#im so fucking impatient to get this arc over with already
Text
"Dean didn't love Cas," "It was platonic," fuck off, when Cas died, he handled his loss the exact same way John did when he lost Mary. It's not even subtext, it's in the dialogue. Sam points it out, loud and clear. That's literally what the narrative was conveying.
"He's not just grieving about Cas, he lost Mary too." Yeah, but even when he's hellbent on blaming all of their loss on Jack, even he could see that Mary made her choice.
But to him, Cas didn't. To Dean, Cas was manipulated—deceived by some idea of "paradise," and it's easier to swallow that than to consider that Cas up and left them to protect Lucifer's child.
And you wanna know the cherry on top of all this??? Castiel's paradise consisted of them, together. Happy. Alive. Together. Castiel may have run away with Kelly to fulfill her wish for Jack, (to let him keep his powers where the Winchesters wanted to turn him human), but he only did so for that promise. In the end, he ran away so he could give them this.
(x)
#im so fucking impatient to get this arc over with already#seeing how dean treats jack makes me want to throw hands at him i hate it#(which i guess is the point)#be the change you want to see! break the cycle of generatoonal trauma by not being a shitty dad ahem dean ahem#watching spn#supernatural#spn meta#dean winchester#sam winchester#jack kline#castiel#destiel#deancas#destiel meta#13x04#13x03#12x19
484 notes
·
View notes
Note
how did u get into sanlu/lusan ???! im ever so grateful u did bc oohohhoho my god, ur sanlu content FEEDS MEEE 🤞‼️
It’s funny you ask that bc I kinda already answered that with the last ask?? LOL
TLDR basically it’s become almost habit at this point to ship my favorite characters together (if they are compatible ofc) and Sanji and Luffy ended up becoming my favorites after watching OP for a bit so. It was inevitable 😂
I actually started out as a Zolu shipper (I still am just to a lesser degree now!) so really I think it began there—when I get into something I usually scour the AO3 tags for fics so I was on the hunt for some good Zolu writing. Zosan, being the most popular ship in the fandom (according to AO3 stats with over 10k fics. Holy shit) was also often included with Zolu fics making it a poly ship, so I was like oh hell yeah? I’m totally on board with that. So I got to see a lot of really fun dynamics with the three of them, and I started to get invested in the Sanlu side of things. As this was happening I was also watching OP at the same time and Sanji was quickly rocketing up my list of faves to take one of the top spots (Luffy had already become a favorite from the get go). And my brain was just like
so I was like okay alright. Considering. And then after that I was fucking DONE for. They got me in a vice grip and rotted my brain so thoroughly that I’m utterly ruined for any other Luffy or Sanji ships now. I can even pinpoint the EXACT date it happened bc I posted about it lmao here’s my “realizing Sanlu is the ship of all time” post from early December, the day my life changed forever /j
Anyway they just have a really good dynamic and me being the idiot I was decided not to blacklist spoiler tags so I kept seeing stuff about WCI and how it was THE Sanlu arc so that probably doomed me even further. An arc focusing on my favorite characters and their very not homoromantic relationship with each other? I started binging OP nonstop just so I could speedrun to WCI and this was back when I was on like. Episode 300 something. I was soooo impatient I was desperate to get to WCI as fast as possible so I could Suffer LMAO
So um yeah the Sanlu hyperfixation has me by the throat and doesn’t plan on letting me go anytime soon. Sorry for the rant. I can’t shut up about them Ever
#ALSO THANK YOU I am here to serve#I’ll feed all my Sanlu comrades who are in the trenches with me#I gotchu lads. You can count on me 🫡#OH AND ALSO YEAH OPLA. FUCKING. Literally made it canon the WAY Sanji looks at Luffy in OPLA. That is NOT heterosexual behavior#I think what really smacked me in the face about WCI#(I talked about this before too)#I saw a reel with WCI spoilers and Mary On A Cross was playing……#So that became THE Sanlu song for me. THE WCI song#Every time it comes on I’m like OHHH YEAH IT’S MY SANLU SONG!!!#Shima answers questions#Sanlu#Lusan#One Piece#Sanji#Luffy#dezr0
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
TLDR: eridan is me but an alien and a boy
me when my favorite character is one who is almost hated by the entirety of the fandom. if you didnt catch on, im talking about eridan ampora. son of a bitch, terrible person, troll version of a racist, ect. but its a lot of the parts that kind of get glossed over that make me love him. dont get me wrong, a lot of qualities of all the trolls get glossed over. but he reminds me of me, and that is both bad and good. now, in an ideal world, i wouldnt be talking about this since the place i am in in the comic is on the newer side of things, i am only on page 2456, a lot more to go, i am aware. however, i am impatient and loving sharing my thoughts on characters i like! also, i am not one of those people who hates feferi because she broke up with eridan, (i am aware of later parts in the comic, i liked watching videos on it but never had the motivation to read all of the pages) feferi had every right to do so since their relationship isnt the healthiest, (probably will make a separate post on that) and i also love feferi because she is just so silly. but thats off topic. say what you want about zodiac bias, eridan is weirdly like me. i know eridan did a lot of wrong, but so did vriska! (i know she has a redemption arc) (+i love her too) (i dont have many characters i hate) but no more introduction! time for the meat of this post.
i like eridan a lot because hes like me. (i know thats been stated at least 6 times by now) reason one, hes over dramatic with his emotions. i think of it as less of a drama queen/king thing, but more of a i am very emotional and have a hard time understanding my emotions, basically oversensitive. i myself am oversensitive.
in one of his earliest panels, hes criticizing himself for being stupid and trusting the same person whose been known to fuck with him. i did that for 3 years straight, where you can see all of the persons character flaws, but you still want to be their friend or want to date them. i would get so stupidly angry with myself since i knew they were a bad person, but still chose to hang around them. in a later one he reminisces on the good times he spent with vriska. sometimes, i do this. ill miss something about the person who fucked with me.
eridan is also a rude fucker! i am too, not proud of it, definitely need anger management or therapy or both. this is seen in his earliest appearance, not mention! his earliest mention is about a doomsday device. no, i am talking about the chat he had with kanaya. in this conversation, hes seen trying to manipulate/convince kanaya into auspiticing (horrendously spelt, i know) between him and vriska. hes very rude in his tactics, not a single nice one, as much as i remember from that chat. i hate to say this too, but i do do stuff like that sometimes. it gets hard and foggy for me to properly process what i want, or the nicest way for me to say what i want, so i just demand it. it often gets me in trouble, and is not a good thing to do.
next, is how he loves gossip. (wow, every second this turning more and more into pointing out the obvious and talking about how i relate to it instead of glossed over facts!) i like gossip. its fun to point out peoples flaws and make fun of them, not the nicest thing, but oh well. a lot like my other points, this is revealed in another really early panel of his. in his first pesterlog with feferi, she talks about how he talks more about his problems with his gossip bud than her. i too gossip. thats about it for that point, very weak point i know.
the orchestrating point of the night is super anti-climatic and feeds into that state the obvious joke i made. hes inlove with feferi. a long term moirail, who thinks of him as nothing more. hell! in the panel right after their first onscreen pesterlog shes talking about how she should tell him how she truly feels with a frown on her face, indicating she was already thinking of breaking up with him. she doesnt even pity him anymore, and hes wants to move onto a more redder quadrant with her. i, too, have fallen victim to this. you think of somebody romantically so long just to learn they dont like you romantically, maybe not even platonically. it shatters your world. though unlike eridan, i didnt kill the person i had crush on. i just felt sad for like a month because i had this crush on them for 2 years. (like eridan)
eridan is objectively a bad person and bad character. you dont have to like him the way i do, but for my sanity, please dont flame me for thinking like this. anyways, you are all amazing and i hope you have a good night/day/evening!
#homestuck#eridan ampora#homestuck eridan#hs eridan#essentially just an essay#essay#i love eridan ampora so much#eridan ampora is a dick but hes like me so i dont care#wrote this instead of cleaning#wrote this while listening to brand new city by mitski
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
So I’ve been reading Temperature of the Heart, and you’ve mentioned how you have the whole thing written already. Can you describe what that’s like? What’s your writing process? How long does it take for you to write everything start to finish? Do you plan it all out or just kind of wing it? How long do you sit in an idea before you start?? Sorry about all the questions, I’m just so curious >_
bro!!! are you sure i will scream about writing for days omg
first of all THANK YOU its so freaking cool that you came to ask your questions and that you like my writing, im still sort of getting used to my writing not just being garbage that i read in the dark at 2am and never share with anybody, and i am always excited to answer questions waaaah
(THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG I APOLOGIZE IM PUTTING A READING BREAK IN CAUSE I WENT OFF BRO, IM THE WOOOOORST)
my process is pretty weird, it’s kind of all over the place? I’m kind of a halfway planner halfway pantser. I have an idea and usually make some disjointed notes about character and the main idea, in my phone or maybe on a google doc, and then a pinterest board maybe? Something to get excited about, a visualization. I ALWAYS tell myself im going to make an outline first and then i ALWAYS just jump right into writing because I’m too excited/impatient to wait. give me words on a page. give me dialogue.
Usually when I’m a little bit into the project, when i know that I’m not going to abandon it to the depths off where my WIPs go to die (rip like literally over 300 individual and unique works, this is NOT an exaggeration, you should see my document bank its gross) Ill say “ok fuck you sami its time to actually know where you’re going” and I’ll sit down and make the grossest outline you have EVER seen. like im talking, my outlines are littered with memes, me yelling at myself, actual stuff thats going to end up in the final project, and just general random garbage? its so gross. Ive literally only showed one of my outlines to one person ever (hi akira!) bc im super self conscious of them and hate the way that i write them. making an outline usually sucks up an entire day of writing. they’re pages and pages because some parts will be INCREDIBLY specific and other parts will be so vague you dont even know
From there, when im done with my garbage outline, (after going back through what I’ve written and fixing the shit that was just me going off like a psycho) I usually start writing in earnest. I’ll highlight the parts of the outline that I’ve done and I’ll go back and check it often to make sure im following through on my plans and the character arcs and such, making sure that everything ties in and such. This section is me like. every day getting home from work or whatever and sitting down at the computer and not moving until 2am, this is the section where i forget to eat and I dont sleep enough and i forget to drink water or take my vitamins and I do word sprints with myself and have days where I write 10 thousand words in one sitting. (very not healthy and also terrible i do NOT recommend) this is the section where I’ll handwrite anything i can in the back of classes and at rehearsals because im pouring out words.
during this section I go back and edit ENDLESSLY. i cannot write something and just let it be. I go back to the section I wrote the night before, I go back to the section I just wrote, i go back to the very beginning. I generally dont have to do 1st 2nd 3rd draft this way, but it is much more time consuming as Im just writing. i dont know if i reccommend this its a MESS
THeN once i finish writing the whole thing, i sit down and reread/edit the whole thing once through. this makes sure i have good flow, the paragraphs go together well, the prose feels right to me, timelines make sense. during this time i make ENDLESS paper notes with calendars, section notes, additions, drabbles, thoughts about my own shit. i have notebooks full of just garbage. im not kidding. full notebooks.
