#where they salute major

[specialagentartemis]

cannot believe this musical concept album gave me Real Feelings about a character from the Odyssey who appears, like, twice

#Polites is described in the Odyssey as Odysseus's bestest bestie and then like never features in any of the subsequent drama #to the point where there's no 'canonical' version of how he died #it's either by Scylla and Charybdis or when Odysseus's whole fleet gets got for eating Helios's cows #so I genuinely think it's a super interesting adaptation choice for Jorge Rivera-Herrans to pull him out to be a major character #and then make him the first to die on the trip home #Odysseus's first major miscalculation results in the death of his best friend #Which then immediately frames his taunting of Polyphemus not as hubristic smugness but grief and rage #It IS very funny though how much more heroic and moral JRH made Odysseus (by modern standards) than he was in his stories #Also a long-standing adaptation tradition when you are the writer director and star #Will always make fun of Kenneth Branagh for making Victor Frankenstein a mostly well-meaning guy Trying His Best. Not a selfish coward nooo #And y'know. famously. there's Lin-Manuel Miranda as Alexander Hamilton #Anyway. Jorge Rivera-Herrans and Steven Dookie gave me real feelings about Polites. I salute them #Epic the Musical #Polites

[biillys]

love the idea of billy being able to approach anyone at school and it just being accepted. him not necessarily being apart of the popular crowd but anytime he chooses to grace them with his presence, they're all over him, offering him a seat and the latest hottest gossip. him talking to some nerd in class, asking for a pen becos he doesn't believe in bringing his own school supplies, and said nerd internally rolling their eyes but still handing over a pen. him talking to the drama kids, asking where they got that sick as fuck leather jacket for their musical, getting confused and lowkey alarmed looks but still an answer.

love the idea of there being only a select few people that can approach him and have him actually respond and acknowledge them, everyone else not even getting a glance.

eddie being one of them.

eddie and billy seeming to become eddie and billy overnight, like one day they were strangers and the next they were basically inseparable.

eddie walking up behind billy in the hallway and swinging an arm over his shoulder, fucking with his hair, before dumping half the shit he was carrying in billy’s basically unused satchel. billy giving him a what the fuck look but still holding it open for him, and eddie rolling his eyes and saying it was fucking empty anyway, billy shoving his satchel onto eddie's shoulder cos he’s not carrying around eddie's shit for him all day.

eddie being able to lean against billy's car, jump in the passenger seat without an invitation or even a comment, cos billy does the same thing to eddie's van just as often.

they have one class together, and their teacher’s given up on separating them, cos eddie’s just gonna talk to billy from across the room anyway, and billy’s gonna throw notes back to him, ripping up the piece of paper he borrowed from the guy beside him and throwing them at eddie's hair.

they have fun in detention together.

heathers another one.

they’re coworkers, yeah, but heather was probably the first person that billy ever truly gave a shit about in this shithole of a town. heathers been a cheerleader since becoming a cheerleader was an option, but somehow, like billy these days, always seems to just do her own thing.

she can sit on billy’s lap at lunch if they both bother with the cafeteria and the most billy will do is wrap an arm around her waist and move around 'til their more comfortable.

she can go through his shit to find his car keys to make a quick run to his car at lunch to find some spare hairbands and bobby-pins cos her’s broke and billy’s got spare shit everywhere in his car ever since he basically started being everyone’s personal chauffeur.

she can drag his notes across and copy everything he's written cos she was too busy texting chrissy under the table to pay attention and the most billy will do is ask what the plans were for that night. his notes half the time are basically illegible but billy's more or less somehow got mostly straight A's so heather'll take it.

sometimes she wears his jacket. rips him off about the lip stain. billy tells her to do a better one since she gives so much of a fuck.

chrissy joins billy’s inner-circle slowly, then instantly.

billy knows of her, has probably even spoke to her, but it’s not until they meet in eddie's trailer and all smoke up together - eddie and billy fucking around on eddie's guitars, heather with her feet swung over the back of the couch, chrissy sitting tense on the single armchair before slowly loosening up - that billy feels like he actually meets her.

suddenly, she’s pulling away from jason, from the other basketball players, from all her cheer friends, and slowly she’s hanging out with heather under the bleachers, she’s meeting up with eddie in the woods, and she’s waiting around the camaro at the end of the day to catch a ride home.

suddenly billy’s waiting around after basketball/cheer practice until chrissy’s ready to leave, cos jason's been talking a lot of shit lately, and billy doesn’t really think he’s got it in him to do something reckless, but he’s also not stupid enough to underestimate a guy like jason carver.

chrissy getting nervous when she sees jason loitering around but then she sees billy waiting just behind him, and she’s feeling brave suddenly, so she practically dances her way over to billy, grabs his hand before leaning into his side, and billy’s leaning right back and dropping her hand so he can wrap his arm around her shoulder, and she leaves without looking back. billy flips jason the bird over his shoulder.

max, obviously, when she starts going to the same high school. they’ve spent the previous summer working so much shit out, and it doesn’t mean they’re not still at each others throats over the stupidest shit, but it does mean that when billy bitches about having to wait around after her stupid nerd clubs, he does it without that much heat, and when max bitches about having to deal with the fact that every single person and teacher in this damn school has an opinion on her just becos she’s billy hargrove’s little sister, she sometimes sounds kind of proud to have that label. most of the time, she’s just annoyed.

max sometimes shoves her shit in billy’s locker, becos her locker’s full of dustin’s science shit, and sometimes when she’s carrying her board around at the end of the day, billy’ll come up behind her and smack it out of her grasp before skating down the hallway. she always feels vindicated when billy gets caught though, cos she never does. 

shaking billy down for lunch money, cos susan seems to think max actually likes tunafish sandwiches, when she rly truly fucking hates them. billy usually telling her to fucking scram, but occasionally giving in and passing her some change.

max sometimes tracking him down at the start of her lunch period and holding a hand out for his car keys, a pissed off look on his face, and billy takes one look behind he to see her lil gang looking all shifty, and billy - having been on the receiving end of her attitude fucking constantly in the past - just sighing before handing his keys over. more often than not, trailing behind her, even when she tells him to fuck off, just throwing a shit eating grin her way with an aww, so little maxine can have a pity party for one? fuck no. what'd the fuckers do this time?

lucas, becos he’s max’s boyfriend, and also becos he’s on the team, and he seems to be sneaking over every other weekend, and things may still be rocky between them, but since billy make his apology, they’ve been getting better. they’re not exactly besties, but sometimes they play a one on one game after practice ends and no one’s in a rush to get home, and most times lucas will win becos he’s honestly just better than billy at basketball, and each time billy will ask for best out of three, then best out of five, cos he fucking sucks at losing.

when jason and some of the other basketball dickheads start trying to drag lucas in, pulling their fake shit only to split whenever it’s convenient, billy just watches on before rolling his eyes and pulling lucas’ gear closer to his in the locker room and gives him the worlds shittest pep talk. jason carver ain’t shit, trust me. fuck that guy.

carol! and tommy! except billy’s a dick and he thinks it’s funny to fuck with tommy, so when carol comes up to him and catches him up to date with the latest wild happenings from the party he couldn’t be fucked to attend the night before, crashing at eddie’s with the others instead, and tommy tries to go in for a simple bro-handshake, billy gives him a blank stare and holds his hand out limply, not participating, watches the look on tommy’s face go from excited to confused, before finally grabbing him by the hand and pulling him close, hand on his shoulder, ‘i’m fucking with you’, then doing the stupid bro-shake thing. tommy laughing it off but turning to carol with wide eyes, every fucking time, like ‘shit, are we cool? are we friends?’ and carol just patting him on the shoulder before tucking herself into his side, all ‘yeah, babe, you're good.’

#anyway au where when billy first rolled into town; he truly did feel the need to like. make himself big. surround himself with crowds #fit in with the popular kids. attend every party. but then s3 happened #or like the non-upsidedown version but still a major critical life changing event. and when hes as healed as hes gonna get #and finally standing on his own two feet; trying to get his life back on track #he just. cant be fucked with keeping up appearances anymore. fuck being basketball captain fuck being the keg king fuck being That Guy #instead all he needs is his sister and his few people. that's literally all that matters. #anyway i think its be FUN if eddie can't understand shit in class so he's like 'billy what the fucks this mean' #but the teacher DID separate them so billy - from the literal other side of class - tries to explain it in terms eddie will click with #much to the teachers surprise; eddies grades actually improve #also. heather and chrissy wearing the guys jackets. its THAT simple #but also consider: chrissy wearing eddies jacket but eddies kinda chilly so billy offers him his leather jacket #that happens to be in the car. while heathers got his denim one. and billys just walking around in sleeves in a hawkins winter like a tool #max gives him SO much shit #also billy tommy and carol is like. billy was Faking it Til he Could Make it when he first met them so he keeps them at a distance #but then when he's in hospital and recovering; before eddie and chrissy are rly on his radar #and its just max and heather sitting by his side; tommy and carol come through #they're the only ones from billys Friend Group that reach out and visit; that check in; that fucking care #so when billy does stroll back into school. he just - walks straight pass jason and all his fake ass sympathies; straight past the girls #that use to hang all over him; gives tommy and carol a two finger salute as he walks by but completely ignores everyone else #and meets up w heather at his locker #m #nqff

[irlmilesmorales]

hobie was so obviously not rocking wit the elite spider society since the start,, he knew somethin was up

why else would he steal shit and help miles escape from the laser cage?? he was bein a major instigator,,the first to get rid of his watch and didnt join in on the chase for miles

side note the part where hes interacting wit mayday is just too cute for my heart to handle,, 'takin a crap on the establishment?? i salute u' silly silly silly

anyways all of hobies screentime was just absolute perfection.

#hobie brown #spider punk #atsv #miles morales #miguel o'hara #spider man #atsv spoilers #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spider verse #spider man 2099

[tusks-and-claws]

Cold Love/Hot Blood

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: “Between teeth on a broken jaw/following a bloodtrail, frothing at the maw”

Miguel is struck with something that he’s never experienced before

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, dubcon by way of pheromones, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, feral Miguel, biting, marking, blood drinking, paralytic venom

Wordcount: 3k

Ao3 link here

-

You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light from the bleary haze. Wincing, you raised your hand to your head. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it definitely felt wrong. What had happened? You were on a mission. That's right. And it had been going so well, until… until the anomaly villain threw something at you and Miguel. What was it? It had such an awful smell to it. And, where was Miguel?

You traversed the rubble of the abandoned building you were in. You couldn't see him. You shouted out for him.

"Here, I'm here," you heard him from the distance. Following his voice, you found him under some pieces of sheetrock from a collapsed wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask.

"Geez, Miguel, are you alright?"

"Been better." His voice sounded strained. "Got a transmission from Jess that she's got hands on the anomaly. We'll meet her back at HQ. You go on ahead of me."

"What? No, we have to-" you started grabbing at the rubble to pull it off of him. He caught your arm before you could keep lifting.

"Please," he said, trying to meet your eyes from behind his mask. "Just go."

"What the hell is going on, Miguel? You're not… you're not acting right. We have to get you out of here."

He brought his hands up, holding his head in frustration. "Please, just do it. Don't make me beg."

"LYLA, please check him," you said, the avatar popping up and saluting you.

"No, don't-!" He tried to catch her in the air but she evaded him.

"His heart rate is really elevated but he seems okay otherwise. I think he's being dramatic. I don't detect any major injuries," she reported. You thanked her and she disappeared.

You crouched down to where he was. "What's going on, Miguel?" Your tone was serious.

He tried to hold your gaze for a moment until he swore and looked away. "That bomb that the anomaly threw… it affected me in a way that it clearly didn't affect anyone else, alright? Are you happy now?"

You furrowed your brow. "I don't understand."

He sighed, his breath shaking ever so slightly. "Itwasapheromonebomb." He said it so quickly and quietly.

"...What?"

"It was a pheromone bomb. Just leave me here so I can wait it out. This is so shocking humiliating- I," he sighed again. "Don't make me explain any further."

You blushed, not sure what to say. But you couldn't leave him like that, half-buried and vulnerable. "Can I at least help you up…? I promise I won't make fun of you. I just can't leave you defenseless like this."

He seethed for a moment, considering your offer. "...Fine. Grab this stupid sheetrock."

You did so, lifting it off of him with some effort. He did his best to stand up quickly. Despite his best, though, you could see the source of his embarrassment. He had a rock hard erection, and a particularly desperate one, by the looks of it. It laid upward, reaching towards his abdomen and pushing up against the tight fabric of his suit, straining. The size of him was nothing short of impressive.

You turned your gaze pointedly towards the ground as he moved away from the pile of rubble. Don't react don't react don't react. Could you pretend like you didn't notice? Even though not noticing was impossible, even from a single glance? You swallowed a lump in your throat, your head swimming with unprofessional thoughts.

Miguel turned from you, crouching down, hissing out a slow breath. "Fuck, it's getting worse," he whispered to himself, his body starting to tremble.

You took a step closer, reaching a hand out to his shoulder.

"Your proximity isn't… isn't helping." He admitted without turning around.

You stopped, silently moving your hand away from him. Touching him would surely make things harder.

"Miguel, I don't think waiting it out is an option for you. You just said it was getting worse."

He swore under his breath to himself. "I didn't mean for you to hear that. This is- shock it- this is completely foreign to me. Never been hit by anything like this before, it's s-so intense."

