#especially because i imagine most of them are going to be fully hand drawn and look prettier

[halliescomut]

Yoh's drawings of Mizuki- a deeper dive

So, I went though to pull any and all pictures that we have of Yoh’s drawings of Segasaki, since they’ve made them a key story point, and it’s unfortunate that we don’t have more, because it’s honestly fascinating to me. You can find my first post with quick thoughts here.  I sort of hemmed and hawed over how exactly to present my findings, but I think it makes the most sense to go chronologically per the story vs episode order, so we’re starting with episode 7 and the flashbacks.

Episode 6/7-Flashbacks

Episode 6 offers no specific images of the sketches but does give us the impetus for them. We get to see Yoh first lay eyes on Mizuki, and then are privileged to get his inner thoughts. We learn a lot about him in this episode, especially in regard to his career. The previous episodes would have us believe that Yoh was in university to pursue art in some form or fashion, but we learn in this moment, that prior to seeing Mizuki he had really only drawn manga as a hobby. That’s not to say he couldn’t be good at it, but it says that he didn’t consider it to be a possibility for him as a career. And while drawing manga isn’t easy or simple, it can be far less complex than drawing realism, which means that we’re seeing Yoh expand his creative wheelhouse SPECIFICALLY in an attempt to capture Mizuki on the page. And we see him practicing skills related to realism in one of the other sketches.

If you think about how Mizuki was essentially the catalyst for his dream, how he’s the base model of his love interests in his own stories, it becomes far more understandable why Yoh would be so upset to think that Mizuki doesn’t care about his career or value his talent. Because in his mind, he essentially wouldn’t be in this predicament if not for Mizuki.

Moving onto episode 7, we know that Mizuki can feel Yoh watching him, and he’s intelligent enough to put 2 and 2 together to understand that Yoh is drawing him in that little notebook of his. So after at least a few encounters with him, his curiosity clearly gets the best of him and he asks to see it.

I talked before in my no sub watch about how this scene just displays the MOST submissive behavior from Yoh. You can read Luta’s work about how Mizuki and Yoh are lovely examples of a lifestyle D/s dynamic that’s more organic than negotiated. It’s simply who they are, and it’s there from the very beginning. I know that age/seniority plays a part in some interactions, but it’s the lack of questions that confirm for me that it’s more than just societal expectation. Yoh doesn’t even question handing over his sketchbook, knowing there’s multiple pictures of Segasaki in it, he only becomes uncomfortable when he thinks his drawings are bad.

Segasaki, in Yoh’s point of view of this time in their lives seemed vaguely discontent, but not overly so. We find out he was fully uninterested in his friend group for the most part. I also sort of called that in my no subs watch, feeling that they were more friends of convenience, and possibly in the same faculty or major, and not people he gravitated towards. In actuality, even in the present we don’t see much in the way of Mizuki having friends. He’s friendly enough with his ‘at work persona’ but he has no interest in extending work interactions more than necessary.

Presented with these drawings depicting his boredom, vague grumpiness, even sadness or loneliness, he realizes that Yoh sees so much deeper than the front he puts on. That’s not to say his ‘engaged’ mask is flawless, it’s Party City quality at best, but his friends are sort of self-absorbed enough that they don’t care. That’s not necessarily meant to be a dig, it’s just kind of true. The reality is that most 20-22 year olds are kind of self-absorbed, they’re focused on themselves and their goals. I imagine Mizuki served a certain purpose in the friend group (likely intellectual) and in their mind since he wasn’t complaining he must be happy. It's also reasonable to assume that they filled a purpose in his life as well, even if it was just occasional company, or a study partner.

Yoh’s attempted defense at what he presumes is a complaint about their quality, only solidifies Segasaki’s understanding that Yoh sees him so much more clearly than anyone has. Because he confirms that the intention is to quickly perceive and attempt to portray the emotion of the subject as well as an accurate physical rendering. We don’t have information in the show regarding his family situation, but it’s possible that even if there is a solid familial tie that those people also don’t really see him.

This feeling is further confirmed when Yoh pulls Mizuki away from his friend group, asserting that he didn’t look well. His friends had taken no notice at his less than energetic interaction, but Yoh could seemingly see it from across the quad. AND despite having small in passing conversations and interactions, wanted to help him. (Also can we think for just a moment about the level of courage it took for Yoh to interrupt a group of SENIOR students as shy as he is?? But he did it for Yoh, because his wellbeing outweighs any and all concerns, the same way Yoh's wellbeing outweighs anything else for Mizuki.) Now we know from the internal monologues of episode 6 that Yoh was already enamored with Mizuki, so it’s not really a surprise to us as the viewers, but it would be a surprise to Mizuki.

Following this turning point in Mizuki’s feelings for Yoh (specifically his claiming of him in this moment)…

we now see a new side of Segasaki, where he wants more of this interaction, where he wants to see more of himself through Yoh’s eyes.

And we get to see how being in the company of people he chooses, and who choose him to an extent, he is happy to simply exist in Yoh’s company. Which I think speaks directly to his willingness to follow with what Yoh agrees to once their living arrangement and sexual relationship begins. In what is the most perfect depiction of what D/s is really about, Yoh is the one truly in control, and because he loves Yoh, he’s happy to basically take what he can get. In every possible moment is he trying to share and express his feelings to Yoh? Yes, but sadly he’s garbage at it, which is the conflict of the show. I posited in my original post, that I also think this was an attempt to hopefully have Yoh see how Mizuki feels about him, that if he were able to observe Mizuki’s feelings, then he wouldn’t have to speak them aloud. In the intervening years I think there were times where he was sure that Yoh truly understood the depth of his feelings and desire to take care of him, but seemingly following those moments, would come ones that clearly displayed that he did not.

Episode 2

Episode 2 we see Yoh doodling Segasaki while he’s meant to be working, and he’s doing it based off of his weather show, what we’re seeing is Meterologist Mizuki. This particular sketch is far more detailed, likely because he’s able to observe uninterrupted, and it offers what we see later in episode 3 Yoh refer to as his 'public persona.' I’m so interested to know if Yoh has truly interacted with another person that Mizuki would call a friend and what those interactions look like. Because we know what his public persona is, we see it with his coworkers, his interaction with Yoh at the café, even his interactions with Man-san; and we know what his personality is with Yoh, it’s one that we actually see the most of. It’s gruff tones, and rough touches balanced by gentle strokes and soft whispers. But what is it outside of that?

This drawing also comes about when the new weather girl is introduced, and Yoh in a fit of jealousy over Mizuki smiling at her, scribbles over the picture.

The next morning after his tiff with an intoxicated Yoh, Mizuki finds the drawing on the floor from where Yoh had thrown it at him the day before. His reaction in that moment is one of sadness, because he can see that emotional distance growing between them, even though their physical distance has decreased.

His face in reaction to seeing the drawing is quite clearly very sad, even distraught, because he’s likely imagining that if Yoh could simply throw away these sketches, then how easily could he discard him as well?

Episode 3

In this episode we get the café drawing, which is more him drawing Mizuki from memory versus the observational drawing in the flashbacks. The figure is Mizuki, you can tell almost immediately, but it’s erring more towards Yoh’s manga style than the closer to realism versions we’d seen before. It’s also likely very intention to see this small sketch done in profile, and then have almost that same profile enter the screen.

And we learn here that these ‘café sketches’ are sort of a habit of Yoh’s, something he’s done for basically all of the time Mizuki has known him, though Mizuki doesn’t know that he’s the catalyst for them. When he encounters him at the café, he’s surprised that he’s still doing them, which makes it extra sweet to me when he asks him if he wants to sketch on their little date as well, but Yoh didn’t bring his sketchbook. It means he’s trying to encourage Yoh to be doing the things that make him happy, and just allow him to be there too. Mizuki is a simple man.

We also get a small glimpse at his manga skills on paper, which when compared to his drawing of Mizuki that same day makes me think that perhaps when he doesn’t have the subject to refer to that his drawings of Mizuki, when they’re based on memory, begin to skew more towards a manga style. Essentially when it’s something more mindless, he lets his strongest skillset take over, leading to something that’s more of a mix between realism and manga styling.

In regards to the manga that Man-san and Yoh have been writing, appartently that art was done by another manga author at the request of the original manga artist for Taikan Yoho. Thank you @notfreetoday for that delightful information.

'Not sure about the sketches, but the doujinshi that Man-san and Yoh made is drawn by a different manga artist, Toshima Awako, who also draws BL, and is a good friend of the original artist Taino Nikke.

Tai-sensei asked Awako-sensei to help 😊😊'

So now we have come to the end for at least this week, it's possible more examples will be presented to us in the finale, but I don't know that it will be anything so life-changing as to require my added information.

Please enjoy these adorable pictures in appreciation for reading this far.

Look at the silly little beans....so cute.

[leonawriter]

I remember a fair few times lately when it's been brought to my attention how Sonoko is one of the few people Kaito could theoretically connect with about magic... and here he is, on her balcony.

I thought I'd give this its own post, because honestly? Yeah, they deserve it.

We start out by seeing this scene which... could almost be reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet. Or Superman at Lois' balcony. There's a sort of coding here, especially since she's in her nightgown, that it's an illicit tryst.

That wouldn't be entirely wrong, considering he's asking her to be his accomplice for the heist!

She outright passes her one-of-a-kind dress over the bathroom stall partition to Kid, who is waiting on the other side, as part of her bet that "will Makoto-san be able to tell when it's me and when it's you?"

But let's look past that. Let's ignore Makoto-san for a minute and look just at Sonoko and Kaito.

There we go!!

I'm fascinated and drawn in by the way Kaito is sitting patiently and calmly with his legs crossed on there. His hands are by his sides, and he's looking up, but he looks like he's talking. Sonoko herself is blushing as she pushes the dress over the stall.

I find it easy to imagine the two of them discussing the bet here. "Will he recognise me, or won't he?" - Kaito could be reassuring her, since she doesn't look discouraged. But they could also be quite simply discussing the tricks involved, which is my personal favourite theory here, given the way he looks so relaxed, as well as his smile.

How often d'you think he gets to have an assistant who's so willing to work with him? Who is interested in the mechanics of magic?

And, as I'd said in a previous post, this here is Sonoko at her best, and most critical of him - she wants to see him at his best, but she also doesn't want to see him succeed. She wants to see him fail! He knows that!

If anything, I think that this helps them connect on a far more equal level.

Which puts this moment in a different light.

Sonoko wants Makoto to win because he's her boyfriend. She wants Kid to win because she looks up to him and respects his abilities. The two are equal in her mind, while being different things.

In fact, I'd say this is Kaito, having seen Sonoko cheering loudly for him so many times by now, stating as clearly as is possible for him that a) you can't control what people feel (he's been the subject of someone trying that, thanks Akako) and b) Sonoko... was never fully romantically in love with him in the first place. That was all Makoto's territory, that Kaito's not interested in going near.

And yet, at the end, Sonoko holds up her end of the bargain with him, because as said above, she cares about both of these people... just in different ways.

All in all, the case provided actual character development for both Sonoko AND Makoto, thanks to Kid.

Sonoko gets to be shown accepting that her feelings for Kid aren't the same as her feelings for Makoto, and Makoto is told (whether he internalises it or not is another story) that Kid isn't his love rival.

It also softens down the sense of Sonoko being someone who's basically trying to double-date whenever she's seen screaming after Kaitou Kid in any future heist - it isn't like with Kogoro simping for Yoko-chan and leaving his wife behind so much as her appreciating Kid on different terms...

Although given she's still Sonoko, she'll probably still take some enjoyment and thrills out of seeing "two dashing young men fight over [her]" no matter what.

But at that point, after all this, it's then Makoto's responsibility to trust in her, not her responsibility to... not be her idol's biggest fan.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Weight Of A Heart

Summary: Tinkerbell had held Regina's heart. She still holds it even after it is back in Regina's chest.

The weight of a heart isn’t so heavy. 

Not when it is held in the palm of one’s hand, physically and beating.

Each heart has its own weight, Tinkerbell imagines.

Darkened hearts are heavier than fully bright ones.

Blackened hearts are the heaviest of them all. 

Or maybe it is just something that she is imagining... 

Maybe the only reason that the heart feels heavy is because it is beating in her hand. 

Maybe she is imprinting the weight of a decision on something that is not heavy at all.

Regina doesn’t protest. 

She doesn’t beg and she doesn’t cry. 

Not until Tinkerbell mentions her son. 

“You love him don’t you?”

And she is seeing a different woman entirely. A woman who wears an expression that does not befit the dark heart beating in the fairy’s hand. Love. She can see it in Regina’s eyes. She can see it in the tear that slips down her cheek when she says that she finally did something right. 

The queen says a lot of things. And Tinkerbell has grown to distrust every single word. But she can’t bring herself to doubt the sincerity of her words.

She loves her son. 

And Tinkerbell imagines that that is why her heart isn’t entirely black; why it still has a small but vibrant red glow to it.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do.” She says. 

And Tinkerbell can’t help but wonder if she truly wants to live at all. She thinks that Regina does, but not for herself. Not for herself at all. 

For her son.

For the one thing that she got right. 

And what kind of fairy—wingless or not—would she be if she had a hand in an innocent boy meeting some type of fate at the hands of a devious little fiend like Peter Pan. He has been a shadow and a blight on so many lives for too long. 

“I’ll give you your heart back, but I won’t help you.” Tinkerbell swears. 

She has never been good at sticking to promises. 

Not when the promises are dismal and unkind.

Especially not when she is met with sad, teary eyes.

She should know better.

She is too trusting.

And that has been exploited time and time again.

Too many times. 

Her heart may not be tiny and inky. But it has cooled considerably and it has grown terribly stony. 

Maybe she and the queen aren’t so different.

Maybe that is why she had been drawn to her in the first place, all those years ago. 

Blue had always told her that she was a bad fairy. Implied that she was a bad person. And maybe that is what Regina had been. A means to an end, albeit with genuinely good intentions behind it. A situation where everyone wins; two troubled souls fixing each other. 

Naive.

She had been naive. 

And Regina had been scared. 

What a dreadful, poisonous combination. 

Tinkerbell had bitten off more than she could chew. She should have known that a little bit of pixie dust and a glimpse at a soulmate wouldn’t have been enough. Not for someone who has only seen how love can hurt. Not for someone whose heart had already grown cold and stony. Regina hadn’t needed pixie dust. 

She needed a friend.

Someone who could have shown her that love isn’t such a terrifying thing. 

But she shouldn’t have lied. 

She shouldn't have have left Tinkerbell to feel as though she was the problem. That she was a dreadful, useless fairy. Shouldn’t have left her to take all of the blame. 

And Blue. 

She thinks that she is angry at Blue most of all. Blue who made her feel so small and so inadequate that she felt compelled to meddle in something that she had no business tampering with. 

