#and they made a point in saying that he didn’t remember so I thought they would explain it more

[dumblilb]

I Could Be Enough

Vi x Fem!Reader

(Synopsis: They weren’t super close as children, but running around in the same crowd kept them in the know of each other. But years later she might be all Vi’s got left.)

(Warnings: drunk!vi, alcohol, mentions of physical violence ‘ not towards reader’, it’s mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, no mentions of physical attributes, just she/her pronouns, not proof read)

(Requested: yes)

(Words: 1,585)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚☆ 。

You don’t even know how it got to this point. Sitting at the booth in a gross, sticky, and dark club, watching over a girl you didn’t think you would ever see again. And maybe you were right. Cause she’s not the same girl you remember running around the streets of the under city as a child. The one who always had a bright look in her eyes as she tried so hard to live up to her father’s name, and keep her siblings safe.

But one thing was the same behind those, now dark and sad, slate grey eyes. She was a fighter. In the most literal sense. She couldn’t keep her fist off a jaw if she tried. Night after night she would cover her distinct tattoos and red hair with dark paint. Disguising herself from the public who claimed her strength as a prize. Or maybe even hiding from herself. She wasn’t to sure anymore.

But as the nights carried on the paint got messier and the drinks were getting stronger. And it was hard to watch. But here you were. Watching. So hard you thought your eyes might bleed from all the strobing lights and smoke filling the air. Any other night you might have gone to bed. Ignored the aching feeling you had, and left her to party the rest of the night away. But you couldn’t. Because there she was also watching you. As she sloppily got up with a bottle in her hand and started to walk towards the exit, the urge to follow consumed you. Because you knew she wanted you too. She was practically begging. And so you did. Meeting her by the stairs leading to her small apartment.

“Thank god you came, I thought I was gonna have to drink all alone tonight.” She slurred and you sighed resting your hip against the wall, propping yourself up.

“What would you do without me.” You smiled at her. Trying not to be angry with how fucked up she sounds. Slyly taking the bottle from her and helping her steady by the waist you walk her home.

“You know you’re so pretty when you’re mad at me.” She sighs as you push her door open. You just roll your eyes. She’s been doing this for months. Ever since her first pit match. You were hired as a sort of nurse for the ring. Patching up the people who were getting their shit rocked, and the people doing the punching. Making sure they were healed enough for their next match. And the second you saw her step in that ring you knew it was her. Sure she looked a little different. But her deep upper cut. You could never forget that.

So you causally brought up growing up in the lanes while bandaging her fists that day. How you were pretty shy but always friendly with a boy named Ekko. And he had introduced you to his friends a few times. You could tell she remembered you. But she didn’t say anything. Which was okay. You could tell she didn’t really want to be known at that point. But as time went on she spent more time talking to you after matches. Sitting at the bar just trying to figure out how life got both of you here.

But she also found alcohol along the way. And that concerned you. She would always assure you she was fine. And you chose to believe her. Even though it sometimes seemed she would look right through you. Like she wished something else was there.

But even before the alcohol, the casual flirting was always there. Comments about how attractive you looked and how nice you were to her compared to the other fighters. Claiming you made her feel ‘so special’ and not just because it was coming from a beautiful girl like you.

So as you sit her down on her small bed and pull out some supplies to remove her makeup you can’t help but shake your head at her.

“Your dumb fake flirting isn’t going to get you out of this one vi. You’re a mess.” You sigh pushing her hair back with one hand, removing her makeup with the other.

“It’s not fake and you know it.” She rolls her eyes. “I want you. Please.” She says griping the hand with the cloth in it. Rubbing her thumb across your knuckles softly. The difference between her ruff scared hands and yours now glaringly apparent.

“You’re drunk and exhausted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bit of a concussion after today’s match. I haven’t seen you get hit that hard in a while.” You say ignoring her advances. As you’ve done before.

“I’m fine. You know I’m fine.” She reassures you. But the wavering of her eyes says otherwise.

“I know you think you’re fine-“ you remove your hand from hers and finish wiping her face. “But I see you, Vi. And this isn’t fine.” You say pointing from the bottle resting on her little table to her bruised fists.

She groans tossing her head back. And you gear up ready for a fight about how you don’t know what you’re talking about. But she rubs her eyes a little, her breath slowly becoming unsteady.

“You’re right I’m sorry.” She breathes out looking at you. The small bit of light roaming the room makes the wateriness of her eyes sparkle. “God I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do.” She cries.

You don’t even know how to respond. She’s never really cried in front of you before. She’s always been so tuff. But as she sits before you, even her toned and muscular body couldn’t make her look strong.

“I’m so lonely. All I have at this point is you. And you don’t even want me.” She continues and your face softens. Kneeling down in front of her you softly stroke her hair, pulling her in for a hug. She cautiously wraps her arms around you. Like just her touch might scare you away.

“You have me. You do. I think you have for a while now. I just didn’t think you were serious.” You reassure her. Her head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and you can hear her breathing steady slightly.

“I’m always serious about you.” She says softly, it being a bit muffled by her position. She pulls away from the hug, resting her forehead to yours. “Can you stay please. I don’t want to be alone.” She asks quietly. Her warm breath hitting your lips.

“I’ll stay.” You grin and she moves to get up and grab a blanket. You help get her ready to lay down, removing her thick boots and setting aside the dirty cloth.

She props the blanket in your lap and she lays down. At first you just smile at how dainty she looks compared to how you usually see her. But her strong arm pulling you down next to her snaps you out of it pretty quickly.

Pulling the blanket over you both, you run your fingers through her hair. Analyzing her face one feature at a time. Her eyes seem a little more blue in this lighting. And you can finally see the small freckles adorning her skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me.” She asks with a soft laugh. “Cause it’s working.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas. That’s not happening. At least not tonight.” You say and you could have sworn her cheeks got a little pink.

“Well then you’ve got to stop staring at me like that… At least not tonight.” She jokes rolling over. Making you smile.

With her back to you, you place an arm around her waist holding her firm. You could feel her body stiffen and you try to remove your arm but she stops you. “No wait. This is good.” She whispers. “This is good.” And she holds your arm tight to her. Rubbing circles across it with her fingers. Her whole body relaxes against yours and you smile against her neck.

“You know I’m not that same girl anymore.” She sighs a little out of no where. But you get it, she’s trying to give you an out. A chance to run. You hum in response. “I’m different I think. I’m not as strong as I used to be.” She continues and you know she’s not talking about muscle, or brawn. She used to be a leader. Someone people looked up to. And now… most people didn’t even know her real name.

“That might be true. But that’s okay.” You say pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck. “You’ve been through a lot. I think you’re holding on to a girl who didn’t know what life was yet. And you’re grown up. It’s normal to not be the same. Or feel the same.” You continue and she turns to face you. Caressing your cheek softly.

“I think maybe I can be okay. With you.” She muses. Placing a light kiss to your lips. Making you smile.

“Good cause I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t know if tomorrow she would go back to drinking. Or if she would get her ass kicked in the pit. But tonight she was safe. And she was with you. And as she fell asleep to your heart beating against her, you couldn’t help but hope it could stay this way. Cause for you. This was enough.

[i-starcreamed]

Hi I heard you make transformers one oneshot umm I hope you won't mind, this actually a D-16 oneshot " what if his s/o get shoted instead of Orion" or " D - 16 meeting s/o for the first time"

D-16 / MEGATRON X READER

I combined both requests :3

cybertronian!reader SPOILERS FOR TF ONE Puree angst, character death, sadness :(

You were also a miner, like Orion and D-16. You met in a similar way they did.

You grunted, your limbs aching from pushing around the minecart around all day. It was filled with raw energon rock at this point, so it was a lot heavier. Last night, you hadn’t recharged well, and now you felt like you were running on your last drop of consciousness... Your optics widened when you unexpectedly bumped into something in front of you, sending your minecart toppling over and spilling its contents.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—“ You hissed, watching all the progress of the day come crashing down onto the floor. You pursed your mouth in frustration; this really sucked.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Let me help you out, here.” A calm voice came from in front of you, prompting you to avert your optics toward the bot you had bumped into. You paused--hmmm, he was a handsome bot. You eyed his armor for a moment before realizing you were staring.

“Sorry! Uh, I’d appreciate that. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You muttered, kneeling down to pick up your rocks, him beside you. He let out a small spurt of a gruff chuckle.

“No worries. Hey, I haven’t seen you around here. I’m D-16.” He introduced himself, you still remember the way he smiled at you. You nervously smiled back

“I’m Y/N. I was actually uh...promoted just recently. I’ve never mined energon before. It’s harder than I thought.”

“Oh, well, it gets easier. You get better at it too.” He said, tossing the last bit of rock back into your cart and helping you turn it upright.

“So where were you headed off to?” He asked, walking beside you now.

You took a deep breath. “To the trains? I was told to report to Elita-1 afterward.”

“Psh, really? That’s a coincidence, so am I.” He said lightly, grinning at you. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

It started as a friendship—you, Orion and D-16. You were a little trio. Despite this, Orion always noticed the particular… attention you paid specifically to D. When the three of you joked around, you would always look toward him to watch his reaction—or rather, his smile. You became bashful when he helped you with something, he, in turn, softened up around you. It didn’t take long for Orion to see right through you—meanwhile, D remained completely oblivious!! History says you were just friends

Eventually, you two started dating! You made a sweet couple, with Orion constantly third-wheeling. You can imagine everything you went through after kind of illegally participating in the race, getting thrown to Level 50 as a punishment, and uncovering the location of the Primes.

You watched as your lover changed, and it pained you. You saw his anger slowly shift and shift, first towards his best friend, then at everyone else. You watched as he became feverishly focused on killing Sentinel.

“D, don’t!”

Your yell went silent as you ran in front of sentinel, the blast from D’s cannon hitting you instead of him. The impact blasted through your chest, ripping through armor, your casing, and your wiring—until it struck your spark. This was the turning point when D-16 became.. Megatron. His optics widened, he stopped seeing red for a split second.

He watch as your body fell, the whole world seemed to come to a halt.

“Y/N!” He yelled and dived after your body, momentarily forgetting about his anger. Before you could fall into the depths of Iacon, he caught your arm. He didn’t waste a second as he desperately tried to pull you up. You had no strength left to help yourself--your body hung limp.

“Why! Why did you do that!?” He yelled at you, his voice shaking. As you slipped between consciousness, you realized you’d never heard your lover so emotional. Not like this.

“You can’t go, you can’t, you can’t you can’t—“

“D…”

Your arm started slipping from his digits. “I’m so sorry…you have to.. stop this. Please,” you whispered out, the light in your optics flickering.

Megatron stared at you, partly in disbelief at you and himself. “I’m sorry. I’m going to fix this, I-I promise,” He hissed, his servo desperately holding on. You knew you didn’t have much time left.

“D, please don’t this. I love you. I always will. No matter what I’ll always remember you as my D-16.” You whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, roaring in anguish as your body slipped from his grip. He watched as you descended into the depths of your planet. You were going to become a part of Cybertron again, just as they all started out as. He’s so sorry.

He’s sorry he’s not the D-16 you knew.

Despite this loss, he still became Megatron. Afterall, he had nothing to lose now.

[strawberrychampayne]

you can't be this oblivious

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: none except like one swear word lol.

word count: 1026

summary: oblivious!bradley x affectionate!reader!! reader is super affectionate to everyone but it is different with bradley. She’s sweet to everyone but she isn’t sitting at a table for 30 mins and letting just anyone rant about their day, unless they are rooster.

Y/N Y/L/N, aka Magnet was just that. A Magnet. 

“And then they had me doing pushups because I made a snarky comment according to them.”