You winced at that, you'd never heard his voice so pained. But, what was the other option? You shivered just to think about it, your body reacting in ways that surprised you. How could you possibly propose helping him without making him think less of you? Would he even want help from you? Across from you, he was in turmoil, on his hands and knees trying desperately to control his breathing.

“Miguel… how can I help you?” It was a foolish question, a loaded question.

“You know the answer,” he replied from over his shoulder, his tone cold. He cried out again. “I- I can’t- can’t do that to you.”

“What if I’m offering?” You asked, a little too quickly, pushing down your fear and embarrassment for even thinking such things.

He turned further to meet your eyes, though you still couldn’t see his from behind the mask. You didn’t even need to see his eyes, his body language was communicating perfectly on their behalf. His muscles were pent up and quivering. Every breath rocked his massive shoulders. “Why?”

You didn’t think he’d ask that question. You searched your brain for an answer. “Because it isn’t your fault. And I respect you enough that this won’t change my mind.”

His thoughts seemed to be diverting to his baser instincts, his voice becoming a growl. “Need you… to be sure. Don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I’m sure,” you said.

In no time at all, he pounced, bringing you to the ground. He was on top of you, his taloned fingers caging in your wrists against the cracked concrete of the floor, your arms above your head. You landed with your legs apart and with him between them, his hips desperately close to yours. Your eyes widened at his feral energy, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. He brought his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling. His exhale was shaky. “You smell so good… always smelled so good.”

Your body grew hot upon hearing that. Always? Had he thought about you in that way before? You smiled to yourself as he nuzzled the nose of his masked face into your neck, his hot breath coming through and ghosting over your skin. You could feel his huge frame shaking around you. He brought his hips down to your pelvis, seemingly being as cautious as possible as he began to grind his hardened length against you. His breath quickened at the contact, and he met you again with fervor, stimulating himself on you. His cock was unbelievably hard and hot, the temperature of him coming through both of your suits to meet your skin and overwhelm you. The feeling of him against you was sending shivers down your spine, the pleasant pressure made even sweeter by the promise of more to come. He positioned himself on top of you in such a way that each rhythmic, grinding rock found your clit and teased it with clothed contact.

You moaned lightly, the sound of it causing him to growl into your neck. You lifted your hips up, meeting him with the same tempo so he could grind into you more thoroughly, your bodies now writhing in tandem. His heavy breathing became panting. "Need to… need to touch you." He picked up his head and released your wrists, one hand steadying himself on the concrete, the other reaching down eagerly.

You got the memo, quickly slipping the pants of your suit down and throwing them aside so he wouldn't rip them off for you. You had at least enough hindsight to know you couldn't go back to HQ looking so disheveled. He dismissed the gloves of his suit and retracted his talons as his fingers found you immediately, honing in on the wet heat of your sex. Two plunged inside as he loomed above you, his muscles shaking again as he wet his fingers with your arousal. You shook right alongside him, your reaction bodily, as your back arched and your legs closed instinctively to hold his hand in place and not let him go. His fingers hooked inside of you, already relentless.

"Soaked," he whispered, almost to himself. The word resonated with a deep, animalistic hunger. Without removing his fingers from your warmth, he sat back on his knees and used his free hand to pry your legs open. "Need to see," he said. He watched the length of his fingers disappear over and over. The large hand that kept your legs wide was squeezing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he seemed fixated on the way it was yielding to his rough touches. Nearly everyone was small compared to Miguel, but you… you were different. He had his hands on you, inside of you, the comparison was tangible. You were small, soft, and his. His mind swam with how he would take you, how he would sheath himself inside of you until he bottomed out, how he would desperately fill you with his hot cum and hold your hips up to keep any precious drops from leaking out. It took everything in him to not reach down and start rubbing his impatient cock through his suit, but his fevered brain convinced him to keep his free hand on your leg so he could watch you fall apart from his fingers alone.

He was delirious as your walls started to spasm around his fingers, white hot pleasure pooling in your core, threatening to overflow as he kept up his efforts. The constriction of your muscles bolstered him, and he began to go faster and harder, starting to overstimulate you. You threw your head back, hands wildly trying to grasp at something on the concrete floor but coming up short. He removed his hand from your throbbing sex to start teasing your clit with abandon, and you moaned as your body lifted up off the floor.

"H-holy shit, Miguel," you gasped out. "It's- it's so much."

His hand moved so fast against your swollen clit that you could hardly think. The feeling was electric, and your orgasm was dangerously close. Your legs started to shake and tried to close around him again, but he kept them forced open as he intently watched, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. You came and it utterly racked you, your body shuddering as you cried out, hot liquid spewing from you and drenching Miguel's hand and forearm. You squirted on him, because of him. You thought you should be embarrassed, but he gave you no opportunity.

As your head just started to clear, he recalled his mask into the neck of his suit. You quietly gasped at unexpectedly seeing his face. So strong, angular, and handsome. His red eyes looked wild, his mouth was open, his fangs fully extended. He studied his hand, turning it over so the mess you made could catch the light. As it started to dry down on him, he brought the two fingers that had been inside of you up to his mouth, and he licked them both clean. You gaped at him, almost fully unable to process what was happening.

When he was finished, he turned his gaze from his fingers and back onto you, as you sat up on your elbows to watch him. You saw that his cock was still as hard as ever, still pushing to break free. As if reading your mind, he recalled that part of his suit too as he grabbed your legs and yanked you toward him. He rested his cock over your abdomen, once again reveling in just how much bigger than you he was. The hot weight of his manhood on your skin set you ablaze once more and you eagerly awaited him. He thrusted but without penetrating you, sliding himself over you and wetting his cock on your cum. His exhales quaked with anticipation until he could wait no longer. Even on his knees, he towered over you, and so he needed to tilt your hips up further so your entrance could meet the head of his leaking cock. He shifted his grip to your waist, holding firm as you steadied yourself on your elbows and looked to him with bated breath.

He slowly pushed his hips into you, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. The steady penetration had you reeling. You needed to feel him, all of him. Every inch, all at once. It felt like it took ages for him to finally reach the hilt, but when he did, he waited inside of you for a brief, merciful moment. You basked in the feeling of being so full, so complete. He began to pull himself out of you, leaving you cold and empty for a split second until he slammed his entire length back into you, repeating and repeating at an unwavering pace.

Each powerful thrust reached so deep inside of you that it was nearly painful. Immediately, the head of his cock found your cervix and was hitting it with each hard pump that Miguel delivered. Your eyelids grew heavy as your eyes began to roll back towards your skull. His onslaught was so thorough, every smack of his hips against your pelvis reverberating through every inch of your body. The overstimulation of when he fingerfucked you had carried over, and you were already close to losing control all over again. He felt it too, as he growled in response to your pulsating walls.

"This cunt…." He snarled through his fangs. "This cunt is mine."

"Yours," you moaned, meeting his words a little too quickly.

"Going to mark you… so everyone knows."

"Mark me, Miguel." You agreed, not quite realizing what he meant. He started to lay you down onto the ground without removing himself from you, continuing to fuck you in missionary as he brought his face down to the crook of your neck. Your pulse quickened with excitement. He opened his mouth, his breath making your skin somehow even warmer. You wished that you could've seen the flash of his fangs before what came next.

He bit down on you, hard, and you could feel the course of his venom like molten lava through your veins. When the searing heat reached its crest, a soothing wash of warmth followed in its wake, leaving your muscles loosened and relaxed. Blood started to drip down your shoulder, the wet trickle quickly cooling as it made contact with the atmosphere. Miguel stayed latched to you as his tongue met your skin, lapping at the red stream, determined to consume it all.

You submitted to him fully, allowing him to position you how he saw fit so he could fulfill his feral need. His strong hands snaked around your torso to your back, lifting you up with him as he rocked back onto his knees. He helped you to swing your legs around his slim waist and to drape your arms over his huge shoulders. You let your face settle against his neck, the clean musky smell of him overwhelming your senses. His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up and down on his cock, fucking himself with your pussy like you weighed nothing at all. You moaned into him as you clenched around his cock, your limp body succumbing to the overpowering feeling of him. You started to shudder as your orgasm claimed you with a white-knuckled grip. You whined into Miguel's neck as it hit you with shock after shock, your vision going spotty while your cunt tightened around him.  

He couldn't hold it any longer, and his cock jerked inside of you as he came. You were still getting hit with aftershocks of your own climax, your muscles bearing down to milk every drop of cum that he filled you with. He held you closer and he thrusted himself as far into you as he possibly could, instinctively trying to make sure as little seed would have the chance to leak out of you as possible.

Your muscle control started to slowly come back to you as you and Miguel were chest-to-chest, both of you sweating and heaving. You weakly raised your arms so your hands could tangle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You lingered there for a bit, his strong arms holding you in the place as you played with soft locks of chocolate hair. You finally leaned back to see clarity slowly returning to Miguel's expression, and he looked utterly mortified. He held your gaze as he turned red, removing one hand from your body so he could cover his face.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "What the shock came over me?"

You were struck with sudden fear. "Do you… not remember?" The fact that he was still buried inside you should've been a dead giveaway.

"No, I do," he said, nervously. "I remember getting hit with that stupid bomb, and you helping me, then me wanting to split you in half."

You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"I tried to make sure I wasn't too rough with you. I was still in there, the whole time," he said, taking his hand away from his face to smooth your hair. He stopped when he reached your neck, seeing the bite marks he left. "Guess I didn't do all that well, did I?"

"It's fine. I can take it."

"Clearly," he said, raising his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "Thank you. I… don't know what I would have gone through if you hadn't been so… generous. But… for God’s sake, let’s not go around telling people what happened. We have reputations.”

You agreed, the secret safe between the two of you, the puncture wounds on your neck a silent souvenir.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #smut #my writing #not beta read #this one was for me tbqh #i didn't really know how to end it so pls be nice to me #but dear god read the warnings on this one #also another sleep token reference? on my fics?? it's more likely than you think #im nervous to post this one ahhhhhhh

[zeroslashsix]

The “Shepard Effect” has gotten so much funnier to me as I replay Mass Effect. The thing where all Shep’s squadmates end up flying the nest and becoming big important players in their own spheres? Like the random mercenary Shep brought along to hunt Saren ended up leading his entire species, that random Quarian kiddo on her Pilgrimage ends up as her species ambassador, the Virmire survivor becomes the next human Specter, etc. It’s the effect Shepard just has on the people around them that launches their careers/destinies... except it doesn’t apply to Shepard themself. I get the marketing plan of “Commander Shepard” being the only title so they’re more recognizeable to a gamer audience, but from a military perspective it is so fucking funny that Commander Shepard doesn’t get promoted once. Like not even posthumously, not even after saving the Citadel and killing Reapers left and right, all the while their squadmates are jumping from lieutenant to major, kid to ambassador, professor to Shadow Broker. Garrus isn’t even attached to any government body, and he still goes from C-Sec officer to Omega vigilante to Reaper expert(?) in the turian Hierarchy. It’s unclear what his official position is in the third game, but we know he gets a salute from a Hierarchy general.

And here’s Shepard cruising through, still a Commander because obviously they haven’t done a single thing worthy of promotion since the first game. No, it’s fine, they’ll fix everything for you and keep killing Reapers left and right. Died in the line of duty? Just a normal tuesday for Commander Shepard, nothing noteworthy here. Yes they will be the commanding officer of a major, there is nothing strange about this rank structure. 

#mass effect #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #kaiden alenko #ashley williams #liara t'soni #tali zora vas normandy

[comradekatara]

i apologized already for making you think about natla yet i am here again. so sorry!

i’m not super active on tumblr anymore so most atla/natla posting i see is on reddit unfortunately, and i posted about this there. i was met with some nuance and some semi-interesting takes on it thankfully, but it’s a change to the show i didn’t like and i still have yet to see anyone criticize it, even ppl (redditors lol) who otherwise very much disliked the show/disliked how it butchered its major themes and beats. i’m not looking for someone to hate on it/agree w my take, i just wanted to hear your take, as this is a) not reddit lol and b) you are an atla-understander

i’ve seen soooooo many people praise the change where they make zuko’s crew the 41st division, and i get why ppl enjoyed it like it was satisfying i guess??? if that’s your thing? but i personally found it at best corny and at worst a cheapening of zuko’s arc as it relates to the fire nations twisted values and sense of honour. like it was futile for zuko to try and save the 41st bc of how fucked up the fn/its leadership is, and everyone but zuko knew that! his arc revolves around (in part) realizing how messed up his country is. ozai assigning them to him for The Lolz instead of them getting unceremoniously sacrificed offscreen anyways despite zuko’s effort – effort which gets him disfigured and banished and is perhaps the major impetus of his whole arc – just is… idk it’s cheaper it’s lowered stakes it’s not understanding zuko’s thematic relationship to his country it’s corny it’s not slaying to me…

lmfao I mean I salute you for attempting to be nuanced about a show that just fully sucks ass. but yes. you basically just said it all. the 41st division storyline (including all the ridiculous flashbacks that editorialize all the wrong details) is really just emblematic of the way the show fails as a whole to convey subtlety, nuance, or thematic depth. they feel the need to make the most obvious decisions possible, while simultaneously making the wrong decision at every single turn. zuko’s crew being young and naive also completely undermines the fact that zuko is supposed to look ridiculous commanding a bunch of old men. he’s supposed to be childish and inept. if jee is only a couple years older than him and respects him as a person, it completely negates the fact that his lieutenant is an experienced, battle-trained soldier a good 40-ish years his senior who has to listen to a spoiled teenager’s impulsive and foolhardy commands. it’s the way iago talks about cassio, not the way cassio talks about othello. so yeah, it not only misunderstands the political implications and dimensions of zuko’s arc by making his sacrifice heroic instead of futile, but it also just completely negates how his character is intentionally portrayed in book 1, especially in contrast to azula, although she’s also wildly butchered here, so like. swagever i guess.

