#people think he's trying to “distance himself” from it now or whatever (which i think is bs btw) but even if he was trying to do that

[ravenkings]

people love to talk about the "normalizing" of this, that, and the other, but it is actually INSANE to me the degree to which we've normalized people being scientologists..........................

[yandere-romanticaa]

I feel like I'm 15 again. Todoroki was my first BNHA love, it's only fair that he gets a little something.

Shoto, who has had his eye on you ever since his UA days. He was enrolled in the hero course while you were in the general course, leading a completely separate life from his own. You had your own interests, hobbies, friends.

It was so beautiful to admire, from a safe distance of course.

Shoto was aware of his popularity amongst the student body due to his powerful quirk and impeccable grades. Whenever he would walk down the hall to class the murmurs of hundreds of students would follow, their beady and curious eyes either glaring daggers of envy or were in absolute awe of him.

Either way, he did not care, not for any single one of them. He was never too keen to call the people around him "extras" in the same way Bakugo did but whenever he would catch sight of you in the hall, every single possible distraction really did become a hassle. His cool mask was always under the dangerous threat of melting at the mere sight of you, it would even triple if you talked to, or if God was feeling merciful, accidentally touch him. His mask of indifference would slip for a brief second, dual eyes widening in shock as he would get a whiff of your perfume and would curse the fact that there were so many people around.

If he could die with his nose buried in your neck, it would be the sweetest way to go.

Shoto would become paranoid of the thought of being discovered. Sometimes, just sometimes when he was feeling just a little bit bolder than usual, he would press himself just ever so closer to you in the cramped hall and would take in every nook and cranny he possibly could. The average student would think nothing of this as he was probably just in a rush to get to class. He would also always apologize politely, Shoto would even try giving you a sweet smile while doing so.

However. The people who knew Shoto were not your average students.

Bakugo was not known for his subtlety and that legacy still lives on. On a Friday evening when the last bell had rung and the classroom was empty, the hotheaded lad trapped Shoto in a corner.

"Just say how you feel dumbass." Bakugo had said, his gruff tone slightly quieter than usual.

At least he had enough grace to not be a complete jackass.

With his eyes closed and lips pressed in a thin line Shoto had shook his head in defiance. Bakugo made the entire situation sound so easy, as if Shoto could just walk up to you and ask to hang out. You were a kind person and would most likely say yes, but Shoto was not so sure if you could handle the sheer intensity of his feelings. This, whatever this was, was all consuming, it left Shoto feeling breathless and restless, for who knows how long. You made him lose focus but you also made him so much stronger at the same time. He would space out in class a bit too often for comfort, which lead to Aizawa scolding him until the tips of his ears turned red.

This was so much more than a simple crush.

Bakugo shrugged his shoulders and exited the classroom. "Whatever you say icy hot. Just don't start crying if things don't go down the way you want them to."

Time passes, you all graduate. Shoto still pines helplessly from a distance but he has gotten just a little bit closer to you. Sometimes you meet up and hang out, he could always feel the tips of his fingers twitching in anticipation, eager to hold you but he kept his distance.

He didn't want to scare you off.

Even more time has passed and Shoto is a professional hero now. He is an honest worker and has built up a strong reputation. Everyone wants to be him or be with him.

But he still wants you.

Even after all these years, he still longs for your touch. He longs to be the only man in your life, the one you come home to.

Shoto watches you from his office window, his eyes glued to you and the person you were so lovingly fondling over. He grits his teeth and clenches his fist so tight that his knuckles turn white as snow.

That should be him down there. He should be the one who gets to hold you, touch you, kiss you.

It should be Shoto Todoroki who you love. Not whoever that extra is. He swiftly turns his gaze away from the window, a sick amusement coming over him. "Extra" really was a fitting term for whoever was down there.

Shoto should have listened to Bakugo all those years ago. He should have listened to him. He may be a cocky loudmouth but he was right and you had slipped right away from him.

Finally, it was time to take matters into his own two hands. He was done longing and lingering in the shadows. He wasn't too keen on manipulating the hero system he swore to protect but damn it all. It had to be done.

Killing your little lover was so easy, it came to him like breathing. The beauty of his quirk that it was so versatile, he could come up with so many creative ways into disposing that pesky thorn in his side. Hot flames and horrid ice marred the flesh of your little lover but Shoto was clever. Oh yes, Shoto was indeed so clever as he made sure to keep the physical torture to the minimum, just in case someone decided to get smart and start suspecting him.

Besides, it was so much more impactful to gloat over his victory. He was the one who was going to take care of you for the rest of your days together.

Not even death could tear you away from him.

Shoto watched the life being snuffed away from the poor sucker as he cried and spat out pools of sweat and blood. There were no heroes here that could help him, not a single soul was in sight.

He was completely in Shoto's mercy. And he was not going to give him a single drop of it.

The pro hero tossed the lifeless body aside and hid it sloppily, because he knew that you would be worried, that people would come looking. He cleaned up the scene of the crime and secured himself an alibi, just to be safe.

Shoto started walking towards his office but the adrenaline of the encounter still pumped in his veins, his mind was all over the place.

And your face was front and center.

Instead of his original plan of waiting it out, Shoto made the hasty decision to just.... Take you. He had waited for years, and years and years. He would be gentle, naturally.

And with time, he was positive that you would come to appreciate him.

And just like that, he was at your front door, ringing the doorbell like crazy. You opened the door in a worried frenzy, dressed in your comfortable pj's which Shoto just adored.

Suddenly, he had pushed you inside of your apartment and closed the door with his foot, freezing it ever so slightly with his quirk. He pinned you to the ground, both of your arms in a single tight grip as the other ever so gently caressed your face. His gaze was wild but focused, so utterly lovesick that there wasn't a single word which could describe the range of emotions he was feeling.

Finally, after all these years Shoto had you where he wanted you. And there was nothing that could change that.

[astxroiid]

harry's girl // any!peter parker -- non powered!au/virgin!peter

and she's loving him with that body, i just know it.

❥ you're dating Harry Osborne, Peter's best friend since kindergarten. And that should be totally fine... except Peter can't stop thinking about you. ((NSFW)) ib: jessie's girl by rick springfield. playlist

wc: 6k - should be more, imo but, whatever, i'm lazy.

navigation

Peter Parker and Harry Osborne had been inseparable since, basically, birth. Well, except for the four years of high school that Harry's dad had sent him away to private school.

Both boys had tried to stay in touch, but with the distance, and honors classes, and clubs it was difficult.

After high school, both Peter and Harry ended up at The Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Elated to see one another, Harry had invited Peter to a beginning of the year party being hosted by one of his friends.

Peter tentatively accepted.

He had walked into this house expecting something not completely unlike the grandeur he found. Marble floors, giant windows, and authentic art adorning the magnificence of the estate.

A home so nice, Peter never believed he'd ever step foot in one. Classical music was flowing from all corners of the manor, bringing Peter out of his daze.

I mean, who plays Mozart at a college party?

Except; this isn't college, it's an institute. And this is no mere party, it was a gathering of some of the richest and smartest twenty-something's in the country to drink expensive booze, or liquor rather, and have sex.

A lot of which was already taking place around him.

Peter found an antique looking loveseat in the corner of the drawing room and slunk into it.

He opened his phone, scrolling through a random social feed and allowing his mind to go numb.

"Parker!" A tall, thin boy emerged through the crowd of bodies, smiling from ear to ear.

"Osborne." Peter smiles back, standing to greet his friend.

"I'm glad you made it! I didn't know if it was your scene or not, but I hope you enjoy it all the same."

Peter nodded, looking to Harry's side and making eye contact with one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen. "Oh. Hello," His voice is small.

"Hi," you smile at the charming boy in front of you.

Peter feels himself internally retreat back, instantly self conscious of what you think of him. Was he weird for being on his phone at a party? Were the clothes he picked out wrong? Did he seem uninteresting?

"Ah, Peter. This is my girl," Harry squeezes you closer to him and you both smile as he gives Peter your name.

Having his fear confirmed, Peter gives a tight smile.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter didn't care much for the party. The drinks were nice, but he'd honestly rather be home.

He found himself outside on the porch, propped on the railing and watching his sigh disappear in the cold night air.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Days turned into weeks of school, studying, reluctantly being drug off to parties, and staring at a wall - trying not to notice you and Harry in the corner, making out.

Every now and then, Peter would watch Harry drag you off to one of the bedrooms, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach.

Most often, though, Peter would hide in the bathroom. He was trying to avoid the sight altogether.

That's where he is now. Sat on the edge of the tub, head rested in his hands as he internally screams at himself.

You can't have a crush on your best friend's girlfriend! That's the biggest rule in bro-code! What the fuck is wrong with me?

Peter rubbed his hands down his face. Sighing. His rumination broken by the sudden slam of a door. Giggling and shuffling.

Peter hadn't given much thought to choosing a bathroom that was connected to a bedroom. Until now.

He cracked the door open and the sight before him made his mouth dry. You were pushing Harry onto the bed, scooting your dress down your body.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Peter quickly, but quietly shut the door. Heart pounding, he slides down the wall.

"God, you're so beautiful," Harry sighed.

Peter pressed a fist to his eye. God I'm an idiot.

It wasn't long before he heard moaning, damn near screaming, and dirty talk he'd rather have never heard from his best friend.

"Such a good girl... just like that... fuck."

Peter would cover his ears but it'd do no good. Instead he covers his face, ignoring the twitch in his pants at every single noise you make. He tries not to think about what's going on behind that door.

But his mind keeps flowing back. To you. To your body, your moans. It's not long before Peter is hard and imagining how good it'd feel to be inside you.

He can hear everything. Every time you cum, which has been many. Every time the position changes. Even every time Harry puts his hand around your throat.

It's everything Peter can do to not touch himself right there in the bathroom. He's gripping at the sides of his pants, trying - desperately - to hold out.

Finally, he can hear Harry finish. All three of you out of breath. A kiss. And what sounds like clothes being put back on.

"I gotta go, baby. The boys are wanting me to do a final round of shots with them."

"I gotta go too, my roommate wants me to bring take-out on my way back."

With that, silence follows for the first time in what felt to Peter like hours.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

When Peter got home he ran a cold shower instantly. Scrubbing his body raw and pushing his mind away from anything to do with you.

Harsh indeed, but necessary.

And as he laid down in bed, he tossed and turned all night. The only dreams and thoughts he had were of you.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter Parker awoke the next morning more erect than the night before. He had his subconscious to thank for that.

This began a series of sleepless nights for Peter. Each night restless, and each morning flustered.

He had opted out of the last three parties Harry had invited him to. All being on a Friday night, Peter lied and said he had a weekend full of studying to do.

"Always the most dedicated student, even in your twenties, I see," Harry had mused this afternoon.

Peter gave an awkward nod of his head and walked away.

Later in the evening, Harry had texted Peter.

I know you said you're busy this weekend, but you should drop by my place for some lunch tomorrow.

Peter flopped his phone beside him on the couch, sighing. He hated what his feelings had made of him. He was avoiding his best friend of years all because of a stupid crush.

He picked his phone back up.

I'm sure I can squeeze in a lunch. It better not be that pizza from last time though.

Peter smiled at the memory of the burnt pizza Harry had attempted to make, turning his head back to the tv.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter walked into Harry's apartment, following the information given to him the night prior about the door being unlocked.

He looked around, admiring Harry's decorations. His friend is nowhere to be found. Peter called out,

"Hey, Harry?"

Silence.

Maybe he's getting changed or something.

Peter makes his way back to what he assumes to be the bedroom. He freezes about a foot away from the door. It's wide open. And he can see the whole room.

To put it gently, you and Harry seemed to be having a great time.

You were on top of him, blanket wrapped around your waist with your bare back showing. Soft moans flowing down the hallway.

Peter couldn't take his eyes away from the indents Harry's fingertips were making in your lower back.

Shit.

Peter's pants tightened. He couldn't look away. The way you were slowly rising and falling onto Harry's lap instantly being etched into Peter's mind.

"Fuck... Harry... m'gonna..." you threw your head back.

He had never heard such an angelic sound in his life. Poor Peter believed he might have a heart attack at the sight before him. All he could do was blink.

The echo of your climax rattled its way through the apartment. And finally, Peter came back to earth.

Fuck. Fuck, what if they see me? God, it's gonna look so weird.