Once I finish that read/edit through I’m usually happy. only once something is completely finished will I consider posting. I go back too much, I add shit, I can’t let go of shit, not until it’s done. While I’m posting - I go through the chapter I’m going to post with a fine tooth comb, try to catch any tiny little mistake, add words here and there, but never change anything large if I can help it. Then i format it on Ao3 (this is literal hell, fuck the HTML editor it wants me to die) and then post it. Deciding to post a chapter to actually hitting ‘post’ usually takes me 1-4 hours, depending on the length, the difficulty of formatting, and how many goddamn links i wanna put in the chapter notes cause im the worst~ (insert jean ralphio voice)
~~~
LISTEN im probably super extra but I’ve been writing since I was in sixth grade (thats twelve years! time is an enigma and i hate it!) and so I have a bit of practice, i have a bit of experience and while I’m not the best me that I can be, I KNOW myself, and this is just what works best for me.
As for timing - it depends on the length of the project and how motivated I am. It took me about a month to write Royal (~50k), just a little over a month to write All Might’s All Night Shop Stop (~75k), and just about two months to write Temperature of the Heart (~115k). I try to post every few days, because as a person I hate waiting and I don’t want to do that to my readers!
~~~
As for the ‘how long do i sit on an idea before writing it’ it really depends. Some things I will receive inspiration or a sliver of an idea and start writing it in the next ten minutes, even if I have to stop working on something I’m already working on, because that was Brain Has Decided. Sometimes I will consider an idea for like. months before actually doing it. I’ve had the idea for FBoW (the newest thing im working on oops? have i told anybody about this NO cause that will make it REAL) since before I started Royal, which was like. Last november. But I just couldnt quite do it for some reason, and it wasn’t pressing. My brain is super broken, and a lot of times I get sick over ideas. I can’t sleep or eat until I’ve written, and I will repeat phrases to myself until i can get them out of my head by writing them down. (Sometimes this is something nice or poetic - “The golden hour lights up the whole world, wiggling its fingers into every nook and cranny, lighting up two people lounging on a bench-swing, someone leaned onto porch stairs with a mug of tea, the space between those walking down a dirt road, a couple of dogs laid out on the deck.” and other times its literally “Ranch Fiddlesticks.” I’m not kidding. i have a note in my phone that says ranch fiddlesticks because I was actually going to Die if i didnt write it down.)
I do wish my brain didn’t do this - but I guess it makes some fun art, doesn’t it?
WOW OKAY THIS WAS SO LONG im so sorry jesus christ. SOrry i will ALWAYS go off about my process and what it’s like to write. Writing is so so important to me, I LOVE it with every tiny atom of my weak, alcohol-infused, overworked heart. Despite how scary it is sometimes I am very glad to be sharing my work with the world, seeing peoples’ reactions and hearing things about my words, hearing how this little picture in my mind has gone into yours.
okay jfc im done now im so sorry. thank you again and again and again, a thousand times over, for reading my work and enjoying the worlds that i enjoy building. It makes me feel like I’m worth it. It makes me feel like I’m doing something good.
ily :’)
#my writing#dont open this unless you're ready#its like 1.5k words long#I WENT OFF#i have so many feelings ok#i have so so so many feelings#thank you so much for sending me an ask#i love you nonny#sami answers
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nayeon's Ass Play
Twice Nayeon
2500 words
Categories: male reader, smut, anal
NSFW 18+
This meeting just won’t fucking end.
This is the sole thought that runs through Nayeon's mind, only an hour had passed yet felt like days, every second was excruciating to deal with.
She tried her hardest not to twitch as she centers herself but to no avail, the black and purple jeweled anal plug that had jammed by yours truly, full of lube and rested snugly inside her ass before work was making her squirm.
With every sudden movement pleasurable shocks shoot up her spine, it certainly didn’t help that today of all days she decided to wear the tightest pair of striped pants that she owned.
She tries to settle herself into a comfortable position to sit where the plug didn’t push up against her sensitive nerves, but there just wasn’t one. Discretion was very important at this point, she was surrounded by other Twice members and JYP staff, going on in mind-numbingly detail about their final comeback of the year and plans for future award shows.
“Are you okay unnie? You keep fidgeting,“ Jeongyeon asks, noticing her lack of ability to sit still.
“I-I’m fine, I’m just feeling a little weak, I think maybe I’m coming down with something.“
“Well, we’re almost done here, go get some rest. We can have the girls fill you in on what you missed,” says one of the newer managers she could never remember their name. Park something. Jong-hyuk? Joon-hyuk? Something with a hyuk.
She apologizes and leaves with a polite bow, collecting her things and heading out the swanky meeting room.
Your phone buzzes, the words “Im Nayeon” shine on the screen, you slide the green icon over to the right and answer.
NY: Get this fucking thing out of me, I need to cum right this instant.
You: Unless I’m misremembering, this was very much your idea, why are you whispering? If you need it out so badly use your safeword.
NY: Because I’m still at work, listen you little shit - no, you’re right. Sorry, I’m just pent up. I’m heading over there to your building now, management thinks I’m sick so they gave me the day off. Meet me in conference room B.
You hang up and head over to the arranged destination, down the hall and one floor over, maneuvering the maze of walls and windows until you reach a large black door with the ever familiar JYP logo and the letter B etched below into the surface.
With a tug of the cold steel knob you open to door to the slim figured beauty waiting in front of you, dressed to the nines in black and white, perched on top the large round pine cherry table with legs crossed, draped in those thin black thigh-highs she knew you loved.
“About fucking time,” she says, a mischievous smile taking over her lips.
“I just saw you walk in from down the hall, you barely beat me here,“ you reply, moving close enough to her that you become deeply aware of her perfume, a mixture of jasmine and lilac.
“That's not important.”
“This really couldn’t wait until later? This room is reserved for 11 am you know, and I’d prefer to not get caught. “
“That’s in forty minutes, we have plenty of time. Besides, we both know neither one of us will last that long.“ She subconscious sits back, pressing down on the plug that’s been driving her up the wall further against her hole.
“Ah!”
“Sensitive are we? Have you been enjoying my little gift to you?” You loved seeing her like this, Nayeon was always the dominant one in your little arrangement, it was nice to turn the tables on her for once.
“Just take it out already, I’ve been waiting all day to be fucked,” Nayeon says, a mixture of anger and whining in her voice.
“A little bossy today aren’t we? You can wait a little more, not until I'm done with you. It’s not even noon, you can’t possibly have been waiting all day.”
“Do I need to fucking beg?” Nayeon asks, as if she were offering a proposal.
“No, begging isn’t your style. Just be patient for me?. You’re cute when you’re all riled up.”
Nayeon lunges towards your face, smacking her lips against yours as her arms extend around your nape, pulling you closer. With one hand on her waist and the other one free, you reach down the back of her pants, through her panties and slide your fingers down the crack of her ass, finding the plug buried in her ass and press down on it, breaking the kiss with a soft moan as the sex toy pushes further into her plugged asshole.
Nayeon twitches. “God, you’re really going to make me work for this aren’t you?” A look of frustration washes over Nayeon’s features.
“Damn right I am. It’s more fun for me that way.”
The wandering hand exits her attire as you swivel her body around, she bends over and places hands and elbows down on the the hard wooden table, presenting herself to you along with giving the nicest view of her firm, round ass.
Both your hands magnetize to both asscheeks, massaging each one before your fingers find their way into the waistband of her underwear, almost ripping it off as you drag it down along with her pants as they pile around her ankles. The breeze from the aircon hitting her bare skin makes her shiver.
You do your best to take a snapshot of the moment, the pretty purple-jeweled plug snug deep inside Nayeon’s asshole sparkled in the light, she had never looked prettier. You draw the stopper of the toy back towards you slightly before letting go, providing the bent over girl false hope that she would finally get some relief, she squirms and slaps her palms against the table.
Nayeon is getting impatient, as a last ditch effort she reaches between her legs to rub her clit, but you catch her wrist in time and pull it away from her body.
“What do you think you’re doing? If you keep it up I’m going to find a way to tie you to one of these chairs and leave you face down and bare-assed. I bet that would be such a sight for anyone to walk into wouldn’t it?.”
“Y-you wouldn’t.” Nayeon was trying to call your bluff, but she saw it in your eyes that you were dead serious.
“Try me.”
For her misdeed you give her right asscheek a hard open palmed swat, hard enough to sting and make Nayeon shriek. The warranted pain was unexpected but certainly not unwelcome to her.
You take your sweet time removing the plug, drawing out very little at a time only to reinsert it back in, keeping constant pressure deep inside Nayeon’s stretched asshole.
“God...please...just... fuck!”
WIth one fluid moment you give Nayeon solace finally as you wrench the plug from her ass. She gasps at the sudden cold air hitting her hole. Asshole firmly in plain view, empty for the first time in the morning, swollen and wet still with the sticky lubricant that’s been swimming around her most intimate spot for hours.
You give Nayeon ample time to recover before circling around the puckered rim of her ass with a thumb, pushing in ever so slightly, feeling the insides of her warmth and slathering the already existent lube around her walls.
Two fingers substitute your thumb, easily slipping inside her anal opening. Nayeon takes slow, deep breaths, trying to unclench her muscles, overjoyed at her ass finally being penetrated.
The two digits move deep inside her hot asshole, all the way past the base of both fingers, nipping at her nerve endings.
“God, yes. Fucking ruin me.” Nayeon tries to secure herself to anything, pressing her palms flat into the wooden surface underneath.
“Did you lock the door?” Nayeon asks, briefly panicked.
“I.. I don't remember. I'll go check.”
“No, don't you dare fucking move. “
Your fingers fly inside her ass rapidly, upping the momentum with every thrust, curving them around with every exit and enter. Nayeon’s breathing grows louder, more stifled, the fingers dancing around in her hole feel so good against her sweet spots, the unrelenting pace makes her moan effortlessly.
“Don’t fucking stop. That feels good..so..fucking..good. Why are you so good at this?” The tenacity of your fingers deep to the hilt inside her was wrecking her hard, she was close, so close and needed just the slightest push over the edge.
You withdraw your fingers abruptly, feeling the urge to taste Nayeon, you drop to your knees to get a better view, spreading her cheeks and start to tongue her ass, tasting the strawberry flavored lube as you lick fast circles around her delicious asshole.
Nayeon gasps at the new and very much welcome sensations. “Oh god, that’s it. Eat my ass, baby.”
You place a hand on her left cheek to stabilize yourself, your other hand not preoccupied drops between her thighs, dragging against her slit and pressing firmly against her clit, rubbing circles in a figure eight formation.
Your nose nuzzles against her crack as you bury your face in her ass, your tongue moves wildly around her asshole as you keep up the pressure on her swollen clit, rubbing in every direction as you paint broad strokes with the muscle in your mouth, you begin to fuck her with your tongue, rocking back and forth before Nayeon completely falls apart.
“Fuck- I.. I wanna cum.” Nayeon says as she buries her head in her palms.
“Do you know how to ask nicely?”
“Please..can I please cum? I need to. I need to fucking cum right now.”
“Then cum. Cum for me, baby. You've earned it.“
Nayeon does, and does so beautifully, her legs threaten to give out underneath as her whole body trashes, hips jerking and her back arcs in ways you haven’t never seen before. Her moans become unending as you help her ride out the aftershocks of what was a long, deeply fulfilling orgasm, fingers slowly ceasing to move and letting going of your control of her clit.
Nayeon is breathing heavily, “That...was amazing. Those fingers of yours are fucking magical.”
