#unconventional but whatever works i guess

[agnezztealeaf]

Exiting an art block with Ranger's Apprentice fanart - a series I have not read since I was fifteen????

[vivmaek]

MARS SIGN OBSERVATIONS

♂ Pisces Mars - I think Lennie Small from “Of Mice and Men,” would have this placement. This is a person who is seemingly harmless, and yet they still managed to cause harm and destruction through indirect action. When looking at someone with a Pisces Mars, their innocence and an assumed lack of strength is noticed first. These are kind people. They would rather harm themselves over another person. Their first instinct isn’t to attack, but to defend. When angry, they appear to be caught up within a panic. A Pisces Mars is driven by their big dreams. They might not always know what they want out of life, and their goals and ambitions may change frequently. This does not mean that they are incapable of finding success. If anything, their unwavering belief in themselves and their ability to achieve the impossible is what takes them to great heights. Hope is everything for someone with this placement, it’s what gets them out of bed in the morning. 

♂ Aquarius Mars - It's hard to pin someone with this placement down. Their actions don’t make sense to other people. Aquarius does a good job showing its eccentricity through Mars. The rules of society and the opinions of others do not dictate their actions. These types are constantly surprising people, and they like this. The public will often speculate about those with an Aquarius Mars. Theories are formed about them, no one can guess what they’re going to do next. In my opinion, this is the most rebellious Aquarius placement. They live their life in a manner that is truly unconventional. People with this placement are not aggressive, but they are clever. They like outsmarting people. A sense of superiority can sometimes act as a driving force. They go out of their way to make the people around them feel stupid if they’re in a foul mood. Their need for independence will never be forsaken. 

♂ Capricorn Mars - Hard work doesn’t scare these people off. They’ll put in whatever energy is needed to complete a project or endeavor. A strong sense of ambition and an excellent sense of focus are traits commonly seen with this placement. They’re quite secure in themselves and exercise self control through all their actions. Discipline motivates them. They take their responsibilities seriously and expect others to do the same. A Capricorn Mars goes above and beyond what is expected of them. They do this through a step-by-step process and practical planning. Cutting corners or taking the easy way out is something you’d never catch them doing. These types want to maintain control over every aspect of their life. They become angry when plans are thrown into a disarray through unexpected events. “Going with the flow,” is not a strong suit of theirs. Their need for security is what motivates them. 

♂ Sagittarius Mars - People with this placement are incredibly restless. They lack patience and need many different outlets to pour their energy into. They are easy going but are also quickly overtaken by passion. Crossing their moral beliefs is a good way to get them riled up. They like to believe that their opinions are more intellectual than they are emotional. When angry they like to get up on a soap box to lecture people. When people don’t agree with them, it can sometimes feel like criticism. They also don’t consider how their tendency to dish out brutal honesty may actually be more hurtful than it is impactful. They often act as a spark that ignites fire, in both a positive and a negative way.

♂ Scorpio Mars - The definition of “moving in silence.” Lots of people claim to do this, but a Scorpio Mars wouldn’t be caught making such a claim. They’re smarter than that. They know that hardship and struggle are inevitable. This does not scare them, but they also don’t fight against the natural currents of life. During certain points, their sense of ambition is so relentless that it becomes obsessive. But, this can only last so long. Rest and recuperation is a process they embrace. After acting on an immense level of concentration for a long period of time, they will need to take a step back to reassess goals. Rather than just accepting things for the way they are, a Scorpio Mars would rather make changes. If they feel that a path is ill-suited for them, they’re not afraid to change directions. Starting from zero is not discouraging and it is something that motivates these types. They have the power to turn nothing into something great. 

♂ Libra Mars - Mars is uncomfortable being in Libra. People with this placement often struggle with taking action and are as indecisive as they come. They get caught up in what's fair and what isn’t. They have a strong need to strike equality and want every situation to be as balanced as possible. Some might be surprised to know that the ultimate desire for these types is to garner a sense of peace. They might unintentionally stir the pot through their inability to take a strong stance on something. They want to weigh all the options possible and can become stressed trying to do so. Being passive-aggressive is also something that's frequently seen with this placement. These types think they’re being nice when in reality they’re making people uncomfortable through their fear of being direct. They���re sneaky when faced with conflict but also good at leading people into a resolution. 

[geneviveleocardius]

josh washington romantic headcanons

be soft on me, it’s my first post.

Josh isn’t the type to confess his feelings outright, but he uses his sarcastic humor and jokes to show he cares. If you’re having a bad day, he might say something like:

“Oh, so the drama queen decided to bless us with her depressed presence? Well, put me on your throne, because I’m about to save the day.”

While he’s trying to make you smile, there’s an underlying sincerity: he hates seeing you down, even if he can’t admit it directly. I mean, how’s the light of his life gonna be sad? Then what’s expecting to him.

Josh isn’t openly romantic, but he has his own way of showing he’s thinking about you.

For example, he might text you at 3 a.m. with a dumb meme he knows will make you laugh or show up at your door with your favorite snack, saying:

“It’s not like I’m obsessed with you or anything… but I saw this and thought of you, ‘kay?”

He plays it off as casual, but the truth is he planned it more than he lets on.

While Josh tends to hide what he’s feeling, when he’s with you and feels safe, his mask slips. One night, after a particularly bad day, he might say:

“Sometimes I feel like I’m… messed up in ways no one else gets. But with you, I don’t know, it’s like I get a break from all that. Thanks for not running away yet.”

He doesn’t expect you to fix him with words; what he needs most in those moments is your presence and understanding.

Josh isn’t the kind of guy who plans extravagant dates.

He prefers something simple but meaningful: a late-night walk somewhere secluded, an afternoon showing you weird movies he loves, or just staying in while you work on something creative together. He’d say something like:

“We could hit the fanciest restaurant in town, but let’s be real, the real art is in these burned popcorns I made for you.”

Josh constantly struggles with the fear that the people close to him will leave—especially you.

He doesn’t always say it outright, but you notice it in small things: how he seeks reassurance that you’re okay with him, how he avoids certain topics, or how he insists on making you laugh even when he’s clearly not okay. If you ever call him out on it, he might say:

“I’m not saying you have to stay with me, but… if you do, I can’t promise it’ll be easy. Just that I’ll try, alright?”

Josh isn’t naturally smooth when it comes to physical affection.

At first, his hugs might feel a little stiff, and his attempts to hold your hand might be clumsy.

But over time, his gestures become more natural. If you ever rest your head on his lap, you might hear him murmur:

“You know my legs are falling asleep, right? But don’t move. I don’t mind.”

While he wouldn’t say it to your face, when he’s with his friends, he can’t help but brag about you indirectly. “Oh, guess who had the brilliant idea to drag me to that movie? Yeah, my girl obviously. Always has the best ideas.”

His friends know he’s crazy about you, but he prefers to keep a laid-back attitude… even if his expression totally gives him away.

Josh doesn’t always handle his emotions well and can sometimes be impulsive or say something hurtful without realizing it.

However, when he knows he’s messed up, he won’t just let it go. He might show up at your place with an unconventional apology, like a bag of your favorite candy and a note that says:

“I know I was an ass. This doesn’t fix it, but it’s a good start, right?”

It may sound lighthearted, but his regret is genuine, and he’ll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust.

genevieve out, xoxo.

[magical-reid]

The Rings We Keep Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K

Part 1

Two months had passed since the case ended, your team was spending more and more time assisting the BAU with their cases, and you were still adjusting to being known as Mrs. Reid. The BAU’s teasing had mostly subsided, but Penelope couldn’t help herself, sending you daily texts with variations of “How’s married life treating you, sugarplum?”

Spencer, of course, was blissfully oblivious to half the jokes. You envied his ability to compartmentalize. For you, the line between personal and professional felt increasingly blurred—especially when you came home to find him sitting on your couch, flipping through one of your dog-eared mystery novels like he belonged there.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your go-bag on the floor.

“Hey,” he replied without looking up. “Your landlord called earlier. The leak in your bathroom should be fixed tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”

Spencer finally glanced up, his expression innocent. “It’s easier if they call me. You don’t always answer your phone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Easier, huh?”

He shrugged. “Legally, I’m your emergency contact. Makes sense.”

Your chest tightened a mix of irritation and something warmer that you weren’t ready to name. Spencer had a way of making the most unconventional things seem logical—like casually fixing your plumbing situation as if it were just another bullet point on his to-do list.

You crossed the room, plopping onto the couch beside him. “You know this is weird, right?”

“What is?”

“This,” you gestured between the two of you. “Being married but… not married.”

Spencer tilted his head, considering your words. “It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s not weird. We work well together.”

“That’s not exactly the foundation of a marriage,” you pointed out, though your tone lacked bite. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know—try to figure out what this actually is?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You mean, like dating?”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and full of possibility.

“Maybe,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “I mean, it might help. Get to know each other outside of work. Outside of… whatever this is.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s logical. We could schedule something.”

“Schedule?” You laughed, the sound half nervous, half amused. “Spence, you don’t schedule a date. You just… go.”

His lips quirked in a small, sheepish smile. “Right. Of course.”

The First Date

Three days later, you found yourself sitting across from Spencer at a cozy little café near the library. He’d insisted on picking the place, and you hadn’t protested—it was quiet, intimate, and felt like him.

“I, um, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety,” Spencer said, gesturing to the spread of pastries between you. “There’s a 73% chance one of these is your favorite.”

You bit back a smile, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “Good guess.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and you realized he’d been nervous—an unusual look for someone so confident in every other aspect of his life.

“So,” you began, tearing off a piece of croissant. “Do we talk about work, or is that off-limits?”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s not off-limits, but we could talk about other things. Like… hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeated, amused. “You mean like your extensive knowledge of obscure trivia?”

“Or your knack for solving puzzles,” he countered, a rare teasing tone in his voice.

You laughed, the sound drawing a faint smile from him. For the first time, the awkwardness began to fade, replaced by something warmer—something that felt almost like normalcy.

Navigating New Territory

Over the next few weeks, your dynamic shifted in subtle but undeniable ways. Spencer started leaving his favorite books on your nightstand, claiming they were “better than the ones you usually read.” You, in turn, introduced him to your guilty pleasure TV shows, relishing the way he tried (and failed) to resist getting invested in the drama.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing.

One evening, as you cooked dinner together—a rare occurrence, considering your busy schedules—Spencer reached for the salt just as you turned to grab a spoon. The collision was minor, but it left you both frozen, faces inches apart.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “No, it was my fault.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. You busied yourself stirring the sauce, your mind racing. Was this what it felt like to be in a real marriage? The constant push and pull of closeness and uncertainty?

“I’ve been reading about communication in relationships,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “Of course you have.”

“It says physical proximity is important,” he continued, his tone serious. “Small gestures, like holding hands, can build intimacy.”

You stared at him, torn between exasperation and affection. “Spence, are you saying we should hold hands more?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “It might help.”

You sighed, setting down the spoon. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

Tentatively, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. His skin was warm, his grip firm but careful.

“How’s this?” you asked, half-joking.

Spencer’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Good,” he said softly. “It’s… good.”

A Step Forward

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you found yourself leaning against Spencer on the couch, too tired to care about boundaries. His arm was draped around your shoulders, and you realized with a start that it felt… nice. Comforting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “Just tired.”

He didn’t move, didn’t press for more. Instead, he simply held you, his presence steady and reassuring.

In that moment, you realized something had shifted—not just between you, but within you. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience anymore. It was becoming something real, something worth fighting for.

And as you drifted off to sleep, Spencer’s voice echoed softly in your mind.

“I’ve got you.”

You believed him.

The Unspoken Shift

It was late one night when the shift finally happened when everything you and Spencer had been tiptoeing around finally came to a head. The case had been grueling—intense, dangerous—but in the end, the team had solved it. The adrenaline had faded, leaving an unfamiliar silence in its wake.

You were sitting on the couch in your small apartment, your mind still racing from the day’s events. You’d barely had time to think about anything beyond work in the past few weeks, but now, with the threat neutralized, everything came rushing back.

Spencer, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by the chaos. He was curled up in the armchair across from you, his laptop open in front of him, but his eyes weren’t on the screen. He kept glancing over at you, his face unreadable, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it.

It was in moments like this that you found yourself wondering what this was between you—this odd marriage of convenience that had slowly morphed into something you couldn’t quite define.

We work well together, Spencer had said once, so casually that it hadn’t quite clicked at the time. Now, though, as you caught him looking at you again—this time with a sort of tenderness that made your heart skip a beat—you wondered if he meant more than just work.

You shifted on the couch, trying to distract yourself. You couldn’t allow yourself to think too deeply, not with everything that was still unresolved. But Spencer’s voice cut through the silence.

"Y/N, I... I think I need to apologize."

You froze, unsure if you had heard him correctly. "Apologize? For what?"

He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys of his laptop, but he didn’t look at the screen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, serious and a little vulnerable. "For... for how distant I’ve been. I know I’ve been focused on the cases and... well, on myself too much." His lips tightened, as if he regretted the words before they even left his mouth. "I’ve been pushing you away without even realizing it. And I’m sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. Spencer was never one to admit when he was wrong. He was always so logical, so composed. But tonight, something was different. There was a rawness in his voice that made your chest tighten, and you realized with a jolt that maybe you had been pushing him away too.

"You haven’t been distant, Spence," you said softly. "You’ve just been... you." The words felt heavier than you intended, but it was the truth. Spencer had always been focused, and driven, and even when he was there, he seemed so far away, locked in his own world.

"I know," he said, his voice low. "But that’s not an excuse. I—I should have been there more for you. You’ve been doing this alone, and that’s not fair."

You stared at him, processing what he had just said. Spencer Reid, always so sure of his intelligence and his work, was admitting—without words—that he wasn’t sure how to be a partner in this unconventional marriage. And as much as you wanted to brush it off, you couldn’t. You had been struggling with the same doubts.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you said quietly, motioning between the two of you. “This whole… marriage thing. It’s not what I expected, either. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “I know you are,” he said. “And that’s why I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t know what this is, but... I don’t want to lose it.”

There was a long pause as you both let the words settle. You felt the weight of everything that had been building up—the awkward moments, the shared glances, the near-kisses that you’d both avoided. But in that moment, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep avoiding it.

“I don’t want to lose it either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer inhaled deeply, his hand moving hesitantly toward yours. When his fingers brushed against yours, your pulse quickened. The touch was gentle, uncertain—but it felt like a promise, one you hadn’t even realized you were waiting for. The space between you seemed to shrink as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

"I think I—" Spencer started, but the words hung in the air, unspoken, because neither of you could say them aloud just yet. Instead, you reached for him.

You moved slowly, carefully, but when your lips met his, it wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t calculated. It was everything that had been building between you for the past two months. It was vulnerability and longing and the quiet admission that you couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

His lips were warm, soft, and he didn’t pull away, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he did. The kiss was tentative at first, but it deepened as you both leaned into it, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you felt right. Not because the kiss had solved everything, but because in that moment, you finally felt seen.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. Spencer’s hands were still lightly touching your arms, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, but you didn’t want him to move. You didn’t want to break this moment of rawness between you.

“I... I’ve wanted that for a while,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart racing. “I think I have too.”

For a moment, you simply stayed there, sitting together, breathing in the same air. You didn’t need to talk, didn’t need to say anything more. Everything had shifted, in a way that felt both terrifying and liberating at the same time.

You were no longer just coworkers. You weren’t just a married couple in name. In that kiss, you had taken the first step into something more. Something real.

And for the first time, you believed Spencer when he said he didn’t want to lose this.

The Quiet Moments After

The days after your first kiss were a mix of confusion and excitement. There was still tension between the work you did and the lives you were building together, but somehow it felt more manageable now. You and Spencer began finding ways to open up to each other—slowly, carefully, but with more and more honesty.

You would catch Spencer looking at you with that same soft expression as if he was still trying to figure out the person sitting beside him, but there was no hesitation anymore. No pulling away.

He didn’t say much, but his actions spoke volumes. Whether it was bringing you your favorite coffee when he knew you were having a rough day or simply sitting beside you on the couch, his presence had started to mean more. And with each passing moment, each new shared experience, you felt your connection deepening.

Maybe this wasn’t the marriage you had expected. But maybe, just maybe, it was the one you needed.

