#and just a liiiiiiittle bit fucked up

[yeommijeong]

i love how insomnia gives you the best fic ideas

[aihoshiino]

Two hopefully-fun OnK questions.

After the main series wraps up, would you be interested in a spin-off about Ai?

Has that answer changed in the last twenty chapters or so?

The answer to that is ABSOLUTELY YES!!! Even with the Movie Arc having been like it was, as an Ai fan, I came out of it feeling quite satisfied with how she was handled. Even if there's stuff I wish here was more of, the way it zeroes in on her avoidance and unintentional cruelty as the bedrock for her social isolation was suuuuper satisfying as an extension of her character as previously established and helped a lot in terms of like… while people's fucked up overly varnished perceptions of her is part of the point, I do think that pre-Movie Arc Ai flirted just a liiiiiiittle bit with being a 'perfect victim' type character. But with the additional context that arc adds to her, she is much more textually and satisfyingly a messy, imperfect person and so the story's messages about how she nevertheless deserved to be treated with kindness and decency are all the stronger for it.

As for what kind of spinoff… man, I dunno! Obviously a comfy happy end AU would be lovely but I also worry it would be a bit TOO indulgent, you know? But a little sidestory covering some parts of Ai's life we don't see much of in the series could be really good… actually, iirc, Akasaka said at one point the childhood arc was supposed to be two volumes but he worried about readers not connecting with Aqua and Ruby as baby protags so he sped it up. I think it was for the better, but maybe like a single volume sidestory covering what got passed over of those years of them as a family would be just right.

I think my ideal Ai-focused spinoff would be one of those little anthology collections - basically, a bunch of different mangaka each do a standalone story and it's all collected into one volume, kind of similar to Mengo's Interlude stories. I think it'd be really fun to see all those varied takes on Ai and to see what the artists would do with the freedom of playing around in this sort of dubiously canon space.

[animebw]

So the live action One Piece is really, really good.

I know, far from the first person to say it. But it really must be stressed how absolutely bonkers it is that One Piece, of all anime properties, is what breaks the live-action adaptation curse in the West. So many attempts at adapting far more live-action friendly stories like Death Note and Cowboy Bebop ended up complete disasters, and yet it's perhaps the most unabashedly cartoonish anime franchise, the one defined by how it takes advantage of drawing and animation to portray people, places and things that would be completely unfeasable in the real world, that shows how to translate this medium to live action without losing what makes it special in the first place. It's not a perfect adaptation, but it pretty much nails everything it needs to, capturing the heart of this story in all its most important moments and making smart changes that serve its new form as a binge-worthy Netflix drop. So let's talk about the things I liked, the few areas I think it fell short, and how I think future seasons should play out! Spoilers, obviously.

The Good:

-The most important thing to get right was the casting, and they nailed it: all the Straw Hats and their supporting cast are just about perfect. Inaki Godoy just is Luffy, Emily Rudd does a fantastic job shouldering the season's core emotional weight as Nami, Vincent Regan steals the show every time Garp is on screen, and Jeff Ward is an absolute riot as Buggy. Special shout-out as well to Morgan Davies for nailing Koby's expanded screen time.

-Speaking of, I love how Koby and Helmeppo's title-card story is fleshed out into a proper B-plot throughout this season. Following their journey under Garp's command is a perfect way to introduce us to the Navy's inner workings and the more explicitly political side of the story up front, as well as foreshadowing plenty of future story beats to come.

-The action. Is. So. Good. Thank god we're finally remembering how to film proper hand-to-hand brawls, cause every punch-up is a blast to watch.

-Luffy actually has more of an arc here than he does in the manga! Manga Luffy can be a pretty static character a lot of the time, which I know is kind of his appeal, but this adaptation gives him a bit more to work with as he grapples with the responsibility of being a captain and the consequences his mistakes can have for his crew.

-Seriously Buggy is so fucking funny they nailed him so perfectly

-Putting more of a focus on Nami's struggles throughout the season was a great way to give it more structure for a binge format. Her emotional journey is really the heart of this adaptation as we watch her go from a paraniod recluse to fully embracing the Straw Hats as her new family.

-One benefit to being live action and produced in America? Way, way less casual sexism. Dare I hope that future seasons will avoid ruining Sanji's character among other pitfalls Oda fell into? Fingers crossed!

-The production design is immaculate. It strikes the perfect balance between the wacky cartoonishness of One Piece's world and the demands of filming in live action.

-Fantastic soundtrack too! It knows just where to deploy instrumental renditions of We Are while charting its own musical identity.

The Bad

-Some of the dialogue is a liiiiiiittle cringey? I know dialogue has never been OP's strongest suit, but there are definitely a few moments that feel overly anachronistic and "how do you do fellow kids?" There's a moment Buggy jokes about toxic fandom that really made me roll my eyes (especially since the OP fandom has by and large really embraced this adaptation, so it comes off like a cheap shot at a demographic of haters that doesn't even really exist).

-While the camerawork and editing are pretty great, the color grading is very much... not. Can we please stop shooting everything in boring desaturated yellows and greys and start lighting our night scenes so we can actually see what's going on?

-Shockingly, it's the strongest parts from the manga- the backstories- that I feel suffered the most here. Some of that's due to most of the child actors not being that great, which, well, that's a risk you take with child actors. But it also cuts out a lot of the personal culpability that made a lot of those backstories so compelling? Like how Sanji used to be pretty wasteful with food until his experience stranded on an island taught him how important it was to respect every bite? That aspect of his character is completely missing in his flashback here.

-Hoo boy, they made some... choices with how they depicted Arlong's crew. I know the Fishmen are a big racism/discrimination metaphor, but between the trap music that plays whenever they show up, their overall "urban gangsta" fashion aesthetic and the design of Arlong Park, the fact Arlong himself is played by a black actor... there is some coding going on here, is my point. And considering how much I hated the direction this story arc went in Fishman Island, that does not give me confidence in this adaptation's ability to escape sucking just as much on that front.

Future Season Wish List:

Season 2: The Alabasta saga, starting with the arrival at Roguetown and ending with Vivi's send-off

Season 3: The Water Seven saga, maybe with a brief stop in Skypiea beforehand but not long enough to get bogged down in there like the manga did

Season 4: Possibly controversial, but I think this should take us to the timeskip. Spend an episode or two in Thriller Bark but cut out all the bullshit, one episode in Sabaody for the Shit Gets Real(tm) section, one episode in Amazon Lily, then onto Impel Down and the Marineford showdown, with one episode dedicated to the fallout of that battle and getting us to the timeskip.

Season 5: Big focus here should be Dressrosa IMO. If you must spend some time in Fishman Island then do it, probably don't need that much time in Punk Hazard since barely anything happens there, then get into the thick of Dressrosa.

Season 6: This should be the Wano season. One episode in Zou, maybe a couple in Whole Cake Island to set up Big Mom, (honestly we might not even need the extra Sanji backstory if this adaptation gets rid of his worst traits), then get straight into Wano so you have all the time you need for all those moving parts. Also, Gear 5 Luffy in live-action should just be him turning into his anime self Roger Rabbit style. Tell me that wouldn't rule.

[b--b-3]

Sooo I've decided to finally cross-post my Obey Me crack-fic from ao3, I hope you enjoy!✨️

°•°•°•°•°

Cheek Clappin' Behavior

Ch.1

summary: Mc gets bamboozled by the game we all know and love 😭. They also happen to get yeeted right into it at full throttle, oops. How, you ask?? Who knows-

warnings: swearin/strong language, a quick innuendo, Mc just bein straight up wild tbh

misc: this fic doesn't accurately follow the story, literally just random shits 'n giggles for now lmao [pls it's so unserious ajfjshsjs] + the memes you see edited were done by me in my absolute mess of a gallery 💀

word count: almost 1k

It was just an ordinary day for Mc… Well, that is if you could call simping for fictional characters from a story-based gacha game ordinary. Okay, maybe they're a liiiiiiittle bonkers in the head, but we still love 'em 😋.

[Mc's POV]

'You've gotta be clappin' my cheeks unequivocally rn.'

"How tf am I gonna pull up AND get bumblefucked by this yee yee ass game 🤨🤨🤨??" Okay, so maaaaybe I got raw-dogged by a fictional world, but I can fix this for sure‼️

.

.

.

Oh.

I didn't fix this. Far from it, in fact. Yet another 10 pull, wasted… 😟

Welp, whatever‼️‼️ Back to the story then hehEHEHEHE— HOLY FUCKIN' MOTHER OF GO— MAMMON YOU ABSOLUTE BABYGWORL TF YOU DOIN' LOOKIN' LIKE THAT?? 🤭🤭🤭

Even tho he plays hard to get, he ain't a match for MY sluttish behavior 🤪—

THIS? FUCKING?? $ Ł Ü ✝️? ? ? "The absolute fuckin' audacity I swear— AND this mf blushin' too? Consider tears runnin' down my leg fr fr for real fr‼️" YOU SEE THAT TUB OVER THERE MAMS?? YEAH HOP IN THAT BITCH CUZ I'M BOUTTA 😩😩—

Ahem.

Caught myself lackin' for a sec there sorry bout that y'all 💀—

I then end up playing this damn game for a psychologically questionable amount of time. Such a long time, in fact, my raggedy ass fell asleep with the game open. O p e n. I didn't even get to charge my shit— hot damn 😬.

.

.

.

Next thing I know, I'm exposing my eye sockets to a ridiculous amount of light.

✨️OWIE✨️—

Oh.

'Now why in the ass-eatin' fuck does this place look familiar?? This ain't my house OR my room🗿. Tf is goin' on in here on this ass-chappin' day 🤨🤨??'

Like, the more I look around, the more shit's appearance becomes clear to me [no d U h Mc?? C'mon get it together 😭].

'Tho it does look a bit [a fuck ton tf you mean?? 💀] like my room in Obey Me…🤔'

.

.

.

"Did my bitch-ass get isekai'd into the world of Big Boobie Bitches— I mean Obey Me??????⁉️🗣📢🔥"

.

.

.

' …You've gotta be tuggin' my schlong rn this shit is a different breed. No, literally. Does that mean I'm a whole ass sheep now⁉️ This ain't gonna work. I swear on my left kneeca—'

All of a sudden, someone's headass bursts into the room. I was about to chew them tf out like a baddie, but then I SEE 🕕🫦🕕—

'CERTIFIED BABYGWORL??? AJDJSJEEJ OMGOMGOMG IT'S HIIIIIIIM IT'S MAAAAAMMMMS OH MY—🥺🎊✨️🫧💖‼️🥰💛'

"Yo, human! Ya were s'pposed to hang out with me today! What's goin' on?"