She looks up at the clock, only fifteen minutes have passed, both of you were ready for the main dish.
“Good. Plenty of time to fuck me.”
Nayeon steps out of her clothes still wrapped her ankles and swings around to undress your lower half, feeling your crotch up before unbuckling your belt and your unbuttoning your pants, making quick work of the metal zipper, pulling both your trousers and boxers down as they drape around your ankles freeing your now rock-hard cock from its constraints.
She grabs a small tube of lube from her purse that she carried with her for occasions like this, squeezing a line of sticky liquid over the tip to the base of your cock. The cold temperature as it hits your shaft makes you briefly jerk.
“Sorry, babe. Is it cold?” Nayeon asks, giggling.
“A little.”
“Don't worry, this'll warm you up.” She uses both hands to massage the gel onto your cock, slicking it up.
She gazes into your eyes, “Fuck my ass. Nice and deep now.”
You line up your shaft with the brim of her inviting hole, with one flowing motion you slowly push inside the ring of her ass, it doesn’t take much for her asshole to accept your cock, she was plenty stretched out already, willing and able to take you in.
Nayeon purrs, “It feels good. I’ve been wanting this since you shoved that damn thing in me before you left.”
You push in deeper, the gel helps to lubricate your cock deeper into her warm opening, not before long your shaft is halfway embedded in her slick anus. Nayeon tries to relax as you inch deeper, sliding your cock forward until you hit the end of her tight ass.
Nayeon looks back over her shoulders. “Fast and deep baby. Really give it to me.”
Your pace starts out slow and and quickens promptly, you begin to thrust deeply, filling her ass with every inch of your cock as your hips find a comfortable rhythm, smacking against her warm flesh as her cheeks jiggle.
“Harder. Fuck me harder, baby. I don’t wanna walk straight tomorrow.”
You give into her demands, pumping your shaft into her at a speed and force that causes her to cry out, the anal plug had really opened her up nicely, making her usually tight ass very easy to fuck.
You lift her right leg up so her knee rests squarely on the table, allowing even deeper penetration. You pound Nayeon’s ass as hard as you can, so much so that your balls begin so slap against her wet pussy.
Nayeon is moaning intensely now, every thrust deep inside her warm hole hits every one of her sensitive nerves, she is becoming thoroughly wrecked with your thick cock. You try as much as you can to impale your thick cock inside her walls, Nayeon’s moans morph into screams, and you are very, very thankful that the meeting room you are in was equipped with soundproofing.
A particular hard thrust shoots tingles up your spine, igniting the familiar pressure that begins to pool around your loins and abdomen, you feel yourself start to get close, you do what you can to keep it at bay but there’s just no taming it.
“Nayeon, I-I’m going to cum really fucking soon.”
“Good. I want your cum deep inside me. I need to hear how good it feels as you empty your balls in my ass. Cum for me baby.”
Those words were all you needed, they push you over the edge and you explode, you fill her asshole with hot, thick, sticky cum that coats her insides, every stream that releases from your throbbing cock causes your body to convulse, you struggle to catch your breath, you're so sensitive that you can barely move.
You gradually withdraw your still pulsing cock from her ass, you watch as a thick stream of white cum slowly drips out of her asshole, painting her thighs and landing on the black marble tile underneath.
“Holy, shit, Nayeon that felt so good.”
Nayeon grabs a few tissues to clean up your mess on the floor, tossing it in the trash and snatching the plug back from the table and placing it in its protective pouch, tucking it back into her purse. The two of you quickly get dressed, just in time to hear the click of the door being sprung open.
318 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey can i get some uhhhh hades rei railing persephone asra thanks
if y'all thought you’d seen the last of this then you’re wrong
it’s (technically) spring y'all so here’s some more asra x rei hades/persephone au
warning: lemon!!! lemon lemon lemon this is pure 🍋 unadulterated 🍋 LEMONS 🍋🍋🍋 there’s no plot this is just subby asra taking the strap u have been warned!!!!!
.
.
.
—
“Did you miss me, my love?” she asks him, the iridescent blue-black silk of her robe swishing behind her as she pads around her room. Her black hair has been let down from its elaborate coif, the ends of it swaying against her waist.
She glances back at the bed where he waits, obedient, his impatience only apparent in the way he digs his fingers into his thighs. She catches his gaze and smiles, keeping eye contact as she opens her dresser drawer and slowly takes out her leather harness.
He gasps, then bites his lip, a flush like roses creeping down his neck, spreading across his chest, made visible by the rumpled state of his chiton, already falling off his shoulder.
“Asra?” she presses.
He lowers his eyes, the gilt on his lids flashing golden in the dim underworld light.
“Always,” he breathes, thumbs digging into his inner thighs, slick from the oil she’d used to stretch him open for her earlier. And then he looks up at her through his lashes, a slanted, cheeky grin on his rose-petal mouth, and adds, “Spring was made for missing you, I think.”
She smiles, eyes going lidded, and slowly, exaggeratedly slowly, steps into the harness, fitting it snugly around her hips before securing the phallus in place. Asra watches her, squirming minutely all the while, eyes shifting from lavenders-in-the-morning to orchids-at-midnight.
She walks over to the bed, shedding her robe along the way, leaving her naked but for the harness, the false cock shining with oil even in the dark. She plants one knee on the mattress and reaches out to tip his face up by the chin, leaning close until their noses just barely brush together.
“As the autumn was made for loving you, then,” she whispers, and watches, satisfied, as his pupils grow to swallow the purple of his irises. She slides her hands beneath the hem of his chiton, bringing fabric up, up, fingernails dragging lightly along the dips and ridges of his torso. She pulls it over his head and tosses it to the floor, gripping him gently once more by the chin to give him a quick, honey-sweet kiss.
And when she pulls away, still close enough that her lips brush his, she murmurs, “Hands and knees, love.”
(Whoever says Spring is lazy and slow to arrive has clearly never seen him move when she’s about to fuck him.)
He scrambles to his knees atop her sheets, coming to rest with his head pillowed on his arms, looking over his shoulder at her with half-lidded eyes. His back bows in a sinful arc as he keeps his hips raised, ready, waiting. Eager.
She runs an appreciative hand over the slope of his ass, trailing it up his waist, his back, smiling when his body curves to follow the warmth of her touch. He shivers in anticipation when she reaches the base of his neck, his breath hitching when she slides her fingers into his hair and tugs, sharp then quickly gentling as she gathers a fistful of his curls.
“Rei,” he needles, squirming beneath her, grinding back against the false cock between her legs.
“Hm?” She takes the phallus in her free hand, rubbing just the tip against his entrance, still not pressing in, smirking when he whines in protest.
“Rei, please.” He leans his head back against the hand still curled into his hair, trying to encourage her. “Fuck me already.”
“Mm, I’ve changed my mind,” she says, releasing his hair to run a finger down his spine, and laughs when he whines again, louder and higher-pitched and twice as desperate as before. She splays her hand out on his back, between the jut of his shoulder blades. “Relax, Asra. I only meant I’d rather have you on your back. I want to see your face while I fuck you.”
He rolls over so quickly it makes her laugh again, her hand never leaving his skin as he turns to face her, settling back against the mattress with his legs spread, his hands finding her hips, tugging her impatiently closer. She obliges him, crawling forward to hover over him, pushing back his sweaty curls from his forehead before she leans down and kisses him, coaxing his lips to part with exploring tongue and nipping teeth. He pulls her down to settle her weight atop him, moaning hungrily against her mouth, running his sun-warm hands down her sides to cup her ass, bringing their hips flush together. Everywhere he touches, heat blooms like wildflowers beneath her skin, his fingers dragging a flush down her body, making a garden of reddening desire flourish with each pass of his hands.
She gasps, pulling away when he begins to trace lines down her inner thighs, and presses a finger to his lips when he leans up to chase her mouth. He kisses her finger with a petulant pout, and she laughs, pushing down on his shoulders to settle him back against the sheets.
“Ready?” she asks, aligning the false cock to his entrance, watching his eyes darken, his need so thoroughly stoked building up into violet wildfire behind his lashes. “Or do I need to stretch you open some more?”
His hands flex almost painfully tight around her waist, before relaxing, tracing restless circles on her hipbones with his thumbs.
“I’m ready,” he insists, rolling his hips, trying to take the phallus into himself. The head of it just about slides in, but she pulls back, and away, watching him bite his lip against a frustrated whimper. “I’ve been ready forever, Rei, please—ah—!”
He cries out so beautifully when she presses in, just a little, at first, and then slowly more and more, thrusting lightly into him until he groans, snapping his hips up so he can take the false cock to the hilt, shuddering around the slick, hard length of it.
It does not take much to wreck him, like this. She’d already denied him release twice tonight—once when she’d stroked him to hardness, sucking rose-marks onto the skin of his neck as she’d pressed him up against her bedroom door; another when she’d lain him down on her silk sheets and stretched him open for her, working one, two, three fingers into his ass until he was clenching around her digits, incoherently babbling her name and please and finally close, close!, making him keen when she’d pulled her hand away. And so it does not take much to build him back up to the same peak, but oh, does he look breathtaking as she does.
Color begins high on his cheekbones and bleeds all the way down his neck to his chest, the prettiest red she’s ever seen. He is the brightest thing here in the dreary underworld gloom, and he is here, in her bed, scattering crimson petals across her sheets as his control frays, spilling sighs and moans into the empty room for her ears and hers alone.
His cock is dripping, leaking precome down its length, and for a moment she imagines how good it would feel to have him inside her, making her feel so deliciously full; to have him thrusting into her, pleasuring her and taking his own in the act.
But—later. He is writhing so beautifully beneath her, head thrown back, mouth hanging open as his breaths come in short, sharp hahs.
“Are you close?” she croons, hitching one of his legs onto her shoulder, grinning it makes his fingers scrabble in the sheets, a high, broken moan leaving his mouth as the new angle pushes the phallus against the spot inside him that makes him go wild. “Do you want to come, Asra?”
His yes comes in a strangled groan, eyes squeezed shut as he chases and chases release, and begs, “Please, please please please, Rei, let me come, please, I’m so close, please—!”
(Beautiful. Beautiful. Who knew she could make something bloom so beautifully under her baleful hands?)
“Then come,” she says, wrapping her fingers around his cock, swirling his precome around the head and slicking it down the sensitive length. He moans, bucking into her fist even as he struggles to continue meeting every thrust of the phallus in his ass. “Be good and come for me, my love. I want to see.”
And Asra—beautiful, beloved Asra—obeys, spilling into her hand as he comes undone choking on her name. She fucks and strokes him through it, not stopping until he slumps back utterly spent onto the mattress, unable to even speak for how ragged his breathing comes.
He’s still trembling from the aftershocks when she pulls her hand away, still trembling when she pulls out of him and fetches a clean cloth to wipe his spend streaking stark white across the golden brown of his stomach. Then she steps out of the harness, gives the phallus a perfunctory cleanup before setting it aside to worry about later.
She returns to him on the bed, where he’s just about caught his breath, and he smiles up at her, all blissed out, reaching up to run his knuckles along her outer thigh. She grins, and moves to straddle his head, grinning wider when he swallows audibly, his hands moving to clutch her hips.
“You’ve been so very good for me, my love,” she croons, threading the fingers of both hands through his curls, pushing his hair away from his face. “But you can be even better, can’t you?”