Part 3

[haikyuulovercompany]

Equation: I Love You / Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Confessing to Tsukishima Kei wasn't an easy task. He was unreadable and too nonchalant to be certain you were making the right guess. But not trying seemed a worse option than finally coming clean with your feelings. But when the answer seems so uncertain... maybe confessing on paper was a better idea than speaking out loud.

Original Request

Genre: Romance / Pure fluff.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.4k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Your heart beat rapidly. You had been planning this stunt for the past week and now the time for its execution had come. It had to be perfect, otherwise, you would crawl into the deepest hole to never be seen again. It was unfathomable you were about to give this a try. The person you were six months ago wouldn’t believe what present you were about to do.    

You didn't fall for Tsukishima Kei right away, but you fell hard once you did. You sat side by side at class which made ignoring him impossible, especially in those stances where you had to work in pairs. Some teachers allowed you to choose your partner for the class, but others wanted to avoid too much of a mess and simply indicated to work with the person on your immediate side, which paired you with him more than once. As time passed, you two managed to develop a friendship. The sarcasm and the mocking were two languages you shared. It was fun and it was silly. Of course, until your heart began beating way too hard for your liking every time he crossed the threshold into the classroom completely disregarding everything around him with his headphones on. Those few seconds before he began acknowledging the world gave you the time to stare a bit longer. That’s how you realized you had most definitely fallen for the blonde.

You didn’t try to change anything in the routine. You kept your calm and pretended nothing had changed in you at all. However, months went by and you grew more impatient the bigger your feelings became. You wanted to believe the little notes he threw your desk when the teacher gave her back to the class meant something. There he would write a snarky commentary of sorts only for you to read—which would most often than not made you held your chuckles back. Or the way he lingered a bit longer in class even when it was clear he was ready to go because you weren’t ready yet. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there with phone in his hand but as soon as you were done, he would finish whatever he was doing, too, at the same time. Little things like that had given you the courage to come up with the unconventional method you were about to use to confess your feelings to him for once and for all.

Both Tsukishima and you were smart, you knew that by heart. You two were in an advanced class for a reason. But that didn’t mean that you were good at every single class. He was better than you in science but you beat him at math. More than once he had approached you with questions he would ask trying not to act as bashful as he was. That’s how the idea popped into your consciousness as to how you were going to go about it.

And with that in mind, you got mentally prepared to do it and patiently waited for him to struggle in math class so he would come to you.

Surely, the opportunity appeared.

Tsukishima was slightly frowning at his notebook as they did the in-class exercise the teacher had assigned. The back of your neck bristled with a cold sweat. Here it was. The moment you had been waiting for. Your heart slammed against your ribcage. You couldn’t walk back now. You would regret it. You had planned it. It was quick and easy. Embarrassing? A little. But not as embarrassing as evoking the words out loud. You would never be able to say it. It had to be like that if you stood any chance of doing it. And so, you cleared your throat loud enough for you to hear. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

You offered him a small smile. “Do you need some help, Tsukishima-san?” you whispered making sure the teacher didn’t hear her. He nodded and then with his fingers made a sign that meant ‘later’. As of now, they couldn’t talk much which meant you couldn’t do anything but keep to your own paper. However, if tradition followed, after class he would be meeting with you with all of his questions. That’s when it needed to happen.

As class went on, you found it troublesome to pay attention. Your mind was divided between what the teacher was relentlessly writing on the board and how you were going to advance with your great idea. The more you thought about it, the more you debated if you should do it. You began pondering on the option that maybe Tsukishima would ask to go over the class another day. He was constantly busy with volleyball practice and it wouldn’t be unusual either. It would give you time to either think things over or prepare mentally a bit more. However, as the teacher announced there would be a benchmark test at the end of the week to make sure everyone understood correctly, you knew you would have no time. Tsukishima wasn’t one to risk a bad grade like that. He was practical. If the solution he needed was at hand, he would take it without thinking twice. And he did like you had expected. He had asked you to stay a bit more after class to go over the new topic.

Now you were here, staring at the stupid math example you had written on your notebook—an example you wrote beforehand on your notebook with the help of the image you had saved on your phone so you could copy it perfectly. Tsukishima had pulled his chair to your desk and you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for you to explain what he was supposed to be looking at. The thing was, the mathematical problem for your gimmicky confession looked nothing like what you had seen in class.

It was now or never.

You took a deep breath and grabbed the eraser from your case. You were going to do it. No turning back. You placed a hand on the notebook as to keep the sheet of paper in place and to cover the lower half of the equation, and with that, you began erasing the upper half. Once this was done, you faced another issue… you had to move your hand so he could look at the secret message. You suddenly lacked the strength to move it away.

For your disgrace, it was him who moved your hand away with an exasperated huff. He most probably was thinking you were messing with him. It was so out of pocket for you to be this ineffective when explaining something. He clearly didn’t understand what she was doing, and he was getting impatient with the silence.

Both of you got frozen in time. He clearly saw what had become of the equation, and you were unable to lift your eyes from your lap and find out what was his expression. You thought you could do it, that you could face whichever his answer was, but now you only wanted to fly out of the window on your left.

The desk trembled and with a new curiosity in you, you lifted your eyes only a little. He had laid his elbow on the desk but that was all you could see. So… you lifted your eyes a little more. He had taken off his glasses and was covering his eyes with one of his hands. His lips were pressed in a tight line and you could see the heavy blush on his face.

“Like this,” he whispered, “you confess like this.”

Your eyes lingered on him before you could find your voice again. “Yes,” you whispered back. “I thought… it would be, I don’t know, cute.”

Tsukishima removed the hand from his face so he could look at you. He was more embarrassed than you, which was easy to see. You were nervous, but his entire face was pink. You two stared at each other speechless. You had shown everything you wanted to say, and he was lost for words.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Or you can say no, too,” you declared hastily. “I’ll be fine whatever it is. You don’t have to stress about it.”

He snapped his tongue. “Stop,” he pleaded. He took a deep breath but he still didn’t grab his glasses. It was a strange image to see him without them. It was nice either way. “I mean, let’s go out then,” he said so fast it was almost impossible to understand him; yet, you did and nodded equally fast.

Of course, he wasn’t one to say he liked you back straightforward or do something like you have one. But it was more than you were hoping for. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

♡ Thanks for reading! ♡

[shut-up-danny-kun]

I've read hundreds of Star Trek TOS fics by now and it never ceases to amuse me how many different ways there are to fuck up Spock's characterization...now hold on just a minute - this post has a more interesting point than “fanfic writers stupid”, I promise you.

Every time, it's a spin on the massacre wheel. It's kind of amazing. Will he be overly emotional to the point where he's not himself anymore? Will he be so cold it's unpleasant and kind of hard to understand how he's lived to this point? Will he be extremely horny for no good reason? Will he speak in a way that sounds complety wrong?

I chuckle and shake my head. Of course, I KNOW what Spock is like, and MY interpretation of him is the most perfect and correct one. Obviously. He's just a very nuanced character, formed by many people in an unconventional way, with traits that seem to contradict each other at first but ultimately form a rich and unique character that so many people fell in love with specifically because he's so complicated...

Or...is he?

Let's entertain the idea that there isn't one correct interpretation of Spock, that all of these messy bits of characterization are not part of a bigger picture, but...just what they are: a product of many people with starkly different visions, working on a show that refuses to properly develop its characters. What then? Well, then Spock is a Rorschach test. Each viewer connects the random dots in their own way, and ignores the ones they don't like.

Let's use an example: me! In my interpretation of Spock (the most correct one, of course) he is, first of all, gay and on the asexual spectrum, reserved, largely uninterested in casual flirting or sex. When he is interested in the aforementioned things, he tends to be quite ashamed of it.

Makes sense, right? I can show you plenty of evidence for why that could be true. However, in the beginning of the first bloody season, Uhura sings a song about how Spock is actually kind of a heartthrob who likes to drive women insane with how hot he is, and Spock smiles. He smiles at her, as if agreeing and being very amused by all this! This interaction goes against pretty much everything I think about Spock. So what do I do? I explain it away in the most bizzare fucking way possible. See, Uhura and Spock are friends (there is no evidence for this), and Uhura knows everything I've just told you about him (through telepathy I guess? Not like he'd ever tell her!) and she's just trolling him (why would she do that? That is NOTHING like Uhura!). I need to do some Olympics-level mental gymnastics here, the opposite of Occam's razor.

“But Danny,” I hear you say, “it's just the start of the show! They hadn't figured out his character yet!”

To which I say: you can say that about anything! You can blame it all on a bad writer for that episode, and ignore virtually any scene that doesn't jive with your headcanons. It's there, and I can't ignore it.

So...how am I different from the people that want Spock to be thar heartthrob Uhura is singing about? That evidence is as much a part of canon as my favorite lines. Well, I'm not any different, that's the thing. And all those writers I complained about also have a point.

It's kind of a nihilistic take, I know, but maybe the reason Spock is such a cultural icon is because he is...whatever you want him to be: just concrete enough to spur on your imagination, yet vague and contradictory enough to let your brain fill in the gaps.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely do not believe in this. In my mind, it just so happens that I'm one of the, like, 5 people ever who truly understood Spock (and one of them is Jim Kirk himself). But I still think it's something worth thinking about next time you're mad at a fic.

[gaybananabread]

Hi! For day 1, could you please do ramshackle with ler skipp and lee stone? Thank you!! :))

TickleTober Day 1 - Anticipation

~Alright! Kicking off the month with one of my newer obsessions is always fun. I’m excited to get all these done; hopefully all 30 days this year! Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Stone

Ler: Skipp

Summary: Stone is in a mood, snapping and sassing his friends for almost no reason. Skipp gets more than a little tired of it, deciding to use some unconventional methods to get Stone out of his funk; however, he doesn’t get started right away. After all, the best things come to those who wait.

Warnings: brief cigarette use! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Kicking around trash in their slum alley, Stone huffed and grumbled about. He’d been in a sour mood all day - probably because they’d had shoes for dinner the night before. Taking his anger out on an empty liquor bottle, he sighed as the glass shattered and shot tiny fragments across the alleyway.

Skipp snapped his head up, his fear fading to concern and a slight annoyance as he pieced together what happened. Not another mood…

“Stone, buddy, you can’t smash bottles. We kinda sleep on the ground, if you forgot, and I don’t think broken glass makes for a good pillow.” Walking over to the grumpy man, Skipp tried to reason with him. When he placed a hand on Stone’s shoulder, it was quickly shrugged off and scoffed at.

“Whatever. Wha’ does it even matter? I barely ever sleep at night anyway,” Stone grumped, lighting a cigarette and ignoring his fellow scrap. That made Skipp’s small smile fall, concern dominating his expression.

“I know, but still. We don’t wanna dirty up our place anymore than the city already has.” Skipp kicked a bit of the broken glass around, trying to use his foot as a broom. It worked…kinda. He’d have to ask Vinnie where she put their actual broom when she got back from her supply run.

“Ugh, like we care abou’ the mess. We are a mess, Skipp - all three of us. Probably gonna die as one, too.” His words were harsh, much harsher than he meant to be. Still, he was in a mood; there was no way he was gonna apologize.

That stubborn thought nearly died as he saw Skipp’s lip quiver for a moment.

“Skipp…” Stone lowered his cigarette, reaching a hand out to rest on the blonde’s shoulder. He pulled away before the gloomy man could touch him, still looking down.

“Fine. If you’re just gonna be grumpy and mean for no reason, I guess I’ll have to…” Skipp slowly got closer to Stone, raising his head; the mischievous grin on his face was immediately recognizable, making Stone’s stomach flip. “Tickle you.”

Oh shit. Oh shit!

Stone dropped his cigarette, internally cringing at the waste as he took off running. A light was worth less than whatever was left of his sanity, though. He pumped his legs as fast as they would go, not sparing a single second to look behind him.

Skipp snickered as he ran off, but didn’t take off after him; their alleys only went so far before looping back to the street. The blonde calmly jogged over to the connecting road, ducking into the alley spit-out. Lo and behind, Stone came racing towards the opening, his eyes flying wide as he saw Skipp.

Before the broody man could backpedal, Skipp lunged and pinned him to the ground. They were still inside the alley, concealed well enough to have privacy. Stone was straddled in seconds, thrashing beneath his fellow scrap.

“Ge’ the fuck off, Skipp! I swear, ’m gonna-” Stone’s threat was cut off by Skipp’s hand resting on his stomach. It definitely wasn’t his worst spot, but he was still ticklish there.

“Oh, what was that? Gonna…what? Apologize for being so mean?” Skipp teased, wiggling his fingers ever-so-slightly against the taller man’s stomach. Stone bit his lip, holding back his small giggles. A feeling of anticipation settled in his gut, making him giddy and nervous.

“F-fuck you! Don’ even try it, or yer dead!” Stone continued to threaten him, refusing to apologize. I mean, yeah, he probably did owe the blonde a good one, but he was busy being stubborn.

Skipp shrugged, flattening his hand against Stone’s stomach. He wasn’t gonna tickle him - yet. With Stone, it was best to let things marinate; he reacted a lot better after he got in his head.

“Hmm. That’s not very nice, Stone. I mean, it’s almost like you’re asking to be tickled,” Skipp mused, sighing with phony ponderance. The fingers on Stone’s stomach started to drum, sending tiny little shocks of ticklishness through his abdomen.

“Skipp, you bitch- gehet off!” Shoving at Skipps hand, Stone struggled to stay composed. Though the man above him was barely doing anything, the anticipation made everything ten times more intense; even if he wasn’t touching him, the grump would probably be giggling.

“Was that a giggle? I’m not even doing anything, man,” Skipp teased, gathering the moody man’s wrists above his head. Stone was incredibly on edge, too focused on the eventual tickles to fight back much. “I didn’t say anything funny, did I?”

Stone groaned at the teasing, tugging at his arms as he wriggled around on the pavement. Thanks to his thick, long clothes, he was protected from pain and most discomfort. His nerves were on fire, unprovoked giggles building in his throat. He was thoroughly in his head, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Shuhut up, Skipp!” The blonde’s fingers scratched once, moving in a quick up-and-down motion to tease him. Stone squeaked, his gruff pitch skyrocketing for a moment as Skipp actually did something. He tried to scowl afterwards, but the giddy smile on his face made it awfully difficult.

“Sh-shihit! Skipp, youhu motherfucker-” Stone giggled through his “harsh” words, trying and failing to think of a good threat. Skipp wasn’t even tickling him anymore, but the giggles continued.

“Aww, poor Stone. Dooming himself to tickles because he won’t apologize…” Skipp shook his head, sighing sadly. Was that a little mean? Eh, yeah, but it was fun! Like Stone wasn’t enjoying himself regardless. He left his fingers to sit still on Stone’s stomach, waiting for the grouch to cave.

It was barely another minute before he broke.

“F-fine! Fihine! I’m sohorry for bein’ so mean. Hahappy?” Stone relented, looking away as he apologized. Every nerve in his body was buzzy with antsiness, begging him to squirm and giggle his heart out. His pride refused to let him, though.

“I mean, I’m happy, but I think you could still use some cheering up.” Suddenly, without any more teasing or taunts, Skipp wiggled all five fingers into Stone’s belly. 

Again, the man’s stomach wasn’t that bad a spot; if anything, it was one of his most bearable ones. With all the anticipation built in him, however, it might as well have been the holy giggle-grail.

“SHIHIHIhihit! Skihihipp! Fuhuhuck youhu!” Stone arched his back against the pavement, testing Skipp’s grip strength as he giggled. All attempts at stoicism were gone, replaced with giggly protests. The blonde couldn’t help but smile at his giddy compatriot’s reaction.

“Aww, Stone! I didn’t think your belly was that ticklish, but those giggles are adorable!” Skipp cooed, continuing to tease the ravenette. He knew he was being a little evil, but he just loved the wide, unapologetic smile the teases provoked.

“Ihi hahahahate youhuhuhu!” That was bullshit, and they both knew it; Stone just needed something to say, and barbs came so naturally to him. Unluckily for him, that counted as being mean.

“Stone! You just apologized for being mean, yet you’re insulting me? Really?” Skipp shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Guess I’m gonna have to try harder to get you outta this mood.”

