#partaking into conversations like an equal

[consciouschunkofmoss]

it was only three weeks

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[nohoney]

touya x drug dealer! reader has been an idea that i’ve been wanting to do for a while. i had thoughts of cute flowing dresses, flutes of champagne, strawberries with brown sugar, and a powdery compact mirror with a credit card lined with white at the edge ♡

Touya hates going to the country club. He hates having to get ready to wear the stupid polo shirt and pressed pants his mother picked out for him. He hates having to take out most of his face jewelry, only leaving his eyebrow piercing as a slight rebellion to irritate his father. It’s all so annoying to him but to be fair—

They all hate going to the country club together.

It’s only an obligation for them to attend as a family. To show up so that Enji’s professional business ties can remain intact if the event is important enough. It’s the only time everyone agrees together as a family. Despite the fact that going to the country club is meant to be a luxurious get away, the Todoroki’s see it as anything but.

With the exception of Shouto who is too young to partake in anything, the rest of the family cope in their own ways to survive an agonizing event that none of them want to attend.

Enji smokes in private with the other men, Rei quietly nurses a glass of white wine as she makes polite conversation with the other wives, Fuyumi and Natsuo discreetly pass a weed pen between one another, and Touya…

Well he’s got his special friend that he knows where to find.

All throughout the club, there’s little signs that lead to a certain someone who exchanges little treats for just the right price. It could be money or it could be secrets or something else entirely, but the exchange given has to be deemed equal in value to what is handed out. There’s bouquets that are found throughout the entire club, all seemingly of the same variations except for one flower that’s meant to point you in a certain direction.

Touya walks through the club, noting the one flower that sticks out in the bouquets as a subtle sign of where to find you.

Following the secret path, it leads him this time to a room with only a single piano in the center and the white curtains drawn over the windows.

It’s a beautiful grand piece of shiny, lacquered black and is maintained regularly in its tuning. No music is being played though, all that’s heard is the tinkling laugh from one of the two people that are sitting on the piano bench. Touya walks with his hands in pockets, leisurely in his step when he approaches you. Next to you is the caddy that often accompanies your father on the golf course, amber eyes lifting to him and giving him a friendly nod.

“Touya, so nice to see you again!” you greet with a warm smile. You’re graceful in the way you stand up from the piano bench, sliding your hand along the caddy’s shoulders as you make your way to Touya. He leans down, used to the customary greeting of kissing each cheek from you. The perfume you wear is new, smelling more like citrus and freesia than the usual florals he’s used to.

Turning back to the caddy, you wave him off. “I’ll meet you later Keigo, okay?”

The feathery blonde haired caddy stands from the piano bench, pressing a kiss to your temple first before making his way out.

“So, what can I do for you today Touya? You wanna be perked up? Or you wanna relax?” You ask him immediately, leaning against the grand piano and clacking your manicured nails against the surface.

“You ever think that maybe I’m just here to see you? And nothing more?” Touya playfully nudged his shoe against your ankle, also noting the clean polish of your pedicure. Strappy white heels are your choice of shoe today to compliment your tea dress.

You’re this vision of a good girl, prim and proper, soft and sweet. All the mannerisms you exude are perfected and practiced, taught firmly from the all girls school that you attended. On the surface, you’re just simply the rich daughter to the man who owns the country club. You’re known to love lounging by the pool or reading under the shady trees by the garden. The older adults love to fawn over you, even trying to set you up with suitors but only if they’re screened through your father first.

Rolling your eyes at him, you flash him a smile that sends the message of ‘yeah right’ before you wave him over.

You lift the piano bench where your current stash resides. It’s organized meticulously of all types of different pills and already measured bags of different powders. Nude colored nails hover over the selection that you know him to always get, but you’re polite enough to ask first for confirmation before plucking the packed substances from their spot.

“The usual?”

Touya pulls money out from his pocket, the same exact amount that he’s paid every single time he’s seen you. “The usual.” he confirms.

You hold two baggies for him, one with two blue pills and the other filled halfway of white powder. Touya takes it from you and waits for you to take out the held out cash.

“Mm, this dress doesn’t have pockets. Can’t take it.” you smile as you shut the piano bench, “I’ll take a kiss though.”

Touya smiles back, pocketing his cash alongside the goodies you’ve given him. “Is that how you’re taking payments today? With kisses?”

He knows you want him, you’ve been wanting him ever since he had fucked you at your father’s birthday party just a few months back. He can still recall the champagne he tasted on your lips, the silky material of your party dress as he pushed it over your hips, the smell of peony and honey spritzed onto your skin when he had bit your shoulder. It was an amazing fuck, one that he thought about going back for, but he liked to see you dangle yourself for him. Beg him with those pretty eyes and try to seduce him with low cut dresses or leave lingering touches that you hoped pull him in.

You shrug your shoulders and play coy, stepping into his personal space to smooth your hands along his shoulders as if you were going in to hug him. “Special just for you, I’ll figure it out with the rest.”

His hand slides along the small of your back to pull you in and close the space. “You are so bad.”

“I happen to be a very good girl, my record shows that.”

“Your records were expunged by your dear daddy.”

“So therefore, I have done nothing wrong.” you giggle, “C’mon, stop teasing me like this. You never want to see me outside of this place. I only see you when you and your family come to the club for an event, and you guys always look so miserable.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Touya’s hand drops lower, grabbing at your ass and relishing your little gasp, “because you help me get through these aggravating events.”

He teases you, has you chasing after him and keeps him entertained whenever he comes to this ridiculously posh club. You play the polite girl when you’re out among the crowd but he’s always felt your eyes on him whenever the two of you are in the same room together. If you could keep your eyes on him the entire time you would, but sadly you have to get pulled aside from so many people. From your inner circle, to polite introductions to your father’s colleagues, to the ones who want a little something to get them through the night. You carry yourself with grace and good posture, more than any girl that he had ever met.

You’re the classiest little drug dealer he knows.

And like every deal, a transaction has to be completed. So he leans down to kiss you, holding you tightly by your waist to bring you closer to him. You’re so eager for him locking your fingers behind his neck, sighing sweetly that makes him reminisce of that night you had together. The plush of your lips takes him back to that night, back when you smelled more floral and warm, when he had found you lounging alone at the pool and bored from your father’s party.

Surprisingly you pull away from the kiss. “I like you Touya, c’mon we had so much fun together at my daddy’s party. Don’t you wanna have fun again?”

“I never said that I didn’t want to do it again.” Touya points out as he takes a seat on the piano bench, “It’s crossed my mind.”

You pout at him, the gloss from earlier kissed off slightly sticky on his lips instead. Carefully you wipe away the remnants of the gloss from his lips, smudging it on the pads of your fingers. “You’re so mean, you know that? Don’t you know to not make your plug mad?”

“Ah, how can I make it up to you, princess? Please oh please,” Touya wryly plays along with you, “what can I do to get back in your good graces?”

You hold out your hand to him, “Take a walk with me.”

Walking out hand in hand with you, he is led out of the piano room and allows you to take him to wherever it is you have in mind. You pass by one person that you give a subtle signal too, Touya observing how they make their way to the piano room with a key in hand. He wonders how much you’ve paid off certain workers inside the country club to help and protect you.

He admires that about you, not being afraid to exercise your power. Maybe it just comes with being a spoiled brat who can get her record wiped clean when she calls her daddy with crocodile tears. All this wealth at your disposal and the only thing that entertains you is being the unofficial country club girl scout for xannies, oxies, and other treats.

Touya is led to different halls throughout the club, some he recognizes more than others, but not as well as you do. These are your grounds after all. The caddy from before is seen talking to a group of gentlemen, the elders clearly enjoying conversation with him if the boisterous laughter and the friendly pats on his back are anything to go by. Hell, Touya’s father is apart of the group and even he looks to be amused from whatever quip the feathery haired young man doled out.

Keigo must sense your presence nearby as he immediately looks up to see you. You blow an air kiss to him and he pretends to catch it in his fist. Touya can swears that when he looked at you, you mouthed ‘love you’ to him as they passed by.

He doesn’t know much about Keigo, only that he was brought on by you and that he happens to be very charming with many people. Looks wise, he can see why you went for him but Touya hasn’t taken any personal interest to get to know the caddy.

People pass by and give you pleasant greetings, all of which you returned kindly but never paused to have a conversation. There’s excitement running through you as Touya follows behind, wondering where exactly you’re taking him. He can tell by how eager your pace is that gives it away. It’s precious, he enjoys it too much.

You want him that badly.

━━━━✧

Touya’s not sure how he’ll explain to his mother how his pants got so wrinkled, but it’s a thought that gets pushed out of his mind as he smothers you in a kiss. He’s trying to recall his last excuse when his mother questioned how he became so unkept. The answer isn’t quite coming to him; all he can recall is just the adrenaline he had afterwards from fucking you so good. Normally he’s very smooth with his words, lying easily to anyone when it pleases him, but he had gotten pussy drunk off of you and his brain just wasn’t operating the same.

You and that cunt of yours.

He’s almost upset that he’s been denying himself this entire time. There were plenty of nights recalled the sloppy kisses from you, the elegant way you crooked your finger to bring him to you, and when you pulled on the roots of his hair when he had eaten you out. Truthfully he had wanted to chase you just as much when the deed had been done. But as he’s got you on your knees for him, Touya remembers why he decided to not give into you so easily.

“Please Touya? Please, pretty please?”

It’s so sweet when you beg.

He remembers after coming down from the high that arrogant look on your face when he had helped zip your dress back up. That because he had shagged with you then he was surely to come at your beck and call. Instead of giving in, Touya decided that he’d like to see you chase after him. To have you be the one sending text messages or letting late night calls go unanswered, declining private invitations from you to keep you frustrated.

He still has all your voicemails of you breathless and needy, begging softly for him to just want you back.

Your voice is small and pitched, whiny almost as you pathetically tug at his belt as you sink to your knees. You’re practically drooling for it, eyeing his bulge and caressing it gently through the fabric. Christ, he really made you that in love with his cock. “Oh princess, don’t tell me you’ve been pining after me.” He coos over you and tilts your head up to look at him, “All this time?”

“Yes, god yes!” You admit and jut your lower lip in a pout, “I would wait around for you, hoping you’d answer me or even come visit! I’ve always been so nice to you Touya, and you just ignore me!”

It is the spoiled brat in you that’s making you act this way. You’re such a good girl, a nice girl, a pleasant and sweet and pretty girl that there shouldn’t be any reason to give you this awful treatment. That’s how you see it. That you’re the one who blessed Touya with the rare gift of giving him personal access to you so therefore, he should be grateful and be falling at your feet.

Touya has his own pride though.

“Is that darling caddy you’re so fond of not enough for you?”

“I adore Keigo, I love him,” you admit, “but I want you too.”

You want him desperately, slowly crumbling your pride as you beg softly for him. This is what Touya wanted from you. To see you throw a bit of dignity away just for him.

“Yeah? You mean that?” he asks you, using a single finger under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“Yes.”

He could probably ask anything of you in this moment if it meant that he’d give himself up to you. Something that you would find worth it for him to finally cure your ache. Admittedly one of his fantasies with you is to use one of your fancy lipsticks to draw the filthiest names on your body and take pictures for evidence. He wants to write slut at your tits, whore written in fat letters on your back, maybe even cumdump on your tummy with an arrow pointing down to your cunt. Touya wonders if that would be too much though.

He wants to demean you so bad, knock you off your high horse and make you look pathetic.

Yet there’s also some desire in him to cherish you too. You are the darling of this club, adored and revered and Touya falls into that crowd too. That it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to wear a dainty necklace with his initial, have you in his car for leisurely joy rides down by the coast, and go on those stupid fancy picnics that you posted on your instagram.

“Need you Touya, need you!” you whine, catching his hand and leaning your cheek into his palm. Aw look at you, trying to look sweet for him, giving him doe eyes and batting your lashes.

There’s some laughter outside, just a small group passing by the room you’ve locked yourselves in for privacy. There’s a little sign that you hung on the door handles: the art gallery is closed. Nearby is a sculpture of a nude woman, crafted by one of the local artists here and was in the club’s newsletter not too long ago. Touya glances to it, finding it beautiful and better in person than in the photo they had taken of it. Art is usually better to see in person anyway-

“Touya!”

You’re not on your knees anymore for him, standing to your feet and smoothing down your dress. Ah, you’re upset now—actually upset at him. “If you don’t want me, then just fucking go. You’ve been playing these games with me and I’m tired!” you huff and try to pick up your heels that you discarded onto the floor when you had locked up the room, “Keep the stuff I gave you, I still won’t charge you for today.”

His hand goes to your wrist and he’s pulling you back to him, wrapping you up in a hug as he hushes you, “Don’t be so upset, it’s not a good look for you.”

“Well I wouldn’t be if you would just look at me!” you almost cry, sinking into his body and making a small noise when he hugs you tighter. “Everyone else wants me, why don’t you? Don’t you want me?”

It surprises him how genuine you’re being. You can’t be this upset, can you?

It makes Touya happy that he can make you this way.

“Never said that I didn’t, princess.” he admits finally, “I like you back, is that all you need to hear?”

He’s given a little nod, feeling your hand press at his bulge again. Your hand caresses his cock through his slacks and you sigh a little, slightly tilting your head up and nosing along his jawline. Touya bites down the smug smile that wants to sprout up on his face—this is how he wanted you, on his terms and not on yours. So now that he’s got you right where he wants you…

“Ow!” you cry out when Touya roughly grabs a handful of your hair right at the root, pulling you just enough to make you look up at him. He holds tightly and coos over your shocked expression, your wide eyes looking up at him with a small sense of betrayal. How could he switch up on you so fast like that? “T-Touya..!”

You pout up at him, your lips tempting him to kiss you.

“You’re not the good girl you make yourself out to be. Like you got everyone wrapped around your little finger, huh?” Touya speaks haughtily, his grip flexing slightly and tugging slightly on the roots of your hair, “Good girls don’t sell drugs out of a piano bench and fuck around with the piss poor caddy that’s so popular around here.”

“Maybe not other girls,” you hiss through your teeth, “but I can.”

You can do whatever you want, it’s how you lived your life. If there are any rules you’ve broken, you’ve always been very good to take care of it yourself mostly. Look at how you flout about, walking around with your pretty heels and waving the help over with darling manicured hands, discreetly handing cash and speaking with the sweetest lilt to get people to do what you please.

Touya snorts, but he does admire you all the same. If he had more drive to do anything, he’d probably be working under you too.

But he hates being inside this stupid country club, which is where you typically are when you’re not traveling or with your own gaggle of friends. This is where you like to work after all, and will be yours to run once your dear daddy passes.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” Touya sighs out before leaning down to kiss you. He’s unexpectedly soft considering the tight grip he still has on you, slotting his lips against yours too intimately for someone who also wants to ruin you all the same. It’s a long kiss he gives you, that it even gets the butterflies fluttering inside of his chest.