And Asra—beautiful, beloved Asra, his rose-petal mouth shaping itself into the wicked curve of the harvest scythe—pulls her closer still and obeys, coaxing her to bloom for him beneath his sun-warm hands.
#the arcana#the arcana game#the arcana fic#asra#asra x apprentice#rei#katharayawrites#lemon#🍋🍋🍋#feast!!!!!#unseeliequeens
118 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thank you so much for all of your fic! I know you probably have a lot on your plate and many prompts in your inbox, but literally one of my absolute favourite tropes ever is "Tony taking out the Arc Reactor to look at it for a moment and because he's him and hasn't actually explained a lot about it to people those around watching him suddenly pop it out his chest for no reason have a mini panic". Could you maybe do a fic with this with Tony and Peter?
Thank you, anon! Sorry that it took me so long toget this done. And sorry if it came out too angsty. If you´re still around, I´d like toknow what you think.Also, if you don´t know it yet, check out this awesome ficby @darkestsight. It works with the same storyline.
Let´s ignore canon for this one and imagineTony still has his arc reactor after Civil War. Light angst, mentions of canonical deaths, injury and emeto.
Lose another one
The drone is larger than any Peter´s ever seenbefore. It looks nearly awe-inspiring when it is encased by Iron Man´s repulsor blasts and ignites in a series of explosions. But then an energy ray strikes the chest piece of Tony´sarmour, causing the arc reactor´s glow to fade, and it all goes downhill from there.
When Peter makes a hard and hasty landing on the ground, Tony isalready on his feet again,impatiently waving ahand at him.
“Followme,” Peter hears him rasp hoarsely in his ear piece, and it doesn´t need the slightly-off tone inhis voice for Peter´s spider senses to dial up.
“Are youalright?” he asks while hurrying to keep up with Tony´s jog. His glove is torn, a finger bleeding sluggishly, and he must have bashed his knee somewhere, because he can feel himself limping.
“Don´t callthe others,” he gets a cut-off reply, and then Tony must have muted his mike,because the panting breaths Peter´s been hearing stop all of the sudden.
They don´tmake it far into the forest before Tony starts to sway on his feet, visibly having problems walking a straight line.
Peter isabout to call him out on it, but Tony´s legs are already giving outunder him. He sinks to his knees, bracing one arm against a tree strunk, before doubling over. His helmet withdraws, and Peter can just make out hisstark white face in the last shimmers of evening light.
“Mr. Stark?”
Tony starts to reply, but instead of words he brings up a mouthful of vomit. His upper body seems to vanish and then return for moments in the pale-blue flickering of the arc reactor´s light.
Petercan see little white clouds of air leaving his mentor´s lips in rapid succession. He takes a step forward, torn between the urge to help and the wish to give him some privacy.
“Mr. Stark, is this – are you having a panic attack?”
Tonydoesn’t answer, too busy throwing up again. He clutches his chest with his free hand, still retching, his face contorting in sudden agony.He seems to beunable to stay upright, listing to the side until Peter catches him in anawkward angle against his chest and slowly lowers him to the ground.
“Oh, shit,” Peter´s brains runs frantically, searching for the right words, the right actions, his heart pounding so hard that he can feel it till his fingertips.
“I, uhm, we´re here, near New York, we had a fight, but we are save now -”
“F - fuckingknow where I am,” Tony can´t resist to press out between gritted teeth. “Just…”
His trembling hand reaches for the hidden switchthat opens the suit. He sure as hell didn´t want to do this in front of the kid, but timing is not on his side today, or ever, for that matter.
His vision is getting increasingly blurred. Peter isnothing but a whisp of red and blue, but luckily his fingers don´t need sight to find the outline of the reactor, twist it a little and take it out of hischest. Blue energy frizzles around the tip of his thumb.
The relief is instantaneous. The chest pain doesn´t vanish, but Tony stops feeling like he is actively dying, the nausea decreases to a minimum, and he can finally take a deep breath.
He lies there, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of oxygen flooding his veins and the buzzing in his head slowly dying down. It´s only Peter´s panicking voice that pulls im out of the haze.
“Please, areyou awake?“ Tony squints upwards, momentarily surprised at the presence of another human being. The expression on the kid´s face is pure terror.
“Oh god, why would you do that?”
“Do what?” Tony grunts.
“The arc reactor, why did you take it out?”
Tony has to think about that for a moment, his mind still catching up with the events.
“Oh, that. It overcharged, that bastard of a drone pulled some trick I wasn´t expecting.”
“Can you put it back in now?” Peter´s voice is impatient, still on the brink of tripping over itself.
“It should decharge on its own, just give it a moment,” Tony reassures.
Peter doesn´t seem convinced. He gives Tony a sceptical glance, chewing on his lower lip. Tony knows that this is probably owed to him not having the bestreputation of self-care, but honestly-
“Come on, I´m the one with trust issues,” he teases, but the grin Peter gives in reply is half-hearted at best.
He makes to sit, grabbing Peter´s arm for support when the dizziness dials up again.
“Huh.” He takesa deep breath. “Wow, this is how it feels to bea high voltage plant?”
Peter doesn´t even laugh, his eyes darting to and fro between Tony´s face and the arc reactor in his hand. There´s bit of dirt and ice on it, and he absent-mindedly rubs it clean with numb fingers.
“Kid, quit looking at me like that. I´ll be okay if I take it out for a fewminutes,” Tony adds ina more sober tone, although the greying edges around his vision tell him that his few minutes are nearly over.“Scout´s honour. ”
Half an hour later, Bruce is sitting with Peter in a van that is slowly making its way back to the compound through a New York clouded by icy rain.
Tony is lying on a gurney, out like a light. He´d stumbled to the vehicle on shaky legs, insisting that he was fine, and had only grumpily let Bruce check him over while Pete distracted him with tech talk, just to fade out on them less than five minutes into the ride.
He is fine, as Bruce assured Peter several times, or at least Tony´s definition of it. But his heart has taken a heavy shock during the drone´s attack and the aftershocks are still catching up with him, causing his blood pressure to fall through the basement. He looks almost peaceful now, apart from the slim oxygen tube leading to his nose and the cuff fixed around his upper arm.
“But does anyone even know how it works? What if something happens, how to fix it… “
Peter shakes Bruce out of his thoughts.
“Friday´s got all the data saved. Tony might be the best in the field, but there are quite a few engineers that could help fixing it even if he´s incapacitated.” If Tony lets them, he thinks, but he doesn´t say that out loud. “He´s gonna be okay, kid, we are taking good care of him.”
Peter nods, but it´s the kind of nod Bruce knows all too well from himself, one lacking any conviction.
He´s going to have a word with Tony.
That night Peter finds himself standing at the window, unable to sleep, staring at the snowflakes that are slowly morphing the compound from a boring grey into a fairytale landscape.
Tony had woken up groggily shortly after they´d reached back, and Bruce and Friday had to threaten to lock him out of the lab in order to make him stay in bed and rest.
“Traitor,” Tony had growled at the ceiling, and Peter had grinned, and then he´d sat on the edge of the bed while Tony talked him through fixing his glove, pretending not to see the way his right hand was still massaging his chest every now and then.
Tony had needed his reading glasses to see the small bits and pieces, and Peter had called him grandpa, causing Bruce to laugh so hard he nearly turned green. The arc reactor had been glowing steadily, and for a moment things had seemed okay.
He´d excused himself soon after, citing homework as a reason. And now here he was, staring at the snow like it could tell him what´s wrong with him, what´s causing his chest to feel tight and his breaths to stock every here and there.
Maybe it was the casuality with which Tony had removed the device that´s keeping him alive, as if it wasn´t just more than another thing, something of not more value to Tony than any other of his machines.
His neck warns him with a tickling even before he can hear the footsteps.
“Shouldn´t you be resting?” he asks when Tony rounds the corner.He still looks paler than he usually does, and Peter notices that he is staying close to the wall, legs a little unstable.
“I could ask you the same thing, Spider-kid,” he replies.
“How are you?” Peter asks instead of giving an answer.
“I´m great, I´m peachy.“
“Yeah,” Peter mumbles, biting his lip. He concentrates on the pattern the snow flakes leave on the window pane.
“What´s up, Spiderling? Doesn´t suit you, this grumpy sort of silence.” Tony eyes him with an intensity that´s usually reserved for tricky bits of code or wire.
Peter evades his gaze, but he notices when Tony doesn´t walk up till the window, sinking down into an armchair insteadwith visible relief.
“How are you, really?”
“I told, you, I´m fine. I´m always fine.” Tony says in a dismissive tone, slightly annoyed. Something about it suddenly makes Peter feel incredibly angry.
“You always say this,” he blurts out. “And then you nearly get electrocuted, or you die from a heart attack, and…I…I just stand there - and -”
He doesn´t want to shout, to fight, to make more of a fool of himself. He knows that his mentor has stayed alive, more or less, for 50 years without his supervision. But the words are out before he can stop himself.
There´s a long silence before Tony starts to speak.
“I do understand you,“ he finally says, and Peter hears the but even before the next words leave his mouth.
“I would like to promise you that things will change, that I´ll take care of myself, that I´ll keep my nose out of all the dangerous stuff. But honestly, what´s the sense of raising false expectations?” Tony draws in a breath, a little shaky, and Peter is almost sure that this has nothing to do with his heart condition.
“Yeah, I get it.” And he does, he sees the layers of Tony´s fears and obligations, his pride and responsibilities, doesn´t see through them exactly, but he understands that it´s not his place to expect anything more than what he has already received. But still…
Something childish in Peter just wants to urge him to promise it anyways, just wants to hear the words from his mouth, eventhough he knows that they can´t become true.
He turns away, back to the window, hoping that the room is too dark for Tony to see his reflection in the glass. Maybe this is just part of growing up, he thinks, the knowledge that at some point, nobody you love is safe anymore.
“Hey.” Tony´s voice is a little softer now. He gets up with a groan, rests a hand on Peter´s shoulder.
“Listen, kid. I might be a grandpa to you, but I can take care of myself. And contrary to popular belief, I don´t have an active interest in kicking the bucket anytime soon.”
“I know,” Peter says. “It´s just…” It´s just that that nobody ever planned to leave. They were just gone, from one moment to the next.
He stubbornly blinks away a tear, feeling infinitely silly. It falls nonetheless, leaving a wet spot on the window sill.
And then Tony is there, finally, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him towards his chest. It´s the closest thing to a hug Peter has ever received from him.
“I can’t lose another one,” he whispers.
“I know,“ Tony says, a hint of sadness in his tone when his arms tighten fast around Peter and make the world seem a little bit less insecure. “I´ll try. I´ll try my best, I promise.”
#tony stark#peter parker#whump#sickfic#h/c#Emotional Hurt/Comfort#irondad#spiderson#fanfic#tony!whump#arc reactor#bruce banner#vomiting#emeto#hurt tony#tony stark has a heart#but it´s a pretty fragile one#peter cares#a lot
158 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ll Be Home For DedSec (Marcus/Wrench)
ONLY A DAY LATE FOR THAT GOOD CHRISTMAS FIC HERE WE GO
also I haven’t finished the game asdfghj I still have to play the last mission but I think this is still canon compliant???
also u can read it on ao3 if you’d like gimme a kudos hell yeah
thanks bl;pealse enjoy
“What’re you doing here, man? You know it’s Christmas, right?”