“Wahahait, Skipp, dohon’t you- fffFFUHUHUHUHUCK! NOHAHAHO!” Five fingers wiggled into the backs of Stone’s ribs, making him arch his back with a shout of laughter. Thanks to his giddiness, the attack on his worst spot tickled five times as badly.

“Yes! See how happy you sound? This feels way better than being all grouchy, doesn’t it?” That was just adding insult to injury. Stone’s cackling was incredibly loud; even in their semi-secluded alley, he was sure someone would hear him. Swallowing what little pride the man had left, Stone tapped out.

“I-IHIHIHI CAHAHAN’T! STOHOHOP!” Upon the forfeit, Skipp immediately stopped tickling and switched to gently rubbing the taller man’s back. Whenever someone tickled the snot out of him, the massage would help him calm down.

“Uhuhuhugh…y-youhuhuhu lihittle shihihit…” Stone huffed, struggling to catch his breath. Now that his hands were free, he hugged his middle to try and regain his composure. The pavement wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to lie down, so Skipp shifted the other man to lie in his lap.

Stone huffed at the touch, but didn’t move away. After all, Skipp’s chest did feel better than the dingy alley floor.

“Hey…wanna head back to our alley? I’m sure Vinnie’s back with some beans by now.” Skipp nudged the tired man’s arm, knowing they probably shouldn’t stay in the random alleyway for too long.

“F-fihine. C’mere,” Stone groaned a little dramatically, using Skipp to help himself up. The shorter man giggled at that, supporting his weight before starting their small walk home. 

While their silliness wasn’t exactly the most mature way to cheer Stone up, it certainly was their favorite. Hearts lighter and moods lifted, the two men eagerly awaited the beans Vinnie would hopefully offer upon their return.

[alphajocklover]

So I just finished my 3rd year exams at university (hopefully I did well enough to make it into a 4th year and go for an Master's of science) and as soon as I get out near the crowd to celebrate a guy bumps into me and I broke my phone. I was ready to give him a piece of my mind until I saw he was pretty built, he must be on some university team for something. He felt awful apparently and he gave me his old phone as an apology. It came with this InstaJock app thing on it. I dunno what it is but I kinda wanna load it up...

Another instance of a jock giving someone a phone with InstaJock already downloaded on it. Another instance of someone doing something with InstaJock that doesn’t make any sense. I know it’s unprofessional to say something like this, but this is driving me crazy. Why would a jock give away their phone? If they wanted to turn you into a jock like them, they’d just send you the app! If they wanted to give you a new phone for real, they’d have wiped it before giving it to you. I guess it's possible they forgot, but InstaJock is super important to the users that get transformed into jocks. Even with how stupid jocks can be, I doubt they’d forget about the app that literally changed their life. So… why?

I’ve mentioned in some of my earlier Instajock posts that someone has been messing with people using this app. Using it in unconventional ways to mess with people, spreading false information about the app, and even making knock offs of the transformative app. My first thought was that it had to be The Master. Not the Doctor Who villain, to those who get that reference, but someone I introduced to you all in a recent post. He’s the creator of Instajock and the mastermind behind my Uncle’s transformation and kidnapping. He’s an incredibly powerful figure in the Transformation Community, even more than I’ve told you. Most people who know about transformations are scared to mention him, even other TF Reporters are, and most powerful people or groups who work with transformation either do business with him or stay out of his way. But… I don’t think he’s the one behind this. He likes to mess with people, play with his victims like whoever is behind this, but if he wanted to do that he could just add features to the actual InstaJock app. He had no reason to do things in such a roundabout way. Which makes me think… it’s someone else.

Whoever is doing this has an intimate knowledge of the app, so It has to be someone involved with InstaJock, someone besides The Master. Maybe someone who works for him? Even he couldn’t have programmed the entire app on his own and added in the magical elements without help. Plus he isn’t one for upkeep, so he’s probably having someone else run the site for him. They also have to be someone with a lot of nerve to mess with The Master, maybe someone who they’ve hurt personally. On top of all of that it’d also have to be someone the jocks would listen to. Maybe someone who worked on InstaJock that The Master fired, a former employee?

I can’t be sure of who's behind this yet, but I do know that whatever they’re trying to do with you isn’t good. When you press that app, you won’t just be turned into a jock like a regular InstaJock user. It has to be something… special. Something that would benefit, or would at least interest the person behind this. Maybe you’ll turn into a copy of the jock who gave you the phone, become their perfect twin? Maybe something else will happen entirely. I can’t be sure.

If it’s not too late, send me the phone immediately. I can put it somewhere safe, and I might be able to protect you from whoever's doing this. If it is too late… Well I hope you enjoy whatever happened. Being transformed against your will sucks, but being a jock can be fun, even if it isn’t your choice.

**3 stories in one day, all InstaJock? I must be on a roll! I hope you guys liked this one! There are still more mysteries and more transformations to discover! Stay tuned!**

[tojisprettywife]

{note: hi hi, this was pretty intimidating to write. To open the blank document, was scary enough. after two years, attempting to write more than 1k words was not easy, so to speak. i'd recommend listening to smth that gets in your feels as you read this, if you can. this was based on this ask. hopefully, whoever wanted me to tag them in this, like it.}

warnings: none. husband! toji x wife! reader. maybe 0.1% of suggestiveness. fluff i guess? i'll let you be the judge of it.

w.c: 2.05k

tags: @jkumiplace @snowprincesa1 @idreamitski @shokosprincess hope you all like it :)

When you feel the world caving in, unknowingly, we push everyone around us away. Self isolation, a very tempting idea, to give into. Or you’re just in your luteal phase? Whatever the reason might be, you’re feeling what you would mostly probably write off as “I don’t know”. You slump down into the couch, staring at the moving pictures on the screen. Your husband works a rather unconventional job, a sorcerer killer. Right, unconventional is an understatement, putting himself in danger, but you too. You’re sitting there blankly, waiting for him to be home, it’s been 10 days since you last saw him. 

You jolt and sit up,at the sharp sound of the door bell. It is 11pm on a Tuesday night, who would show up at such a time?Your husband, Toji, of course. You run up to the front door, opening the door. And, there is  the man you love, you adore, who you married. “You’re still up?..” He walks past you, entering the apartment. You close the door behind him and turn, “I couldn’t sleep… '' you mumble. “Is there any dinner? I’m famished” he said, placing his duffel bag on the floor beside the couch. Your eyebrows twitch, where is the usual hug he gives you after coming home to you? where is the “i missed you so much?” ‘Why aren’t his eyes meeting mine? what’s with this sudden chang—‘ your thoughts are stopped in the tracks as his low timbre snaps you back into the present “I’m asking… is there dinner or not? Did you cook something for me?..” he sighs, walking into the bedroom that you both share. "What's with this ne— No, these days, he’s been taking more and more from me, it seems like I mean nothing—’  you shake your head, to stop yourself from jumping into conclusions. He comes back into the kitchen after washing up. You hate how, despite how you’re annoyed at his new change in behavior, you still find him attractive. The smell of after shave lotion, filling the air as he walks past you, drying his hair with a small towel. The way his wet raven black hair sticks to his forehead and neck. Maybe absence does make the heart fonder. Is it only for you or— you flinch as he taps on the counter. “Back to earth, hmm?” You sigh softly, placing a plate on the dining table, serving him dinner. He quickly eats, your mind drifting back to “Why isn’t he talking? Where is his usual grumble about work, Where—” you look at him, as the chair’s legs scratch the floor as he gets up after finishing dinner. 

Small, unsettling feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach. Almost, two years into this marriage, what’s this new sliver crack in a perfectly nice mirror? That is how it feels, right now. A small crack, a splinter, or is it just miscommunication?

‘Communication is the key to a healthy relationship’ they say, they only say. To actually follow and practice that? Humans are selfish beings at the end of the day. You know, asking and talking it out with him would be right. Yet here you are, grueling all by yourself. 

The human mind is a wretched, wretched thing, at times. In the name of protecting you, thousands of scenarios pop into your mind like bubbles, ranging to all extremities. That’s quite laughable, you know, you’re not these thoughts; but intrusive thoughts? on the other hand are quite convincing, aren’t they? Like a creeper vine which holds on to anything for support, thoughts creep in, stifling and clouding your judgment. Unbeknownst to you, or to your conscious mind, the history of Toji’s relationships flood in, adultery? cheating? lost feelings for you? What if he doesn’t love you anymore?. The sound of silence is too loud, you find yourself still in the kitchen mindlessly watching dishes while he peacefully sleeps, scrunching and fitting himself in a couch, which is tiny for him. Your eyes fall upon his face, now that you’re quite some feet away from him, if you weren’t there in his life, would he still fall asleep like this? 

Slowly the realization kicks in that, you still haven’t washed the dishes. You scamper around the kitchen, cleaning it up. Finally, walking towards the couch, you press a soft kiss on his forehead. Maybe you assumed too much? But you love him more than that, finally you decide to head to bed. 

Next morning, you thought it would be way better, since he’d be well rested. Is that really the case? Toji is up, watching the morning news, lazily skipping through some channels, he sees you come into the living room “Morning~ I’d like some coffee..” his eyes return back to screen, before you could reply to his greeting. This takes a huge toll on you, such indifference wasn’t something you were used to, especially from Toji. Morning becomes Afternoon becomes Evening, still Toji hasn’t given you any sort of attention. 

Things are slightly taking a turn, is it for the worse or better? You completely become dismissive to his behavior and start giving him the cold shoulder. Any requests that come your way, from him, are mostly answered by nodding or a mumble of “Okay” “No”. Toji notices this sudden, well not sudden, but gradual decline in your usual enthusiasm, and touchiness. He wanted to ask, but he gave you space since you might be just moody. He shrugs it off. Despite this little coldness and frozen atmosphere in your house, time still goes on, night falls, and bedtime is here. You sit on the edge of the bed. Toji is also in the room now. Four walls, two people, one bed, and a thousand misunderstandings. 

“Communication is the key” You know it at heart, but being petty is what you want to do now. Yes, it’s childish, immature, stupid, whatnot. Although, it is necessary now. You’ve given, given, and given, that your own cup is empty. As the saying goes “water is soft, but it cuts through rocks” has never been so true, until now. “Toji.” your tone is so sharp breaking this chilling, uncomfortable silence between you two. He immediately turns his head towards you, in surprise “Hm?..”. You gulp down, gathering up your courage to voice out what you've been feeling, what you’ve been wanting, and most of all, to know whether this relationship still has a chance? 

“I- I” your breaths are more deliberate, slow, and steady, to compose yourself. “I’ve been… feeling a little too weird these days..”. He nods, listening to you intently, as he’s never seen you this serious before. “Yes, You seem on the edge these days… especially ever since I came back.” 

You grit your teeth slightly at his calm tone, this calmness is what you like about him, but right now, this is what is setting you off, “Can you stop being so nonchalant all the goddamn time?” you lash out, but in times of anger, we don’t even acknowledge how we do things, what we extremely dislike, just as right now. “Toji, you— Do you take me for granted?! I can only give so much, but what am I getting from you? Past month, I’ve been completely, utterly, feeling used by you… Am I just one of the girls… like the ones from the past?..”. Toji’s string of patience breaks at the last line, not even at you calling him out, but comparing yourself to the one-night stands and hookups he had in his distant past. He clenches his jaw, and breathes out, calming down a little. Since you’re more sensitive, he tries to be as gentle as possible “Baby, That’s not true you know. Why would you compare yourself to women like that? You’re way more precious and you’re definitely not like them to me. You’re my wife…. listen—” 

 “Baby?” you mutter to yourself. “Toji, when.. you went on this mission, actually all missions before this one.. did you miss me? did you even think of me?… OR did you… turn back to your … old ways?…” That was enough, the last line. Toji is taken back, you could see the disbelief on his face. The silence is even more heavy. The words uttered in anger are so vicious, they kill people without actually killing them. “Wh-What did you just say?…” he croaks out, his nonchalance breaking away, being vulnerable as you hit such a wounded part of him. “You heard me clearly.” you knew you were being a bit too much, you knew that all too well, but this is what being petty means right? Once in a while, it is okay. Humans are rational beings? Never, just because we have one sense more than animals, doesn’t mean we aren’t rational than them. We are impulsive too. 

Toji stares dead into your eyes, you grit your teeth, not to lack composure. But, that’s not who you are. You love him way too much, get excited each time you see him, way too clingy, your love, your heart, everything says one name, every single day. In a crowd of men, you’d choose him over and over again. Tears slowly roll down your cheeks, in vain attempts to hold them back, they run down in streams. He, no matter how angry, can’t see you cry, see you weep like this. He walks over to you, and you take a step back. “I… I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to get mad.. or push you away.. These days this job is getting to me.. I don’t really feel like doing this anymore. I can’t stay away for weeks, without seeing you. Not only does it put me in danger, which I don't mind, but I’m putting you too. So that’s been on my mind a lot, sorry… I wasn’t being a good husband... I— I have no excuses..” 

Your heart sinks, it’s true he wasn't as close as used to be for a month. The way he takes the blame for himself, all that plus his vulnerability about the job, shakes you up a bit. “I know you need space, I’ll be in the living room. I’m so sorry, ba—by” 

The door swiftly closed behind him, you sat down on the bed. Taking in what has happened over the past one hour. After some time alone you slowly get up, making your way to the living room. You see Toji, lying down on the couch, legs hanging out, feet swinging slightly. You look down at him, then get on top of him, laying your head on his chest; snuggling into his chest. He wraps his big, warm arms around you, pulling you closer. The way his embrace still feels the same, the whiff of his cologne, mixed with his personal scent is so comforting. You nuzzle further into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry” you softly say. He presses a kiss on top of your head, his warm hand rubbing up and down your back. A few minutes into the hug, you look up into his eyes “Toji.. what’s that I feel on my thigh?..” He looks away from you “It’s been more than a month, you know. And being this close to you… it’s natural..” he mumbles, the tips of his ears turning red. You smile, burying your face back into his chest. “I love you” you whisper. “I know,” he says, smirking. You pinch his bicep “Ow, okay, okay… I love you the most, you know” he chuckles. “By the way… I got my period” you giggle. He pulls you in again, resting his chin on top of your head. He squeezes you gently, basking in this warm embrace, your hearts beating against each other’s chest, slowly syncing up with the other. You both drift off to peaceful slumber, after a long time. Your presence in Toji’s life was akin to the presence of the warmth of sunshine, on a cold winter’s day. You both found each other at the right time, after dating for some time, now married for almost two years. You’re all he could ever ask for. “To love and to be loved in return”, is what he wants, and he has it now. You.

[eyesxxyou]

Not anon since I actually wanna see this in my notifications if you do this requestlmao:

HOBIE WITH A VIRGIN READER, But:

Plot twist, reader is vulgar, she wears semi-skimpy clothing, always making stupid (yet creative) sex jokes like ‘that’s what she said’ etc, Make-out champ and stuff but in reality she just does whatever and it works for Hobie when it was a wild guess. Like- sexually experienced she definitely isn’t yet always acts confident

Knocking out 2 requests in one

{★} .. hobie brown x black!plus size!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.3k

synopsis. hobie never expected you to be a virgin and he's totally okay with that but you are not.

or

you and hobie mutually masterbate

🍓・．warnings❕no p in v sex, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, fingering, praise, cum on pussy, pussy job, Hobie as a dick piercing, mentions of religion and blasphemy, aftercare

If you had told Hobie you of all people were a virgin before the two of you had started dating, he would have thought you were pulling his leg. You? You in your skimpy clothes that deliciously left nothing to the imagination? You and the well-developed curves you loved to show off? You and your teasing innuendos? No way in hell you were a virgin, but alas, here you were after making out with him for the past 10 minutes, stalling really because you— in a crop top so small he could see the beginnings of your full breasts and low-rise jeans that showed off your waist beads partially hidden under the pudge of your stomach— had no idea what the hell to do beyond that.

Not that Hobie believed in the concept of “virginity”. He simply believed that people either have had sex before or they haven’t and either way, one does not make the more pure or better than the other. But still, you never had sex? With the confidence you had in your body— confidence well deserved— he assumed that you had left a long line of broken hearts in your sexy stride.