#communistzuko #natla #asks #zuko #sorry for bringing in othello #actually wait no im not #I can’t help being the way that I am!!!!!

[eoieopda]

sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb. 

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing. 

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly. 

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted. 

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free. 

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort,  when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start  — with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find. 

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner. 

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa? 

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.” 

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him. 

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you. 

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.” 

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of. 

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have. 

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to. 

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and — 

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why. 

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question. 

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?” 

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but — 

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods. 

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say. 

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

#svt #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung fluff #svt fic #svt smut #svt fluff #jade writes #re: sweatshirt season #ksy #kvanity

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ

✒ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡɪɴ, ᴡᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

✉ - ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ: ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏᴅ x ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ɢᴏᴅ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʟᴋꜱ, ᴡʜᴏᴏᴘꜱ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ(?) ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʀᴀɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɢᴇꜱ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴜᴛʜʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ (ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋʏ ᴋɪɴᴅ), ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏꜰꜰꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ, ʟᴀʀɢᴇ ᴀɢᴇ-ɢᴀᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀ: ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴄʜᴀʀ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

ᴘʀᴏɴᴜɴᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ⦂ ꜰᴀɪꜱɪᴀɴ - ꜰᴀɪ-ꜱʜᴀɴ ꜰᴀɪᴀ - ꜰᴀɪ-ʏᴀ ​🇫​​🇦​​🇮​​🇺​​🇸​- ​🇫​​🇦​​🇮​-​🇾​​🇺​​🇸​ ​🇩​​🇦​​🇰​​🇲​​🇪​​🇸​ - ​🇩​​🇦​​🇰​-​🇲​​🇪​​🇸​ ​🇶​​🇭​​🇪​​🇹​​🇴​​🇭​​🇷​ - ​🇰​​🇪​-​🇹​​🇴​​🇷​

Yandere Victory God, who isn’t everything you’d expect a victory god to be. He’s not energetic, cheerful, or even that much of a good sport. What he is is cocky, arrogant, pragmatic, and stubborn as hell. 

Yandere Victory God, who has challenged every single major god in the pantheon to duels, games of strategy, or even something as dumb as a popularity contest. He’d always get too into it, sometimes transforming a simple game into a years-long feud that’d only end when he managed to win. None of the gods have forgotten the Faisian Festival of 674, not when it nearly caused the entirety of the island of Faia to sink into the ground. 

Yandere Victory God, who doesn’t care for any of the other gods. Not when they couldn’t even beat him, not like you could. You, the God of Mercy, who the world has forgotten ever since your temple was desecrated during the War of Storms.

Yandere Victory God, who is the only god who still remembers you, even if it’s been half a century since he’s last seen you. He hates to admit it, but he misses you and your gentle gaze, your compassionate personality, and your endless patience. 

Yandere Victory God, who tires of the endless bloodshed that he caused with his own two hands. He wonders if you’d still love him if you learned of the things he’s done in these past violent years. All the mortal blood that he’s spilled would surely make you hate him, you’ve always loved these foolish little creatures after all, but maybe you could find it in your heart to forgive him. 

Yandere Victory God who never stops searching for you, despite his mother, the Goddess of War’s orders to stop this ‘fruitless endeavor’ and to focus on his duty in the battlefield. He cannot give up, he’s listened to your stories before. Of friends and fellow Gods who’ve faded away from existence because they were forgotten. He remembers your tears, and how he wanted to kiss them away from your skin. He doesn’t want you to be just another forgotten God.

Yandere Victory God, who catches wind of words whispered between old mortals, that the God of Mercy is in the Ivory Isles. Being held captive by a wretched creature that wants the wars to wipe out mortals forever. 

Faius was analyzing the map on his table, he had cleaned it of all the wooden pieces his mother used to mark their enemies. The scolding he’ll receive later will be worth it, as long as he can spot where the Ivory Isles were. Unfortunately for him, the Ivory Isles were considered a cursed location that many cartographers avoided placing on their maps to avoid bad fortune. 

As he was tracing his finger through the Gaulree Archipelago, the sound of heavy boots stomping through the dirt, followed by what Faius recognizes as feet being dragged across the coarse ground, snapped him out of his focus and he raises his head just in time for one of his lieutenants to enter the tent with a scrawny old man in tow. 

The lieutenant saluted, “Hail, Lord Faius.” He placed his hand on the old man and forced him to kneel, then grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head downwards to the ground like he was bowing. 

Faius waves his hand, “At ease,” His amber eyes drifted to focus on the old man, who had his eyes down to the ground, “I take it this is the priest of [Name] I sent you to search for?” 

The old man must have been only a young lad during the fall of your temple, and your subsequent disappearance. All the other priests and priestesses were either dead, or had gone senile with old age. This man was his only hope for finding you. If he had no valuable information, Faius would probably gut him then have his corpse tied to a pike as a warning to his men to not be so useless. Well, that's what he would've done if he wasn’t your old priest. 

The lieutenant nodded, “Yes, Lord Faius,” He glanced at the old man from the corner of his eye, “We found him at a temple of Dakmes.” 

Faius sneered. Dakmes was one of your few offspring, they were the deity of Tranquility, which was the closest thing to mercy the mortals had these days. He was so close to declaring war on them when he heard that they never bothered to look for you, you were their father for gods’ sake! 

“You are dismissed,” Faius waved off the lieutenant, who saluted, before swiftly leaving the tent. He walked over to the old man, who was still kneeling on the floor. With his sharp gaze, he was able to see that the old man was shaking slightly. 

Faius kneeled down, even in this position he was taller than the mortal, and then forced him to look him in the eyes. Dark brown met amber, and the old man flinched, “L-lord Faius,” The man’s voice was raspy, like he hadn’t drank water in ages, “What do you want from me?” 

Faius hummed, and then stood back up so he could tower over the old man and really enforce who was in power here, his hands stayed clasped behind his back, “You were a priest of [Name] in your youth, weren’t you?” 

The old man nodded, “I… I was,” The look in his eyes told Faius that the man had an inkling of why he was there. 

“Answer me this,” Faius pulled out the dagger he had used to pin down the map, and played with the blade. He smirked when the old man gulped, “Were you there the day he disappeared?” 

At those words, it was like a switch flipped inside the old man as a realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, and his breathing quickened, he started shaking his head frantically, “No… no! I promised them. I- I swore I’d never tell a soul!” He screamed. Faius’ eyes widened, who was ‘them’? Was it a deity? 

“Who are you speaking of?” Faius bent down in front of the old man, who immediately backed away from him but didn’t get very far considering he was basically crawling backwards, “Tell me, now.” He snarled out, gold energy crackling in the room, and his fierce aura scaring the man still. 

“I- I cannot!” The old man cried, tears were now flowing down his face at a rapid pace, “They would kill me if I spoke even a word of it!” 

Faius pressed the dagger against the old man’s throat, who winced when a bit of blood leaked from the freshly formed cut, “If you don’t tell me right now, I’ll be the one to take your worthless little life,” This was it, he was close. He could feel it. If he knew the deity who dared take you away from him, then he’d rescue you, and things would go back to normal again. You and him, together. Just like how it was meant to be. 

“It was Qhetohr!” The old man shrieked, “Qhetohr took Lord [Name]-” But before he could finish his words, the old man froze mid-sentence, and then black smoke started to pour from his mouth and then curled around his neck, and around his head. Faius immediately backed away, but that didn’t stop a bit of the smoke from wrapping itself around his wrist. 

The smoke solidified around, and then tightened. Faius winced at the sharp pain, it set his nerves on fire and nearly made him fall to his knees, but he was able to balance himself. Unfortunately for your ex-priest, he did not have the fortune of being a god, and the following sight was visceral. 

The black smoke that wrapped itself around the old man tightened to the point that Faius could hear the bones in his neck creaking, and the skull starting to crack from the applied pressure. The sounds only continued, growing louder and more frequent, till with one final wet pop, the smoke slowly receded from the old man. Leaving only a bloody and mutilated mess of what used to be the old man’s head. 

Most mortals, even some of the gods, would gag at the sight but Faius only frowned. He could care less about the mess, instead he focused on the old man’s dying words.

Qhetohr was one of the oldest deities in the pantheon, and one of the most dangerous ones too. The deity of destruction and the void. They were the most reclusive of the old gods, yet at the same time the most feared, for good reason too. The gory image in front of him was no doubt their work. Faius glared at the black smoke that still clung tightly to his wrist, it felt like it was biting into him and injecting venom into his system like a snake. 

He could worry about it later, a little pain was something he could handle if it meant he’ll find you. 

Faius called some of his men to clean up the body, and then went back to his map. He wiped away the old man’s blood from his blade. He admired the engraved dove on its hilt, your patron animal. Faius stabbed the dagger back into the parchment, and resumed his search for the Ivory Isles. 

He had a deity to blame, to fight, to kill and now all he needed to do was find you. 

“I’ll be with you again soon, [Name],” Faius murmurs under his breath, “Just be patient…” 

Yandere Victory God, whose men have noticed that he’s been getting more brutal with his attacks. He always loved a good battle, fighting was something that just came naturally to him as a son of War and Glory, and it was one of the few things that was able to take his mind off of you. But there was something different now. It was like he had gotten hungrier for blood, and violence.

Yandere Victory God who’s started raiding different villages and towns, all in search for a map or a cartographer willing to overlook the curse and tell him where the Ivory Isles were. Were his methods crueler than necessary? Sure, you could say that, but it was for a good cause. If he brought back the god of mercy, then things would become peaceful once more, and he’d be able to have his beloved back in his arms. 

Yandere Victory God who has become darker than before. He was never the kindest, nor was he the most compassionate, but he wasn’t like… this. He was harder on his men, pushed them to be more ruthless, and many of them lost whatever humanity they still had left in them that the seemingly ceaseless wars hadn’t taken. 

Yandere Victory God who dedicates every head he severs, every village he burns to the ground, and every death that happens at his hands, to you. This was all in his efforts to look for you after all, he wasn’t some bloodthirsty brute who took pleasure in this. No, no. He was your knight in shining armor, like the ones in all of those stories mortals loved to write. 

Yandere Victory God who can tell that the black smoke was doing something to him. Making him more sadistic and cruel, but was it really so bad? He could never do this before, not when he was worried about what you’d think of him for killing all these mortals. He still cared about what you thought about him, yes, but he’s sure you’ll be able to understand why he did this. You were always so understanding, that’s just one of the many things he loved about you. 

Yandere Victory God who finally found a cartographer willing to sell her soul for a hefty bag of gold coins, and gives him a map that can take him to the Ivory Isles. 

Yandere Victory God who wastes no time in taking his mother’s ship and boarding it with some of his men, the crew accommodates him without question and they set sail for the Ivory Isles. His face is like stone, cold and unmoving, but inside he’s like an excited child about to get his favorite treat after waiting patiently to be rewarded. 

Yandere Victory God who finally smiles for the first time in a long time when he sees the large pale structures in the distance, the bones that make up the outer layer of the Ivory Isles. You’re just within reach, and soon things will be perfect once more. He’ll rip Qhetohr apart, limb from limb, and offer their remains up to you, his perfect god. 

Faius steps onto the cursed land's soil, and immediately shivers. There is an evil energy on this land, no wonder cartographer’s refuse to place it on their maps. He hopes that it hasn’t tainted you, but even if it has he’ll be able to fix it. 

He feels the black smoke curl tighter around his wrist, and hum with a renewed energy. He winces as he feels it dig deeper into his skin. It was like an ant biting into his flesh with the force of a shark. 

But he steadies himself, he must remain strong if he wants to rescue you after all. 

Faius stares off into the distance, where he sees a large, crumbling tower that looks nearly identical to the bones surrounding the island. That must be the prison holding you. 

His hand grips tighter on the sword around his waist, “Soon, [Name]... Soon you’ll be back in my arms again,” Faius whispers to himself, “Right where you belong.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

#yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere #yandere imagines #male yandere #male reader #x reader #Faius

[flawdchaos]

Opposites Do Attract

Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven x Reader

Word Count - 915

Based off of this request - Can I request a Buck x reader, where the reader is very extroverted, maybe even the opposite of Buck, but they fit so well together. They could be going out for drinks or her meeting the boys or something similar.

Anyone who met Buck Cleven and Y/N Y/L/N at Thorpe Abbotts shared a common thought - they were an unexpected pair. It had become all too common for the newcomers to assume Y/N was with Bucky with her loud, bubbly energy and it almost seemed brash for cool, calm, collected Buck to be with Ken Lemmons loudest female mechanic but damn, did it work. They had met one morning as Y/N was going over some last minute inspections on Buck’s plane for his daily missions.