Blue who dwindled her confidence so far and always made her feel like she had to prove herself. Sometimes she thinks that Blue liked to single her out. She couldn’t have been that horrible and troublesome, could she have?

And that is why she finds herself tagging along afterall, to save the son of the woman who’d cost her her wings. 

She promises herself that she won’t sympathize too much. 

That she is doing this for the boy, Henry, and him alone. Maybe for Emma too. 

She promises herself that she won’t even talk to Regina. 

She is so very bad at keeping promises. 

And Regina is so very good at making herself easy to talk to. 

Actually she is rather quite terrible at it. She is prickly and standoffish. And most of the time it is hard to keep a conversation with her going where small talk is concerned. 

But Tinkerbell finds herself content with that; she isn’t really one for lengthy conversations these days.

What has she gotten herself into?

Surely she isn’t growing fond of the Evil Queen. She wouldn’t…

She couldn’t.

She knows that she isn’t the Queen’s soulmate.

But when Regina gets her son back it becomes set in stone. She has this look in her eyes, she wears this smile. And she flashes it at Tinkerbell. Tells her that she might not have gotten her son back…her and Emma’s son back—they’re still working on that—without her help. Emma says it too. Snow White and Prince Charming, tell her that she had been helpful. That she brought their grandson home. 

And Tinkerbell feels like a fairy again. 

For the first time she feels like Blue had been wrong about her. 

That one mistake might just come to pass. 

Even if she doesn’t get her wings back, it isn’t such a bad thing to see Regina and Emma happy. It certainly isn’t a bad thing to see Henry, the real Henry this time, smiling and healthy. 

.oOo.

It is hard to approach her. Someone who had the best intentions. Someone who had never done her wrong. Someone who’d she’d done wrong all the same. Regina has spoken with Tinkerbell several times over but it never seems to get easier. Never seems to get any less awkward as far as she can tell. 

At first it was because she hadn’t apologized. 

Now it is because she apologizes too much.

She can never seem to find a comfortable in between with anything, let alone with people and relationships. 

“You’re pulling back.” Tinkerbell mentions one day. 

And she, not quite as clever and articulated as she had initially thought herself to be replies, “I’m more of a pushing away type of person.”

To her relief, Tinkerbell gives a snort and a chuckle. “Oh? Is that right?”

Regina nods. “There is a difference between pulling back and pushing away.”

“Care to explain it?”

She isn’t exactly sure if Tinkerbell is asking in earnest or in jest. So she replies just in case. “Pulling away is the withdrawal of oneself from the relationship. Pushing away is doing everything in your power to compel the other person to withdraw for you.” 

And Tinkerbell laughs again. Regina’s face reddens, the fairy had almost certainly been asking in jest. 

“But you did run away? From Robin Hood. I’ve never seen someone withdraw so expertly.” 

Regina clears her throat. “It wasn’t quite expert. You see, I got lost on the way home and ended up circling back to that tavern. So it wasn’t quite as swift of a departure as you might have imagined. In fact, I think that I met his glance for a moment…” She doesn’t know if this little story is making the situation better or worse. She isn’t exactly one for jokes, dark or otherwise. They never seem to land well coming from her lips.

But Tinkerbell is laughing again. 

“It stands to reason that I am much better at doing and saying things that push people away.” 

“Not from where I stand, it doesn’t seem that way.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly giving it my best effort this time.” Regina confesses. She presses her lips firmly together and knits her brows. “I don’t want to push you away, I want a friend. I want a lover. And you’ve treated me very well. Despite everything you…you’re a good person.” She pauses. “I’m not. It wouldn’t be fair for me to…” she gestures vaguely at nothing in particular. “You deserve someone who can actually…” But that isn’t quite what she wants to say either. “You held my heart. You saw what it looks like. You deserve someone who can actually love another person.”

“You can love another person, Regina. I already saw that with you and Henry.”

“Yes. Maybe.” She replies. “But you don’t think that it would be awful for me to find a lover while you still have no wings?”

Tinkerbell quirks a brow. “Then what do you call these?” She stands up and unfurls a pretty pair of green wings. She gives them a good flap, it is not unlike watching leaves rustle caught in a hot summerbreeze. They shower a small dusting of gold like dust motes in a haze. “I got them back after capturing an evil shadow.”

Regina smiles. She doesn’t do it often but it is getting easier these days. She smiles for Henry and for his willingness to give her another chance. She smiles for Emma who is open to letting her join the Charmings for dinner now and again. And she smiles for Tinkerbell who says the right thing and seems to understand her; both her dark sense of humor and what it is like to hate someone who wronged her so much that it began to take over her life. She understands what it is to have a touch of darkness. What it is like to have someone telling her that trouble or unworthy is all that she will ever be. 

“I’m very glad to hear it…see it. You deserve to have your wings back. You only seemed like a terrible fairy because you took on such impossible tasks. Blue hadn’t even tried…” Not many people tried to save her. Not during the time period when salvaging her was possible. The helping hands had all been extended far too late and she had bitten every single one of them. 

And Tinkerbell is holding out her hand now. 

Quite literally.

“I didn’t take on an impossible task, Regina.” She swears. “Let me help you find your soulmate. I’m sure that he’s…”

Regina takes a sharp breath. “I think that maybe the pixie dust might not lead to the same place.”

“Well, yes! I can’t imagine that he’s still at that same tavern…”

Regina takes Tinkerbell’s hand. “That’s not what I mean. I think that, maybe, if you did use the pixie dust again, that we wouldn’t have to walk–or fly–very far this time.”

Tinkerbell furrows her brows. “Oh, well…” she trails off. “Oh. Oh!”

Regina grimaces and rubs a hand over her face, if only to keep the fairy from noticing the second blush creeping onto her cheeks. Evidently her entire face very well could be red this time. 

“You. Are you trying to tell me what I think you’re trying to tell me?”

“Well I guess that that would depend on what you think that I’m trying to tell you.” 

“Regina, do you…are you in love with me?”

“I think so.” She hasn’t felt love in such a long time. Perhaps she is mistaken. She doesn’t think so. “I don’t think that we need to solve everything with pixie dust…or magic. Henry and I have been working on the not using magic thing for a while not. It hasn’t exactly been doing well. But I think that we’ve decided to make an exception for using magic to do good things…” She is rambling. Making herself look ridiculous.

“Henry might be onto something. We have hearts for a reason. Sometimes they know what’s best.” Tinkerbell agrees. “In fact, I know lots of people who have fallen in love without magic or pixie dust to guide them. Blue told me that I need to believe in myself more or no one else will; that I needed to trust myself. Maybe you do too.”

“Good advice from a sketchy person.” Regina clears her throat. “Not that I am a good person, myself but nobody is asking me for advice so…”

Tinkerbell laughs. “You’re a fine person, Regina.” 

Regina swallows.

“You want to do right by people now and that has to count for something.”

“I suppose.” 

“It counts to me.” Tinkerbell recipes, authenticating her words with a peck on the cheek. 

Regina’s stomach tickles and her heart flutters. 

Her cold, small, hardened black heart. 

She thinks that it might have some warmth in it again. Some softness.

She holds Tinkerbell’s hand to her chest, right over her heart. 

“I needed someone to believe in me. And you need someone to believe in you.”

Regina swallows that lump in her throat and nods. She is getting teary again. “That would be very nice.” 

And her heart hammers in her chest. 

Tinkerbell holds her hand there for the longest of time. 

The weight of a heart is a heavy thing. 

But a heavy heart can grow light again.

Light and fluttery and warm.

[erinarigby]

hello i am back at last. real life conspired but i am here again. I love Persona too, especially p4. I got an introduction to Jung elsewhere but p4 is where it really snapped into place for me as it demonstrated the inner conflict of "the self" the best. (p2 innocent sin also did this very well but the older games are so hard to get into and emulators are a crapshoot.)

Ok i have looked at your sketches and there's a lot of impressive work here, I like them a lot. These are interesting glimpses into supplication & what they mean to these people.

Paul kneeling & kissing John's hand is really beautiful first of all, love the way you painted Paul's hair. It's reminiscent of 1964/65 which was the peak of their love in many ways. Paul isn't just kissing John's hand here either he's running his lips over John's knuckles...can easily imagine him counting each one. Paul's thing about John's hands really coming through, he's in absolute bliss tenderly holding one of John's hands in both of his. Love the detail of his lips being parted bc Paul is running the tip of his tongue over John's hand as well. This is a way for Paul to finally act out his devotion to John as well as the erotic worship of John's hand. Paul is once again shutting his eyes to deepen his enjoyment of this moment. Love how slack and open his face is as he kisses John's hand, he's fully in the moment & completely enveloped in this experience. Also!!! you included Paul's hairy forearms, adore!

Also greatly appreciating the traditional note to this as Paul is clearly on his knees before John as he worships John's beautiful hand. Paul makes himself vulnerable here for the sake of loving John. Paul's favorite part of John is clearly his hands and his nose and eyes. (John's myopic dark eyes get a few shout outs in at least one of Paul's songs.) Paul saw the chance to lavish attention to John's hand and took it. Did he hesitate before doing so or did he throw himself into it? No sign from the image itself so we have to fill that part in. If Paul did hesitate then he's clearly shed those inhibitions as of the moment captured in the sketch.

What I love most though is how loose and relaxed John's hand and forearm are. No tension, he's just letting Paul do his thing. John's demeanor & expression are once again left for us to fill in. Tentative? Bewildered? Hopeful? Fulfilled? Whatever it is he's at least comfortable with seeing where this goes. Personally I think he's soaking up the attention with awe & some shyness.

Despite all this though Paul is still at a distance. Not that there's anything wrong with being John's supplicant but he's at an arm's length from John. Lovers prefer to remain close so what is keeping Paul at a distance? Is it the wall around his heart? What personally flashes through my mind is that Paul is apologizing for something and the best way to do that is to demonstrate himself physically. He's on the floor in front of his lover and pressing kisses to the back of his hand while John stands above him, at a distance. Maybe Paul has to earn his way back to face to face affection.

The WIP sketch underneath it is really interesting. One simple change -- Paul's eyes are open -- transforms the tone of the entire thing. Paul is no longer lost in the moment of loving John. Now he's fully aware and feeling something else. He's distant again like he was in The Cigarette Kiss. It feels more calculated though maybe not malicious.

p4 was my first persona game, also p2 is absolutely my fave game ever. but i won’t go into detail about what they mean to me because this is my beatles blog lmao

but, holy shit, this is a beautiful interpretation. thank you for enjoying my art! i’ve always been really fascinated by obsession, devotion, and desperation when it comes to relationship dynamics. i’m just very drawn to where love borders an unhealthy line? it’s just really intriguing to me. i really like exploring physicality too, i don’t see human bodies as inherently sexual i spend a lot of time doing figure studies which means i look at a lot of nude people. but i appreciate some good eroticism and sensuality, but i like it to be subtle, i want the audience to come to their own conclusions.

thank you for noticing the arm hair, i forgot it the first time and i had to compensate everyone.

i’ll continue my response in the next ask since these two drawings are connected (about the john one)

[dia-souls]

Hello dear admins, i hope you’re having a good day/night!

What did you think about the cats anniversary art?

💮Admin Afra : I personally enjoyed the theme of this anniversary very much. Dangerous vampires look very cute next to lovely cats. Besides, I am very weak against the cuteness of kittens. ><

But Art itself disappointed me greatly :( Or maybe I was expecting too much. Imagine that I waited impatiently and eagerly for a few weeks for the release of the complete illustration, but after it was released, I was very disappointed. The design of a large number of diaboys was extremely weak compared to the previous art.

Just compare Ayato's face with one of my favorite official art. Ayato is very poorly designed in this art.

But on the other hand, this art made me happy to some extent. Because finally, after a long time, we saw Yui's presence in the official art. It's true, I'm not an Ayayui fan and I'm always sad that we don't get as much official art from other ships as Ayayui. But there is no reason to protest. Because Ayayui is main ship, right? I just prefer to be happy with Yui's presence again .

🌹 _____________________________________ 🌹

🌟 Admin Ava : I thought this festival was very cute! I especially love how before we to see the full reveal, the boys would post pictures of the cats on their individual Twitters which I think was a very smart idea. Also those kitties look so fluffy! I wanna hold one!

However, once again Rejet has disappointed me with how Subaru is drawn. Like what Afra has said it's clear as day to see which boys in this particular festival got the most treatment. At this point it's a game seeing which boy was more favored in each festival. Case in point Subaru. It has always gotten on my nerves how he clearly got the worst treatment out of all the boys, especially his brothers, they literally give him the same pose each time and don’t even experiment with him a little!

While I am glad that my baby Yui finally got to be introduced in some official art after god knows how long, I hate that she is in cat form and worst of all is being held by Ayato. I know that they're the “canon” ship but I too am not an AyaYui shipper and wish Rejet wouldn’t focus on them too much. Let’s just pray that the next festival has better art for Subaru and shows Yui with a full body alongside the boys.🙏🏾

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🌸 Admin Irsa: I actually find this theme so adorable and cute, I like the way Yui looked as a cat she looked so cute but the again this girl needs a separate art for herself. She always appears along other diaboys she is either held by them and is not fully shown this is my biggest complain against rejet. They are not improving their design that much the theme was cute but design of some diaboys was poor.

Also Yui in the art is held by Ayato which again shows favouritism of him, Yui as cat is adorable but still she needs her own official art without the presence of other diaboys.

The design of some diaboys is completely different from their old arts which shows that their designing are not improving that much but overall theme was cute. I am going to cry tears of joy when they will post full Yui arts poor girl is drawn only by fandom, all the diaboys have their own art but this girl deserve better she needs more of her individual art. They are some cases in which fandom draws better than the original art which shows their carelessness while drawing they also don't give importance to minor details like they used to do before which is kinda sad but we can only hope they may improve.

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But please note that this is our personal opinion and we do not intend to insult any characters or ships or the opinions of others. Many people have different opinions from us, which is completely commendable.