“Well, is this sometin’ you wanna do? I don’ want you to feel like you gotta do anytin’ wit’ me.” Communication was important in moments like these. If he was going to be your first sexual experience, he wanted to make a good impression, didn’t want to leave you scarred and traumatized.

You signed a little, your confident demeanor melting away just a little while you spoke. “I just don’t think I’m ready to go all the way, ya know? I’m sorry if you wanted mor—”

“Don’t be sorry, luv. Never be sorry ova tha’. We don’t gotta do anytin’,” Hobie assured you with a slight caress to your thick thigh the size of his literal head. There was something almost commercial about the difference in your sizes and body types. No one would expect someone so tall and lanky to be with a person so short and chubby but anyone who dared to comment on it could expect get their head bashed in by Hobie’s guitar.

“NO, no, I want to do something, just not that yet. I’m still a little…unsure about it but you think we can try something else?” You asked, hopeful that he’d be down for something a little more unconventional, but you knew Hobie preferred unconventional to anything else. “Of course, wha’cha thinkin’?” He siddled up next to you, his lips caressing the round of your cheek while his hand grasped the fat of your ass. All of this, so much of your to love and worship. He wanted to leave a mark on every piece of flesh he could get his hands on, lavish over every part no revealed to the world, parts few and far between but all the more sacred because of it.

You gently scratched at the nape of his neck while his hands roamed tenderly across you body, careful not to make you uncomfortable and fully prepared to pull away at any sign that you weren’t feeling it anymore. “Let's masturbate in front of each other.”

“You’ve been tinkin’ ‘bout this fo a while, then?” It came too fast from your lips to be anything you thought of on the spot. You slapped him on the shoulder but did not deny his claim because you have. It would be a lie to say you haven’t been thinking of him sitting in one of his many bean bag chairs with his legs spread apart, his hand stroking the length of his cock while he watched you use your fingers to stretch out your unused pussy. You thought about what he’d look like when he came. What the consistency of his cum looked like, what it tasted like. Did he shudder when he came, did he whine a little, did he moan and groan, you needed to know.

“Please Hobie, I really wanna try it.” You pulled back to give him your infamous puppy eyes, hoping that might be what convinces him. If only you knew he’d do absolutely anything you asked him to because his worship of you bordered on the lines of blasphemy. “Of course, luv.”

WIth one last kiss, the two of you parted completely, Hobie getting up to go sit on a chair across from his bed where he left you. A bit anxious, you began to fumble with the button to your your spared jeans in a some rush to get them off like you were going to miss some deadline.

“Come’ere.” Hobie motioned you over with his fingers and without a second to hesitate, you obeyed, walking over to him with a wrinkle in your jeans at your embarrassing attempt to get them off. He reached up, his eyes locking in with yours while his long, slender fingers skillfully doing what your chubby, stout ones could not. His hands traced the curve of your hip as he placed a soft kiss against the pudge of your belly. “Take’em off slow fa me. Gimme a show, luv.” WIth that, he removed his hands from your body and leaned back in the chair to enjoy the performance he prompted you to put on.

Pretending to be sexy was something you absolutely could do. You stepped back a bit, trailing your hands up and down the length of your torso to caress the curves of your body. Hobie let out something of a sigh as you slipped your thumbs into the waist of your pants and the band of your thong to pull them down simultaneously.

You turned around to face away from him, working your pants down your hips and your legs in a seductive manner before taking them all the way to the floor and flashing just a peek of that little pussy of yours at him as you stepped out of your clothes and kicked them to the side. And by the time you turned back around, Hobie already had his cock out, half-hard in his hand as he stroked his twitching length.

It was pretty, long, veiny, chocolate brown in color with a slightly lighter tip leaking dribbles of precum over his knuckles. He had a piercing through the head of it, a Prince Albert. You wanted to kiss it, have it in your mouth, slave over it, suck it like it was your favorite flavor of lolli. Anything Hobie-flavored was your favorite.

You moved back, maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend as the back of your knees his the edge of the bed and you fell onto it, now making eye contact with the thick monster he had between his legs. The sight of it made your pussy quiver at the thought of it being closer, being inside of you one day, fucking the daylights out of you.

"Go ahead, spread those legs fa me, baby. I wanna see tha' pretty pussy of ya's." Hobie sighed out, his cock now to its full length. If he were to let it go, it would rest well to his belly button. He stoked a little harder, anticipating the sight of your cunt on display for him to enjoy and him alone. There was an odd sort of perverted satisfaction he got knowing that you’d never had a sexual experience with anyone else other than him. No one in the entire world got to see this beautiful sight as your propped your feet up on the bed and spread them to reveal your sacred little hole, glistening and wet with arousal leaking out of it.

You used one hand to place behind you so you could hold yourself up while the other was used to rub your fingers in the mess your pussy made of itself, spreading the slick to your clit where you put most of your focus. Hobie hummed from across the room, a soft, wet fapping sound emanating from him as he fucked his hand a little harder, using his precum as lube to slick his path while he pretended it was in fact your sticky juices coating his cock.

You bit your bottom lip, watching with hooded eyes the way he fucked his own hand like he wanted to fuck you, nice and evenly paced but ultimately desperate for release. In some feeble attempt to imitate what his length might feel like stirring up your guts, you slipped a finger into your inexperienced hole, that being the most you could ever manage to fit. But it left you severely disappointed as you knew one of your tiny fingers could never even imagine imitating the length and girth of that pretty cock of his.

You thumb at your clit to the pace that his hand rubbed his cock, his own thumb stroking his sensitive head each time it got the chance to. “Hobie~” You whined for him as your head fell back and your eyes closed, the pleasure of it all so overwhelming. But Hobie snapped at you between breathless groans. “Keep ya eyes on me, baby. I wanna see ya eyes.” So you opened them and looked at him, his hand fucking himself even harder now, his hips bucking uncontrollably from pleasure.

You could only imagine what the sight for him looked like, a finger in your pussy with your thumb on your clit, fingers wet down to the knuckle, lips wet from your tongue. Open and desperate for him as your back arched and your pussy trembled. “Please–” You begged of him. “I want your cum on my cunt. Please…Hobie.” You didn’t just want it, you needed it. You needed to feel the essence of him coating your pussy you wanted your fingers to play in in, to slip your messy fingers into your mouth and taste him.

“You wan’ me to cum on ya pussy, dirty girl?” Hobie began to sit up, ready to give you just what you asked for. You whimpered, nodding in desperation, watching him make his way over and push you back onto the bed. He pulled your hand away from your core and tapped the tip of his weeping cock against your clit, letting out a few wet smacks at the contact before he grabbed the thickest part of your thighs and forced them up to your chest. “‘m gonna give ya jus’ what’cha wan’.” His voice was dark, feral. His piercing glistened with precum as he stroked his cock between your swollen, wet pussy lips.

Everytime he pulled back, his tip positioned itself right at your entrance, always threatening to push itself inside and give you all you were looking for. But it never did. It just stroked yoru hole a bit before gliding over it, his cock rubbing your pussy and clit until you were crying out his name like it was the only thing you could remember to say.

Each stroke of his cock left you more sensitive than the last, each rub of your clit sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. An orgasm just on the horizon threatened to crash over you and destroy you much like a tsunami. It built itself in the pit of your stomach, your legs trembling and flexing in an attempt to close themselves and cast him out to avoid the unfamiliar feeling but Hobie forced them open without a care. “Open, keep’em open fa me.”

“Hobie, please, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, luv. I’m almost there.” He thrust against your pussy so hard his balls began to slap against your ass. “You wan’ my cum on ya pussy, righ’? You wan’ me to defile you, make ya all dirty fo me?” You nodded vigorously. You wanted that more than anything else in the world right now.

“Then take this dick.” Something about those words sent you over the edge. The tsunami crashed over you and seized your body like a demon. Your back arched off of the bed, muscles spasming and thrashing with an orgasm of an intensity you’ve never felt before. “Hobie!” You cried out his name, pussy spasming as you came. Hobie kept stroking, kept fucking, kept pleasing despite your calls, his breathy moans all you can hear as he nears his own orgasm.

And when it comes, so does he. His hips still and his cock twitches as he releases all over the face of your cunt. He coats your clit, your lips, your hole and paints them in milky white before spreading it about with his cock. “Goood girl.” He cooed at you in praise, slapping his cock in the mess he’s made of you. He claimed you as his, his for life. He owned this pretty pussy. It belonged to him. “Why does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Hobie, you.” You whimpered as he slapped his dick a little more against your pussy, sending jolts of overstimulating pleasure through your body until your toes curled.

“Tha’s righ’, don’ forget i’.” He bent over between your legs and kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth as his hand grabbed a fistful of your breasts. His cock was soft now, but it if kept stroking against your pussy, it would quickly be otherwise so he better stop while he’s ahead. “You did so good, luv. So good to me, so good fa me.” He bit your bottom lip as you hummed breathlessly into his mouth. “Lemme get you cleaned up.”

Hobie stood up and tucked himself away before going to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. You heard the water running for a little, some shuffling in the bathroom before Hobie came back with the washcloth damp. He parted your legs a little more and used the cloth to watch you, apologizing with a soft kiss to your knee and you jolted and whined when he went over your clit. And once he’s done he tosses the cloth into the dirty clothes and climbs into bed with you to hold you, whispering soft praises into you ear so you don’t feel used or taken advantage of.

“I love you.” He whispered as you were just on the cusp of slumber and took no offense when you snored softly as a response.

[pubbamoon]

Natal placements that can indicate homosexuality

So, this observation will be about the possible indicators of someone being gay, bisexual, transsexual or any other part of a LGBTQIA+ community. Keep in mind that these placements I'll mentioned in this post don't automatically mean being homosexual or whatever has to do with this community, but at the other hand, it's a common case. If you're homophobic or don't support LGBTQIA+ community, then this post may not be for you, hahaha. Sorry not sorry.

Uranus/Neptune aspecting Sun/Moon/Venus/Mars

Uranus represents unconventionality, something that is not usual to see and even homosexuality, while Neptune represents illusions, fluidity and something hidden. Having Uranus or Neptune aspecting inner planets, especially Venus and Mars which are considered as sexual planets, can represent being attracted to something unusual and out of the norm or being sexually fluid.

Venus/Mars in Aquarius/Gemini/Pisces

Like I said, Venus and Mars are sexual planets and both of them represent who you're attracted to, depending of your gender. Aquarius is an unconventional sign, which indicates being attracted to something that is called 'weird'. Gemini and Pisces are mutable signs and having Venus or Mars in these signs can indicate being open, adaptable and explorative in your love life and with your sexuality as well.

Planets in the 4th/8th/12th house

Almost every planet can apply to this placement, but I'll give a priority to inner planets (Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus and Mars). Planets in this houses, especially in the 8th house ('cause this is a sexual house which basically represents sex) means that there's something that native may hide from everyone else and that could the native's sexuality.

Mercury/Uranus/Neptune in the 5th/7th house

5th house is about dating, sex, romance and short-term relationships, while 7th house is related to marriage, partnerships, what attracts us and long-term relationships. Mercury is a gender neutral planet, so you can attract almost everyone with this placement. Uranus in these houses might indicate homosexuality, while Neptune here can be an indicator of a sexually fluid native.

Mars in Cancer (mostly for men)

Mars is a masculine planet which represents war, aggression and taking action, while Cancer is a very sensitive sign. Mars is in fall in Cancer, which may be one of the worst placements for this planet possible. Men with Cancer Mars might not express their masculine side easily and when they do that, it doesn't seem persuasively.

Venus in Virgo (mostly for women)

Venus is a feminine planet which represents love, pleasure and aesthetics, while Virgo is an analytical and hard-working sign which doesn't have time for pleasure. Venus is also in fall in Virgo, meaning that Venus doesn't feel comfortable in Virgo at all. Women with Virgo Venus might struggle with expressing their femininity and it makes them hard to realize which person they're attracted to. Virgo is also a mutable sign, which tells a lot.

Well, I think that would be everything for today. What do you think about this post? Do you agree with why I just wrote down. I hope you won't find this observation offensive and that you'll accept this post with an open mind and with an open heart of yours. I guess I was supposed to post this kind of stuff last month, but who cares anyway. But nonetheless, have a good time. Share love and support, 'cause that's something that we need nowadays. See you soon!

[aquaquadrant]

I’m in LOVE with your Hels to pay au!! Thank you so much for writing it!!

Has anyone ever asked Tango about his cuffs? Has anyone offered/tried to help him get them off? I imagine it would either be a funny montage of increasingly wild attempts OR just absolutely heartbreaking.

(sooo funny story, i saved the first ask in january bc i wanted to write smth for it… but then the second one came in before i got around to it… then the third… so uh. yeah. here ya go.)

~*~

“i like your cuffs, by the way.”

tango freezes, and even though xisuma has only just met the guy, he can immediately tell something’s off.

hermitcraft’s newest member is far from ordinary; a blaze hybrid with sharp teeth and blackened claws, red eyes that dart around nervously and squint at the sun, like it’s too bright. he didn’t even seem to know what a golden carrot was, when xisuma gave one to him.

the shackles around his wrists are just the frosting on the cake. xisuma had assumed it was part of his, er… unconventional style. but tango’s reaction- and the small links of broken chain still dangling from the cuffs- make xisuma wonder.

“what… uh, what do you mean?” tango asks, his tone forcibly light. oh, he’s anxious- ears flat, shoulders hunched likes he’s expecting an attack.

xisuma shrugs. “your cuffs, they’re just really metal,” he says casually. “it’s a cool look, is all.”

“oh.” tango blinks. the relief is evident in his expression, but he only relaxes slightly. “oh, right! thanks.”

while xisuma hasn’t been the admin of hermitcraft for very long, he’s been around long enough to tell when a player is running from something. but that’s none of his business. that’s why they come here, isn’t it?

“anyway,” xisuma says, “that’s about the end of the tour.” he lifts a hand to put on tango’s shoulder, then thinks better of it, folding his arms instead. “you just lemme know if you need anythin’, alright? anythin’ at all.”

“right, yeah.” tango smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “thanks, i’ll- i’ll keep that in mind, yeah.”

~*~

“jeeze, you ever take those cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even though impulse is still relatively new here on hermitcraft, he can immediately tell he’s crossed a line.

it’s only been a couple weeks since a random portal abruptly appeared in front of impulse, taking him to a world called hermitcraft. according to his fellow hermits, that amounted to an invitation from the universe- which is how they all join.

he’s spent most of his time working on a quadruple witch hut farm with some of the other redstoners, and tango’s been a bit of a puzzle. he’ll be standoffish or even outright defensive at times, but then seem inexplicably drawn towards impulse, asking strange and not-so-subtle probing questions. of course, whenever impulse tries to address this, tango brushes him off.

“oh, these old things?” tango says after a moment, his brief panic quickly swept under the rug as he flaunts his cuffs. “why, do you- am i not pulling them off? too much?”

“no, no, they’re cool!” impulse assures him. “it’s just, don’t they get in the way when you’re doing delicate redstone work? seems like a bother, that’s all.”

tango huffs a laugh, but he’s also eyeing the nearest exit. “nah, man, th- it’s part of my look! my uh, my brand, as some might say. can’t go without ‘em, you know how it is…”

that’s not the reason. impulse can tell. but whatever the real reason is, it’s not his place to push tango to talk about it. they’re still getting to know each other, so if it’s anything more than a simple fashion choice, impulse is sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“ooh, okay, gotcha.” impulse nods sagely. “branding, very important. well, if you ever change your mind, i’d be happy to take them off your hands- uh, literally and figuratively, i guess,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “cuffs are pretty ‘in’ for demons, you know.”

tango laughs too, though he’s already turning away, back to his work. “right, yeah, i- i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

“can you actually not take these cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even without the spike of panic through their soulbond, jimmy can immediately tell he’s said something wrong.

it’s been about a month since the double lifers voted to end the death game. one month since jimmy and tango made their relationship official. and as amazing and wonderful as it’s been living on the ranch, jimmy’s starting to get the sense there are a few things he doesn’t know about tango.

he hadn’t meant anything by the question- just genuine curiosity. they were kissing, tango’s hands cupping jimmy’s face, and when he’d reached up to cover tango’s hands with his own he’d felt the cool metal of the cuffs, and the question just blurted out from his mind. gosh, he really does ruin everything.

tango recovers quickly. “whaaat, you don’t like ‘em?” he grins, casually stretching his arms above his head so the cuffs jangle around his wrists.

jimmy hesitates. the panic he felt through their bond has faded, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still there “well, sure, it’s just- y’know, i realized i’ve never seen you take ‘em off.”

tango blinks. “you- what, don’t you think if i wanted to take them off, i would’ve?” he laughs, putting his hands on his hips. “i mean, it’s not- we have metal-cutting technology, you know.”

oh, duh. jimmy feels silly. tango is far from helpless- if those cuffs hadn’t been a conscious decision, he surely would’ve figured out how to take them off by now. or, jeeze, he could’ve asked anyone on his server full of technical geniuses to help out.

