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pomefioredove · 2 days

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summary: vil falling in love with you type of post: short fic characters: vil schoenheit additional info: romantic, FLUFF, reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, takes place during/after book 6 author's note: vilyuu is such a good and underrated dynamic I'm never not obsessed with it. always thinking about him. holding them like dolls making them kiss mwah mwah

One might be bold enough to assume that actor and model Vil Schoenheit had been a victim of Eros before.

With the world under his thumb and millions of adoring fans at his beck and call, it was easy to fantasize about the image of a shining star that had left a string of broken hearts behind him. His persona of perfection gave off such a dazzling impression that any other truth is simply unimaginable. Beautiful, talented, devoted...

...Untouchable to such a degree that the very truth of the matter was that Vil Schoenheit had never been in love. He had no use, let alone time, to indulge himself in something that he found distracting at best and frustrating at worst. For most of his life, romance was nothing but another part to play, a frustrating rumor to dispel, a disaster to witness, something that nagged at him from the outside yet never made itself a home within him.

This idea of the confident heartbreaker Vil Schoenheit was nothing but a reflection of the image he put out, shone back at him by tabloids and fan accounts. It was a hollow interpretation, fueled by fantasies of a Vil that didn't exist in flesh and blood. And so, every time an invasive interviewer or pesky reporter inquired about the state of his personal affairs, he answered truthfully: Vil Schoenheit could easily go throughout life focusing solely on his career, on improving himself, and not miss out on anything at all.

There have been very, very few things that Vil has called himself an idiot over. That answer was one of them.

Because the very second he saw you again after being separated by Styx, the want to smack you for being so reckless in coming after him was only secondary to his want to hold you and cry until his water-proof mascara was running.

Love is such a strange emotion. Vil could never understand why Rook was so obsessed with it, how the vice housewarden fell in love with every beautiful person he saw. For his whole life Vil thought it to be painful, to be distracting, to be finite and often times nothing but a shallow reflection of all of one's ugliest traits.

And now, it made him feel weak and messy. He hated feeling messy.

...And yet, what he wouldn't do to have his lipstick smeared over your mouths. To have you see him with his hair undone and eyes bleary with sleep, and to see you in that state as well. It was not the time, nor the place, but he wanted to cradle you in his arms until this terrible, sickly feeling of longing you'd left him with went away.

For the first time in his life, Vil was suddenly terrified of being alone.

No, not alone- he was terrified of being without you.

To never see your smile again would be a fate worse than death, worse than growing old and haggard. How terrible to think that just one simple person could so easily undo everything about him, and yet, he wanted more of that very feeling. He would unwrap himself layer by layer for you if you asked, taking off all of the years of discipline and poise, and lay vulnerable before you so that you could be soft and simple together. Vil had always regarded romance as difficult, but falling in love with you was surprisingly easy.

He did not have to save Grim from the Underworld, despite what he claimed. Such a risky move cost him everything he loved, everything beautiful about him, everything except for you. And as much as he mourned for himself, he knew he would do it again and again if it meant saving the smile on your face.

And perhaps he was too wishful with his thinking, but he could have sworn he saw that same familiar glimmer of affection and admiration in your eyes when you met his gaze. As if you couldn't even see the pasty, wrinkled mess he'd turned into, and were peering at something behind it.

It made him feel utterly exposed and offered him no comfort, but the thought that you were looking at something not even he could see lingered in the back of his mind, even after his magical energy was rejuvenated.

He had become so familiar with everyone around him being a mirror, reflecting his carefully crafted image right back at him, showering him with two-dimensional praises, that being seen as an object of flesh and blood and tears was a strange notion. To behold his presence and see a person with wants and needs and flaws rather than a flat surface, a decorative magazine atop a coffee table, left him with a strange feeling in his chest. The thought both bothered and warmed him.

Vil Schoenheit was so hopelessly in love with you, and it didn't hurt. It wasn't difficult or ugly or forced, it took not even the least bit of effort. He sunk into the feeling like a warm bath which never grew colder, and he let that be his new reality. It felt strange to imagine that there was a time where he didn't love you, where he didn't look at you as if you were the moon itself, where you weren't such a part of his being that he couldn't imagine life without you.

And he never expressed these feelings in words. They existed inside of him, running through his veins like the very blood that kept him alive and warm, and they weren't distracting, just another part of him that he kept tucked away to occupy his thoughts on rainy days.

...But the best part of it was that he didn't need words. Because when you looked at him, when you saw the Vil the not even he could see, you could already tell they were there. The mirror, the pane of glass that had always existed between himself and others, was non-existent for you.

Vil thought that someday he might be able to see himself through that glass the way you did, but he was perfectly content with simply looking at you instead for the time being.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

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king-shango-the-great · 2 days

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Unpopular Opinion:

Shango's Thoughts:

We Gotta Do Better At Getting Our Act Together

Yesterday we held a job fair at my company, where we held open interviews to walk-in candidates.

The only requirements were:

Apply for at least one job on the site

RSVP to the invite with your contact info

Come to the event with your resume & dressed for interviews.

I was one of the hiring managers (& one of the FEW Black ones), who was conducting interviews.

The girl in the pic (that I took) with her back to the door, wearing Chewbacca the Wookie boots was upset because she wasn't getting interviews.

None of the managers (myself included) refused to interview her.

One of the HR reps tried to explain to her, that she wasn't appropriately dressed for the event.

She had the nerve to ask what was wrong with the way she was dressed, & the HR rep pointed to her shoes.

She said "my shoes look damn good"....

The rep said "I'm sure they do (🙄, that shit looked goofy as fuck), but they are not appropriate attire for this hiring event".

She got mad, talking about some "we're discriminating against her" (which wasn't true; the lady across from her was appropriately dressed, & she got 2 interviews--one from me, & one from another manager).

We finally had to ask her to leave the building. Granted, she wasn't the only one there that was no appropriately dressed, but she was the most disrespectful one.

This stuff happens all the time. If you can't follow basic instructions (especially in my prifession), then you will not get past the first steps.

Most of this comes from Negropeans that come dressed like they just rolled out of bed (alot of the other races don't do this) but most of those are younger people.

And it's not just women, it's the guys too. Wearing bright red Jordan's to an interview. These folks spend meticulous time trying to look like Ronald McDonald, & then wonder why that's the only place that will hire them.

If you can spend whatever amount of money to buy shoes that look like you are auditioning for a Rap video, then you can spend a fraction of that amount & go to TJ Maxx & buy a decent pair of interview shoes 👞 to be prepared to enter various venues & be successful in them.

It's not even rocket science. Putting together a basic wardrobe should not be difficult.

But folks have let ✌🏿urban culture✌🏿 dictate their entire existence, so they don't know how to function in other venues. They come in wearing gold teeth, bright colors, tats on their face, & shirts with obnoxious messages on them.

And its not just the aesthetics; their demeanor is terrible. The language they use, zero mannerisms, etc.

What needs to be learned, is nobody is going to accept you, because theres no rule that says nobody has to.

#Unpopular Opinion #Shango's Thoughts

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bumblingbabooshka · 5 months

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Tuvok & Neelix are both cringe but only Neelix is free

#hope this helps #Tuvok/Neelix <- Yes #high school au Tuvok/Neelix is like:#Neelix is the kid who is part of the theatre group and only does backstage stuff & is always wearing anime shirts and is enthusiastically #participating in everything and earnest and everyone makes fun of him for it bc it's cringe & weird to care about stuff #and Tuvok is an individualist in that he's like the kid who wears a suit to school everyday and he has an off-putting #'I think I'm smarter than you' attitude and he gets called weird but doesn't care (he used to) and he calls other people weird despite it #Tuvok's out here with only one friend to his name acting like he's all that #what if we were both annoying and boys and I thought you were sooo cool even though you were kinda mean to me #and we drew a terrible oc together (tuvix) and we kissed but only where no one could see us

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lorephobic · 22 days

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idk how to even like. put this pain into words and i would normally vent about this shit on twitter, but the person its about follows me on there so like. anybody have skills for coping with the crushing realization that the person u love most in this world and have built ur life around sees ur current situation together as a temporary hurdle that's preventing them from their truest and happiest self which. is separate from u entirely? anyone know how to deal with this?

