#even though I understand the original intent

[todomitoukei]

Bnha Season 7 Interview: Shimono Hiro (Dabi) and Uchiyama Koki (Shigaraki)

Animate Times released an interview with the Japanese voice actors for Dabi (Shimono Hiro) and Shigaraki (Uchiyama Koki) to talk about season 7, which will begin to release in May.

Below is a quick translation of the interview, where they reflect on their characters' developments, season 6 and talk a bit about the upcoming season.

Q = Question UK = Uchiyama Koki (Shigarki’s VA) SH = Shimono Hiro (Dabi’s VA)

Q: Looking back to season 6, what are some of the most memorable scenes?

UK: Season 6…

SH: There were too many. For me, it’s definitely "Dabi’s Dance" (ep. 124). It was really painful that I couldn't say anything until then! It was the moment when I could finally let it out. Just as Touya was training at Sekoto Peak over and over again, I read the original story many times. Various things happened in season 6, but I think "Dabi’s Dance" is the best.

Q: What was the recording process like at that time?

SH: I recorded it together with Inada Tetsu (Endeavor) and Kaji Yuki (Shouto). More than anything, I was looking forward to the fight scene with Endeavor and Shouto in “Dabi’s Dance”, so I approached the recording with the feeling that regardless of the order or how many times I had to perform the sequence of events, I would do it. So when the recording was over I thought “It’s already over? Are we only recording this 2-3 times?” I always felt restricted when playing Dabi and wasn’t sure how to play him. He’s not the loud type and even though I don’t know what he’s thinking, but he says things that seem to make sense (laughs).

Q: You were exploding with feelings in “Dabi’s Dance”, right?

SH: I enjoyed that confession. And I think he had to block those complex feelings inside of him, so now he can only think of throwing everything inside of him against his father.

UK: Yeah.

SH: To me, because Dabi has died once before, he doesn’t think about continuing to live or what happens after he reaches his goal. That is why he goes by “Dabi”. That is why he can do nothing but think about throwing his entire strength, body, and soul at this.

Q: So there are no changes in performances in season 7?

SH: No. I’m glad we’re able to produce various things.

Q: Aside from “Dabi’s Dance”, “The Wrong Way to Put Out a Fire” (ep. 130) is also quite memorable.

SH: When I read the manga, I came to understand “so this was the reason”. Aside from Dabi, the LOV members each have their personal story. To me, a feeling of “Aren’t we (the villains) right? Aren't they righteous?” developed when I saw that.

Q: Surely, when I watched the villains’ stories, that much conviction was conveyed.

SH: It holds a different weight, doesn’t it? That is to say, I wonder with what kind of feeling towards us the heroes will arrive at the final battle. At the current stage, the villain’s feelings are stronger and they are fairly strong, too. We are sure to win (laughs).

Q: Uchiyama, do you also think you will defeat the heroes?

UK: Of course, that has been my intention since my first appearance. I think some of the viewers and readers don’t think well of me because of my position as villain, but I play my characters with the thought that the characters act based on their beliefs.

Q: Uchiyama, how do you feel looking back on season 6?

UK: When I read the manga, I was impressed by the development of Shigaraki being taken over by All For One. At the same time, I wondered how it would be portrayed in the anime. There was one scene where I had to put my voice on top of Otsuka Akio (All For One). That was a difficult part to perform, so that left a big impression on me.

Q: What was the recording like?

UK: Otsuka recorded it first, so I listened and traced the recording at home. When I heard his recording, I felt the strength of the material and the way of his inflection was unique. I remember hearing his voice over and over again.

Q: Once again, what is your impression of each other’s character?

UK: When he first appeared, I wondered whether Dabi would become our friend [TL note: the word he used is nakama, which can be translated as companion, friend, partner, etc.] from now on, he was a constant mystery. While I had a feeling that many things would be revealed after that, I still had a feeling that he was mysterious.

Q: When he first appeared (in the anime) his true identity still hadn’t been revealed in the manga yet.

SH: As the performer, I would’ve liked to be told, because I also kept thinking he is such a mystery (laughs).

UK: That’s right. He was also allowed to move fairly freely within the LOV, so he would suddenly disappear and whatnot. I also found that to be very mysterious.

Q: Being allowed to move freely might mean that Shigaraki trusts him to a certain degree, right?

UK: I wonder. The members of the LOV, especially during the early days, didn’t match friendship or bonding at all. So it’s hard to tell whether there was a feeling of trust.

SH: Rather than a relationship of trust, it’s more a correspondence of interests. While there are people that try to accomplish something with everyone, there are also people like Dabi. I think that freedom is the good thing about the LOV.

Q: Shimono, what is Shigaraki like from your point of view?

SH: It might just be my own personal impression, but I think that before fusing with All For One, Shigaraki was a little cuter [TL note: the word here is used kawairashisa, which is slightly different from kawaii in that it’s a bit more objective. A cuteness that everyone can see rather than being based on one’s feelings].

UK: Well, certainly in the early stages he seemed more juvenile.

SH: That’s right. While there was a time when he was childish and cute when talking to Dabi, he isn’t cute [TL note: here he just uses the negative form of kawaii lol] at all anymore (laughs).

Q: laughs

UK: He has ended up becoming a properly adult man.

SH: Adult man (laughs). But he has someone transcended, hasn’t he? Dabi has for the most part too, but……….

UK: It’s because Shigaraki lived despite being met with Prominence Burn.

SH: Right, right. That’s how strong his attachment to what he himself wants to accomplish must be.

Q: Has there been any change in your performance during the series?

UK: Because the series has been continuing for a long time, while continuing with the impression of the characters up until now, changes get added alongside the story. As Shimono mentioned before, the inside of the characters changed and during important parts so did their appearance, so I changed my acting accordingly. I am now quite aware of his strength due to his strong physique. In the early days, I was also very aware of his juvenility, so the way I voice him and all is different now.

SH: I have been accumulating things until season 6 and thought about how to get them out. When that time finally came, I had a lot of fun. I thought: “I can finally talk a lot!” All the more because as a voice actor, I had to continue not to talk or raise the excitement. I think there will be more suffering and pain now. I myself try not to fall behind on taking care of my throat.

Q: What are some things to look out for in season 7?

UK: I think the battle with Star and Stripe in the early parts is a highlight. Shigaraki is struggling against his opponent Star and Stripe, so his ego is still being shaken. It was a challenge for me to portray the new character from the fusion of Shigaraki and All For One, but it was tough since the battle began at full throttle.

Q: The battle with Star and Stripes looks even more animated than before, doesn’t it.

UK: The battle was very interesting in the manga, so I was very surprised by how they animated it. I want you to look forward to watching it, because from the animation to the character of Star and Stripe herself, there are many strong highlights.

Q: What about you, Shimono?

SH: After “Dabi’s Dance” we learn that Dabi = the oldest son of the Todoroki family, and now he has to fight his dad and little brother again. We’re about to reach the final battle, and when I read the manga I was overcome with many feelings. But I thought that if I’m concerned about that, I might not be able to play Dabi. Even if I had to break my throat, in any case I was ready to give it my all.

Q: I am looking forward to what kind of feelings Shouto will hold during this.

SH: When everyone, including Dabi, felt hopeless, only Shouto hadn’t lost his hope. Now, Shouto is trying to defeat Dabi with his own determination and honest feelings, so I want you to pay attention to the relationship between Dabi and Shouto. 

Q: I think there will be changed on the villain side during season 7?

SH: There are again characters whose backgrounds are being shown.

UK: I think I can show even more strength as Shigaraki.

SH: The villains have the upper hand to begin with, so I wonder what kind of resolution will be drawn from here on.

UK: They are superior, aren’t they?

SH: What will the story of each of their battles be, like the one between Dabi, Endeavor and Shouto? I want you to pay attention to things like the clash of feelings.

Q: How do you feel about seeing the heroes outnumbered?

UK: The hero side is crumbling, isn’t it?

Everyone: (laughs)

UK: It’s a situation where you can’t see the light. Since it’s also shown that each country is reluctant to send their heroes to Japan, because protecting their own countries is important, I think that aspect also conveys that Japan is in a very difficult situation. Rather, the hero side has no more cards to play.

SH: It sure is falling apart, isn’t it?

UK: It’s already a certain victory (laughs).

#interview #japanese #translation #bnha #s7 #dabi #shigaraki #lov #they just get it #i knew shimono would have an absolute blast with that reveal scene and everything that follows lmao #but also please dont hurt your throat #Todoroki #Lov #League of villains

[bethanydelleman]

How to “fix” Les Miserables

This is a random FF interlude.

I guess it isn’t shocking that I write fan fiction because ever since I was a kid, I’ve been imagining how to fix stories if they make me sad. Now full disclosure, I have only seen the musical and not read Les Miserables, but here is my solution to it.

Set up: A mysterious woman called Story Girl has the ability to teleport into stories and fix them. She can also teleport within story.

Story Girl enters the story the day Fantine gets fired. She reveals to Valjean that his overseer is a major creep and he gets dismissed. Then Story Girl convinces Valjean that the only way to set things right is to marry Fantine.

Fantine goes in her factory outfit and collects Cosette. She offers to take Éponine as well to get a job at the Valjean Factory. The Innkeeper and his wife demand everything that Fantine has, but as they don’t know she is now wealthy it isn’t very much. They let Éponine go too (because do we honestly think they care about her? I don’t).

Javert catches the fake Valjean, but instead of ruining his whole life to be honest, Story Girl just asks real Valjean for some money, jailbreaks Fake Valjean, and transports him to another region of France. He’s safe and has enough money to live on. Valjean is safe forever, and Javert can go crazy over how Fake Valjean vanished into thin air. Win/Win/Win

Valjean, Fantine, Cosette, and Éponine are all one happy family running a factory. Valjean no longer lives in fear of discovery and keeps donating his money to the poor and doing other great stuff. Fantine gets to live and have her reputation restored. Cosette and Éponine become real sisters and have awesome lives. Maybe one of them even runs into Marius, who knows. Valjean and Fantine have babies, maybe, his sexuality isn’t clear, so it’s up to him.

(I usually try to preserve the love stories, but honestly Cosette and Marius don’t even talk before they are all “in love” so I feel no compunction to preserve them. If they really have TRUE LOVE they’ll bump into each other somewhere).

FINIS! Les Heureux

#les miserables #story girl #I've had this idea forever #writing it down #I have trouble with sad stories #I want to make them happy #even though I understand the original intent #and I appreciate the literary significance of tragedy #fan fiction

[lesbiangiratina]

Not very fond of people like waving off testament’s gender as just a Gear Thing but well at least it becomes funny when people apply it to gears as a whole. Like yeah i can agree with that. It has nothing to do with being a gear tho theyre all just transgender

#okay ill talk about it seriously down here #it does feel like the original intent behind their androgyny was to kind of Other them from humanity #daisuke saying theyve transcended humanity / talking about their ‘inhuman beauty’ #i dont want to call it dehumanizing since theres like. a weird positive (…i guess) angle of them being ‘above’ humanity #thats just kind of a trope though. like nonhuman characters without a human concept of gender or sexuality. yknow #but anyway strive didnt really go back on this. they kinda made it a part of their arc? #i think dev backyard says that theyve ‘lived without the concept of gender’ since being turned into a gear #but theres no disconnect from humanity that goes along with that anymore #i like the implication that reconciling with humanity and more importantly their OWN humanity coincided with their presumable transition! #alright now for the part of this i dont like. its weird to assume the gear conversion had some effect on their body and THATS why theyre nb #i think any implications of that are vague enough to be dismissed #i wouldnt even call them Implications its like. messy (and contradictory!) early 2000s phrasing and a theory about 1 line of dialogue lol #early fandom stuff im aware of but dont know enough to talk about aside. nowadays its just used to like #excuse their androgyny. by gamers who cant just. believe that theyre nonbinary because they want to be. lol #not because of anything that was done to their body against their will. or even more simply because theyre just a gear and are Above gender #literally theyre just nonbinary. isnt that cool. i wish everyone could agree this is cool and end the discussion there. #except for me. i can discuss it all i want forever. because im the understander. #whatever. at least the section of testament’s wiki page theorizing about their genitalia is gone now. kissaroo for whoever took that off. #I NEED TO WRITE UP THAT TIMELINE IM LITERALLY NOT KIDDING WHEN I SAY IM AUTISTIC ABOUT TESTAMENT’S GENDER. CLEARLY #the kat goes meow #gg

[monitorkernelaccess]

sometimes I remember that preston max allen tweet that’s like “well at least in MY musical, the teenager actually faces consequences for her actions” (vagueing dear evan hansen) and it’s like. well yeah riley did kill two people so

#original post #dear evan hansen #we are the tigers #don’t ask me why I’m in my defending deh arc again. i don’t know #(to be clear when I say ‘defending’ I don’t mean ‘I think it’s the best ever and has no flaws and doesn’t ever do harm’) #(I mean ‘I think most criticisms of this musical have to do with people not really understanding what the creators wanted to convey and #what Evan’s intentions were.’ or ‘most people who hate it don’t know it very well’) #anyway I don’t remember the part of deh where Evan literally murdered two people. premeditated and everything #though now that I think about it #i feel like Evan’s actions would be more comparable to Cairo’s? instead of riley’s? #cause both constructed false narratives that harmed others (even if they didn’t directly intend to cause harm) #and they did it for selfish reasons #like Cairo framing maddy (is that her name??? i forget sorry) #and Evan lying about being Connor’s friend #still two completely different situations but like I feel like the crime is comparable? the crime being. well lying #and iirc…Cairo didn’t face consequences? she kinda got rewarded? #cause she became the next cheer captain right? #anyway. this post brought to you by [censored reasons why im in my hater arc] #and the fact that I like to listen to my Spotify liked songs on shuffle and watt songs keep coming up lol