Wrench turned at the sound of the voice and saw Marcus coming down the stairs of the hackerspace, smiling playfully at him.
“Do I really seem the type to celebrate, M?” he said, turning back to his work, already comfortable with the second presence in the room. “Get drunk at somebody else’s party, maybe, but I’m not a ‘spend time with family, get all warm and fuzzy inside’ kinda guy.”
“Still, go home, take a break, watch a shitty holiday movie. It’s a holiday, use other people’s religion as an excuse to slack off like the rest of us,” Marcus said, coming to stand just behind Wrench at his workbench.
“Yeah, yeah,” Wrench looked at Marcus over his shoulder. “Hey, and what about you? Why are you here?”
“‘Cause I knew you’d be here,” Marcus said, with a smug smile playing at his lips.
Wrench laughed softly. “Yeah? And shouldn’t you be, like, with your family right now?”
“I’m going later,” He said, walking forward to stand next to him. “What’re you even working on down here?”
“Jumper upgrades, mostly. There’s not much else to do,” Wrench gestured to the guts of the jumper in front of him, spread out on the table, along with some other technological odds and ends. “Well, actually, I’m sure there’s a lot of rich and powerful people getting drunk in a room together somewhere...” the screen of his masked showed two capital O’s as he looked imploringly at Marcus.
“Eh, we’ll get ‘em on New Year’s,” Marcus said, dismissing Wrench’s suggestion with a wave of his hand. “Take a break, come with me,” He took a few steps backwards toward the stairs, ushering Wrench to follow him.
“Where are we going?” Wrench asked, looking for a stopping point in what he was doing.
“The garage.”
“Why are we going to the garage?”
“Because your Christmas present is at the garage.”
Wrench paused. “Oh. I—”
“It’s not a car.”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“I know, but. It’s at the garage. I didn’t want you to think it was a car.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Because it’s not a car. And that would be, like, disappointing.”
“Yeah.” Wrench was now facing Marcus fully, the jumper forgotten at the mention of gifts. “I was just gonna say—”
“You were going to say something like, you’re surprised, or ‘oh, I didn’t get you anything,’ or whatever, right? I don’t care, man, just c’mon!” Marcus said, turning his back on Wrench and going up the stairs.
“Alright, alright! I’m coming!” Wrench called after him, quickly crossing the room to catch up. “You’re way too excited about whatever this is.”
“No, I’m really not,” Marcus turned his smiling face on him, looking a little too mischievous.
“Sure,” Wrench gave him a small shove up the stairs. “And do you really need to wear a turtleneck and a coat in California? I get it’s Christmas, but you look like a love interest in a shitty Hallmark movie.”
Marcus sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t understand fashion. I’m sorry you can see art right in front of you and not even recognize it. It’s so tragic for you.”
They reached the door, and Marcus bowed, motioning dramatically for Wrench to go before him. He followed, and the sliding door closed behind them, sealing the hackerspace.
“Also, stop watching Hallmark movies.”
———————————————————————————-
“I can’t believe we made it all the way here and you’re still on this.”
Wrench threw his arms up in exasperation. “I’m just saying! I don’t actually watch them,” He argued, waiting as Marcus opened the door to the garage. “I just know what they’re like!”
“How do you know what they’re like if you don’t watch them?” Marcus taunted, clearly enjoying dragging out the argument despite his protest.
Wrench’s mask switched to ‘angry eyes’: two downward-slanted lines. “Because I just fucking know what they’re like! Everyone does! They’re like, a staple of—” he stopped short as he walked through the door, seeing Marcus’s handiwork.
Next to his workbench stood the chalkboard he kept there, giant letters in Marcus’s straight, thin handwriting read: “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” It was curved to arc perfectly over the box that stood in front, lined up with careful precision. The box looked huge, a tall rectangle coming to above Wrench’s middle, and was wrapped in red and green paper, complete with a ribbon running up the sides and forming a bow at the top.
“Whoa,” Wrench breathed, taking tentative steps toward the box. “It’s all wrapped up and everything.”
“...Yes.” Marcus said, as he closed the door behind himself. “That’s typically how these things go. Kind of a staple of the thing.”
“Damn, Marcus,” Wrench said, slowly circling the gift and ignoring Marcus’s jab at him. “This thing is huge.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Shut the fuck up, stop ruining Christmas with your dick,” Wrench said, holding a finger out to silence Marcus while eyeing the present.
“Well?” Marcus urged, impatient. “You gonna open it, or just stare at it?”
Wrench still hesitated a moment. “I’m… just trying to guess what it is. It looks like there’s a fucking toddler in here.”
“Nah, too tall for a toddler. He’s eight, minimum.”
Wrench rubbed his hands together, then attacked his present. Marcus watched, hands clutched in anticipation, as Wrench first untied the ribbon and let it fall to the floor, then ripped away the first bit of paper, halfway down the side.
“Oh… my god,” More paper ripping. “It’s not.”
“It is!” Marcus replied gleefully.
“Fuck. Fuck! Holy fuck!” Wrench started bouncing in place, unable to contain his joy.
“Yep!” Marcus replied, smiling, matching Wrench’s energy.
“Fucking… Marcus!” Wrench screamed, reaching a higher pitch than he realized he was capable of making, the filter of his mask helping it reach ear-splitting levels. Through his excitement he ripped the rest of the paper away until it stood fully revealed: a huge box emblazoned with Haum’s logo. He pulled the front panel away, revealing his gift: a brand new security bot. “I can’t fucking believe it!”
“Merry Christmas, Wrench!” Marcus said, clapping his hand down on Wrench’s shoulder. “Your boy’s been reincarnated!”
“Marcus, how in the hell!” Wrench was still barely able to control himself, and not really making the attempt, looking back and forth between Marcus and the robot. “It was like, absurdly difficult to get one of these the first time!”
“I have my ways! Don’t worry about it, just get to work on ‘im. He’s severely in need of a paint job.”
“Oh fuck, Marcus, thank you so much!” Wrench yelled, throwing his arms around Marcus. “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!”
Marcus laughed and returned Wrench’s hug. “You’re welcome, man.”
Wrench pulled back some to meet Marcus’s eyes with his own exclamation points. “You’re the best, you’re literally the best!”
Marcus laughed again. “Hey, I try.”
“You! You literally fucking..!” Wrench started, launching away from Marcus and toward the robot. “This is really the best thing, Marcus, I mean it.”
“Well, I mean, I know getting rid of Wrench Jr. was really fucked up, I mean even if it was the best thing to do at the time…” Marcus settled against the nearby table, watching Wrench excitedly pull the bot from the box, flitting around it like a hummingbird. “So, here he is! Look, your son came home for Christmas!”
They both laughed a moment, before Marcus said, “Hey, I got him, both times, doesn’t that make me like, his other dad?”
Wrench gasped. “Oh my God, it does.” He laughed, then spread his arms wide. “Hey, look at me, I’m spending time with family on Christmas, like a real person!”
They both laughed, bringing the initial excitement in the room down, replacing it with a calmer, comfortable moment of silence. Wrench stopped bouncing around the security bot, and came to stand in front of Marcus.
“I’m serious, M, this is really great. I wish I had something cool and amazing for you that illustrated that I understand you better than anyone else, but…”
Marcus laughed. “Hey, there’s always next year, man. And, I mean, you don’t have to get me anything, that wasn’t what I was going for here.”
“I know. Ugh, you’re such a nice person. I hate you.”
“Wow. This family is tearing me apart,” Marcus said, moving as if to walk over to the security bot. “Okay then, I’ll just take my son and leave.”
Wrench positioned himself between the two, putting a hand on Marcus’s chest to stop him. “Just kidding, I love you, do not touch him.”
Marcus held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Could’ve said it with more feeling, but I’ll accept it.”
“Oh! Okay, round two,” Wrench cleared his throat in dramatic fashion. “Marcus Holloway.”
Marcus burst into laughter, just at the way Wrench pronounced his name: deep and low like a love confession in a bad movie. “Don’t, don’t!”
Wrench, cleared his throat again, louder, as if protesting the interruption. “Marcus Holloway,” he began again, “Allow me to confess my admiration of you.”
“Stoooooop!”
“No! You must let me continue!” Wrench said, adopting an indistinguishable accent, lofty like a Victorian drama with the Victorian extracted, the effect only made more funny as it garbled through the filter of Wrench’s mask. “I have admired you from afar for too long! I can no longer bear it!”
Marcus threw his head back in laughter. “Stop, oh my God!”
Marcus’s laughter only urged Wrench to carry on, ready to take the bit as far as it could go. “Marcus Holloway!” his mask showed two pointed, smiling eyes briefly as Wrench couldn’t help but to laugh through his character. They lasted only moments, though, before Wrench tore the mask from his face, dropping dramatically to one knee, and holding the mask over his heart like a hat. “I must confess my undying love for you!”
“I regret—” Marcus began as his laughter began to die down. “I regret everything. Are you even doing a bit anymore? You’re a little too good at this!”
Wrench laughed at the jab, only taking everything Marcus said as encouragement. “My own love laughs in my face! How will I go on?”
“Stop, oh my god, if you go anymore I’ll have to think you’re serious, c’mon!”
Marcus kept laughing, but he felt the air in the room change. It was immediate, but subtle, as their laughter stopped and a strange expression flicked across Wrench’s face; the eyebrows previously knit in a fake severe expression rose in surprise for only a moment, before Wrench was standing back on his feet. He broke eye contact, and moved to put his mask back on, but hesitated, standing almost frozen, looking for an out.
Marcus looked over the other, trying to find meaning in the sudden change. “Wrench?”
“Uhh… yeah. Anyway,” Wrench looked everywhere but at Marcus, already half turned away from him. “What were we doing?”
Marcus began to connect the dots, and a flash of realization passed across his face. “Oh,” He stopped leaning on the table to take a half-step toward Wrench. “Wrench.”
“Oh, yeah, the present,” Wrench recalled, ignoring the knowing tone of Marcus’s voice. “It really is great— It’s a great present, Marcus, thanks.”
Wrench turned away to face the robot and moved to raise his mask to his face, but felt it stopped; he looked down, and Marcus’s hand was there, holding it in place. He looked up into Marcus’s eyes, which fell too softly on him, and he stood waiting for the worst, his anxiety written all over his face.
“Wrench,” Marcus said again, waiting for the other to turn his face away— happening at the sound of his name. “Wrench, man, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—” he stopped, fishing for words, and fast, before Wrench could cut in and say with a laugh that what he thought was happening wasn’t happening, that he misunderstood.
“Wrench, this isn’t— I di— ugh, this shouldn’t be so hard,” Marcus stopped a moment to look over his friend, who stood still, silent, like he was waiting for this to end, like he had already conceded defeat.
Marcus needed to respond quickly, needed to let Wrench know that whatever awful scene he was playing out in his mind wouldn’t happen, but at the same time he was at as much of a loss for words as Wrench was.
Marcus sighed. “Fuck it,” he whispered to himself under his breath. “Wrench,” he called, softly this time, like gently calling him to come home to him.
One hand came to rest on Wrench’s shoulder that faced him, that was trying to keep him away, as everything in Wrench’s body language screamed that he was ready to run, wanting to run, but was tired of running. The hand that rested on Wrench’s mask came up slowly until it met the cheek that was farthest away, and gently urged it to turn toward him. Wrench complied, not resisting the touch, smoothly moving where he urged him like floating in the tide.
