the popcorn bowl on the carpet and stands up, raising his hands in surrender, “Hey, it's me.” Harry frowns. He has never seen this man in his life. He stares at the wide blue eyes and… holy shit. There's no way. Harry rephrases his question, “what are you?"

9) I’m So Drunk On You (Baby, You’re All That I Want) | Explicit | 5875 words

A lucid celebration yet of nothing in particular, and it was that he found alluring, begged to make himself a part of. "Come on, H live a little." Louis pleaded without care for the sigh that slipped his lips, for the smile that they both formed were proof enough he'd given in. So giddy within skips toward the centre where they gathered, the smaller carried Harry close behind to join the chaos.

10) Snow At The Beach | Mature | 7885 words

The little Matthew Styles had been throwing objects into his cute omega neighbor's yard only for the adorable blue-eyed boy to come to his house to return them and talk to his father. "I'm starting to believe that he does it on purpose just so he can hug you" Harry appeared behind them and Louis smiled at him. "I wouldn't complain if it were like that"

11) Don’t Let The Fire Die | Explicit | 8850 words

Harry makes a long trip to take back what is his.

12) The Box | Explicit | 8895 words

When the signal comes, Harry dips and slides into the box, settling himself on his back with his knees bent.  Louis lifts the side of the box to close it, and as he does so Harry goes to pull his jacket from behind his back a little. The last sight that Louis is presented with before Harry is gone from view is the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen arching his back, with his head thrown upwards, mouth slightly open. And fuck. 

13) Touch Me (Like Nobody Else Does) | Mature | 11459 words

The alpha’s grin returned tenfold, deep dimples popping into his cheeks. Holy shit, he has dimples. “No, I don’t mind at all. I know where to find you when I need it back,” he said with a chuckle before leaning back into his seat. Louis let out a small giggle before nodding. “I’ll be sure it gets returned to you…?” He trailed off, one eyebrow raised at the other man. “Harry,” he replied, amusement still shining in his eyes. “And you are?” “Louis,” the omega responded before leaning back into his seat averting his eyes once again. “Thank you, really, for the charger. You’re a lifesaver. I’m not sure how I would’ve made it through without my Netflix.”

14) Cause I’m Really Not Fine At All | Mature | 13679 words

Louis Tomlinson, one of the famous members of One Direction, is involved in a car accident that caused him to have amnesia, wiping all the last five years of his life from the memory. The interesting part is he may not remember that he has a girlfriend now, yet his mind seems to think that he has been in a relationship with one of the members, Harry Styles. Harry is baffled and shocked at the situation that's thrown in his face. He finds himself learning how to be a good boyfriend for Louis. It has to be easy.. 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

15) Roommates | Mature | 18604 words

Louis and Harry are roommates. Harry had put up an ad for a roommate, and Louis moved in. Harry notices that Louis only survives on takeout out, and when he leaves for his shift, he cooks an extra plate of food for Louis with a note.

16) Play By The Rules | Explicit | 21835 words

“Okay,” Harry clears his throat. “Sit on the bed, um, slut.” A beat of silence passes between them as Louis raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “You want to try saying that like you mean it?” Harry pouts, jutting out his lower lip. “But I don’t mean it, Lou. I feel like I’m being mean.”

17) You Bring Blue Lights To Dreams | Explicit | 30177 words

A body slid up behind him and he tensed until he realized it was Jailen, “So… Louis’ pretty cool huh?” He whispered so Louis wouldn't hear from the other side of the barn. “I mean yeah,” Harry responded, brows furrowing together before he realized what Jailen was really saying, “Jailen no that’s not- no. Nothing’s going to happen so don’t meddle, I’m serious.” “I’m not doing anything my dear Harold, I cannot control what happens naturally. Come on Harry, I know you’ve been getting restless with the whole finding your soulmate thing, it might be time to just try and put yourself out there for a while.”

18) He's Driving Me Crazy... But... I'm Into It | Explicit | 56219 words

The boys are organising a holiday in France for Louis, and Harry is able to make the trip at the last minute thanks to Niall. While things seem to be off to a bad start between them, it seems that some of the behaviour is just pretend. And of course, Louis is annoying, and Harry is his usual calm self... But the others don't seem to understand Louis' feelings, and that's not something Harry will let pass. If they gain more than friendship, that's just a bonus.

19) Your Eyes Are Tired But Keep Them Open Cause You Wouldn’t Wanna Miss A Thing | Explicit | 137451 words

Louis is an omega in an abusive relationship everyone forced him into; he’s miserable until he meets his favorite student’s uncle, Harry, a gentle alpha with a big heart.

20) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167485 words

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #larry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #blp

[forlorn-crows]

⚘ A Little Thing Called Love ⚘

Rating: M for Mature

Pairing: Mountain/Cumulus

Tags: fluff, slice of life, cuddling, and a lil bit of kissin' and teasin'. author is in love with their love okay. the most mature you get is the word 'cock', some brief horn play and titty mentions.

Words: 1,210

Summary: What is Mountain and Cumulus' love, if not something to wax poetically about?

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

"Why're you so pretty," Mountain smiles sleepily, running his hands through Cumulus' hair. "Pretty, pretty . . ." The sunlight filters in through the greenhouse windows, dappled by nearby trees and casting her strands in a golden hue.

"Why are you so sweet, baby?" She smiles back. She scratches behind one of his horns just to see his face go lax and dopey. He hums appreciatively, the noise quickly turning into a rumbling purr. His tail thumps against the daybed. 

"My weakness," he complains through a laugh, nuzzling closer. 

"I know it." She runs her perfectly manicured nails along his scalp with lazy ease as she's done a thousand times over. Cooing as he snuffles against her chest and slips his arms around her middle.

Lazy days like these are always her favorite—afternoons spent holed up in the back corner of the greenhouse where the old daybed sits, lounging on blankets and furs gone ratty from years of use and tiny moth mouths. And of course, snuggled up in the arms of her favorite earth ghoul. 

Mountain, who adores her to no end, always welcomes her for a sun-warmed snooze or a cheeky, semi-secluded makeout-slash-humping session. These moments are his favorite too. Nothing but her jasmine and peachy scent surrounding him, and her eyes looking at him with all the love that can possibly fit in those baby blue irises. Like some inner part of his heart is touched every time she sings his name. 

“Hmm . . . dandelion?” he asks, peeking up at her through drowsy eyelids.

“Yes, sunflower?” The smile she gives him could bring any man—mortal or not—to his knees. 

“You're so good to me,” Mountain sighs. He shrugs her hand reluctantly out of his unruly waves in favor of nosing along her soft jawline. 

Cumulus tips her head back, inviting him to kiss at her supple skin. “It’s easy to be good to you,” she says, a little amused. “How could it ever be anything but?”

Mountain’s arms tighten around her. He smiles against her neck, placing more and more kisses along every inch of it. He would taste her skin for eons if she’d let him. Every inch of her is ripe, full of warmth and softness that lingers on his tongue for hours after indulging in her, no matter how much or how little she’s shared. 

Cumulus knows just how much he savors it. Savors her. Carries pieces of her on him until they inevitably fade, only to find himself back in her arms to gather more. Until his very being is bursting with their mutual touch and adoration. 

“Don’t know. But I may be forever in your debt from the amount of sweetness you afford me.” Mountain rubs his nose against her cheek. “Or, maybe I’ll just get one of those human cavities,” he teases, mouthing at her jaw. 

Cumulus giggles, swatting at him but not actually pushing him away. “Don’t eat me, you big beast. What will Papa say if his favorite ghoulette is stuck between the teeth of his drummer?”

“Ohh,” Mountain lilts, “his favorite, huh?” He pulls away to look at her with an arched brow and a coy, boyish smile. 

“Yep.” She boops the tip of his nose. ”One hundred percent. I tell nothing but the truth.”

“Ah, so you shan’t mind if I ask him to corroborate that fact, then?” Mountain shifts like he’s going to get up and do just that. 

“Mount—”

“No, no, you said it’s true, darling, I’m sure he’ll agree—”

He gets one leg off the daybed before Cumulus chirps and grabs him by the base of his horns, keeping him in place. She dissolves into a fit of giggles when his knee buckles and he falls back onto her. Her laugh rings through the room like a melodic birdsong carried on a gust of wind. It’s as big and lovely as she is; a sound of pure joy. Mountain does just about anything to hear Cumulus laugh. And Cumulus loves that he knows every little thing to pull even the tiniest huff of a chuckle from her. 

This, though, is not wholly on purpose. Mountain gives a breathy laugh in response to her launch at his horns, but it’s mixed with an embarrassingly moan-like noise that has a blush warming up the hue of his olive-toned skin. 

The air ghoulette smiles, pearly-white teeth all on display. “Oh no, baby, something the matter?” The soft pads of her fingers rub slowly around his horns, clutching less tightly now. But her grip is purposeful, teasing. She knows every sensitive spot on his body, and his horns are no different. 

The rub of her thumb against the raised skin around the base of his horns has him gasping, mouth falling open and hands wringing in the fabric of her shirt. 