#live with my best friend in the whole entire world who. honest to god makes me the happiest person alive.#like im always waxing poetic about her in the tags on posts about platonic love #and i talk about her like she put the stars in the skies because for real it feels like she did for me #she is. the most important person in my life #and every day i feel grateful just to come home and sit with her #like honest to god i cannot imagine a future that is better than this #if i have a bad day i get to come home and my best friend in the world will make me laugh #what more could i ever ask for #but tonight we talked and she made it abundantly clear that. even if i do everything right #even if i'm the perfect roommate and the best friend i can be #in just over a year #when she's making enough money for it #she plans on moving into a place of her own #which like. makes sense for her. of course we were going to get to this point.#but i just. don't know what i'm going to do.#and it kills me that we're on different pages because for some reason i thought this was a long term thing #i thought we were going to move into a house together #i was just telling my coworker this week that we need to move into our forever home soon which was partially a joke #but also. even if i was making a million dollars a year.#i would still want to be here. with her.#or somewhere else. with her.#like it's so hard to imagine a future without her. it breaks my heart and scares the shit out of me.#and i know i can't afford it here. and i can't move in with strangers. and i'm working my dream job but i'm scared that i'm going to have t #give it all up and move back east because. i can't do this alone. and she's all i have. and all i ever wanted.#and she's leaving.#she doesn't want to be with me.#sry this is so fucking. ugh. idk. i just don't know what to do.#for real might just drop everything and move to chicago if it comes down to it ksdkfljdfs #its what sufjan would have wanted #fucked up terrible no good week

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thethingything · 24 days

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well we accidentally fell asleep because of course we did 😒 but not quite enough to actually be a full night's sleep so I guess we'll probably nap later but I'm very torn between "oh god everything's terrible and I'm overwhelmed and feel like shit" and "okay time to work on our mental health again and get shit done and I'll probably feel better after doing like 3 basic self care tasks" but unfortunately I think about doing the tasks and I feel like screaming because accidentally waking up at your body's equivalent of midnight will do that to you

#personal #thoughts #🍬 post #vent post #we have a really bad time and then shortly afterwards it's like our brain goes #''well that was a disaster. better suddenly put loads of effort into fixing shit so it doesn't happen again''#and we very quickly switch from ''everything's terrible and I can't cope with any of it''#to being very determined to get our shit together and actually fix our mental health even if that determination is fueled by rage and spite #it's very predictable at this point but also like... please can we just have a chill time for once #we keep going ''I'm gonna have a rest day and just do fun and relaxing stuff'' and then we don't do that #I should probably do that today but I also need to shower #I might shower and then go back to sleep for a while and then when we wake up I can try doing stuff that's actually relaxing and/or fun

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femmeidiot · 2 months

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I also really want to try to have an edible again sometime soon I was thinking about tomorrow but I'm worried because I've been having issues with like sometimes I basically have like hallucinations? Or I remember things that are triggering? Or some combination of both things? Also was dealing with a lot of intrusive thoughts. But then sometimes I'm also fine but it's like idk what to expect so it's kind of scary? I spend a lot of time being scared lately and it was getting better but I'm worried it'll get bad again.

#I think some of it was when I started taking my lexapro again #I was sober other than taking my prescription meds but I was having like insane scary thoughts #my mind was a terrible place to be and I couldn't escape it and I don't know if I could handle feeling that way ever again #I'm also SO BAD at paying attention to how I'm feeling and stuff and I'm bad at telling is something is a side effect or just like my brain #naturally doing something fucked up #same with my body it's like idk what normal is and I can't put two and two together to realize it shaky cause I haven't eaten #so how the fuck am I supposed to be like my brain is doing insane things because I'm on medication #anyway super sorry I'm like diary posting extra vulnerable stuff I should look for a therapist

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fictionadventurer · 2 years

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Bad news, everyone. Turns out that if I want to read Jane Austen + superheroes content from my Powers and Prejudice universe, I'm going to have to write it.

#other random thought that's been dominating my day #i'm just like 'oh i'm in the mood for that so i should go on tumblr and read it'#only to find that i haven't written any of the scenes i want to read #why can't i get into normal types of fanfiction?#why am i solely devoted to absurd crossover/mashup aus that are objectively ridiculous except that i take them seriously #i don't even have terribly clear stories for most of these characters #but i get far too much joy out of putting the two genres together like puzzle pieces #figuring out a new piece makes me feel like a genius even though it's just me deciding what superpowers to give an austen character #as if that's something the world needs #anyway this is gonna last for like a week and a half and i apologize in advance for any embarassing fiction that may result

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uptonil · 11 months

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not that i listen to/watch that shit but anyone who does podcasts or video essays about music or bands should be sent to the gallows. besides the fact that they're putting out *content* to please different people with different tastes, which naturally means they have no specific knowledge... they're literally always wrong? yesterday i randomly found myself hearing the host of a music podcast singing the praises of gary numan. and not even gary numan in the 80s, but like, the current shit he puts out and his live shows. who in their right mind would want to see that? also, stuff like trash theory on yt. i feel like i'm perennially in front of my computer, seeing their dumb thumbnails and shaking my head.

#another pet peeve of mine is when they claim they've read some biography about their topic and now they know everything #do you know biographies are usually terribly biased. like. that's the whole point about them usually.#you'd need to read like... 3 of them and then compare notes with hardcore fans #i was having these thoughts cause i'm terrified by the idea of someone putting together a video/podcast in that style about japan #based on THAT biography that shall not be named

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valiant-portabella-pirkko · 1 year

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Tideturners: The Sidewinder

“Spend enough time in the Mists, and you’re bound to meet the most fascinating people.”

The Sidewinder went by another name, once. She sailed the seas, swindled and cheated, ransacked and pillaged. A pirate’s life was a harsh one-- unforgiving, violent, and usually sodden with salt water. Even among them she was fierce and unrelenting, a bold captain who fought tooth and nail to maintain the confidence of her crew. She made a name for herself, in spite of her rough origins and all the people who didn’t believe she could.

Her name was Mai Trin... But she doesn’t go by that name anymore.

It’s said that there’s many versions of Tyria scattered through the Mists. Countless, even. Sometimes they even clash, fighting for the resources that crop up in the gaps between worlds. Some are better off than others.

Hers is nothing but a memory now, and the origin of an ever-growing shadow that most will never see-- if they’re lucky. Some histories are best left buried.

“We’re the Tideturners, and we won’t be washed away.”

It all began with a simple proposition; a certain sylvari and a certain alliance, and an ill-fated plan to change the world. But this time, something was different.

The Commander of her world wasn’t quite like most. Brutal, relentless, and arguably more dead inside than the corpse minions he commanded. His lack of morals and intense ambition caught Scarlet’s attention, and she decided to invite him aboard the operation. He was an expert in slaying the dragons and their minions, and such insight could be invaluable with the goals she had in mind.

But this proved to be a dreadful miscalculation. Commander Ruju saw no difference between a rebelling dragon minion and a willing one. When the asura recognized seeds of corruption in her mind, he held no mercy.

And with the head cut off the snake, Ruju made his declaration; either what remained of the slain Briar’s alliance would fall in step under him willingly, or their remains would serve him in death. He was an ardent follower of the principles of Oola; necromancy and golemancy were destined to collide, and any who stood in his way would provide the materials to make that dream reality.

Captain Mai Trin recognized then that this wasn’t the Alliance she’d once believed in. The first to have believed her capable of greatness was dead, and Ruju saw them all as nothing more than replaceable cogs in his perpetual war machine. There was no future there, for the Captain or her crew.

Mai took any Aetherblades who were still loyal to her and fled into the Mists.

She’d spend the rest of her life wondering if they could have won when there was still something left of their world to save. Now they’ll never know.

“I spent most of my life making the wrong choices.”

“But if I can still accomplish something worthwhile with whatever time I have left, that’s what I’m going to do. I owe it to all the people who should be here instead of me.”

In the Mists, she and her Aetherblades cut their own path and their own future, far from Ruju’s war against dragons and Tyrians alike. They built a hideaway within turbulent lands where even time itself held no stability, a fortress that they prayed would never be found by the former allies they left behind.

Within the Mists, they thrived by learning to ransack Fractals. Taking from the echoes of realities that could have been, they found every resource they could ever need to survive. Food and water, technology, replacement parts, weapons and armor, raw materials... Whatever they needed, the Fractals would provide.

