#i am violently silly over him

[p4ll3t]

GIGGLING AND KICKING MY LEGS

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

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Bro your human pizzahead design is so good??? Like him also being an old man like Peppino makes more sense in my head? Idk but It's great! probably my new favorite human PH tbh

HEY THANKS 💖 obv human designs are whatever u want them to be but i like the fact that hes like silly guy w an old timey pipe for some reason? And a theme song sampling a very old timey song? I think its neat! Also i promised myself that if i was compelled to make a human design of a character a White Man, it could not be a 18-24 yr old blond hair blue eyed twink jffbjfbdkdndkdn so older greying silly businessman is what i was left with 😊

[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.

[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

[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.

[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.

[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.” 

[cuubism]

a silly addendum to physical therapy au

--

"I do love you, but I admit I'm questioning your judgement in this moment," Dream says. "This wasn't what I was hoping for our evening."

Yeah, Hob may be a little bit impulsive when it comes to Dream. But he maintains that decking the guy who groped Dream in a crowded bar was, in fact, thought through. It was considered. Moreover, it was justified.

He kind of wishes it hadn't turned into an all-out brawl, but really that's the other guy's fault for not knowing when to back down. And even sitting gingerly on a bar stool with Dream holding towel-wrapped ice to his cheek, Hob can't bring himself to regret it. Dream might deny it until he dies, but Hob saw the glee that flashed across his face the moment Hob's fist connected with the man's nose.

"Whatever happened to not wanting to be violent in front of me?" Dream adds, raising an eyebrow.

"This is different," Hob says. "He was literally harassing you!"

"Hm." Dream presses the ice more firmly against his cheek. Hob winces. "It was very chivalrous, until you got your head smashed into a table. I believe your jaw may even be broken."

"Fuck," Hob swears, which only makes it hurt worse.

Dream's lips twitch up. "It was very chivalrous," he says. He pets Hob's un-bruised cheek. "I will think on it often when I am taking you to your doctor's appointments to fix it."

"Dream."

Dream kisses him on the side of his lip that's not split and bleeding. It still hurts a little, but Hob thinks it's worth it to mess up his jaw if Dream will tend to him like this and look at Hob like Hob is his hero.

He reconsiders that feeling later, when it turns out his jaw is actually broken, requires surgery, and a lot of rehab after that.

-

several weeks-to-months of jaw surgery recovery later, which we're skipping over as it was undoubtedly just completely shit

-

Hob is over the moon as they walk home from the clinic. There's really nothing like breaking your jaw to make you appreciate the little things. Like being able to open your mouth.

Dream, meanwhile, is trudging along beside him, holding Hob's hand but looking depressed about it.

"I'm the one who finally got wires out of my fucking jaw," Hob says, "why are you sulking about it?"

Dream continues pouting, but doesn't let go of Hob's hand. "They said you would still need to rest your jaw for a month."

"Yeah, so? At least I can eat food again. No offense but any more days of you diligently hand-feeding me broth was going to be the end of me." He pokes at his stomach, where there's substantially less flesh than before. "Besides, look at this."

Dream looks critically at his waistline. "Yes, your weight loss has been alarming to me. But I could not figure out any other ways to add calories to broth."

Hob wrinkles his nose at the reminder of Dream's attempts. "You did try."

"I tried," Dream sighs. "You still aren't allowed to eat normal food, though."

"They gave me back ice cream, I'll take the win."

Speaking of which, they should go get some food now. Hob thinks he might even be able to handle chips if he eats them slowly. Incredible.

"Hey," he adds, as they continue their walk, "at least I can kiss you properly again." He leans over to plant a quick kiss on Dream's lips, getting a smile in return. "And talk your ear off."

"I did miss your voice," Dream says. "And your kisses."

"Why are you sulking, then?"

A hint of embarrassment colors Dream's ears pink. "I had," he starts, sentences broken up, "Things. I was hoping you might be able to do again."

It takes Hob a second to realize what he means and then he doubles over laughing.

