#i know that sounds stupid but i feel fucking MADDENED. LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND OVER HERE

[ilikeyoshi]

things i’m now going to have to bring to my adhd therapist: the constant changes on twitter that ignore my inputted preferences and settings are making me feel like a fucking animal getting prodded and i’m about to snap, but i have friends over there i like. please advise.

[bitch-butter]

1, please, because it's a classic h/c line and I love it

A classic, love that Energy~

1. Shh, it's ok. I'm here

“Hello?”

“I’m losing it.”

Not the most graceful way to open a call, but then Joe has never considered himself the most graceful motherfucker on the planet. Certainly not now, with his hands shaking like a tree in the wind, his guts feeling as weak and spindly as floss knotting up and turning into gauzy clots, hairballs of stress stopping him up like a soggy drain.

“Joe?” Web’s voice echoed down the line, bouncing around his ear like a voice in a seashell.

Huffing, Joe fought not to physically kick out at the wall beside the phone. “Who else would it fucking be?”

“What’s wrong?” the other man pressed immediately, voice lowering as the sound of shuffling rattled through, the sound of Web likely ducking away, finding somewhere dark, quiet.

“You get calls like this often? Why do you always have to make sure it’s me?” Joe continued on, irritation biting through his voice.

The sound of a sigh made its way through, and he couldn’t be totally sure whether he wanted to be there to see Web’s fucking face or whether he wanted it somehow even farther away. 

“What’s wrong?” Web asked again, slow and patient.

Joe chewed his lip, one hand coming up to shield his eyes as he slumped against the wall. He needed to try to be quiet, accounting for his new upstairs neighbors and the unusually silent landscape of the first floor, but all he wanted to fucking do was let fly through the phone, vomit this particular strain of bile out and send it through and make Web clean it up. Anything to get it out of his own body, away from his head that was already beginning to pound with the pressure of choking it all back into rough hisses.

“Lieb?” Web urged again, and just the gentle press of his voice, like a swell on the shore, made up his mind that if he wanted anything else for the rest of his goddamn life it was to have him here. He’ll take his stupid patient expressions, the put-upon niceness of his eyes when he’s looking at Joe splitting apart, he'll take it all just to not be alone like this.

Pulling in a hard breath, he kept his eyes covered. “I can’t talk about it to them,” he said roughly, the admission sitting like a ball of fire in his neck. 

“About what?”

“About the fucking -” he started, harsh, hand clawing up in the air before pounding dully, once, on the wall beside the box. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Ribs, trains, the smell, it lived close under his skin, virtually a muscle memory.

Silence fizzed through his head, and he shifted on his feet like an animal in a cage, shaking the tension out of his shoulders only for it to take up residence in his stomach. 

“Joe,” Web said finally, before a strange exhale of a sound. “You don’t have to talk about it to them.”

“I do, they’re my family.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Joe ground out. “They’re fucking asking me questions, I don’t want any questions, I’m fucking, I’m…” he pulled in a thin, wobbly breath and tightened up a fist against the continued shaking of his hands.

“Listen, will you take a breath?” Web said, maddening and solid. “Breathe.”

He wanted to fight, but he wanted to breathe more, and pulled in a long breath that sat in his chest like water. Letting it escape in a long spiral, he closed his eyes again, throat feeling dry, cracked.

“Web…” he started, before losing the thought, getting himself lost in the other man’s name, the memory of his face, the thought of how bad he didn’t want to be alone burning up behind his eyes. “I’ve lost it.”

“Shh, Joe,” Web hushed through the phone, the warm distilled by miles upon miles of telephone wire. “It's ok. I’m here.”

“You’re not,” he bit, hating the truth and hating that he had to say it.

Pausing once more, Web’s voice faded off into the snowy cascade between them. “Will you indulge me for a second?” he asked, not waiting to hear Joe's reply before he continued. “Just imagine I am there, alright? Imagine I’m right there with you.”

Nose scrunching up at the absurdity of the request, Joe’s mouth half opened to tell him to take his fucking fairy tales somewhere else, but his tongue was flat, his face dried up and hot and losing steam to make way for the long, long, spread of cold over his heart. Silently, stubbornly, he closed his eyes against it once more and nodded.

“Ok,” he breathed out, still rough.

He made himself see Web, standing there just beside him, made himself picture the lines of his neck, the dimmed blue of his eyes, the tall, beautiful breadth of him. It hurt to see, it hurt to think about.

“I have my hand on your neck, and then in your hair,” Web said, soft, and his voice seemed to be becoming more and more clear the longer Joe let himself feel, let the gentle sparks of his imagination take the familiar shape of Web’s hand, petting through his hair, smoothing down his scarred neck. “You can let it go. Let it leave.”

Joe shuddered, muscles clenching up before releasing with a forced exhale as he continued feeling Web’s hands, letting them ghost over his neck, his face. “How?”

“Let me take it, I’ll hold it for a while.”

A disparaging laugh got caught up in his mouth, his eyes opening to look tiredly into the shabbily painted wall. “If you were here -”

“I am here,” Web said, finite.

[jeranasblog]

Starker Kink Advent Calendar - Day 4

Summary: Peter marries Tony because he wants to keep working. Tony marries Peter because he doesn’t want the boy’s brilliance to go to waste. Neither one of them expects an overwhelming attraction to unfold between them. Feelings, insecurities, and doubts tangle together until they find themselves inextricably linked. And what happens when a surprise turns everything upside down?

24 days, 24 chapters, 24 kinks

Pairing:  Peter Parker/Tony Stark

Rating: E

Notes:  Hey guys. I’ve decided to write a “Starker Kink Advent Calendar” this year, so 24 chapters with 24 different kinks. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Check all the sex tags on Ao3

Read on Ao3

~⭐~

Day 4 - Cock Warming @sinditia​ and Jess <3

Tony had known Peter was a gorgeous Omega, but he hadn’t known how perfect the boy could be for him. Peter looked gorgeous taking his cock, begging for more even though Tony was already filling him to the brim. It was astounding what a size whore Peter was for him, and Tony had to confess it did stroke his ego a lot.