It was there that Mai would seek out the guidance of a familiar voice; she reached into the shadows, and the echoes answered, whispering. Scarlet Briar became her ally once more, offering advice and frustration in equal measure.

For a long time, it was just them. Mai, her Aetherblades, and the whispers of a mastermind who’d once promised them the path to greatness.

Years came and went, and the war of their world marched on, and on. Its consequences would soon prove unthinkable-- and inescapable. There were some lines not even pirates would cross. But Ruju held no such reservations.

Mai’s echo felt something within their world, a tie that snapped like brittle thread. For the first time, she was told-- begged-- pleaded with-- to return. Never before had the pirate experienced such a pull. Nor could she begin to imagine just what, exactly, had rendered the sylvari so inconceivably distraught.

And so they returned to Tyria for the first time. Airships flickered back into existence from the Mists, materializing over the skies of the Maguuma jungle.

The landscape below them was not the world they knew. Not anymore.

“... Scarlet wanted to change the world, you know. We all did. She inspired people just like Ruju, once. However you feel about that, there were plenty who believed that anything would be better than what they already had.”

“I can’t say it would’ve been, knowing what I know now. But at least she planned on there still being a world by the time she was done, whatever it would’ve become.”

The Grove was nearly unrecognizable. If not for the crumpled remains of the Pale Tree’s vast branches, she might not have realized what it even was.

Tunnels had been torn through the earth, vast caverns that formed what could only be described as a hive. The forest was teeming with massive insectoid beasts that only later would she learn had a name; the chak.

What had once been the sylvari capital city lay in ruins. The Pale Tree was dead. And under the shadow of her fading leaves hid what would, in another world, have been Tyria’s greatest hope. Mai wasn’t sure what drew her eye to that thicket and its glittering occupants, but the moment she laid eyes upon it, she knew she couldn’t just turn away.

So she called over her most loyal crew members, and they descended into the wreckage to seek something far more precious than any gold.

Broken bodies and dented armor littered the forest floor, yet they paid it no heed, cutting through the swaths of chak and stepping past pools of acid to reach their destination. It was there that Mai would be faced with the choice that would change her life-- and the lives of her remaining Aetherblades-- forever.

“... I’m no hero, or freedom fighter, or ‘chosen one’ or anything glamorous like that. I’m just the last line of defense, if you can say that when there’s so little left.”

“I’m the one they call in because everybody else is already dead. I don’t save the day, it’s already too late for that. I just clean up the rubble you so-called ‘heroes’ leave behind, bury the bodies your wars leave to rot on the battlefield, and patch up the few survivors who got caught in the crossfire.”

“Be careful where you toss that title around, ‘Commander.’ It doesn’t mean what you think it does, not around here.”

Hidden in the shrubbery was what remained of the Exalted; they had long since fled Tarir, their home utterly destroyed by a three-way war between Mordremoth’s minions, the chak, and Ruju’s Alliance. Their grand city was no more, and the same fate had befallen so much of the jungle that it even put the pirates on edge. As it turned out, Ruju had injected a mass quantity of highly toxic biochemicals into Mordremoth’s vegetation, but the poison had killed far more than just the dragon.

The dragon wasn’t just connected to the jungle; it was the jungle. And as it coursed through every vine, leaf, and root, it carried its deadly effects throughout the entire region. The chak fed on mass amounts of released ley energy from the killed vegetation, and since the chemical was only lethal to plants, they survived-- and thrived. Their population grew and grew and grew, evolving to utilize this new resource that now dominated their domain.

And as their numbers multiplied and their evolution accelerated... Their domain grew right along with them, undermining the entire landscape all the way into Kessex Hills. The Pale Tree had been a recent casualty; weakened first by an attack from the dragon and then from the poison seeping into her soil, she didn’t stand a chance when the insects reached their doorstep.

Now, with Ruju’s armies on the march across the continent, they had nowhere left to go. Their last shelter was in ruins, and the Exalted’s precious cargo was in jeopardy. It was only then that they would offer the last thing they had to give to the only hope they had left. Mai and her pirates weren’t the ideal alliance, but there was nowhere else left to turn.

Even the sylvari who had brought it to Tarir lay among the dead now. Mai didn’t know her name, back then. But her invocation did-- and whispered it as they looked upon the shining egg that should have been Tyria’s last hope.

‘Oh Caithe. You poor fool. I always knew your devotion would get you killed.’

“... You know, it’s almost funny. Most sailors believe in some kind of superstition, but I never did. If there was any ‘higher power’ out there, it didn’t care about us. We survived because we fought tooth and nail for every scrap. The open sea had no mercy, so neither did we.”

“And then I saw that egg, shining like a beacon in the ruins of a dead city that called to me with its last breath. And I just... Knew. Guess sometimes it takes the end of the world to really put things into perspective, huh?”

The crew was conflicted; some wanted to simply steal the egg and make off with it, but what then? The Exalted would fight to their last armor, and what would they even do with it? It only had value if they could sell it, and who would be its buyer? Certainly not Ruju, and no one else would want it. It was too precious, too powerful, too important to be treated as a mere treasure.

Mai and her invocation came to a joint conclusion-- one of which neither was certain, but both knew was unavoidable. Mai offered the strange, ethereal beings her hand. There was one path forward, and she was going to take it.

An alliance was forged, that day. And that was the day that the Aetherblades were no more. A new name was born, one that would echo through the Mists as it rippled across the fabric of fate-- a reflection of what they would become, and what they were going to do from that moment on.

They would be the Tideturners, one final holdout against impossible odds. And even if they couldn’t save this Tyria from the cataclysm to come, maybe they would still be able to save something else.

“I’m going to tell you a secret: nobody comes to live in the Mists if they have somewhere better to stay. We aren’t the only ones out here, but we all have something in common. We’re all running from something, hoping whatever we find out here will be better than what we’re trying to escape. Most times, it’s hard for it to be worse.”

“The Turnabout isn’t a vacation spot, or a military base, or anything like that. It’s a refuge for people who don’t have anywhere else to go. We don’t ask questions because we all have our secrets, and nobody needs to know who we were before, just who we choose to be now.”

“Those people are dead and gone, and they’re never coming back. We’re just the ghosts they left behind.”

The last of the Exalted were brought into the Mists aboard Aetherships, and settled into the fortress that would one day become known as the Turnabout. Glint’s last egg was safeguarded in the last place it might truly be out of Ruju’s reach, and in return, the Exalted offered their own magical knowledge to upgrade the facility’s defenses.

New weaponry was developed-- unique combinations of their ancient secrets and the steam-powered technology utilized by the Aetherblades. EX-Cannons were designed that would even act as an extension of the Exalted themselves, allowing the armor beings to interface more directly with the fortress’s defenses. And as knowledge of the continued destruction of their world slipped through the cracks, the sentiment began to slowly shift.

Even pirates had standards, morals that were too low even for them. They’d fight and plunder and pillage-- but this wasn’t about wealth or prestige or even survival, not anymore. And the more that Ruju’s army left naught but desolation in its wake, the clearer it became that this was far bigger than any of them.

It was the fall of Balthazar that shook the Mists, and tipped a far different scale than any had anticipated. Elder dragons were falling, one after the other. The fabric of magic was crumbling, and with it, their world, too. Scarlet began to whisper cryptic warnings of the ‘oblivion’ so soon to come.

Everything was about to get much, more worse.

“There’s worse fates than death. I know, I’ve seen my fair share. Corruption is pretty high on the list.”

“I could almost feel sorry for him, even after all this. I don’t know what Ruju is now, but he’s not an asura anymore. I’m not sure you can even call him alive. Whatever that magic did to him, there’s no turning back now.”

“It’s a part of him, and he’s a part of it, even if there’s not enough left of him to realize it for himself.”

Their scouts began to send back reports of a strange, dark substance that twisted even reality itself. It adhered to no laws of logic or physics, bending matter indiscriminately and killing everything that it didn’t consume. It was growing, faster and faster. If allying with the Exalted had been Mai’s turning point, this was the moment that would truly prove her change of heart.