“How’s she looking, ma’am?” his voice startled her, her head hitting against the plane’s metal.

“Good lord!” she exclaimed. “Give a girl a warning before you sneak up like that.” she complained, rubbing the back of her head. She fully stepped from under the plane's wings and caught a glimpse of the man behind the voice. Her eyes widened once she noticed a Major was standing before her awaiting her response. “Major Cleven” right hand flying to her forehead to salute “Plane is all ready, sir.”

“No need to salute, ma’am. Thank you for taking such good care of her. I put her through hell.” Buck spoke as he opened the plane’s hatch to stow his bag and she couldn’t stop the scoff that left her mouth. “I think that’s an understatement, sir.”

Most of the guys probably wouldn’t have taken this kind of attitude, per se, from a mechanic - let alone a woman- but he couldn’t care less. The sight of her almost made him want to laugh. There she stood, hip jutted out and hand secured atop it, eyes squinting up at him most likely awaiting some sort of angry remark but all he could do was shuffle the toothpick around in his mouth and nod in agreement. “I’ll be waiting to fix her right back up for ya later, Major.”

The couple had been sealed since. When Buck finally caved and spilled the beans about a woman to Bucky, he thought John was going to have a medical emergency right there in the mess hall.

“You have a woman and you just now think to bring it up?” Bucky said, astonished. “I didn’t want you to scare her away.” Buck quipped. If he only knew.

“Well.” Bucky clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. “When am I gonna meet this mysterious young lady?” he urged, squeezing his hands down before an idea crossed his mind “Bring her to the pub tomorrow!”

______

If Buck could have taken a picture of the looks on the boys’ faces when he walked in with Y/N on his arm, he would have framed it and taken it with him on every flight he ventured out on. “Well I’ll be damned, Buck.” Bucky uttered, for once in his life he was almost speechless. Almost.

“I’d suggest you pick your jaw up off the floor, Major. I’d sure hate for you to swallow a bug.” She teased and the entire table erupted in laughter. Buck couldn’t help the small smile that broke out on his own face, a sense of pride soaring through his body. Bucky took a long swig of his drink before retorting. “Seems you’ve got yourself a jokester, Buck.” He nodded. “She’s a little more than that.”

“Wait, ain’t you the girl who works with Lemmons?” Blakely spoke, realization washing over the faces of a few of the men. “Yeah! You’re the girl who fixed my landing gear the other day.” Brady sat up, pointing at the girl standing firm besides Buck.

“You’re welcome by the way.” she waved her hand towards him. “Actually, everyone is welcome. You can thank me for getting you up in the air in the first place. Now I’m getting a drink. Keep the gossip to a minimum while I’m gone, now.” She turned, patting Buck on the chest. “You want something, baby?” looking up at her doe eyed boyfriend. “Just a Coke for me, honey.” She jokingly saluted, walking off towards the bar.

____

Buck had full confidence Y/N would fit in with his crew of men. Whether most of them had realized it before or not, she was the sole reason they were able to make it off the ground in the first place. He couldn’t help but say it almost made his heart swell with pride watching her interact with his friends. “Should I sing?” Bucky’s voice broke through his train of thought, hands tapping against his arm chair. There wasn’t time for him to protest before Y/N jumped up from her place on his lap. “Let’s go, Bucky!” Y/N’s laughed.

He couldn’t explain the feeling that was coursing through his body but as he watched his best friend - more so a brother at this point - and his newfound love sharing a laugh together over the less than perfect singing, he only grew more confident in his relationship. Many would describe Buck Cleven as a many of very little words but if anyone asked about Y/N, his Y/N, he didn’t think there were enough words in the dictionary to explain just how he felt.

Once the song stopped and the singing duo had left the stage, Buck watched as Y/N headed to the bar and Bucky made his way back to him.

“Buck, I gotta say -“ pausing to take a drink of his whisky. “You’ve found yourself a keeper. You two couldn’t be any more opposite but man, does it work.”

#masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #anthony boyle #gale cleven #john egan #masters of the air imagines #robert rosenthal #rosie rosenthal #gale cleven x reader #buck cleven x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader

[superluver]

how about fake dating with satoru gone wrong 👀 (they fall for each other)

Do you see what you do to me? G.S.

Pairing: Gojo Satorux Fem!Reader

wc: 3271 | cw: gojo has dimples, CURSING, fluff, angst if you squint, overthinking, Gojo is TOUCHYY, FEM!READER, cuddling, Gojo being a gentlemen?!, SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE

Description: Gojo is attending a month long ceremony, and as a single head, the higher-ups would do anything to pair him up with a powerful sorceress. Gojo invites you to go with him, as his lover.

Im sorry, who ever requested this if this isnt what you were looking for you can request me again and i'll fix it, @teaaleefs thank you again for helping w the story

“You want me to what?” You gape at the man who is kneeling on the ground before you. His eyes bandaged with a pouty lip to make up for the lack of eye contact.

“Please, (Y/N)?!” He begs, grabbing on your pant leg, tugging at you relentlessly. “DAMN IT GOJO,”

“Satoru,” he corrects, but your eyes are ablaze with anger. “You’re gonna tear up my pants again! This is my last pair—!”

He ignores your complaint, continuing to tug hard at the cloth. Your arms are holding down on the stretched fabric, and you pray it’s enough.

Gojo has a tendency to pull on your leg— literally— every time he wants you to do something for him.

“Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease,”

You groan in annoyance, eyebrows furrowed as your arms pull away from your pants. Instead, your hands slam onto the arm rests of your chair. “FINE— Yes, fine I will help you! Just let go—”

Rip

The two of you stare at the damage he had caused, your face emotionless.

“Oopsie?”

“Gojo, get out before I change my mind.”

He stands up quickly, saluting you before walking off. “Roger.”

You slump back into your seat with a sigh, rubbing the corners of your eyes.

What did you just get yourself into?

It’s a major event, a gala if you will, for the 3 Big Clans. Festivities for a consecutive month. And Gojo— Satoru, Satoru has no doubt that the higher ups are going to try and set him up with a powerful sorceress.

That’s where you come in.

For this entire month, you will be treated as the Gojo clan head’s lover. And it’s a big responsibility at that. Not only must you demonstrate your ability and your worthiness, the higher ups may begin to throw jobs at you left and right in order to see you falter.

It’s shameful to see the lady of the house falter at a trivial matter.

On the day of, the two of you were wearing extremely formal wear. Kimono’s in plain colors of blue and white; matching. Unconsciously you squeeze his hand for some form of comfort, protection, even.

You feel his gaze on you, your eyes meeting his crystal colored ones. His gaze is conceited, eyebrows raised, shit-eating grin… that fucker was annoying.

“G—Satoru,” you call out his name, casting him a seemingly polite closed eyed smile, your lips pressed together. It was clear you were agitated— if anyone knew better that is.

And there was only one person who knew better, and that person would be Go— SATORU. Please! Get used to his name.

“Hm?” He hums almost snarkily. His eyes are still on you, but not on your face anymore.

Just you.

Taking in the ornaments adorning you, his eyes wandered over you. Over the kanzashi in your hair, the diamonds dangling from the ends of it.

As well as the strong, yet elegant, steps you took in your zori sandals. All that before finally settling on your fierce gaze. But you didn’t know that he was, well— checking you out.

His gaze seemed gentler, softer than it normally is, but to you it seemed like he was nitpicking you with his eyes; tearing you apart with every individual scan he made of your body.

And at that moment, you had never felt so bare in your life. The most cloth you had ever worn, wrapped around your body, yet he still had the talent to make it feel as though you wore none.

“You look beautiful,” he muttered under his breath, snapping you out of your trance. You stare at him, confused with his words.

He’s smiling at you and you can see a dimple— which you never knew he had— cratering his cheek.

‘How adorable,’

“Thank you,” you mumbled in reply, feeling a little shy at the sudden compliment.

His eyes still linger on you, burning your skin.

“ENTERING, GOJO CLAN.” Someone shouts followed by a loud drum.

Satoru, being Satoru, snorted loudly as the doors opened. He was never one for old fashioned traditions. You clenched his hand, and to your surprise he squeezed back, smiling brightly at you as the large doors creaked open.

It was assumed Gojo would go alone like he did every year. So imagine the surprise on the elder’s and higher-ups' faces when you showed up, holding the young Gojo’s hand.

Your head was strongly held up, eyes blinking softly. Every time he glanced at you, he was reminded of a fairy from a story his nanny would tell him as a child.

“You’re staring, Gojo.” You say through clenched teeth, smiling at the elders.

“Yeah, I know.” He smiles back at you as he heads to the Gojo head’s seat. Normally, there would be two seats, one for the Lady and the Head. But, since Gojo always attended alone, they had left one seat.

Your face grew warm with embarrassment, having realized you would need to stand up at the table. You knew he would be the one sitting down so,

“Oh no, this won’t do.” He waves you over, hands on your shoulder as he guides you to his seat, pushing you down. The elder’s gape at his actions.

The lady sitting at the head’s seat? It’s uncalled for!

His hand slides down your arm, grabbing ahold of your hand. He pulls it up, placing a lingering kiss to your palm, his blue uncovered eyes staring back at you. “Anything for my lady,” he confesses, and you begin to stammer.

“G-go—”

“Satoru,” he whispers back, your palm still covering his mouth.

Eyes half-lidded, anyone would think he was in love with you.

Then, you feel wet. Your hand… was wet?

HE LICKED YOU?!

You feel the need to scream, but in order to keep your image you tug your hand back, wiping it on his own kimono rather than your own. He laughs in response, trying to dodge your currently slobbery hand.

Your eyebrows are furrowed, hand still extended trying to wipe it.

Finally, you get it on him, wiping your hand off of his drool.

“Ahem!”

Your head turns creakily to the voice that commanded your attention. A very wrinkly man, fist to his mouth.

You sweat, adjusting yourself in the very comfortable seat. Satoru has your hand in his own, his thumb rubbing circles on the backside of your palm.

You truly seemed like a couple in other people’s eyes. Satoru, a normally childish person, allowing his lover his seat. Something he probably would never do for anyone.

The old man reads some scriptures from the beginning of time, and you find yourself dozing off, blinking slowly.

Suddenly, his mouth nears your ear, bringing you to shiver at his hot breath hitting your neck and ear. “Don’t fall asleep now,” he teases.

You flutter your eyes at him, raising an eyebrow with pressed lips.

He smiles, and you smile back this time. With infinity being off, you never knew he could be so warm.

When you look at him, he seems like he’d be cold. Body temperature lower than the norm, but it’s surprisingly quite the opposite.

His hands are warm, radiating with heat. You wonder if even on the coldest days he would stay warm.

“I should be telling you that,” you whisper back, smirking at him. He, with raised eyebrows, steps closer to you before seating himself on the minimal space left on his your chair. When he realizes that the two of you won’t fit, he lifts you up, placing you on his lap. His arms wrap around you, securing you so you don’t run off. You squirm in his hold, but he tightens his grip.

His voice goes an octave lower, and into your ear he whispers. “I wouldn't do that if I were you..”

It was almost like a groan the way he said it, and it took two and two to put it together.

You stiffen, almost becoming statue-like as he chuckles into your shoulder, batting his long white eyelashes at you.

“You’re sick.” You spat.

“Just playing the part, sweetheart— hey! That rhymed!”

The elder finishes the scriptures, and that’s when it's time for sorcerers all alike to converse and meet heads of different clans. Though, for being a small percent of the population, there sure were a lot of people here.

“Okay sweetcheeks, time to get up.” He laughs loudly, lifting you up with him as he stands. His arms still wrapped around your waist, forearms in your armpits holding you up. Your feet grazing the ground.

“Let me go!” You swing and wriggle in his grasp, and he laughs manically, setting you down.

“Remember,” he tells you while you brush yourself off, straightening your kimono with an annoyed expression. “I’m Satoru to you— come up with a nickname if worst comes to worst.”

“Got it.” You say with clenched teeth, walking off towards the crowd of people. Satoru trailing closely behind, which gathers unnecessary attention.

“Why are you following me?!” You whisper-shout, and he grabs your wrist, tapping his finger on his cheek motioning for something. He stands with a minor slouch, as if he is leaning for something.. for you.

“What?” You ask, and he says nothing, continuing to tap on his cheek.

Your eyes go wide when you realize what he wants.

A kiss.

Unable to fight or deny out in the open you bite your tongue, pressing your plush lips to his pale cheek. He smirks, pulling your face closer, his pointy nose hitting yours. You can smell the dessert on his breath.

“One more?”

With a roll of your eyes, you bring your free hand up to his face and flick his forehead. While he’s busy rubbing his head in agony, you yank your wrist back, stomping off and away from the man.

“(Y/N)!!!” He calls your name, which sounds distant as you immerse tourself in the crowd of people.

Many woman and younger men stare at you bashfully, few tilting their head with respect as you step through. Their faces reddened at the scene of the strongest sorcerer bowing down to a measly woman.

The thought threw the higher-ups into a fit.

They had to get rid of you.

“How did you guys meet?” A woman asks you, a warm tea cup in your hand. You’re sipping it slowly, eyes scanning the room as you remenise back to the time when you first encountered Gojo Satoru.

“I met Gojo at the Jujutsu Tech,” you confess, and the woman stares at you with a raised eyebrow. “Gojo? Wouldn’t you call him as his first name.”

