#why was drawing a mask more difficult than an actual face

[nottsangel]

impatient — t.n.

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+, unprotected vaginal sex, degradation, face slapping, creampie, cursing, dirty talk, cum eating, public bathroom sex

word count: 2.3k

summary: it was difficult keeping your hands off your boyfriend while with his friends, so you decided to tease him until he gave him.

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You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was that made you so incredibly horny tonight— whether it was your boyfriend’s piercing blue eyes staring at you, or his expensive cologne filling your nostrils, or his deep voice and Italian accent, or maybe all of it combined with the alcohol in your system. Whatever it was, you felt an ache between your legs, prompting you to rub your thighs together to create some friction— you desperately needed to feel him and it consumed your mind.

Theo was completely oblivious as he chatted with Draco— a cigarette in one hand and the other arm wrapped snugly around you. You were discreetly watching him, observing every single detail as you bit your lip, yearning for his touch. Poor Pansy was busy prattling on in detail about her new crush, but it was one ear in and the other out as you were distracted by Theo's gentle touch beneath your shirt, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin, and the way his eyes occasionally met yours, making your heart flutter.

Even though they were more Theo’s friends rather than yours, hanging out with the Slytherins was usually fun, however, this time around wasn't quite as enjoyable. Your mind was filled with countless thoughts and fantasies of Theo fucking you in every way imaginable— missionary, with your hands pinned above your head, or doggy style, while he roughly pulls your hair, or— “You alright, cara mia?” Theo’s deep voice snapped you back to reality, causing your eyes to widen as you blinked rapidly, nearly choking on your saliva.

“Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I?” You responded quickly, furrowing your brows and forcing a smile, masking your true thoughts as you gazed up at him, trying your hardest to hide the fact that him, naked, on top of you is the only thing on your mind right now. Theo’s blue eyes briefly narrowed, considering your behaviour to be somewhat strange but he shrugged it off, taking a drag from his cigarette.

His rough hand roamed over your body, from your waist down to your thigh, dangerously close to where you craved his touch the most. You bit your cheek, struggling to maintain composure as you were practically eye-fucking him and watched the smoke lazily drift from his lips. Fuck it.

“Actually, no. I am not alright.” Theo redirected his attention to you, his brows drawing together in puzzlement as he gazed down at you before you rose from your seat and moved to sit on his lap, facing him with your arms wrapped around his neck. He spread his legs wider so you could sit on his right leg more comfortably, his eyes tracking your every movement.

“What’s wrong, Piccola? Talk to me.” Theo asked with curiosity as you drew closer to him, your nails lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers down his spine as you gathered the courage and whispered into his ear. “I’m so fucking horny, Theo. I need you. I need to feel you inside of me.” His eyes widened a bit and his jaw clenched as he uncomfortably shifted in his seat, taken aback by your response. Theo collected himself quickly before taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke, its scent filling your senses, before putting it out.

“You’re gonna have to wait, princess.” “But Theo-“ “I said, you’re gonna have to wait.” He repeated himself with his gaze fixed ahead of him and his voice cold and devoid of any emotion. His authoritative tone and piercing gaze made you feel a chill to the bone, yet it somehow only fuelled your desperation. Pressing your lips to his neck, you placed soft kisses on his skin while wiggling your ass right on his crotch, causing him to instantly grip your hips with one hand, holding you firmly in place, his nails digging into your flesh.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here.” he warned with his lips pressed tightly together, his expression reflecting a sense of disapproval. Challenge accepted. You knew you had his attention now, and you weren’t going to give up that easily as you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, batting your wide, doe-like eyes. The contrast between your innocent appearance and your naughty behaviour only turned him on more.

Normally composed and collected, Theo found it increasingly difficult to control himself as he prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, growing visibly more frustrated. A cheeky smile spread across your face, knowing you were close to getting exactly what you wanted. “Just let me make you feel good baby, I know you want it. I’ll even let you cum inside me.”

Theo’s knee restlessly bounced up and down while he tried to focus on the conversations in the room— Lorenzo was once again bragging in detail about some girl he fucked the night before, but it became unbearable when you subtly began kissing and sucking on his earlobe while your soft hands wandered all over his tense body.

“I’m wearing that set you like. You know, the black one... with the pretty lace.” You paused, taking in his stressed form with a sly grin. “It’s just a bit… a bit uncomfortable, though. You should help me take it off.” Theo momentarily closed his eyes and inhaled sharply before unexpectedly rising to his feet, causing you to stumble forward. He forcefully seized your wrist and pulled you along as you struggled to keep up with his fast pace and felt his grip tighten with each step.

“Where are you off to?” Draco asked confusedly but Theo ignored him, his gaze fixed ahead as he purposely strode forward with long steps, as if driven by a clear goal. Opening the door to the dimly lit corridors, deserted at this hour, he forcefully dragged you along with him.

“Theo, where are we-“ “Shut up.” You gulped when his stern voice cut you off, taking long strides as the chilly air prickled your skin with goosebumps. He pushed open the door to the toilets and aggressively hauled you inside, causing you to let out a small squeal. After closing the door behind him, he turned, looming over you, his large figure pushing you towards the sink, causing you to stumble backwards and shiver as the cold porcelain met your back.

It was dark and quiet in the bathroom— shadows clung to the corners and edges of the room while moonlight softly illuminated your boyfriend's handsome features, providing the only light in the place. The occasional drip of water from the sink added to the mysterious and eerie atmosphere, emphasising that you were the only souls in the vicinity. An unpleasant mix of heavy cigarette smoke along with the faint lavender scent of soap entered your nostrils, only to be quickly overpowered by Theo’s cologne as he stepped closer and closer to you, his tall body pressing against yours.

Theo abruptly gripped your face, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his gaze. “You wanna behave like a fucking brat? Then you’ll get treated like one” He hissed as he let go before your face abruptly met the palm of his hand, slapping you with force. Your head cocked to the side as you felt a bit lightheaded due to getting more turned on with each passing second, your arousal dripping down the inside of your legs beneath your skirt.

Theo gripped the back of your thighs before swiftly lifting you up and placing you on the flat surface of the sink. He smirked when he noticed your wet underwear as he spread your legs before massaging his thumb over your clothed swollen clit, causing you to take a hitched breath. “So pathic. You just always need to be filled with my cock, hm?”

He moved his mouth to your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine before he began sucking on your skin, leaving you covered in love bites. “Use your words and tell me what you want, bella.” He whispered, followed by him sucking and biting on your neck more aggressively, causing goosebumps to form all over your body before wrapping your legs around his body to pull him closer to you.

“I want— need to feel you inside of me, please.” you murmured, your fingers running through his soft hair while his hands wandered to the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head and tossing it across the cold tiles of the empty bathroom. He met your pleading gaze with his own intense blue eyes, gleaming in the moonlight before removing his own shirt as well, revealing his muscular body and making you drool at the sight.

“And you think you deserve it?” he questioned while sliding your soaked underwear off and tossing them on the floor. You nodded cautiously, unsure of what answer he wanted to hear but the need to feel him taking over your entire brain. “You do? Such a stupid fuckin’ slut.” He growled before unbuckling his belt and pulling both his pants and boxers down as his erection sprung free against his abs, precum dripping from the tip.

“If you want it that bad, then I’ll give it to you.” He growled before he positioned himself in between your legs and pushed in with one quick thrust, no warning, making you moan out his name as you threw your head back. He quickly set an unrelenting pace, completely stretching you out as you felt a hint of pain that was soon replaced by immense pleasure as he pounded into you. His hand travelled over your tits, squeezing them firmly before putting his thumb in your mouth, forcing you to suck on it as you innocently gazed up at him. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

He then removed his thumb from your mouth before his palm struck your face with force once again, the impact of the slap sending a burst of a stinging sensation through your skin, igniting a feeling of ecstasy as the tip of his cock simultaneously brushed against your sweet spot, causing you to let out a shattered breath. “You like that shit, no?” He asked with a condescending tone and a malicious grin on his face, his Italian accent heavier than usual. “Of course you do, such a naughty girl. Always beggin’ for my cock.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but were unable to form any coherent sentences, resulting in merely choked sobs to leave your mouth as his cock massaged your walls so perfectly. Theo gazed down to where your bodies met, watching his cock disappear into your body, making him groan. “Gonna fill you up so good, bella. You want that?” He asked, his voice raspy and hoarse.

You eagerly nodded with your eyes closed as his hips snapped against you and the sounds of smacking flesh echoed in the empty bathroom, along with your erotic moans as the pleasure kept building. He gripped your face, forcing you to look at him as your eyes shot open, “Use your fucking words.”

“Fu— fuck, please! I want it so fucking bad” he released your face before his hand roamed to your core followed by his thumb rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit, causing all of your muscles to tighten, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink as if your life depended on it. You felt your release nearing as his cock brushed against your g-spot over and over again, each hit sending a wave of pleasure through your entire body. You wrapped your legs tighter around his torso, bringing him as close to you as possible.

It didn’t take long before your orgasm finally struck you, causing your back to arch and your vision to blur as you clenched tightly around his cock, seeing stars as he fucked you through it. “That’s it, princess. Cum all over my cock.” He didn’t come long after you as his thrusts became sloppier and his fingers gripped the flesh of your hips firmly followed by him emptying himself, feeling the familiar pool of his warmth deep inside of you. A string of Italian curse words left his lips as he threw his head back and painted your walls white with his cum.

He rode out his high while you struggled to catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down before he gently pulled out. Your legs were trembling as you felt his sperm slowly trickle out of you, but Theo was busy putting his clothes back on before gathering your underwear from the floor and stuffing it in his pocket. “What are you doing!? I need that, I’m literally dripping everywhere!” You snarled, knowing that if you stood up right now, his cum would drip all over your legs. “No, you don’t.” Theo replied coldly before running his fingers over your cunt to gather your mixed juices, causing you to wince in overstimulation before he forcefully stuck his digits in your mouth, forcing you to suck them clean as you drooled all over them. “Problem solved.”

Feeling exhausted as your eyes struggled to stay open, you whined, “Let’s just… go back to your dorm and shower together, please? ‘m so tired.” Theo lifted you gently and set you down, causing you to sway slightly on shaky legs. He gathered your clothes, helped you dress, then planted a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Not a chance. We’re gonna go back to the others and you’re gonna face the consequences of your own actions.” He ordered strictly before taking your hand and dragging you through the door to the chilly corridors once again.

“But— but literally everyone can see we just had sex Theo, it’s fucking embarrassing.” “Good. Let everyone see. Let everyone see that only I can fuck you this good. Let everyone see that you’re all mine, cara mia. Mine and mine only.”

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[blackleatherjacketz]

Mouthy

Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: Miguel has been watching you, and is willing to do anything it takes to get you to join his team.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, Teasing, Flirting, Kissing, Biting, Blood Drinking, Licking, Thigh Riding, Undressing, Voyeurism, Female Masturbation, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Word Count: 2.6k+

Read more of my MIGUEL stories!

You had been toying with Miguel all night, sparring with him until your sweaty session had resulted in swinging from rooftop to rooftop, leading his tour of your world to an end at the top of your apartment building. Three separate visits to your universe in the span of two months had led you to believe that he was getting desperate for help, or for something else. The first time he showed up was to help you battle one of the more formidable foes of your crime-fighting career, the second to ask you to join his group of heroes to fight off even bigger threats, and the third, well… you’re still trying to pin down.