The Tideturners returned to their world, one more, one final time. Their ships arrived to a Tyria ravaged by shadows and broken magic, this time on a mission that would have no happy ending; to get everyone out that would come, before there was nothing left to save at all. If the world had to end, they were going to salvage what little of it that they could. It would be here that Mai would don a mask for the first time, referring to herself as ‘the Sidewinder’ to conceal her identity. Her world would never trust their safety to a cutthroat pirate, but perhaps it could learn to trust a mysterious, unnamed Mists traveler instead.

Many were unwilling. They planned to fight until the end. Some were left behind, others were carried aboard, and a few even tried to fight the pirates themselves.

Captain Kiel was one of the ‘lucky’ few to be knocked out in the conflict and carried aboard; only after awakening would she discover what had happened. She’d spend the rest of her life coming to terms with it, just like so very many others. Eventually she would go on to become the Turnabout’s co-leader ‘Captain K’ alongside the Sidewinder, but that’s another story for another day.

That day would haunt the pirates for as long as they lived, for there were other things, dreadful, monstrous things, watching them with glowing eyes as they departed. The Mists were about to get a whole lot more dangerous...

The Grand High Sovereign didn’t go down with his world. And there were still so many, many other worlds out there for him to explore and dominate.

“We don’t worship the Six here. There’s only Five, and they don’t ask for our unconditional devotion. They know the role they played in our history, and we know it, too. When their people called out, they were silent. They left their worshipers to die until no one was left to pray.”

“They’re gods, but most of us treat them as guides, mentors, and allies. They don’t win our battles for us, and their power won’t turn the tide of war. That’s up to us. But they answer our questions, and offer their advice. They won’t save us, but if we know the right questions to ask, they’ll give us the tools to save ourselves.”

It would be in the years to follow that the Turnabout would change even more than it already had. Many refugees had fled into the Mists of their own accord, and now wandered among the shadows and demons with no direction and no resources. But they did not go unnoticed.

The Five remaining human gods had been watching. They dared not intervene with the god killer directly, but one thing became clear; if they stood by and did nothing, soon what little remained of their Tyria would crumble. Even the Turnabout itself wasn’t enough to keep them safe. Sooner or later something truly horrific would find them, and their last refuge would be wiped away as if it had never existed at all.

Despite their reluctance, Kormir eventually won the other gods over. They didn’t need to fight, but they did need to step in-- even if it wouldn’t be forever. A decision was made, and after far too long, contact was finally re-initiated-- and an offer was made to the survivors who remained.

The Five broke a piece off of their land in the Mists, Xotecha, and offered it as sacred ground for the Turnabout’s final iteration. Gathering the last stragglers, they aided in bringing the remains of their broken world to a safer location; the heart of a massive temporal storm, surrounded on all sides by walls of broken reality that nothing could easily pass.

And finally, they offered knowledge, one last boon that would teach the refugees how to navigate the Mists and its temporal instabilities more safely. Soon the Tideturners understood its intricacies better than any of them ever would have imagined, devising their own specialized suits that could insulate them from even the most severe and debilitating environments.

Eventually these suits would allow for the retrieval of the impossible and improbable, making for some unique new allies that would aid the Tideturners’ Mists excursions even further... But that, too, is a story for another day.

“Jade tech is really something, huh? It holds a magical charge like nothing else I’ve ever seen, even golem power cores can’t compare. It infuses the whole machine’s physical components with power, and you can do some very... Creative things with that kind of energy infusion.”

“That’s the most I can tell you about our systems, but I don’t think you’ll find anything like this outside the Turnabout. ‘ASP’ really is one of a kind.”

As the Turnabout’s population grew, so did its technological advancement and ingenuity. With it came iterations of Cantha’s jade tech, and new methods of energy channeling that entirely changed the way their facility operated. EX-Cannons were upgraded, and new technology allowed the Turnabout to revolutionize its entire interface in an entirely new way.

A new AI system was introduced to run the facility and aid the ever-growing population; ‘ASP,’ short for Automated Security Protocol. The Sidewinder oversaw its development, and became the head of security for the foreseeable future. The snarky, occasionally morbid AI soon proved to be an exceptional help around the Turnabout... With a sinister secret.

In truth, the ‘AI’ was no AI at all, but instead an extension of the Sidewinder’s secretive Scarlet Briar invocation. By directly interfacing her magic with the Turnabout’s jade tech energy conduits, she was able to devise a method of controlling everything remotely-- with Scarlet operating the machinery independently so she could focus on other matters. In order to maintain the connection, a pair of special magitech gauntlets were constructed with unique jade tech receptors that could channel her magic directly into the system, and generate a ‘tablet’ interface for ease of access anywhere.

Some would eventually become suspicious, but the more time passed, the more that the population came to determine that it didn’t make a difference. The AI was doing its job, Sidewinder was proving herself as an effective leader, and the Turnabout was providing for all of its residents with a surprising amount of efficiency.

Against all odds, people came to believe in the Sidewinder and the bold new world she helped to build. And, even if she knew there were plenty of others who would’ve been better suited to this position than her, Mai would fight every day to become the person that the Tideturners believed she was.

She wasn’t a hero, and she didn’t want to be one. But she could be a leader.

This would only be the beginning of their story, though... Ruju’s march would continue soon enough, and the Tideturners’ work will never be done. Not until the Grand High Sovereign and his void-enhanced army is finally laid to rest.

So, where are the Tideturners now..?

"In the taverns of Divinity's Reach, look for someone with a skull and sword tattoo on their upper arm. You'll see just the edge of it. Show them this coin, and tell them; 'I heard you're looking for lost treasure.'"

"They'll ask you; 'I'm always watching for hidden gems. How'd you find this?’ Answer them; 'it washed in on the tide.' They'll know what that means."

There are few groups more secretive than the Tideturners. Most would say they’re just a strange story whispered between Mist travelers, trying to explain shifting shadows in the distance and mysterious markings under rocks. Few outside their ranks have ever seen them, and even fewer knew what they saw.

Just know this; if the Sidewinder is about, the winds of fate are changing... And it’s likely not in your favor. Not because she brings trouble, but because she’s tracking the ones who do... And where Ruju goes, calamity is sure to follow.

So if you start seeing unidentifiable figures lurking on the horizon, and finding their sigil marked under arches, get ready. And if the Sidewinder drops by to share a drink and say hello, never let yourself forget she’s likely there on business. Ask her when the tide is coming in if you want the truth.

Where she comes from, there are no heroes, not anymore. The good ones never make it out alive. If you do, you’ll be the first.

So get ready... Because a storm is coming, and it’s closer than you think.

Additional Background Details and Headcanons:

- Mai adopted the nickname ‘Sidewinder’ due to its snake theming; I headcanon her to be of mixed Luxon (Serpent clan) and Elonian (Corsair) background, which in turn was why her ancestors weren’t living in Cantha; they left due to persecution from the Ministry of Purity, with her being the first to return after several generations of piracy on the fringes of Tyria. Likewise, Scarlet’s ‘AI’ persona was named ASP to match up with the snake theme.

- While the Sidewinder isn’t Aurene’s first choice as a Champion for various reasons, under certain circumstances she could, potentially, become the young dragon’s caretaker. However, the egg has not hatched as of yet; due to the differences during the time of Heart of Thorns, she didn’t gain as much magic from Mordremoth’s death and as such, hasn’t absorbed enough energy.

- In the significant amount of time spent separated from Mordremoth, ASP has effectively been ‘rehabilitated.’ While she often still makes snarky remarks and has a notably morbid sense of humor, she doesn’t act on her more violent impulses anymore and is actually highly defensive of her new home. Both she and the Sidewinder defend the Turnabout ferociously. Additionally, most Turnabout residents have become familiar with her since she often speaks through the intercoms and offers assistance for a variety of tasks.

- Most characters aren’t aware that the Sidewinder is Mai; those who do are mainly Captain Kiel and the former Aetherblades from her original timeline. Very few people actually made it out of her original Tyria, so there aren’t many who can-- or will-- confirm or deny her true identity. Some others they’ve taken in from later timelines (Agent Y and Joon, particularly) have a pretty solid guess due to knowing Mai in their own world, but can’t be certain.

- Due to the Sidewinder’s first experience with any ‘Commander’ being so overwhelmingly negative, she tends to be extremely cautious of any others she comes across using that moniker. Even the good ones tend to set her on edge; she’s seen enough timelines at this point to pick up on a pattern, and it always places them as a driving force of destiny. That said, she can grow friendly with Commanders on occasion, should they prove to be friendly in return.