 He had to confess that he spent more time fucking Peter than he had planned. Sex was a huge part of a marriage, but he didn’t want to give Peter the impression Tony had only married him for his body. Unfortunately, Tony lost it every time his husband wore pretty little panties around him. And Peter wore them a lot. 

 Once the Omega got a taste of how a cock felt inside of him, he got addicted. Tony watched with a smirk how often Peter begged the Alpha to be filled, or at least whimpered until Tony let the boy suckle on his cock for a while. It was maddening, and Tony didn’t know how he would ever get work done if such a beautiful Omega was waiting for him at home. Their week off would be over soon. 

 Still, when they sat together in front of the TV, dressed in nothing but boxers and panties, Tony couldn’t think about anything but the gorgeous creature beside him. It didn’t matter that the week was over soon, his husband would stay. 

 “Alpha?” Tony’s cock twitched already. Peter only called him that when he was aroused. “Can I sit on your cock while we’re watching TV?”

 Tony groaned loudly, even though his cock was already hardening. Peter was a goddamn cock tease, and Tony would rather mock the boy with his neediness than admit how gone he already was on him. 

 “Again, baby? Didn’t I fill you up two hours ago?”

 The puppy dog eyes he got in return would have broken anyone. 

 “Alright. Hop on. But don’t you dare move or I’m going to turn your ass a pretty red.”

Was that excitement in Peter’s gaze? The thought was tempting, but Tony didn’t want to test it yet. They’ve only had sex for a few days now. Spanking could wait for later. 

 “I wouldn’t recommend provoking me, boy. There will come days you’re going to beg me to spank your pretty little ass but today, I want you seated on my cock. So be good, will you?”

 Tony got a smirk in response. “Yes, Daddy.” Shit, the boy would be trouble, and Tony had to close his eyes to stop himself from bending the brat over his knee.

 Maddeningly slowly, Peter stripped off his panties, giving Tony a good view of his plump little ass. Tony could still see the boy’s cheeks glistening, partly with slick and partly with Tony’s seed. Peter had refused to clean up after their last time, insisting on being marked up for a little longer. Tony had almost fucked him again. 

 “I’m still wet and stretched, Alpha,” Peter said innocently, batting his eyes at Tony, and even though the Alpha knew Peter wasn’t even half as innocent as he pretended, Tony fell for the trick.

 “Hurry up, brat. Back against my chest. Keep me warm. And don’t you dare move.”

 Peter wanted to counter, Tony could see it in the way his eyes sparkled, but before the boy got a chance to be punished, Tony pulled him into his lap, his cock thrusting into the wet heat in one go. 

 Both of them moaned at the same time. It was a tight fit, even though Peter was still stretched from last time, but Tony was too big to get used to that easily. His husband felt amazing. Soft walls that clung to Tony’s cock like they never wanted to let him go, and the overwhelming wetness that made Tony’s eyes roll back in pleasure.

 “Can’t believe you’re already dripping for me again, sweet thing. A week ago, you couldn’t take me without pain, even though I gave you a few fingers before. Now I don’t even have to prep you anymore.”  

 Keeping Peter still on his lap was a struggle, but Tony managed to control himself and fixate the boy’s hips in a tight grip.

 “Just watch TV, baby,” Tony whispered into Peter’s ears, savoring the shudder that went through the Omega’s body. “A perfect slut like you has to learn to be patient. Keep me nice and warm.”

 Peter whimpered pathetically, a sound made to entice an Alpha to fuck an Omega properly, but Tony stood firm. He wanted Peter so desperate with desire that he couldn’t think anymore, and that was worth waiting, even though his own cock throbbed with the need to move.

 If someone had asked Tony afterward what the TV show they watched was about, he wouldn’t have an answer. Peter tried not to move, he really did, but his inner muscles fluttered around Tony once in a while, squeezing him, milking him, and keeping him on edge. It helped him not to lose the erection, but he was losing his control instead. Peter was a goddamn tease!

 Tony lasted twenty minutes. Twenty minutes filled with a panting Peter on top of him, whining, shifting, and moaning until Tony had enough. 

 “Would you sit still for a second, slut?” Tony was proud of himself to keep the arousal in his voice at bay. 

 “It’s just- You feel so good, Alpha. I can’t-” Peter wasn’t teasing anymore. His words sounded so desperate, so needy, that Tony took pity on him. 

 He lifted the Omega off his cock, ignoring the devastating sobs and the slick that dripped onto the couch. With a single movement, he turned them over until Peter was buried under him, face pressed into a pillow. He would buy a new couch tomorrow, there was no need to worry about it now. 

 As quickly as possible, Tony thrust back into the wet heat. It was like coming home. Peter was the best that could have happened to him, and he would protect what they had with his life if necessary.

 If Tony had thought he was already losing control, Peter was even worse. His legs gave in as soon as Tony entered him again, reducing him to a whimpering and sobbing mess. The Omega’s weakness fueled the fire burning through Tony’s veins even more. He was responsible that his husband couldn’t even talk anymore. 

 “Such a greedy whore. Begging and crying for me all day, but once I split you open on my cock, you get so stupid you’re nothing but a needy mess. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before.”

 Tony didn’t even know if Peter was still listening, but he couldn’t care less. Instead, he focused on keeping up the rhythm, shoving Peter over the couch while he buried himself again and again in his Omega. The boy gripped him so tightly that Tony felt like he was in heaven.

 He kept whispering things into the Omega’s ear while his thrusts didn’t lose their force. “Such a good boy, Peter. Taking me like the slut you’re born to be.” “So wet and opened, I can’t believe I’m the first one feeling you like this.” “You’re mine, gonna keep you spread open in my bed forever.”

 Peter wasn’t moving anymore except for the muscles that squeezed Tony again and again. If it wasn’t for the needy sounds the boy made, Tony wouldn’t even have noticed the boy was close. Seeing his boy losing himself so thoroughly to the pleasure, made Tony’s Alpha side preen. He had fucked his Omega stupid. This perfect creature was his.