[poetka]

Why is it such a shitstorm of a day today... so fucking draining and none of it has anything to do with me personally

#polish influencers turning out to be pieces of shit abusers and/or groomers #and the colourism drama with shinee... which i don't thing is as bad as people make it out to be but whatever i don't want to talk about it #except to say that as someone from a homogenous (white) country currently living in western europe i really see a difference in awareness #about a lot of issues but especially in terms of racism compared to my friends back home #and koreans saying something colorist to another korean doesn't mean they hate black people and have malicious intent 😭 #you just don't see it if you're not interacting with poc every day. i have leftist friends back home who's unknowingly said worse stuff #alas they are grown men aware of their international audience so maybe some thinking (and editing) can be expected. still disappointed #like idk i don't want to defend them especially since i'm white but. projecting a western perspective on them is unfair #and i've actually been thinking about this a lot in the past few month like how conversations we're having about social issues have really #shifted and are focusing on the american reality even though it's not really relevant to us in a lot of ways #and i'm finding myself clicking out of video essays after 10 mins because i realise it's a waste of time and i need to look for local voices #like this is both in terms of serious matters and even stuff like streamers stealing views away from content creators. which is a non-issue #in poland because streams are not popular enough to decrease the original video's view count in any significant way #and we have many other problems that i want to hear about. alcohol abuse among young people is such a big problem in ireland #i don't need to listen to americans talk about their red cups or w/e. and i shouldn't. if i actually want to understand the issue here

[earthtooz]

Wrio the slay calling reading clingy so reader sleeps on couch …😊 thx

x : DISTANCE :*+ﾟ

in which: you overhear wriothesley calling your affection too much, so you respect his wishes and give him some space. yet, why does he not seem like it?

warnings: 5.6k words (why did it get so long), hurt/comfort, gn!reader and wriothesley are married, pet names, no spoilers but set in canon, misunderstandings and miscommunication af, slowburn??, you might tug your hair out at some parts lol sorry, fluff with angst but happy ending, it gets emotional.

a/n: okay this was definitely not my favourite piece, i was experimenting with writing styles and writing in an omnipresent pov... so sorry if it feels clunky at some bits. overall, i'm pretty happy! also sorry for not sticking to the original prompt

Perhaps today was a bad time, you think as you leave the Fortress of Meropide, anxiety churning in your stomach and doubt weighing on your mind. Despite Fontaine’s sunrays shining brightly upon you, you feel anything but warm.  

What started as a visit to your husband with kind, wholesome intentions of delivering some lunch to him on your day off ended with a visit that left you riddled with questions. Coming at a time when he was in a meeting nearing its end, you didn’t even get the chance to speak to him, yet his words rattled around your head, replaying like a broken disc. 

“How are you and your spouse?” A rich voice echoes from his office, door slightly ajar signifying that whatever discussion was happening within was coming to an end.

“Y/n and I? We’re amazing, thank you,” Wriothesley answers. “I’m always happiest whenever I’m with Y/n.” 

The company, who you have realised is Monsieur Neuvillette, responds. “That’s good to hear.”

“Although, Y/n has been quite… affectionate recently, to the point that it’s borderlining too much-”

The conversation is drowned out by a ring of an alarm on Wriothesley’s desk and the atmosphere from his office suddenly grows in tension. The voice of the two men turn from relaxed to alarmed in a matter of seconds, and that is when you decide it is probably time to take your leave, lest you intrude on whatever emergency has happened.

Dropping the lunch you brought for Wriothesley at reception, even the receptionist was confused by how quick your visit was since they typically lasted for an hour- even longer since Wriothesley likes to push the amount of time he gets with you. They don’t question it, though, merely nodding in understanding when you tell them to drop it off for him on your behalf.

Has Wriothesley always thought of your affection as too much? If it was overwhelming him, why didn’t he tell you? And why Neuvillette, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, of all people? You understood the nature of their relationship- how they both tend to confine in each other with whatever they are troubled by, but why couldn’t your husband come to you about this directly? You made an oath on your wedding day to be fully honest with each other and to never hide anything. Where did that promise go?

Arriving home with a heavy heart, you immediately flop onto the couch, arm covering your eyes as tears sting the corners of your eyes. Perhaps it’s time you lessen your displays of physical affection before you drive the love of your life away.

Wriothesley, looking down at the contents of your boxed lunch, feels his heart warm in his chest at your display of care. How fortunate he is to have someone like you, he thinks before eating, satisfying his hungry stomach that has been aching for food since half an hour ago. He wonders why you didn’t see him personally and dropped it off instead, he would have liked to eat with you beside him.  

Whatever the reason, he’ll make sure to drop by your favourite bakery to purchase some conch madeleines as a thank you. 

When he returns home later in the evening, you’re asleep on the couch, curled up with only a book on your chest to protect you from the chilly air seeping into the house. Wriothesley quickly lays his coat over you, bookmarking the page you were at before retreating to change into more relaxing clothes. You still have not roused when he returns and as much as it pains him to disturb you, he doesn’t want you napping too late lest it disturbs your sleep schedule.

“Y/n?” He gently shakes you. Slowly, you come to wakefulness, eyes fluttering open as you gaze up at your husband.

“Wriothesley? You’re home?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes whilst slowly sitting up. “What time is it?”

“Nearing six in the evening.”

“Oh my! I didn’t mean to sleep that long! I’ll go get dinner ready, you should rest, you must have had a long day-”

Silencing you with a warm kiss to your forehead, you don’t melt into it like you usually would, his words from earlier slamming back into you like a brick. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, merely brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll cook,” Wriothesley offers, grabbing something he left on the table behind him. “Have some madeleines I bought for you whilst you wait.”

He places a bag of the baked goods in your hands and you smile at him, lips chapped and eyes still drowsy, yet Wriothesley thinks you’re the most beautiful being to ever exist. 

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” The dark-haired leaves you with another kiss to your temple before turning around to go into the kitchen. However, you stop him with a tug on his wrist which you drop almost immediately when he turns around, acting as if his skin was an open flame that licked you. 

“Darling, you have a sticker on your arm.” You reach up to grab the piece of adhesive, ripping it off him in one smooth motion. 

“Those melusines,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For how much Wriothesley scolds them, he cannot bring himself to actually get mad at them, letting the little creatures play pranks instead of reprimanding them. 

“I’m surprised they keep getting by you. Maybe you need to sharpen your instincts.”

“Quiet, you,” there’s no bite to his words.

“They put a little crab on you,” you giggle. “Must be going through an ocean-themed sticker book. You had a little shell on you yesterday.”

“I did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I find it funny.” 

He sits down beside you, dinner momentarily forgotten. “Do you now?” The dark-haired murmurs. “Turns out my own spouse is against me also.”

“If it brings me amusement, why not let the melusines play their pranks a little longer?”

“You are an awful influence,” Wriothesley winds his arms around your torso, pushing you down into the pillows of the couch. There, you almost sink into him, lured by the warmth of his embrace, but the memory of what you overheard sinks into your gut like an icicle, and your smile fades.

You pat his shoulders in surrender. “Shouldn’t you be working on dinner, dear? It’s already quite late.” You pray he doesn’t notice the way you have suddenly altered the mood, drying the playful atmosphere.

If he does notice, he doesn’t comment on it, getting up with a groan before retreating into the kitchen. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

There’s a whistle from the doorway to your bedroom, low and appreciative, and the culprit is no one other than Wriothesley. He walks towards you, draping himself over your figure sat in front of the mirror. “Where are you going tonight?”

“Clorinde and I are going to dinner together,” you tell him nonchalantly, as if all of his weight wasn’t on your shoulders right now. 

He pouts. “When will you be home?”

“Not too late, that’s for sure. We’re meeting at the other side of the Court of Fontaine, though.”

“An evening without my love, whatever shall I do?”

“You’ll live,” you smile before raising a necklace up to him. “Help me put this on?”

With a huff, he raises himself off your back and gently takes the jewellery from your hands, careful with the jewels that adorn it. His cold touch grazes against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine as he successfully clasps it together. When you meet his gaze in the mirror, it’s full of adoration and admiration, and you have to busy yourself with your hair lest it flusters you too much. 

Standing up, you swiftly walk out of the bedroom and towards the front door. Wriothesley trails behind you without much thought. “I’ll get going now before I’m too late.”

“Do you need me to accompany you there?” 

“It’s alright, thank you for offering.” Disappointment floods him like an ocean as he watches you put on your shoes. With one final fidget of your clothes, you deem yourself presentable and turn to him. “See you tonight, darling-”

“-Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” Your eyes widen in alarm as you begin frantically patting yourself down. “I brought my wallet, keys? They’re here, what am I forgetting?”

Wriothesley pretends like your cluelessness doesn’t hurt more than it actually does. He taps his cheek. “A kiss.”

“Oh, of course. How could I be so careless?” you laugh, the corners of your eyes scrunching with delight. Wriothesley has a remark resting on the tip of his tongue but it quickly dies when you step forward, anchoring your hand on his chin before you press a kiss to his cheek; to both cheeks for good measure. 

“Love you,” you murmur when parting. 

The desire to keep you home is a burning one, and pleads of ‘stay’ threaten to spill from his mouth. There is nothing more he wants than to be in your arms, to cling to you until the weekend is over in the blink of an eye, but you are your own person, and no matter how needy he is, Wriothesley should not stand in the way of your fun. 

“I love you more,” he sighs, holding open the front door for you. “Be back soon.”

“I’ll try. Bye dear!” You blow him a kiss before walking out of your garden.  

He watches you leave with a heart heavy with longing, closing the front door once you’re out of sight and tries to sigh the feeling of emptiness away. 

Later that night, Wriothesley greets you the second he hears the front door being unlocked, urgent strides allowing him to turn the corner just as you open the door, looking as pristine as you did when you left. There’s a small, tired smile on your face, but you look happy, blissful expression brightening when you see him. 

“Hello, love,” you say, slipping your shoes off.

“Welcome back,” he says, embracing you with one, muscular arm whilst pulling you in for a kiss. Your hands unusually fly up to hold his shoulders and Wriothesley thinks he’s imagining the way you push him slightly, as if trying to get him out of your personal space. Yet your grasp on him was so tight, creating temporary divots in his skin that he doesn’t really know what you’re trying to do.

Why are you trying to push him away in the first place? The thought of you not wanting him near is upsetting enough to make him unknowingly tighten his grip around you, causing you to stumble into him from the momentum. 

You look up at him, shocked whilst he gazes down at you with a storm of terror gathering in his eyes. For the first time since the two of you got married all those years ago, a rift forms.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Whatever occurred that night isn’t a topic of conversation, ever. The two of you retreated to bed after a quick conversation of how your evenings were before devolving into other topics, like what the week ahead had in store, restaurants you two should visit sometime, new boutiques and bakeries you’ve been hoping to explore- little chats that hold more meaning as the days roll by.

During it all, there was an undeniable heaviness to the conversation that made it slightly uncomfortable. Wriothesley cannot remove the memory of how you tried to push him away and you cannot forget the shocked look in his eyes. The more you picture it, the guiltier you feel, heart sinking in your chest.

You thought that it was what Wriothesley wanted: more space from you, an opportunity to breathe without you overwhelming his space.

So why do you feel so bad about respecting his wishes?

“What a lovely view!” You exclaim excitedly, running toward a patch on the grass that sits a few metres away from a nearby beach, the sound of waves meeting shore a soothing lullaby and a testament to how calm the day is. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you’re out on a picnic with the love of your life.

“Here’s a nice spot to set up, what do you think, Wriothesley?” You ask.

“Sounds amazing, darling,” he responds, setting down the picnic basket when you’ve laid out the blanket. You sit down with an unglamorous huff, leaning back onto your hands to let the morning sun soak into your features.

Morning picnics were one of yours and Wriothesley’s favourite date ideas. The best time to be together was before the sun would rise to its highest peak, bearing hot sunrays that make everything uncomfortable for everyone. Fontaine’s sun is never merciful either, which is why the nation is perfect for diving and all other water-related activities, but when you are simply walking around, it becomes rather suffocating.

The Fortress of Meropide’s administrator takes a seat beside you and you indulge by resting your head on his shoulder, hoping that he isn’t uncomfortable under your touch. The dark-haired hasn’t shaken you off yet, so you keep resting against him.

“How did you discover this place?” You ask.

“Siora told me of it, said that a passenger on the aquabus was talking to her about it. She thought that it sounded like a delightful place to take you to,” he answers and you can’t help but smile, fiddling with your fingers.

Melusines and their wholesome ways. You’ll find a way to thank Siora later. “How kind of her and how fortunate for us.”

“I take it you like it here then?”