- The Sidewinder never, ever introduces herself as Mai Trin, and her mask contains an auditory distortion module that disguises her voice. She never takes the mask off in public. It also contains numerous other mechanical and electronic components, including an internal screen and various overlays for observing various Turnabout statistics, and a sensory deprivation mode that blocks out visuals entirely if she needs to focus her revenant abilities.

- Her mask and gauntlets work in tandem to help focus the Sidewinder’s abilities; both have extensive jade conduits and circuitry built in, which allow ASP to interface with the Turnabout from anywhere and also prevent it from overwhelming her. If the Sidewinder is going into combat, though, she also has a specialized set of matching pauldrons that increase her power output. Both those and the gauntlets have magic that might seem familiar to those who’ve faced Mai’s revenant invocation in battle... Black spheres of magic surrounded by a red glow, just like the torment-inflicting orbs used by Scarlet when she spirals out of control. That resemblance isn’t a coincidence in the least.

- Sidewinder’s mech glows red instead of green, which may catch some off-guard; any technology influenced by her revenant abilities will change colors to match ASP’s crimson energy signature, and she’s capable of affecting anything that utilizes a suitably advanced system of magitech circuitry. ASP often acts entirely independently of Sidewinder, which can have both amusing and disconcerting results. Mostly it results in the ‘AI’ dropping in on electronic transmissions without permission to deliver quips and commentary.

- While she and Captain K still don’t see eye-to-eye on most things, they’ve learned to forge their differences into a strength. By meeting in the middle on various issues, they often come to much more creative and nuanced conclusions-- and that, in turn, allows them to lead the Turnabout much more effectively. While the Sidewinder typically handles combat management and defensive measures, Captain K is more involved in the political side and handles diplomatic matters.

“Welcome to the Turnabout. Rules are pretty simple around here: keep your weapons boxed in public spaces, don’t take things that don’t belong to you, fight only in self-defense, and don’t aggravate the AI. She bites.”

“... I’m joking, she doesn’t actually bite. But if you try your luck too much she still might shoot you with a stun cannon, so play nice. We don’t have enough room at the infirmary for every hotshot that feels like playing chicken with the defense protocol.”

#GW2 #Guild Wars 2 #The Sidewinder #Tideturners AU #EoD Spoilers #mentions of major character death #so yeah! god this took so long to put together lmao #I wanted to have this together so she has a proper 'character page' of sorts...#+ it has a general timeline of the Tideturners and how they evolved...#anyway. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Mai and the Sidewinder #becoming the Sidewinder is her second chance. an opportunity to be someone better.#Scarlet couldn't give her that. even Joon couldn't give her that. it was a decision she had to make for herself.#she isn't perfect. she's not a hero. she won't be the savior of the world.#but she does want to do right by the people who believe in her.#it's a bold new world and she's trying her best to deserve her position in it.#also ASP is really. really funny to write dialogue for i love her dearly #'This unit is not qualified to run an unsupervised health diagnostic. However if you sign this waiver I will be permitted to vaporize you.'#'Then health diagnostics will be irrelevant because you will be easily identifiable as deceased. Have a terrible day!'#Some kid asks her if hell is real and she says 'Yes and I'm in it.' what's it like? 'Customer service.'#literally just Discount GLaDos DJFHDKHDJ #also yes i took the time to take all those shots + did the color edits #+ designed the Tideturners emblem there too #anyway. time to stop before the tags get longer than the post

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xbellaxcarolinax · 11 months

Text

Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something.

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken.

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel."

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for.

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration.

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring.

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me."

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you.

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch.

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708.

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda.

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.”

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.”

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.”

“Miguel, what the fuck—”

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.”

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?”

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.”

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal.

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count.

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you.

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side.

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat.

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste.

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core.

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo."

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass.

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had.

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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alienzil · 6 months

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Okay so I saw this post and you know the types of fics where adult Danny moves to Gotham and winds up emotionally adopting one or more of bat kids or accidentally coparenting with Bruce (with or without a relationship between them)? I had the thought, what if Danny parented the bat kids but he started doing it out of spite?

Like, Danny moves to Gotham and runs into Batman and Robin one night while out for a late night flight and drops down to the rooftop to say hi.

Bruce sees this 5'6" twink that looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over and is so obviously new in town and thinks Gotham is going to eat him alive, he needs to leave before he gets killed.

Batman: Looming menacingly and in his deepest scariest Batman voice, "Leave. Metas aren't allowed in Gotham."

Danny: Offend! Excuse?! Who does this guy think he is?! 😡 Danny was trying to be polite here! "First of all, I'm not a meta. Second of all, rude much?!"

Batman: Does scariest bat glare. "Leave." Swoops off into the night.

Robin (Damian): "My father is correct. You should leave the city for your own safety."

Danny sees this tiny vigilante child with fierce expression and a sword and is just like awww, so cute! 😍 Then he noticed Robin had a small cut on his arm and his inner gremlin activates. If the rude flying furry can't take care of his own kid properly, Danny will do it better!

He bandages up Damian's arm, gives him a cookie and teaches him a neat sword trick before sending him on his way with a hug telling him he needs his sleep.

Danny goes out of his way to run into the bat kids and be the absolute best dad.

He takes Nightwing flying and throws him in the air so Nightwing can do all the fanciest acrobatic tricks.

He tracks down Red Hood and starts a book club with him (Danny may or may not have used his connection with Ghost Writer to get ahold of some rare books).

He eats waffles with Spoiler and trys out weird topping combinations that make them both make faces and laugh.

He makes new gadgets for Red Robin but carefully breaks them just a little bit and takes them to the teen so they can fix them together (it's enrichment!). He always insists RR keep them as a reward.

He follows Signal around during the day invisibly, making faces and doing tricks only Signal can see (he made him laugh in front of the police at a crime scene twice!).

All of the kids get his attention and love and Danny smugly thinks how Batman must be absolutely seething about his kids bonding with Danny and Batman missing out on all of it.

Danny started it out of spite but he does wind up genuinely loving the bat kids.

Batman definetly hates it when the kids are bonding with Danny and is extremely jealous (sulky Batman brooding in his cave about it).

Bruce's repeated attempts to intimidate Danny into leaving Gotham don't work and him telling his kids to stay away from Danny had zero effect (the terrible children don't listen to him at all).

So Bruce starts spending more time with the kids to compete against Danny. The bat kids love it and (little gremlins that they are) use the two of them against each other constantly.

Bruce:"Sorry Tim, I can't make it to your photography exhibit this weekend, there's a meeting with the Justice League."

Tim:"Oh that's fine... I'll just ask Danny to come." 😏

Bruce: Narrows his eyes and grits his teeth, "Actually, the Justice League needs to have contingencies in place to manage without my input. This would be a good time to test their capabilities. I'll skip the meeting and come to your exhibit."

With both of them competing to spend more time with the kids it leads to the two of them spending time with each other to be around the kids more.

After Damian catches a terrible flu bug, Danny spends an entire weekend at the manor babying him. This is when Bruce finds out Danny has known their secret identities for months and tries to get mad about it but Alfred puts his foot down, raises a judgmental eyebrow in Bruce's direction that puts a stop to that nonsense and sets up Danny with his own room in the family wing.

Eventually, Danny gets to the point where he spends most of his nights at the manor and he and Bruce consult each other on all major household decisions.

The whole family is at the manor one morning including Danny. Bruce has a meeting at WE and he and Danny are absently discussing their plans for the day at the breakfast table.

Bruce: " The meeting should take most of the morning and then I have paperwork this afternoon and a scheduled walk through on one of the new engineering projects. I probably won't be done by the time school let's out. Can you pick up Damian today?"

Danny: "That shouldn't be a problem. Would you mind swinging by the bookstore on the way home and getting my preorder? Jay and I just finished rereading the first book and we were wanting to start the second tonight before you all go on patrol. I'd rather not try to make it to the bookstore in school rush hour traffic"

Bruce: "Sure."

Stephanie watches Danny reach out and absently straighten Bruce's tie as they both get up to leave. Bruce grabs Danny's coffee thermos and hands it to him while they walk out the door.