"Are you seriously," he wheezes, "are you seriously moping because I can't suck your dick?"

"You are rather good at it," Dream says, going truly red now, and Hob has to actually stop walking because he can't breathe for how hard he's laughing.

"I'm sorry the jaw surgery recovery is so disappointing to you," he says, sucking in air. "For the record I'd rather be blowing you than doing whatever they-- oh God, am I going to have to go to physical therapy now?"

It's a sobering thought. Dream's lips twitch. "Are you opposed to the profession?" he asks.

"I'll bear it for the sake of making you happy again," Hob says solemnly, and Dream plants his face in his palms.

Perhaps to distract from his own embarrassment, perhaps to distract Hob from his impending PT burden, Dream does end up buying Hob chips. As they eat Hob looks through the discharge paperwork he was given.

"They didn't technically say 'no oral sex'," he observes, and Dream nearly chokes on a chip.

"Do they think I'm not getting any?" Hob wonders aloud. "Is that why they didn't put it in? Just took one look at me and said 'yeah don't need to tell that one.' That hurts my feelings."

"No one would look at you and think that," Dream says.

Now Hob's the one who's choking. "Are you telling me I look like a whore?"

Dream appraises him with one eyebrow raised. "No one would look at you," he clarifies, "and think that no one would want to have sex with you."

"That might be your bias," Hob tells him, but takes his hand on the table and squeezes it fondly.

"I suppose I think about it a disproportionate amount," Dream concedes, and Hob laughs. "I think they left it out of the instructions because they assumed that if you were not allowed to even eat carrots, then not deepthroating my cock was implied."

"I'm not biting your cock, though," Hob argues.

"I would hope not."

"Okay, Doctor Dream," Hob gives in, "I'll be a good boy and not give you a blowjob."

Dream gives a long suffering and truly depressed sigh. "I will cope."

Instead, Hob kisses the back of his hand, which brings a smile back to his face. Dream pets his cheek, twists fingers into his hair fondly.

"Let us go home," he says. "I will make you dinner that is not solely composed of chips."

"Not soup," Hob begs.

"Not soup," Dream agrees, eyes sparkling.

--

Dream's not entirely wrong that sex was a little weird while Hob couldn't even open his mouth. Not that that stopped them from doing other things. He is looking forward to being able to properly kiss Dream again (and other things), though he's not as disappointed as Dream is about having 'rest his jaw' for a while longer. He's too busy being happy about being able to eat with a fork again instead of a straw.

It is fun to tease Dream about it, though. Really, Hob's the one who broke his jaw, and Dream thinks he's suffering?

"You are making fun of me," Dream says as Hob lies between his legs, cheek resting on the jut of his hipbone.

Hob kisses low on his belly. "Maybe."

"Hob."

"It's cute when you're horny." It had taken ages to get Dream comfortable enough to even voice his desires and Hob still feels his heart soar when he does now. Even if he can't fulfill them at the moment.

"Horny," Dream says, offended by the word choice.

"Admit it or do ten sets of physical therapy hand exercises."

"I can think of better things to do with my hands," Dream says, and Hob laughs.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Dream pets his cheek, runs his thumb over Hob's lower lip, dipping in to touch his tongue. "I am dearly sorry you injured yourself in my defense," he says.

"Would do it again," Hob says. "You didn't see your smile."

Dream smiles again now, charmed. "Perhaps you'd like a reward."

"Oh, I get a reward now? Instead of just flack for--"

Dream pushes him up and draws him close, kissing him fiercely. His fingers dig into Hob's hair, his tongue sweeps into Hob's mouth, he nips at Hob's bottom lip as he pulls away. God, Hob's missed kissing him like that.

"Next time I'll smash the other guy's head into a table first so he can't break my jaw," he promises. "Then I won't have to stop kissing you. Or other things."

"You learned nothing," Dream complains. But he's smiling, eyes sparkling.

"Maybe you'll have to teach me something new, then?"

Dream leans in to kiss him again. "Maybe I will."