 It didn’t take long until Tony noticed the first signs of Peter’s orgasm. The muscles tightened even more, the sounds got even higher, even more high-pitched. Eventually, Tony could feel the orgasm coursing through his husband’s body. 

 Peter sobbed as he came, his walls squeezing and milking Tony’s cock, begging him for his seed. It felt heavenly, and Tony knew he would last much longer. The little brat had teased him long enough. 

 With a few last thrusts, Tony buried himself in his Omega again, prolonging Peter’s orgasm until the boy was shaking in overstimulation. When he finally came, it hit him like a freight train, and his entire body shuddered while he pumped load after load into the boy’s hole. There was nothing better than claiming Peter, showing the world that this Omega was his. 

 None of them moved when Tony finally pulled out. It was quiet. Tony laid on the couch, his chest pressed against his husband’s side while he did his best not to crush Peter with his weight. He still couldn’t believe his luck. This perfect Omega had married him, even though Tony was older than the Alpha personally liked. 

 “Marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made, Peter.” The Omega stiffened for a second before he turned his head that was still buried in the pillow and gave Tony a smile. It was honest.

 “Same for me, Tony. You’re the perfect Alpha.”

 The words spread warmth through Tony’s body and he could feel his stomach fluttering. Maybe the boy would love him one day. Maybe this could be more than a lonely old Alpha saving a young talented Omega so that the Omega could show his brilliance to the world. Tony hadn’t dared to imagine he could be more than a savior, but maybe Peter could be what Tony had always dreamed about. 

 Suddenly, Tony had to make sure Peter knew how much he meant to Tony. “I don’t want you to think I’ve only married you for your body, baby. You’re brilliant, you’re kind. I just want you to be happy.”

 “Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate that.” Tony could see real gratitude in Peter’s eyes. “Even though my body is pretty amazing as well.”

 “Little brat.” Peter’s smirk made Tony smile. This is what he wanted. The small moments between them, and no one who wanted to limit Peter’s mind. 

 He brushed a curl out of Peter’s eyes and pressed a chaste kiss on the Omega’s lips. Maybe, he could be enough one day.

 “I’ll fight with you, Peter. I’ll fight until you get every right you deserve. I’ll fight so you’re allowed to work and I’ll fight until no one can hold you back.” And then I pray you’ll stay by my side. 

 The gratitude in Peter’s voice was everything. “Thank you, Tony. But as long as you’re with me, things will be fine.”

 Maybe there was truly a reason to hope. 

[ariannnawinchester]

Screw you.

Characters: Dean, Reader, Sam and some bar skank

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language and Smut.

Summary: Reader is super into Dean, but can’t stand that he hits on other girls. He’s oblivious to her feelings. He’s into her too but avoids it because of his self hate complex. What happens when he gets slightly jealous??

A/N: I had to write this. I heard a song and inspiration struck. Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism and feedback is highly appreciated.

You hated the jittery feeling, the one that felt like butterflies fluttering in your belly. You hated the racing heart beat, the one that made you feel weak in the knees and turned your cheeks crimson. You hated the sweaty palms, the one caused by images of him racing through your mind. You hated it. You hated the way you felt. You hated him. And, you hated how much you loved him.

You didn’t understand this. The whole concept just confused you. It made you lose your bearing. You hated not being in control. And, when it came to him, you had no control.

None.

With his stupid green eyes and his stupid goddamn smile, he knocked the breath right out of your lungs and he didn’t even know. He didn’t know how he unsettled you, he didn’t know that he drove to the edge of insanity. You didn’t want to need him, you didn’t want him. If you didn’t need him then you won’t give him the chance to hurt you, then you won’t have to deal with the heart ache.

Besides, why would a guy like Dean Winchester want a girl like you?

You were you.

Too smart for your own good. Too loud or too quiet. Too impulsive or too cautious. Too compliant or too stubborn. You could never just dance on the line. You either went all in or none at all. Maybe it was your flaw? Or maybe it helped keep you alive this whole time. Hunting wasn’t easy but it sure as hell was child’s play in comparison to falling in love. In your opinion, it was the most elaborate form of self harm. Besides, how could you compete? How could you compete with the girls that usually peck around him? They seem to have perfected the art of flirting and being confident and you, well, you never dared.

That didn’t mean you didn’t get jealous though. God. Fucking. Damn. It felt like heat crawling all over your skin, your stomach churning the acid. As a general rule of thumb, you tried to be anywhere but where Dean was picking his flavor of the night.

“Sam.” you say, the jealousy making your tongue bitter, “I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

Big ol’ Sammy shoots you the sweetest smile, his hand squeezing yours before he gets up to help you put on your jacket, “Want me to drive you home Y/N?” It’s freezing outside.”

You turn to face him, patting his scruffy cheek with your cold palm out of affection, “That’s a nice thought Sammy, but I’d like to see you get the keys from your brother over there.” You fling a half hearted glance in Dean’s direction.

He’s leaning against the dark wood counter, with a hand curled around his whiskey glass and the other tucking the blonde’s hair behind her ear. She’s tangled around him like a vine, hanging onto every honey laced word dripping out of his mouth.

You gulp. Trying to simmer down, “I’m sure by the time you make it over there she would have devoured him already. So I’ll walk, the motel isn’t that far away from here.”

Sam scoffs, his eyes landing on his brother before he reaches into his pocket for some cash, “Nonsense. I’ll come with. I want to catch up with my reading.”

He puts the bills on the table, taking the last swing of his beer before he holds his arm out for you to take. Instinctively, you loop your hand with Sam’s, sparing Dean one last glance, you walk out of the bar.

It’s about 45 minutes after you and Sam leave the bar that you hear heavy pounding on your room door. You shoot up from bed, your fingers curled around the cold metal of your gun. Calculatedly, you step forward towards the door, in the darkness. Your heart is pounding in your ears, your palms sweaty as you grip the door handle, ready to fling the door wide open.