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[trashcanwithsprinkles]

<3 thank you so much for the wonderfully detailed answer, it cleared up a lot of doubts and i appreciate it so so much, even if i've come charging back in here so fast regardless-

i only really have two more questions for now (on the same topic) that i don't even know if i fully need to know the answers to but i wanted to ask anyway, if that's alright: 1. ... what does morax's non-archon-outfit (or simply, whatever ajax was borrowing) actually look like in this fic..? I did find a description of sorts for one but- I wasn't sure if it was comparable to any others you've drawn so far, and just... i don't like to assume? and i don't trust myself to try to work with anything new without solid references (especially if there would be Details, which i assume there would be at least. some. and besides, clothing just... in general... is always something of a struggle for me,,)? and 2. ... ajax's sleeping clothes, uh, what would those be like? i just... i can't imagine this particular kind of stuff in the slightest, so sorry to have to ask about every little detail for these, i simply have no idea or too little of one to work with,, (i know you probably know but it really is just the kind of thing which wouldn't be a problem if i were just to leave it at ✨reading the fic ✨ but no, of course art needs more details,,)

also with the whole tailor's clothes situation: i can imagine the frustration, even if for me it's merely a matter of curiosity and ordinarily i wouldn't even notice, but trust me. i know i would be absolutely annoyed with it if i was in your place. although i didn't manage to find anything to check if they had picked those up yet- uh, with the amount of stuff going on basically nonstop.... it's true they just haven't been able to catch a break so that kind of does justify it- it's been what, a month or a bit more? and they've had all that stuff going on? and they basically toppled celestia? that's some darn good progress for only a month. now if only all of them could sleep for a month straight to make up for whatever restless nights they had from it.

thank you and dw, i'm always happy to answer questions! glad the previous infodump helped hahah;;

again a cut to spare everyone else's dash

morax' non-canon outfits

think along the lines of what was shown in the guizhong reveal cutscene. but since menogias isn't old enough here to tailor clothes (nor did i give him that particular interest), then it isn't that outfit in specific. either an aproximation of that one, or simply more traditional chinese wear from like... your everyday xianxia/wuxia show. basically any fanart that depicts zhongli using traditional chinese wear would be my go-to for reference. i have to be honest in that i didn't think of one outfit in specific while i was writing, more of a hand-wavey 'this is the vibe' situation. i kinda wanted everyone to be able to have their own idea for what outfits morax (and by extension ajax) would wear pre-archon war. the only real set depictions i had in mind were- well, the colors. i wager morax would wear black to brown to amber and golden colors, and everything within that sort of gradient.

so basically any traditional chinese ouftit you can find in zhongli fanart would fit the bill. then just slap that onto ajax for what he borrows. the only major differences would be that ajax would forego any outermost layer of the outfit to avoid heatstroke lmao

2. sleeping clothes

more or less the same train of thought as morax' non-canon outfits. ajax would 100% sleep in boxers only in his original world, but because he's in new lands and would rather die than have guizhong or morax accidentally walk in on him all but butt-naked, he would probably take guizhong up on the offer of borrowed sleeping clothes (which would most likely be a set that morax would use if he slept at all in his human form)

i'm no expert in traditional chinese wear (or anything chinese for that matter), so i can't say for certain what would constitute a historically-accurate set of sleeping clothes of the vague era pre-archon war liyue is set in. so- uh. if you have a better take then by all means, but what i had in mind was, same as with morax' outfits, your standard xianxia/wuxia depiction of sleeping clothes. if my memory isn't failing me, it would be something like an undershirt and underpants? like pajamas but with a traditional chinese cut, if that makes any sense.

anyway uh- yeah

you can probably tell with this why i didn't sit down and try to figure out a more specific outfit;;

i hope that was at least somewhat helpful! at the end of the day my biggest suggestion would be to just go look at zhongli fanart, but like i said, specifically the ones where he's wearing traditional clothes.

good luck!

[reidsnose]

doodles

overview: reader doodles on her hands a lot and spencer has to give into the temptation of coloring it in

genre: flufffffff

a/n: sorry ive havent posted a fic in like a week, ive been in quite a slump but i had this idea well after midnight but i just had to write it so lmk what u guys think of this one :)

masterlist

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doodling on your hands: a once nervous habit that had seeped into your everyday life and now is just a regular habit. nearly everyday you would come to work with clean hands and get home with a mini art gallery on your non dominant one.

Spencer admired this from the moment he noticed it. at first he thought you had a tattoo but when you came back the next day with it completely gone, he was a tad confused, only to catch you doodling on that very same hand a couple hours later on the jet. he thought maybe it was an occasional thing, a habit you'd quit once you got better situated into the team, but after nearly a year you still left work almost everyday with some cutesy sketches drawn on your hand.

Spencer found himself looking forward to your doodles, imagining in his head what you might draw each day, and thinking of all the colors you would add if you had the time. being the great profiler that he is, he noticed a pattern: you subconsciously correlated your doodles with your mood.

after especially hard cases or just bad days you always drew roses.

when you were very happy you drew all sorts of fruits.

anxiousness bore little swampy creatures and lily pads.

tired days filled your hands with random, intricate designs that you didn't even have to try hard to make.

and content was anything else.

he was so impressed and absolutely adored your little coping mechanism. watching you concentrate on making those teeny pieces of art simply for your own pleasure was definitely a sight to see. the way your eyebrows furrowed and tongue poked out a bit was absolutely positively adorable. and soon he had noticed that he was looking forward less to the doodles and more to watching you draw them. and after that he began looking forward to just you.

you were sat on the jet with your back to the corner of the last seat on the plane, creating a pattern of roses on the back of your hand. Spencer plopped down in the seat next to you, growing tired of watching from so far away.

"that bad, huh?" he asked, noticing the type of flower you were gracing your hand with.

"hm?" you looked up, confused.

"you only doodle roses on bad days." he explained, pointing to your hand.

"what? no i don't!" you defended, " i just think roses are neat."

to be fair, you were having a bad day but he could've profiled that without the doodle. he cant be right, can he? there was no way you had a mood system for your doodles! unless there was.

"repetitive strokes are therapeutic, so roses being rough days make sense. the spiral in the middle followed by however many layered petals you want is a perfectly repetitive while still interesting enough to doodle."

"if i didn't know any better i'd say you've been spying on me, Dr. Reid," you teased, enjoying the slight rouge that appeared on his cheeks.

"what! no! i'm- i'm a profiler i notice patterns! i just- spying sounds creepy." he stammered.

"ok. how about admiring." you jabbed, turning a little red yourself.

"fine. but you know coloring helps too." he flipped back to the old topic of conversation.

"unfortunately i only have the standard blue, black and red ink."

"roses are red." he chuckled.

"interesting point," you bent down and reached into your bag, pulling out a red pen and handing it to him, "knock yourself out."

"what?" he looked at you slightly bewildered.

"coloring is therapeutic, you said it yourself. and you and i both know that you need something to relax you after a case like that. we all do." you explained, trying to be as nonchalant as you could knowing his skin would touch yours.

he grabbed the pen and clicked it open, coloring smoothly and slowly inside the lines you had already made in black, careful not to go over them and smudge the ink. you and him both tried your best to ignore the warmth shooting through your bodies from every place your hands touched. his fingertips lightly grazing your knuckles as he worked.you worked your way up your arm, giving you both space to work and by the time you landed, you had a half sleeve garden of surprisingly well colored (and somehow shaded) red roses.

you went home that night and bought a pack of colorful (washable) pens, hoping this little rose garden with him wasn't a one time thing. and even if it was, you would want to add your own pop of color to your doodles.

thankfully it wasn't.

you and Spencer found yourselves drawing and coloring on your hand a lot. he would catch you doing it and pop in over your shoulder just to add a touch of color where he thought it fit. and you began to feel sad washing off what the two of you had created that day, feeling nostalgic for time that has hardly passed.

and sometimes on the jet you would get tired of your own skin, so you would draw little doodles on his hand, often times leaving a little heart at the base of his thumb. these little hearts he avoided washing off for as long as he possibly could because they felt like a part of you was always with him. he started doing the same thing to your hand, a sort of signature the two of you shared.

most days, the doodles on your hands were pretty much fully colored in.

but now Spencer began to worry. what if you get ink poisoning because of his coloring? sure, the risk was statistically low, improbable even; but never zero. so one night after work he went out and bought a little sketchbook and on the front he scrawled,

"y/n's super duper special sketchbook"

upon receiving it, after giving him a hug he never wanted to let go of, you took a sharpie and started editing the title he had given it. so it now read:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook"

the two of you used up a whole page that day, front and back filled with all types of fruits. Spencer smiled to himself, knowing this had made you very happy. you took a second to take a step back and admire him doing the very thing he admired you for. and you understood why; he just looked so precious and you suddenly realized you craved the feeling of his hand touching yours. so you leaned over and drew a little black heart at the base of his thumb. he looked up at you, smiling widely before returning a red heart to the base of your thumb.

and you guys tore through that book, using a page a day and filling it cover to cover in no time. your own personal handmade coloring book. it turned out to be both of your most prized possessions, a pang of sadness filling your chests as you finished the last page.

you felt bad taking it home with you that night, wondering if maybe Spencer wanted to keep it. maybe you should keep it at work so you can both have it. thats the fair thing to do. you looked down, smiling sadly at the little red heart on your hand.

he did want to keep it. but he had a better idea in mind. he looked down, smiling excitedly at the little black heart on his hand.

the next day when you arrived to work all your worries were solved. on your desk laid a new sketch book entitled:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook: volume ii"

you laughed as you read a small lilac post it note that said, "i want to keep this one please" signed with a little red heart in the corner.

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ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

[northern-passage]

Sorry if this has been asked before, but could you tell us more about Lea's tattoos?:)

Lea has tattoos on both hands and around their wrists that are a bunch of basic runes used in alchemy. having the tattoos allows them to make transmutations & combine ingredients in potions without having to fully write out alchemical sigils.

normally, when you want to make some kind of alchemical concoction, you will have to set the ingredients within a sigil with corresponding runes (or if you're transmuting like the hunter you'll have to draw the sigil with the required elemental runes before you can perform the transmutation) but the tattoos function as a sort of "quick hack" that allow them to skip that process.

the sigils are typically larger and tend to be circular - this is also why all of the tattoos "wrap" around appendages - with runes interlocked together through the sigil. you can also use runes this way with magic and enchant certain objects (we'll see this in chapter 2). the runes include basic elemental runes as well as more specific, frequently used chemical elements that can be combined and used to create various chemical reactions. i imagine there's an entire runic alphabet that Lea and the hunter would have studied.

it takes a lot of skill to be able to string the runes together without a drawn sigil, but Lea is the best at what they do :-) they don't have every single rune ever tattooed on them, so occasionally they may have to still draw a sigil for more complex creations, but they have all of the common ones and the ones they personally use the most.

as for what i drew in the picture, it's just kinda gibberish. i just drew some vague rune-ish shapes but i just made them up & it was more just to give an idea of how they look than anything. i have no interest in creating a runic alphabet... sorry lmfao

i am however actually planning to go back and add the option for alchemist hunters to choose to either have tattoos or have the bracers with the runes etched on them; eventually i will be editing the wraith fight again because i've made a lot of changes to how i'm doing combat now (especially how alchemy works) and i want to make it more consistent with how it will be in ch2. but that's going to be way down the line, most likely after i get the full blackwater branch done and published in the demo.

[strangelysamantha]

 crumbled cookies ☆

jj maybank x plus!reader (fem!reader)

warnings: abuse/hitting, hate speech, fat shaming, bullying, insecurities, swearing, fighting, jj’s dad, luke (yikes!) mad jj, mention of pills. 

words: 3,365.

summary: you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.

request? nope, but requests are open :)

a/n: i randomly thought about this, i obviously don’t believe that us plus size baddies should ever be insecure, but i thought it would be a nice little angst imagine with fluff at the end! if you could, please comment and like if you enjoyed it, thank you! after i write a few requests i will proofread my stories :)

my masterlist

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jj hadn’t answered any of your texts, usually this would worry you, but you understood that sometimes he just needed some space to be alone. you surprisingly were used to this because he always disappeared, and if he genuinely needed you, he knew where to find you. it also wasn’t bothering you because he had only been MIA for a few hours.

you, assuming that jj was just overwhelmed, decided to stay home and bake homemade cookies. jj always complimented your cookies, he loved taste testing them, and more importantly, he loved how you put so much effort into making them perfect, even if you were only making the cookies for him. jj wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely didn’t see you as just a friend. he didn’t know how he viewed you. he was too confused for his own good with his emotions. all he did know was that he depended on you, and that he never wanted to lose you. it would ruin him,  especially if he had done something to intentionally lose and hurt you.

you preheated the oven, excited to use a new cookie flavor for jj. you danced lightly to the music playing in the background of your kitchen, softly humming along as you gathered the dry ingredients, mixing them together. it was a fun little game you guys played, where he’d try and guess what extra ingredients you added that affected the cookie's flavor. he almost always got it wrong, but he was so cute sitting there always trying to guess it right, when he didn’t even know that much about cooking anyway.

unbeknownst to you, you were completely unaware of his feelings, despite the same feelings bubbling in your heart too. jj was your best buddy, and obviously you guys had flirtatious banter but it was nothing too serious. it didn’t help that every girl jj had a one night stand with, was the complete opposite of you. how could he like you, when every girl he fucks was not only skinny, but also rich, and mysterious?

pope wasn’t on your side either. he would always express how nauseated he felt when jj would jokingly flirt with you, and openly play with your feelings. he was quite vocal in scolding you when you would tell him that jj blew you off, or jj had pissed you off. deep down you did agree with pope, he wasn’t wrong.

a beep was heard from the oven as it was fully preheated. you had fully completed the cookie dough, now adding the most important ingredients. you decided to be nicer, and chose an easier flavor for jj to guess. you did this just in case something was seriously wrong he could at least be lifted up for guessing it right. m&ms and hershey’s kisses would be mixed together, creating a chocolate m&m hershey cookie, with added caramel on top. you quickly evenly separate the dough, before placing it in the oven waiting for it to rise.

the timer in the kitchen went off as you pulled the cookies out of the oven, careful to not burn yourself. you stick a knife into the cookie to ensure it was fully cooked before smiling contently to yourself. you let them cool off as you got dressed and prepared to go to jjs house.

you added caramel before sliding four cookies into a ziplock baggie. the cute baggy had a drawn on heart and a nice message for him. you didn’t expect to stay long, and you honestly didn’t even know if he would be home.

when you arrived to jjs house it looked vacant and abandoned. the nerves finally catching up to you as you realize he hasn’t talked to you all day. you knock on the front door, waiting for a response but you are left standing there waiting. you frown before hesitatingly walking down the steps. you look up when you hear a car approach, and a glimmer of hope flashes your mind as you thought it was jj, but instead it was his dad.

your heart was beating fast, and you didn’t know what to do. you waited to see if luke would talk but he just looked at you confused, and obviously annoyed. you shook your head quickly, “i’m so sorry, i was just going to drop these off for jj, but he’s not here so i’ll be on my way.” you smile softly, and start to walk away but his strong arms grab yours. you’re startled since his reaching for your elbow was quite unexpected.