I—

'Ugh. What a cutie 🥰. Look at him, lookin' at me like that 'n shit 😭💖.'

I stare right back at the white-haired babygworl— I mean demon, trying a lil TOO hard to fight the inner voices that are telling me to jump him unprovoked.

"Well, tbh tbh honestly tbh, I haven't the slightest fuckin' clue Monie.. Buuuuuuut you can still take me out if you want tho 👀." I give him a lil look. Yano, a look. A little lookie look. A look that looks like a lil look because it looks—

"Whatever, let's just go. You've been makin' The Great Mammon wait long enough." He then drags me outta the room as if I'm his bitch.

'OW MY PUSS- now hold on for just a diddly ding dang darn second ☝️🤓— here I thought it was supposed to be the other way around 🤨🤔❓️ ❓️ ❓️'

Welp I'll just have to worry about it another time ig 🤷.

Anyways, now we were makin' our way [downtown] through the Big Ass House of Lamentation, BAHoL for short, trying to get to wherever tf Mammon has plans for. Well, that is until we run into a certain someone.

.

.

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'GAAASSSPP IT'S HIIIIIM‼️ LEVIATHAN THE SWEET BOOOOOOYYYYY OHFUCKOHFUUUCK 🥰💖🫧🧡✨️‼️'

"Yooo, Levi! Funny seein' ya outside ya room for once." Both Mammon and I then proceed to start gigglin' like two lil bitches lmao.

Until this mf turns around 🗿.

…My face just about shriveled up inside itself.

'DID BABYGWORL #3 GET EVEN QUIRKIER 😳😳😳⁉️'

"Levi.. you good?? You're looking a bit differently different there bud 😭😭."

'I swear to shit there are literal SPARKLES just shootin' me in the eyes rn.'

"Idk what you're talking abt lol." He blinks and just shrugs at me like absolutely NOTHING is wrong like wtf my g—

"Tbh tbh honestly tbh Levi you're looking MAD ✨️bbg✨️ rn and idk how to cope with that so I think it's best you induce an anime withdrawal for just a singular sliver of a second the sake of my sanity 🗣🗣."

It takes him a couple seconds for the matter inside his cranium to process whatever tf just came out my mouth.

"B-Bbg!? WOOOAAAHHHH❗️🗣🗣🗣📢💥.. I-I can't believe you're calling a no-good otaku shut-in like me that!" He takes a moment to cover his now blushing face sextillion times more than his hair already does with his hand.

'Omg what a lil cutie I swear— got me swooning 'n shit <3.'

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever! We've gotta get goin' now. See ya later, Levi!" Mammon cuts off the ENTIRE interaction quicker than it even started before dragging me away like a fucking rag doll.

'L?? M?? A?? O?? Tf is all this motion for 🫨🥴?'

What the plans are?? I still haven't the slightest of darn clues, buT I GUESS WE'LL FIND OUT 🗣.

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.

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I kid you tf not we literally only managed to reach the main entrance before getting jumpscared by none other than Lucifer himself—

'EYE- SWEET MOTHER OF DIAVOLO'S (. )( .)‼️—'

[✨️To Be Continued✨️]

[adam-sadmon]

So this is gonna be for a very niche intersection of people who follow me but I've been sinking my teeth into Armored Core 6 lately and I thought it'd be fun (since I spend 90% of the game in the garage anyway) to build some AC's around the Thieves, sorta taking notes from their fighting style, their Personas, aesthetics etc.

So to kick us off is a rough draft that's actually become my go-to, main AC for my current NG+ build, High Priestess:

This is a MEAN fucking machine. Taking cues both from Makoto's Fist of the Northstar-style punch rushing in the Metaverse and her real world affinity for Aikido I set out to make an AC that just PUNCHES.

Obviously there's a bit more to it, it's wrll spec'd to with a focus on energy efficiency, recharge and weapon damage so that the dual Wuegers can basically one tap any non boss/AC in a single shot of its primary fire and quickly build up stagger against tougher opponents before overheating, I also threw in the Bullet Orbit to further increase our frankly ridiculous stagger buildup and to supplement our admittedly lacking ammo count and crowd control.

See, thing is, any grunt we touch dies, but they also ear up our ammo which we much through using the charged punch attack on the Wuegers. This, predominantly, is a boss/AC fight build (though I've refused to switch off of it and have cleared a lot of missions on little to no ammo just punching my way through with the laser lance).

SPEAKING OF, the laser lance. I originally wanted this build to be a lot more lightweight and speedy to mirror Johanna but the long and the short of it is having to be up close to land your shots and having to stand still when using your charged Wuegers results in a pretty quick death, and while the more medium-weight build we ended up with is by no means slow adding in the laser lance worked both to add to our punchiness and provide us an alternative means of catching up with our enemies.

That's about all there is to tell on the build front, even beyond being happy to have recreated a good few aspects of the Queen herself this build sorta took on a life of its own, it does more than slap, it PUNCHES.

I went for a colour scheme that's trying (and failing) to evoke the colour scheme of Johanna and I have an alternate colour scheme saved resembling Agnes' if I'm feeling spicy, as for decals I was going to make one of Johanna's face but basically any design not entirely made out of straight lines is a liiiiiiittle bit beyond me.

So yeah, if you are one of the two people interested in this stick around for if I ever make another one, if there's any interest I'll probably put a share code in the comments.

[ilovebeingaturtle]

so sorry for the bother but I have to know your thoughts on Alopex?

Oo, not a bother at all!! Okay so yeah-spoilers for IDW? also this is gonna be kinda ramble-y and not fully thought out AGSHZ It’s very early in the day for me

To start of! Alopex is a great edition to TMNT, she fits in very naturally and she has a design that can simultaneously be adorable and fucking feral, which is great AHA, I’ve always enjoyed fox characters in media so I always feel just a rush of affection whenever I see her like look at that wittle guyyy. Outside of that though she’s just super neat! Again she feels very at home in the world and not just inserted into the narrative which is always a risk with ‘new’ faces in established properties, I love her weapons and her confidence a lot. I think I might be a liiiiiiittle burnt out on “character who was in the Foot that left the Foot” as a trope, but it was still cool!

I think this was the panel I was fully sold on her character, look at that smug little shit

I will say I did find her central-ish story arc in IDW kiiiiindaaaaa boring? Mind control as a trope doesn’t really interest me so I found the whole Kitsune thing with her sorta prevented her from really being her own character for a lot, it’s not that it was bad! It just made me personally kinda disinterested. This is definitely just my own opinion, I think the moments I loved Alopex the most were when her stronger personality traits are allowed to shine and she was sorta held back from doing that for a little, also again yeah it’s just not the type of story I really go for AHA

I’m also not really fully sold on her and Raph together as a couple, but that might just be the aroace in me talking. I couldn’t understand why they liked each other because from my point of view they barely had any chemistry, and by the time they did kinda have chemistry I was sorta lost on how we got to that point. And then in the last issue I read they broke up so, LMAO? I’m not really a romance between characters interested person but I can still often connect or feel the emotions in a ship and I just didn’t for those two AHSJH whoops (the speech Raph had with Angel about her though was cute but again I was sorta still like ???)

On the topic of that though, I haven’t read further yet because the Armageddon games intimidate me, but I did like that she left. I like that they fully addressed her trauma with Shredder like fuck yeah get out of there?! I don’t know how that storyline has been playing out because again, haven’t read it yet, but I am all for the idea of her striking it out on her own for a bit (oh also the shelter she was running at the start of the mutant town arc was a very sweet direction for her too forgot to mention that-)

I definitely really like her and I’d LOVEEE to see her get adapted into more versions! It was super cool seeing her in 2012 even if she didn’t stick around for long. She’s definitely a character filled to the brim with potential that I want to see more of, it’s just that from what I’ve seen so far she hasn’t quite been given a chance to reach it yet. I haven’t fully? Dug my teeth into all of IDW, so maybe I’m missing something? But ye! That’s the basics of my thoughts anyways AHA

[lemmilemura]

can you write about sneaking into simons house? like ur coming over for the first time and you’re climbing through his window, i think it would be cute.

also, imagine him hiding you under his covers and you’re both giggling trying to be quiet and hide from his parents

Oh my god that is so cute fuck yeah! Imma do my best to make this into a one-shot/imagine

All keot gender-neutral Based on the show

Was this ridiculous? Yes.

Was I still about to climb through Simon's window? Also yes.

How this even came to happen was weird in and of itself. Simon just randomly messaged me and told me to come over. Did he give a reason? Nope. Did I still get in my car at literally 1am to drive over? Well I'm here, so go figure.

I parked a bit away from his house, as to not raise any suspicions because Simon specifically told me to make sure his parents don't find out. All the lights were out, so they were probably asleep. He also told me to climb through his fucking window. Yeah. Window. The fuck?

I do my best to sneakily walk to the side his window is on. I can see he has a small light on. Now I could have just texted him to let him know I was there, but since I was already pretty tired and wanted to be just a liiiiiiittle bit annoying, I did the movie thing- throwing a rock at the window.

I didn't pick any big ones, or any that would crack or break the glass. Looking up at his window, I asked myself how the fuck I was supposed to get up there in the first place. It was basically double my height and a little more upwards.

I aimed as best I could and threw a small rock. It hit the window and fell back down. Yet there was nothing. So I threw again. Nothing again. "He'll survive and horror movie with that tactic" I whispered to myself. The third throw got a reaction. A second light in his room turned on. I then got a text. Are you seriously throwing rocks at my window?

I just threw another. By the time I was ready to throw the fifth stone, he opened his window and looked down. "Why the fuck are you throwing rocks?" He whisper yelled. "Better question, how the fuck am I supposed to get up there?" I whisper yelled back. It was evident on his face that he had not thought this far.

"You don't have enough hair for the Rapunzel thing, and I am NOT climbing up there with a blanket or whatever." "Yeah, I know. I'm thinking..." He responded. It was now almost 2am. I was getting really tired and it was really cold outside. "Well can you hurry up? I'm freezing!"

Simon seemed to go into overdrive. He closed the window and was gone. After a minute, the door a few feet next to me opened and Simon looked out. "Come on!" We then slowly snuck into his room. "To be honest I didn't think you'd actually come over." He said when he closed the door.