A split-second decision had Peter quietly scurrying to the door. How do I keep ending up in these situations? He stepped out into the hallway, catching his breath. Peter tugged his phone out of his pocket, and messaging his friend.

Hey, I'm here.

In a moment Harry was opening the door, sleep shorts the only clothing on his thin frame. He was smiling.

"Peter! I told you the door would be unlocked."

"Yeah," Peter gave a sheepish smile. "I was just nervous."

You and Peter ended up sitting together at a small table in the kitchen while Harry stayed around the stove, cooking.

"Hope you don't mind her joining us, Peter."

Peter feels a pit in his stomach surrounded by the both of you. Too many conflicting emotions swirling in the room for him.

"No problem," he waves his hand. "Only gives me more of a chance to learn about my best friend's girlfriend."

You giggle and give Harry a look only you two understand. Peter looks confused.

"What? I thought you two were... but you said...?"

"Harry and I aren't exactly dating, Peter."

God, his name sounded like heaven coming off your lips. So much so he almost didn't render what you'd said.

"Oh," was all he could allow out without sounding too excited.

"We just enjoy each other's company," you smile.

"And if one of us finds something more permanent, no one's hurt," Harry shrugs.

"Got it," Peter's heart skipped a beat.

So maybe he had a shot after all.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

After brunch you and Peter ended up on the couch, chatting while Harry cleaned the dishes. He had insisted.

Peter had a question long held in his throat. One making his heart pound, no matter the fact that it was a simple question. It was still a question to you, nonetheless.

"So," Peter rubbed his hands on his jeans. "The thing about you and Harry...." God. It was such a simple question. Why couldn't he get it out?

You looked at him, smiling. His mind went blank. Any question he had was forgot.

"What about it?"

Peter scrambled to finish his question. "Uh, do you like it? Him?"

"Most of the time."

"Most of the time?"

"Yeah, it's just-" you pause yourself, finding the right words. "Because of our... arrangement, Harry only focuses on what he needs. Which, I can't complain too much, I do the same. But-" you twitch your mouth from side to side.

"But, I enjoy caring for my partner. And when my partner does the same."

Peter is taking mental notes. He nods his head, ignoring the ache in his crotch at details you give.

"Yeah, I get that."

"Right? And - I enjoy my time with Harry, but he really isn't the kind of man I prefer in bed."

Peter's heart races.

"What kind of man do you prefer?" He pushes.

"Well, Harry's very assertive. And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive," Peter please get the hint. You pray.

"Oh." Peter, being as inexperienced as he could possibly be, was confused. He made a mental note to figure out what you were talking about.

You had known the moment you'd met Peter that he was the exact kind of man you needed. Sweet disposition seeping into every facet of him. He was everything you'd been craving for months, if not your whole life, really.

You study Peter, seeing him squirm slightly under your gaze. You scoot closer, pressing your thigh to his. Peter feels a tingle down his back at the warmth you spread to him.

You prop a hand on the back of the couch, toying with the hair at the nape of Peter's neck. He stiffens, then relaxes into your touch. "What do you think, Peter?"

He snaps from his daze. "Uh... about what?"

"Y'know... what would you prefer, with whoever you're with." God, I hope this isn't too forward.

"Oh," he's quiet. Too quiet. You wait with bated breath. "Well, I uh, actually don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? A man's gotta know what he likes!" You smile, moving your fingers along his scalp momentarily.

"I, well," Fuck, Peter, just spit it out. But really how is he supposed to tell the woman of his dreams, best friend's girl, the most amazing person he's ever met; that he's never done anything more than kiss a woman? And it wasn't more than a peck at that.

You wait, staring at him with wide eyes. You hope he feels the same as you. About a lot of things, really. But especially this.

"I wouldn't really know. Because," he takes a breath, eyes anywhere but you. "I've never really done anything to be able to learn what I like."

You smile. Not a malicious nor mocking smile, but a genuine, heartfelt, earnest smile. "Peter," it almost sounds chastising. "You don't need to do anything with anyone else to know. You just need to know what turns you on the most."

"Hm?" Peter's lips are pressed tight as he moves his honeyed-brown eyes back to yours.

"What can you think about, or watch, that gets you off the quickest?" You let your nails lightly drag across the back of Peter's neck, watching as he shivers from your touch.

He shifts uncomfortably, feeling your eyes on him. How the hell did he get himself in this situation? Beginnings of a hard-on in his pants, your fingers dancing on his skin, and mind a mess of any thoughts other than the one he needs to be having.

Peter never really watches porn. He's heard of it, of course. He's seen the memes about the websites, screenshots of funny faces - but when he's alone with himself, he usually just closes his eyes and waits for it to be over. How does he tell a woman like you that? Without sounding like the weirdest person ever?

"I, uh... don't know..."

You huff a laugh through your nose. "Well if you ever figure it out, I'm curious to know what gets a cute boy like you off," you smile and stand, ruffing Peter's hair as you walk towards the kitchen.

'She called me cute. She wants to know what gets me off. Maybe I have way more of a shot than I thought.'

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Later that night, Peter rested against the headboard of his bed. He stared at the search bar on his phone, a familiar orange and black logo in the top corner.

Peter wracked his brain, trying to figure out what to look up to understand what you meant.

And I really like a man to let me do the work. Someone more submissive.

Peter sighs, typing 'submissive man' and holding his breath as he hits enter.

The videos the boy is left to find stir something deep in his stomach. The leashes, the ropes, the positions, the words.

It's not long before Peter's hand makes its way into his pants. He's pumping himself breathlessly, struggling to keep his phone steady. He's imagining you. You doing exactly to him what they're doing in the videos.

God, it's perverse. It's depraved and even a little bit carnal. It doesn't take long for beads of white ejaculate to roll onto Peter's hand. He trembles and whines.

Shame washes over Peter like a hot wave upon the sand. Fuck. He's so stupid. So gross. Thinking of his best friend's girlfriend like this. Peter drops his phone beside him, rubbing his face with his undefiled hand

Technically they aren't really 'together'. Says the sanguine voice in the depths of Peter's mind. But wouldn't it still be weird? Obviously not to Peter if this is how he thinks of you in his spare time.

Regarding his thoughts of you; his mind dances back to before, imagining how your lips would feel on his neck, hand around his cock, whispering sweet praises and he begs you to let him cum. He's definitely hard again.

"Fuck," he whines. Peter's hand returns to his cock, throbbing in his fist. He bites down on his shirt collar to keep from whimpering too loud and begins to fuck into his hand again. This time more forceful than the last. He's squirming under your imagined touch, shaking as his mind races to fantasize about you holding him down, having your way with him.

And there he goes again, bursting at the seams with his desire for his best friend's girl.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter finds himself over at Harry's place more frequently than before. The lie he tells is that he hates being home. Not a complete lie, but not a complete truth either. The thought at the forefront of Peter's mind: how can I spend more time around her?

And it works. You and Harry believe him, though anything that keeps Peter around you won't look into too much. Harry makes or orders food, he stops asking Peter out to parties - inferring his best friend's aversion for them.

Sometimes, late at night, you and Harry talk about him.

"So what do you think of Peter?" He'll ask.

Your hand dances on Harry's chest, swirling circles and stars. "I think he's cute," you'll admit. "He's very sweet, and shy. It's endearing."

Harry will nod his head along. "I think he likes you," said nonchalant because it is. Harry always is. "Have you noticed?"

"Do you think so?" Risking sounding too eager is an irrelevance.

"Sweetheart, if you could see the way he looks at you, you wouldn't be questioning me right now."

You smile to yourself before pausing. "Would that be weird for you? Seeing your best friend with someone you've fucked?"

He smiles down at you. "If they looked at each other the way you two do, not at all. I'd wish them the best."

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Somehow, you ended up with Peter's number. Somehow, you ended up texting him all night, every night. And somehow, neither of you minded.

Endless conversations about mindless nothings. Just getting to know each other. There were plenty of times where Peter would worry about Harry. He'd reassure himself that his best friend said he wouldn't care and either way, there was nothing going on between the two of you.

And then, you'd send a goodnight text with a kiss beside it. Or a good morning text with a pet name in it. And Peter's heart would flutter.

You often discussed school and home lives. That's how Peter found out that you attends MIT as well, and that you live in an apartment with a roommate who chews too loud but is otherwise fine. And, more importantly, how he found out that you don't spend as much time with Harry as Peter's past predicaments would make it seem.

This is how you find out Peter lives alone in a tiny apartment near the university, that he has a tendency to stress himself to death, and that he's more lonely than he seems.

Leading you to the text you'll send today.

I've heard rumors of an amazing coffee shop near your place. Wanna come with?

Sent at the perfect time for him to have just gotten home from his last class. You knew he needed a break, he was working himself too hard on one class alone.

Absolutely! Meet you there?

Peter's chest tingled and he responded. A date? No. But almost.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter made it to Mug & Meadow about four minutes before you, waiting by the door.

When you arrived, he held the door for you. Ever the gentleman.

A wave of warm air washes over you. The scent of espresso mingling with burnt vanilla. You step onto the dark wood floor, taking in your surroundings while Peter lets the door swing closed.

Dark, chocolate colored walls matching the wooden floors, except, around the counter has a black and white, diamond-tiled design. Arched windows across the front of the store. Warm lighting pieces scattered about the ceiling.

Light jazz dancing through hidden speakers, soft chatter melding with the beats. Wow. You smile and turn back to Peter, seeing him taking in the surroundings as well. He looks to you, smiling back.

After ordering, Peter tells you to find a seat while he waits on the drinks. You choose a two seated table off to the side. A window to one side and the rest of the store to the other. A nearby bookshelf calls your name.

Peter finds you with your nose off in a leather-bound collection of Robert Frost works. "This place is nice," he sets the cups down on the provided coasters.

You place the book down on the hardwood table, old wax sticking to your fingers ever-so-slightly.

"Yeah," you give your breathless response. "I love it."

"Already? But you just met it," Peter jokes.

"When you know, you know," you sip from your steaming cup. "Who says I don't believe in love at first sight?" You give Peter a knowing look.

He falters. "Uh, well, I was talking to the barista and he said this place is also a library. Which is super cool," He's redirecting.

"Really? That's awesome."

"Yeah, it's something to do with the fact that the owner is like a simi-famous author with the last name Meadow, hence the name," Peter waves a hand up, referring to the shop.

"We definitely have to come back here forever," You take another sip of your drink.

Already booking our next almost-date.

⡠﹞⚘﹝⠢

Peter's stomach swirled, heart beating fast. He was pacing around his living room. A small space, albeit well decorated thanks to May's input and Christmas presents from last year.

"When you have girls over, you'll thank me for helping," And here he is now, mentally thanking her.

You'd asked Peter when the three of you were hanging out at Harry's place last weekend if you could come over. Just you. No Harry this time. A simple question. 'I just wanna hang out with you," it was all you'd given as a reason and it was more than Peter needed to say yes to you.

He's started to say yes before you even explained, not needing a reason more than just seeing you. But the nerves from being alone with you had started to get to him.

Maybe I should've said no. What if she thinks im weird? Especially without the cover of Harry's coolness, Peter felt almost naked. He checked his phone as it chimed.

Google maps says I'm a block away!

Peter nearly chokes on his tongue. Shit, shit, fuck. Okay, how does everything look? There's no messes, no gross smells? Oh, god, how do I look? He ran back to the mirror in his bedroom, double checking his whole outfit.

A simple look. Jeans, sneakers, and a black hoodie layered with a red flannel over it to combat the mid-fall/early winter Massachusetts weather.

Peter brushed his dark curls into place with his fingers, tucking any loose hairs away. He cups a hand over his mouth, letting out hot breath. He brushed his not even five minutes ago, but let his anxiety get the better of him.

A knock on the door and the ding of his phone send his mind flying. Peter takes a deep breath and checks his phone as he walks to the door.

37D right? If so, I'm here!

He slips the phone into the pocket of his jeans and calms himself, reaching for the door handle. "Hey," he smiles wide, happy to see you despite his nerves.

"Hello," you smile back, nearly losing yourself in his warmth. Late November on a cloudy day indoors, and you feel you might get a sunburn. "I brought the takeout we talked about!" You shake the bag excitedly.

"Did you get the egg rolls? It's the only way I can grant you admittance into my abode, I fear."

