#i am violently silly over him

[p4ll3t]

GIGGLING AND KICKING MY LEGS

THATSN MY SWEET BOYU anyways this is inspired by tilikum by @llamagoddessofficial

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[wondergotham]

From Shadows to Sunshine

Request: “Joaquin x reader idea if you’re interested 🫣: he and the reader are friends who sort of playfully flirt with each other but neither of them thinks the other would actually want to a real relationship (silly dummies 🥺) until Joaquin wakes up in the hospital post-Indian Ocean to find the reader in the guest chair like clearly disheveled and sleep deprived because they’ve been so worried about him and have refused to leave his side”

+

“Hii! I’d like to request were joaquin had a pretty bad argument with the reader then make up to her (angst/fluff)”

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Warning: Mentions of death

GIF Creds: @ ex0rin

“Joaquin stand down! Sam’s got it, let’s GO!” You yelled as you flew through the sky next to Sam.

If there was one thing the many years of being an Avenger taught you it was to never question an order or it could jeopardize the mission.

But Joaquin clearly didn’t know this.

You contemplated telling him before the three of you left but since he was a Lieutenant you thought he knew this already.

Clearly you were wrong.

“BACK OFF” Sam ordered.

“I GOT IT.”

Joaquin shot the missile.

The explosion was too close, he was hit. You saw the flames erupt into the air and the force violently threw him back. His body rapidly descended towards the ocean at an alarming rate.

“JOAQUIN” Sam yelled.

“NOOO” You screamed.

You snapped out of the trance you were in, now was not the time to be emotional. You and Sam needed to finish this and save the others.

“I’ve got him Sam you go save the last pilot.” You stated as you rapidly flew down towards Joaquin.

You managed to catch him moments before he hit the water and flew him back to the ship quickly.

Medical personnel were waiting for you both already. You placed Joaquin’s body on the stretcher and followed closely behind them.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A couple of days passed. Joaquin still hadn’t woken up. You were always at the hospital, waiting.

The only times you left were to go to the bathroom, take a shower or get something to eat. Other than that you were glued to his side.

Maybe Sam was right? Maybe it was time for you to confess your feelings.

But you still were hesitant. What if it was too good to be true.

Your heart aches as you notice the burns on the right side of Joaquin’s neck. But even with them he still looked handsome as ever.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you? That boy likes you Y/n just as much as you like him, maybe even more.” You recalled Sam telling you a few days ago.

You remembered the conversation you had with Joaquin prior to the mission. It was playful and flirty like the other million interactions you had before.

After changing into your suit you stepped out adding some weapons on your belt. As you adjusted the holster on your thigh you looked up to see Joaquin staring at you.

You giggled as he looked away, “Can I help you Lieutenant?”

“Sorry, it’s-you just…you look amazing. You’re gonna make it really difficult for me to focus on this mission.”

You blushed, “Well that makes two of us pretty boy. Green is definitely your color.”

He was about to say something until Sam walked in but you just smirked.

When Joaquin woke up it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings. Thankfully there were no bright lights just the warm sun peeking through the window.

“Where am I?” He murmured. His voice hoarse.

He looked down noticing the hospital gown and a pulse monitor on his finger.

Shit, he thought.

What took him most by surprise was when he turned and saw you sleeping in the chair beside him. You had small dark circles under your eyes. Clearly an indication of the lack of rest the situation gave you.

You were asleep with a blanket on your legs covering your matching set. Even in a hospital you dressed great. Your hair spilled over your shoulders, bathed in the gentle sunlight.

You looked so beautiful.

He smiled to himself knowing you cared about him, that you were by his side just waiting for him to wake up.

A wave of warmth washed over him as he remembered the accident that landed him here. He knew he was gonna hear it from you. He could already see the scold and lecture you were going to give him.

But you were still cute when you were upset.

He shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and took a deep breath. The sight of your peaceful face brought a smile to his lips.

Despite the sterile scent of antiseptic, the room felt like a sanctuary.

Just then, you stirred before slowly opening your eyes. You blinked at Joaquin, momentarily disoriented.

“Joaquin?” You whispered, a sleepy smile breaking across your face.

He chuckled, “Hey sleeping beauty.”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Just a couple of minutes. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. I had a gorgeous view in front of me.”

Even when he was injured he still managed to be a flirt.

You shook your head trying to hide your blush, “Your charms won’t work on me right now mister. You’re in trouble. What were you thinking?! When Sam gives us an order we listen to it the first time. You scared the shit out of us. Your heart stopped on that operating table Joaquin. You died!”

He noticed the soft crack in your voice and the tears you were trying to keep at bay. He hated the fact that he had hurt you.

“And do you know what would’ve happened if the doctors hadn’t been able to revive you? Sam would’ve blamed himself and I-I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself knowing that happened.”

Joaquin sighed, “Y/n it’s nobody’s fault but my own. I just wanted to be like Sam. I’ve looked up to him for years. And you too, seeing someone my age fighting with the Avengers for years made me believe I could also do it. I just wanted to prove myself.”

“Baby steps Joaquin. Nothing is given it’s earned. And you earn these things by listening to your team. It’s gonna take time and I know you’re impatient but trust me it’s worth it in the end. You’ve already proven yourself why you do think Sam let you come on these missions? And gave you the wings? He trusts you but you’ve gotta show him he made the right decision, okay?”

Joaquin thought about your words for a moment before nodding, “Yes ma’am. I won’t argue with you on that.”

“Ugh you’re a pain in the ass Torres. What am I going to do with you?” You shake your head slightly laughing.

“Well if I recall you did promise me a date after the mission.” He raised his eyebrows like a little kid. A small but cute smirk spread across his lips.

“I did say that but I meant if the mission went well….clearly it didn’t.” You gestured to the hospital bed.

Joaquin chuckled, “Y/n you’re killing me here. Come on preciosa. Look I don’t want to force you but I really like you. I would love to get to know you better and spend time with you other than when we’re on missions or training.”

This man was perfect. You couldn’t believe guys like him existed.

“Joaquin I really like you too. I was just messing with you, I would love to go on the date with you. But-once you’re better, the baby Falcon needs to heal.” You ran your hand through his hair causing him to smile.

“With you by my side that’s gonna be easy.” He lifted your hand and placed a soft kiss on it. “I can’t believe you stayed.”

“Of course I did.” You said softly, squeezing his hand. “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you I promise. It’s gonna be the best date you’ve ever had.”

“Ooh I have no doubt about that. But for now focus on getting better, okay? I’ll be right with you.” Joaquin nodded with a smile on his face.

A soft knock came from the door. You both looked up, it was Sam.

“That’s my cue. If you thought my lecture was bad just wait for his.” You smirked.

“What happened to you being right by my side?” He huffed like a little kid pouting.

You chuckled, “Hey protégé’ conversations aren’t included. But don’t worry Sam’s understanding you’ll be okay. I’ll be right outside.”

You leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. As you pulled away Joaquin held your wrist softly.

“Hmm wait I think I need one more doctor, I can feel it healing already.” He teased.

You giggled before leaning down and kissing his cheek again but you let your lips linger a while longer.

“Okay wrap it up lovebirds I gotta talk to this one. But I’m sure you already lectured him didn’t you Y/n?” Sam grinned.

“You know me so well Sam.” You saluted as you walked out of the room causing both men to chuckle.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can we get a doctor phosphorus X reader where the reader has power similar to Deadpool. Example of unable to die and sometimes has ability to pull things out of thin air for comedic effect

You were a curious case to most, from your inability to die, to your unique ability to seemingly pull things that people needed out of thin air as though by pure coincidence. When asked about how you did what you did, you merely shrugged your shoulders - you sipped a drink you plucked out of thin air through a silly straw- and replied with something that only left the rest of the monsters even more confused;

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the audience reading this fanfic that author took far too long to actually get to writing.’

Many left you alone after that, deducing you a tad mentally unstable, all but Dr Phosphorus who also thrived off of the chaos and unpredictable nature that you brought to every situation you found yourself in. He found comradery in you and your ability to piss of basically everyone by getting under their skin, even him at times but he knows when to laugh with you as while everything that came from your mouth might sound insulting, that’s just how you came across and it only takes someone with a likemindedness to understand when you were being genuine or not.

Dr Phosphorus remembered the first time you interacted with one another when you scared him by accident, making him grab your shoulder with his exposed radiated hand, thinking you’ll die a violent death but imagine his surprise when you only shrug his hand off to reveal a healing shoulder where his hand once was. ‘Is it hot in here or is it just you? Oh who am I kidding it is you because of your…yeah.’ You said as you gestured to all of him and while he couldn’t smile since he was a literal skeleton, he couldn’t help but chuckle at your words now that the initial scare was over.

‘Oh you’re the wise ass who thought it’d be funny to scare the irradiated Skelton?’ Dr phosphorus says as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he took you in and the burnt cloth at your shoulder from his touch, your skin however -now fully healed at this point- looked untouched as though he wasn’t close enough to even hurt you. ‘Who are you newbie, I would think that I would remember a person like you.’ He adds with an almost flirtatious purr.

You smiled as you offered out your hand. ‘Of course you wouldn’t as I was hauled off here just this morning, but for the sake of keeping this fanfic a reasonable length as to prevent the possibility of stretching the readers attention span too thin, I killed a bunch of bad guys and lost a couple of limbs in the process.’ You said as though it wasn’t as big of a deal as it would be to others, ‘people were screaming, I was screaming. and here I am being called a freak, monster and whatever even by people who should probably look in the mirror before saying shit. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.’ You finished.

Dr phosphorus looked at you then back down at your hand before looking back at you once more, amused. ‘I’d take your hand sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you…again.’

‘Oh then take these gloves.’ You said.

‘What gloves-‘

‘These silly!’ You exclaimed as you shoved a pair of irradiation proof gloves against dr phosphorus’s chest.

‘How did you-‘ dr phosphorus tried to ask, only to then decide that logic wasn’t all that important to you when you seemingly worked outside of logic as a person, logic and sound decisions didn’t exist within you, and it shows in the most subtlest ways that one wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention as to how you seemingly controlled an unforeseen narrative to your very will.

‘How did I what?’ You asked.

‘Pull shit out of thin air.’ Dr phosphorus replied as he slides the gloves over his hands.

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the them.’ You then pointed towards a part of the room, almost as though gesturing to an audience , only for there to be no one there at all but cold walls. You two were the only ones in the room and dr phosphorus thought he was the only mentally unstable one in this facility. ‘Who are we looking at sweets?’ Dr phosphorus says as he tried to see what you were seeing, but all he could see was the cold walls that he was far too familiar with then the outside of the very structure he was trapped within, which sounded sad but to his knowledge no sane mind would blink twice at the mistreatment of a monster.

‘The audience reading this very fan fic.’ You informed him with a smile before seeing that he had put on the gloves and boldly grabbed his hand, making the skeleton jolt as he then relaxed when remembering he did put on the gloves. ‘But never mind them, it’s good to meet you dr phosphorus.’ You add as though knowing his name without him telling you was all apart of your character and dr phosphorus had to say that he was liking you more and more you spoke.

‘I don’t think I disclosed that to you sweetheart, but it’s good to meet you too.’ He chuckled and in that moment he knew that your relationship was going to be unlike any other. And he was right.