Your skin is met by a gust of icy air and a pair of worried green eyes. You physically relax, placing your palm over your chest.

“Idiot, I was about to shoot you. What’s your problem?” your fear suddenly turning into irritation when he pushes pass you and marches inside.

You stay put, tucking your gun in the waistband of your shorts. He shakes of his jacket and whips around. His eyes aren’t worried anymore, it’s storming. He just stares. With a set jaw, his gaze unsettling you. You’re suddenly so unsure of yourself and your body.

“You just left. You just fucking left.” he spits, stalking closer to you. “I turned around and you were gone. Poof. Just gone. I nearly tore the whole bar apart looking for you and my idiot brother.” he has you backed up against the wall, his hand cupping your jaw so that you’re forced to look at him.

“Dean.” you manage to say, “I’m sorry.”

What the actual fuck. Why did you say that? You weren’t sorry. 

“You’re sorry?” he questioned, his eyes darting to your lip caught between your teeth.

“No.” 

“No?” It’s obvious that your reply has thrown him off.

You shove him, your hand pressing against his chest. He’s solid but you make a good effort. He actually stumbles.

“I’m not sorry, you ass.” you say with conviction, “I got tired of sitting around and watching you suck face or go home with those skanks. They don’t deserve you. They don’t fucking deserve you.” Your outburst surprises even yourself. 

But he doesn’t miss a beat. He’s smirking now. That lopsided grin that makes you wet. “And who deserves me?”

You cast your eyes downwards, not wanting to face him. Barely underneath your breath you mutter, “ Screw you.”

“I asked who deserves me Y/N.” his gravelly voice making your insides curl, “Now, answer me. I won’t ask again Sweetheart.”

His lips smash against yours before you can answer. You can feel his lips, curled into a satisfactory grin when a needy whimper escapes your bruised mouth. His entire body is pressing into yours, trapping you between his warm, heavy frame and the cold wall. You can’t twist, or turn. His hand holding your wrists above your head. All you want to do is touch him. But you can’t. It’s maddening.

This is what he wants. The control.

And, you’re more than happy to give it.

You gasp, moaning from the loss of his lips on yours. There’s raw scrapes of teeth and wet soft kisses down your neck, then back up to where your pulse is rabbiting away. He sucks at your soft heated flesh and you feel weak in the knees.

“Dean.” his mouth on your flesh is intoxicating. You head swimming like you’re drunk. In response, he grinds his pelvis into your lower belly. He’s steel hard, his cock straining against his zipper.

“Tell me what you want.” it sounds dirty slipping out of his kiss swollen lips, “tell me how you want it.” His gorgeous face contorted with lust.

He drags your shorts over the curve of your ass, a rough, wide palm sliding up the inside of your thighs, immediately. Your body betrays you. You’re ready. Slick coating his thick, calloused fingers. He presses his thumb against your clit, ghosting his fingers along the sensitive lips of your pussy. All you want is him. You want him inside you.

You can’t help you yourself, the needy whine leaves you lips as your hips buck against his hand. You want him to fill you up. Against your neck, you can feel his lips curl into a smile, your fingers tangling into his hair as he works his magic.

“I won’t fill you up if you don’t ask me nicely pretty girl.” he warns. His fingers dancing over your slick flesh, teasing. “Ask me. Ask me to fill you up.”

“Please.” is all you manage.

His index and middle finger is right there. Right there. You’re going to burst into flames if he doesn’t touch you. Without warning, he shoves them into you. Knuckles deep. You clamp your eyes shut, moaning at the feeling. God, it feels so good. 

“Dean. Go fast.” your voice quivering with arousal, “I need it. I need you.”

“Oh you need me Sweetheart?” he questions, teasingly. Pumping his thick fingers slowly. Challenge gleaming in his eyes. His thumb grazes over your clit, making your hips buck. “Tell me how bad Y/N. Tell me how bad you need me.” he growls into your neck.

Hard and faster he pushes into you. You’re right at the edge. Dancing on the edge of a beautiful orgasm. 

“So bad. So bad.” you repeat the words, like a prayer. “I need you so bad.” You shake your head, grabbing his wrist to stop his fingers. You can barely stand. “Dean, I don’t wanna cum like this. I need you to fuck me. Please.” you beg.

“The bed.” he barks. You just blink at him. He stands away from you. Your aching body, now so cold and empty. So you just nod, obeying him. 

You fall to the bed, spreading your legs wide open for him as he watches. He takes his time. Watching you as he pushes his jeans and his underwear down his thighs. His thick weeping cock springs free, standing tall and proud in front of him. You mouth waters at the sight of him. All you can think about is your mouth on his cock, making him cum.

He strokes himself, walking towards you. He drags you towards the edge of the bed by you ankles, flipping you onto your stomach in one fluid motion. A delicious smack fills the air when he grabs a handful of your ass. You love it. The feeling of being owned. You’re too anxious. You reach down behind you to guide his cock in. There’s this sweet anticipation that heats your blood when you feel the head pushing between the lips of your pussy. With a grunt, he slides home. And you feel full. So deliciously full. Your tight little body is stretched to it’s limits.

The deep, slow rock of his hips has you screaming. Coming hard and fast from the feel of his cock and his fingers on your clit. You’re unable to form words, there’s just a string of incoherent moaning leaving your lips. Your body tightens, pulsing, milking Dean’s cock as he continues to rock into you. 

“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that. I want you to cum again.” he grunts, a warning somewhere in there.

“Cum.” you clench around him, “I want you to cum for me Dean.”

His fingers are digging into your hips, like he’s holding on for dear life. You can’t wait to see the marks. 

“You’re quite the view pretty girl.” he compliments. He’s enjoying the show. His thick shaft disappearing into your slick pussy. Over and over again. 

He cums hot and sticky into you. It feels so good. You want to feel it all over again.

“Jesus Y/N.” He moans, falling to the bed, pulling you on top of him. His arms are wrapped tightly around  your waist. Your head resting over his hammering heart. Gently, he tilts your chin so he can capture your lips. He takes his time, his fingers skimming over your bare back, “I wanted our first time to be better than that.”