He pulls back and releases the hold he had on your hair, twirling his finger in a circle to indicate for you to turn around. You present your back to him, getting flashbacks to when Touya had first undressed you. His fingers are cold as he fiddles with the zipper at the back and pulls it down slowly. The dress loosens from your body and you shrug off the thin straps. It falls to the floor in a pool surrounding your feet, and you’re left standing in a little cotton panty that’s lined with lace. Your nipples are perked due to the chill of the room but you don’t bother to cover yourself to retain some modesty.

You’ve been wanting to be like this in front of Touya for the longest time.

You’re given another wordless command, blue eyes briefly glancing down to the hardwood floor. Kicking your dress off to the side, you kneel down in front of Touya once more and watch as he unzips his slacks and pulls his cock through the opening. Your mouth practically waters upon seeing his dick again, so thick and with the prettiest color at the tip you had seen. You’re about to go in when he stops you with a simple little tut.

Glancing up at him, you wonder what he could possibly have to say.

“Don’t get too sloppy, can’t walk out of here with fucking drool stains on my crotch.”

Touya hopes to fuck you in his bed one day, have you squirt on his sheets, and then cum all over your face. But while the two of you are here, the two of you have to be able to come out look presentable. He can’t go as wild as he wants on but he fucking swears that he’s gonna make you fucked out by him one of these days.

You nod in understanding before swallowing his cock into your throat. There’s some dreamy sigh from you as you bob up and down on his cock; you really must have been aching for this. There’s enthusiasm as you swallow all his inches, looking up at Touya and going all doe eyed for him. See how much you wanted him?

He admires your small gags, the way your body lurches when you choke deeply on his cock, but he reminds you again to try to keep your drool from getting on him. Touya wants to fuck your face, he wants to make you cry from fucking your mouth too hard, and even slap your cheek. There’s so much he wants to do but this isn’t the time or place to do any of it.

You’d be pissed off too if he even attempted.

You pull off his cock, a line of drool connecting your lips to his cock still but it gets wiped away quickly by the back of your hand.

Touya grabs your wrist to bring you to your feet, pulling you to the nearest wall to fuck you against. Your hands brace the flat surface, grunting when Touya uses one hand to jut your ass back to him and the other presses your head to the wall. With your back arched, he admires your elegant form under the soft lighting of the art gallery. The lovely still life painting of a bouquet does not compare to how fucking beautiful you are in this moment.

He can’t wait until he can ruin you to tears.

He offers his fingers to your lips, your mouth obediently dropping to lick and spit on them. It tickles a little with the way your tongue drags along his fingers but he doesn’t allow it for long. Touya only needs just enough to finger your hole, even spitting on his own fingers before he does a careful but quick prep after pulling down your panties.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you mutter, your eyes shutting as relishing in his touch, “Fuck me please!”

“Relax.” Touya is firm in his tone, acting cool and masking the equal desperation that is surging throughout his own body. He wonders if you notice how eager his fingers are to be inside you, biting his lip to force down the wolffish smile on his face when he feels how wet you are. All that teasing before that he had done to you was worth it.

It was worth all of it to lead up to this moment.

His fingers withdraw and he sucks on them, savoring the taste of your slick along his tongue. Touya recalls how he ate you out at your father’s birthday party, driving you wild with his tongue on your clit and the sweet noises you made. It would be nice to do it again.

Your body shudders a little as the head of Touya’s cock nudges against your pussy, a sharp little breath sucked in as the first few inches sink into you. “Fuck!” you quietly curse.

Touya would like to savor this, to take his time and work you up into a sloppy, pretty little mess. To finger your clit until you cry out of frustration and then choke you if you give him an attitude. There’s so many things that he wishes he could do in this moment. But you remind him—

“Please hurry, we can’t be in here for long.”

Because you’ve got people waiting for you. People waiting to eagerly meet you, whether at your piano bench or if you’re needed somewhere else to help maintain your father’s appearance. No matter how much Touya has this vision of what he wants, he knows that he truly can not have you in his own way.

But he’s grateful to get you anyway.

He thrusts in, sinking in smoothly but with a sharp clap of his body meeting yours. Your pussy tightens up on him from the brief shock that is also coupled with a small gasp. His hands grasp your hips tightly and he pounds away at you, noticing how you help with the motion by moving back into him as well. It’s quiet inside the art gallery so all Touya can hear is you and the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he fucks hard into you.

“T-Touya!”

It’s just as sweet as the first time, observing how you occasionally look over your shoulder at him and give him sweet doe eyes again. But this time they’re glazed over, your eyelids dropping as you get lost in the pleasure, relishing in everything that you had been waiting for. Touya wonders how many nights you spent fingering yourself to him, he imagines your embarrassment when he would leave your needy voicemails or nudes in his inbox unanswered, and he dreamt more than a few times of you riding that pretty boy caddy in front of him.

I want to fuck you again.

Those words almost slip out as he reaches a hand to finger your clit. Your knees buckle but you maintain yourself, your own little sounds struggling to be kept in. Touya can feel it already, he can feel you just about ready to snap if the way your cunt is clenching around him is any indicator of anything.

“Please cum, please cum!” you desperately whisper, “Please cum in me!”

I need to fuck you again.

Touya fucks harder to get himself to cum, looking down to see that you’ve creamed all over him. He’s grateful that he pushed his pants down enough so that none of it catches onto his clothes. It’d be nice if you could clean up his cock with your mouth after he cums in you, but you’ve got to come out looking as proper as you can be.

So no hair pulling, no spitting in your mouth, no crying to ruin your makeup, and no marks are to be left.

But if you’re going to beg him to cum in you, you should be able to accommodate a reasonable request.

Touya leans over, feeling his control ready to let go as he’s about ready to burst as he mutters in your ear, “Keep my cum in you, keep me inside you.”

His words have your eyes rolling back, answering him with a jittery nod and a sweet yes hissed into the air. “Yes, fuck yes!”

I am going to fuck you again.

Touya jolts into you one last time, pressing himself so deep that you whine his name. He’s emptying himself into you, spilling cum into that delicious cunt of yours. He chances putting a hand at your throat to choke you, his fingers careful at your windpipe and peering down at you as your orgasm wipes your mind blank and has you going limp that he has to catch you.

And then there’s silence.

He’s holding your body against him, carrying your weight as your mind tries to start back up again. Touya drinks in this moment because he knows he won’t get a repeat of this. He may never get the upper hand again now that he’s given you what you’ve been aching for.

He wants to keep coming back not to just buy off you, but to keep seeing you.

“Good, Touya?” you manage to find your voice and lean back against him, patting your hand against his arms that are still holding you tightly.

“The best.” He answers

You chuckle, nodding your head and still remaining in his hold with his cock in you. He wonders why you haven’t bothered to start making yourself proper—

The door to the art gallery unlocks and it has Touya jolting. All the curse words he knows flash in succession in his mind but you pat your hand against him. “It’s okay, it’s Keigo.”

Sure enough, it is.

The pretty caddy with blond hair is approaching the two of you with two small towels in hand. Had he been waiting outside the entire time?

Touya wonders if every move you’ve made has been calculated. Did you know for sure that he would finally fuck you today after keeping you waiting for so long? And to have your favorite toy waiting on hand to clean you up as well?

He takes the offered towel from Keigo but doesn’t offer a thanks. Touya wipes off the remnants of you off his cock, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he pulls his pants back up. His belt buckle clinks as he makes himself presentable.

“Can we stay and talk for a little Keigo?” you ask leisurely as the caddy places the towel over a wooden bench for you to sit on. You’re smoothing down your hair as you sit down, Keigo kneeling down on one knee to massage your calves. Your dress and heels still lay discarded as you appear to take your time getting ready to leave.

“Just for a little, okay? Hana is looking for you—“ Keigo informs you and laughs a little as you groan at the name. It seems he has the sense to not continue the sentence.

Touya is dressed, his pants not as wrinkled as he hoped they would be. Rei will probably take notice like she did last time but this time, he has enough clarity to give an answer that he knows his mother will not believe but does not have any backbone to question.

He supposes that he should go out there.

He’s got what he wanted anyway.

“See ya princess.”

“I’ll see you out there Touya.” You call to him just as he’s out the door.

Stopping by a restroom first, he puts himself in the privacy of a stall after locking the door. He retrieves the dime bag and admires the scaling of the cocaine inside the plastic. He fishes out a key from his wallet, using the tip of it dip into the bag. He inhales a sizable bump into each nostril, wiping his nose clean before flushing the toilet for the sake of seeming as if he had used the facilities.

He joins Natsuo and Fuyumi, the weed pen offered to him as well but he declines. Just a little further down, Shouto is with two boys that he seems to have made friends with. One of them is blond and huffing his chest while the other has hair the color of an evergreen tree and seems to be the mediator of whatever fuss is going on.

Touya leans back into his seat, just a touch more awake as he tastes the drip at the back of his throat.

━━━━✧

It’s a relief when it’s finally time to leave.

Enji and Rei are side by side, she’s holding onto his arm for balance, teetering slightly to the right but is corrected by her husband as he helps her into the car. Shouto is waving his friends goodbye before going along to Fuyumi’s side. She asks him if she had fun and he answers yes. She is no longer high but Natsuo takes a small hit of the pen one last time to tolerate the car ride.

Touya is about ready to take his place inside the car when he hears his name. He looks back to see you walking towards him and he decides to walk to you so that none of his family eavesdrops.

“Thank you for seeing me today, I really enjoyed your company.” you speak with a bubbly lilt and your smile more pleasant than usual. Of course you’re happy—you and Touya finally fucked again.

“Thanks for having me.” Touya responds a little flatter than he intended to, just trying to keep his family off his tail so that they don’t ask questions.

“Text me later.”

It’s not framed as a hopeful question; you’re telling him to text you.

“I will.”

He means it.

No more ignoring or being coy, not anymore since you got what you wanted and Touya knows that he’s given up the power to you. It was nice to briefly wield it but he knows in the end that you are the one to hold all the cards and have things aligned with how you want them.

Touya avoids his father’s gaze as he gets into the car. He leans back into his seat at the very back of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling the buzz of the coke starting to wind down. He chances looking back and you’ve hung around in your same spot, appearing to see him off.

The windows are tinted and he’s sure that you can’t see him through the glass but you wave anyway, as if knowing that he’s looking at you. He resists waving back.

And as the car starts, someone joins you. Wearing all black and with slightly unkempt white hair, Touya recognizes your foster brother. He’s only seen Tomura around a handful of times—unlike you that leaves a trail to be found, he’s a bit elusive.

The car starts to pull away, Touya watches from his seat as your foster brother leans down to you. One would think that he just leaned down to kiss your cheek but he swears that it was a kiss on the lips. It was hard to tell when enough distance had blurred the interaction.

Not that it matters to him anyway.

Later that night, Touya does as promised and he texts you. All the previous messages in his inbox from you were one sided but now he’ll be expected to reach out to you. Maybe you can meet him at a different place occasionally, take you for a ride in his white mustang or share a sorbet with you in the downtown area.

He knows that he will have to meet you more often at the country club though—it is where you work after all.

Touya hates the country club but he’s only ever gone to have a chance to see you.

[wordbunch]

oh, how unreasonable [Halbrand]

LONG A/N: I hope yall have lots of fun and feels while reading this, and I am living for any comments and impressions ♡ if it is slight ooc, I really don't care. If you don't consider Halbrand a warning in itself, then the only warning I have is occasionally suggestive conversation.

❗️this is essentialy Halbrand x my OC Díorien (she), who is a half-elf with the other half of her roots unknown, but there are no physical descriptions - feel free to consider it a reader insert. The only extra bit of knowledge is that she can use fire magic (hence multiple fire references), she is more-less one of the elves but not fully, and is very much on the fence about who to side with. A girl is struggling

I wholeheartedly recommend these 2 songs for the mood ♡

“So it is true.” 

“What is?”

“That evil never sleeps?” Díorien’s face appeared in warm candlelight amid the dark room. Her eyes scanned the figure in front of her with equal parts disdain and intrigue.

“Ever so witty, my queen,” Halbrand cackled, positioned in front of the door of Díorien’s private chambers. “How could I sleep, knowing you are here, and not by my side in a realm of our own creation?”

Cautiously he began to approach her bed, thick darkness everywhere except for the cool glow of the moon through the large window above her headboard, and the candle in her hand she had lit seconds ago. Fitting. 

“What brings you here?” she inquired dryly, pretending with all her might that his presence in the dead of night wasn’t making her shiver from head to toe. Having just awoken abruptly, she needed a few moments to wrap her head around the situation and realize she was dressed only in a delicate, sheer nightgown with sheets bunched up around her waist and legs. Swallowing thickly, Díorien decided to just pretend she was dressed properly - however, she was convinced Halbrand could see right through her anyway. Somehow he was always able to. 

“What brings me here is…” he began, voice heavy with something inexplicable, “the fact that the most enchanting, strong, passionate woman in the world, does not want to partake in that world with me.”

“But how could I, Halbrand?” She defended herself, not fully convinced she stood behind her own words. The way his eyes pored over her vulnerable form in the candlelight pulled the very ground from beneath her feet. “Y-you want me to-”

“I want you to rule with me, I want you to be my other half, I want you to come with me somewhere you will be not cast aside, but worshipped.” All decorum aside, Halbrand sat on the edge of her bed, and he could see her swallow thickly. If he said that heat wasn’t overcoming his whole body in her presence, that would be a very transparent lie, since that usually was the effect that she had on him. And he knew that she knew about it very well. “They do not understand you. They do not drive you to grow greater, to aim for more - they do not see you the way that I see you, Díor.” He was sliding one hand slowly over the mattress towards Díorien’s hand which was tightly clutching the silky sheets. “I know how that feels, my starlight, because that is how they are to me as well. But not you. Not you. You know my mind like you have walked the very steps inside of it. And I - I see the greatness that burns within you, the flame that terrifies everyone else, except someone who has walked through fire before.” His voice was quiet and gruff, but with an edge of persistence.

“Halbrand-” she whispered, furrowed eyebrows reflecting her inner turmoil.

“When you say my name like that, I am willing to throw the rest of the world away and just live in you instead.” He interrupted her eagerly, but she cleared her throat, determined to continue.

but you’ve come to offer, i’m here to receive / your face is my gospel, your body my creed / bring me to your altar, drop me to my knees / the more i worship, the more i believe 

“You are asking me to betray my own kin-”

“And you would betray your own heart.”

His calloused hand found his way to her closed fist and wrapped around it. Had the windows not been open and graciously letting in a light breeze, Díorien would have combusted then and there. In spite of that, she allowed him to touch her. 