“I love it,” you tuck your legs closer to your chest and Wriothesley leans back on his arms as well, letting your hands rest beside each other as the sea continues to crash on the shore before you. There are seals resting nearby too, ships pass by here and there, and seagulls stop near the two of you before flying away, but the only thing that matters to Wriothesley is you leaning on his shoulder.

Sharing with him the breakfast sandwiches you packed, no words are exchanged, merely the sound of waves crashing against the shore occupy the tranquil silence. It’s not until a few minutes later that Wriothesley speaks. 

“Will you be visiting me at the office today?” He asks.

You tear your gaze away from the horizon. “Perhaps. Do you want me to?”

“Would I really be asking if I didn’t?”

“Please, forego the sass, your grace,” you snort and he rolls his eyes, an affectionate smile pulling on his lips. 

“Seriously though, I would like you to. You know how dreary and boring weekends at the prison get, would be much better having you there.”

“Are you trying to butter me up?”

“Is it working?” 

“Maybe,” you mutter, grinning. “Would you like me to bring lunch with me or shall we go find a place to eat?”

“How about takeout? Hey wait, now that I think about it, why didn’t you stay the other day when you brought lunch for me? I would have much rather seen your pretty face than the receptionist’s.”

You ignore the butterflies blooming in your stomach because of his compliment. “An emergency happened just as I reached there. I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it, so I left.”

Confusion shines in his eyes, his expression giving away the cogwork ticking in his brain as he tries to pinpoint what emergency you could be referring to. When the pieces click, his eyes widen a little. “I see. You did the right thing, my love,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’ll visit you today,” you whisper, toying with the hem of your clothes as you wait for his response. 

“Amazing. I’m looking forward to it, then”

You stay true to your word, walking down the path you recognise like the back of your hand. The guards need not think twice about welcoming you in, guiding you straight in the direction of Wriothesley’s office. 

Since being with him, you’ve grown less and less afraid of how daunting the Fortress can feel, adapting to the chill knowing that there is someone in there who will set himself ablaze to keep you warm. Yet, today you walk in with apprehension clasped around your ankles, threatening to pull you under with each step. 

It’s ridiculous, you know Wriothesley would never turn you away or shun you, but the mind is the worst enemy and yours can’t stop replaying the conversation you overheard weeks ago. You know Wriothesley could open those heavy doors of his and greet you with something more grim than loving and cast you aside, and you have to hold your breath when the guards knock on your behalf.

Your heart skips a beat when they push open the doors, revealing your husband crouched over his desk, hands mussed in his hair to keep them out of his eyes. He looks up at you and the way a smile manifests on his features is akin to that of fire melting ice, fatigue dissipating as you step inside his office.  

“Hello, dear,” you greet, tone soft and controlled, unlike the thrashing of your gut.

“Hi,” he stands up and takes great strides towards you. Naturally, you open your arms for him; unnaturally, you merely hug him instead of greeting him with a kiss. Wriothesley keeps you locked in his arms as he digs his nose into your neck and you feel the way his eyes flutter close against your skin.

“Long day?”

“Draining too,” he murmurs. 

“Oh dear, we cannot have your grace tired, whatever shall we do!” You gasp overdramatically, clearly poking fun at him because you are perhaps one of the only people who could do so in this entire building. 

The dark-haired accepts it and doesn’t bother to correct your use of formalities. Instead, he retracts his head out of your neck to look at you with hopeful eyes instead. “You could give me a kiss.” 

“Did you do anything today to earn it?”

“I need to earn my kisses now?”

“You should shut up sometimes,” you murmur before placing your hands along his jaw, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He smiles against you, biting back a quip when his hand comes to the base of your neck, holding you against him. You can tell he needed the proximity, judging by his little exhale and the way his shoulders slouch, so you let him take his time and ignore the nagging in your heart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Wriothesley is losing his mind. He has been since you left the Fortress of Meropide, and was left to freeze in the ache of your lack of affection. A goodbye kiss is customary between you two and when you didn’t give him one before leaving, it felt like a slap to the face. He would have much rather you just slapped him, actually, so what gives? 

You’re not rejecting his advances, but you’re not explicitly initiating anything either. Does that mean he should back off, too? Did he do something to upset you, and if so, when? All this thinking and speculating is making him feel like a pathetic headless chicken who can’t even talk to his spouse-

“-Wait!” You exclaim, just as he was about to grab the knob to the front entrance and step out. Instead, Wriothesley turns around to be greeted by the sigh of you frantically scrambling to him, and his heart can’t help but come alive, silencing his thoughts.

Stopping to a slide before him, he can’t hold back a soft grin. Despite just wrangling out of the claws of sleep, you’re so breathtaking, delicate in the mornings when no one else is around but him. The dark-haired is grateful that only he is able to witness you like this, that you trust him with this vulnerable side of you.

You don’t meet his gaze, eyes pinned to his chest instead. “Your tie is crooked,” you murmur hands reaching out before he even gets a chance to look down. “Let me help you.”

How can he deny such a kind request of yours? You’re gentle with him, undoing his knot and weaving it together until it looks proper, but Wriothesley couldn’t care what his tie looks like. You could be making a total fool of him and he wouldn’t care, too entranced by your glow to tear his eyes away from you. There’s a little scrunch in your forehead as you concentrate, mouth slightly parted and you’re not oblivious to his gaze either, too familiar with the intensity of it to get shy. 

Finally satisfied with your work, you let go, patting his shoulders and smoothing out any wrinkles in his garment. “There. All done.” 

“Thank you, dear,” he murmurs. 

Wriothesley is expecting a kiss from you, waits for the moment that you’ll rise onto your toes and place a peck on his lips to fill him with some energy for the day. He waits for the familiar feeling of your lips pressing against his, and waits for the rush of adrenaline that your touch always manages to ignite.

Except it never comes, and it hurts most to confess that some part of him preempted this. You step away from him without another word, or kiss, and his heart burns at your retraction, unease fluttering the lining of his stomach when you turn around to retreat into the living room. Wriothesley moves without thinking, a hand coming up to your waist to stop your steps as he forcefully pulls you back to him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, one far more intense than the ones you usually give this early in the morning. 

You notice the desperation that bleeds from him; a certain fervour uncharacteristic in situations of morning domesticity. 

There’s a bright glimmer of surprise in your eyes when he pulls away, as if he had kissed away all your fatigue and shocked wakefulness into you. 

“Have a good day at work,” you murmur, barely able to choke the words out. 

“I will,” he replies, opening the door. You stay and watch him go, still trying to recover your breath over his passionate display of affection. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day his racing thoughts get to him is the eighth day of this strange treatment of yours. At this point, he’s become insatiable, barely able to hold it together as you remain in the centre of his world. He wants your affection again, he wants your displays of love, he wants you near him so badly that it’s driving him up the walls of the Fortress. 

It’s irrational for him, a grown man, to skirt around his problems as if he was a teenager. For some reason, Wriothesley has no issue locking up and containing some of Fontaine’s most dangerous criminals, yet when it comes to you, he becomes a lovesick fool who craves everything his partner can give. 

You still are not initiating any displays of affection, keeping to yourself unless it is him acting first. 

But after being locked in his own study for hours, unable to distract himself from you when he was really meant to be reading some new court documents from Neuvillette, he snaps. Pushing his chair out with more force than necessary, he searches for you in the living room, where you are curled up in the corner, reading.

“Is everything alright?” Wriothesley’s interruption shocks you, and you jolt your head up to meet his gaze. 

You are met with the sight of him leaned against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Why wouldn’t they be?” You ask, not letting your gaze linger for too long on his arms before sitting up just a little straighter.

“Dunno. Just double checking.”

“Okay,” you hum softly, nodding. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” How could you switch this up on him so quickly?

“Yeah.”

“Fine, amazing, just dandy.” 

You raise an eyebrow at your husband, not truly believing him but you decide it’s best not to press on. “Alright… but if anything is wrong, don’t be afraid to tell me.” You go back to your book and your hair falls perfectly in front of your face to hide it from him.

Wriothesley shifts his weight from one leg to the other, trying to find the words to speak up and ask why you were acting so weird. It’d been two hours and twenty-four minutes (and counting) since you last saw him when he disappeared into his study, were you not concerned for him in the slightest? Sure you dropped off a plate of fruit and refilled his teapot with hot water, but normally your check-ins would be a little more frequent, and a little more encouraging than just a morale boost through food. 

Where was the cheek kiss you always gave him before you left?

Deciding not to press on any further, your husband sighs before leaving, his arms and heart feeling emptier than usual. You are only in the next room, but why do you feel like you’re on the other side of Teyvat?

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day Wriothesley snaps is the day Sigewinne asks him to be nicer to the guards of the Fortress because his foul mood is darkening the already glum prison. His subordinates must have sent her knowing that he couldn’t possibly lash out at her, and they were right, but she really didn’t need to comment on the way his veins have been more prominent recently, or how creases are forming on his forehead from how hard he’s been scowling. To top it off, she said that he should delay the appearance of wrinkles for as long as necessary, because there’s a good chance they’ll come earlier than he wants.

He’s not even a day over thirty, and yet, he is being reprimanded for ‘ageing’. But he knows the problem, and he’ll be damned if he lets it drag out for another day. 

“Welcome home, baby-” your greeting is cut off unceremoniously by your husband, who practically drags you into his embrace, closing you in with no space for you to breathe or move. Your cries of alarm are muffled against his chest, and he easily picks you up before striding the path to your shared bedroom. There, he all but throws you onto the bed, your neck resting on the pillows as he climbs on after you. “Wriothesley?”

He shushes you.

“What-”

“-I need this,” he wraps around you like a vine and breathes you in with the fervour of a man starved. 

When you try to shuffle away from under him, or at the very least sit up, Wriothesley groans, borderlining a growl as he tightens his arms around your middle. You don’t question or disobey his wants, merely sinking your head into the pillows in understanding that he must have had a particularly rough day. 

So instead of repelling his touch, you give in and let a hand snake up to his hair, playing with it as you let Wriothesley lay atop you. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders melts away, and the way you’re scratching his scalp is enticing him to rest, except there is a barrier keeping him from reaching a haven of dreams and he won’t rest peacefully until he’s broken through it.

“Why have you been so distant lately?” He garbles, voice a lot shakier from the usual stoic Wriothesley that you are used to.

You heard him loud and clear, but a pathetic ‘pardon?’ slips past your lips.

“I said, why have you been so distant lately?” This time, he’s firm, determination seeping into his tone as a hand of his sneaks out from underneath you to search for your hand. After patting around, he finds it and holds it gently, raising it to press a long kiss to your knuckles. 

It’s silent. You don’t have anything to say in response and it’s past the grace period where you can give an excuse and make it sound like the truth, and Wriothesley looks up at you with expectant eyes. There’s hurt in them but as much as you’d like to mend the heartbroken expression of his, admitting the truth is difficult, because it has eaten you alive, gnawing at your heart for days on end. 

“I…I don’t have it in me to tell you,” you murmur quietly, looking away and slipping your hand out of his, but Wriothesley is tired of this dance of yours and chases after your touch, this time roughly grasping your wrists. Not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you rooted. 

“I didn’t do anything, did I?” He asks, raising your hand to his cheek. 

Your voice is quiet when you confess. “If I said you didn’t, I’d be lying.” 

The dark-haired stiffens. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you cough.

“No, Y/n, be honest with me here.”

“You’re going to laugh at me, or find me ridiculous.” Wriothesley’s heart clenches at your admittance, frowning at the fractures of insecurity piercing you like glass, but most of all, he hates that he can’t stop you from feeling this way. “I thought what I did was what you wanted.”  

“Which was?” 

“Some distance, just- not me crowding your personal space all the time.”

“Why would I ever want that?”

“I can get overbearing sometimes, and I don’t know, just assumed that would annoy you.”

“You’re not telling me everything, I can tell something happened to make you feel this way. Please, darling, just tell me the truth. I promise you I won’t judge or think differently of you.” 

You sigh. “I… I overheard you and Monsieur Neuvillette the other day- when I dropped off lunch. You said that my affection was sometimes too much, and that I was making you uncomfortable, so I thought that you wouldn’t want me to be around you anymore. I didn’t want to drive you away so I, y’know…”

Confusion fills him stomach like water and it takes a few moments before it hits him, the memory coming back to him. You heard his conversation out of context- he wasn’t complaining about you, no, quite the opposite, but it just seems that you weren’t there for the parts that mattered most, and now you can’t even bear to look him in the eye. 

“Honey, please look at me,” his voice thins into a vulnerable whisper that pleads for you to glance his way so you can see how he is head over heels in love with you. 

When your gaze finally meets his, he almost cracks under the weight of your sadness, and it dawns upon him that you can’t feel the adoration he holds for you, dripping from his heart into your hands. You can’t see the mountains he’d overcome just to end the day resting in your arms. You don’t know the extent he would go just to win your love.

It’s a fact that kicks at his knees, shuns him down and bruises his heart. If the Fortress of Meropide has taught him anything, it’s that there is no point holding your feelings back from living fully. There is no point to contain the human heart that has every desire to live with others, he has seen the sorrow of prisoners saying goodbye to loved ones, and how they dwell over words they should have said. Even his own time as a prisoner taught him so, because everytime he sat behind those bars, the faces of people he should have been more open to kept him awake at night. 

Wriothesley would rather drown in primordial water than see you, the most important person in his life, hurting over his own negligence. You have been feeling half-loved because of him and he doesn’t know how he can make it up to you.