There would be times where all of you were gathered in the cafeteria, where one of the monsters nudged past you rather rudely while sneering at you. You were use to this as technically while you had abilities that went beyond human comprehension, you were still the closest thing to being a human in comparison to those who had physical appearance that screamed monster.

‘Watch where you’re going human.’ They’d spit at you venomously.

You only smiled back at them while Dr Phosphorus looked between the two of you from the sidelines along with everyone else. ‘Someone who’s going to get bitchslapped by a fish says what.’

The bat like creature scrunched up their face. ‘What-‘ before they could finish their sentence, they were then smacked across the face with a fish rather violently as they were sent to the floor. They hold a hand to their cheek, clearly unaware of what had just happened along with the rest of the room, before looking at your hand that was once empty now was grasping the tail a dead fish the length of your arm; which explained the disgusting smell that soon hit their senses a second after they realised that they were hit in the face with a dead fish.

‘Where did you get that thing?!’ They’d spit exclaimed but you shrugged.

‘That’s on a need to know basis.’ You replied as you shoved the fish into the hands of a gargoyle like being as you took your place next to dr phosphorus, who had been trying to hold back his laughter but couldn’t when you were close enough if g for him to ask. ‘A fish? That’s what you come up with when insulated?!’ He wheezed. You shrugged ‘thought you would like the image of someone getting slapped with a fish and so I went with it.’ You explained as though it was something that happened on a daily basis for you.

‘Well it was definitely a sight to behold for not just me sweetheart.’ Dr phosphorus tells you as you both carried on with your day, all the while everyone else could only watch as the irradiated skeleton and you continue your conversation before being joined by weasel who had the fish firmly liked in his jaw.

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby) 

Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated. 

Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune. 

You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button. 

Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”

It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you. 

The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face. 

You never told me your name.

Why do you want to know my name?

Because I want to know who I’m looking at.

This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”

“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.

He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. 

Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom. 

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you. 

“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”

He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”

You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”

You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm. 

You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”

“Can I get a kiss now?” 

He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”

“Aw man! Really?”

You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”

You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now. 

“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”

“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling. 

“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.

“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation. 

You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you. 

You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him. 

“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”

“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more. 

“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs. 

“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric. 

“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.

He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?” 

You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth. 

He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”

Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it. 

Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”

You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”

After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives. 

As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”

You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace. 

“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”

You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."

He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”

You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.

[luvether]

CAMPFIRES & UNBLED WOUNDS, the exiled prince never understood why he was curious about your touch, about you. mydei x gn!reader. 2.3k wc

“So you were here, my prince.”

The chirping of crickets subdue at the interruption, and he sees a familiar shadow settle onto the moss and mildew and dirt beside his feet, stretching longer with the puddles of moonlight grinning down at him.

Mydeimos—sitting on the rheumy rocks with his goblet in hand—does not have to tip his chin up to know the owner of the one who called out to him, it was the tone that’s as gentle as the warm wind gossiping a glee on a dewy morning, a voice that’s all too soft and careful to belong to his battle companions, instead it was from you.

“The campfire’s long been extinguished and everyone’s turned in for the night. You should be doing the same, you know.”

“I have a lot on my mind.” Mydei had answered you. “Too restless to sleep.”

For a moment, his response was met with silence. Mydeimos had the urge to glance over his shoulder to check if you were still there—but before he does, you speak.

“Well, that makes the two of us then.”

“You should not…” The rebuttal clumsily slips down his tongue when you’d finally come closer, your shadow giving way to your familiar figure as you appeared at the corner of his vision, settling soundlessly on the empty spot beside him.

Your eyes rest on him, “Should not what, my lord?”

Mydeimos lets out a huff. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone since the afternoon healing our warriors, it is you that needs the rest.”

“And leave our gracious prince out here by himself?”

There was mirth in the way you speak, your gaze settled on the distant stretch of ocean before you both. “Hephaestion was the last to turn in, but he had asked for you when he did not see you in your tent. What am I to do when I face him in the morn had I left you here and slept cozily in my mattresses?”

It was the first tonight when a smile stumbled onto his lips, the corners tipping up in a half-dimpled smile. He shakes his head, an exhale thick with the contents of a laugh. “You jest, surely?”

“He’s your most trusted, of course he worries for you.” You tell him. “Though, you’re gonna steel yourself and tell me—there is no such thing as concern within the Kremnoan language? I can hear such words already.”

You were too focused conjuring up silly teasings that you’d never noticed how the prince’s gaze was on you, no longer had the distant protrusions of rocks from beneath the unruly waves in the distance selfishly caged his attention—his honey-hued eyes beneath the silver moonlight had made the golden in his gaze more sharper and brighter than before, it’s like opening up an oyster to find a dainty pearl on the heart of its mollusk.

The way Mydeimos smiled at you with his dimples made your heart stir and you turned away, clearing the clog of words in your throat.

Jovial playfulness smooths back to comforting silence.

The air tasted of sea-salt—the perks of being near a body of water, and Mydeimos breathed out a thick exhale. Usually, the exiled Kremnoan prince would voice out his gripe at every minor display of disturbance when his mind is sullied with burdening concerns and it’s not like he’s a man who’d brood in isolation—no, Mydeimos would sit around his fellow countrymen usually, sharing a drink by the crackling bonfire after a successful battlefront won over by their Kremoan vigor.

It’s just that they’ve experienced quite a harsh fight with one of their foes of the sea-city states a week ago, many Kremnoans came back severely injured so company was the least assurance the prince wanted.

But for some reason, he cannot utter a single thing when you sit by him, gazing out at the same ocean that’s all violent waves with teeth of white foam and tongue of sea-salt.

Maybe it was the fact that you were their medic—Mydeimos never had the luxury to be patched up by you—his immortality ridding any wounds and injuries before they can be fussed over. But his keen honey eyes would look on unmovingly at times where he catches you bandaging up his men in the distance, particularly with how utterly gentle you seem.

It was a foreign thing in his eyes, then again you were not from Castrum Kremnos, they had just picked you up during their expedition across Amphoreus when you had claimed to be someone who knew a thing or two about being a medical practitioner. Mydeimos was practically untouchable so taking someone like you would’ve been more of a hindrance, they already had Perdikkas for such a situation.

But his soldiers weren’t like him, he had already seen some of them fall in battle or succumb to illnesses he wasn’t familiar with. Even the medic himself had vouched for you—saying that having another pair of hands to help the wounded wouldn’t hurt.

So with great reluctance, Mydeimos beckoned you to join. It has already been a few months since then and you have proven to be a valued asset to his party, not only as a medic but rather, a close companion of his.

He resurfaces from his thoughts when he feels a thumb run across his cheek, he’d flinch and the feeling fades just as quick as it came. You have completely caught his attention now and you seem to stumble on rolls of apologies for touching him so carelessly, expecting an ire from him.

“I apologize,” you said. “there was red on your cheek so I thought you were injured…”

Unconsciously, he lifts his ungloved hand and pushes it at the spot on his cheek in which your touch lingered like an aftertaste.

Soft.

Your touch was so sophisticatedly soft and…

“Cold.”

Mydei’s rasp stirs you. “Pardon?”

“Your fingers.” He reiterates with an unreadable baritone. “They’re really cold.”

He did not expect your eyes to waver, nor did he expect the look of shame to flush your cheeks.

Mydeimos frowns at that. “Tell me, what did you do?”

“I…doused them in the river just south of camp when I was washing the bloodied clothes of the soldiers.” You answer simply. “The water’s frigid, it was almost bone-chilling despite the early rise of moonlight—”

“Why do such a thing?”

He does not mean to pry so frankly, you seem reluctant to reply but you needn’t explain further. Mydei had already pieced together the reason.

Being a medic is just as difficult as being a warrior. The prince has seen it all, time and time again, the state of his folks when they’re dragged back from battle—almost torn and severely injured, bloodied and mutilated and ribboned—just how much have you nursed them all back to health? To stitch up capillaries to muscle and skin? for your tender fingers to be caked with hot blood and cold grime that felt like a stain on your flesh even after washing them away numerous times?

He cannot help but bring his attention back to your fingers, and to both of your surprise, he was the one that reached out first.

His calloused hand touches your cold ones, running a rough thumb across your open palm to start. To him, he felt a notable hint of tremor in your fingertips, something he tried to cradle softly.

And to you, there's a mild prickle at the aftermath of the prince’s rough-hewn hands against your own.

“How are you feeling?” Mydei asks and it’s such a simple question, it’s so simple and yet you find yourself at a loss of what to say. You didn’t need to, he clasped your hand then, drawing it closer until both your fingers interlaced together.

“My lord, such a thing—“

Your cheeks surrender to the flushed heat, Mydeimos’ hands are calloused yet very tender. You don’t know what the prince wanted you to acknowledge, you’re just surprised he was the first who was willing to touch you so daringly.

“Refrain from doing that again.” His baritone reverberates through his chest, a gentle lecture slipping between his teeth. “Cold therapy may help you now but I've seen my comrades develop trench foot before. It’s in our best interest if you, the medic, is healthy at all costs. Just come find me whenever you have troubles with anything, okay?”

His honey eyes are on you. “Stay for as long as you wish, until your hands stop trembling from the cold.” Until you’re okay, you can hear the aftermath of concern brushing your ears.

You let out a finicky chuckle. “It was supposed to be me comforting you, not the other way around.”

“I’m fine.” Mydeimos answered. “I cannot die—“

“Cannot die in physical essence but your heart can still hurt from grief.” You squeeze back on his own. “And who knows, Mydeimos? You may be stabbed and injured numerous times but what if one day, when an enemy stabs you and you die, what would your people think? What do you think I would feel?”

It was merely a hypothesis for you, but the gravity of your theory tosses weight onto his shoulders, his chest caving in and his spine tingling, especially at the thoracic region. But instead of worrying about your words, Mydeimos observes you from the corner of his eye once again—he finds himself doing that as of late, and a ghost of a smile is on his lips, a teasing of his own at the tip of his tongue.

“Maybe it’s you who worries a lot about me, not Hephaestion.” He pokes at you, his playfulness catches you off guard and you find yourself sputtering.

“You could drown—“

“Then, I can simply swim.”

“What about a fatal stab? If you die from—“

Mydeimos tries his hardest from rolling his eyes. “And you think one measly stab would cut me down completely? Sometimes you wound me with your lack of faith—“

“I’m being serious, Mydeimos.”

And this time, the prince brings your hand close to him and lays it flat above his heart.

That renders your worries short, feeling the heavy beat of his heart on his chest, the evident embrace of warmth that dances along your open palm.

“Does it feel like I’d drop dead somewhere anytime soon?”

Your fear soon withers away from your chest, but Mydeimos does not let go of your hand, tracing his thumb up and down the pulse of your wrist.

“Does it?” He asks you, barely a whisper.

You shake your head but the tension is already thick in the air, electrifying. You find yourself reaching for every inch of vitality within him, any sign of life that you can feel beneath your palm. At first it was the apical pulse on his chest, then you started to draw patterns on his denuded skin—fingers tracing down the carmine tattoos that splay across his body as you searched.

It wasn’t sensual, per say, but your hands grasped him in desperation to feel life, a breath and a sharp pulse and he’s right,

Unlike the injured soldiers that were cold and trembling beneath your fingers before they died and dried—the prince is warm, blood pumping and heart erratic. Touching him brings you some sort of selfish solace and the trembling coldness of your fingertips are quickly blanketed by Mydeimos’ body heat as you curiously trace the red that marks up his body—up his carotid arteries on his neck until it reaches the edge of his tendrils.