If Miguel is anything, it’s persistent.

“Give up already?” He chides, denting the metal of the AC unit with his landing as you finally stop swinging.

“Who’s giving up?” You pull the mask off your sweaty face as his head piece disappears without a trace, revealing his gorgeous features and flowing raven locks.

“It’s only midnight,” he points to his watch as he walks toward you, those hips of his sauntering in a way that nearly hypnotizes you on the spot. “Plenty of other threats around the city to be squashed.”

“Then go squash them.” You challenge, tilting your head to look at him from another angle. Why can’t men in my universe look like him?

“You’d like that, huh?” He keeps advancing until he stops just short of you, his broad shoulders towering over you as a light breeze blows the smoky scent of his cologne into your nostrils. As if you hadn’t already committed it to memory. “If I did all the work?”

“Well, you can’t blame a lady for wanting to know if something’s worth her while.” You tease as he closes the space between you, backing you up against the rusted metal door of the stairwell. “Because if we’re being honest, Miguel, I’ve thought long and hard about it, and I’m perfectly fine here on my own.”

“I can see that.” His irises glow a fiery red against the white sclera of his eyes, searching your face for any hint of doubt or deceit. Your senses had been telling you that he wanted much more from you than just a teammate, the sound of his pulse quickening whenever he looked at you barely louder than the silence of his stilled breath. He wanted you… needed you almost as carnally as you needed him, and it was getting to be more difficult for either of you to ignore it.

“But don’t you want to be more than ‘just fine’?” He plants his palms against the brick structure behind you, his direct proximity tying a knot into your stomach as the night sky behind him somehow bleeds a passionate crimson hue. You can visibly see his intentions, actually feel the desire as it emanates out of his pores and into the hot summer air, drawing you in with its magnetic pull. “Don’t you want to be amazing?”

“I can tell that you do.” You smirk, prolonging your trance as you trace the bright red outline of the spider on his chest, watching it rise and fall faster with each word you speak. “Not everybody wants what you want, Miguel.”

“Is that so?” He leans in close, his full lips brushing against your ear as the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. “Is that why you moan my name at night every time I leave your world?” He slides his knee swiftly between your legs, gently lifting it up the crevice of your thighs until it rubs that sensitive spot between them.

“You’ve been watching me?” You knew that he’d been keeping tabs on you from whatever little hideout he had beyond your known universe, but you didn’t realize that he was paying that close attention to you. How much of your behavior had he actually witnessed? Was he speculating, hopeful, or had he actually watched while you slid your fingers beneath your underwear to satisfy that sudden urge his presence always seemed to evoke?

“You’re surprised?” He jeers confidently, his breath hot on your neck as he draws out a groan from your chest with another brush of his thigh, tapping into your natural moisture.

“That doesn’t really seem fair,” you start, eyes fluttering to catch glimpses of that scarlet sky phasing in and out of black and magenta as he continues to stimulate you. “You get to see all of me, but I don’t get to see any of you.”

You wonder just how far he took his viewings of you late at night; how many times he tuned into his recurring guest appearances in your imagination before you pleasured yourself into a dull, blissful slumber. Had he joined you in your handiwork, stroking himself in tandem, worlds apart, just in time to mutter your name with his release before the connection was lost? Or had he stayed tuned way past your loss of consciousness, hoping to hear some verbal confirmation of his presence even in your dreams?

“We can change that, you know.” He closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair, his thick lashes feathering over the shell of your ear as he presses a kiss into your neck.

“You’re gonna let me spy on you when you jerk off, too?” Your breath halts as he tastes the skin behind your ear and underneath your jawline, his teeth nipping at your pulse to make you pay for your quippy retort.

“Aye, cariño, are you always this mouthy?” He grabs onto your chin in a failed attempt to reign you in, the tips of his protracted claws nearly breaking your skin as he thrusts himself against you.

“You have no idea.”

—————————————

Miguel manages to stumble into your apartment with your legs wrapped around his waist, his clawed hands grasping at your thighs as they desperately cling to his hips. He pulls you up into him as he rounds the corner past your couch, his erection stretching the navy blue fabric of his suit as it grows harder against the drenched mound between your legs.

“You fucking taste like heaven, you know that?” He whispers through a dozen hungry kisses, the sharp sting to your skin and the iron of your blood flooding your senses as he bites down onto your bottom lip, wantonly sucking it into his mouth. That twinge of pain that would have hurt before you got your powers is nothing more than a scratch, a mere tickle as the warmth of his tongue soon counters it. He tugs and pulls every bit of flavor he can out of it, savoring each hint of salt and remnant of coffee on your tastebuds as he nearly gnaws your lip right off in the process, running into every wall along the way until he eventually reaches your bedroom.

“I thought you said those things were venomous.” You worry aloud, just now noticing their size and severity as he tosses you onto your bed with a lick of his lips.

“Only when I need them to be.” He grins and helps you peel your suit off your arms and torso, tugging it down past your hips and thighs before stepping out of his own spider suit with unmatchable ease. Eyes ravenous with lust, he watches you pull the last bit of stretchy cloth off your calves and feet, licking the tips of his fangs again as you toss your costume onto the floor.

“Well that’s lucky for me, then.” You sit up and press your knees into the mattress in order to get closer to him.

“Lucky for both of us.” He slides his thumbs beneath his boxer briefs and exposes what he’s working with, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Before you can comment on how big he is, before you can make a joke about how you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, he steps toward you and places his hand in the middle of your chest, pushing you flat onto your back.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs sternly.

“What?” Your brow furrows. Hasn’t he gotten enough of that through his viewfinder? Wasn’t that the whole point of him coming here in person? To actually touch you with his own hands and taste you with his own mouth? So that he didn’t have to just watch?

“I want you to touch yourself like you do when you think I’m not watching,” he reiterates, standing his ground as he resists the temptation to stroke himself, a single droplet of precum leaking from the tip of his cock.

“Oh. Okay.” You nod, his demanding tone of flattery quickly fueling your actions as it overpowers that inherent sense of stage fright nagging in the back of your head. “I can do that.”

You watch him hold his breath as you slide two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them as gratuitously as you can before pulling them out with a long trail of spit leading down your chin. His eyes follow your digits with rapt attention as you bring them down your body, their deep ruby hues darkening to burgundy as his pupils begin to dilate. You hear his breath hitch as you graze over your hardened nipples, snake your way down your navel and finally smooth them in between your soaking wet folds, exciting the sensitive neurons that have been begging for attention since the moment he arrived.

Doing as you’re told, you spread your juices up and down the length of your lips, catching a glimpse of his cock twitching against his stomach in anticipation, throbbing as you slowly pull upward on your clit. You can’t help but wonder how amazing he’s going to feel once he’s inside of you, your fingers barely able to do his length and girth any justice as you slide them inside your walls.

“That’s it, baby, just like that,” he finally exhales with a hint of a moan. He retracts his claws with a bite of his lip, cautiously touching your bare feet with the palms of his hands before slowly spreading your legs apart as he continues to watch you work. “Who knew your pussy’d be just as pretty as your face, huh?”

You huff in exasperation, too stunned to speak as his grin mimics your smile from the edge of the bed.

“You look even better from this angle, you know that?” Another lick of his lips spurns a trail of kisses onto the balls of your feet as he crawls between your legs, sucking little bruises into your calves and behind your knees; mementos for you to remember him by once he inevitably returns to his own world. You keep rubbing your bud up and down as he advances along your body; his lips, teeth and tongue massaging the skin of your inner thigh as waves of pleasure start building up into your core from both of your tantalizing efforts.

It isn’t long before he lifts your leg up over his shoulder, biting into your thigh once more before looking up at you with completely blackened eyes, your blood now staining his lips as it smears across his cheek. You moan as he takes his time lapping up the scarlet fluid as it mixes with his saliva, dripping down between your crevices as his mouth gets that much closer to your needy center.

Without a word of warning, he grabs onto your wrist and carefully pulls your fingers out of your swollen heat before encircling them with his lips. Those charcoal eyes of his roll back into his head, a deep guttural groan vibrating around your fingers as his tongue surrounds them, the savory flavor of your blood now blending in with the sweet tanginess of your sex. You push them in even further past his blood-stained lips, shivering in arousal as he sucks all the way down to your knuckles, making a sloppy show of licking them clean before finally drawing them out.

“Not so mouthy anymore, huh?” He asks, kissing the palm of your hand before lifting it up and placing your wet fingers into his hair.

“Uh-uh,” you whisper, the heat from his breath sending phantom pulses of bliss up through your spine, leaving you practically speechless.

“Then let’s see if I can get you to make some noise.” He licks a stripe up the length of your folds, choosing not to use his fangs on your most sensitive area as he focuses solely on tasting your raw flesh. He groans into your skin as he licks you up and down, inhaling your pheromonal scent as if your very essence is the only thing capable of sustaining him any further.

Your eyelids fall shut as you allow a few breathy moans to escape your lips, his tongue saturating every receptor you have with such an intense euphoria that it forces your hips to buck up into his mouth. Your grip on his onyx locks tightens as he continues to suck on your clit, pulling it taut into his mouth just like he had with your bottom lip, persistently eating you out like a man starved for days.

“See how good you are at following my orders?” He stops licking you just as you’re on the brink of ecstasy, a thin ring of red now glowing around the rims of his irises. “I just need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?” You barely have the capacity to ask, your muscles vibrating beneath him with the promise of release that he so quickly took away from you.

His full lips curl into a smirk as he licks your bud one last time, kissing his way up your belly and breasts before reaching your neck, his cock needily bobbing between your legs until it slides inside you without ceremony. You gasp as his girth fills you up with impeccable ease, your slick walls welcoming his thick throbbing member, clenching down around him as he gently thrusts up into you.

“Miguel!” You shout in a stifled whisper, stars shining in your eyes as the tip of his cock hits that bundle of nerves he’s been teasing all night.

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, all traces of that controlled man fading away as he pins your wrists to the mattress before bottoming out completely, rutting into you repeatedly like a wild animal.

“Mmm hmm!” Your moans echo off the walls in your bedroom as he drives himself further inside your heat, ricocheting off your nightstand and ceiling fan until they dissipate into the air above you, falling down like raindrops as they cover you both. His hips only quicken their steady pace the deeper he gets, sending hit after hit of white hot bliss up into your core until your body can no longer take it.

That wave of pleasure you’re so used to delivering yourself nearly takes you out completely as it washes over every inch of you from the inside out. It paints every cell in your skin, muscles and bones all the colors of the rainbow under Miguel’s hypnotic thrusts, his sweat dripping down onto you in tiny translucent beads before melting into your skin. Both of you phase in and out a variety of shades and patterns as you wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him in to make sure he feels the heightened state of nirvana he’s finally brought you to.

“I can feel you falling apart around me, cariño,” he whispers into your shoulder, thrusting one last time as hard as he can as he twitches and spasms inside you. Lavender paisleys, red and white stripes, olive and orange checkers all slowly fade away to a calm light blue before he pulls out and eventually lets go of your wrists. “You sure you don’t want to join my team?”

[augustinewrites]

cw: suggestive content, fem!reader

“come for a stroll with me.”