“Do I not make you feel better than any of them, my queen? Do I not make you feel euphoric, boundless? I find it hard to believe you have already forgotten how we relished in each other, away from any judgemental glare,” he pressed with a deceitful pout. His other hand found its way to her bare shoulder, his touch almost scathing in the crackling air.

“Even when I try to bury those memories, they come back all the stronger, and I tremble every time I feel the ghost of your lips on my body” she admitted earnestly, her eyes bearing a striking vulnerability. “I feel you even when I least wish to do so, but I do not believe you and your proposals and schemes.”

it’s not fair, oh, it’s not fair how much i love you / it’s not fair ‘cause you make me ache, you bastard

Halbrand sighed away a self-satisfied smile, composing himself before speaking up once again. “You would not be betraying any of them - I need you to establish a new order with me, I need you to save your beloved world with me. You would not be betraying anyone, quite the contrary, you would be their savior, and nobody would have any right to pass you any judgment.”

There were a few steady beats of silence, the only moving thing the meek, flickering flame of a single candle on the windowsill, and the light that it cast on all around it. 

“Do you speak of betrayal because you were conditioned to do so, or because you feel that way truly? You speak of your kin, but are they, really? What makes you anymore closely bound to any of them, than it does to me? Had you been so important to each other, you wouldn’t have been treated like some lesser-”

Díorien interrupted his barrage of questions before his voice could adopt an even more venomous tone than it just had.

“And what do you know of true feelings, of truth in any capacity?” She chuckled dryly, hoping to have finally caught him off guard. In that moment, the only perfectly true thing about her was the fact that she was holding onto her morality by a thread, weakening by the second. He knew too well exactly where to hit her, and how, and she was aware that she had entered a battle inevitably to be lost. 

“The way I feel with your hands on me is the only measure of truth I need. You are the very flame of my heart.” 

Whether her senses and sanity were failing, or was there something so genuine and frail in the way he delivered his confession, there was no way to tell. Their eyes met as an abundance of feelings grazed his facial expression. 

and if you asked me to, if you asked me, i would lose it all / like petals in a storm / ‘cause darling, i was born to press my head between your shoulder blades, at night when light is fading

The thread weakened to become next to nothing. Against her better judgment, Díorien reached out a warm hand to remove a stray curl that had fallen over Halbrand’s eyes. He himself was growing uncertain of what exactly he was holding onto. Perhaps it was just her existence, just her closeness, her overt ferocity and her inescapable radiance. He only knew he wanted more of it, all of it, until the end of all the ages of the world. 

“But if your plan for a newly established perfect harmony fails, what then, Halbrand?” Díorien’s tone was stiff yet hushed, but it was all false pretenses; those troubled eyes, unruly hair and towering height had broken through her guard one too many times already. She sat there, defeated, all but vibrating with things left unsaid, and the expectations of things yet to be heard. 

“We would still have one another,” he retorted with a pinch of desperation in his voice, and you would still have thousands… millions, under your merciful hand.” He touched her jawline, brushing over her lower lip with his thumb. “And me, merely a breath away from your lips.” Halbrand’s eyebrow twitched upwards ever so slightly; she would have missed it had she not been so familiar with almost all of his crevices and corners. “You would have tried saving the elves, saving Middle-earth, if that is necessary to still your conscience. But failure of my mission or not - in the end you still come out a winner. We do.” His hand found her trembling fingers, firmly bringing them to his lips, never ceasing to hold her gaze. 

“When you look at me like that,” she whispered, subconsciously leaning into his touch and toward his face, “I find myself failing to draw a single breath,” she finished shakily, mentally cursing herself for falling under his influence time and time again. Although she had aimed to hold her ground, she was walking a thin line between the right choice and the reckless one. But, oh, the reckless one had a smile which made her forget her own name, and the rasp in his voice drowned out even the sweetest elven melodies. She wasn’t walking a line - she was falling over it right into the strong arms of her ravishing, twisted enemy (or at least whom she was raised to believe was one). 

Halbrand offered her a devilish, partially relieved, grin as he pulled her onto his lap in one swift motion, twisted sheets and all; she drew in a sharp breath weaving both of her hands into his unruly hair. Forehead against forehead, they were now painfully aware of both of their strained breathing and the thrill that was palpable in the, until very recently still, air. Díorien eagerly renounced the last bits of her poise as soon as his face was buried in her tender neck, his beard deliciously scratching her skin. However, as soon as she let out a sweet breath of pleasure, Halbrand moved away to look into her face again.

“Is that a yes, my queen?” he whispered, looking up at her through his lashes, his hands firmly dug into her hips. 

“It is anything you want it to be, my king,” her answer was hurried, desperate, starving, merely a millisecond before she collided her lips with his. 

It didn’t take long before Halbrand maneuvered them so that he was hovering over the wide-eyed girl with fire inside her body and heart.  

“I think it is time I make you forget all those wretched little excuses you tried giving me, darling,” he murmured into her skin before hastily blowing out the candle.

oh, how, oh how unreasonable / how unreasonably in love i am with everything you do / i’ll spend my days so close to you / ‘cause if i’m stood here, then i’m stood here / and i’ll stand here / i’ll stand here with you.

♡♡♡

shoutout to my most beloved 💖💖💖 @queenmeriadoc @lady-of-imladris

and @entishramblings i know you're not a ROP girl, but perhaps the writing style will be right up your alley 🥰

[ronearoundblindly]

a kiss out of envy + ari 🤭

As promised, love, I give you...

frat boy!Ari Levinson x reader, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024 (yes, you read that correctly, and no, I don't want to talk about it. 🥲 It's been a rough year lol.)

Summary: You and Ari want each other for all the wrong reasons.

Warnings (regarding both parts of the story) for drinking and partying, language, shitty behavior from...yeah everyone is a bit of a mess in this ngl (it's college), vaguely taboo mutual pining, and not-really cheating/implied cheating (applies to multiple people). This is an angsty weird fluffy sorta romance with an ambiguous ending because no one can communicate to save their f**king lives...BUT HEY! KISSES. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for younger readers on my Light Masterlist, but not here! WC 3.9k

A/N: This is the first half from Reader's perspective.

College is…predictable.

You spent the first weeks of your freshman year faking self-assurance you didn’t actually feel because confidence is sexy—or whatever the saying is,—and if you had to start from scratch, you might as well start from a place you’re proud of.

You made friends. You went out with your roommate. You stayed out late with lots of people you don’t know, and you smiled. Holy shit, did you smile…

The attempt to ‘get out there’ brought constant stress; you wanted to define your social life right off the bat, but good people are hard to find.

You officially decided you were looking in the wrong place for any good people while at the Lawn Party three-quarters of the way through your first semester.

Finally, you’d tried. You pulled out all the stops. You wore the nicer, trendier clothes that you splurged on for events just like this. You put on extra makeup, brought some with you in your little purse to touch it up, and when you smiled in the mirror seconds before running out of the dorm with your roomie, you really were self-assured. You felt sexy.

Though the party was outdoors, you stuck with just the one layer of a light-colored, flowy top, something whimsical and fun, something less useful and more useless, but that’s the idea of fashion, you suppose.

When the breeze caught the fabric, you imagined you were in a movie, one of those scenes where the heroine is about to get noticed by the man of her dreams.

That is exactly the opposite of what happened.

You’d been there all of half an hour, your roommate off to get drinks (after you whined and waited and stalled, hoping to strike up some conversation without partaking in the shared, bad decisions of the swath of 18-22 year olds meandering across a grass field behind the sports complex), when you heard a really loud, shrill laugh behind you and turned.

A red Solo cup crumpled against your boob and beer exploded across your chest, drenching your shirt and dripping grossly down your stomach.

“Wooooah,” the big guy still gripping shredded plastic drawled, eyes glued to your see-through blouse as it clung to your front. “Sorry.”

The girl who laughed with him put her hand up to her mouth. “Oh. My god.” Yet she just laughed more.

That was it. That was the sum total acknowledgment of your destroyed outfit and evaporated dignity.

“Ari,” someone called, startling your assailant to look away with his unresponsive, blown pupils.

You noticed a few drops of beer on his letterman jacket, so, sure, in comparison to your entire front half being soaked, that seemed a fair-and-equal trade for your embarrassment.

Then he was gone, the laughing girl following the asshole, Ari, and his idiot friends as they recapped the football game from…whenever.

You left the party once the waistband of your jeans felt soggy.

You spent longer washing your beer-sponge bra in the dorm sink than you did on the lawn.

Now you know college is a fucking joke. That party became a defining moment in your social life. You realized men—no, boys—like Ari will never care about you as you really are, and finally, you’ve accepted that you don’t want them to.

They don’t deserve to know you.

Sophomore year. Women’s Studies. Of all the fucking classes…

On day one Ari plopped down in the desk next to you.

He plopped because his whole left leg was strapped into a thick brace that kept it straight and jutted out, unable to fit in the tiny seat. He’s so tall his thonged foot tapped at yours beneath your own chair.

In your utter frustration and irritation (since the professor had already started talking), you automatically muttered an apology—to Ari, like some pushover—and moved your legs.

“Not your fault,” the footballer softly chuckled, taking another long moment to settle his crutches on the floor.

Were there no other seats?

You sighed and knew, you just knew down in your bones, that this would be a long damn semester. You also had every faith, however, that this fuck-boy classmate would do just about anything to stay in the course dedicated to his favorite pastime: women.

Though that was an assumption, Ari proved you right, and it sucked.

It took all your innate kindness and compassion not to spit on him. Honestly, the guy is just…dumb. When your eyes wandered every so often, you always found him looking confused, but he wouldn’t ask questions. Several times you caught him sneaking peeks at your notes. You just couldn’t take it.

He fell asleep in one class!

With the course final mere weeks away, the OCD part of your brain kicked in and shoved several sheets of important points you’d written down into his lap before he fully woke up.

His brace was off by then, but Ari still moved slowly.

Again, he looked so confused.

“I expect them back on Wednesday,” you said with a tight jaw, barely restraining the choice names you’d wanted to call him.

You’d been conditioned so heavily to be nice that you smiled at him. A small smile, yeah, but you smiled at the coddled asshole who did not deserve to pass the class. You should have let him fail. You should have let him lean harder on that damn scholarship.

Football held his dead-weight up this long; what’s a few more years?

Nearly the end of your Senior year. Off-campus. You’ve tried.

Socializing is a hit-and-miss game, and you’re learning that sometimes the miss happens slowly, without failed plays, with all the effort you could muster.

“Look, if we’re not doing anything here, then I’m going to the party. You coming? The house is two blocks away.”

Your boyfriend, Billy, stands with his apartment door open and his roommates calling to him from down the hall. He’s frustrated, you know that, but his frustration doesn’t negate the uneasy twist in your gut you get whenever he tries to take things further than making out.

Billy is perfect on paper. He studies hard, has a job already lined up for summer, is driven to achieve…and desperately wants to get laid.

He’s cute, totally adequate in that department, yet still, you can’t force yourself to let him touch you any more than absolutely necessary. You two have excellent conversations, multiple shared interests, and you have no words to describe your lack of…want. It eats you up right along with that twisting aversion to fuck him—because it is specific to him.

You don’t lack for interest in men, even if these are still boys around you. You’re attracted. Kinda. You thought attraction could grow from affection, too, but it hasn’t in months with Billy. It doesn’t make you think he lacks in some way; you feel lacking.

Maybe you lack sympathy. Maybe you lack understanding. Maybe you are just as superficial as those slutty girls you hate, the ones sure to be at this party. Maybe Billy thinks those girls will rub off on you if you’re surrounded.

There’s no one thing, no quantifiable logic; he just doesn’t do it for you. That won’t change.

Your relationship has an expiration date, and you feel it approaching.

Unsurprisingly, you can’t bring yourself to be mean and tell him an outright ‘no.’ It’s rude to say ‘I’m not attracted to you,’ right? You’re a nice person, and it’s not nice to hurt someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.

The heavy pain in your belly grows dense, but still, nothing changes.

The compulsion to be kind and quiet continues as you follow him out, tucking your hands under your arms so Billy won’t try to touch you, but it doesn’t matter. He walks a few feet ahead to keep up with his friends on the walk down the road to the Kappa house.

The two-story, plantation-style home is packed to the gills, making it hard to maneuver past the front door, and of course, the first person you recognize is a brother of the fraternity living there.

Ari Levinson stands halfway up the staircase overlooking the crowd like a king surveying his domain, hair grown long and a beard worthy of his fifth-year undergrad status. He’s wearing a button-up linen shirt as if he just walked in from the beach, perpetually sun-kissed skin glowing, the carefree blue fabric matching his eyes.

Asshole.

He probably showed up to his own damn house, cocked his head, and smirked.

“Y’all having a party?” he probably asked, chill as fuck.

Idiot…probably. You don’t know what happened to him after Women’s Studies, but you can’t imagine he got better. Nothing changes.

His queen-for-the-day leans into his ear, her chest covered only by a red bandana and not much below that hidden by a miniskirt.

What sluts. Both of them. They deserve each other.

He’s so sexy though.

His smile is bright while he doesn’t spill the contents of his red Solo cup on anyone beneath him on the stairs. Seems his drunk coordination has improved at the very least.

“Babe,” you hear yelled close to your ear, “take it!”

Billy shoves one of two cups he’s carrying into your hands and shouts to follow him. He wants to play beer pong in one of back rooms downstairs, a room with no space to stand and watch. There are no chairs, but Billy asks if want to play with him. In no reality would he think you’d answer ‘yes’ in this chaos, but then again, he hasn’t noticed you won’t take a sip of the drink you didn’t see poured either. That’s not even a trusting him problem; for all you someone else made the drinks for Billy, and then you absolutely don’t trust it.

If he can’t manage to notice your reticence, why should Billy care if you’re comfortable?

You yell back that you’re going to find a seat somewhere. Billy gets whisked away for the next partnered game, and relief washes over you.

The only open spot that isn’t a squeeze beside couples going at it in public is a bench underneath the cutout of the staircase. You take a detour to dump your cup in the crowded kitchen’s sink and sit alone for a while, people-watching, wondering vaguely about the king and queen above you on the steps.

Parties…are not all that fun when you don’t feel safe, welcome, or seen. College is predictable this way.

You’re not sure how much time passes before a light blue linen shirt invades your view.

Looking to your right, you don’t see anyone paying attention, and looking to your left you see a sloped wall.

He’s looking directly at you.

“Thirsty?” Ari asks casually, offering the only cup he carries.

You wave it off with a polite ‘no, thank you,’ even though that should be sketchier than your boyfriend getting you a drink.

Ari takes a huge gulp and shuffles his broad body onto the too-short edge of the bench beside you. He seems careful not to touch you or invade your space, the barest graze of a short-sleeve cuff brushing the skin of your upper arm.