“I will not give you the satisfaction of attempting to answer that quest–oh fu—” He cuts himself off with a whine as Cumulus’ hand twists just so. The action sends a shiver down his spine, one that lands in his gut and makes his stomach flip with sudden arousal. “Darling, you’ll be the end of me someday,” he says huskily, dropping his face back down to her chest. 

She hums and continues stroking. Soon enough she can feel his cock harden against her thigh. It’s always too easy when she has him like this—truly putty in the palms of her hands. 

Mountain, despite his token protest, wouldn’t change anything about his relationship with Cumulus. It's like she sees what no one else can, digs into all his soft spots as seamlessly and precisely as a ballet routine. He likes that she knows how to ruin him, because it also means she knows how to put him back together when he's broken into a thousand shards of himself. He can never be lost or incomplete when he’s with her. 

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” she says, pulling down her shirt for his wandering mouth. He mouths over her chest so softly, yet so sloppy, dizzy with lust and infatuation. 

Cumulus, of course, wouldn’t either. The way he kisses her like she’s the only one in the world, holding her like the most delicate bloom on a rare orchid. Mountain cherishes all the parts of her body she tries to pinch away in the mirror, as well as the parts she proudly flaunts. But more than that, he loves her for all she is, holds every nuanced part of her with reverence. 

Together, they can just be. Content to spend their time together however the mood strikes, in whatever situation they find themselves in. A love like theirs can only be described as warm, nurturing, whole. It’s a love that breathes a satisfied sigh every time it’s expressed—every touch, every exhalation, every tear a pure moment of respect and adoration. 

Mountain pulls Cumulus closer, nuzzling along the underside of her breast, lips grazing closer and closer to her pebbled nipple. “I wouldn’t,” he agrees. He runs the tip of his tongue over her skin, delighting in the gasp that falls from her lips. “I’d let you ruin me over and over and over, dandelion.”

Their love is the closest to home a ghoul can get.

#the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #mountain ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #mountain/cumulus #cumulus/mountain #no i didnt proofread this so sorry #i just have things to SAY abou themmm

[radiowallet]

Home

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Marcus Moreno Summary: Dieter takes Marcus to a party in the valley. WC: 4.5K Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content. Exclusive M/M dynamics. Written in third-person POV, male protagonists. Anal sex, dirty talk, kissing, cum play, semi-public sex. Small angsty moments. Yearning. So much yearning. AU Marcus Moreno (no wife, no Missy). A lot of purple prose and waxing poetic.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been a very very long time since I've shared any writing here. I don't have any good excuses other than real-life stressors, mental health and anxiety, and the overall stress of being on Tumblr really really got to me. I'm trying to ease my way back in. Slowly. I've really enjoyed catching up on all the amazing fics you guys have been writing. Thank you to everyone, still here or otherwise. Even when I was off dealing with irl stuff, I could feel the support.

Pretend Alleyways Masterlist II Main Masterlist

For any new writing follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications.

Marcus chewed at his nail bed, surveying the house from the backseat of his Uber. It was hardly the first time he’d pulled up to the Sherman Oaks home. He was comfortable with the routine at this point. Tapping in the code for the front gate with practiced ease. The same one Dieter had scribbled onto the back page of a forgotten script after that first night together in New York City, his cell ringing incessantly from his back pocket, a car waiting down the curb to whisk him away. Marcus swore he could still taste the mint and menthol on the actor’s breath when he stepped in close and pressed the paper into his hands, kissing him until his toes curled. 

“Please say you’ll come visit.”

After that, it had been one strategically planned visit after the other. Marcus was almost mathematical in his process, arranging flights out west around his patrol schedule, switching shifts, and taking on extra duties just to rationalize the time away. Burning the candle at both ends but not caring even in the slightest, happy to run his tank on empty. He’d drive all fucking night if it meant more time with Dieter. 

So he took to the task with a vigilant level of focus, texting details and arrival times, the actor responding with a barrage of emojis, always ending with a heart. 

Marcus liked the way the little pixelated picture made his stomach flip.

Once together, it became less of a routine and more of a dance, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm that Marcus had no desire to predict. They would lose themselves in each other, wrapping tightly around the other, the heat impossible to turn away from. There were late nights and early mornings, the color of the sun replacing the hours on the clock. Sometimes, he would give up on sleep all together, content to match the actor’s eccentricities, watching Dieter move from room to room, minute to minute, until the other man would return to his arms. 

But as each visit came to a close, Marcus would find himself falling back on easy habits, his mind already making plans and rearranging schedules, focusing on that instead of the overbearing weight of goodbye. 

In the middle of one farewell, Dieter had grinned and nipped at his bottom lip, a tease curling around the curve of his cheek. 