Bradley Bradshaw better known as Rooster was someone you would consider a best friend. Though Phoenix would argue he’d be more than that if he wasn’t so oblivious. 

“I mean what did you expect Roo? I would’ve had you doing the same thing.” she giggled into her glass. 

They had been at the Hard Deck for around two hours now, coming right after they got off. It felt like a ritual at this point. Work, Hard Deck, go home and then repeat. There were a million other things they could all do and yet they always came here. Maybe it was the atmosphere that cheered them up after a long day. Or the beer.

What she hadn’t expected was sitting at a table for the last 30 minutes with Rooster ranting about the trouble he’d gotten in earlier, she didn’t mind that though. She could listen to him talk forever. There were very few times that Rooster felt comfortable enough to share things so anytime he did, she took it seriously. 

“You wouldn’t even think to punish me Mag, we both know that.” Rooster replied with a smirk playing on his lips. 

She often thought of what it would be like to kiss him. Would his lips be soft and plushy or more rough like he pretended to be. She liked to believe it would be the first option. She’d never get to really know though as it seemed he never reciprocated the feelings she was putting out. 

“You don’t know what I would do, Rooster. I could make you do 20 pushups right now.” she said

“And I would do them.” he said, a twinkle in his eye or maybe it was the lighting. 

She gasped quietly hoping he didn’t hear. Flirty Rooster only came out after a couple of drinks. She had heard the phrase that drunk words are sober thoughts. Never really believing it though, he never had so much to drink he couldn’t remember saying something so eye raising to his supposed best friend. 

“The worst thing about all this extra work is I feel like I have no time to eat something good. It’s always some fries from here and a couple beers” he continued, brushing past his previous statement. 

Coming back to her senses she spoke quickly, “We could go out together. I mean all I do is drink a couple of beers here.”

She felt him tense up. Preparing for the worst she thought of a way to recover.

“You are truly my best friend. I mean nobody else would’ve offered to do something like that.” Rooster spoke up before she could backtrack. 

Her heart cracked slightly. Best Friend. Who knew two words could hurt so much. Glancing to her right she could see Hangman and Phoenix cringing at the sight. Warmth flooded her body as she began to stand up. 

“Hey where are you going?” he questioned following her up. 

“Yeah um, my head is starting to hurt so I think I’m just going to head home. I’ll see you tomorrow Bradley.” she said as she turned to walk away.

Bradley? She only called him by his first name when she was upset or poking fun at him. 

“Well at least let me take you home? I mean I brought you here.” he rushed out.

“No. It’s fine I’ll call an uber.” she pushed past a few people and walked out the door. 

Shoulders slumping Rooster glanced out the window at the woman. Phone in hand she was true to her word in calling an uber. He felt a pang in his heart watching her. Had he done something wrong? 

A hand clapped against his shoulder. He could smell the cologne and know who it was before even turning his head. 

“Well that was a shit show. I mean come on, Rooster, you can’t be this oblivious.” Hangman said with a cocky smile. 

Shrugging his hand off Rooster turned his head; the muscles in his jaw contracting, “What do you mean, Hangman? Oblivious to what?”

Hangman laughed at him, “You’re meaning to tell me that you haven’t realized that Magnet has been flirting with you ever since she met you? I mean she practically asked you on a date a few minutes ago.” 

Was that a ringing in his ears? Y/N flirting with him? Bradley felt like his head was going to combust where he stood. 

“And there's the look of realization. You really must’ve been oblivious.” Hangman added. 

“I think you’ve gotten this all mixed up. I mean Y/N is close and affectionate with everyone. She leans her head on your shoulder, gossips with Phoenix, and is constantly fixing Bob's glasses. And with me she just leans up against me, compliments me and listens to me rant and she-” Rooster took a pause. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I mean Rooster, Y/N is an affectionate person for sure. But she has never once listened to one of my rants and she’s the only one who'll listen to yours.” Hangman said, an almost serious look on his face. 

“I just watched my future wife walk out that door after asking me on a date.” Bradley said.

“Well hold on nobody said she was-” Hangman started before Rooster talked over him.

“No Hangman, trust me I know. That is going to be my wife. As long as I haven’t ruined everything.” Rooster said, confidence in his voice. 

“Well then I guess you should go get your wife to be.” Hangman said, a small smile on his lips. 

“Yeah I’ve got to go.” Rooster took off out of the bar and to his car. 

“I cannot believe it took him that long to realize that.” Phoenix said, walking up besides Hangman. 

“He’s a little oblivious but we got there. Hope he has a gorgeous ring to propose with. Claims that’s his wife to be” Hangman replied. 

“I don’t doubt that.” Phoenix remarked quietly, watching Rooster peel out of the parking lot.

let me know if anyone wants a part 2!

!!!please don't repost my work anywhere, translate, or bind my works anywhere without permission!!!

[slutz4marsh]

Kyle Broflovski x Bratty F!Reader SMUT for April!!! <3

Look. Kyle considered himself to be a generally patient person.

Although, he did know that depending on who he asked, some people might say that was complete and utter bullshit.

Whatever. The point was that he had patience. If not in general, at least for you.

Which was why it frustrated him when you acted like a brat.

He was patient with you, and generally, he didn’t like to be super rough with you. He didn’t like to ruin you. Not on purpose, anyway. Kyle liked to worship you, treat you like a precious little doll that needed his protection.

And yet you still acted like this even when he treated you like a precious, sweet angel. His angel, his doll, his princess.

Kyle had thoughts when you walked out of your house in a shirt that showed off the curve of your breasts and a skirt that didn’t leave that much to the imagination, but he didn’t say anything. Figured, hey. Maybe you weren’t doing it on purpose.

But when you went out and he caught you leaning forward toward your friends, giggling and twirling your hair and pushing your arms together to force your breasts together?

Yeah. He knew what the fuck you were doing.

So, he stood up and grabbed your arm to yank you along with him. He told his friends that he just remembered that you two had something you had to do, something about a project or something. It was a good enough excuse, considering they all bought it.

Kyle was dead silent until he got you in the car, and then he shook his head while he started the car. He pressed his foot on the gas pedal, eyes narrowed at the road.

“I really cannot fucking believe you sometimes,” Kyle snapped, his knuckles white from how tight he was holding the steering wheel.  “I mean, I saw the outfit and thought it was weird, but whatever.”

He shook his head. “But whatever the hell that was?” Kyle scoffed. “You are such a brat sometimes.”

You knew Kyle was mad and nothing you could say would make it any better, so you chose to stay quiet and let Kyle vent out his irritations anyway.

When you got home, he dragged you into your bedroom and sat down on his bed. Then, he bent you over his lap without another word.

“Count.”

His words left no room for argument, so you took a breath. Kyle’s hand came down hard on your ass. You gasped and writhed, but Kyle kept you firmly in place.

“One,” you said, voice shaking some.

“Good girl. Keep going.” Kyle said as he rubbed your ass before hitting again.

He got to fifteen. You were sobbing and trembling as you whimpered out the number.

“Shh, shh,” Kyle cooed as he soothingly rubbed your ass. “See? Good girl. You know why I had to do that, don’t you?”

His words were softly spoken and sweet. A direct contrast to the previous actions he’d made.

You sniffled and nodded. You did know. It’s why you’d been such a brat all day anyway - you wanted his attention. No matter what that meant.

“I don’t really know that you’ve really learned anything though,” Kyle clicked his tongue. “For all I know, you’ll just do this again the minute I stop touching you.”

His hand snaked down the curve of your ass and between your delicate folds, fingers probing at your cunt. He dipped two fingers inside you and began to gently rub them against your spot. His fingers were long, nimble, and they felt fucking fantastic.

Fantastic to the point that you whimpered when he pulled his fingers out of you, coated in your juices. You moaned as you watched him suck his fingers clean.

And then, he pulled you off his lap and onto the bed. He pulled his own pants down and lined himself up with your entrance.

“Stay fuckin’ still, alright?” Kyle cursed as he pushed into you. Even through your lusty haze, you could tell he was still irritated with you for your brattiness.

You let out a broken moan as he pushed into you slowly, then began rocking his hips into you.

“God, you’re so tight,” Kyle groaned, “you’d be so perfect if you weren’t such a little brat.”

You whined softly as Kyle used your body, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“God, See?” Kyle panted. “You can be such a good girl, yeah? All tight and wet. Just for me, huh, princess?”

You moaned at his words and nodded swiftly. “Jus’ for you,” You managed to say between moans, feeling your walls starting to flutter.

Kyle shook his head and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “Don’t,” he whispered his warning. “Not ‘til I say you can. I don’t think you’ve earned it yet.”

You whine desperately, but you nodded. And Kyle grinned, knowing he’d forced you back into submission. Back into his sweet, darling little angel that would listen to every word that fell from his lips.

You were so tense with the effort of trying to hold back your orgasm, you genuinely thought you might explode into teeny tiny little pieces.

And Kyle’s movements became more desperate and erratic.

If you were able to think about anything other than keeping your pleasure at bay, you would have known that Kyle was close. You would have known that he was moments away from painting your inner walls a milky white.

Kyle pushed his lips against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. They graze your skin, sending shivers up and down your spine, and you swore he was trying to kill you with the way he nipped at you.

“Sweetheart,” Kyle breathed. You could feel him grinning against your ear, and you felt like you were going insane with need and desperation. “I think you’ve earned it. Don’t you? You’re being so good and sweet for me.” 

You gasped, but you still held off. Waiting for Kyle to actually say the words.

And say them, he did. 

“Cum for me,” He nipped at your earlobe. “Come on, princess. Cum for me. You’ve earned it. Come on, baby.”

You swore to whatever god might fucking be out there, you blacked out.

Your orgasm was intense. You dragged your nails down Kyle’s back, sure to leave bright red marks for at least a few days. You practically screamed, chanting his name like it was a prayer to the only thing that mattered in that moment: him.

As your hole fluttered and clenched around him, it milked Kyle’s orgasm out of him. He came inside you with a deep groan, and he wrapped his arms around your torso, yanking you closer as he pulsed, filling you up with hot and sticky cum.

You both laid like that for a few minutes, catching your breath and coming back to yourselves.

Kyle pulled out of you with a groan and smiled as he cradled your cheeks in his hands.

“You are fucking perfect. C’mon, shower.”

With that, he gently grabbed your arms to help you to the bathroom.

[oswildin]

Debated making this, but oh well, here we are…

I rewatched the Loki series.

Going to add here quickly that I have been a fan of Loki since 2012/2013, and I personally relate to his character for a multitude of reasons.

Now, I enjoy the series, but I wish they made it more character focused than they had. I do feel like they prioritised story in terms of making it fit the next phase over exploring and expanding on Loki’s character to some degree (a lot of it was surface level).

For example, I would’ve loved to have seen:

Exploring Loki’s Jotun heritage, even if it was a variant of him in the void that embraced it, dropped his aesir form, a conversation between Loki and his Jotun variant as they explain why they chose to embrace it, giving a different view to maybe how our Loki sees himself/the Jotuns. If ‘What If’ could have a frost giant Loki variant, why couldn’t the show?

Expanding upon what happened to Loki during that year after his fall from the Bifrost. The reason for this is self explanatory really, it would add more lore/depth to his experiences/actions during the Avengers. Maybe address the trauma he has from it.

Loki fighting with his so-called ‘desire’ for a throne more. By this I mean, I felt he flipped pretty quickly from his plan to overthrow the time keepers to just following along with Sylvie - which is fine, but I kinda thought there would be more push back from him. I get it was a life or death situation and Loki’s whole thing is ‘survival’, but it would’ve added to their dynamic and the fact the writers clearly wanted to push how Sylvie was different to other Loki’s.