"Eh, didn't have anything better to do. Why'd you call me over, anyway?" I took off my shoes and sat down on his bed, letting myself fall onto my back. The bed shifted beside me and I looked over to se Simon also laying besides me. He's looking up at the ceiling.

He then looked at me too. "You're really pretty, you know that?" I told him. He froze up and his face flushed, then he looked back up at the ceiling. "Oh shut up." "I mean it. Really."

I yawned, the tiredness really getting to me. Simon looked back to me, then pulled the covers over both of us and turned the lights off. I always felt so comfortable in his bed, way more than my own. I was asleep in basically 10 minutes, don't really know when. The last thing I heard before falling asleep, atleast I think I heard, was "I just really missed you."

I woke up a few hours later, don't really know when. By the look and feel of it, I even had the blanket pulled over my head. Turning around, I saw Simon also under the blanket with me. "Hi" He said. "Good morning." I said back, then stretched a little. I was about to get out from under the blanket, but Simon pulled me back. "Careful. My parents always come in by this time of the day. They don't know you're here."

As if by design, we heard his door open. "Simon, time to wake up." His mom then walked around the room, probably picking upsome clothes or something. For some reason, probably the tired, this situation seemed HILARIOUS to both of us. We were trying our best to not laugh too much, giggling like children.

"And good morning (Y/N)." We heard her say. We both poked our heads out from under the blanket. His mom laughed at us. "How did you know I was here?" I asked. "I saw your shoes at the door. Also we weren't asleep. There's breakfast downstairs if you want some." And she just walked out.

I know this wasn't that gerat, but for some reason I kept getting distracted qwq

[cha-melodius]

If there are still slots open for the Christmas prompts, may I ask for 6. “Is that present for me?” with Lokius? (or 3. “Your lips are cold.” as a backup number). Thank you and I hope you'll reach the 1 000 000 words (also, just saying, that's very impressive!!).

(Ok, so I might have cheated a liiiiiiittle by combining two prompts into one, which was inspired by the fact that @okilokiwithpurpose had prompt #3 as a backup. But hopefully the fact that this fic is 4x as long as most of the others in this challenge makes up for it! I had written a tiny bit of this AU, but never shared, and somehow as I was looking at it again these prompts just slotted into place. So here you go, an actor AU, which I can't believe no one had written for these two before, with some fake dating thrown in for fun. I hope you all enjoy! Also: @an-asgardian I wasn't sure if your AO3 name was different, but let me know and I can gift it to you there if you like!)

True Hollywood Romance

Read it on AO3 (M, 8.1k)

Toronto International Film Festival, early September

“You cannot tell me you’re intending to wear that,” Loki blurts, in lieu of a greeting, the moment he opens the door and sees Mobius standing on the other side of it.

Mobius glances down at his outfit: a grey suit that, yes, he has worn to more than a few previous events. Not that anyone would notice. No one ever asks who Mobius is wearing, he’s never appeared on any fashion lists (best or worst), and that’s the way he likes it. He knows he’ll be comfortable, and he doesn’t have to worry about hurridly-sewn seams failing or a jacket being mistakenly cut too tight across his shoulders. He hasn’t so much cultivated his look as actively not cared about it, and he’s gotten to a point in his career where people were inclined to let him do as he wished.

Until now, it seems. Loki is still staring at him in something akin to horror, which is a bit much. It elicits a knee-jerk reaction to get defensive and dig in his heels, but Mobius shoves it down and forces a tight smile onto his face. This is to be their first official public appearance, and it wouldn’t do to start things off on the wrong foot.

“You have a better idea?” he challenges, raising his eyebrows.

“Go back in time and get a suit that’s properly tailored,” Loki opines, before he sighs, gesturing Mobius into the hotel room. “You can’t wear that shirt.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Loki gives him a withering look of disdain that is definitely pushing it. “It’s boring, Mobius. Take it off, I have one that will work.”

Mobius sighs out heavily through his nose, trying not to grind his teeth together, and reminds himself that he agreed to this. God knows why. Your career is stagnating. No one’s talking about you, Ravonna had said. You need to shake it up, and this is the perfect opportunity. Then his agent had delivered the final blow: If you want that movie green-lit, you’ll do it.

Fucking Hollywood. Odin Borson had one of the biggest production companies on the block and a troublesome, wild-child son who needed an image rehabilitation. Who better to play the moderating influence than someone who’s never been a front page headline in the tabloids in his life? The TV actor who’d been beloved in the same role he’d played for over a decade, but boring in every other respect? Even when he’d come out several years ago, the news had barely made a ripple. He’s been trying to get this movie made for years, though, so a few months of pretending to date the producer’s kid had seemed like a small price to pay.

He’s not so sure about that anymore, though.

He follows Loki through the palatial suite to an entire walk-in closet of clothes—how on Earth could he have so many, they’re only here for a few days—and waits as the other man roots around a collection of shirts. Loki pulls several out and frowns at them before tossing them away, heedless of where they land. Sequins, ruffles, lace, one that seems to be hot pink— Christ, Mobius needs a drink. 

“I really doubt any of your stuff is going to fit me,” he tries in a last-ditch effort.

“It’ll be close enough,” Loki says, waving him off dismissively. “Keep your jacket buttoned on the red carpet and no one will notice.”

Mobius sighs, again. He has a distinct feeling that his life will be easier if he just lets Loki do what he wants. Within reason. “I’m gonna have a drink. You want anything?”

Loki’s mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. “Not allowed to drink before these things anymore,” he says stiffly, still focusing on the shirts in front of him.

“Oh. Noted.”

Possibly they should have actually talked more before this, but Mobius had counted on film festival red carpets being relatively low pressure when it comes to interviews. Loki has a small part in one of the movies from Odin’s production company, hence the appearance, but he’s not a lead, so no one expects the press to want to talk to them that much. They’ve been provided a few essentially scripted lines about their relationship to use when someone inevitably asks: they met on a ski slope in Vail, hit it off over coffee, etc, etc. Never mind that Mobius has never been to Vail. He doesn’t even ski, unless you count a jet ski.

Mobius briefly wonders if he should also abstain out of courtesy, but he figures Loki would say something if it was going to be a problem. Hopefully it won’t, because there’s no way Mobius is gonna get through tonight without at least one Scotch. He’s pouring a healthy portion into a crystal tumbler from the room’s wet bar when Loki appears at his side again.

“Here. This one,” he says, thrusting the garment into Mobius’s hands. It’s a rich, cerulean blue, and when Mobius holds it out he sees it seems to be a mock turtleneck and also…

“Is this… sparkly?”

“It’s a subtle shimmer,” Loki corrects superciliously. He hesitates for a second and looks away, avoiding Mobius’s gaze, and when he continues his voice is oddly tight. “It will bring out the blue of your eyes.”

Mobius swallows. Loki’s not actually dressed yet, still wearing a bathrobe, the fronts of which have by now slipped open down to where it’s belted at his waist, revealing a tantalizing swath of smooth, sculpted chest and abs that Mobius has to force himself not to stare at. Look, he’s not a monk, and Loki is a very attractive man. That fact may or may not have swayed his decision to go along with this circus. Still, this is all fake. Loki is way out of his league, and he’d do well to remember that.

Of course, he hadn’t banked on having to deal with Loki’s chest all night. It turns out he’s not wearing a shirt at all, only the trousers and jacket of a deep green tux with tails so long and elaborate they’re reminiscent of a skirt. He looks, to put it simply, stunning, and Mobius can’t help but feel a bit dull beside him. Even in a shimmery turtleneck, which, ok, did look better under his suit than what he was planning on wearing.

The appearance goes off without a hitch. They walk the red carpet, talk to a few reporters, smile like they’re enjoying themselves. Loki sleeps through the screening of his own movie, but Mobius is enthralled. He’d never really seen much of what Loki had been in before—mostly a number of prosaic runs as villains in genre flicks and their sequels—but in this he’s utterly arresting. He steals every scene he’s in, few though they might be. It makes Mobius wonder what happened, how he got so off track in his career, because clearly he deserves a lot more.

Halfway through the movie, Loki’s head tips onto his shoulder, and he doesn’t have the heart to move him. Loki jerks awake at the audience’s applause when the credits roll, going red as he realizes that he’d been using Mobius as a pillow. His eyeliner is slightly smudged and his hair is mussed, and the whole picture is far too soft and endearing. Even though they’re surrounded by a couple hundred other people it feels remarkably intimate, and something twists in Mobius’s gut.

This might be harder than he previously expected.

~~~~~

Hollywood, California, late September

“Is that a present for me?” Loki says, a teasing note in his voice and a grin on his face as he slips into the seat opposite Mobius.

They’re sitting outside at a cafe in Hollywood, in full view of the paparazzi that lurk unsubtly across the street. Odin’s people called them, of course. Another of their scheduled appearances, this time a casual lunch. Mobius tries to smile like he doesn’t care that his every move is being documented. He’s never elicited this kind of attention during his entire career, and he’s not at all disappointed about that.

“The very one provided by your manager,” Mobius answers dryly. It had been delivered to his apartment with a note explaining that he was supposed to give it to Loki at the arranged time. “I take it you purchased this for yourself?”

“Mm,” Loki hums as he eagerly tears the top off the box and pulls a luxurious green silk scarf out of it, winding it around his neck. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. This a thoughtful gift from my dear beau.”

Mobius feels his face go hot at the fake pet names and blames the sun. “How can you wear that right now? It’s scorching out here today.”

“I’m always cold,” Loki tells him. “So. Honey. Dearest. Beloved,” he says, grinning over the menu at Mobius’s huff as he gets more flustered by the second. Turns out bearing the full brunt of Loki’s charm is a lot. “What looks good?”

Once they get settled in things get easier, though. They actually talk, really talk, for the first time since this whole thing started, and Mobius finds out that Loki’s not only insanely good looking but also sharp and engaging, talking excitedly about this or that project, going off on long tangents about random topics that interest him. It’s so unlike the haughty, stand-offish demeanor that he’s known for that Mobius is thrown off for a second, but he ends up enjoying himself too much to think about it too hard.

“The worst place I’ve ever had to film was definitely actual Siberia,” Loki is saying. They’re now undergoing the actor’s rite of passage in getting to know one another: sharing filming horror stories.

“Oh, that was The Void, right? The post-apocalyptic one,” Mobius says without thinking.

Loki blinks at him. “I thought you hadn’t seen any of my films.”

Mobius’s chewing slows to a halt as he realizes what he’s just admitted. “I mean. I’d seen a couple.” And if, since TIFF, he’d watched all of them, that was his business and nobody else’s.

“No one’s voluntarily seen The Void, Mobius,” Loki teases, a slow grin spreading on his face. “It’s not even on any streaming services.”

That is true. Mobius had had to buy the damned thing, and even finding a copy had been trying. Which was actually a shame, because yes, the movie had been terrible—abysmal writing, with a hackneyed love story forced in at the end—but Loki’s performance was exceptional. He’d played several different versions of the same character, each twisted a little differently, and it had been a bit of revelation.

“Musta caught it when it came out,” Mobius mumbles as he shrugs, avoiding Loki’s too-mirthful gaze. “Anyway, it’s gotta be more fun than always filming on a soundstage. Fifteen years of it gets real old, let me tell you.”

“All those places you traveled to? Pompeii? Those couldn’t have all been sets,” Loki says, which surprises Mobius enough to pull his eyes off his plate again.

“Now who’s been watching old TV series?” Mobius shoots back. “You can’t expect me to believe you saw Murders in the Multiverse when it aired.”

Loki sniffs, trying his best to look as if he hadn’t just been caught out. “Those are all on Paramount Plus,” he says dismissively. “I just put them on in the background for research. Barely paid attention.”

“Right. Research,” Mobius huffs, amused. “Well, they were all sets. Even Pompeii.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad, though,” Loki says, tipping his head slightly. “You stayed for a lot of seasons. Even through that miserable amnesia arc.”

Mobius snorts. “Never overestimate the pull of a steady paycheck. I still get decent residuals from that show. But after a while they didn’t want to pay me what I deserved, and I got bored playing a time cop. Wanted to do something new and different. Get out of my comfort zone.”

“Which is why you’re here,” Loki says, a flat, difficult-to-read expression on his face. If Mobius didn’t know better he’d almost say Loki looked upset, which doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mobius allows. He picks at his food as they fall into an awkward silence, until finally he decides to just say it. “It’s been nice getting to know you, though.”

Loki looks up at that, slightly surprised, before a careful smile spreads across his face. “Yes. It has.”

