#but still this poor thing… I really feel for him…

[aycius]

JJK MEN AS DADS !‧₊˚

feat. satoru gojo, nanami kento, & toji fushiguro

SATORU GOJO

literally the kids’ best friends. satoru’s parents weren’t necessarily the most active in his life so he made it a goal to have children with someone he genuinely loved — you. he is such a supportive dad and tends to overindulge in his children’s interest… one of those dads that buys boxes of mangos just because their child said they liked mangos. they wanna learn how to play a sport? satoru’s already got multiple personal trainers in his contacts to make sure your children have the best form of education when it comes to said sport. you thought satoru was playful before? oh, when he’s with his children, he’s even worse. tag, hide and seek, tic tac toe, satoru’s allowing the kids to stay up LATE, because he’s not giving up until he wins one of those games. you argue that the kids are still young, and satoru should be the bigger person and allow the kids to win but satoru isn’t hearing NONE of that. def the type to let the kids stay home just because they said they’re feeling “sick.” you kinda had to step in at a point because the kids got on and started lying just to stay home. regardless, this man loves his kids and is willing to do anything to ensure that they, as well as his lovely wife, you, live a happy and comfortable life. one time after a long family trip, you and satoru were settled in your room while the kids were asleep and he started getting emotional because he genuinely wondered what he could have done to deserve such a loving family :(( poor baby. underneath the playful facade he puts on for the kids, he just wants to make sure they never doubt that their father loves them. you always reassure him that you and the kisses are blessed to have a husband and a father like him.

NANAMI KENTO

you and his daughter are the light of his life. there’s no place he’d rather be than home. he loves it here. he has a portrait of you and his daughter playing in the backyard at his office and always looks at it to cheer him up when he’s having a bad day. recently, your daughter has been clinging and missing him more and she absolutely hates it when kento leaves. your daughter literally takes your phone to text nanami and is constantly checking up on him at work. it’s one of the things he looks most forward to when going to work. he also loves facetiming her when he’s on break because she is always asking for nanami at home and he feels so bad.. always reads her a bedtime story before kissing her forehead and tucking her in goodnight. you and nanami recently started doing road-trips every summer to the beach because your daughter has had a recent infatuation with fish. after a long day at the beach, you, him, and your daughter walk on the boardwalk as nanami carries the little one in his arms, your hand in his as you all admire how pretty the beach is at night. it’s so sweet because nanami loved the beach growing up. the fact that he has the opportunity to go with his new family now, he couldn’t be more grateful. never fails to tell you and your daughter that he loves the both of you more than anything in life. you guys are his purpose and motivation.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

… ok so i’m sure we’ve seen how he has been as a father but—hear me out! toji loves you and his kid severely. toji has always been one to not wear his heart on his sleeve and guard himself but he’s been working really hard, and constantly does, so he can be the best husband and father for his child. although toji is seen as this tough guy in front of others, he has the softest spot for his child. everyday when he comes home from work, his face instantly lights up when he sees his little kid run up to him and give him the biggest hug. scoops the kid in his arm and kisses them on the cheek while he talks about how much he missed the child. he’s def the type of dad to enroll their kid in a sport, and for some reason i can see him being a serious soccer dad. like that man does NOT play. the type of dad to get really loud on the bleachers if another kid on the opposite team LOOKS at his kid the wrong way. constantly makes bets with his kid that if they score a goal he’ll them candy and you’re just like… ykw i’ll let them handle this. you’re just happy to be there tbh. i can imagine toji being the coach to your kid’s traveling team, so weekends are always full of road-trips to the destination where they’re playing at. teaches his kid discipline and respect at a very young age. sometimes he can be a bit tough and you know it’s out of love but sometimes you do have to step in. truly, toji means no harm—he was just brought up roughly in his household. toji parents weren’t the best either so everyday he’s happy that you’re there as a guide to him so he can be the best father possible.

[priniya]

˗ˏ` THEODORE NOTT HEADCANONS! ´ˎ˗

NATIONALITY. i truly believe that this man is half polish from his mother’s side and half scottish from his father’s side.

his maternal side of the family settled in northern scotland during the world war two to escape the german occupation. at first it was supposed to be temporary — to stay there until the war ends, but they settled down in the outskirts of inverness, though they never forgot about their heritage, speaking their native language, remembering the history and making sure that their descendants wouldn’t forget about their family’s past.

his mother would continue the tradition, speaking to her only son in her family’s mother tongue. due to the lack of conversation with his father, he barely spoke any english, when he first got to hogwarts, he understood lots of what was said to him, but communicating back was troubling for him at first.

back when his mother was still alive, she would take him to poland, to show him their family’s hometown. after she passed away due to suicide, combined with her progressing schizophrenia around his tenth birthday, he hasn’t returned to his mother’s country until post-war.

FRIENDS. he didn’t have too many friends at first nor wanted to make any in the first place. the first person he spoke to was daphne greengrass.

his poor english with a rough accent, mixed of polish and scottish, made it hard for him to be understood by his peers in the train, making theo seem as an arrogant and egocentric twelve-years old boy, who thought he was better than the others that approached him. theo felt alienated, but couldn’t speak his mind, because his peers would make fun of the way he speaks.

back in the first term of first year, his roommates weren’t speaking to him. thanks to daphne, who let him took his time to figure out what he wanted to say, he met his gang and switched dorms with one of them, which resulted in sharing a room with mattheo and lorenzo.

even though he had a small group of friends, his closest were daphne and mattheo. the alienation he felt earlier was lifted off his shoulders, knowing that there were still people that would be there for him. ever since his mom died, he felt like his world was shattered into pieces, the feeling only intensifying, when his father forbid him from seeing the side of the family he grew up with, the good side that let him be a boy.

his friendship with daphne was strong throughout years as she often invited him to the countryside, where her family’s mansion was, often disappearing into thin air at the crack of dawn till the late evening, wandering around the streets of a muggle towns nearby her house, causing troubles with the rest of their friends.

PERSONALITY.

it wasn’t a surprise for anyone that learnt about his background that despite coming off as an extrovert, theodore was really quiet and perceptive guy, who kept lots of things to himself. not a lot of people knew about his mom’s life and the way it ended as his father made sure that everyone thought she died of an unspecified illness.

seeing his mom’s schizophrenia progressing in his early years, leading to her suicide had taken a toll on him. he believed that it was his father’s fault for everything bad that happened to the person he loved the most as he tried isolating her from her family, and when that didn’t work out the way he wanted, abusing her mentally and physically. after her passing, the abuse continued, this time, theodore was at the end of the stick. his father’s behaviour making theo distrustful and hostile towards male figures in his life, especially authorities.

despite his quietness, lots of girls at school were falling in front of him to get at least an ounce of his attention for themselves. it might be the brooding state he’s often is in. he, as well as his friends, is often the subject of interest of people in his year and below. usually, he attends the parties in the common rooms to keep up with his reputation.

theo’s really indifferent towards things that don’t matter much to him, like said reputation, or for example his grades. though, he doesn’t care about his academics as much as he does about quidditch, he’s exceptionally intelligent and talented, picking up things in a speed of light. he’s not one to refuse helping others (=his friends) and he often tutors mattheo before exams to make sure they both pass the year.

he gets angry, whenever someone compares him to his father, what happens when someone hears his last name. during this time or immediately after, he can get outbursts of anger and needs a smoke (preferably a joint) to numb his mind. if he doesn’t have anything on him, which rarely happens, then if you’re in a line of fire, a visit to hospital wing is the only way out.

whenever he comes back to school from the christmas break, his panic attacks are more frequent, usually accompanied by the image of his dead mom. the panic attack that he would never forget was during his third year, when his boggart showed him his mom’s lifeless body, triggering something inside him.

MISCELLANEOUS.

theo’s super tall, making him stand out from the crowd. when he was measured by miss pomfrey in year five, she told him that he’s around six foot five. he used to be a short kid, but once he started growing, he couldn’t stop — stretch marks on his stomach has fainted over the years.

he doesn’t like mixed alcohol. as a teenager with polish genes, theodore doesn’t mix his alcohol with any juice or soda to make the bitterness go away faster. when he drinks, he does it neat, no matter the type. whether he drinks tequilla, vodka, whiskey or wine, he never adds anything. and when he does want to make the taste go away faster, he eats pickled cucumbers.

has bad anxiety. as i said earlier, theo’s bad anxiety and with each year passing, it only gets worse. his panic attacks are more frequent and it often goes in a pair with any contact from his father.

music taste. the music he listens to is dependent on his mood. whenever he’s alone in his dorm, he blasts polish songs and bands, especially dżem, because it was his mom’s favorite rock-blues band. he’s also a big fan of the smiths and simple minds.

blood status. he doesn’t care about any of it, mostly because that’s what his mom taught him — blood status doesn’t define a person, their actions do. even if she didn’t, he would probably still pretty much indifferent to the blood status of people around him, just to do the opposite of what his father wants.

substances. he’s go to substance is weed. he doesn’t smoke as much as people think, he likes to smoke a joint on a chilly summer morning or after a stressful day. he definitely drinks much more, but not to the point, when he can’t live without it. it’s not a secret that once in a while, he pops mdma at parties.

AS A BOYFRIEND. or more specific, your boyfriend.

possessive. as much as he doesn’t like admitting it, he doesn’t like sharing too much. he’s an only child, who grew up alone most of the time, so sharing never came easy to him. he tries to fight it though, knowing that being super possessive isn’t something healthy. he knows how to read people, so when there’s a guy hanging around you, who’s clearly interested in you, he makes sure to be somewhere around you to shift your focus from the annoying prick to him, while still being gentle with you. he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side to leave a kiss on the top of your head, before glaring expectantly at the boy.

communicative. being able to communicate his feelings and thoughts with others weren’t a bother to theodore, he hardly ever spoke to anyone about his troubles, bottling everything up until it popped. but when it comes to you? this guy makes sure that you know he has nothing to hide from you. he’s upset? you’re the one he talks to. he’s angry? you’re the only one able to calm him down. he wants you to know that you’re the one he cares about the most.

protective. this guy loves you to bits and loves everything you do, so when you show him the outfit you plan on wearing, he doesn’t comment on it in any way that could come off as negative, not that he wants to but forces himself to shut up, no, theodore couldn’t even think of something else to say that comolimenting the way you look or telling you all the things he’d love to, and will do to you later. back, when the two of you started dating and you went out somewhere, he always repeated the same thing, wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight. and he definitely would fight for you if you ever asked (what probably will never happen, because no matter how hot he looks sometimes, you hate seeing him hurt). or fight anyone, who does as much as look at you funny, and knowing his friends? they wouldn’t pull him away from the fight, no, they would jump right in to help him.

love language. his love language is acts of service and physical touch. his hands always have to be somewhere on your body, whether it’s his arm slung around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist, his hand on your hip, thigh, his thigh touching yours. it’s not only that he likes to touch you, but he hates when you’re next to him, but not close enough to calm his mind that he might lose you. also, theodore is not the best with words, so he won’t write you a few pages long letter, but what he will do is remember small details of what you tell him, like your favorite brands of sweets, crisps, your favorite flavor of cakes or cookies to always have at least one of those in his bag. he’s the guy who would drive from inverness to the south of england if you ever needed him. you’re sick? one message and theo’s there to take care of you. you like a book, but have no one to talk to about it? he’s gonna read the book just to hear you ramble.