“right, right, of course,” he says sheepishly. “sorry, i wasn’t- i do like how they look, i- i was just wonderin’. but uh, you know, if you ever did wanna take ‘em off… i mean, i’d still like you plenty without them,” he jokes.

“you’re good, you’re good,” tango hums, draping his arms around jimmy’s shoulders. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

tango sits alone in his room, claws curled around the cuff of his other hand.

it’s just simple iron. it wouldn’t be hard. all he has to do is reach for his inner fire, concentrate, and let the metal soften in his grasp. even if he heats it too much- so that molten iron drips over his skin like water- he’s a bit more fire resistant than the average player, he’d be fine. it’d only take a couple seconds for each one, and then he’d be free of them. forever.

it’s been nearly ten years, for hel’s sake. he’s lost count of how many times he’s been in this exact situation before, wanting and willing so much but being unable to bring the flames to his fingertips. if he even thinks about it, it’s suddenly like he’s back in the farm, icy wither rose numbing his veins, a haunting voice ringing in his ears.

‘just the cuffs on his wrists there, and he stays put like the good creature he is.’

tango wants to be good. he’s been trying so hard to be good. but what if he can’t trust himself? what if the only thing stopping him from reverting back to his old ways is the illusion of control maintained by these shackles?

who is he without them? would he be someone that his friends still cared about? would jimmy?

he’s too afraid to find out.

tango lets go of the cuff, the familiar weight of metal dropping back onto his wrist. he can try again another time. so long as he has his fire, he still has the option. he’ll do it someday.

so for now, the thought retreats to its little shadowed corner in the back of his mind, safe for another day.

~*~

[utapri-translations-uuuu]

ASSMU Behind the Stage Ver.B [Masato, Ren, Ranmaru, Kira, Van] - Translation

Translator's notes can be found at the end and are marked with an asterisk.

Please do not repost/retranslate without permission.

Van: Delicious! This is the best after exercising! I can feel my strength steadily recovering.

Kira: It’s just water. Your statement was misleading.

Van: Nice tsukkomi*, Kira-chan.

Masato: It was such a productive lesson that I think I can understand how relieving the sensation of water seeping into the body can be.

Ren: It was an exciting time. It was the first time we danced together, but we were so in sync it didn’t seem like it. I was surprised by their unconventional dancing.

Ranmaru: You were improvising too, weren’t you? I wasn’t expecting it to be like this from the start. Well, it is a predictable lineup…

Kira: It's not often that we can get together with these members. I'd like to take this opportunity to get on the same page regarding the performance.

Masato: I see. As Sumeragi-san pointed out, it's important to discuss that.

Van: Okay, okay! Well, I have one suggestion to make.

Ranmaru: What is it?

Van: There is a part in the latter half of the song where we can move freely. It's really appealing to have everyone moving together like in the other parts, but I want us to show a bit more individual charm.

Ranmaru: Mind you, you were pretty much doing whatever you wanted just now.

Masato: More freely than what we did now…?

Ren: I’m guessing he meant we should make this section stand out more.

Kira: I understand how you feel, Van. But moving more than necessary is not good. It will cause trouble for Hijirikawa-san and the others.

Van: I’m not trying to cause any trouble. I just believe in the explosive power of this group, so I was wondering if we could make it a little more extravagant.

Ren: I feel like that could work. It's in the free parts that we can show our distinctive dance styles, and people will feel that we have something unique to offer.

Kira: Movements that brilliantly highlight each member’s individuality... I wonder if that could become possible if we practice a bit more and connect with each other.

Ranmaru: I also value intuition. Live performances are always raw, including the fans’ reactions. The music tells us what to do.

Van: (claps) So cool…! That was awesome!

Masato: Kurosaki-san, I have taken your words to heart!

Ranmaru: Now there are two people who overreact…

Ren: You got that right.

Masato: (clears throat) There will be 18 people on stage during the actual performance. As Sumeragi-san pointed out, we don't know how much we’ll actually be able to move around. That being said, we want everyone to enjoy themselves with us as much as they like.

Van: Masa-chan agrees with my idea, and you should also reveal more of the passionate feelings you keep inside your heart, Kira-chan.

Kira: That's right. Let's aim for further improvement together.

Ren: It seems we share the same level of enthusiasm about this. I’m glad we were able to get everyone on the same page.

Kira: Me too. In addition, I have something I want to express myself. While respecting harmony… I want to capture everyone's hearts with these hands of mine.

Ranmaru: I thought he was a cool guy, but it seems that’s not all there is to him.

Van: Yep, that's Kira-chan for you.

Kira: However, I'll be keeping a close eye on Van's movements during the lessons.

Van: Am I being monitored?!

Masato: I'm enjoying the lively exchange between Sumeragi-san and Kiryuin-san. Normally, I would have become tense and stiff.

Ren: As long as we continue sharing the same mindset like this, we'll be fine no matter what happens.

Ranmaru: It’s not like we can decide in detail what to do now. Let’s just go for it.

Van: I guess we'll have to wait until the curtain rises to see what happens.

Kira: Yes. I can't wait for the day we can all get on stage together.

Translator's notes:

Boke and Tsukkomi Routine- Called manzai in Japanese, this is the local variation on the ever-popular Straight Man and Wise Guy duo, but with the interactions of the duo making a significant part of the routine. The tsukkomi is the Straight Man of the pair, roughly, while the boke is more or less the Wise Guy — but it's not an exact match. The act usually involves the duo having a conversation on some subject, with the tsukkomi trying to correct the boke's misconceptions. [tvtropes.org]

[silverzoomies]

Great Pumpkin

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, smut, kissing, porn with plot, halloween, drunk sex, halloween party, porn with feelings, use of the speech quirk "yer"

word count: 7,878

a/n: meant to finish this one before halloween. whoops !! at least november is the spook before christmas !! or halloween 2, electric boogaloo !!

some notes about this one: i wanna apologize for the needless plot. i know it's unnecessary, but i got a little carried away. if anything feels awkward, out of place, or weird? that's my bad. sorry. i was havin' too much fun writing the less smutty stuff. some other notes - think of this as an au, i guess. where erik is hiding out at xavier's for...reasons? idfk. sitcom logic. everyone's living together !! but there's tension !!

tag list: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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All Hallows Eve.

Prior to the X-Family’s spooktacular bash, Hank whipped up a little something special. Using his Einstein brain - or wizard sorcery. Peter couldn’t be too sure - the beastly scientist conjured a powerful inebriant. He heard Peter joke one too many times about his inability to get drunk. Since the speedster’s body filtered through substances at break-neck speed. Leaving not a second’s worth of intoxication time.

No exaggeration there. Peter once tried chugging his mom’s entire stash of liquor, along with a bottle of Purple Toad wine. Some really fruity stuff. Such a mass of booze only left a burn in his throat, along with an onslaught of nausea. All of which lasted 0.2 seconds.

Hank wanted to do Peter a favor for all his hard work lately. And now, he could finally participate in what he missed out on. After all these years. As long as he didn’t use the substance for any nefarious purposes. Per Hank’s request. Whatever that meant. Not like Peter planned on playing pranks at this year’s party. C’mon…really? He’s a teacher, for Geddy’s sake! He's gotta set a good example.

Spoiler alert: he had planned on it. Keyword being had.

Until the inebriation actually kicked in. For the first time in his unconventional life, a warm buzz pooled through Peter’s bloodstream. One of the major side effects? Debuffs to superspeed. Which proved an otherworldly experience. If not a little uncomfortable. Still worth it, for a one-night-only lesson in drunkenness.

Peering lazily into his red solo cup, Peter blinked. His eyes followed swirls of neon cyan. Luminous in its irradiated glow. He couldn’t comprehend the science behind Hank’s glowstick booze. But he knew it filtered through his body at a much slower rate than other substances. The drink felt syrupy on his tongue, and tasted like - coincidentally enough - candy corn. Its effects proved weaker than Peter expected. 

Given his cells operated so incomprehensibly fast, Peter didn’t find this too surprising. So, what? He’d never get frat party wasted. Oh well. Peter came to accept that fact about himself forever ago. Still, fluorescent booze made him mellow enough to slow down a lot. Peter could totally vibe with mellow. No complaints there. Mellow’s copacetic. He definitely owed Beastie for his magic potion of slow-mo. Peter oscillated between a nice, tipsy balance. Muddled enough to let loose and enjoy himself. But conscious enough to avoid making any ultra stupid decisions.

Or, he thought so, anyway.

Hobbling around the mansion, Peter pushed through crowds of partygoers. All dressed in their spookiest, sexiest, or most low-effort costumes. Twinkles of orange and violet lights kept the mansion somewhat lit. With spoOoOoOoOoky decorations scattered amongst the school. A perfectly campy atmosphere for Halloween. Oh. And those decorations? All Peter’s doing. Of course, it’s no surprise the professor deemed him prime event decorator. He took mere microseconds to spice up an entire plot of land. Throwing forth all his effort, Peter dressed the building in balls-to-the-walls, haunting decor. 

Fake spiders with prickly fur lay strewn about in random places. Ghosts made of old, torn sheets swayed in the breeze. Skeletons hanged by the dozens. Streamers of orange and faded black dangled from the ceilings and doorways. String lights lined the mansion’s trim. Outside on the grounds, Peter even garnished the grass with inflatable Snoopys.

During his decorative escapades, he cracked jokes to the kids. Peter asked, “You guys think the Great Pumpkin’ll show up?”

They squealed with laughter, stomping their little feet. Candy buckets in hand, the kids yelled, “Mr. Maximoff, the Great Pumpkin’s not real!!”

In the midst of rearranging another Snoopy, he gasped, “WHAT?! He is too real!! Better not let him hear you say that!” 

A haunted trail veered off into the woods surrounding the mansion. It led to an old barn, stocked full of hay and populated with jack-o-lanterns. All carved by the mutant kiddos themselves. Another set of glittering lights decorated the barn, creating an autumn glow. A pair of giant speakers - Peter paid for them, mind you - roared Halloween tunes over the entire property.

Cool stuff. Talk about a hell of a set-up. Peter couldn’t help but be proud of himself. Such a slew of decorations might put even Scrooge Mcduck himself in holiday spirits.

Wait. No. What? Scrooge Mcduck? Wasn’t he more of a Christmas thing? Fuck. Peter might be more mixed up than he thought. He gazed absentmindedly into his red solo cup again. Blinking slowly, he wondered…what the hell did Hank put in this disco concoction anyway?

Whatever. By the end of the night, Peter hoped the kids got a kick out of his hard work. Not that he broke a sweat putting it all together or anything. But he wanted to live up to his awesome teacher reputation. The highest of honors, really. No way he’d let anyone else trump him on that front.

Then again… Peter nibbled his lip, grinning to himself like a huge doofus. He took another long swig of his drink. Candy corn sweetness tickled his taste buds.

Okay. So, he might’ve had someone else in mind while he decorated. Somebody he desperately wanted to impress. A lot. Or, just a little bit, actually. Like, on a microscopic level. Maybe.

That somebody? You. Except, not really. No way.

Pffffttt…he definitely didn’t do it for you. C’mon! Why would he? Think of the kids! Those precious, lil demon spawn! They practically worshiped him. They’re what it’s all about, right? Riiiight.

Peter’s holiday decorations tempted any passing trick-or-treaters to drop by. And the professor prepared quite the spectacle of treats for them too. King sized, candy bars and all. Hank and Raven - showing off their mutant glory without an ounce of shame - passed the candy out to children. 

Human children.

Magneto - still unaware he had a son sprinting around the mansion on any given day - dubbed the gesture hopeless naivety. Or something along those lines. Inviting humans to join in on a night of mutant fun? Totally bogus. Which…yeah. From Erik’s perspective? Fair enough.

“You think they’ll learn to accept you through meaningless, holiday gestures?” Erik griped, arms crossed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Raven merely rolled her eyes. She made a comment about the inherent innocence of children. Erik didn’t appear to care. He groused some more after that. But Peter didn’t hear much of it. Nor did he imagine he even wanted to. At least, not tonight. Maybe once Peter sobered up a bit, he wouldn’t mind lending an ear. If his father ever felt the need to open up about his woeful turmoil.

But Erik disappeared upstairs. Out of sight. Still in hiding, all alone. Poor dude.

Unlike his misguided papa, Peter didn’t mind human inclusion so much. One: because he considered himself a pretty open minded guy. Easy to say, since he didn’t harbor anything remotely comparable to his father’s trauma. 

And two, on a less serious note: Human girls. They gravitated towards Peter like moths to a flame.

Throughout the mansion, the theme to Killer Klowns from Outer Space rang. Conversations buzzed around Peter like radio static. Candy corn booze made it impossible for him to comprehend them. Some partygoers played wallflower. Idling by snack tables, feasting on as much junk food as their stomachs could handle. It took every ounce of restraint Peter had, not to raid those tables himself.

Peter’s Terminator costume wasn’t much of a costume at all, really. It left most of the ladies confused. He didn’t recognize half the costumed cuties who pulled him in for dances. But they sure as hell recognized him. When another pretty girl pressed herself against him - tits bouncing, and bare thighs rubbing his pants - she’d ask the dreaded words, “What’re youuuu supposed to be?” Twirling her hair and giving Peter fluttery bedroom eyes.

Peter gave the same responses every time. Covered head to toe in black clothing, wearing a pair of sunglasses; he raised a prop shotgun from his back, responding with his best Arnold impression.

“I’ll be back.” Right on the money, Peter thought in his buzzed haze. Totally accurate. One to one.

If the girlies didn’t get the reference? So be it. Peter ultimately felt like a massive dork. But he got some sexually charged groovin’ out of it. A bit of groping here or there. He didn’t mind taking the L, if it meant grabbing some ass in the process.

But as the party clamored on, Peter knew he wanted only one thing.

To find you. Just to hang out, catch up, and have an innocent time. No other reason. Seriously. Honest. Why else would he wanna find you? To mess around a little bit? Nahhh. Why would he wanna fool around with you? And risk a long term friendship? He couldn't have that.

Not when you carried enough patience to put up with his day-to-day bullshit. Always listening to his senseless ramblings. Even if he spoke too fast for you to keep up.

During his lunch breaks on school days, Peter usually spent time with you. The two of you talked in the kitchen, or chillaxed in the lounge. Those chats? The highlight of his day. As corny as it seemed. He just couldn’t resist you and your kindly wiles. The wiles of his colleague. His…very pretty colleague. His…very pretty… platonic colleague.

Someone please end his misery now.

Peter wandered aimlessly. He danced his heart out and chatted up some more cute gals. Soon enough, he found you. Leaned over a set of snack tables, you picked through sugary sweet treats. Peter noticed the way you swayed in place. A little heavy footed like him, eh? He snickered to himself, sneaking up behind you. 

Lacking any filter or restraint, Peter blatantly gawked at your ass. A fitted, white gown draped your body. Flowing in an angelic fashion, it harmonized with your every curve. Even tipsy, Peter recognized your costume the microsecond he saw it. Princess Leia. Star Wars. Episode IV. Very sexy. Beyond sexy, even.

A flirtatious whistle caught you by surprise. You whirled around with a doe eyed look on your face. A kind of gaze that made his brain turn to mush. As if the alcohol hadn’t already. You licked the frosting off a funky colored cupcake, as Peter’s gaze flitted down your body. His eyes followed the smooth creases of your gown. A tasteful peek of your thigh kept his attention locked. Until the perky tease of your nipples captivated him instead.

Awesome. Amazing. 11/10. Best night ever.