“well you are already here. might as well get it over with.” his voice was unrecognizable as his emotions weren’t clear. you nod shyly. “no really i don’t want to inconvenience you, i can come at another time.” he shakes his head before walking to his door, opening it as the door loosely opens entirely, hitting against the wall to its side. you walk behind him being extra cautious in case he tries to grab you again.

you walk straight to the kitchen to set the bag of cookies on the counter, which was no use since right when you placed the bag, luke had scooped it into his hand reading the note. “oh, so you are the one dating my son?” your face twists in confusion. “no, no. jj and i are just friends.” you laugh awkwardly, swaying from feet to feet. the floors creak beneath you causing you to stop shaking back and forth. “okay good.” his eyes look up and down your figure as his mouth forms into a line. “i wouldn’t want him dating someone like… you.” his words hurt, but you didn’t want to break down in front of him.

you feel uncomfortable under his intense stare so you hurried to put an end to the conversation. “uhm. okay, welll thank you for letting me drop them off, i appreciate it mr. maybank.” you nod softly before he states, “no.” you turn over to him, “no?” you repeat as more of a question. your patience wears thin as you notice the cookies are still in his hand, and he is carefully undoing the ziplock that concealed the cookies.

he pulled a cookie out, before admiring it closely. “chocolate chip m&m caramel cookie. very yummy, very good choice.” you avoid eye contact, trying to focus on anything else displayed in the room. “and it’s still warm.” he stares at you as he takes a bite of the cookie, its crumbs slowly falling from where he sunk his teeth in. “it’s quite good.” you smile softly, “thank you… but-.” he cuts you off completely. “of course you, of all people, would be bringing him cookies. i’m not surprised, i can see you are trying to fatten my son.” his words stung you because this wasn’t what you were expecting. his father seemed intoxicated, and before you could leave it seemed like he still had stuff to say to you.

“yes the cookies are good, but they don’t excuse you for lying to my face. you are just like my ex wife… lying, scheming, going behind my back, but still creating delicious snacks.” you stumble back a little, as shock sets over you. “how did i lie?” you ask, quite confused as you hadn’t even talked to him that much. “i know you’re dating jj! i see his hickies i see that when he leaves this house it’s always to meet with your fat ass.” his words hold no meaning, he was just a lousy drunk taking his anger out on the closest thing to him. you stayed silent, when he suddenly shook his head before grabbing the rest of the cookies and throwing them on the floor, jumping on the bag, completely squishing them.

the once yummy cookies, now downgraded into a small pitiful pile that was brutally smeared against the kitchen's tile. your heart speeds up as his eyes are focused on yours, as if trying to read your emotions. “i’m sorry, but i’m not sure what i did to deserve you ruining my cookies?” your tone comes out sassier than intended which definitely didn’t help your case.

“pick it up.” he threw paper towels towards you, as he waited patiently for you to clean up his mess. you silently obeyed scooping your mutated bakery treat up. you got most of it cleaned, but you ran out of napkins. you bite your lip trying to think of a quick solution to finish picking it up so you could possibly leave, but it’s too late because he’s already grabbing your arm forcing you up. tears stream down your face, while you contemplate your choices.

before you could even register what had just happened, his hand had collided with your cheek, as he screams hurtful comments. “you are good for nothing. i honestly hope that jj didn’t choose you, because if he did, that would make him an embarrassment to this family.” he pushes you to the floor, and you quickly try to stand up so you can leave. you hurry to the door, but he catches you before you could get in your car and drive away. 

“you can't tell anyone about this. i swear if you tell anyone...” his tone is laced with venom and your face scrunches up in confusion. “dont act stupid! god this is why people treat you the way they do.” you look at him one last time before he sends a fast fist to your face, that hits the side of your nose, and your eye. your face begins to pulse as the blood rushes to the quick forming bruise. you couldn't think straight as everything had happened so fast. all you wanted to do was drop off cookies, but somehow you were now being punished just because you resembled this man's wife. your breath is shaky as your tears are starting to slow down, but they are still evident on your cheeks. 

jj’s dad stumbled backwards as if he had finally realized what he had done, before he eventually collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. as he landed on the couch, multiple loose pills fell from his pockets ensuring you that he wasn't mentally in the right place, and he was very obviously intoxicated.

you avoided jj at all costs, which was actually easy since he hadn't even contacted you. you were dreading his routine appearance that was bound to happen soon. you knew it was inevitable, he hasn't missed a nightly check in once, and you had been doing it for months. when you first met the pogues you were slightly scared since you were new in town and you didn't have any friends. so, jj took you under his wing. he quickly became protective over you, which is why he created this elaborate plan to sneak into your bedroom before bed every night. whether it was to just chat, talk about your day, or even just cuddle. you could always expect him at your window at around the same time every night.

usually you would confide in jj, ask for his advice. granted his advice isn't the greatest but it does help that he listens to your problems. not tonight. that wasn't the case. if anything, you wholeheartedly hoped that he would forget, or he would be too busy. he hadn't seen you since before your whole encounter with his father. you wondered if his father had told jj about what he did, and if he did, how did jj react?

you glance at the clock noticing that in the next ten minutes jj would be climbing his way into your window. your body was shaking with nerves as you glanced in the mirror. your black eye was a dead give away that something had happened. could you even tell him the truth? what if you lied, and then he called you out on it saying he already knew about it because his father told him. you contemplated every outcome of the future event that you weren't even ready when he slightly tapped your window. you quickly pulled on sunglasses that easily blocked your eye.

you smile widely, sliding your window up as he gracefully lands on your floor without making a noise, a talent he had perfected. “hey princess!” he has a huge grin on his face, his goofy smile is reason enough as to why you can't break the news to him about what his father did. “hi!” jj pulls you into a hug and you gladly take it. you wrap your arms tightly around his abdomen, as his arms are rubbing your hips. the hug ends and he slowly pulls away, his hands lingering on your hips before he grabs your hand to move to the bed. “do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” jj asked. you waited, contemplating your choices. “either way is fine, you can choose.” you smile as he immediately gets into the little spoon position.

“hey i forgot to ask you why you are wearing those stupid glasses inside.” he laughs lightly as he reaches for them and you completely jump off the bed, scared he actually grabbed them in time. luckily, you were fast enough and the glasses were still settled on your face. “i have a horrible headache, that's all.” you nodded as his face slowly fell, he stood up, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. he glanced up at you. “we can turn the lights off so it isn't as bright in your room.” you shook your head at his compromise. “princess, i need to see your pretty face before i can declare that you are okay.” you hesitated, trying to piece together a quick story that you could tell him to explain how you wounded up with a gruesome bruise. he wasn't going to leave unless he knew you were okay.

he watched you intently, trying to see what you were hiding. “before i show you please promise me you won't freak out.” you reach for his hands and he grabs them in return, slowly nodding. “no, that's not going to count. please tell me that you won't be angry at me.” his heart swiveled up inside his chest as he heard that you thought he would be mad at you. “i promise that whatever you are about to tell me won't make me upset, and that i could never stay mad at you.” you nodded to his words. “okay so you know what you just said?” he tilted his head confused, “yeah?” you breathe in, trying to calm your nerves. “remember that.”

you hesitantly reach your arm up to expose your once hidden eyes. at first it doesn't register so he stares at you blankly. but the moment he saw it, he was already standing up, and freaking out. “hey you said you wouldn't be mad!” he ran fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes wide. “what the fuck…? i said i wouldn't be mad if YOU did something, i never said anything about not getting mad when it involves someone else!” he looks back at you and immediately investigates your eye. his jaw clenched as he looked above you, his hand gripping your chin. “who the fuck did this to you?” you stayed quiet, until he looked down at you waiting for an answer. 

silence fills the room leaving it eerily silent. “i can't tell you jj,” he laughs, shaking his head, “that's a funny joke, now tell me what happened and who the fuck hit you?” you looked away. “jj there's nothing you can do.” he followed along with your shenanigans. “and why is that?” you couldn't look at him so you looked at the floor. your silence was only making him more worried. “who was it actually? who are you protecting!?” he was getting frustrated. “fine. i'll tell you, only because i know you'll find out sooner or later.” he pulled you onto his lap, one hand holding your thigh, while the other grabbed your curvy hip. you took a deep breath before continuing. “okay. earlier today i baked you cookies and i stopped by your house so i could drop them off. but your dad was there, and i was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. it was my fault. okay?” 

he shook his head, his grip on your thigh tightening. “you're telling me that my father gave you a black eye?” his tone was shockingly low as he absorbed every word you said. “yes. and he stomped on the cookies i made you.” his chest started heaving. “i fucking hate him! everything in my life he has to ruin. you, you mean so fucking much to me, and he’s over here throwing punches at you!” you stayed quiet. “jj?” he looked down at you, trying not to get too worked up because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you, “yes princess?” you hesitated with what you were going to say. you leaned your head to rest onto his shoulder.

“i- okay, i really appreciate you, but i can't have you getting hurt because of me. you're not my boyfriend, and you don't have to protect me anymore. i know you feel obligated with that pact we made when i first moved here, but you don't have to inconvenience yourself by coming over here every night, or by fighting people who harass me, or anything. jj, i feel so bad that you are roped into this position because i never intended for this to happen.” he stays silent, “no way am i leaving you. princess, please throw that thought away right now. i’m here for you always. and i am going to continue to protect you because even if i'm not your boyfriend, that doesn't mean i don't want you safe.”

you are so stunned by his response that your breath gets caught in your throat. “what do you mean?” he smiles looking down, his hands finding themselves comfortable around your hips. “what i'm saying is, that i do want to be your boyfriend. i want people to know how much you mean to me, and i want the whole world to be jealous that i have you, and they can't have you. i want to be the one who protects you. so, if you'd want me too, i'd love to be your boyfriend, if not that is completely okay.” you stared at him, “jj, you'll never know how long i've wanted to do this.” he looks at you confused before your lips connect to his. you run your hand through his hair, while the other hand is sitting on his jaw. his hands hungrily grasp your hips as he pulls you closer to enhance the kiss. you both pull away, smiling.

you asked jj to spend the night with you. he agreed, which resulted in him laying on his back as your head lay still on his chest. one of his hands was always touching you, so he could ensure you weren't going to go anywhere. as you slowly fell asleep beside him, he started to think about what his father had done. with anger clouding his better judgement, he stealthily slipped out your grasp, and climbed out your window, set to fulfil the goal in his head.

eek i hope this was good <333. perhaps a part two...???

[odetojeons]

What Tigers Do — Kwon Soonyoung

request: hi! i just came across your recent joshua imagine and omg IT WAS REALLY GOOD😭, would you be able to do a dom!hoshi with a breeding kink, please? already in love with your blog<3

tags: fem and sub!reader, dom!hoshi, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, reader insert, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe everyone!), established hoshi x reader

a/n: accidently spent the night writing this lmfao, i was going to only start a bit but got too caught up on it :’) btw this goes from cute to sexy real quick to cute again, but anyways, i hope you like it!!

word count:  3329

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“Another plushie?” you ask as soon as Soonyoung enters inside the room, holding plastic bags in a hand and a tiger plushie in the other. He pretends he didn’t listen, but you continue anyways. “You know that you have a lot of those already, right? They are only collecting dust.”

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“Why not have more?” Soonyoung asks instead, like that would make all the sense.

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“Because,” you start, getting up from the sofa and walking across the living room until you’re right in front of your boyfriend. He towers over you easily, but the way he averts his eyes elsewhere makes him look so small. “You only ever use a few. The rest is sitting somewhere getting musty and you take forever to clean them.”

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Soonyoung pouts. You sigh; it means that he knows you’re right but he’s too stubborn to say it. Grabbing one of his hands, he stops unpacking the stuff he bought and looks at you.

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“You like tigers that much?” you question softly, and he nods a little. Soonyoung puts his plastic bags on the ground and makes a grab for your waist, pulling you up against him.

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The action is a bit sudden, although welcome, and you yelp in surprise when you lend against his chest. You look up and catch Soonyoung smiling down at you like you’re the most endearing thing he has ever seen.

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“Of course I do,” he tells, watching your face attentively. “You said I look like one.”

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You don’t know why his words make you blush, but you feel heat creeping up at your cheeks and tinting them a light shade of red. 

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“You don’t.”

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Soonyoung chuckles softly at your reaction.

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“So cute,” he comments before you rip that attitude out of him by tickling his sides. He contorts himself and laughs harder, head thrown back. “Stop it!”

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Soonyoung somehow manages to catch one of your wrists, using that as leverage to push you against the entrance door. You groan slightly in pain when Soonyoung pins you down against the wood frame, his chest heaving and a bright, warm smile on his lips.

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“Not fair you’re bigger,” you mumble with a pout.

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“Should’ve eaten more rice if you wanted to be taller than me,” Soonyoung says, still trying to catch his breath, and fuck… he looks so handsome like this, with the collar of his shirt hanging low and exposing the beginning of his — very nice and very big — chest, blonde hair all over the place, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling like he holds all the galaxy in them and you feel like your heart will burst really soon.

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You lick your lips nervously, watching Soonyoung’s eyes flicker to catch the movement, and try to move your hands free. But Soonyoung is not letting go, suddenly gripping your wrists harder. The action makes you gasp slightly, the quick change in the air leaving you breathless.

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“Admit you think I look like a tiger,” Soonyoung says, more like orders, and you whine at the intensity of his eyes. 

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“No,” comes your answer, and he frowns at you, body pressing against yours until you’re sandwiched between him and the door. “Gonna have to prove it to me first.”

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Soonyoung’s eyes flash with something you’re very familiar with; it makes a burning heat pool at your lower stomach alarmingly fast and you want to close your legs. But Soonyoung is faster, steps completely into your personal space and crowds you tight against the door, the air growing heavier and thicker by the second. You bask in the warmness of him, his firm body so pressed into yours that you’re afraid he can feel your stuttering heartbeat.

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The soft drag of your chest against his every time you inhale and exhale is also not helping at all, and you can’t help but slightly move your hips forward, trying to rub off on his thigh. Soonyoung catches your neediness easily, of course, and he smirks before his face gets closer and closer until his breath is mingling with yours.

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“Careful with what you wish,” Soonyoung says, voice low and teasing. He drags his lips into yours, so softly it has you whining and trying to kiss him. “Might as well end up eating you.”

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You smirk back at him, biting at his lower lip before dragging your tongue to soothe the pain.

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“What makes you think I don’t want that?”

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Soonyoung growls. It catches you off guard, it always does since it sounds downright animalistic, but you can’t dwell on the hotness of it too much because he’s kissing you without mercy. Soonyoung kisses you like a starved man, teeth clacking and tongue pressing against yours until you’re putty and breathless just for him.

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You whine into the kiss, feels like Soonyoung’s drawn the breath right out of your lungs, your mind hazy.

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It only serves to rile him up, the kiss hungrier, messier, his tongue licking into your mouth as if you might disappear and fingers digging into your wrists harder in his desperation, before he let’s go of one of them to sneak a hand in your waist.