“Don’t worry so much about the vigilante shit, sweet boy. You’re welcome anytime.”

Marcus had frowned at that, but Dieter was unfazed, humming an off-key pop song under his breath before giving one more piece of advice. 

Be spontaneous. 

Marcus had gnawed on those two words the entire plane ride home, the concept both enticing and diabolical at once. He imagined all the ways he would have spoiled Dieter if they lived in the same zip code. Spur of the moment cups of coffee, flowers just because, nights in and out and everything in between. But even those daydreams felt out of reach, Marcus unable to let go of the need to control everything. Everything. Everything that he possibly could. 

Except Deiter Bravo. 

The actor was bound for overseas, a six-month shoot looming ahead, lonely and large. They had spent the weekend before much the same way they had any other. Twisted together, sweat and cum and lips and hands pressed into bare skin, ignoring the ticking of traitorous time. Cruel miles were taking the other man away from him, and Marcus couldn’t stop the swell of jealous fear flaring inside his heart. 

Would he even be missed when the whole luminous, wonderful, exciting world was waiting for Dieter on the other side of the tarmac? 

A deep cough from the front seat dragged him back to the present, and before he could second guess himself again, Marcus climbed out of the car, tapping out five stars with one hand and grabbing his overnight bag with the other. He hesitated, just the smallest moment of debate, before he knocked, three sharp raps on the large black door. There was a shout from inside, Dee’s voice alerting someone he would get it, a breath and a curse as the lock was fiddled with, and then they were standing face to face after only 39 hours apart. 

Dieter seemed shocked to see him and he didn't bother hiding it, his jaw dropping in time with his arms, the shirt he had been buttoning hanging open to reveal his bare chest. Marcus couldn’t help but steal a glance of tan skin and a soft belly, licking his lips in anticipation. When Dee called his attention back up, the other man was smiling wide. 

“This is…”

“A surprise?”

“A great fucking surprise.” 

It was almost a blur after that. Fumbling hands and broken laughter as they came together in a messy kiss. They managed to make it up the stairs and down the hall, Dieter’s bed barely breaking their fall. 

Marcus wanted to take his time, should have been taking his time, but Dieter’s voice was in his ear, thanking him — thanking him? — for showing up tonight. Thanking him and begging him and pressing salt-slicked lips into the curve of his neck. And before he could breathe the other man in, savor the moment that was coming out of nowhere, they stripped away each and every layer, Dieter panting beneath the hurried press of Marcus’s fingers deep inside. 

Sooner rather than later, Marcus was sliding into the other man one final time, their hips flush and their fingers laced. He came with a groan, face buried into the dip of Dieter’s neck, while the actor sunk his teeth into his shoulder, the pleasure burning away into the edges of pain. Only after they both found their breath, bodies pliant and limbs loose, did Marcus find his voice. 

“Do you want to order in?”

Dieter didn’t say anything and Marcus craned his neck up to peek past the other man’s chin and catch a glimpse of him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Did you already eat? Because that’s okay.”

“No…,” he started, fingers tracing a line of muscle from the top of his shoulder and back around, lingering along the teeth marks he left there only minutes earlier. “I haven’t eaten. I…there’s this thing I have to….well, not have to. I was getting ready for it when you knocked—“

“Dee?”

“There’s a party,” he finally blurted out, eyes finding the swing of the ceiling fan above, a grimace pulling his lips into a jagged line, a deep shade of pink settling on his cheeks. 

Marcus leaned up on his elbow, watching the small battle of wills dragging across Dieter’s face. He thought maybe he should try to comfort the other man but he was suddenly anxious, those creeping realities working their way up his spine. 

“A party?”

“Yeah, it’s sort of this farewell thing my friends are throwing,” he explained, not needing to. “Really, just an excuse to get blitzed.” 

The lack of eye contact suddenly made much more sense. 

“You wanted to go.”

It wasn’t a question. 

Dieter was up and over him in a flash, one large hand bending around Marcus’s jaw, thumb pressing the seam of his lips shut. “I didn’t want to be alone.” 

Marcus pursed his lips, the pad of Dieter’s thumb still pressing firm. He felt the callous from where Dee cheated his paintbrush, a perfect spot to push a kiss before pulling away. 

“You want to go.”  

Dieter searched his face, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, trying to pull apart the determined set of Marcus’s jaw. When he came up empty-handed, he fell back to his elbows with an exaggerated sigh, one large hand still cupping the cut of the hero’s cheekbone, keeping his thumb close enough to touch. 

“I want to go with you.” 