He’s shy now. It’s endearing. Your heart melting. You smile, cupping his scruffy cheek, “Fast and rough was good for now. I’ve waiting long enough. I don’t think I could have anymore.”

An innocence touch of your lips to his, conveys more emotions than words can.

“Think we can do this?” you ask, enjoying the feeling of his fingers combing through your hair.

“What? Round two?” he jokes.

You roll your eyes, a smile dancing on your lips, “Us Dean, you and me?”

“No way I’m screwing this up. I just wanna screw you.”

Tags: @thedevilinthedetails @my-supernatural-dreams @damn-sassalecki @akshi8278 @tia58 @laurwinchester @the-amaranthine @merci-is-screaming @pizzarollpatrol @torn-and-frayed @tom-is-in-my-tardis @anokhi07 @nightmaredean @captainemwinchester @sleep-silent-angel @kittenofdoomage @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

[ohoholyshit]

[stumbles in nearly last minute with my @kurotsukiexchange fic in hand]  hi i’m here life is crazy but i’m here! this is for @j00312 who requested boku no hero academia au!

title: walls (here on ao3)

rating: general

summary: kuroo is the best sparring partner that tsukishima could ask for, but that doesn’t make him any less annoying of one. (bnha au)

note: i wanted to write more for this but i felt the idea i had was more suited to smaller one-shot. soooo i’m going to try and make it a series! i don’t have a set time i want to complete stuff by but i really loved how the au came out so! hopefully gonna continue it very soon! 

Tsukishima hates sparring with Kuroo Tetsurou.

He wishes he could say he hated Kuroo Tetsurou himself, but unfortunately the guy is far too nice for someone who’s quirk was officially categorized as ‘Emotional Manipulation’. Nice enough, in fact, that he refuses to call it what it is and instead refers to his own quirk as emotional suggestion despite his skill going far beyond a fucking suggestion.

He could legitimately flip someone’s emotional state upside down, and he tried to say his ability to was to suggest an emotion.

Ha.

But while Kuroo’s quirk was extraordinarily annoying, seeing as it easily negated Tsukishima’s own quirk, it was also the best one for Tsukishima to train against. His own quirk relied on keeping his composure, and what better way to practice keeping calm in a fight than against someone who forces you to feel emotions you never asked for?

That didn’t mean he wanted to train with him, however. Kuroo being a good partner to spar against wouldn’t save Tsukishima from the annoyance of sparring against someone so frustratingly good at beating him.

 When his brother ended up quirk-less and spent his teenage years agonizing over his inability to become a hero like their father, Tsukishima Kei was there watching with guilt welling up.

He possessed what his brother always wanted, what he wanted to use for the good of others.

Did Tsukishima even want to be a famous hero or spend every waking moment training? No. And, in fact, he could feel the lingering swirls of guilt when he thought about how he was the one able to do so while his brother could not.

 But did Tsukishima do what was expected of him and become a hero just like his father, his father’s mother, and his grandmother’s mother? Yes, begrudgingly and with a lot of sneering.

 Due to the nature of his quirk, though, he simply couldn’t dwell on his family history or drama. Bottling up his emotions was the name of the game for Tsukishima because that’s what he was good at, what kept his quirk functioning properly.

Until Kuroo fucking Tetsurou walks right in.

 The older teen doesn’t even use his ability for his own gain outside of training. There was a slight tingling sensation that typically occurred in your temples when Kuroo used his quirk, and the last time anyone could say they felt that outside of a sparring match was when his class had been freaking out about a test and he used his ability to calm their nerves enough to be logical.

 What kind of selfless asshole does that? There was practically a sea of people who admired him, all swooning from a distance.

A carefully calculated distance.

 A distance that stemmed from people’s subconscious fear that their feelings were fabricated, despite their knowledge of the tingling that is associated with any emotional manipulation or their trust in Kuroo as a person.

 Tsukishima didn’t worry about that particular part of Kuroo’s quirk. He cared far more about the fact he could not, for the life of him, beat the guy. It was aggravating in a way it shouldn’t be, and there was no tingling to be had when he felt the surge of disappointment after a loss to him.

 Tsukishima’s quirk was officially titled as ‘forcefields’. He could manipulate them into different shapes and sizes, surround different objects including himself and others, send them flying in any direction as a form of pseudo-attack, even trap people within them.

But it only worked if he was calm. The moment he was unable to keep composed or his mind became muddled with too much, the nearly invisible luminescent walls rippled and fell apart.  

 A certain Kuroo Tetsurou was very good at forcing him to lose his composure, and the amount of skill to force out his manipulations was beyond Tsukishima’s current capabilities.

 Which led them to this moment, staring each other down in the third training room on the second floor. Kuroo’s smirk was maddening in an unnatural way, pinpricks at his temples telling Tsukishima that it was the quirks doing and not his legitimate frustration with the third year.

 “You’re forcefields look like they’re boiling, Tsukki.”

 And that was the worst part about Kuroo’s sparring.

Half of his tactics involved manipulation and the other half his own provoking comments, leaving you disoriented as to which emotion is real or fake.

Kuroo understood villains, he understood heroes, he understood people, and he wasn’t afraid to use it to win. Adding in the agility and strength from physical training and his natural ingenuity, Kuroo was a fucking nightmare to fight against.

Without his other qualities, his quirk would have only been side-kick material. But Kuroo Tetsurou was impressive in every area, and it left the world stunned.

 Tsukishima grit his teeth, trying to get structure back into the glowing walls he has surrounded himself with. They wavered even further as the panic set in, as he felt Kuroo’s eyes picking him apart for the next opening.

 He’d lost and he knew it. The walls disappeared completely, shattering into pieces.

 Tsukishima was ready for Kuroo to rush at him as soon as the walls fell, the sound of feet banging against the floor echoing off the walls. He lifted his arms to aid in forming a shield faster, a small barrier he could at least use to push Kuroo back, but there was a grip on his forearm before he could even start.