Exploring Sylvie’s backstory more. It really did feel like it was an afterthought, which is a shame. I suppose they left it ambiguous for certain reasons, but I think they should’ve had more flashback scenes of what Sylvie could remember. I think it would’ve helped people understand and relate to her more. (I do love her though).

Actually showed Loki’s gender fluidity & shapeshifting ability more. Again, self explanatory really & important to his character, plus the whole implied only ‘woman variant’ thing with Sylvie should’ve not been a thing, like at all.

They should’ve given Loki more time to process everything. This show really should’ve had 8 episodes each season, I get that’s not the writers fault, likely Disney/marvel’s doing. Perhaps then the shift in his character wouldn’t have felt so jarring, especially considering he’s 2012 Loki. I do agree they wrote him as if he was Ragnarok!Loki, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it just felt jarring considering the last we saw of this Loki was Avengers. But then I could also argue that maybe he thought ‘what’s the point of it’ because the TVA know everything about him, but I digress.

Used Sylvie more in S2. It did feel like they didn’t quite know what to do with her, her and Loki clearly just needed to sit and discuss the citadel fight, but the closest thing we got is in EP3 where Sylvie says ‘this is all rather familiar, isn’t it?’, referencing their different/opposing opinions on the TVA/He Who Remains. And also maybe the pie room scene, but it’s very vague/not directly addressed.

Explored the fact that Mobius is not a good guy more. Because, he isn’t. And that’s okay. To me, the whole point of the show is based on Loki’s quote of ‘no one good is ever truly good, and no one bad is ever truly bad’, and whilst they do reference Mobius’ own morally grey actions/traits, they don’t particularly make it clear and most just see him as this ‘happy go lucky old man who likes pie and loves Loki variants’. In fact, I actually really liked the scene where Sylvie confronts him - which is a very unpopular opinion to have it seems, lol.

Delved into the psychology of Loki further than surface level/what we already know about him. Yes, we know he’s the God of Mischief. Yes, we know he isn’t evil. Yes, we know he is redeemable. Yes, we know he’s cunning, manipulative and selfish. We get that he projects this ‘illusion’ of himself, but it was only really mentioned in S1 EP1, maybe slightly EP2, before it’s never really mentioned again. I suppose S2 does this to a degree with the bar scene and EP5 of S1 in the time cell with Sif - also I think they tried to take the narcissist angle from the pov that it’s because of his low self-esteem as to why he needs validation and it’s a defence mechanism, but they didn’t particularly make that clear and made it seem like he just thinks highly of himself.

I know it seems like I have a lot of issues with the show, and I do, but I still enjoyed it. It’s okay to be critical of a piece of media and still enjoy it.

I do prefer S2 to S1, mostly because I prefer the direction they took it in and whilst I, of course, wanted better for Loki, I can’t deny S2 EP6 is a stunning finale. I sobbed so hard during the ending and still feel the grief that I actually lost someone I knew personally. But I also have hope that this means Loki is now a main player in the next phase (am I delusional? Maybe).

I enjoyed the dynamics, the back and forth/chemistry, the story was interesting, the set & costume design, the acting, the directing/colour grading, the music (Natalie Holt, you are genius), the emotions, the fun, the characters…

So this is not a hate post by any means, I will once again state, I enjoyed the show. But, I do have issues with it, and that’s okay too.

Please, dni if you’re just going to be argumentative or confrontational. I also don’t want to hear that just because I enjoyed the show that I’m ‘not a real fan’ lmao. I’m sorry, but I’ve been a Loki stan for over a decade, and I will not have someone tell me I’m not a real fan because of a piece of fictional media. Also, please do not mention anything regarding ships on this post, I do not care for it because it always ends up in arguments and I am a multishipper so I don’t tend to fight for any side. Thank you! :) /gen

[drewsarms]

━━⊱⋆⊰━━

ʜɪᴄᴋ!ʀᴀғᴇ ɪs ᴀ ʙᴏᴜɴᴄᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴅᴇᴜᴄᴇ

ᴛᴏᴏᴛs!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪs ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ғʟɪʀᴛ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴜsᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅ “ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ” , ᴍᴅɴɪ

The night was alive. Wild some would say. It was the same old same old at Double Deuce. Guys getting so drunk they forgot their name. Girls buying drugs and letting guys feel up on them. Some people would turn their nose up and shout in disgust. But you, you loved the atmosphere. Most of all you loved the sexy man eyeing you from across the bar.

You were well known. Not because you slept around but because the men there loved you. You were Americas Sweetheart after all. You made your way over to the bartender coming in between some drunk and that sexy guy. He was already staring at you before you looked over. His shirt hugged his body just right. His jeans fit his waist perfectly. “What can I get for you honey,” the bartender asked snapping you out of your thoughts. “Vodka on the rocks please,” you say turning your attention back to the man. “What’s your name sir?” He looks at you and then looks away. You raise your eyebrow in confusion. “Well…you have a name don’t you,” you asked while giggling. “Rafe.” His voice is thick, deep, with a sexy country accent. You could tell he was a stern man. Didn’t play around. “Wait. The Rafe. The guy who beats up people and is good at it?” He nods his head in agreement. The bartender hands you your drink and you take it. Your friends are yelling at you from across the bar wanting you to join them. You inch closer to him. “I hope I get to see that tonight.” Your lips are close to his ear and you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter “fuck” under his breath. “As long as you don’t cause me any trouble sugar, I think it’ll be fine.” His words made thoughts turn in your head. You wanted to see what he could do. Not just hear about it. You loved a challenge.

The night grew heavier and heavier. Even more violent than it was 20 minutes ago. Guys were starting to fight and get thrown out left and right. As you took another sip from your drink you remembered what Rafe said. So, being the girl that loved for a man to put you in your place, you decided to get the men even more rowdier. It started of “calm”. Men hooting and hollering at you as you danced on the table. One of the other bouncers politely told you to get down from the table. You listened but it didn’t end there. You started to dance on one of the guys who was all up on you. Grinding your hips against his crotch. The guy gripped your waist so hard that he was bound to leave handprints. As you kept dancing you felt a shift in weight and when you turned around Rafe was lifting the guy up off the ground by his shirt. “Get this piece of shit out of here,” he said to one of his guys. He turns to look at you. His normal stern look turning even rougher. He pointed a finger in your face. “And you…you’re coming with me.” He grabs your wrist tightly dragging you to the back of the bar. He was so manly. So big. So strong. You wanted him. All of him.

He had you bent over the nearest piece of furniture in the break room. “You wanted my attention so bad, huh? Dancing on other guys just to make me mad.” You didn’t think you had that effect on him. I mean he wouldn’t even look you in the eye when you tried to talk to him. “I didn’t think you’d care daddy!” He chuckles at your answer. “Didn’t think I’d care? You strut your pretty ass right on over next to me making my jeans feel tight and you didn’t think I care?” You smile when you feel his hand reach for your throat. He leans down to whisper in your ear putting all his body weight against you. “I don’t ever want to see you in this shitty bar again. Do you understand?” You nod your head frantically. “Yes daddy! I won’t ever step foot in here again!” He groans feeling your pussy clench around him. “That’s a good girl. You’re mine. You’re gonna limp out of this room and take your pretty ass home. You got that?” You couldn’t say anything back. He was squeezing your neck so hard. It turned you on and scared you at the same time. You managed to let out a whine. “Such a good little girl. Already listening to her daddy.” He places a sweet kiss on your forehead before he shoves your head down and starts pounding into you so hard that your feet lift off the floor. It excited you with how possessive he got.

- for my love @shawtycoreee

[s1i9d]

Alright, here’s my thoughts on Magnus Protocol’s first season as someone who hasn’t listened to Archives.

[No Archives Spoilers. Spoilers for Magnus Protocol Season 1 Finale.]

Initially I was unsatisfied with the ending. At first I was engaged with everything, but I felt a lot of questions I wanted to know weren’t answered. Like “What is the Archivist and their deal?” or “What is FR3-D1 up to? Why is Colin so afraid?” So that felt a little bit of a downer.

But after thinking about it, it was a really big and amazing finale that leaves me wanting more.

I got to admit The Custodian was the biggest surprise but also not really. Magnus Protocol has kept this formula of having a statement in the episode, and a lot of my IRL friends were doubtful there would be one but I knew there would be one.

What really surprised me about The Custodian was how he was turning to stone after he finished his statement. Every non-main character statement The Archivist took ended in death, but the death was a result of resisting the Archivist (25) or they were already dead (15/18). So to see what happens to someone in perfect health from start to finish of the Statement.

Celia was a big star in this finale, and it feels like this was the “secrets revealed” moment for her. Unclear if she has more secrets, but it feels like her biggest ones are out there now. Explains her reaction to the Doppelgänger case (17), why The Hilltop Centre has been so prominent in a variety of cases, and why she’s been teleporting to Oxford.

The only question I really have about Celia is how much does she actually remember? Throughout the season we’ve clearly seen her reference things from what I’m assuming is Archives, but in the finale she says “The Fearless One” tore her who from her what and “left her story to fall like autumn leaves.”

Is her name actually Celia in Archives? Who is “The Fearless One”? Feels like her memory is blurry, but she remembers vague details of people instead of story events in Archives (my Doylist answer is this is a way to make the story accessible to viewers who haven’t listened to Archives) and that’s why she remembers Jon and Martin?

Overall, really great work from Celia this season.

Sam wouldn’t think so though.

Sam is an interesting case. He’s been dying to know what happened with The Magnus Institute and when we finally found out (28) it made a whole lot of sense why he’s so adamant about the institute.

Initially when Sam exploded at Celia for her secrets I was like “Sam! Buddy! Now’s NOT the time.” But actually, that was the right time.

He’s been really patient with Celia not feeling ready to explain her backstory, and consistently reassuring her she doesn’t need to reveal anything until she’s ready and actively reassuring yet making her aware it’s important to share at some point. Here he is, in front of what is potentially the biggest supernatural secret he’s ever seen, and Celia has turned out to know this was here the entire time!

And Celia (in his perspective) determined to sacrifice Sam to the Rift was a really big twist I didn’t see coming. The idea that Celia has disrupted the rift between the two worlds is incredibly devastating and she wants to stay in the Protocolverse for Jack makes it heartbreaking that she has her own selfless/selfish motivation for sacrificing Sam.

Then Alice-

Oh, Alice.

I think this finale was the hardest on her. She had Teddy trying to bring something up (29) and she rushed to Sam. She had Colin terrified asking for help while she was trying to get the last train to Sam and Celia. She’s been the most connective person in their whole group trying to look out for everyone, and then everyone desperately asking for help at essentially the same time is heartbreaking.

It’s incredibly fascinating that out of the three groups (Sam/Celia, Colin, Teddy) she chose Sam every time there was a chance. It does make sense. She’s fully aware Sam and Celia are going to be encountering something supernatural, and she needs to make sure she’s there to either stop or help them. Teddy and Colin might vaguely have something affecting them, but the urgency for Sam clouds her vision so Teddy and Colin were turned away. Who knows if they’ll even be alive when they get back?

And speaking of when they get back!

Gwen, my love, you have girlbossed far too close to the sun.

There’s no way she’s surviving this. She’s assumed this whole time that Lena was trying to keep responsibility from her because maybe Lena didn’t believe in her or because of her nepotism, and Trevor Herbert was the one calling all the shots. But she found out too little too late that Lena was the one in charge and she’s been the one focused on keeping the Externals at bay. Trevor Herbert has no fucking clue what happens at the OIAR as long as it gets the job done.