Caught red handed, and it hadn’t even been a day.

“O-oh! Yeah, Satoru. It’s a long story, of course I call him Satoru.”

She squints at you, then going into a face of shock. She’s not looking at you anymlre, now at the person who looms behind you. “Havin’ a party without me?” He jokes, swinging an arm around your shoulder.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he waves her up, almost commanding her to move closer. The woman does as she’s told, hesitantly moving her head closer.

“I like when she calls me that in bed.”

You gape, she gasps, he grins.

Her face is cherry red, now unable to look you or Gojo in the eye. And with a bow, she steps away.

“Wow,” he breathes out, taking your cup from you and placing it on the table, continuing as he does this action. “Couldn’t even hold out for a day.”

“I'm sorry, old habits die hard.”

“Wow, are you like 50?”

You deadpan, slapping his chest with the palm of your hand.

“We’re gonna have to have one on one training.” He whispers into your ear, then blowing air into the canal. You slap a hand over it, glaring at him. He doesn’t seem to care, casting you his childish grin.

You feel your heart flutter, eyes widening at him. Those dimples again.

Your hand trails up his face, thumbs pressing into the dents in his cheeks. “You’ve got some cute dimples there big shot.” It was meant to be teasing, but you couldn’t help but truthfully mean what you said. They made him so much more attractive.

Everyone knows Satoru Gojo is an attractive man. Hell, even Utahime confessed he was good-looking.

It’s just a fact.

“Why thank you,” he smirks, tapping his head onto yours. “You seem tired, let's get you to bed, yeah?”

With a hand on the small of your back, he leads you out of the gathering. Everything felt too natural with him, and you find yourself doubting.

‘He’s probably been with many women..’

For the first time this night, you find your head hanging low, lips pouty.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You snakily reply.

“You’re all… pouty.”

You raise an eyebrow and meet his eyes, though you say nothing as you stare at him. “I’m just tired,” And that wasn’t a lie. It was a partial truth!

He blinks at you, squinting before shrugging.

“Well, if you say so.”

He said that in a knowing tone, as though he knew you were lying. He probably did, cursed energy had a tendency to vibrate and move in uncertain ways when someone is nervous, and with his six eyes, he’s practically a walking lie detector.

He takes you to the hotel you would be staying at, walking to the room only to find there was only one bed.

“Ah.”

“Gojo, why is there only one bed?” You ask groggily, pointing at the large king size bed.

He shrugs, almost clueless and as confused as you, he responds, “I have no clue. Maybe there was a mix up?” (He does very much does have a clue, he was the one that reserved the single bed).

“No, I guess it's alright. It is a pretty big bed, just dont touch me.” You tell him sharply, waving your finger at him.

He pouts, crossing his arms. “I can't make any promises, sweetheart.”

You click your tongue, grabbing your pajamas and undergarments and storming off to the bathroom.

He watches you silently enter the bathroom, and when you come out a while later.

Hair damp, a towel around your neck catching the moisture. Your lips parted, eyes closed... a satisfied expression.

He finds himself staring at you, and YOU catch him.

“Gojo? The shower is ready.” You tell him, placing the towel in a bin the room service provided. He blinks before he scrambles off the bed, dashing into the bathroom.

“Hm, I feel like im forgetting—”

A loud, high pitched scream erupts from Satoru. Soon after the bathroom door slams open, Satoru holding up your underwear with it hooked around his finger.

“You, uh— probably want this back.”

If you could die right now, you would.

Quickly, you snatch it away. Face as warm as you feel. Unable to meet his uncovered eyes, you stare down, “Y-yeah, thanks.”

He’s still standing in front of you, and you finally glance up. Blue hues stare into your own. He makes the prettiest eyes boring compared to his own.

“You should go shower,” you tell him, and he nods slowly, turning to enter the bathroom once more.

You dispose of the dirty clothes, placing them in the bin before making yourself comfortable on the right side of the bed.

“Oh no. I’m on the right, you’re the left.” He tells you once he comes back, pointing at you and the empty side of the bed.

You already started dozing off, you don’t open your eyes. Instead, you sink further into your pillow, “Too bad,” You mutter.

He grumbles, glancing left and right before sighing. You expect him to give up from the tone of that sigh, but what you DONT expect is for him to jump on you, full weight on your body.

“GOJO!” You screech, squirming away and trying to push him off.

“No.” Is the only word that comes out of his mouth.

“Offffff…! Off, off, off, off, offf!” You groan, pushing and hitting him with your palms.

He smiles into the sheets and you, his arms wrapping around you.

“Good night..”

“SATORU!” You scream, rolling away from his grip to the left, leaving him to the right. He sighs, slipping into the sheets before reaching his arms out once more, dragging you over to him.

Your back pressed on his chest, his arms wrappung around you. “Satoru, what are you doing?"

“Sleeping.”

You sigh, grumbling but not moving away. You liked this.. Not like you would ever admit it though.

His nose is buried in your hair, so much so that he can smell your shampoo. It’s nostalgic from your highschool days, when he first saw you pass by him, that same smell was much stronger than now.

It was like getting a whiff of roses, so refreshing the smell was. The smell would linger for long, and there would be days where he would pause in the hallway, taking deep inhales of your scent.

Now, it’s died down. Very faint, but still there. He doesn't even remember strengthening his hold around your waist, his head sinking further into your hair, spooning you.

Your body was swallowed in his much larger one, it was almost funny how much of a giant he was.

Like he was meant to be someone big in this world.

You’re a nobody, only given an opportunity to spend your days with this man before again going your separate ways.

So you'll take this in as much as you can. Allowing yourself to relax in the grip of the strongest, because he wasn't yours. However you can't say that you aren't his; your heart has been his for a long time.

You wonder if he can feel the thumping of your heart. It's worrisome. A tell-tale sign you’re nervous.

You can only sigh, not remembering when or how, but you begin to finally doze off.

Gojo, on the other hand, is not fully awake but awake enough to be aware of his surroundings. His lips end up curving slightly. Much to your dismay, he can in fact hear the erratic pumping of your heart.

He has to hold back his laugh, ‘you’re nervous,’ he thinks, his eyes half-lidded slits. Blue hues peering at the side of your face through your hair.

You don’t even know what you do to him. The way he keeps this façade, but in reality, his heart’s pounding through his chest and ready to burst. It’s giving him away too.

‘Can you really not feel it?’ He wonders, eyes shutting once more.

Since highschool, ever since you passed by him with that smell of flowers on a spring day, you’ve had him wrapped around your finger.

He’s yours, and he’s trying to let you know that he’s always been yours.

“I love you,” he whispers, before succumbing to his own exhaustion.

Little did he know, you weren’t all that asleep.

In the dark, your eyes went wide, and breathing halted. If you started breathing, you think you would gove away the fact that you weren't truly asleep.

Your face grew warm, and through that look of shock, a smile settled on your lips. Your hands finding his own— which are wrapped around your waist— you squeeze them.

It was your way of letting him know, ‘Me too, I love you too,’ without using your words.

And finally, your slumber comes too. Another couple days of acting as Gojo’s lover, might as well make the most of it.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #gojou x reader #jjk gojo #satoru gojo angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojō x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #satorugojo #gojou x y/n #gojou fluff #gojou x you #gojou saturo

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: *melts into goo* I swear the vibes I get from this story and where I can go with it are a mix of Ariana Grande's "Dangerous Woman" and "I Didn't Change My Number" but Billie Eilish lol That lost song is actually where I got the title because I saw a TikTok where some did the Steddie AI followed by the lyrics "Take it out on you...and your best friend to."

So this is set in the 80s and I chose to make the reader plus size because I haven't done it before with these two and because we plus sized babes are sexy bitches ;). (All you souls, no matter your size are beautiful. Never forget that <3)

Warnings: Dominate Steddie and Sub Reader, she's not a virgin but she's definitely new to this. Everything in this story is consensual! Even though they are rough with her they do come up with a safe word and tell her she can stop if she wants (and they would! I would never write a version of these boys who wouldn't.)

There is degrading (mostly about how the reader wants to be used), spanking, choking... rough smut for sure but followed with aftercare.

Word Count: 3953

This wasn’t normal for you. You never got in trouble at school but today was just one of those days. Carol was picking on you again because of your appearance. Every day it was something different. Your hair looked flat, your clothes were hideous, or something you were reading at the lunch table made you “a dork”. 

Today, it was how fat your ass looked in your jeans. You slammed your locker shut as you turned to face her. “At least I have an ass, you ugly bitch!”

“Y/N Y/L/N!”, Ms. O’Donnell scolded. You hadn’t even noticed she was there. She sent you to the principal’s office where he gave you a week’s worth of detention after school. 

You were surprised when you entered the designated classroom to find it empty except for the teacher in charge. 

“Ah Miss Y/N, I presume. In for offensive language and bullying a fellow student. Come in and have a seat. I’m waiting on two more.” 

You flash him a soft smile as you slide into the desk in the front corner. The door opens again and fear dances through your eyes as Steve Harrington saunters in and throws himself down in a desk in the middle of the room. 

“Our very own basketball and swim star himself, Steven Harrington. Currently in detention today fooooor…”, the teacher looks at the papers in front of him. “Being caught in the girl’s bathroom. Huh. Did you get lost?”

Before he could respond, the final student entered loudly swinging the door open as he flew in. “Hey! Mr. C! How are we this fine afternoon?”

“Mr. Eddie Munson. Always a pleasure, sir. What are we in for today?”

“I may or may not have caused a disruption in the lunchroom today.”

“Mhmm. Well, since everyone is here, we can start. Detention begins at 5pm sharp and if you aren’t here on time, I do get to tell the principal who will do with you as he will.”

“Sounds sexy.”, the metalhead grins as he sits on top of a desk and crosses his legs. 

“Mr. Munson, I know you’ve heard this many, MANY times but for the new prisoners can you please…shut up.” The boy salutes him as the teacher continues. “The majority of the time, you guys will be here, SILENTLY, doing homework or reading, I really don’t care. Just be quiet. Depending on what is going on that day this week we may help out with things. The theater kids have a play on Friday and need help with the sets. As I’m sure Mr. Harrington knows, there’s also a game so the pep squad may need stuff set up.”

“Other than that, let’s just shut up and get through the week, okay?”

The first twenty minutes go by extremely slow as you try to focus on the homework in front of you. After a while, you felt someone watching, turning your head to see Steve staring at you. Something in those admittedly gorgeous brown irises sent a tingle through your body. It felt like he was trying to read you with the little information he had in front of him. 

You jumped as a loud beeping echoed through the room and a small devious smile spread across his face. 

“Shit.” The teacher pulled his beeper off his belt, furrowing his eyebrows anxiously. “That’s my wife. I’m going to make a quick call but if I come back and I catch you all talking or fucking around…” He points at the metalhead accusingly as he runs out the door. 

“Jesus Christ. I thought he would never leave.” Eddie sighed as he got up and slid into the desk in front of Steve reaching out to high five him. “Harrington. What are you in for?”

“Fucking Tammie told Ms. Luhrmann I was hiding in the girl’s bathroom.”

“You pervert.”

“It’s not what you think, ok! I left Nancy a note but she never showed up.”

“I told you, man. You need to stay away from those good girls. Speaking of…” Eddie swivels around on the desk to face you. “What are you in for, sweetheart?”

You curl a bit into your body, hoping they’ll just leave you alone. You don’t belong here. This isn’t normal for you. You just wanted to get through the week and never think about this again. 

Two hands, one of them covered in rings, come into your field of view in front of you as they press against your desk. “I asked you something, princess. Don’t be rude now.”

You closed your eyes at the deep tone of his voice. He sounds so sexy…

“She can definitely speak. Talked back to Carol today. It was amazing.”

That grabbed your attention as you turned to look at him. When you yelled at Carol, he wasn’t in the immediate group but he must have been nearby. They were his friends after all. 

“What did that bitch say?” Eddie asked Steve but his eyes never left you. 

“Said she had a fat ass.” The other boy rolls his eyes. 

“And what did you say?” He asks, speaking to you again. 

Your eyes found his before they left to scan you lips, down your curvy body, and back up to your face. 

“Boo!” Eddie shouted as he slammed his palms on the wood in front of you, making you jump again. He and Steve both chuckled as he sauntered away, back to his friend. 

“She commented on the fact that Carol lacks any kind of an ass and then followed that up with the word ‘bitch’.”

“Ooooh, you bad girl. You’re not wrong. That evil little person has nothing behind her. I prefer a girl who has some extra umph you know? Plus, their pussy always tastes the sweetest.”

You exhaled shakily at his words, having only heard or read them in stories. You definitely weren’t a virgin. You had been with men and had boyfriends but none of them ever spoke like Eddie had. They were always extremely shy type guys who had no idea what they were doing on top of you.

“Mr. Munson!” The teacher came back, sighing with his hands in the air. “Really?”

“Sorry, Mr. C. I had a question for the pretty girl but she doesn’t seem to be capable of speech.”

“I don’t blame her when it comes to you.”

################

The next day, you became more aware of Eddie and Steve’s presences. You didn’t realize you actually had a couple of classes with Steve and lunch with both he and Eddie. The metalhead’s eyes watched you walk past the Hellfire club table as you tried to ignore him and the other boy constantly turned to glace at you as he ate with his friends. 