"I have, although I'm sure you wouldn't leave a fair maiden out in the cold, would you?" You laugh.

"Never one so pretty," Peter steps to the side, guiding you into his apartment. He shuts the door behind you, offering to take your coat, hanging it on the rack beside his door.

"So what movies did you pick? Only the best I'm sure."

"What makes you say that? I could have a real shit taste in movies you know. What if I only watched the Shrek movies?"

"Oh no!" You giggle. "I gotta go."

So far, Peter feels like he's doing great. He's got you to laugh twice and the smile on your face has yet to falter.

You set the takeout on the coffee table and Peter helps you set everything up, begging you to let him do it because you're the guest. You insist on your help.

Within minutes; your laying with your legs over Peter's lap, throw blanket over your legs, plates of food in hand and the movie's starting.

"Can I know what movie this is?"

"Shh, it's starting," Peter squeezes your leg, spreading warmth throughout your body. "And no, it's a secret."

For the duration of the movie you find yourself scooting closer and closer to Peter. Eventually, both your hearts are pounding in your throats as Peter wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his side. You wrap your arm around Peter's waist.

He's trying not to breathe too quickly. Efforts fail when you bury your face in his neck, hot breath fanning across his skin. He stiffens slightly. You notice.

You glide your hand from where it rests around his waist to his thigh, rubbing lightly. Peter is trying his best to focus on the movie and definitely not the growing ache in his pants.

You nuzzle your nose below his jaw, purposely breathing against his neck again. Peter lets out a sigh, not a negative one, more so a breath he'd been keeping in. Perhaps for as long as he's known you.

Peter finds himself stretching his hips forward. More subconsciously than anything. You take the chance, heart in your throat, and slide your hand over Peter's crotch.

God, is this actually happening? Peter's mind is trying to find any way he could be misreading this. Oh, shit. You press your palm into Peter's lap.

He looks down at you, a new emotion in his eyes. You share the same look in yours. A beat of a moment passes and you're sending Peter's head reeling and you slowly move closer. Sharing breath and keeping his eyes locked with yours all the way up until you close your eyes and press your lips against his.

With a body full of confidence and a mind full of you, Peter kisses back. It's sweet and gentle like him, yet as needy and passionate as you. He hums and you melt at the sound.

You feel his bulge grow under your hand and you keep your movements soft. Earning whines from him kissed into your mouth. You hold his crotch tight and rub your thumb up and down. Peter huffs into you and pushes his hips against your hand. He's never experienced as much pleasure in his life as he has right now and yet, he finds himself nearly begging for more.

You oblige to his unspoken request and straddle his hips. The broken kiss causing a fleeting warmth between you. "And this is okay?" Your words are sincere and nearly concerned.

"Nothing has ever been more okay than this," Peter puts a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you to kiss him. You both smile.

You press your hips into him, earning the cutest whimper you've ever heard in your life. You grind yourself into Peter's growing bulge and he rests his head against the back of the couch, moaning loud.

The boy in front of you looks like a dream. Face flushed, dark ochre curls a mess, lips parted as his head lay back. You use the opening to kiss at his throat, leaving marks you know won't fade anytime soon.

With each rock of your hips Peter moans louder. Having never had a man as vocal as him, you drink up all he'll offer. You have that pretty bulge of his trapped right against your hips, exactly as you want him.

Your movements are getting faster, as are Peter's moans. Whimpers only increasing your need for him.

Peter can hardly stand it. He's gripping your hips about as tight as he can, trying to hold himself back but fuck the pressure feels so good, and you look so hot right now. Your kisses are sending chills down his spine.

He pulls you to kiss him on the mouth, needy and fervent. Your mouths move in unison, an unspoken rhythm known only to the two of you.

You grab his hair and pull his head back. "Fuck," he chokes, looking down at where your grinding against him.

You feel his cock twitch inside his pants, begging to be touched, pleading to be sucked off. You switch your pace to an even tempo with hard pushes and watch as Peter's eyes darken under you.

Peter grabs your hips tighter, and goes still. He lets out a low whine. You feel his hips jolt beneath you and you pause. His face is flushed a deep rose all the way to his neck.

You stare in disbelief. Peter hides his face in your neck, holding your body close. You look beneath you, seeing a dark spot form in Peter's jeans.

"Aw, baby," you pull his face from your neck, looking him in the eyes. "Don't be embarrassed, that's so fucking hot."

It's Peter's turn to hold the look of disbelief. "Really?" Every ounce of shame draining from his body by the look on your face alone.

"Absolutely. I've never made a man cum from so little before."

Peter's sigh of relief doesn't go unnoticed. You smile and kiss his cheek, loving and kind, same as him. You quickly kiss down his neck, making way towards his pants. You slide onto your knees on the floor between Peter's legs.

He's breathing fast again. Fingers restlessly fidgeting beside him. He's not sure he believes what's happening is real. There's no way you're between his knees right now, looking at him like that.

Peter holds a breath as your fingers move to the button on his pants. His zipper deafening in the surrounding silence. You press a kiss to the wet spot in Peter's boxers, looking him directly in the eyes as you do. You feel him twitch against your lips.

There's no way...

You gently pull him out of his underwear, shock evident in your eyes when you see he's hard again, cock covered in his own cum. Peter twitches at the contact, more sensitive than ever.

"Fuck, Pete... that's so hot."

Never in his life. Never did Peter believe he'd ever experience anything like this. To be honest, he'd convinced himself he'd die a virgin. Sad, true, but a reality to him all the same.

You slowly, teasingly, stroke Peter's length and watch as his hips shake. "F-f-fuck..." You run your thumb over the tip of his cock, biting your lip with anticipation.

You can't help yourself, can't stand it any longer. You wrap your mouth around the head of Peter's dick, the taste of his cum has you rolling your eyes back into your head. Peter whines and you take him in, all you can fit.

His strangled moans fill the room as you work him up. Peter can hardly breathe, swapping between looking at the ceiling and you.

The noises from you are lewd. That alone would have Peter finishing faster than ever if not for his sheer determination to experience this pleasure for as long as he can. That said, he's still not going to last long. You can tell.

You pull off of him with a pop, watching the mixture of cum and saliva flow down his shaft.

"Fuck, that was-- you're amazing," Peter's dopey smile stretches his cheeks.

"Just wait until you're inside me, Peter."

Peter chokes at the implication. His dick twitches on his lap. An aching boner growing once more.

He watches as You begin to undress yourself, slowly, in front of him. Taunting his erection with each piece of exposed skin. Your shirt is the first to go, immediately exposing your hardened nipples.

Peter's struggling to keep himself together.

You slip your jeans down your legs, giving Peter a show with each fabric gone.

Instinctually, Peter wraps a large hand around his aching, sensitive cock. He slowly pumps himself.

You grab his wrist, grip firm. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" You're completely naked, eyes stern as they look into Peter's.

"No..."

You raise an eyebrow, silently asking.

"No, ma'am," Peter is so unbelievably turned on right now.

"Good boy," you smile, releasing his wrist and kissing his cheek.

God.

You step close to Peter, grabbing his hand. "Feel how wet I am for you," Peter feels he might faint before even touching you. He presses a finger between your folds. Fuck, you're soaked. "That's what you do to me."

He looks up at you, pleading. He nearly whispers your name. "I need you."

Those words are all you need to plant your legs on either side of his hips. You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around Peter's length. He moans. You glide his tip along your slit, soaking him in your arousal.

Peter violently grabs the arm of the couch, white-knuckling the fabric. You slide his cock inside you and you lower your hips. Moaning loud at the sensation of him filling you up. Peter's panting, staring between the two of you in disbelief.

No way this is actually happening right now. Fuck, she's so tight. So warm, so amazing...

You slowly begin to bounce on Peter's lap, loving the way his eyes and head roll back. "Fuck, Pete."

You place your hands on his shoulders, picking up a pace near intense. Your lips find his in a heated embrace. Moans slipping from both your mouths like a symphony of pleasure.

Your body squeezes around Peter's cock and he's brought to the edge all too quickly. You wrap a hand around his throat, squeezing the pulse points. He grabs your hips so tight you're sure you'll have marks left. You don't mind at all.

"God, you're so good. So, fucking, good. Please... don't stop," he's panting, out of breath and dizzy from pleasure. Peter never believed this would be his first time. Not with you. Not like this. Not this amazing. It's the most euphoric sensation he's ever felt in his whole life.

"I want you to cum inside me, Pete, please," your voice is pleading, needy.

"But--"

"--I'm on the pill. Peter. Please. Cum inside me."

Never needing to be told more than twice; Peter pulls your hips down against his own, holding you hard against him. He cums deep inside you, shaky whine echoing throughout the apartment.

He rests his head against your chest, huffing. You tangle your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. He kisses between your breasts, slowly moving to your neck. "Fuck, you're amazing," Peter pants between kisses to your hot skin.

You hum, kissing the top of his head. "I take it you enjoyed your first time?"

Peter's head snaps back up to you. "How did you--"

"--Peter..." Please don't make me tell you how obvious it is. He turns red, hiding his face in your neck.

"God, that's so embarrassing."

"Not at all, it's actually really hot."

"Really?" His eyes shine beneath you.

"I've always wanted to be someone's first. And the fact that it was you, Peter...."

Peter kisses at your chest again, moving to leave matching marks to his own on your neck. You let out a small, yet heavenly, moan. When he feels the way your body squeezes around his, he whines and presses an embarrassed face into your neck. His arms wrapping tightly around you.

You feel him harden inside you, gasping. "Peter."

This is going to be an amazingly long night.

i will most definitely be reusing that coffee shop description in future fics - i love it!

very proud of this one - please remember likes are appreciated but comments and reblogs mean the most <3

[codacheetah]

Tell me your opinions on the stuff. Any stuff.

Grins. Smiles, even

I'm using you as an excuse to infodump my theory about the Island because I've had no in to do that, and my theory is pure opinion. Anyways:

THE ISLAND IS STUCK IN THE FUCKING FUTURE

(SCARE CHORD)

Hi so you might ask me. What the fuck do you mean by that. Well. Let's start with what we know about the Island, the King, and Wish Craft. (long ass post under cut. sorry)

The Island was redacted from the perception of outside world, via Wish Craft.

Wish Craft has the power to enable Time Craft. We see this primarily through Siffrin's timeloops, but also through the King's powers.

One of the King's powers is to show the saviors a "vision of the future."

...And this same attack is deflected back at the King by Mirabelle in ACT 5, in which the King is able to see the Island before being frozen in time.

...So. The King's "vision of the future." We're never told explicitly what this vision is. All we know is that it's apparently powerful enough to wipe the party in one hit, hearing it from a distance hurts your head, and that whatever Siffrin (and Loop) saw, they don't seem to actually be able to describe it. Even the King himself doesn't know what his vision entails.

We don't know whether the party all sees the same thing when struck by the vision, and Adrienne's answer to the question about it in the Reddit AMA is. vague? It's not a "no," and the specific wording makes me think the answer might be yes. But that's me reading into it.

Now. What do we know about the Island's redaction? The Island was affected by the wish recently, as in "like a decade ago" recently. We know that nobody in Vaugarde or the rest of the world is capable of thinking about the Island, anything closely tied to the Island's culture, or people on the Island for very long. When they do recall these things, they slip right out of reach. Particularly, the consequence for trying to think about the Island (or, more specifically, break the wish that forces the Island out of perception) is significant pain, localized in the head.

And that said pain is enough to become lethal, if pressed hard enough.

From here forward I'm running with the assumption that the King's "vision of the future" is not personalized to any individual, and is unchanging throughout the course of the whole story. Now. Remember the end of ACT 5, where the King gets hit with the deflected "vision of the future", and instead of dying, he recalls the Island and gets frozen in time? Very odd, yeah? Why wouldn't the King just die like everyone else does? He even does take 9999 damage when trying to say its name, like Siffrin does, and like the party does when they're hit by the attack.

Well. We know that he has a "true wish" that the ability to freeze Vaugarde in time grants. I don't think it's at all a stretch to guess that the King's "true wish" is to be able to remember the Island. My personal guess is that the King (and Siffrin) brought this "true wish" into effect via the "SAY ITS NAME" sequence- he even tries three times, a significant number in wishing.