I do wonder why Gwen got those files. I’m assuming it’s Jon/FR3-D1 after Sam got that email (7) but why did FR3-D1 decide to give it to her? What’s the purpose of getting Lena out? Is it for the Externals to be loose? What’s FR3-D1’s goal here? Is it somehow tied to being set free?

After this finale, I have so many questions, and while I am still kinda unsatisfied with how it ended I do have to admit this season was such good fucking food. The workplace dramadey combined with horror statements and the slow merging of the two storylines was so seamless I almost didn’t notice until the end. I’m really excited for season 2.

[revserrayyu]

Real quick Wardance thoughts [part 2]

**SPOILERS** for everything happening after the final match. Basically some story stuff and a bunch of goodbyes, but it’s mostly just me loving every second the Yaoqing trio is on screen.

Seeing a younger Jing Yuan is precious, but it was made even better hearing Alejandro’s natural voice during this short scene.

I know Igor was mentioned at the very start of this event and was sort of a constant, small side story amongst everything else, but his history and reason for entering the Wardance really was unfortunate from what I remember (which isn’t much.) Shame he’s no longer around. I would’ve definitely tried pulling for him if he ever had the chance to be playable.

While Jarilo-VI is no longer a small, unknown ball of ice floating in space, I was not expecting it to have more visitors so soon. I wonder how the Belobogians reacted to seeing their first foxian. & is it safe to assume that our pilot, who refuses to fly anymore, took the Astral Express here? Because that’s what I’m going to believe. Also, Seele spotted! Huzzah!! (no Serval at all though. I cry. or Clara now that I think about it.)

More allies, let’s goooo! Dang, imagine how awesome it would be to see Belobog experience other seasons aside from a perpetual winter. Or to have the residents able to travel outside the city’s walls, free from any danger. I adore everyone from Belobog so much and I hope they get the chance to live such fulfilling lives. They deserve it!

I have not checked the museum for myself yet, but if this photo is actually displayed there now, then that is so cute. And I know I can’t be alone in thinking this, but because of the striking red hair, Igor must be some sort of ancestor to Luka, yeah? It might be a stretch but they even got similar big grins too.

Alright, enough of my favorite planet and onto my favorite trio. Jiaoqiu sweetie, I treasure those few days so much! I just wish you were spared from all the trauma.

What a way with words. A poet, even. And yes of course I chose the first option. I feel bad pointing out his little slip up, but I wanted to know his reaction even more.

Pfft, the fact they let him talk for so long without mentioning he was facing the wrong way.. I’ll admit it is a bit comical.

Awww honey no! Don’t apologize! If I were them, I’d move myself in front of whatever direction he was facing so he wouldn’t feel bad.

It’s okay, we don’t blame you! At least he says it’s only his eyes that aren’t of any use instead of himself. That’s thinking positively I guess. I’m sure he’s still quite capable in doing many things, even in a kitchen. I mean, the guy had his eyes closed 90% of the time anyway, so surely he can still cook up a decent meal while blind thanks to muscle memory and his expertise. The other two would gladly assist him as well.

How much you wanna bet our Jiaoqiu isn’t going to listen to any doctor’s order because he’s a healer and knows his body better than anyone else? Feixiao & Moze are gonna make certain he heals up properly. But maaann, I wish they showed us Feixiao in the crowd during the final match, if only for a split second.

A perfect trio. One who can’t compete because of rules, another who wouldn’t fight because that’s not his job and the other who shouldn’t, lest he end someone’s life by accident. Pretty fair reasons.

Moze is an absolute mood. I’m not a big fan of chatting either. Quite ironic, given how much I can ramble on about this game and its characters, isn’t it?

Her whole “lacking in worries, regrets and rivals” outlook on life is wonder and I love it but NOW our Lacking General has but ONE REGRET! Aaaah.. honestly, I do too. I regret not pulling Jiaoqiu, but IN MY DEFENSE.. Feixiao was right after him and I needed to save big for her. I also didn’t really have a team suitable for our healer to excel in.. but next time for sure! I’ll bring him home!

Son of a bitch they’re so precious and sweet I wanna scream. It’s a blessing in disguise that this entire goodbye scene wasn’t voiced because if I had to hear all the emotion in their voices for this conversation I would’ve been an even bigger, sobbing mess.

Pfftt, thank you Moze for focusing on the task at hand. We can always count on him to be blunt.

Yeah how about NO. I do not wish to see you guys leave me! I’m holding onto that “for now” with such a tight grip. Y’all better return sooner rather than later, you hear me??

I absolutely took my time taking photos of them. I love ‘em with all my heart and can’t wait to see them more in future arcs.. as long as nothing else bad happens. Surely my devotion shall protect them from any troublesome plot! You hear me, Hoyo? Only wholesome and heartwarming stuff from here on out!

I am kinda bummed Huaiyan turned out to be nothing but a unique looking npc. He might not have been a character I might’ve pulled for if he was playable, but he would’ve definitely had some cool combat animations I’m sure.

I know I’ve said it somewhere before, whether in a post of my own or in comments, but Fu Xuan is probably my least favorite character. I just.. don’t vibe with her at all. I dunno. With that said, I didn’t mind that she was practically absent from these entire last two patches. So yes, I called her sassy, lost and short.

Astral Express parents showing up fashionably late to the party. Ya think a black hole or orbital laser could’ve destroyed Hoolay’s blood moon? We shall never know. I do wonder how their own task with those fossils and Ruan Mei turned out though. That’s something I’m looking forward to hearing more about, especially since Yaoguang mentioned at the end of the 2.5 story that our mad scientist has just boarded the Luofu too.

Huzzah, the end~ Much less serious this time around but at least we’re finally done. I wasn’t a huge fan of the Xianzhou during our initial trip here during the story, but these last two updates were some of my favorites for sure. (and I promise it’s not only because of my Yaoqing trio bias)

[dat-lil-shark]

Transformer One Review

I would say the movie in general is pretty mid, to be honest. It’s clichéd, it’s rushed, it's everything we’ve seen before. Even my sister who had no knowledge of the franchise and whom I dragged into this guessed that Sentinel is evil right away.

But once thing I loved the movie so much is how Orion was written. And this is the most important thing there is to this movie. Even before watching the movie I knew he would be flawed and stupid, but I never expected he would be THIS flawed and THIS stupid.

He was SO STUPID there are even times he even feels morally ambiguous! Like he dragged all his friends into dangerous situations, without their consents, for no reasons other than just wanna feel good and feel cool. Even when he saved Jazz I was feeling like he didn’t save him because it’s the right thing to do and Jazz has a life too, but it’s more of a “Wow it would be so cool if I save him and come back alive!” Kind of situations. And he didn’t even apologize when others even first pointed it out and tried to convince them to feel the same way he does.

And his immaturity payed a big price. Disasters happened, so many almost and probably did got killed, and no one, not his friends, not plot armours, NO ONE defended him when things goes wrong because of him. He made grave mistakes and the world punished him for it, so he will learn. And I cannot imagine how bold were the screenwriters when they made the creative choice to make Orion this flawed. He was so stupid it was beautiful.

And not only was the film not afraid of making him flawed, it also wasn’t afraid of making him vulnerable.

For a large part of the film, I feel like Orion wasn’t even trying his best to persuade D-16 to not change, probably largely because he just can’t emotionally comprehend how someone like his best friend could possibly change so myth, until it went to the point of no return. And maybe if he was strong and wise enough to do the best he can, like giving D more attentions, trying to cheer him up and remembering the good thing in life. Best case scenario: D-16 would never go the length he would. And worst case: he would still at least try to leave his friends out of things. But no, Orion was visibly procrastinating on taking care of his friend cause he just don’t know how to, and possibly even want to, just to not face the truth. And I know he will make the 🥺 face eventually when D turned evil, but I did not expect Orion to spend almost half of the film to just staring at D with them big ol’ eyes and doing nothing but hope things are not going the way he thought they were going. Seriously though 70% of the later part of the film he looked like he was one step away from just bursting into tears.

However, these are not big surprises, the BIGGEST surprise the film gave me was at the end, when Orion finally became Optimus, and he defeated D. He. Still. Looked. Just. So. Sad.

He didn’t instantly become strong, at least emotionally.

He was still full of 🥺 and hesitations.

It was almost like, even AFTER he became Optimus, he was still naive enough to be somewhat hoping D-16 was not really doing what he knew he was doing, but finally accepted reality when he banished D and the Decepticons.

And.

I.

FUCKING.

Love this!

Essencially, the movie DID NOT make Orion just Optimus, but younger and more naive. Instead they made OPTIMUS just ORION, but knowing how life is not all sunshine and rainbow now. And the way they left the movie with Orion still VERY different from the expressionless, badass, and untouchable Optimus we know, instead still FULL OF sorrows and FULL OF Orion, not only leaves space for more movies in this new prologue-oriented franchise, with more character arcs for Orion, but they also shows how maturing doesn’t just happen overnight.

Orion learned how life is not all sunshine and rainbows, and he would not stop learning it for millions of years to come. There will be a day where Orion/Optimus would be hurt so much that he can no longer cry or smile anymore. But for today, he still can.

[ok555ficideas]

Okay, I'm on the roll with Neil's bounds with his friends so I should add Kevin to the mix as well.

(Neil has amnesia here)

When he entered the court he saw Kevin firing the set up balls in the direction of the goal. Every single one of them landed in the same exact spot. 

Before he even decided to speak he heard himself saying. “I want that.”

Kevin turned around and looked at him. “Abby let you practice?”

Neil nodded and Kevin made his way to him. “You have to take it easy. No trying to overdo yourself or you’ll be useless in July.”

Neil rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m a waste of space.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

Kevin tilted his head at him in confusion. “I didn’t say that.”

“But that’s what you meant. Don’t worry, I know how you think of me. I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to practice, so let’s get to it.”

Kevin let out a frustrated sigh at that. “I hate this.” Neil looked confused so he continued. “I hate that you don’t remember.”

“Listen, I know that not remembering all the drills is an inconvenience to you, believe me I hate it too, but I’m going to learn them again. I did once before so it will probably be easier the second time around. Now quit your whining and actually help me remember them instead of just standing there and b*tching like the drama queen that you are.” 

Neil was prepared for Kevin to yell at him, to throw him out of the court or even threaten him with throwing him out the team all together. What he wasn’t prepared for was the sad expression he saw when Kevin looked at him. It was disorientating. Kevin looked like he was about to cry and Neil didn’t know what to do with that sight. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Kevin said slowly with a slightly strained voice. “I hate that you don't remember me.”

That confused Neil even more. “I do remember you.” He said slowly.

Kevin let out a frustrated sigh. “No,” he said, “you don’t, not really. You remember me as this exy-obsessed a$$hole.”

Neil raised his brow at that and Kevin continued. “Okay, that didn’t really change, but-” He started to get even more flustered by the look of him. “So are you!” He said pointing an accusatory finger at Neil. “We both are, that’s our thing, you know. We are asholes and we love exy and-” He trailed off.

They stood in silence for a minute, before Neil managed to gather his thoughts and say something that sounded ridiculous, but seemed like the only reasonable explanation. “Kevin, are we,” he said slowly, not believing that he was going to actually say the next word out loud, “friends?”

Kevin looked at him and practically screamed the next word with triumph. “Yes!” 

“Huh, that’s-” It was Neil’s turn to be a little frustrated. 

He tried to scratch his brain for some clues that what Kevin was saying was true.

“Every night.” He whispered after a long moment of searching. Kevin looked at him confused so he continued. “I asked you once if you would still teach me and you said ‘every night’.”

“Yes.” Kevin said, but didn’t elaborate.

“You promised to teach me even though we both thought,” Neil had to pause, because he didn’t actually know what the end of that sentence was.