[canyonmooncreations]

Call Me

Summary: Y/n calls her best friend, Simon, when her boyfriend finally pushes things too far.

Characters: BestFriend!Simon x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: Purely self indulgent, fuck ex boyfriends 

Warnings: mean/potentially abusive boyfriend, tears, mentions of violence

You and your boyfriend, Ben, had been on and off for over a year. It was always up and down, happy and sad. He was a little controlling but was always sweet after. He was angry but also super patient. So hard to predict, it was draining. The only person you can really talk to is your best friend Simon. He was always supportive and always listening no matter what time you called. He supported you rather he agreed with your decision to go back to your boyfriend or not. And you were always in touch with Simon even if your boyfriend was not a fan of “that freak”.

You had recently just graduated from the college where you met Ben and moved to a town that was in the middle of him, Simon, and your family. You had finally gotten your own space and had started the big girl job of your dreams. You couldn’t be happier…. Until it started. 

Your boyfriend was an hour and a half away and with this new space it felt like he had grown a whole new confidence. He was always starting fights and nothing you did was good enough for him. You tried to be happy, but it just seemed like you couldn’t win. Simon knew about what was happening, you called him often to talk about it all. Simon was so supportive and validating your feelings when you needed him most. You used to have the biggest crush on Simon, but you knew you never had a chance with a guy like him. You settled on being friends and then you met Ben. But Simon was the only person you wanted right now.

What you didn’t know was that every time you called him his heart skipped a beat. Simon knew you were just friends and he would never have a chance with a girl like you so he settled for being your best friend. Every time you mentioned Ben, his blood boiled and his fist clenched. He wanted nothing but for you to be happy. Ben was so bad for you. Simon knew Ben read through all of your text messages, so he encouraged you to call him just to be safe. Ben was not typically violent, but Simon knew the patterns and knew it was coming. Of course he couldn’t tell you this because he knew you wouldn’t listen until you were ready for it on your own time. 

What Simon also knew was that your freshman year of college was nothing but depression and alcohol. He was hopeful but knew something bad with Ben could send you down the spiral. He was always waiting for that call to come. The call where you would need him the most. That call finally came. 

Simon was working around his flat, doing some, his least favorite, when his phone rang. It was y/n. The picture he had chosen for you was a picture he had taken at an arcade with you smiling silly holding up the bear you had won (with his tickets). 

“Hey lovey”

“Simon, I- I-”

“What’s wrong?”

“Simon, we got in a big fight and he said he was coming over and I am really scared that he --”

“I am on my way.”

“Simon, no. I live like an hour away from you.”

“I will be there in 45 minutes.”

“Simon! It is an hour drive.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in 30.” 

He hung up at that as you giggled and sniffled. You knew you shouldn’t call him. He probably gets so annoyed hearing all of your problems. But, he was your support system. You decided you would wait for him, right where you were, the bathroom floor. Simon has an apartment key, he can let himself in.

Your head kept racing with thoughts. Was Ben worth it? Was it worth the heartache? What would you tell your friend if they were in your shoes? Did you deserve this? You didn’t think you were the best girlfriend. 

Before you knew it you were sobbing and curling into a towel on your bathroom floor. Too busy crying, you didn’t hear the door open. It was a pitiful sight really and Simon was saddened by what he saw. The world’s most beautiful girl sobbing on her bathroom floor over a boy who didn’t deserve her at all. 

‘“Oh, love.” Simon lowered himself to the floor right beside you. He pulled your head into his lap and ran his fingers through your hair. This was the most soft, innocent touch you had felt in a while. You only cried harder at the thought of someone loving you like they should. You both stayed on the floor until the sobbing subsided after some time had passed. 

“Y/n, can we move this to your bed? This floor can’t be comfy.”

“It is comfier than walking to my bed.” You sniffled as you spoke and this broke his heart. 

“Okay, then….” you felt him set your head back on the towel and his body raise off the floor. You looked at him with confusion as he bent down to pick you up. You giggled as he carried you to your bed. You loved being carried but Ben refused to because it was “childish”. You smacked Simon’s arm as he put you in bed.