“You misunderstand. I wasn’t talking about you negatively, I was talking to Neuvillette about how loved you made me feel that way, and how grateful I am to have someone like you as my partner,” he confesses earnestly, eyes pleading for you to believe him.

You blink at him, comprehending his words carefully. “Really?” You ask.

“I would never think otherwise,” he whispers.

As if a weight was lifted from your shoulders, a smile pulls at your lips and suddenly, a laugh spills from them, causing your expression to scrunch up with joy, looking the most lively Wriothesley has seen you in a while. He laughs with you too, just a little. 

“I’m sorry,” you confess through dying fits of laughter. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that, how stupid.”

He shakes his head, “you have nothing to apologise for, you’re not at fault. But I beg you, never hide things like this from me again and tell me whenever something bothers you.”

You nod, “I will.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“Never ever think that I want to be away from you,” Wriothesley grumbles, hiding himself in the crook of your neck. “That was the worst week of my life.” 

“Sorry for putting you through all that.”

“Stop apologising.” He demands. “Just, no more secrets.” 

“I love you, Wriothesley.” 

He sighs shakily, relief tangible in his tone. “I love you more.”

A damp patch forms on your collar bone right where his tears would fall, and you place a kiss on his forehead for each drop you feel on your skin. There is still much to discuss, much to mend between the two of you, but his hands run along your skin like he’s trying to memorise and mark you, so you never doubt his devotion again. 

*sighs and puts hands on hips* i don't really like that ending either so don't judge lol

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

#genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x reader fluff #wriothesley x gn!reader #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff

[buckys-lover]

Dile (Cuéntale)

miguel o’hara x spiderwoman!reader

song inspo: dile by don omar + playlist

main masterlist // nsfw masterlist

word count: 4.5k

summary: Miguel gets jealous of your relationship with Peter. He’s on a mission to prove he’s better.

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, porn without much plot (I need him carnally), jealous/possessive miguel, biting kink (pretend his bites aren’t paralyzing y’all), miguel being a munch!, unprotected sex (pls be safe irl), overstimulation? (he makes you cum a lot), creampie/breeding kink, dirty talk, operating under the assumption they’re both nude under their suits, Spanish (I’ll put translations in a reblog), mutual pining/a confession!?, way too many italics bc I need to emphasize everything.

A/N: this was just supposed to be a short concept piece…and it ended up taking me three weeks to write bc I just kept adding more. anyways, felt weird to write miguel speaking spanish if the reader doesn’t understand so this is technically latina!reader // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

Translation Reblog

You’re coming back from a successful mission with Peter (Spiderman 9411). You were able to stop and capture an anomaly, a variation of Doc Ock, and send them back to their original universe. Upon your return, you make your way to HQ to brief Miguel on what happened. Everything was going fine. You and Peter were laughing and joking around together while giving report, just having a good time.

Meanwhile, Miguel was watching you both intently, narrowing in on the way that Peter casually touches you, the way he looks at you, the smile that reaches his eyes when he’s around you. Miguel was always suspicious that there was something going on between you two. A week ago, his suspicion was confirmed when Lyla mentioned that you two slept together (even though you made her promise not to tell anyone). And he couldn’t stand it.

He keeps his tone clipped and cold. Simply saying you did a good job before dismissing you. You and Peter turn to leave, but Miguel speaks up, telling you to stay behind. You don’t think much of it; after all, you were one of the few people Miguel was close to. Maybe he just wanted to discuss something unrelated. You tell Peter to head out and you’ll catch up with him later. The doors shut behind him, and you can hear them lock. The room is silent except for the occasional beeps and replays of other missions on the screens. Miguel doesn’t say a word as he steps off the platform and walks toward you. Tension lingers in the air as you face each other.

He's the first to break the silence, “What’s going on with you and Peter?”

You’re a bit taken aback, confused about where this was coming from, “What are you talking about? We’re just friends.”

He shakes his head in frustration, “No me mientas cariño; I’m not blind!”

“Miguel, no sé de que estás hablando.” But you do know. And it’s becoming evident that Lyla snitched on you.

“Don’t play dumb.” His voice hardens, and he comes closer, “Answer me.”

You’re starting to get fed up with his attitude. What you and Peter do is none of his business, and you place a hand on his chest to try and push him away, but he’s firm in place.

He grabs your wrist and leans down, a harsh whisper in your ear, “Tell me, what does he have that I don’t?”

It hits you then, and you pull back, narrowing your eyes at him, “Estás celoso?” You scoff in disbelief when you finally take notice of his jealousy. You honestly want to laugh, but the look on Miguel’s face lets you know that’d be a bad idea.

“You didn’t answer me.” He huffs.

You decided then to stoke the flames, “Let’s find out.” Maybe he’d finally cut through the tension and get to what you know you’ve both been craving.

Your heart races as the tension between you reaches its peak. With a daring glance, you take a step closer to Miguel, bodies almost touching. Your eyes lock, and the air crackles with anticipation.

You take in the way his pupils dilate at your words as he leans in, your lips mere millimeters apart, teasingly close. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.” He murmured, voice heavy with need.

His admission sends shivers down your spine. Your breath hitches and your heart hammers against your chest. You've wanted this for a long time, and nothing's stopping you now. You wrap your arms around his neck and close the remaining distance between your lips. Mouths colliding in a passionate and urgent kiss, all your pent-up desires finally unleashed.

Your bodies mold together as your tongues intertwine, exploring and tasting each other with a fervor born of longing. Miguel's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you even closer while your fingers weave through his hair, tugging gently.

Breaking the kiss, your heavy breaths mingle in the air, eyes locked with an intensity that speaks volumes.

"Don't hold back, Miguel. Enseñame. Show me you're better." Your thighs clench when you hear his growl in response.

Your lips soon meet again in a hungry, passionate kiss, igniting a fire that has been smoldering for far too long. As your bodies press against each other, your hands begin to explore, tracing the contours of each other's forms. Miguel's touch is possessive, his fingertips leaving a trail of tingling sensations on your skin.

You’re backed up against the console as Miguel's lips descend upon your neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses along your skin. He revels in the soft gasps that escape your lips.

He lifts you and lays you down; you can feel the coldness of the metal through your suit. His lips are still on your neck, and you can feel the sharp point of his fangs against your delicate skin. Without warning, he bit you, drawing blood. You gasped at the sensation, feeling his tongue soothe over the bite marks that were already beginning to heal.

“Your biting kink is showing.” You tease, still enjoying the residual sting of it.

“I don’t have a-- shut up.” He growled the words into your neck before biting you again. It was obvious that it was something he enjoyed. A way to mark you up and make it clear who you belong to now.

“Te ves tan hermosa así.” He whispers as he pulls away, eyes glued on your neck, giving a hum of satisfaction over the way you look after he’s staked his claim on you.

You watch him as he brings his hand to your collarbone, tracing the marks gently with his claws before he hooks it under the neck of your suit. You hear it first. The sound of the threads tearing before the feel of cool air.

He ripped your suit. He ripped your fucking spider suit. “Miguel!” The shock evident in your voice as he’s practically torn the suit off your body. He meets your gaze, showing no signs of remorse for what he just did. “No te preocupes preciosa. I’ll make you a new one, a better one.”

You huff at his words; you really liked that suit. But your protest quickly dies down the moment you feel his lips on your bare chest. He’s taking his time with you, marking you up as much as he possibly can. Lips latching onto your nipple, tongue swirling around and sucking while his hand gives attention to your other breast. Your back is arching, trying to get as close to his mouth as possible, reveling in the feeling of him sucking and nibbling your sensitive skin.

“Love these fucking tits.” He whispers against your skin as he holds them in his hand, loving the softness of them and how you react. You need him desperately as his kisses and bites travel further down your body. You’re squirming under his touch, and once his lips meet the apex of your thighs, you buck your hips up into him. Your fingers make their way into his hair, tugging him so he places that sinful mouth where you need him most.

“Por favor Miguel,” You can barely think straight with the way he’s looking at you. “Necesito…” Your words trail off. He looks at you, a teasing glimmer in his eyes, “Qué necesitas?”

You groan in frustration, tugging his hair again to show him what you mean. He just shakes his head at you, not willing to budge until he hears you beg for him. He’s waiting. Patiently. You know Miguel, and he’d wait forever just to prove a point.

You finally give in, “Miguel, please, need you so bad.” He tilts his head, still waiting expectantly; he needs to hear more. He needs to hear how desperate you are for him.

“Ay por Dios! Miguel, I can’t wait any longer. Please- need you…need your mouth. Anything!” You’re whining at this point, and can’t believe how pathetic you sound. But it was enough. That’s what he needed to hear before finally giving you what you craved.

He has your thighs tight in his grip, spread apart in front of him. You meet his hungry stare as his lips latch onto your pussy, sucking at your clit. Your hips buck up, grinding onto his face as a needy moan escapes your lips. He groans, enjoying the pressure, tongue lapping up your juices.

“Tastes so good, so fucking sweet~ could eat you for days…and so wet; todo para mi, amor?” He’s on a high, whining the words into you. Craving you and the way you feel with his mouth on you, trying to keep you close as possible.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you try your best not to crush his face. He takes notice and shakes his head. His grip tightens and presses you closer to him as if he wanted to confine himself in the slice of heaven you carry between your legs. And, God, it feels good. He’s watching you, observing the way you toss your head back in pleasure, how your free hand tries grasping at anything to ground you, the way your body shivers at his touch; he’s learning your every movement, committing your body to memory.

"Need you, such a good fucking pussy- so good…eres mía, solo mía.” The sounds he makes are obscene and he’s rambling, showering you in praise while drunk on the taste of you.

You’re squirming against him, not much movement granted as large hands are holding you down, eating you like a man starved. As if he’s on death row and you’re his last meal, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Miguel~” Your voice strained, barely able to speak and tell him that you’re close, so embarrassingly close.

“C’mon, be a good girl ‘n cum for me.” He encourages, tongue flicking at your clit to bring you closer to the edge. You gasped as you felt Miguel running a finger up and down your slit, teasing you before working their way inside your weeping cunt, curling up and hitting that spot inside that has you seeing stars. Your grip is still tight in his hair, thighs quivering as your orgasm washed over you, the sensation rippling throughout your whole body.

You’re vaguely aware of Miguel pulling away as you’re coming down from your high, blissed out and hazy. It felt like you ascended to the heavens. In your daze, you look at him, noting the arrogant smirk on his face and his fingers glistening in the dim light, covered with your juices. He holds your gaze as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean, moaning contently at the taste of you.

“I’m guessing Peter could never make you feel this way, huh?” He’s right, and he knows it. But you couldn’t help but want to push his buttons.

You hum in response, “Mm, he was pretty good with his tongue too.” Teasing, waiting for him to react. And you see it; the way his body language changes in an instant at your insinuation.

He sneers at you, baring his fangs and gripping your chin to look him in his eyes, glowing red with anger, “You better watch your fucking mouth, sweetheart.”

“Or what? Qué vas a hacer Miguelito?”

Miguel narrows his eyes at the provocation, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. “Ten cuidado, preciosa,” He hisses through gritted teeth as he leans in. His grip tightens, keeping his gaze set on you. “Sigue hablando y verás.” And just like that, his attitude changes on a dime, the anger in his eyes replaced by a hungry glint, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he leans closer to you. You barely take the time to notice that his suit is disappearing as if it were a hologram or nanotech, leaving him naked. You feel his length press up against you, and your eyes widen in shock. He’s big. Already hard and aching for you and you feel his precum drip against the inside of your thigh. You can’t help but wriggle your hips, desperate to feel him closer. “Look what you do to me.” He whispers the words in your ear as he grinds against you. Your eyes take their time looking down. Taking in everything that’s him. His broad shoulders, rippling muscles, chiseled abs; it’s insane how strong he is. You shiver at the thought of what he’s capable of. Your gaze dips further, following his happy trail down just as he’s started teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, “Been waiting for this,” He groans, eyes shining with excitement, “No tienes idea querida.” "Bet it won’t compare, huh?” He asks, still painstakingly teasing you, “Bet it’ll feel so much better than all the times I’ve fucked my fist thinking of you and this pretty little pussy.” You gasp at his words, clenching around nothing, waiting in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. He laughs at your desperation. “Sabías eso, amor? Fantasized about you all the time, about you being mine. Solo mía.” He punctuates that final proclamation by finally entering you. He was taking his time, the stretch of him inching in was a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. It was too much; you could begin to see him bulge through your stomach, and you shake your head, not believing that he could possibly get in deeper. “Shh, just take it.” He sighed his words, enjoying the way you feel wrapped around him. “No puedo Miguel-” You gasp as you finally feel him fully press up against you. You’re so full you can barely breathe. Instinctually you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to keep him still while you adjust to his size. He pressed his hand against your navel, pushing down slightly, feeling himself. His eyes roll back at the sensation as a groan escapes his lips, wanting desperately to live in this moment forever. "Mírate." He urges, kissing your cheek. “Mira que bien nos vemos juntos, amor.” You listen to him, looking down at where you’re joined, and you squeeze at the sight of it. You rock your hips against him, letting him know it's okay to move, and he pulls out a little before pressing back in, making you moan while he sighs contently. “Look at how well you’re taking me, like you were made for me. Only for me."