“i can’t right now,” wriothesley tells you, glaring down at the mess of papers atop his desk.

it was not in your nature to be petulant, but the over dramatic sigh that falls from your lips has him believing otherwise. 

though he wanted nothing more than to abandon the day's duties and join you on the surface for an afternoon stroll, the lord of the fortress of meropide was a very busy man. he had a prison to run.

“fine,” you say, though your exasperated tone indicates that his refusal was anything but.

“you’re the head doctor,” he reminds you, gesturing to the stacks of paper on his desk. “you know how it is.” 

“actually i don’t, because i don’t do all my work at the last minute.” 

“you have sigewinne, who does more than half of it for you.” 

“sigewinne likes paperwork,” you argue, settling yourself atop the corner of his desk. “you could have a whole team of people to help you with these things, but you’re too picky to let them.”

“they don’t do it right,” he huffs, pen scratching a quick signature across the bottom of the topmost report before shuffling it aside. “i know this place better than any accountant whose only concern is balancing a book.”

“fair enough,” you shrug, picking up and thumbing through his reviewed missives with about as much interest as one watching paint dry. he looks down just as a sneaky smile appears on your lips. “i heard it’s quite nice outside.”

“too warm,” he mutters distractedly, too lost in the process of estate management to chit-chat about the weather. 

“perhaps i should shed a few layers before heading out,” you hum thoughtfully, fanning yourself lightly with his papers. 

wriothesley looks up, about to scold you, but the words dry up before they pass the tip of his tongue. 

you certainly hadn’t outfitted yourself as a future duchess might, forgoing a frilly, structured gown for one of his own loose white button downs that’s tucked into closely tailored trousers. 

it’s with great intrigue that he watched your free hand undo the top two buttons of your (his) shirt, revealing the delicate swatch of skin over your neck and teasing him with a peak at your cleavage. 

you catch him staring as you set his papers down, eyes flashing with delight. like a predator that’s successfully cornered its prey. wriothesley - in a last ditch escape attempt - quickly looks away, clearing his throat and staring hard at the report in front of him. 

he could not get distracted today. not with so much work to do. 

but you, oh you. you hop off his desk, walking around it to drape your arms around his shoulders, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “i suppose i’ll see you later then.”

he mumbles a reluctant goodbye but your lips linger, brushing dangerously close to that sweet spot behind his ear. 

do not give in, his brain instructs, even though it’s getting harder and harder to process the words in front of him with every slide of your hands. 

schooling his features into a calm mask, wriothesley draws a deep, steadying breath. it hardly manages to settle him because archons, you were going to be the death of him. he’s always considered himself a steadfast person with an immense focus that’d been built up from a young age. when he set his mind to a task, he was a difficult man to distract.

you and your wiles have always been proof of otherwise.

“just be back before our audience with neuvillette this afternoon.” he tells you, doing his best to ignore the heat rising to his face. 

finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, correspondence. finance reviews, surveillance reports, cor–

“stop it,” he demands when your fingertips glide across his chest, fiddling with the knot of his tie. 

“why?” you ask, voice cloyingly innocent. “am i distracting you, your grace?”

“no.”

you clearly do not believe him in the slightest. 

“care for a wager then? because i bet i can distract you by the end of the day.”

wriothesley knows that betting, wagering, or gambling against a former member of the house of the hearth is never a good idea. it’s a dangerous one.

he leans back, arms crossed over his chest as he attempts to salvage what’s left of his dignity. “what are the stakes?”

_____

you know your boyfriend. it isn’t hard for you to wind him up and get him right where you want. 

which was on top of you. 

or underneath you. it depends on the day.

there were no real intricacies in seducing the mighty and fearsome duke. it wasn’t even that hard to fluster him, because a simple brush of your fingers against his was enough to make his cheeks flush with colour.

you just needed to draw him out a little. you’re on the offense, and you know all the right moves required to force him to engage with you.

in an effort to avoid you and (attempt to) win the bet, wriothesley had locked himself in his office for most of the day. it worked out well for you, because you’d been able to sneak into his quarters holding a shopping bag from chioriya boutique.

your plan is put into motion when you hear the duke stomp up the stairs to get ready for the meeting with neuvillette. 

“get back behind that screen,” he instructs when you poke your head out from behind the divider. he’s even slapped a hand over his eyes, intent on staying focused on the task at hand.

wriothesley huffs when you laugh, turning his back to you as he rummages through the dresser. 

he’s murmuring the little rhyme he uses to knot his tie, so focused on the task that he doesn’t notice the crinkling of the tissue paper as you pull your new…outfit out of its bag.

“hey,” he asks. “are you almost ready?”

“i just need you to lace me up,” you call back, shrugging the shoulders of your gown down a touch before stepping out from behind the divider.

you turn to show him the undone laces of your gown, watching his reflection in the mirror. he’s regaled in the fineries of the duke, having swapped out his shirt for a clean black one and fastened a fine fur coat over his shoulders. you appreciate his appearance greatly, but even more so when he finds your little surprise.

“is this…new?” he asks quietly, gloved fingers brushing undone laces aside to get a better look at what hides underneath your dress. 

it was new. a custom set, in fact. your duke likes you in dark lace and sculpted pieces. 

he inhales sharply when you take his wrist, gently guiding his hand to one of the slits in the side of your skirt. 

wriothesley breathes your name softly when his hand drifts up your dress and settles on your hip, meeting nothing but skin. 

a smug, satisfied grin threatens to break out on your face when you feel his lips brush against your shoulder. you had him on the ropes now. he’s just so easy–

his sweet movements cease suddenly and he pushes you away gently. 

“you almost got me,” he laughs, quickly removing his hands from underneath your dress. he grips the laces, deft fingers making quick work doing it up and pulling it taut and tight to hide the tempting lace of your brassiere. 

“but–”

“go put your underwear back on,” he demands, delivering a firm smack to your rear. 

defeated but not the slightest bit deterred, you reluctantly reach for the abandoned garment as your boyfriend glares at the opposite wall. but losing the battle doesn’t mean losing the war. 

“should i put on the garter belt too?”

_____

downstairs, neuvillette sighs, cursing his better-than-average hearing. 

at least you’d had the sense to leave out some good tea.

[strwberryblast]

hey kitten… licks lips… i’m requesting 😝

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Monoma x Fem!Reader

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It was no surprise to anyone that Monoma had a strong dislike for Class 1-A, regularly belittling and taunting them out of spite. You were particularly aware of this, as he seemed to target you the most, often making you his prime victim whenever you were around.

You were certain he had it out for you, but what you didn’t realize was that Monoma actually fallen for you. He thought that by provoking you and drawing your attention, he might get you to notice him in return. After all, any attention, even if it was negative, was still attention in his eyes.

Monoma’s relentless taunting had become a daily routine. As a short-tempered girl, you often fought back against Monoma, resulting in frequent clashes that needed to be separated by Kendo. Despite your best efforts to ignore him, you found it nearly impossible. You wanted nothing more than to wipe that taunting smirk off his face, though he found your face adorable during these exchanges when you’d cross your arms and furrow your brows at him, with an annoyed look etched on your face.

"Haha, why do you look so mad?" Monoma would tease, poking at you with a grin that only seemed to infuriate you more.

You’d groan and shoot him a look of frustration. "Why do you look like that?" you’d retort snarkily, causing him to laugh even harder.

The dynamic between you and Monoma was anything but ordinary. His provocations, though seemingly rooted in rivalry, masked his true feelings for you. Each snide comment and each mocking laugh was, in his twisted way, a way to draw you in. He had hoped that by irritating you, he would get you to notice him more, perhaps even to care about him in some way.

It was a frustrating cycle. Every day, you found yourself caught between your desire to ignore him and the irresistible urge to engage with his provocations. His taunts seemed to hit a nerve, making it all the more difficult to remain indifferent. Kendo, who often found herself playing the role of peacemaker, would regularly step in to defuse the tension between you two, often consisting of her knocking Monoma, apologizing before dragging him away.

Despite the antagonistic interactions, there was an undeniable undercurrent to your exchanges. The way Monoma would focus intently on your reactions, the way he seemed to derive a certain satisfaction from your every response—it completely infuriated you, but part of you found joy in these exchanges, finding the bicker amusing.

As the weeks passed, Monoma’s behavior became more nuanced. While he still taunted you, there was a noticeable shift in his approach. His comments, though still sharp, carried a hint of something else—something that was less about aggravation and more about trying to get under your skin in a way that felt oddly personal.

The more you interacted with him, the more you began to see glimpses of the person behind the mask of hostility. It wasn’t that his behavior became entirely friendly or accommodating, but there was a certain awkward sincerity that started to emerge. He would occasionally offer a begrudging compliment or make an effort to engage with you in a way that was less about confrontation and more about connection.

One afternoon, after another of his usual jabs, Monoma found himself alone, reflecting on his behavior. He had observed you from a distance, noting the way you carried yourself with a resilience that both impressed and frustrated him. It struck him then how much he admired your strength and determination. This realization made him question whether his method of drawing attention was really the best approach.

In a rare moment of introspection, Monoma decided he needed to try a different tactic. He approached you, not with the usual barrage of insults but with a more genuine attempt at conversation. His compliment, though awkwardly phrased, was sincere. “You did well today,” he said, his tone lacking its usual edge.

You were taken aback by the change. It wasn’t the typical antagonism you had come to expect from him. You looked at him with a puzzled expression, trying to reconcile the shift in his demeanor with the usual dynamic between you.

“What did you do to Monoma?” you asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow and adopting a mock-serious tone. “Did you get a personality transplant or something?”

Monoma blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by your question. He gave you a confused look, as if trying to process whether you were joking or genuinely concerned. “Uh, no? I’m still me. Why do you ask?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “Well, it’s just… you’re acting all nice and stuff. Did someone put a spell on you or are you secretly a nice guy now?”

Monoma’s eyes widened slightly, and he scratched his head, looking genuinely puzzled. “I promise, no spells involved. Maybe I just figured out that being less of a jerk might be a good idea.”

You laughed outright at his attempt to explain himself. “Wow, is this a new Monoma era? Should I prepare for world domination or just get used to the idea of you being less insufferable?”

Monoma smirked, letting his teasing behavior peek through. “Hey, don’t get used to it. I might just go back to being a pain in the ass if you start enjoying it too much.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I’ll take the nice Monoma while I can. It’s a refreshing change of pace.”

Monoma’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Good to know. I guess I’ll keep this up then—at least for a little while.”

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please read request rules before requesting ! :)

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[firsttimewriter92]

Neighborly shenanigans Pt. 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! reader (Neighbor AU)

Part 1; Part 2; Part 4

Description: Your first date with Simon draws near and it turns out to be absolutely magical

Warnings: cursing, some dirty thoughts, fluff, pining and longing getting stronger, reader is not vegetarian; mentions of previous mental abuse by an ex; Please be careful when reading

Word count: 4.368

A/N: Hi everyone <3 Part three is here. Please read this one with a bit of caution.

I´m discussing something that has happened in my last relationship and it might be a bit difficult to read. It´s how I cope. I did something like this in another fic of mine and I realised how much it helped me and apparently others. So I incorporated another experience in this fic, hoping that the toothrotting fluff will make up for it.

Please enjoy none the less <3

It was Friday and your heart was already pumping so many different hormones and feelings through your system that you actually began to doubt your sanity.