“Your hair is tangled, your highness.” It was your soft murmur as you leaned close to him, then your fingers reached out to comb through his thick peach-puddled blond hair.

“Is that so?” He voices, eyes trained on you. The gaps between the two of you are quick to eat up, especially with the way Mydeimos is leaning onto your hand. He’s been trying since the first few months, to not be too overly concerned with your touch every time he sees you tending to his men, but even he cannot deny that he had always been curious since the moment you first join,

He was curious about your touch on him, or simply, how gentle you would touch him like you do the rest.

And just as he suspected, your touch is rather feather-like when you start to fiddle tiny braids onto his hair. Remnants of your fingers seem to linger at every mark in his body—

A rustle shatters the atmosphere and you both are quick to pull away. Mydeimos hides the sneer on his expression when Hephaestion emerges from the bushes,

“Oh, so you both were here—”

“What is it—” when Hephaestion stares at him in shock, especially with how snappy he sounded, Mydeimos falters, clearing his throat, “—I mean, what seems to be the matter, Hephaestion?”

You snicker beside him, but when Mydeimos points a glare your way, you yourself clear your own throat.

“Nothing, I was simply wondering where the two of you have gone. Sightseeing without us?”

“Sightseeing is an understatement, we were simply sharing a conversation or two is all.”

“Well, judging by the moon high in the sky, it’s best to wrap up those conversations soon. You both need ample rest after the events that happened for the past few days, have you forgotten that we would march west in the morning?”

At your lack of responses, Hephaestion sighs.

“I’m sure the crickets and herbs are honored at your company, but the detachment move for the west awaits us all, now make haste.”

“Alright, alright we got it.” Mydeimos sighs. Hephaestion had left first as the two of you stood at your feet, brushing crumbs of grime from your attire.

“My lord?”

Mydeimos turns at your call, he sees the slightest hint of twinkle in your eyes against the foam-salted air. “Thank you, for tonight.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Yes.” You answer, rubbing your warm fingertips. “Much better, I hope your concerns have eased as well.”

“You know, I was serious when I said that if you have any troubles, just come find me, maybe we can speak our minds again like tonight.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You chuckle. “Promise me you won’t go dying somewhere else.”

“Without your permission?” His dimpled-smile returns. “I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

[dianagj-art]

Sooooo.... @intotheelliwoods and I were talking fusions and I ended up creating this monster

I realized way too quickly that One wouldn't be able to fuse, the idea that he fights solo and doesn't need anyone else is so ingrained on his mind that doesn't let him form any meaningful connection needed to fuse. Also the idea of being close enough to someone to fuse freaks him out, so no fusion with the bestie

One's worldview is so different than Oneion's that that fusion in particular is almost impossible. But I still wanted to do a One+Oneion fusion design sooo... The only way they could be so much in sync to fuse would be mid battle and both realize they need the extra muscle but it would happen completely on accident

The moment the fight is over, the adrenaline runs out and they realize what happened they would unfuse immediately

Some notes on One-One: (and yes his name is One-One<3)

One-One is not friendly, he's literally made for battle, and accentuates that part of One and Oneion

Both One and Oneion (but specially One) go into a power rush being One-One

Their fusion brings out the worst and most dangerous part of them

Scary motherfucker frfr

Oneion has a better grasp on his anger issues and violent outbursts than One and is the only reason One-One is not 100% out of control and can focus on a target instead of just going rampant

This guy is smiling and cackling the whole time he's fighting

One-One is very much how One sees himself on the future, not Oneion, but the perfect unstopable soldier Draxum wants, with no feelings or distractors

The prosthesis doesn't fit in anymore, while on the outside is the right proportions for One-One, his arms are more buff than Oneion's so it doesn't fit

He uses vines as a makeshift arm instead

Crossover stuff!!

There is a tiny tiny tiny tiny part of him that has the potential to be friendly because of Oneion, but if he starts acting silly or too friendly or starts showing a softer side, One would push away from the fusion

Toast would be able to keep them fused by asking for a spar, One-One would be happy to accept but things wouldn't go well, the match having way too many close calls to serious injuries

Seeing Toast distressed and looking at him in horror would make Oneion worry and the fusion to pull apart

I am so normal about this

[harryslittlefreakk]

obsessed

summary: harry is your roommate, best friend … and crush 💃 he’s finally broken up with his girlfriend and you’re struggling to hide how you feel about him. loosely based on the song!!

warnings: none! fluffy fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst, mentions nudity

wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i am a loud & proud olivia rodrigo stan sooo naturally i had to write something. it’s silly and cheesy and short! but i hope you enjoy!!

you can find my masterlist here and join my taglist here!! happy reading my loves 💖

“Guess who I saw today?”

“Who?” You didn’t even need to look up from your book to know Harry was about to throw himself down on the end of your bed, his coat and shoes still on. Every time you got home before him he’d bound into your room like a little labrador, too excited to see you to even drop his stuff down first.

“No, you have to guess.”

“Could’ve been anyone, H,” you told him, feigning reluctance as you closed your book and looked up at him. The second you heard his key rattling in the door you’d wait for the sound of your door bursting open, the butterflies in your stomach coming to life. But you’d never let him know that, so every day you’d pretend it was an annoyance to have him perched at your feet.

“Think of someone you really don’t like,” he persisted, a toothy grin nestled between his dimpled cheeks.

“Literally could be anyone.”

“Come on! Blonde hair, tall, pretty…”

Of fucking course. His stupid, evil, awful ex girlfriend. And naturally, the only way you could react to hearing about her was to reach over and shove him before crossing your arms over your chest. “Ow! What was that for?” Harry laughed, rubbing at his upper arm.

“I was having such a nice day. And then you have to come in and mention that.” It was massively childish, but you couldn’t help but feel violent every time you heard about her. She was fine for the most part, maybe a little too conceited for your taste, but she’d made Harry happy. But you’d watched from the outside as Harry went through relationships, and he always morphed into whatever version of himself he thought the girl would prefer. He stopped being your Harry, and your friendship would suffer for it. But you couldn’t say anything, could never treat his girlfriends with anything but a polite smile and quick conversation, unless you wanted to out yourself as a jealous little girl. And you definitely didn’t want to do that.

This time, however, the ability to hate her had been handed to you on a silver platter when she decided to go home with one of Harry’s friends on a night out. You were his shoulder to cry on, the one to make him smile again after days of moping around. So you had full permission to hate her, and you were relishing in it - as much as you could while still tiptoeing around Harry’s aching heart.

“She wants to meet for a coffee this week,” he told you, scrunching his eyes tight as he waited for another shove. When nothing came, he squinted over to see you rubbing at your temples. “Are you gonna?” you asked, brows furrowed as you imagined the two of them back together.

“Am I allowed?” Harry teased, turning round to lay on top of you, his face only inches from yours. “You’re a grown man, H. Couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to,” you told him, your voice void of any emotion.

“Dunno if it’s a good idea. She might find me too irresistible and then I’ll have to deal with that,” he grinned, not noticing the change in your face. You looked down as you felt your lip start to quiver, too proud to show how your heart sank. “I need to shower, H. Dinner after?” you asked, slipping out from under him and dragging your heavy limbs towards the door. He looked over at you with round, questioning eyes, only to be met by silence and a weak smile as you headed for the bathroom.

You barely got the door shut behind you before the tears came, hot and heavy drops rolling down your cheeks. You knew you couldn’t have Harry, but every minute spent with him had your heart breaking over and over again. Every little cuddle, every touch, lit you up with a fire that burned to the bones. But then you’d see the way he acts with a girlfriend, the way he loved someone, and all those moments you shared seemed silly and infantile. He was your best friend, nothing more and nothing less.

You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as the sobs wracked your body. You’d tried so hard to push away the feelings, to convince yourself that you were just confused and overwhelmed. He’s a friend, he’s a friend, he’s a friend, echoing around your mind. But deep down, you knew that no one could ever compare to Harry. He was yours, the only one to ever steal a piece of your heart.

“Y/n? M’coming in.” You froze as Harry’s voice came from the other side of the door, clamping a hand over your mouth to hold the sobs in. “I’m naked,” you called out, scrambling to your feet and wiping away your tears with your sleeve. But he opened the door anyway, stopping in the doorway when he saw your tear-stained face. “Didn’t even turn the shower on yet,” he muttered, glancing over at it.

“Why’re you crying?”

“M’not,” you whispered, choking out a giant sob as you turned your face away from Harry, sinking down onto the edge of the bath.

“Quite clearly are. Move,” he ordered, swatting you away before reaching to turn on the taps.

“What are you-”

“If you’re sad, I’m sad. And I like having a bath when I’m sad,” Harry shrugged, turning around to grab one of your bath bombs.

“I was gonna shower, you can’t-”, between the sobs, your confusion and the need for Harry not to know why you were crying, you could barely string a sentence together.

And when Harry pulled off his t-shirt, you were even more lost for words, left with your mouth gaping and only air coming out. “Joining me?” he asked, tipping too much bubble bath into the steamy water - something you’d have to scold him for later.

“I’m not getting in with you,” you told him, once you’d finally got a grip on your brain.

“Just get under the bubbles. And you can close your eyes when I get in.”

“No way.” You hugged your arms over your chest, drawing your swollen bottom lip into your mouth as you watched a shirtless Harry mix the bubble bath into the water. The way his muscles flexed, the tattoos littered across his tanned, slender frame. His skin always looked perfect, not Barbie doll smooth but irresistibly soft. Your fingers took on a mind of their own, slowly reaching out to touch him before he turned around with a smug grin. “Fine, go away then while I have my nice relaxing bath.”

“I want a bath,” you whispered, barely audible over the running water splashing into the tub. “What was that, angel?” Harry grinned, moving his towel onto the toilet seat. “I want a bath,” you told him, louder now, a tiny smile dancing on your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of one of your hands, tugging you closer to the bathtub. He turned you around before pulling your t-shirt over your head, leaving you in just your little pyjama shorts. Just the brush of his fingertips against your bare torso sent chills down your spine. “M’not looking. Tell me when you’re in,” Harry told you, dropping your t-shirt to his feet.

You pushed your pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, checking behind you to see if Harry really wasn’t watching. True to his word, he had his eyes scrunched tight and his hand clenched over them. You’d seen each other in bathing suits and underwear so many times before, but being naked in the same room as Harry felt beyond weird. You’d never been overly shy about your body, especially with someone who made you feel as pretty and as comfortable as Harry did, but this would add a whole new layer to your friendship - and you didn’t know if you’d survive it. Still, you sunk into the bathtub and pulled the mass of bubbles to your end, trying to keep your breasts under the water before you told Harry he can look. “It’s really hard to make bubbles stay put, H,” you told him, screwing up your face as you tried to hold them steady.

He was laughing as he pulled his trousers and socks off, great big guffaws tumbling out every time the bubbles tried to escape your grip. “Want me to turn the lights down a bit? Then it’s harder to see,” he shrugged, nodding towards the light switch. You nodded, grateful that he cared enough to make sure you were 100% comfortable. It was one of the things that first drew you to Harry, and definitely what you valued most about him. He was always so kind, always caring, so willing to put anyone’s needs above his own - and that’s why relationships always changed him.