The tenderness of his words was contrasted by the roughness of his movements as he began snapping his hips against yours. “So tight,” his words coming out through a strained growl while pounding into you.  “Dios! You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

“Feels so good, Miggy-” Tossing your head back as you moan out, pleasure engulfing you, your legs tightening around him, pressing your heel into his back as you tried to get him deeper. His next thrust was a little more brutal, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs.

“Así mi vida, así.” He growled, baring his fangs in a pleasureful grin. "Look at me." You look up at him immediately, moaning his name loosely at the feeling of him so deep inside you. So deep and big and full.

You can barely hold his gaze, trying desperately to resist the urge to roll your eyes back every time you feel him thrust back into you. You reach forward, nails digging into his bicep, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

“C’mon, you can take, can’t you?” He mocks you, his tone condescending, enjoying the way that he has you craving him. “Esto es lo que querías, verdad? But now look at you, can barely handle it-” His words cut off by a groan escaping his lips at the feeling of you clenching tighter around him.

He’s right, you don’t know how much more of this you can take as your legs begin to shake and you feel yourself quickly approaching orgasm again. Desperate hands gripping onto the flesh of your hip as he ruts into you. You let out a wanton moan as he slams home again, pulsating around him. “Cuéntale,” His grip on you tightens, sure to leave bruises by the time he’s done with you, “Cuéntale que soy mejor que él.” He whispers in your ear.

You’re nodding your head, babbling incoherently, not even aware of anything you’re really saying. He grins, knowing you’re close, and his ego soars at being able to get you there so soon. He groans as he feels you tighten around him; your eyes shut tight, and your body quivers from the intensity as your climax overwhelms you.

He slows down, trying to give you a moment to come down from your high in an effort to avoid overstimulating your senses. Soon, your body begins to relax as you’re grounded once again in reality. Your eyes are glossy with welled-up tears, and you offer Miguel a blissful smile.

“C’mon Miggy, thought you wanted to show me you’re better, I expected more from you-” You’re breathless as you speak, and it’s obvious to him that you’re just trying to egg him on, but he falls for it anyways. In an instant, he stopped his movements. His red eyes have never looked so menacing before and your breath caught in your throat. Without speaking, he pulled out, and you whined at the loss of contact.

He ignores your objection, opting to manhandle you, forcing you to turn around. He presses you down against the console, ass exposed to him. You put up a struggle in vain as he grabs your arms and pulls them back. You soon feel something wrap around your wrists, binding them. He webbed you. Effectively keeping you bound with something you couldn’t possibly hope to escape from. You felt him yank back on the binding, your hands resting above the small of your back. You hissed at the aching pain, but it was soon replaced by a moan of desperation when you felt the plush tip of his cock line up with your entrance. You expected him to tease you again, to make you beg for it, but Miguel was feeling merciless now. He drove into you without warning, making you take it as deep as he could possibly go. And at this new angle, you swear he was hitting your cervix. Your mouth opened in quiet ecstasy as he had his way with you. He kept your wrists behind your back in a tight hold, his other hand gripped firmly on your hip; you were sure that by the end of the day you’d have bruises on your hips in the shape of his fingertips. His hips were snapping relentlessly into yours, pistoning in and out of you so hard it was difficult to have a single coherent thought other than wanting more. Miguel’s growls and grunts were animalistic as they tore through his chest, his grip getting immensely tighter and his hips moving impossibly faster in this new position.

"That's better- fucking ruined and creaming on my cock. Who else can fuck you like this? No one, huh? Not Peter, not Ben, no one; only me.”

You’ve given in now, effectively broken, and all the brattiness you had left in you is gone, "Nadie! Nobody- just you, only you can fuck me like this." You choke out, legs trembling, pleasure coursing through you.

"That's right. You’re mine; mine to touch, to taste, to fuck- all mine." He harshly slaps your ass to emphasize his words. You squeal at the contact of his palm on the soft flesh, enjoying the sting it offers.

“Solo tuyo amor.” The words escape your lips in a breathless sigh, your mind hazy, dizzy with desire.  

He’s all you can think of; your senses overwhelmed by everything that’s him. The way he’s holding on to you, the way he feels aggressively pumping inside you, the grunts and groans he makes that are music to your ears. You’re delirious, unable to remember what your life was like before being here with him. Miguel reaches forward, lightly slapping your cheek. “Open up, sweetheart.” You oblige without a second thought, letting his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.” Who knew a single word could have you clenching so tight around him? A whimper leaves your lips as you obey his command, getting his fingers slick and wet with your spit. Too soon, he removes them from your mouth, and his fingers make their way down to your aching clit, rubbing tight circles to get you even closer to the edge.

“Uno más querida, solo uno más.” He urges as he speeds up his movements. You’re grinding onto his hand, eagerly chasing your release, having lost count of how many times he has had you come undone.

This one hits you like a freight train, full speed ahead. You swear you black out for a moment, your body buzzing and pulsing with a delightful and all-engulfing pleasure. You’re strung out, not offered a break as Miguel keeps pushing into you.

“Quiero verte Miguel, porfa~” You sob your words out from the overwhelming power of your orgasm, trying to turn your head to see the man who has wrecked you so thoroughly.

Slowing down, he listens to your plea and grants your wish, “Nunca te voy a negar.” Before you know it, he’s torn the webbing off your wrists with his claws and turns you around, having you once more on your back, legs spread open, welcoming him in again.

He slips back into your weeping cunt with ease, resuming his brutal pace as he tries to reach his climax. He grips onto the soft flesh of your thigh, claws slightly digging in as you wrap your legs around him, securing his spot inside you.

"Dime que soy tuyo." He pants needily, using his body to drive you forward.

"Eres mío, Miguel-" You gasp, raking your nails down his back to prove it, marking him as yours. "Mine, mine; solo mío amor"

His cock jumps inside you, both of you closer to your release. "That's right. I’m all yours,” His eyes flickered down to the place where your bodies met. Watching your pussy take him in over and over again. “Let me give you all of me- wanna fill you up.”

You unashamedly whimpered at his words, “Please, please Miguel-” Your words are starting to slur as you begin to beg him.

"Please, what? You losin' your words, now? So drunk on my cock you can't think straight?" He slaps your pussy lightly, clit puffy and sensitive. But you can't say anything, not when he's getting rougher, faster— pounding into you with a new force and determination. Rubbing tight circles on your bundles of nerves that have been exploited for the sake of your pleasure. You can feel that familiar feeling building, that knot getting tighter at the base of your stomach.

You’re almost in disbelief that you got there so quick, but with Miguel, it was like he knew your body inside and out, understanding exactly what you needed and giving you so much more.

He’ll never get over it. The way you tighten and pulse around him, the way your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip, making it harder for him to hold off his own release. The way your eyes roll back and the heavenly sounds that leave your mouth. He wants to make you feel this good for the rest of your lives. "Ay Dios— You're so pretty when you cum all over my cock." And he's still going, still pumping into your sensitive cunt with the same force. Your senses are so overwhelmed; it's like you can feel every single one of your nerve endings on fire.    "Fuck, gonna fill you up- that's what you want, right? Wanna feel full of my cum? Want me to breed you?" You're nodding desperately as you start to babble nonsense that you want him, need him, everything he wants to give you, you'll take. He leans down, burying his face in your neck as his groans reverberate against your skin. You feel him twitch inside you as he pushes in deeper, emptying himself inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth, trying his best to not let a single drop go to waste.

He pulls back, arms braced on both sides of your head, caging you in. He meets your gaze, the red of his eyes barely visible anymore, hooded and glazed over from the feeling of you still squeezing him tight, keeping him locked in. When the haze subsides, his shoulders relax a bit, drawing closer to you. Miguel’s barely audible when he finally speaks again, but you hear his words anyways.

“Aunque tu vuelvas con él, dame otra noche.” There’s a hint of pain in his eyes, unsure of whether any of this actually meant anything to you.

Your heart aches at the allusion that you’d want anyone other than him, and you bring your hand up to his face, gently cupping his cheek, “Miguel, tú sabes que no voy a volver con él, soy tuya, recuerdas? Only yours.”

Relief washes over him as one of his rare smiles graces his face at your words, “Te quiero como a ninguna.” He murmurs as he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls away, the start of another sentence on the tip of his tongue, but he’s soon interrupted.

With a flicker of yellow light, Lyla appears beside Miguel. “Took you two long enough! Was wondering when you’d finally admit your so very obvious feelings for each other.” She rolled her eyes behind her pink, heart-shaped sunglasses. “You’re welcome, by the way, this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t snitch about you smooshing booties with Peter.” She adds, beside you now, close to your ear as if trying to whisper. “Lyla!” You swat your hand at her, embarrassed by the thought that she was aware of everything that just happened and mentioning the reason why this all transpired in the first place.

“Alright, alright,” She throws her hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone, but you owe me for this!” With those final words, she disappears.