You hadn’t seen Simon since he hung up your shelf and introduced you to his dog. The dog. God, the moment you thought he had a girlfriend and had seen how he behaved around you had made you so angry for a second. Thankfully however it was all just a misunderstanding and Simon had given exactly what you had needed at that moment.

Total and complete clarity.

He seemed like the type of man that was not socially awkward per se but definitely a bit of an isolated character. You couldn’t see him at lavish social gatherings or busy events. I think the mask would be too much of a conversation starter for it to not get awkward eventually. If he wanted to wear it, whatever his reason was, you were in no position to question him. You didn’t lie when you told him that it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You were just curious, and if he didn’t want to tell you why he wore it, then that´s what it was going to be. 

Secretly though, your mind was itching with the numerous faces you´d conjured up in the middle of the night. You found yourself awake wondering how his nose was shaped, how plump or not his lips were, if he had stubble, a beard or was he clean shaven? It didn’t matter to you as much as you thought. You´ve had crushes on men before that had shown even less than hair and eyes. Given they were fictional, the cush itself was real.

And so was the one you´d developed on the brown eyed, whisky voiced half stranger living next to you.

When you got out of bed Saturday morning, you dreaded the whole day ahead of you. He´d only pick you up at 8 so you had to occupy yourself for, what? Another ten hours?

“Fuuuuuuuuck” you sighed as you made your daily dose of coffee and got some eggs and toast ready.

Taking it all to your living room you plopped down on your couch and started your TV. Narcos was silently playing in the background as you made some mental notes about what you needed to do before Simon picked you up.

Shower, shave (maybe even exfoliate), pick out a casual outfit, clean up your apartment at least somewhat. Enough time was spent living out of cardboard boxes and not really settling. Being comfortable in your home would surely help making you more comfortable with yourself and therefore comfortable with the thought of an absolute hunk like Simon being interested in you.

It wasn’t that you thought you were ugly or unlovable, no. Not at all. But the men than had shown interest in you before were never like Simon. And that didn’t mean just physically.

Your last relationship opened your eyes to the men that you usually attracted. Insecure boys, hiding behind a strong masculine façade and instead of working on themselves, or realizing what they lacked, always bound someone to them that wasn’t yet aware of their own worth.

Unfortunately, you used to be that kind of person. Your ex was one of the most interesting men you´d ever met. When he started to take an interest in you, you were ecstatic and soon after you began dating. Over the years however, he slowly chipped away at your confidence, misused your people pleasing tendencies and slowly…oh so slowly made you emotionally dependent on him.

So much so, that there was a time where you actually thought there was no other man for you on this planet other than him. That his actions and words were only for your benefit even if you felt deep down that something wasn’t right about the way he was treating you.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, however. So, every time you tried to have a talk with him about how his behavior made you feel, he only needed about 5 minutes of constant talking to make you believe he was actually a great partner and that the problem was either nonexistent, only in your head or your fault.

This led to the fact that trying to argument in your favor was something you´d completely lost.

By the time he almost convinced you that you couldn’t do anything right or at least without him, that you weren’t very much intelligent but super sweet, so it was worth staying with you, you had already forgiven him for cheating on you once.

The second time however was your breaking point. The fact that the girl was underage opened your eyes about him so quickly, that you basically ran for the hills. Behavioral therapy and some new complexes were the result of all that. It did work though. Two years later your life was yours again to take and you grabbed it tightly.

Still, some of the things that had happened changed the way you saw yourself.

Simon was different. He seemed confident in a way that didn’t need to put others down for it. He was friendly, mild and cheeky. And you were going on a date with him. You probably would have never asked him so his direct confession that he was indeed trying to flirt and him asking you out first, made your confidence spike like nothing had done in the past two years.

You tried not to let it go to your head. Never again would you define your worth over the attention of an attractive man. But that feeling never once arose when you thought about Simon. Only excitement and juvenile glee. You marveled in it as you practically danced around your apartment, cleaning, putting stuff away, getting a load of laundry going.

Around three o´clock you got hungry again and decided to walk to the market around the corner to get one of your favorite sandwiches.

You walked into your bedroom to put on a pair of lose, flowy beige pants and a black tank top before putting on your shoes. You grabbed your bag and walked outside. The sun was shining brightly, only disrupted by one or the other white and fluffy cloud as you made your way to the market. It was like the busy streets of London as well as the weather congratulated you on a successful and productive day so far. Smiling and humming happily you purchased your lunch and made your way back with an additional fizzy raspberry lemonade you just couldn’t pass up.

Back in your apartment you closed your door and looked around. It was all coming together. No more boxes, the plastic plants all where you wanted them, and the handing shelf finally filled with a colorful display of your favorite books. A deep breath came forth as you enjoyed your meal and lemonade on your couch. It was still a little weird to you to be fully responsible for your own feelings and the actions you had to take to achieve them. Making yourself happy was never something you put much effort into and that had also been something you had to learn the hard way.

Now, you thought about your life and for the first time in years felt content. Like you didn’t need anybody else to feel this way. Just yourself. And with this feeling you noticed, came the confidence and willingness to let somebody else in again.

There it was again. Your inner eye producing a mess of blond hair, brown, expressive eyes and an impressive body. With all the nonphysical attributes he´d shown you so far that made him so endearing, it was hard not to notice how your body reacted whenever you thought about his broad back, his waist or his massive thighs. You didn’t want to objectify him and still, in the late hours of the night you and your mind had managed to get you off so hard, you had to use a pillow over your mouth to drown out your screams and whimpering.

A shiver ran down your spine when you thought about last night. Even though it took you about 15 minutes to calm down enough from your orgasm to catch a coherent thought, Simon still managed to invade your dreams. His raspy voice in your ear telling you to go to sleep. Telling you gently to rest and leave it to him (whatever he meant), holding you close to his chest, tangling his legs with yours and drowsily stroking your back.

Waking up without him though always put a bit of a sting to your chest. That feeling was soon replaced with an embarrassed giggle as you fell backwards into your pillows again with your palm covering your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe these dreams could become a reality. If you played your cards right.

Determined to make this date a success even though you had no idea what his plan was, you made your way into your shower. Humming along to your little radio you turned off your shower to start shaving when you stopped dead in your tracks. There he was again, and your heart swelled twice its size. He was taking a shower, singing along to some tune you´d never heard before. It was mesmerizing. Slow and deep. The wall prevented you from hearing what exactly the words were, but the melody alone was so beautiful that you didn’t care.

You´d just finished shaving and were reluctant to turn on the water again when his shot off and the singing yet again stopped. “Bloody hell” you muttered with an airy, fluttering feeling in your stomach. Pampering was the next step. You used your rich body butter and your loveliest perfume. Feeling great and refreshed you used the rest of the time to put on your fluffy bathrobe, sit on your couch and tend to your toes and feet since you decided to wear sandals.

Only five minutes left, and you just finished putting the last efforts into your hair as you heard three strong knocks on your door. Hurrying over to your door you almost tripped over your own feet. Taking a deep breath, you opened your door. Holy gosh darn fucking crap!! That was not fair. It just wasn’t.

Matching his black mask, he wore a black polo shirt that hugged him way better than the other shirts you´d seen on him. His dark washed jeans were held up by a brown leather belt with a silver buckle. You knew he was built but this? The way his biceps was stretching the material and the jeans clung to his thighs made your mouth water. He´d styled his hair only slightly but it sat still adorably tousled upon his head.

You smiled up at him and squeezed out a breathless “Hi”. Simon looked down at you with slightly bulging eyes as he took in your outfit of fitted blue jeans and a flowy, emerald-green blouse. Flitting his eyes to yours again he smiled. “Hi” he repeated in a happy tone.

You grabbed your bag and walked out, closing your door behind you and locking it. Only now did you realize that Simon was carrying a small basket. A blanket attached to it and your heart started galloping in your chest. “Did you cook for us?” you asked in an impressed tone. He shook his head slightly. “Nah, I didn’t cook. Not this time.” This time, oh God help me. “But I did assemble of sorts.”

“I see” you said happily and started leaving the building next to him. “I thought we´re doing casual” you said teasingly as you eyed him from the side. Simon snorted shortly as he raised an eyebrow and let his eyes wander down your body. It gave you a sensation unlike any other. “So did I. But I´m glad I wanted a little more than casual. Otherwise, I would have been fatally underdressed.”

A violent shiver ran down your back when you saw his eye wink at you. Your face was burning, you were sure of it.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you noticed him leading you towards nearby park. “Patience” he scolded good naturedly.

About 15 minutes later you ended up on a slight hill in the middle of a beautiful park. Simon stopped next to a tree and began rolling out the blanket. His hulking form seemed a little out of place there, trying to straighten out the blanket. You felt your features soften as he gave out a small grunt before sitting up on his knees and looked up at you. His eyes were glimmering in the gradually setting sun and he patted the blanket next to him softly.

Grinning you lowered yourself and got comfortable. From your place up on the hill you had a stunning view of the soft, carpet like plane of grass spreading out in front of you. Many other people were out and about, walking their dogs, going for a run, casually hanging out with friends. The glimmering skyline of London was seen in the background of massive oak trees at the very end of the park.

“You hungry?” Simons deep voice seeped into your ears and with an excited smile you turned your had and nodded. You observed as he opened the basket and pulled out several boxes with tuna sandwiches (no crust), deviled eggs, veggie sticks, tomatoes, a bag of tortilla chips and what looked like self-made guacamole. The last item he produced was a bottle of what looked like expensive white wine before his eyes caught yours again. Your mouth hung comically wide open as you stared at the feast in front of you.

“You´re not vegetarian, are you?” he suddenly asked and looked at the sandwiches sheepishly. You almost squeaked the way he looked so adorably worried for a second.

“Vegan, actually” you said dryly and almost doubled over laughing when he gave you a shocked look. He rolled his eyes and handed you a tuna sandwich. “Sorry” you mumbled as you took it from him. Then, something came to you. “Uhm” you said carefully as your eyes fluttered down to his mask.

His eyes crinkled again. “If you don’t mind” he said quietly and produced something else from the basket that almost made you choke on your bite of tuna. The silk scarf dangled promisingly and naughtily between his fingers.

You couldn’t really tell if it was supposed to be a joke or not. You looked around you but there were no other people on the hilltop other than you. The next group of people so far away, their heads were the size of a pinhead.

“I´m asking too much, aren’t I?” Simon said as he lowered the scarf back into the basket. “No,” you said quickly. Your voice octaves higher. Did he not realize that this scenario was the beginning of almost every woman’s wet dream? “Give me the scarf, Simon. Please.”

“You sure?” he asked you. You nodded firmly. “If you need me to wear it while we eat, I will.”

His chest seemed to inflate dramatically. “Let me” he breathed and moved his body closer to you. This is a dream; it must be! Closing your eyes, you felt your hands shaking slightly in your lap as you felt the scarf being put over your eyes.

Simon´s warm breath cascaded over your face as he carefully knotted the piece of fabric behind your head. Your pulse was hammering away when you felt his heat, smelled his wonderful musky, citrussy scent cling to the skin of his throat and face. The deep breath you took before you felt him retreat slowly was nothing you could have stopped and again your ears were blessed with an adorable ´hehe´.

“Alright?” he asked. “Yep,” you breathed. “Can´t see a damn thing.” Grinning you tried to feel for your sandwich a little clumsily.