[sh1-n0bu]

Can't stop thinking about domming Calcharo

Idk for some reason I see him as breedable-

RAAAGHHH CALCHARO ASKS YEAAHHHHH🔥🔥 its actually super funny cuz ill be going “oh my cutie patootie🫶” “my shy princess🎀” “my wittle baby🥰” and then hes just there, murdering enemies in the background like “STRIKE👹SHIMMER👹unleash the fangs😡whos the prey now?”

service sub. you cannot tell me otherwise. brat? spoiled? nuh-uh. poor man never felt an ounce of normalcy in his life and his job is literally to serve to people who pays him, he’s a service sub

not exactly big on kinks or toys, i think. really likes soft and vanilla sex most of the times in private, in the comfort of your shared home where he can be vulnerable. but if he’s really feeling like it and too damn horny to function, he’ll indulge in the occasional handjob or blowjob behind a stacks of crates or walls

not exactly loud but not exactly dead silent either. not a full blown moaner, but he whines and whimpers so sweetly. likes to hug you or stay close to you so you can hear how quickly he’s turning into a putty in your hand while his hands desperately cling to your biceps or forearms for a little bit of grounding

won’t do anything without your permission, really. you wanna try something? sure. chastity cages? a ring around his cock? or even a vibrator you wanna shove up his hole while he tries to maintain composure? he’s all in for it. just please don’t torture him for too long, he might just lose his facade in the wrong place. would whine and apologize if he cums too quickly or without asking for your permission. weak knees ready to buckle beneath him while he whimpers out how sorry he is for cumming without your permission

he’s so cute :((

really loves markings, me thinks. scratching is fine but he really really really loves bitemarks. on him? on you? doesn’t matter. do whatever you want to him and he’ll take it like a good boy. don’t worry of his men seeing the marks, his clothes will cover him plenty, just hurry up and sink your fangs into his flesh, mark him as yours

might be into some predator/prey thing because of his voicelines,,,,,, and some size difference kink. he’s a big, intimidating guy so the thought of his lover being smaller than him even by a single inch and still being able to catch him or rat him out from hiding gets his pants feeling a little bit tighter. it doesn’t even have to completely sexual all the time too! just brush against him when reaching for something in the fridge, a hand over his waist when moving past him in a small space, guide him to give you some space with a hand on his lower back while you walk past him — and calcharo’s already thinking of how you could use those hand placements to fuck him dumb for the rest of the day

big nose, big dick!! and he really lives up to it. just like his body type, his cock is a bit on the fatter side i think. just a teensy bit thicker all around with a very cute sensitive tip. be sure to suck on his sensitive tip to get your puppy whining about how his mind is melting at record speed! he’ll be thrashing his legs and shaking his head, saying he can’t cum again but he refuses to safe word or push your head away. too bad calcharo, you’ll be crying in no time soon

hips mmmgghhhh… his hips are so squeeze-able when fucking him from behind. push him into a doggy style with his chest down against the bed, ass perched up for you to fuck his puckering hole. or just push him flat down against the mattress while you roughly fuck into him from behind while your hands leave bruises on his hips. he’ll whine about his cock being neglected as the poor thing weeps precum on the sheets, squished between his body and the material of the beddings with no mercy to touch himself. just slap his ass or squeeze his hips and he’ll learn to be a good boy again

also might be into some light pet play or simply being collared and leashed. y’know with the whole hound thing and stuff. leash him up and put him into a mating press and he’s whimpering and throwing his head back like the cute pup he is. will try to deny it, saying things like “n-not a… p-pu—uunngh haah aah annhcg puppy! not a puppy..!” with a shake of his head. just coo out that he does sound like one and he’s voice is sounding a bit higher as he whimpers loudly

idk why but i just have a feeling that he’ll be into sounding… idk whyyyyy okay?? it just,,, seems like something he would be into. has the fastest reactions and dry orgasms when his dick is all plugged up while your hand slowly jerks off his cock. you don’t even have to tease him and he’s already asking for a permission to cum

[mountainficss]

jeonghan req cuz I read ur thing also jeonghan IS JUST 1 FINE HECK OF A MAN. Like idk ITS SMTH ABT HIM like hes genuinely so perfect.. hes so funny and cute omg. ANYWAYS point is jeonghan may seem perfect & so sweet & silly, but hes so mean in bed:((( making you beg him to give you what you want, and him teasing you telling you to repeat what u said bcuz he apparently couldnt hear uuu😭 I NEED HIM OMG

- 🦈🦈🦈🦈

!! mentions of: unprotected sex, teasing

no omg i love jeonghan so much. he’s so so sweet but he’s such a little BRAT. he’s such a fucking tease like how can someone so sweet also be such a brat omg.

he’d be the sweetest baby outside of the bedroom, but would still be a tease of course. jeonghan would honestly be your favorite person to be around. he’s playful yet observant, always saying the silliest things to make you smile but never misses all of the subtle changes in your mood. no matter how you’re feeling, he knows and he makes sure to take care of you based on your moods. you swear he knows everything about you, and you find that so endearing. he really was your sweet boy.

but as sweet as he can be, jeonghan is a little shit in bed. his teasing increases tenfold, and you’re certain he finds joy in making you miserable. he’d have you splayed out beneath him, sensually rolling his hips into yours as he grips the flesh of your thighs. jeonghan would bully your sweet spot with his targeted thrusts, feeling you tighten around him each time he buried himself into you again. he’d chuckle meanly at your poor attempts to hold back your whimpers, occasionally ripping a small sound from you when he fucks into you. “wanna cum?” he’d ask innocently, like he didn’t already know you were close to the edge. you’d nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist in an attempt to feel him deeper. his smile would widen at your needy behavior. “beg,” he’d grin impishly, reveling in your desperate whines and pretty pouting. he’d ignore all your discouraged whimpers, slowing down his movements to almost a complete stop. the torturous pace he’d set would cause you to crack, letting a tiny “please” slip. “what was that?” jeonghan would challenge, snapping his hips once, the rough thrust causing you to yelp. he’d gaze down at you with hooded eyes, returning to the slow pace he’d set before. “say it again, baby? couldn’t hear you,” he’d smirk, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “please, hannie!” you’d huff with a pout, pushing your hips against him in an attempt to feel more. he’d laugh gently, reaching a hand up to your face and cupping your cheek. the intimate gesture was in complete contrast to the indecent acts you were committing. “louder,” he’d urge, picking up his pace and savoring your pretty moans. he’d fuck you through your continuous strings of begging, only fucking you faster when you beg louder for him <3

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[love-byers]

so as hard as it may be to believe, i was a mileven shipper right up until just before vol 2 of s4 came out. not hardcore twitter mileven, but a shipper nonetheless. i did love will and mike's relationship, maybe even more than mileven, but i never clocked it as romantic. i vividly remember thinking "aww, will and mike would be so cute together but they would never let that happen." and never thought about it again. even when i saw the rain fight and heard "it's not my fault you don't like girls" i was like "ohh wow so will is probably gay" and didn't even think he was in love with mike. i didn't believe that until the s4 trailer said "i think there is someone he likes" and of course, this was because of my own heteronormativity. i dismissed everything i saw and didn't even look for hints because the idea that the writers would allow a gay relationship between two main characters was not even a thought in my head. once i dropped that and started to trust that the writers actually cared and did want queer characters/storylines, everything made sense.

so i went into s4 thinking mileven were gonna be fine and that will was sad and hopelessly in love with mike. i mean fully believing it. so im mindlessly watching s4 e2 and thinking "aww poor will mike is so in love with el he can't pay attention to will" no questions asked.

then the fight happened. when mike blew up and said "you were! you were! you were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day" i was like " how do you know that" but still, i dismissed it and barely thought about it.

then it happened. "we're friends! we're. friends." all the alarm bells went off. red flags flew up. my eyebrows furrowed. "ummm what mike? he didn't say you were more than friends. why is he viewing this romantically and why is he being so defensive???"

i was so deep into believing the writers would never let the gay romance happen, but that just couldn't get past me. there's no other way that line can be interpreted. that's a trope that means one thing and one thing only.

my next thought was "ok, this is gonna be like the rain fight. will is gonna be really hurt by this and go silent."

but nope, will claps back with "well we used to be best friends!" and i was stunned. utterly stunned. what is going on here? what is this dynamic? and why is mike more worried about this than finding el? why did he care enough to completely stop walking so he couple blow up at will for not talking?? but still, i was somehow able to let this go. because the writers just wouldn't do that. would they?

the mileven fight happens and i've never wanted to backhand a teenager more in my entire life. i'm reminded of stancy and their whole "i love you" thing

then THIS happened, and i was thinking more and more that mike doesn't love el romantically. look at his face when will says "whatever you didn't say you can say it to her then". will starts talking but the camera stays focused on mike and will remains blurred. we're supposed to be taking in mikes reaction. he says yes, but frowns and blinks rapidly. will was trying to reassure him, but mike has not been reassured. i don't know how to describe the emotion on his face. it's like you just had a chance to clear up your lie, but you still didn't, and now you're back to thinking about the moment your lie will blow up in your face. it's like his face is saying, "no, i can't just say it to her then because i don't want to."

the scene where they talk on top of the car is what started to make me think mike doesn't love el romantically. his reaction to will saying "it's scary, to say how you really feel. especially to people you care about the most. because..what if they don't like the truth?" he nodded. he felt seen. i remember thinking "ooooh. he doesn't love her and he knows she won't like that" everything made sense. if we apply mike's monologue logic to this, it makes no sense. whatever it is that mike is feeling, he thinks el won't like it. then he supposedly decides that the moment to tell her that is when she's dying?

mike is lying. he was holding back saying how he feels because he knows el won't like it. then when she's dying, he suddenly thinks his feelings are what she wants enough that it'll save her life? whatever he was feeling on top of the car and what he tells her in the monologue are not the same. you don't tell someone something they won't like when they're dying.

and 2 years ago i came to this conclusion without an ounce me believing byler could be canon.

[cursedonyx]

A huge thank you to @islayhawkin for this ask, and my sincerest apologies for taking so long to get to it. Hope this is what you had in mind!

A Loving Hand

Ominis isn’t used to being touched, and his new girlfriend decides to show him just how nice it can be by giving him his very first proper cuddle.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: None, just enough cotton candy fluffiness to put holes in your teeth. Everyone is in 7th year and 18 years old.

Ominis Gaunt had never considered himself a fortunate man. Even the circumstances of his birth were unfortunate, and things didn’t really improve from there.

That is, until he met her.

She had been a new student in her fifth year, and though Ominis preferred not to dwell on what had happened during the course of that annum, what with almost losing both his best (and only) friends and a man he considered to be closer to family than his own blood had ever been, despite his horrible temper, there was something that made it all worthwhile.

Ominis had, quite by accident, fallen in love with the new student. He wasn’t entirely sure when it happened, whether it was a gradual build up of attraction and emotions until it got too great to ignore, or whether it was a single moment in time where the stars aligned. He could certainly pinpoint when he’d realised it; Sebastian had been teasing him about it and he had vehemently denied any untoward feelings.

“Gracious, Sebastian, it’s not like I stay up all night thinking about her!”

Four hours later as he lay in bed, chasing sleep with as much effectiveness as a three-legged table chases a panicked cat, Ominis went very still.

“Uh oh,” he said.

He’d determined not to do anything about his developing affection, but this seemed to only make it worse, sending him dangerously close to a full-blown obsession. Convinced as he usually was that no one of any significance would ever look twice at him, he resolved to nurture his unrequited love in solitude and silence. The trouble was, both she and Sebastian seemed quite determined to get him alone with her whenever it was humanly possible.

Things culminated on a cool spring morning as they sat at breakfast, and she’d sighed rather dramatically. Upon questioning her reasoning for this, she, ever bold, had told him in no uncertain terms that she rather liked him, and would like very much for him to be her boyfriend.

So it was that Ominis found himself with a girlfriend, not just any girlfriend, but her, and he couldn’t have been happier if you paid him. She was everything he could have wanted and more, endearingly sweet, violently protective, and unendingly patient as he tried to navigate the brand new and complex thing of ‘being a boyfriend.’ Her patience proved to be a godsend, as Ominis found himself utterly clueless as to how to behave, especially as a lot of the things his eighteen year old mind wanted to do seemed wholly inappropriate for the early stages of their relationship, and he was far too shy to even dream of suggesting them.

Besides, if he was ever going to get to that stage, he needed to overcome something much simpler first.