“Close your eyes then,” he said, mockingly holding two hands in front of his bulge. You rolled your eyes, finally starting to lighten up as the hot water washed over you. When Harry reached out to swat at your nose, you closed your eyes tight. You felt him stepping into the bathtub after a minute, his long legs slotting down your left-hand side.

“Hi,” he smiled when you opened your eyes. “Gonna tell me what upset you now?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you told him, your voice small.

“It is if it made you that upset,” Harry countered, placing a gentle hand on your calf, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

You paused for a moment, trying to think of what you wanted to say and how to say it. “It just- she doesn’t deserve you, H. Anyone who hurts you like that doesn’t deserve any of your time and respect.” Your eyes dropped to the water as you spoke, your body frozen. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but as soon as he did, you needed to say more. “You were really sad, Harry. It sucked for you and it sucked for me too because I don’t like seeing you like that. I’ll always be there for you, you know that, but I can’t just sit and wait for her to hurt you like that again. Not when you know she’s capable of it.”

You watched the smaller bubbles popping one by one by one, suddenly anxious in the silence that followed your speech. You hated going against Harry, putting your two cents into something that really didn’t concern you, but sometimes he needed to hear it.

“I know,” he replied finally. “But do you think that because you don’t like her?”

“Harry, no! I don’t like her because she did that to you.”

“You were never her biggest fan,” he shrugged, his brows knitted when you finally pulled your eyes up to meet his.

“She changed you, H. You were different with her, less you. Everything is so surface level with her, it’s looks and Instagram likes and who’s got trouble with who. There’s no substance, nothing deeper.”

Harry’s thumb halted as he shook his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “It doesn’t always have to be deeper,” he sighed, rubbing at his chin with his free hand.

“I know it’s not my place but you need someone who brings out the best in you, you need-”

A bitter laugh from Harry stopped you in your tracks, your mouth snapping closed as a chuckle slipped out of his. He met your questioning gaze with a tiny smirk. “She always used to say you were jealous of her.”

You could feel the tears collect on your bottom eyelashes again as he said it, the words stinging like barbed wire sinking into your skin. How could you even respond? “Harry-” was all you could manage before your mouth ran dry.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, y/n,” he told you, his voice soft as he reached out for your hand. “Come here,” he whispered, tugging at your fingertips. “I’m- we-” you started, gesturing between your bare bodies with your free hand, eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, motioning for you to turn around.

Somewhat reluctantly, you did, leaning back into his body until your back hit your chest. You were exposed in every sense, your chest sitting just above the waterline and your heart on your sleeve. Harry wrapped an arm around your torso, his delicate touch careful not to go anywhere it shouldn’t.

“Truth is I probably need someone like you. Only one to make me happy on a shitty day, only one who gives me any effort,” he murmured, his voice so low that if he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your heart quickened as he spoke, your pulse pounding against your inner wrists. “I’m not- I don’t have anything that she-” you choked out.

“S’a good thing, no?” Harry asked, turning his head just slightly until his lips brushed tentatively against your earlobe. “No, Harry. You need more, you need-”

“You,” he finished for you. “Just say the word and I’m yours, angel.”

It was like someone had handed you everything you ever wanted on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out and take it. But it wasn’t that easy. If anything went south, you risked losing Harry forever. You shuffled back out of his grip, turning to sit in front of him, perched on your knees. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about him seeing your body, your words willing themselves from your lips. “If anything went wrong Harry, I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, blinking to keep the tears at bay.

“What would go wrong? We know we get along, we have the same traits and the same values. We’re already doing life together,” he reached out a hand to cup your cheek as he spoke, his eyes laced with nothing but earnestness.

“I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”

“Never. Never ever, I swear. I thought about it for a while but it never really clicked until now.”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as Harry spoke, desperately needing to figure out if it was all a dream. The sensation of his touch, the sound of his voice, the gentle heat of the water – it all felt too real to be a dream. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was too perfect, too surreal to be true. You hesitated, unsure if you should dare to believe in the fairytale unfolding between the two of you.

As if he could see the cogs turning in your head, Harry dropped his hand from your cheek, entwining your fingers in yours instead. He squeezed lightly, the corners of his lips turning up into a little smile. "I'm here, y/n," he whispered. "This is real, promise." His words were a lifeline in the sea of doubt that threatened to consume you. Even if it was a dream, it was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you confessed, allowing yourself to give into the fantasy for at least a little while. You fought the urge to search for the hidden cameras, check the date to make sure it wasn’t an April Fools prank. Harry was a goof, but you were a thousand percent sure he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that.

“Just say the word,” he repeated, his husky voice laced with sincerity and longing.

“I want this,” you whispered, clutching onto Harry’s hand as if you could fall off the Earth at any minute. His face erupted into a grin so cheesy that you couldn’t help but mirror it, eyes locked onto his as he closed the distance between the two of you.

Harry’s lips met yours softly, as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you melted into him, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs by the urgency and desire behind his soft movements. He pulled away after a minute, his forehead pressed to yours as he searched your eyes for any sign that you wanted to stop. Although all Harry was met with was a sparkle in your gaze, and a further few pecks landing on his lips. “Should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands splaying across your back. “Should’ve done it before you got me naked,” you teased, succumbing once again to his kiss.

rrrr i really don’t know how i feel about this but i wanted to get something out

taglist: @angeldavis777 @softestqueeen @jerseygirlinca @palmettogal508 @drewsephrry @vonnexann @austiebuttbutt @indigo24hughes @peterparkerbae @im-an-overthinker @daphnesutton @loveableidioticweirdo @harryshotpocket @thegrapejuiceblues1982 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swag13r @ashleighsss @tswiftsgf @chesthairrry @nikkisimps @hannah9921 @lilfreakjez @prettygurl-2009 @s-h-e-l-b-e-e @indierockgirrl @cicicavill7

[hishumanbelle]

All I want is for Alastor to like the reader 🙏 and for him to blush at the smallest thing or get even goofier! I really can't find things like this, and even when I do, it's so hard

(Alastor's behavior doesn't have to be as I mentioned, just silly)

You didn't think much of it at first. It was just an offhanded compliment, something casual. You were both sitting in the lounge of the Hazbin Hotel, and Alastor had been talking—well, monologuing—about some old radio show he used to love. His voice was full of that usual eerie cheer, smooth and rich with old-timey charisma.

“You have a really nice voice, you know that?” you said absentmindedly, sipping your drink.

The moment the words left your mouth, the room shifted. The ever-present hum of Alastor’s static stuttered, cut out entirely—like a record player yanked off its track. You glanced up to find him staring at you, his grin frozen, his red eyes wide as if you’d just told him the most scandalous secret in all of Hell.

“Oh—” he let out a single, clipped chuckle, then slapped a hand over his mouth so fast you barely registered the movement.

You raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“I—! Oh, HA!” the laugh that followed was too loud, too forced. He practically threw himself into it, tilting his head back dramatically, but you caught it—the twitch of his ears, the way his fingers fumbled against his cane.

And… was he blushing?

Oh.

Oh, this was golden.

“You like being complimented, don’t you?” you teased, leaning in just a bit.

Alastor’s entire body stiffened. “Hah! Preposterous!”, his voice cracked ever so slightly, and his shadow flickered—its edges fraying like it was trying to retreat. “Why, I—oh dear, would you look at the time!” he yanked a pocket watch from nowhere, squinting at it with exaggerated scrutiny. “Yes, yes! Time for me to be—anywhere else!”

He practically teleported across the room, straightening his tie with far too much focus. But even from there, you could still see the red dusting his cheeks.

“You’re flustered.”

“HA! I do not get flustered!” his grin was too wide now, his hands too twitchy. The air itself crackled with restless energy, like a radio struggling to tune in.

You smirked. “So if I said I liked your smile too…?”

Pop.

His shadow completely short-circuited—tendrils recoiling, curling in on themselves like dying antennae. His ears flicked violently, and for a split second, his entire face went redder than his eyes.

Then—

BAM!—he hit the floor.

Just collapsed, legs giving out as he wheezed through gritted teeth.

You stared. “…Alastor?”

“…Damn it.” His voice was barely above a whisper, forehead pressed against the carpet as his shadow flailed helplessly around him.

You had never, ever seen him look so defeated.

And you were absolutely going to use this against him.

You had expected Alastor to recover quickly. After all, he was a smooth talker, always on top of things, never truly caught off guard.

But no.

It had been days since you had called his voice nice, and he was still acting weird about it.

For example, right now: you were in the kitchen, just trying to make yourself something to eat, when Alastor appeared out of nowhere, as he often did.

“Ah, darling, you must let me handle that! A delicate thing like yourself shouldn’t trouble those lovely hands with such menial labor!” he reached for the knife you were using to cut vegetables, practically tripping over himself in the process.

You pulled it away. “Alastor, I am literally just making a sandwich.”

“Ah-ah-ah! That’s where the trouble starts! First, it’s a sandwich—then suddenly, you’re engaging in the culinary arts, and before you know it, you’re—you're—!” he hesitated, waving his hands wildly like the very thought was too much to handle. “Burning down the whole hotel!”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you saying I can’t cook?”

“No, no, not at all! I simply wouldn’t dream of letting you lift a finger when I could do it for you!” his grin twitched—too wide, too forced. “Why, I—ah—!”

You placed a hand on his wrist.

Just lightly. Just to push him away so you could finish your damn sandwich.

And that was all it took.

Alastor froze. Completely. His grin went rigid, his pupils shrinking, his whole body locking up like someone had yanked his power cord straight out of the wall.

You blinked. “Uh. Alastor?”

Silence.

Then—

Bzzt.

A short burst of static popped in the air. The room dimmed. The radio in the corner hissed. And then—

“Oh, DEAR—”

Alastor all but flung himself backwards, twisting his body so abruptly that he nearly knocked over an entire chair. His shadow—his ever-present, eerie, independent shadow—actually fled the room without him, slithering away like it wanted nothing to do with this.

You stared. “Did you just—?”

“I REMEMBER I HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE!” he bellowed, voice cracking as he smacked his cane against the floor. “SOMETHING! VERY! IMPORTANT!”

“Uh-huh.” You crossed your arms, watching him scramble. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE OKAY IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!” his ears twitched violently, and then, before you could say anything else, he vanished. Just—gone. Poof.

Silence fell over the kitchen.

You sighed, shaking your head, before taking a bite of your sandwich.

Yeah. You were definitely going to have fun with this.

You had already established that Alastor did not handle affection well. Or rather, he handled it about as well as a radio with a frayed wire—lots of static, sparks, and the occasional dramatic system failure.

Which is exactly why you decided to push it.

Just a little.

For science.

So here you were, leaning against the lobby counter, watching Alastor chatter away to Charlie about something. You weren’t really listening—not because it wasn’t interesting, but because you were too busy planning your next move.

You had complimented him. You had touched him.

But you had never done both at the same time.

Until now.

“Alastor,” you interrupted smoothly, stepping closer.

His attention snapped to you immediately, and oh—perfect. His ears were already twitching, his grip tightening ever so slightly around his cane.

“Yes?” his grin was steady, but his voice—just the faintest bit strained.

You hummed, pretending to consider something. Then, before he could say anything else, you reached up and placed your hand gently against his cheek.

The effect was instantaneous.

His entire body locked up, his spine going ramrod straight like a puppet whose strings had just been yanked. The moment your fingers made contact, a deep buzzing filled the air—his own radio frequencies betraying him as static crackled wildly around you both.