~~~~~

New York Film Festival, October

“This is inhumane,” Loki whines the moment they step out of the limo and onto the red carpet.

“You’re the one who insisted on wearing a backless outfit,” Mobius reminds him. “I warned you.”

Not far away from where they stand, the fans lining the barricades are bundled up against the frigid wind of the unseasonable cold snap that had hit New York a day before the festival. Even Mobius is uncomfortably cold, and he’s wearing a wool suit. A new bespoke Italian wool suit that Loki had insisted upon for the festival. He almost wore a scarf, too, before Loki objected. Even though it was a nice scarf. Mobius had thought the outfit was pretty sharp, actually.

Clearly, Loki has somewhat warped views on what is appropriate for the weather, because he’s wearing some kind of shiny something that Mobius doesn’t even know how to describe—like a pair of trousers with a backless waistcoat attached on top, and nothing else. Christ, this man is dead set on ruining him. Especially because he huddles close for warmth, and Mobius has really no choice but to wrap his arms around him as hundreds of camera flashes go off from the press corps area nearby.

They’ve never been this close. Mobius has pressed a hand to his lower back, and Loki has draped himself off Mobius’s elbow, casual signs of affection that are easy, but this is quite beyond that. His hands splay over Loki’s bare skin as Loki tucks himself against his chest, and suddenly their faces are bare inches apart.

“You should kiss me,” Loki murmurs.

Mobius’s brain experiences a full shutdown, and it takes several moments to reboot. “What?” he manages, his voice strangled.

“We haven’t kissed for the cameras yet.”

Mobius does not remind him that they have not kissed at all, because they’re not actually dating. They don’t have to kiss. Lots of celebrity couples keep those things more private. Certainly plenty of them have never locked lips on the red carpet. Of course, Mobius knows as well as Loki that there have been rumors—blind items, chatter in the tabloids—that their relationship is just for PR. Which is true, but that’s not what they want people to think. A kiss would help sell it. That’s all this is.

No more than a few seconds can have passed, but it feels like an eternity before he manages to give a small nod. Loki is taller than him, so he has to stretch up on his toes a little as Loki dips his head to meet him. It doesn’t need to be more than a chaste press, but Loki’s lips, slightly tacky from the gloss he’s wearing, move softly against his and linger with the barest tug on Mobius’s lower lip as they part. It very effectively punches all the air from his lungs and leaves him reeling, which is kind of suboptimal because they’re still standing on the red carpet. Then there’s the fact that Loki just stares at him after they part, his eyes slightly wide like he hadn’t really meant to do that.

“Your lips are cold,” Mobius blurts, somewhat nonsensically, because he has no idea what else to say.

It turns out to be the right thing, though, because Loki laughs softly. “Can’t imagine why,” he drawls. He pulls away slightly, and Mobius tries not to feel disappointed about that. “Can we go inside now?”

“Just a few more minutes, sweetheart.” The endearment slips out, and he can feel Loki staring at him, but he doesn’t look over.

Instead, he does his job. Slide to the side so Loki’s outfit is visible. Lace their fingers together when Loki grabs his hand. Smile for the cameras.

Ignore the massive, hard knot settling into his gut.

~~~~~

Paris, France, November

“Yeah, I got it,” Mobius says over the phone as he wrestles his suitcase through the narrow hallway. “I’ll read it soon. It does look interesting.”

“The director specifically inquired about your schedule,” Ravonna tells him. “This is a very good sign, Mobius. You’re on people’s minds.”

“I know,” he sighs, because he’s tacitly admitting that she was right.

Even if this movie isn’t what he’s after, the fact that people are actually interested in him for the first time in… well, he can’t remember—it’s definitely good. And a little surprising. It’s not that he didn’t think the plan would work, but— ok, he didn’t really think this plan would work. Apparently he was wrong about that.

The numbers on the door to the hotel suite that’s been booked for them are ornately wrought in gold leaf, and he blinks at them for a moment before fumbling with the key. To say he doesn’t stay in places like this would be vastly understating things. The concierge had looked almost offended when he said he could handle is own bags. He’s a simple guy, not built for a life like this. Ravonna is rambling in his ear as he finally manages to get the door open, but when he steps into the suite he interrupts her without a thought.

“Ravonna, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

It’s huge, of course, and outfitted in Rococo fashion, with a large sitting area, what looks to be an office-slash-library, another sitting room, a bathroom larger than his first apartment, and a bedroom with a massive four-poster bed. One bed. He’s still staring at it when Loki pops up from where he’d been reclining on one of the couches and walks over to him.

“Where’s the bellboy?” he asks, peeking around Mobius’s back as if one might be hiding there. “I was going to send for champagne.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Mobius protests, only half paying attention.

“Mimosas, Mobius. Catch up.”

“Sorry, is that the only bed in here?”

Loki pauses in his route to the room’s telephone and looks back at him, confused. “Of course. Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“One of those blind items about us was definitely leaked by a hotel staff member. The one about separate rooms? We can’t afford those kinds of rumors. Hence.” Loki waves his arm at the bed, then blithely continues on to the phone.

It makes sense of course, they would be sharing a room and a bed if they were really dating, but that doesn’t make it any easier for Mobius to deal with. “I guess there are a lot of couches,” he allows. None of them look like they’ll be great for his back, but it’s only a couple of days.

Loki frowns at him. “You can’t honestly be planning to sleep on a couch, Mobius,” he scoffs. “The bed is plenty big enough for the two of us. Plus, the cleaning staff might notice.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mobius says, biting down on an exasperated sigh. He’s jet lagged, and exhausted, and being reminded of how much of an act this whole thing is frays his last nerve. “It never ends,” he groans.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this,” Loki counters. “It’s not that big of a big deal.”

“Heaven forbid we actually get some moments where we don’t have to be performing, even when we’re alone!”

Loki goes stiff, his mouth narrowing in to a hard line, and Mobius knows he’s made a mistake. “Well. I’m sorry that this is so difficult for you,” he says, his voice cold and calm in the very worst way.

“Now wait a second, it’s not about—” Mobius tries, but Loki cuts him off.

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” he says, then turns swiftly on his heel and marches into it, slamming the door behind him.

Mobius winces. Christ, he mucked this one up good. They’d been getting along so well that it’d been easy to sell that they enjoyed each other’s company, but this certainly isn’t going to help things. This trip was supposed to be a ‘romantic Parisian getaway’ for the two of them. Now it seems like they’ll be testing the limits of their acting ability. Bitterly, he thinks that Loki’s clearly a good enough actor that he shouldn’t have any trouble.

The bathroom door stays firmly shut for a long time, so Mobius the only thing he really he can. He unpacks the clothes that will wrinkle and puts them out to be pressed, pokes around the library for any interesting books—which he discovers must be mostly treated for show, given that they clearly haven’t been opened in quite a long time, and anyway are all in French—he even orders a bottle of champagne sent up, along with some fresh squeezed orange juice for good measure. After a while, when Loki still hasn’t emerged, Mobius hesitantly approaches and knocks softly.

“Loki? You ok?”

At first it doesn’t seem like there will be an answer, but there’s a soft curse, then the door flings open and Loki stares at him blankly. He’s wearing a bathrobe, and his hair is wet.

“Were you showering?” Mobius asks without thinking. It’s not really any of his business.

“I was in the bath,” Loki answers, his voice even. His face his carefully arranged, neither upset nor relaxed, but still, Mobius can’t help but feel like they took three steps backwards. “Did you want the shower?”

“Actually, yeah, if it’s not too much trouble. Planes, you know,” Mobius tries, offering a tentative smile.

“Right, of course,” Loki says with excessive politeness. “It’s all yours.”

“I ordered that champagne you wanted, by the way,” Mobius offers. “Orange juice too. Dunno if there was any other fancy stuff you wanted.”

That seems to take Loki by surprise. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier,” Mobius says in a rush, wanting to get it out before Loki can interrupt him again. “I was just— well, tired from all the travel, and I reacted poorly. You’re right, the bed is huge. And for what it’s worth, this isn’t difficult for me. I mean, spending time with you. I enjoy it.”

Those words have the curious property of being simultaneously entirely too honest and a massive lie, because this has in truth become incredibly difficult for him. Difficult not to give himself away. Difficult to reconcile what they do in public with their actual relationship. Difficult to keep from falling further and further in love with Loki every moment they spend together.

Loki’s expression softens, stuck somewhere between disbelief and relief before one corner of his mouth finally tugs upward. “That’s— well, that’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s the truth, Loki. You’re a great person.”

“That’s not a common opinion, I’m afraid,” Loki says dryly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, they’re wrong,” Mobius insists. “They don’t really know you.”

“And you do?”

Mobius nods confidently. “I do now. And I know I’m lucky to be your… friend,” he finishes, just managing to avoid saying something absurd like boyfriend or partner. They’re friends now, that’s not a stretch to say.

For some reason Loki flinches at that, though, so subtly it’s almost invisible. Then he’s smiling quickly to cover it, falling into his usual teasing tone as he says, “You’re right, you are lucky, Mobius. Two days of basking in my glorious presence. How will you survive?” Barely, Mobius thinks, but he chuckles all the same. “Hey, you wanna go out after this? I’m famished, and we could see some sites?”

“Sure you want to?” Loki asks, his expression sobering a touch. “We could just order room service. I mean, if you want some time off from performing…”

Yup, Mobius is gonna regret saying that for a long time. He can’t explain that it’s easy for him to act like he’s Loki’s boyfriend. That he’s not actually pretending when he ends up giving him smitten looks from across a cafe table. (Mobius has seen the paparazzi photos in the tabloids. Photographic proof of how utterly gone he is, which is all fine because that’s what they want the world to see. People don’t realize that Mobius isn’t that good of an actor. Not this time, anyway.)

Instead, he says, too honest once again, “No, I want to. Do you come to Paris a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Then show me your favorite places, ok?”

“All right,” Loki says, slowly smiling again. A genuine smile this time, pleased, like no one’s ever asked him for something like that before. “It’s a date.”

It is a date, so much a date that Mobius has to remind himself frequently that it’s not real. They eat crêpes at a café, their legs tangling together under the table, then Loki drags him off to obscure museums and tiny yet stunning churches. They stroll through the Tuileries hand-in-hand as Loki eats gelato despite the cold, and Loki leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth as they sit by the Seine. (The thrill Mobius gets at that is severely tempered by the fact that he can see the paparazzi photographing them from across the river. It’s just a photo op. It’s always a photo op.)

It’s dark outside by the time Loki leads him to the catacombs, which Mobius is pretty sure are actually closed. Not that that makes much of a difference when you’re as famous and filthy rich as Loki. What it means, though, is that they have the place to themselves, which is actually pretty creepy considering they’re surrounded by row upon row of stacked human bones.

“Of course this would be one of your favorite places,” Mobius laughs.

Loki scoffs in obviously put-upon offense, pressing one elegant hand to his chest. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How often do you come here?”

“Every time I’m in the city,” Loki admits, grinning at him.

He’d walked a bit ahead, but now he comes back to stand by Mobius’s side as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling near where they’d entered. Mobius is so distracted by their surroundings that he doesn��t notice Loki reaching out until a hand slips into his, linking their fingers together. His head snaps to the side in surprise, but Loki is looking resolutely away.

“There’s no one here, you know,” he ventures, because apparently he can’t let himself have nice things.

“I know,” Loki says. He flashes a quick smile Mobius’s way before turning back to their surroundings. His fingers loosen a bit, as if giving Mobius the chance to pull away, which is of course the last thing Mobius wants to do. He tightens his own grip, and thinks he sees Loki’s lips quirk into a smile before he starts tugging him down a corridor.

Loki talks animatedly as they walk, telling stories about the catacombs that may or may not be factual, but Mobius finds that he doesn’t really care. He spends more time looking at Loki, anyway, at the way that the warm light reflects off the walls and illuminates the cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. Maybe parts of this aren’t real. Maybe Loki isn’t really his, not in the way he wants, but Mobius wasn’t lying when he said he was lucky to call him a friend, and he decides then that he’s going to enjoy the time he does get, no matter how much it hurts in the end.