He needed to get used to someone else touching him.

Ominis avoided physical contact wherever possible. He’d become rather adept at it over the years, relying on both his wand and his hearing to steer him away from the students thronging the castle. He’d had far too many experiences where someone assumed that they could just grab onto his arm and yoink him off his own chosen path just because they wanted him to go somewhere else, as if he was some kind of invalid. His potions partners over the years had learned very quickly that he did not appreciate them trying to guide his hands to the ingredients, and in Herbology, even poor Professor Garlick had been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue when she tried to physically move him along his bench to where his plant pot was. He’d felt awful afterwards of course, and rather felt he deserved the detention he got two days later from Professor Sharp, who had presumably heard about the encounter.

But for the first time in his life, he wanted to touch someone else. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to hold her hand as they walked to Hogsmeade, he wanted to let her take his arm as they strolled through the grounds, he wanted to slip an arm around her shoulders and have her lean on his chest as she read aloud from their textbooks. He wanted to cuddle into her as evening slipped into night, to lay his head on her chest and listen to her heartbeat, the sound of her breath, his arms locked around her waist.

The trouble was, after so long avoiding contact with almost everyone, he had absolutely no idea how to initiate it without coming across as some kind of slobbering oaf. The very last thing he wanted to do was insult her, and he longed for her to make the first move, to take his hand, perhaps, or lean against him as they fought to stay awake during one of Professor Binn’s soporific lectures.

Unfortunately for him, he’d made his distain for human touch very plain to her early on in their fifth year. After they’d made it to Slytherin’s Scriptorium and she had bravely volunteered to be tortured in order to save their lives (something neither he nor Sebastian had ever forgiven the latter for), she’d leaned against him as Sebastian went running off to explore, clearly needing comfort, and like a moron, he’d pulled away, telling her gently that he just didn’t like to be touched. He’d spoken softly with her, comforting her as best he could with words, knowing all too well how badly she needed to be held in that moment, the echoes of his own torture ringing in his memory, but he’d failed her in that regard. He’d failed himself as well, it seemed, for even though they were now an official couple, she never overstepped the boundary he had drawn.

She was affectionate and loving all the same, saying gentle, kind things to him when they were alone, buying him little presents and complimenting him so frequently that his paranoia deemed it insincere until Sebastian told him off. In a moment of weakness, Ominis shared with his best friend some of his woes. Ever the pragmatist, Sebastian had told him to ‘just bloody tell her about it.’

But Ominis was too shy even for that, too afraid of making a mistake or saying the wrong thing that could be construed as lecherous as opposed to loving. He spent a day or two moping, wondering how he could ever consider himself worthy of her if he couldn't even hold her hand and wondering how best to go about navigating a relationship that lacked physical contact. The thing was, and he was furious with himself for forgetting it, Sebastian had a noxious habit of getting involved in things when he really, really shouldn’t.

He should have known something was up when she asked him to meet her in the Undercroft in the evening for a date. He’d been a little bemused, their dates were usually to Hogsmeade or Quidditch matches, the Undercroft was a bit of a dour place for a romantic evening. But it was very private.

Uh oh.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Ominis crept into the Undercroft that evening, his wand revealing the outlines of the narrow stone corridor through small vibrations in his hand. As he approached the iron grate, he slowed, raising his head and inhaling.

She was already there, he could hear her shuffling around, and he could smell lavender and smoke. She must be burning scented candles. He nibbled his lip. He hoped she’d put them somewhere out of harm’s way, he’d had far too many incidents with a sleeve held too close to a flame before now to want to repeat the experience. He drew a breath and tugged at the old iron grate, which announced his presence with its customary, grating shriek of metal on stone.

“Ah, there you are.” She greeted him as warmly as ever, her smile evident in her voice. “Come over here, I’ve put some blankets and things down.”

“Unusual place for a date,” Ominis remarked as he obediently headed over to her. “Why here?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” she replied, and Ominis paused, a small thunk of something landing in his belly.

“That’s a frightening phrase,” he said, trying to hide his nervousness with a grin. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“Of course not,” she said, and patted the cushion beside her. Ominis dropped onto it, crossing his legs. “Please don’t be annoyed with me, but Sebastian and I have been talking.”

“I’d be surprised if you hadn’t been,” Ominis said, cautiously. “You’re close friends, after all.”

“We’ve been talking about you,” she clarified, and Ominis gulped.

“Oh?”

“He said you’ve been wanting to ask me something,” she said, her tone as cautious as he felt. “I just wanted you to know you can ask me absolutely anything, and I promise I won’t judge you for it. I know this is all new for you, and I want you to be comfortable with me.”

“Not new for you, I take it?” Ominis said, hoping to steer the conversation away from where he knew it was headed, his heart setting up a frantic dance in his chest.

She chuckled. “I’ve had boyfriends, if that’s what you’re asking. Forget about them, this evening is just for you and me. Specifically you.” She shuffled a little closer, and Ominis caught a breath of her hair, the raspberry cream shampoo she used each morning. Merlin, whoever invented that stuff was a bloody genius, he thought, because whenever he smelled it, he had the strongest urge to put her hair in his mouth.

He felt a flush flow up his neck and over his cheeks, and he turned away, fiddling with his wand.

“What… what did you have in mind?”

“I was rather hoping you’d tell me,” she said. “Sebastian gave me a pretty good idea of what you’ve been wanting to ask, but I don’t want to make any assumptions. I’d like to hear you say it.”

Ominis opened and closed his mouth, doing a remarkable impression of a fish that’s had a bit of a shock. He felt himself torn between indignant fury that Sebastian had taken it upon himself to tell his girlfriend about his wants and needs, and palpitating anxiety that she wanted him to say the words. He was caught now, he had to tell her what he wanted, what he needed from her, but he couldn’t seem to summon his voice. It was tangled up in his throat, the brambles that had suddenly decided that his larynx was the perfect place to take up residence tightening as she shifted a little closer, and Merlin, he could feel the warmth of her body, barely a few inches away.

What if he didn’t say anything? What if he just sat in dumb silence until the clock struck midnight or she grew bored? Would she take it as a rejection, would she think he didn’t want her? He did! No one had ever touched his heart in quite the way she had, had captivated his mind and turned his every waking thought into thoughts of her. Surely she had to know that? She was so easy to be around, so why couldn’t he bloody speak?

But he had underestimated her again, it seemed, when she rested her hand, very, very gently, on the back of his own, causing every muscle in his body to tighten as a gasp flew up from the back of his throat and past the tangle of thorns where his words were still fighting to get out.

“Is it this?” she asked, her voice as soft as her touch. “It’s alright if it is. I want there to be more physical contact between us both.”

His lips still parted, Ominis’ sightless eyes were fixed on the space in the nothingness around him where their hands were. It seemed to him that her skin carried a current of some kind, almost implausibly soft, the warmth of it sending prickling tingles along the back of his hand, up his arm and to his shoulders, where they scampered about like mischievous kittens, their tiny claws pricking his skin. She was still waiting for an answer, and Ominis steeled himself, forcing a single word out from his full throat.

“Yes,” he whispered.

He winced. He’d wanted to sound calm, collected, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, but it came out more like a scratch, rising at the end to a squeak. He turned away and cleared his throat, his cheeks searing. Beside him, she chuckled softly.

“That’s good. This isn’t something you’re used to, is it?”

Ominis shook his head, not trusting himself to speak again just yet. She moved a little closer, her hand still on his, her arm now pressing against his.

“I want you to be comfortable,” she murmured. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready to do.” Her hand left his, and Ominis closed his eyes, cursing himself for his baffling inability to reciprocate, thinking her fed up of him already, but then her hand slid to his shoulder, gliding from one to the other, tracing a heated path over his upper back to hold.

“If you need me to stop, if I go too far or do too much, I need you to tell me,” she said, her voice as gentle as an autumn dawn. “If you don’t feel comfortable saying it, you can pull away, or move my hand. For my part, I just want to be close to you.”

Ominis took a steadying breath, willing his racing heart to slow as the pressure on his shoulder increased in subtle increments until he could no longer remain upright, pulled inexorably towards her, his body twisting instinctively, his cheek coming to rest on her shoulder, his nose pressed against her neck.

His entire body went taut. Her body was lither than he’d expected, soft and hard all at once, and her skin was almost searingly warm over her collar. The faint traces of citrus brushed against his nose, the scent of her perfume, or her soap, perhaps, or was it just the way she smelled? The fabric of her blouse moved against his cheek as she shifted, the cotton rough in comparison to the satin of her neck, and he could feel the swell of her chest against his upper arm. Ominis bit his lip, overwhelmed by the sensation, his attention zeroing in on it in a way that was most ungentlemanly. He twisted again, trying to move away just enough to preserve her modesty, her hand still tight on his shoulder. He could feel every detail of each slender digit, the way they came together and parted like the beginning notes of a song, rubbing gentle caresses into him in a way he’d never known was possible.

How was it that so simple a touch could set his mind afire like this? He didn’t know what to do other than remain where he was, remain rigid, try to save himself from some awful outburst of Merlin only knew what. Her head came down, her chin resting against his temple, her breath rushing over his ear as she sighed, silently, seemingly content.

How could she be content? He’d read books, sappy romantic stories that curled his lip where people draped themselves over one another like dust sheets over furniture, and this was far from it. He may as well have been a statue with how tightly was he holding himself, but he couldn’t bear the thought of letting himself relax. Who knew what would happen if he let himself go?

Her other hand came up to join the first, beginning at his shoulder and trailing down his arm, sending more of those devilish kittens gambolling about his skin. Her hand curved around his, lacing their fingers together and raising his hand, his arm following.

“Is this okay?” she whispered. “You can relax if you want to, I’m strong. I can hold you.”

Ominis squeezed his eyes shut all the tighter, fighting to keep his breathing steady. In all his imaginings, his lonely, nighttime thoughts, he’d pictured her curled into his lap, not the other way around. He’d imagined holding her, stroking her hair, hell, even… even kissing her. He’d never thought about this. He’d never thought about her holding him. But as he considered this, trying his absolute hardest not to focus too much on the way her arms seemed made to fit around him, her hand so warm in his, the tips of her fingers against the veins on the back of his hand, he came to realise that there was nothing in this world he wanted more than to be held.

With a low sigh that was almost a groan, Ominis let go. His muscles unlocked, his joints softened, and he folded into her embrace, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, rewarded with a soft, satisfied sigh from her lips.

“That’s right,” she murmured. “You’re doing really well, Ominis. I’m proud of you.”

Proud. She was proud of him for doing something that should be simple, natural, as easy as breathing. Was she making fun of him? He nibbled his lip again, debating a moment whether or not to pull back and ask, but when her hand moved from his shoulder to his back, rubbing gentle, loving circles across his shoulder blades, he completely forgot what he was going to say.

Hell, for a moment, Ominis forgot his own name. His mind sparked with new fire as his attention became caught upon this new sensation, her palm and the pads of her fingers five separate points, easily distinguished, occasionally joining to become a singular point of pressure as she smoothed her whole hand over his back. She unlaced their fingers and joined her other hand with the first, both tracing individual patterns over him that were yet still joined in a soundless dance.

Ominis found himself sinking further into her embrace, his arms winding around her hips to lock in place, holding her as tightly as she held him. She breathed another contented chuckle, then shifted, reaching down to hook behind his knee. Ominis froze again, a soft gasp escaping him as she looped her arm under both his legs and tugged, pulling him into her lap completely. She leaned back, bracing herself against one of the many stone pillars of the Undercroft, then she returned to rubbing his back, only her other hand moved up to the nape of his neck, her fingers pushing into his hair, making his entire body tingle as if he’d just been electrocuted.