You leaned in slightly, looking up at him with the sweetest smile you could manage.

“You really are quite handsome, you know,” you mused.

BZZZZT.

Oh.

Oh, that one might have fried him completely.

Alastor stopped breathing. His eyes—normally sharp, always brimming with mischief—went completely blank. The static around him peaked, the air distorting like an overloading signal. His hand twitched at his side, and then—

“Oh NO.”

That was all he managed before his legs gave out entirely, sending him CRASHING to the floor with a dramatic thud.

Charlie screamed. “OH MY DAD, DID YOU KILL HIM?!”

“I—” You blinked, looking down at him.

He was flat on his back, completely sprawled out, one hand clutching his chest like you had just sniped him straight through the heart. His ears were flicking wildly, his shadow writhing on the walls like it was experiencing second-hand embarrassment.

Then, finally—his mouth opened, and he let out the most broken, wheezing laugh.

“HAHA! Ohhh, dear me—” his voice was weak, pathetic, like a dying radio host gasping out his final words. “I—I’ve been bested! What a cruel, cruel fate!”

Charlie looked horrified. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

You shrugged. “I just called him handsome.”

Charlie gaped at you, then down at Alastor—who was still collapsed like some kind of tragic Victorian widow, his fingers trembling against his chest.

“Ohhh, the humanity,” he crooned, his face still red as hell. “The sheer, unbearable agony of it all!”

You crouched down beside him, resting your chin in your hand. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh, am I?” he cracked one eye open, still refusing to move from his self-imposed exile on the floor. “Tell me, darling, how am I meant to react when you so brazenly deliver a fatal blow to my very existence?”

“… You just fell over.”

“I was struck down by love’s cruel hand!”

Charlie groaned, running a hand down her face. “I can’t deal with this.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

You, however, stayed put, watching as Alastor’s ears twitched violently the longer you stared at him.

Slowly, carefully, you leaned in just a bit more.

“You really are handsome, though,” you murmured, just for good measure.

Alastor made a garbled noise—like an old radio short-circuiting—before disappearing entirely, his static bursting into the air like a dying transmission.

… Gone.

You sat back with a smug little smile.

Yeah. This was way too much fun.

\\ I thought about this too last night. //

Alastor prided himself on his composure. He had faced eldritch horrors, orchestrated the demise of powerful demons, and smiled through it all like a well-rehearsed showman. Nothing rattled him. Nothing made his grin falter.

Until you.

You, with your impossible ability to throw him off balance. You, with your warm laughter that sent an unfamiliar sensation crawling up his spine. You, who were currently standing too close—far too close—as you adjusted his tie with the gentlest touch imaginable.

“Honestly, Alastor, how do you manage to mess this up?” you teased, tugging lightly at the knot.

“I—I most certainly did not mess it up!” he protested, his voice a notch higher than usual. “It was a stylistic choice! A statement of chaotic fashion!”

You raised an eyebrow. “So having it completely lopsided was intentional?”

Alastor’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. A rare silence followed.

Oh.

Oh, this was terrible. He never lost his words. But as you straightened his tie, your fingers grazing his collarbone, something warm and foreign spread across his face. He felt it in his ears first, then his cheeks.

Heat.

Oh, for the love of the airwaves—was he blushing?

His hands twitched, unsure what to do with themselves, so he awkwardly clasped them behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels. He had to regain control of the situation.

With a dramatic wave of his hand, he burst into song.

“♪ My tie was fine, but you made it divine, and now I—oh dear, my dear, I think I might die! ♪”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “Alastor, what was that?”

“A completely normal reaction!” he declared, twirling away from you. But as he turned, his foot caught on the edge of a rug.

There was a pause. A moment of realization.

And then—

THUMP.

Alastor, the terrifying Radio Demon, master of manipulation and chaos, was now sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled, staring at the ceiling in stunned disbelief.

You gasped before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh my Lord, are you okay?!”

Alastor shot up immediately, hands adjusting his coat as if nothing had happened. “Of course I’m okay! That was—uh—an illusion! A grand trick to keep you entertained!”

You crossed your arms, still giggling. “You tripped.”

“I did not trip!” he pointed a finger at you, his face still flushed. “You—You’re imagining things! You must have been dazzled by my impeccable charm and lost track of reality!”

You smirked. “So you’re saying I make you lose control?”

Alastor’s mouth opened again—before he immediately clamped it shut, red creeping up his face once more. His ears twitched violently as he let out a short, nervous chuckle.

“Oh, would you look at that!” he blurted, gesturing wildly to nowhere in particular. “The weather today! Isn’t it just swell?!”

You stepped closer, peering at him. “Alastor. You’re flustered.”

“I most certainly am not!”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m just radiating warmth!”

“Mhm.” You grinned. “Adorable.”

Alastor choked. Actually choked.

Then, with an over-the-top, dramatic twirl, he practically phased through the nearest wall, his voice trailing behind him.

“I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT RADIO BROADCAST TO ATTEND TO, GOODBYE FOREVER—”

You covered your mouth, shaking with laughter. Oh, you were never letting him live this down.

[idontego]

Kaji Conceals His Relationship With You From His Friends

Summary: well, the title explains it, but do you think he can keep it a secret for much longer?

Warnings: swearing and suggestive violent behavior

A/n: I hope the ending didn’t disappoint! I thought it was a unique twist, pls.

As much and Kaji loves you, it was a mutual decision that your relationship be kept a secret from his friends because he didn’t want you to become a distraction because of how his friends would act towards him.

His friends knew who you were and looked at you as a mutual. They had no idea that you had a particular love interest and it was better kept that way. Kaji and you have been in a relationship for less than 6 months so far, but the more you stuck around him and his friends, the more they gained interest in you. Some of them even considered you a love interest and in fact had crushes on you. It wasn’t until recently that all of this unfolded.

Kaji was getting lunch with some of the second years, along with the first years. Kaji wasn’t too fond of most of the first years and would normally tune them out, that was until at Pothos you were brought up to the table. He immediately paused his music, but kept his headphones on.

Taiga was waving around his phone and said “Should i text y/n? I have her number and I’ve been thinking about asking her out on a date or somethin’.” Taiga said with his feet propped up on the table. “not if i beat you do it first, buddy.” Mitsuki said, leaning over the table grabbing Taiga’s phone from him. “There’s no way you haven’t even texted her yet. I’ve been knocking on that door for a few weeks. It’ll work soon, trust me.” Mitsuki proceeded.

“HEY GIVE ME THAT BACK!” Taiga said now also reaching over the table to get his phone back. Mitsuki was now typing something on his phone.

“I’m just gonna see if she at least responds to you! Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. You know how i am with the ladies.” Mitsuki reassured him.

Kaji sent over a piercing gaze to the both of them, crushing his lollipop between his teeth, making a loud cracking sound. He bit right through, all the way to the stick and he then realized he was gritting his teeth pretty hard and needed to keep listening to see if things got more out of hand. Would you actually respond to them? He wouldn’t expect you to say anything back to them, or at least he still hoped. He was now full of regret. Why did he not tell them sooner. It was for his own selfish reasons. He didn’t tell them because he felt he couldn’t genuinely handle them picking on him for being with you and making gushy jokes. Don’t even get me started on his phone. He just knows that if it was left unsupervised, they would try to send you some silly text or even worse, go through your messages.

Kaji began to mumble under his breath, completely consumed by the idea of their scheme and the reality of it happening right In front of his face. He ripped open another lollipop placing it in his mouth and put his headphones around his neck.

“You morons really think she’d say something back to ya’?” Kaji said with a straight face.

“What’s it to ya, Kaji? You like her or something? You’ve been pouting in the corner the whole time we’ve been here.” Taiga said.

Kaji’s eyebrows furrowed and he stood up and walked over to them stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. His fists were clenched so tight in this very moment he was breaking the skin in his palms from his nails.

“What’s it t’me?! Pick up the Goddamn phone, and send it, i dare you. Unless you wanna find out the hard way, ‘what it is to me’. ” He said. He closed his lips back around his lollipop and stood there, waiting for a response. His chest was heaving up and down, fast. The blood rushing to his face at a faster pace. Did he just give himself away?

“That’s it.” Sakura was now tuned into the conversation and started making his way to their table. He didn’t like all of this girl talk and was about to say something to all three of them until Nirei pulled Sakura’s arm, turning him around and saying “S-Sakura that is not a good idea! Please trust me! For starters, you know you don’t want to get Kaji fired up and second, it’s rumored that y/n is his girlfriend.” The room went silent. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Nirei’s face was unexplainable.

Kaji turned around to Nirei, spitting out his lollipop and lunging towards him, but Kaji was swiftly restrained.

“Of course you would be the one… TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP AND NOT LET ME HANDLE IT!” Kaji barked, his nose was scrunched and yelling at this point, showing his canines.

“I-i didn’t m-mean to, Kaji, please. Please forgive me.” Nirei pleaded.

Kaji took a deep breath and realized the two forces holding him back and relaxed his body, ripping open another lollipop, tossing it in his mouth. He knows you wouldn’t want him to be acting this way right now and concluded to own up to it. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you by any means, he just wants to protect you so bad, even if that means from his own friends, but he truly doesn’t need to worry now that they all know.

“Secret’s out.” Kaji responded as he smoothed back down his hoodie and put his headphones back on. He walked out the door of Pothos by himself and the only thing that made a sound was the chimes of the bell on the door as he exited.

[thewertsearch]

TG: but each time i would be watching myself from the vantage point of a different crow

Imagine being in Dave’s head, during that last fight with Jack.

Imagine watching yourself die violently, again and again, from the vantage point of a different Dave.

By the time it’s your turn, you already know exactly where each bullet is going to collide with your chest. You're already intimately familiar with the particular tones of your helpless screams - so familiar, in fact, that you're screaming before the bullet has even hit.

You already know how this goes. The only new part is the pain.

TT: Well, if I've learned anything from my extensive skimming over the Wikipedia articles on dream analysis, TT: It's that this dream is very unlikely to have any literal significance whatsoever. TT: It's probably not about dying at all.

If Rose hasn't yet diverged from the bubble's seed memory, then this quote is fairly ironic, in retrospect.

...but if Rose has broken out of the original memory, then she's the funniest motherfucker in the comic.

TG: i think im getting this weird deja vu thing where i was sure we talked about this […] TT: Why don't you tell me more about your dream?

I am so glad we’re going with option two. Never change, Lalonde.

TG: so i kept dying and kept being crows and stuff TG: and then i started to notice something coming from the sky TG: it was this faint eerie singing and i look up and theres nothing there just darkness

This was another peek at Derse, then.

Dave, the Horrorterrors have been trying to reach you since long before the session started. Will you finally heed their call?

TT: Certain texts say singing from the unknowable void carries a message. TT: That its recipient has been selected for a mission of supreme cosmic importance, that will result in your death and that of billions more.

It sounds like Rose is saying that the Green Sun’s destruction will kill many, many more than just the Tumor's pilot.

Now, we already knew that, more or less. The Sun is the keystone of the First Guardian system, and destroying it is sure to cause massive problems with every session in the multiverse. I can't even imagine how dire the long-term consequences will be. We know that - I’m just surprised that Rose is admitting it.

I guess I assumed Scratch had convinced her that destroying the Sun would be strictly beneficial - but no. She knows exactly how much destruction she’s about to dole out.