“Si, why did you do that?”

“A pretty girl like you should not be crying on the bathroom floor. You will cry in a comfy pillow castle.” He situated your pillows just the way he knew you loved them.

You only smiled at him. You got cozy in bed as Simon walked into the kitchen. The thoughts started racing and the tears started to fall. What if Ben was really coming to “settle this in person and show you who is in charge”. It felt like such a threat, your worst fear coming true. Simon walked back into the bedroom with a juice box and some animal crackers, your favorite.

“What’s the matter?” Simon approached the bed slowly, not sure where your mental state was and how frightened you could be.

“What if he shows up tonight? What if he tries to come inside?”

“Does he have a key?”

“No.”

“Good. Either way, I will be sleeping on the couch and can beat his ass, easily and with pleasure. So nothing to worry about. You’ll be all safe here, princess.”

You only smiled at him as you took the snacks softly. Simon always calls you nicknames, but never this one. You ate your snacks in silence as Simon started to put away your laundry. He knew you hated doing laundry, it was your least favorite chore. It is actually his least favorite too, but he told you it was his favorite and for you, it was. Ben always called you lazy and gross for not putting your laundry away right as it came out of the dryer.

“I can do that.”

“I know.” Simon gave you a reassuring smile. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. It’s stupid. I am probably overreacting.”

“Your feelings are valid y/n, no matter what you are feeling. I will listen if you want me to. If not, we can talk about anything else.”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Of course”  You could see that Simon was so excited and you knew he would even let you pick the movie. (Ben would never)

“We can watch… hmmm… I can’t pick.”

“Slasher…”

“Simon! No! You know I hate scary movies. Let’s watch Zootopia.”

“Anything for you.”

You got the movie set up as Simon grabbed some more snacks. You loved these simple moments with Simon. You knew he wouldn’t get angry with you for moving the wrong way, or eating too many snacks. He was simply there in peace. You felt yourself getting tired as the movie played and the tears were about to come back. 

“Simon?”

“Yes, love.”

“Will you… hold me? No, that’s silly. I’m sorry. Forget I even asked.” You buried your face in your hands and the tears just started flowing. 

“Y/n.” He guided your head out of your hands as he wiped your tears. “I would love to hold you. You are not alone in this and I promise you are safe.”

Simon moved so you could comfortably be little spoon, which he knows you love because you always talk about it. He helped move your pillows and got you comfy. He never thought this moment would come. Of course, you had hugged and sat close together, but not like this. You were so vulnerable with all the raw emotions, and you chose him to hold you. With you in his arms, he wanted nothing more than to protect you from the world, and especially from Ben. 

“Thank you, Si.”

“Get some rest and we can talk about everything in the morning. I promise you’ll be safe tonight.” 

He rubbed your side and you cuddled in closer to him. You felt so safe. He felt at home, a feeling he has never felt before. He glanced at you as slept in his arms and couldn’t help but smile and be sad at the same time. You didn’t deserve this pain. You deserved a life of nothing but love and joy. A life he intended to give to you, if you let him. 

[ot3]

What Is ORV?

The number one question I get asked on this blog, now answered better than ever. Today I am going to formally introduce you to Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

To start off this recommendation: ORV might very well be my favorite thing I've read. Ever. If I could only reread one thing for the rest of my life it'd be this webnovel.

My elevator pitch is this: something with the cosmic-scale goofy video game nonsense and intricate setting comparable to Homestuck in its prime, paired with the deft emotional poignancy and emotionally-driven fights of Mob Psycho 100, topped off with the sort of compassionate and heartwrenching metanarrative of Undertale.

ORV is a love letter to it's own readers. ORV revels in the joy of losing yourself in fiction, even when it's the kind of fiction that tends to be considered lowbrow or worthless. It's something that dances the delicate line between recognizing the difficult nature of using media as escapism without condemning it. I've rarely seen anything else that accomplishes everything it sets out to do in its narrative with such remarkable precision. Frankly if you're reading a tumblr media recommendation post in 2023, I can almost guarantee ORV has the kind of meat you're looking for in a narrative, whatever that may be.