At the end of the day, you filed into the detention room, surprised to find both boys already there and seated in the front row, much closer to you than they were yesterday. 

“Ok troublemakers, collect your things, we are headed to the theater room.”

“I believe thespians refer to it as an auditorium, sir.” Eddie replied in a comical voice that made you smile but only Steve caught it.

“Yeah whatever. I don’t care. Just paint and behave. I’ll be right back there watching so no funny business.”

“Can we talk, Warden or is that still a no-no?”

“Yes, Mr. Munson. You can speak as long as you paint.”

You descend to your knees and they both follow suit. Steve reaches over for the paintbrushes but as he leans over towards you, he lifts it out of your grasp and hands it to his friend. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want something? You gotta ask for it.”, he smiled over at you as he waited. “No? Ok then.”

“Please.”

They froze as he sat back to look you over. “Please what?” He laughs as your face scrunches in disgust. “I don’t know what you want unless you ask me for it.”

“Please, Steve…can I have a brush?”

He nods as he passes it to you and you immediately duck down again to focus on the task in front of you. 

“Your voice is pretty. You should talk more.” Eddie’s eyes remained on the board as he painted. 

“It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk. She just doesn’t want to talk to us.”

You don’t know why but hearing Steve say it like that made you feel bad. It wasn’t exactly that you didn’t WANT to. You just didn’t trust or know them. King Steve was close friends with the people that tortured you daily and Eddie was the resident bad boy your parents warned you to stay away from. They both intimated you greatly not just because of their air of dominance but because you wanted them to wield it on you. 

You wanted them to use you until you or they couldn’t take it anymore and that scared the hell out of you. You were so inexperienced when it came this stuff plus…how do you explain that to someone? Shouldn’t you want to be wined and dined? Yes, you did. You absolutely did but you wanted to be fucked senseless first.

“I do want to talk to you.”

“Then why don’t you?”, Eddie asked.

“You scare me.”

“Well, shit, sweetheart. I’m not a fucking devil worshipper like these asshole people think.”

“It’s not just you and that’s not why.”

“I’ve never made fun of you, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey. She has a name! Steve, you should have told me.”

“Yeah, you never made fun of me but you never stopped them either. You laughed along with them while they picked on me and degraded me in front of the entire school. You’re just as much an asshole as they are.”

“Y/N!”, the teacher hollers from his seat. “As much as I am enjoying watching you tear the king of Hawkins high a new one, I don’t see much painting happening.”

Blinking, you shut your mouth and begin moving the brush again. 

“If you ever talk to me like that again, I don’t care where we are or who is in the room, I will throw you over my knee and punish you. Do you understand me?” You turn to look him, finding his angry eyes penetrating yours. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Steve, come on.” Eddie rolls onto his back as he stares up you. “She doesn’t play like that. Do you? Probably still a virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“I see. Ok, not a virgin but definitely not a hardcore kind of girl, right? You like the missionary, vanilla, candles by the bed, listening to slow 70s tunes. Am I right?”

“You don’t know me. Jesus, no wonder you two are friends.”

“Oh wow, Eds. Look at her. No, she doesn’t like that at all. I mean, on some nights yeah, but you prefer being told to shut the fuck up and do as your told.”

“N-n-no. I don’t.”

Your answer makes them giggle. “I would not have pictured that. You like being used?”

“Edward Munson! I swear to God. If I have yell at you guys one more time, we are going back to the classroom to sit silently.”

As detention came to a close, the teacher asked if you wouldn’t mind staying a little later to put everything away. You agreed especially since he told the guys they could leave. You needed that space away from them. 

When Steve scolded you, you felt your panties dampen but you meant what you said. He never did anything to keep the popular kids from picking on you. You saw him laugh with them multiple times. Thinking about Eddie asking if you liked being used, had your pussy clenching around nothing as you rubbed your thighs together. You didn’t know enough about him to really form an opinion. The town talked about him a lot and his club he had at school but you two never crossed paths. 

You kept thinking about them as you collected your things and headed down the hallway to leave for the day. Suddenly, a hand covered your mouth as arms lifted you by your waist into a nearby open classroom. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Steve and I wanted us to finish our conversation. Now that that asshole isn’t here, we can!” Your eyes widen as you listen to Eddie speak. His tone light but there’s a strength behind it that frightens (and excites) you. “Now, where did we leave off? Ah, yes. You were just about to tell us if you liked being used.”

Steve lifted his palm from your lips, resting it gently against your throat.  “Please.”

“Nope. We already had that discussion. You have to say what you want to get it.” Eddie sighs as you push back against the man behind you and he quickly tightens his grip on your neck. “Sweetheart, give me a word. Any word you feel like you’ll remember in any…overwhelming situation.” His eyes seductively raked along your body. 

“Vanilla.” You aren’t sure why that’s the first word that came to mind but it was the only thing you could think of as Steve loosened his grip and your head fell back against him. 

“If there’s one thing you are not, baby, it’s vanilla but… that’s fine. If at ANY point during our little talk here you feel unsafe or you want to stop just say that word. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand.”

He steps forward, running his thumb along your bottom lip. “Good girl.”  His fingers trailed down to your shirt, grinning before he roughly ripped it open exposing your bra covered breasts. “Now…I’m only going to ask one more time. Do you…like…being used?”

“I-I-I don’t know. I want t-t-to be.”

His eyes widened in genuine surprise. 

“You said you’re not a virgin, right?”, Steve asked and you shook your head. 

“Aw, Harrington. What she’s telling us is she’s never been fucked properly. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Eddie, that’s right.”

The metalhead rolls his eyes in frustration and takes a few steps back. Steve flips you around and slams your upper body down against the desk, reaching around to unbutton your pants as he pulls them below your ass. You hear the sound of a lighter being closed before the echo of his palm slapping your skin reverberates through the room. 

As a handcuff belt buckle places itself in front of you, the smell of smoke fills the air. 

“Sweetheart, this would go a lot smoother if you just listened and did as you were told.” He bent down on his heels so his face was level with your own. “Yes. What?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’ve never been fucked properly.”

“That’s better.”

Steve’s hand moves to hold your face flat to the wood and your arms reach to claw in front of you. You whine as he spanks you again. “Stop moving!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m…” Your apology trails off as the tears start to fall down your cheeks. 

Eddie balances the cigarette between his fingers as he runs his thumb under your eye. The gesture was sweet in contrast and he noticed you begin to settle. His eyes flicked above you and a few moments pass before Steve slides his hand off your head to between your shoulder blades. 

“You said you were afraid of us. Why?”

When you don’t immediately answer he sighs and the other boy delivers two hard slaps to your bottom. Instead of pushing back or fighting underneath the weight of his palm holding you down, you laid still, accepting it. The only movements you made were with your face as you winced at the feeling.

“Why?”, he repeats. 

“Be-be-because of… how you m-m-make me feel.”, you whisper. 

“Did you hear that, Stevie?”, Eddie smirked up at him.

“Just barely but yeah. Y/N, I was there when you shouted at Carol, remember? I know you can speak louder than that.”

Your face scrunched at his words and the metalhead held his chest as he laughed.  “It kills you doesn’t it, princess? To both hate someone AND want them at the same time.”

Suddenly, you felt yourself being lifted as Steve tugged on your shirt and adjusted you so you were facing him again. “You hate me, Y/N?”

When you took too long, his fingers pinched your cheeks roughly as he tilted forward till his nose was touching yours. “I asked you a question. You fucking answer! Do you hate me?!”

“Yes! You fucking asshole! I hate you!” You defiantly glared at him as you screamed at him. 

“His friends kind of suck. They don’t even know about me. Do they, Harrington?” Eddie snuffed out his cigarette, tossing the butt in the garbage. “I mean it’s fine. I don’t care. What I do find fascinating through is this electricity between you two even though you both hate each other.”

“I don’t hate her.” Your eyelids fluttered at his admission. Why did you torture you with his friends if it wasn’t because he didn’t like you? “If I hated her, I wouldn’t want to make her cum right now.”

Eddie pressed himself to your side as his lips hovered over your ear. “Has anyone ever made you cum before?”

You couldn’t tear your eyes from Steves and you didn’t even both trying. “No. No one has ever made cum.”

“Good girl. See? She’s learning. I knew you were smart.” Eddie’s palm slid along your shoulder, bringing your bra strap down your arm. His fingers, almost delicately, freed one of your breasts from its confine and you panted out a silent moan as the pad of his thumb grazed your nipple. 

“Do you want Steve here to make you cum?”

You couldn’t help it. Your hand wrapped around the back of the other boy’s neck as you brought his lips to yours. The first thing you noticed was how delicious he tasted. You felt like you could orgasm just from this alone. His hands remained still against your hips except for the little twitch of his fingers when your mouths connected. 

Your bliss was short lived as a hand abruptly clung to your neck and violently shoved your back flat to the desk. 

“Did I ask you if you wanted to fucking kiss him?!” You trembled as Eddie angrily shouted in your face. His gripped tightened against your neck for a brief moment before he let go and you turned to the side as you gasped for air. 

“Munson.” The metalhead glanced at Steve realizing quickly the man was gone. His eyes were black with lust and need, practically hyperventilating as his hands dug into your meaty hips. “Jesus fucking Christ. Fine. She said she wanted to be used. I guess we’re doing it this way since someone can’t fucking listen.”

Steve hastily unbuckled his belt, pushing down his pants just enough to free his cock before spitting in his hand and stroking it along his length. You gasped as he breached your entrance, giving you no time to adjust to the size of him as he stretched you open. He was much bigger than anyone you had every been with and you cried out as you reached out into the air, grazing your hand along Eddie’s shirt as you grabbed the fabric. 

“How does she feel, Harrington?”

The man’s grunts filled the room as he slammed his hips into yours. “So, fucking tight. My god.” He slowed his pace as he craned his neck to watch between your legs as his dick disappeared inside of you. 

As you continued to moan, you focused on Eddie as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his own cock, pumping it with his fist. “Open your mouth, princess.” You did as you were told as his fingers tangled in your hair, pushing you lips to length. “Good girl. Fuck me…” His teeth bit into his bottom lip as he slowly thrust hips. 

The feeling of you moaning around him causes him to wipe his head towards Steve, watching as the boy pressed rapid circles into your clit. With both of them inside of you, you were quickly hurtling toward that ledge. 

“Yes, pretty girl. Take it. Fuck…your mouth feels amazing.” 

Both boys thrust into at a fast pace, Steve slamming his hips into yours so hard the desk underneath you began to shake. You started to gag and gurgle around Eddie’s cock. 

“Wh-what, baby? You gonna cum? That’s right. Just let go and feel it.”

He pulled himself out from between your lips, continuing to pump himself as he watched you. Your body shook as your back arched and you came.

Steve murmured obscenities under his breath as your pussy clenched around him. 

“God damn. That was so fucking sexy.” The metalhead shoved his cock back into your mouth as they both chased their highs.  

Steve came first, pulling out of you just as he released ropes of his seed on to your stomach. Eddie soon followed, holding your head in his firm grip as he came down your throat.

You laid flat against the desk, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to catch your breath. As you heard them pull up their pants, you half expected them to leave you there having got what they wanted but were startled when you felt a napkin being run along your stomach. 

“Geez. Always so jumpy.” Eddie gripped your arm as he helped you sit up so he could adjust your bra and shirt. “Shit.” You followed his eyes realizing what he did; that when he tore open your shirt a lot of the buttons flew off with it. On impulse you covered your chest with your arms as you tried thinking of excuses to give your mom when you got home. 

While his face furrowed in thought, Steve lifted you off the desk and guided your pants up your legs before buttoning them back up. 

“I got it.”, the metalhead snapped his fingers as he tugged his shirt over his head. Gently, he removed your blouse, handing it the other boy before throwing his own over your head. He smiled in triumph at himself as he walked around you both towards the student desks and put on his leather jacket. 

“Do you drive here or…?”, Steve asked. 

“Yeah, my car is out front.”

“Good. Come on. We’ll walk with you.”

As they started to head for the door, you reached for Eddie’s arm, turning him around, and yanked him to your body as you leaned up to kiss him. It startled him at first but after moment he keened into it as his hands cupped your cheeks. He definitely tasted different than Steve but you still wanted more. You could kiss him all night if he let you. 

After pulling away, you pushed past them and headed for the parking lot, feeling their eyes watch you as they followed. When you guys got to the parking lot, you were thankful for the slight breeze as it cooled your still somewhat sweaty skin. 

There were only three cars remaining; yours, the BMW you assumed was Steve’s, and Eddie’s van. Steve reached across you, cutting you off as he opened the vehicle door for you. You paused for a moment before turning to look at them. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but the soft eyes that looked back at you were completely different than what you had experienced these last two days. 

You wanted to say something but weren’t sure what. Thankfully, they understood as Eddie stepped forward, placing his hand on your shoulder as he guided you into your car. 

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

#################

@sidthedollface2 @luna-munson83 @devilinthepalemoonlite @corrodedcorpses

#steddie x reader #steddie fluff #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie stranger things #steve fanfic #steve smut #steve stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #stranger things #fan fiction #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steve fluff #dom!steve harrington #dom!eddie #sub reader #steddie x plussizereader #steve x plus size reader #eddie x plus size reader #plus size reader

[esamastation]

Part forty-eight of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven

-

His Qi is beginning to spin.