Stephanie: "Sooo, bets on how long until they realize they're basically married?"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #Adult Danny #Parenting out of spite #Bat dad #Batfamily shenanigans #bat kids #There's a mug in the manor #It says Number One Dad #Bruce and Danny constantly steal it from each other #Bruce/Danny?#Maybe #they're both idiots #But they love their kids

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omgeto · 8 months

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☆ I WANNA BE YOURS — GOJO SATORU

summary: your best friend was used to picking up the pieces of all your heartache. and he's been idly waiting for the day that he could have you all to himself — but when he you give him a chance just for you to snatch it away you realise you might just loose more than his heart.

w/c: 3.3k

cw: afab!reader angst to fluff, you break his heart and put it back together again by giving him a great big blowjob so mdni! also unprotected sex (its more like making love if you ask me)

an: I actually really fw this fic. id say it was my best one yet so give it a chance people, just like how you should give gojo a chance. since he's actually super loveable here. hope you enjoy!

gojo satoru was hopelessly in love with you, and everyone seemed to know that, but you. he was your best friend, someone that you relied on, depended on, its been that way since you were kids. ‘she’d never see me that way,’ he’d whine to all his friends about you, whenever they’d see you together, holding hands, cuddling, but still proclaiming the title as ‘just friends.’

you were currently crying in his arms, as he consoled you, caressing your back. gojo was used to this routine by now – you’d get a boyfriend, they’d break your heart, and he was left to pick up the pieces. “i just don’t get how this one failed, i thought i was doing everything right,” you mumble, your voice breaking as you sniffle against his chest.

“they just don’t appreciate how great you truly are,” he comforts you, a silent “i do though,’ left unsaid, as he stares down at your tear stained face.

“satoru?” you ask, pulling slightly away from him, “i'm pretty, right?”

“don’t even ask me that shit,” he scoffed, “you already know the answer.”

“just answer.” you did know what his answer would be already, but you just had to hear it, “i just need to know why all my relationships end.”

“listen to me,” he demands, tenderly holding your face in both of his hands, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you, “you're beautiful. you always have been, and it's not even just your looks, it’s your whole being, everything about you. there’s nothing wrong with you, you just have a terrible taste in guys,” he finishes with a goofy smile trying to lighten the mood.

“yeah, maybe you're right,” you reply with a soft sigh, your gaze dropping to avoid his intense stare. It was both comforting and unnerving how he could always see through your insecurities.

“i don't say things i don't mean, you know that.” he tilts your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his eyes once again. “anyways we should prob–”

you press your lips against him, interrupting his sentence, and he eases into it, his lips moving against yours with no hesitation. but you pull away as quickly as you kiss him, your eyes widening as you realise what you’ve done. “shit im sorry satoru, i didn’t mean that.”

the air around you seems to shift, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of the unexpected moment. you can feel your cheeks flushing, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze. his fingers brush against your jaw, gently guiding your gaze back to his. the intensity in his eyes is undeniable, a silent acknowledgment of the shared feelings that had been hovering beneath the surface for so long.

"fuck that," he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. he closes the gap between you again, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss.

the softness of your lips against his is a sensation he’s dreamt of, and now that it's happening, it's even more intoxicating than he imagined. his hands cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss.

his lips move against yours with a skilled finesse, his breath mingling with yours, creating a heady mixture that leaves you breathless. your fingers find their way to his hair, tangling in the silken strands as you pull him closer, your bodies pressed together.

“satoru, i need you.” you tug against the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his. you were desperate, craving his touch, “need you to make me feel better.”

gojo took your words seriously, aiming to make you forget about all the heartache you’ve ever felt with those other guys, and focus only on him. he lays you down on the couch, unbuttoning your shirt, pulling your tits out of your bra.

“don’t worry, ‘m gonna take care of you,” he mutters, pressing kisses into your cleavage, until his lips eventually circle your nipple, suckling and pulling at it. you gasp slightly at the feeling of his tongue swirling on your tits. your hands go back into his hair, roaming through his scalp, tugging hard as he bites down on your nipple.

his mouth remains on you, his hand trailing down into your underwear, rubbing circles on your clit. you whimper at the contact, feeling yourself getting wetter as his fingers enter you, he starts off slow pushing his digits in you gently.

“is this okay?” he asks, he wanted to make sure you felt good, that was his priority. he grins as you nod, too caught up in your pleasure to verbally respond. his quickens his pace, gyrating his fingers into you, pressing another searing kiss on your mouth.

you were dripping over his digits, as they pistoned in and out of you, but your hands reach out to his belt as you moan out, “‘toru i wanna feel you.”

“you wanna feel me huh?” he teases, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, he pulls out his hardened dick and strokes it a few times before rubbing it down your wet slit – teasing you with just his tip.

“c-c’mon,” you whine, grinding your hips down against him. he smirks at your excitement, forcing his dick inside you, your eyes widen as your pussy stretches and gojo can only bite down on his lips as you clench around him.

“you feel so good, y’know that right” he murmurs, forcing himself into you deeper, “so fuckin’ tight.” his eyes stay fixed on you, he loves you like this – pinned under him, clawing at his back, your mouth parting at the pleasure that he’s giving to you.

your legs wrap around his hips as he sinks into you further, you could feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear, “you’re perfect, this is perfect.” he sucks on your collar bone, kissing and biting as he continues to thrust into you.

“‘you’re t-too much, i-it’s too much.”

“but you’re taking me so well,” he argues, with a grin. peppering kissing against your neck as he fucks you to a hilt. your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling and tugging at it as you moan out his name.

his dick twitches inside you as you call at his name, you could feel that he was about to cum. his strokes were getting sloppier, and his mouth went from biting to sucking on your neck. you could feel yourself about to climax, scratching at his back, as he continues to hit your spot.

“toru, i’m about to–”

“cum with me,” he demands, thrusting into you a few more times before you both reach your peak. and just before he’s about to release into you, his whispers a barely audible “i love you” right in your ear. he sprays your walls and you cum all over him, mixing in with him. he slumps down on you, pressing his forehead against yours, his dick remaining in you as he catches his breath.

as you finally disentangle your bodies, gojo reclines on the couch, a blissful smile gracing his lips. his breathing gradually transforms into gentle sighs, a sure sign that he has succumbed to sleep. you weren’t oblivious to his feelings towards you – the way his gaze would linger a little too long, how his hugs would be tight and comforting. he was in love with you – and you didn’t know how to deal with that.

all of your relationships never lasted, they always had an issue with something you did. you ruined them. and you didn’t want to ruin gojo, you’ve been together since you were children and he’s always been so good to you. you couldn’t bear the thought of causing gojo pain.

your gaze lingers on him for a moment longer before you turn away, your mind racing with a storm of thoughts. you've been friends for so long, and the prospect of losing that connection is heartbreaking. but you also can't ignore the truth that's been staring you in the face – gojo's feelings have crossed the line from friendship to something deeper.

as you quietly gather your clothes, your heart aches with conflicting emotions. you've always been there for each other, and the thought of hurting him tears at your very core. with a heavy sigh, you dress in silence, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

“you’re really just gonna leave?” he calls out behind you as you head to the door, your hand frozen on the handle.

“satoru,” you gasp, turning to face him guiltily, “i thought you were asleep.”

“you were actually just gonna leave?” he accuses further, ignoring your comments, “after this, after what we just did?”

“this doesn’t change anything,” you say shaking your head with your eyes closed, you couldn’t see his face.

“it doesn’t change anything?” he scoffs, standing up, walking over to you, “how can you say that? after i've given you my all, literally everything i can offer to you, and that still isn’t enough.”

"i was scared, toru," you ramble, the truth spilling out of you, your voice catching as you admit your own fear. he was upset, this was the last thing you wanted, him looking at you, his eyes pleading for you to choose him,"i've seen how my past relationships have crumbled, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you too."

his gaze softens for a moment, his fingers itching to reach out to you. "but things can just go back to the way they were with us," you continue, your words wavering, unsure if they're just a desperate attempt to keep things safe and familiar.

“i think we both know they can’t,” he says bitterly, his hand clenches at his side, “just answer this. why was it never me?”

“i’d ruin you,” you explain, your hand reaching out towards his, a soft smile on your face, “you’ve seen how i am with all those other guys. you’re too good for me.”