The story follow the antics of protagonist Kim Dokja, a 28 year old office worker on an expiring contract, whose only real joy in life is reading his favorite massively long and massively boring webnovel. One day, the novel’s events - worldwide deathmatches aired for the entertainment of mysterious higher beings called ‘constellations’ - begin playing out in reality in a sort of reverse-isekai. Kim Dokja, the only longterm reader of this webnovel, finds himself uniquely poised to succeed based on the advantages given to him by his knowledge of future events, but the webnovel’s actual protagonist, Yoo Jonghyuk, is a violent monster who will stop at absolutely nothing to complete his goals, no matter the cost to anyone else. Kim Dokja finds himself in a delicate dance of guiding the events of the story to play out more favorably than the version he read while trying to avoid being massacred in the fallout, all while trying to see it through to the story’s end. 

Below the cut I'll go into a more in-depth (but non-spoilery) explanation of what exactly makes ORV so unique and worthwhile, and what you're in for if you choose to read it.

Clocking in at 550 chapters, and over 1.3 million words in English, ORV may seem incredibly daunting to dip your toes into, but I assure you it's worth every moment. I would read 1.3 million more words if they had them for me. Here are some things about ORV I consider to be selling points, not necessarily in any particular order:

The tone. Its funny, for starters. It is extremely funny, which is very high up on my media priority list. In ORV, there will be incredibly grim things that make you laugh, and incredibly cringe and silly anime bullshit that will hurt you as heavily as any other media you’ve seen. I always love this kind of tonal whiplash when it's well executed, and ORV probably executes it better than anything else I've seen to date.

It’s got fun and fascinating worldbuilding mechanics. the core concept being ‘reality now operates on the rules of a shitty novel’ means that the worldbuilding doesn’t have to function logically, it functions thematically. It’s explicitly stated in ORV canon that some of the internal rules governing this new reality are objectively really stupid and illogical, but they just have to roll with it because that’s what was in the book, and i think it’s a really enjoyable way to do it. This may at first sound like a copout to excuse bad worldbuilding, but I promise it isn’t. The worldbuilding is actually incredibly deeply thought out, but it doesn’t exist for the sake of rational function, it exists for the sake of furthering orv’s thematic arcs. The rules by which this universe operate do a magnificent job of strengthening the core concepts the authors are exploring.

It plays with the trappings of isekai/litrpg in a really thoughtful way. These are genres I'm not super familiar with, so I can't comment on this point too heavily, but with my limited knowledge ORV feels a lot less of a deconstruction of it's genre and more of a celebration/interrogation of it. Despite that, it's still accessible to readers such as myself who are not super familiar with these genre conventions.

It deals with morality in a really wonderful and nuanced way. there are almost no characters in ORV’s extremely large cast who are just explicitly morally condemnable, and almost every conflict allows you to understand exactly why the antagonists believe they’re in the right by opposing the actions of our protagonists. The central conflicts are never pure right and pure wrong; they’re always about contrasting goals, conflicting worldviews, and different priorities between ends and means. this makes the conflicts all feel so much more dynamic and engaging than those where the only stakes are physical harm.

The characters interpersonal relationships are some of the most interesting I've ever seen. ORV is very slow burn and it takes a long time for a lot of these to come out of the woodwork, by design, but by god once they do they fucking hit. Similar to the plot conflicts, the interpersonal conflicts also almost never occur where there’s one side clearly in the wrong. The characters are almost all genuinely attempting to do their best by each other, and the tension comes from the ways in which human communication is fundamentally imperfect and part of our feelings and intentions get lost in translation. it’s very heartwrenching and heartwarming to see unfold, in equal measure.