Your gaze meets Miguel’s, who just shakes his head in disbelief, rolling his eyes at the fact that Lyla chose such a tender moment to intrude on. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out, giggling at the absurdity of it, and soon enough, he joins in on the joy you found in the moment.

~~~

Tagging some of my lovely mutuals and ppl who asked to be on my taglist/might be interested <3

@cozykali // @joaquinwhorres // @sunflowersteves // @fanboygarcia // @cowb00t // @mothdruid // @openforjean // @bobfloyds // @buckyytorres // @bvckysmoon // @inklore // @rhettabbotts // @wint3r-h3art // @zstrn // @golden-barnes // @ofstarsandvibranium // @sunmoonandeddie // @bubblebuckys // @ladyelissarose // @thinktankgoldfish // @harmonia-dread // @living-in-a-daydream97 // @eddiesslutwhore // @dilfsfordinner // @tarjapearce // @manyourlookingood​ // @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​ // @mraisedto3​ //

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman astv #marvel #marvel smut #fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfic #x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara smut #dile (cuentale) #sara:writes

[spicymancer]

So just wanted you to know, "yellow" is a common slur against Asian Americans and so Huang Feng, being a Bruce Lee (whos an Asian man) clone and all could raise some eyebrows to your intentions. And before i get accused of white knighting, i am Asian

Thanks for reaching out! This is honestly something that might be important to discuss and I appreciate your attempt at broaching the subject delicately. More after the jump.

So to start. I am also Asian. Specifically Chinese American.

As an American born Chinese, I have a weird relationship with my Asian heritage. I have a bad accent when I speak Chinese and most of my upbringing and cultural understanding is very American and western-centric. So I have certain biases at play here that I fully acknowledge. My experience is not universal. But these characters are drawn from that experience.

Huang Feng is a reference to Bruce Lee's performance as Kato in the Green Hornet. Dà Huángfēng being a Chinese term for a hornet.

The character is also narratively implied to be a secret moonlighting identity for the Yellow Ranger in my made-up sentai team. (Who, due to my own decision to always refer to the characters by their Ranger color, is literally just called Yellow by the other members of the cast.)

This is also a reference. Specifically to one of my greatest inspirations, Thuy Trang (Rest in Peace), who played the original Mighty Morphin Yellow Ranger. She was one of the first "Cool Asian Characters" that I encountered in media targeted at me as a child, problematic color choice aside. I sincerely adored her and her giant robot Saber-Toothed Tiger.

To be honest I have a complicated relationship with "Asian Themed" characters in media. So often saddled with cliché stereotypes: Martial Arts, dumplings, nunchucks, etc etc.

But the thing is, even as I roll my eyes whenever I see the Fighting Game character that is The Chinese One who wears a rice hat and a qipao. Or when one is literally just Bruce Lee. I do also immediately main that character. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure. Taking what representation I can get with mixed feelings. Similar to my enjoyment of sexy anime girl art even though it's all rooted in pretty uncomfortable sexist and objectifying aesthetics. A lot of my work comes from a place of exploring my own sexuality/identity. These characters are, partly, my own attempt to explore Asian themes and ideas for myself.

I would love to say that I'm trying to "reclaim" the term or something but I'm just some internet artist drawing cute anime girls and monster smut. For me, playing with these clichés is just another way of being self-indulgent.

Not really defending these creative choices so much as explaining my perspective on them. I totally understand if all this turns folks off! I fully respect those who don't vibe with my work and wish them all the best. It's a big internet and I'm sure they can find something super great to enjoy elsewhere!

Anyway, sorry for the long rambly post. Despite the fact that I'm posting this on Tumblr, I am not super mentally equipped to engage in Discourse, so forgive me if I don't respond to the tags on this.

So I'll just leave y'all with a neat article by Kat Chow discussing the history and usage of the color Yellow in regards to Asian Identity.

#oc questions #discourse cw #I love and appreciate all of you

[findmeinforks]

Understanding - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

A little break up, make up one shot while I work on part two of stay 💕 as always, let me know what you think! 2.4K Words ❤️

You had been understanding. You had been so, incredibly, unbelievably understanding. You had been kind, patient, considerate. You had thrown every insecurity away in your mind. You shoved your feelings right down your throat.

But that was over with now.

Now, you faced him. In the middle of the yard, your throat agonizingly raw from yelling. You were shocked he hadn't phased yet, but he knew the minute he did you would take off. The pack, watching from afar and unbeknownst to you, were also shocked at his restraint.

"I would NEVER do anything to hurt you. Why won't you believe that?"

You laughed wetly through the tears. You were down right manic over what he didn't comprehend.

"Really?? You don't understand why I would be upset by ANY of this? Are you that fucking blind?"

Paul huffed through his nose, attempting to control his temper.

"I have a job, Y/N. There's new bloodsuckers popping up every day now and we have to make sure we're ready for anything. That means stacking up our numbers against them. Guy or girl, they have to be trained."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes,

"And don't you find it at all peculiar that everyone else is out on their own but you're STILL having to train this same girl? DAY IN AND DAY OUT?!"

He sighed.

"She should be ready, I know. But every time we get on patrol, she gets fearful and fails at basic exercises. Sam has me spend extra time with her."

You threw up your hands as if the answer was obvious, "Then TELL Sam to have someone else take a turn?"

"She only likes training with me."

Your eyes went wide, and all you saw was red.

"AND THAT DOESNT GIVE YOU ANY FUCKING CLUE THAT MAYBE SHES FAILING ON PURPOSE FOR YOUR ATTENTION? THAT MAYBE SHE DOESNT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT IMPRINTS? THAT MAYBE PERHAPS SHE HAS DIFFERENT INTENTIONS?"

Paul shook his head, him now scoffing.

"It's actually really hard to learn to navigate being a wolf. That's something YOU don't seem to understand."

You think you had lost your mind. It seemed as though the world crumbled around you, his words ringing in your ears from the impact. That was not something the imprint you knew before this would have ever dared say to you. It wasn't that you believed Paul would ever be disloyal, but your instincts were damn sure this girl wanted him to be.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"You're right. I don't. You need to be with someone that understands. We're done."

Paul stepped back like he had taken a blow to the chest. His eyes softened now.

"You....you don't mean that."

You headed towards your car, not being able to face the broken look in his eyes.

"Y/N, wait," he reached out, and even though you were mad, a part of it killed you to deny him.

You shook your head, new tears rehydrating their original streaks.

You sniffled, and took a deep breath.

"I'm tired, Paul. I'm tired of waiting up for you. I'm tired of being left unanswered for hours. I'm tired of making plans that just get canceled. Im tired of being lonely. And most of all, I'm tired of being disappointed."

He grabbed your arm before you could fully get in, and you saw Sam emerge, still at a respectable distance from the two of you.

"Baby listen, okay, I'm sorry. I can do better I-"

"You've said that before Paul. This is not the first time we've fought about this."

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes now.

"Please. Don't." He whispered.

He almost made you cave. You so badly wanted to stay. But you also knew if you did, it would be the same reoccurring cycle. He had to know you were serious. You wanted the relationship you had before she came along. Until you were sure you would get that again, you had to leave.

"I have to go. Call me when your priorities change." You said as you gently pulled out of his grip and shut the door. And with that, you took off to your father's place.

-

Paul stood planted in the same spot you had left him, shattered. What had he done?

He felt a small hand on his shoulder, a feminine voice in his ear,

"Maybe it was for the better. She seems like a total bitch."

Paul's blood turned cold. It was as if in that very moment, he had come to his senses. The smoke had cleared in his crowded mind. You were right. Of course you were right. All the stress that had been on his plate, he hadn't been thinking clearly at all.

He came to realization now, and it was too late.

Paul yanked away his arm, turning with a fury in his eyes to the woman behind him. She shrunk back under his gaze, feigning an innocence he knew good and well was all fake.

He trembled with anger, barely registering that Sam was now in between him and the girl. Paul pointed a finger at her, teeth gritting with anger.

"Get. The FUCK. Away from me."

Paul ripped apart as he phased, having it bottled up for far too long, and dashing off like a mad man into the woods.

The woman gaped like a fish, starting to babble, turning to Sam for reassurance.

"I didn't do anything I-"

Sam huffed a breath through his nose, "You heard him. I think it would be best if you left. Embry's cousin or not, you are no longer welcome here. That's an order."

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair as she stormed off. He felt guilty for letting it get like this. He had some suspicions about her joining the pack, seeing as she was always gravitating towards Paul, but he had shrugged it off, too occupied with everything else going on.

Sam also knew too well what it was like to hurt an imprint. Physically or emotionally, the bond felt all the same. Strict alpha or not, he valued Paul as a brother, and just hoped you would come back for him.

-

As Paul laid his head onto his pillow, he watched the days go by before him. Being forced to come eat dinner by Emily and whenever he had patrol were just about the only times Paul left his bed. He would call you once a day, sometimes with a small hope you'd answer, and sometimes just to hear your voicemail. After his patrol shifts ended, he would often sneak off to your house, just to make sure he'd know you were safe, if even from a mile away.

-

"Do you think she'll ever come back?" Kim asked Jared quietly one day, after watching Paul barely eat his food and sulk back up to his room.

"I don't know honestly. Y/N is just as stubborn as he is. But I do miss him. I've never in my life seen Paul like this. His internal thoughts are depressing as hell..."

Kim sighed, "It's not like she's doing any better. She finally answered my call yesterday, and I had to double check who I was talking too. She's miserable, Jare."

He shrugged, "I mean what can we do about it babe? You can't get involved in people's business like that."

"They're not people. They're family." She mumbled as she clutched her coffee mug.

-

Another week had gone by, the pack all sitting in the kitchen getting ready to eat.

"Boys. We have information on the new vampires in town," Sam announced as he walked through the door with Jacob.

"They're after Bella. She had a run in with that red head we keep chasing to the border every night. Her boyfriend had tried to kill her so the Cullen's killed him, and now this bitch is assembling an army to take her out for revenge." Jacob relayed.

This grabbed Paul's attention. If they were after your sister, that meant you were in danger.

"We're going to help them fight. Our people are at risk if we let this get out of hand, or if the Cullen's lose. But until the army comes here, we're going to be sharing shifts with them to watch over the Swan house," Sam said, looking at Paul who was heading out the door.

"Paul."

"You can watch Bella from a distance. I'm taking my imprint home," he slammed the front door.

"I can't imagine that's gonna go good." Embry mumbled.

-

Your body jolted upright from the couch at the abrupt knocking on the front door. You hadn't been expecting anyone, Bella out doing who knows what with Edward, and Charlie hours away on a fishing trip.

Opening the door your breath caught in your throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"We have to go. Now." He said sternly, ignoring your bewildered look as he flew past you and up the stairs to your room.

"And just who the hell do you think you are?!" You stormed after him, appalled he was barging in your house like this.

"There's an entire army of vampires on the hunt for your sister. You're not safe here, I'm taking you to Emily's." he said as he grabbed a suitcase and started throwing random clothes in.

"You don't own me Paul Lahote. I'm not going anywhere with you." You crossed your arms as you looked at him incredulously.

He refused to look you in the eye as he spoke, his breathing heavy from your scent,

"It is still my job to protect you whether we're together or not. You don't have to talk to me at all if you don't want too, and you can sleep in the spare bedroom" He said as he continued to pack.

You laughed.

"Come to Emily's with her there? I think the fuck-"

"She's not there anymore."

"Ohhhh so because she's gone you care about me again."

He stopped, this time turning to look you in the eyes for the first time in two weeks.

"Don't you ever fucking say that. I could give a shit less about her. It's always been you. I'm....look, I'm sorry I didn't make you believe that before. You were right. And I was so unbelievably wrong. I understand why you don't want to be with me anymore. I'm not asking you to forgive me. Im asking, just for the time being, that you do this so that I know you are safe....please."

You wish you could have stopped the tears that welled up in your eyes. A part of you wanted to stay mad forever, just to make a point. But the other just wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. Two weeks felt like two years apart from him, and your heart so desperately ached to be near him again.

"Fine," you whispered.

Paul looked like he wanted to say something more, his eyes lingering on yours, but he decided against it, zipping up your bag and heading to the truck.

-

Once you both arrived to Emily's the pack headed out to train with the Cullen's, leaving you both and Kim at the kitchen table.

"So you guys.....didn't make up?" Kim asked disappointed.

You shook your head, "He just wanted me here. He apologized and said he wanted me to be safe. It was left at that."

Emily reached her hand over into yours,

"Do you want to be with him?" She asked genuinely.

"I.....I mean," you sighed. "Of course I want to be with him. I just was so angry, you know?? I didn't like feeling that way in our relationship. Alone."

The girls nodded understandably.

"If it helps, he's been an absolute wreck without you. I think if anything it was a wake up call." Kim offered.

"I haven't been exactly living the best either," you slightly chuckled.

"Well. We are more than excited to have you back in the house. That being said, I'm going to need both of your help with dinner." Emily smiled as she looked at the clock, standing up.

You grinned, happy to at least be here with your friends.

-

It was the night before the fight. Everything was quiet, but you lie awake, your mind racing. You hadn't said much to Paul in the three days you were here. There were lingering stares, brushing past eachother occasionally in the hall, but no conversations had been had. You felt a pit in your stomach at the idea of this fight. What if something happened and you never got to see him again? What if the last thing you had between you two was this awkward tension? The more you thought about it, the faster the tears spilled down your cheeks. You sniffled hard.

A gentle knock at the door startled you, getting up you frantically tried to wipe them away.

There he stood on the other side, leaning against the frame. His eyes looked so exhausted, like he hadn't gotten sleep either in days. "Whats wrong?" He said softly, taking a look at your face.

His gentle voice was enough to send you flying into his embrace. You arms wrapped around him as you sobbed into his neck.

He held your waist as he walked you both backwards into the room, shutting the door. His hand caressed your face as he leaned his cheek on your forehead.

"Hey, hey. Shhhh. I'm right here. It's okay. You're okay. You're safe."

You leaned back just enough to look at him, shaking your head. Your voice was broken and trembling,

"I-I don't care that I'm safe. T-tomorrow. A-and you. What if we never-"

Paul used both hands to cradle your face.

"Hey. Listen to me. Everything will be okay. This is what we've been training for. It's us and the Cullen's against them, our numbers are stronger. I'll be fine, alright? I'm just happy you're here and away from harm."

"I can't live without you. I love you." You whispered.

Paul instantly kissed you. It was like a wave of relief and happiness washed over you as you kissed him back with every ounce of passion you could muster.

Both your tongues danced as you refused to pull away from eachother. Paul bent down only for a moment to hoist you up in his arms, taking you into his room instead.

Unfortunately due to advanced hearing, the house was no longer quiet that night.