Marcus looked into Wrench’s eyes, which was a mistake, as he almost lost his nerve, but something in the shock he saw there pushed him forward; Wrench was surprised, scared, it was clear, but what wasn’t there was protest. The hand slipped from his cheek to his chin, tipping it upwards, towards him, and Marcus dropped his eyes down to Wrench’s mouth, steeling himself to take the leap.
The kiss was slow, uncertain, and it felt to both of them like it barely held onto life, like a dandelion trembling in the wind, knowing that one stiff breeze could whisk it away entirely. Wrench’s heart thrummed in his ears like roaring wind shaking the building, but the rest of him stood stock still, afraid to move and end what he barely knew was happening. His mind screamed to slow down, to enjoy the moment before he lost it, and it took some thought before he even realized he should kiss Marcus back.
The kiss was short, Marcus eventually pulling away. His own face felt hot, and he saw a pink blush running along Wrench’s cheeks, and even a splash of it across his nose. He studied it a moment while they both caught their footing, the sight of Wrench’s uncovered face still being a rarity.
Wrench was hesitant to open his eyes. “If I look up—” He started, “I swear to God, If I look up, and there’s like, mistletoe— or some shit— above me, I’m going to fucking lose it.”
Marcus laughed, relief apparent, as he read the still-persistent uncertainty in Wrench. “Nope. Nothing up there.” He smiled, amused, as Wrench opened his eyes, flitting them briefly to the ceiling as if his word wasn’t good enough. “Just a regular kiss. Sorry to disappoint.”
Wrench sighed like a weight was lifted from him. “Marcus, oh my God,” he breathed, closing his eyes again and covering half his face with his hand. “Oh my God. That’s— I’m— Oh my God.”
Marcus bubbled with laughter, suddenly feeling lighter than he was before. “Yeah, I agree.”
“I’ve been— I’ve been— fucking dreaming of that,” Wrench said, suddenly with a confidence he didn’t have before.
“Yeah?” Marcus said, listening to Wrench as if this were the first time he had heard his deep, unaltered voice, husky now in the fading heat of the moment just before.
“Yeah.”
“Since when?”
“Since I fucking saw you, first of all, and then I got to know you, and fuck, it got so much worse than I fucking thought it would.”
Marcus smiled, and another comment to urge Wrench on played at his lips, but at that moment his phone sounded, breaking through the air like a hammer on ice. Wrench looked almost startled, like he had forgotten that there were other people in the world, and felt their eyes on him. He moved toward the security bot.
“‘S my family,” Marcus mumbled, reading his text. “I should probably leave, if I’m gonna make it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Yeah,” Marcus watched as Wrench looked for something to do. “But, hey, this was—”
“Wait,” Wrench said, suddenly freezing in his tracks.
“What?”
“Wait a fucking second.”
“I am.”
Wrench let out a pained sigh, rested a hand on top of the security bot, then laid his forehead on it. “So you gave me, like, a perfect Christmas gift.”
“I’m not looking to brag, but, yes?”
“Demonstrating that you understand me really well.”
“...Sure?”
Wrench sighed again, full of exasperation. “And you look so stupid handsome in your stupid turtleneck.”
“Thank… you?”
“And we had our first kiss. On Christmas.”
“Yes.”
“Marcus, we’re living a fucking Hallmark movie. I’m a fucking Hallmark movie protagonist,” He ignored Marcus buckled over with laughter in the background and started to pace back and forth. “I’m the fucking workaholic boss or whatever the fuck and you’re my sprightly coworker who showed me the true meaning of Christmas or some shit, and I just stood here and let that happen.”
Marcus reined in his laughter long enough to respond, wiping a real tear from his eye. “I don’t think Hallmark makes movies about hacker anarchists with queer, interracial romance plots.”
Wrench perked up. “That’s the only thing that saves us,” he pointed an accusatory finger at Marcus. “Only thing.”
Marcus laughed again. “Thank God. Now, go work on your son, give him a cool paint job, inappropriate catch phrases, the works,” he headed toward the door as Wrench settled in to work on the robot. “I need to go now, but… later? We’ll talk?”
“Yeah,” Wrench said with a lopsided, content smile, as he replaced his mask. “You know where to find me.”
#wrencus#wrenchus#hollowrench#marench#watch dogs 2#marcus holloway#wrench#watch dogs#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#mine#WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO#i might change the title honestly i keep changing my mind lmao but thanks Abby for the suggestion anyway
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
congratumalations and merry crimsi i am gifting you pr666n. actually there isnt much pr0n in it, its a lot of aftercare cuz im feeling pretty needy right now, but you get it anyway. second time writing pr0m, hope i didn’t frick it up, sorry it’s shitty. read with caution y’all
“Safe words?” Steve whispered softly in his ear as he stroked up and down his side. The room was warm and the scene was easy, and he had already told his wonderful lovers he was feeling a bit needy today. They would take care of him. He shuddered at the soft touch, and the sounds of Bucky moving behind them.
“Buzzsaw for pause,” he answered with a quiet sigh. “Welding for stop. And you?”
He got “monkey” and “airplane”, then “bootstrap” and “mudcrawl”, respectively. They had decided to come up with unique words and symbols because they all felt safer that way, even though they could’ve gone with generic words. They did colors as well, to check in on each other, but the safewords were unique and intimate, and incredibly important -- on that they had all agreed.
“Alright,” Steve said with a smile and a kiss to his cheek before rising from the bed. Tony shifted, listening to the clanking of the spreader bar attached to his knees and the chains that kept his elbows from straying too far forward. It was supposed to keep him from rutting against the bed, and he knew from experience it was an exquisite torture. “Colors?”
“Green.”
“Let’s fuck already!” Tony laughed at Bucky’s impatient tone. Steve huffed, and Tony tilted his head to look at Bucky as he gently settled the soft velvet collar around his neck. He shuddered, a breath whooshing out of him as Steve stroked up and down his back and spoke to him softly, nonsensical endearments before he settled again. (beware of read more)
“Color?” Steve asked him softly again. Tony closed his eyes, trying to relax, letting his forehead slip down until it was resting on the bed.
“Green,” he muttered, the warmth in the room making him drowsy. He hated being cold. It was a surefire way to send him into anxiety, and frost had started creeping on the edges of the windows in the morning recently. He was glad Bucky had thought to turn up the heat -- all of them had problems with the chill.
“Good,” Bucky muttered, pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck and shoulders. “No hard play today. Just the spreader, doll. You tell us what you need.” Tony shuddered again and felt more tension slip out of him, nodding.
Most of the time he enjoyed being told what to do in bed. It was the only place he didn’t have to feel in control. But today, he wasn’t sure he could handle it, even though he wanted it. So they were dialing back on the dom/sub play. He shivered as Steve settled behind him, running a soft hand over the curve of his ass before teasing one lubed up finger against his hole. He sucked in a breath at the feeling as Bucky settled on the bed next to him, sucking softly on his neck and shoulder -- not hard enough to leave a mark, but solid enough to be present. Not a pain, but a grounding feeling. They were being careful with him, and he appreciated it.
Gently, Steve worked two fingers inside, stroking and stretching so softly Tony might cry at the tenderness and need welling up inside him. He bucked his hips, moaning when he couldn’t rut against the bed. Bucky let his hands roam, stroking up and down his sides, teasing his nipples, ghosting over his slowly hardening cock. None of them were in a rush, and Tony couldn’t help but think that this is what people meant when they said ‘making love’.
“Beautiful,” Bucky muttered as he slowly slipped into his headspace despite the lack of play, licking and teasing the sensitive shell of his ear. His fingers tweaked Tony’s nipples, teasing them to hard points. “God, you’re gorgeous like this... Doing so well... Just for us...” Steve twisted his hand and Tony cried out, his back arching as pleasure shot up his spine.
It was perfect. It was perfect.
So why couldn’t he get the thoughts of Obadiah out of his head? How helpless he was whenever he was with the man, listening to his cloying lies, hearing the praises that never came from anyone else and were only gaslights for the man who would take everything...
And Jesus, frozen on the couch with Obie leaning over him... He would be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, what the man could do to him, anything, he could’ve taken anything, and lucky he only wanted his life.
Steve twisted his hand again and he cried out once more, tears springing to his eyes. “No!” He arched his back, rocking forward to try and pull away from them, from the hands that were touching him, they could do anything to him and he wouldn’t be able to stop it, he wouldn’t be able to stop it if they killed him.
They wouldn’t. But if they did, he wouldn’t be able to stop it.
Tied up or not.
Bucky had him gathered up in his arms, warm and strong and smelling of stupid two dollar Head and Shoulders that Tony had come to love as Steve undid the spreader and the straps attached to it, gently repositioning him in Bucky’s lap as his legs came free. “Tony?” he asked, his voice full of fear and worry as he crowded close, gently pressing his hands to Tony’s cheeks. “Tony, are you okay? Baby, talk to us.”
“I-I- R-Red, welding, I’m s-sorry I can’t-” His voice cracked and tears blurred his vision as he buried between his two lovers, wanting them to shield him from the pain and the fear. They pressed close, sandwiching him between their chests, breathing steadily.
“Alright, okay doll, you’re alright. We got you.” Bucky pressed his lips to his hair, rocking them both gently as Steve gentled his hands down Tony’s sides, giving the arc reactor a wide berth.
“I’m sorry,” Tony choked out. He did this more often than he should, and he-
“No, none of that sweetheart,” Steve mumbled, softly kissing his chin. “You’re fine. It’s alright to stop. It’s just sex. You’re more important.”
“What do you need?” Bucky asked gently, still rocking him slowly, and he would be lying if he said the soothing motion wasn’t helping.
“I want...” Tony’s breath hitched and he reached up to tug on the velvet collar, a rich red that he normally loved but now seemed stifling, suffocating him. His fingers trembled as he tried to work the latch. “I-I need it off- I need to, to be clean, I don’t w-want the, the lube, I can’t-”
“Okay,” Steve soothed quickly, easily removing the collar and tossing it away. “You’re okay, that’s okay. A bath?”
“I... Not on my face-”
“A bath then,” Bucky mumbled. “We’ll keep you above the water, babe. Us with you?” A flash of panic went through Tony at the thought of them leaving him, of him being unprotected, of this being the last straw for them and them not coming back.
“W-with me,” Tony sobbed. “With me, I just- Don’t leave me-”
“We won’t leave,” Steve mumbled to his cheek. “We won’t leave you, baby. We love you. More than anything. You’re stuck with us.”
“Stuck with Stucky.” Bucky smiled at him and Tony couldn’t help the weak chuckle that escaped him. They had discovered shipping names a couple weeks ago and found them amusing. He was fond of ‘starkbucks’.
“I love you,” he breathed, his voice cracking, as Steve and Bucky peppered his face with soft kisses that didn’t feel overwhelming. He repeated it as they helped him into the bath, as Steve held him in his lap and helped him clean off. As Bucky carefully massaged shampoo into his curls and used a cup to rinse it out, never getting any water on his face. As Steve scrubbed at his back and Bucky massaged his hands. As they cleaned off and teased, all smiles and laughter. As they helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in soft towels and patted him dry.