Following from that, it’s a narrative that really meaningfully prioritizes non-romantic relationships over romantic ones as the central focus. Orv is about love, but not about romance. Obviously there’s shipbait and the ot3 is real and good and my friend but if you’re looking for deep complex platonic, (found or otherwise) familial, and antagonistic relationships that never get ruined with forced romantic arcs, we got em baby!

The pacing is unlike anything i’ve ever seen before. from a purely technical standpoint, it is genuinely a fascinating case study in how to execute a narrative that is almost constantly escalating without exception. there is very little downtime or breathing room in orv, which is insane for something that clocks in at over a million words, and somehow, it still works. i’ve never felt more like a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water than i did when i was reading orv and i can’t believe they pulled it off. it’s so interesting to read something like that.

It is a tragedy without resorting to cynicism and a very adult narrative that’s really steeped in childlike wonder. I’m a big fan of cartoons made for children. Cartoons made for children are some of my favorite things to watch, but of course children’s media will always be simplified and not very relatable to an adult audience. ORV is very much a serious and heavy adult narrative, and a deeply tragic one at that, but it never delves into torture porn. It’s a very compassionate piece of media overall, that holds a lot of reverence and sympathy for the ‘naive’ optimism of children that gets stripped down over time. if you, like me, feel more like a grown up child than an adult some days, I think it’ll hit for you.

It is extremely cathartic and meaningful. I am not exaggerating at all when I say that reading it gave me the closest thing I have ever felt to any sort of spiritual breakthrough. It helped unfuck my head a ton during some very grim times and i think the perspective it offers on the value of human life and our relationship to storytelling is a really really good one.

And if my word isn't enough, here's some reviews from satisfied customers. With that, I'll leave the rest to you, and hope you one day reach the end of the story.

[romana-after-dark]

Dead Dove December 2023 Masterlist

Hello everyone!

So sorry it took forever to get this out, but it took me 5ever to read through these fics bc I was expresso depresso and working a lot LMFAOOOOOOO

Anyway, THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR EVERYONE ENTRIES!!! I adore you so so so so much. I am SO HAPPY with how this worked out and the amount of response! I hope to hold another event this March with @for-a-longlongtime at @triplefrontier-anniversary for the TF anniversary over at my main account @romanarose, and an event in June for pride, so if those interest you, follow my main page or this one, or @romana-updates

NOTE: I was unorganized so if I forgot someone's fic, IT WAS NOT ON PURPOSE. I know right now there discourse right now the Pedro fandom specifically, about different people not liking others or small writers or big writers ETC, but I want you to know no one was left out on purpose!

Note 2: If I put your fic here but forgot to reblog LET ME KNOW! I want to make sure everyone gets a chance to shine.

Without further ado, the fics and art!

ALL OF THESE ARE DARK SO SOME DEGREE FROM CNC, DUB CON, TO VIOLENT NON CON! HEAD WARNINGS!

The Last of Us

The Burglary by @aurorawritestoescape and @milla-frenchy: Two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

Fight Club by @anama-cara : Post outbreak set in the Boston QZ. You decide to go against Joel in an underground QZ fight club for some extra coin. Joel doesn't take kindly to the competition and decides to punish you in his own special way.

Deja Vu by @milla-frenchy : After a bad experience with a former boyfriend, you meet Joel who makes you trust him fully in the bedroom

Silent Night by @kewwrites : Despite the way he always acted around you, you find it hard to say no to Sarah when she invites you home to her dad's house for the holidays. Surely nothing would happen while she's with you.

Training Day by @koshkamartell : Set in AU, no outbreak. You get more than you bargained for after trying to make Joel jealous.

Code Broken by @auteurdelabre : You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

The Art of Breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads : Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

Cry Harder by @romana-after-dark : While keeping you captive, Joel's sex drive is insatiable, and the sex seemed to be never ending. You tried to warm him you needed to use the bathroom... he didn't listen.

Nightmare Before Christmas by @katiexpunk : As an escort, you’ve found yourself in some pretty fucked up situations before. Years of experience have taught you to navigate such situations with a combination of tact and assertiveness. Most of the time the men who exude an air of sleaze shrivel back into the corner, embarrassed and limp dicked.  Most of the time.  Tonight is not one of those times.