#paul lahote #sam uley #bella swan #edward cullen #embry call #twilight #imagine #jacob black #new moon #quil ateara #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader

[roosterlasagne]

In this scene, where Ballister puts his hand, his robotic hand, on Nimona to stop her from committing suicide, whether intentional or not, has a lot of meaning to me. Because Ballister didn't choose to have this arm. He got his hand chopped off against his will. And he only built the robotic one out of necessity. Nimona didn't choose to be able to shape shift. And the big 'monster' form she took was, for her, out of necessity.

And the fact that Ballister stopped her 'monster' form with his robotic arm while saying "I see you" and "you're not alone" is so poetic and symbolic. He's saying "I understand". And even though he doesn't understand fully, he can empathise with Nimona, like nobody ever has.

Although Ballister isn't ostracised because of his lack of a biological hand like Nimona is ostracised for her shape shifting. The arm represents WHY he is ostracised, the event in which he lost his original one. It represents his current state, he has the robotic arm and he is hated by society.

Throughout the whole movie, Nimona is already fully set in the fact that she isn't bad and it is society hating her that is the problem. While Ballister learns from Nimona to question society for rejecting him. And at the climax of the movie, this situation is flipped, with Nimona doubting her self worth, while Ballister says "I understand, and I stand with you while society hates us".

This is the message I take the most out of this movie. It is two people, rejected by society, learning to empathise with each other. One (Nimona) being able to faster than the other. While Ballister, with objectively the smaller problem (but still just as valid) learning to understand Nimona's bigger and longer lasting struggle with society.

I believe this is very applicable to our society. Because no matter how bad our struggles are, there is likely somebody who will be hated by society even more, to the point even we are wary of them. It is important to have support for ourselves, but it is just as important to be the support for somebody else, even if at first we have prejudices that we have to unlearn.

#nimona #nimona movie #ballister boldheart #ballister blackheart #nimona theory #people probably already know this but i wanted to share anyways 🤷 #my thoughts #turned out to be longer that i thought but ya know

[isaegi]

KISS AND CRÊPE UP

feat. gojo satoru x gn! reader

tags: established relationship, fluff, gojo being annoying but the ultimate pooks, got a bit suggestive at the end lol sawry..

A/N: had to repost because i needed to re-edit it; n e way enjoy( ˘ ɜ˘) ♬♪♫

Gojo leans to take a bite of your food after you offer him some and he just winds up taking the biggest, most disrespectful bite known to man.

So much so that his lips brush up against the tips of your fingers, which hold the crêpe you originally bore out for him— with the intention that he'd take a normal bite. You're left there to watch him chew in silence, his cheeks puffed out as he swallows your meal with a satisfied hum.

It's comical, really. You've only had about 3, maybe 4, bites of food before the pressure of your boyfriend's heated glare stare on your plate willed you into sharing a taste with him. 

A. Taste.

Now all you have is a few crumbs and a streak of vanilla ice cream dripping down your fingers left to your name.

"Man, I should've gone with what you've got," Gojo says, smoothing the creases on his white button-up shirt. "Next time, though."

There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you. Either A) it's one that he blatantly chooses to ignore, or B) he's oblivious to the turmoil you seem to be experiencing in that pretty little head of yours.

Gojo's arm rests along your neck, warm and affectionate, as he sinks into the seat of your booth's table. With his free hand, from your perspective, you can see that he's playing with his food and making an absolute mess of the once neatly plated dish into a pile of God-knows-what.

"Satoru."

"Hm?"

Warm pools of blue peeked right back at you from beneath his shades. And if you didn't know any better, you'd assume that a playful glint lingered in his eyes as he gave you his wholehearted attention, as if he was toying with you on purpose.

But you know Gojo Satoru, and well at that.

"Go and order another crêpe, please."

"Wha—" His brows furrow and his lips twist into a tight pout as if you had spoonfed him something sour. "Is it because of the bite I took?" Gojo brushes aside your squawk of that wasn't a bite and you know it to focus his sights on you and how you’re frowning at the feigned expression of innocence on his face.

Cute, you thought, but you immediately shake this revelation up and out of your head. You wouldn’t even be in this current predicament if it not been for his insatiable nature!

Gojo digs his fork into his bowl and shovels some of his fries to prod them at your mouth. “It’s fine, it’s fine!” You keep your lips tightly sealed and try to ignore the many intrigued gazes from onlookers tables away from you two. “Here, have some of mine. You won’t even notice the difference.”

Between his incessant whines for you to open your mouth and his hand squishing your cheeks so that he could slip some more food into your mouth, you eventually relent to his antics and try out one of the fries.

You can now understand why he barely made a dent in his plate since you arrived.

“Yummy, right?” Gojo inquires, an easy smile resting on his lips. His nimble fingers graze your lips, brushing off imaginary crumbs from your mouth for extra effect.

You push his hand away from you, shrinking away in disgust from his fork and drag your eyes away from it toward his eyes. You can only roll your eyes in response to the cheeky expression he wears on his face. “These are stale, Satoru…”

“Right?”

You shake your head in disbelief and shrug his arm off of you, “Let’s go,” you push your plate away from you, making a big show of how you were ready to leave, “I’m sure there’s food at home for me in the fridge, anyway.”

You manage to sway him easily, hook, line, and sinker, because Gojo tugs at your hand to pull you closer to him and deter you from leaving. “Fine, fine! I’ll buy you another, okay?” 

Sticking to his word, Gojo does exactly that, even going out of his way to buy two so that you could enjoy your own. But, of course, not all good things can last forever. His trait of having a knack for sweet things rears its head, and he wolfs down his serving within minutes. 

How wonderful.

With nothing else left to do, Gojo watches you eat silently. Happy that you’re happy with how things turned out. But his shades do nothing to mask the almost carnal want that swam in his eyes every time his head would not-so-conspicuously tilt down to look at how much there was left of your crêpe.

From the corner of your perspective, you spot Gojo’s hand sneaking its way off from your knee, up toward the table and slowly inching closer and closer to your plate. 

That’s it.

You inhale a sharp breath, picking up the last remnants of your desert, and shove it all into your mouth in one go, leaving him none whatsoever. 

When you turn your head to throw Gojo a triumphant glare, one that screams I win, you’re met with an expression that stops you dead in your tracks.  

Gojo’s face is unreadable as he stares at you behind his sunglasses. Even though you can’t directly see into his eyes, you can still feel the intense weight of his gaze on you, his eyes slowly trail along your face. Suddenly you feel very conscious of the ice cream that clung to your bottom lip.

You run your tongue against your bottom lip, bringing your wrist up to your face to dab away any sticky residue it may leave behind.

He stays silent for a beat before he puffs out a breath of laughter. A sly smile tugs at the corner of his mouth once he tips his head back against the padded header of his seat.

“Now that’s just obscene.”

thank you for reading <333 shoot me a request, i'm always looking for something to write :)

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #isaegi

[valictini]

I was watching a video analysing how the Yiga clan were handled in botw and how the person analysing it lamented the fact that Kohga was a joke character who totally destroyed the much more threatening image the yiga clan had all throughout the game. Although I do understand the sentiment (I felt that way for a long time) I’ve come to realise that we might not be viewing it in the right perspective. I ended up writing a comment under that video explaining how I saw things, and realised that maybe it could interest people here too? So here is the fleshed out version of it:

I think part of why they made Kohga extremely goofy compared to a way less goofy clan of literal assassins is to emphasise how even though the clan originally held some understandable beliefs, it has become a cult of personality over the years, and like most cults, the leader is way less charismatic than his followers make him out to be. Indeed, from the outside, it seems absurd how anyone could take Kohga seriously, let alone kill under his command, but from the inside, Kohga is the Beloved Leader That Guides Them Towards Victory, and anyone threatening him deserves to die.

In a way, yiga clan members feel like vulnerable, impressionable people who were enrolled into a cult and given a Big Family and a purpose (and a lethal weapon) by their lovable Master Kohga who wants the best for them… Except if you want to get out, then you’re a filthy traitor who also deserves to die. It’s especially visible when you beat him and they all get personally mad at you for killing him. They didn’t care about Ganon, they didn’t seem to actually understand the bigger picture, they only cared about Kohga.

It also shows how, like the rest of Hyrule, the Yigas are very much disconnected from their own history, seemingly holding on the grudge their ancestors held more as an excuse to continue to enact violence and perpetuate the cult of personality than fighting for a “noble” cause. Only Kohga seems to actually care about Calamity Ganon, and the rest of the yigas seem to be just tools to him. Wether or not he’s actually conscious of what he’s doing is unclear. Is he a fully aware con artist, or is he purely another product of Yiga indoctrination?

So yeah, to me it feels like a parody/critic/mockery of cult dynamics. It shows that this gang of assassins are indeed a real menace, but for seemingly no reason other than “that one lunatic they admire told them to” and “if they go away they get killed”. The reason why the clan was originally created becomes almost anecdotal. Under the current leader, no one is required to actually know what they’re doing, they just need to follow orders.

In the end, I think it is the intention the developers had because cults are a rampant problem in Japan. At the very least, even if it’s not a actually conscious critic, it’s a concept that is much more present in their cultural landscape than ours and that almost certainly influenced how they handled the Yiga clan. Basically, cults are not cool and can even be dangerous both for the public and their members. Cult leaders especially are not cool and often are con artists. Therefore, Kohga couldn’t be badass, he had to be a doofus getting beaten in the most unexceptional way possible.

#botw #breath of the wild #master kohga #yiga clan #kohga #loz #the legend of Zelda #tloz #meta analysis #i purposefully didn’t talk about kohga’s change of heart in AoC because to me this game is not canon #one could argue it proves that Kohga is actually not aware of how catastrophic enabling Ganon would be #but for the sake of keeping it focused on botw I didn’t mention it #cult mention #valictini talks

[secretmellowblog]

I'm so glad the gays have finally reclaimed Goncharov, because for so long Film Bros were treating it the way they treated Fight Club. They really took a deeply homoerotic film that criticizes/satirizes toxic masculinity and deliberately misread it as an unironic endorsement of toxic masculinity. Like??? How can you miss the point of something so badly???

It's so frustrating because the original authors of Fight Club and Goncharov (Chuck Palahniuk, Matteo JWHJ 0175) were gay men who were criticizing society’s definition of the ideal “strong tough masculine man” through a queer lens. And even though both films are flawed (I know have issues with them), they make some powerful points about the way masculinity can be self-destructive! And the homoerotic subtext the film bros love to erase was both very intentional and also a large part of the Entire Point. I’m glad the texts are finally getting more appreciation from people who understand that.

Honestly, listening to straight film bros talk about Goncharov makes me wonder if they even WATCHED the movie. They seemed to have entirely missed the point of it, like they watched a completely different worse movie that doesn’t actually exist

#goncharov (1973) #goncharov #unreality #smhhh #gonchheads rise up #im sorry this is fun #im sorry i know people have blocked this tag but the joke is still new and im having fun while i can

[piratefishmama]

Nest | Part 11

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

“Doctor Owens?” The enquiry followed three firm knocks on the slightly ajar door to Owens’ office, his open door policy ensuring the door remained open whenever possible, only when he was in a meeting, or absent from the office, was it ever shut.

“Come in” Owens lifted his gaze from the papers atop his desk to look at the Beta who entered carrying a small manilla folder “Ah, Miss Buckley, what can I do for you?”

“You uh… you told me to inform you when Eddie dropped into the third stage of his heat? I… may have forgotten to do that initially and uhm… he dropped about four hours ago now?” In Robins defence, Steve had been lingering around the cafeteria instead of going home and well… she couldn’t just leave sad Steve on his own. He had those puppy eyes that made everything hurt an he was clearly trying to hide how distressed he was, it wasn’t working at all, but he wouldn’t leave so— “Steve’s been… distressed so I’ve just been a little—” distracted.

“Yes, yes of course he is, of course, he’s out of the room then?” Owens was already rising from his chair, this was… uncharted territory at Nest. A pair of scent mates separated from each other so late into the heat was… okay so anything regarding scent mates was kind of uncharted territory, so to have an observable pair?

Goldmine. It was like a goldmine, but the gold was knowledge, and he was an academic!

“Yep, he’s not left the facility though, he’s just—he’s just in the cafeteria.” It wasn’t too far away from Eddie’s room. And he was bumming everyone out.

It stank of musty, mouldy bread and nothing was bringing him out of it.

“So he could leave without negative effect, good. Good okay, that’s good, walk with me Miss Buckley.” Robin stepped out of the way to allow the elder beta to pass by, quickly closing the door behind them, she hurried to fall into step beside him.

“I wouldn’t say there’s been no negative effect, Steve is—well he’s a mess, and I dunno how Eddie’s doing if—if he’s doing well at all I mean, before the cameras turned off it looked like he was crying an—”

“I merely meant negative as there were no violent outbursts, that Steve was able to leave without being physically harmed, or without Eddie trying to harm himself. I understand there’ll be some distress from both sides of this. Do you have the measurements from the levels in the room?” She handed the file to him, allowing him to check over the enclosed documents with an experienced eye. “…These… are… from how long ago?”

“I got them about ten minutes ago.”

“And you say he’s been dropped for about four hours now?”

“Yes.”

“…Shit.” And the pace picked up into a jog, all the way to what looked, for all intents and purposes, like a closet. Robin had passed by that door, pretty much every single day since she’d started her job, it had a keycard slot on the door like most doors in the facility, but nothing else, a completely ordinary closet.

Except Owens had the keycard to it. “Uhm—” they stopped outside of it.

“Do me a favour Miss Buckley, go get Steve for me, okay? Bring him here and uh… use this on the door when you get back.” He handed her the keycard after using it to open the dark room, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the hallway staring at a little blank plastic card. It had no room number on it, no identifying marks, just… a completely blank, white card.

Somehow she felt like she held the key to the universe. And while she was not prepared for that level of responsibility, Owens had given her a task, and the task involved getting Steve, she could get Steve.

Even if Steve had to be dragged from the cafeteria stinking of mouldy bread, releasing thee most pitiful whines as she dragged him by his hand down the hallway back to that room, going a little bit of a longer route around because the original route passed by Eddie’s room and that’d have just been a disaster.

He was a big alpha! She didn’t want to have to bodily shove him down the hallway away from the room!

That’d have been way too much like a cartoon where someone tried to push a big box or a boulder and just. Ran in place for a bit before flopping to the floor in exhaustion. She wasn’t built to force Alphas into doing things.

He was only allowing her to pull him because he was so sad.

He was breaking her heart, it sucked. But they made it with only limited staring from other staff members which was nice. “Robbie where are we?”

“Owens’ special closet I guess, I dunno he just told me to bring you here.” Keycard inserted, door unlocked, and the dark room had been lit up by a single overhead light, Owens, back facing them, sat in a chair at a desk with many monitors but only one on. “Doctor Owens? I’ve brought Steve” The Beta in charge switched the monitor off and turned to face them.