If you know this, Rose, then what the hell are you playing at?

TT: But one that is essential to the perpetuation of existence itself.

And here’s our answer. Scratch hasn’t hidden the fallout of the Green Sun’s destruction from Rose. He didn't need to, because he's opting for a much more subtle manipulation strategy, framing her mission as some nebulous 'greater good', which 'justifies' any side-effects.

Protect the multiverse from Jack, Rose - and don't worry about English. He's, uh, 'sanctioned by Paradox Space', whatever that means, so don't waste your thoughts on him. Look away from him, Rose.

Look at me, Rose. The real threat is Jack Noir.

That is what you need to fix, you silly girl. He’s your fault, Rose.

Fix it, and damn the consequences.

Don’t even think about the consequences, Rose.

[literaila]

can we get one of those scenarios where gojo does go to reader's dorm at 3am to go get sweets?

before you came to jujutsu high, you were a very patient person.

your temper was long, if anything. a stretchy sort of thing that was folded in the hands of people who didn’t deserve it.

it took a lot to get you worked up—some might even say that you were a people pleaser. if you had a certain… distaste for anyone or anything, well that was between you and your brain.

before you came to jujutsu high, that is.

because now it takes less than a knock on the door for your irritation to rise from your chest into your eyes. stress headaches have become a newfound acquaintance.

“what?” you hiss, opening your door to be met with—to no one’s surprise—a giddy grin and a sliver of eyes so bright it makes you want to puke.

so yeah. things have changed.

it wasn’t even one knock this time, though, but at least four different pounds, each one luring you even further into the cloud of homicidal thoughts.

at least no one will blame you in jail.

“is that how you answer your door?” satoru asks, leaning against the jam, so tall it hurts your soul.

“gojo,” you say, sweetening your rough, still-sleeping voice. “unless you’re here to tell me that someone’s dead, i’m going to break your nose.”

you didn’t used to be this violent, you swear. there’s just something about him—

satoru pinches your cheek fondly. “you’re such a joy to be around. even with your bed head.”

“did someone die?”

“yes,” satoru adjusts your shirt for you, kindness a silly thing he likes to wear occasionally. “my stomach. its rotting away.”

“good for you. goodnight.”

and you move to close the door, but satoru has always been faster than you. his foot is there, and you could break it, but you won’t.

god knows why.

“c’mon, sleeping beauty,” he whines, “i want bad ice cream.”

“then go get some.”

“i want company while i eat it.”

“don’t you have other friends or something? it’s..” you turn, blinking in the dark. “1:34 am.”

gojo grins. “snack time,” he says, simply.

you groan, missing when life was simple and no one talked to you unless you were making a mistake. “i’m tired. you woke me up, and i was having a good dream, too.”

“about me?”

“about something i don’t remember because,” you scowl at him, “you woke me up.”

“i didn’t want you to miss out.”

“if you keep smiling at me like that, i’ll—“

you stop, mostly because you don’t know what you’ll do.

“are you trying to sweet talk me? because it’s working.”

“no.”

gojo laughs. “get dressed. unless you want to wear your… care bear’s shirt.”

“go with geto,” you say, trying to shut the door again. it only succeeds in making satoru flinch just briefly.

which is enough to feed the vicious animal in your head.

“he’s just not as cute as you, though.”

you scoff. “stop trying to manipulate me.”

“but it always works so well.”

and is he wrong?

…no. but who can blame you for falling victim to his whims? satoru has spent his entire life being waited on, being given every little thing he could possibly want.

and he seems to want you.

it’s such a unique, bewildering feeling that you have to follow through. you can’t let something like affection go to waste.

the girl you were a year ago would scream for this very moment. she would be at satoru’s door, hugging his leg like a child.

(and if he’s a little bit… okay to look at. well. at least there’s one plus to this arrangement).

“i’ll even wait for you to get dressed,” satoru says like it’s a generous offer. “can’t you hear the ice cream calling?”

and then he leans in, eyes peering into yours over his ridiculous shades.

his hair is a bit messier than usual this late, his mouth a terrifying pink.

some small part of you wants to desperately to lean a little bit closer. to push this even further. so what if you need more convincing? so what if he owes you something?

so what if you can’t say no to him?

it has nothing to do with the itchy feeling in your chest, or the giddy fog in your brain.

(god, satoru makes you feel… something else. different than a human, but nothing more than a prize. he makes you feel like you are something other—like you’ve been the problem this entire time—but in a good way.

satoru sees you as something to behold.

you’re the god of this small thing.

and it’s wonderful. its infuriating and painful, and still you’d rather die than attempt to let it go.)

so what?

“fine,” you almost gasp. “but you’re buying.”

gojo clasps his hands together in satisfaction. “we’ll see,” he sings.

“ten minutes,” you tell him, trying to shut the door.

“five,” he whispers back, so sweetly.

and then satoru flashes his teeth at you, so different from anything else.

your responding nod is just unconscious at this point.

[visenyaism]

Sorry if this is reaching for something that isn't there but I was thinking about how tywin basically commiting raped to both his son and tysha (while watching), and than later went on to sleep with the same sex worker his son had been sleeping with, and how...strange that all is. Like two incidents involving some sort of sexual thing going on between them (on tywin's part). Idk if it's just abuse and tywin's need to have power over tyrion but is there more to it? Am I wrong? Sorry if this is a silly thought

no you are absolutely 100% correct that there is something extremely evil about the psychosexual enmeshment of all the lannisters which goes beyond jaime and cersei and seems to originate with tywin. the first thing he did upon attaining power was having his father’s mistress whipped naked through the streets for two weeks. tywin married his cousin joanna (who i would argue really ends up as like a proxy in whatever psychosexual humiliation rituals were happening between tywin and aerys). Tywin enacts these violent sexual humiliation rituals with his children (most often tyrion who i think reminds him of himself but also cersei) who in turn enact them on each other. Tywin also appears to be very fixated on the power and authority of house targaryen and passed this to his children as well. there’s something there.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I really, really like the Devil May Cry stuff you're writing ^-^

And I was curious- if you're okay with it of course.

Romantic headcanons for Dante x fem!Reader where she spends the night for the first time at his place? Like they're already in a relationship, but his girl isn't ready for s*x

you had been in the best relationship of your life with Dante, it was goofy, silly, stupid but deep at the same time where you could comfortably admit to anything with Dante and he would respond in kind with comfort and reassurance.

so when he invited you over for the night, your mind went elswhere and had stayed there even as you stepped through the door, stiff and worried when night quickly approached faster then you liked.

was he going to expect sex in your first time staying over?

was it the priamary reason you were invited over? for sexy times?

if so would he be dissapointed if you were to admit that you weren't ready, if you were ever going to be ready for it, would he be ashamed? after all it seemed as though society deemed sex a pivitol part in keeping a relationship happy, demanding of it even if one was nowhere near ready for that vital step.

even if you may disagree with that mindset.

no this was your Dante you were talking about, the man who alsot tripped over his own two feet when asking you out, the very man who insits on sharing his sundaes with you whenever you were sad, cuddled up on his lap, embraced in his warmth.

the very same man who wore the silliest pyjama pants to bed all the time, ones covered in pizza slices, or ones covered in little cartoon strawberry icecreams with cute little faces that displayed a variety of emotions.

the very man who kisses your forhead whenever your worries got the best of you, claiming that his kisses could wash them away, and they did as did everything often did with Dante to be your comfort, your safe haven and friend as well as your handsome partner.

however the fear still remained, making you unable to relax at all, muscles tense asn your sense on high alert from any indication from Dante.

only to sense nothing as he smiles at you that sweet smile that shows off his sharp looking canines. Nothing out of the ordinary, not yet at least as you felt your tongue loosen the moment you step into his bedroom.

‘We’re not having sex are we?’

Dante’s brows are raised as a frown replaces his smile from moments prior and your mind became worse then it was before, filling your head with poison and venom that you almost didn’t hear him or feel him in your state of numbness.

Not until you felt his warm hands grace your shoulders, grounding you as you managed to urge your eyes to look into his own, seeing the concern within them as his calloused thumbs caressed. ‘What ever gave you that impression sweetheart?’ He asks softly as he guides you to sit at the edge of his bed as he knelt in front of you.

‘Isn’t that how it always leads to? Sex.’ You replied as you toyed with your hands, eyes once again averting his gaze as you found interest in picking at your fingers almost in a violent manner. ‘Something I am in no way ready for and am scared that will run you away because of it.’ You added.

Dante was quick to put a stop to your violent finger picking/scratching by intertwining his fingers with yours, kissing them as he tucks your hands close to his chest. ‘Not always, and that’s not why I brought you here because I realise that I can’t sleep at all without you,’ he laughs to himself, ‘kinda like how a kid can’t sleep without a stuffed toy for comfort, you are that comfort to me and I want you nowhere else but by my side.’ He continues as he reads the emotions upon your face, seeing that you were starting to relax and let your guard down to rest.

‘Really? Nothing else.’ You said barely above a whisper.

‘It’s the furthest thing from my mind sweetheart.’ Dante reassures. ‘We won’t do anything like that unless you’re ready and willing, to do so without taking in your own feelings is just a dick move. A relationship is between two people who love each other, some have a sex while others might not, it’s still a relationship regardless sweetness.’ He kisses your finger interlocked with his, smiling.

‘So if we never have sex, that’s fine by me becuase I’m not going anywhere without you, you’re my person and I’d rather keep what we have then ever throw it away over something stupid as sex.’ He then moves from kneeling to sit next to you, letting go of your hands for a moment before reconnecting them, and letting you rest your head upon his shoulder as he gingerly placed his atop of yours, though not before kissing it.

‘We’re just going to share a bed and cuddle and fall asleep together and wake up together too just to be lazy about wanting to leave bed.’ He whispers and you couldn’t help but laugh at how true that might be, before feeling a little silly in being overly cautious about the reasoning for Dante wanting you here

yet you were also glad that he had cleared any and all misconceptions within you as now all you wanted to do was cuddle up to him, sleep and be very begrudging in getting up the next day, just like he promised.

[eccentricallygothic]

| Just A Little Bit Colder |

You are having a Sunday BBQ with your Bf's family but his Dad!Captain Price and you…

Warning(s): Infidelity with Bf's Dad, rough unprotected p-in-v, doggy style, feeling of guilt, spanking, manhandling, age gap, hair pulling, he is lowkey bossy, m!dom, f!sub, sir kink, mild dacryphilia bc the D is so good, Price's BDE, pinching, brat taming, Daddy kink, light overstimulation, creampie. MDNI.

Part of the Older verse, apparently.

Your eyes are glazed and widened as you watch your boyfriend who, while tending to the grill on the patio, laughs along to something his mother says from where you can see him through the window of the wine cellar. If it weren't for how dazed your mind is, you would have felt the tense knot that you can only identify as guilt form in the base of your chest. 

But as the older man behind you grunts and curses under his breath before landing a smack on your blushing ass from behind, your eyes cannot help but roll to the top of your head, making you nearly drop one of the wine bottles that you are hugging tightly to your chest.

Bottles that the two of you are supposed to be fetching…

“W- We— hnng!” You nearly double over when Captain Price steers you around and towards the wine racks again by rough handfuls of your hips, his hot and hard cock pistoning in and out of your noisy cunt whilst his tip abuses your sensitive spot with each thrust. “Someone w- will hear—!” You nearly go head first into the bottles that neatly line the rows due to how the cruel man forces you to walk on your wobbling knees whilst he blows into you from behind. “We'll get caugh— auggh— awt!” 