———————

Marcus smiled from where he was leaning against the doorway, watching Dieter rummage through his ridiculously sized closet, a string of muttered musings leaving him as he pulled item after item off of hangers. The Heroic had slipped back into his jeans and t-shirt once the decision had been made that they would attend the party together, not really packing (or owning) anything that fit the L.A. scene. 

He was two steps towards the bathroom, intent on fixing his messy hair when Dee stopped him with a strong grip on his elbow. 

“Leave it,” he teased, a quick kiss pressed to his lips, fingers tugging at one of the sweat-slicked curls. 

Now he was standing behind him, sliding a stone-washed jean jacket up one arm and then the other, one more kiss, this time gifted to the back of his neck. The jacket hangs a bit loose around him, Marcus guessing a mix between the cut and style, and Dieter’s broader frame both at play. He couldn’t help himself, tugging the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply, the smell of weed and cologne and something subtle sweet filling his lungs. 

He felt Dieter’s eyes, watching him carefully in the reflection of the mirror, his hands finding the dip of his waist beneath the bulky fabric, gripping hard then soft, one, two, three times. Marcus took in the pair of them — sex-mussed hair and bright blush on him, wild eyes, and a teasing smile on Dieter — and he suddenly had no desire to go to this party. Any party. 

No. 

All he wanted was for Dieter to pull this jacket off the same way he had so easily slipped it on, and drag him back down to the safety of the mattress. 

“Come on, sweet boy,” he hummed, the hook of his nose tracing the shell of Marcus’s ear. “Sooner we get there, sooner I get to take you home.”

The word followed Marcus down the stairs and out to the car, his stomach flipping each time he let the meaning of it roll around inside his head.

Home?

———————

Driving in L.A. was an experience in and of itself. Marcus had made his own attempts, managing to find a rhythm in the few times he had been sent out to the west coast on assignment. It wasn’t much different than driving in any other city, as long as you were prepared to sit in what felt like endless hours of traffic. Of course, Marcus had the pleasure of abusing side streets and off-ramps when it came down to emergency situations. 

Driving with Dieter behind the wheel was a different experience altogether. He seemed unfettered by speed limits or traffic lights, one hand on the wheel, the other wrapped around Marcus’s knee, singing along to the song on the radio but only getting about half the words right. If not for his powers and years of honing his reflexes, Marcus would have maybe suggested he do the driving when he was in town. 

As it was, it was nice to settle into the plush leather seat and listen to Dieter’s slightly off-key voice, his hand squeezing Marcus’s knee in time with the beat of the music. He leaned back and closed his eyes, weighing the risk of asking Dieter to just keep driving. Maybe if they kept going, all night and all day, they could avoid the inevitable goodbyes looming in the distance.

———————

The last time Marcus and Dieter had been at a party together, they had only ever heard of each other, recognizing names and faces from newspapers and movie screens. They didn’t know any different than what was said in headlines or plastered on billboards, rumors and hearsay coloring in their opinions of one another. How many assumptions had Marcus made about the actor upon that first meeting? That he was pompous. Self-centered. Selfish. An addict. An asshole. A monster. 

Or maybe Marcus was afraid that was how Dieter saw him. 

The monster in the night. The shadow that lurked in the corner. Fighting away the evils of the world, the palms of his hands so very dirty with blood and secrets and violence. Living in the between of good and bad and never knowing where he really stood.

But when their eyes met across that darkened alley, only the glow of Dieter’s cigarette casting shadows between them, those half-truths and packaged lies that Marcus took for granted started to fall away. Somewhere between their small secrets and one smokey kiss goodnight, he started to learn who Dieter Bravo really was. 

This party was different in so many ways than that first elegant affair. Gone was the light classical music, replaced with something loud, a heavy bass and fast lyrics. Bowls of chips instead of passed trays. Stiff black and white was traded in for soft denim, Dieter’s scent surrounding Marcus from room to room. They entered the party together, no longer separate, no longer strangers, and instead more.

So much more.

Dieter’s arm was wrapped around Marcus’s waist, holding him close by his side as they navigated the packed mansion. The crowd parted around them, little waves of people ebbing and flowing to make room for the two men, boisterous cheers of joy raining down upon them. Dieter preened beneath the attention, his smile wide and his cheeks warm, the hand wrapped around Marcus’s waist squeezing hard to grab the Heroic’s attention. 

“They like to make a fuss,” he hummed into Marcus’s ear. 

He couldn’t help but cock his own grin back, turning his head just enough to brush his lips along the shell of Dieter’s ear, delighting in the shiver that followed. “I think you like the fuss.” 