 The world was upside down for mere seconds before he found himself on the floor, his skull clacking against the hardwood and shooting pain through every inch his body.

 Kuroo’s voice was filled with more panic than Tsukishima had ever heard, the most genuine sounding concern he’d experienced from the other boy in the entirety of the time they had known each other.

Tsukishima’s mind was hazy from being thrown over Kuroo’s shoulder, but he could hear cursing and anxious breathing. He opened his eyes to see the older teen’s face hovering too close to his, apologies pouring from Kuroo’s lips in a rush.

 “Shit, sorry sorry I didn’t mean to do that so hard. We can get you to the nurse, do you think you can walk? You are probably in a ton of pain, let me just-”

Tsukishima has no idea why Kuroo feels it’s important for him to place their foreheads together, but he is nice and toasty against Tsukishima’s icy skin, so in his dizzy state of mind he figures it’s fine.

 He gasps as the tingling sensation fills his entire head, his pain evaporating almost instantly. His mind feels like it’s clearing again, and he’s relieved of a difficulty of breathing he wasn’t aware of until it left.

 Kuroo lifted his head out of his personal space as soon as he was done. “Sorry, I know you don’t like people in your bubble, it’s just easier for me to do it that way. I increased the beta-endorphins your hypothalamus is producing to ease the pain, I’ll stop manipulating that when we have you to the nurse.”

 Tsukishima’s head was still swirling, but he still had enough thought process to squint at the ceiling in confusion.

“Your quirk is emotional manipulation. But you can also be a human morphine injection.” This was so weird. Tsukishima should be worrying about a concussion right now. Instead, he was analyzing Kuroo’s stupid quirk.

 “My quirk temporarily alters the chemicals of the brain that deal with emotions. Some of those overlap with other side effects so if I know what chemical is used for which emotion and what chemical the effect I want uses, I can manipulate to cause the effect.” Kuroo’s explanation was simultaneous with him checking for any injuries that would prevent Tsukishima from being able to be moved. It sounded as if he’d explained it a hundred times and had the words by heart, “In this case, I increased the endorphins in your body by using euphoria. I haven’t perfected using the chemicals for anything other than endorphins because it’s the most useful and it’s hard to cause the wanted effect without overloading you with the emotion I’m using to do it. It also has few overlapping effects.”

 Tsukishima almost protested when Kuroo began arranging his limbs in a way that made him easier to carry, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. He was amazed by the guy’s abilities, at just how far of a reach his quirk had. “You could literally give someone hallucinations to prevent them for being able to fight properly.” Tsukishima knew some basic psychology. The hormones of the brain did a lot of shit.

 Kuroo huffed as he lifted Tsukishima into his arms, carrying him bridal style. Because of course he chose to carry him in such an embarrassing way, that was just Tsukishima’s luck and life thought it was being witty.

 “I wouldn’t be able to control what they saw, but yeah. It’d be dangerous because I wouldn’t know what they are seeing. I’d rather use my abilities to help people not see hallucinations and things like that, which is kinda my plan in life for when I’m not just patrolling around.” Kuroo hurried them out of the room, but made sure not to go at a fast-enough speed to possibly hurt Tsukishima.

His head was still reeling, and he wasn’t sure anymore if it was from the guy carrying him or the nasty bump to his head.

“I thought the effects were only temporary.”

Kuroo biting his lip shouldn’t have been as endearing to Tsukishima’s rattled brain as it was. Clearly that was something he had thought about, his own limitations in the ways he wished to help others. What a goddamn saint, this asshole. “Ah, it is only temporary. But there are plenty of uses for a temporary fix, even if to just give someone a jump start on recovery.”

Tsukishima hummed in agreement, closing his eyes and letting his head rest back on Kuroo’s shoulder. Or chest area, he supposed. Pectorals.

(They were good pecs too.)

 And while that was a delicious thought right there, it was also a dangerous one Tsukishima didn’t allow himself to indulge in at any point in time. The strange combination of endorphins and the tingling in his head was making it hard to think again.

“How are you so perfect…?” He wasn’t sure if that was in reference to the boys kindness or the muscle his face was currently pressed against.

Kuroo made a choking noise, looking down at Tsukishima with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. They were no longer moving towards the nurse’s office it seemed.

 Ah, that had been out loud. Damn.

 “I give you a concussion and you tell me I’m perfect.” The older teen’s tone sounded like it was meant to be teasing and amused, but it came out shocked and embarrassed instead. Did he seriously not know how ridiculously and infuriatingly wonderful he was?

 “On accident, and don’t be so dramatic it’s only possibly concussion. And you are currently carrying me in your arms while explaining the most noble life goals I’ve ever heard.” Tsukishima really wishes he would shut up right now, why was he saying any of this, “Not only do you want to be a professional hero and save people, you also want to help their mental state. You’re probably the closest to perfect I’ve ever seen.” Please let his mouth stop running, stop there, for the love of- “That’s not even bringing in physical attractiveness which we all know you have an abundance of considering the amount of swooning that is heard as you walk down the hall.” Of course. Gotta bring his undeniable hotness into the mess. The blonde felt like all he was currently capable of was listen to his own blunt tone spew out a slew of compliments to the person holding him.

 At least the shocked and brightly flushed face he got in reaction was almost worth the embarrassment of saying those things.

 “I-I’m not,” oh my god, is he stuttering now, okay so it was absolutely worth it, “I’m not even close to perfect and I’m not even that attractive either, like have you seen my hair? It’s a downright mess a-and.” Kuroo’s eyes were everywhere but on him, avoiding eye contact as if it were the plague. “I’m flattered but I’m really none of those things and I-”

 As much as Tsukishima was enjoying this display of flustered Kuroo Tetsurou, he was still in the guy’s arms and felt in danger from the fact it looked like he was seconds from hiding his face in his hands. He felt it necessary to interrupt. “Please don’t drop me. I know I’m fairly light for someone as muscular at yourself, but you look seconds from just letting go of me to run away.”