Locket by @toxicanonymity : Dark!Reader dugs her friends hot dad Joel

Run, Rabbit by @justagalwhowrites : It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

Godless by @javier-penas-wifexx420 : You work at a brothel that operates above a saloon in your town. Joel is the leader of a group of outlaws that come periodically to collect payment and wreak havoc. One visit, you catch Joel’s eye and he decides he has to have you.

Across the Spiderverse

After Dark by @runa-falls : He wants you. and he knows you need him.

Triple Frontier

Deep Seeded Issues by @djarinmuse: Summary: At an N.A (narcotics anonymous) meeting you recall a dark and embarrassing memory, not knowing the connection in the room.

My Blood Would Teach Me How to Love by @winniethewife : Santi finds you self harming, blood kink ensues.

Room's on Fire by @romana-after-dark : Cult AU, Pope, Frankie, Will and Ben are cult leaders and need a virgin to breed who will birth the savior: the Madonna. Initially honored to find redemption, the Madonna has to learn how to navigate all four men and a circle of other people at the house.

Goodnight, Princess by @melodygatesauthor : Your dad's best friend accidentally discovers that you're a sex worker. He tries to let it go, but it eats away at him until things go way too far.

The Card Counter

Bad Bet by @boredzillenial and art by @lunar-ghoulie4art : William beats you in a poker tournament, but you just can’t accept defeat, not yet…

Getting Whats Mine by @winniethewife

Lightening Face

Puppy by @darkuselesssomebody : In which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it

Mojave

Cruel Intentions by @hon3yboy : You're on a soul seeking journey, just another young, pretty, thing. All alone and stranded in the desert, ripe for the picking and ol' Jack has his eyes set on you.

Moon Kight

Death to Dignity by @juneknight : An intruder (Marc) breaks in to your apartment.

*************

I cannot thank you enough for your support and interaction for htis series!!!!! I had SUCH a good time reading all these, you are all so talented!!!

I hope to do more events soon as it's really helped me make some friends and get to know people here!!!!

Please remember to reblog these authors, and if you're tagged here, be sure to check out more! Lots of great content here!

[hp-hcs]

mattheo riddle if you beat the shit out of him in a fistfight <3 — mattheo riddle x gn! reader

Requests open

implied Slytherin (non-pureblood reader)

tws: violence… duh

OOC. LIKE AS OOC AS IS POSSIBLE. i am so sorry for whatever this is 💀 i’m like, borderline delirious kind of sick, so that’s my excuse ig 😌

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

homeboy is not doing fine

his bruised ego 😔

he’d been teasing you for years with his group of lackeys, and you just snapped

he made a comment that went too far about your blood status, talking shit about your family

you just dropped your shit, spun around, and decked that mf

obviously he wasn’t fuckin expecting that, so he just kinda froze like 👊💥😳🧍‍♂️

he has no idea what to do

((he’s also just a little bit turned on bc manwhore duh))

everybody in the hallway freezes too like,

“you dumb bitch the fuck are you doing??”

his friends are jeering, and he just kind of shakes his head like a goddamn etch-a-sketch and like, gently shoves you back by your shoulders (cause you cute bae 🩷 he don’t wanna ruin that pretty face of urs <3)

you, on the other hand, are just ready to FUCK someone UP

and if that someone turns out to be the dark lord’s son, c’est la vie

he makes one more lame attempt at a scathing comment and you just fucking TACKLE him

you’re on top of him (not like that you silly little sluts get your mind outta the gutter) in the middle of the hallway just beating the s h i t out of him

homeboy has no idea what to do lmfao

lowkey he’s falling in love just from your knuckles smashing his face in (masochist manwhore)

he def thinks it’s hot as fuck

one of the professors comes to separate yinz, (probably hooch, cause there ain’t no way she puts up with any shit) and has to fucking DRAG YOU OFF of him