~~~~~

Torino Film Festival, December

Mobius doesn’t walk the red carpet in Torino; his flight is due to get in late, and Loki is busy with a press event for his movie anyway. He’s due to meet Loki later for some exclusive party, but in the mean time he has work to do; his agent managed to score him a dinner meeting with a director he’s always admired but never dreamed he’d get to work with, and who’s got a new, hush-hush movie entering pre-production soon. He refuses to get his hopes up, but the meeting goes really well, even if it does take an unexpected turn near the end.

“I hear you’re involved with Loki Odinson now,” the director says conversationally.

“Yeah,” Mobius confirms, a little uncomfortably. He’s never sure what to say when people start asking about his personal life, and it’s even more awkward now. “Do you know him?”

“Oh, yes. He was supposed to be in one of my movies a couple of years ago.”

“What happened?”

The director gives him an inscrutable look. “The official reason was scheduling,” he says after a moment. “But we couldn’t insure him.”

Shit, Mobius should have known. A ‘couple of years ago’ was when Loki started sliding off the rails: partying endlessly, walking off sets, publicly picking fights with his golden-boy actor brother. Loki generally doesn’t talk about it, so he knows very little but what was in the press, which is probably half bullshit and anyway definitely not the whole story. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, how much he should know, but in the end he doesn’t really need to say anything.

“You seem good for him,” the director continues. “I always did think he just needed someone to really believe in him. I’m glad he found that.”

“Er, thanks,” Mobius manages, his throat abruptly tight. “I don’t think I have a lot to do with it, though.”

“Come now, Mobius. Don’t you know you’re in the film industry? Never sell yourself short,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

Mobius is still pondering his words while he’s waiting near the entrance to the party for Loki to arrive so they can go in together. He’s running late, of course, so Mobius ends up so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Loki’s approach until the other man is nearly in front of him. When he does, though, his mouth nearly drops open. Loki is wearing what amounts to little more than minuscule black hot pants with a sheer body suit over them, the gossamer fabric spotted with green crystals and black lace that resolves somewhat into snakes and foliage as he gets closer. Very few people could pull something like that off, but Loki is absolutely one of them.

Now Mobius understands the emerald green jacket and black silk shirt Loki had sent him to wear. They actually look like they belong together, complementary but not too matchy-matchy, though Loki still outshines him by several megawatts. Loki smirks at his no doubt stunned expression, reaching up to unbutton several the shirt almost halfway down his chest, then drags his hands down Mobius’s front and leans in close to his ear.

“It’s a party, Mobius,” he murmurs before Mobius can object. “Live a little.”

They’re extensively photographed standing in front of some kind of wall made of dense shrubbery before finally they can go inside. There, at least, there won’t be any press or paparazzi, though still plenty of eyes on them. It should be relatively low pressure, and it is at first; they chat with the other guests, and though Loki knows more people than him, he does run into someone he did a movie with years ago and who he has a nice time catching up with. But then, as the night gets later, Loki insists on dragging him onto the dance floor. Mobius doesn’t dance. It’s just not in his makeup, but there’s no saying no to Loki. That’s what he tells himself, instead of admitting that he’s a complete pushover where this man is concerned.

Mobius does his best to try to move to the beat, which makes Loki laugh at him and grab his hips in an attempt to get him to swing them, or something. It’s definitely not going to work. What’s worse, though, is when Loki gives up and just starts grinding against him. Christ, Mobius doesn’t know where to put his hands, and he knows this isn’t supposed to be a big deal but it’s a lot to have Loki pressed against him like this, and if he keeps it up things are going to get really uncomfortable really fast—

“Need some air,” Mobius gasps, wrenching himself away and stumbling off the dance floor.

He has no idea where he’s going, but he finds an exit into some kind of enclosed courtyard. There are a few people scattered around, mostly smoking, but they pay him no attention as he hurries past them and finds a relatively secluded alcove behind a bush to collapse into. It’s quiet outside and no one disturbs him, which is why he jumps a mile when a hand lands on his shoulder a short time later.

“Mobius?” Loki asks, staring at him in concern. “Are you ok?”

“Oh yeah, fine and dandy,” he lies with an admittedly weak smile. “Just got a little tight in there, is all.”

“We can leave, if you want.”

“Only if you’re ready. I don’t want to cut your night short.”

Loki sighs, and leans against the wall next to him. “These things are never quite as fun when you’re sober.” He shivers almost violently in the winter chill, crossing his arms over his front, which does precisely nothing when you’re wearing as little as he is.

Mobius doesn’t really think, just says, “c’mere,” and pulls him into his arms, wrapping him up against the cold, and Loki tucks himself against him. It’s like New York all over again, except there aren’t a hundred cameras and screaming fans around them. Just them. Just Loki’s face, so close to his. Without planning to, he reaches up and presses a thumb to the side of Loki’s lower lip, and it still feels warm against his finger but he wonders if it would be cold against his mouth.

“Mobius,” Loki whispers.

He doesn’t know which of them moves first, or maybe they both move at once, but those lips are on his again, and it’s nothing like the brief, press-approved pecks that they’ve shared before. Loki tips his head and slots their mouths firmly together, parting his lips, licking past his teeth almost tentatively at first and then with more confidence when their tongues tangle together. They kiss and they kiss until Mobius’s lungs are burning, but he doesn’t dare pull away, doesn’t dare to break the spell. Then Loki shifts in his arms, and the press of their bodies together draws a low groan from his throat that finally makes Loki withdraw. Mobius is prepared for regret, or excuses, or an attempt to laugh it off—anything but how dark his eyes are when they meet Mobius’s.

“We should go,” Loki says, and the low, rough tone of his voice reaches all the way into Mobius’s gut and tugs.

It’s a miracle that they make it back to the right limo, and no sooner has Mobius settled into the back than Loki is climbing directly into his lap. There’s a broad, mischievous grin on his face before he ducks down to kiss a path along the edge of Mobius’s jaw and onward to work a spot below his ear in a way that Mobius is almost certain is going to leave a mark. Christ, it doesn’t matter, though, because it’s so damned good. His hands slide up Loki’s thighs over the lace bodysuit until his thumbs hit the crease of his hips, and when he digs his fingers into the sides of his ass Loki moans and his hips grind forward against the rapidly tightening region of Mobius’s pants.

“You want me,” Loki murmurs near his ear, punctuating it with a little nip to the taut muscle of his neck before he sits back with a teasing smile.

“Of course I do, you absolute demon,” Mobius groans. “Look at you.” He plucks at the lace. “This isn’t clothes. I swear you’ve been trying to drive me insane.”

“Is it working?” Loki asks, bending down close to the side of his face again.

“What do you think?” Mobius growls, then captures his mouth in another bruising kiss.