“We both thought you were going to be de*d by the end of the season.” Kevin supplied the answer.

That was it. They both knew that it was pointless, but yet Kevin promised to practice with Neil every night. 

“I didn’t d*e, though.” He said with relief. 

Even though he knew that all of the things already happened and he came out of them on top, sometimes he was still scared and it was nice to remind himself that he survived. 

“You didn’t d*e and you are going to be Court.” Kevin said with such conviction Neil instantly believed him. 

Without realizing he put his hand on his cheek to the place where his skin was now burned, but he knew that for a breath time that spot was painted with a tattoo.

Kevin shook his head. “No, not his Court. He doesn’t matter, not anymore.” Hearing those words from Kevin filled him with excitement. “We are going to get everything we deserve, Neil and it’s not going to be because of him. It will be because of us.”

Neil nodded and put his hand down. He smiled at Kevin and gripped his racket with determination. “Then you better start teaching me those drills again.”

“You are going to pick them up in no time. Your body remembers way more than your mind does.”

That was true, but Neil wasn’t sure how Kevin knew that.

Kevin looked at him and his next words filled Neil with anger. “You pick Andrew to shreds with your words, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are more relaxed with him in the room than any other time.”

“F*ck off” Neil gritted through his teeth and went to warn himself up accompanied by Kevin’s quiet laughter. 

[ryuichirou]

RE: Ortho (+Shroudcest) post replies

Phew, alright, I think I didn’t skip anyone. If I did, I’m sorry, I’ll reply to you next time then!

Thank you so much for your wonderful messages of support and for your takes. I really appreciate it! I say it all the time but it saying it again feels appropriate: we had no idea we would ever see so many people who share our point of view despite not shipping Ortho with Idia or any other character. The fact that we can have this conversation really makes me happy.

You are welcome to share more of your thoughts if you want, but unfortunately I might not be able to reply to everyone. I will do my best though.

All of the asks in this blog are related to this post.

Anonymous asked:

Different anon, I think Ortho is in this nebulous situation like superboy in young justice who is physically 16 years old but chronologically 16 weeks old. I genuinely hate the uwu babying of characters. The dwarfs are all second years(so theoretically 17 at the youngest) but no one makes anything with them. Heck the characters I see get lewded the most are the octo trio who are the same age.

Heck, even Grim gets the baby mascot treatment by fans when he's also lumpedwiththefirst years. Like yes, he's a whiny brat but he's also grown up all alone as far as he can remember. I can't help but compare him to Puppycat who acts similarly and is a grown ass man.

Yeah, this probably plays a role too! Ironically, we were just having this conversation about Stitch the other day lol Being new to the world you exist in (and to existing in general) and being a baby aren’t necessarily the same thing.

And even in that case Ortho doesn’t fully fit into the trope because he was created quite a while ago and is already pretty well adjusted. But since he is still learning and doesn’t always understand people + doesn’t always get things like sarcasm, people consider it to be a proof that he is a toddler lol Who am I kidding, their reasoning doesn’t even go that far. They say “he died when he was a baby therefore he is a baby forever” and call it a day.

I feel bad for people who love Grim, I haven’t even thought about it… The Puppycat comparison is so spot-on lol

Grim is inexperienced and doesn’t know much about the world, but yes, he is one of the freshmen + just as he at times acts like a whiny brat, there are also times when he tells Ace that he should be more considerate of Deuce’s feelings, like wtf was that? That was Grim. Because Grim also isn’t a baby, he is a furry gremlin…

Anonymous asked:

As one of the most avid Ortho stans, it really is a pet peeve that people act like he's a little kid

You're so right that it's people that want to write him like Idia's little convenient plot device

I do want to note that it's also sometimes just the infantilization of an autistic coded character

God forbid he be somewhat optimistic, this must mean he's just an innocent baby /s

One small thing that gets me: Ortho can and has made his own gears!! Idia doesn't need to and maybe this is inspired by a post I saw that used the fact that Idia has made his stuff to take away Ortho's agency in what is supposed to be him having a tattoo analog. Not having a character be the architect of their own body mod equivalent is wild and I just.

He's a silly little guy, but he's not a fucking baby!

Indeed, Anon. I feel like people either completely ignore Ortho or see him as Idia’s appendix. I absolutely love them together, and of course I am biased towards scenarios that focus on their deep codependence, but I also really love how they get to have their own adventures, their own relationship, their own experiences separate from each other. Because they are wow, different characters, and Ortho has his own agency. He had it even before ch6, but after that he fully and officially became his own person. Being with Idia is his choice, not his only option. And just like you mentioned, he makes his own gears pretty much all the time now… even though I don’t agree that Idia making his gears has anything to do with Ortho’s agency.

I don’t even think Ortho is that optimistic. He is a little sunshine, but not even close to people like Kalim for example. Ortho even has his own cynical moments and douchy moments that people also tend to ignore. But even if he was 100% optimistic and naïve, it still would not be a valid reason to infantilise him. And you are absolutely right, people do that a lot. With Kalim too, actually, now that I think about it.

Anonymous asked:

Aaaaah, Ryuichi, after reading your post (rant) about Ortho, made me very happy! I'm glad there's someone else who shares the same opinion. The number of fans who infantilizes Ortho is beyond me. I absolutely hate the argument Ortho's mentally "8 years old" it's like they completely forget his storyline.

I'm guessing that the people who genuinely believe the theory that he's "8 years old" are younger fans with no media literacy so no hate towards them but it's frustrating when fans pretend it's Canon when it's not.

Not only that but it’s so sad to see how he's also so mischaracterized by the fandom. He's always seen just as Idia's little brother but never himself despite the fact that Ortho's life doesn't revolve around Idia. He has his own interest and hobbies different from Idia AND he is NOT innocent! Fans tend to forget this is a game about a school full of villains and that includes Ortho too! If I remember correctly Ortho has multiple times tried to blow up the school with his laser! He's violent! He's not a kid.

Unfortunately, I've seen this kind of stuff happening across all fandoms this isn't exclusive to Twisted wonderland. Heck a few months ago I've seen fans in the black butler genuinely believe that Ciel's in fact 9 years old instead of 13 year old!? And then they call us weird? The SebaCiel shippers? Like why do YOU want him to be younger?? I'm getting too old for this.

Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy you also agree.

I don’t hate younger fans, and I know that some people might be genuinely confused; but I also believe that there are a lot of people that simply do not care about Ortho’s actual story and any arguments one could make about this case. The actual issue isn’t Ortho being a certain age, it’s a pretext, an excuse, an invitation to harass. If Ortho didn’t exist, they would still do it with other characters, and even if all the characters were adults, they would still find a reason to do so, like, for example, their appearance. There is no winning in this game, this is why factual arguments won’t work even if Ortho Shroud himself looks in the camera and says “hi, I don’t care if people ship me with my niisan, I am also in fact not 8 years old”.

I am also very glad you mentioned Ortho being his own person! I mentioned it in a previous reply, so I won’t talk about it, but yes, you are absolutely right. Ortho is a menace, and all of his disappointed “come ooon, niisan, don’t do that” moments come from his desire for Idia to have more friends, not because he genuinely cares for other people. He clearly doesn’t – hence his multiple attempts to blow up the school lol

I love it when characters just keep getting younger with every single wave of this shitstorm. Didn’t you know he is 13? How dare you post something like that about a 9 years old! He is a toddler who is only 3 months old! That’s one powerful fountain of youth right there. Antis in Kuroshitsuji fandom do that a lot, just as antis in TWST fandom.

Anonymous asked:

I really feel bad for people who have Ortho as their oshi. It's not like fans of other characters don't get shit on too, apparently pretty much everyone is an immoral heathen these days, but I feel like Ortho gets often excluded in fan content, especially when it features any mature theme.

Also, if you a problem with people liking Ortho in the same way as they do with the rest of the guys, you should take your issues to the creators, since that was definitely their intention when they put him in the pretty boy gacha. Or maybe just play another game.

Anyway Ryu and Katsu, keep doing your thing, cause you guys are awesome!

What I love about it is that Ortho himself would be so pissed if he learned that all the other guys get to do fun mature stuff and he doesn’t lol That’s so not fair, he’s charging his lasers as we speak!

Also yes, it was absolutely the creators’ intention. He is supposed to look like that, just like Lilia is supposed to look like that – both caused confusion in the game story with how young they look, and yet both are a big part of the cast (+ As we know, even Idia was supposed to be younger looking…). Ortho has one of the biggest amounts of cards, he is clearly a popular character, not just a lovely addition or a mascot. 

Thank you so much for your support, Anon <3 It means a lot. This shit might be upsetting, but it will never stop us from creating.

Anonymous asked:

While I am not an Ortho/Idia shipper, I do like your art pieces because your art style is straight-up gorgeous. So when I do see your Shroudcest art Im like: not my cup of tea but I respect the time and effort made into this. (And here is my rant siding with you bc they are fictional characters)

The babyfication of Ortho is something I do not understand. As much as Idia made RoBro in trauma, rn I doubt he wants RoBro to remain stagnant in mind and hardware. With Ortho's ability to learn, he is practically a teenager like the rest. He displays more emotional maturity than most ppl despite his killer laser beam. Kindness, hope, and optimism are traits not limited to children. Shortness is also not limited to children. If we treat other characters by traits often shared by children, then Neige's fellow dwarf classmates are also children. What they don't count bc they are not human? Ortho is not human either. Similarly, Kalim and Silver display positive internal traits of kindness, hope, and optimism. Shortness? Well, we got Grandpa Lilia and the Napoleon complex twins Riddle and Epel. They are all teenagers (minus Lilia) and no one is babying them.

...And are we ignoring all the shit he has seen on the internet. The amount of porn (from adult sites and even the soft-core types you can even find by watching some twitch/yt streamers) that can be seen. Videos of violence, crimes, and ppl doing their best to win the Darwainism Award. Ortho could access and go through like 5 terebytes by the time I reach page two of Google.

As for the Shroudcest, they are fictional characters! You can go straight to phub and have incest type (the sheer amount of the step family porn troupe) porn being acted out by actual breathing people. Do you want to metaphorically die on this hill of ppl shipping fictional 2D characters? Are we just going to ignore you targeting this harmless ship? At least go for a larger target like Game of Thrones or House of Dragons. So much incest in those media that it has it's own fan wiki page, but you don't see ppl go for George R. R. Martin's throat for writing about characters willing or unknowingly committing incest.

It is like people reading/watching media of horror movie killers. It's something you can enjoy or have a preference for because you, as a sane person, will not become a serial killer. AND, as a productive member of society, you condemn actual, real-life serial killers. You read horror stories or watch scary movies for entertainment value not for a guide to be one. Similar logic to furries. Furries consider anthropomorphic creatures as hot, but those same furries are against beastilaity.

TL;DR: While I am not personally a fan of incest or shota type of media, I do not mind they exist (or go after creators who use FICTIONALLY characters to enhance their form of FICTIONAL media), bc they are FICTIONAL CHARACTERS from a FICTIONAL MEDIA. Stop with the performative activism. Use that effort and go after people who do it for real in real life. If you prevent/stop an actual crime from happening, I will applaud and thank you! AND I DOUBT I WILL BE THE ONLY ONE.

Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy that you like my stuff despite not shipping some of our ships. I am very grateful for the respect, and also for your message! I really like your points and I’ll go through them briefly.