“Hold on” you heard Simon chuckle. “Seeing as I´m taking your ability to see, I think it´s only fair if I-“ a warm hand touched yours and placed your sandwich back in it. “Help you out a little.” His voice lowered even further. Something you would have bet on wasn’t possible. “Y-You really thought this through, haven’t you?” you asked with a hitch in your voice before taking another bite to occupy your mouth.

“Well. I really didn’t want to pass up an opportunity with you” he answered truthfully. A little strangled sound escaped you seconds before a huge smile split your lips.

You sat for another moment in comfortable silence. “How´s the food?” he suddenly asked. Something was off about his voice and suddenly you realized that he had to have removed his mask. A bead of sweat ran down your back. “It´s delicious” you said as you took the last bite of your sandwich. “Did you make all of it yourself?” Simon hummed. “I did. I usually only cook for myself so I don´t get too fancy with it. But I do enjoy it.”

You carefully patted around you to get to the devilled eggs, trying to remember where Simon had put the container but all you suddenly touched was smooth jeans. “Oh, ´M sorry” you said and retracted your hand quickly. “No worries” Simon said. “What do you want?” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Deviled egg, please” you sang and held open your hand.

“Nuh-uh” Simon said and moved in front of you again. “Open up.”

Oh you´ve got to be absolutely shitting me. This cheeky bastard wasn’t really going to…

You obeyed of course, what else was there to do? You opened your mouth and a moment later your lips wrapped around the egg. You could feel Simon´s fingers holding it to your lips before he retracted them in the last second. “Oh my god” you moaned around your mouth full of egg. “Simon, these are incredible.” You heard a gurgling noise in front of you; a bottle of wine being opened shortly after so you brushed it aside.

This is how you spend the next hour. Simon occasionally feeding you with deviled eggs, chips and guacamole. Only the veggie sticks he let you eat by yourself. He handed you the bottle of wine whenever you asked for it and you really tried not to think about how as teenagers, you and your friends had argued many times about weather drinking from the same bottle was equivalent to a kiss or not.

The alcohol settled comfortably into your stomach as did his delicious food.

“Almost time” he said. “Let me get the scarf off you.” Your senses already heightened, you knew exactly where he was on the blanket, when he was in front of you and when his fingertips were about to touch you.

“Time for what?” you asked with a curious smile. You heard a chuckle before the scarf was removed and Simons face came into view. So much closer than it ever had been. He didn’t move an inch, your noses almost touching. His eyes wandering over your face slowly it was almost like you could feel their path burning on your skin. The sun had already set and a warm breeze was wafting all around you, carrying the scent of hot soil, food and the distinct scent of the city.

“You´ll see” Simon murmured into his cloth before lifting his hand and gently touched your cheek. He looked like he was in some sort of trance. His posture was relaxed, his eyes attentive and staring into your soul. It wasn’t like you were any better off. The whole situation was written straight out of a romance novel and the main characters were about to share their first kiss. Even though it was already dark, the lights of the city were still bright enough to see how his breathing becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling in deeper breaths.

A high pitched tone cut the thick air and you saw how Simon momentarily froze before both of you looked over to the skyline of London. Not a second later with a huge bang, a display of beautiful golden flecks decorated the nights sky.

You grinned ear to ear as the fireworks really started and several explosions of light colored your face in green, red and gold. “I love fireworks” you breathed and looked over to Simon with a thankful look in your eyes. He was already looking at you. He stayed seated where he was when you´d moved to see the fireworks better so he was still quite close. His arm was brushing yours when he looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“I´m glad” he said almost too quietly.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system or the fact that this man made you feel at ease, lighthearted and without a worry in the world. You couldn’t remember. You just let your head fall onto his shoulder, looking at the firework in front of you and smiling contently.

Simon´s POV

Simon didn’t dare move. The soft skin of your hand slightly brushing his was enough to make him lose his damn mind. Almost. The first firework had startled him but the way the golden light had illuminated your face and the smile you´d given him had made him forget almost everything.

The moment he saw you he knew that he wanted something special with you. You didn´t mind his mask, respected it even. That was something new he had never experienced with a civilian before. You´d managed to sneak into his life and heart so quickly and with such force it worried him a little bit. Any day now he could get called back to base again. Maybe he needed to speed it along a little?

No. Not with you. You didn’t deserve that. He´d let you know if he had to leave again and just take his chances. For the first time he wanted a kiss more than a night of passionate sex to get the edge off. He could take his own edge off, god knows he had to do it in the barracks often enough.

Your whole being however made him yearn for something that went deeper than that. A hug would be worth more than undressing, a kiss worth more than foreplay.

He took a deep breath without moving his shoulder too much, just letting himself fall into the moment. Watching fireworks, having your head lean on him, his fingers playfully chasing yours.

___ POV

By the end of the fireworks you felt like you were floating. Simons fingers were tangles with yours by this point and it felt so delicate and new, you felt like a teenager again. Your heart was doing summersaults in your chest. Thinking about this evening would end eventually made your heart sink.

The last colorful explosion brightened up the sky and you let out a deep sigh. “That was beautiful” you whispered. “Thank you.”

“You´re very welcome” Simon rumbled, locking his picky with yours. You were glad at this point that your position hid your huge grin. Now that the fireworks were over, the alcohol, food and late hour caught up with you. The small yawn you tried to stifle wasn’t lost on him however and he sighed contently. “Come on. I´ll bring you home.”

He stood up and held out his hand which you took immediately. As if you weight nothing he pulled you upright holding your gaze and your hand for several moments longer.

You helped him gather everything before you made your way back to your apartment complex. He didn’t try to take your hand again which made you wonder a little bit. The both of you talked about anything and everything until you were standing in front of your door.

“That was a lot of fun” you said as you turned to him and smiled. You saw how his cheeks lifted again as he nodded. “It was. I´m glad you liked the fireworks.”

“I did” you said. “How did you know there were going to be fireworks tonight?” Simon shrugged comically. “That´s my little secret.”

You giggled. The awkward silence you were afraid was going to come at any second now, did not come. Simon yet again proved that he was a man of action and the direct approach.

“I´d really like to do that again.”

You nodded immediately, feeling heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, me too.”

“Great” he said happily before stepping closer. He took hold of your hand and lifted it to his face. Without breaking eye contact he waited for the fraction of a second for your reaction. When he saw your almost pleading eyes his clothed mouth came down on the back of your hand, kissing it.

Your knees got week and yet again grew heavy with longing. The breath was propelled from your lungs by the way he did it so gently and sincere.

The soft material of his mask was slightly damp from his breath but you couldn’t care less. He was kissing your skin. His mouth was on you. Cloth or no cloth it made you vision blurr.

Simon let go of your hand after what felt like an eternity.

“Sleep well, darlin´” he muttered almost carefully as if the pet name could somehow be a deal breaker for you.

It wasn’t. On the contrary. You felt like your legs were about to give out.

“You too, Simon” you smiled at him dreamily. Reluctantly you turned around and fumbled for your keys. You opened your door and took another peek to your right in his direction.

He´d done the same thing. Pushing his door open he gave you that juvenile little wave again before disappearing from your sight. Sighing deeply as soon as your door closed behind you, this time you didn’t make it to the couch. Your knees gave out then and there and with the silliest of smiles you glided down your door. Your trusty little toy would have to work overtime until the next time you´d be able to drown in those hazel depths again.

____________________________________________________

Again, thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it <3

Please consider interacting with this post and give me some feedback. Comments and reblogs always help not only to push my work that I love, but also help to improve my writing and get my imagination going.

Thank you for considering it <3

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[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

What’s up with the ties between Sally & Eddie?

There are quite a few - to the point where I’m starting to suspect that they may be foils, or at least inherently tied together in the story.

First let's bring things back to the clocks. The “day” side has an obvious resemblance to Sally, like how the “night” side resembles Eddie. There’s not really much I can say here since we don’t know much more yet, and who knows if this has changed behind the scenes. But just think about that, the rarity of the color purple, night vs day, and the “monster”. Keep it in your head, I think it may be important. 

Also the fact that Eddie is the only one with a watch, but Sally’s face has an incredibly similar face on her door.

Obviously Sally has some sort of beef with Eddie, despite him being nothing but friendly and (to our knowledge) being undeserving of it. One thought I entertained was “maybe Sally is dismissive of him because he’s a worker,” but that holds zero water when you consider how perfectly friendly Sally was with Howdy (karen Sally debunked <3). The second thought I had was “maybe Sally senses the queer in Eddie and it intimidates her” - which would make sense if Sally is a lesbian like I suspect. Internalized homophobia, anyone? This holds up if Eddie is going to turn out to be - not open about himself, but comfortable in his skin in a way that, say, Frank isn’t. Which I have a feeling that will be the case, which would likely make Sally put on airs even more so than usual. 

Anyone else seeing a continuous trend of (social) masks and performances unfolding in the Neighborhood? I sure am.

But let’s talk about why I think they might be foils. They balance each other out in an interesting way, despite their only solid similarity being that Both will work/perform no matter the weather. They have a lot of closely related differences:

Eddie has been mentioned (and implied within the story so far) to have a deeper well of knowledge than he lets on, but acts humble about it. Sally has been mentioned (and implied) to know less than she portrays, but acts like a bit of a know-it-all - she pretends to know things that she doesn’t. 

Eddie’s role is about helping others at his own expense, while Sally’s is using others to reach fame. 

Eddie strives to connect with his Neighbors and is all about accuracy/precision. Sally is in her own little world and has proved to be more than willing to improvise / not think things through before acting.

Eddie is slow to anger, and Sally is easily irritated. 

Selfless vs Selfish.

Night vs Day. 

And to put them in the Johari Window - i believe that Sally resides in the Blind Spot (known to others, not known to self), and Eddie resides in either the Facade (not known to others, known to self) OR the Unknown (not known to others, not known to self). Personally I’m starting to believe that Eddie may reside in both. 

It’s far too early to draw any real conclusions, and theorizing on all of this is difficult. I feel as though - as usual - we have puzzle pieces but no frame of reference for the way they fit together, what picture they build. And who knows, tomorrow’s update may shred this to ribbons, but I doubt it. 

One thought I had was that they’re in cahoots about something - it doesn’t have to be something malicious or some sort of secret plot, it could simply be something they both know and are trying to keep quiet about. Eddie is trying to connect with Sally since they have this in common, but Sally is actively putting distance between them to preserve their secret / plausible deniability. Do I actually believe this? Meh. I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks.

So current base thoughts: Sally is dismissive of Eddie either because he intimidates/scares her on an internalized level, or she’s actively trying to put distance between them for a currently unknown reason. There’s probably a secret third option I haven’t even considered!