The King (and Siffrin's) wish breaks, because it can't be fulfilled in this moment without breaking the wish to prevent the Island from being thought about. However. Consider the conditions at the end of ACT 5- the King sees the vision of the future reflected back to him, and what he sees is the Island. He remembers the Island, fulfilling his own wish, and is frozen in time. I consider this a compromise between his wish and the one binding the Island- the King gets to remember the Island, but nobody alive is able to think about it, because he's frozen in time; it's like the Universe is correcting itself (I WILL GET BACK TO THIS). The wish of all of Vaugarde to defeat the King is fulfilled, since he is no longer a threat, and Siffrin's wish wraps itself up soon after.

MY POINT BEING. The King's attack is a vision of the future. This "future" is of the Island, in some uncorrupted state. The saviors see it when he attacks them, and he sees it when it is deflected back to him.

The logical next question is "okay, so the Island exists in the future, but how do you know time shenanigans are even related to the Island?"

Recall a very odd series of interactions throughout the game, in which you try to interact with a piece of equipment that you already own.

The game rewinds slightly, before the item disappears, as the Universe corrects itself.

This is awfully similar to two particular events: looping back without seeing the death screen, and talking to the Daydreaming One about her sister. The latter is more interesting to me for the purposes of this theory.

In both instances, something is misaligned within the Universe (an item existing in two places, someone remembering something they're not supposed to) and it is corrected through some sort of rewind. Also compare the dialogue above to when you try to give Mirabelle the Stylish Bow when you already own it.

The world glitches, but Siffrin defuses the situation before the Universe has to intervene. Omitted from the screenshot is the fact that Mirabelle's portraits switch to happy from "catastrophically anxious" with no transition after Siffrin shows her where the bow is. Important to note is that when Mirabelle tries to recall receiving the bow, her head hurts, much like how trying to break the Island wish causes a headache.

The Universe leads you away from perception, and you can only follow.

My theory that I keep circling around is that through Wish Craft, the Island has been displaced temporally. The denizens of the Island, as well as the Island itself, still exist, but they are in the future. The Island is still loaded into the world, like how equipment is before you try to interact with it, and the Island cannot leave this quantum state, because it never actually went anywhere. The magnitude of the redaction event is so severe with the Island, because it is so much larger as an entity than a sword or a bow. There are of course things I don't really have pieced together, like why somebody would wish the Island into the future, how far into the future it is, or why equipment behaves this way. But it's the only Island theory I've seen that I have some level of confidence in, so I might as well lay out my cards for it.

[thatlotuscookie]

You said any fandom so can you do something with Kuroo and a shy reader? Maybe they’ve been friends for a while, but she’s always had a crush on him, and never said anything bcs she assumed he liked another girl since hes really popular? but hes liked her all along and he finally picks up on it? love your work, btw!

✧･ﾟ: a/n : yes anon, I do any fandom! If I don't know one, I just do my research and will do my best to write whatever you guys request. But thank you for the request! I had so much fun, listened to From The Start by Laufey the whole time while writing it LOLL.

✧ Title: ✧ A Quiet Heart, A Loud Confession ✧ ✧ Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Romance ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: You’ve always admired Kuroo from afar, thinking someone like him would never look at someone like you. But little did you know, he’s been watching you too, waiting for the right moment to confess. ✧ Content/Tags: Fluff, Romance, Confession, Mutual Pining, Shy!Reader, Friends to Lovers, Teasing, Comfort ✧ WC: 1169 words // 6.4k chars

You’d always admired Kuroo from a distance.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know him—you did. You were friends, after all. But there was something about the way he carried himself that always made you feel a little… shy. Kuroo Tetsurou, with his effortless charm and his cocky grin, was the kind of person who naturally drew people to him. He was funny, confident, and always seemed so at ease, especially around girls.

Which was why you had always assumed that’s what he wanted—someone who matched his energy. Someone outgoing and bold, not someone like you.

You had a crush on him, though. That much had been painfully obvious to you for a while now, but you never said anything. Why would you? He was Kuroo, and you were just you. Even if he teased you endlessly, making your heart skip beats with every playful comment, you figured that’s all it was—just his usual way of being friendly.

There were always girls around him, laughing at his jokes, clinging to his every word, and you couldn’t help but think… there’s no way he’d look at you the same way. He was popular and well-liked, and you, with your quiet and reserved nature, didn’t stand out. Not the way the other girls did.

So, you stayed silent. It was easier that way.

But what you didn’t realize was that Kuroo had been watching you just as much as you had been watching him.

“(Y/N), you’ve been avoiding me.”

Kuroo’s voice jolted you out of your thoughts, and you glanced up from your seat, only to find him leaning casually against the doorframe of the classroom, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were fixed on you, the same familiar teasing glint in them that always made your stomach flip.

You swallowed nervously, trying to keep your voice steady. “I-I’m not avoiding you.”

“Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, pushing off the wall and strolling over to your desk with that signature swagger of his. “Because every time I try to talk to you, you look like you’re ready to run in the opposite direction.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze. How were you supposed to explain that the reason you’d been avoiding him was because you were afraid he’d see right through you? That he’d figure out how much you liked him and laugh it off?

“I’ve just… been busy,” you mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

Kuroo didn’t buy it for a second. He leaned down, placing a hand on your desk and tilting his head to get a better look at your face. His proximity sent your heart racing, and you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

“You’re lying,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Come on, what’s going on?”

You bit your lip, feeling cornered. It wasn’t like you could keep dodging him forever. Kuroo was persistent, and he wasn’t going to let this go until he got an answer.

“Nothing’s going on,” you insisted weakly, but the way your voice wavered gave you away.

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed slightly, his teasing demeanor faltering for a moment. He studied your face, his gaze more serious now, as if he was trying to piece something together. Then, after a beat of silence, his eyes softened, and his lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

“…You like me, don’t you?”

Your heart stopped.

It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You stared at him, wide-eyed, your mouth opening and closing as you scrambled for a response, but nothing came out. You were completely frozen, your mind spinning in a million directions at once.

Kuroo’s smile grew, and he chuckled softly. “Wow. I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

“I-I don’t…” you stammered, but the words died on your lips when you saw the look in his eyes.

There was no mockery, no teasing. Just warmth. Affection. Like he had just uncovered a secret you had tried so hard to hide, and he wasn’t upset about it. If anything, he looked relieved.

“(Y/N),” he said softly, crouching down so that he was at eye level with you. “You really think I wouldn’t notice? The way you get all flustered whenever I’m around? How you avoid looking at me when I get too close? It’s cute.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and you could barely bring yourself to look at him. “I… I thought you liked someone else,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Kuroo’s eyes widened slightly, and then he laughed—a warm, genuine sound that made your heart ache in the best way.

“You thought I liked someone else?” He shook his head, his expression softening as he reached out to gently tilt your chin up so that you were looking at him. “(Y/N), I’ve liked you this whole time.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you blinked at him in disbelief. “You… what?”

Kuroo’s smile turned a little shy—something you weren’t used to seeing on him. “I’ve been into you for a while now,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just didn’t think you were interested. You’re always so quiet around me… I figured you didn’t like me that way.”

Your heart was racing, your mind still trying to process what he was saying. “But… but you’re always surrounded by other girls, and I just assumed—”

“Those other girls don’t matter,” Kuroo interrupted gently, his hand still resting lightly on your chin. “None of them are you, (Y/N).”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe it—that maybe, just maybe, Kuroo liked you as much as you liked him.

“You could’ve told me,” he added with a smirk, though his tone was light. “Would’ve saved us both a lot of time.”

You laughed softly, the tension in your chest finally easing as you realized how ridiculous the whole situation was. “I was too scared,” you admitted shyly, your gaze dropping to your hands.

Kuroo’s thumb brushed gently across your cheek, and he smiled. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other, the weight of all the unspoken feelings finally lifting. Then, without thinking, Kuroo leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that was gentle, sweet, and full of all the emotions you had both kept hidden for so long.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So… does this mean you’re finally going to stop avoiding me?” he teased, his voice low and playful.

You smiled, your heart feeling light for the first time in what felt like forever. “Maybe,” you whispered, your fingers gently curling into the fabric of his shirt. “If you promise to stop being so oblivious.”

Kuroo grinned, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Deal.”

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

this is not a fully formed thought yet im still working this out. but after reading other people's impressions and seeing some complaints about Solas' characterization in this game i do disagree, but i see where people are coming from in a way

when you (or a character) have a Spiraling Breakdown of personality and belief and everything else. theres 2 kinds of ways it goes: spiraling OUT vs spiraling IN. Outward spirals happen when you start acting out of character/unlike yourself, because who you are (or used to be) failed. Inward spirals happen when instead you buckle down and commit to the one way though you can see, even if it keeps failing you, because maybe this time if you do it harder or better or more it will finally work.

in Inquisition we see Solas spiraling out. His world is shattered, everything's different, it's all his fault. And in response he desperately looks in every direction he can and grabs at anything he sees as being an option to set things right--using Corypheus, using the Inquisition, using whatever it will take. He loses his sense of self and who he is, he pretends to be someone else and falls into that character more than he expects because everything has gone so wrong he's trying to mentally distance himself from it. pretend it never happened, pretend he can turn back time, that this world isn't real. He mirrors your Inquisitor's treatment of him because the core of his own personality is so tangled he can't find his true self until the game ends, and we see him again in Trespasser.

in Veilguard we see him do the opposite. It might look like he's calm and focused but he's still spiraling, it's just inward this time. He has picked one core facet of himself and is becoming solely that aspect more and more and more. he's abandoning the parts of himself that he thinks don't serve this one goal he has fixated on, because this time he's not pretending he can turn back time--he knows that undoing it is not just erasing a new timeline it's altering the course of the current one. he can't look away from it but he also can't risk stopping. we see him as Fen'harel the war general who will do anything it takes no matter the consequence or personal cost, he lies and he tricks, and he leans into tricking you because that's his only out now. He can't stop and explain and make you see because he gave up the part of himself that can listen to alternatives. He's not calm and resolved, he's panicking--we see him make promises he can't keep like killing the Archdemon, so he's not just lying to us but himself. He kills Varric just like he killed Felassan just like he killed Mythal.

And that's also why it takes so much to snap him out of it. You can't appeal to the other parts of Solas--his love, his friendliness, his more lighthearted joking side. You can only beg your case to General Fen'harel, which is why you need the only one left who was also there to witness that part of him, Mythal. He cannot move forward or allow the other parts of himself, like the part of him that loves the Inquisitor if you romanced him, to surface until the spiral is shattered.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

M!troll x f!reader

1.6k words

As you get more comfortable with Zen'jan he once more invites you to visit the shrines of his gods with him. While it's quite different than anything for the Light in your kingdom it's still quite an interesting window into his life.

--------

Every morning began the same. You would wake up and like always Zen’jan was already making breakfast, you would sit next to him and lean against him if he still had much cooking to do or you would sit in front of him and lean back against him if he was done. He would happily nuzzle against you during most of breakfast, scratching whatever sort of itch his rut caused until he was content and could go about his day.

He also took the time to teach you how to light the hearth and a bit of how to cook breakfast, neither of which you were very good at but he gently encouraged you to keep trying anyway. The first night he came home to a lit hearth you could see how proud of you he looked.

It was an easy routine with him, cuddled up every morning then again when he got home to the point where the first morning where he did not automatically nuzzle into you felt weird. You sat next to him and leaned against him like you had for the past week or so, though instead he sort of just leaned over and tapped his cheek against the top of your head in acknowledgment. Once he was done cooking you waited for him to scoot back from the hearth and reposition himself so you could sit between his legs, but he never did.

“You do not have to do that, I am alright” he said gently as you leaned into him more.

It made your heart sink and you were not even sure why. During the last week he always waited for you to initiate anything, waited for you to lean into him or touch him first, then he would happily hold and nuzzle you until he was content. It was still one sided with him doing all the cuddling, but you had enjoyed it.

“Oh, ok” was all you could manage.

“And thank you. I know it was uncomfortable for you, I really appreciate you indulging me though”.

It stung a bit that he did not seem interested in you now that his rut was over. You still were not sure how you felt about him. It had been several weeks living together and he had proven to be nothing less than a gentleman at all times. You could not say that there was any love there, but there was definitely an appreciation for how much he did for you, and maybe in an arranged marriage that was all you could hope for. It was not like you expected love when you still lived in your kingdom and thought you would marry some navy officer anyways.

“Will you come with me to the shrines today?” he asked, jolting you out of your thoughts.