The entire part about all those traits not being exclusive to children + about other characters having those traits but still not being babied – YES, thank you so much for that. Like I already mentioned, the game clearly plays with those tropes, and even though the characters are young-looking, they are still of high school age (other than Lilia). Ortho is weird, Ortho is different from some of the other boys, but all of them are weird in their own way, Ortho is just a robot. If we can make “not a human” excuse for the dwarves, why can’t we look at Ortho that way? And yes, Ortho absolutely knows stuff a kid wouldn’t be able to digest lol All of his difficulties come from him being an AI – he doesn’t always get sarcasm, he doesn’t fully understand why people do certain things and doesn’t understand some limitations of human’s body and mind; none of it is tied to him being childish or too innocent.

Incest in media is very popular indeed, and it’s SUPER popular in porn! You are right. If any kind of media ends up “normalising” this kind of relationship, it definitely won’t be shippers of incest. But also that won’t happen because wow, it doesn’t work that way. People love to say that fiction affects reality, and while in a way it does, it’s never a “everyone is going to start shooting people because the videogames brainwashed them” type of deal, and this is exactly what they’re doing with their arguments. It’s fear-mongering, moralism and ignoring the fact that people do in fact know how to separate fiction from reality. And the key to making sure no one is going to jump out the window because their favourite character did so isn’t in censorship, but in people learning this difference and always keeping in it mind. Ironically, that would mean that people who harass others over cartoons can’t make this separation very well because of their lack of critical consumption of media; but then again, they can’t even see (and don’t care, which makes it worse and my point stronger) how their own reckless actions seriously affect real people in real life, and I think this is a more important issue to resolve lol

Unfortunately, people who prefer performative activism very rarely end up becoming real activists, but I do hope that they will at least find some other hobby, something that doesn’t cause so much harm to both innocent people and the cause they claim to be fighting for.

I got a bit carried away there, but yeah, I totally agree with your point, and once again grateful for your understanding. There will always be media that makes you uncomfortable – and that’s the beauty of it. Creativity is a boundless ocean and no amount of bricks can contain it.

Anonymous asked:

I was just scrolling through and saw your explanation of ortho and shroudcest the other day. As tiring as I’m sure it is, it always gives me hope to see people who remember what shipping is really about. I mean problematic content has existed all through human mythos and history, and society still survives! According to the studies the “art morality” argument is roughly the same as “but da violent games!!” Argument, or metal music, or clothes, or any other form of media deemed ‘new’ or ‘too different’.

Anyway, I don’t ship cest stuff myself but your art is lovely and it’s become one of the things I can view without feeling uncomfy despite how my head usually responds to such content (woohoo free therapy??? /j)

I ship ortho with an OC who’s also 16. Said oc’s mother said she would never treat her child differently for who they choose to love, and while she definitely wasn’t expecting a robot, she’s not going back on her word.

Thank you so much, Anon!! YES, this is exactly what shipping is all about! It feels like “umm but they’re not even canon” type of people are suddenly the majority in fandom spaces ahhh lol

As long as art exists, there will always be people who are against it, especially if it’s something niche, and despite how popular fandoms are, all of the fandom activity is a niche, ESPECIALLY shipping, ESPECIALLY this kind of shipping. So unfortunately it’s unavoidable, but it’s so useless and annoying!

I am very happy that you like our stuff. Thank you for enjoying it. Your OC’s mother is amazing and very supportive lol I am sure she and Ortho will get along swimmingly.

[irndad]

don't date coworkers- s.r.

a/n: i literally wrote this very fast and also i hope you like it pls go easy on me!!! reader has a policy they don't date coworkers. spencer is so angsty abt that !! also sorry for dropping a new fic at 2am LOL wc: 1.7k

She’s really, really good at talking to people. 

It’s one of the many traits Spencer adores about her. She moves through crowds with ease, and she can charm her way into any piece of information from whatever city cop they need a favor from. She integrated into the team faster than anyone could’ve expected. This is a strength not all profilers have- they know what it takes to know what makes someone appealing, but rare is the ability to be as charismatic and charming as she is. 

She’s good at talking to him.

She’s worked at the BAU for about a year now. 13 months, 7 days and 8 hours since she walked through the doors of the bullpen for the first time, beaming at him for the very first time. Give or take. 

Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew that he was in love with her. He’s halfway certain she does, and is being too polite to mention it. Normally, Spencer is incredibly regimented about boundaries. While the BAU is his family, and there’s no real way to deny that, he knows that he’s less than ideal to go out with. He’s stocky and he never cuts his hair (even though she swears it’s cute longer) and he’s an awkward guy- gangly and tall and just ill-fitting to be part of the scenery of her life. 

It’s a Friday, and a rainy one at that. It’s one of the blessed ones where they don’t really have a case, just paperwork to catch up on, reports and her desk faces a window. 

Normally, when Spencer gets his work done (a good four hours before everyone else on a paperwork-only day), he’d head out. Catch up on whatever Russian novel he’s been chipping away at- but she’s here, and he’s made her favorite tea. 

“I thought you could use a treat,” he says, walking over to her desk. She looks up at him, brushing overgrown bangs, “It’s not really a great one, but I’ll get you some scones on the way to mine, yeah?”

She looks up at him, dropping her pen and focusing entire energy on him. He feels a bit overwhelmed, like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

“Did you know that I adore you, Spence?” 

He is very much not aware. No amount of her saying it will ever make him know. She takes a long sip from the mug. He knows how much honey she likes in it. He studies how she looks, eyes closed serenely, completely invested in what he’s given her. 

“You’ll be taking her home, pretty boy?” Morgan snickers, in a not altogether unkind manner. 

“Fuck off,” she says kindly, not taking her eyes off of Spencer as she rebuffed Morgan’s teasing. 

“Easy, easy,” Morgan laughs, “I’ll leave your boyfriend alone.”

If she has anything to say to that, it doesn’t come out then. 

He’s still bright red, though. Morgan is amused, and Spencer knows that she really, truly adores Morgan. Spencer loves him too, but it would be nice if he laid off the jokes. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

He knows this because of the first time they’d met, when he’d been walking in carrying a croissant for Garcia and a coffee for JJ, and saw what can only be described as a truly ridiculously beautiful woman in the bullpen. 

She’d been leaned back, smiling openly as Morgan tossed some random pick-up line towards her. He remembers it now like he can still hear it, her lilting lovely voice carrying just the right amount of warmth to make this not sting, or at least sting as little as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she had said, “I make it a point not to date coworkers.” 

Which of course is fine. She can date whoever she wants, and it’s a good policy to have personally. And Spencer’s never really be the kind of guy who excelled at getting dates. He knew from the first minute that he saw her that even if she didn’t think that way… well, it wouldn’t be him, who she picked. 

Now, they are very close. So close that she drives him home from work every Friday. Which usually includes staying at his shitty apartment and watching VHS tapes of documentaries and Doctor Who. 

He wants to kiss her every Friday. All, the time, really. It’s kind of plaguing him. Clearly, she likes hanging out with him. Something about him is appealing. It’s foolish to assume that it’s more than friends, especially for someone like him to be with someone like her. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

“I made sure the film tonight has subtitles!”

“Are you saying film because this film is foreign, Spence?”

“I promise it’s worth it!” He says excitedly, “And they’re really done well. You won’t have to have me whisper the translations to you in real time!”

“I didn’t mind that,” She laughs then, a real laugh, “but I’m glad we’re getting to hang out tonight.”

It’s funny- they’ve done this so, so many times, but he never stops being thrilled. 

___________________________________

Sometimes, when the summer air is forgiving enough, they walk home from the office. She takes the train in, and they walk back to his place. Tonight is one of these nights, and god- she looks lovely. She’s tied her blazer around her waist, and the sunset hits her face in that gorgeous baroque painting kind of way. 

“You’re very pretty,” he hears himself say before he can stop it. He’s endlessly pleased when she preens at the praise. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor,” she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, a nervous gesture. He wants to hold those hand, intertwine her lovely delicate fingers with his bony wispy fingers. 

“You’re being nice to me,” he says, looking down at his shoes. They’re stupid. He should wear loafers, or some other shoe that doesn’t make him like half-child half-geek. 

“I’m being accurate, actually,” she says she bumps his shoulder. 

She’d be a wonderful girlfriend. He lives in the world this can happen quite often, in his fantasy. She laughs at his jokes and tells him he’s kind, and good, and she means it. He’s lucky to have this much of her- more than anyone else on the team! Spencer knows he’s her favorite. The way she’s looking at him now, how she give-up her Fridays to spend with him, on his ratty couch, how she always listens. Whenever they're both on the jet and he falls asleep, he always wakes up with a blanket on him. She's so good at loving people.

Being her favorite on the team does not mean he’s in the running to be a boyfriend. But he’d fucking want to be. He’d be a good boyfriend. Spencer, he’s gone so far for her. He fantasizes about getting her flowers that have symbolic meaning.

“Are you okay, boy-genius?”

“I’m better than okay. Do you want popcorn?”

She wants popcorn. He sets the movie up, and she gets comfortable on his couch, curling up with his purple felt blanket, and his mind betrays him with unhelpful images of what it might look like if she was his, if this is what he came home to. 

Don't picture welcome home kisses, or movie nights or being wanted. Don't.

It’s very, very hard to focus on the movie.  

She’s touchy, with him. He’s not sure if it’s because she could never see him as her boyfriend, but he’s grateful as she leans her head on his. She smells like peonies. When the credits roll, they stay like that for minute- her head on his shoulder and one of her legs thrown over his. 

He wonders, not for the first time, if she feels the same way about him. If things were just..different, then they’d be kissing under the haze of his TV right now, if he’d know what that chapstick she carries with her every day tastes like. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if we met under different circumstances?” he says, once time passes and he speaks instead of thinking.

“Hmm?” She hummed, relaxed eyes flitting their gaze over to him.

“Like, at a bar or something.”

“But you hate bars.”

“That’s why I said or something!”

Her lip juts out adorably, “But then I wouldn’t get to see you in your element.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, resting his neck on the top of the cushion. The AC is a little too much in the room. He wonders if she’s cold. “But who knows. Maybe we’d date, or something.”

It’s the dumbest thing he’s ever fucking said. Both because it was a dumb way to say it, but because it was an advance. He feels white hot shame lick at his spine when he looks at her, and hears her laugh. 

“I don’t think so, Spence.” 

“No,” shitshitshit, “I didn’t mean-“

“I mean, if you don’t want to date me now, I don’t think meeting at like, Whole Foods would’ve been the difference maker.”

It’s then he hears it- the piece he couldn’t place in her voice, when she gets like this. It’s being resigned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Spence,” she says, another bitter chuckle coming through, “You know how I feel. I haven’t exactly beens subtle.”

“But you don’t date coworkers. You have a rule.”

She looks at him with no recognition of what he’s saying. 

“No, because you told Morgan that, it’s the first thing I ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And yes, okay, you’ve been my favorite person almost as long as I’ve known you and yes, I would fucking love for you to be my girlfriend, but that was your rule!”

“You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Obviously!”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before, well- before she’s kissing him. More aggressive than that, really. Crawled onto his lap, arms around his neck, and where she leads Spencer is all too happy to follow. His body is not great at moving on instinct, but his whole nervous system feels alive- the weight of her in his lap, the feel of her waist under his fingers, the way he’s allowed this. It feels like such a pleasure, hedonistic in a way he’s never, ever been allowed to experience.

“You had a rule,” he says dumbly when she pulls away. His lips are wet. He’d like to go back to kissing, thank you very much. 

“You’re the exception, to every rule, Spencer.”

When he kisses her again (which he’s allowed to do now, holy fuck) Spencer decides he’s going to spend the rest of all time earning that status. 

[spicyspiders]

old man logan

wolverine x male reader smut

1.3k words

warning for highly dubious consent. the reader is home for their college summer break. logan is the mean old man living in the reader's neighborhood, and when one of the neighbor's kids loses a ball in his backyard, the reader retrieves it.