[toten-kunst]

behold, my tf2 oc

more info about him below the cut!!

meet the artist! his real name is oliver pick and he is a sarky little bloke from the city of britsol in england. after a run in with merasmus left his art supplies cursed/enchanted he can now use them either as projectile or melee weapons. mann co. soon gained knowledge of his abilities and hired him to fight in the gravel war alongside the rest of the cast. my bf helped me a lot with his lore ^w^

he is an attack based class, mainly dealing up close hits with a giant paintbrush/pencil or widespread attacks (eg. splattering acidic paint everywhere). i don’t have any illustrated depictions of how his attacks work so sorry. his art supplies have an “attack mode” and a “resting mode”. what this means is when they are in “rest mode” they appear as normal art supplies and when in “attack mode” they enlarge or become more hostile looking. all of his art supplies typically have bright green paint on them to signify their connection to merasmus and glow bright green when they’re preparing to engage in “attack mode”.

in terms of his personality, he is quite introverted and awkward. his only real friend in the base is scout, because he’s one of the younger mercs and artist finds it difficult to converse with the older mercs. he’s 19 years old, so, pretty young compared to the rest of them. here is a more in depth list of what his relationships with the others are like:

scout - pretty close with him in a brotherly way. they tend to shit talk the others most of the time and scout likes to ask him to draw stuff.

soldier - artist is actually kind of afraid of soldier, mainly because he dreads to imagine what would happen if solly found out he was british.

pyro - artist and pyro share a common interest, being art, so they get along fine. pyro likes to put stickers on artist’s art supplies and artist likes to paint on pyro’s mask.

engie - he really really really likes to help engie draft his schematics. engie typically lets him do a few lines at a time before taking over again, because artist is a dumb kid who shouldn’t be trusted with drafting schematics in his eyes.

heavy - heavy tries to take on a more father-like role with artist because he worries for the little baby man. being faced with so much atrocities at such a young age cannot be good for him. artist likes spending time with heavy, playing catch and other such games. he doesn’t really understand why heavy’s so worried about him though.

demoman - demo and artist get along fairly well. artist doesn’t really interact with him often but every time he does it’s always a positive experience. demo typically offers him a drink like that cool uncle at family reunions and he gifts him some shrapnel from the battle field sometimes.

spy - artist hates spy. point blank. even thinking about him makes him wanna throw up. do not ever mention the frenchman to him. ever.

sniper - artist doesn’t really like sniper either. he finds the whole concept of jarate weird and gross. his first death was due to the enemy team’s sniper so there’s also just some mild resentment there.

medic - artist is unbelievably terrified of medic. he’s afraid of the things he’s capable of doing but chooses not to. he’s always avoiding him, even on the battle field. this leads to artist having a very high death streak compared to the others.

so yeah that’s a somewhat-not-really brief overview of my silly little guy!! if you have any questions about him i’m more than willing to answer! thanks for listening to my mad ramblings!!!

[gilverrwrites]

Do you have any general headcanons you like to share about Roman? Or your take on Roman? Something about his backstory or how he became Black Mask? If it differs a little to canon — just so curious to know ���

I have a lot of general Roman HCs, some of which do differ from canon, but most of which just branch off of it. Thank you so much for asking I love you !!!! here is an info dump 🖤🖤🖤

He was not dropped on his head as a child, this was a ‘funny anecdote’ his parents would tell people at gatherings to excuse his disquiet behaviour.

I think he was born with learning and behavioural disabilities that went undiagnosed and often resulted in harsh punishment from his parents.

Regardless of learning abilities, I think he is just dim in the academic sense. He works hard because he can’t work smarter.

Good at physical stuff though, probably played football or whatever the rich kid equivalent is in high school. (Lacrosse?)

May have even excelled in something artistic, something that allows him to express himself but was never allowed too, ‘paintings for pansies’/Toxic masculinity and all. That kinda stuff does rub off on a kid and now it runs deep in his brain.

Torture is his art/form of expression these days, just don’t ever say it like that to him.

In the earlier stages of his career he was a high roller/high spender, which is what caused so many of his endeavours to fail, nowadays he’s more of a wealth hoarder. He likes to have and flaunt, but that doesn’t necessarily mean flash, you know?

Like a good pair of shoes will last you a lifetime as opposed to 50 pairs of trendy shoes?

Nowadays most of his money is spent on home renovations/replacing furniture and amenities that he breaks during fits of rage.

Another reason a lot of his earlier businesses failed is because he doesn’t care about the product. Janus Cosmetics? This man could not give less of a shit about make up.

But nightclub? Drug? Guns? That shit sells itself in a cesspool like Gotham.

He’s a clean freak, has to have things spick and span, and organised a specific way. Wears gloves to avoid the feeling of specific textures. Despite this I’m he’s never cleaned a damn thing in his life, that’s what is lessers are for.

He would never let that show in front of anyone however, can’t be seen as weak.

Side note: He DOES like blood/bodily fluids, like a lot, just in the right time and place.

He’s hard of hearing, not from a medical standpoint point, but because that mask literally is a barrier over his ears.

That’s probably also why he yells so damn much.

He’s for sure a ladies man, and i’ve mentioned before that when he falls, he falls hard. I often write my /reader content from the perspective of him having already fallen for the reader. Realistically, that’s a difficult position to obtain, and he does not treat the other 99% of sexual prospects so kindly.

Well, he might fake kindness to draw in someone that’s playing hard to get but once he’s got them in his clutches he’ll revert back.

He keeps dogs, dogs are far more loyal than people and easier to train.

Does not follow politics, not up to date on the latest news unless it’s relevant to him and his goings on. He has trusted people to relay that information to him, or more aptly a revolving door of people to relay that information because he is prone to shooting the messenger.

Will study up however if he knows he’ll be crossing paths with people like Penguin, or Riddler cause he knows they’ll ridicule him if they find out. does that same for Two-Face but not because he thinks Harv will judge him, more because he wants Harv to view him as an equal.

He grew up in high society, so he’s actually pretty well spoken, just puts on that accent cause he thinks it sounds more authoritative.

Similarly his voice was not that gruff until after years of smoking and yelling.

Actually got a long well with Bruce Wayne as a child. They would have run in similar circles pre- the Wayne’s death. Unfortunately, the next time they met each other Bruce represented everything Roman wanted to be but couldn’t.

Roman actually does have a soft spot for kids but only one on one. - we have seen him attempt to blow up/shoot out orphanages.

Like a group of children he’s had never met don’t register as human beings in his mind, there is no sympathy.

But if you put a shy, little rich boy with daddy issues in front of him internally he’s like ‘THATS ME! I’m him! Must protect.’

Don’t let it touch anything though, god knows kids are sticky and he cannot deal with that. Also, hypocritically he won’t put up with any attitude from them, it’s like a switch. Like father like son. “I got beat as a child and I turned out great.” Sir, no you did not.

His favourite Robin is Damian.

[merilles]

OC Questionaire

Thank you @linden-leaf for tagging me! Your questions were so thought-provoking and full of depth that I couldn’t help myself. I chose Medwed to answer them with!

1. What’s a core lie your character believes about themselves or the world, and where did it originate?

Due to her childhood in the Vales of Anduin protected from the perils of the world, she grew up with the belief that there is good inherent in everyone. She was socialized with a limited number of people, all of whom are like her. Though she was raised on tales of wicked Men and beasts, they were just faraway fairytales told beside the warmth of a fire in the safety of a strong home. She dreamed of going beyond the Carrock and taming their dark hearts, changing the world through kindness. She was naïve, for the world is not sunshine and rainbows and not everybody wants to be her friend. That truth was the most difficult for her to swallow when she left her home, and she still struggles to accept it.

2. Who are/were the most important people in their lives? Did they choose those people for themselves (and would they choose them again)?

She is a very loving person who forms attachments with relative ease, so there are many she would say are important to her. However, her family comes first above everyone else — The Beornings, united by their uncertain fate in Middle-earth and their skinchanging abilities. They are her kindred, alone in their uniqueness. She shares the closest bonds with her immediate family: her father, mother, and siblings (of which she is the “golden child”). She holds her friends very dear, along with the allies she makes on her adventure. She trusts the Rangers more than most others, and they have become like family to her. She is an honorary Ranger and they are honorary Beornings!

3. Is there a choice they’ve surprised themselves by making? (And did they learn anything about themselves through making it?)

She surprises herself many times over the course of her journey, but I think the most significant choice is that of violence. She once thought she would never be able to take someone’s life, but she never had to consider that as an option being as sheltered as she was. Once she is out in the world, she repeatedly comes face to face with things (and people) actively trying to harm her or her friends. She realizes that she is fully capable of spilling blood, and not always in self defense. And on occasion she reluctantly admits that she enjoys battle, seeing her enemies dead so they can’t hurt anyone again. She is forced to make that choice time and time again, and she wonders if it is just necessity…or her true nature?

Three questions to pass along!

1. How does your OC present themselves to the world (i.e. their persona) and does it differ from what they are actually like? If so, who do they feel comfortable taking the “mask” off around and why did that “mask” develop in the first place?

2. What is one thing they could change either about themselves or the past? Why would they make that change? How would that change affect who they are and the world around them in their current timeline?

3. Drawing from the language of flowers, what flower(s) would best symbolize them and why?

Tagging @yellow-faerie, @elanna-elrondiel, @toasterdrake, @shiremenace, @sweetearthandnorthernsky, @the-journey-was-the-point, @a-lonely-dunedain, and anyone else who’d like to answer!

[oldmemoria]

posting these design ideas on main because why not

working with how I want to possibly redesign cat!miguel (Reclusestar in the warriors AU), here’s a few quick headshot ideas for em :)

dunno which one I should go with, but I’ve got some notes on each

Original:

Dark blue-grey tortoiseshell with reddish brown markings meant to replicate his most recent suit design. Small, slightly curved up ears with tufts around them that I want to stay in the design regardless of the fur color. A 4 pronged star on his forehead that will also stay true to every other design (supposed to be his leader mark. Usually I like the idea of leader marks either being like.. spots or stripes or something else but a physically inflicted marking not only fits his role better but is also just more visceral and reflects the implied and not so implied cruelty of StarClan in the warrior cats series. For those who don’t know StarClan is like… a holy amalgemation of all of the cats ancestors that went from this mysterious and whymsical force in the first series to unreliable and actually manipulate due to how biased they are.)

— why is he blue

— not accurate to comic design

— more accurate to his movie design, however, I believe the blue in his suit is meant to be light bouncing off of a black suit. So still isn’t exactly accurate

+ simple, easy to replicate markings and probably easy to animate (haven’t tested it but seeing as he barely has any floating stripes or markings other than his star marking it’d be easy to do frame by frame)

+ bluestar

original but the blue is changed to black.

Classic black and orange tortoiseshell. Same other features mentioned before.

— boring. Yawn.

+ the mask markings are more prominent

+ the most accurate to the comics. Miguel has a black and red suit.

same as the last 2 but with a darker blue-black tint

— still blue :/

— his eyes blend into his face and it bothers me

+ colors are actually really nice

+ average cat Miguel design honestly this is how everyone draws him

tortie-tabby dual colored cap mask. Instead of the usual ginger ear tufts he has white, and he has a lot more white in his design than usual

— I don’t like how much white I used for this design, I don’t think it works.

— replicating the fangs in the mask was kinda difficult I didn’t know if I wanted to make it a stripe or apart of the base mask so uh

+ is a tortie-tabby

+ accentuates his jawline!! The other designs did before as well, his markings are just placed a little differently here

+ the white hair is cute

Half and half tortie with minimal white markings (I’m leaning towards using this one)

+ I really like half and half tortie designs

+ cool symmetry

+ he looks like a lil guy here.. just lil.

— jawline isn’t ver visible, especially on the dark brown side :(

Half and half with medium white markings

+ same perks as above

+ accentuates jawline better than the others

(If you’d like please rb for a better sample size for the poll below :3)

Here’s an optional poll, just to see which ones people like more (doesn’t mean I’m gonna choose that one)

[inf1nyxw0rlds]

pspspspsps 4 the infinite asks: 3, 18 n 26 :eyes:

oooo ALRIGHT here goes !!