“What?” you asked after only partially catching what he said.

“Will you come with me to the shrines today?” he repeated, “I am going to go mediate and leave offerings, and I would really like it if you came too”.

“Yeah, sure”.

Once more he leaned over to tap his head against yours in acknowledgment.

After breakfast you watched as he packed a bag with a few trinkets, some fruit, coins, and his dagger.

As the two of you walked across the city he kept his usual, respectful distance once more, no longer walking so close to you that his arm brushed against yours. You had not wanted him to touch you, but now that you were used to it, it felt awful thinking that maybe he had not wanted to be that close either, it was just his rut that made him want to be so close.

The shrines were carved into the very rock face of the ravine. A spacious room was hollowed out with two massive statues on pedestals, trolls gathered around and left small offering at the statues’ feet, lit incense, or bowed their heads in meditation or prayer.

People watched you with curiosity as they passed by. Everyone knew Zen’jan and everyone knew he was married to a human, but it did not mean that they were used to it or not going to stare.

“Hey, Zen’jan” you began, “Is it ok that I’m here?”

“Of course it is ok, all are welcome here. And you know you can just call me Zen”.

Zen. The only person you had heard call him Zen was Ba’tual. You had assumed it was a nickname since they had been friends since childhood, though not even Bira called him Zen.

“Is that a nickname?” you asked.

“No, it is my name”.

“So is Zen’jan your full name then? Like first and family name?”

“Trolls do not have family names. Zen’jan is a formal name, Zen is the name my parents gave me”.

“So why is Ba’tual the only person who calls you Zen?”

“Because I have known him since I was little, when I was still only Zen, just I have known him since he was only Ba”.

“But Bira doesn’t call you that, and she’s your cousin”.

“Using someone’s first given name shows a certain closeness, I do no know if there is a human equivalent. It can be between very close friends, or siblings, used by parents, or lovers” he trailed off. “Forget I brought it up actually” he quickly added.

Lovers. You mulled the word over. It definitely was not what you would call the two of you, but you wondered if that was how he saw you.

You followed him to one of the statues, one of a troll woman with outstretched arms and plants winding up her legs.

“This is for Owa” he knelt before the statue and rummaged through his bag. He placed a few pieces of fruit and a small wooden token carved with leaves on the offering tray at the statue’s feet. From the bundle of incense by the tray he picked up a stick and lit it off a candle on the pedestal the statue sat on and tucked it into the holder amongst burning sticks left by others. It had a pleasant smell, though not quite the incense he always smelled like.

He remained kneeling, his eyes closed, for several long moments before speaking again.

“You have her blessing, you know that?” he asked.

“Why would I have her blessing?” you asked back.

“When we were married, during the ceremony her blessing was written on your skin in my blood, as were Oja’s and Reli’s blessings, as I told you before”.

You shifted uncomfortably at this, he had told you this before and it bothered you then too.

He repeated the process at Oja’s shrine, leaving a few offerings, lighting a stick of incense, and spending a few moments in prayer or meditation.

“They both have tails” you blurted out once his eyes were open again, still staring at the statues.

“Yes, so did early trolls” he answered.

Something about the thought of Zen’jan possibly having a tail struck you as funny, he was already cat-like enough as was.

“Are there any trolls that still have tails?” you asked.

“I am not sure. Maybe? There are some pretty remote tribes that have not migrated or mingled with others much” he shrugged.

You followed as he made his way farther back in the shrine and through a large doorway and into a room that housed another large statue.

“For Reli” he informed you and you watched as for the third time he made his offerings, light the incense, and prayed. This incense smelled different, but still not the one he smelled like.

“One more” he told you and again you followed him back father, through one of the numerous doors that lead off of Reli’s room.

The corridor leading back got dark surprisingly fast as you walked, even the torches lining the walkway only barely seemed to hold it back. A weird chill hung in the air, making your hair stand on end, the same weird chill you often got around Ba’tual.

The shadows cast by the torches jumped around more than you felt they should, casting odd shapes. Out of the corner of your eye you swore you saw something much larger moving in the shadows.

You moved closer to Zen’jan, pressing your side to him for a sense of security.

“Hey, it is alright, just Tsov’ka’s shrine. He does not like the light, but you are safe here, you have his blessing too” he reassured you.

The corridor finally opened into a dimly lit room, you were sure the hallway there was not actually very long, but the atmosphere of it made it time longest walk of your life.

Zen’jan knelt at the shrine, though there was no statue here, just a raised pedestal with an offering tray and incense. As with the last three he lit a stick of incense off a small candle burning on the pedestal, though it did not actually seem to shed any light. This was definitely the incense he always smelled like though.

Shadows leapt on the walls despite there not being enough light to actually cast shadows and now you were certain a large form moved among them.

You watched Zen’jan closely, this time he removed the dagger from his bag and pricked his finger to spill a few drops of his blood on the offering tray.

“Tsov’ka demands a bit more” he explained. “From the time I was young Tsov’ka has guided me, given me his blessing, and lets me borrow his power as one of his avatars. He kept me safe during the war, I would probably not be here without him”.

“Zen’jan?” you asked, everything about this place screamed at you to run, “What is Tsov’ka god of?”

“The Shadows”.

Part 7

[ellecdc]

♧ here for the drinks: Regulus x Fem!Reader with "he fell in love first and harder" trope?? And congratulations!!

hmmm ok ok ok!! I see it!

so I feel like Regulus is the master of shoving down his feelings, so if he did recognize the first signs of affection for you, he'd immediately stomp them down ->avoidance, distractions, whatever he needs to do to not acknowledge the warmth blooming in his chest

his friends absolutely take the piss for it - Barty: "I haven't seen your missus around lately" - Regulus: "sod off...I don't even know who you're talking about." - Evan: "*snorts* suuurree you don't."

this turns into him admiring you from afar, which is way creepier -> writing poetry, maybe sketching portraits of you, "mooning over you" as Barty would say (only to be hexed for it) etc. I don't think Regulus would be aware of this at first

and then suddenly, there's a party happening in Ravenclaw tower and he finds out you're going with someone else!? and Evan has to point out that he's not actually spoken to you in weeks now? and aren't you allowed to talk to other people?

and that's all well and good but what the fuck??

and now he's officially spiralling

he approaches you in the halls one day - "are you going to a party with McLaggen?" - "well hello to you too, Regulus..." - "yes, hi. Are you going to a party with McLaggen?" - "yes...why?" - "Well...."

you roll your eyes and turn to him "well when you figure it out, let me know, yeah?" and you walk away.

"wow, way to fumble little brother." Sirius taunts as he sidles up beside him. "sod off, Sirius." - "I'd like nothing more, my dear pupil, but that was actually painful to watch and I would be doing the world a disservice by allowing you to lose the girl of your dreams in such an embarrassing manner" - "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sirius' face actually falls a little bit as he looks at his brother with some pity - Regulus hated it. "awe....you're worse off than I thought."

Regulus stalked away

Regulus isn't a party guy, he doesn't like parties, he doesn't do parties....but he was standing there in Ravenclaw tower where the music was so loud he could feel it in his throat because....

because dammit - and before he knows what he's doing, he's pushing his way through the crowd and shoving McLaggen away from you - thanking every deity for the animal that is Barty Crouch Jr because he quickly pulled McLaggen further into the party before disappearing entirely from your view

"what is Merlin's name are you doing!?" You scold, eyes trying to track the movements of your date though you quickly looked over when you felt Regulus' hand in yours

"I'm sorry" he let out breathlessly - "sorry?" - "terribly sorry." - "for what?..."

Regulus steals himself before he steps closer to you. "for being a coward, for avoiding you, for...for avoiding my own feelings-" - "feelings?" - "feelings, Y/N, feelings. for not recognizing those feelings for what they are." - "what are they?"

He looks up from where his eyes were trained on your joint hands to your eyes to see a cautious quirk of your lips - you were messing with him. "Salazar, you're really going to make me spell it out, aren't you?"

"You're a smart wizard...I'm sure you can manage it."

"You minx...." he sighs before closing the distance - pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss that quickly turns hungry. "I fancy you, Y/N."

You let out a hum of acknowledgement and smile at him. "I know."

"you what?" - "I know." - "How?" - "You're an idiot." You mutter with a fond roll of your eyes.

You're probably not wrong, but he can't wait to hear you tell him all the ways in which he is, indeed an idiot. You're idiot.

[tallochar]

Just got hit real hard by a drive-by idea where Flashpoint doesn't happen and Dick just takes a few months off to chill (read: Donna shows up and drags him off to have adventures now that Bruce is back in town and everything seems status quo again)

And when he comes back it initially looks like that set up so many fandom fics have where Tim has been isolating himself / been left to his own means and only works with the others out of politeness.

And the moment Dick clocks that that's what the others think is happening, he can straight up feel the grey hairs trying to show up, because while he had phone calls with Tim (who seemed to be coping better with everything that went wrong in his life) and Damian (with whom Dick did not talk about anyone outside of Damian and, occasionally, Bruce, which was already hard enough on Dick without bringing the others in) he had also thought that things had sort of started settling back into what Dick used to think as normal before Bruce "died" on them.

Except Damian and Jason don't know how to pick up on that sort of thing, Cass is still doing her Hong Kong / Journey of Self Discovery Thing as far as anyone seems to know / Bruce is CLEARLY (to Dick and Alfred and absolutely no one else) still communicating with Tim because he's on an even keel but also he must have done something to piss off Tim because Tim is doing the Politely Co-Workers Thing at Bruce (with Alfred's approval and support so Bruce must have fucked up REAL BAD) and it's stressing Bruce out so much that Dick can practically see the tension lines heading to a breaking point in the man why is no one else seeing the tension lines.

Plus Barbara and Dick were still on not-so-great terms when Dick split from Gotham, so he's not had much luck talking to her and some desire to call her but not enough to actually call her a lot, just some, which hasn't made Babs less pissed at him, so he's not getting information on that side and of course if Barbara is pissed at him and Tim is pissed at Bruce and Dick wasn't around for Tim to bitch about Bruce in person (and Tim would NEVER on a phone line, not even a secure one) then Dick is 1000% sure that Tim and Barbara have been having a shared and supportive bitch fest for however many weeks / months Dick was away that has just solidified them in a block of their own.

All of which means that Dick's little brother has been left unbothered, unnoogied and unsupervised for all the time Dick was away and like, sure, some people would think Dick would feel horrible for that and want to octopus-grab him and cuddle him but those people would be wrong because Dick is now honestly terrified to find out WHAT Tim has been up to without supervision and limits.

Between YJ, his civilian friends, his other friends in the superhero community, whatever new people Tim for sure rustled up, the lack of supervision on who Tim teams up with and for what, all the villain-frenemies he might have decided it was worth cooperating with, Tim being pissed at Bruce enough to keep a physical distance if not a communication distance...

And then, just as it is hitting Dick that, of course just keeping track on the phone was a bad idea to begin with why did he think that was a good idea and that what with Barbara and Tim in agreement and both Tim and Barbara at odds with Bruce and Alfred firmly entrenched in his usual If-Tim-Is-Handling-Master-Bruce-I-Will-Not-Hear-A-Thing-Against-The-Lad british politeness artillery position, this means that no one who would not enable him in the Wrong And Not Dick Approved Ways has been actually keeping as close track of Tim as he should have been kept track of (because *will smith hands memes* TIM!) ...

... Red Robin swings by, Azrael in tow, clearly going after Lynx.

And it's not that new Azrael that they had, which was still an Azrael but wasn't the Worst of the Azraels.

It's fucking Jean Paul Valley, who is supposed to be dead and clearly did not have the goddamn grace to decide to stay dead.

Dick, internally while outwardly having a BSOD moment: Tim. Tim you had just told Dick you were going to check out a couple of leads tonight. Tim why are you swinging from rooftops with JPV in tow. Tim why is JPV ALIVE. Why did you NOT tell Dick about it, TIM. TIM.