“Ohmygosh!” You laughed, reaching out to touch Peter’s chest for whatever reason. Not that he minded one bit, “Peeeter, I’m sooooo sorry! I’m a little tipsy right now! It’s really unprofessional!”

Scarlet bloomed in his cheeks, burning hot enough to make him dizzier. Peter ogled you like the last Twinkie on the planet. A dollop of frosting caught the plush of your lip. You swirled it away with your tongue. Drawing in a hitched breath, Peter blinked.

Focus. He needed to focus on anything else. Not the parts of you he wanted to be on, inside of, and all other configurations of carnality.

“And?? You wanna hear somethin’ cray-crayyy?” Peter asked, lamely slurring his words. He raised his red solo cup, waving it in a clumsy motion, “So am I, princess! I’m totally hammered. And I looooove it!” He threw his head back, belting a loud, “WHOOOOO!!” Feeling more like a free spirit than he had in years.

Moving closer, you couldn't control your laughs. You shushed Peter, keeping your hand on his chest. Patting you on the shoulder, Peter chuckled. He feigned offense, but his sizeable hand lingered on you. A thumb grazed the soft cloth of your dress. For a beat, he wondered what you looked like under it.

“Whyyyy?? Why should I keep it down, huh?? It’s a party, baby! Everybody’s yellin’!” He shrugged. Peter smirked, throwing his head back again. He shouted another, “WHOOOOO!!”

A crowd of partygoers kept their eyes on the two of you. Their gazes lingering for a little longer than necessary. You snickered again. So tipsy, you could hardly get a word in through your giggling.

“You really are drunk, oh my gosh. You’re crazy, Peter! I can’t even-” Dropping your head into his chest, you erupted in woozy huffs of laughter. Great. He loved the closeness, “Peter, sorry, I’m sooooooo-”

“Mind-blowingly hot?” Peter lazily blinked, “Because yer-...you-ohhhh, man. You look really hot. Like-” He made a meaningless gesture with his hands, shaking his head, “Like, WOW! Have you seen yourself? Someone tell ‘Ro to make it rain. ‘Cuz yer on fiiiiiiire!” He joked. Cheesy and lame, but too smashed to even care.

You scoffed, cheeks set ablaze, “Oh, please! Give me a break! Mister Terminator casanova over here. Are you trying to butter me up like you did all those other ladies?” Playfully, you pushed off his chest. Peter mourned the loss of your touch, “I saw you! Getting all handsy out there!” You said, your tone lighthearted. Still accusatory.

Somehow, you recognized his costume. That caught him a little off guard. Peter’s heart did some kinda funny, fluttery thing. Jumpy, warm, and beating beating beating in his chest. But…nah. Couldn’t be because of you. Could it? Maybe the booze did it. Yeah. Irradiated Beast hooch must’ve give him palpitations. He’d tell Hank about this side effect later.

Peter arched a silver brow, “Oh, yeah? Mmmhm. Sounds like yer just jealous. ‘Cuz the ladies find my inner Schwarzenegger, action hero totally irresistible.” Bullshit. Most of them thought he dressed as Neo from the Matrix. Wrong action movie. Peter kept talking out his ass, “I bet it drives you up a wall to see ‘em all over me like that.”

“Oh, you think? Suuure. Like Leia would ever have the hots for some dollar store Terminator.” You teased affectionately, “Likely story, Quickie.” Fuck. Quickie. He loved when you called him that. You deceived your own protests, pressing your body against Peter's.

Your nails dug into his shirt as you palmed his chest. So…you wanted to play this little game now, huh? Alright. Fine. Peter bickered back and forth with you for an indiscernible amount of time. Standing in a corner by the snack tables, away from the noisy, party bustle. Unbalanced and wobbly, Peter leaned in. Keeping you both pressed together in a way too intimate for wandering eyes.

He almost spilled his neon concoction on your dress. Exchanging giggles again, Peter lingered even closer. His lips on the cusp of reaching out for yours. But in a clouded moment of self awareness, he stopped himself short.

“D-Do you…uhhhh-” He swallowed dryly. His nerves buzzed all through his body, “Y’wanna…get outta here? Maybe go do somethin’ reallllyyyy dumb? Like-uh…maybe make a mistake you’ll regret in the morning?” Peter suggested, wiggling his brows.

You gave him another lidded look, igniting a blistering fire deep in his bones. With your body still pressed to his - bodacious and oh-so-tempting - you brought a hand up. A beat of silence passed, as you moved his sunglasses up over his hair. Silver strands fell loose. You gazed into his puppy dog eyes directly. 

“And what makes you think I’d regret it?” You asked, your voice smooth and somewhat slurred. Oh...were you being real with him right now?

Your fingers traced flirty circles over his chest. Scorching flames in Peter’s heart burned warmth through his veins. Heat gathered in his groin. Peter’s eyes widened to a planetary degree. Clutching his solo cup a little too tight, he brushed your ass with his other hand. By accident. He only intended to pull you closer. You held his intoxicated gaze. 

Peter let his lips ghost yours again, without any direct connection.

“See, that’s-uhhh…hah…that’s just the booze talkin’.” He whispered with a soft chuckle. Steadily, he pulled himself from you, “Wanna know what it’s tellin’ me?” Peter gave you another lazy grin, nibbling his lip, “Youuuuuu and meee…” He sluggishly said. He dragged you along with him. Stumbling backwards, “...should-uh…gooooo have some…adult fun, yeah? A little romp in the hay?”

Did you know he meant that verbatim? Probably not.

Moments later, Peter clumsily navigated through the party. He made a beeline for the entrance hall, holding your hand the entire way. Floundering with every step, he traversed the crowded halls. Through each doorway the two of you passed, fluttering streamers dangled above. Soft tissue brushed across your face, tickling your nose.

The streamers proved more unkind to Peter. Staggering through the last doorway, he became tangled in them. Peter tried to shake the tissue off, twisting around and flailing his arms. He cursed aloud, making a spectacle of his embarrassing predicament. Caught in a web of orange and black, he looked like a Halloween decoration all his own. The streamers wrapped around his body and arms, even covering his head.

“MOTHER FU-” He cursed, jerking the tissue down with a rough tug. Peter tripped forward in the process. But he caught himself just in time. Compensating for his humiliation, he laughed, “I’m okay! I’m okay! Allllll good, guys. I’m good. Totally good! Meant to do that, actually.” Peter cleared his throat. He averted his glassy gaze from any partygoers nearby.

One of them being Hank, who stood alongside Raven. The two shared a few drinks and quietly chatted. The big, beast of man wore torn, red flannel. His blue fur peeked out from the undone buttons, appearing frayed. His costume? A smurf werewolf. A smurfwolf. Or something. Peter couldn't tell. And Raven? She hadn’t dressed up at all. Labeling Halloween: The one time of year she chose not to disguise herself. Why? Because, in her words, "It's funnier that way."

Raven stifled a laugh at Peter’s expense. But Hank didn’t hold himself back. He roared a rumbling chuckle, “I see the serum’s treating you well, Peter!” Hank teased, cradling a drink in his fluffy paw, “Why, it certainly looks that way. You seem to be having-uhm…fun? Yes! Fun. I'm delighted to see it!"

Peter idled in the middle of the doorway, swaying a little on his feet. Forgoing the streamers, he left them tangled around his limbs. Fuck it. His costume could use some added flair.

“I’m havin’ a-uhhhhh…a total blast, Beast my mannn!” Peter slurred. He passed Hank on his way out the mansion’s entrance. And roughly patted the scientist on the shoulder, “Thanks again, buddy ol’ pal! I owe you one!”

You giggled, beaming an elated smile as Peter dragged you out the door. Once you flew ungracefully by, Hank and Raven both did double takes. They gave you cautious looks, as if to say - uh, do you think this is a good idea? A little too sloshed, you failed to register their concern. Following Peter out the door with an inelegant skip in your step, you waved the pair goodbye.

“Well, now…that’s certainly going to be awkward for him tomorrow morning.” Hank joked, looking down at his drink. He swirled the beverage, the cup appearing itty bitty in his clutch. Showing off a crowd of snaggle teeth, he yawned.

Raven shook her head, scoffing, “Oh, it’ll bite him in the ass later. That’s for sure.” She added, sipping her own drink, “You proud of yourself?” Raven quipped, arching an orange brow. Hank held up a single claw, playful in his self defense.

“Not my fault! I gave him that serum because I thought he could have fun with it! And he is! Didn’t you see him? What he does under its influence is completely out of my jurisdiction!” Hank shrugged, stating in a matter-of-fact way, “I’ll have you know, I did try to warn him!”

In hindsight, Peter should have heeded Hank’s warnings. What he did under the effects of disco liquor proved supremely stupid. The nanosecond your feet hit the grass outside, he lost any restraint he had left. Peter kissed you full on. Ushering your sweet lips into an alcohol induced session of heavy smooching. Tongues interweaving, lackadaisical and reckless, the two of you shared careless kisses. Under decorative spider webs and amongst inflatable Snoopys.

But no Great Pumpkin in sight.

You slung your arms over Peter’s broad shoulders, letting him devour you. His sizable hands slid over your hips. He pulled you closer as he stumbled like a complete klutz. Thick fingers curled into the cloth of your dress. Caught up in the heat of the moment, Peter didn’t dare consider any consequences. With no filter to hold him back, one of his palms felt for your breast. He copped a handful, before you stopped him in his tracks. You tore your lips from his candy corn kisses.

“Heyyyy! Hey, hey, hey! Not here! What are you even doing??” You laughed, giving his nose an affectionate nuzzle, “Someone might see us, doofus!”

Peter hummed, pulling you against him in a more firm grip. He stole frantic kisses, heated and mouthy. Squeezing your hips, his nails scratched across your gown to your ass. Kneading your plush cheeks with little shame.

“So what? Let ‘em enjoy the show!” Peter snickered, diving in for yet another kiss, “I’m not gonna miss out on a chance to touch you like this. Now that I finally got you…”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t seem to take him seriously. In an attempt to pull yourself away again, you stumbled backwards in the grass. Even with his reaction time outta wack, Peter managed to catch you before you fell. In one awkward motion, he scooped you up bridal style and carried you into the woods. The streamers coiled around his limbs came loose, at long last. Flitting away behind him in the wind.

He held you in his strong arms, following the mansion’s haunted, Halloween trail. The hayride already closed down for the night, leaving the trail - and the barn - open for some private necking.

Finding his way to the barn, Peter wobbled, slowing his stride. In his arms, you took a moment to admire the decorations he put so much effort into. Orange, twinkling lights lined the barn’s entryway. Vibrant in late night darkness. Magical, and kinda romantic. Through the trees in the distance, the garnished mansion appeared visible. A Halloweeny spectacle, engulfed in simulated fog.

Party music echoed from afar, faint, but clear enough he could hear. Peter perked up, overhearing a classic, Hallow’s eve tune.

“‘CUZ THIS IS THRILLLAHHHH!” Peter shouted off key, moving backwards into the barn. His steps were careless, “THRILLAH NIIIIGHT!” He sang, falling into a bed of cool hay. Strands of straw bounced in the air. You came down with him, and he kept singing, “AND NO ONE’S GONNA SAVE YA-” He cut himself off, leaning in to feast on your lips. Peter cradled you in his arms, humming Thriller amidst awkward kisses.

You laid bridal style over his legs, dipping your head back. Inviting Peter to devour your neck like a thirsty vampire. Without all the grace of Bela Lugosi. More like a hammered Nosferatu. If either of you had second thoughts, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit. He left that baggage behind. In the morning, sober Peter could unpack it all. Right now, he wanted his hands on your body, under your dress.

“Ohhhh~! Oh my-” You moaned, tacking on an erotic squeal of his name. Giggling in a kittenish tone. The sound made him wanna bite you harder, “W-Wait-...Peter, maybe we shouldn’t-oooooh~! Maybe we shouldn’t be-”

His sloppy kisses cut your hesitance short. Peter nodded his head in a lazy, loose motion. Bringing more dizziness upon himself.

“Mmmm? What? No-...” He hummed, “Baby, we should. We definitely should. Don’t even worry-” Peter paused for an abrupt beat. Holding you tight, he adjusted in the hay. Uncomfortable, Peter knitted his brows, “Wait-...this hay’s so-...why’s this hay so fuckin’ itchy, man?”

At the chime of your silly snorts and giggles, Peter’s words became lost on him. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. He couldn’t think clearly enough to recall them. Instead, he drew his attention back to you. Peter’s lips found your neck once more. Your floral scent replenished his lungs, a lifesource he desperately needed. Hot kisses peppered down your chest. In his clouded stupor, Peter buried his face between your breasts.

He loved the flustered squeal you made in response. Enough that he couldn’t help but do it again.

“Ohhhhh…hot damn, baby.” Peter groaned into your chest, motorboating your knockers. A graceless gesture. Lifting his face, his hair appeared a disheveled mess, “Yer so awesome, y’know that? Liiiike…yer really great. I know I’m pretty drunk right now, but-uhhhh…” He slurred, sneaking thick fingers under your dress, “I do mean it. No joke. I think yer really cool. Cool and-uhm…and-uh…hahaaa….I really like you.”

You erupted in more buzzed giggles, parting your lips to protest his drunken confession. But Peter silenced you with shushes, “Shhhhhhhh! Shhhhh, don’t-” He hiccuped. Your laughs were so contagious, he couldn’t help but giggle as well, “Shhhh! Don’t tell anybody!”

“I won’t! I won’t!” You chuckled, gently holding his cheeks. You pulled him down for more smooches, lips meeting in a slower embrace, “I like you too, Peter…but shhhhhh…keep it a secret.”

His fingertips danced along your inner thigh, clumsy and unsteady. Peter’s hand disappeared between your legs and under your gown. Hot digits grazed your panties. A flimsy, soaked piece of fabric awaited those digits. Breathing a low huff, Peter whispered, “Fuck.” into your neck. The steamy word tickled your skin, giving you chills.

Blindly, he wormed his fingers into your panties. Peter dipped his digits into your honeyed heat. Thick, syrupy cushions sealed around him. He focused on parting your tight walls. A little too uncoordinated to pleasure you in a more ideal way. Rough, repetitive motions curled at an awkward angle. Digging so deep, Peter could hear the squishy call of your insides - leaking wet, all for him. 

Your body tensed, knees spreading on instinct. Cool air caressed your thighs. Peering down into your lidded, baby doll eyes, he held your gaze. As your cunt pulsed around his digits, soft and constricting, he knitted his brows. Humming another groan, Peter dove down for your neck. He sucked mouthy, wet hickies into your skin. Leaving gifts for sober you to discover later tomorrow.

Speaking of sober.

Sober Peter never had trouble keeping up with anybody. Moreover, everyone else found it impossible to keep up with him. But in his buzzed daze, he could barely follow your lead. One blink, and his fingers buried themselves to the knuckle in your cunt. The next blink, you took initiative. Throwing him for a loop, you changed positions. You pushed Peter further back into the hay, straddling his lap.

As you fumbled for his jeans and pulled them open, more giggling ensued. Heated tension hung over the two of you like those glimmering, barn lights. You felt around, guiding your hand to a hot thickness in his pants. It rested in a curly bed of silver hairs, limp and untouched. Your giggles ceased, and your expression shifted.

“Peter, you’re not even-” You started, squeezing the softness of him in your hand. You gave him a few loose tugs, your voice teeming with hesitance, “Are you…are you sure you want-”

“Yeaaaahhhhh. Yeah. Yanno, it’s just-...I never thought I’d be the one gettin’ whiskey dick. Haha.” Peter joked, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. Buzzed and uncoordinated, Peter harbored little patience for foreplay. His fingers sought for your weeping heat again. He pushed them through your soft, supple pussy lips, “Sucks a lot. I was really hopin’ I’d get to-uhmmm…ahahaaaa…” He bit his tongue, laughing, “Really wanted to show you a good fuckin’ time. But this shit feels like rocket science right now, sorry…”

Eventually, through sheer determination, you worked up enough sorcery to liven him up. Waking his cock from its soft slumber. Peter fumbled, clumsily guiding his dick to your flowery mound. It took some serious concentration on his part to do so. His tongue poked between his lips, brows furrowed tight. He leered between your sweltering bodies. Humid air clung to his skin, contrasting the sharp coolness of an October’s night. The smell of booze permeated in your sweat, mingling with the scent of your perfume. 