It was almost too much. The heat of her body, the movement of her hands on him, so tender and so gentle, so inexplicably loving made him want to weep. Ominis couldn’t remember ever being touched like this, held like this, in his entire life. Yes, Aunt Noctua had cuddled him as a boy, but they were swift, furtive things, brief hugs that were all she’d been able to give for fear of reprisal from his family. They had never even so much as offered him a friendly pat on the head.

To his dismay, Ominis found the backs of his eyes prickling. His instinct, borne of religious training, told him he needed to get up and run off somewhere private where he could handle his emotions properly, before returning to behave with the decorum a man in his position was expected to exhibit. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t push her away. He couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from her ever again.

He needed her to keep holding him. He needed her to keep rubbing his back. He needed her to keep running her fingers through his hair like she was, in the way that made him want to purr. Indeed, a low, rumbling sound began at the bottom of his lungs, but he bore down on it. He couldn’t let her know how much he craved this, because even he hadn’t known. If he’d known how good it felt to be touched by another person, he’d have been much more open to it long ago.

But something told him it wouldn’t be like this with everyone. There was something remarkably special about the way she held him to her, as if it was meant only for them, and no one else. Ominis tucked his face tighter into the crook of her neck, screwing up his face as his hands rose to grip the back of her blouse, one of her knees braced against the small of his back, his legs draped over her other. Something clawed at his chest, a great howl of loss and misery fighting to get out as he tightened his grip on her, needing to be closer, longing to be nearer. If he could climb inside her very skin, it wouldn’t be enough.

He could hear her heartbeat. It pulsed against his ear, fluttering like a caged bird, far quicker than he’d expected. He could feel her ribs expanding and contracting as she breathed, the air that gave her life rustling over his hair as she continued to stroke it, her fingers spreading apart and coming together, the pads of her fingers pressing against his scalp, and it was all he could do not to roll his eyes back and lean into her touch, her other hand still gliding over his arm, his back, his side, hell, even his chest.

She rested it there a moment.

“You’re heart’s racing,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

Still he didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded and pushed himself closer, leaning his full weight against her torso, one arm clamped around her waist, the other rising up to tangle in her long hair, coming to rest in the middle of her shoulder blades, trying to press her closer to him. She seemed to understand, for she tightened her arms around him, lowering her head and pressing her cheek to his, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

He did cry a little then. Silently, his teeth bared, two slim tears escaped from under his lids and vanished into the cotton of her blouse. He drew a shaking breath, wishing he could do more than just lie here and be held, but then, it was all he ever wanted. Listening to her heartbeat, feeling her arms around him, feeling safe for the first time in his life, he could have died. He could have given up his life and been content that he had experienced all he ever wanted to, safe at last in her arms, protected from all the ills of the world around him. In her arms, there was no dark magic. In her arms, there was no crucio. In her arms, there was no pain or fear of regret.

In her arms, there was nothing but love and acceptance. As he held on to her, inhaling the citrus and raspberry of her scent, feeling the satin of her skin and the cotton of her blouse, the strength of her arms and the swell of her chest, Ominis realised for the first time in his life that he was worthy of being loved, and he never wanted to be loved by anyone but her.

I've had other similar asks to this one that requested a smuttier ending, so I plan to continue this at a later date with significantly more ✨spice✨

Keep an eye out 😉

Masterlist

[verosikastrikerstellaexcuser]

something i find really gross by the writers and fans of the show Helluva Boss is that everyone bemoans and bitches about Stolas being made to marry Stella and have a child with her when SHE WAS IN THE SAME DAMN BOAT. I am pleading with people to remember that women have been valued purely for their ability to bare children FOR CENTURIES, and is still idolized today. I am begging people to see Stella for what she was in a political marriage: a womb. Nothing more. Yet no one gives a fuck, cuz misogynistic writing is so engraved that critical thinking goes flying out the window.

THIS THIS THIS! Like, people calling her his rapist when St*las has said "This marriage was for one purpose, to birth an heir" Which she had to bear the physical brunt of since shes the one who had to lay an egg (equiv of pregnancy). Pregnancy takes a physical toll on the body. Ever since being a child she was expected to be okay with being forced to get pregnant with the child of a man selected for her. Its incredibly fucked up and that plus the fact St*las has all the property rights since shes been booted out and the show has shown us he gets to keep his palace which means he still owns it atm, the marriage literally favors him in multiple ways. Its literally less harmful (still harmful, but less) towards him than her in terms of legality and the fact her side involved forced impregnation as well as forced sex to boot. Its just so fucking gross that the writing does not address any of that at all and given the historical precedence of women being property passed around for arranged marriages. I feel like I'm going nuts at the latest plotline where St*las is a poor baby for being expected to split more in the divorce, I get it wasn't fair and neither of them wanted the marriage in the first place but they're writing Stella as a villain for expecting more than just her clothes and possessions and to also get a home/place she gets to live in and own too. Like, who wrote this? Viv and co. or reddit misogynists who think we should go back to when women got nothing out of divorces?

And I'm so tired of all the people who come out of the woodwork like "But shes mean" "Maybe shes just mean" "Stop overthinking it" "Why are you against female villains?" "Women can be abusers too" They're so dense when it comes to this, I'm sorry but its a stupid response that misses the point. I have never had a problem with female abusers in other shows such as TOH's Odalia and I wouldn't mind at all if Stella was written as an abuser who is lashing out due to being upset at what shes been forced to do. No, the point when it comes to Stella and HB is that, isn't it insidious? WHY out of all the villains is the female victim of an arranged marriage with so little actual power that stands in the way of an m/m ship chosen to be the "Shes just mean because shes a bad person not because bad things happened to her" archetype? And why is she specifically written as stupid and needing her brother to be the actual plotting villain; why does she barely get to drive the plot and her own story? Ever since they added Andrealphus hes stolen her spotlight/point in the story and shes just vehicle for St*las and Andre's beef now. Seriously like THINK PEOPLE. We KNOW that m/m fanfiction and yaoi focused spaces etc tend to use these tropes in which women are jealous men obsessed scumbags for the sake of being plot devices with no real writing, for the sake of creating drama that serves the male characters stories. I'm tired of being told I'm overreacting for recognizing obvious repeating patterns. Like it or not our biases will inform how we think about and therefore write certain groups of people. When you add in that male characters as a whole get so much more fleshed out and focused upon in Helluva Boss, and that its other female characters frequently don't get to express sexuality/sexual desires, and that female HB characters are so often just "X's cool hot looking partner" with little else to them, add in all that and it starts to paint an extremely suspect and ugly picture.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream who is completely unable to handle praise or compliments of any kind and also has a huge praise kink. So Hob takes advantage of this by setting up a system where if he catches Dream saying something bad about himself or being mean to himself, as both a punishment and as a way to encourage Dream to think better about himself and to hopefully boost his confidence, Hob has Dream kneel in front of him with Hob's cock in his mouth while Hob plays with his hair and tells him how much he's loved. Hob will spend hours telling Dream how amazing he is, how kind, smart, and beautiful he is, and how much Hob loves him. And that he deserves all the love in the world.

At first Dream can barely stand it. The first time they do that, he has to safeword out because he just can't take it. He's so unused to praise, but loves it so much he just can't contain it, so he has to stop a minute to stop his head from spinning. He's also slightly ashamed at how much he likes it.. which of course leads to them doing it again, this time Hob telling him over and over again that he deserves validation and that he shouldn't be ashamed for wanting it, or just wanting things in general.

Eventually it stops being a sort of punishment and is just how they relax. They both find it very fulfilling, Dream gets to hear that he's loved and gets all the validation that he's always needed, and Hob gets to put all his feelings for Dream into words as best he can, and he's also helping Dream be kind to himself in the process (and he also gets his dick sucked)

-🪐

Dream being punished by being praised is just so 😭😭😭 holy shit. Poor baby. You're so right about him having to safeword out of it, I definitely feel like he simply wouldn't be able to cope. I have imagine him just sobbing and shaking while Hob holds him, petting him gently and rocking him until he recovers enough to be picked up and taken to bed.

But progress is made. Dream doesn't flinch when Hob calls him "Good boy". He can cope with a few simple compliments - he's taking a more neutral stance so it doesn't feel like a punishment anymore. He feels like maybe he deserves to hear nice soothing words. He can even start to feel properly horny about it! Even though he's still a little shy that he gets hard when Hob calls him pretty and sweet... and his shyness just makes Hob compliment him even more...

Ultimately Dream is able to relax and slide into a really nice headspace with Hob’s cock comfortably filling his mouth. All the nice things that Hob says about him feel like they might actually be true!

The pain doesn't have to last forever. Hob will always be there to help. And Dream does deserve the nicest things.

[101maverick]

one shot with comic dick grayson where you guys get into a small fight and it gets to the point that when you spar together, he purposefully pins you to the ground to make you listen to his apology🫢

A/n: ooooohhhh this is juicy! Perfect angst material eheh🤭 imma have fun with this one >:) Not really sure about the “comic” part tho, cause i’m still at the start of my comic journey, but I’ve seen panels here and there on tumblr so imma see what I can do for u

Word count: 1400

There’s Something in Your Eyes

You were being stupid, really.

Logically, you know Dick loves you.

Logically, you know there is nothing going on between them.

Logically, you know Dick is an extremely influential hero, and that basically everyone in the hero community looks up to him since he’s been in it for forever, which makes it normal for him to have had many flings with people he still to this day works with.

However, logic doesn’t stop jealousy from burning in the pit of your stomach every time you see him interacting with one of them.

It’s not even one particular event that sets you off, more so a series of tiny little things.

Each reunion, each debrief, each cheesy quip, each mission, they all pile up until what was once only a tiny twinge of jealousy has turned into a gaping hole in your chest, out of which comes only anger and insecurity.

You aren’t an intergalactic princess like Koriand’r.

You aren’t an historic sidekick partner and lifelong friend like Barbara Gordon.

You aren’t some charming top-model or Lord-knows-what-else that his past stories surely are.

You’re just you, and while you don’t necessarily think badly of yourself, nowadays you aren’t sure that ‘you’ is enough.

And all of this is so unfounded that you feel silly at the thought of even voicing it, and you really didn't mean to make a fuss, but when Dick comes home after the umpteenth space mission with the Titans, raving about Starfire's intergalactic ambassador skills, you can't help the irritated quip that makes it's way past your lips.

“Cause she’s always so amazing, isn’t she?” You huff. Satisfaction coils in your gut, a bit of the tension inside you easing as a bit of your pent-up frustration finally eases up. You stifle it as best you can.

At that Dick looks up at you, startled. You feel your previous satisfaction wither right alongside the happiness in his eyes.

You are in your shared apartment’s kitchen, the island between you as he sits on a stool while you lean against the counter.

“What?” He asks, confused. His expression is rapidly morphing, reminding you of something awfully akin to a kicked puppy.

You backtrack as fast as possible. “Nothing, don’t think about it.”

Shame colours your cheeks, and their sting joins the burning of your mounting shame, bubbling under your skin. You turn your body away from him, not wanting him to see.

Dick isn’t having that though, because your boyfriend, your sweet and perceptive boyfriend, sees the way your shoulders are hunched and your brow is slightly furrowed and immediately clocks what your remark was all about.

He shoots you a concerned glance. “Babe, you alright?” He asks while sliding off the barstool, making his way around the kitchen island. Ever the tactful one, as always. “If there’s something bothering you, we can talk about it—”

You cut him off. “I said it’s nothing. There’s nothing to talk about.” The irritation in your voice is a poor shield to hide behind, a hastily put-together cloak of dryness and hardened stares for your shame to shroud itself in.

Dick remains standing there, halfway around the kitchen island, as you make your exit to the bedroom.

————————————

The day passes, and you keep your distance. Just the thought of how Dick would react to you voicing your insecurities, the absolute hurt that would mar his features at his girlfriend accusing him of cheating of all things, makes the flame of shame and self-hatred re-ignite in your ribcage, inflaming your lungs with every breath.

You manage to deflect any attempts at confrontation in the car, spending the whole ride to the Manor looking out the window and blasting music through your earphones.