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Now free, your digits desperately come up to take a fistful of his hair, in dire need of holding something, anything. Soonyoung groans at the feeling of your nails scratching his scalp, pulling your lower part closer so he could rut against your belly. You go easily into it, and Soonyoung’s half hard cock presses on your stomach, so hot it makes you whine. 

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“Fuck,” he curses, affected with the drag of his cock in your skin. Soonyoung circles his arm around you to lift you higher, almost taking you off of the ground as he thrust now against your clit.

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It takes you off guard, the way he’s holding you with one arm alone — not your fault your boyfriend looks so hot when he’s all hot and bothered like this. The press against your sensitive cunt makes you moan and throw your head back, hearing him groan at the sight of your neck bared for him.

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You laugh.

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“What’s so funny?” Soonyoung asks, hips canting up firmly and mouth glued to the exposed skin of your neck.

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“Fine, I will admit it,” your voice breaks into a moan when he fucks up just right. “You look like a tiger.”

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You pull his head back by the grip you have on his hair, looking him deep in the eyes.

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“A tiger in heat.”

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You feel the growl before you even hear it, Soonyoung’s chest rumbling with the sheer intensity of it, eyes darkening and pupils blown wide with lust. His strong earthy smell — due to his cologne you love so much and are so familiar with — burns your lungs as if on cue. He looks drowned in such a dark desire you feel it to your bones; your brain begging, clawing at you to submit, submit, submit, because my boyfriend will make me feel so good. 

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“Yeah?” Soonyoung says, and you would find it funny how a simple word could make you shiver so hard, if it weren’t for how horny you are. He lets go of you completely, pressing a hand on your shoulder, and you know very well what he wants you to do.

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Your knees touch the ground, your face now centimeters apart from Soonyoung's fully hard cock. You take a moment to look at how it presses against the fabric of his jeans, mouth already salivating in need.

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“Would that make you my kitten, then?” Soonyoung asks, watching like a hawk when you moan, mouth pressing against the outline of his prominent cock. The pet name is something new, but you sure are keen on it already. “Oh, you like that.”

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Soonyoung reaches down and opens the zipper of his jeans, unbuttoning his pants until he has enough space to pull his cock out. He holds on your chin, bringing your face closer and closer until he could press his manhood against your cheek. In your haze and impatience, you push more against his cock, trying to get it inside your mouth.

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He laughs and you blush at your own desperation.

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“Such a dirty little kitten,” Soonyoung feeds you the fat head of his cock, and you moan in relief when you feel the familiar salty taste of his pre-cum mixing with your saliva. “Suck me off good and maybe I’ll give you a reward.”

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You nod a bit desperately, at least the best you can with your position, and relax your throat in order to take more of him inside. He’s big and his thickness doesn’t help, but you do your best to put as much as you can in your mouth, hand coming to jerk off the part that doesn’t fit there.

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“Mouth’s always so fucking good,” Soonyoung moans out, watching you bob your head on his cock. He kicks his hips a little, just to be a bit mean and watch tears gather in the corner of your eyes. “Do you know what tigers do when they’re in heat, hm, kitten?”

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You moan, expecting it would convey your answer when you are too occupied sucking him off. Soonyoung groans at the vibration, hold tight and unforgiving in your hair.

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“They breed their mates,” he says and holy fuck, you felt a shiver rocking all over your body, throat convulsing when you try to take him further than you can. You pull out, coughing a little, but take him back inside as soon as you catch your breath. “Would you like that? Be stuffed full of cum until it’s oozing out of your hole.”

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There’s this unbearable urge to come that has you reaching your clit and rubbing at it furiously, by the same time that Soonyoung impulses his hips forward and fucks your mouth relentlessly for a few times.

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“Stop,” he tells you, and you moan in frustration, especially when he pulls out of your mouth and jerks himself off in front of you. Not fair.

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“A-are you gonna cum on my face?” you question instead, blinking at him in hopes he says yes, but he only smirks.

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“No,” Soonyoung answers simply, grabbing your arm and pulling you up. He holds you tight, which you’re thankful for because your legs feel jittery. Then, he smooths a hand in your belly. “Rather put my cum in here.”

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You moan at his lewd remark.

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“Fuck, you’re so dirty—” your sentence gets cut off in the middle with your own little yelp of surprise when he holds the back of your thighs and lifts you off of the ground, your legs circling around his waist so you don’t fall. “Soonyoung—”

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“Gonna breed you like you deserve,” Soonyoung says, voice rough, and you hold him tighter when you realize he’s taking you to the bedroom.

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He throws you on the bed, your body bouncing on the soft mattress as you watch Soonyoung take his clothes off. You never get tired of seeing him and his dancer-like body, especially on this kind of occasion, because his chest looks sinful when it’s flushed red and sweaty. Your eyes soon fall downwards though, looking at his hard, leaking cock. It’s such a pretty cock, a beautiful shade of pink and it almost doesn’t have veins.

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Soonyoung notices your hunger and laughs softly, getting in the bed with you.

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“Like my cock that much you can’t even stop staring at it?” he teases, pressing against your clit. Your cheeks heat up with shame and arousal, Soonyoung’s hand creeping up your body and going inside your shirt — technically, his shirt, which you borrowed from his closet, and you know that’s the only reason why you’re still not naked. “Hmm, love it when you use my clothes.”

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He sighs against your throat when he cants his cock up against your clothed cunt.

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“Want you to smell only like me,” Soonyoung admits, kissing down your neck. He pulls your shirt up until it’s above your chest, so he can suck one of your nipples into his mouth. 

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“Yours—” you breathe out, a whine escaping your lips when Soonyoung sucks a hickey right above your left breast. “All yours.”

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He groans, too desperate to care when he accidentally rips your panties in the process of taking them off. You would complain, but the protest dies in your throat when Soonyoung sucks a finger into his mouth and rubs against your entrance, mumbling something among the lines of “fucking drenched”. He pushes it past the ring of muscles just slightly, knows you could take it easily since you’ve fucked in the morning, yours and Soonyoung’s sex drive shooting through roof lately.

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Soonyoung shifts, mouth working it’s way down your stomach, tasting the cloying sweetness of your skin as he licks and bites at it. He wants to cover you with marks and the thought has you squirming underneath him, moaning when he adds another finger.

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“G-give me more, come on,” you say, impatient to have him inside already.

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“So impatient,” Soonyoung tsks, grabbing your jaw tight. “That’s not how you ask.”

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“Fuck, p-please, ah—” your sentence breaks into a moan when you feel another finger prodding against your entrance, squirming when Soonyoung’s hand works furiously inside you.

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Electricity runs up your spine when the pad of his finger hits just right in your sweet spot, your body jolting upward on the bed and head falling back in pleasure.

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“S-Soonyoungie,” you whine, hands fisting into the sheets. “Stop t-teasing.”

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“I don’t know if you deserve that, kitten,” he hums instead, pressing persistently against your sweet spot. “Haven’t heard you begging for my cum yet.”

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“Soonyoung,” you’re nearly in tears, little cries muffled when you bite on your lip, and it’s so good but you just want his cock. “Please, Soonyoungie. Want— Want it.”

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“Want what?” Soonyoung asks, unfazed with your pleading. He wants to hear the exact words coming out of your mouth. “Tell me, kitten, come on.”

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“W-want,” you try to focus your eyes on him, and you notice he’s looking at you like he’s ready to pounce on you. “Want your cum.”

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Soonyoung hums, pleased.

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“Breed me, please,” you squeeze around his fingers. “Breed me full of your cum.”

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“Shit, fuck,” it’s a haze from there; Soonyoung takes off your shirt, also almost ripping it in the process, and turns you over. He grips your hips and pulls your ass up, a hand pressing your face down into the pillow. 

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For a moment you think you’re in for more teasing but the head of Soonyoung’s cock prods inside your entrance and knocks the breath right out of you. He kisses your nape as he pushes all the way in, cock throbbing inside of you.

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“So fucking hot and tight,” Soonyoung groans, grinding into your tight heat and you’re incapable of words, mind utterly blank, mouth hung open. He pulls back enough to fuck right back into you, sending your body foward in the bed with the sheer intensity of it. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

——————————

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You can only whine and whimper, face buried into the curve of his neck. It feels like you can’t even hold yourself up, Soonyoung supporting you by the grip he has on your ass, and he angles your body so he could fuck into you even deeper. It has you seeing stars, mind focused on the feeling of the drag of his cock inside you and the pleasant oversensitivity on your cunt.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You already came around four times and Soonyoung is a little behind with two times. You just know it’s something about his dancer stamina, it must be, with the way he still has the strength to hold you on his lap and fuck into you almost brutally. 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Somewhere in the back of your mind you think he has never been this set on filling you up, if the lewd squelch of cum echoing through the room every time he fucks inside you is anything to go by. 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Such a good fucking pussy, swallowing me up,” Soonyoung tells you, watches how your mouth gets more open at the comment, and leans to lick into it. His mind is fuzzy, can’t think of anything beyond putting his cum inside you. “Gonna breed you until you’re swelling with my cum, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Soonyoung knows it’s unrealistic — also because you’re on the pill — but he can’t help but get lost in the thought. He fucks into you faster, groaning at how tight you feel, sloppy and wet and so so so good for Soonyoung.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yes,” you reply intelligibly, don’t know what you’re saying yes for, but Soonyoung groans and bites on your neck, tongue soothing at it later.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah, you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he breathes out, voice ragged with effort and he’s right, you do love taking it. “Pretty little kitten.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You squeeze around Soonyoung’s cock in answer to the praise, enjoying the way his hips stutter at the feeling of your walls suffocating him. He slows down, fucks into you languidly, dragging his length in and out at a torturous pace. It makes you go livid, the burn of your release ebbing away. 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re lucid enough to take in how fucking hot and ethereal he looks. The way his skin glistens with the dim light of the room, cheeks flushed red from all the effort and pupils blown wide with lust. Just looking at Soonyoung makes you want to squirm.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“S-so full,” you comment appreciatively, gasping with the way he grinds inside you. “Make me fuller, please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Soonyoung growls; he picks up the pace after that, fucking into your sharp and fast, the sweetness of your “ah, ah, ah!” falling in sync with the sound of his balls slapping your ass.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He presses your back down on the mattress, body completely engulfing yours and a hand firmly wrapped around your waist as he drills into you. You silently thank him for being such a great dancer because he’s hips are like magic, hitting your sweet spot dead on and it has the burn in your lower stomach building higher and higher.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Gonna— gonna c-cum,” you cry out, body thrashing on the bed before your arms circles around his back and brings him impossibly close.

⠀ ⠀ ��� ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come on, kitten,” he tells, hips hammering inside you unforgivably. “Go ahead.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You sob as you come, back arching off of the bed and head thrown back. It’s less intensive than the others you had before but somehow it feels even better, cunt clenching around Soonyoung so hard he stills momentarily, rubbing at your sensitive clit to help you out with your orgasm. You forget where you are, chest heaving and mind numb, but you still want Soonyoung to come inside you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And he seems to think the same because he fucks you right after your back melts against the bed again, thrusts erratic as he grips you so tight he knows it’s gonna be bruised the next day.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Soonyoung curses, desperate for release, and the oversensitivity leaves you crying. But you still manage to catch a breath to encourage him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Want your cum— oh,” your words get stuck when Soonyoung fucks inside you one more time before halting his hips. And then you feel it, another hot surge of cum filling you up.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

They moan in unison, bodies falling limp on the bed as he grinds a few times through his orgasm. You wish you could keep it all inside you forever, fingers intertwining with Soonyoung’s.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The touch has him lifting his head from where it lays beside yours and looking at you with soft eyes.

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“I love you,” he says with a tired, but fond smile. Soonyoung moves a little so he can give you a peck in the lips. “So much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You bask in the feeling of being in his arms. So warm, so inviting, so home. Kwon Soonyoung is your home.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I love you too.”

[obscure-imagines]

*Horror genre/smut warning*

-He’d be very tentative to catch feelings for anyone because he’s a very depressed boi

-quiet guy is hard to get to know, especially after an apocalyptic event

-Even if you’re survivors together, he’s just kind of going to be floating around quietly, so if you want to get to know Hyunsu, you’re going to have to make an effort

-Hyunsu is drawn to beautiful things, things that inspire hope (music, kids, etc...) and he can enjoy pleasurable things for a time, but Hyunsu is always terrified that good things will be torn from his grasp, so he never wants to let himself love something too easily

-Boy has his found family, so being accepted by his loved ones would be really important.

-It would be the elder survivors like Han and Gilseob who notice the connection between you and Hyunsu first

-i’m talking hard core pining, long looks, Hyunsu’s eyes finding you any time you enter a room, but you’re both oblivious to each other

-It’s a tough situation because Hyunsu is still treated like a monster at times, and people are obviously scared of his dark side

-Hyunsu can’t even imagine getting close to you, for fear that he’ll hurt you

-his monster alter ego even toys with him by mentioning you sometimes, further increasing the poor boys anxiety

-He’d get growingly agitated any time you have to put yourself in danger, and always ends up going places with you just to make sure you’re protected

-it starts with him just kind of shadowing you when you head up to your apartment for something one day

-the building is pretty much safe, but when you catch Hyunsu out of the corner of your eye, you almost have a heart attack, which he apologizes profusely for

-he goes with you to your room and is kind of awkward at your door because you’re a pretty girl and he’s about to go into your apartment, even if it is a post apocalyptic world, boy has manners

-He’s also just very big and tall, so even though he kind of hunches over, he sticks out like a sore thumb in your apartment

-he’s so quiet, but once you find something you both mutually enjoy to talk about, he begins to loosen up

-he continues shadowing you, he’s pretty much your designated monster survival partner 

-at dinners you start to eat together and everyone is low key hoping you both work out, but are also worried about what it could mean for you if Hyunsu turns full monster out of the blue one day

-He’s very hesitant to allow you to touch him, so you’d have to start small

-like maybe you offer to help him clean up some residual blood left on his skin after he’s healed from a fight

-Hyunsu all but holds his breath while you wipe his skin

-big uwu boy, heart eyes to the extreme

-he honestly just needs a good cuddle and one day, after a particularly rough event where you almost die, Hyunsu is too tired to be in full control of himself, so when you crawl into bed with him, wrapping your arms around his frame, Hyunsu allows himself to enjoy it

-the biggest soft boy is the small spoon sometimes cuz he really needs it

-he falls asleep in your arms and it’s the most peaceful sleep he’s had in maybe years

-when he wakes up, he rolls to cuddle against your chest, still half asleep and unaware of what he’s doing until he can hear the beat of your heart under his ear and realizes you’re not just a pleasantly warm pillow

-boy practically jumps out of the bed and needs to be pulled back into your embrace

-if you start massaging his scalp and holding him to your chest- he’s going to die, like, he’ll never be happier