 “Stop that! I can’t think when you do that!” Kuroo was now stubbornly staring ahead, walking them down the hall once again while his voice stayed hushed but edged further into frantic. His face looked even more flushed than before, if possible.

 Tsukishima blinked. Was Kuroo, of all people, embarrassed by praise? Even bluntly spoken truthful praise?

 Did… did Tsukishima just learn how to fight on the same level as him?

 He couldn’t help the grin that split across his face, shifting in Kuroo’s arms to throw an arm around his shoulder. “Do what? Tell the truth about your seemingly never-ending positive attributes? Or insinuate that I find you attractive?” God, Tsukishima probably was going to hate himself for this later in all likelihood, but it was just too good to pass up on this chance.

 “Either! Both! Stop it.”

 Tsukishima hummed in thought, staying quiet for a moment to let Kuroo’s embarrassment die down a bit.

 Before immediately bringing the topic up again.

 “So how do you deal with all the praise you get for doing a great job if you get like this with compliments?” He kept his tone casual, but the hints of amusement were clear to the both of them. There was no mistaking that Tsukishima was making an attempt at giving Kuroo a taste of his own medicine.

 “It doesn’t do this to me when it’s other people! It’s only when you do it!”

 The speed at which they both froze was impressive, but not nearly as impressive as Kuroo’s ability to keep his hold on him even when he looked very clearly like he wanted to run away.

And to be fair, Tsukishima kind of wanted to run away too.

[moonraccoon-exe]

No one can tell me that GladNis isn't canon coz Gladio was ready to slap Noct around for getting Iggy hurt. Like, Gladio's dad died, along with Regis. His home's been taken over by enemy forces! He didn't seem bothered much at the time. I mean, his outward appearance didn't look to be shaken, ya know? But when Iggy loses his sight, Gladio's ready to pound Noct into the ground! The very guy he's sworn loyalty to, to proctect! C'mon now! GladNis is def canon!

*sips from grape juice**clears throat**puts glasses on*

Okay, you all buckle in because I SO am about to type this 

Post on Gladio’s psychology post-chapter 9

*cracks fingers*

[There’s a Keep Reading line ahead, for those using the mobile app that can’t see it. Sorry]

Dear anon, thanks for dropping by! I too strongly believe in the canon-icity of Gladnis because the chemistry is there! Nobody can deny that, like holy shit. Even with the stupid ‘girlfriend’ issue, I’m not buying that. Come on, the chemistry is THERE, it’s impossible to deny! It’s so clear in chapter 10 and on their own small journey when they separate from the guys on chapter 13. It’s EVERYWHERE. 

Bbbbut, I don’t agree on the WHERE you see it, anon. I’m not rejecting what you offer, but I do would like to clarify or to give away my opinion on what Gladio was feeling, thinking, and why he acted like that. This is, of course, if you don’t mind. I just really like the psychological side of any story I read/play, and while your entry had me smiling and nodding, I can’t fully agree with the overall view you’re offering. And not that it’s wrong; I just see it from many other angles that make it a bit wider.

I don’t think Gladio snapped out at Noctis and raged at him for what happened to Ignis (which wasn’t Noctis’ fault, let’s comprehend). At least, not only because of that.

That Gladio shows to stay cool and not bothered at the events you list doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t care, or that it doesn’t bother him enough to make him snap out, or that they were less bad than what happened in Altissia.

That you don’t react to something in the same second it happens doesn’t mean you don’t care, sometimes it just means it’s hurt so deep inside you that your mind literally can’t finish to understand it happened at all.

Or, simply, that you’re not letting yourself feel it.

Imagine you have spent 23 years of life hearing everywhere and from everyone’s mouth that your only task is to serve the guy that’s your best friend and brother of other blood. That you live for him. Imagine you’re asked to escort him some place, and then find out he’s in danger.He’s your priority. He’s the only thing you live for.He’s priority from over your own feelings and choices and needs.

Gladio knows his job. Despite how playful he can show himself to be, he’s incredibly mature and he knows what his duty asks of him. He dared face a god of war only to become better in what he does in life, only for Noctis’ sake. 

Gladio knows his homeland and the place he loves was taken over and destroyed and that he’s probably not ever going back. He’s slapped in the face with the understanding that his father died. There’s the doubt of whether his sister survived or if she’s currently a pile of ashes or a corpse. And he knows war is lost.All at the same time.

He learns ALL OF THAT at the same time, at the same second. Imagine you receive those news. The shock must be unbearable. The shock must be so great you may possibly not even react at all because it’s too much to be real. That’s why the guys need to go see it themselves, it’s just too much to handle.

Now, we see Noctis break down at the news and rage and get depressed and flail all over the place….Because he can.

Because, even though he knows his duty and role in life and what he has to do, he doesn’t serve anyone, like his friends do. 

Ignis, Gladio and Prompto must have been as hurt and desperate as Noctis, but there’s a difference never told but still understood: they all are meant and literally tasked to aid him, and he’s only tasked to go marry someone. Whether we like the sound of it or not, Noctis is a prince that’s served and the guys serve the prince, that’s how the world goes. They do it proudly and happily but they still serve, int he extent of the word.

I dare say Gladio must have been the one to handle the news much, much, by far much more heavily than Ignis or Prompto.

Ignis seems to only have his uncle for family, and while Prompto does have his parents, his relationship is poor with them. So their affectation is mostly on Niflheim taking over Lucis. Gladio, on his side, has THAT affectation plus the complete, full awareness that his dad has died. The king never dies before his Shield. And Regis is dead. Which must have hit Gladio like a bolt: Clarus is dead. Dead. His father. His only father. His family. His dad.

And to that point he still doesn’t know whether Iris survived or not. Handling losing your homeland in a war is heavy, then add losing your beloved father, and add the possibility of your dead little princess, my god. 

…but then he decides to bottle it all up.

Gladio knows his job, I repeat. He’s mature. He knows very well what he has to do. And that is to aid Noctis. To help him become stronger and much more aware of what he has to do. Guide him. Protect him. The situation desperately needs for the three of them to guide and push and hurry Noctis on his task, on his destiny. 