Getting up to the hotel room is a fucking trial, mostly because Loki refuses to detach himself from Mobius. Thank god there’s a discreet, private entrance to the hotel and an elevator that takes them nearly directly up to their suite. Somehow Loki manages to shed the bodysuit almost instantly—Mobius doesn’t even understand how it was fastened—leaving him in just the skin-tight booty shorts, and Mobius short-circuits briefly at the sight of all that bare skin. Then there’s the way his half-hard cock is straining against the fabric, which sends a jolt of white-hot desire surging deep into Mobius’s gut. Loki turns and walks toward the bedroom, swinging his hips in a way that should be illegal, and by the time Mobius manages to scramble after him he finds Loki perched on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his hands.

“Come here,” he says, his voice nearly a purr, and Mobius’s feet obey before he even registers the request.

He stands between Loki’s spread legs as the other man looks up at him through long eyelashes thick with mascara, and feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmurs, letting his fingers trail lightly across Loki’s cheek. It seems impossible, but there’s no mistaking the hungry look Loki is giving him.

“Why not?” Loki asks, one perfect eyebrow arcing upward. “You want me. I want you. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Right. It doesn’t have to mean anything, he might have well said. Which is true. It doesn’t have to. It can just be two people finding pleasure in each other’s company. Friends with benefits are a thing. Not a thing that Mobius has ever done, but a thing nonetheless. Loki is offering everything he wanted (not everything), everything he never thought he’d get (not even close).

Why not, indeed?

After all, it’s simple enough to lean down to kiss him in answer, to let Loki’s nimble fingers efficiently divest him of his shirt and trousers. It’s simple to lose himself in the eager slide of hands and the slick heat of Loki’s mouth; so very simple to push him backward into the bed and take him apart with mouth and fingers until he’s begging, to press inside him and surrender to the pleasure that floods through his body and overwhelms all of his senses.

What’s not simple is how he feels afterward, when Loki sprawls sleepily across his chest and tangles their legs together under the covers. When they spend all night like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms. When, the next morning, Loki acts like absolutely nothing has changed, like he hasn’t just completely upended Mobius’s life.