You come to the conclusion that Logan is a miserable old man after your first meeting with him.

Children can be annoying, you could understand, but with the way Logan spoke to them after accidentally throwing a ball into his yard, you didn’t like him too much. 

You weren’t sure if you like kids all that much, but you could empathize with them, especially when you saw them crying. 

“Hey,” you say to your neighbor. You were only outside to check your mail, so seeing a crying child on the doorstep next to your house caught you off guard. “What’s wrong?” 

You couldn’t remember the kid’s name, but who could blame you, summer break was your time away from college to relax with your brain off. His small face was full of tears when he lifted it up and his eyes were rimmed red. The boy’s lower lip trembled before he responded to you in a shaky voice. 

“I lost my ball in Mr. Howlett’s yard,” he sniffled. 

Mr. Howlett had moved in sometime during your first semester away at college, and he wasn’t exactly a welcoming presence when you had gotten home. He always looked so gruff and angry when you tried to speak with him, which left you to steal looks when he wasn’t looking. Though you didn’t like him, he was luckily nice to look at. 

You weren’t sure how old he was, but from the glances you stole, you assumed he was young enough to somehow retain the muscle mass he had. 

You couldn’t remember if it was him, or if it was another one of your neighbor’s, but this wasn’t the first time a toy had accidentally been thrown into his yard. In fact, it was why you disliked him. You thought that it might just have been the kids, but when you tried to get one of the toys back after seeing another child’s tearful face, Logan slammed the door in your face. 

“It’s okay,” you said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “we can get it back.”

”He won’t give it back,” he whined, his voice an octave higher and more tears came out. 

“Have you tried?” You asked, trying to ignore the anger welling up in your chest. You didn’t know how Logan could be so mean to a crying child. 

The boy ducked his face down to where you couldn’t see it, like he was trying to hide, “he’s mean,” he answered, his voice small. 

“I know he is,” you said quietly. It wasn’t the right thing to say, you should say something like: he’s not mean. He can just be grumpy, but you didn’t feel like being nice to him right now. “I’ll go get it.”

The boy’s head snapped up to look up at you with wide eyes, “really?” 

You smiled softly at the boy, “I’ll be right back,” you said before standing up. Instead of going to Logan’s you went back inside your house first to get the boy a tissue, “wipe you face,” you told the boy after handing him a few tissues, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

”Okay,” the boy said, flashing you a watery smile. He had a few teeth missing, the sight making your heart strings tug. It made you wonder just how Logan could get angry at a child with a smile like that. 

“What do you want, bub?” Logan asked after he opened his door.

Though you were angry, you couldn’t ignore how the man intimidated you. He was tall and broad, his muscular body filling up the entire door frame. He could split you in half if he wanted to, and not in a good way.  

“Can you give him his ball back?” Pointing over your shoulder with your thumb to the boy. 

Logan’s eyes flicked from your face to over your shoulder before returning, “he shouldn't have thrown it over there.”

“It’s not like he meant to throw it over there,” you said back.

”Did he tell you that, or was he too busy cryin’?” He asked, crossing his arms.

”Can you give him his ball back?” You repeated, your teeth gritted in anger.

Logan titled his head, “he shouldn’t have thrown it over there,” he repeated, just as you did. His arms fell to his sides before he stepped closer to you, his chest pressed to yours. Through the thin shirt of the tank top he wore, his chest ran hot like a furnace. 

Old man Logan is fucking bully. A bully with a big broad chest surrounded by muscular arms. He's a bully in his words and with his actions.

Old man Logan is a fucking bully when he brings you inside and he pushes you down onto your knees and pulls out his cock. “You want his ball back, college boy?” He asks as he strokes his cock to full-mast. Right in front of the door to his backyard.

Old man Logan is a fucking bully as he pushes the head past your lips and onto your tongue, “put yer fuckin’ hands down,” he commands when you try to keep his cock from going deeper. 

Old man Logan is a fucking bully, especially when he says, “pretty boy like you,” he says, groaning as he pushes his cock deeper, “I bet you’re popular all over campus,” he says over the sound of your gags on his thick cock. 

He finally lets you breathe, but only after he wraps a tight hand around the back of your neck and pulls you off his cock. You suck in grateful pulls of air that taste like the salt of Logan’s precum. You glare up at him as he traces the slick head of his cock along your swollen lips. his smug eyes locking with yours.

“Bet you’re popular with your professors, too,” Logan murmurs, as he pushes his cock back into your mouth, “they let you suck their cocks for good grades?” He questions, his sentence ending with a groan as your throat clenches around his cock. 

You roll your eyes even as they well with tears. It sounds like he’s projecting, but it’s not like you were able to ask him, with your mouth being full of cock and all.  

Old man Logan is a bully, especially after he goes too deep and you gag again, “probably not too high of grades,” he says to himself, but still loud enough for you to hear the jab at your cock sucking skills, “but good enough,” he says with a moan as his cock pulses along your tongue and he cums down your throat.

You try your best to swallow all that you can, but some of it dribbles past your lips and down your chin. 

“Clean yourself up and go get that ball,” Logan says, stepping away. The clink of his belt buckle echoes with him as he steps past you and into his kitchen. You hear the noise of a paper towel ripping and a faucet turning on and then off again as you swipe your arm across your mouth to collect the mess on your face. 

Your knees ache as you pull yourself up and walk to the door, but you ignore the burn and instead search for the ball. You find it quickly, but you also see other toys that other kids have thrown over. You don’t grab them though, and instead think of the cold shower waiting for you at home to get rid of the hard on tenting your pants.  

“You didn’t want to grab the others?” Logan asks once you’re back inside. You make sure not to watch as he tucks his soft cock back into his jeans and just hopes he ignores the bulge in your pants. “Or do you want another reason to come back over here?” He questions, his voice much closer. 

You walk briskly past the man, paying no attention to the heat of his eyes on you, “not gonna answer me, little brat?” Logan’s voice calls after you as you leave his house. 

You scrub a hand over your face, trying to make yourself presentable, but let out a sigh of relief when you see the boy has gone back inside. You place it on his doorstep and knock softly on the door before heading back inside your house. 

---

Part 2

[lovelybucky1]

Crybaby (Logan x Reader)

warnings: AFAB!reader, age gap, mean!logan, yelling, dacraphyillia, slightly dark, vaginal fingering, 18+ minors dni, divider from @strangergraphics

You can feel Logan’s eyes staring holes into the back of your head on the jet. You fucked up on this mission and he made sure you knew it. Loudly. In front of the rest of the team. He practically ripped you a new one with his harsh words, insulting your intelligence, strength, and ability to use your powers. Jean, the sweet angel she is, gently talked Logan down and saved you from facing more of his anger. Unfortunately, no one will be able to stop him once you get back to the mansion. 

When you land, you hurry off the jet so Logan isn’t able to catch up with you. He made his point perfectly clear earlier, and you don’t need to hear any more of his yelling. You gather your things and make it back to your room without interruption, leaving you alone to clean up from the mission and deal with the day’s events.

Earth-wielding powers aren’t something to use when distracted, but so many things were happening at once that you slipped up. Storm got caught between two large rocks that you had moved and she was almost seriously hurt. Luckily you caught your mistake before any damage was done, but Logan still found your actions unacceptable. Guilt stews in your stomach as you think about what could’ve happened to Storm. You never would have forgiven yourself if a mistake you made got one of your teammates killed.

By the time you’re fresh from the shower and dressed, it’s late. You should head to bed and forget this mess of a day, but you can’t let yourself. You decide to go to the library, a place you usually go for privacy away from those with enhanced hearing. You sit in one of the armchairs with your legs tucked under you. The fireplace in the room is always lit and it give an orange glow to the cozy room. 

As you sit, you remember all of the things Logan had said to you. It was as if he knew exactly how to get under your skin, targeting all of your insecurities like they were written on your face. Those insults from anyone else may not have hurt as much as they did coming from Logan, the man you’ve been in a relationship with for weeks now. You can’t stop the tears leaking from your eyes, and your stomach burns with shame as you recall what Logan had called you earlier. A crybaby. 

“You’re a pathetic little crybaby who doesn’t deserve a spot on this fuckin’ team.”

He spit the mean words at you like he has been waiting to say them for a while. You thought you were getting closer with Logan, perhaps making a romantic connection. Your relationship with him started as something purely physical, but you felt like you were growing closer to him. Perhaps that was wishful thinking. You’re surprised you held back tears then, but now, away from prying eyes, you let them fall. You muffle your sobs in your shirt sleeves, but you’re obviously not quiet enough. Your attention is grabbed by a figure standing in the doorway. 

Logan’s shadowed figure blocks the dim light from the hall as he looks in on you, sobbing in the dark like the crybaby he knew you were. He looks uncomfortable like he’s trying to find something to make this awkward encounter better, but he comes up short. Instead, he walks into the room and behind your chair. He places a heavy hand on your shoulder and squeezes it slightly.

“I’m sorry about today,” he says after some time. “I… didn’t mean to yell at you like that.” You don’t respond because, honestly, what could you say to that? He humiliated you in front of everyone. Logan says your name gently, wanting you to respond, but you stay quiet.

With a sigh, he steps around the chair and squats down in front of it so he can be at eye level with you. “Please say something,” he urges.

You look up from your lap at him, and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach. He looks beautiful in the glow from the fireplace, but his features are blurred a bit by the tears in your eyes. His expression grows even more guilty when he sees your tear-stained cheeks and glassy eyes.

“Aren’t you gonna make fun of me?” you ask, voice thick.

Logan’s eyes furrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You were right. I am a crybaby,” you mumble.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean that, I just… I got carried away.” Logan pauses for a moment. “Let me make you feel better. Please.”

Hearing The Wolverine plead for permission to console you is unexpected, but not unwelcome. You nod and he gently scoops you into his arms before sitting down in the place you just were. He settles you on his lap and he wraps his arms around you. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the musky smell that you’ve come to love. You let yourself cry into his shirt, making the fabric damp with your tears.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

He lets you cry for a little while longer before the guilt catches up to him again. “Sweetheart?”

You look up at him with your glassy doe eyes and he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re so sweet, so innocent, so naive, and sometimes it gets the better of you. Logan looks at your red-rimmed eyes and your swollen lips and he thinks you’re beautiful. He wants to kiss those tears away and he feels like a monster for it. He’s the reason you’re crying, for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Whatever he was going to say went out the window. Sometimes Logan feels like he is no better than an animal, especially during moments like these. The girl he cares most about is in his lap, shaking like a leaf because of what he said to her, and the only thing the feral part of his brain can think about is how badly he wants her. It’s the predator instinct, to want to pounce on the helpless little lamb. He knows it’s wrong, he knows he hurt her and this is no way to make up for it. But sometimes he just can’t help himself.

“You’re my little crybaby, ain’t ya?” he asks. The question is condescending, but he keeps that same sympathetic tone. 

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“I’m sorry about before, baby, I really am. But you cryin’ like this in my lap… you’re so goddamn sweet.”

Logan brushes your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb and you instinctively open your mouth and let him in. You suck on his thumb gently as fat tears fall down your cheeks again. He watches with half-lidded eyes as you take more of his thumb into your mouth like you’re greedy for more, despite being so upset.

“You cry so fuckin’ pretty,” he praises, and just to be an asshole, he adds, “I should make you do it more often.”

You pout around his finger, which makes him grin down at you. “Let me make it up to you, baby. Would my dick make you feel better?”