“Well, you weren’t kidding about the distress, eugh, come in the both of you, bit of a tight squeeze but please close the door behind you.” Robin and Owens weren’t exactly the biggest of people but Steve… Steve was pretty broad. He was the one taking up all the room. “Alright… after today, you both should forget this room exists, usually to enter this room, you need be a Beta, to have several degrees in medical sciences, a psych evaluation every two months, and consent to random spot checks on all your electronic devices both personal and professional done by an external government official. Really only I’m qualified to be in here. Now I only bring you both in… because Miss Buckley, you are closest to Steve, and so could probably get through to him in a crisis, and Steve… because this pertains to your scent mate. Normally, you… really shouldn’t be in here.”

Silence, complete silence, both beta and alpha staring at him in wide eyed confused silence. At least Steve’s sad alpha smell seemed to be dissipating with the distraction.

He continued, “Miss Buckley, the readings you gave me were… strange, usually at this point in an Omegas heat, in layman’s terms, the ‘sexual pheromones’ in that room should be in the red.” Four hours in? That room should be drenched in ‘I’m ready for a knot!!!!’ “It’s not, not even close. It reads like he’s having a nightmare. And these levels here, this… this shouldn’t be so low either, this is unprecidented” he pointed to another bar neither were close enough to read the label of.

“Sorry, sorry, what is this room?” Steve was too busy staring at the papers in Owens hand in complete bafflement as if staring longer would make it make sense. Robin was focused more on the monitors.

“This is a secondary monitoring station, none of the monitors are currently on because you are not qualified to see into those rooms. In cases such as Mr Munson’s, difficult cases, there’s a health and safety addition to the admission papers, it simply means a qualified person is allowed to observe in the third stage of a heat to ensure the omega remains safe during it. Mr Munson is aware that this is in place, and consented to it before his heat began.”

“And… an you’re the only one allowed in here?”

“I’m the only one with the keycard yes, I’d like that back now.” He held out his hand and motioned to give it back, which she did. “Thank you.”

“Why are we here?” Steve finally managed to speak “what’s… what’s this got to do with me?”

“Steve… Eddie isn’t using the heat aids.” Owens reached back behind him, and clicked that monitor back on, going against pretty much every single rule in the rulebook just to show one very soul crushing, grainy image.

Eddie Munson, wrapped up in a weighted blanket cocoon, pressed into the corner of the room away from his nest, head down, face buried in the fabric of the blanket, shaking like a leaf desperately holding on through a hurricane.

Steve was out of that room before either of them could stop him.

Part 13

#PirateWrites #NestFiclet #Steddie #CW: A/B/O #No Upside Down AU #Omegaverse #Omega!Eddie Munson #Alpha!Steve Harrington #oop

[nyxthejinx]

Answering to this desperate cry for help

Maaan this was so much fun fr, i hope I made these bad boys justice. Also, didn't know what kind of format I should be using and especially how to repost the original thing, since copying and pasting on the reblog would be absolute hell rip

𝐓𝐖: people biting each other but in an affectionate way, idk lemme know if there's more

𝐅𝐭.: Dottore, Xiao, Childe - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k (in total)

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: 3rd Made in Abyss soundtrack - Kevin Penkin (yes, it's that good, no comment)

𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞

OHOO he's gonna be so intrigued by this weird habit of yours.

We all know he's not big on social interactions and all -he barely values human life- but when you came into the picture he felt invested in someone for the first time. Hence he observes... Normal people, to learn the basics.

He's smart, a quick learner. Will understand in no time your likes and dislikes, but one day you?? Bite him? Chomp like a feral newborn kitten? Oh, his scholar personality spikes through the roof.

Dottore's never seen anyone bite their partner like you do, it confuses him at first, although he won't say anything and just chuckle. He'd rather observe you and come to his own conclusions before asking.

Was it a one time thing? When, how and where do you like to do it? Is there a deeper meaning, a show of intimacy? Need for attention? Affection?

Yeah he'll treat it like a maths equation, that's how he is.

Some days you'd see him without his mask, leaning particularly close to your face. Other times he'd set his gloves aside and let his digits linger on your cheeks and jaw for every little thing. (He knows he’s difficult to bite because of his clothes)

"Oh Dear, look at your lips, they're chapped/full of crumbs/smeared with any other kind of food/every single excuse he can come up with."

It takes you a bit longer than you would've wanted, but you realise his true intentions eventually. If you feel smug you can just chomp on him randomly and see him lose his mind (he thought he'd figured everything out rip dottore.exe).

I advise against it though, he'd repay the torture tenfold. (aka not cuddle with you even if you ask nicely).

Overall, Dottore finds this habit of yours cute. You're a nice little, innocent thing in his eyes and that just adds to your charm.

Yeah you can be a 1.90m tall menace of a person and he'd still tease you, an arrogant, mean jerk >:(

After some time he starts biting you back (ouch shark teeth), not in a painful way ofc. He's so casual with it, most likely to strike when you least expect it just to see your surprised and/or flustered face.

Or to have you chomping in return, even ;)

I'd say 7.5/10, good chomping partner but will "fight" back.

𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

My guy, poor guy.

He's another social inept, we all know why.

He started to learn about human customs after meeting you, and you've helped him out a lot, but he's still so stiff.

He probably gets a heart attack every time you give him a surprise hug. The day you chomp on him his soul leaves his body.

It's not that he's a scaredy cat, physical touch just overwhelms his senses if he's not prepared :((

Asks you to tell him beforehand next time.

But aside from that he doesn't seem to mind. He finds every human custom weird in a way, this one is no exception, and eventually it becomes routine yeah?

I think he's a perfect subject for chomping, with all the exposed skin he has. I mean, look at his shoulders! The urge to sneak up from behind and just CHOMP.

He's got muscles for days too, won't shatter your teeth on his bones. AND HIS CHEEKS- his baby cheeks, they look so soft how can you not bite those.

But yeah, just give him some time and he'll get used to this.

Xiao's not stupid either, he notices right away that you're the only human partaking in this activity, or in public at least. Lowkey feels happy and proud to have you as a partner, you're so special and unique :( <33

At some point he'll want to try it out as well, but he's sooo shy about it and a bit scared he'll hurt you. You gotta make him confess with bone crushing hugs.

When he eventually chomps back he's UGHH so soft with it. For Xiao it's more about the meaning and the bonding experience than the chomp itself.

9/10 if you're fine with doing all the chomping. 8/10 if you want chomps back, but definetly recommended.

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞

Run. RUN. RUN FOR YOUR CHEEKS' LIFE.

He is THE chomping menace.

Let me tell ya, you're putting your life on the line. It's like a declaration of war and he will not hesitate to respond with all he's got.

We know for a fact that he's always up for a challenge. If you're crazy enough to engage and bite him first, well I hope you have a survival plan for the rest of your life cus he won't stop.

It can and will escalate in a "fight" if you're in a private space (you know the tickle fights where you become a mess of tangled limbs? That.) If you try that in public though? He's gonna look at you like a damn predator.

He'll eat your cheeks once you get home, good luck.

His bites are rough-ish too, unfortunately for you. He’d never hurt you on purpose, and is always careful with his strength, but in the heat of battle he’ll forget; 7 times out of 10 you leave the field with a 32 teeth bite mark. 

I think he is more of a cheek guy than anything. They're always available and easy to reach, regardless of your height, and it's also so intimate because who else touches your face? No one, aside from him.

He's the chosen one.

And don't think it will stop at the first time, no no. You've unlocked a new hobby for him. He'll put so much effort in it, it's terrifying.

If you act surprised or flustered well, bonus points in his opinion. Your face is just priceless and will make a habit to make you react that way.

At that point you either fight back or succumb. His soft spots are his stomach (duh, nibble on the exposed skin when he's in his work clothes, I bet he's ticklish), his nape, collarbones and overall the base of his neck.

The rest of his body is still a good chomping surface, but his instincts kick in and his muscles go taut, it's like biting a rock and has no effect on him.

Childe will definitely give you a hard time. It's up to you to take advantage of the right moment and give him a good revenge chomp.

Honestly, he's my fave ever but I'll give him a 5/10 just because of that. Can't even bite the man in peace anymore 🙄

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

#Genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #xiao #genshin xiao #childe #childe x reader #genshin childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartaglia #dottore x reader #genshin dottore #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #genshin blurbs #gn reader #genshin drabble #genshin fluff #genshin images #| Genshin Impact 🌓 | #| Nyx Writes 🌑 |

[ramshacklerumble]

can I see an ashi and gigi interaction <//3 look she even has an emote 🌺

KIDDING!!!!!! BUT HI I WANT MORE GIGI CONTENT 🫶 really curious about 🦐🦑🍄 octotrio? this is my attempt at more unagi crumbs BUT!!! I AM GEN CURIOUS ABOUT OCTO INTERACTIONS 🫣 don’t think I’ve seen gigi interact w the other two ssssso 👁️👁️

in a nutshell?

if these three carked it right in front of them, gia would at long last repent and hole up in a nunnery like the good lord intended.

jk. (kinda)

on paper, gia is the octotrio’s personal henchboy as payment for a “favor” floyd does them a little prior/early into the events of book 5. (currently working on a one-shot that goes into this) originally gia’s tenure under the mostro lounge was only meant to be for a few weeks, but it’s made readily apparent once the octotrio finds use in something they are not about to let it slip through their fingers.

so begins the trio's pattern of finding even the smallest infractions on gia’s part as cause to extend their servitude under them. this is, understandably, why there's little love lost between them. i’d say gia prays for the trio’s downfall, but gia isn’t religious and far too proactive to wait around for that to happen.

they’ve made it their personal mission not to leave nrc until octavinelle is burning at their feet.

…

in reality, gia’s relationship with the octotrio is quite complicated.

they’ve been an absolute pain in the neck in every single encounter, but it doesn’t take gia long to realize the octotrio is their speedrun towards getting some REAL power in their hands. proud and hard-working they may be, gia is ultimately a pragmatist at heart.

though a bit of a showman, azul IS an undeniably powerful mage with many a tentacle in many a pie. the twins are nothing to sneeze at either.

as much as gia hates their guts, these three are their chance to make it not only to graduation but to actually make something of themself when staying at night raven is no longer an option.

and that’s not even getting into the growing familiarity between gia and the trio steadily murking the waters…

—

🦑 AZUL ASHENGROTTO: (tagging @thehollowwriter since you also sent an ask for azul)

perhaps the most subtle dynamic of the three (making it the hardest to explain) gia's view of azul can be largely inferred by their joke-title for him: boss.

if azul wants something done, then gia gets it done. gia proves themself an incredibly adept asset to azul and it's why azul pulls whatever strings he can to keep them under his thumb.

that said, while gia puts up with much of azul's overworking and respects they are indebted to the trio by not putting up much of a fuss-- azul is aware he occasionally has to sweeten the pot if he wants to keep it that way.

he'd be a fool to forget this was the same person who got all his original contracts turned to dust. and besides: what good, gracious employer doesn't reward his employees for their hard work?

so azul doesn't mind giving gia access to a few of his private merchandise channels, maybe even some of his more advanced grimoires and alchemy notes, etc.

this dynamic remains largely unchanged for a while, though if one were to squint they might catch a degree of casualness peppering their interactions over time. they indulge in subtle sniping-- even minor trolling-- namely from gia who finds azul an easy target.

they are not fully aware of how things have changed until @cyanide-latte's chrysanthos shroud makes quite a bitter impression on them both. in a low moment surprising even azul, he admits to gia that shroud makes him feel inadequate as a housewarden-- made worse by the fact azul knows it isn't shroud's intention. shroud, in his own way, truly embodies the spirit of benevolence an octavinelle housewarden should be and it's something azul wonders he'll ever be able to do himself. (you can read more on this in cy's post: here!)

gia, in an attempt to give azul the peace of mind that they won't try to use this moment of weakness against him (and bolstered by the knowledge this could come in as blackmail should he think to use what they're about to tell him), shares a bit of their own worries shroud managed to jar loose.

working for the trio is hard, however, it's also been the path that's given gia the most opportunities. but, with the trio being a year ahead of them, gia is well aware their time with them is limited. they can’t help but mull over what is to become of them when the trio leave for their senior internships. gia will likely never see them again and likely be nothing more than a footnote from the trio’s school lives. a strange, magicless weirdo from another dimension, wasn’t that a fun little story?

gia’s probably going to have a lot of free time as a junior and who knows how they plan to go about senior year, frankly, they’re a bit at a loss with themself…

anyway. if it weren't for azul """kindly""" giving them the chance to gain what they DO have by working for him (or whatever), they'd probably be even more lost than they are now. he's a pain and a half, but he's probably not the worst housewarden in octavinelle history.

at this, azul reminds gia he's made his plans to branch out the mostro lounge to the public quite clear. gia wouldn’t be bound to them anymore, but it'd be a shame to let their experience at the school's location go to waste, wouldn't it?

—

🍄 - JADE LEECH

gia's relationship with jade is probably the strangest because despite jade being the one that wigs gia out the most, he is also the one gia openly gets along with the best.

fun fact: gia opened up their own club. the biking club. they are the only person in said club because, for some reason or another, they reject anyone who tries to get in. it might have to do with the fact the reason the club exists is because they needed an excuse to have a bike on school grounds they are allowed to ride anywhere unquestioned-- such as for personal errands or scavenging for potion ingredients. this includes up in the mountains.

y'know who else is often in the mountains..?

because of this little coinkidink, jade found a very weak and fevered gia struggling to get off the ground because they'd stupidly decided to go out foraging while sick. and of course, what good, gracious vice-housewarden of octavinelle wouldn't lend a hand to a poor, unfortunate underclassman in need despite their fervent protests? they're obviously, deliriously ill and are unaware of what's best for them…

indebted to jade on top of the octotrio as a whole, gia lost what little personal time they had as president of their own one-man club. now the biking club is (semi-officially) affiliated with his mountain lovers' club-- meaning gia accompanies him whenever he goes and bikes him around trails whenever he feels like it.

in theory, being alone up a mountain with jade leech should be terrifying, but gia sincerely enjoys these outings. jade is not only incredibly well-versed in mountain flora but a skilled potionologist in his own right.

honestly, it’s not bad.

—

BONUS:

BONUS BONUS:

they're friends :)

@inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @jovieinramshackle @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk (lemme know if anyone wants to be included in tags)

#this is another thing ive had squirreled away for months #you asked for floyd as well i know but just the other two alone gave me a hard time WHEEZE #another day #oc ask meme #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #octotrio #octavinelle #gia yugo #yuusona #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #disney twst #oathofoaks