———————

They get separated about an hour in, an inevitability between the number of people vying for Dieter’s attention and the sheer size of the house. Marcus excused himself to the bathroom, trying and failing not to be annoyed when the first empty one he found was on the opposite end of the party. By the time he made it back to where he left Dieter, the other man had moved, now sitting on a couch, friends and fans alike draped around him. 

There was something strange about watching Dieter Bravo in what some would consider his natural habitat. He was bright and shiny and impossible to look away from. He almost looked relaxed, his arms thrown over the back of the sofa and his legs stretched out long, only the tap tap tap of his heel giving him away.

Marcus wanted to insert himself. To crowd himself beside the other man and press his palm to the bend of his knee in hopes of soothing away the small tremor of anxiety, but he hesitated, his own worries holding him in place. So he stayed where he was, back glued to the wall, arms crossed and frown firm, as he tried to decipher the scene playing out in front of him. 

Was Dieter’s laugh real just then? Or was the one Marcus had teased out of him hours prior? The sounds seemed so similar, a copy of a copy that looked and felt and sounded real. Were his cheeks pink because he preferred their attention over Marcus’s? Or was it because this room was too damn hot? What did it mean when Dieter touched her knee? Or kissed his cheek? Or leaned a little bit more into their touch? 

And why did Marcus care? 

He didn’t consider himself a jealous man. 

But it almost felt inevitable, the dark tendrils of jealousy seemingly always present, ever since that fateful moment in the alleyway, smoke and secrets traded away for unspoken promises for more. Marcus clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, watching the other man glow beneath the attention of others. Was it merely a reflection back of the attention poured upon him? The mirrors of a disco ball catching in the light and shining for the delight of others? Or was Dieter just enjoying another moment in the limelight? 

Marcus couldn’t seem to see the line between real and fake, or what side he stood on. 

Someone handed him a drink in the midst of his brooding, and the sting of the alcohol paired well with his bitter mood. He was trapped in a hell of his own making, refusing to look away from the crowd gathered around Dieter, but hating every second of it. 

The jealousy burned inside of him. What had just been something dark mingling in the background was now present and in full force. Marcus was jealous. Jealous at how effortlessly Dieter lived his life, able to navigate crowds and fame and fervor without ever breaking a sweat. Jealous at how his smile seemed just as bright as it had when he opened his door hours earlier. Jealous at how someone else held the attention of his sweet brown eyes. 

And suddenly there was fear. Icy cold and horrifying reality. 

Marcus didn’t belong here. Here with these pretty people and their clean lines and bright lights. He was messy edges and dirty hands, stained with years of violence that would never scrub clean. There was dirt on his ledger and red on his chest, and Dieter was beautiful. So very very beautiful.

Another wave of panic gripped tight at Marcus’s throat. 

When was the last time he told Dieter he was beautiful? Yesterday? Or the day before that? Either way, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. And he couldn’t fathom a world where he lost the chance to say it again. 

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t lose him. 

The lights above them flickered, an unwelcome side effect of his superpowers, Marcus’s unruly emotions too much to handle all at once. It was just enough to drag everyone’s attention up, stealing their eyes away from Dieter, but only briefly. The actor caught his gaze in the small interim, brows pinched and lips curved, his sharp mind putting the puzzle together. Marcus blushed beneath the scrutiny, feeling very much like a child caught in the midst of a crime. He slammed the cup down on the nearest surface he could find and shoved his dirty hands in the pockets of Dieter’s jacket, and turned away, the lights flickering one last time as he made a quick and embarrassing exit. 

From behind he could hear the shout of a stranger.

“Hey, Dee where’s your boyfriend headed?”

Marcus was so focused on the fact that someone else called him ‘Dee’ that he missed the way Dieter's eyes lit up at the word boyfriend.

The bathroom he had found earlier was blissfully empty, and he took care to lock the door behind him. He braced himself against the sink, the cool porcelain a balm to the heat of his palms, breathing in and out, sharp and fast, to match the beat of his heart. A knock came seconds later, Dieter’s voice chasing the sound. 

“Let me in, Marcus.”

It didn’t sound like a request.

Marcus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, and the actor slipped in, eyes pinning him in place as he locked the door behind him. For a moment both of them refused to speak, 2 feet of space between them, and enough silence to last a lifetime. It was Dieter who finally broke the tension, stepping forward until Marcus was within his reach, the palm of his hand cupping his cheek to keep him close.

“Flattered as I am, I can’t decide if I like jealous on you or not.” 

Marcus knew it was foolish to lie at this point. If his fucking superpowers hadn’t given him away, then storming off surely had, and any denial would have rung hollow. Besides, they had promised. Months ago, in an opulent hotel room, cum and sweat sticking them together. They promised to always be honest with each other. 

“I don’t belong here, Dee.”