————————————

It all comes to a head in the Batcave, obviously.

You’re training in a corner of the gym area, going through your usual routine. Dick comes up to where you are and stands there, waiting for you to pay attention.

After a solid five minutes of him standing there unmoving and of you stubbornly ignoring him you cave and pause your reps. You keep your eyes stubbornly fixed ahead of you.

He tosses you a roll of bandages. “You up for a spar?” His voice is quiet. Your resolve breaks.

You grab the bandages and swiftly wrap your hands. He stays watching you the whole time. You wonder wether his gaze is damning or merely analytical.

When you’re done you move to the training mats. Getting into position is reflex by now, readying your stance and falling into a weird stand-off, both waiting for the other to start first. You keep your eyes fixed to a spot above his shoulder.

You attack first, lunging at him and throwing a right hook, meanwhile trying to kick his feet off of him.

Dick swiftly avoids your punch, sidestepping it and catching your entire arm in his grip. He uses that to leverage your body over his shoulder, rendering useless your attempt at getting him off-balance.

You recover in mid-air, landing in a roll and getting back up while he’s still in the process of turning toward you, and manage to land a punch to his stomach.

He sputters but manages to step back in time to avoid your other arm coming to enclose on his waist, and your momentum makes you loose your balance.

You go for another roll, but before you can do more than turn on your back you find yourself locked into a full-body pin.

Dick’s almost laying on top of you, his knees on either side of your hips, his chest pressing on yours so his bodyweight weighs you down too much to get up.

His forearms are laying on either side of your head, though. You could easily slide your arms out from where he’s got them pinned against your sides and make him loose his balance, if you wanted.

Trapped like this, though, your face inches from his, you have no choice but to stare right into his eyes.

What you find there stops you from fighting.

His expression his open, his brows slightly furrowed. In those oceans he’s got for irises swims something you aren’t sure you know the name of, but it doesn’t burn you and you aren’t sure you like that. Aren’t sure you want the unfamiliarity of it to keep festering.

Dick Grayson reads people like one does library handouts, laid bare with all their weathered discolouration and all their folded corners for whoever comes across to see. You are no exception.

So why, just why in the hell doesn’t his gaze burn? Why doesn’t it scorch you with the familiar flames of hatred, resentment and anger?

You want to turn away. You do, really. Aren’t sure you can keep looking into those mariana-trench deep wells of something you can’t name without drowning. You steel yourself, though. You have a feeling that looking away would be too much like a condemned man flipping the switch of the electric chair himself. You’re gonna leave that job to him.

“You know I hate it when there’s something wrong but you won’t tell me about it.”

His voice is soft. It doesn’t burn. That damned something permeates it, as well.

“You already know everything you need to. What’s the point in making a bigger fool of myself?”

The shame stings your cheeks. The way the something remains plastered on his face unperturbed instead of giving way to something fiery soothes it. The lack of condemnation rips the confession from your lips.

“I’m sorry.”

The admission. You’re right, it says. Everything you read in that torn-up book of my soul is true. Add another tear to it’s pages. Rip it to shreds.

How could you? How could you have, even second-handedly, doubted his loyalty? How could you have been so self-absorbed and childishly jealous, when that forsaken something embeds itself into every fibre of his being? While it washes over you to soothe every burn and extinguish every flame you yourself caused?

Dick’s expression changes. It morphs. The something is joined by something else now, not unlike a breeze parting clouds previously hanging in a greyed sky.

“It’s okay. I just wish we’d work together when there’s something bothering one of us.”

It’s okay. Absolution.

You think the sky would’ve parted. You think you should be hearing trumpets right now.

You are reminded, then, that there is a whole world outside of this cave. That who you have in front of you is just a man, and that the universe is filled with something bigger than yourselves.

But even with this knowledge at the forefront of your mind, here, with Dick’s forearms resting on either side of your head, your entire universe boils down to him. To his almost-creaseless brow. To his something-filled irises.

And in this moment of clarity you realise that right now, with all your little hurts bare to see, his entire universe boils down to you.

“Yeah. Let’s.”

You wish you had more to say. You wish your brain could come up with something more substantial.

You hope the something shining in your eyes is enough.

It feels a lot like love.

[glokyo]

18+ (mod/heavy smut... don't be scared.)

warnings; somnophilia, !cnc, mentions of sex.

synopsis; Satoru understands how hard it gets for you, always working, always being a provider even when you don't need to be one. But you always insist, not wanting to depend on him for everything. He only bids to understand because he loves you.

Satoru is as understanding as any man comes. He gets it, he gets you. You're the love of his life, the person he cares for and lives for. You're so dedicated, hardworking like regularly. You try so hard everyday, insisting you'd never depend on him because it makes you 'feel bad.' He hates it; he hates how tired you are everyday, you're his baby.. how could you not be?

Satoru loves to worship your skin, worship you. He's a slave for you and would kiss every step you take on the ground, clean every walking surface just so he could please you. and even a few days without sex puts him through withdrawls. Can you blame him? He's just so needy for you... all the time. You're his walking drug and he needs his fix. He can't wake you up while you're peacefully sleeping after such a long day, that'll make him feel so bad, make him seem like a really, really bad husband. You're his angel; resting and recharging for another hard day.

Too bad he's never been the quietest while jerking off.

Satoru had no shame. Yeah, you've had a long week, a crazy week at that, but, it was too much for him to handle alone. He hates how tired you get, sometimes not even having time to talk to him, brushing him off whenever you walk through those doors, poor baby. Of course you need to recharge- but for what? So you can do everything all over again? How is that fair, he can't go this long without fucking you; worshipping your body, fucking you for hours... and hours... and hours.

He was panting, head back, lip bitten. Hand fisting his cock up and down; lying next to your sleeping form in bed. He wasn't planning on waking you up, of course not... but after countless of lonely nights and countless wet dreams about you wringing his cock dry; he just needed to let off some steam.

"Mmmff... fuck, baby fuck..." Satoru groans under his breath, dropping his head back against the headboard; hand fisting his twitching cock.

You shifted in the bed, causing him to slow down, watching you. You didn't wake up, not yet. But, the minute he sees the duvet slide down your hips and off your ass, oh boy.

You were too tired to put on panties after that steamy shower, the only thing you had on was a tank top, pretty breast spilling from them. He shivers, back arching. Before he even knows it, he's behind you, very carefully... even holding his breath just to not wake you up.

His sweatpants are lazily resting down his legs and his shirt is lifted up; pressed in his mouth to keep him quiet. He takes his time, being so gentle with you as he spreads your ass, giving his hips a small twist to adjust himself perfectly, stuffing his cock in. And his eyes roll back, muffled groans against his shirt.

Satoru begins to thrust, very slow. Steady, gentle. Like that doesn't fucking drive him crazy. "S'tight..." He groans, still all muffled. He increases his pace, now not giving a fuck, too lost in to give one. Pressing both hands at your ass, spreading it more apart to give him easier access between your tight hole. He leans forward, pressing one hand at the side of your head, stuffing himself deep in your slick pussy.

All his ruckus causes you to wake up, immediately clawing at the sheets, moaning softly and hoarse. He drops his shirt from his mouth, choking back a moan. "Ngh- I'm sorry, baby.. fuck.. I didn't mean to wake you... but, I couldn't... ah- hold back.." He moans, dropping the one hand that's holding him up to his forearm, holding your waist with his calloused, rough hands, pressing his cock into you much harder now, not holding back for the sake of him going insane if he didn't.

note: doing gradient text is so difficult lol

[r0-boat]

who out of the whb nobles do you think would be the best dads if they have kids w the mc?

Doing all the nobles would take a lot of work so I'm just going to bubble it down to the advisors.

So like the second in command

from best to worst!

This was a hard list to make God

Foras

The best dad!!! It would be his first child so he would make mistakes like all first time parents do. But he would learn from those mistakes and get better.

He's had always wanted a child So he would be the most loving most supportive parent you've ever seen.

Honestly his only shortcomings being that he can be protective of his baby. But that's probably because he is a demon from Hades and I feel like all demons from Hades have a little bit of a possessiveness going on

Beleth(daddy)

I didn't want to leave him hanging but I don't know much about him so this is small 😭

Good Lord This man juggles the entire country the king and his child and he's doing well.

Dependable demon dependable father, But doesn't lose his boyish charm and his fun-loving side.

Child: *literally does anything* Beleth: 'm so fucking proud of them

Sitri

Great Dad! Supportive dad though can be a little stern. Unlike Satan he prefers a more strict approach.

He is stern because he cares He wants His child to be a good demon and a very accomplished devil. He puts a lot of expectation on his child.

For a while he gets a little bit of a "my child must be like me" mindset which goes away with time. "NO CHILD OF MINE WILL LIKE COFFEE INSTEAD OF TEA!!"

Bael

Constantly tired, probably a starting to grow 5:00 shadow now. Because of a certain man who is now that child's uncle.

He is a good father when he is there. Lord have mercy please He's already running an entire country please give him a break.

Very heartwarming to see Beelzebub actually step up to give Bael A month or two off. Bael we'll make sure you have plenty of sleep He will practically take over taking care of the child. Because he feels bad that he's almost never here because of work

Gamigin

(I have no idea who Lucifer's advisor is)

He's going to make a lot of mistakes. He has a new parent and he is not as diligent as foras. But please don't underestimate him. He's a hard worker and he really is trying.

He will be up for nights trying to figure out and look at books. This is his baby His hatchling, His dragon baby. He will protect it with his life. He promises you and the baby that he will be the best father.

Dragon hatchlings are not like demon hatchlings and he learned that the hard way. He's still learning... And he's got a lot to learn. He just needs more time

Bimet

Do I really have to explain myself?

He is like mammon but worse and the only thing sharing Mammon and him is money Your poor child will be spoiled rotten.

MF Would faint changing a diaper.

Does this motherfucker even want kids???

[kit-williams]

The Lamenters are a chapter plagued by luck so horrible it feels as if they’ve been personally cursed by the universe, which, this being 40k is a distinct possibility.

So one of the few highlights they have is when they quench their thirst monthly with their female serfs. Being able to freely take blood and not harm their human charges being a discovery they were happy to make.

The mix of blood and shedded lining from these monthly feedings goes a long way in slaking their bloodlust, even more so then regular blood. But it’s the combination of that shedded lining, the blood, and the slick that usually results from them stimulating their poor serfs when they lap up their blood that really scratches an itch. The combination just sets something off in their brains and which makes them crave the taste more and more.

Subsequently this causes them to overstimulate their serfs when they slake their thirst, tongues send their poor serfs into spirals of pleasurable sensation. They always end up having to soothe their serfs during this period, as they babble about how it to much stimulation and how they can’t take much more of the pleasure.

But surely they can take it, they argue back. Surely they can indulge there beleaguered masters in this one request and put up with the persistent pleasure they feel. The Lamenters have so few good things going for them, so surely their serfs won’t deny them this one request

Something nice and simple and pussy eating like champions

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

"Piero please no more." The serf shrieked as the lamenter in fact did not let up his face buried in deep lapping up the arousal mixed with blood.

Lemartes held onto the serf's arms as Piero was busy between their legs. Lemartes panting as his chin was covered in drying blood. The shame would come tomorrow... the serfs would be compensated for this... but they also knew many of them would come back the next day until their bleeding cycle ended... and many would still return when it started up again.

The Serf being eaten out by Piero was weeping as the Lamenter's tongue was attacking the button again and again trying to cause one more orgasm and were rewarded as the poor serf squirted on his chin and like a pleased dog the Lamenter cleaned her up. She practically collapsed into a wimpering pleasured mess like most of the other serfs in the room.

Another brother... an Apothecarian lazily lapped up from his assistant whom wasn't expecting to start her cycle for another week but it came early distracting the Brother Apothecarian from his duty to monitor.

Piero lifted his head as his chin was dripping and he let out a contented sigh as Lemartes just grinned at him. "Nice to see you didn't suffocate in your goal Piero."