"no, I'm not good enough for you," he concludes, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and sadness. he takes a step back, his expression conflicted, as if grappling with his own internal turmoil.

with your eyes brimming with unshed tears, you watch as he rushes past you, his departure leaving an ache in your chest. "you stay, I need to clear my head," he mutters, his voice strained, and then he's gone, leaving you standing there, torn between your fears and the feelings you've been trying to deny.

as gojo stormed out of the apartment, his emotions were a tangled mess within him. the mixture of frustration, hurt, and longing had him feeling like he was caught in a whirlwind. he couldn't believe how everything had escalated so quickly, how he had allowed himself to be vulnerable, only to feel tossed aside.

“suguru, i fucked up,” he cries into the phone to his best friend, his voice laden with distress, “i fucked up so bad.”

“satoru, calm down,” geto tries to soothe him, his tone steady, “what exactly did you do?”

“I fucked her,” he forces the words out, a mixture of regret and frustration in his voice, and he could sense geto wince on the other end of the line, “she kissed me, and i fucked her.”

"that's a good thing, isn't it?" geto's voice holds a note of confusion.

gojo's sigh came through the phone, heavy with a sense of defeat. "bro, she doesn't love me back," he practically wails, the weight of his realisation crashing over him, "she doesn't love me back. i got too greedy, she gave me an inch and i took it too far.”

"are you sure?" geto inquires, his tone thoughtful, "she wouldn’t have agreed to have sex with you if she wasn’t feeling something. i've seen you two together, i've seen how she looks at you. she loves you."

"if only it were that simple," gojo mutters, frustration lacing his words. "she said it doesn't change anything between us. that it was just a moment of weakness."

there was a pause on the line, geto processing gojo's words. "look, satoru, I know it's not easy, but maybe she's just scared. she literally just got out of a break up too, she’s probably just overwhelmed."

"but what if I've ruined everything?" gojo's voice was laced with uncertainty. "what if I've made things worse?"

"you won't know unless you talk to her," geto advises, his voice gentle yet firm. "honesty is the best way to navigate this situation. tell her how you feel, listen to what she has to say, and go from there."

gojo sighs, his tension slowly easing as he absorbs his friend's words. "you're right. i need to face this head-on."

"good, this whole ‘will they? won’t they?’ schtick that you two have going on, has gotten old. very old.” geto finishes, abruptly ending the call.

gojo takes a deep breath, feeling a mixture of anxiety and determination. he knew he had to confront the situation, to lay his feelings on the line and hope for the best. with a newfound resolve, he gathers his thoughts and prepares to have the difficult conversation that lay ahead.

“you came back,” is the first thing you say, when gojo enters the apartment. you couldn’t gauge his mood, his expression was off, and you didn’t want to upset him further.

“well it is my apartment after all,” he spits out a bit too coldly, his words laced with tension. however, his face softens as he takes a step toward you, the coldness melting away,, “besides i didn’t go far, just outside.”

you nod in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. your uncertainty making it hard to find the right words. the atmosphere is tense, and you're acutely aware of the weight of the situation between you.

"i had some time to think," gojo starts, his voice softer now, "and i realised that running away from this won't solve anything."

his words draw your attention, and you meet his gaze, searching for any clues in his eyes. "satoru, I'm sorry about what happened earlier. i shouldn't have acted on my emotions like that."

“it’s ok i-”

“no it’s not okay,” you insist, stepping towards him grabbing his hand, “i never should of acted that way, disregarding like you’re nothing. i was wrong.” you had time to think after gojo left, and you knew you were being unreasonable. there was a guy who was ready to love you, give you his all, and you were just going to throw him away without a chance.

he weight of your words hangs between you both, the air thick with the shared acknowledgement of your mistakes. and as the intensity of the moment settles, a newfound sense of clarity takes hold – the understanding that your feelings for each other can't be ignored, no matter how much you try to suppress them.

“you really fucked w my feelings y’know,” gojo’s words hang in the air, heavy with hurt. his eyes bore into yours, his emotions laid bare.

“i know,” you reply softly, your voice laced with regret, “and i’m so sorry toru. i never meant to hurt you like that. i was scared, and i didn’t know how to handle my own feelings so i lashed out.”

gojo's gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "you were scared? of what?"

"of losing you," you admit, your voice quivering slightly as you reveal your deepest fear. "you mean so much to me. you're my best friend, and I was afraid that if we crossed that line, it would ruin everything we have."

a mixture of emotions passes over gojo's face – surprise, realisation, and something else, something that you can't quite pinpoint. "you think being with me would ruin our friendship?" he asks, slightly offended.

you shake your head, your eyes locking onto his. "no, that's not what I meant. I just... I've seen how my past relationships ended, and i didn't want the same thing to happen with us. i didn't want to hurt you or lose what we have."

“i love you.” he declares simply, “that’s all that matters.” you couldn’t even respond because he was right, nothing else mattered. he places a gentle kiss to your forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“let me make me it up to you,” you whisper, looking up at him bashfully through your eyelashes, “let me show you how much i love you.”

“you don’t have to–” he starts, but he pauses, taking a sharp inhale as your hands slip into his jeans. you peck his lips before working his way down to your knees. you take his dick out, licking your lips as you stroke him, massaging his dick. you pepper kisses all over the tip, still keeping your eyes trained on him.

“c’mon don’t be a tease,” he whines as you focus on his tip, sliding your tongue around it as you continue to pump his dick with your hands.

you take him into your mouth, its warm and wet as you suck him in. you move your hands to cup his balls with a firm grip, massaging them as you continue to twist your mouth on his dick. you can hear him lightly cursing, drying his best to moan out at the pleasure you’re giving him. but you were determined to get him to cry out your name.

he was loving the sight of you, mouth stuffed, slobbering all over him. you were sloppy, just how he liked it, using your saliva and his precum to glide your mouth over and over his dick.

“f-fuck,” he stammers, biting down on his fist, he usually last way longer than this. but the difference is you, he would’ve never had imagined that there’d be a day you’d be on your knees all pretty, swallowing his dick. but now that you are, he wanted to burst.

you could tell that he was close, so you jut your head faster, using your hands to pump what your mouth can’t cover. he thrust into your mouth, aiding you in reaching his climax, forcing his dick deeper into your inviting mouth.

“you’re mouths t-too good, it’s–” his hands rest on your head as he releases into your mouth. you swallow all of him, licking your lips, satisfied.

“now toru,” you coo, with a smirk standing up to face him, “can you see how much i love you now?”

the rest of the night was spent just like many others you had shared together over the years, wrapped in each other’s arms in the comfort of his bed. this time, however, it wasn’t masked under the guise of friendship, you now exchange kisses with ‘i love you’ said in between each one.

AN: and that is all folks, TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS I actually dislike the friends to lovers trope, not gojos biggest fan, and I hate sucking dick BUT I LOVE IT ALL HERE. HE'S ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY SWEET, AND DONT U JUST WANT A GUY THATS DOWN TO JUST LOVE YOU! DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE.

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut

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itoshiexx · 2 months

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running your fingers through their hair

you are now reading... LENA'S 1K MILESTONE EVENT FIC!

↳ itoshi rin, michael kaiser, reo mikage (separate) + cafuné (n.) - running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

notes: omg hi guys! i'm freaking ALIVE!!! i know i've been terribly inactive but life as a recently graduated lawyer has been INSANE and i barely have time to breathe, let alone write. regardless, i was able to finish this after some struggle, and i really hope you guys like it! cafuné is a brazilian word and it's something i love very much, so thank you anon, @kyukiss and @etoiile for the request and sorry it took so long ♥

event masterlist

Itoshi Rin

“you remind me of a dog, you know?”

rin’s eyes shoot open with your unexpected words, and you receive the harshest glare you’ve ever witnessed on his face when it came to you.

“excuse me?”

his tone is supposed to be threatening, but his voice is slightly laced with sleep, so it sounds a lot more like a whine. you snort a little bit, pausing your ministrations on his head, where your fingers run through his hair.

“not in a bad way, baby. i just mean you’re like a puppy when you want my attention,” you giggled a little, and if rin didn’t love the sound so much, he would have berated you.

“that’s absolutely not true.”

“it is, though. you came back from practice all tired and grumpy, and the first thing you did was put your head on my lap because you wanted me to run my fingers through your hair. you didn’t even showered, rin.”