Again, Ari tilts the cup toward you. “Jack and Coke,” he shrugs, lifting his eyebrows, “mostly Coke though. I’ve been here a while. You’re basically late.”

You can’t help but blurt, “you live here.”

“That is an astute observation, smartie pants,” he adds with a proud smile. Those, you imagine, might be the biggest words the guy knows.

You also imagine he wouldn’t drug himself with anything,, and worst case, Ari’s already much drunker than you.

You pluck the half-full Solo from his hand, your pinky running the length of his forefinger in the process, knuckles hard beneath callused skin, and take a small sip. He’s right about one thing; you can’t smell or taste any alcohol.

His smile softens. Your pinky tingles even after you return his drink.

“Where’s whats-his-face?” Ari scans the hall. “Probably getting you something better, huh?”

You can’t help but frown and sigh as he takes another swig of soda, pink lips nearly hidden beneath the hair of his beard, but you remember they are quite plump. He only had stubble in class two years ago. You shouldn’t be thinking about what those lips might feel like. Hell, you shouldn’t be sharing a drink with anyone because that’s more intimate than anything you’ve enjoyed doing with Billy recently.

Billy is pushy and inexperienced. Every time he goes to touch you, it reminds you that he’s desperate for it, but…not in a flattering way. It’s difficult to describe.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you throw out loudly, keeping your guess silent. Perhaps hugging the toilet bowl?

Though a simple question, Ari looks somewhere between giddy and chided while contemplating his answer. He’s so dumb, poor thing. “Flying with the pigs,” he settles on.

“What?”

He repeats himself, and then, seeing your confusion, he leans closer to clarify, “she doesn’t exist. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Ow, rough gig bandana girl. That’s a little harsh: being fobbed off mid-party. Although, you aren’t exactly replacing her. Ari is just talking to you. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s sitting beside you, only a little closer than Women’s Studies, sharing a sip of soda. That’s all.

“So, genius—”Ari elbows you gently, taking advantage to stay arm-to-arm this time “—how you been?”

You notice you’ve been shrinking against the wall and straighten as best you can without looking as if you’re pushing your boobs out.

“Fine. Just…busy with school work.”

Internally, you groan, hating to sound so boring and feeding into this idea you are nothing but a bookworm.

Ari swallows the last of his drink, and you watch as his adam’s apple bobs lewdly—at least, it should be considered lewd with how the motion leads your eye down to the matching dark chest hair peeking behind the shirt collar. He scrunches his nose when the bubbles hit the back of his palate.

“Good. You always seemed happy. Bet you’re top of our class.” He emphasizes the year because he should have graduated already. Originally, he was a year ahead, but then he took a red-shirt year while injured. Ari doesn’t appear to mind that’s something else you share.

You bite your lip and wonder if he’s baiting you. If there’s one thing you’ve heard consistently in your whole young adult life, it’s that you ‘look angry’ and could ‘benefit’ from smiling more.

“I’m…somewhere up there, yeah,” you allow.

He points over his other shoulder and shimmies the empty cup in front of him. “You want one? What’s your favorite?”

For the first time all night, what you want has been considered. Not only if you want a drink, but which one do you want. Such a small thing, and yet the twist in your stomach unfurls a little. The drink itself doesn’t matter; the thought does. That, and being comfortable near him.

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ari flashes that megawatt smile of his and says he’ll be back in a jiffy.

The true value of a beautiful idiot is you don’t have to be on edge. Your basic knowledge of any subject (save sports) would read as genius to a guy like him…which is also why it feels so unbelievable Ari’s choosing to hang in this corner with you. He’s friends with everyone. He could get anything from anybody here. It’s nice to be wanted, not needed.

He returns with two cups, one with a couple shots worth of Jack Daniels, the other full of CocaCola. He looks at you for approval, hesitating in case you want just plain soda, and then makes a huge show of his ‘mixing’ skills.

Absolute moron did not consider the carbonation exploding with every pour back and forth.

It’s a horrible mess of foam and splashing liquid. Both his hands are dripping and sticky, but you laugh freely by the end. You never thought you’d see the day Ari Levinson spilling a drink wouldn’t be triggering.

Not even a fleeting image of that ruined blouse crosses your mind while you weakly clinkthe plastic cups together. It’s the epitome of the college experience in your eyes. For once, you aren’t upset by that fact.

You keep smiling, wrinkling your nose at the fizz bursting on the back of your tongue. You can’t help it.

Ari is a happy drunk, and he starts talking, joking with you, tucked away in your own little bubble.

It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak.

He’s self-deprecating about the same, drunken party behavior that you have watched him participate in for years, and yet you dismiss that as nothing, normal even, and unconsciously nudge closer to Ari, your side flush with his as you bend to see the person he’s bad-mouthing now.

He seems to like the irony in that and chuckles as he says someone over there is getting sloppy, lifting his Solo to his mouth with a dainty pinky raised in defiance. He’s a goofball. You haven’t been so relaxed with someone in…months.

Both drinks are finished quickly, and Ari offers to grab more.

The warm buzz humming beneath your skin tells you ‘yes,’ but your higher brain function steadfastly puts a foot down.

“I shouldn’t,” you mutter, sounding undecided.

He shrugs. For whatever reason, you appreciate that Ari isn’t pushing for anything from you, but that’s exactly what makes you want more from him. He stacks the empty cups and mentions walking you home. He could use some fresh air, he says.

“I should find Billy…”

Ari rolls his shoulders and thinks, his eyes follow suit, scraping his peripheral vision for an alternative that never presents. He stands up, arms akimbo, dramatically squinting to ‘think’ harder.

“He was wearing that red ball cap, right?”

“What?” You’ve never seen your boyfriend don a hat once but suddenly remember the pong partner who pulled him over. “No, that’s Leo,” you scream over the noise now that Ari is standing a few paces away. “Billy’s in, like, a neutral t-shirt.”

Ari smirks, scanning. “One beige Billy, coming up!”

Off he darts into the crowd, much faster than you’ve ever seen a drunk man move, and you skitter behind, realizing Ari stops at the kitchen only when you slam into his back.

He throws the empty cups into the trash and turns to the sink, washing his hands with dish soap, drying them on his shirt, leaving darker streaks of blue.

“Okay, not sticky,” Ari beams, “so now we go.”

Easily, naturally, his hand scoops up yours, and Ari leads you deftly through the throng.

He’s holding your hand. It’s damp and rough and cool and warm all at once. And you grasp it. You’re holding his hand back.

Though tall enough to see over most heads, Ari takes a good long while to notice everyone because they keep moving about. 

Pointing with your still-joined hands, you shout to check the beer pong room, but no Billy.

You two amble through the entire lower floor, stopped several times by people greeting Ari, and he introduces you automatically. You hope none of these other drunk frat boys remembers seeing you hold his hand while asking where your damn boyfriend is.

Without fail, each friend asks if you two are together, and to his credit, Ari quickly changes to “have you seen a guy…” and describes Billy.

“Dunno, man. Check upstairs?”

Ari thanks them and glances at you, a look of defeat creasing his forehead.

He drums his free fingers on the banister. He hesitates.

“Wait here?” he offers but drops your hand and doesn’t pause for your reply.

Using a football drill tactic, Ari bolts expertly up the stairs while you get waylaid by some girls holding up a selfie-stick to make a video. They bitch at the angle, ignoring you, and have to reshoot. You can’t get past.

Yelling.

Suddenly, there’s lots of yelling coming from the packed second floor and a door slams. Half the people in the stairway and hall look up.

More crashing and thudding noises ring out.

With everyone frozen, you shove your way through.

“What the fuck,” you hear just as some guy backs away, almost knocking you down. “Who the hell do you think you are, man?”

Your legs take you inside though your heart lodges in your throat.

Ari’s got Billy pinned over a wrecked desk on the other side of the room while the girl with the bandana top stands by a bed, pulling down her mini skirt. She snaps for Ari to mind his own business, and Ari immediately shoots a glare at her over his shoulder, keeping Billy pinned beneath him.

“Beks, for fuck’s sake,” Ari starts, but quickly, the guy who pushed you in the hall cusses her out louder than anyone else.

“Serves you right for getting back with Erin,” Bandana Girl snaps.

“Eat shit, Rebekah. You don’t actually care!”

What…is going on? These people are nuts.

At least four more bodies squeeze through the door, all looking blazing-mad while you get pushed farther into the suffocating room. You’re bewildered and overwhelmed.

Blocker Guy lunges forward and shoves Ari off of Billy.

Your hands are up, claiming space to breathe, but there’s way too much going on. No one—not even you—can hear your voice crying to be let out.

Funny thing is, you aren’t crying for Billy to help you. Only after you yell for Ari does your brain process that your boyfriend’s fly is down, his jeans unbuttoned, too.

A large, rough hand grabs your wrist and yanks you to the door, barreling you both through the crowd to another room down the hall. It’s surreal to see the group descend on the fight like moths to a flame, drawn to watch what horrible thing these students will do next.

Ari man-handles you inside without hitting a light switch. It’s pitch black, but the closed door at your back muffles only a fraction of the commotion.

From the other side, you hear Billy calling your name, but Ari’s soft, panting breath steals your focus as it gusts across your neck.

His lips shift close to your ear.

“Don’t do it, smartie,” he whispers. “Leave him.”

The stale smell of beer wafts forward when you lean farther into that letterman jacket Ari keeps prominently hung. You feel the ribs of the cuffs against your bare arms until, suddenly, it’s the ridges of Ari’s rough fingers ghosting over your skin.

If Billy’s still screaming, you can’t tell. Your heart thunders in your chest as the hot breath rolling over you moves up your neck and over your jaw.

He’s right there.

He’s right there. He’s drunk. He’s stupid. He doesn’t matter. You don’t matter to him. It’ll never work and it doesn’t have to. This could be so simple.

You envy how easy this is for him, always another girl around the corner, in the next room, who will want him, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad about wanting to use him. He’s right there, willingly, single or not, sober or not, and so you grip the soft linen of his shirt collar and tug him straight to you.

It doesn’t matter how sloppy you are, how shy or how forceful you get, because you live like him in this moment.

Ari doesn’t care about anything. Self-assured. Confident. Sexy. Popular. He doesn’t have to care.

Now, neither do you.

[Next Part]

⬅️ Steve Rogers and a kiss where it hurts

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[theroyalyandere]

i love your writing soooo much!! if it's not too much trouble, may i get some headcanons of the yandere emperor & a commoner/fallen noble darling?

I'm answering this request because this just made me feel things 🫢

Warning: this work contains dark content. Mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of harassment, and gambling addiction, yandere, mentions of death, some graphic description of dead bodies, mentions of trauma, kidnapping, physical assault, torture, mentions of blackmailing, assassination

Kindly scroll away if you do not wish to interact with this post or my blog. Remember this is only a work of fiction and shall not be taken seriously!

authors note: This is actually pretty tame because I want darling to fall in love with yan!emperor. I also made this gender neutral for those who have been looking for content like this. I wanna improve in writing smut.

yandere!emperor x commoner/fallen noble!darling 18+ smut

A little bit of background, your family used to be an established noble house but due to some conflict the previous emperor and the court had taken away your family's title.

The noble family you belonged in was a prestigious name throughout the land, the fall of your house surely caused a lot of catastrophe in your life.

One day you're living lavishly being pampered by your servants and family then the next you're stripped of your title as a noble with hundreds of people as witnesses.

Your father was so devastated he drowned himself in agony alcohol. Your mother had begun to partake in gambling. Your siblings had either become criminals or worked at brothels, truly a fall from grace.

Seeing the destruction and misery that had fallen upon your family, you still tried to do your best to live as an upright citizen of the land.

Despite the numerous whispers you hear, the taunts, and sometimes the harassment from those with two eyes following your every move.

A few years later, the previous emperor had passed his crown to his only heir, the Crown Prince Alastair. A man beloved by many with his aid, the empire had flourished through his genius mind.

You on the other hand, had moved away from the capital, away from the judging stares and malicious mouths you encounter. You managed to live your life and survive through hardship further solidifying your will.

You accepted the fate bestowed upon you and live your life in peace.

One day while washing your laundry at the riverbed, Emperor Alastair has stumbled upon you while he was out on a hunting trip with some nobles accompanying him.

You were minding your own business until an arrow was shot on your way ultimately landing on the poor hare in front of you.

You look up and see a dashing man grinning down at you, an amused glint in his eye as he introduces himself.

He thinks he had seen you before but could not pinpoint when and where but for him, Alastair could not believe he had coincidentally found a beautiful person such as you.

He believes that this is destiny, you are the one he will love and worship in his lifetime.

You are equally charmed by his gentlemanly gestures, quickly ensnaring your heart as you were captivated the same way as you did with him.

You converse for a little while until a group of nobles that accompanied him had appeared where one of them had recognized you.

The noble sneered as he started to mention who you were and started to degrade how desperate you are which effectively makes you cower a little.

The noble had mentioned that Alastair is the emperor startling you that you did not know he was the new emperor making you feel even more ashamed.

Little did you know, Alastair had a dark look in his eyes. Disgust and rage running through him as the noble continued to talk down on you.

You were going to be his beloved, the one who will rule by his side until you're all frail and gray.

Alastair stepped between and stares down at the noble, subtly insulting the noble's own lineage making him regret his mistakes.

Alastair then turns to you, his change of demeanor surprised you as he suggests to accompany you. You admit you were charmed by him and agreed.

He stayed at the village you live in, spending most of his time getting to know you completely winning your trust and affections.

At the last day of his hunting trip he had asked you to go back to him to the capital.

Even though you were reluctant and something has been nagging you to not go with him but due to his charms and you believe you were in love you followed him back to the capital.

As the carriage carries you away, you remembered the noble who insulted you on the first meeting with Alastair.

You curiously asked him and Alastair only smiled and replied that the noble had already gone back to the capital a few days early.

He tells you to not worry and only pulls you closer to him.

What you did not know the man who insulted you was already a decomposing body in the woods.

After a few days, you arrived back at the capital making you anxious due to the trauma.

Alastair felt you tensed up and tried to soothe you with his words and strokes on your skin, distracting you from time to time.

Hiding behind him from the stares was proven to be futile, as he is the emperor, it is natural all attention would be on him.

As you two were walking inside the palace, the servants and nobles lingering and passing by kept their eyes on you and they all began to glare and whisper again.

As you enter the throne room, you and Alastair were greeted by the former empress and emperor who immediately locked eyes with you.

Both of you bowed before the dowager empress and the former emperor, their eyes staring holes right through you.

Alastair rises with grace and a smile on his face. Your face falls as he introduces you as his lover. Everyone in the court gasped and the former emperor's face curled into anger.

His booming voice echoed throughout the entire room making you shake in fear.

He suggests that you should go back to where you came from or else you would tarnish the imperial family's great image.