3. what's your favourite part of his design? why?

honestly a fucking difficult question but i'm reaping what i've sown. it's very close between mask and hair – the mask is so iconic in it's shape, i love the asymmetry and the attention to detail in that the right side is blacked out, likely because he doesn't need to see. it's crisp, it's edgy, it's a moment and a vibe and i love it. sure, if you wanna draw it at funky angles it could be a nuisance, but because it's shapes are so distinct u CAN break it down. and use references baby!

his hair i love because i'm just a sucker for guys – or, in his case, guy who is not a Man but is a boy in a dog way – with long hair. let them have it. please. it suits him so well and you can style it in a lot of different ways even besides the iconic locs !!

18. how do you feel about shadow killing squad jackal? do you headcanon otherwise?

okay this topic is one that i've seen a LOT of differing views on, and i definitely understand the divide on it because shadow's character in general is one that can never really be agreed upon among fans. my own take isn't one i've shared here yet so here it is – i think it depends on circumstance.

i can see it going either way depending on how things actually went down. rather than just asking why would shadow kill squad jackal, i like to ask why wouldn't he? both questions make you think about it from a different angle, i think. i can see him not caring either way; they're willing allies of eggman, but they're not a big deal. they're insignificant, whether that means their lives are unimportant, or not worth the energy to take. i don't think he would do it with outright malicious intent, though he is still an asshole.

i veer more toward he wouldn't, because he doesn't really give a shit and it isn't worth the energy. knocking them unconscious suffices just fine and they don't seem to be as dangerous as villains he's faced in the past. at the same time, i understand how his indifference could go the other way. he's also impulsive, and trained to take out anything in his way – it could be instinctual. my opinion of shadow is that he's neither killing enthusiastic or opposed. he deals with things case by case. he's not a monster, but not against doing what has to be done.

these are incidents from different sources, so take it with a grain of salt, but he extended an offer to metal sonic in archie to turn over a new leaf, though in cases like eggman and tinker, eggman shows much less, if any, promise of potential change, and that's where the line gets drawn.

shadow doesn't know anything about squad jackal and why they're allied with him, but on the basis of just working with eggman, would that be enough? i don't think so personally but, that's just me. again, i see it being more instinctual, a means of completing his mission, if he did. tunnel vision sort of deal, you know?

what happens in my fic, however, is complicated. that's all i'll say on the matter :)

26. what does his self-care look like?

it doesn't. okay jokes aside, i think he's always had a rough time looking after himself, between mental illness and being on the road for years fighting for his survival. he cares about his appearance a lot, but at the same time, it's hard for him to manage it and this really applies after losing his team.

he likes baths over showers, though, and if he had the option he would probably like one with candles, just allowing himself to lay there for a bit. he cares a lot about his hair and it has high priority. comfy clothes on a bad day, music appropriate to his energy levels, cookies and a blanket. he tends to take space and just withdraw to reenergise if he can. i also headcanon him letting his emotions out through art, writing, and being very elaborate and often brutal BUT that's post-war

[cannonfullofcanons]

This is here to clarify that my Gin Ichimaru portrayal is largely divergent from canon, and very much headcanon-based. I know my take on him differs from most. If my portrayal’s a bit odd, this is why!

Spoiler warning! Don't hit the read more if you don't want spoilers regarding Gin!

Gin’s motivations are seemingly shrouded in mystery. Between his shifty demeanor and his expression of seemingly constant amusement, he’s incredibly difficult to read. He has the BEST poker face in the Seireitei. But his motivations are actually much more simple than they appear. He’s not truly evil - but he does commit evil acts, for his own causes. A means to an end. His strongest motivations amount to only three things: one, to protect his oldest (and perceivably ONLY) friend, Rangiku Matsumoto; two, to amuse himself; and three, to survive. Gin is very easily bored, and boredom invites self-reflection. He doesn’t enjoy that. He’s not very fond of thinking on the past, and only does so on rare occasions, when he’s in the mood for it. He much prefers to live in the moment, to have a bit of fun.

Largely going off of what I gathered from his portrayal in the anime, from my best attempt at studying his character, I view & treat him as a jester archetype. Very morally grey. His motivations are as unclear as his loyalties, he himself is the center of his universe. Fun is his biggest motivator, and if something doesn’t interest him, he likely won’t have anything to do with it. He could betray someone at a moment’s notice, or he could put his life on the line for someone he barely knows. He’s unpredictable. And it all boils down to whatever path pulls him the most; normally, the one he perceives as the most enjoyable. But sometimes, especially where Rangiku is involved, he’ll take a more responsible road.

This was why he joined Aizen. This was why he betrayed the Soul Society. To protect Rangiku. To learn Aizen’s true plans, and stop him. Did he do a lot of terrible things along the way? He sure did. And he regrets some of it. But in the end? He puts those ‘useless emotions’ aside. Killing people, following orders, heeding requests from ‘friends’ - all of this is secondary in his mind. Unnecessary, but sometimes fun. They are not top priority, and never have been. Gin is a man who fights under no banner but his own. He may act otherwise...but t’is just that. An act.

The one woman - the only person he’s EVER been truly loyal to, is one Rangiku Matsumoto of Squad 10. Gin would do anything for her if she truly asked. Anything except leave her in danger. Everyone else, to him, is trivial. Either cannon fodder or someone for him to mess with. He does so enjoy pranks. Hence why he so enjoys getting the dumber arrancars hopelessly lost in Hueco Mundo.

Now, with all this in mind? Gin is not a threat inherent. He’s more than happy to keep his blade sheathed and hang out with other Soul Reapers. Be it simple chats, pranks, maybe even going out for drinks - he isn’t against this. He won’t draw his blade if he doesn’t feel provoked, or if he isn’t ordered. He bears no true hatred for anyone except one Sosuke Aizen, whom he has loathed for a long, long time. He’s been playing one very long con, and he’d like nothing more than to leave. But he can’t. And so he keeps that mask on, that sly smile with squinted eyes. Much like a snake, waiting for the opportune time...to strike.

In the end, Gin did survive his attempted assassination of Aizen, if only just. The wound nearly killed him, but left him instead in a catatonic state, not unlike a coma. Squad 4, with a little extra help from Mayuri Kurotsuchi, kept him alive long enough to make it to trial back in the Seireitei; he was sentenced to death, but Yamamoto overturned this decree, given Gin's intentions in his betrayal. Gin was instead left in the jails under Squad 1's supervision for several months. Over time, he was gradually returned a few freedoms, and was allowed to wander, with supervision. Eventually he was permitted to return to active duty, but with serious limitations placed upon him; officially, he acts in an advisory capacity exclusively, but he insists on joining the fray when Squad 3 is in battle. With the restrictions in place, he's now at Lieutenant level in terms of power. He isn't trusted by any in the 13 Divisions - not by a long shot - but he's trying to redeem himself. He's not trying especially hard, but he is trying.

[limerancy-fics]

what makes xiaoven possible from ventis pov in canonverse? what are some reasons why he would get along w xiao, esp to the point of love?

i see this a lot, actually. a lot of people who aren't xv shippers don't see how they would like each other, and i especially saw for a while at the start people saying venti would never love xiao for "freedom" reasons or whatever. but if someone really thinks venti wouldn't get along with xiao or vice versa, i know they don't actually look at the characters beyond surface interpretation and fanon characterization.

because xiao is exactly the type of person venti is drawn to. before or beyond romance. i mean, look at vennessa--she is, in my mind, very similar to xiao: someone who is trapped and wishes for freedom, someone who is forced to fight when that's not who they want to be, someone who becomes one of the only things between their nation and those who want to destroy it. they're both kind-hearted, deep down, gentle souls who have been given a role in life that pains them (and even after life, in regards to vennessa and celestia). they both fight for the freedom of their people, because they know it's the only thing they can do. and, though we don't know much about the nameless bard, we can assume he was similar to them as well. out of everyone in mond, the nameless bard and vennessa were the ones venti was drawn to. out of everyone in liyue, xiao is the only one we know of who has the power of anemo and has been saved/freed by venti in the same way vennessa was: given just enough to fight for themselves. if venti had not played for xiao that night, he would have been lost to the karma and as far as we're aware, he hasn't been that close to losing it ever since.

venti is very intelligent. he's very compassionate. he's very supportive and understanding. and he's very much drawn to people like xiao. xiao is different from vennessa in that he's had a lot longer to build his walls and be stuck in his rut. so the way venti approaches him is likely a much more delicate dance than what he did with vennessa or the nameless bard. it would take a lot more time. and, despite what most people think, venti doesn't actually bail out when the going gets tough. we see that 100% in how he was with us to face dvalin and how he took down durin with dvalin during the cataclysm--leading durin away from the city and to the mountain, both to protect his people from the dragon itself and the dragon's corrupted corpse.

i think he'd 100% be persistent in wiggling through xiao's walls to at least become his friend, even if just because he thinks xiao needs one. most people seem to think he'd get bored with xiao and how difficult he can be and just move on, but i think he's not so easily fooled. he knows there's more underneath who xiao seems to be on the surface. and he would, of course, slowly reveal the traits xiao has that make him so loveable: his gentleness, his kindness, his loyalty and devotion, his sense of responsibility, his care for liyue and its people, his selflessness, his strength (physically and emotionally), and, most importantly, his deep, deep, deep desire for freedom and peace. i think venti, of all people, would be the one who could see all of this despite the front xiao puts up.

and...how could he not fall in love?

because beyond who xiao is individually, he might also be one of the only people who could understand venti and his very specific grief. there are very few people still alive who went through the archon war, very few people who have lost in the way they have, who have had to live on in the way they have¹. that kind of shared past and pain can create a very strong bond and may be the catalyst for venti feeling like he doesn't have to put on an act around xiao--in fact, xiao is so blunt that it may draw venti away from that mask without him meaning to. and, especially after the Situation with signora, xiao might be one of the only people he can feel safe with.

he doesn't have to put on an act around xiao, he doesn't have to pretend he's not in pain, he doesn't have to worry about being hurt by someone else. he can literally just sit there and play and not say a single word but still be in the company of someone who understands him and i think that's something he very much needs sometimes.

yes, there would definitely be a period of time in which xiao sees him as Lord Barbatos but with a few pranks, antics, and general mischief, that image would be shattered and he would just be venti, which would make being around xiao much more comfortable for him

and i think all of this combined makes the perfect recipe for centuries of extremely intense longing, yearning, pining, etc.

you might ask: "okay, sure, but why xiao? i mean zhongli is right there and he fits a bunch of that criteria!" and i would say: "well, hypothetical anon, as it is, venti and zhongli just can't fucking stand being in each other's presence for more than an hour at most. they are both too much like their elements: free and reckless and flighty as the wind and rigid and stubborn and grand as stone. there's a reason anemo and geo don't react with each other: they just butt up against each other because one is an unstoppable force and the other is an immovable object and they don't get anywhere with each other. i doubt any form of valuable communication can happen between the two of them, and i doubt they could actually like being around each other and genuinely enjoy the other's company beyond just generally annoying each other."

and after all this, i just have to say: i actually wrote a fic all about it, believe it or not. i have an almost 200k word fic about how i think they feel about each other in canonverse, which includes venti's pov and goes over literally everything i said, just much more poetic and filled with a lot more yearning. idk if u've read it yet anon but highly recommend 👍

[livehexmoments]

here’s some Hex hcs about some of the characters in no particular order!:

Reginald doesn’t like drinking rootbeer or most sodas! he likes making it, serving it (used to kind of), but gag if he has too much of it. He only drinks it in small sips and even then, it’s only for special occasions or get togethers. He actually prefer things that are sour and i mean, this man can eat a lemon whole and be fine. He has been working on making specialized rootbeer that’s more sour but it’s a work in progress (Weasel accidently drank a sample and almost threw up)

Reggie’s first name is Rootbeer and he fucking hates being called that. Every time he introduces himself, he has to insist the person calls him “Reggie”. When the patrons found about this, you can bet Weasel and Chandrelle took turns calling him Rootbeer just to piss him off

Going off of names, “Chief Bryce” is not Bryce’s full name, it’s just Bryce. Chief is just a title. If anyone did call him Chief, he wouldn’t mind at all though

FPP’s actual name is Lionel according to the Walk, but due to...reasons, they don’t like the name at all. Honestly, I think they would change their name to “Joe”. It sounds weird, but when Rebecha called them “Faceless Joe” I can totally imagine them clinging onto the name only because it has barely any association with Lionel. They try to separate themselves from Lionel so much.