"Told you I could do it." Piero takes control of his breathing quickly.

"You two are going to be the death of some poor serf." The Veteran Apothecarian grouses before returning to his assistant who just lets out a delicate mewl.

[amiya-shirou]

Spoilers about Miquella and Marika's DLC Lore

Hate how there's so much black and white perspective in the Elden Ring community, especially regarding Miquella and Marika. Sorry if this sounds too much like an aggressive rant, it's not really my intention

"Miquella did fucked up shit which clearly clashes with his previous lore about being kind and compassionate, SOTE has bad writing" even in the base game he was already said to be the most fearsome of the demigods and it was kinda implied that he made kindness his weapon as he knew well how to make others love him, perfectly consistent with Ansbach's speech

"Miquella is manipulative so obviously he never really cared about Malenia" with all the things he did for her? is it so hard to believe he truly cared about his twin sister for the sake of which he went so far as to find ways to protect her from an Outer God's influence? with Malenia seemingly knowing about Miquella's plan and everything?

"Radahn loved his horse and protected people so he was obviously a perfectly good gigachad who could never ever agree with Miquella" he was among the forces attacking Leyndell. his ideal was Godrey - a conqueror, and the first Elden Lord. having an obsession with battle and war certainly doesn't sound like someone who could never do anything wrong, no matter how honorable he might be in battle.

"Marika did a lot of bad things and was a tyrant so obviously she never held any real love for poor Messmer or even Godwin and all she cared about was power." she made blessings to help Messmer specifically, something unique enough it's specified she never did such a thing again. 2 of these are dropped by Tree Sentinels protecting her home village which she bathed with Grace and clearly held deep love for. She went to great lengths to help him with his curse when she could have just killed him or imprisoned him where he coulnd't be of harm like she did with the Omen twins. she smashed the Elden Ring, literally sacrificing her position as queen as that action put her against the Greater Will and resulted in her shackling, which definitely doesn't sound like someone who cares about power and herself alone. And about that, if she's been imprisoned ever since before the start of the game with no one knowing about it, why are most people so easily assuming she voluntarily abandoned and ignored Messmer? she physically couldn't contact him if she wanted to. Like, it's debatable, maybe she did abandon him since before the Shattering, but it definitely doesn't feel that obvious to me, and Messmer misinterpreting her disappearance feels more in tune with the FromSoft style tragedy

all this sounds like those who insisted that since Ranni caused the Shattering then of course she can only be evil and manipulative all the time and clearly holds no real affection for the Tarnished and is only manipulating us as well. Which I feel completely clashes with her questline, narrative and characterization.

Kind people can still do evil, especially if they don't fully realize how bad what they're doing is, or if they think they're making a necessary sacrifice. Cruel, fucked up people can still love, and love might be the very reason why they ended up being so cruel. This is something the whole game is built on, and even before Elden Ring, a constant of the Souls series has been about fighting tragic individuals who ended up in antagonistic positions despite their originally good intentions.

imho Marika and Miquella are both better, more complex character than they would have been otherwise, and leave more to discuss about the game's themes and narratives, specifically because they have multiple facets to them. The hated Queen of the Golden Order was originally a victim. Her kind son who tried to fix his family's wrongdoings discarded so much of himself and did so many things to achieve his dream of compassion that he ended up being just as wrong as his mother. Isn't this much more interesting than putting out an entire game-sized DLC just to say "manipulative evil queen girlboss truly didn't care about anything and just wanted power!!" and "Kindly Miquella is so perfect!!! this surely fits our 'nothing is perfect or eternal and everything is ambiguous' narrative"?

[wish-i-were-heather]

𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝘾𝙍𝙔 𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝙎𝙋𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙀𝘼 ⤵ 𝙂𝙍𝘼𝙔𝙎𝙊𝙉 𝙃𝘼𝙒𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙀 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝘼𝘽𝙊𝙐𝙏: 1215 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘯𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺/𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔: 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘯.

𝙏𝙒: 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴

𝘼/𝙉: dividers by @yuppijin | 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵 3𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘥

You found him in the kitchen. Twice, actually, which was strange for him. Grayson was usually in one of three places in the Hawthorne mansion: his wing, the pool, or the library. That’s why when you walked into the kitchen and saw him fixing himself some tea, you were surprised.

The first thing you noticed when you saw him was his posture. Normally holding himself upright, Grayson was slouched over. His movements were slower than usual, and what troubled you the most was watching him as he tried to make the tea.

Grayson fumbled with a box that you then realized had the tea bags inside. His fingers pulled at the corners to open it, but it wouldn’t give. After a few more moments of struggle, he set it back down on the counter with a defeated sigh, and then reached up to open the cabinet. 

Now you knew for sure, something was definitely off. Grayson Hawthorne of all people wouldn’t struggle- no, not just struggle, but fail to open a simple box. You stepped further into the kitchen and spoke up. “Grayson, are you alright?”

The words were gentle, of course, but somehow caught him off guard. He had been in the middle of grabbing a mug from the cabinet, and the moment you said that, his head snapped around to face you, eyes widening, and he dropped the mug. It shattered all over the floor. And instead of picking it up, Grayson just stood there.

Something was seriously wrong. 

“Grayson-” you began, kneeling down to collect the broken pieces and carefully setting them down on the empty counter. “What’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to respond. “Nothing, nothing, nothing’s wrong.” Grayson blinked a few times before finally looking back at you. “Just tired. I’ve been really busy.” You raised your eyebrow. “Are you sure? You can be tired, sure, but you never drop a mug.”

“I know,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m just working on a lot for school right now. it’s nothing more than that.”

He offered you a smile that looked awkward. Then again, he’s Grayson Hawthorne, so most of his smiles looked awkward. You tried not to overthink it, and left him alone in the kitchen again, but not without throwing away the sharp shards of the broken mug. 

~~

Grayson’s uncharacteristic actions never left your mind for the rest of that day. You wanted to believe him, you wanted it to just be exhaustion and he would just go to sleep and wake up back to himself. But your gut told you it was something more.

So, an hour or so later you decided to go check on him. But you still didn’t find him in any of his usual spots. What could he be doing for so long in the kitchen? But that’s the only other place you thought you’d find him, so you checked there.

Sure enough, there he was. 

But not exactly the way you hoped to see him. Grayson was no longer standing with poor posture- he wasn’t standing at all. The almighty Grayson Hawthorne was collapsed on the ground in a heap of limbs, his left arm bent at an awkward angle beneath him. His usually tidy blonde hair was messy, his eyelids down and hiding any emotion that would’ve been found in his eyes.

The moment you saw him, you rushed over and knelt down to feel his pulse. Thankfully it was still there, going somewhat strong, but you realized as you felt his skin that he was warm. Alarmingly hot to the touch. That explained his strange behavior. Panicked, you didn’t know what to do. He was out cold- or hot. Otherwise he looked fine, but that didn’t mean anything. 

You noticed the untouched cup of tea on the counter. So he’d at least been able to make it, but not drink it. How long had he been passed out for? None of this was good. You tried to calm yourself down and began to try to readjust his limp body into a more comfortable position, and a more accessible position for you to move him. 

This all felt wrong, so wrong. Grayson was, well, Grayson. He had his moments of weakness, those moments only you got to see, but not like this. Collapsed on the ground, sick, weak; this was nothing like him. And as much as you hated to admit it, you were scared. Seeing him like this was half-terrifying.

You cradled his head in your lap, testing to see if he’d wake up. Nope. 

Well, this is going to be a long night.

~~

With help from Nash, you managed to get Grayson back into his bed.

The two of you looked over his still unconscious form. “You sure you’ve got this?” Nash asked you. “He’s my baby brother, my responsibility. I can take care of him.”

“I don’t think he’d appreciate you calling him that.” Despite the moment, you couldn’t help but chuckle. “But yes. Thank you, but I’m good. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Nash nodded in appreciation and tipped his hat to you before turning and walking out, leaving you alone with a very sick Grayson.

Obviously, the first thing you did was lay down with him.

You had to be careful, of course, because you wouldn’t want to startle him. If he had passed out, his body clearly needed the rest. And rest was something Grayson didn’t often give himself. 

Time passed, who knew how much of it. You were laying there with Grayson, his head on your chest, one of your arms around his waist, the other hand running gently through his hair. Babying him, as Nash would call it. A position Grayson would’ve usually protested against--he didn’t like needing someone else’s care--but you knew he needed it then.

Suddenly, he moves. He lets out a small groan as he wakes up. It startles you when he tries to immediately sit up, met with resistance from your arm around his waist. There’s a panic that goes through his eyes, probably not realizing what’s going on. 

“Hey, hey,” you murmured, trying to get him still. “Easy there. You’re safe, it’s me. I’m here.” It still took a second for Grayson to stop struggling and turn to look at you.

“What-”

“You’re okay, relax. You collapsed, remember?” He paused to think, and then nodded. “Yeah, I- I remember.” His voice is unusually small. “I just-”

You interrupted him before he finished. “You just need to rest, that’s what. Nash helped us get you back up here, and he made me promise to take care of you.” 

“Of course he did.”

“I’m being serious, Gray. I care about you. That really scared me, y’know?”

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” You shook your head. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Just focus on getting better.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that follows that. You continue to mess with his hair and cuddle him close to you, not caring that you could get sick from it. This time, Grayson didn’t complain. He sighed softly. Your presence could heal any sickness.

Then he says it, a few small words that you don’t usually hear from him.

“I love you.”

[roguishcat]

Brunch

Summary: Another, better emotionally equipped male would probably just ask Tav out. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting for brunch as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

Humour/Friendship/Romance

Tags: AU, Modern times, Elf Astarion, No Cazador, Mature Language, Suggestive Themes, Jealous Astarion

Two-shot: Part 1 - 5k words

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Rating: Mature (Part 2 will be rated E, so MDNI please)

A/N: This does not have a beta. So if you notice any mistakes, please let me know! 💖 Comments are always appreciated!

“Sorry, I’m late,” Tav stumbled gracelessly into the café, her cheeks flushed from the heat.

“Quite alright, darling. I have already ordered,” Astarion replied, his eyes sweeping over her in appreciation.

Tav, being herself, misjudged his look and self-consciously pulled on the front of her dress, unsuccessfully trying to get it to unstick from her clammy skin. Everyone was suffering from the heatwave, and they looked it, except Astarion, of course. He, unlike Tav, looked as cool as a freaking cucumber. Silver curls falling just so, his white shirt fresh, sleeves rolled up to bare his forearms.

“I’m just going to go and splash some water on my face, it’s boiling hot outside today. I don’t know how you can bear it. Here, hold my bag.”

She thrust her tote into his hands and walked off in the direction of the bathroom. Astarion wasted no time in rummaging through it because really, what else did she expect? If she didn’t want him to snoop, she shouldn’t have handed him her things and allowed for him to have ample time alone with said things.

Tav was quick to come back, she didn’t even bother taking her bag back from him when she sat down. Sweet, trusting thing that she was.

“How you’ve been?” she asked and reached for her glass of water.

“Good. Won the case, quite predictably. The other guy’s lawyer was completely out of his depth.”

Astarion didn’t even look up from his phone as he said that. Tav wasn’t even annoyed. He’s been like this as long as she’s known him. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be disinterested and careless, but actually Astarion noticed much more about others than he ever let on and could even be quite sweet, on a very, very rare occasion.

She was glad that their friendship survived over the years, even if they only met up for brunch once a month. She would like to see more of him, but with how busy Astarion was, it was frankly quite a miracle that he had deemed her important enough to meet up with any regularity.

Astarion and brunch, who would have thought that he would even entertain the thought of something so mundane?

When Tav first met Astarion all those years ago, they were all dirt-poor students, roommates trying to get by. Actually, she was still eyeballs-deep in student debt, unlike Mr. Big Shot lawyer, who was doing very well for himself evidentially.  