Alastair chose to fight his love for you even though you haven't confessed to each other yet, you believe that you two had a connection.

Tears began to swell in your eyes but you would not want to let anyone see them fall so you ran away from everyone not knowing where your feet will take you.

You find a secluded place where you sit down to process what happened, questioning yourself whether you truly made the right choice to follow the man you love.

A few minutes later, Alastair finds you and embraces you tight against him.

He apologizes for startling you and declares that he truly loves you. From the bottom of his heart Alastair, is deeply in-love with you.

His father may call him obsessed but no one ever knows what he really feels. Anyone who thinks about separating you from him shall be eliminated.

He tells you not to care about what others say and before you say anything he cuts you off with a deep kiss which leads to you being brought to his chambers.

You strip each other out of your clothes feverishly, grabbing each other's flesh.

Alastair devours your lips in a breathless kiss, a string of saliva connecting you two as he parts away.

He looks down at you with lust and devotion evident in his eyes. He tells you that you're beautiful.

His hardened cock twitches against you, making you feel more aroused. The sight of his large cock makes you drool.

The precum oozing at the tip and the veins decorating the sides makes you want to worship him.

So you asked him to lay back and worship him. At first, he refuses to do so but when you start to stroke his cock he relents allowing you to go down on him.

As you start to worship his cock with kisses and licks, Alastair thinks he's going to go insane with how much pleasure he feels from being teased by you.

Eventually you take his tip into your mouth, curiously swirling your tongue around him before taking him inch by inch until you can't.

Your hands wrap around what you can't reach and you do your best to pleasure him. He starts to lose his composure at the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around his cock.

He will surely lose his damn mind seeing you make eye contact with him. He couldn't help but hold onto your head as he nears his peak.

He loves the gagging sounds you produced and although it was sudden, you can't deny you loved how he took control.

Alastair brutally thrusts his hips into your warm mouth until he pulls out to paint your face with cum.

You gasp for air when he releases you, feeling your arousal intensify at the feeling of his cum dripping down your face.

He became hard again and this time he got on top of you. Alastair groans as he tells you how much he has waited to touch you and feel you.

He pushes inside you making you arch in pleasure. He fucks you mercilessly for the whole night surely making the whole empire hear your screams and moans.

The next day a servant came in and was shocked to discover the mess that your little endeavor with him caused.

Since then people knew that both you and the emperor often slept with each other causing chaos and solidifying your title as his lover.

There had been a time where he was supposed to meet another noble to become his empress. You were caught being fucked by him at the garden where the meeting place was supposed to be.

The poor woman had to see you being wrecked by the emperor.

You then earned a reputation as the Emperor's whore, a rather derogatory term which bothered you a little.

Alastair became more insatiable sometimes going at it for several hours at risky places.

He also went against his father and continued to cause ruckus.

The former emperor could not separate you from Alastair, he needed to take drastic measures to make you disappear.

Days later, the palace held a huge ball where you were invited at. You enjoyed your time sticking to Alastair, not giving a fuck about anyone and anything for as long as you're with him, you're alright.

Later, Alastair was called urgently making him grumble for being separated from you.

As you were walking towards a secluded balcony, you were suddenly hit in the head making you black out.

You blink your eyes until your vision clears and in front of you were soldiers looking down at you.

They began to beat you until you coughed blood and your body bloomed with bruises.

You were tortured until the sun rises, with your soul feeling hollow. They kept you in captivity where they would mistreat you badly you could not lift a finger.

A day later, you woke up with screams ringing in your ears. A loud bang came from the exit of the cell you were held in. There stood Alastair wearing an armor covered in blood.

He sees you and feels his heart being crushed into pieces at the state you're in.

Everything becomes a blur when he gently cradles you in his arms and guides you away from the cell.

He takes you back to the palace where he commands everyone to take care of you.

Alastair confronted his father who was behind your assassination.

Without a word, he slays his father where the empress dowager screamed in horror at the gruesome sight. Alastair then slays the older woman.

That day blood bathes the whole palace with the amount of bodies that experienced his wrath.

Everyone who he deems to take you away from him is eliminated.

Terror began to spread while at the same time he loomed over you watching your condition.

You slowly healed but every little mistake made by the servants and healers resulted in death.

One time a servant made a loud noise, which triggered you. The servant was immediately beheaded by Alastair himself.

After a while, he introduces you before the people as his official consort by marrying you, ending any marriage proposal sent to him.

Your family found out you were crowned consort and tried to pester you about it. Alastair deems them unworthy and blackmails them to keep them away from you.

In the end, he got you despite still being a little broken. He vows to nurse you back to your old self to the best of his abilities.

For now, he will hold you in his arms and love you till the day he dies.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Fettuccine’s Guide to Your Ghostly Gamer Boyfriend

BEN can be quite the catch with how sweet and cute he is, especially considering once he’s dating you he’d do anything he can to keep that pretty smile on your face and joy blooming inside of you. Of course, he’s not hard to date, but there are some tips that come with dating him, so here are some things to keep in mind. 

1. Always check your surroundings, especially if he calls out for you. When you’re a ghost, who needs stairs? Always remember to check both ceilings, walls, and floors when you’re walking about, because you never know just where you might see his head peeking out from. 

2. Remember to carry snacks on you. Even the dead like to snack around, so when you find yourself visiting BEN, make sure to have some candy or nice of his favorite snacks on you. Gifting him with snacks always means he’s going to return the favor and gift you snacks too, and it also means you’re gonna have him cuddling up to you, covering you in happy kisses to thank you for doing so. Recommended choices are Doritos (specifically Cool Ranch or Spicy Sweet Chili), Goldfish (he prefers the original Cheddar flavor), Cheez-Its (White Cheddar), Rice Krispies, Fruit Roll-Ups/By the Foot, or just about any candy you can get your hands on. Peanut butter candy scores you bonus points though. Obtaining any of these snacks for him makes him feel extra happy and loved and has him turning into a puddle in your arms.

3. This next one might seem obvious, but be interested in video games. You don’t have to be good at them or play a bunch of them yourself, but having an interest in them in general is essential. He loves playing with you, and he’s happy to teach you some tricks and play at your pace, but he also likes showing off for you. Watch him play a single player he’s really good at and cheer him on and you’ll have him feeling just about as happy as he gets. It makes him feel super loved and appreciated to have you so excited over his interests, and he always returns the favor for partaking in your interests as well. 

4. Send him silly photos of yourself. I’m sure we’ve all had a moment where someone takes a particularly bad photo of us and our knee-jerk reaction is to ask them to delete it, but you should do the opposite with BEN. He loves photography and he loves taking extremely flattering pictures of you and saving them to look at later, but he tries to avoid getting silly ones of you because he doesn’t know if it’ll upset you and quite frankly he’s too anxious to ask. Set him at ease by sending him an especially silly photo of yourself every now and then. It’ll really, really make him giddy and excited, and he’ll always send you an equally goofy photo of himself back so you’re even. Those photos you send him always end up becoming his favorite because you’re being unapologetically yourself in them. 

5. Let him ramble to you. BEN feels anxious with dominating conversations, but there are times when he really wants to rant and rave about things to you. Allowing him to do so and actually listening to him (even occasionally asking questions or making remarks in response) decreases his general anxiety about it and makes him feel much, much more comfortable with you. It allows him to get out his rambles, and it lets him share his interests with you, so it’s a winning situation.

6. Sacrifice your sleep or help reel him in. BEN, as a ghost, does not need to sleep. You, as a human, do need to. He gets so used to never sleeping that sometimes he forgets that you can’t stay up extremely late every single night and that you need to be in bed before the sun comes up. When it gets close to the time you’d actually like to go to bed, start settling down in bed and offering him some cuddles. Cuddles always relax him and put him at peace, so snuggling the fuck out of him is one way to prevent him from getting late-night zoomies and keeping you awake all night. He’ll adapt pretty easily if you keep at it. 

7. Speaking of cuddles, if you’re gonna date BEN you’ve gotta be okay with being super affectionate. This gamer is extremely touch-starved and at most points in the day wants nothing more than to be wrapped up in your arms receiving all your attention. Give him hugs and kisses whenever you see him, even if it’s in passing through the hallway, and make sure to cuddle up with him when you’re both alone. Sit in his lap or let him sit in yours, lay down together, sit side by side with an arm thrown over your shoulders. He’s basically just a needy puppy when it comes down to it and he thrives on your touch.

8. Have a sense of humor and appreciate his memes. BEN shows affection by sending you a bunch of funny memes, TikToks, and YouTube videos he thinks you’ll find really funny. You don’t have to like all of them, but take the time to look at them and send some back to him. He tries to curate it over time so he sends only stuff you’ll enjoy, so if you don’t like a particular variety be sure to tell him. He enjoys the back and forth of sharing things with you so much. 

9. Be prepared to accept the fact that you’ll probably be the chef in your relationship. BEN… Well, to say the least, is not allowed in the kitchen. There are very few things he can actually make, and although he tries his best, he really is not that great at cooking things and if it were up to him he could survive off of cereal. You don’t have to be a five star chef, but it would probably be good for both of you if you could make something other than hot pockets. 

10. The final, and one of the most important, of tips is to… Be yourself. BEN spends a lot of his time with a mask on presenting a facade because he’s too anxious to really open up to people and expose the inner, depressive, and traumatized sides of himself. Having a partner who can be 100% open and honest with him will go a long way in helping him do the same for you. After all, he loves you for who you are, and he doesn’t want you to feel the need to hide things about yourself. If you can be so open and honest with him, he can do the same for you. 

Disclaimer;

BEN would like it to be said that he had no part in making this guide and that the thoughts, opinions, and claims expressed are my own (even if they’re true). He would also like to express that you also have to be comfortable sleeping in his room with his mountains of blankets, so if you cannot handle that, he recommends investing in a high powered fan. He’ll help you purchase it. He’s now also demanding a minimum of thirty minutes of cuddling per day, non-negotiable. That is all.

(That last part is just me trying to be silly please remember that BEN does not exist, is not real, never has been, and never will be. He is a fictional entity.) 

[novlr]

Do you have tips on writing a character who hasn't eaten in a while?

Hunger is more than a mere rumble in the belly; it is a powerful human experience that intertwines emotion with the physical, influencing a character’s actions and shaping their decisions. Whether it is the gnawing emptiness of a missed meal or the desperate ache of long-term deprivation, hunger can be a compelling force in storytelling.

Behaviour

Persistent thoughts of food

Increased irritability or lack of focus

Hoarding behaviours

Overprotective around food

Frequently visit places where food can be obtained

Partake in activities that distract from hunger

Eager to accept food-related invitations or tasks

Unusually willing to consume foods they normally wouldn’t

A gradual decline in energy or enthusiasm

Show obsessive behaviours

Interactions

Easily agitated in social situations

Conversations frequently divert back to topics of food

Bartering or trading items of value for food

Impatient when waiting for food in group settings

Feel shame or embarrassment when their hunger is noticed

Increased generosity when they have food, knowing what it’s like to be without

Reluctance to share food or an obsession with equal portions

Withdraw from social interactions to avoid exposing their hunger

Probe others for information about potential food sources

Relationships could be strained or strengthened through the sharing or withholding of food

Body language

Slumped or listless posture due to low energy

Stomach clutching or other physical manifestations of hunger

Fidgety, restless movements or a loss of coordination

Fixation with watching others eat or staring at food

Slow, lethargic response to stimuli unrelated to food

Exhibit rapid eating behaviours when food is available

Frequently licking lips in anticipation of eating

Increased response to food-related stimuli, like smelling food from afar

Distracted gaze, as if looking for food opportunities

Display physical signs of malnutrition, such as physical weakness, hair loss or sallow skin

Attitude

Pessimistic or short-tempered

Single-mindedness focus that prioritises food

Impolite or a lack of social graces

Increased risk-taking behaviour through desperation

Manipulative

Fluctuating moods

Sense of hopelessness

Heightened sense of gratitude for any food received

A less discerning perspective on what is considered ‘edible’

Reevaluating personal values and priorities

Positive story outcomes

Lead to resourcefulness and problem-solving skills

Strengthening of relationships through shared experiences of scarcity

Hunger may catalyse a character’s personal growth or shift in perspective

Lead to communities coming together to support each other

Characters might discover new talents or skills in their quest to find food

Act as a motivator for a character to overcome obstacles

May lead to intense moments of satisfaction or relief when resolved

Build an appreciation for the simple things in life, including basic sustenance

Show how hunger can become a catalyst for social or political change.

Can be the driving force behind a character’s ultimate success story.

Negative story outcomes

Chronic hunger can lead to physical and mental health decline

May push characters to commit acts they would normally consider immoral

Show the breakdown of social order or relationships

Result in a character’s loss of dignity or self-respect

Can have a debilitating effect on a character’s ability to achieve their goals

Character development might take a dark turn, showing a descent into obsession or madness

Tragic endings, such as starvation or conflict over resources

Expose societal inequities and drive wedges between groups

Illustrate the loss of innocence, as characters are forced to confront harsh realities

An insurmountable barrier, leading to unfulfilled potential or unfinished journeys

Helpful adjectives

Ravenous

Starving

Famished

Hollow-stomached

Craving

Unfulfilled

Pining

Empty

Desperate

Gut-wrenching

Aching

Parched

Gaunt

Gnawing

Consuming emptiness

Insatiable

Malnourished

[hallowpen]

I know you said you're not talking about it anymore but I would like to invoke my special privilege of being your most favorite mutual who has suffered for you creating sh weapon references until visions of runes replaced my very thoughts

What is it that distinguishes general shipping culture from Thai-specific shipping culture? Because you mention Thai shipping culture a lot, and while I know there is a difference I can't seem to put into words what that difference is. I don't know if I'm making any sense, but like, under the umbrella of QL in Thailand, what part of it is culture and what part of it is marketing? Like the presenting of a "ship" as a "product" part.

Listen you... (Only because it's YOU asking... but be aware: You cannot pull this 'fave moot' card for the rest of our tumblr interactions. You had one shot! And you've now used it hehe)

So let's sort of break down the Thai QL marketing strategy, as you've put it: You have the 'production' and then you have the 'fandom/engagement' side of that production.

Production Marketing Branded Pairing - the production companies are going make a QL series and then present you with the leads as an easily 'shippable' pair. In Thailand, we refer to these ships as คู่จิ้น or 'imaginary couples' (จิ้น is pronounced as "jin" like imaGINE... cute no? hehe) These pairs are the product... the draw to attract viewers/fans. It's more common for branded pairs to stay working together once they've developed a comfortable relationship with one another. However, this can lead to some stagnancy within their working relationship and the types of roles they are offered. Companies like GMMtv, in my opinion, go a little overboard in this aspect. The logos and mascots are cute, but they're firmly cementing the fact that these pairs will never star opposite someone else in a BL production once they're established as a brand. It's very limiting for the actors involved and the fans who crave varied content... because at some point it all starts to feel very same. But again, that's just my feeling. It does work very well in some instances. And as long as production companies are gaining revenue, I don't really see that changing anytime soon.