[bricky-brikson]

Thinking about the "trilion and 12 years old" joke about Bill and thinking about his psychological development after the Euclydia massacre

In the show, we see that while he can plan ahead and manipulate people, he's often foiled by his own impulsiveness/anger/emotions. His ultimate goal is to escape the Nightmare Realm/Dimension 0. And sure, he says this is because he promised the Henchmaniacs he'd help them, but ultimately as others have pointed out, Bill is terrified of death. He wants to live forever - have "a party that never ends with a host who never dies". All he cares about is himself, his own survival and hedonism

All this to say, Bill has the emotional development of a teen. He hasn't gotten past the self-centredness nor the reward/adrenaline seeking behaviour, but has emotionally evolved enough to be able to manipulate people and such (and be able to feel guilt, even if it's just a picogram). Though his immaturity shows when he doesn't get his way.

One might think that, being a trillion years old, he would've developed a bit, but here's the thing - major traumas can "freeze" people at certain developmental stages. We don't know how old Bill was when Euclydia was destroyed - though considering his behaviour I would bet he was a teen.

(Or whatever the equivalent of that stage is for his species. They have exoskeletons- do they have instars then? Whatever, that's not on the topic of this post)

Seeing his entire dimension destroyed after (what was probably) a well-intentioned attempt to show them what he saw ("They'll see. They'll all see.") permanently emotionally stunted him. However it was he got his powers, he was a teen/young adult with powerful abilities who had just erased an entire dimension from existence and was now accountable to no one but himself while also being deeply traumatized. His constant partying and implied substance use were probably the only coping mechanisms he could think of, dissociating because he has no idea how to actually confront what happened. The way he talks about the massacre - he detaches himself from it yet still admits guilt ("A monster."). Only post-divorce does he implicate himself in the event, though still obscuring its true nature ("I liberated them.").

Being surrounded by individuals who are similarly maladjusted for most of his trillion-year lifespan certainly didn't help things. The Henchmaniacs are likely somewhat stunted as well, or at the very least don't offer much in the way of mature/emotionally adult conversation, especially since Bill reacts so poorly (read: homocidally) to any sense of malcontent.

Which is to say, I think part of why Ford was important to Bill was because, compared to him, Ford was more emotionally developed (Ford is emotionally stunted in his own ways, but not as severely as Bill IMO). Subconsciously, their relationship was reaching a hand out to the scared teenager in the centre of Bill's psyche and offering him someone to lean on- someone who had their shit a little bit more figured out. A kind of figure Bill hadn't had since he killed his parents.

Of course, such vulnerability probably felt so alien that Bill tried to distance himself. I always wondered - why didn't Bill just lie to Ford about his plan to take over Dimension 49'\ ? Ford would've believed him, finished the portal, and Bill's plan would've been fulfilled. Well, I think it was Bill trying to burn the emotional bridge. In his own impulsivity, his own desire to dissociate instead of confront, he would rather make sure that he would never be able to be vulnerable to Ford than fulfill his grand plan.

...

I don't remember where I was going with this. There's no conclusion. I'm spinning this triangular multidimensional tyrant at physically impossible speeds in my mind and if I didn't write something about him my skull was going to turn into a fine powder. It's almost 2 AM, so it's entirely possible this post makes 0 sense, in which case feel free to inform me of that in the notes.

[gogotti]

Michael Myers/GN! Reader - NSFW

Here we go again with another Michael fic, this time it’s Kinktober and not just me horny posting on main LMFAO

This fic's prompt was Humping

WARNINGS: Michael humps you so nsfw, Michael pins the reader down but reader is into it. This is the tamest thing I’ve written in months so there’s not much else I can add warning wise.

It wasn't often that the massive man who occupied your home needed something from you other than basic necessities, but it was a nightmare trying to figure out when he did. Michael didn't talk and didn't bother trying other ways of communication, so he was basically a brick wall that moved around and routinely demanded food from you. Most days, when he'd decided that he wanted to be difficult, you'd struggle endlessly trying to figure out what he wanted, but this time you tried something different. Your plan was to give him a list of all of the things you could offer him at the moment, and then get him what he needed, simple enough. You went through the entire list, even adding things onto the list that you didn't even want to do, just to not get any response from him. After the second attempt, you didn't even bother anymore, instead staring at him in silence. He still didn't acknowledge you at all, not even by tossing an unopened piece of candy in your face like he normally would have. To say you were confused was an understatement, and you couldn't help but let fear crawl up your spine.

You didn't think he was sad or anything since he wouldn't be sitting on your couch clean if that were the case, and if he were hungry he would have already picked you up from your spot at the other end of the couch and placed you in front of the fridge. You slowly scooched over to him, keeping a safe distance just in case he was in one of his choking moods.

“Michael? You okay?”

Obviously, he didn't respond, and a part of you wanted to go back to your comfy spot and relax again, but you knew whatever his problem was would become a you problem if left alone. You reached out to touch his shoulder and Michael quickly took the opportunity to grab at your wrist and use his strength to twist you around and lay you flat on your stomach. You could only sigh uncomfortably, letting him adjust you to his liking before resting his body weight on you. You couldn’t stop him, you could only let your eyes widen slightly as you felt the source of his problems rest on your ass.

“oh.”

He huffed at you, grabbing your waist and seemingly feeling things out for a while. He didn't make much noise as he did this and only seemed to get impatient since he couldn't properly help himself. You sat in silence for a moment, contemplating whether or not to help him or let his frustration get the better of him, which would most likely end up with someone's dead relative on the news the next moring. You sighed again, you were not going to let innocent people die all because the infamous Michael Myers couldn’t figure out how to hump you properly. 

You arched your back, trying to angle yourself into a good position to make things easier for him. You succeeded in this, as the next time Michael grinded against you he let out the shakiest of sighs. You couldn't help but feel accomplished as he quickly found a rhythm; you also couldn't help the fact that with every low groan Michael let out above you, you felt a shock of pleasure hit you where it counts.  

He suddenly repositioned, now using one hand to grab onto your hip tightly and the other was placed above your head for stability. He picked up the pace as he humped you, the change in stance now giving him the friction he needed, and you could hear how much he enjoyed it. Low groans, grunts, and occasional growls left his mouth and left you a silent mess. You didn't know he would be so noisy but you couldn't care less, as every sound that spilled from his mouth you happily relished in, letting your mind wander to places you wouldn't have dared think about before this moment. 

You felt his humping become sloppy, and listened to his groans turn into huffs as he got closer to cumming.  Suddenly, he came crashing down on top of you, his arms now positioned above your head and his body completely engulfing yours, still humping you desperately as he almost silently whimpered at the feeling.

Once he stopped moving, he breathed heavily above you, and you relaxed your body, muscles slightly sore from holding the position for so long. The peace only lasted a short moment before Michael got up, not caring about you resting underneath him. You could only peek at him as he walked to the bathroom, catching a quick glimpse of the dark spot on the sweatpants he was wearing. 

You sat up slowly, the only things on your mind at the moment were mentally reviewing everything that happened for fuel on lonesome nights, and the creeping suspicion that this might become a regular occurrence. Either way, the result of either thought didn't bother you. In fact, the thought of the big bad Michael Myers humping you as if his life depended on it was something you quietly hoped for.

[thisismeracing]

okay but a request for a new face around the paddock and Lando having a huge crush and gets some assistance to ask her out 😔

Hi, love!! <3 Since you didn't specify if it was a smau, a blurb, or a full imagine, I decided to go with a blurb, 'key? I hope you like it!! *mwah*

New girl | LN4

― Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (sher/her) ― Warnings: mentions of alcohol, getting stuck on the roof, and typos; ― my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ― check some exclusive pieces here ― you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Someone was playing early 2000s remixes, the sound escaping to the roof where Yn was sitting, nursing a half-full red cup. She was a bit tired. It was her first week attending a race, and things were more hectic than anticipated, though Charles told her it was crazy when you weren't used to the pace.

Still, she was looking for the next Sunday. The next plane ride, the next country to explore.

"Oh- hey," Lando waved after opening the door and finding her sitting in one of the small couches. His face read surprise with a tinge of confusion, but, in reality, he knew she would be there. Carlos told him as much. His friend actually encouraged him to go after her. Lando was infatuated the second he saw her, and when he discovered she was Charles' friend he was quick to ask Carlos for help, which coming to think about now wasn't the best idea.

Maybe he should have asked Charles instead. He probably knew her better. She was the new girl for Carlos too, having just met her the same day Lando did. Or just tried to get to her without any help, but then again, she was so beautiful and so cool, he felt like the whole paddock stopped the first day Yn showed up, though rationally he knew things kept going as usual. He was the distracted one.

"Hi," she waved back, a small smile gracing her lips before she took the cup to her lips sipping whatever drink she was nursing.

"Can I- huh- Can I stay here too?"

Yn nodded, "It's a bit packed in there, huh?" she asked before patting the spot beside her. "Carlos told me I could get some air here instead of in front of the house, the air is flowing good there, but there's still too much noise- and drunk people," she ranted, and Lando thought it was cute the way she would explain things he hasn't even asked yet.

"I'm Lando," the British extended his hand to her, and they shook it right before she said her name as if wasn't etched on his mind, and he sat beside her.

"I know," there's a hint of amusement in her voice. "There's only twenty of you, and you happen to be really close to my friend's teammate."

He chuckled, taking a pull from his beer, and sensing someone behind him. When Lando turned he saw Carlos and Charles at the door, and before he could stop them both, the noise of the door closing echoed around.

"Shit."

"Was it the door?" Yn asked, getting up.

"I think the wind closed it," he tried to keep it cool, even though he was finally understanding why Carlos had asked to borrow his phone.

"Can you call one of the guys to open it up?" she asked, and then added, "For when we want to get back...I'm fine for now."

He smiled, and then his face twisted in a grimace, "I forgot my phone with the guys."

"Mine doesn't have any signal here," she stated, but didn't seem too worried.

"Do they know you're here?"

Yn nodded, "You?"

"Carlos will probably come looking for me any minute now," he tried to convince himself, taking another pull from his beer.

They sat in silence for a beat, the wind making their cheeks cold and the noises of the party muffled by the distance, until Yn started talking about racing, Lando following the train, catching the ride and the opportunity to talk with her and not embarrass himself trying to figure a good topic.

"How do you keep up with all the traveling?"

He chuckles, "Sometimes you don't."

"Oh-"

"Yeah, it can be tiring for the drivers as well, but we just...get used to it I guess. Most of us- all of us, have been driving since we were kids."

"mmhhh, so a bunch of outlaws?"

"What?"

"Driving when it wasn't even legal yet," and she answered with a straight face, no hint of amusement, so much Lando thought she was talking serious, and when he opened his mouth to explain, a nervous look crossed his features, Yn started laughing.

"That was a terrible joke, but you fell for it so..."

"Horrible," he shook his head with a small smile, tipping his bottle upon his mouth. "How about you? How are you keeping up? Are you coming for the next race?"

"I'm exhausted. But I'm also excited about the next stop. I'm definitely joining. I'm just getting my maps ready because Ferrari has a bunch of media stuff this next week and Charles won't be able to be a huge company in exploring...not that he was a big one this last week, but, yeah."

"I can go with you...that is if you want, I can keep you company, I know the next stop pretty well, I used to go there on vacation with my family during my teenage years," Lando shoots his shot, half expecting her to let him down gently, but Yn gifts him with a bright big smile.

"Would you?"

"Yeah, totally."

"Perfect then," she crossed her legs sitting more comfortably on the couch, neck resting on the headrest, while she watched the dark sky above them. "Now, tell me about your side gig- Carlos told me you're into DJ stuff?"

Lando crossed his legs too, his shoulders aligned with hers, staring at the sky as well. He turned his head to the side, and she was already looking at him. He bit his lips to keep the infatuated smile from showing and started telling her about the things he liked to do besides racing. Yn shared with him as well. She told how she and Charles had met, how she loved music, and though she was into sports, she didn't practice any. She told him about her family, studies, and job. And Lando listened to everything attentively, feeling his silly little crush grow with each giggle and look she shared.

A couple hours later, when Carlos and Charles went to check, Yn had her head on Lando's shoulder, both were sound asleep on the couch. The Ferrari duo snapped a picture, and a high five for playing cupid to what would eventually become one of the paddock's favorite couples.