-He craves your cuddles like nothing else in the whole world, and allows himself more and more to be happy when he’s with you, and to be with you often

-seeing him smile is so odd, people are shook

-the first day you grab his hand in front of people makes his heart melt

-the two of you are simply waiting for dinner, and you grab his hand, playing with his fingers casually

-you don’t even notice how impactful the gesture is

-after dinner, Hyunsu finds himself swept away by the key men of the group, Han thinks it’s all very cute, Gilseob agrees with Han but he’s worried like Eunhyeok that Hyunsu could be a danger to you. Sangwook is just there because they dragged him along

-Hyunsu is still worried he could hurt you and you notice him pulling away after his discussion with the guys, which leads to him fully communicating to you all his fears about being a monster and not being good enough for you

-squash all his anxieties with a kiss

-Hyunsu will melt against you, your lips are the best cure for his busy mind

-if you tug a little at his hair boy will be whipped forever

-once he opens up to you, he’ll tell you everything

-time spent cuddling and just talking

-tracing his scars and kissing them, telling him you’ll never leave him

-him being worried about becoming a monster but you’re so determined he won’t- and you won’t let him try to avoid you for your ‘own safety’ so he’s pretty much just stuck with loving you and accepting that you make him happy and he’s allowed to be happy

-helping him cut his hair and being shook by how much younger he looks

- “do you like it?” he wants to make sure you still like his new hair

-he’s so much more boyish- it honestly makes it worse when his hair is short because people have been straight up offering him up to really hard jobs because he ‘cant die’

-like, you’re going to be fiercely protective of this boy, just as he is of you

-yeah he’s the one that ‘cant die’ but if someone tries to be even slightly mean to him, you’re jumping in and throwing fists

-’oh? you guys think it’s a good idea to sacrifice him to the military/government for our survival? time to meet my fists’ you’ll jump in swinging i swear to god

-you would probably be down to fight Eunhyuck on the daily for how he treats Hyunsu like his watch dog/hound

-low key everyone is prepared to wake up and find you and Hyunsu just gone one day

-he looks at you with the biggest heart eyes, like, boy is so in love with you and anyone can see it

-he’s going to cherish any time with you

-nights are for cuddles and memorizing your face in the moonlight that comes through the windows

-will find you cute little gifts, like, if he knows you like certain books or stuff like that he’ll keep an eye out for things to amuse you when he’s looking for supplies 

-being way too fucking cute. like. this is an apocalypse and this man is just out here being a full fucking simp for you im-

-be careful as he gets more in love with you though because if someone threatens you, his monster side will pop out

-you’re feeling fragile one day and someone says something rude about Hyunsu and ‘how much time he has left’ and when Hyunsu finds you crying, his eyes go black and his monster side demands you tell him who he has to go kill for you

-after that, you can be certain his monster side won’t ever hurt you, which makes Hyunsu feel a lot more relaxed

-boy finally lets you touch him for longer than like five minutes because he’s not scared of loosing himself when he’s with you anymore

-ok, let’s be real, ya’ll would find ways to fuck even during the apocalypse

-boy deserves it. he DESERVES IT I TELL YOU

-soft honey boy, starts so soft, so much kissing and foreplay

-you’d really have to initiate things going farther than just kissing, and he’d worship you if you undressed for him

-10/10 will tell you he loves you while buried completely inside of you

-lots of gripping and passion, breathless kisses, hand holding and finger squeezing

-let him burry his face in your neck

-the sweetest aftercare filled with cuddles, hugs, kisses, and sweet words of affirmation

-he’s super shy about petnames, but you pet your ass that this big soft boi is going to let ‘jagiya’ (honey/sweetheart) slip every once and again.

-super shy about pda around other people, but you purposefully like to show how much you love him to make everyone else think twice about being mean to him or prejudice because he’s ‘infected’, whatever that even means.

-stealing his massive clothes

-taking care of him in ways that count, like making sure his depression doesn’t get the better of him being able to complete basic tasks, like cleaning him after a fight and making sure he eats properly

-being Hyunsu’s proof that humans can live with monsters, because you’ll never let him go and you love him

-i mean, not even going to lie, 10/10 Hyunsu would make living in monster world worth it

[elysiadjarin]

Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn’t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

~

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

~

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

~

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

~

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

[diamond-coral]

Bargaining Chip

Hello! This is my first time posting on Tumblr ever:) I pulled this one-shot from a fic I posted on AO3 a few months ago but the plot is irrelavent and I changed it from first person to second as well as some details so it can be read as a stand alone. There’s some plot from the actual story but you really don’t need to know it at all.

There might be a few errors, especially because I changed the entire point of view and converted it to present tense from past tense so sorry:) 

Loki manages to get his hands on you and exchanges you and your body for his ticket to independence from the Avengers. Bucky gets to go first.

Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters included: Loki, and a little bit of Tony, Steve, and Thor

WARNINGS: 18+ ONLY!!! SMUT (NON-CON TOUCHING, FORCED ORAL SEX (m receiving), KNIFE THREATS, DARK! AVENGERS, BUCKY’S AN ASSHOLE IN THIS, DEGRADATION, BASICALLY FORCED PROSTITUTION) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

You awake in the passenger seat of your own car with only foggy memories of you and your partner before everything had gone dark. Your mission from the CIA...breaking and entering the motherfucking Avenger’s facility and managing to escape...you were so close. If it weren’t for him. In your haze, you look to see who could possibly have the audacity to be driving your car, and there sits Loki, the God of Mischief, who you had only scene on the news, driving one hand and inspecting something in his other.

“Good evening my lady. Sleep well?” he mocks without taking his eyes off the item in his hand which upon further inspection from you looks to be... a red leash?

What the hell?

“I do hope you like your outfit,” he continues. “I think I assembled quite the get up for you.”

Looking down, you let out a muffled scream that was cut off by a strip of duct tape. Your hands are bound in your lap, but that isn’t what horrifies you. It’s what’s underneath them. You take into account your bare legs, fully on display, with a black dress leaving little to the imagination. The top half is just as horrifying with it’s plunging neckline. Your legs end with a pair of strappy gold heels that ensures any chances of running away to be futile while your upper arms are adorned in golden bracelets accented with emeralds. Whether the emeralds were real or fake, you could care less. You have bigger problems to worry about.

“What the fuck?!”

Is what you try to say, but the gag only makes it come out as a mangled ball of muffled murmurs. Though the chuckle Loki lets out implies he understands your enraged speaking attempt.

“You, my dear, are going to be a bargaining chip. I heard about your little escapade at the Avenger’s facility last night. Impressive, I must say, but my brother and his little hero posse had been looking for you relentlessly after that. They are practically obsessed with catching the women that managed to break into their high security building.”

Loki takes a sharp turn into a parking garage, narrowly missing the wall. You squeal as your precious car runs over the curb.

“I forgot how much I hate mortal transportation devices. But Stark had to build this tower in the middle of New York to feed his ever-growing ego and now I’m the one that has to rely on a car to get me there,” he grumbles while pulling into a parking space. He takes a deep breath once the car is parked. “Now, I’m going to remove that gag out of your mouth, and if you scream, I will peel your skin off of your body in the slowest, most painful way imaginable. Understood?”

You nod frantically and he rips the tape off, extracting a whimper from your now stinging mouth. You open your mouth for him to take the wad of cloth out that was under the duct tape. As he extracts it, you snap your mouth shut in an attempt to bite him, but he’s quick to evade and grabs your jaw harshly.

“What did I say before?” he seethes. 

“You said not to scream. I didn’t scream. Now let go of my face.”

Loki roughly throughs your face to the side, letting go, and looks around the surroundings of the car, probably checking for any unwanted onlookers.

“Out of the car. Now,” he orders and you hastily oblige using your bound hands to open the door.

As you shut the door, you catch a glimpse of your own reflection and grimace. You look like a hooker. Aside from the skimpy outfit, your hair was pinned up and intertwined with gold strands. Your makeup is done as well. Sultry eye shadow and dark red lipstick.

“I didn’t know the God of Mischief was a makeup guru,” you jab.

He ignores you and harshly pushes you forward. “Walk.”

“Where’s my partner?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Loki replies. “She has other uses than the one I currently need you for.”

“And what use am I needed for?”

“I already told you. By the gods, you mortals are stupid. You are to be a bargaining chip, (Y/N).”

Your blood runs cold. “How do you know my name?” you ask.

“I know everything about you. Including your peculiar abilities.”

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Now, don’t worry,” he adds. “As amusing to me as it would be, I have no interest in enlightening the Avengers to your secret identity. As far as they will know, I am simply giving them the criminal that broke into their compound.”

“And what’s in it for you?” you ask as he guidesyou into an elevator.

After pushing a button, he goes to fix his dark green tie. “Clever girl now aren’t you?”

“Answer the question.”

“How about-no?” he muses and a soft ding resonates through the elevator.

The doors opened and, for a moment, you forget the predicament your in. Inside was the most beautiful penthouse you had ever seen. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass allowing a view of the New York City night skyline. Everything little piece of furniture each looks as expensive as your car, but your focus becomes drawn to the minibar. The Avengers were all sitting there, laughing, and most were obviously drunk.

“Here James, try some of this,” Thor booms.

Bucky makes a face. “Why would I drink something from another planet meant for Gods?”

“Jeez Buck it’s the only thing that can get you and I drunk,” Steve slurs and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It’s your birthday. Live it up a little.”

Bucky hesitates before grabbing the flask Thor offers him and throwing his head back, downing the flask in one go.

Loki seems to have enough of the party scene as he clears his throat to interrupt them.

“Gentlemen-”

Before Loki uttered another word all the Avengers clambered from their seats to grab their weapons, but their intoxicated state just makes it a comical sight. Captain America falls over in an attempt to reach for his shield below the table. Tony Stark’s iron man mask smacks him over the head as he fails to turn in time to catch it on his face. Sam Wilson chokes on his drink and falls backwards off his barstool in shock.

“I come bearing no ill tidings.” Loki spread his arms.

“Then why bother coming at all?” Thor growls, shifting his hammer to his right hand.

“I’ve come to make an offer.”

With that, Loki snatches your wrist and throws you towards him and the other men. You stumbled in you stilettos and let out a yelp as you land on the floor looking up at the 5 present Avengers: Thor, the Winter Soldier, Captain America, Iron Man, and the Falcon. They all look down on you with perplexed looks etched onto their faces.

“You guys have been so caught up and stressed about finding your security breaches that I was generous enough to do some finding myself,” Loki explains.

“And how do we know you didn’t just pluck some prostitute off the street?” Caps eyes rake up and down your body.

Loki scoffs. “Always the skeptic captain. Does this answer your question?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flash-drive.

Tony snatches it from his hands. “Jarvis, what’s on this drive?” he asks, holding the drive up to a scanner in the glasses he’s wearing.

“It appears to be the files you have been collecting the 2 vigilantes you have been tracking and-.”

“Okay thanks J!” Tony interrupts quickly before Jarvis could spill any more information. He proceeds to storm up to your cowering and kneeling form that hadn’t dared move and harshly grabs your jaw.

Jesus, what was with these men and your poor, bruised jaw?

“Why would you possibly need this information?” he asks calmly, but his eyes are feral. He studies you and his brows furrow. Did he manage to piece it all together that you were the alleged vigilante they had been hunting? He lets go of your jaw and throws you back on the floor. “What business do you have looking for them?”

Looking for them? You let out a sigh of relief.

“None of your business,” you spit.

“Anyways,” Loki continues, and the drive suddenly disintegrated in Tony’s hand while reappearing in Loki’s. “I will happily hand over this seemingly important information along with the girl for you to do with her as you please, but…” He pauses. “Only if you stop tracking my current whereabouts.”

“And why would we do that, Loki? You’re dangerous,” Steve notes.

“I was dangerous,” Loki interjects. “I have been a good boy haven’t I? I would like to lead a normal life without you imbeciles tailing my every move. If I slip, Thor here will know within the second if I’m involved with anyone wrong doings, won’t you brother dear?”

Thor grunts at that statement.

“Besides, Stark’s satellite can track any magical energy if I use it. Which I won’t.”

“Fine. Now hand over the drive,” Tony snaps and holds his hand out.

After Loki drops the small gadget into Tony’s hand, he hauls you up and spins you around to face him.

His voice is quiet and low. “Be glad I didn’t tell them about my plans for you friend. It would be a shame if they found out about her abilities...and yours.”

He spins you back around to face the 5 men whose eyes were now raking up and down your body. “Easy on the eyes isn’t she?” Loki mentions, hands falling on your waist making you squirm. “You know, I almost considered keeping her for myself. Her exotic beauty is that of a pleasure maiden on Asgard.” Your struggles are invigorated at his implications. “Enjoy your whore.” And with that, he gives you one final shove before vanishing.

It’s silent for half a minute before one of the men speak up.

“Alright who wants to take her for a spin?” Tony asks, clapping his hands together. “I vote the birthday boy gets first dibs. Huh, Buckaroo?”

You blanch at the idea. Were they really going to go through with what Loki wanted? What happened to the valiant heroes you saw on your screen?

“Wait Tony, you can’t be seriously considering Loki’s suggestion?” Sam Wilson sounds surprised.

Tony shrugs. “Why not, Birdie? It’s either this or high security prison and I don’t think she wants to rot in a cell.”

“She is standing right here and would rather rot in hell than do what Loki had in mind,” you hiss.

“Well it’s a good thing we weren’t asking for her opinion,” Tony says.

“Tony’s right, Sam,” Steve adds slowly. “We bust our asses out there. We deserve something nice.”

“Day after day we save this pathetic world, and no thanks are given. Just everyone saying what we did wrong. We should’ve left the world to fend for itself after they tried shoving those ridiculous accords down our throats,” Thor murmurs

Sam raises both of his hands up in defense. “Fine. Do what you want with her. I’m gonna head out.” And with that he leaves. Your heart sinks, watching the only glimmer of hope, your knight in shining armor, walk out the door. Your self-pity party is cut short by an arm snaking around your waist.

Bucky Barnes, trained assassin, mass murderer, and now current Avenger, puts his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, sending shivers down your spine while you stand frozen like a deer in headlights. “What do you say, doll? Wanna finish what we started the other night?” His hand on your waist slowly drifts down to your ass.

You stomp your heel down on his foot eliciting a groan of pain. “Last time I checked, you were in the dirt, and I was driving away that night after a successful robbery. There’s nothing to finish.”

He moves quickly as he rips your hair out of what’s securing it up, using the opportunity to tangle his hand into the roots and drag you away to a separate room. He wrenches open and throws you in, leaving you to stumble and trip. A searing pain on your forehead signaled that you hit your head.

“How about we use that snarky mouth of yours for something better hmm?” His voice is ice cold with malice as he grips your hair and yanks you up.