“i did shower! on the locker rooms!”

you smile mischievously. “oh, i thought the dampness was from sweat. i was about to call you out for being stinky.”

rin’s grimace worsened, and a pout formed on his lips. you couldn’t resist the urge to squish his cute cheeks together. god, he was so adorable it tugged on your heartstrings. how was that even possible?

you lowered your head to give him a quick kiss, and although rin tried to deepen it, you pulled away fast, grinning once again. he knew what was coming even before you said it. “you’re also like a puppy when you trail after me around the house. a lost puppy.”

his groan reverberated through the whole apartment, and rin shoved your hands away from his face, scowling. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate you. i’m serious.”

you giggled again. “so why didn’t you leave my lap then?”

his eyes met yours, and you kind of relished in the furrow of his brows. it made his pout even cuter. “…what.”

smugness radiated off of you, because you knew rin — your rin — like the back of your hand. and if there was an universal truth in the world, it would be that the younger itoshi was down bad for you. enough for him to stay despite your shenanigans that always got on his nerves.

“i said, if you hate me, then why didn’t you leave my lap?”

his mouth opened, but no retort came out. he gaped like a fish for a few seconds before groaning again, turning his body so that he could hide his face on your stomach. you laughed at his childish behavior, knowing it was one of the reasons you loved him so much. not many people were able to see this vulnerable side of him, and you were glad to be one of them.

“shut up.”

“yeah, yeah. you big baby.”

comfortable silence engulfed the both of you, and rin remained hidden on your stomach as you picked up the book you were previously reading, wanting to continue the story. though your left hand was suddenly tugged to lay on your boyfriend’s head.

“keep going,” he murmured, “…please?”

a gentle smile took over your features, and you were quick to run your fingers through his dark, silky strands. rin sighed softly, content with the affection you gave him — as if your angelic hands could take away every doubt swirling on his mind and wipe off the tiredness from his sore body.

“of course,” you said. and your mind completed silently: i’d keep going forever if it made you happy.

perhaps you were down bad, too.

Michael Kaiser

contrary to popular belief, michael kaiser was not a bad boyfriend.

despite his huge ego, his narcissistic tendencies and his extravagant yet somehow rude personality, he wasn’t the type of guy to treat his partner poorly. in fact, he was a very attentive boyfriend, always doing his best to make sure you were happy and healthy.

or maybe it was just you. who knows.

whatever his reasons were, you relished the fact he took such good care of you, even if he wasn’t physically present because of away games — because michael was very good at making people notice him. whether it was with a bouquet of your favorite flowers delivered to your job, a nice breakfast cooked before you woke or even a small note of love professions.

however, nothing really compared to having him there, with you, flesh and bone.

especially on those days you just felt so miserable you wanted to disappear.

“liebling? you okay?”

it was one of kaiser’s rare day offs, and all you wished for was to spend some much needed quality time with your boyfriend. though, this wasn’t possible due to your job, one you liked having despite michael saying he could support the both of you financially.

but the day at work just sucked. like, a lot. it was that kind of day where things go from bad to worse in a matter of minutes, and when you swear it can’t get shittier, it does.

you were exhausted and emotionally drained. the whole drive back to your shared apartment you were holding back tears, and the dam broke the second you heard kaiser asking you that.

“whoa!” the blonde exclaimed when your bodies collided on a tight hug. “what is it, engel? what happened? did someone hurt you?”

his worried tone just made you sob harder, and kaiser rubbed his hands on your back, trying to give you some comfort. he started to sway your bodies together while humming, doing everything to calm you down.

eventually, your sobs died down, and your boyfriend carefully brought you to the couch, making you lay on top of him; head on his chest. he started to gently scratch your scalp, running his long fingers through your hair.

“you feeling any better?” he asked in a low tone.

“yeah. thank you, mikka.”

the blond only hummed. “do you… want to talk about it?”

you had to stifle a giggle. god, he was so cute. even when he sucked at talking about feelings, he always made an effort for you.

you slowly shook your head. “jus’ had a really bad day. but it’s okay now.”

his eyes softened impossibly, and you nearly swooned at the sight. “yeah?”

michael kissed your forehead, and kept threading his fingers among your locks in a gentle caress. you smiled, because it was all you really needed to be comforted.

“yeah.”

Mikage Reo

reo’s body collapsed on top of yours, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. you should have been used to it by now, really, since he’d always do that after you finished your smexy times, but sometimes it still caught you off guard.

“reo, you’re heavy,” you groaned, teasing him. “get off me!”

“give a guy a break, will you?” he whined. “i’m tired.”

your giggle reverberated through his body, and reo repositioned himself to lay his head on your chest, hugging your waist tightly as if to never let you go. he’d rather lose all his fortune before he let that happen.

“is mr. athlete getting out of shape? i didn’t know this light exercise could make you so…”

your boyfriend interrupted you with a groan. “babe!”

you raised your hands in mock surrender, giggling again, and reo thought maybe he didn’t really care about your teasing if it meant seeing you this happy. he loved you in all your versions, but carefree was his favorite one.

“sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

before he could make a suggestive joke, his breath hitched in his throat when your soft hands started caressing his hair, gentle fingers threading through his purple locks making him sigh. it was so unfair, he thought, how you managed to disarm him with just a small touch, reduce him to putty in your palms with a little gesture of affection. some of his friends said he was a fool in love, and reo couldn’t agree more.

your love made him silly, but he didn’t hate it. he could never hate anything about you. all mikage reo was able to feel was love, love, love, an emotion so strong it nearly overwhelmed all of his senses, making him forget about all his worries and responsibilities — heck, even the whole world. and he didn’t mind if the world burned as long as he could keep you safe and away from the flames.

“what are you thinking about?” the whisper of your voice echoed the walls of your shared bedroom.

“what makes you think i’m thinking about something?”

though reo couldn’t see you, he knew you rolled your eyes.

“it’s usually how the human mind works, honey,” you answered, your wit making him stifle a laugh. “besides, you’re always so chatty, talking my ear off—”

“hey!”

“—so it always concerns me when you get quiet.”

the heir sighed, letting the silence linger a little longer to recollect his thoughts. reo usually didn’t have a hard time expressing himself with words, but sometimes his heart swelled so much it made it hard to think. so, pretty much every time he was with you.

“it’s just… i’m thinking about how i never really believed in past lives and reincarnation. i never really believed in soulmates, either,” he said, and you paid attention to every word. mesmerized by the wonder in his voice and even more by the sparkle in his purple eyes when he averted his gaze to yours.

“but when i think about you, love… when i see you in my arms or when i rest in yours, i’m sure you are my soulmate, and that we were together in every lifetime. it’s always been you. it will always be.”

your chest swelled with love for the man laying in your embrace, and you tried to hold back the tears from falling. god, he was everything. you didn’t even know what you did to deserve a lover like mikage reo, but you were far from complaining.

you gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead, trying to convey even a fraction of the love and adoration you held for him, and looked back to caress his face. then, smiling with the world in your eyes, you answered:

“it’s always been you, too.”

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blujayonthewing · 1 year

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I JUST... LOVE HIM.... oTL

#me: I can't remember does felix have disguise kit proficiency [pulls up roll20] HE CAN PLAY THE FLUTE???#idk I might change that... I just remembered that was almost certainly me laying the groundwork for [puppyeyes @ dm] pipes of the sewer pls #but like. that's never gonna matter lmfao #anyway seeing all these traits together again reminded me how much I'm lov him and wanna PLAY him alas #another terrible and frustrating thing about this is that I'm thinking about him going #'but he's not very COMPLEX none of these things go very DEEP I should put more thought into his background and motivations etc'#which like-- NO I SHOULDN'T??? I'M NEVER GONNA PLAY HIM I CAN'T GET IN *DEEPER* WITH A DEAD END OC!!#anyway [shakes him like a jar full of pennies] :\#about me #my OCs #felix

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shiny-jr · 5 months

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from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde | Pomefiore | Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst imposter au #i didn't ask to isekaied #we just got a letter wonder who it’s from #vil schoenheit #yandere vil schoenheit #twst vil #rook hunt #yandere rook hunt #twst rook #epel felmier #yandere epel felmier #twst epel #pomefiore

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