As they climbed into bed and ate chocolate and nuts and forced him to drink a bottle of water because “Like hell I’m going to see you dehydrated just because you had a spot of panic, doll”.
As they wrapped themselves around him and listened while he cried out what was wrong, and told him that it was perfectly alright to feel that way and they would never want him to force himself to keep having sex with them when he felt like that, that they would always be there for him.
And one more time as he dozed off, exhausted and full and contented and warm. “We love you too, Tony,” Steve whispered into the back of his neck, tightening the arms around him.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Bucky said with a choked voice to his forehead, pressing a gentling kiss there.
“Even when I’m fucked up?”
“Especially then.”
#pr666n#aftercare#talon writes#long post#ughhhh#im sorry this is shitty#stuckony#tony stark#bucky barnes#steve rogers
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
why does anyone think mukuro rokudo is anything remotely resembling cool
mukuro is a dumbass and the indisputable proof is right there in mukuro’s introduction arc
1. looks like a dumbass?
this is the very first picture of mukuro you get to see. some dumbass with badly parted hair and a fucking camo long-sleeve on under his fancy collared coat. how does someone have a sense of fashion this bad and this tacky? it’s unbelievable. he’s only 15. he’s 15 and he’s dressing himself like this. someone help him
you don’t find this out until later but he’s wearing a school uniform
he stole a school uniform, gyakuran and all, and put a non-school-compliant camo long-sleeve shirt on under it. for the aesthetic. for his really specifically ugly aesthetic. i physically can’t describe the visceral emotion this inspires in me. just look at him. would you be able to take him seriously if he tried to kill you? he could walk up to me and say “i’m going to take your life” and i’d just be like “haha yeah okay, is that what you were thinking when you were parting your hair this morning” and then i would laugh and he would skewer me in half with his pitchfork.
2. an incredibly bad actor, unbelievably so
mukuro wants to possess tsuna or something and has the brilliant idea to waltz up to tsuna in the middle of a creepy forest by an abandoned amusement park, pretending he’s one of the poor innocent victims of that terrible criminal mukuro rokudo, while smiling and being friendly and not acting the least bit like a cowed or angry victim at all. he spends the entire time being creepy. he tells tsuna that he’s been taken advantage of by that horrible, awful mukuro, but his overwhelmingly creepy vibe completely negates any sympathy that story might have inspired in tsuna and instead prompts tsuna to think “this guy is really creepy!” and leave.
like look at this screenshot from when mukuro is trying to “subtly” ask tsuna what he knows about mukuro:
important takeaways:
mukuro can’t even keep up the charade for a full two minutes. he just doesn’t have the patience! he’s a terrible actor!!!
mukuro is an impulsive, straightforwardly violent person who is only capable of posturing and rudimentary mind games as long as he doesn't get impatient with them
mukuro is a mist flame user whose ENTIRE GIG is being able to USE ILLUSIONS but he can’t even cover up his own weird eye. is it because it never occurred to him to do so? did he forget? did he know his eye would be noticeable, but he thought it would be cool so he elected to ignore common sense & subterfuge in favor of another brief intimidation tactic that doesn’t do anything to tsuna except make him think mukuro is weirder than ever?? DID HE JUST THINK HE WOULD LOOK COOLER AS HE IS???
mukuro’s a DUMBASS and a DISASTER and he doesn’t know how to interact with anyone else in any capacity at all, either as a spy, or as a friend / non-suspicious stranger, or as an enemy who could have USED THIS ENTIRE OPPORTUNITY TO TAKE TSUNA THE FUCK OUT
mukuro: i’m going to possess the next heir to the vongola... and destroy the mafia... NOTHING matters more to me than tearing down the ugly, sinful world in which we crawl...!!!!
also mukuro: [corners heir to the vongola, alone in a forest where no one would notice them, and proceeds to do nothing except be exceedingly weird for absolutely no reason tsuna would notice or even care to comprehend]
he’s so dumb it makes me cry
3. important reminder
at this point in the story mukuro and his gang have been living in kokuyo park and eating garbage for like the past three weeks. he has NO right to be looking as good, self-assured, groomed, or confident as he does. AND YET HERE HE IS, shining in his full magnificent bastardly glory. something that would shame or embarrass anyone else rolls off mukuro like water rolls off of wax. he’s just absolutely immune to self-consciousness and i think that’s incredible.
4. impractically dramatic
mukuro sets up his final confrontation with tsuna in a large, abandoned, empty room in one of the abandoned theme park buildings. that is, it’s empty except for the large, ornate throne that mukuro has set up and seated himself on so that he’s dramatically hidden in the shadows when tsuna enters the room. he had to set that all up himself. who puts that much time and effort into their presentation to their enemy, but not to actually defeating their enemy??? mukuro, that’s who.
5. laughably inept at his own professed expertise, manipulation and controlling others
tsuna enters the scene of the final confrontation, still thinking that mukuro is just that weird creepy kid he met in the woods and not... you know.... mukuro himself.... and mukuro gives away the same in about ten seconds. he just couldn’t resist the impulse to crow about his masterful deception in tsuna’s face and revel in tsuna’s shock... at the fact... that he was mukuro all along!!
this has almost no impact on tsuna beyond “oh no, the guy is creepy AND also the guy i have to defeat.” if mukuro had put more work and buildup into the facade, but ohhh nooo, mukuro “i crave instant gratification and i want it NOW” rokudo has to have the payoff immediately. what did you even accomplish with this deception, you dumbass? you idiot. you fool
6. the posturing
mukuro is an overeager fifteen year old who is murderous and violent but also wants to be incredibly cool. look at his face when someone asks him “what do you think people even are, you asshole?!”
he looks so fucking pleased with himself for delivering this line, like it’s one of the slyest and cleverest things he’s ever said. he’s so proud of himself for flaunting how immoral, horrifying, and terrible he is in front of everyone’s faces. fear him... this is SO funny, especially in light of how horrible he is at manipulating others. mukuro you’re doing great
5. doesn’t fucking know what a flame is
mukuro: my incredible fighting prowess comes from this purple flame i can summon sometimes...!!!
also mukuro: [has no fucking clue what the flame is, only that it makes him fight good and thats the important part, obviously]
he’s been through like, at least 2 entire mafia families, and has possibly killed more. the sheer power of mukuro’s ignorance to the existence of dying will flames is astoundingly powerful, and enough to knock out lesser men at close ranges
6. can’t resist the impulse to give away all his cards so he can gloat over his enemies
you know the part where he pretends to shoot himself in the head but actually possesses one of tsuna’s friends? and then proceeds to give away his possession almost IMMEDIATELY by a) not changing his mannerisms in the slightest and behaving exactly like himself, b) attacking tsuna (and not even right! he misses! he was too impatient to actually wait for a good opportunity?????) c) just straight-up telling tsuna what he did
how does anyone take him seriously beyond the fact that he can fight good. he’s so dumb i cry every time i think about all the stupid shit he does. he’s a baby
7. this isn’t really evidence of mukuro being a dumbass, but i do want everyone to know, that mukuro’s persona is so aggravatingly conceited that he changed tsuna’s motivation from “i want to stop mukuro from hurting my friends” to “i want to beat in mukuro’s entire face because he’s a fucking asshole” and i think that’s incredible
8. impractically dramatic
i already put this one down but it bears repeating because of the scene where mukuro is possessing ~6 bodies, and tsuna is knocked prone on the ground completely unmoving. tsuna has an ENTIRE conversation with reborn and mukuro doesn’t do anything except stand to the side with his 6 possessed super-fighter bodies and watch. what are you doing you fool
like i can't even comprehend what's going on in mukuro's head the only thing i can think is that he's impulsive and he LOVES entertainment so he can't help but do stupid shit like this as long as it's for the sake of more drama. if it adds drama he has to let it happen.
this entire battle is just mukuro’s dramatics? he's spent so much time posturing and the only reason anyone is going to pay attention to the stupid shit he says is because occasionally he actually follows up on it and does terrible awful things. otherwise no one would care. mukuro needs actual friends and people who care about him, which he's going to make difficult because he physically can't stand not having control over someone else
categories of people, according to mukuro:
enemies
under his control
???
which means if you have a situation like this:
someone: i like you as a friend
mukuro:
mukuro:
mukuro: i have to possess them now
exhibit a: lancia. mukuro is so fucking bad at people it’s hilarious
9. has no sense of shame but an acute sense of embarrassment so he’ll do anything in pursuit of his goals but as soon as you remotely insinuate it doesn’t look cool he has to kill you
exhibit a: mukuro does this thing where he very dramatically stabs out his eye, and when removes his fingers somehow the eye is still there except it’s bleeding now and looks very cool. then he monologues to tsuna about his powerup for a while. tsuna... doesn’t give a single shit. the resulting dynamic looks a little bit like this:
mukuro: postures
tsuna: you're a disappointment to me
mukuro:
mukuro, internally panicking:
mukuro is working very hard to look cool and intimidating right now! tsuna thinks he’s an idiot. out of all the things mukuro has to be stressed out about right now, i.e. being chased by deadly mafia enforcers, it really says something that it’s someone else thinking he looks stupid that makes him sweat. it’s hilarious is what it is.
tsuna: [no longer affected by mukuro's bulshit]
mukuro: s...shit... [continues to issue bullshit, except harder and more than before. also he's more stressed]
or as @micronecro so succinctly put it:
tsuna can perceive the extent of mukuro’s bullshit, which leads to some absolutely incredible moments, such as this:
mukuro: im going to kill you. im going to clown you
tsuna: makes this face
i love that within 10 minutes of battle tsuna has divined mukuro’s exact nature and is no longer fazed by any of mukuro’s bullshit, and really can’t do anything except be completely fed up with it at this point. just go home mukuro. just stop while you’re still ahead. it’s okay.
naturally it wouldn’t be mukuro if he didn’t follow his series of ill-advised decisions all the way to the very end, issuing bullshit the whole way. but that’s why we love him; for his endless potential and comedic entertainment
ANOTHER VERY GOOD MOMENT:
tsuna: [punches him once]
mukuro:
mukuro: [feeling helpless, and thus resorting wholly to dramatics] kill me
tsuna: [walking away] don't draw me into your bullshit, actually
mukuro: [IMMEDIATELY SEIZES THE OPPORTUNITY TO ATTACK TSUNA] YOU FOOL, THIS WAS MY PLAN THE WHOLE TIME
mukuro is so shameless he’ll do literally anything to get the drop on his enemy but he can’t even do it well. he’s trying. he’s really bad at it. i don’t know why anyone would ever think that mukuro is cool.
in conclusion: i think mukuro possiby has no sense of shame, only embarrassment, so if someone pointed out the fact that this entire sequence of events is INCREDIBLY funny exclusively because of the ridiculousness of mukuro’s decisions it would go like this
tsuna: it was kind of embarrassing to witness actually
mukuro:
mukuro:
mukuro: Die
tl;dr mukuro is a dumb baby who should not be allowed to live by himself. that concludes my ted talk. thanks for coming
#meta#txt#khr#mukuro rokudo#this is a bit of an unorganized ramble but i promise you that mukuro is objectively a dumbass and incredibly funny#and that's why we should all be joined in the purpose of endlessly making fun of him#he makes it so EASY#please don't make the mistake of thinking mukuro is in any way suave or cool or particularly clever. he's really not. he's really really not#his total lack of self-consciousness when it comes to this large glaring flaw in his personality and also his plan to take over the world#is why i love him. youre doing great mukuro.