Mobius lays in the bed for a while, just watching as Loki blithely prattles on about their schedule for the day while he rifles through his wardrobe, and then he knows: it’s going to be fucking complicated.

~~~~~

Hollywood, California, New Year’s Eve

Mobius doesn’t know what he was expecting after Loki texts him and tells him to come over early before the party, that he should bring his suit and get ready at his place, but it wasn’t for Loki to drag him inside by the collar and press him against the wall by the door. Certainly he wasn’t expecting to be kissed breathless, or for Loki to lean in close and whisper, “Will you fuck me before we go tonight?”

They’ve slept with each other a few times since Italy. Usually after one of their scheduled appearances—which Loki now fills with suggestive innuendos and hidden, risqué touches because apparently his new goal in life is to make Mobius’s life as difficult as possible—but once Loki showed up at his house in L.A. in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a silk robe and a wicked grin. Sex with Loki is frequently playful and teasing, sometimes tender (Mobius tries not to think to hard about those moments), always mind-blowing, but it’s never been like this. Desperate. He doesn’t know what to do with that, but he also doesn’t know how to say no to Loki, so he nods and lets himself be dragged off toward the bedroom.

For someone who’s main goal seemed to be sex, Loki is surprisingly fully dressed in black slacks and a plain white button-down, as if his unexpected request was a last minute decision. He allows Mobius the handful of seconds it takes him to hang up his suit for tonight on an empty hook in the closet before he pounces, pulling him into another bruising kiss as his hands drop to Mobius’s belt. It’s overwhelming, frankly, but not so overwhelming that he doesn’t feel Loki’s hands tremble as they fumble with the buckle, and that yanks him firmly out of the hazy, lust-fueled fantasy.

“Hey, hold on a second,” Mobius says as he traps Loki’s hands with his own. “What’s going on with you?”

Loki actually whines in frustration, trying ineffectually to tug out of Mobius’s grip before fixing him with a scathing glare. “Nothing. I’m fine,” he growls. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Actually, no. Not if you don’t tell me what’s gotten into you,” Mobius tells him flatly, punctuating it with an unimpressed look that makes him turn his face away. “This isn’t like you, Loki.”

“How would you know what’s like me?” Loki snaps, finally yanking his hands out of Mobius’s grasp and storming across the room. “A few months and you’re an expert now?”

“I think I know you pretty well, yeah,” Mobius counters, “and I know when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Loki hisses in a way that does nothing to sell that assertion. “I’m just tense about tonight and need something to take the edge off. If you’re not interested, I’m sure I can find someone else.”

Mobius can’t quite suppress a wince, but he summons what mettle he can and stares defiantly back at Loki. “Sorry, not buying it.”

The look Loki gives him is pure ice. “You think I can’t? That I couldn’t call up any number of people and have them here at a snap of my fingers?”

“Oh no, I believe that part,” Mobius says with a humorless chuckle and an utterly mirthless smile. He makes himself stroll casually over to where Loki stands, getting into his space again. “I’m sure you could get just about anyone. I don’t think you will, though, because you won’t violate the agreement.”

The agreement—worked out between Loki’s people and Mobius’s people, and which they had precisely no say over—specified that neither of them would sleep with other people for the duration, no matter how discreet they thought they could be, because the potential for a leak was just too great. For Mobius, it certainly wasn’t going to be a problem. He didn’t fool himself that it would be the same for Loki. After Torino he’d written the sex off as a fluke, a moment of madness on Loki’s part perhaps, but when it kept happening he figured that the only reason Loki was sleeping with him now was because he couldn’t have anyone else. It made more sense than the alternative, that Loki actually wants him, of all people.

Loki stares at him for a long moment, his eyes dipping to Mobius’s lips in a way that seems almost involuntarily before he drags them back up again. When he speaks again his voice is so low it’s nearly a murmur. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

“Because I know you, Loki,” Mobius answers, just as quietly. “Maybe you are tense about tonight, but that’s not all of it. So I’m gonna ask again: what’s going on?”

Another beat. Loki looks off across the room, biting his lower lip so fiercely Mobius thinks he’s going to draw blood, and when he finally turns back he looks… shattered. “Tonight’s your final obligation,” he says, his voice unsteady. “Must be a relief.”

“…What?”

He swallows and sniffs, tipping his chin up in a weak pantomime of indifference. “No more performing. You won’t have to pretend any longer.”

Mobius can’t help it: he laughs. He doesn’t mean to, especially since Loki’s clearly upset about this in some way that he can’t quite figure out, but the whole thing is just absurd.

Predictably, Loki looks taken aback at this response. “What’s so funny?”

“Loki, I haven’t been pretending for months,” Mobius sighs. At this point, it seems silly to hold anything back. He might as well know. “I’m in love with you. So if you think tonight is going to be a relief, well. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

In all the ways he might have pictured Loki reacting to such news, he never expected him to look utterly baffled. “But…” Loki trails off, searching Mobius’s face; for what, Mobius doesn’t know. “You can’t be.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Mobius says, smiling a little miserably. Loki’s just staring with his mouth hanging open, so he forges on. “Look, I know you didn’t want things to be complicated, and this is the exact opposite. I never wanted to put you in this position—”

The rest of whatever he was going to say is cut off when Loki kisses him again, and there’s some desperation in it, sure, but not in the same way. Not even close. Loki’s hands are holding either side of his face, long fingers digging into his hair, his kisses slow, deep, and utterly all-encompassing. Mobius has never been kissed like this, with such focus and care, with such pure emotion poured into it and leaking out with every gasped breath. Even when Loki finally breaks the kiss he presses their foreheads together, like he can’t bear any further space between them.

“Please, complicate it,” he breathes into the narrow gap, shifting his head slightly so their noses brush together.

“Does that mean…?” Mobius trails off, because it kinda feels like a stupid question, but still. He’d like to be sure.

Loki pulls back so he can look him in the eye as he says, “I’m in love with you, Mobius. I just never thought…” He glances down and gives his head a little shake. “You’re one of the few genuinely good people in this business, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey, no. None of that,” Mobius says, cupping a hand around Loki’s cheek and urging his face upward again. “I won’t have you talking badly about the person I love,” he teases gently.

“Mobius,” Loki groans as he rolls his eyes.

“You are good, Loki,” Mobius insists, his expression sobering. “You are.”

He honestly expects more arguing, but Loki just looks off across the room, the corners of his eyebrows thoughtfully quirking upward in the middle. “I wanted it to be real,” he says quietly. “But the further things went, the more I convinced myself it never could be. That you’d never… never really feel that way about me. Even now, I feel as if this is some kind of fever dream. I’m going to wake up tomorrow and you’ll be gone.”

“I won’t be,” Mobius promises, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. “Is that what this was all about? One last hurrah before the end?”

“Something like that,” Loki admits wryly. Perfect white teeth dig into his lower lip as he slowly drags it through them. “I wanted it to be hard and rough. I wanted to feel you for days afterward.”

“Jesus Loki,” Mobius huffs, gaping at him in disbelief. He swallows hard, unsure of how to respond to that. “And now? What do you want?”

Loki lifts a hand to Mobius’s face, dragging a finger lightly along his hairline and down to the crest of his cheekbone. “Just you,” he murmurs. “In whatever way you’ll have me.”

How about that? It turns out that it is simple, after all.

[sillyroundkatie]

Who the hell is this spiky beast?? (OC info under the cut!)

(Monster)mance Zwanziger : Form "Fuckhands McMance" | She/Her | Butch Lesbian | Mutated Monster | Pretty ageless | 375 cm / 12'4" | German  One of the many monstrous, mutated forms of Armance Zwanziger. The first monstrous form Mance ever managed was this hulking, armoured creature. With her hands transformed into huge claws for hooking, catching and goring, she has instead developed many long appendages that she can use instead of her hands to handle and grab things around her (such as say, fleeing enemies). The end of her heavily armoured tail opens up to reveal more of these tongues should she need them. The main intent of this form is to ensnare enemies from afar with her tongues, then pull them in to attack with her spikes and huge hand claws.

She retains her intelligence in her monster forms, but loses some of her impulse control, probably from sheer euphoria at being a monster. Originally called just "Monstermance", since she's developed her ability to turn into various other more specialised forms, this form has been termed "Fuckhands McMance" to distinguish it from the others, named after how badly her claw hands will fuck you up when she gets you with them. Despite the violent capabilities of being so monstrous, Armance is very fond of her monster abilities, and actively enjoys and is happy to take this form. That's why she's smiling!! Common activities/hobbies: Whilst her intended activities are to act as a beast of war (and she is), Monstermance is also a creature of simple pleasures, and wants affection and attention. Much like in her human form, she's often sniffing around Sera and Wolf when Clayton gets fed up of her. Setting: Lives in modern day Canada working at a very high tech and secretive laboratory. Clothing style: Monstermance DETESTS clothes, especially pants. It's very common for Armance to take off her pants before transformation so they don't get ruined, but for Monstermance to end up shredding them anyway out of spite. You can draw them with:

Clayton (boss and partner) - Clayton is very mean, but Armance is okay with that. Despite Clayton's cold and aloof personality, Armance is absolutely her type and Monstermance is even MORE so her type. So she's willing to put up with a lot.

Sera (girlfriend, colleague) - Sera is freaked out by Fuckhands McMance's hands especially, but she finds the rest of her quite cute, and she likes how cuddly she is (even if she has to be very careful about the spikes).

Wolf (sort of not really girlfriend) - Wolf views Monstermance equally as a cosmic horror and as a big dog, and she isn't really sure how to reconcile the two. 

Additional stuff to keep in mind:  She is still mute in this form! She stands hunched over, and with her tail held off the floor, and sort of curled back - but she is capable of standing up straight and unfurling her tail to its full length, if she wanted. Some random trivia: 

She has no teeth at the very front.

She does not have nipples.

She is still very smiley.

Her most prized possession is a big plushie of the Alien xenomorph, called Siggy.

All of Armance's monster forms look a liiiiiiittle bit like an established property's monster if you squint. This one has.... deathly claws... Further information and images etc can be found at the Toyhouse page (for all of her forms atm) at the link below!: Armance's Toyhouse!

[stevethehairington]

💫🌈 for the writers ask game

hiiiii ty for the ask!!

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

you can find the answer to this one here!

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

ooh hm. i think i have to go with to my heart i must be true for this one.

just, the whole entire concept of steve having to like. show interest in and try to flirt with someone who isn't eddie was actually SO difficult to write. like, it's funny because originally i was actually going to write a scene of steve and this girl flirting, but i was like actually i can't flirt for shit so no i'm glossing over that instead. and also i was like would people even WANT to read him flirting with someone other than eddie? like steddie is endgame here, obviously, but is that something people would even want to see? and i decided in the end that no, probably not. so i just Did Not go into detailed flirting with those scenes and left that up to everyone's imagination on how that went lol.

i did also struggle a bit with steve's realization in this one. because like he had to be Oblivious about his feelings for eddie despite all the OBVIOUS signs he was exhibiting, and striking that balance was challenging to do. and also his Realization had to crash into him like a god damn freight train, but i didn't want it to feel like it happened too fast? so like trying to find that balance there and do it well was tricky. especially since i was on a time crunch to finish this fic haha. if i had more time i think i could have been a liiiiiiittle more nuanced with it. but like i'm happy with how it turned out in the end, so things worked out!

let's get REAL - fic writer asks

[hababa]

have been wrangling with anxiety and uncertainty and self-rejection around top surgery for the last few months but feel like i'm digesting these fears day by day and getting a bit more clear-headed about my decision. long elaboration to no one under the cut

im like 70% certain that i'm going to go through with double incision that i have scheduled for february 2024. sometimes i feel like i should wait a bit longer until i can afford or access non-flat/inverted T anchor/radical reduction (not worried about preserving nipple sensation but don't want to be unproportionately flat to my tummy and hips. god im so jealous of cis men and their stupid sexy little man boobs. i want just a liiiiiiittle fat left there, just enough to still look male). my surgeon said he would leave a little bit of tissue there but his other results i've seen online seem to be really flat, like prepubescent cis boy levels of flat, and i dont think that will match my body well cause i'm not skinny. there doesnt really seem to be a lot of surgeons that can do non-flat top surgery for NB folk around the UK/europe and i dont want to wait three or four more years before i can afford it in america or access it with nthanos, the idea of having boobs like this another few years sounds like hell. especially considering i would be giving up the option to have DI in the next few months (i anticipate if i cancel i will feel very depressed afterwards), and especially the more my body masculinises on testo. im also worried about my breasts growing bigger than i want which they might do w methods that preserve the nipple stalk - they won't with DI. compared to the pre-op chests i've seen of people who got inverted T, my boobs are really big and saggy so i also worry that if i do get to that point where I can access inverted T they won't be able to operate on my big fat fucking boobies lol. my nipples are super low down so idk if they'll even be able to preserve the stalks and achieve a masculine chest. idk idk.

i'm able to name now that i'm reckoning with a fear of losing control. i can't control the chest that my surgeon will construct while i'm under anaesthesia. i can't control how my body will look post-op (though i can imagine and suggest to him what I want), can't control if i'll like my new figure (though i can estimate that my self-image will improve overall? it'll be a huge adjustment...). i can't control if 10 years down the line i will have regretted transitioning (and my inner transphobe has a lot to say about that..) . it feels really frightening at times. the way i see myself and others see me is going to change permanently. i worry of my dysphoria travelling south to my hips and bum once the attention is away from my boobs. my fear speaks with the tongue of a facist and tells me that my body is going to look weird and ugly. and when i'm tired and i havent taken deep breathes for a while, it just goes on and on and on and on like that...

i think strangely i'm still a little in denial about being trans. i've been having trans feelings and gender dysphoria since i was like 16 (8 years wtf!!!) and even though it ebbs and flows - some days i can leave the house braless in a t shirt and ignore the dysphoria, some days i can't even look at my chest without wanting to rip them right off me - it's always there. denying it or feeling it deeply, i am having a very trans experience of life rn. i only started tangibly transitioning a few months ago this year w starting testo, changing my name and coming out. i've spent so much time denying and suppressing my transness because i was afraid about what other people thought of me. makes sense to me that i have internalised that ignorant, judgemental voice. it served to protect me for a long time, to tell myself "don't bother, you'll be a freak, you're not trans youre traumatised / mentally ill, you're throwing your life away, people will judge you, you will not be safe."