“How about you, dearest? Anything exciting happen lately?” Astarion questioned.

Tav knew what he was alluding to and was quite prepared to lie through her teeth. Because her latest attempt at a relationship was not going well, but she would never admit it to Astarion. She didn’t need his ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk.

“Good, good.”

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes at her woefully inadequate attempt at lying. And to him, out of all people. He did not buy it. Because he knew exactly what Tav looked like when she was actually excited about someone.

“Thought as much. That’s why I went ahead and dumped him for you.”

“Excuse me?!”

She noticed that the phone in his hands was not actually his.

“You cheeky bugger, I can’t believe you swiped my phone and managed to unlock it! And who gave you the right to end my relationship, hm?”

“Tav, two pity fucks because for some reason you were feeling charitable do not count as a relationship. I did you a favour.”

“You’re the one to talk. You’ve slept with tons of people for much less than puppy dog eyes!” she shot back.

“If you are referring to the time Gale and I got shitfaced and got it on in the public garden, let me assure you, the stars that night were beautiful. It was a magical, unforgettable evening.”

“Sure it was,” she laughed and grabbed her phone.

She couldn’t stay mad at him for long and he knew it. Besides, he was right. She wasn’t that into her now ex. She only went out with him because he kept asking and she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a go and make it work. Because, truth be told, it’s been a long, long, long while since she’s been on a date, so she thought that a nice dinner with a conventionally nice, smart, attractive person was not a bad thing for her.

Their order arrived. Full breakfast and coffee for Tav, just black coffee for Astarion. He sipped it slowly, enjoying the way Tav dug into her food with gusto.

“Mmm… this is awesome. Sure you’re not having any?”

“Food? Here? You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grimaced. Even the coffee was foul. He could only imagine what the food was like.

“Yes, I know, I know. Your taste is way to refined to dine on something so greasy and disgusting.”

“Yes, because some of us actually have class.”

“I would throw my bacon at you, but it would be a waste of good food. Consider yourself lucky that this is delicious.”

Her attention back on her food, Astarion was free to look at her at his leisure. He knew Tav hated summer, she was no good with the heat. But he quite liked seeing her all sun-kissed, new freckles dotting her skin, hair swept up to bare her beautiful neck.

Astarion would never admit it even if he was threatened with decapitation, but he liked talking to her, watching her. Tav was probably the only person he actually enjoyed spending time with nowadays, but it was not always so.

Astarion was not very fond of Tav when they first met. Actually, that was an understatement. She annoyed him constantly, especially when she was trying to be friendly and welcoming. He could not understand what her deal was. In his experience, people were never nice just for the sake of it. There were always strings attached. So, her doing the whole sweet girl-next-door act left him entirely unimpressed and irritated. If only he could afford the rent, he would not even bother with roommates. As things were, he had to put up with two.

Except over the years he noticed that her kindness was not reserved to the few that she could possibly gain something from. Tav was helpful, thoughtful and empathic towards everyone, which immediately drew people to her. He suddenly found himself a part of a friendship group which gravitated towards Tav. Them liking her was definitely the only thing they initially had in common.

Whilst Astarion enthusiastically threw himself into his studies during the day and even more enthusiastically enjoyed recreational activities with different partners after hours, he gradually came to appreciate her and was glad that Tav became something of a constant in his life. She was a clueless, naïve, sweet fool, but she was his fool. Not that she was stupid, she was quite intelligent, but rather too wide-eyed and hopeful for this world. People like that did not go far and Astarion was planning on going very far and making the most of every opportunity, no matter the cost.

At one point, sometime between cramming for his finals and helping her study for hers, Astarion toyed with the idea of sleeping with Tav. It wasn’t the first time he thought of it. Over the years, he entertained the idea in passing on several occasions with the level of enthusiasm one has when selecting a sandwich for lunch. That is, the same lukewarm interest that most of his conquests would receive. But over the years, Tav wormed her way into his heart. She was not just an annoyance, not just a roommate. They became friends, even if Tav was the one doing all the heavy lifting when it came to maintaining the said friendship. She was just always there and Astarion was very much taking her presence in his life for granted.

However, the realization that their studies and therefore time together would soon be over made the elf see Tav in a different light for the first time. And so he wondered, if she wasn’t just a roommate, just a friend… Whatever in the world could she be?

If anything, Tav was quite beautiful. Not staggeringly gorgeous, like some of his ex-lovers, but very pretty in her own way. Astarion was sure that if they had sex, it would be a fantastic experience for both of them. Especially for Tav. She would actually get an experienced lover unselfishly fulfilling her needs for once. But then he thought of something that he cared squat about when it came to others and very much when it came to her.

Tav’s feelings.

She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t just sleep around for the sake of it. She would probably start reflecting on what it meant for their friendship, worry that it was going to screw everything up. And that was why Astarion didn’t go through with it. Although he was really tempted.

Predictably, they drifted apart after graduation. Predictably, it was his fault. He was the one who constantly cancelled plans and didn’t turn up when she invited him and others to outings. Tav went on to get her teaching certification and he continued on his path of becoming a lawyer. He worked hard and partied harder. His life was a kaleidoscope of faces he couldn’t remember, except those that he regularly spent time with for work.

It was fun, great fun, such great fun, he kept telling himself. It was exactly what he wanted. To take the big city by storm and make it his. To get away from his past, from the memory of scrimping and saving, living in borderline poverty as a child. Feeling helpless as his mother worked every waking moment to provide for his future, them constantly worrying about making ends meet. That was why he made damn sure that no one knew anything of his past. And that meant detaching himself from everyone who knew him before he became Astarion Ancunín the successful lawyer, who was now well on his way to getting a promotion and yet another pay rise.

A little under a decade passed. Astarion rarely gave Tav or any of his former friends much thought. Then, one balmy summer afternoon he saw her in the busy city street, surprisingly talking to Halsin, the environmental lawyer he went up against a few times, out of all people. Astarion felt as if someone sucker punched him. Stunned, Astarion found himself stopping abruptly, not paying attention to people bumping into him. Tav was wearing a pretty sundress that bared her delicate collarbones and shoulders, the light fabric whispering against her skin, her unbound hair framing her face. And then she laughed at something Halsin said, a genuine, full laugh, and smacked his biceps playfully. Astarion felt a wave of something that he could not quite recognise. Another, better emotionally equipped person, would recognise the feeling as longing. To Astarion it was just an unpleasant, hollow feeling that he was quite unfamiliar with.

Whatever it was, it compelled him to cross the street and start walking in her direction. Tav was just turning around when she collided with Astarion, which may or may not have been on purpose on his part.

“Ouch, sorry. I wasn’t- Astarion?”

He inwardly preened that she recognised him immediately. Clearly, he was just that unforgettable.

“Hello, darling,” he practically purred, steadying her gently.

“Wow, it’s been years! Fancy bumping into you like that, literally,” Tav chuckled, feeling quite drab next to him. “Well, I would love to catch up, but you probably have some place to be, all dressed up like that.”

Ah, that was true. He did have some place to be. He always had some important meeting, or trial, or party to go to. But that meant letting her go and that was definitely unacceptable.

“Actually, I am quite free this afternoon. How about getting some brunch?”

“Brunch? Really? Didn’t think you’d be the type, Ancunín,” she teased him a warm smile. “But sure, why not.”

He immediately regretted suggesting brunch, out of all things. But he was never very good coming up with something when put on the spot. And yes, brunch was something boring married couples and the elderly enjoyed, but there they were, walking down the busy street and into the nearest café.

And that was how it became their monthly thing. Meeting up for brunch on Sundays.

Another male, who was better versed at recognizing his own feelings, would have probably just asked Tav out by now. Like on an actual proper date at a nice venue rather than sticking to their monthly meeting as a pathetic excuse for spending time with her. But that was the crux of the problem. Astarion may have had a wealth of knowledge when it came to casual flings and friendly fucks, but he had absolutely zero clue as to how to be in a relationship.

And by gods he wanted to! It was embarrassing how much he wanted to. He wanted to wake up next to her every day, to have her move in with him, to have Tav around constantly, give her presents, see her face light up beautifully, whisper sweet nothings into her ear as they got lost in each other. You know, all that sappy crap that couples found so endearing. He wanted all that sappy crap.

But to get to that stage, he had to actually make the first move. He was kind of hoping to entice Tav into propositioning him first, but she was either incredibly dense, bless her heart, or just pretending not to notice that he was constantly flirting with her. Though perhaps it could have something to do with him parading a staggering number of lovers in front of her over the years. He admitted to himself that if tables were turned, he too would doubt that the other person’s interest was sincere.

And so Astarion decided to go for it and ask Tav out. Because he couldn’t stand the thought of her going on yet another date with someone who was not him.

He cleared his throat. “Tav?”

“Hm?” she looked up from her food, half-way done. It was truly impressive how she could devour huge amounts in no time at all.

“I have this thing that I’m supposed to attend, a charity gala dinner of sorts. Would you like to come?”

“You mean to tell me that Astarion Ancunín can’t get a date for the evening?” she teased. “I find that very hard to believe. But sure, sounds like fun,” she smiled, looking quite excited.

He deflated a little. Because whilst it was a ‘yes’ on the outing, it seemed like Tav thought he meant going together as friends. He sighed into his cup. It would have to do for now. At least he would have someone he actually wanted to talk to throughout the evening. And he was curious what Tav would choose to wear. He rather hoped it was something backless.

On Monday, Shadowheart stopped by his office, knocking on the open door to get his attention.

“Got a minute?”

“For you, dearest? Of course.”

She walked up closer to his desk, delicate heels clicking on the hardwood floor and then the sound being swallowed up by the expensive carpet.

“I heard you are bringing Tav along with you to that charity thing,” she began slowly.

Astarion scowled and took his gold rimmed glasses off. They were non-prescription, as everything about him including his eyesight was perfect, but he rather liked how sophisticated he looked when wearing them.

“And how, pray tell, do you know that?” he drawled, annoyed to have Shadowheart out of all people find out about his plans.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart gave a longsuffering sigh that was meant to show that she doubted his intelligence, “I know you don’t pay attention to anyone unless there is something to gain, but you do remember that I used to hang out with you and Tav at uni? Of course, not,” she scoffed at the blank look he gave her. “You didn’t even recognise me when I first started working here.”

Astarion vaguely remembered that there was a goth chic hanging out with Tav from time to time, but he was otherwise uninterested in anyone that he wasn’t involved with. He barely said ten words to Shadowheart back then. Her being snarky and mean should have been reason enough for them to hit it off instantly, but not so. Years later, when Shadowheart first started at the company, the silvery blonde hair, the professional-looking pencil skirts and heels, and the much softer manner with which she carried herself were polar opposite to the way she looked when they were in their early twenties.

“Get to your point,” he huffed, really not in the mood for whatever Shadowheart had to say.

“Look, I like Tav. She’s not like you and me. We are pragmatic, narcissistic, ruthless,” she accentuated her words by closing the file he was looking through sharply in his face. “Which makes us perfect at what we do. But, for some reason, Tav seems to like you well enough to keep putting up with you as a friend. But do you really think that you two are on the same page about what is going to happen once you bring her home?”

“Ah, yes. The relationship advice that I didn’t ask for from the person who is as terrible at relationships as I am. Good talk,” he opened the file again to signal that their conversation was over.

“I’m serious. You can’t just screw around with Tav. She is the type that is for keeps and shit.”

“Tsk, I see Karlach’s potty mouth is rubbing off on you,” he admonished the half-elf with a smirk.

“Perhaps in more ways than one,” Shadowheart all but purred.

“Do not need the sordid details and to save you the trouble, never will in the future.”

“Oh really?” she raised her eyebrows in surprise, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, “I thought you lived to gossip. When did you become such a bore?”

“Since I had this terrible, headache inducing environmental case thrown on my table,” Astarion rubbed his temples, trying unsuccessfully to fight back a yawn.

“Halsin?”