he's got like, a broken nose, a busted lip, a probably-going-to-become-a-black eye, and yk, decimated ego

but he’s just looking at you with those fuckin PUPPY DOG eyes

🥺

congrats, he’s obsessed

he won’t shut up about you for the rest of the day, to his friends, his enemies, madam pomfrey when he’s in the hospital wing…

they're all like “ah. i see the mommy and daddy issues are making an appearance”

when you get out of detention and go back to the common room, he LEAPS off of the couch and over to you

you’re standing there with still-bloody knuckles and a try me, i dare you face

he apologizes profusely, like, to a kind of pathetic extent

you’re like “dude, you’re not pureblood either, dipshit”

he got called out 😔

you apologize for OvErReAcTiNg (you had to apologize as part of your detention & punishment lmfao) and getting ‘unnecessarily violent’

and cause manwhore he’s just like “oh no it’s fine that was hot”

y/n: 😶🤨🫠

he’s got a lil giggle ✨

literal heart eyes for you

so ur like “yeah i gotta mess with this guy even more”

you kiss his cheek and make his brain stop working

baby is bluescreening rn

he then ends up shadowing you for the rest of the week, following a half-step behind you wherever you go like a lil puppy

(i’m of the opinion that he’s just a slightly more violent golden retriever white boy)

((i’m not saying himbo but himbo))

walk him like a dog, sis

alexa, play lovefool by the cardigans

he’s ur bitch now, enjoy <3

[mariistaa24]

oh lord they make me ill (don't mind bill he's just being silly) ALSO 2 POSTS IN 1 DAY??? saturdays are awesome man BTW THE @ IN THE DRAWING IS MY TWITTER!!!! side note anyone who unironically calls twitter X dni /j -- LORE -- fiddleford and emma-may were arranged years ago and have lived together in a lavender marriage. they are on good terms. stan is bisexual and ford is gay. fiddleford went up to gravity falls where he and ford fell in love and happily worked on the portal together. however, ford's growing obsession with bill and violent tendencies whenever he was posessed put a heavy strain on their relationship. eventually, after the whole portal incident with fiddleford, they got into a huge fight and fell out. fiddleford is too ashamed to go back to his wife and son empty handed because he was the breadmaker and emma-may was probably struggling financially without him around. (they both work btw it's just that fidds makes more money) so he began to keep a journal /j traumatized from what he saw in the portal he invented the memory gun, which, while succeeding in erasing his memory of the event, also caused him to completely forget the fallout. he wandered back to ford's house thinking nothing happened and met stan, initially very confused as to why and how ford had magically sprouted a mullet and was dressed like a hobo. obviously they clear things up and stan explains what happened to ford. fiddleford, having forgot all the awful things ford did to him, is still totally head over heels and is devastated hearing that he's gone. over the course of a few months or so, stan falls in love with fiddleford, and is way more guilty about it than ford was (because stan has a way bigger appreciation for family and feels awful being a homewrecker and ALSO this is his first time falling in love with a man so that's a whole other story with his upbringing and morals being questioned blah blah blah). fiddleford on the other hand is grieving the loss of his bf HARD. and it's even worse having to see his face every day but none of the things that truly made him him. but when stan finally told fiddleford how he felt...? god, he couldn't tell you what came over him. fiddleford could have sworn it was just like the first time he and ford had kissed. he was left panting, gasping for air while the latter gently caressed his face with broad, calloused hands. he felt guilty, telling stan he felt the same when his heart was still so set on his twin, but... he'd never know, right? wrong. stan was a con man. of course he could sniff out lies like a dog. and the worst part? he couldn't even blame fiddleford. after all, his brother was the better twin. he was smarter, more successful, and loved more than he could imagine. he was just a dumb, good-for-nothing loser. that was fine. it was a truth he'd come to terms with a long, long time ago. but through it all, he couldn't stop the tears that pricked his eyes while they shared that kiss. and he swallowed the words that tried to bubble up as he pulled away. "i know who you pretend i am."