Fanservice - the pairs' job is to sell the product: attract brand deals and increase fan engagement. The best way to do that for QL is to play up the fantasy (at a level that both individuals involved are comfortable with). They're going to pretend and have fun with their fans with a little back-and-forth. At this point in the conversation it's important to note that in the early days of fanservice, and even still, there was a lot of cultural nuance involved in order for businesses and potential viewers to be more accepting of mlm relationships which were heavily featured in the series that were being promoted. There's also discussion about whether or not the proco's allow their pairs any say in the level of fanservice they must perform. For the most part, it seems that they do... but that's not always the case.

Production Engagement Shipping - the viewers and fans are the 'consumers'. They essentially buy the 'product' the companies are selling, with both financial support and through their engagement. Now... in Thailand, as fans of these pairs, we are very aware of what is being sold to us. This is what I refer to as 'Thai shipping culture'. It's part of the 'game', for lack of a better word. We tease and we joke and we partake in the shipping... but at the end of the day, we know it's not real. Our support doesn't have any strings attached and isn't based in contingencies. We support the actors because we like the content they are providing for us. It's as simple as that. It's equal parts unfortunate and heartbreaking that this culture has been lost in newer fandom (from Thailand specifically). But it's important for interfans to understand, as well, that fanservice and shipping are not forms of queerbaiting. No one is trying to trick anybody... it's all very laid out in plain sight. And if you're buying too much into the fantasy, that's a YOU problem.

I don't really know how else to end this, other than to say what I always say, which is:

Please re-evaluate what it means to be a "fan" of someone. You are no more entitled to an artist's time or attention because you paid for it. You did that because you wanted to; you wanted to SUPPORT them. This doesn't give you any right to dictate their life; you cannot claim ownership over them. They are NOT your property. So if you truly "support" them, just let them be themselves...and love them all the more for it! The only thing misplaced anger/hate accomplishes is to create an environment where artists no longer feel comfortable interacting with their fans altogether, out of fear that every little thing they do or say will be misjudged.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x gender neutral!reader

A/N: inspired by this tiktok - I heard y’all wanted some more shrimp reid content?

gif from an unnamed source on google so if it’s yours please let me know and I’ll credit!! ♡

Turn It Right Around

To suggest Spencer was dreading the arrival of the newest member of the team, would be an understatement. He forced himself to wori earlier than the rest of the team, with the sole intention of sitting at his desk, anxiously bouncing his knees beneath the table and staring at the glass doors that would grant him no more than a few seconds to adjust to the sight of the new member of the team before he would be expected to introduce himself. The young genius had determined that getting to work early was far better than risking arriving at a point where the new team member was already there, had already introduced themselves to the rest of the team, and in doing so, made a spectacle of his own introduction. That was a fate worse than death.

With each member of the team that arrived for the day, Spencer’s heart jumped. He was anxious about having to meet someone new, having someone else to explain his weirdness to, someone else to misunderstand how his mind works and someone else to cut his rambles off short when they inevitably got sick of whatever statistic or piece of trivia he had elected to verbalize; those were his biggest concerns, all culminating under the umbrella term of one fear in particular: what if the new member of the team simply didn’t like him?

The rest of the team had settled at their desks and begun to relax, gossiping about who the new arrival could be, what they might be like. Spencer was too anxious to partake in their theorizing, but when he fixed his gaze back on those glass doors, his heart that had previously been jumping periodically, skipped a beat entirely.

You. With a bright smile and kind eyes, immediately greeting everyone with excited introductions, and Spencer scrambled from his desk, his heart having migrated to his throat. Your smile traveled from person to person, encouraging their smiles in return, until your kind eyes landed on Spencer, and he felt his heartbeat in his suddenly clammy palms.

“Hello! It’s lovely to meet you, I’m (Y/N)!” You introduced yourself to him, and he nodded, concluding in a microsecond that your name was the most beautiful he’d ever heard, regardless of the number of other people he’d encountered who may have shared your name. It was yours, then.

“H-Hello, it’s, it’s uh, lovely to meet you, too, I’m Doctor Spencer Reid.” He introduced himself in return, stammering and blushing and wiping his sweating palms on his trousers before he held a hand out for you to shake, much to the shock of the rest of the team, who shared equally wide-eyed glances.

“Spencer. Good name.” You complimented, shaking his hand gently, and Spencer was stunned to detect no malice or sarcasm in your voice at all. Did you like his name, too? He wondered if you could feel his erratic heartbeat as you shook his hand.

“Thanks. Yours is nice, too.” Spencer managed to say back to you, giving you a shy smile.

The rest of the team had given the two of you some space, almost afraid to burst whatever bubble had formed around you and made the resident genius float in such a way.

“Thank you, Spencer.” You answered, blessing him with a soft smile of your own.

Momentary silence was too much for Spencer, and he quickly blurted out the first thing that came to his head. “D-Did you know a Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin study found that by talking with people and processing their social cues, you wake up those parts of your brain which allow for better cognitive function? I-In fact, the study found that with as little as ten minutes of contact and conversation with a new person, brain stimulation led to improved mental cognition. You are basically giving your brain a workout and expanding the ability to learn to accept new ideas and change preconceived notions.” Spencer was speaking quickly, perhaps too quickly, and his face flushed. Despite feeling more confident in his ability to talk to you when he was reciting information he had memorized, that confidence shattered under the - ironically - preconceived notion that you would, like everyone else he encountered, be bored, or worse, disturbed by his sudden outburst of knowledge.

Much to Spencer’s absolute awe, though, the soft smile on your face only widened, and you looked up at him with stars in your eyes.

“That’s so cool, Spencer!” You began to say, and you parted your lips to continue speaking, just as Aaron Hotchner called for everyone to join him at the round table. You glanceed back up at Spencer with that same smile, sending his heart soaring. “If you’ve got any more facts like that, I’d love to hear them, but for now, we’d better get going.”

Spencer nodded. “Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be right there. You go on ahead.” He urged, and you nodded back at him, disappearing up the stairs.

Taking a deep breath in an effort to compose himself, Spencer headed for the coffee machine in the staff kitchen, but on surpassing two steps in that direction, he abruptly turned back on himself and speed walked over his desk. There sat the cup of coffee he had already made, 10 minutes prior. Picking it up, he quickly made his way to the round table to join the rest of the team, mentally scolding himself, until he saw your smile again, waiting for him.

After all, who can blame his eidetic memory for misplacing the information of having already made himself a coffee, in the midst of his heart leaping out of his chest and running towards you?

[takes1]

Hi!!! I saw the Osamu x Reader post and as a Suna girlie it breaks my heart just a lil for Suna (very good stuff for Osamu and Reader tho, that was divine) but I was wondering maybe a slight part 2 for this where Suna gets his own happy ending? I say slight part 2 cuz Suna still has his heartbreak from the Osamu story but ends up with a different reader, perhaps? In my head it was Reader's relative who's much more of his type (relative part for slight drama, iykyk) but I'll leave that up to you!! For NSFW I'll also leave that up to you!! If that's not your cup of tea, you can ignore this ask, thanks a lot!!

hi!! thank you!! i def tried to take this in a slightly diff direction, just bc i was a little confused, but i kept the themes the same and the general prompt true to form! i hope this is alright! thanks for the request!!

warnings. sfw, alcohol consumption

info. angsty / hurt/comfort / timeskip!suna / very sad!suna / heartbreak!suna / previous relationship / suna not getting over breakup / misunderstandings / miscommunication / suna checking you out / happy ending / implied needy!suna / __ words

haikyuu collection. more here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"Old-fashioned. Please," The man beside you was quiet. Raspy, in a young way, but carried an age's worth of reservation in what were so few words.

He was wearing a nice, linen shirt. Orange and yellow danced off of his Harry Winston watch, but it didn't compare to the glint in his eye as he turned to look at your equally classy style.

The name that breezed off of your lips a little too easy.

"Rintarou?"

Other voices from around the rest of the bar fell away. White noise to you- a loud, gray static to him.

His fingers felt ice cold despite not nursing a drink, a decision he regretted not partaking in sooner with the rest of his team, now.

The knot in his throat kept him from responding.

"Wanna start a tap?" The bartender slid his drink towards him. He eyed you when Suna didn't take it right away.

A brief glance between this tense scene was all it took to understand.

He offered his card between two fingers and took the seat next to you without a word.

"This isn't going to work out."

Three years. So many victories, so many trials-- gone. You swore up and down you never felt anything, even after you watched him break down into tears for an hour.

Your passive stare, completely impartial to whether he lived or died, was all the solace he got.

He must've cried for days. He almost didn't show up for graduation.

The twins thought he died.

Suna held an empty stare forward at the glossy counter- fingers circling the mouth of his glass, sometimes twirling it.

Drowning in vat of ice-cold water would be a warmer feeling than this eternal torture.

The memory of you walking out of the gym, holding yourself because you knew what you were doing, and now you had nobody to comfort you for your cruelty.

A shaky sigh fogged the cool glass on his bottom lip before he took a necessary sip.

Something kind, finally.

The heat that crawled down his throat eased your next words enough for him to bare through it.

"What are you doing here?"

Your sad attempt at trying to make conversation set him off.

His nose scrunched with the effort it took to try to pull himself together. Just your voice dragged him so far back into that deep, never ending spiral of insecurity and uncertainty.

His similarly-dressed team taking up space and sound on the other side of the bar was the first thing anyone was bound to notice. After winning a game, they usually went out for drinks- but just like every other time he was dragged along, he found himself not having as much fun as he ought to.

He grew weary of their energy and insistence that he get a girlfriend to cheer him up.

This quiet separation from the pack, his sulky demeanor, and the pain he wore on his brow was evident to even the bartender. He knew you could see it and hated himself for it.

"Celebrating," His voice was so quiet it took you seconds after to completely register it.

Watchful eyes waited for your expression to shift. It made you as uncomfortable as he wanted, but he couldn't keep the fortitude to enjoy it. He opted for his glass in time to watch his ice cube drop, shift in his drink. It looked fuller, now.

He brought the bitter thing up to his lips and handled it astoundingly well.

Your pretty eyelashes looked prettier when you looked away from him. Longer and fuller when you weren't facing him. That flawless makeup, caressed by the soft, warm light of the bar must've taken you hours.

You were different. He tried not to notice.

"How have you been?"

It wasn't an apology. His fingers slipped on the gathered condensation and he hesitated to take another sip so soon.

"Busy," He looked at your glittery shoulder when you faced him again, "You?"

There were a few moments of silence that he didn't notice. His low-lidded study of your little dress was soothing the burn in the back of his throat, a painful mix from needing to cry and the strength of his drink.

Part of him was relieved you hadn't let yourself go. You were a divine gift that any man would be glad to have, and his opinion, should be willing to break himself over.

The dress honored his useless devotion well.

Part of him would never forgive you for not throwing yourself into a pit of despair for your heartless words. His eyes hardened at once, now at the curve of your thighs that stayed crossed under the bar.

"Can you look at me?"

When his eyes shot up to meet yours, it felt like you were staring down a wounded animal.

The full weight of your decision dawned on you and you realized, all at once, that you had been wrong for years.

You hadn't spared him the way you convinced yourself that you had.

Something reminiscent of fear flashed across your face. He left you to think and chugged the rest of his whiskey. His ice clinked in the glass when he set it down and flagged the bartender.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Slipped out, a little too early, as you both watched the glass refill with golden-brown color.

He squinted down and you were grateful it wasn't a look directed straight at you.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," He snapped as soon as your company left.

With more time spent sitting next you, basking in your presence for the first time in so long, and his inhibition slowly fading, he felt himself start to get belligerent.

"I was-," You sighed, trying to control the frustration in your voice because you knew it wouldn't help, "I was trying to give you more options."

It was quiet for a long minute.

The hateful stare he kept on his own hand told you he was not convinced.

"I knew it would be tough on us, with you travelling for the team."

A tough brow softened, just a little. His thumb slid against the rim of the glass, thoughtful, about a better time. When he had something else to look forward to other than practice, or games.

"I didn't wanna put you through that. I didn't want- to make you choose."

His life was empty beyond the court. He couldn't imagine any scenario that would've played out to be worse than this. His face stung when he spared a sideways glance at your pretty face.

"So you chose for me," He rolled his cloudy eyes.

His words were like acid.

You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. You turned from him, angry that he wasn't doing well, guilty that it had to do with something you thought was a good decision.

A big breath through your nose.

"And I'm sorry," You bit the inside of your cheek when he froze, "I really can't express how sorry I am."

The apology wasn't something he could rationalize as anything other than genuine, and heartfelt.

Confusion ran through him, made much worse by his buzz-- his eyes burned and he furiously wiped one eye. He had convinced himself you were secretly an emotionless, terrible person for doing that to him. The fact that you could possibly atone for it made him wildly uncomfortable.

His chair scraped when he pushed himself up to stand and face you. He kept one arm on the bar.

"I wanted to make it work!"

His version of loud was by no means actually loud, but it still startled you.

"And- you didn't," He was already back to a soft mutter, but it was wobbly when he kept talking, "I don't know what else I could've done, to be enough for you."

"You were enough," You instantly argued, "I just-,"

Another frustrated, teary sigh, "I didn't think I was."

It must've been muscle memory. Suna didn't realize he was wiping a tear from your face until his hand was already back down by his side.

He hated seeing you cry so much that it trumped his own lingering, maladaptive thoughts. Especially when you looked so good.

Your small, sad smile at his chivalry eased the weight in his chest.

He felt like he could breathe for the first time in years.

"You were everything to me," You admitted.

He had to take his seat at that. Closer, this time.

masterlist.

requests open.

[cokoweee]

I was thinking about how you said your next animatic/animation would focus on Kendra’s POV, and it does make me wonder…

The comic is told with some perspective of Kendra’s and Donnie’s thoughts, but not all. So I do wonder if there is an internal monologue Kendra is hiding where even she tries to ignore it?

She mentioned how she won’t can’t go home, because of her past crimes and perceived judgment from her family, because she was barely scraping by on her own despite her incredible intelligence and ingenuity.

She has enough care to provide protection for herself (taser) and maintain her appearance, but still put herself at risk with weekly, random sugar daddy dates.

Kendra has to exude confidence or the world would eat her up, but she possibly has a very fragile view of herself. She only partakes occasionally in tech and computers now, whether from therapy or a fear of reverting, so she holds herself back from things that gave her passion.

She first starts kicking Donnie out of his bed, because she possibly saw herself at her lowest and it gutted her to see someone who was her equal in smarts, computing, and cavalier literally rotting away.