if i take a moment to distract myself, not think about it, relax, then come back to it, contextualise it, and ground these worries back down to reality, i feel more certain in wanting top surgery. i wore a binder for the first time in a while today (i can't bind very often because of neck/shoulder/back pain - a motive in itself for surgery) and was reminded that i really like how my figure looks flat, and that i can't get flat enough from binding. i tried living as a masculine woman for a long time and it felt like part of me was withering away in secret. though i can't really picture what i'll look like in the future (an... androgynous, dykeish, effeminate man? lol), the idea that these boobs will stay on my body until the day i die does feel unreal to me, makes me feel sad and frantic like i've got to get out of my body. once i get top surgery i think i'll be able to experiment with my style more because i won't have to exclusively wear dark colours to hide the shape of my chest. i'll be able to work out with more ease. my back pain and posture will improve. i wont have to be in this constant compromise between wanting to feel masc/good but having to deal with my huge boobies. i'll hope i'll feel more confident in my masculinity. i won't have to wear uncomfortable shit on my chest once i'm healed up. i think it'll take me some time to adjust to my new silhouette and i think i will feel a bit dysmorphic about the shape of my body BUT. i have spent a lot of time looking at other trans men/mascs top surgery results and i don't judge them nearly as hard as i judge myself - it gives me hope that i can become okay with looking trans. i like seeing the effect T has on me (minus the acne and the hair thinning lol), and often i'm attracted to other trans people FOR their transness. ultimately it helps me best to ask myself what i want, and right now I want to learn how to stop comparing myself to cis people and put more attention into celebrating trans bodies in all their delightful wonkiness. i have hope i can get to a neutral point with my body rather than scrutinising myself for not looking cis.

[theflyingchair-mhj]

me, googling the ending of a show/movie i’m watching after noticing that one of my faves is starting to have it a just a liiiiiiittle bit too rough (especially if they’re bad with a sad backstory/morally grey):

*puts on reading glasses* ok now what’s it say here, let’s see…

article: “…[CHARACTER I LIKE] ends up dying (/going to jail/suffering somehow), but perhaps they deserve it. this goes to show…”

me:

…

…

…

*sigh of someone who is at their fucking limit and is starting to lose their patience* *opens laptop and pulls up google docs*

*cracks knuckles*

[mypoisonedvine]

ever since something in the way ... i've been thinking about bruce/batman and very specifically dry humping while he's in the suit and making him make a mess in the suit and then not letting him clean himself up so he has to go home with the stickiness still on him ... just that small amount of humiliation and power exchange

(okay just a liiiiiiittle smutty drabble because I also like this idea... warning obviously for smut, subby bruce, established relationship and bruce having a praise kink lol)

Bruce gets really, really quiet in times like this. He knows if he opens his mouth, every pathetic moan and beg will spill out. So, he stays quiet and just tries (and fails) to regulate his breathing as you rock your hips on top of him.

You smirk when you feel his gloved hands grip your waist tighter. "Oh, does that feel good?" you ask even though you know he won't answer. You don't need him to-- you can feel his cock throbbing even through the thick suit so it pretty much speaks for itself. But, you decide you need to make him say something or he won't say anything at all. "If it doesn't, I can stop," you offer, beginning to get up off his lap, but he pulls you back down.

"N-no," he chokes, "keep going..."

You smile and brace yourself on his broad, armored shoulders as you start to move again; it feels good, and you let yourself show it by dropping your head back and moaning softly. You know he likes a show, and you're happy to give him one if it makes him that much more desperate. "Touch me," you beg breathlessly, moving one of his hands up to your chest which he squeezes gently through your shirt.

"Let me see you," he pleads, though his tone is flat like it's a demand-- and when he starts to lift your shirt, you slap his hand away.

"You don't need to see," you insist, "feeling is enough."

"Fuck, please," he sighs, and you offer a compromise by pulling off his glove for him and sliding his bare hand under your shirt-- so he can feel everything, properly. It seems to get the job done, because when he gropes your breast in his warm palm, he gasps a little and pushes his hips up against you.

"Good boy," you purr, and he comes undone just like that; his head falls back with a groan and you feel him bucking up into you. "Fuck, Bruce, are you coming in your suit?" you taunt, laughing when he simply whines in response. "Right now? Oh, baby..."

He grunts one last time as you feel him start to relax beneath you, his grip on your chest and waist faltering, and you smile proudly.

"You made a bit of a mess, huh?" you ask, and he nods. "In your fancy suit?"

He nods again. "Yeah..." he admits shyly, almost defeatedly. Poor thing. He looks so cute when he's ashamed like this, it just makes you want to humiliate him further.

"Well, this was fun," you announce as you get up and make sure your shirt is pulled down again, and he looks up at you with widening eyes.

"Wait, but--"

"I don't think you're gonna be able to get Alfred to wash that out, you'll have to do it yourself," you chuckled, turning to walk away.

"Y-you're really leaving?" he realizes.

"Yeah, I've got work to do," you explain, looking back over your shoulder. "So do you. So you might wanna get cleaned up before you hit the streets again, vengeance."

[ms0milk]

in disbelief at your own happiness

| ft Tengen, Giyuu, and Levi

a/n: thx for the request anon! had to get a liiiiiiittle creative for this one

Tengen

*this* fucking guy

is so used to blowing people’s minds

blowing his wifes’ minds

not like that stop

he prioritizes his loved ones’ safety over his own

because their happiness truly is his happiness

even though he can be such an unbelievable dick

and that’s exactly what happened one night in the bath

Tengen sat you between his legs, both hands smoothing a hot washcloth over your back. Up and down. He pressed softly between your shoulder blades and along your spine after an exhausting mission. He was only washing your back. You’d just washed his. Why were there tears in your eyes?

“Oi, what’s with the waterworks?”

Of course he noticed before you had.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, turned around to look at him, to smile and show him you were fine, but instead when you turned around and saw those sleepy fuschia eyes, more and more tears rolled out of your’s.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he wiped at your face with the washcloth, “C’mon it’s too late to be so flashy, are you hurt?”

You shook your head again and reached for his hand to stop him drying your eyes. “Thank you for washing my back.”

“That’s my job sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me.”

Your face crinkled up at this and you sank into his open, but surprised, arms. No one had ever taken the time to care for you so gently, let alone someone as wonderful as Tengen.

“Thank you for loving me.”

“That’s my favorite job, Y/n! I beat out every other schmuck in the world just so I could have you for myself.”

Giyuu

he is not well liked among his peers

gloomy

quiet

the respect he gets is due mostly to his incredible sword skills

and his lively s/o!

it’s honestly mostly you

the Hashira adore you

you defend him against the pillars in bouts of teasing and you bring the cutest party snacks

you’re nowhere near as sullen as he is

and he is absolutely head over heels in love with you

he might not be the most expressive lover

but he brings you all kinds of gifts and trinkets from missions

when he stays over at your house, he likes to get the housework done before you wake up so that your days are carefree

this morning he’s come home early from a mission

in one piece thank god

You dropped your laundry basket when the glint of Giyuu’s scabbard caught your eye across the yard.

“Tomioka?” You murmured and slowly, then too quickly to balance properly, raced towards him. Bare feet. Morning breeze. You enveloped him in a hug and he leaned into you, both hands on the small of your back. “Welcome home.”

It was your home, technically. Not his. Your family home. And while you lived here all alone after your parents passed, your family name was the one engraved on the gate. You’d welcomed him home a million times, but this time, holding you on a summer morning, he didn’t want to let go ever again. He wanted to melt into you forever. Your bright eyes, your loud smile. He knew you didn’t need it but he’d protect you from anything. He wanted to keep his sunshine smiling forever. In their home. In a house they shared.

“Tomi..oka?”

“Mm,” He nestled his head into the crook of your neck and wrapped you up tighter, “I’m home.”

Giyuu was a quiet guy. Not sad, not angry, just hushed. Loyal, brave, soft spoken. A little dense. And right now he was pretending like his tears weren’t melting into the fabric of your apron.

“I’ve never had happiness like you.”

How’d you get him? How’d you get so lucky? How’d you find the one person in the world able to handle your joy, your grief, your anger, your fear?

“Where’d you come from Tomioka?” You murmured and tucked your own face against his collarbone.

“A nest of demons.”

“That’s not.. nevermind.”

Levi

we got another gloomy one

infinitely more respect tho

and infinitely more anger issues

he met you while you were working as Pixis’s assistant

the commander wasn’t disorganized but he was a bit of a loose cannon

and a drinker

the way you kept his schedule from crumbling apart literally melted Levi’s soul through his boots

and the way your uniform jacket was always somehow without wrinkles

deceased

you had so many meetings and papers and calls and supply orders to complete, practically every day

gracefully might i add

that Levi liked to just be in the same room with you when he got the chance

both of you being in such high demand

“It’s hot,” Levi murmured and placed a delicate teacup on the saucer in front of you. You nodded, half-listening. Scribbling, munching, tapping impatiently, waiting for the merchant values on the sheet in front of you to graph themselves.

You reached without looking, for the rim of your teacup, the way Levi always held his, and recoiled at the burn, “Ow!”

“I told you.”

“Don’t worry I’m okay.” You rolled your eyes and gave up on tea, nursing two of your burnt fingers in your mouth as you worked. The clock ticked on the wall of your office. Your hand hurt. And then something cold.

Levi stood without making much noise and sat on the edge of your desk, “Come here.” He tugged your hand from your face and wrapped it in his damp handkerchief. You drew your eyes away from the scribbles for a second.

“Listen to me next time,” he huffed, “I don’t like you getting hurt.”

He’d gotten his handkerchief wet for you. He’d been sitting in here with you for god knows how long, and you hadn’t even realized the plate of biscuits you were crunching had appeared out of thin air. That your glass of water was always full. Every time you looked up over your desk, Levi looked back at you, over the top of a book.

That wasn’t even a particularly kind thing to say and still big dumb tears welled up in your eyes and hung there.

“Y/n, are–”

“Levi, thank you.”

He shook his head slightly, like you’d caught him off guard, and squeezed your hand. His face fell back to his normal little scowl but you knew the red climbing from his neck to the tips of his ears meant that he was happy. So happy he couldn’t contain it with grumpiness.

“Tch, don’t thank me. Finish your work so we can get dinner. Hange's gonna be so clingy if we're late again."

[lavishedinjimin]

hi! can u do one with yoongi/jungkook where they take their innocent small (size kink) s/o's virginity who's never masturbated before pls? thank u angel <3

this is a liiiiiiittle bit different than the request but I hope you’ll still enjoy! :) 

~ 

“Let me see what you know,” Yoongi says, kneeling in between your spread legs, your pussy all out displayed for him. You were still trying to catch your breath after he had just finished eating you out, leaving your pussy wet and throbbing for more.  

His light brown hair, all shaggy and messy, curtains his forehead as he gazes at you with stary eyes. With big, warm hands, he softly caresses your inner thighs to comfort you.

You gulp, and he notices this.

“Aw, c’mon darling,” he chuckles, “put your hand in your pussy. Play with yourself for me.”

Despite the blush that forms your cheeks, you bring your hand down. You look everywhere, on the walls, the ceiling, the curtains – anywhere aside from his eyes.

Without saying anything else, he hovers on top of you. “Darling,” he assures you with a loving smile and replaces your hand with his. “Like this…”

Your body twitches when his fingers land on your soaked folds. Slowly, he traces your slicks with nimble fingers while he closely studies your reactions. He loves the way your body responds to such small touches. He was barely applying pressure and you were already writhing for him.

He traps your smaller body with his limbs. “Bring your fingers up to your clit… nuh-ah, look at me.”

Yoongi makes you look at him by placing a gentle finger below your chin, “Look. At. Me.”

His heart flutters as he sees your bright eyes, still appearing so chaste despite the lewdness of the current scenario. “There we go. I love your eyes, Y/n. You don’t have to be shy. Let me handle you, okay? Let me take care of you.”

Your boyfriend takes his time to please you, rubbing your clit with slow and sensual circles that makes your heart beat faster. He moans quietly, seeing that your entrance was already dripping in your sweet arousal. Yoongi clenches his jaw, savoring the way you look right now. He was enthralled by your sounds, your expressions, and your movements.

“Fuck, darling. I’m gonna put my finger in, alright? Tell me if it hurts, I’ll go slow for you.”

And so he does. You whimper in delight when he inserts his long, slender middle finger in you. He puffs out a breath, smirking to himself from the adorable moan you just did. He pushes his digit in and out, watching your body quiver.

“That feels so good,” bucking your hips up for more, you feel a weird fullness in your lower stomach.

“Mhm? It does?” You nod as a reply. “Yes it does, huh? Let me add another one, then.”

Yoongi stretches your walls out after inserting another finger in, pumping them in and out slowly and carefully. His digits suddenly hit a sweet, sensitive spot inside you as he creates repetitive ‘come hither’ motions.

“Aaaah, right t-there! Oh my God, Yoongi!” you squeal, feeling him pump his fingers faster and rubbing your walls firmer.

“You feel that, babe? That sponge-like, bumpy texture? That’s your g-spot, darling. It’s sensitive, isn’t it? Little one?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, eyes getting heavier, wanting to shut them off because of the new and irresistible sensations.

“Later on, I’m gonna fill you up with my cock. Make that tight pussy filled with my big dick.” You moan out loud unconsciously, turned on from his dirty words that you never thought you’d hear from him. “I might have to destroy your cute cunt, princess. I want to see your body try to take my cock. I bet you can’t even take half of it,” he laughs endearingly, the corners of his eyes creasing. “I want you to feel good, darling. Just let me handle you tonight, you just have to relax and enjoy yourself, that’s all you have to do. Let me be in charge.”

[ybcpatrick]

i'm watching the actual ybc now and i think i just figured out how to rationalize andy making out w the informant in death valley and make it fit with the au hold the fuck up

like andy's main fear™ that ties into the central theme is losing his friends and therefore being alone, especially after everything that happens here (and some of it, at that point, hasn't even happened yet so holy shit). so like. poor andy in this au has been in love w joe for years, hasn't told him, just saw him DEAD, having been murdered by their BEST FRIEND? so if andy THINKS ABT IT that's two of his friends fuckin gone. one of whom he was in love with.

trauma is a hell of a drug, i'm sure that in that moment? with one friend left, knowing they need to go kill patrick + infiltrate the STN warehouse, knowing it's basically a suicide mission.... he'd probably be a liiiiiiittle bit desperate for some sort of connection there. like, tricking himself into believing he's not like. alone in the end. he's trying to like.... convince himself that when if he dies when they go in there, there's someone left who remembers and loves him, he's not alone in the world. is this making sense at all ajskdhskgjskfh

basically the reason andy makes out w a random woman in death valley (aside from the irl fact that he's andy hurley and lives in pussytown usa population him) is because it's his last ditch attempt at convincing himself he isn't entirely alone and there's someone out there who cares.

and then he dies alone when he's in the warehouse anyway.

not even pete is with him.

he's gone after patrick, who's already lost.

and joe, who he never told the truth to, is already dead.

it's just him. :)