“Shut up.” The sentiment came out as a tease, the tip of Dieter’s thumb tracing the stubble along Marcus’s cheek, but the look on his face was serious. 

Marcus shook his head, unsure how to say what had seemed so clear to him only minutes ago. “I’m not…I’m not g–”

“I swear to fucking all, if you say the word ‘good,’ Moreno.”

His mouth clamped shut, and he smiled for the first time since he left Dieter’s side earlier in the night. The other man yanked him in for a quick kiss, only pulling a breath away when he spoke again.

“You are better than all of us, sweet boy. Please tell me you know that?”

Marcus wanted to shake his head in disagreement, the very idea that Dieter saw the good in him too much to bear, but the actor was already kissing him again, lips slanting sweetly along his own. When they broke apart for the second time, Dieter said it again, and then again, each time pairing a kiss with his words. Marcus thought maybe he would have kissed him a hundred times and then a hundred more, praise and adoration passed between them until the inevitable end of time caught up. 

But then Dieter crowded in closer, kissing him with much more fervor, his intent clear. Hands scrambled as belts were tugged free and pants were pulled down, bodies twisting until Marcus was plastered to Dieter’s back. He slipped inside the broader man easily, still slick with his release from earlier. Dieter whined at the stretch, pressing back into Marcus, fingers curling around the edge of the bathroom counter as he began to beg. 

“Hard, baby. Please.”

Marcus nipped at Dieter’s ear, refusing to move, the entire length of him buried to the hilt inside him. “How hard?” 

“Hard,” Dieter begged again, squirming in Marcus’s tight grip. “Hard as you can. Need to feel you. F-feel so good.”

It was an intoxicating rush, reducing Dieter Bravo to stumbling pleas and wanton moans, and Marcus swore as long as he was able to pull air into his lungs he refused to take that feeling for granted. He pressed a soft kiss to Dieter’s skin and gently nudged his nose to the back of his head, coaxing his gaze up to meet Marcus’s in the mirror. 

He dragged his hand up Dieter’s chest, stopping to feel the steady thump of his heart, one, two, three beats, before moving up to wrap his fingers around the other man’s throat. He whined again, writhing to and fro, the sound more pitiful with each passing second that Marcus refused to move. 

“I’ve got you, mi cielo. I’ve got you,” he hummed the promise, pressing another kiss to Dieter’s sweat-damp curls. He squeezed the actor’s throat again, watching as his cock seemed to pulse in time with the action. He bit back his own groan, his own cock painfully hard where he was buried inside the other man. 

“M-marcus…please…”

When he finally moved, it was slow, almost torturous for the both of them, but Marcus refused to be rushed. Not this time. Fuck any and everyone who dared to knock on that door. That dared to interrupt them. That dared to break between this moment. He pulled the other man closer, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other still gripping tight to his throat. Dieter’s hands were still scrambling, designer soaps and over-priced products falling to the floor as he seeked some sort of leverage. He finally found it, stonewashed denim bunching between his fingers as he dug them into Marcus’s forearms.

And only then did Marcus give into his request, snapping his hips as hard as he could, teeth sinking into the curve of Dieter’s neck. There would be bruises, bad ones, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too overwhelmed at the thought of marking the other man as his own. Dieter didn’t seem to mind either, begging Marcus again and again to give him everything he had. 

“Want to feel it,” he sobbed, the pleasure just on the other side of pain. “Want to feel you when I’m gone. Please.” 

“You will, baby. I promise,” Marcus growled. “You’ll feel me for days. You won’t forget me. P-please… don’t forget me.” 

The admission fell out of Marcus before he could stop it, along with his own broken sobs to match. The pain and tears burst to life, the broken pieces he had hidden all over his body finding new life as he begged Dieter to take it all with him. Each slam of his hips and bruising touch of his hands. Every bite from his teeth and kiss from his lips. The words and the promises and the things neither of them knew how to say but felt all the same. 

“Take me with you, Dee. Please, take me with you.” 

“I will, sweet boy,” he gasped, his body shaking beneath Marcus’s anguished hands. “Sweet boy. Good boy. I promise.”  

Dieter came first, though Marcus wasn’t sure how, his sobs and sighs of pleasure long past any sort of coherence. His cock twitched and pulsed, coming completely untouched. Marcus watched Dieter’s face break apart in the reflection of the mirror, his brown eyes wild and skin flushed, lips parting around a feral scream. 

Marcus fell apart in kind, sparks of heat bursting at the base of his spine as tight velvet squeezed around him, Dieter’s voice in his ear, his jacket sticking to his skin. He spilled inside the other man, tears and spit and snot pressed into Dieter’s neck, little words of praise coaxing him through the brunt of it. Eventually, the tears turned to laughter, the two of them clinging tighter as they made guesses at how many people heard them.