It feels incredible. The flow is sluggish, the mass of energy is still so solid that it feels like he's working with a slurry of concrete - but there's a current. With each session, it gets easier.

With each session, it spins longer on its own.

He's never felt an achievement like it. Like, sure, he knows cultivation, he'd even advanced in cultivation. He'd worked really hard! He'd taken Shen Qingqiu's core almost to a new level before the Without a Cure Poison! He knows how it's done and has been doing it for years.

But the thing is, he'd never actually earned Shen Qingqiu's cultivation prowess. It came ready-made for the most part, with the majority of the hard work completed decades ago. He'd inherited an Immortal Master's Core, and he'd just brushed it off and carried on, and even though he'd made it work, it… wasn't really his.

And true enough, neither is this, not entirely. He's skipping at a minimum a decade of Qi-condensation work here thanks to Mako and MP and EXP and all that. He got one hell of a head start here! But then, everyone in SOLDIER did, and the current inside him, this development in that near solid mass of energy - that's all him.

He's cultivating a Golden Core! And it's all him. And goddamn, it feels so good. Like a giddy adrenaline burst with serotonin and dopamine and I kinda wanna jump around and dance and spin good. Happiness very literally incarnates in a beautiful glowing core.

He's not quite there yet, it's still like trying to spin a boulder the size of a house, but he's getting there, he's almost gotten it to shape, it's almost spinning under its own weight, it's so close that he can almost taste it.

Just a little bit more… 

Sephiroth moves from form to form, feeling the flow of energy circulate in his meridians, smoother by the moment. His spiritual veins are still scarred all the way to hell, but he's gotten them to yield, and the snags have opened up - the flow is easier now. With time and with careful cultivation, he'd be able to slowly heal them. With Sephiroth's natural healing aided by the magic of cultivation… and actual magic to boot…!

Ah, he's really making something incredible here!

It's pretty much inevitable that something comes along to put a spanner into the works.

It's Rude, coming to stand next to the training field. Sephiroth can't feel Angeal anywhere near. Reno is out of his reach too. And Rude feels… anxious.

Sephiroth searches the surroundings with his slowly sharpening spiritual senses and then begins pulling his cultivation in, as fast as he can without causing issues. He compresses his core, constricts the flow to safer levels and finishes his set by pulling it all inward. His core carries on with the momentum he's given it and keeps spinning.

Rude is standing at the very edge of the training field, not even trying to hide for once.

"What's wrong?" Sephiroth asks, pulling his sword into a brief salute before sheathing it. "Where are the others?"

Rude is quiet for a moment, taking him in carefully. Then he relaxes. "There is a Wutai troop movement in the forest. Reno confirmed they're heading this way," he explains and then, "Hewley has gone to meet them head on."

… Ah, shit. There it is! Plot, coming to get him! Guess things had been a bit too easy and nice. Okay, he probably should've expected this, what with it being warfront and everything, but still! Fuuck.

Sephiroth draws a breath and braces himself. "Which way?"

Rude hesitates. "It's unlikely that your intervention is necessary. SOLDIER of Hewley's level can handle Wutai troops."

Most likely, yes! But Sephiroth isn't sure he could handle the idea of Angeal just… killing people?! Even if it is the way it is and even if it is what they usually do. Who knows how many people they've already killed in Shinra's name! Going by his mission listings, the Shinra standard mode of operation is kill first, ask questions never… probably very often! If that's how Angeal handles things too, then…

"I didn't ask whether it was necessary," Sephiroth points out sharply. "I asked which way?"

"... North," Rude finally admits, and Sephiroth detects no lies in his tone or body language. The guy seems a bit resigned.

Nodding, Sephiroth searches the area north with his senses, and then - then he takes off.

He really takes off.

It might not be sword flight, but man, SOLDIER are really something else when it comes up to speed! Even with Sephiroth's stupid long legs and their ridiculous muscles, the way he just eats the distance is incredible! From the outside it must look like he just vanished, anime style. Just blink, and Sephiroth's gone!

Ah, pity he can't see it from outside.

Not the time, though. Superhuman speed or not, it's really awkward, navigating the forest - there's no handy-dandy road to follow northward, just bushes and trees and uneven ground. And smacking into a tree at this speed really doesn't appeal to him!

Hmm. Actually. Didn't Sephiroth fly around, like, a lot in the original game? He remembers it because, one, seeing the low poly model fly seriously towards the camera had made him laugh his ass off, and two, because seeing it sent him down a rabbit hole of trying to figure out whether there were Qigong aspects in Final Fantasy VII. He never got a definite answer to that, but… Sephiroth definitely flew around. And so did Genesis and Angeal, on wings that should've never been able to support their weight!

And he's already proven that cultivation works here… so, maybe…?

Sephiroth flexes his still imperfect core and pulses his still sluggish QI and spreads out his arms, Masamune in one hand, and jumps. His momentum sends him forward a bit more than intended, but he gets into the air. He gets up high indeed - and almost smacks right into a tree for his efforts.

With one foot he pushes off it, and he keeps going up, near weightless, carried on by his Qi. And it's. 

Woah.

PIDW was, despite all its Xianxia themes of Demons and different Realms and Immortal Cultivators, more Wuxia when it came to combat. Sure there were spells and Qi attacks - and really, really elaborate sword formations for a story that didn't really do teamwork all that much! But while there was sword flight, there wasn't your usual weightlessness and gliding and jumping around from wire-thin branches, light as a feather. 

Shen Yuan had been convinced it was just because Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky wanted to write a million scenes of sword flight make out, and that didn't work so well if everyone could fly around willy-nilly, now did it? No, just take away the heroine's sword and make Bingge fly them around, and boom, perfect excuse for mid air PDA! He didn't mind reading it - sword flight was pretty cool and lack of weightlessness made fights more grounded overall. 

Heh, grounded.

Living in PIDW with a disability that made sword flight kinda risky though, ah. A bit of weightlessness in the way of most Wuxia heroes everywhere would've made it much easier, just getting around in Cang Qiong Mountain! Alas, he had to walk instead. What a waste of time.

Well, apparently there are no such limitations here! And of course Qigong flight comes easily for Sephiroth. Of course it does! 

Sephiroth flies his way to the highest tree tops and over them, jumping from the highest branches as the distance simply disappears beneath him. He's weightless and strong, and not even gravity can touch him!

Ahh, there's really nothing like cultivating a Golden Core!

One Wingless Angel, coming through!

-

Wheee~~ :D

#Fanfiction #svsss #ff7 #ffvii #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #rude of the turks

[sansaorgana]

Hi! Can you write a Buck Cleven x female reader where they met and fell in love while he's in England and on one of the missions she's told they think his plane went down and she's really upset but it turns out they just got separated from the rest of the group and she just runs to him as soon as he gets out of the plane? Angst and then fluff?

I loved your other Buck fic!

thank you so much, sweetheart 🍭 this time I've read the request like 10 times before starting to write to make sure I haven't misread anything lol 🤣

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

"You're gonna come back to me, baby, am I right?" you pressed your forehead to Buck's and you closed your eyes to inhale his scent and memorize it. Your fingers played with the hem of his jacket as you were pulling him closer and closer.

"Always," he answered in that deep voice of his that usually made you dizzy.

"That's a promise that a gentleman cannot break," you giggled as you opened your eyes but his expression was as serious as ever. He only smiled gently and it made your heart skip a beat. "What's wrong?" you asked.

"You're pretty, you know that?" Buck raised his hand to fix a reckless hairstrand and get it off of your cheek.

"Yes, sir," you nodded. His seriousness was contagious. It was almost as if he had a bad feeling about the upcoming mission but he didn't want to say it out loud. "Go," you leaned in to kiss his cheek and patted his shoulder. "Go, don't be late."

Buck saluted you and went outside as you followed him. You watched him running up to his boys and getting on the plane. You have watched that many times before but this time it really felt different.

"Everything alright, miss?" Colonel Harding furrowed his brow at the sight of your face.

"I'm fine, Colonel," you took a deep breath in to stop your tears from falling.

"Go, busy yourself with something," he nodded.

"Colonel…" you grabbed his sleeve desperately and very unprofessionally. He looked a little surprised but not angry with you at all. "Please, let me know about him… If something happens… I want to know first."

"That would be against the procedures, miss," he explained and you clenched your fingers even harder.

"You see, I'm going crazy here every time he's up there," you tried to explain.

"We're all going crazy, miss," he was a stubborn man. You gave up and saluted before leaving to find yourself something to do.

You were assigned to copy some official papers in Colonel's office but you were more and more frustrated with each given moment. You spent hours by that typewriter and haven't managed to copy one single document. You kept on doing typos and stupid mistakes that forced you to start all over again.

Colonel Harding walked in nervously all of a sudden and you could see that something had been not right but he was excellent at hiding it.

"Colonel," you greeted him.

"What are you still doing here?!" he snapped.

"I'm copying documents."

"Still?"

"I'm stuck on the first one, sir," you confessed as your bottom lip trembled. "I… I'm sorry, I can't focus."

"Get out of here," he ordered and you nodded before getting up as fast as possible and trying to clean up the desk a little. "Go!"

"Yes, sir," you whispered and left in a hurry. Before you closed the door, you could see that he was reaching for a phone. You took a look at your watch and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that Buck had to be above Germany for some time now.

"You're still here?" Colonel's much softer voice made you turn around and face him.

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't seem to focus on anything today…"

"Here, come here," he put his hand on your arm and guided you back inside before gently helping you to sit down. "There's something I must tell you. I shouldn't but…"

"What is it?" your eyes widened and your heart started to pound in your chest as your hands got sweaty.

"Buck's plane went down. There were no parachutes... we're not sure. We lost him."

His voice was firm and loud but to you it sounded like you were sitting behind a glass as the time slowed down.

"N-No…" you shook your head. "No, this can't be, no… Colonel, you see, he's made me a promise. Gentlemen don't break their promises," you kept shaking your head like a maniac.

He didn't say anything and gave you a while to cry and try to catch a breath. You didn't even know what to feel at that moment, what to think. Your body started to tremble and there was a stinging pain inside your chest but your head was empty. You could only remember the taste of his warm lips on yours, the feel of his leather jacket under your fingertips, the way his hair would tickle your forehead when you kissed, the smell of his aftershave and the depth of his voice. And then you realized that you would never ever experience any of that again…

You stood up immediately and ran out of Colonel's office, straight to the bathroom. You needed a splash of cold water and to stand in front of the mirror, staring at your smudged make up as your hands clutched on the sink.

"The boys are back!" you heard someone shouting after a long while but you didn't even flinch. There was no point to go outside. No point of watching every single one of the boys who had survived and not finding your Buck amongst them. No point of seeing with your own eyes that there was a plane missing on that field.

You sobbed and cried as your hand reached underneath your blouse to find a small chain with Buck's ring hanging from it. He gave it to you a few weeks back when you became more serious. You kept it safe for him every day and kept it warm with your body. The ring was warm now, too, as you played with it. And it was a very physical reminder of the man you loved. Of the man who would not come back to you…

It was loud outside for an hour or so; everyone was busy with the boys coming back. They had to rest, get a proper meal, make reports and the planes needed to be fixed. You kept sitting on the cold bathroom floor with your head hid in your hands. You didn't have any tears left for quite a long time now but you still had troubles breathing and standing still without feeling dizzy. Your body kept shaking uncontrollably as well.

"Buck's back!" someone shouted and at first you didn't even react to that. You thought that your brain made that up. But then someone shouted it again and again and you were sure that it had to be some sort of mishearing. You just wanted to hear this, right? Running outside, looking for him, it would make a fool of you... but who cared… You were desperate.

You pushed the bathroom door open as loud as possible and you ran outside. People you passed on the corridor looked at you like you were crazy. Your hair was a mess, your makeup was all over your face and a few buttons of your blouse were undone with a ring on a small chain hanging from your chest.

Cold outside air made you catch your breath finally as you looked up. Indeed, one of the planes was just preparing to land. Its engines were damaged and it looked poorly but it was there.

"Colonel!" you ran up to Colonel Harding who observed the landing. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. "Is that right? Is he…?"

"It's his plane," he answered. "That's all we know. Maybe they got lost somewehere. We still know nothing, we lost connection with Buck some time ago."

"And now? He's not saying anything through the radio?" you kept asking.

"The connection's been lost, miss," Colonel was slowly trying to explain. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched men jumping out of the plane.

And then you spotted him. You'd spot that golden shade of hair everywhere.

"Buck!!!" you screamed and started running towards him. You had quite a big distance to make but you didn't even feel tired. It felt like flying more than running.

He smiled at the sight of you and despite being exhausted, he started running, too.

"Baby!" he greeted you in the middle as he lifted you up and spinned you around.

"Buck!" you laughed and cupped his face. "Oh, Buck!"

"You look like hell, baby," he chuckled.

"Well, you've given me the worst time of my life, you arse!" you pushed his shoulder. "Where have you been? They told me you were dead!"

"I'm sorry," he leaned in to give you a hungry, loving kiss. You heard some men cheering in the distance but you didn't care at all. You were just happy to have Buck back in your arms. You kissed him back, getting lost in the salty taste of sweat and blood. You tangled your hands in his hair and pulled on it gently, like you were checking if he was real.

"How could you do that to me?!" you sniffed the tears back and he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Hey, hey, shh, hey…" he helped you to calm down and catch a breath again as he held your hands to squeeze them reassuringly. "Always, remember? Always."