[atoriv-art]

what are your thoughts on the hyuga siblings and their relationship

OOF now thats one of my favorite naruto dynamics lmao. i think neji and hinata have a very interesting relationship and i say that as someone who really didn't (and tbh still doesn't) love how that relationship developed in canon

i really like the hyuga fight in the chunin exams because the way it's perceived is sooo interesting to me.. neji comes off as an outright bully and i don't even blame the kids for calling him an asshole after all of that, but from reader's perspective it's really obvious that his animosity only exists because of a larger issue...

neji shouldn't treat hinata the way he does, but he does so because of her unique position as a scorned heir. she still benefits from everything that makes his life awful - her life is still valued more than his - but hiashi hates her enough that he won't care if neji dishes out verbal abuse on her. it's an awful dynamic and definitely contributes to hinata's terrible self-worth, but it's a symptom of the life they have been forced into by the man who the manga is intent on letting escape all of the blame for this situation lmao

(hiashi himself can be a really fascinating case honestly. i think he fully means everything he says, which is what makes him so grating but fun to me LOL. his apology to neji is entirely sincere AND it completely misses the point of all of the issues, but neji is young and deprived of acknowledgement enough that he accepts it wholeheartedly. hiashi thinks he's the best uncle of all time.)

hinata herself has so little belief in her own worth that she just sits there and takes whatever abuse people throw at her... i don't actually think neji's anger towards her was a constant - i think some people interpret it that way - rather i feel like it was something that came up whenever he was pushed too far. in more normal circumstances where he's not being made to fight her directly, he was likely more detached than anything. he wanted nothing to do with her.

in one of the filler mini arcs ive mentioned before (i think. the one that focuses on hanabi and hinata) there's a scene that rang very true to me (and im gonna recount this without rewatching it atm so sorry if i get details wrong,): neji was being made to train with hinata, asked to be allowed to leave because he felt his time was being wasted and correctly noted that it doesn't have to be him here, was told no by hiashi and then he started getting vicious and violent. towards hinata, of course, not hiashi. he then got horribly punished for it LOL i think that's the general dynamic they were living in, neji reaches a limit of disrespect that he can take and explodes on the nearest most acceptable target (we loove a boy with no emotional regulation <3), goes too far and suffers the consequence of it while nothing else changes. to him interacting with hinata at all is just asking for pain, either emotional or straight up physical

But, for hinata, she saw herself and neji as similar (the black sheep of the family i suppose), and would have liked to bond over that fact; theyve known each other since they were very little and she outright refers to him as a brother. it's clear to me she's always cared a lot about neji and imo feels responsible for what happened to his father (something that hiashi doesn't help with. Dad of the year), so she saw their match in the exams as a chance to close the distance between them and get neji to see her as a person, an equal instead of a symbol to lash out on.

but, you know, she was 12 LMAO so she ended up pressing all of his buttons instead and it led to his famous outburst, which led to the famous moment of Every Single Jonin (other than asuma.) coming to stop him and further cementing his belief that her life is seen as special. i think (and this is a mix of Shit I Made up, and Me trying to make sense of the manga's insane mishandling of their plotline) that despite her trying her hardest to reach neji she didn't really grasp the horror of his situation. that's the tragedy of neji's life really LMAO, no one really tries to grapple with the severity of what having that curse mark does to a person. she thought of his fatalism as more of a psychological, metaphorical way of dealing with hurt and not like... "my life literally does not belong to me no matter how much i try to fight it"

this is loooooong take this readmore.

i think hiashi-hizashi were hoping that the cousins could have had a better relationship than they did... letting them hang out often and stuff, introducing them early, hizashi not discouraging neji from being friendly with her, to me it all reads as very "ok well this didn't work for Us, but what if it works out for them... even though literally nothing has changed". they were proper family once and hizashi wanted to die for his brother, not his leader, so that just makes sense to me.

i do nautttt like the naruto vs neji fight so to keep the post positive i will gloss over it <3 but hinata and neji's relationship post-chunin exams to me is peak like. God i wish this was done better because it could have been soooo good

neji realizes that his anger is consuming him and adjusts his behavior accordingly, getting a lot of his kindness back, and he becomes intent on fixing his relationship with hinata... i don't hate that premise at all, it's just the way it's executed that bothers me!

the impression i got (and i could be mistaken im in the process of rewatching the anime + rereading the manga) is that their relationship getting better is done exclusively through like. neji repenting for being mean to her. which, don't get me wrong, he SHOULD apologize (AND THAT WOULDVE BEEN A COOL THING TO SEE ONSCREEN, BTW) but you CANNOT divorce his behavior from the hyuga system in general. from the way they act after the exams you would think their issues were born solely from neji being a bully for no reason, and not, like... him lashing out on her because his uncle is literally the devil.

i don't think hinata has the power to change a lot in her clan on short notice (she did get disowned. did that un-happen offscreen? we will never know. Hiashi gets to be a grandfather to her children btw.) but i certainly would have liked to see her standing up for branch members and in the stuff i draw that's the story i have in mind LMAO. like, her gaining a deeper understanding of neji's situation and trying to work against her father trying to make her cousin's life better? i think that would have been really sweet and even show her gaining more confidence in herself and her beliefs. you can still have neji fussing over her and being protective because he feels bad for how they used to be, i actually really like that because neji IS a very sweet person, i just reject the idea that it's his sole Moral Obligation to put everything aside and make things better by the power of I Will Die For You Now, But This Time, For The Right Reasons

as for hanabi i wish she had more screentime soooo bad because i'm obsessed with how she gives off Haunted Child vibes lmfao. talking abt her requires me to expose myself a little bit and have to admit hiashi is kind of a blorbo to me because of how much he sucks ass, but like. Essentially his insane resentment of hinata was born when hizashi died, it doesnt matter it wasn't really her fault, he needed someone to blame and he would never blame himself, at least not outwardly lol. hiashi did genuinely love his brother, it just didn't stop him from being a monster to him, and he is certainly not gonna grapple with that now that he's dead!

(and, you know, the whole "sorry we sent a guy to kidnap an heir. you do need to die for killing him though" thing is really dumb but if we stop at every single stupid thing in naruto we will be here all day.)

with all that being said i think hiashi tries his best to make hanabi everything hinata isn't, and he has very little interest in having her and hinata have any bond at all. he just left neji and hinata to fester in that god-awful dynamic with no supervising, and took hanabi as the best direction for the clan to head towards. but, you know, father of the year is very demanding and doesn't seem to be very fatherly to her at all from the little we see of them. she's just like. a good soldier, and that's what he needs.

i think hanabi growing to resent her sister for the situation she's been put into (if hinata weren't 'weak' she wouldn't have so much responsibility) is very interesting! by the time we meet her i think she's learned that the best thing to do wrt her sister is to just ignore that she exists. as for neji he barely registers as a presence to her; neji has no reason to interact with her and hiashi has no reason to incentivize it. it's very fun to me!

in general i really like all of their dynamics can be used to explore how hurt and trauma drive people apart, i could talk about them for hourssss LMAO i love the suna family for the same reason!

[impishjesters]

Aggression Distraction

warning(s): canonical character..death? (it's Kaufmo), nondescript type of panic/anxiety attack (honestly the whole thing glosses over exactly what type of mental state you are in, just that you aren't doing so hot after that experience), cursing, minor suggestive content note(s): This can be read stand-alone but goes in hand with my previous post about Jax with a partner (platonic or romantic) who suffers from depression/suicidal tendencies. Can be read as platonic or romantic but written with more romantic intention in mind, consider it like pre-dating romantics or whatever. A/N: It's worth mentioning that Jax's behavior is a little back and forth, which is intentional. This stuff is new territory for him, but you matter to him so he's trying to be a rock for you, he's just gonna be a little shit while doing it though. ♥ AO3 version

With the latest addition of Pomni and the recent departure of Kaufmo, things had taken a slight turn from the usual day-to-day. You weren’t particularly close to Kaufmo, but to see him abstracted like that? Someone you knew, for god knows how long to just..stop existing like that?

It was horrifying.

As nonchalant as Jax had been over the whole thing like he’d seen it a million times, it had yet to leave your brain. Even days later. Days? It’s still hard to tell the passing of time.

Jax had taken notice when your gaze lingered on Kaufmo’s old room, the large red ‘X’ over his face. Every time he’d swing by your room to pick you up or drop you off he’d catch you staring, and he knew it wasn’t a good thing. Sure, nobody really liked Kaufmo, and you knew him for an even shorter time than them, but he had an inkling what had you so..distracted for a better term.

The first day or two after the events left everyone a little thrown off. Pomni stuck by Ragatha like a little duckling, Gangle had taken to trying to fix her comedy mask, Zooble did whatever Zooble does, and Kinger? Yeah, nobody cared what he did. But you? You distanced yourself or tried to at least, Jax was never far behind.

It was sweet really, he’s still getting the hang of this whole situation the two of you got going on and it’s been going on for a while. Honestly? It’s almost scary how well he knows you and is able to silently confront you without you realizing something’s even wrong, like some weird sniffer dog.

The thought makes you giggle.

Jax’s head lifts and his gaze falls to you with a brow raised, it’s not the first time you’ve randomly giggled but usually there’s a reason, generally something he did. And he wasn’t doing shit worth giggling over. Waving him off that it’s nothing he shrugs it off and goes back to his little task that his torso is blocking.

To be honest, you aren’t even sure what he’s doing anymore, he kinda just showed up and said “I need my favourite doll for this new little prank, so get off your butt and come to my room.” And then proceeded to drag you off your bed and over his shoulder like a sack of rice into his room.

A prank that he has still yet to tell you if there even is one.

During the time spent together, there’s something you’ve managed to pick up in the way he always goes with the crowd. Sure there are times he’s alone, but it’s different, it’s like he wants to be alone compared to the times he seemed to be following others around simply because he didn’t want to be by himself. It was something you yourself used to do after all. Hanging out with people you didn’t really care about simply so you weren’t completely alone.

Now if you tried to confront him on this little theory, he’d no doubt make some comment about how he’s not sure if it’s sweet or creepy that you’re staring at him so intently. Then immediately follow up with some spiel about how he can’t watch funny stuff happen to others if he’s alone. “Think of all the funny shit I’d miss!” Or whatever.

“Are you ever going to tell me what this latest ‘prank’ is?”

“Mmm..” he hums as if debating, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell you it’ll be a—“nope!” Called it.

You wanna call him out that there isn’t even a prank, he’s not even doing anything other than sitting there polishing a…bowling ball? You sit up from your spot on his bed confused. “Is that.. the bowling ball from—”

“What you think I went back down to that creepy place just for this exact bowling ball?” he scoffs, this place has plenty of the damn things he doesn’t need that one.

As tempting as you wanna say yes, you know just how lazy and manipulative he can be. “You? No. Making someone else fetch it with some excuse about how it’s got meaning and worth to you? Now that I can see.”

His eyes squint as he throws a grin over his shoulder at you, one that looks almost painful if not for the fact that he’s almost always grinning.

“You know me too well sugar,” he turns to face you, bowling ball balancing in his hand like it weighs nothing to him, “but I hate to break it to you. This really is just a different bowling ball, but now you got me wanting to send Gangle down to see if she’ll actually do it.”

“Behave.” You playfully chide. It’d be hypocritical to say “poor Gangle” after all, you’ve also sent her on a wild goose chase once or twice, even if you felt a tad guilty later on.

He scoffs and places a gloved hand on his chest in mock offense. “I always behave. I’m the textbook definition of the word gentleman.”

“Oh yeah? In what book?” Slipping off his bed, you walk over to him and reach out to the bowling ball only for him to yank it out of reach. Even sitting the bastard has enough reach to keep anything away from you.

Jax waves his arm about every time you try to reach for the ball, there’s no real reason to keep it from you, he’s just fucking around at this point. Plus this little endeavor has kept you distracted and him mildly entertained. “Oh, now that’s just rude doll, have a heart.” You stop trying to get the ball and he waggles it at you like he’s trying to tempt an animal. “You don’t think I’m a gentleman?”

“A man? Yes.” You scoff and push the ball out of your face. “Gentle? Only when you want to be.”

He hisses and tosses the ball aside letting it roll away, no longer finding it fun. “So harsh, you really do wound me.”

You flinch at the loud thud, unsurprising at the lack of dent the ball should have created under normal circumstances. “Oh bite me.”

“Is that an invitation?” His shit-eating grin nearly splits his face in two, it’s a shame the others aren’t around, he loves seeing their reactions when the two of you banter like this.

Like an old married couple.

You roll your eyes and step into his personal bubble, one of his ears twitches out of habit and his shoulders tense but they gradually relax as you get yourself situated on his lap.