You should tell him to fuck off. How dare he berate you and then expect to fuck you a few hours later. You should tell him that your relationship is done. You shouldn’t want him to fuck you senseless right now. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you nod. Gently, Logan adjusts you in his lap so your straddling his thighs. Only the small pair of cotton panties that you were wearing under your sweatshirt and his jeans separate you. He undones the fly of his pants and frees his cock easily, the weight of you on top of him not hindering him any. His fingers find the elastic band of your panties and he pulls them to the side easily, exposing your wet pussy. 

When he feels your slick on his finger, he gives you a questioning look. You feel like explaining that it turns you on when a man comforts you is a conversation for another day, so you just shrug innocently.

Logan works his fingers inside of you to prep him for his cock. He’s big, but thankfully it doesn’t take too much work to get you ready for him. Both of you are impatient by nature, and right now especially, you’re not in the mood for much foreplay.

Once Logan deems you ready, he positions you and sinks you down on his cock. Your greedy cunt swallows every inch like the good girl you are and he praises you for it. Once you’re fully seated, you try to ride him but he stops you.

“I’ve got you, doll. I’ll do the work and you can keep crying it out. How’s that sound?” he asks in that infuriatingly hot voice he only uses when he fucks you. Leaning forward, you hide your face in the crook of his neck and you nod. “Yeah, that’s my good little crybaby.”

reblogs are always appreciated and my inbox is open for logan thoughts!

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Ballad of Lost Souls

Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader

Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say

Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, y’all get to be tattooed girlies today, you’re welcome

WC: 5.7K I’m sorry

Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! She’s a great writer

A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. That’s all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if there’s enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, I’ve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and don’t cancel me alright.

You didn’t often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didn’t know where you’d be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didn’t mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didn’t care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and that’s why you were here. 

You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldn’t take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldn’t imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didn’t say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.

Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in. 

You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didn’t notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful. 

Eric remembered that. 

The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasn’t much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasn’t much, but you couldn’t help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull up’s, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man you’ve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldn’t take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldn’t be eye fucking him like this, but you couldn’t help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.

Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didn’t take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldn’t hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didn’t care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.

The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didn’t show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldn’t get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didn’t feel filthy enough.

You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You weren’t paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didn’t even know his name. 

Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didn’t feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares. 

Shit, were you supposed to say something? 

You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didn’t even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didn’t think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since you’ve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face. 

Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. 

~~~

You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it. 

He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.

“I like your ink.” Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.

“Hm.” He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. “I like yours.” 

You smiled, the first genuine one since you’ve gotten here.

“I have more.” You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets. 

“Me too.” His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.

Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder. 

“But don’t tell anyone.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.

“Who would I tell?” Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. “Here he comes.”

You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head. 

“Males and females can’t sit together!” One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.

“Huh? Wait, why are you taking him?” You talked back to the guard. “Hey, he didn’t do anything! I was the one that sat here. I—I’ll move. Don’t be such an asshole! Leave him alone!” You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.

He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. “I’m Eric!”

You smiled. 

~~~~~~

“Found you.” You skipped into Eric’s room, finally seeing his door open.

You hadn’t seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your “temper” but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didn’t mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didn’t see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.

“I never left.” He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room. 

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble.” You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.

“Is that why you’re here? To apologize?” Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.

“Well yeah. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.

“Why did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didn’t you?” He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.

“‘Cause… You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. It’s fucked up.” You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.

“Yeah, so?”

You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didn’t know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.

“I dunno.. I just.. Oh my—” You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.

Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didn’t look apologetic, at all.

“This what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?” You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.

He shook his head. “Just one.” He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes. 

Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.

“You are very talented, this is—” You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. “You could totally sell this for some money.”

“But,” you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. “I see one flaw in your creativity.”

“Oh?” He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.

“I fear you don’t have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.” You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.

“Sorry. I work with what I have.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.

“Maybe I should give you more to work with?” Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.

Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better. 

You weren’t sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Eric’s slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didn’t do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.

His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didn’t hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Eric’s shoulder, forcing your lips away from his. 

“Eric—Eric.” You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. “I have to go. I don’t want to get you in trouble again.” 

He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Eric’s. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.

You could not wait to see him again.

~~~~~~

“Eric!—” You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.

You didn’t mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didn’t, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didn’t know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasn’t enough for him, or for you.

“I wanted to taste you so fucking bad.” He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you. 

“Please—fuck. That feels so good.” You didn’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.

Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours. 

You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit. 

“Just like that baby… Just like that.” Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot. 

Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you. 

“Shit—Eric—” You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face. 

With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.

“It’s okay.” He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm. 

“But you—” He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left. 

“We’ll have time for that.” He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. “Right?”

He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didn’t want.

“Of course.. This isn’t.. Can’t you tell? What you do to me. I’ve never..” You couldn’t even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didn’t need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.

“We should go.” He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. “Can you stand?”

You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.

~~~~~

The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasn’t hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasn’t startled, he didn’t flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasn’t something you could explain, you knew it probably wasn’t healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.

“Where are you going?” You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didn’t look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Laundry room.” He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldn’t hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.

“I’m supposed to be out in two weeks.” You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass. 

“I’m out in four.” He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldn’t go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.

“I don’t want to wait a month to be with you.” You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. “I’m supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I don’t want to go. They’re the ones that put me here.” 

“I don’t have anywhere to go.” You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.

“You can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. It’s not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?” You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didn’t have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.

“I would like that. I would like something real, with you.” His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. “Fuck this place. We’ll do it tomorrow, during shift change. There’s a vent up here that leads to the yard.”

You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck. 

“Eric.” You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. “I don’t think I can wait anymore. Please, I… I need…”

“Need what?” His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.

“Fuck—” You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you might’ve once had, completely. You can’t trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? “Take me. I’m yours, just take me.”

“Fuck.” Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. “You’re a sweet girl, don’t forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.” 

His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.

“I like carnations.” You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.

“Those are pretty. They’re pretty like you.” He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days. 

Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didn’t know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.

His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big. 

“Let me know if it hurts, hm? I’ll take it easy, I promise.” He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.

“Fuck. Fuck, oh my god—” You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.

“It’s okay. You want me to stop?” He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didn’t occur to you.

“No. ‘m okay. Keep going.” You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. “Eric, please.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“Fuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.” He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. “I need you to keep it down for me, baby. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” 

You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent years—drugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.

“I wanted this—you—so fucking bad. I needed to have you.” Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. “I’m so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.” 

You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul. 

“Me too.” You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. “I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. You—ah!—I need you all the fucking time.”

“Then you can have me,” His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. “All the fucking time. Forever.” 

Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uh’s, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak. 

“I want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.” Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way before—so overcome with pleasure you cried.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. Good girl.” The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down. 

Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasn’t until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself. 

Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.

“How fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?” You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.

“When I first saw you, I didn’t know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didn’t have you. And right now, I can tell you it’s not just lust. I’m entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if there’s one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise you’ll drown.” 

You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, he’d be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.

“Addicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But it’s not always to drugs we’re addicted to.” You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. “This feeling? I never want it to stop.”

“It doesn’t have to.” He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. “Forever, right?”

“Yeah, forever.”

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 3:58

No amount of hectic schedules, exhausting patrols, rowdy villains, and never-ending legal paperwork could ever keep Bakugou from attending his daughters’ extracurricular activities—because he’d literally go through literal hell and back than to ever see a disheartened pout along with the silent treatment after he gets home from work.

You think he’ll ever miss any of his daughters’ milestones? Fuck no!

Bakugou insists on being at every event, his phone—and even an actual camera during a good day—in hand, his heart swelling with pride and unconditional love that makes his chest figuratively hurt; it might as well be a medical problem at some point. 

Because, if anything, Bakugou Katsuki is a father first and a hero second.

“Shit, ‘m late. Have they started yet?”

He’s sweating as if he just used his explosions to propel himself in the air to get to you quicker, but, in truth, he sort of had to just run since the traffic on the highway today would’ve only angered and slowed him down. He left patrol to Halfie, who offered to take his shift, knowing how many times Bakugou covered for him when he was in his son’s piano recital.

“They just started doing warmups,” you answer. “Did you run? You’re drenched to the bone; you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed into some dry clothes.”

“Hah, doubt it.” He snorts, though he does appreciate the thought of you bringing him a spare shirt for just-in-case purposes.

You're always the one who thinks ahead, aren't you? Bakugou knows he’s a very lucky man to have such a doting, caring wife that humbles him whenever he gets too focused on his pride. The balance that he didn’t know he needed!

Ignoring the gawking stares of the other parents—because it’s not everyday you see the Pro Hero Dynamight in mundane activities such as watching his kid take gymnastics’ lessons—he looks through the glass in search of his little princess.

Just as he saw her, his lips curled to that oh-so genuine smile, one that just said, “That’s my daughter, right there! Look at how awesome she is!” 

Bakugou remembers how his parents were the same and how they were very supportive of his interests and hobbies, no matter how odd they may be for a five-year-old. How often do you see someone learning to take on both hiking and archery at the age of five? Bakugou was sure he learned most skills during his childhood that made him a firm hero in the field today.

“She has a bit of trouble with tumbling because of her tummy.”

“Yeah? And does that have somethin’ to do with my awesome cooking?” Bakugou replied smugly. “Besides, ‘ts just baby fat, and I’d prefer to see her like this than to see her thin but often sick.”

“Mhm, and she makes up for the cutest ending pose.”

“And her effortless splits. Have the coaches seen her do that?”

You shook your head. “Not yet,” you say, “but I think they’re about to do it—oh! Look, look!”

And he does; his phone’s camera is already recording his youngest daughter doing a perfect vertical split, while the other girls somewhat struggle to maintain a consistent posture. 

“She’s a natural, hun.”

“She is,” you chuckle, “just like her Daddy to a certain extent.”

“Damn right, she is.”

Bakugou tries to hold back his laughter when your daughter once again attempts a forward roll with the guidance of the staff. Her tummy somewhat makes it a bit difficult for her to do so. The way she hesitates but then does the forward roll, albeit a little lopsided with a smile that shows her adorable tooth gap—it was safe to say that your daughter was over the moon with her gymnastics lessons.

It’s all too much for him to take.

And when all is over, he greets his daughter by picking her up and blowing raspberries on her neck that have her squealing in laughter before he insists that he’ll be the one to talk to the coaches about the upcoming schedules and the progress your daughter has made. 

“Mr. Bakugou, she’s a good listener, and I believe that she’ll be moving onto the next class with the older children in no time,” they told him. “Has she received prior training before this one?”

“She’s also taking ballet lessons,” he answers, “but gymnastics is what she really likes. Ballet was just a compromise since your services weren’t available in our area at that time.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s a joy to have her in class. I’ve already sent Dr. [Last Name] the schedules we offered, and we are looking forward to having your daughter in the upcoming lessons.”

The walk back to your car was light and quiet for a change. Your youngest daughter, Kusami, was out like a light in Bakugou’s arms, having worn herself out with socializing, rolling, doing splits, and whatnot the gymnastics’ instructors told her to do. And Bakugou was just letting the simple moment sink in because this is what he considers the most rewarding part of his day. 

Time spent with his family.

Bakugou also warmed up to the thought of having to interact with other parents. He chatted with a single father earlier, whose daughter was the oldest in Kusami’s class. It was nice to converse with equally enthusiastic and supportive parents that you meet through your children's extracurricular activities.

“Let’s go through a drive-through; get Katsumi her usual order,” Bakugou murmurs, remembering how his oldest daughter, Katsumi, would’ve probably woken up from her nap by now and was probably anticipating her family’s return. 

“Alright,” you nod. “Katsumi and Kusami have swimming lessons tomorrow at five in the afternoon, too. Do you think you’d get home that early?”

“Of course,” he answers. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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