She tries using techniques she learned in therapy and is frustrated when they seemingly don’t work.

And even though she gets irate with Donnie’s depression, she still tries to initiate conversation even if snarky. Because Donnie biting back is better than him staring at her with his soulless gaze.

So because of all this Kendra could start feeling this bond with someone she can relate to on the smallest scale.

And now this person is pushing her away.

For now, she thinks it’s from irritation over the lake incident.

When she finds out it’s because she’s not “one of them”, Donnie’s afraid, she might break…or run away… or fall into a deeper depression of her own.

(Why is this always 3 am!?)

Mmm yes 3am asks like this are what keep me munching on this comic ngl

There is a thick bit I don’t write/show to y’all for a couple reasons. Either it’s uninteresting or it’s a difficult-ish thing to write/draw. Emotions are difficult for me but I do the best I can. I’m better at faces rather than words.

You’re pretty spot on with how she is yuh. I’m struggling with words but sumthin sumthin she does the most of what she thinks she deserves. Also despite not wanting to admit it she rlly is kinda attached to everyone around her now. It rlly is gunna suck if they truly decide to leave without her

If there’s more to add someone add cause I forgot how words work😩😩😩

[isa-beenme]

friends to lovers with Azriel? they’re both secretly pining after each other and even flirt but it has never gone past that

Fun fact: I received 3 or 4 of the same request of friends to lovers and now I have to think of different stories for each of them (how much do I hate myself? Here's the answer)

One more prompt babies (getting in trouble), send the request for her so I can finish the bingo or I'll never write again 😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁😁

Also, please comment on the posts, I get super happy and it definitely makes me go back to Google Docs to finish what I'm currently writing

I Think He Knows

It basically started weeks ago when you were researching something you couldn't even remember what it was that Rhysand asked. You were deep into the books, nothing was making sense in your mind and frustration was starting to set in as you struggled to find the answers you sought. Azriel silently slipped into the library and observed you from the shadows, captivated by the sight of you so concentrated and focused on your work. He noticed the frustration building in you, unable to resist, he stepped forward, revealing himself with his usual quiet grace.

-Need some assistance? - His velvet voice reached your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up, your eyes locking with his, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

-Well, I wouldn't mind a second opinion on this research - You replied, trying to maintain your composure despite the sudden warmth spreading through your cheeks.

Azriel moved closer, leaning over your shoulder to examine the texts you had been poring over. The close proximity sent your heart racing, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin.

-You're looking in the wrong section - He said softly, his fingers brushing against yours as he pointed to a nearby shelf.

Your hands touched, and you both felt a jolt of electricity shoot through you. You glanced up, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Azriel's lips quirked into a faint smile, as if he knew the effect he had on you.

-Let me show you - He offered, gesturing for you to follow him.

You walked together through the aisles of books, discussing the research, and exchanging ideas. You found yourself drawn to Azriel's intellect and the way he effortlessly wove his knowledge into the conversation. As you spoke, the flirtatious undertones became more evident. You teased each other playfully, your laughter filling the library like music. It was as if you had known each other for years, despite the fact that this was the first time you had engaged in a real conversation alone.

Usually all your interactions with the Inner Circle had Rhysand's presence. And besides the fact that you considered and was equally considered by all of them as a friend, this was the first time you actually talked alone with Azriel, no need to keep formality or the topic of work getting in the way. The more you flirted, the more you realized how easy it was to be yourself around him. Walls that you had carefully built began to crumble, revealing your true self, vulnerable and unguarded.

The spark of attraction between you was undeniable, and it left both of you surprised and intrigued. It was a dance you hadn't expected to partake in, but neither of you could resist the magnetic pull that drew you closer.

As the night wore on, you reluctantly bid each other farewell, promising to meet again in the library to help each other if necessary. But even as you walked away, your thoughts were consumed by him and only him.

In the days that followed, your flirtatious encounters continued, fueled by a desire you couldn't ignore. Each meeting left you wanting more, and yet you hesitated, unsure of the depths you were diving into. Suddenly you were being invited to family dinners and the Valkyries' training. You weren't sure who exactly you should blame: Rhysand and his necessity of taking you under his wing or Azriel with the need of having you closer to him. Somehow you knew the answer without asking directly.

The Night Court's dinner table was a scene of elegance and camaraderie as the Inner Circle gathered for their nightly meal. Amidst the laughter and casual conversations, Azriel and you found yourselves seated beside each other, eyes locked in a silent promise of something more. Your foot unintentionally brushed against Azriel's calf under the table, sending a thrill through both of you. Azriel's fingers ghosted along the back of your hand, a subtle invitation to continue the game you started playing.

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged bemused glances, sensing the charged atmosphere between their two friends. Feyre tried to hide a knowing smile, while Amren raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. You carefully leaned in, your lips so close to Azriel's ear that your warm breath sent shivers down his spine.

-You're playing a dangerous game - You whispered, your voice laden with mischief.

-Danger happens to be my job, dear - Azriel replied, his voice husky and filled with desire.

As the dinner conversation flowed around you, Azriel and you engaged in a subtle dance of seduction beneath the table. Your fingers intertwined, your touch light but electrifying, as you teased each other with playful caresses. You let your fingers trail along Azriel's forearm, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. Azriel responded in kind, brushing his thumb across the outside of thigh, deliberate circles that left your craving more.

The rest of the Inner Circle exchanged glances, unable to believe what you were witnessing. Cassian leaned over to Rhysand, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

-I think we're witnessing the birth of a mating bond - He teased, causing Rhysand to chuckle. Across the table, Mor was trying her best to suppress a grin, while Amren simply rolled her eyes, unimpressed by your antics.

Nestha, always one to relish in mischief, decided to stir the pot. With a sly grin, she looked at Azriel and you at his side, already planning a way to burst the bubble you settle yourselves in.

-So, Shadowsinger, what's the most daring thing you've ever done? Cassian just told his - Her mate looked at her confused, until he realized her plan and agreed along with the rest of the table. Azriel's eyes twinkled with mischief as he slightly turned his gaze towards you.

-Oh, I think I'd rather show than tell - You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, but you didn't back down.

-And what about you, Rhys? What's the most thrilling thing you've ever experienced that didn't involve your mate? - You turned to Rhysand and asked with a playful glint in your eye. The High Lord only chuckled, sensing the game you were playing.

-Well, it might just be seeing the way Azriel flirts with someone he cares about, it's rather fun, to say the least - He replied, glancing pointedly at his spymaster.

Azriel's lips quirked up in a knowing smile, and he leaned towards you, his voice low and suggestive, as he spoke high enough for everyone at the table to hear.

-Oh, don't worry, my love, I save my best for you - Your heart skipped a beat at his response, but you maintain your composure, turning the tables again. You looked at Cassian, one that looked very amused by the whole interaction.

-Cassian, have you ever been so captivated by someone that you couldn't take your mind off them to the point you simply did and said stupid things all the time? - Cassian grinned, understanding the game and more than willing to play along.

-Well, you see, I have a habit of getting distracted by a certain female warrior with mesmerizing eyes - He replied, winking at Nesta, who rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile.

-And what about you, Az? Have you ever been so captivated by someone that left you breathless? - Azriel met your gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

-Every time I look at you - He answered, his voice soft and sincere. Feyre quickly interrupted the moment to get Nyx who started to cry in his bedroom, cutting out the atmosphere that was building up.

The next day you had to keep working as if nothing changed, even if you and Azriel were becoming more and more shameless at each encounter. The library in the Night Court was always a sanctuary of knowledge, and you found solace amidst the ancient texts and dusty books. The spymaster often changed his plans to find you there, absorbed in the magic of the written word, only to engage in another one of the flirtatious conversations you always lead each other, even if this wasn't exactly the original plan.

In this particular afternoon, you were stretching on your tiptoes, trying to reach a book on the highest shelf. As you strained to grasp it, you felt a familiar presence behind you. A soft, warm breath grazed the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Azriel's velvety voice caressed your ear,

-Need some help? - You turned to find Azriel standing so close that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. Your heart fluttered, but you masked your flustered state with a playful smirk.

-Oh, so you're finally offering to be useful, Shadowsinger? - You teased, your eyes locking with his. A mischievous glint danced in Azriel's eyes as he reached for the book, effortlessly retrieving it from the shelf. Instead of handing it to you, he held it just out of your reach, enjoying the proximity between your bodies.

-I always knew you'd come to appreciate my usefulness - He replied, his voice low and teasing.

You refused to back down, your competitive spirit coming to the surface. You leaned in, closing the distance between you, and attempted to snatch the book from his grasp. But Azriel was too quick, tilting his hand just enough to evade you. Your faces were now mere inches apart, and the tension between you crackled like electricity. With a smoldering look, Azriel brought the book down slightly, just teasingly close to your fingers.

-If you want it, you'll have to work for it - He challenged, his lips quirking into a seductive smile.

Your breath hitched at the playful yet alluring demeanor of the warrior. Determined to match his boldness, you leaned in even closer, allowing your lips to brush against his.

-I don't mind a little challenge - A low growl rumbled in Azriel's throat, and he gave up, handing you the book. But he didn't step back, instead, he closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his body against yours, creating an intoxicating blend of heat and desire.

Your eyes locked once more, and the air around you crackled with tension. Without thinking, Azriel's fingers grazed your cheek, tracing a path along your jawline. Yourheart pounded wildly, the sensation of his touch igniting a fire within you.

-You have no idea what you do to me - Azriel admitted huskily, his voice thick with desire.

-Show me - You whispered, unable to resist the pull you felt towards him any longer.

In that moment, the world around you ceased to exist. The library faded away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a haze of passion and longing. With an intensity you had both kept bottled up for too long, you surrendered to each other's embrace, your lips meeting in a fiery kiss that ignited a love that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Your whispered affections and tender touches among the books unveiled the truth you had both been hiding – that you were more than friends, that your souls had found your match. Your lips couldn't seem to snap away from his, the book long forgotten in the ground as you entangled your hands in his hair and pulled him closer.

-... Are you somewheEAHHH - Gwyn's scream made you separate from Azriel in a flash, her eyes almost popping out of her head as she took in the scene in front of her, all the priestess around stepping closer to understand the commotion - Clotho is asking if you found the book - She pointed behind her, a smile playing in her as the Shadowsinger quickly bid you goodbye and ran away. You threw the book at your friend when she started to laugh - I just want to see how the training is going to be tomorrow.

And honestly? You wanted to know too.

Training sessions in the House of the Wind were usually filled with a lot of matches between the girls and intense training, but today was different. You and Azriel found yourselves paired together as a matter of destiny, the air around you charged with an electric tension that couldn't be ignored. As you sparred, the other Valkyries couldn't help but watch, completely shocked by the intense flirtation that unfolded before them. Gwyneth being the one pinpointing the looks you threw to him.

Your eyes locked with Azriel's as you circled each other, each movement purposeful and tantalizing. He could see the fire burning in your eyes, and it only fueled his desire to provoke you further . With a smirk, he raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge, inviting you to make the first move.

You didn't disappoint. In a swift motion, you lunged, your blades dancing gracefully through the air. Azriel effortlessly parried your strikes, your weapons clashing with a resounding echo. But beneath the fierce combat, there was an undercurrent of something more, a seductive dance of pure desire from the last day. Azriel leaned in close, his breath ghosting over your ear as you defended his attack.

-You are fighting with such passion today, what happened? - He laughed when you pushed him far from you with a kick - It's almost intoxicating - A shiver ran down the reader's spine as you met his gaze, unyielding.

-I'm just getting started - You replied, your voice dripping with provocation - Someone started something and couldn't finish. Let's see if you can end this fight at least.

Your banter continued as you moved in sync, each anticipating the other's moves. The sexual tension between you was palpable, and the other Valkyries couldn't tear their eyes away, their training momentarily forgotten. Azriel's wings unfurled slightly, showcasing his strength and power.

-You know - He suddenly said, his voice deep and alluring, but not low enough to not let your public hear, ever the exhibitionist he was - I could show you a few moves that aren't part of the regular training regimen - Your cheeks flushed when you heard the gasps from the other females, but you didn't back down. Instead, you leaned in even closer, your body inches from his.

-And what kind of moves are those, Shadowsinger? - You purred, your tone daring him to reveal his thoughts.

-The kind that leaves you breathless - He teased, the double entendre not lost on the watching Valkyries when some of them let out small screams of excitement.

- I bet you could teach me something new, anyway - A wicked grin tugged at the corners of your mouth when he growled after your words, trying to strike you down.

The training session continued with a fervor, the intensity between you and Azriel growing with each exchange. Your bodies moved in harmony, pushing each other to new limits. At one point, you managed to disarm Azriel and pin him to the ground, and for a brief moment, you had the upper hand. But Azriel didn't seem bothered by it; instead, he wore an approving smile.

-Impressive - He murmured, his voice dripping with admiration.

Your closeness was almost suffocating, the desire between you reaching a breaking point. The other Valkyries exchanged glances, unsure if they should intervene or let the fiery tension run its course.

As the training session came to an end, you and Azriel stood face to face, breathing heavily from the exertion. The intensity in your eyes was undeniable, and you both knew that this was just the beginning of something. The Valkyries couldn't help but gasp as Azriel leaned in, his lips dangerously close to yours.

-You have no idea of what you've done to me, the hunger you awake - He whispered, his voice dark and alluring.

-If it's any closer to what I'm feeling then you better be prepared to satisfy it, Shadowsinger - With a playful smile, you replied before you stepped away from the training grounds, leaving the other Valkyries in a state of awe and disbelief. Your flirtatious dance had left a remarkable message between you and Azriel, one that you would try to ignore as best as you could, even against your will.

Weeks of tension and flirting had passed between you and Azriel. The subtle glances, teasing words, lingering touches, and sometimes a kiss or other had kept both of your hearts racing. Yet, neither of you dared to take the leap beyond your friendship. One evening, after a gathering at the Town House, you found yourself seeking solace and guidance from Feyre, always the good listener High Lady. She smiled knowingly as you spilled your heart out, admitting your crush on Azriel and detailing the last few weeks of encounters with him, not knowing when to point out the sudden change in your friendship with him.

-You know, I don't think he's disinterested in you. Azriel is just cautious, especially with matters of the heart - Feyre reassured you, caressing your head that was in her lap.

-I mean, he's obviously not disinterested in me. The thing is, does he want a relationship or just this weird kissing friendship we are doing? I think he knows I like him, it's impossible to not know. Even Nyx confirmed, he called me auntie, it's because I'm gonna marry his uncle, right? - She laughed at you, and you playfully smack her arm - I'm being serious. Solve this problem, you are the High Lady, you're supposed to be serious when one of your subjects needs help.

-Do you want a relationship with him, darling? - You stopped to think about her question, the moments you spent with Azriel popping in your head, before and after the mess you created, a smile growing in your face at the memories.