You sank over his cock, taking the now raging length of him fluidly. He bottomed out in a single intake of breath. Peter moaned, rolling his hips upward. Your fluttery walls stretched, cozy and soft around his dick. He dropped his head back into the hay, howling a goofy shout. It echoed through the trees, catching autumn wind.

"OHHHHHHH~! THAT'S IT! WHOOOOOO~!" He yelled. Peter chewed his lip hard, meeting your bounces with sluggish thrusts, "That's it. That's what I'm fuckin' talkin' about. Hoh-fuck..."

His rhythm was a little off beat, but he blamed the booze. Clenching the fabric of your dress in his fingers, he bunched it up tight. As if to hold you by horse’s reins, arduously guiding you on your ride.

Far in the back of his mind. Like, so far, Peter may as well have been on another planet. He had his first conflicting thought. Screwing you for the first time like this - hammered and careless - struck him as kind of…wrong. Really, he should have waited it out, and done this sober. But Peter couldn’t deny himself either.

"Peter, ohhh~! Feels really good~!" Your squeals of erotic, but sluggish pleasure sounded too much like music. Now cemented as one of his all time favorite songs, "Sooo good, I-aaahhh~!"

The bubbly feeling brought upon by Beast liquor made his body burn with ecstasy. His cock throbbed inside you, loving the tight embrace of your walls. Pleasure burned to an incomprehensible level of intensity. 

Even your dress felt unreasonably soft on his skin. Peter moaned again, drilling your cunt in unsteady surges of carnal bliss. He breathed thickly, the air between the two of you now sweltering. Choking on air, he kept his slow pace. His cock dug tunnels through your walls at a slacking speed. Completely unnatural for him. But overflowing with intoxication, he thrived in it.

“N-Not gonna-” Peter laughed. His voice a rough, breathless mess of incoherency. Sticky heat flushed his cheeks, and his tone wavered, “‘M not-...god…not gonna last. Fuck. Oh my fucking-” He swallowed another groan, suffocating on it. Peter’s hips rolled, their movement leisurely, “Sooooo tight. Feels like yer tryna-...like yer gonna-...aaaahaaaaafuck.”

Playing with your pearly clit, you squealed. The swollen nub burned, tingling as you circled it. With difficulty focusing, Peter brought his head up. He watched your little fingers while you pleasured yourself. His lidded, dark eyes stared, so spacy, so clouded. A growl caught in the back of his throat. You toyed with yourself a little longer, spreading glossy slickness under your fingers.

Your whines stayed at a respectable volume. Quiet enough, no one outside the barn could hear. But Peter refused to keep his enthusiastic voice down. He dug his big hands into your hips, fingernails clenching your dress. Scratching rough lines into the white cloth.

"Fuck, you gonna-...you gonna keep touchin' yourself like that? Gonna cum for me?" His words slurred. Peter used his immeasurable strength to hold you in place. Stuffing his cock through your pussy’s luscious, spongy grip. He fucked you in lethargic, but needy ruts, "P-Please-ohmygod-...please cum for me, baby. Lemme hear it, please?"

"Noooo~! Pe-ahhhh~! Peter, I cannnn't! Someone might-...Peter I can't-" You whimpered. Swirling your clit, you pushed yourself even further towards climax. A delightful, oncoming wave of scorching pleasure surged in your body. Sizzling through your veins, "OH, FUCK, QUICKIE~!" A sharp squeal bounced from your throat, as Peter surprised you.

"FUCK!! Yeah? You sound so fuckin'-Ah-...Yer so fuckin' good for me. Don't hold back, baby. Wanna-ohhhh~! Wanna hear you scream. Don't you fuckin' hold back-" Moving suddenly fast, he slammed his cock in deeper. His cherry red dick shattered your poor cervix. Burying himself to the brim, he slapped your mound hard with sharp pounds of his pelvis, "Mmmmmmfucking-...gonna fuckin'....aaaahhaha..."

Peter’s body tensed. His heels scuffed along the ground, crushing hay under his boots as he braced his feet. More loose strands tickled his skin where his shirt bunched up. Making him itchy again. But his intoxicated rutting never dwindled. He whined again, his voice cracking. Ruthless, quickening grinds of his cock knocked you hard. Sending you straight into a dimension of overwhelming, euphoric pleasure.

As tremors hummed across your sweaty skin, bliss ruptured deep in your core. At that moment, Peter forgot to consider any further risks. He burst with a hot, white pop of gluey heat. Rocking your sore cunt in sloppy, shallow thrusts. Peter soaked his dick in your sweet, inebriated love. The scent of booze and sex simmered in his nostrils. Lifting his hips, he met you in one or two more reckless, offbeat bounces.

Barely conscious of reality, Peter panted. Lying with you in a clumsy heap, he shared lazy kisses and steamy breaths with you. Had he been anymore sober, Peter would’ve rushed you off to the nearest bathroom. In dire need of a minute’s recovery, he laid there. Splayed out, Peter’s limbs rested loose and flimsy. The seconds passed, and he sobered up quickly. Post-orgasmic haziness began to clear.

You snuggled up next to him, grazing his cheek with your nose. The scent of alcohol lingered on your breath. Remind Peter that, unlike him, you were probably still a little drunk.

“You okay?” You asked out of the blue, tickling his neck with a giggle, “What are you thinking about? You’re not second guessing yourself already, are you?” Your fingers toyed with the zipper of his jacket. Which he gave you to wear in the cold, shortly after fucking you senseless.

In the distance, the faint roar of the party continued on. Rustling from inside the mansion and seemingly endless. Peter stayed silent, before snickering. He turned his head to the side, returning your nuzzles with a kiss. His lips met your hair. The smell of your conditioner made his heart skip a beat for some reason.

“Nothin’. It’s not-” He shrugged, turning his head again. Peter stared up at the glittering string lights hanging in the barn. His coffee bean eyes jumped from twinkle to twinkle, “It’s not super important. Kinda weird to be thinkin’ about it after-uh…” His voice trailed off again. Peter cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush, “Seriously, no big deal.”

You rolled onto your back, watching the lights sway in a cool breeze, “You sure?” You laughed, humming an, “Uh ohhh!” Before you continued, “Did somebody sober up and realize he made a dumb mistake? Hehe…” You teased, though he could hear the sliver of hesitance in your tone. A beat of silence passed, and you hugged his jacket closer.

“Regret wh-...huh? Nahhh, baby. You kiddin’? That was awesome.” He snickered awkwardly. Peter brought his hands to his face. He sighed, “I-uh…I was just thinkin’ about how…I could be spendin’ this holiday with my dad. I mean, shit…maybe he wouldn’t wanna spend it with me, but-”

He assumed you might take offense to this. Wouldn't it come off as a little inconsiderate? To think about his dad right now. After such an intimate moment between the two of you. But being the understanding person you were, you rolled over to face him. Drawing gentle lines into his shirt, you snuggled up close to him again.

“Is that where you wanna be right now? With your dad?” You asked, your tone gentle.

Peter swallowed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A pounding headache swarmed him from nowhere. The repercussions of Beast hooch. Hopefully, such ailments would pass just as quickly as he sobered up.

“I-...yeah? I guess? But…it’s not like I can just-...like, I can’t go see him. Since he still doesn’t know about me, y’know? It’d be weird if I just showed up on Halloween. Like, hey, man, wanna hang out? Goddammit.” Peter shook his head, sitting up fully in the hay. Straw-like strands stuck to his clothes. He brushed them away.

“Well…hey, I got an idea, yeah?” You tried to follow his lead, sitting upward. Swaying a little as you did, Peter could tell you were still on the edge of tipsy. You giggled, “Let’s go inside. And I’ll…try to get everyone together for a movie. Maybe a horror? And you can run off! Go find him. Use the movie as an excuse. Offer him the opportunity to come down and watch. Sound good?”

It didn’t. Erik wasn’t the type to indulge in such activities. Still, Peter smiled fondly at your consideration. Nodding, he stood to his feet in a flash. You blinked, finding yourself lying bridal style in his arms again. With a hand to his chin, you tilted his head down. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thanks…” He hummed, his half lidded eyes gazing down into yours, “I really did have…such an awesome time with you. I haven't done that kinda thing with anybody in a while. But lemme-uh…” Peter bashfully chuckled, “Lemme get you to a bathroom so you can clean up, 'kay? ”

After the surprisingly deep chat he shared with you, Peter rushed you off to a mansion bathroom. Leaning against a wall, he waited outside the door. As the party settled and people filed out into the streets, he became more nervous. The two of you spent the rest of the night together, by the other’s side. Treating each other as normally as you would any other day. Soon, you sobered up enough to gather the X-family for a late night movie.

Peter took your advice, despite expecting the worst. Zipping upstairs and all through the mansion, he searched for his estranged father. To Peter’s surprise, Erik caught him off guard with a yes. But before he made his way downstairs, Peter took a moment to chat with him. He asked Erik how he was doing, and what he’d been up to. Ever since he chose the mansion for a temporary hideout (an arrangement most everybody felt uncomfortable with).

Erik - for good reason - wasn’t the most emotionally open. He kept their conversation short, before dismissing Peter. They both caught up with everyone else in the living room. The X-family sat together with snacks and drinks, joined for a movie. Erik chose a spot next to Peter on one of the sofas. Something he hadn’t anticipated at all. Since he didn’t get much out of the guy too often, he felt he could settle for his company, at least.

Sitting at Peter's other side, you eventually passed out. You rested your head on his lap, and he raked his fingers through your hair. By the time the movie ended, everyone veered off for bed. At last, calling Hallow’s eve quits. But Erik remained. He spoke to Peter a little while longer. Chatting about nothing at all, and everything at once.

Come next morning, Peter stood tiredly in the mansion kitchen. It was an unreasonably cold Monday in November. Freezing weather seemed to hit Westchester out of nowhere. He held a mug full of coffee, milky white and loaded with enough sugar to send anyone else to the hospital. Scratching his head over a mess of silver hair, Peter yawned. Even though he had more important things to worry about, he couldn't stop thinking about last night. For several reasons.

The impromptu bonding time he spent with his father lingered in his mind. Even if said father didn’t know what their interactions meant to Peter. It happened all thanks to your tipsy encouragement. Peter knew, even sober, you would’ve pushed him to do the same. Because you cared about him that much. Always inspiring him to step out of his comfort zone.

Aside from the estranged dad stuff, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more…steamy moments the two of you shared. Intimate interactions he still hadn’t sat down and discussed with you. Peter didn't have a clue what that little fling meant to you. Or if it meant anything at all. Distracting himself, he focused his attention elsewhere. Like the Halloween decorations littered about the mansion. He planned to take them down today after classes.

You came padding downstairs and into the kitchen not even five minutes later.

“Gooooood morning!” You cheerily said, blinking your sleepy eyes. Groaning, you brought a hand to your head. Your fingers touched your temple, “You know what’s surprising? I actually don’t have that bad of a hangover!”

Peter’s heart did flips, and he felt his stomach tangle in knots. Humming into his coffee, he threw you a casual nod of his head. Play it cool, “Mmmm. That’s good, though, right?”

You headed straight for the cabinets, standing on your toes to reach the highest one. You flailed around for the near-empty tub of coffee grounds. He left it up there without any consideration for short, mansion inhabitants like you. Totally absent-minded. Peter almost felt thankful he did. As you reached, the itty bitty, sleep shorts you wore rose by a touch. The cheeks of your ass caught his eye. Your bottom appeared etched in faint scratches, painted with red splotches. Damn…what the hell did he do to you last night?

Sipping his coffee with a groggy look on his face, Peter grinned.

Man alive, he wanted to screw you sober. Doing it drunk really wasn’t enough. Quickly, he dismissed that thought. Filing it away in his scatterbrained memory for later.

“Did you talk to Erik last night?” You asked, pulling Peter from his not-so-safe-for-work thoughts. You stretched a little further up, really reaching for that tin tub of Folgers.

Peter blinked, “Sorry, what?”

“Erik. I asked if you talked to him last night? Because I kinda remember you two having a chat. But then again, I was pretty out of it!” Your shorts hugged the shape of your cunt as you stood on your toes. An ache stirred in his groin, but he shook it off. Holy shit. What were you trying to accomplish here?

Peter’s heart skipped twenty beats. Sifting through the disorganized cabinets in his brain, he retrieved his previous thought. Ah, yeah. Screwing you sober? Not a want, but a need at this point. Focus, Quickie. He needed to focus. Especially if you planned on talking about something as important as his father.

“Uhhhh…” He ran a hand through his messy locks, taking a moment to process his racing thoughts, “Yeah, we talked. Not a lot, though. I meant to say thanks for that, by the way. Since I didn’t get to last night…” Peter brought his mug to his lips, averting his gaze, “Really. Thanks a lot. Don’t think we woulda had that time together, if you hadn’t pushed me to ask him 'n stuff.”

Still struggling to reach for that tin, you sighed. Your heels hit the floor, as you lowered your arm and turned to meet Peter’s eyes. Your sweet voice brought him an unexpected feeling of comfort. 

“Hey, anytime, Peter! I know it’s been really hard for you. Seeing him around here lately. And you don’t need me to tell you the obvious. But-” You timidly gazed down at your toes, shrugging. Peter knew exactly what you were about to say, before you parted your lips to say it.

Something along the lines of: Maybe it’s finally time you told him the truth. Or whatever.

It was too early for this kinda deep, introspective talk. Peter didn’t give you the chance to continue. Setting aside his mug on a countertop, he appeared by your side in a fwip. The breeze from his abrupt movement tickled your cheeks. He reached into the cabinet for the tub of coffee grounds. Handing it off to you with a tired, hooded expression. He sluggishly grinned.

“We got class in, like, twenty minutes.” Peter interrupted, and you took the bait. Whether you knew of his intent to dissuade the previous conversation, he couldn’t tell.

“Oh! Yeah! Shit!” You slapped a hand over your forehead. Peter gazed down at you, admiring your early morning features, “I’m so screwed!” Not yet you’re not, “I totally forgot to put together a lesson plan! I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do today!” Well…you could always do him. Again.

Jeez. Dude. No. The hell’s wrong with him?? Be reasonable, guy! At least take your buddy out to dinner first. Which...yeah. Might be time to think about asking you on a real date.

“Yeahhh. I kinda forgot too. Had a bunch of other stuff on my mind, yanno?” Peter said, completely lethargic. He shrugged, “I’m so bad at my job, man.” He kept his eyes on you, as you threw together your own pot of coffee.

“Actually, that’s bullshit. And I think you know it too. You’re amazing at it. That’s why all the kids love you so much.” You replied. Smiling like you meant every word. Because you did. Man, why'd you have to be so freakin' sweet?

Early morning sunlight beamed through the windows. It bathed your hair and face in sparkling gold. Peter wanted to kick himself for swooning. He opted to change subjects.

“I gotta take these decorations down eventually.” He said, gesturing to the streamers hanging from the kitchen ceiling. For an instant, he remembered tangling himself in them last night, “I keep puttin’ it off. But it’s gotta happen sooner ‘er later.” Taking initiative, he reached up to tear some of them down. Balling them up in his hands.

“I could help you! If you need an extra hand!” You offered, innocently sipping your coffee. Peter took in the curl of your lips as you smiled. He cleared his throat, chuckling.

“Y’know you don’t have to, babe. It’ll literally only take me a second. I just gotta stop sittin’ on my ass.” Peter said. He tossed the balled streamers with a failed, Michael Jordan-style execution. They landed in a nearby trashcan, “Pretty soon, I’m gonna have to put Christmas decorations up too. Might get started on 'em as soon as these ‘re down.” He smirked, “I’m thinkin’ I get everyone some seriously ugly sweaters. Even Mags, if he's still around by then. Oh, and I'll need more Snoopys. The crotch goblins love Snoopy.” Peter paused for a beat, his dark eyes drifting down your body. A subconscious instinct, “And-uhhhh…gonna need lots of tinsel…uh…”

Peter reached for his coffee mug. What was he talking about again?