You cry out in pain, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he sneers down at you. Hearing the sound of a belt unbuckling and pants unzipping, you shut your eyes.

A tear escapes, cascading down your face, but his thumb gently wipes it away.

“Open your eyes, doll,” he coos.

You shake your head and screw them shut even tighter.

“I said...OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES!” he roars and your eyes fly open only to see his member sticking out of his slacks right in front of your face. He’s almost fully hard as precum dribbles out of the tip. “Good girl,” he praises. “Now, since you can’t seem to keep your snarky mouth shut, let’s put it to better use. How bout that?”

You don’t move, and he sighed as you look down to the floor. You hear some shuffling, a small click, and suddenly something cold and sharp is pressing under your chin, tilting your gaze to his steel blue eyes.

“Let’s try this again.” He pushes the knife harder, digging it a little deeper, but not enough to draw blood. A knife. This dirty bastard has a knife. “Suck. My. Cock.”

Pushing all your pride aside, you direct your gaze to the task in front of you. Bucky lets out an approving hum and the knife is removed from your throat. You swallow before opening your mouth and dragging your tongue from his base to the tip before wrapping your lips around him and sucking lightly.

Bucky was no slacker down there, you had to give him that. You ease your mouth down his shaft and his head tilts back.

“Oh fuck that’s it,” he moans. “Take my dick down your throat.” He grunts. His metal hand fists your hair to push your head down, sliding a few more inches into your throat. “Oh-that’s a good whore,” he breathes.

A gag is torn from you and you slap your hands against his thighs to imply you couldn’t take much more. Bucky’s only response is another grunt as he jams the rest of his length down your throat leaving your only intake of oxygen to come from your nose which was now mashed right above the base of his thick cock. As quickly as he pushed you down before, he pulls you back off by your hair, letting you go to wretch, gasping for air and freedom. A strand of saliva still connects from his tip to my lips.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He snags your hair again. “Open wide, slut.”

You do just that and he begins to fuck your throat at his own pace, sliding his entire length down every time. Tears brim at your eyes, not just from the lack of oxygen, but the humiliation of the moment as well. The time passes much too slowly for your liking, minutes dragging on for eternity, before he begins to reach his climax.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His cock twitches in your mouth.He holds your head with both hands as he releases straight into your mouth, warm thick strands of his release coating the back of your throat. He pulls out  with a pop and smirks down at you. “Good little sluts swallow” he orders.

You glare up at him, making a show of not doing anything.

“Well?” he demands and raises a dark brow.

You spit his own climax onto his expensive shoes.

“Why you-!” He raises his hand, getting ready to send a smack to your face.

“Barnes!” A female voice comes from the doorway as the door flies open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

There stood none other than the Black Widow.

[esamastation]

Xerxes au snippet

The first official political overture the small desert nation of Xerxes makes towards Amestris in over fifty years is a year after the end of the Ishvalan Civil War. Though it is expected to concern the war, and the border between Amestris and Xerxes, or perhaps even Amestrian use of Alchemy in the war, is has nothing to do with the bloody conflict, or it's relation to Xerxes' famously pacifistic view on alchemy.

It is a simple, polite appeal to the Amestrian Government – an invitation for an Amestrian automail mechanic to join the Xerxesian court.

"Bit odd," Havoc mutters, after a copy of the letter has gone around the office a few times. "What do they need an automail mechanic for – isn't Xerxesian medical alchemy, like… world famous?"

"For given the value of fame, yes," Roy agrees, fingers crossed together and a thoughtful look on his face. "They say early Amestrian alchemists learned from Xerxesians. We still use a lot of their symbols in our alchemy – but if Xerxesian alchemists are world famous about anything these days, it's their reticence. No outsider has seen much about the way they go about things these days, if they even practice alchemy anymore."

Of course there are rumours, there are always rumours, and there's history – the great and wealthy kingdom of Xerxes, alchemically on top of the world and widely known for their wisdom and knowledge and the miracles they achieved… who reached too far, tried to achieve the power of gods, and got struck down by said gods for it. How accurate that is, no one knows, but it's known that some disaster hundreds of years ago devastated the kingdom, killed most of its people, and it never fully recovered. Now it's people can only barely scrape by, living in huts and caves and underground, and they don't treat with outsiders much beyond the absolutely necessary.

Beyond trade routes established to get Amestrian goods through Xerxes to Xing, there's never been much interest for Xerxes, except maybe for it's grand history and it's many ruins. It doesn't help that Xerxes, as far as anyone knows, has never really reached outside, keeping to its isolationist values – and since it has little to offer to other nations… no one reached back, either. As far as anyone knows, Xerxes hasn't advanced at all scientifically or technologically in the last hundred years.

Which makes the fact that they want specifically an automail mechanic, an craftsman of one of Amestris' most advanced technology, rather interesting, doesn't it?

"I hear they took a lot of Ishvalan refugees during the war," Fuery says – he's the one holding the letter, reading it through.

Roy hums grimly. There's that, though took in might be stretching it a bit. Xerxes didn't do much to protect its borders – there was no need, with a desert all around their kingdom. So, when Ishvalan refugees sought to escape the conflict and set out to the desert, there was nothing but the terrain itself to stop them. Who knows how many Ishvalans made it through the desert, on foot and probably hurt…

"Why'd they send this to our office?" Breda asks, casting a look at Roy.

"They sent it to Grumman who sent it to us," Roy sighs and leans back in his chair. "The Lieutenant General wants us to find a suitable mechanic and then escort them – along with the Fürher's greetings – to Xerxes. The mission isn't exactly time sensitive, but since we're in the East…"

There's probably many reasons it was thrown their way, really. Way to keep those uppity brats from East busy, easily justified with them being closest to the matter at hand. It also wasn't exactly vital as diplomatic missions go – but it was still a diplomatic mission to a foreign nation, which means that Roy would want to handle it himself instead of leaving it to any of his subordinates. Especially since it's to Xerxes – what Alchemist wouldn't give an arm and a leg for a glimpse at how Xerxesian alchemy is these days? So, it was expected that he'd go himself. Which would get him out of people's way for a while, and maybe open up a slot for someone else to be promoted to his place, depending how long it would take.

How annoying. Grumman can be one clever son of a bitch when he wants to be.

"Right," Roy says while his team exchanges looks. "I want a list of all automail mechanics of East on my desk by the end of the day – if you can figure out their feelings about Ishval and if they have any history with the Ishvalan Civil War, that'd be a plus. Get to work."

"Sir!" his team answers, and immediately get to it, Fuery and Fallman both heading out to probably check records, while Havoc fishes out a phone book and Breda gets the phone. Beside Roy, Hawkeye gives him a look.

"Should I start preparing for travel?" she asks mildly.

"If you please," Roy says, turning to his paperwork. "We'll take Breda with us."

"Understood."

-

Over the course of next two days, they list and investigate various automail shops in the east, Roy privately wincing at how many there are, and how many of them are less than a decade old. The Ishvalan Civil War had been a boon to the business, and a lot of mechanics from the south moved in to take advantage of the situation. Lots of new up and coming mechanics, cutting their teeth in on a lot of freshly traumatised soldiers.

It left a lot of them… unsuitable for a mission likely to involve Ishvalan refugees.

"Known for his Anti-Ishvalan sentiments," Breda says, crossing out another potential automail shop. "This one has a No Refugees sign on his shop front, which probably means the same thing. This one has a pretty high record of automail rejection syndrome. This one has had two patients die on the operation table…"

Roy rubs a hand over his forehead, already imagining having to reach for the Southern District to find someone sensible in Rush Valley, when Breda offers him a potential. "Rockbell Automail, in business for decades before the Ishvalan Conflict even began."

"Rockbell," Roy says, lifting his head. "Any relation to the two late Doctors Rockbell?"

"Yep. Son and daughter in law of Doctor Pinako Rockbell, the head mechanic of the shop," Breda says and lays the file on his desk. "Their daughter is currently an apprentice mechanic in the shop, too."

Roy grimaces at that, but accepts the file, leafing quickly through it. Old, well established shop, known for their skill and efficiency, with very high praise from a lot of former customers and no known record of either deaths on operation table, auto mail rejections, or any anti-Ishvalan sentiments. There is a slight issue of the head mechanic being an old woman and the only other mechanic being a young girl, but…

It's promising.

"Phone," Roy says, and Hawkeye quickly lifts it on his desk, turning it toward him so that he can dial easily.

"Rockbell Automail, Pinako Rockbell speaking," a woman's voice answers the phone promptly, her tone brisk.

"Doctor Rockbell, my name is Roy Mustang, I'm a Lieutenant Colonel from the East Area Headquarters – may I have a moment of your time?"

"Certainly," Doctor Rockbell answers, no noticeable change in her tone. "What can do for you, Lieutenant Colonel? Aside from automail, presumably."

"I am currently looking for a skilled automail mechanic to take part in a diplomatic mission, likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Roy says. "Your shop came up as highly recommended."

"Hrm. What kind of diplomatic mission? Don't the military have their own automail mechanics?"

"There are some, but none in the Eastern Headquarters," Roy admits – probably because the East has such surplus of civilian mechanics these days. "And I'll be frank, the likely length of this mission makes it difficult to use any of our military mechanics. The mission is to Xerxes, and will likely take weeks, if not months."

"… Xerxes?" now the old woman's voice changes, growing a little incredulous.

"Yes, the Xerxes Royal Family sent the Amestrian government an appeal for a skilled automail mechanic to join their court, and I was tasked with the mission of finding one," Roy explains and leans back, turning to look out of the window while he talks. "You would be well compensated for your trouble, however long it would last."

"Is this… a permanent position? In Xerxes?" Still incredulous.

"We don't know as of yet, the treaties are yet to be drawn. You would naturally be part of the negotiations and your wishes and needs would be taken into account," Roy assures her. "I understand this is a bit much so suddenly, and I will hold it in no way against you if you refuse outright – though I am hoping that if that is the case, then perhaps you, as a well established mechanic, might be able to point me in the way of more suitable candidates…"

Honestly, with a shop as old and as well established as hers, Roy doubts very much she would take him up on the mission – she probably has a whole lot of regular clients and steady stream of income, and no need to move. But, it never hurts to ask.

The phone line is quiet for a moment as the old mechanic thinks. "I need to talk with my apprentice for a moment, can I call you back in, say, two hours?"

"Certainly," Roy agrees, and gives her his office number. "We'll be looking forward to your call."

"Right – one more thing. You said it's likely to involve Ishvalan refugees," Doctor Rockbell says. "How'd you mean?"

"We don't know for sure, the appeal didn't explain the need for a mechanic. But during the Ishvalan Civil War, many Ishvalan refugees fled to Xerxes. So we thought it safe to assume the two are connected."

"Ah," the mechanic says knowingly. "And they put a State Alchemist in charge of finding a solution."

Roy swallows. Ah. She knows about him. It's not entirely surprising, but… "They did indeed," is all he says. There's no real explanation he can give, no excuse. It is what it is."

"Hm," Doctor Rockbell answers, noncommittal. "I will call back in two hours."

And she does, accepting the mission with two conditions. The military would help her pack up her entire shop and all the materials and tools would be transported with them – which was understandable, even if it tripled the estimated convoy size. The other condition was that she was taking her eleven year old apprentice with her. Both conditions Roy readily agreed to, tasking Havoc and Fallman with her packing while the rest of the team arranged the convoy.

"Guess we're going to Xerxes then. We're going to need a lot of camels," Breda muses.

"Yes," Roy agrees and sighs. It would be a hard journey and probably a hard mission, and likely one for very little gain in the end. Still. Xerxes. His alchemy master would've killed for the opportunity. Might as well take full advantage of it, and learn whatever he can, even if it's only from broken murals on ancient ruins.

-

Hmm... not sure I’m getting Mustang’s voice right.

Edit: Also tumblr eats italics for breakfast apparently.

[parvulous-writings]

Would it be a Sin? // Patrick McKenna x Fem!Reader

Request:   Hello. 💐 I'll fully disclose that I've returned with a purely a self-indulgent oneshot request. I read your Patrick McKenna NSFW alphabet the other day and I just...*sigh* So so so good!I'd love if you could write a oneshot based on the letter D, "dirty secret." Patrick wearing the clerical collar makes me feel all sorts of feelings (🥵), so I'd love to see you delve more into this and satiate our unholy desires! Feel free to make it as smutty as you wish!xoxo,polishksiezniczka ❤

Requested by: @polishksiezniczka​

Summary: A oneshot based on my NSFW alphabet for Father McKenna, focusing particularly on the letters ‘D’ and ‘W’ (Dirty secret and wildcard)

Warnings: NSFW content ahead, reader discretion is advised. Breaking of vows of chastity/celibacy.

Words: 1.6K

Notes: This is my first time writing a full smut oneshot, so, please bear with me as I get used to displaying how I write such intimacy- especially with a wider/larger audience. Just writing a fem oneshot, since this is what I am most familiar with- though if anyone wants a masc oneshot, I can do that! 

Not my gif

There had always been something.. Oddly erotic about Father McKenna’s clerical clothing. It wasn’t something you brought up to him, not ever, but you vaguely acknowledged it in the back of your mind. You weren’t sure if he was aware of it, he usually blanked desires and temptations of the carnal variety. It was habit for him, something he did without thinking. Sometimes this was very much a perk for him; able to go great lengths without feeling desire towards another. Other times, it was not so much, he becomes blind to your advances, no matter how obvious or explicit they may be.  In particular, you liked his collar. The sense of power behind it’s meaning, the supposed purity that came with it. You knew all too well that McKenna’s vows of chastity and celibacy had long since been broken, but the facade of a virgin man that he still kept up to this day amongst others of his creed was something you admired, and almost yearned to an extent. Most days you could hide the way it made you feel, the things it did to you. Today was not one of those days. 

You were sat down in Patrick’s office, as per the norm. You often found yourself in here, sat in the same old chair, one leg folded over the other to try and alleviate the aching need at the apex of your thighs, such was the case today. Patrick was stood by his window- you referred it to his window simply because he was the only person to spend so much time next to that specific window. Sure, it was his office, but priests and cardinals were often in and out of the room, and none of them spent as much time next to that window. They were usually seated, like you were now.  You are drawn from your thoughts when Patrick clears his throat to grab your attention. You look at him, rather blankly, and he sighs. “I asked you if you were alright.” He said to you, and you nodded hurriedly.  “Yes, yes, fine...” You feebly attempt to assure him, shuffling in your seat. He notices this slightly odd behaviour quite quickly. He glances down at your legs, giving a soft chuckle, for once catching on to your predicament rather quickly.  “I think you’re a little more than just alright, aren’t you?” He teased lightly as he strode across the room, towards his bookcase. Your eyes trailed over his clothed body as he moved, and though you couldn’t actually see or make out any proper detail on his body, your mind was rampant with imaginings of it. He stayed at his bookcase for a brief moment, before looking over his shoulder at you. “You know... I think I know what can be done to help you...” He chuckled, an almost wicked grin starting to spread over his face. 