-Yes. Definitely - You whispered, receiving a smile from Feyre as well, her eyes shining with some suspicious glint behind them.

-Then tell him. He might be waiting for your confession too - You quickly nodded, giving her a kiss on the cheek before getting up from your spot.

Feeling a bit more encouraged, you returned to your quarters, unaware that Azriel had overheard the entire conversation from the shadows. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized the depth of your feelings for him, and he knew it was time to act over his own.

Before you could even close the door behind you, Azriel stepped out of the darkness and into your room. Startled, you turned to face him, but before you could speak, he gently closed the door and pinned you against the wood with a mixture of intensity and tenderness. His hazel eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.

-I've known about your feelings - He admitted in a husky whisper - And I've been a fool for not making a move sooner - A shiver ran down your spine as his warm breath caressed your skin.

-Azriel - You managed to say, your heart racing with anticipation. He cupped your face with his hand, his thumb stroking your cheek softly.

-I've been in love with you too, but I was scared. Scared of losing our friendship, scared of hurting you, of making something wrong, of you changing your mind, I don't know - He confessed. You placed your hand over his heart, feeling it race beneath your touch.

-I don't want to lose you either - You could only admit, your voice filled with vulnerability as you couldn't say anything else.

-You won't - Azriel assured you, his voice steady but full of emotion - I promise to cherish and protect what we have, and I'll prove my devotion to you everyday from now on, if you let me - You could only agree under his eyes, your body heating at each word.

With that, he leaned in, closing the distance between you and capturing your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. The world around you melted away once again as you fully surrendered to the feelings you had kept hidden for so long.

Your hands explored each other's bodies gently, reveling in the newfound intimacy between you. Azriel's touch was both passionate and cautious, showing his care for you. As you deepened the kiss, you knew that this moment would mean the world from now on.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey sexy witch!

So I just had my first real sexual experience... And it didn't go exactly how I would've liked. So I'm a cis man who's 23 and never really kissed anyone, and was with someone I did really like and nothing really happened below stairs for me. I am on antiDs and appreciate the stress off expectations may have damaged performance (as may alcohol have as well), and I also know that penetrative sex isn't the be all and end all of relationships - but basically I was wondering if you had any resources or advice to help relax / assist in turgidity in this situation?

Apologies if this isn't the best worded but well I'm not in the most coherent state of mind right now. Yo know how it is.

Yours truly...

A lad in need of advice.

hi lad,

I'm sorry you had to learn the hard way that things rarely go perfectly when it comes to sex. I hope you still had fun!

it sounds like you really encountered a perfect storm of things than can cause erectile dysfunction: antidepressants, alcohol, and stress? in this economy?

the first thing to do is a little scientific research. do you have any difficulty getting and staying hard when it's just you? if everything goes smoothly when you masturbate, we probably don't need to worry too much about addressing the role antidepressants may have played here. if you have noticed any changes in your erections since going on antidepressants, it's worth bringing that up with your doctor and talking about potentially switching prescriptions to something that may come without the unwanted side effect. probably not the most fun conversation you'll ever have, but important! and trust me, any doctor writing prescriptions for antidepressants has had the erectile dysfunction conversation before.

the alcohol thing is easy: let's just try to avoid drinking in future situations where it looks like intimacy might be an option, yeah? or at least partake in moderation.

now, as for that pressure to perform: listen to me. listen. sex can be literally anything. tons of people have great sex without using a penis every day, for all kinds of reasons (no penis, don't like their penis, penis isn't cooperating, just not that into penetration, etc). and YOU can be one of them! I believe in you.

I know for cis men more than anyone the narrative around sex is that the penis is a 100% vital component 100% of the time, but you know better than that. you follow my blog, probably, which means that you know human bodies are a big sweaty mess of holes and erogenous zones and things that are good for touching other things, and all of that can be done in literally any combination you want as long as it feels good. your hands and your mouth are as important as your dick, and that's just the beginning. there are definitely people out there who will be equally of not more excited by other parts of your body.

which isn't to say that you can't or shouldn't use your dick, or that you're wrong for being disappointed about this. it's a bummer when things don't go the way you hoped! but. BUT. you know what takes a LOT of pressure off of Plan A? if you have a perfectly good Plan B lined up and ready to go. maybe even a Plan C. lots of people have a hard time showing up exactly the way they want during sex for a lot of reasons, and it can be devastating if you feel like you're blowing your only chance. knowing that you have other plans that will be just as good, just different, can be a huge relief.

you know what else helps? just telling your partner up front that Plan B might be necessary. (don't phrase it like that if you're having sex with someone who could get pregnant, they won't like that.) (Plan B is emergency contraceptive, for anyone confused by that last parenthetical.) I know this probably sounds even more daunting than talking to your doctor about your boners, but just get it out in the open. "hey, just so you know, I've had issues getting it up in the past. it doesn't mean I don't like you or that I don't want to have sex with you, I do! what do you want to do if that's off the table?"

the answer could be "copious amounts of oral" or it could be "let's snuggle and watch a nature documentaries." they could also be a dick about it, and if someone is a dick about your dick, it's time to leave. either way, you've leaned something useful about this person and can act on that information accordingly!

listen: the odds that this will happen every time you want to be having an erection are very slim, but (cruelly, ironically, etc) if you get too in your head about this and let it trip you up the next time you're in a sexy little situation, it's much more likely that you'll psyche yourself out too much to get hard. the best way to get less stressed about an erection really may be to just not care if you have one. let the unshakeable sexual confidence of someone with a foolproof backup plan fill you.

[see-arcane]

Goncharov (1973): “Why an apple?”

I know Goncharov is drowning in so MANY themes. We have the Running Out of Time theme, the Cycle of Violence and Repression theme, the Can’t Fight Nature theme with all its animal motifs, we even have Ice Pick Joe’s criminally underappreciated arc about Humanity Doing Violence to Anything/Anyone Outside the Mold of the Cycle/What the Majority Says is Natural theme. Themes on themes on themes!

But the one that still keeps needling me in the heart is, of all things, the Fruit theme. Yes, really. 

Sure, right, the whole ‘Forbidden Fruit’ thing is extremely old hat to cinema now, especially within media dealing with gay romances (rather, gay romances that Almost Were and Ended Tragically). But the way it’s played with in Goncharov seems to hit just to the left of the cliché and lets something new grow.

Or, in the case of our various doomed characters, lets it get mowed down.

It starts with the fruit stand. Katya and Sofia, two wives shopping for two husbands. They come to the apples. Sofia, with her serpent bracelet twinkling, stoops to help Katya pick up the fallen fruit that escaped her basket. Is the meeting orchestrated? Accident? Neither woman would ever tell, considering where both stand--where they recognize each other from. The worlds of men and murder they stand so precariously within.

Still. It is so hard to make friends in their worlds. And they are in public. And just for a while, just here, in the sun, they can pretend they are just two women who know each other from somewhere. Just making friends. 

Apples segues to temptation, you know the drill--they even bring it up in conversation! 

...A conversation that the cut to the far end of afternoon reveals has stretched all the way out of the market and into a bistro. Just two women, just two friends, just talking (in public). They bring up Adam and Eve and the Forbidden Fruit and--

Sofia: I never got why it had to be an apple.

Katya: What do you mean? 

Sofia: I mean I don’t get it. Why an apple? 

Katya: I don’t know. Because it’s always been an apple, I guess. It’s easier to pull off in art. All the painters and sculptors and everyone else who makes those kind of calls, they all just got together and decided, ‘An apple looks pretty simple. Nice, smooth, round. Easy enough to draw in a tree.’ And boom, everyone sees nothing but apples in the Tree of Knowledge ever after. So it’s always apples.

Sofia: The dullest possible produce. The Forbidden Fruit is supposed to be something off limits, something special. All the knowledge of the world and of each other and of the realization that these two fools are running around the Garden with their asses bare in front of the Almighty. Apples don’t seem right for that. It’s dull. It’s a thing for pastry and postcards. 

Katya: ...What would you pick instead?

Sofia: Pomegranates. No question.

Katya: Why pomegranates? 

Sofia: It’s the fruit that the God of the Dead uses to trick the Goddess of Spring into staying with him in the Underworld. She tastes the seeds and she’s forced to stay down there for half a year, every year, forever. A fruit so powerful it can trap a goddess seems like the kind of fruit that could banish humanity from Paradise. 

(Cue that Very Telling pause. The unbroken eye contact. Then...)

Sofia: Tastes better than apples too. And it looks like a jewel when you split it open. 

(Of course, when it’s time to order dessert, they split a pomegranate panna cotta. The scene closes with Katya licking her lips.)

Katya: I do like apples. But this? This is amazing. I’d go to Hell for this.*

(*There’s a whole other essay in describing Katya’s bisexuality, her partaking of apples and pomegranates in equal measure, the genuine hurt she feels in knowing that Goncharov cares for her, but not beyond the presentation they put on for his peers. Arm candy with benefits (and constant threat to her life). And it wouldn’t be so bad, she knows, if they were at least still friends like they were at the start--but all of that has gone to Andrey. The friendship, the love, the care; at least as much as Goncharov is capable of beyond his own issues. But I digress.)

We see this whole undercurrent play out through the film, in parallel to the hammered-in fear and resignation that comes with the characters being crushed by the mantra of You Can’t Go On Forever, Can’t Fight the Cycle, Can’t Fight Nature, Can’t Step Outside the Norm/the Nuclear Family (of the Mafia/the Mob Or Else).

Because it doesn’t have to be an apple.

They never had to worry about the time burning away their lives one miserable day at a time, unhappy and cramped with violence and expectations that are a wholly self-perpetuating horror show that humanity inflicts on itself. The characters compare themselves to animals more than once in the film, all unable to fight the inevitable. But as Andrey and Katya point out to their respective paramours, it does not have to be that way. It never did--it doesn’t need to be now. Please. Please.

They can have the Forbidden Fruit and it can be whatever they want! Let it be a pomegranate! Let them glut themselves on it! And, hell, why do they have to buy into everyone else’s rules about what is and isn’t forbidden anyway? They’re none of them living within the law in the first place. Blood’s on everyone’s hands. Can’t they sin a little sweeter? Can’t they admit the sin they want most isn’t a sin at all, no matter what lies to the contrary they’ve swallowed in the caustic hell they’ve found themselves in?

“We can grow our own garden somewhere,” Katya pleads with Sofia, smiling through tears trying so hard not to fall--the first tears she’s allowed herself in years. 

“We can grow our own tobacco,” Andrey tries to joke with Goncharov, not joking at all. He still has that cheap scuffed lighter Goncharov gifted him years ago when they were both nobodies, and he grips it in his visible hand like a talisman.

Of course, we know the endings there. 

Katya lives to leave, without husband or lover or friend, and mourn the fact that her beloved Temptation cannot be tempted in turn. Not with where Sofia stands. Rooted by cold blood as much as fear. This is what she knows. This is her world, her Tree, her Devil she knows, her Underworld to rule as much as any queen can rule there, unhappy but resigned. Go, Eve. Grow your garden alone. 

Andrey pulls the trigger, and feels more pain in that instant than even Goncharov does with the hole in his heart. He walks away, mourning the man who is as much a victim of himself as the bullet; a stubborn Adam who spat out his fruit and insisted upon fighting the Serpent, who dies reliving a memory of two cigars, sharing a flame against a cold night--the light fading, fading, fading...

It never had to be this way. Not for any of them. Not really. But even with the Forbidden Fruits of their choice hanging in reach, free to take and run, it was not eating them that resulted in their respective tragedies. 

The Forbidden Fruit is there to be eaten. To be learned from. To force you to grow and go. To step outside the boundaries made to keep you in. 

But you just can’t make everyone eat.

[banes-favourite]

Something I’ve wondered is, because of all the abuse and potential SA in HoH, and then Gortash seeming to use sex with his political work. How on board was Gortash at first with his relationship with Durge as far as sex went to start? Do you think it was a super passionate thing since they clicked, or more reluctant / potentially triggering for Gortash to start?

I can safely say I have given this a lot of thought tbh., I don't think Gortash would outright hate sex, but I also don't think he'd find much reason to indulge in it; He never did it just for the sake of it, too much in control of his urges to let that happen. He'd been taught that it was a form of currency, to be exchanged for information, power, material goods. That thought also helped him deal with his potential SA better, as he simply viewed it as a way for others to have had gained power over him. In turn, he used sex as a tool to gain power over others, like a never-ending cycle of toxic thinking.

But then Durge came along and broke that cycle in half. Their first time must have been rushed and messy, and once again Gortash had viewed it as merely a way to exert power and control - Except that line of thinking didn't work. Durge was his equal. The idea of gaining the upper hand over him was contradictory to their relationship, especially as they grew closer. Suddenly, they had something more, more than trust, more than a simple alliance. They had care and love and the idea alone terrified him to no end,, but how could he stop? The sweet touches, the light flirting, the easy conversation. It all came as naturally as breathing and partaking in their little secret was as exhilarating as it was joyful.

But then, inevitably, their second time came. It was much different from the first; Durge was no longer a pawn on the board. He was an equal, a partner, and Gortash simply was not prepared to have to face that in bed. Where he had been sure of himself, suddenly he was scared. If he had no end goal for this transaction, what was the point? He was just giving into temptations of the flesh to, what, hand over control of his own body to Durge? Just like that? No, it didn't sit right with him.

He panicked, I think; His breathing picked up, his heartbeat elevated, all in the middle of what should have been a happy joining of their bodies. Just watching Durge interpret that as pleasure made him sick to his stomach and he couldn't help but feel helpless, as helpless as he'd felt when his first time had been forcefully taken from him. And yet, he didn't want to lose Durge. He didn't want to lose the one good thing in his life - So he prevailed. He closed his eyes and he took it, allowing himself to be used, releasing control even as he was mentally in a far away place through most of it. Afterward, anger would most likely cloud his judgment, for allowing himself to be used. He didn't show weakness, he was strong because he powered through it, but it was something close to it. He simply told Durge they were never going to do this again, and while disappointed, the other would simply have to agree.

Promises and actions were very different things though. They more than likely ended up entangled again, making out desperately, yearning overtaking the disgust in his chest. If he was going to go through with this just for the feeling of it, he'd need some reassurance. So, he told Durge that he was only to top from then on and I'm sure his partner would hesitantly oblige.

It would take A Loooot of work to get him comfortable with casual, normal sex. He covers his fear behind kinks and domination but all he really wants is to be taken in a gentle way, with proper care of his needs. Very unlikely to come from a Bhaalspawn so unfortunately I think their canon relationship would forever be tainted 💔 Unless ofc Durge can force him to submit by way of kink and forceful domming, through which I believe Gortash would actually be rather receptive to and able to work with his trauma, not against it.