“Oh? That all sounds nice!” You tilted your head to the side, flirtatiously grinning at Peter. As if you could tell how distracted he was by your body. Heat set aflame in his cheeks, as he glanced up into your eyes. Noticing the way they seemed to twinkle, “Think you’ll decorate the barn again too?” You asked, a flirtatious tease pouring through your tone.

He choked on his coffee mid-sip.

[jjkamochoso]

Cupid’s Arrows

Noritoshi x gn!reader

Angst, fluff

Noritoshi teaches reader archery!!

Warnings: none

You needed to train. Your curse technique skills were fine, above average even, but your sparring abilities were… needing to be worked on. That’s why you were out on the Kyoto school’s lawn early in the morning, fighting to hold your own against Mai. Todo had offered to spar with you, but you weren’t in the mood to get completely pummeled so you kindly declined. You two were circling each other as you were presently at a standstill, neither of you going down without a fight. You were quietly planning where to attack next when your attention was caught elsewhere. You heard the tell tale thump of an arrow make contact with a target and from over Mai’s shoulder you saw Noritoshi practicing his archery not too far from where you stood. You were too busy staring at his perfect frame, perfect stance, perfect strong arms—

“Ugh!” you grunted out in pain as you harshly landed on the grass. Mai smirked as she declared herself the winner, laughing at how easy it was to swipe your legs from under you.

“I can’t believe you were so stupid to leave yourself vulnerable like that,” she said in her typical snarky manner. You knew she held no ill will toward you, though, as she extended her hand to help you up. You took it, muttering a quiet, “thanks,” and brushing yourself off. You’d already felt the bruise forming from falling on your shoulder and hoped it didn’t look too bad since your summer uniform was sleeveless.

“What had you so distracted anyway?” Mai mused. Following where your gaze was held once more, she couldn’t help but laugh again. “Kamo, huh? What, you got a crush on him?” When you didn’t answer, her eyes got wide and you knew you were about to get teased for the rest of your life.

“Oooh! Y/n’s got a crush!” she exclaimed and you attempted to cover her mouth so Noritoshi didn’t overhear, but she was too nimble and easily stepped away from your grasp. Before you knew it, Mai was beelining toward him and your stomach dropped, fearing she’d spill your embarrassing secret. You had never run so fast in your life but you were too late. She was already talking to him!

“Hi! Kamo! How are you this fine morning?” you asked, out of breath and sweaty when you finally joined them. You didn’t even want to know how you looked right now. You could only imagine the disgust Noritoshi must feel seeing you huff and puff like you were on death’s door. Thankfully, he seemed to pay no mind to it. You were grateful he was raised to be respectful.

“Hello, l/n. Mai was just about to tell me something,” he said, slightly irritated his archery practice was getting interrupted.

“Yes I was,” Mai answered smugly, “I was going to tell you that y/n—”

“Wanted archery lessons from you!” you blurted out, completely overtaking whatever it was Mai had said. Noritoshi tilted his head ever so slightly, presumably in confusion, so you pressed on. “I was sparring with Mai and I saw you practicing, but I told her I was too nervous to bother you so she came over instead.” You felt warmth creep into your face and down your neck and it wasn’t from all the physical exertion you had just done. Noritoshi raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh! I, uh… sure, I guess.” You breathed a sigh of relief that he believed you, but he continued on as Mai slowly backed away toward the dorms, a devious grin on her face. “But… why?”

“Well,” you said, your fingertips fidgeting with each other, “I really admire your skill. I think it’s cool you use an unconventional weapon against curses. And I’ve always thought it looked fun.”

Noritoshi looked away into the distance for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, before suddenly breaking the silence.

“Okay. Tell me what you know about archery.”

“Well, it’s ancient, it’s a sport in the Olympics, and Cupid does it,” you answered and Noritoshi let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So you know nothing?” he confirmed, you nodding in agreement with his assessment. “That’s fine. I can work with that. It’s easier to start from scratch than break old bad habits. Look at my stance and do exactly what I’m doing.”

You tried your best to stand the exact same way he was, but judging by the look on his face, you weren’t doing a good job.

“No, see, your front foot is all wrong and your back leg needs to look more like this.”

You tried to tweak yourself but you weren’t getting anywhere. You were already embarrassing yourself without even picking up the bow. You sighed, standing normally, and put your hands on your hips.

“Look, Kamo, I’m sorry for bothering you. I’m clearly not getting this so I’ll leave you alone. Thanks anyway.” You started to turn away, but his hand reached out to your arm, stopping you in your tracks. Noritoshi also must have realized what he had done and quickly retracted his fingers like you had burned him. After a beat of silence, he spoke up.

“L/n, you’re not giving up. You want to learn so I’m going to teach you. You can’t just turn away when you don’t understand something in your first try.”

“Fine. But when I get good enough at this, you’ll have to let me shoot an apple off your head like we’re in a cartoon.” You went back to where you were previously as Noritoshi let out what sounded like the tiniest laugh. You didn’t know he could be anything but stoic!

“I’ll pass on that offer as I enjoy living with both eyeballs in tact,” he replied. “Now, back to lessons. Stand like this.” When you felt you had it down, he came over to inspect you. You were extremely nervous. You never felt like you had caught Noritoshi’s gaze in the years you knew him and now all he was doing was staring you down. It certainly didn’t help when he leaned over you to straighten your shoulders. Satisfied with his work, Noritoshi picked up his bow and handed it to you.

“Please, be careful with this. The school’s gonna kill me if I break another one.” When he turned around to pick up an arrow, you decided to mess with him.

“How easy is it to fix a broken bow string?” you asked innocently. He whipped around to see you snickering and his bow perfectly fine.

“Don’t mess with me like that,” he grumbled, and you only laughed harder.

“Aww, c’mon Kamo, it was a joke!”

“Jokes are supposed to be funny.”

“Well, good thing we’re not studying in clown school.”

“You’re right. If we were, we’d be at the Tokyo school right now.”

You gasped and hit his arm.

“Kamo! Did you just make a joke? That was actually funny!”

Noritoshi’s face held an amused look as he demonstrated how to hold the bow.

“I guess I’m teaching you two things today then.”

You scoffed jokingly, “I miss the quiet Noritoshi already,” and he gave you the tiniest hint of a smile. You liked seeing this side of him. You knew his hardships within the Kamo clan and you truly felt for him. You understood that he had way more at stake than you and most of your classmates so you tried your best to stay out of his way during missions, practice, and any other time you’d mess around with your peers. However, you knew he was probably lonely. He’d looked longingly at your group of friends, desperate to feel normal, to join in on the antics, but knew he had to keep up the perfect facade or else he’d be seen as a failure. You were just glad he hadn’t become too jaded in his life of isolation and perfectionism. It didn’t help that you had a huge crush on the seemingly most emotionally unavailable guy in jujutsu society. You couldn’t help it though. He was aloof, yet kind when needed. He was a strong, respectable leader, and at the root of every decision he made was compassion. He was extremely handsome too. You couldn’t get enough of his gray eyes, inky black hair that fell just right, his big, ever so slightly chilled hands that were currently readjusting how you were holding the bow—

Wait. You seriously needed to stop spacing out, especially since Noritoshi was so close to you that you could make out every detail on his face. You tried to calm your breathing and just focus on the techniques he was trying to teach you.

“—and then you’re good to go. Ready to try on your own?” he asked, stepping back, and you gave him a meek answer of affirmation. He gave you an arrow as you took a deep breath. Launching it, the arrow flew about 10 feet and flopped sadly into the grass. Noritoshi let out a frustrated sigh.

“Were you even listening to a word I said? I don’t know how to explain it any better than that,” he said, running his fingers through the untied hair at the back of his head. You had never seen anything more attractive than that action. You had never heard anything more attractive than his little laugh minutes earlier up until now when he asked:

“Is it alright if I stand behind you and guide you through it?”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head and he must’ve noticed how that sentence sounded because you noticed a deep blush rush to his face.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I’m sorry. Was that weird? That was weird. I meant—”

“No, no, please, have at it. I’m all yours,” you tried to console him, and he nodded, keeping his eyes cast down.

“Please, stop me if I come too close to you or am touching you too much. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You could never make me uncomfortable, Noritoshi,” you replied. It felt odd using his first name but he didn’t oppose to it after the second time you used it, so you figured it was okay. Besides, his chest was pressed firmly against your back while his hand rested on your wrist near the bowstring. It was a very intimate position so you figured first names were allowed for this occasion.

“Okay, we’ll try this again. First, you have to stand tall.” His fingers drifted down to your waist to adjust you, then up to your shoulders once more. You tried to even your breathing so you didn’t pass out from being so close to him. His voice was soft and even more angelic when he was practically whispering in your ear. You were lucky no one else was up because if anyone saw what was going on between the two of you, in a public setting no less, you’d definitely get reprimanded. Even if you did get caught, you would have absolutely no regrets. Being in Noritoshi’s presence like this was worth a lifetime of detentions.

“Good. Now, make sure your front arm holds steady. You want it straight, but not locked up. Yes, just like that. Here’s the fun part. When you pull back the string and the arrow, you should keep it close to your face.” Speaking of closeness and faces, Noritoshi’s nose was practically in the crook of your neck as his fingers ghosted over your arm that held the arrow. The bowstring took its place on your cheek but you wished it was his lips instead. You felt his heart thudding in his chest as he kept his stance against you and you tried to ignore what that meant. You figured he was just nervous to be so close to somebody, especially in a semi compromising position, not because he could smell your delightful shampoo and could easily reach down to kiss your neck—

“Now, y/n, you can let go.” Noritoshi literally whispered in your ear, but he didn’t care. He was craving to show you the tiniest bit of softness he could, to show you how much he truly cared for you. If his love could only show itself during archery lessons, so be it. When you saw the arrow imbedded in the bull’s eye of the target, you wanted to jump and yell in excitement, but you couldn’t get yourself to pull away from Noritoshi. Noritoshi, who, by the way, just called you by your first name. Were you reading into this too much? Did he actually return your affections? And if not, why was he leaving lingering touches on your shoulders?

“You have a bruise on your shoulder,” he murmured, his voice sounding like his thoughts were a million miles away. The pad of his finger was barely grazing over the now deep purple spot and you felt goosebumps rise up all over your body. You shifted around to face Noritoshi but he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“I know, I got it from Mai earlier this morning. She really knocked me down.”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” he told you hurriedly. You were taken aback by his statement.

“It’s just a bruise, I’ll be alright, I promise,” you teased, but that didn’t seem to help.

“It’s not just the bruise, y/n, I just… I don’t like seeing you get hurt at all. On missions, in training. It just brings up all these feelings, ones that I shouldn’t have. And it’s not just that. Today, teaching you archery, being so close to you. I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong.” He tried to back up but you filled the space once more, not ready to give him up. “I can’t have these types of feelings for anyone, it’s not fair. Especially not to someone as good and kind like you. I can’t hurt you like that. I could never live with myself if I hurt you.” You could’ve sworn you saw tears in his eyes but they were quickly wiped away with the sleeves of his uniform.

“Noritoshi, listen. I don’t know what kind of feelings you have for me, but I really like you. I would never want to jeopardize your position with the clan, that’s why I never said anything.” He shook his head, his tied hair swaying with every move.

“I hate this. I hate this position that I’ve put you and I in. I love you, y/n, from the first day we met. I’m sorry I can’t be the man you deserve.” He tried to turn away, but this time, it was you who reached out and grabbed him.

“Noritoshi, stop. It’s alright. Just know that I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. As a friend or whoever you want me to be. Just know you’re not alone, okay? Not anymore.” You dropped his arm, instead giving him a playful shove on the shoulder. “Thank you for the lesson today. It really was a lot of fun. And hey, you must be a great teacher! You got me, of all people, to get a bullseye!” That, at least, made him smile a bit. You thanked him again and gave him his bow as you walked back to your dorm. You were a bit disappointed, sure, but it wasn’t like your situation was either of your guys’ faults. Even if nothing romantic could come out of today, at least you were able to relish in his touch for a few moments. As you got clothes out for after your shower, you heard a knock at your door. It was still fairly early so you didn’t know who it could be.

“Mai, if that’s you, nothing happened—”

When you opened your door, you were met with a frantic looking Noritoshi who, without hesitation, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a kiss. You immediately melted like putty in his hands, your lips perfectly fitting against his like you two were missing pieces of each other’s puzzles. When you both begrudgingly pulled away for air, he turned serious and got down on both of his knees, holding your hands while almost bowing to you.

“I can’t go another day denying my feelings. As you know, I’m in love with you and I can’t stand being parted from you any longer. I’ll make it work with the clan and do whatever it takes so that I can stay with you however long you’ll have me. If you’ll have me.” When he looked up at you, you’d never seen Noritoshi with such sad, pleading eyes, and you hoped you’d make him so happy he’d never have to look at you like that again. You bestowed a loving kiss onto his cheek and afterwards pulled him up off the floor and into your arms for a hug. You didn’t know what the future had in store for you two, but you knew that he would be by your side, no matter what.

[starzzmissthesun]

i think you should totally drop whatever hc/ideas you have lying around honestly...i would love to see more into ur brain...pls <33

:DD

Hi!!!! Sorry this is a little late, I got so distracted with an animatic im working on(😈) and then a stupid essay😭😭 being honest rn... Almost all of what I've been thinking about is my fic.. 😔

But!! I can still go a little into that without spoilers. I've finally figured out The Perfect ending for this story that I feel fits with the overarching themes I wanted to tell. I've been making sure that every little detail fits with the themes I wanted to show, I wanted it to overlap Regulus and barty's characters and their overarching themes with PD. I also didn't want to just replicate PD cause I feel like that doesnt have the depth or commentary I want to out into it. Idk ive always thought it's super fun to put everything as some sort of symbol or metaphor or foreshadowing. I'm like literally so close to being done drafting and then I can actually talk about it a little more😭

Anyways! I've also been thinking about barty post regs death 😔(when am I not) But more specifically how every memory he had would almost be tainted, everything now would have an air of questioning and unsureness. Even memories where Regulus isn't there, just wondering where was he? What was he thinking? Am I remembering this right? What could've I changed? What was the domino that caused all of this to happen? Eventually finding it hard to accept the way it really was, having the "I guess it was" and feeling it, but overintellectualizing it. His logic and reasoning is his downfall in this situation, that's what makes him go crazy. (Side note I NEED to make a little post about his intersection between intelligence and madness) Hes doing a complicated version of when there's a task that seems so simple that you think it's a trick, but it's not, it's just that. What happened with Regulus was just that.

Also, I've recently self reflected and realized that a lot of my barty characterization is similar to how I think of Leonard Cohen's art(who I LOVE LOVE LOVE) Idk if you've listened to him or read any of his work, but I HIGHLY suggest it, it's perfect for fall. Anyways, a lot of his songs and poems carry themes of having a twisted self image, not completely self deprication though it may seem, but something else. It's closer to understanding and knowing that you are. Different. And unconventional. It's an uncomfortablility he has with himself. Being soemthig twisted from what you should've been. A lot of his stuff is also to do with tragically losing someone, out of their own choice, and still feeling very loyal yet bitter. Also of loving something so much that it turns dark, or it goes too quick, it spirals. Also his love songs are very barty's perspective on bartylus to me. And like, obvious war mentions. I could give some specific recs similar to barty or them if you'd like.

Another thing is of Regulus and his relationship with his dad. Though I see it completely reasonable if his dad was just kind of, not there and neglectful, it could give very interesting implications to his character, I like it the other way around. Orion seeing what a more carefree attempt at raising a child does and keeping Regulus even closer than he did before. I think Orion always liked Regulus more, despite him being the second, because he was a model son. I don't think he wanted this life or even to have kids, so Regulus being so complacent and in line with what he was supposed to be as a pure blood made him the decided favourite(as much as he could have one). He was always keeping a close eye on Regulus and he could feel it, but he didn't do anything out of place anyways. Orion could tell when he was even thinking something he wasn't supposed to. I believe that, no matter how much she tried, walpurga was too caught in her own head about her duty as a mother to see S+R as anything other than Her Kids, as property that she was supposed to care for and tend to, she obviously loved them, but couldn't see through them. But Orion was there around every corner looking through regulus' eyes into his soul to search for any thing out of his perfect kid.

Anyways.... That's all I can think of rn😭 but if you have questions about ANY of them lmk!!! I love yapping about my little thoughts 😁😁