You feel heat settle in the pit of your belly at the expression, and he moves back to his desk, placing his hands on the surface as he looks you over. He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, “Uncross your legs, beloved.” He chuckled quietly, glancing down at your knees as he spoke. You cautiously do as he asks,keeping your hands on your needs.  “Good girl.” He praises in that low, silky tone that only seems to make an appearance when in the bedroom. You give a slight sheepish smile as he stands up straight again, perching himself on the top of the desk, looking down at you. “Now... What to do... You need assistance, clearly..” He chuckled again, folding his arms over his chest as he pondered over what to do, how to treat this... sin. That’s when an idea struck him. “On your knees, over there.” He commanded, gesturing over to the carpet in the middle of the room. You glance to him as you get to your feet, moving quickly to where he had pointed. You sink to your knees, looking expectantly to him as he still leant against his desk. “Recite three Hail Marys.” He nods to you, and you bow your head in response, mumbling the prayer before he interrupts you. “Louder. I want to hear you.” He’s smirking as he speaks- you could just hear it in the glee in his voice. You clear your throat, starting to speak again.  “Hail Mary, full of Grace, The Lord is with thee.” You start the prayer, and Patrick mouths along with you, starting to move around the room till he stood behind you. “Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” You can feel his presence a pace or so behind you, but you don’t dare to raise your head just yet. “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.” You shuffle a little bit as you continue, the feeling of carnal desire returning to settle in your core. You hesitate to continue with your first repetition of the prayer, and Patrick leans down to speak in your ear.  “Finish the prayer, darling.” The way he emphasises the pet name makes you shiver and your mind to go blank. “Would you like me to help you with it?” He teased, and you couldn’t help but nod. He kneels down behind you, his mouth still close to your ear as he finished the prayer, your voice echoing his. “ Glory Be to the Father..” He was speaking slowly, allowing you to speak along with him. "And to the Son... and to the Holy Spirit.” By the end of the prayer, his lips are trailing over the skin of your jaw, ghosting over the most sensitive areas, lighting your skin on fire in the wake of those truly sinful lips. 

You started to lean back into the affection he was partially giving to you, but he stops you before you can get too comfortable. “Ah-ah. You still have two Hail Marys, do you not?” He pointed out, and you gave a quiet groan of frustration. You no longer wished to complete his given task, you didn’t even think you could do so- your mind kept going completely blank every time you felt his breath against the side of your face, and the skin of your neck. At your lack of response, Patrick hums softly, burying his face into the side of your neck and pressing a few featherlight kisses there. “You need to answer me, dearest.”  “I can’t.” You whine, almost breathlessly. It was the truth, at least. You feel the vibration of his laugh against your neck, and you head falls back at the sensation. “Patrick... Please...” You whisper to him, and he pauses momentarily.  “Alright, alright...” He soothes you quietly, before pulling away briefly, moving towards the windows and drawing the drapes to overlap, blocking out the light and the rest of the world. He turns back to you, pulling the clerical collar from it’s place. He places the garment on his desk, moving back to you, crouching in front of you, and placing his fingers beneath your chin, lifting your head slightly so that you looked up at him. He presses his lips to your own, surging forward with a fire that you two shared only occasionally, in the heat of the moment. You both shuffle a little bit, your lips separating intermittently as you move onto your back, him looming over you, supported by his arms as his lips spread kiss after kiss over your cheeks, down your jaw to your neck.  You wrap your arms around him, drawing his body closer to your own, your hands snaking up into his hair, gently pulling on it. At this action, Patrick nipped a little harder at your skin, drawing a quiet mewl from your lips. 

There is more, almost awkward shuffling, as your clothes and garments were hurriedly shoved and pushed aside, though most of this was a blur to the pair of you, spurred on by the need to feel each other in the throes of passion. His lips were on yours, and yours on his, showing one another the passion you were often unable to through speech alone. It was bliss in it’s purest form; even Patrick could not deny it. The power you had over one another was unparalleled- though there were no thoughts, only the pursuit of pleasure in both of your actions. Your hands clasp at each other, bringing your closer and closer to one another, and closer to coital release.  The heavy sound of yours and Patrick’s pants and gasps are the one of the only sounds in the room- the other being the gentle slap of skin on skin. As Patrick’s grunts grow slightly louder and his hips snapped into yours, you know he is growing close to his release. He buries his face into your skin to muffle his moans as his hips stuttered and eventually, spilling into you with a final groan and a sigh. With a final few quasi-thrusts, you snap around him, giving a loud whine and clutching him close for a moment longer. 

After a few quiet moments, Patrick pulls himself away from you, readjusting himself quickly. He looked down at you, almost proud of his work, of disheveling you in such a way. He put his hand to your cheek before brushing your hair off of your forehead, though it stuck to your skin due to a sheen of sweat on your brow. “Now... Let’s see to getting you cleaned up. That helped, did it not?” He mused quietly, and you nod as he helps you redress- you leave the Vatican together, and early, so the pair of you could get cleaned up properly. 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Contact Comfort

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: None, really? Emotional hurt/comfort and sorta like a touch starved deal doing on, but it’s pretty thoroughly fluffy and sugary-sweet. 

A/N: For the “bed sharing” square on my @cmbingo​ card! 

Title is from the referenced psych study, because I’m a dork. 

“One sec,” you call, wincing at how thick and nasal your voice sounds.

You wipe your cheeks hastily as you sit up. It’ll be obvious anyway, though; wouldn’t take a profiler to notice your tear tracks and blotchy face. 

It’s Spencer. Of course it is — because he’s the last person you want to see you like this, when you’re all snotty and puffy and gross. 

His eyes go wide and solemn when he sees your face, genuinely distressed. There’s that empathy again, the too-big heart that everyone seems to overlook in favor of his big brain. You love him for it. 

Well, you love him for a lot of things. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. “I was going to just ask if you were okay, but… I guess I don’t actually need to ask now.” 

You let out a watery little chuckle. “Guess not.” 

“You want some company?” He looks hopeful, almost, and then seems to catch himself, dropping his gaze with a shrug. “I understand if you just want your space, though.” 

If it was anyone else, you absolutely would not want company right now. But it’s Spencer, so. You pretty much always want him around. 

“I was just about to turn on some shitty TV because it felt too quiet in here, honestly. Company would be really nice.” 

He gives you a quick twitch of a half-smile as he steps past you, and after you close the door, there’s a pause where you both stand there and look at each other, Spencer suddenly shy as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, in a thin unhappy voice. 

“Not really. Just… one of those days. One of those cases.” 

“Can I do anything to help?”  

You hesitate, because it seems like such an immature thing to say out loud, but you’re too tired to be anything other than honest.

“I could use a hug.”  

Spencer’s expression goes all soft and sweet, and your cheeks feel hot under the drying salt water as he steps closer. He wraps his arms around you, and you bury your face in his chest and try to inhale. Your exhale is a ragged little shudder, and you fist both hands in the back of Spencer’s cardigan as you cling to him, feeling raw and sensitive and so very young. 

He lets out a quiet, shaky sigh of his own, squeezing you tighter. 

How long has it been since anybody hugged you like this? It’s like the contact — the warmth of him — the pressure of his arms around your shoulders — the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek — is lifting some massive weight you never realized you were carrying. All you want in the entire world is to hold him tight, take the comfort while you can, but you know you should pull away. 

He hesitates for a second before releasing you, like maybe he doesn’t want to let go either. 

Then he’s stepping back, hands in his pockets, slightly pink-cheeked as he bounces on the balls of his feet and gives you one of his frog-faced not-quite-smiles. 

“You said something about shitty television?” he asks. “Or maybe we could watch some television that’s not actually shitty?” 

“That sounds perfect.”

Turns out Planet Earth is on, which is the rare overlap in your and Spencer’s tastes, and it’s not until you’re eagerly toeing off your shoes that you realize the bed is the only seating option. 

Spencer sits cross-legged, with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his fists, and he stays as close to the edge of the bed as physically possible. You lean back against the headboard and hug your knees to your chest, feeling the need to hunch over, like you could physically protect your heart. 

Then again, it’s much too late for that. You knew your heart was in trouble the moment you met Spencer. 

Today, especially, you already feel vulnerable, like all your carefully-constructed walls cracked open the second you let yourself cry, and now you’re just ripped-open and bare. You need a good night’s sleep and a long, hot shower before you’ll be able to go about your life as a professional, fully-functional, grown-up human again. Right now you’re just kind of a mess.  

“I know there’s the germ thing,” you blurt out, without looking at Spencer. “But —” 

His laugh sounds crackly and nervous, but relieved, like maybe he’d been holding his breath. “Come here.” 

You give him a grateful smile as you scoot closer to each other, and apparently you’d been so worried about your own swollen eyes earlier that you hadn’t noticed the fatigue evident in every drawn, wan line of his face. 

Not that he isn’t still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

You duck tentatively under Spencer’s arm, and it’s not like you’re cuddling, exactly, because there’s still an inch or so of space between your hips and legs… but the bony plane of his chest, between collarbone and heart, makes a surprisingly perfect pillow. You pull the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, tucking them under your chin, curling up.

The moment feels delicate, like a soap bubble that you could burst if you simply breathe too loudly, and you hold yourself stiffly, at first, not wanting to move any closer for fear of pushing a boundary. It feels like you’re glowing at the points where your bodies are touching; the warm weight of his arm feels like bright spring sunshine across your upper back. His palm on the round of your shoulder is thawing away the last chilly bits of your self-consciousness. 

When the commercial break starts, Spencer says, “Do you ever think about how little physical contact the average single adult experiences on a regular basis?” His voice is quiet and almost sheepish. 

You smile. “Yeah, I’ve considered it.” 

“Especially when we live away from our families,” Spencer says wistfully. 

You can feel the vibration of his words in his chest. You shift, making yourself more comfortable, feeling dazed and dumb with his proximity.

“The monkeys. I feel like — you know?” 

“Harlow. I know exactly what you mean.”

Trust him to get that from your ridiculously vague mumbling.  

“Except they’re babies,” you add. 

“The emotional benefits of physical touch don’t decrease just because we get older,” he says softly. “It’s just that the fear of judgement makes it difficult to be honest.”

There’s silence for a minute as the show starts again, and David Attenborough says something about sloths. Spencer’s thumb strokes your shoulder gently, back and forth, soothing. It’s hypnotic, and the tension drains from your muscles, leaving you more relaxed than you’ve felt in a long time. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

You swallow hard. “For what?” 

“Being honest.” 

There’s no reason for your eyes to be stinging like this, but they are. “I should be thanking you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. This is… really nice.” 

“Yeah. It really is.” 

He’s quiet again. 

Spencer smells like vanilla and old books — although the latter might just be your imagination, something to do with the power of mental association — Spencer could probably explain the science behind that. Your brain has them inextricably linked, though. You’ve caught hints of that smell before, but never up close like this. 

The softness of the worn knit of his cardigan makes you want to rub your cheek against it like a cat. His arm, skinny as it may be, feels like protection — like you’re safe here. 

After the brutal violence of the case and the emotional turbulence of the day, this quiet, golden moment is even more breathtakingly peaceful by contrast. It doesn’t feel real. 

It’s too good to last. This isn’t yours. It’s not going to last, no matter how right it feels, and your chest already aches with the idea of letting him go.    

You try to appreciate it while you can, to remember every sensation, but your body is leaden, exhausted down to the bone, completely drained of whatever adrenaline-stubbornness-caffeine combination was keeping you running until now. Spencer’s thumb rubs invisible circles on your shoulder, and he breathes evenly, and you feel safe. 

You’re asleep before the next commercial break. 

A distant car alarm wakes you, sometime later. In the handful of seconds before it’s turned off, you come to without opening your eyes, trying to remember where you are and who you’re with. The smell of vanilla makes you relax instinctively, before you can process why. 

Spencer has all but melted against you in his sleep, soft and boneless. He’s got both arms around you now, holding you close, his breath tickling your forehead. Then he stirs, and you can feel the moment he realizes where he is, because his muscles go tense as he freezes. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs hoarsely. He’s barely audible over the infomercial voices coming from the TV. “I didn’t mean to — sorry. I’ll go.” 

And before you can think better of it, you whisper, “Don’t.” 

He’s still frozen, and silent for a second that feels like an eternity. “You mean —”

“I don’t want you to leave. Stay.” 

Honesty seems to be your default setting tonight, and anyway, you can tell without looking at a clock that it’s long past midnight, well into the early-morning hours where boundaries and reservations and reality don’t seem to follow their usual laws. You can’t lie to him (or to yourself) right now. 

Spencer’s voice cracks as he says, “Okay. I’ll just — let me get the light.”

You don’t open your eyes as he slips away. This all seems like a dream, and the sharp bright lamp light might make it dissolve around you. You might wake up. 

The TV goes quiet, and when you tug at the hotel comforter, sliding between cool sheets fully clothed, the barely-there rasp of moving fabric sounds loud in its absence. 

Spencer turns off the lamp, and you open your eyes. You can just see his shape as he navigates the dark room, negative space on a charcoal backdrop, but as your vision adjusts, you can see a faint suggestion of his features in the blue-black. 

You feel it, though, when his weight makes the springs of the old mattress dip. You’d expected him to lie on his back again, but instead his face is just inches from yours when his cheek comes to rest on the pillow. You feel the way he’s breathing, quick and shallow and nervous. You feel your heart kick in your ribs, thudding so loud he must be able to hear it. 

He reaches out slowly, hooking an arm around your ribs, and pauses with just the very tips of his spidery fingers touching your back, between your shoulder blades: five soft points of contact that you feel so intensely they might as well be electrode pads connecting you to a defibrillator. 

This is crossing a line, and you both know it. 

It’s not a sexual touch, it’s not that sort of thrill going through you, but something about this feels profoundly intimate. That intimacy is almost more shocking than lust might’ve been, and it’s much more dangerous. It’s the sort of closeness you don’t walk away from unscathed.  

Spencer’s fingers flutter, butterfly-wing delicate, like one or the other of you might be trembling. 

“Are you sure this is okay?” he whispers. 

“Yes.”  

Maybe you’re both trembling. 

His palm comes to rest on your back, easing you closer, and you shift, settle, readjust. He pulls back and tilts his head just long enough to brush his lips over your temple, soft and sweet, before tucking you neatly under his chin, where you fit like you were meant to be there, with your nose nudging at the gap between his collar and the delicate skin of his throat.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, sounding just as awed as you feel. 

“Sweet dreams, Spencer.” 

.

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