Captain Price has to reach out to grip your hair to stop you from falling down, his nose flared from how hard and fast his fucking of your youthful little pussy is. “Then I suppose we should be quiet and not make noise, eh, babygirl?” His accent gets so thick during these moments that you barely understand him sometimes. And it only makes you clench harder. “Come on, now” you shake your head no as a snot bubble bursts from the mess he has made of you. He always does. “Grab that one from the fourth row, fifth bottle from the left.” Amidst your turbulent fuck, you had somehow managed to place the bottles that you were previously holding in the padded basket that the man had brought.

You weakly shake your head as you bite back a sob and sway towards the rack before holding it for support when he lets go of your hair. “I can't! I can't, sir,” he likes you to call him that sometimes. “I am sorry!” The smell of sex permeates the air and the only sound you can hear over the thumps of your heart is that of his skin clapping against yours. 

“But you can” you feel his rough hand smack your ass again. “And you will” the next hit sends you spasming and shuddering as you begin to cum hard. “Get to it” but he pulls you backwards into his chest by a handful of one of your boobs so he can dip his hands between your clammy petals to rub at your cunt. 

“No! No! Oh, God! YES!” It feels good but to such an intense extent that you cannot decide whether you want it or not. Your body tries to curl in on itself so he hooks one arm under your armpits to lift you off the ground to prevent your violent flailing from interfering with his own orgasm that now shadows over his edge due to how hot and tight yours feels around his cock. “Gggg! Hhggg!” Your body collapses on his as you literally dangle from his cock, the jabs bouncing you upwards with each thrust like you're no heavier than a cock sleeve. “Ohmigoshhhh!” Your hiss runs into eventual silence but doesn't die out because of his treatment of your pussy and you tremble pathetically. 

“Are we ’aving fun yet?” His voice is so firm that it makes you clench around him from the sensitivity. “Was that silly little antic of ours worth it, then?” The pinch he administers to one of your pussy lips is mean and you quickly shudder out the well due apology. 

“S- Sorry, sir… So sorry, sir…” His fingers feel raw against your cunt and you're on the brink of the post cum half orgasm this always brings you to. 

“Should I expect a repeat of that, or?” His mustache tickles the skin of your soft cheek as he grips your jaw with his cum covered hand now, pressing your faces together so you can hear his menacing whispers in their full intensity. 

“N- No, sir… No, sorry…” Your broken words tip him over the edge and he begins to paint your overstimulated walls with his cum, still stubbornly moving his fingers over your sensitive folds. “Oh!” The barrage of your tears finally breaks loose and you begin to cum again, feeling his hot cum deep up your cervix. 

Making you cum has never been a problem for your boyfriend's father Captain John Price.

“Tha’s fuckin' right” he urgently lowers you both until he's on his knees, your flushed cheek touches the cool ground and Captain Price holds the lower part of your body up and spreads it out so he can properly fuck out his orgasm until your puffy cunt is stuffed full of his creamy cum and your walls are raw from the friction. “So don't fuckin' try your Daddy again.”

Okay, so.

You had, during a particularly cheeky moment, teased him about being old and challenged him that he did not have the courage or stamina to take you and finish in time without getting caught when you were helping with the moving of the BBQ contents to the patio. Before your boyfriend's dad could have had the chance to answer safely, you were already walking out the kitchen backdoor with his son, a devilish sway to your hips and a teasing smirk on your face. 

The man had just watched you then, silent and unreadable as his own wife had approached him. 

And then he had requested you to help him with fetching the wine after he had rejoined the party with his own share of the ‘carry out’ items.

As your cheek rubs against the floor and your drool forms a little puddle next to your mouth, you reckon it is safe to say that you are not going to be challenging your boyfriend's dad anytime soon.

Or…

Are you?

MASTERLIST

[dee-writes-anime]

I'm Here, I'm Always Here

FEATURING Shoto Todoroki x Reader

SUMMARY Shoto can't take it anymore, good thing you are always willing to take good care of your icyhot sweetheart.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, Shoto being taken care of like he deserves, an excuse for me to wash my boys hair T-T, hurt/comfort, Shoto needs a hug PLEASE HUG HIM OML

AUTHORS NOTE this is not the BakuDeku slow burn that I've been working on the past week, unfortunately. I promise I am still working on it, it's just a BEAST of a fic and I am still not done writing it. So, instead of continuing in my silence, I decided to share this Shoto fic I've been sitting on for a FAT minute. <3

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.” 

Shoto Todoroki is sitting on the floor of your shower, curled into himself, trembling violently. His knees are drawn tight against his chest, and his head is buried deep between his crossed arms, tucked into the wet skin of his legs. The water pounds mercilessly on his back, scalding hot, the sound of it a steady hiss against the tile as steam swirls like smoke in the air. It clings to the room in suffocating waves, thick enough to feel like it’s pressing down on him, drowning him with every strained breath. The water pelts his cold skin, too hot and too harsh, but he doesn’t move. He just rocks slowly, back and forth, shaking with each shallow inhale. 

You hadn't been home, hadn’t heard the news. You were a world away, caught in the aftermath of a grueling mission in Indonesia, helping local heroes dismantle a quirk-empowered sex trafficking ring. You hadn’t known what had gone down between Shoto and the villain he fought today. You hadn’t known he’d be fighting for his life while you were halfway across the world, in a place that had felt so beautiful, so serene in comparison to what he must have gone through. 

While you’d been basking in the warm Indonesian sun, calling him every night to talk, laugh, share silly stories, Shoto had been here, battling something far darker than either of you could have anticipated. You would stay on the phone with him for hours, sometimes dozing off mid-conversation, your voices filling the quiet voids of each other’s days. But today, today you hadn’t been able to answer. 

You’d been on a plane, finally heading home after days of tension and exhaustion. The mission was done; you had succeeded in catching the ring leaders, and the police were making their arrests. But it wasn’t over for Shoto. 

He had stayed at your apartment while you were gone, taking care of Mr. Wellbottom, your moody, gray tabby. Shoto had taken the task without hesitation, even though you’d thanked him a thousand times, feeling guilty for asking him to go out of his way. But Shoto had only smiled, brushing off your offers of repayment, telling you it was no trouble at all. The truth, however, was that Shoto preferred it here. Your apartment, small and cluttered as it was, was warm—unlike the empty coldness of his own space. Here, everything smelled like you—soft, comforting, familiar. He’d found himself sinking into the warmth of it, into the messy piles of books, your worn-out blankets, and even the prickly affection of Mr. Wellbottom. 

Because here, in your space, Shoto could pretend, just for a little while, that he was more than just your close friend. More than just the boy who kept you company and helped take care of your cat. Here, he could pretend he belonged. 

But today, the weight of everything had become too much, and all the warmth of your apartment, of your affection, couldn’t hold back the storm brewing inside him. He loved you more than anything in the world, more than he could ever say, which was why he had resigned himself to being just this—just your closest friend. Because losing you, risking what you had by asking for more, was something he couldn’t bear. So, he stayed quiet, enduring, grateful for whatever piece of you he could keep. 

The villain Shoto had fought today was unlike any other—someone who could take the deepest, darkest corners of a person's mind and twist them until reality blurred into something grotesque. He wasn’t a stranger to this villain, not after the many run-ins he’d had in his relentless hunt to stop him. Shoto had endured before, forced to relive the bitter memories of his father, the abuse, the cruelty that had shaped so much of his childhood. And then, as if that weren’t enough, the villain had dredged up the image of his brother—his death, and later, the painful fight against him. But even those memories, awful as they were, Shoto had withstood. 

Today, however, had been different. 

This time, the villain had reached deeper, pulling on a thread of Shoto’s mind that was too precious to tamper with. He had taken you. The memory of your warmth, your laughter, your soft presence that had become Shoto’s solace—and twisted it into something horrific. 

In the vision the villain conjured, Shoto found himself standing in your small, familiar kitchen. The tiled floor beneath him, a dull, faded yellowish hue, felt so real. Too real. And there, lying crumpled on the ground, was you. Blood—thick and horrifyingly red—leaked from a deep gash in your abdomen, pooling on the floor and staining the tiles beneath you. Shoto's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he dropped to his knees beside you. His hands, shaking uncontrollably, grabbed the first thing he could find—the knit blanket you always draped across the back of the couch. The same one he had used just days before to coax Mr. Wellbottom into curling up with him for a late-night picture. 

But now, that blanket was being pressed against your wound, its soft cream fabric soaking through with the vivid, sickening color of your blood. The warmth that had once been your safety net, the thing that reminded him of you every time he wrapped it around himself, was now drenched in the memory of your loss. 

The image wouldn’t leave him. 

No matter how much he blinked, no matter how hard he tried to force himself back into reality, the memory the villain had warped stuck in his mind like a jagged shard of glass. He could still see your lifeless form, still feel the weight of the blood-soaked blanket in his trembling hands. It was too vivid. Too visceral. 

The villain knew exactly what he was doing, attacking Shoto’s weakest point. He had toyed with Shoto's mind, playing his memories like a puppet on strings, twisting them until every bit of hope, every ounce of warmth, turned to something grotesque. You were Shoto’s anchor, the light in the darkness of his life, and to turn that into something filled with blood and pain—that had broken him in ways nothing else ever had. 

When Shoto had finally snapped out of it, it had been too late. The villain was gone, disappeared into the chaos, and Shoto was left kneeling on the ground in the middle of the battlefield, still shaking from the aftershocks of the warped vision. His teammates had tried to help him, tried to call out to him, but he couldn’t hear anything but the sound of your blood dripping onto the cold kitchen floor. He could feel his own heart hammering against his ribs, threatening to tear itself apart from the inside. 

And now here he was, in your shower, trying and failing to wash the memory away. He had come back to your apartment because it was the only place that felt remotely safe, remotely real. But even here, surrounded by the things that usually comforted him, he couldn’t escape it. The scalding water beat down on his back, punishing him, as if he could burn the image out of his mind. But nothing helped. Nothing could erase the sight of your body, limp in his arms, as the life drained out of you in that twisted vision. 

When he heard your soft voice, it was as though the world tilted back into focus for the first time since the nightmare began. It started with a gentle gasp, a sound so quiet he might’ve missed it if he weren’t so desperate to hear something real. Then came the hurried footsteps, the soft padding of your feet against the floor growing louder as you rushed toward the bathroom. The water stopped abruptly, the harsh, scalding heat suddenly replaced by the cool air around him, and then—your hands. Your hands, warm and steady, were threading through his soaked hair, each stroke slow and deliberate, as though grounding him back into the present. 

But Shoto flinched at the contact, his breath catching in his throat. Was this real? Could this be another cruel trick, another illusion the villain had planted to break him further? He wasn’t sure, couldn’t be sure—not after what he had seen. 

And then he smelled it. 

Vanilla and cashmere, the scent you always wore, the one Mina endlessly teased you about. That familiar, comforting fragrance filled his senses, and something deep inside him cracked open. It was you. The scar on your palm, the one from that quirk accident back in high school, scraped lightly against his skin as your fingers combed through his hair, the faintest of rough edges that confirmed it. No illusion could replicate the way your presence felt—how solid, how real it was. 