331 notes
·
View notes
Text
HEY??? SO U KNOW THAT COLLEGE LOOKIN MATH TEACHER THAT I YELLED AT THE CAR OF TO RUN ME OVER????
SO APPARENTLY HE LIKES BNHA
i was one of the last ppl in the lunch room and the principals walking by and greets me (like principals do) and asks if ive been reading anything lately. the biggest character trait he knows abt me is that i read, so this is a pretty common occurence. by that i assume that hes talking about Real Books so i say ‘nothing’, you know, like a liar
hes like ‘so you haven’t read ANYTHING good lately??’ and thats a no
so i go ‘well ive sorta been reading the same thing for a long time’ (thats one wayt o refer to fanfic)
he goes ‘oh?? what is it??’
‘my hero academia,’ i say, because people get even more of that confused look on their face if you say “boku no”
‘oh, is it good?’ he asks
‘YEAH’ i say bc its true
right abt then the math teacher (he SERIOUSLY looks like a college student im serious if i had to guess his age itd be like 21, 22. also he has a messenger bag like me so SAME HAT and i already have somewhat of a kinship with him) speaks up as hes walking by, hes lit up and he says ‘ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT MY HERO ACADEMIA???’
and i also light up like a slightly delayed bulb on a christmas tree, going “YEAH!!!”
i dunno when the principal leaves bc i Am Not paying attention, the math teacher starts reminiscing on the most recent episode, ‘with tetsutetsu and the poison smoke guy?’ and he asks for confirmation when the new episodes come out like ‘thursday? friday???’
‘saturday!’
‘saturday’
and im still like vibrating in my seat i wanna stand up and hop around bc he said tetsutetsu’s name and teachers dont ever remember fictional characters names!! ever!!!
he also continues to share that he got rlly impatient with the new episodes so he started reading the manga and we all know thats a big level up in the eyes of a fellow manga reader
hes on the internship arc and hes RIGHT AT where they start to bust into the underground base where the yakuza are and he says yakuza and im going buck shit wild
i tell him im all caught up and tell him good luck!! with his reading and i hope he likes it very mucH!!!
and he jsut reflects on himself that he still has like 60 chapters to go until hes all caught up but its so good and!!! the interaction p much ends there
outside i nearly strangle the only other bnha fan in our school bc why the fuck didnt she tell me that the math teacher knew bnha
im jsut pissed now because i dont have him for a class
lol i dont even know his name either
#hes also ahead of that fellow bnha fan in the manga. ur outclassed by ur MATH TEACCHER#hes a NERD#but apparently he likes other anime too?? scarlett told me that among her 'i cant believe u didnt know's and also that only a couple days ag#o they were fangirling together over attack on titan in the middle of a lesson#i need to ask for his tumblr or some shit I GOTTA NURTURE THIS FAN#i also need to tell the discord abt this theyll also go buck shit wild (i hope))#personal#story time#math teacher#bnha#I WAS ALSO WEARING MY DEKU SHIRT YESTERDAY HOW DIDNT WE MEET BEFORE NOW#bnha irl
1 note
·
View note
Note
mahiru/natsumi - impatiens, thistle, quince (off topic, but you write actual masterpieces, im in love)
(on topic: thank you!! I’m really glad you like them! I hope you like this one, too! 😊)
impatiens: impatience
thistle: misanthropy
quince: temptation
(Also, everyone’s free to drop me a character/pairing + flower(s) from this meme if you still want to! It might take me longer to get to them, but my askbox is always open.)
All of her pictures of Natsumi are wrong.
They aren’t bad. The group shots especially are nice; she has plenty of Natsumi mugging shamelessly for the camera, her elbow hooked around Yume’s neck. They’re just not right. Off.
Why isn’t a mystery. (Even Natsumi’s spontaneous grins feel guarded and manufactured, and always have.) But time is running out. Graduation is looming, only months away, and her record still feels incomplete.
The three of them go shopping one day during winter break. Yume has to leave early, her mother calling her home to help with her little brother, so Mahiru and Natsumi get crepes and detour to a little park off of the outdoor mall.
Mahiru picks out a bench, to eat and to people watch. Natsumi trails behind her, tapping at her phone with her free thumb. “Ooooh, guess who made it to the front page of the Hope’s Peak message board?” she calls. “You’re moving up in the world, Ma-chan!”
Mahiru rolls her eyes. “You shouldn’t buy into websites like that,” she says. She wraps the top of her crepe in a napkin and balances it in her lap. “It’s so early. What could they possibly have to scout?”
She snaps pictures, while she has the chance. Young adults with their dogs, parents with their children, older couples walking together. Natsumi sits cross-legged beside her and eats, her crepe in one hand and her phone in the other.
“You’re thinking too small,” she says. “Now is when the real frontrunners show up, you know. They’re already saying my brother’s a shoo-in for a spot next year. Maybe you should try paying more attention.”
Natsumi smiles at her sideways, and— there. That’s the kind of photo Mahiru wants. The muted curve of her mouth, the winter-pale freckles across her nose, the rosiness of her cheeks in the cold.
She’s not quick enough, though. Natsumi takes a too-big bite of her crepe, and the moment is gone. Chocolate smears at the corner of her mouth.
Mahiru sighs. “You’re making a mess, Na-chan,” she says. She holds out a spare napkin. “Left side.”
Natsumi waves the napkin away. She chases the spot of chocolate with her tongue instead, a peek of pink between her lips.
“Quit bothering with these jerks,” she says, waving her crepe in a wide arc, “and let’s talk strategy.”
*
The final term of the school year starts. The photography club gears up for elections, to pick new officers to replace Mahiru and the other graduating third years.
Natsumi acts like she doesn’t want the president spot, but she’s surly the whole week after she doesn’t get it. She comes late to school in the mornings, she disappears during lunchtime, and she turns down all their invitations to hang out after clubs are over.
She skips the next photography meeting altogether, and that’s where Mahiru draws the line.
She finds Natsumi in her empty classroom after school, stuffing her PE bag back into her locker. “Go away,” she says over her shoulder, when Mahiru stops in the doorway. “I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Where were you?” Mahiru asks anyway. “I didn’t tolerate absences when I was president. You know Yasui won’t either.”
Natsumi laughs. It’s her fake, musical trill, the one Mahiru has represented so well in her photo albums. “And?” she says. “Yasui can kick me out if he wants. I’m quitting anyway.”
She has no reason to feel blindsided. She saw it coming all week. It still feels like an open-palmed slap across the face. “Quitting?”
“Yeah,” Natsumi says, flinty at the edges. “Quitting. I’m done wasting my time taking other people’s profile pictures.”
“What about your photography?” Mahiru tries. “You’ve got so much potential. You’re really just going to give that up?”
Natsumi’s knuckles go white around the door of her locker. “Don’t patronize me,” she snaps.
“I wasn’t—”
“Like you give a crap about some dinky middle school club, anyway. You’ve got bigger and better things to think about, right? You always knew you were better than us chumps.”
It’s hard not to flinch, when Natsumi glares. There’s always something detached and cold behind it, something that turns the soft roundness of her face harsh. It makes her look like what she is, the product of the world she comes from.
Mahiru has been holding her ground for two years. She doesn’t flinch. “Don’t put words in my mouth,” she says. “I learned a lot at this school’s club. You would too, if you gave it a chance.”
Natsumi slams her locker door hard enough that the sound echoes in the empty classroom. “Fuck off with your holier-than-thou bullshit,” she spits. “I’m so sick of it.”
She jostles Mahiru’s shoulder on her way out the door. Mahiru lets her. Her eyes are stinging and she doesn’t know why.
“This is just like you,” she calls after her. “You start to genuinely like something, and then the second it looks like it might get difficult, you run away from it.”
Natsumi doesn’t look back.
*
Their argument goes the way of all the others: they both ignore it until the uneasy animosity settles enough that they can talk again. Natsumi quits photography. Mahiru gets ready for graduation.
On the last day of class, they sit together on the bleachers after school and watch Yume run her relay sprints. Mahiru has her camera on her knees. Natsumi has her phone so close to her face the backlight casts a reflection on her chin, even in the daytime.
“Who’s on the front page today?” Mahiru asks.
Natsumi lights up. She lifts her head to answer, and— there.
Mahiru is ready this time. She presses the shutter: her camera clicks, and Natsumi balks.
“Hey! What the hell was that?! You have to warn me first!”
“What would be the point of that?” Mahiru asks. She props the camera up in her lap and clicks back through the display. “I’d never get a good one that way.”
In the photo, Natsumi has her face tilted up from her phone, her eyes set just beyond the camera. Her freckles are brighter against her skin, from all the spring sun the past few weeks. Her hair is lit up from behind and to the left, a golden semi-circle around her face. She’s in the early lift of a smile, barely there.
Everything about her is gentle, soft, and warm. It makes her look like what she is, the part she doesn’t want anyone else to see.
Relief floods Mahiru’s chest. “There,” she says. “This one. That’s it.”
Natsumi leans over to look. Mahiru doesn’t mind until it’s already happening, struck by a sudden, unfamiliar wave of self-consciousness. It’s a good picture. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. She still thinks about covering the display with her palm.
It’s too late, anyway. Natsumi’s forehead is pinched between her eyebrows, and Mahiru’s heart is in her throat.
“I wanted one more picture,” she tries to explain. “Of you, the way I see you. Before I graduated. You know?”
It doesn’t help. The self-consciousness burns in her face and neck. All she can do is wait, eyes on her knees. They’re sitting so close they’re almost bumping Natsumi’s.
“This is how you see me?” Natsumi asks. It’s the first time Mahiru’s ever heard her so quiet, but it doesn’t take away from the force of her. It just shrinks the world to accommodate her.
Mahiru lifts her chin. She nods.
Natsumi glances down. Mahiru thinks maybe she’s looking at the photo again, but then she puts her hand down on the bleacher between them. The edge of her pinky brushes the edge of Mahiru’s and it’s so— so childish, the way she freezes up. She’s about to go to high school. She’s more mature than this.
She licks her lips, without thinking. She watches Natsumi copy her, a peek of pink at the corner of her mouth, and feels breathless. “Na-chan, um…”
Across the field, a girl shrieks with laughter. The relay races are wrapping up. A teacher barks at the students to mind themselves.
The world zooms back out again. It encircles everyone else and all their wandering eyes, Yume and their classmates and the dour teacher. Mahiru’s breath rushes back into her lungs.
“I think they’re finished,” she blurts. “We should go.”
She stands up from the bleacher, and wipes her dusty hands on her skirt. When Yume waves up at her from the track down below, she waves back and hops down to meet her on wobbly legs.
Natsumi doesn’t follow.
*
The moment goes the way of all the others: they ignore it. There’s time, Mahiru tells herself. It’ll get better.
High school will change everything.
#mahiru koizumi#natsumi kuzuryuu#danganronpa#does this pairing have a ship name?#idk#i lowkey love it though#you caught me anon#sorry this took me a while!!#been elbow deep in brick by brick#memes#asks and answers#anon#sunwrites
12 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
satan-apollygon
SATAN
delamag
迪拉 LA DE SAI！
matticus-nightshade
Matticus Nightshade
epicisometric
alexdrummo art
charredshadow
🌊sea cotton dreams🌿