Right now the only thing that matters is Noctis. Not his feelings.They are obstacles.

We know they’re not, but that’s how Gladio sees that, how anyone in his position and with his knowledge must see. Ignis does that, too. Even Prompto. They all never show themselves bothered not because they don’t care but because they know that mourning right now is useless and that the only thing that’s important is to continue the journey and do something, work, fight and win. Not mourn; that can wait. 

So Gladio just bottles it. Except I think, for the things listed above, that he has quite some particular reasons to be upset. But he bottles it and bottles it.

And he insists on doing that to the point the glass is already full but even then he goes against logic and doesn’t let it spill because he can’t allow himself to feel and let it all out, not when his king needs him.

But then Altissia happens.

Imagine that you’ve spent 23 years of life training and working every single day of your life, every…single…one…just to be the strongest and the best on your duty that’s literally protecting somebody else. Imagine you’ve spent 23 years with the only purpose in life of protecting someone. Literally.Imagine you went through a trial of a GOD and defeated him only to become better at your duty, that is, again, only and literally protecting somebody else.

And then find out that your best friend was majorly injured and lost his sight. In the same battle you were in.

And then go through a day in which the person you sworn to protect was barely found alive and is in a coma state, that the important Oracle is dead, that half the country was destroyed, and that the man and friend that understands you best was found barely, vaguely alive, unconscious, bleeding, agonizing and with this huge burn/injury on the eye and wakes up goddamn fucking blind.

Imagine one of your dearest, if not the dearest friend (Noct is more like a lil bro) goes through that….

While you came out of the fight entirely unharmed.

Dude, I want you to imagine how it must feel. To know you did your best, yet this was the outcome. All your friends harmed, one dead, the other barely alive and waking up to become only half-a-life (we know it gets better in the future, but in the immediate present, Ignis IS losing a major/huge part of himself, seen as half/all the things he used to do/enjoyed were all related/needing of his sight).

There’s a bottle already past full of rage and sadness inside him, this was the very, very, very last drop to spill it. Problem is, it was not a drop, it was a FUCKING CASCADE.

Gladio’s strong, but he’s a human, too. And he, like any of us, has his limits. And I think that,by this point of the story, he’s gone further the limits of his limits, already. And he…as the human he is…merely exploded.

I’ve shared this in other similar posts and I repeat it here: in psychology, in school, I once learned that anger is only a mask for sadness, which, at its time, is a mask for fear.

That Gladio snaps out at Noctis is not necessarily Gladio blaming Noctis for what happens to Ignis and raging over only that.That Gladio snaps out at Noctis is only Gladio’s excuse.

You know these moments when you bottle something up, somebody does or says something, and you snap out at them maybe a bit unnecessarily?

Like, maybe the boss fired you, the bus was late, it rained on you, they robbed your clock and wallet, and when you finally get home, your mom accidentally moved your computer from this room to the other…And suddenly you’re raging over that last fact.

And you’re maybe snapping out at your mom, and you go nuts because “how could you do something so stupid, you know I like my things to be where I leave them, it was connected to the light because it was on and now it’s off and blah blah bla”. 

It’s stupid. You’re raging over a stupidity, a small thing. But you can’t stop. You know why? You’re not raging at your stuff being moved.You’re raging at everything that happened earlier, all the major stuff. The last event is only your excuse. You’re taking the first thing that maddens you to scream at it and to yell at it and to cry at it not because THAT caused it, only because THAT is offering you an excuse to let all the previous things out.

This is the very same thing with Gladio.

He’s not raging only at the fact that Noctis can’t stop being sad or that he’s “not showing any care about Ignis”, he’s raging at EVERYTHING. Everything, from Insomnia’s fall and his dad’s death to Ignis’ injury and almost death, added the more self-centered fact that Gladio let that happen to Ignis when he had worked so hard to become the best Shield ever.

Imagine you’re meant to protect people, yet somebody you love almost dies in front of you while you’re completely unharmed.Gladio’s not only suffering Ignis’ injury, he’s suffering some sort of personal break of his idea of himself.He knew himself something, but the events at Altissia could or not may have had him take the blame to himself. Imagine you know yourself the best Shield ever, then look behind you and see all this death and your dearest people injured and bleeding and barely breathing, and you’re standing there…like, the enemy didn’t even pay attention to you, like you’re useless, like you’re not there and just went past you and killed them all.They went past him. Like he was not there.Like he’s an intangible shield.A shield that is not a shield.A shield that isn’t there.And realize that if a shield isn’t there when YOU are supposed to be one…Then what are you?

I don’t deny that chapter 10 and ahead and the treatment Gladio offers to Ignis all over it is partly to blame on why I adore Gladnis and see it as almost-canon. 

But I don’t think that it’s what happened to Ignis what made Gladio rage like he did. 

Of course, I’m not saying that Gladio doesn’t care about Ignis. It’s most obvious he does, even during the events of the past traveling with a healthy 22 y.o. Ignis, Gladio’s constantly showing how much he particularly cares about him. Sometimes it even feels like he talks more about Ignis than he does about Noctis. The events of Altissia must have made him completely rage, but I don’t think it was only THAT. 

It’s not that Gladio prefers Ignis over Noctis. It’s that Noctis was Gladio’s psychological “drop of water that spilled the glass”, and Ignis’ injury only happened to be the nearest major event, the closet chronologically to Gladio’s outburst. Gladio knows Noctis comes before anything else, but he’s a human, and he simply could not help but finally explode after bottling up months of major event after major even after major event being crowned by not only having your dearest friend majorly injured and eternally handicapped, but to most possibly have also seen him almost die. 

…-deep breath-

Phew.

….

Still, I can’t deny that I love the way Gladio behaves with Ignis post-Altissia. It’s overprotective and so careful. I love it, hahaha. Nobody can tell me Gladnis isn’t canon, either, the chemistry is always there no matter which point of the game you’re playing!