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #lilysfiction #gale cleven x reader #*buck #austin butler x reader

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Going On Patrol With Optimus

Optimus Prime X Human FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Word Count: 831

(A/N:) I am totally not going to apologize for the fangirl I will become after this weekend! XD I am so dang excited for Transformers Rise of the Beasts it’s not even funny! I had to write a little doodad for my favorite Autobot/Transformer ever. So this is complete and utter self indulgence! Join me in my indulgence for an alien transforming robot from the planet Cybertron! XD Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your life had been completely normal and mundane until gigantic robotic aliens from space crashed into your life, literally. Now you were a part of the team, helping in anyway you can against the Decepticons. The Autobots had been skeptical on what you could possibly offer in terms of help, when you finally proved yourself time and time again. You had gained Optimus Prime’s trust and friendship and you couldn’t say that you were mad about that. He quickly became your favorite and you always felt safe in his presence. Every day that passed you grew closer and closer to the prime, until you found yourself spending majority of your day with him.  You found his presence soothing and he felt the same about you.

It had been a long day as the Autobots once again had to fight off several Decepticons. In the middle of the battle you were growing concerned as many of your team were falling injured. Now that the battle was over your body and mind were completely exhausted. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t go to sleep. Giving up you slung the covers off and started to walk around the base. Several soldiers saluted you as you passed by, you saluted them back while mindlessly walking around. Your thoughts kept going back to the large Autobot that you cared so deeply for. You shook your head trying to banish the thoughts when you noticed that your mindless walking brought you to the Transformer side of the base. Even spaced out you found yourself drawn to the large mechanical beings. You spotted a flash of blue and red as Optimus was transforming into his alt mode for a round of patrol. Before the mech could leave you sprinted across the lot, waving franticly for attention. Optimus stopped his tires squealing in protest.

“Can I go,” you asked breathlessly looking expectedly at the soldiers. They shrugged before looking back towards the semi truck. Without a word Optimus popped open the passenger door giving his permission, wordlessly. You didn’t waste time with formalities and just jumped in. The door shut while you buckled yourself in. All was quiet between you and Optimus as the scenery went by and the sound of tires rolling down the road sounded through the cab. 

“I thought you would be asleep by now,” Optimus finally spoke, causing you to jump in your seat. “After the battle today you must be exhausted.”

You sighed tapping at the glass of the window. “I guess I’m too exhausted to sleep. So many of my men were injured today and I guess I am too worried to sleep. I much rather go on a drive with you than just lay there and stare at the ceiling.”

Optimus chuckled, “Happy to help.”

Silence overtook the cab before the radio flicked on. Optimus scanned the channels, going straight to your favorite station. He had the uncanny ability to know when you just needed silence instead of mindless chatter. The music began to soothe you as the scenery passed by. First you began to hum, enjoying the different tunes flowing through the speaker, until your favorite song entered the airwaves. You lost yourself, singing lowly before you were belting out the lyrics, completely forgetting where you were. Music always had a way with helping you forget your troubles and though you liked to sing, you never did in front of others. When the song ended, the radio lowered and you jumped in the seat when Optimus spoke.

“You have a beautiful voice,” he said. 

The compliment made your cheeks flush at the realization on what you just did. You began to realize just how exhausted you were, it was causing your guard to be down. You were relieved it was Optimus and not anyone else that heard you. You couldn’t imagine the Autobot leader ratting you out to the others or teasing you about your impromptu concert.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Staring back out of the window, Optimus raised the volume of the next song playing. An idea suddenly popping in your head and a mischievous smile pulling at your lips. You tapped his dash, gaining the Autobot’s attention.

“It’s your turn this time,” you teased.

The rest of the patrol went smoothly as you and Optimus talked more. With no sight of Deceptions anywhere, Optimus pulled back into base and let you out before transforming. You stared up at the Autobot, a yawn keeping you from saying what you wanted to. He pointed towards the barracks, in a silent but gentle order. You nodded, too tired to even argue. The drive had lulled you and Optimus had soothed all the thoughts that were plaguing you. All it took was his strong presence to make your world right again. As soon as your head hit the pillow you could finally go to sleep and your dreams were filled with a red and blue Autobot that you love dearly.

#Optimus Prime X Reader #Optimus Prime / Reader #Optimus X Reader #Transformers #Optimus Imagine #Transformers Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

[survivalove]

Katara the selfcare queen

Every canon instance or mention (that i can rmr) of Katara indulging in selfcare in the middle of a war because I find it quite amusing yet fascinating.

I may or may not have made a post like this before but I wanted to expand on it.

1. Skincare routine

In 1x14, The Fortuneteller, Katara reveals she has a special seaweed lotion that she carries with her for soft skin. (Avatar Extras also made a point of saying that it smells…?) She even offers to get Aunt Wu some, as if she has extra. So my question is, who is this plug that she gets her steady supply of seaweed lotion from? 😭

Real-life: Seaweed has been used in skincare for thousands of years, first recorded in ancient Chile. Nowadays, seaweed extract is pretty common in skincare products especially from emerging brands in Nunavik and Iqaluit, Canada.

My headcanon: This is probably a recipe Katara picked up from the older women of her tribe, so she just plucks some seaweed whenever the gaang stops by a body of water. And she definitely makes it in cute glass jars and shares it with her fellow healers in the Republic City Hospital ✨selfcare queen✨

2. Spa Day

I just find this funny because when and how did she even find this spa? How long has she been going by herself? Look how comfortable she is like dhjfjcd she’s definitely a regular and they all know her.

Real-life: Saunas are pretty modern, starting up in Finland around 1112. (In canon, I think a firebender and a waterbender run a sauna in Republic City so hey.) Mudbaths on the other hand have been around for centuries and people have been doing it at any naturally occurring hot spring they can found. I don’t even have to tell you about massages so

My headcanon: Katara always knows where the spas and selfcare places are wherever they go. I definitely think she scooped up some stuff at the perfume abbey in season 1 (because she’s a kleptomaniac). I also headcanon she would have a spa setup in the back of Republic City Hospital because selfcare is healthcare too. Also, Aang gives her massages at home and he’s surprisingly good at it, but, Katara sucks at massages and Aang never lets her do it to him after that one time 💀

3. Yoga

In 3x11, Nightmares & Daydreams, Katara teaches Aang yoga to de-stress in a hot spring. My thing is, when did she learn about yoga and how often does she do it? We needed the Katara yoga mini shorts special. The kids would’ve loved it.

Real life: Yoga originating from ancient India is practised in a variety of forms in Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism. The poses they do are the Upward Salute and the Wide Legged Forward Bend.

My headcanon: I imagine Katara must have read about this at the Air Nomad Section of the Spirit Library, given the cultural heritage. Knowing her she found a yoga scroll and swiped it (can you say klepto?). This is another selfcare thing she does with Aang because it’s his culture! They do it every Saturday until he starts complaining about his old bones 😅

4. Hair care

Katara also wears a special cap on her head when doing yoga which I assume is to protect her hair from the steam 🤔 I just found it very interesting since we hardly see her hair covered. Then I also realized Katara is the only character shown actually combing her hair and styling it like 4 times: from the bun-braid, to the formal earth kingdom look, to her fire nation look and finally the bun with her hair out.

Real life: I typed so many things and I finally found something similar called a chinoiserie satin skull cap? (sorry pic limit). It’s similar in design and even has a tassel like Katara’s. Focusing on her hairstyles, the signature “hair loopies” are actually based on a traditional Inuit style known as qilliqti and her earth kingdom look is based on a traditional Manchurian style called liangbatou.

My headcanon: Like Katara’s mysterious seaweed lotion recipe, she probably makes several haircare products for herself, and has a major hair routine. So, it would make sense she wears protective caps from time to time. I also think both Hama and Katara are tied to the myth of Senna, the Inuit sea goddess, through the comb Katara uses which I headcanon is the identical comb Hama had in her home (again klepto).

If there’s any more selfcare moments I left out, please feel free to share or reply with your own Katara ✨selfcare queen✨ headcanons!

#atla #katara #self care #self care queen #skincare #spa #yoga #haircare #culturalexploration #my headcanons #kataang #anti zutara

[versadies]

a traitor. (scaramouche x gn!reader)

SALUTATIONS. a traitor

ADDRESSED. scaramouche (w/ gn!immortal!reader)

CONTENT. angst/no-comfort, spoilers to sumeru's archon quest act 3, spoilers to scaramouche's real name, spoilers to scaramouche’s backstory, major character death, mentions of violence, mentions of blood and injury, aether is the traveler

STAMP. in which scaramouche realizes there's more to just getting the power of a divinity.

PROMPTS. 10. "don't die on me... please." and 25. "i thought i could trust you!"

PENPALS. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru@aqualesha @renamichii @mrkamisato @shenhesl0ver @serami00 @serenareiss @hiqhkey @emperatris-rinaka @bystander36 @irisxiel @ladycoleigh @034ven @dear-dairiess @owozi8 @hadesaedes @chiro-chiro-kun @hersscherofyatta @mariusvonhangme @yuzuricebun @nejibot @hoshikistarlette @solaaresque @crowbird @lordbugs @flowersforayato @headintheclouddd @estelwrld @giyusimpsassemble @irethepotatosblog @moonlightaangel @alice0blog @shotosbrainrot @sniffoat @chihawari @mxsomn @kuni-kuzushii @jiminscarmex @mitsukii14 @nejibot @ylimeprive @sachispet @loreleis-world @sn-owo @starforecasts @someonetookmynamelmao @ceylestia @lychme @ymikkos @reallysporadicarcade @melodyyamino

POST-SCRIPT. this is my first entry for my collab event, feel free to check it out if you're interested to participate!

LINKS. MAIN MASTERLIST \ TAGLIST \ FAREWELL LOVE COLLAB EVENT \ FAREWELL LOVE MASTERLIST

You’re the only one Scaramouche had left. 

Unlike the people he thought he could trust, you never wavered from your promise to him. You never once showed signs of fear, death, or hesitation when it comes to him for all the years the two of you have spent together. He was grateful, had it not been for you and your comfort, he would probably have losted it and gone insane. 

He was so close to his goal of becoming a god, to have a heart at last. 

So why… Why does it have to be like this? 

“...Huh?” His breath hitches, watching you, who was just standing in front of the traveler as a shield a second ago, fall to the ground after getting hit by one of his attacks. 

You, who once promised him that you’d never leave his side and live to see his ascension, are on the ground bleeding to death with no signs of standing up from the cold ground. 

“...( Name )...” He reaches out to you, but from how high he is, you’re so far away – so out of his reach, just like how the last of his sanity. “( Name ), what…” 

Without hesitation, he jumps out and head towards you, his heart beating so fast and aching at the thought that he hurted you and possibly killed you–

“You idiot! I told you.. I told you to stay out of this battle!” He exclaims as he sits next to your body, instantly lifting your head on his lap. “Why did you do it? Why? You don’t even know the traveler as much as you know me! Why did you save him?!” 

You slowly look at his purple eyes, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Please.. Don’t misunderstand this. This isn’t what you… This isn’t what we wanted.” Your voice was so fragile, so shaky and so weak. 

“What do you mean? This is what we wanted!” He ignores how the traveler and his small companion are watching you two in confusion and in shock, not expecting the person who has helped them come this far to be associated with the one person who’s trying to kill both traveler and paimon. 

“No… It’s what you wanted.” You whispered, exhaling. “What we wanted… is a life where people won’t hurt us again… Where we can be happy for the rest of our lives.” 

Scaramouche couldn’t believe what he’s hearing. He immediately shakes his head in disagreement. “No, no, you’re wrong… We’re almost close.. We just needed to– Don’t close your eyes on me!”

You smile apologetically, trying not to show your pain from your injury. “I’m sorry, Kuni.. I wasn’t able to keep my word… I hope you won’t be so harsh with yourself. This isn’t your faul–”

“What are you saying…? You can’t possibly be dying now! What about our goal?! What about.. What about me? Are you leaving me alone like everyone else?!” 

You suddenly grip his hand. “I’m really sorry it has to come to this, Kuni…” You start to close your eyes with a shaky breath. “I didn’t want this either...” 

Scaramouche tries to ignore the way his eyes begin to blur and watery, his lips shaking as he watches you giving in to your injuries. “No…No, no, no! I thought I could trust you – you said we’ll spend the rest of our lives together until we die together! You can’t do this, don’t you dare leave me!” 

You dare not to say a word. Be it because of the overwhelming pain or how exhausted you are, it didn’t matter.

You’re just saddened that your dear companion will not hear your unsaid confession of love.

“Don’t die on me… Please!” 

“...”

All fell silent. 

Aether watches Scaramouche carefully, but also looks at your now dead corpse with a pained look on his face. He may have known you for only a few days, but you were surely a dear friend to him, who helped him and guided him a way to save Sumeru despite not knowing him well.

The traveler is instantly on his guard when the purple-haired man stands up, holding your corpse bridal-style despite your weight with a blank expression on his face. 

“...This is all your fault.” He said in a dark tone, staring down at the injury that took you away from him, from living with him for eternity.

Aether isn’t too sure if Scaramouche was talking to himself or to him. 

#farewell-love #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x gn reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x gn reader #scaramouche angst #genshin angst #genshin scenarios