“Either way, I hope they enjoyed the show because I sure did,” Dieter teased, nipping his teeth on the hinge of Marcus’s jaw. 

They did a piss poor job of cleaning up, Dee’s cum barely wiped clean from the porcelain with a towel found below the counter, too high a thread count for something so filthy but neither man really gave two shits to look for an alternative. The products were tossed haphazardly into the sink, the idea of stacking them neatly ridiculous. They both agreed; you get what you ask for when you throw a party in the valley. 

Marcus took better care when it came time to clean Dieter up. He warmed up the water from the sink as best he could, using that same fancy towel from before to wipe up the trickle of cum slipping slowly down his backside. He couldn’t stop from stealing one small indulgence, using his thumb to press some of himself back inside the other man, Dieter’s legs visibly shaking from the sudden stimulation. Marcus shushed him with a soft kiss to one of the many bite marks littered across his neck, humming out a quiet apology.

“Do they hurt?”

“They do,” Dieter grinned, tilting his chin to admire the marks as he tugged his jeans up over the swell of his ass. “I’m gonna need a few more before I get on that plane tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmmm, definitely.” 

Dieter pressed something hard into Marcus’s hand and when he looked down he could see it was his car keys, the silver teeth catching in the light. 

“Take me home, sweet boy. I have plans for you.”

There was that word again, breathed out so easily, like a promise he knew he would keep. 

Home. 

#Marcus Moreno #Dieter Bravo #Marcus Moreno fic #Dieter Bravo fic #Marcus Moreno x Dieter Bravo #mlm #we can be heroes #the bubble #pedro pascal characters

[hiorintruther]

Sometime is wish the homoerotic undertones of Blue Lock could be somewhat canonised for Ryusae specifically…

Purely because I think Shidou would use it to absolutely harass Rin to no end. Like, they’re currently stuck on the same team together so imagine Shidou just walking past Rin one morning and going “how goes things, future brother-in-law?” and Rin being absolutely LIVID at the notion that Sae has somehow made his life EVEN WORSE by dating the person he hates probably second most in the world (the first being Sae himself, of course).

Or Rin commenting on how Shidou’s performance on the field was “lukewarm” and Shidou just responds with “funny, that’s not what your brother told me last-“ and he wouldn’t get to finish because Rin has already gone in for a punch. Of course, Shidou is being all talk here. He just wants to really twist the knife and see what happens.

Or maybe one day Loki chastises Rin’s personality and Shidou takes the opportunity to say smth like “y’know, when me and Sae have kids I want their uncle to be someone who’s actually fun to be around”.

Or Shidou just drops random one-liners during training that have varying degrees of truth behind them (aka they’re usually completely untrue and Shidou is fully just trying to wind Rin up), like “I’m planning mine and Sae’s wedding rn. Do you want to be my best man coz I think Sae’s first choice is Aiku.”

Some other random one-liners I think Shidou would make up to piss Rin off include:

“I hope family dinners don’t get to awkward… since we’re colleagues, and all. Ideally I wouldn’t want to impose myself but you know how demanding Sae can be.”

“I’m so glad I don’t have your number coz some of the stuff I send Sae is for his eyes only.”

“What emojis do you associate Sae with? I’m changing his contact name atm. I was gonna go with red heart, peach, tongue, blushing face… but I need a second opinion.”

“God I miss Sae! Next time I see him I’m gonna hug him so tight and never let him go and stroke his luscious, soft hair that combs through my fingers while we make out and-“ (gets punched)

“What sort of presents does Sae like? I’m just thinking ahead to our anniversary. I wanna surprise him.”

*waxing shitty, made up poetic about Sae at 3am: “…and his (Sae’s) thrilling aura of power that could change the heart of any beast… unlike his brother whose vibes are constantly rancid…”

Like he doesn’t have to make jabs at Rin’s appearance or performance on the field. The mere fact that Sae is dating Shidou is enough to fill Rin with unbridled amounts of rage, which ends up becoming an impossibly easy punchline. Rin ends up getting so angry and violent-minded that he fumbles over his comebacks and ends up making a fool of himself. Idk I just think Shidou would be able to find every possible way to use his relationship with Sae to drive Rin up the wall. Kaneshiro please canonise Ryusae specifically because I think Shidou would find it a comedy goldmine.

#blue lock #bllk #ryusae #shidou ryusei #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #I just think it would be funny #and very in-character for Shidou #of course it comes at Rin’s expense poor baby #but also it tickles my funnybone your honour