It takes everything in him not to spit out something insultingly sweet, he’s heavily aware of your mental state right now and that wouldn’t help. Though he really wants to joke about how this definitely seems like an invitation seeing as how you’ve walked into his bubble and made yourself at home on his lap. Maybe later.

Silence falls between the two of you, huddled up against him with your face buried into his chest. He pulls the blanket off his bed and drapes it around you, it’s not cold per say, but you had voiced once that you still liked the habit of curling up into a blanket. Specifically how you were a fan of blanket sushi? Much to his original confusion.

“You know I’ve seen some pretty gross things wrapped in seaweed, you by far are the grossest sushi-filling doll.”

To which your immediate reaction was to question whether or not he’d still try and eat you. That was definitely not something he thought would leave your mouth. Luckily his quick tongue bit back something along the lines of “Not while the playschool toys are around baby”.

Jax placed one hand on your back applying light pressure while rubbing small circles, the other falling loosely to rest on your lower back. Your arms tightened around him and he gave you a squeeze back, when you got too embarrassed early on to keep asking for him to squeeze you the two of you settled on this unspoken method of asking. And it wasn’t always limited to full-body squeezing either, you’d squeeze his hand, arm, or leg and he’d squeeze back.

The longer the silence went the more his irritation grew, not at you though, just overall irritation at the silence, at seeing you like this. Kaufmo’s abstraction itself wasn’t what had you like this, he knew you thought of it more like Kaufmo dying. Which, who’s to say that you weren’t wrong for thinking that? That thing wasn’t Kaufmo, and now he’s in the cellar doing whatever it is abstracted things do. If Caine couldn’t fix them they might as well be considered dead.

The topic of death and dying almost never came up in day-to-day conversation, maybe a joke here or there but nothing like this. And you were doing so well too.

If he had the ability to fall asleep he would’ve, not that it wasn’t cozy and domestic as shit being all huddled up with you, but he was getting bored. His leg began to wiggle, lightly bouncing you in the process, something you recognized as him being antsy and an unintentional aid in soothing you.

Another squeeze to the lilac torso resulted in another returned squeeze, except unlike the first time, the grip didn’t loosen. It wasn’t suffocating but grounding, the hand on your back stopped moving, and both hands were glued to your back to apply pressure like a weighted blanket. If asked, Jax would probably lay himself on you like an actual weighted blanket—but part of you felt like he’d enjoy that too much and force you into some shitty deal to get him off of you.

The thought sparked a tiny giggle, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Jax. What the fuck were you giggling about? Meanwhile, his ass is going numb (it’s not) sitting here holding you like he’s trying to wrestle a balloon and not pop it. Mood swings aside he’s grateful for the sound, it’s not much but it shows him you were coming out of it. Especially when the giggling starts to pick back up.

“What’s so funny you little brat? Finally gone bonkers?” It’s harsh but there’s a fondness in his tone that only causes you to giggle harder. The lost grin slowly returns to his face and he purposely jostles his leg harder now, bouncing you more chaotically.

The giggle turns into a full-on laugh and he can’t help but find himself grinning more at the sound. “Okay, okay! Enough jostling, I’ll lose more brain cells if you keep it up.”

“Oh, you still have those?” He chuckles. “Here lemme just.. shake those loose too.” Both of his legs wiggle, jostling you back and forth like a boat would, his arms caging you in so you don’t actually go flying.

You let out a squeal following more giggles and hold tightly to his neck until he comes to an abrupt stop. “Jeez, that’s a real workout on the legs..” he mumbles, letting out a little exhausted sigh.

“Hey you did that all on your own, you have only yourself to blame.” Your grip doesn’t leave him in its entirety as you shift on his lap turning sideways, he loosens his grip and grumbles out a “watch it” until you settle down.

After making grabby hands at the arm not trapped behind you he rolls his eyes and relents, giving you his newly free hand. It’s obvious that Jax is pushing his limit at both sitting still and being this vulnerable, and you could keep going on and just soak up the affection full well knowing he won’t actually blow up at you. The others however will pay the price of his pent-up aggression. Perhaps you could lessen that by…

You give his palm a few gentle prods with your thumbs like it’s a squish toy before bringing it to your face, moving it in such a way that allows him to take your jaw and squish your cheeks between his thumb and fingers.

And oh boy does he squish, a bit too roughly but it’s not unbearable as he moves your head side to side. He knows what you doing, letting him have some playful aggression with you to lessen what he’ll put the others through.

You’ve done it before but it rarely does much, he’ll play nice when you’re around then subject the others to his full bull shittery when you’re gone. It does give him a good chance to just fuck with you and squish those cheeks and rattle you around, you’re at his mercy and you happen to make some particularly cute little noises after all. It’s a nice and rare chance to soak up being able to have your face in his hand without him having to subject himself to any embarrassing vulnerable shit of outright asking to touch your face in such a.. intimate-like gesture.

His internal struggles are lost on you though, simply content on his lap, in his arms letting him squish and waggle your head around. You silently count down the minutes, or guesstimate the minutes until he’s had enough and lets you go. At least this time he has the decency to help you stand versus shoving you off his lap and onto the floor.

Jax brushes the imaginary dust from his clothes and puts a hand on his hip, gesturing the free hand towards you. “We done here babe?”

You nod, rocking back and forth before shaking your head. “Lean over real quick.”

He rolls his eyes and groans but does as asked, leaning over to be on your level. Before he can ask why he’s breaking his back you lean up and press a quick kiss to the side of his mouth before pulling away and racing out of his bedroom.

The grin slips for a split second while he processes that you literally had him lean down, just to kiss him and then bolt. That face-splitting grin returns as he strolls out of his room just to see you at the end of the hall giggling like a maniac.

“You know what? I’ll give you a head start, better hope I don’t catch you!”

You bolt off with a squeal and he chuckles, maybe when he catches you he’ll just settle all that pent-up aggression toward you—he’s long overdue for an intense tease session after all.

[shushmal]

WIP Wednesday — Steddie Week Day 1

Steve knows that Eddie thinks that Steve is just messing with him—or, worse, experimenting on him. Understands the guarded way Eddie eyes him when they’re not tongue deep in each other’s mouths, the way he keeps his distance in the company of friends, the way he skirts any casual touch until Steve’s reaching for him with intent. Anytime Steve tries to gently let him know that, no, that’s not what they’re doing, Eddie gets this sour look on his face—he doesn’t believe Steve, because he thinks Steve is kidding himself.

Which, whatever, Steve’s used to people thinking he’s stupid. Used to people not taking him seriously. Whatever. 

But Steve knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s always known exactly what he wants, and a lot of the time he doesn’t get it. He’s learned to be okay with that. Steve has always rolled with the punches, hits the ground and gets back up again. Getting left in the dust is a way of life for Steve, so he makes a point, stands up, cleans himself off, and tries again. He doesn’t get to control it, never has, and it sucks—but what is he supposed to do? Steve’s never going to be the kind of guy that lays down and takes it. 

If Eddie thinks he’s too stupid to understand his own feelings, he wouldn’t be the first. Steve will try again, until Eddie, too, knocks Steve off his feet and gets while the getting is good.

Until then, Steve will try again, and again.

Doesn’t mean he’s happy with it. Doesn’t mean he isn’t tired of chasing someone who doesn’t want him. Doesn’t mean it’s not lonely, being the one to try.

So, he knows exactly what he’s doing when, three weeks after he first managed to pin Eddie down and suck face with him, he slides slowly down to his knees in front of where Eddie’s sprawled across the couch.

“Uh,” Eddie says. Steve looks up at him from between Eddie’s knees, still dragging his hands down Eddie’s chest. He loves making Eddie look like that—already so fucked out and panting just from Steve kissing him. Steve’s pretty sure he could get Eddie to cry if he really wanted to. But right now, that hazy, horny look on his face is quickly getting replaced by a look of awkward horror, and Steve does his best to hold back a sigh. “What are you doing?”

Steve’s hands slide from Eddie’s chest, down his belly, to cup the hard line of heat in Eddie’s jeans. He does it quickly, before Eddie can say something stupid like You don’t really want this.

“I want to blow you,” Steve says.

[burningcheese-merchant]

What do you think of a burningcheese vampire au? Any head cannons to recommend?

That's certainly an interesting idea. One I admittedly never considered until now lol. Was never one for vampires (even in my cringey Twilight phase at age 11, I liked Jacob more lol), but I want and need BurningCheese in every possible timeline so let's see what I can come up with here

How about, instead of vampires that are harmed by the sun, we have vampires that are the opposite? That are empowered by the sun and weakened by the moon? With both Golden Cheese and Burning Spice already coming from hot places, I think that lends itself to that sort of arguably more fitting table-flip

With this in mind, let's look at the routes we can go down.

Vampire Burning Spice:

Cursed by a wizard/shaman/whatever as they lay dying in the ruins of a civilization BS had just destroyed

BS looks exactly the same as before, which enables him to hide what he's become quite easily

He becomes a full-on cannibal as a result of his curse/transformation. Already being violent and figuratively bloodthirsty allows him to quench his literal bloodthirst easily; he just munches on arms and legs + chugs whatever pours out of slit throats + gobbles up whatever he tears out of chest/stomach cavities to get his fix (and also the curse might have driven him slightly madder than he already was before, which is also why he's escalated from just torturing and killing people to eating them as well)

Very weak and lethargic at night. It is fire, heat, and sunlight that help keep him going; when the sun sets, he becomes tired and tends to squirrel himself away somewhere, skulking around in the shadows, waiting for day to return

Soul Jam becomes a huge crutch at night because of the aforementioned weakness to night/moonlight

Doesn't know how to turn anyone else into a vampire, or even if he can. Doesn't really care about that tbh. Or he didn't, until...

...He met and fell in love with Golden Cheese lol. His beautiful little bird. His precious Soul Jam thief. His sweet, delicious prey, with that scrumptious, intoxicating blood that he can smell from dozens of feet away, that he can almost hear pumping through those delicate veins... oh, those fights they had were hard on Burning Spice. She made him so hungry, in more ways than one. He craves her, he truly does. And he shall have her, in every way that he wants. What's she going to do about it, anyway? Kill him?

Golden Cheese, being stuck with a literal fucking vampire cannibal in love/obsessed with her and hunting her down constantly, tries to find a way to break his curse, if only to prevent any additional suffering to innocents and get him off of her ass even a little bit

Vampire Golden Cheese

In her grief and desperation to revive her subjects and restore her kingdom, GC ended up resorting to strange magic that she didn't understand, which backfired on her terribly as a result

Lives in almost complete seclusion, trying to maintain as much distance as she can between herself and... anyone, really. She would never forgive herself if she gave in to her newfound instincts and harmed someone for the sake of this disgusting, unholy appetite

She really is ashamed of herself. For her foolishness, for her cowardice... for the way she can feel her own mouth start to water when she watches the cheesebirds go about their work... She's damned herself and what few treasures she has left, by doing what she did. And now it's yet another albatross around her neck, that she'll have to carry for... who knows how long

Tries to channel her inner Dark Cacao and maintain extreme self-control and discipline at all times. Denies her bloodlust for as long as possible, until she truly cannot take it anymore (and then she just goes out and eats jelly worms, no matter how bad they taste)

Realizes she's weaker at night and does most of her work during that time, as it's when she poses less of a threat to the cheesebirds and any other life in the area

Same as V!BS, she relies on her Soul Jam to keep her strength up at night

Tries to find a cure for her predicament in any way she can without directly informing anyone of what's happened because she's too proud to admit she fucked up this badly and she fears that everyone will turn against her and persecute her

Fuck's sake, some buffalo looking bozo kidnaps her and drags her to Beast-Yeast and now she has to fight this big buff guy and... why is he looking at her like that? Why is he talking to her like that? They met five minutes ago and he already sounds smitten with her, what the fuck is this. She just wants to go home and get back to trying to fix herself-

WHY DID HE FOLLOW HER HOME? SHE LEFT HIM BURIED UNDER HIS TEMPLE, HE SHOWS UP ON HER LAND HARDLY A MONTH LATER, OH GOD WHAT DOES HE WANT-

Welp. He discovers what's wrong with her. And he coerces her into letting him stick around in exchange for his silence. At least he said he'd help...? But how he'll do so remains a profoundly irritating mystery...

That's what I have for now. I'll think of more later bc I already know people are going to flood my inbox asking for more of this lol