O btw in my hc, FPP uses they/them pronouns exclusively!!

FPP has a couple ways of communicating with the inn members: sign language (they learned how to do it themselves and then taught the others how to. Can be difficult for them because they can’t move their arms very well), Morse code (same story), simply drawing or writing it out, using sound effects from a soundboard they found (uses this if they want to annoy everyone), or using face masks to express how they feel about something. 

Oh yeah speaking of that, FPP can’t really move their joints very well :(. They can move their arms up and down as an example, but can only move them left or right a little bit.

Rust’s vision is super fucked. Literally, he can’t see anything that isn’t 2 feet in front of him. 

Rust does know that Rocky isn’t his biological son, just never cared to tell Rocky because 1. he didn’t want Rocky feeling any type of way and 2. It doesn’t matter to him that much, Rocky will always be his kid, regardless if they are biologically related

Lazarus has cosmic radiation, thats canon. But, because of said radiation, his immune system is incredibly weak. If he gets the flu, he’ll go from being sick to critical condition in minutes. It’s also why he does get sick often

While Catarina says their relationship is like “Master/follower” it’s really not the case. However, I will say that it can sometimes manifest and is an unhealthy flaw of their relationship. Jeremiah can be a bit too loyal to the point of putting himself in danger to get Reggie what he wants and Reggie's stubbornness can lead him to getting mad when Jerry says no (Which is rare). Still, fighting between them is rare and when it does happen, it is absolutely not something you want to stick around for. 

Thankfully, they don’t last very long because they’re both lonely and being away from each other for more than 10 minutes is painful. Longest they fought and refused to talk to each other was a month (and it was hell for everyone involved)

Chandrelle is introverted as hell!! I usually think of her and Lazarus on opposite sides of being antisocial. like “oh no people!! (Lazarus) vs. Ew people (Chandrelle)”

FPP loves giving hugs and holding hands!! They were stuck in the walk which had barely any characters they could physically interact with so sometimes they’ll go up to any of them and either ask for a hug or hold out their hand. 

FPP does love his new found family very much. For all their flaws, he does appreciate how they basically accepted them in and it shows with how nice they are to them...even if they can be a bit creepy about it, by following them around and trying to hang out or watching them do their thing intently

Lazarus doesn’t smile very often, but when he does, it’s the most awkward smile ever. Even his laugh sounds a bit off because he’s not used to doing it. Chandrelle loves it though, it’s honestly cute (He gets a bit annoyed when she says that)

JUNIOR TRANS!!! Changed his gender after SOL and went to Vicious Galaxy (Moji is a gender neutral name with Moglees and honestly look at them, they do have a little bit gnc swag). Also in the files, he goes being referred to “mojikid” or “kid” to “mojison” so,,,  trans rights. Also love the idea of Lazarus and him having a moment of understanding with each other

I imagine Wizarro constantly changes his story with the lipstick on his cheek and how he got it (“I was in a dating sim once”, “it was a secret in joke with the creators”, and “I had a secret relationship with one of the fighters ;)” as examples). Are any of them true? Probably not but he just likes to fuck with people, hes a funny little wizard man.

Ok one more because this is getting long: I hc Irving as bisexual. Not just because I am making “every dmg character is queer” a reality but also because of this meme: “get a girlfriend” “or a boyfriend! He’s bi.” “Damn nobody wants you fr 😂😂 ” “I’m saying like 😂😂” (Changed it to laughing because i love bullying him FWQEWERG, imagine any of the inn patrons @ him)

[lionheartslowstart]

The Double Empathy Problem

The Double Empathy Problem describes the difficulty faced between two people who come from extremely different backgrounds when trying to empathize with each other. Understandably, it can be difficult to empathize with a situation when you can’t even begin to fathom what that situation might be like, because you have no foundation from which to draw upon. Over the last few years, The Double Empathy Problem has been increasingly discussed in reference to the interactions between neurodivergent and neurotypical people. More specifically, those between autistics and allistics.

On one hand, technically these interactions do fall under The Double Empathy Problem. Studies in neuroscience have shown that autistic brains actually look different from allistic brains. One isn’t necessarily better than the other, they’re just different. It also explains why there is such a struggle between autistics and allistics when they attempt to communicate. If our brains are literally wired so contrasting from each other, it’s no wonder we each have difficulty empathizing with the other side.

On the other hand, I think that’s complete bullshit.

Yes, our brains work differently, and therefore it WOULD be extremely difficult for allistic and autistic people to relate to each other. It’s not even just life experience, it’s straight up biology. But the simple truth is that autistics are EXPECTED to empathize with allistics regardless, and allistics are not.

Autistics are taught from a young age that we should conform to the needs and desires of the allistic world around us. Many of us (especially AFABs), learn how to mask very early in life, because our autistic traits are looked down upon. And autistics who can’t mask, or can’t mask as successfully, are even more othered, and are often looked at as unintelligent and inept (which can’t be farther from the truth). We are not just other, we are “wrong.” Simply because our brains and therefore our ways of life don’t fit into the expectations of neurotypical society. 

Even those of us who are “out” as autistic, so to speak, are constantly expected, and in some cases, commanded, to put our feelings and needs aside to make allistics feel comfortable, heard, understood, and safe. And that often comes at the expense of OUR comfort, safety, and need to feel heard and understood. But do they do the same for us? Absolutely not. The vast majority of allistics I have met have been cold, unempathetic, and at the worst of times, invalidating and cruel. Even the allistics who aren’t quite as extreme in their intolerance, still only acknowledge our needs and feelings in a very roundabout sort of way. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard some variation of, “I understand you have XYZ needs...BUT most people don’t operate that way, and it is on YOU to adapt.” It doesn’t matter how “nicely” it’s said. The message is the same. Truly, the only allistic people I have ever met who have genuinely worked to meet me halfway are my parents, partner, and best friend. That’s it. And most autistic people don’t even have that many.

One of the biggest pieces of evidence I can call upon is the misconception that autistics struggle to communicate. And yes, it is a misconception. In a study involving the game telephone, it was discovered that autistics only struggle to communicate with neurotypicals. When placed in a group of solely autistics, there were no issues with or lapses in communication. But we are labelled as having “difficulty communicating” because we have difficulty communicating with allistics, aka the majority. Meanwhile, allistics are not labelled as having difficulty communicating because they struggle to communicate with US. Because they have no problems communicating with each other.

This is only one, very broad example of a truly disgusting double standard.

The way I see it, there is no double empathy problem here. Because we learn - scratch that - we are FORCED to empathize with allistics. Yet allistics act as if we are not worth empathizing with. Again, because we’re “wrong.” We’re not them, therefore we’re “wrong.” And the worst part is that this idea is so systemic, so pervasive, that we grow up thinking we’re “wrong” too.

There is only one group of people in this equation who struggle to empathize. And it’s not us.

[solar-siren]

Angstpril Day Eighteen: Exhausted

When their second cycle in the Capitol begins, Yori does not rise.

Rinzler does not know why.

Scans indicate that her energy levels are satisfactory. She doesn’t seem to be injured in any way. And yet she spends over half the cycle offline, in recharge when she doesn’t need it.

He can’t bring himself to leave without her, but he can’t take much more of the stillness, either. For far too long he watches her from across the room, purring anxiously. Finally he decides to wake her himself. 

Rinzler crosses the distance he placed between them, but he hesitates when he kneels next to her. Yori looks peaceful,  light  in a way she seldom does in wakefulness. To remove her from this state feels like a kind of violence. 

But she has to wake up sometime.

His hand on her shoulder is gentle. She wakes slowly, blinking at him as she draws a deep breath. 

“Time to get up,” he says.  Past time , but there’s no need to be harsh with her. 

Yori considers him for a moment, perhaps longer than she should, then rolls over. “No.” 

Rinzler’s clicking purr starts up in bafflement and irritation. While she is often difficult, this particular behavior is new. It was at her insistence that they made their way across the Grid.  She  was the one who emphasized the importance of routine. Now she’s the one breaking it.

“You have to get up,” he says. [Not optional.]

She has the audacity to ignore him, which is also not an option. He takes her shoulder and turns her over manually. She doesn’t fight. When her eyes meet his they are exhausted, weary in a way that has nothing to do with energy. 

“I  can’t ,” she says, and her voice breaks on the last word.

Rinzler realizes then what’s actually wrong. 

They came to the City to find other programs. Yori had been hopeful when they first arrived, but they spent the entirety of the last cycle searching and found no one. This sector was once the most populated on the entire Grid. If there are no others here, the two of them may very well be the only ones left. 

In recognition of this, Yori had tried to speak to him of Before. But he recoiled, and she was subdued for the rest of the cycle.

Perhaps all of it together was more disappointment than she could take. 

His core aches at the pain written on her face. He cares about her, for better or worse, and he hates seeing her in distress.

Something gives, just a little.

“Yori,” Rinzler says. He doesn’t say her name often. He scoops her up off the floor, and she doesn’t fight. She is far too light in his arms as he carries her to bed.

She should have slept here to begin with. She had offered to share it with him, but he declined, opting instead for the space and distance of the floor. At his refusal she chose another corner for herself.

Rinzler deposits her gently amongst the pillows and blankets. Her hand catches on his wrist when he starts to move away. His expression softens beneath his mask, beyond her sight. 

[Not going anywhere,] he says. He is all too conscious of her gaze as he moves around the bed to settle beside her. The distance between them is calculated, close enough to feel her warmth and too far away to touch.

For a long moment they are both still. Yori watches him carefully. Then she reaches for the wall beside her. Without looking she touches a hidden panel there, and the room comes to life.

Light blooms throughout the space. Colors chase each other across the walls like something from another world. It’s familiar somehow, evocative of safety and warmth. It reminds him of her. Rinzler touches her carefully, shifting closer. He shouldn’t. Though she is strong in countless ways, her code is far more fragile than his own. The last thing he wants is to hurt her. But his hand at the curve of her waist, caressing the small of her back, is hardly a crime. If anything, she melts against him. 

“Better?” he murmurs. 

[Yes.]