It was you. 

The dam inside him broke, and before he could stop himself, a sob tore from his throat, raw and desperate. His body moved before his mind could catch up, clinging to you, burying his face against your chest as the sobs came faster, his body wracked with tremors he could no longer suppress. Water soaked through your sweater, dampening your leggings, but you didn’t care. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer as you whispered soft, soothing words into his ear. 

“I’m here,” you murmured, your voice steady, grounding him. “You’re safe, Shoto. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

He could feel your heartbeat against his cheek, strong and steady, each thud an anchor that pulled him out of the nightmare and into the present. You were real. You were here, holding him close, and for the first time since the mission, the suffocating weight in his chest loosened, just a fraction, as your warmth began to chase the cold from his bones. 

After what felt like minutes—or maybe hours; he couldn’t tell—of you simply holding him, your warmth wrapped around him like a lifeline, you shifted. Slowly, you stood, your movements careful and deliberate, as if afraid to pull away too fast. You reached for the shower knob, turning the water back on, this time to a much gentler temperature. The scalding heat from before was replaced by a soothing warmth that cascaded down his back, easing the tension in his muscles. 

Without saying a word, you grabbed the bottle of shampoo from the cubby—a fancy brand you always scolded him for trying to use when he stayed over. He could almost hear your playful voice in his head, telling him he wasn’t allowed to touch the ‘good stuff.’ But now, you weren’t teasing. You were quiet, focused, as you squeezed a generous amount into your palm and began to gently massage it into his scalp. 

Your fingers moved with care, threading through his hair in slow, circular motions. Each touch was gentle, deliberate, as if you were trying to wash away more than just the dirt and grime of the day. Shoto closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the sensation, the rhythmic motion of your hands calming the storm inside him. The scent of the shampoo—familiar and soft, just like everything else about you—filled the air, wrapping him in its comforting embrace. 

You worked the shampoo into every strand, massaging his scalp until his hair was thoroughly coated in suds. Each pass of your fingers through his mismatched hair felt like a promise—unspoken, but deeply felt. You weren’t going anywhere. You were still here, taking care of him in the only way you knew how. 

And for the first time that night, as you stood there with him, washing away the pain of the day, Shoto felt like he might be able to breathe again. 

After finishing with the shampoo, your hands moved with the same careful tenderness, reaching for the conditioner. You uncapped the bottle, the familiar scent wafting into the air, and squeezed a dollop into your palm. The water flowed in a soft cascade over Shoto’s back, creating a calm, steady rhythm in the background as you worked the conditioner through his hair. 

Your fingers glided through the wet strands, smoothing them gently. As you massaged the conditioner into his scalp, your voice broke the quiet. 

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time,” you began, your voice low and soft. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Shoto.” 

The words hung in the air, blending with the sound of water pattering against the tile. Shoto didn’t react at first, still processing everything. But you didn’t stop, your fingers working through his hair with care as you continued. 

“I don’t know when it started, really. I think it was sometime in high school, maybe even before that. You were always so strong, so quiet, but… you carried so much. I remember that day during our first year, when you told us about your father. About your family. You tried so hard to stay strong, to push everything down like it didn’t matter. But I saw how much it hurt you.” 

You paused for a moment, lost in the memory. You could still see it so clearly—the way Shoto had stood there, stoic and composed, while the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. But behind those mismatched eyes, you had seen something else: the vulnerability he never let anyone else see. It had been in that moment you realized just how much you cared about him. 

“And then… we got closer. We became friends,” you said, working the conditioner into his hair with slow, careful motions. “I would stay up late thinking about how brave you were. How strong. You didn’t let the things that had happened to you define who you were, and that’s what made me fall in love with you even more.” 

Shoto remained quiet, but you could feel the way his breathing had changed—slower now, steadier. You didn’t know if he was processing your words or just lost in the comfort of the moment, but it didn’t matter. You needed to say this, even if he didn’t respond. 

“And when we graduated and became pro heroes, I thought I’d let those feelings go. I thought maybe they’d fade with time. But they didn’t. Every time I saw you fight, saw you push yourself to your limits, I’d fall a little harder. You’re so strong, Shoto. You’re so brave. Even when the world tries to break you down, you keep going.” 

You paused, your fingers stilling for a moment in his hair as you thought back to all the times you’d watched him from a distance, your heart swelling with pride and admiration. 

“Like today,” you continued, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what happened out there, and you don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But I know how strong you are. I know how hard you fight, even when things get bad. You’re the bravest person I know, Shoto.” 

Your hands moved again, gently untangling the strands of his hair as you rinsed out the conditioner. The water ran over his head, carrying the suds away, and you stood there in silence for a few moments longer, letting the weight of your words settle between you. 

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you leaned in close to him, your lips brushing against his damp hair. 

“You’ve worked so hard, love,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his wet forehead. “So, so hard.” 

The word slipped out—love—and it felt so natural, so right, that you didn’t even hesitate. You weren’t sure if he heard it, but you didn’t care. You meant every word. Shoto had been fighting for so long, and all you wanted was for him to know how much he meant to you. How proud you were of him. 

You stood there for a while, the water continuing to run as you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing the tension that had gripped him for so long. 

As you rinsed the conditioner from his hair, the soft hiss of water filling the room, Shoto shifted slightly beneath your hands. His head tilted back just a fraction, and for the first time since you had come home, he spoke. 

His voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and hesitant, as if he were afraid the words might break the delicate moment between you. “I… I didn’t know how to tell you,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “For so long, I’ve felt… something. I didn’t understand it at first. But every time I was with you, it was there—this warmth I couldn’t explain.” 

You kept your hands gentle, running your fingers through his hair as the water rinsed away the last traces of conditioner. The soothing rhythm of the water was a backdrop to his quiet confession. 

“I never thought I deserved you,” Shoto admitted, his voice trembling ever so slightly. “You’re always so bright, so warm. You make everything around you feel… alive. And me—I’ve always felt like I’m stuck in this cold, this distance from everyone, like I don’t belong in your world.” 

His eyes closed, the weight of his words seeming to spill out of him now that he had started. “But every time I was with you, it felt like I could finally breathe. Like maybe… maybe I wasn’t so broken after all.” 

Your fingers continued to move through his hair, slow and deliberate, each touch a silent reassurance that you were listening, that you were there. 

Shoto’s breath hitched as he leaned into your touch, letting the water stream down his face as he spoke again, more vulnerable than you had ever heard him. “I didn’t know how to tell you how much I love you. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I stayed quiet. I thought if I could just be close to you, that would be enough. But… it never was. I wanted more. I wanted you, and it scared me.” 

His voice faltered for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging between you like the mist in the air. “I love you,” he finally whispered, barely audible over the sound of the water. “I’ve loved you for so long. I just… I didn’t know how to say it.” 

The last of the conditioner was gone now, his hair clean and smooth beneath your fingers, but you didn’t pull away. You stayed there, the water running over both of you as you cradled his head in your hands, your heart swelling with every word he spoke. 

Shoto was vulnerable in a way you had never seen before—laid bare, fragile, but so open, so raw. And it was in that moment that you realized just how much this meant to him, how much he had been holding back for all these years. 

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Shoto. I’m here. I’ve always been here.” 

You gently tilted Shoto’s head up, brushing your thumb along his jaw as the water cascaded between you, soft and warm. His eyes fluttered open, the weight of his emotions still lingering in those mismatched irises—one like molten lava, the other like glacial ice. But now, there was something different. Something softer. Something vulnerable. 

Your heart swelled as you leaned in, closing the small gap between you. Your lips met his in a kiss so soft, so tender, it felt like you were sealing all the unspoken words and emotions between you. The kiss was slow, delicate—a moment where everything else faded away. It was just you and Shoto, standing there under the warmth of the water, sharing something you had both waited so long for. 

He kissed you back with a gentle urgency, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. His hand came up to cup the side of your face, the water from his fingers dripping down your cheek as he deepened the kiss ever so slightly, but still kept it tender, as though he were afraid of breaking the fragile moment between you. 

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Your foreheads rested together, the water still trickling over you, but the world had gone quiet, a peaceful silence wrapping around you both. 

You smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of wet hair away from his forehead. “We should get out of here before we both turn into prunes,” you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice, though your eyes remained full of warmth. 

Shoto blinked, as if snapping out of a dream, and then nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Yeah… that might be a good idea,” he said, his voice still hushed, the weight of everything that had passed between you lingering in the air. 

You stood up first, offering him your hand to help him rise from the floor of the shower. He took it, the touch of his fingers against yours sending a soft warmth through your chest. Together, you stepped out of the shower, the cool air of the bathroom a sharp contrast to the warmth you shared inside. 

Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around Shoto’s shoulders first, gently rubbing his hair dry before handing him another one. He looked at you with an expression so tender, so grateful, that it made your heart ache in the best way. You both changed into dry clothes, the atmosphere between you calm, comfortable—like the two of you had reached a new kind of understanding. 

When you finished, you sat on the edge of your bed, Shoto quietly sitting next to you. The room was dim, the soft hum of the apartment’s heater the only sound between you. You glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes still held traces of exhaustion, but also something lighter—a quiet relief. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh. “You’ve worked so hard, Shoto,” you whispered, echoing the words you had said before, but now they felt even more meaningful. “You don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here.” 

He turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I know,” he murmured, his voice steady and soft. “I know now.” 

And for the first time in a long time, Shoto felt a sense of peace settle over him. The weight of the day, the nightmares, the fear—all of it faded into the background as the two of you sat there, sharing the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. 

It wasn’t perfect. But it was simple, and that was more than enough for both of you.  

BONUS:  

As the two of you sat in the peaceful quiet, your head still resting on Shoto’s shoulder, you felt the softest brush of fur against your leg. Before you could react, a familiar weight jumped onto the bed between you. Mr. Wellbottom, your grumpy but loyal cat, had decided to make his presence known. 

The fluffy feline nudged his head against your arm, purring loudly as if to scold you for being away for so long. He then climbed into your lap, curling up into a cozy ball as he pressed himself into your warmth, his tail flicking slightly before settling down. 

You couldn’t help but smile, your hand instinctively going to stroke his soft fur. “I missed you too, Wellbottom,” you said softly, scratching behind his ear the way you knew he liked. 

Shoto looked down at the cat, a fond look in his eyes as he watched the little scene unfold. He reached out cautiously, his hand brushing against Mr. Wellbottom’s back, and to both of your surprise, the cat didn’t protest. Instead, he let out a soft purr, accepting the gentle touch. 

“Looks like someone’s been waiting for you,” Shoto murmured, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. 

You laughed quietly, the sound soft and warm as it filled the room. “He missed his cuddle buddy. But you took good care of him while I was gone, didn’t you?” 

Shoto gave a small nod, his eyes still on Mr. Wellbottom as the cat shifted to press even closer to you, as if making up for lost time. “Yeah, but… I think he was waiting for you. We both were.” 

Your heart melted at those words, and you leaned into Shoto a little more, your fingers absentmindedly petting the content cat in your lap. The three of you sat there, surrounded by a calm that was as comforting as it was rare. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, everything was still. There were no battles to fight, no villains to defeat, no painful memories clawing their way to the surface—just the soft purring of Mr. Wellbottom and the quiet warmth of Shoto at your side. 

“I’m here now,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nestled into Shoto’s side. “I’m not going anywhere.”