“Who else. As if it is possible to save that fucking lake for those damn ducks. What is it with that man and ducks?”

She chortled. “Good luck with that. Who knew that he would be so proficient at what he does, right? Wasn’t he the one who was caught streaking couple nights before his graduation? I think we were first year students at the time.”

“It was him, shouting something along the lines of being one with nature. Nice ass though.”

“Nice ass indeed,” she agreed. “But we are digressing. Don’t just sleep with Tav to have yet another notch on your bedpost. If you want to try to make it work with her, go right ahead. Gods know she’s had a crush on you long enough. But if not, well… Expect to be in for a world of hurt. Karlach will hound you and impale you with one of those new swords she bought for her weapon collection she thinks she snuck past me a couple of days ago.”

“You are living together?” Astarion actually looked up, giving her his full undivided attention.

“So it seems,” Shadowheart smiled, a proper, genuine soft smile which rarely graced her face. “Think about what I said. And don’t do anything rash.”

After she left, Astarion tried to focus on his computer screen and the papers in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting to what Shadowheart said earlier.

Tav has had a crush on him for years. Surely not! He would be the first to know if she had feelings for him, right? And what confused him the most that instead of being elated, relieved that she wanted him, he felt a sick kind of dread.

Shadowheart was right. What was he even thinking? He was not ready for an honest-to-gods relationship! Especially with someone like Tav! Someone he cared about too much to just say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ if something went wrong.

He groaned and massaged his temples again. Why did he even ask her? He couldn’t just cancel now, could he? Although… why couldn’t he? It would be easy enough. Make up an excuse of some sort. Tav would probably forgive him. One could hope.

That same evening there was a pounding on his apartment door. Shadowheart was furious, that much he could tell just by checking the doorcam.

“Can I help you?” he opened the door and Shadowheart stormed right in.

“Cut the crap, Ancunín!” she snapped, eyes blazing and clearly ready for a confrontation. “Tav called me. Apparently, you haven’t the balls to actually admit that you like her, so you just cancelled the date!”

“It wasn’t a date,” he said pathetically, sounding like a petulant child even to his own ears.

“That’s what she said too. That it was just you two going as friends,” she mocked. “So, tell me, what set you off? Was it me telling you that she likes you? Is that it?”

“That has nothing to do with this!” he bristled, his hackles raised. “I simply decided that I don’t want to take anyone.”

“Sure you did,” she rolled her eyes at the obvious lie.

Astarion chose this moment to regroup, sensing that Shadowheart had one over him. And under no circumstances was the obstinate elf stooping so low as to admit that he was afraid of dealing with feelings. Letting out a breath, he ran his fingers through his snowy curls, letting his lips curl upwards into a smirk. It was a familiar act, comforting in a way. Playing the rake has served him well over the years.

“Besides, why would I even want Tav in that way? I could have anyone, literally anyone, just like that. I could have you right here, right on the floor, right now, if I wanted to.”

“Excuse me?” She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, unimpressed by his insinuation.

“You heard me. In fact, I think that’s why you are really here,” he took a purposeful, predatory step towards her, taking his glasses off and giving her a slow, practiced smile. He tilted his head forward a little, letting a rogue curl fall out of place, dropping his voice to a sensual murmur. “Want me to throw you one, Sha-dow-heart?”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. In hindsight, perhaps challenging her was not one of his brightest ideas. But then again, how many of his snap decisions were?

“Do it,” she lessened the distance between them, so they were standing almost nose to nose. “I said do it. Throw me one, Astarion.”

“Excuse me? Wha- what about Karlach?” he stuttered, panicking and unsure of what to do next.

“Let’s just say we have an understanding, of sorts. So come on then. Right here, right now, on the floor.” Shadowheart trailed a delicate finger up and down his chest, bringing her other hand up to pop the top button on her shirt open.

“What do you say?” she murmured, looking up at him through her long, fluttery lashes.

Shadowheart was a picture and she knew it. There was no way any living, breathing creature would turn her down, especially when her intent was all-too-clear.

Astarion gulped. “I- I think you should go.”

“I knew it!” she jabbed him hard with a manicured finger, making the elf wince. “I knew that you were full of shit! And you know why? Because you like Tav, you clueless idiot! So do yourself a favour, stop being a fool and call her! Take her to the party, don’t take her to the party. But tell Tav how you really feel or I swear to gods, I will give her number to everyone who has been clamouring to ask her out. I have a list a mile long of people who would happily sweep her off her feet the way that she actually deserves! Your move, Ancunín.”

And with that she stormed out, slamming the door shut for good measure.

Astarion did not call Tav. Not that evening, not the day after, and not the day after that.

He hated how much of a coward he was. And Shadowheart was right, Tav deserved much more than his half-arsed attempts at asking her out.

On Friday evening, Shadowheart stopped by his office before leaving for the day and sat down on the sofa opposite his desk, crossing her shapely legs as she looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Halsin asked Tav out, you know. And she said yes. They are meeting for drinks tonight, probably right about now.”

Astarion did not look up from the papers strewn across his desk. “Thank you for that information, not that I asked.”

“So I take it that you don’t care?”

“Not in the slightest,” he waved her question off, as if it was completely inconsequential and unimportant, lifted the cup of coffee off his table and took a sip. He definitely would have to pull an all-nighter, with the workload being absolutely impossible.

“Good, good. That’s what I thought too. Which is why I told Tav that it wasn’t slutty at all to go all the way on the first date.”

He choked on his coffee.

She quirked an eyebrow and waited a beat for her words to sink in. “And then, being a good friend, I made sure that Tav had three types of condoms in her bag. Halsin looks like a big boy, but you never know what size they might actually need.”

Astarion could not reply because he was still trying to cough up his lungs, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“But never mind that, I’m sure you have a marvelous evening ahead of you,” Shadowheart smirked, getting up and smoothing the front of her pencil skirt out. “I, for one, am meeting up with Karlach in an hour, so have a nice weekend.” With that she walked out of his office, her heels clicking in a way that could only be described as smug.

Astarion told himself that it didn’t matter to him if she slept with Halsin. Hells, it didn’t matter if she slept with half the city! It was none of his business. He had their monthly brunches to look forward to. The next one would be in a couple of weeks, or 26 days, or 624 hours. Not that he was counting.

And that was how Astarion found himself standing across the street from the place that he heard Tav go on about. He guessed correctly, she was indeed at that exact restaurant.

Astarion scowled as he saw that she actually made a real effort for this date, looking absolutely delicious, if he said so himself.

He could have taken her there. It could be him sitting across from Tav now. Reaching out to wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth with his napkin, she really was a messy pup sometimes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Leaning forward to-

“Oh, hells no,” Astarion hissed, watching as Halsin leaned forward to whisper something in Tav’s ear, making her blush prettily.

“You deserve it, you know.”

He jumped at the familiar voice. Karlach was looking at him with a smirk, Shadowheart standing next to her tiefling.

“What are you doing here?”

“On no, Shadowheart, Astarion’s been discovered!” Karlach stage whispered. “Spying on a person on her date like some kind of creep.”

“And you two? Don’t tell me you just happened to stroll past this particular restaurant at this exact time, hm?” Astarion mocked, his back rigid as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Oh, we are nosy, alright” Karlach admitted readily with a shrug. “But we are rooting for this date to be a success. And I bet Shadowheart that you would turn up. Pay up, baby!”

Shadowheart grumbled and got her phone out, sending the money to Karlach. “You see, I had some faith in you. Should have known better.”

“Well, thank you very fucking much,” he bowed with a flourish and turned away from the two. “Now if you two excuse me, I have a date to crash.”

“What do you think you are doing? There is no way you are going there!” Shadowheart hissed, grasping his forearm and making him squirm. The woman was deceptively delicate, holding him in place easily with a vice-like grip.

“And why the hells not?” Astarion spat, finally managing to push her away with his other arm.

“Because Karlach here will throttle you if you make one step towards that restaurant.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. He survived this long by knowing to pick his battles wisely. He could perhaps take Shadowheart in a scuffle, but Karlach was a different matter entirely. Yet, he was not above being a petty bitch about it.

“Shadowheart wanted me to throw her one,” he hissed spitefully.

“Yes, she told me about that conversation you had,” Karlach grinned, completely unfazed by the hostile looks the two elves were giving each other. “Because my baby always tells me everything.”

“Baby does,” Shadowheart nodded without looking away from Astarion but squeezed Karlach’s hand, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.

“Ew, talking in third person,” he sneered. “It’s such a disgusting, coupley thing,”

“How would you know? Not exactly an expert,” Shadowheart countered quickly, making him scowl.

“Common, let’s get you home,” Karlach patted Astarion’s silver curls good-naturedly. She really did feel sorry for him, firmly believing that the elf was capable of getting his head out of his ass if given enough incentive. “Whatever happens now, happens. You missed your chance.”

“Shadowheart? Is that you?”

The three froze as they saw that Tav was walking towards them, smiling broadly.

Shit.

She saw them. The three weirdos stalking their friend whilst she was on a date. Not their proudest moment.

Tag list: @ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom @misscrissfemmefatale

[compressedrage]

*enters the room and drops into a chair*

Good evening everybody, I know I just finished a mile-long post covering the entirety of the King arc, but I'm having thoughts so here we are

I do not control the autism, the autism controls me, we move on

WE ARE TALKING ABOUT RED AND HEROBRINE, BUCKLE UP

I'm just gonna jump in. We start in Animation vs Minecraft, the OG. They've discovered Minecraft and are playing around with it, blah blah we know how this goes. Interestingly, there isn't a noticeable point where it becomes obvious when Herobrine possesses Red. Not visually, at least. Not yet.

Red sees the Icon, and freezes. Is this Herobrine? Does Red just really want the block? It is not out of character for the CG to fight each other for something they want, especially so early in the timeline, but it seems very sudden.

He punches Yellow, to the rest of the CG's surprise and huddles down with it. This feels like possession to me. If not, then the start of it.

Depending on your headcanons, Herobrine could have taken Red over quickly or slowly, it really just depends. I personally think that Herobrine recognized the possiblity of a strong host in Red, and began to influence his thoughts to grab the Icon. Once he had it he slowly worked his way into Red's head until he had complete control.

From Red's perspective this is terrifying. Having a strange entity take over your brain and force you to hurt your friends? Awful! No wonder he was so freaked out by the end! He flinched when his friends approached him, my poor boy is so traumatized.

We move on to Monster School. Years have passed, and Herobrine is a different person; he's a teacher now. Red tries to avoid Herobrine's eyes, maybe to try not to jog his memory about who he is; Herobrine seems to think Red is familiar, but doesn't react beyond that. Does he remember the kid he possessed? Maybe. Maybe he just doesn't care. He enrolls Red in his school anyway.

By the time the final fight with King rolls around it is clear Herobrine cares about/is protective over his students. He makes sure the Skeleton, Enderman, and Spider are out of harm's way before truly attacking King.

But it happens again. And I have so many things to discuss about this give me a moment.

It feels like a last resort. Because it is. Herobrine is fighting a tractor beam of death, and right in front of him is the kid from years past; the one who was such a useful host.

And honestly I don't think Red is scared of Herobrine anymore. He's definitely traumatized and this new possession isn't going to help that by any means, but I think he trusts Herobrine in this moment to do the right thing.

Red steps forward, hesitantly. And Herobrine takes over.

It's not slow this time. It's instant and there is no fighting from Red. Either Herobrine wasn't putting up with any nonsense or Red let go and let the possession happen.

Maybe it was both.

Another note I'd like to bring up: I think Herobrine is a bit slower in Red's body. He still nearly defeats King several times, but there is a moment where King destroys the obsidian shell around Red and grabs him. If this was pure Herobrine, I think he could have easily avoided this and the following beatdown. But he didn't. Maybe being in a mortal body nulls some of his awareness. Maybe he's just getting old. Whatever it is, it's while in Red's body that Herobrine is defeated.