#and when she does she tells me about sitcoms ..

[mainfaggot]

just watched challengers at the cinema w my little sister. it was so intense wtf

[softquietsteadylove]

Would you do another one for the Thenamesh Dressage AU?

Thena frowned as she made her way to the stables. She was here to check on Olympia before their afternoon training, as well as just spend some quality time with her horse.

"And so then I said, no, I dare you to do it!"

Thena tilted her head, her ponytail swaying against her shoulders. She knew that voice, despite having only spoken with him a few times by now. He was chatting with someone very casually. Maybe he was on break.

"We all do dumb things when we're young, though--right?"

Whomever he was speaking with didn't offer a reply. At least, not one that she could hear.

"Ah," he laughed, "you're still young. You have time for that kinda thing."

Thena approached as she heard the tapping of Olympia's fresh horseshoes being applied. "Gilgamesh?"

"Thena!" he looked up from scraping the mare's hooves out, waving at her with his farrier hammer. "Nice to see you!"

He had been talking to Olympia.

It seemed hard to believe, but there was not a single other soul present in the stables this early. Just him and Olympia, tied up to the post and letting Gil attend to her hoof care.

Thena looked at her mare, who bobbed her head lightly. "I'm sorry to interrupt your...riveting conversation."

Gilgamesh leaned up from Olympia's rear hoof and swiped at his forehead with his rolled up sleeve. He really was massive. "Well, it's mostly ,e blah-blah-blah-ing away. But this sweet girl has been indulgent of it so far, right?"

Olympia snorted, shaking her head faintly and stomping out her newly adorned hooves.

"Perhaps she likes taking part in your talks," Thena suggested with a light smile, running her hand over Olympia's coat, which only seemed to become softer and shinier. "I'm not the most talkative, even when it's just us."

"Do you play any music or anything when you hang out?" he asked with a shrug, not at all judging her quieter nature.

Perhaps it was his attachment to the horses that made him call it 'hanging out' when he was with them. It felt so...affectionate. Thena moved around her horse to inspect the work he'd done so far, "I suppose I ask her how she's feeling, tell her what to expect for training for the day."

"You could tell her some jokes."

Thena looked over Olympia's back at the taller man. She was sure her expression was frosty, at best. "Jokes?"

"Yeah," he smiled back at her, not at all intimidated by her prickly personality. He nudged Olympia's jaw, "hey, when's the best time to make a dentist appointment?"

Olympia blinked at him.

"Tooth-hurty!"

Thena sighed; right, 2:30... Despite the positively dreadful punchline, Gil laughed from his belly, and Olympia joined in his delight, knickering and bobbing her head even with her bridle in her mouth. Thena shook her head, running her hand over Olympia's mane to keep her from tugging at the reins too much. "Okay, all right...it was not nearly that funny."

"You're right," Gil wound down from his laughter, still smiling, "but she loves 'em. I've started reading an old joke book to her while we're grooming, just 'cause she likes them so much."

Thena sighed again, although she could feel a smile threatening to emerge on her face. She could just imagine him telling her horse truly awful jokes and little riddles and limericks as he shampooed her.

"I think she just likes to hear people laughing," he shrugged as he finished brushing her far side and finally laid her saddle blanket over her back. "It is the best medicine, y'know."

"Indeed," Thena drawled as he untied her reins and petted her nose gently. Olympia relished his touch, which still surprised Thena to a degree. He handed over the reins with a smile, "I'll try playing videos with laugh tracks for her."

"That's a great idea!" Gilgamesh beamed at her openly. He was such an open book, this caretaker. He walked alongside them as Thena led Olympia to her personal stable, the mare's lunch in his hand. "It's nice that you come in here to spend time with her. I swear I can't convince any of the riders to just hang out in here to save my life."

"Hm," Thena looked down at the bend of Olympia's legs as they clopped along. "Some of the other club members are...more career driven."

What she meant was that they didn't care enough about their horses, seeing them only as vehicles for the competitions they entered. She frowned upon it, and she wasn't afraid to make that opinion known. But the thing with rich equestrians was that they didn't much care what was thought of them.

"She misses you," Gil said lightly, shrugging his wide shoulders as he switched Olympia's food bucket between hands. "That's why I try to talk to her and stuff while we're here."

Thena smiled. The idea that he had begun the - rather odd - habit for her horse's comfort was kind of cute. "I appreciate your concern for her. I miss her too when I'm home."

Gil opened the door to the stall that was the champions', Olympia happily trotting into her little haybed with a fresh set of horseshoes on and her tail brushed. "Ooh, feelin' fancy?"

Olympia whinnied at him, free of her bridle.

"Settle down," Thena directed her gently, attempting to calm the mare. "You have food to eat."

"Smells good, right?" Gil grinned, wafting the bucket under Olympia's nose before hanging it up for her. "Fresh apple juice, a few chopped up carrots, some protein mix."

Thena watched as Olympia did indeed tear into her food, chosen and mixed lovingly by the caretaker. It was nothing like when Thena had chosen her food mix and had to argue with her everyday to eat it. "Unbelievable."

"What?"

Thena rolled her eyes, watching from a safe distance as Olympia ate, "that my horse adores you so much more than me."

"Hey," he denied gently, tilting his head at her, "I'm just, like, the fun babysitter, or the cool teacher, or something. She knows that you're her family."

Thena smiled. She certainly liked to think of it like that, even if her fellow riders liked to act like she was insane for having such a bond with her horse. "If I could fit her into my one bedroom apartment, I would."

Gil let out another deep laugh. It seemed the other horses were also used to this sound from him. "I know what you mean. I've got room and board here for the job, so I don't have much better an option."

Thena furrowed her brows, "they keep you here at the club? That seems-"

"It's not bad," he shrugged, cutting her off before she could voice how borderline unethical that seemed. How did he ever 'go home' after work if he lived here? "The cabin they gave me on the grounds is nice, and everything is covered under my salary."

"Still," Thena murmured, although Gil was already moving forward to collect Olympia's bucket for her.

"What a good girl," he cooed, getting nudged in the face to receive sloppy horse kisses to his cheek. "Okay, okay, you're welcome."

Thena laughed faintly as he walked out with the empty bucket, swiping at his ear, "you are a flirt."

Olympia flicked her tail in denial.

Thena glanced briefly in the direction the caretaker had disappeared. "I suppose I can see why you're...fond of him."

Olympia tilted her head to stare at her with one of her massive eyes.

Thena scratched her cheek, "but that does not mean I am going to read you dad jokes."

[zickmonkey]

Friends are amazing. I love each and every one of my friends an insurmountable amount. I won't talk to a friend for a while and I'll forget. But then we will talk again and I'll remember that I love them and I how much I love talking to them.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That

I saw the end when we began (1)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!Fem!Reader × Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You are the young psychiatrist for the Avengers, and you take your job very seriously, but what happens when Wanda joins the team, turning your life upside down?

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: legal age gap r is 19 w is 25, talks of death and grief, a bit of angst, therapy sessions

A/N: I had this idea for a while and wrote it a while ago, but spruced it up for publishing. I hope you enjoy it!

May 7th-10th 2015

The only sounds to be heard were the scratches of your pen against paper as you wrote down notes the old fashioned way and the hum of the AC unit installed in your office. Tony let you have a nice corner of the tower where there was sunlight and windows. You had gone with a soft gray for the walls, an L-shaped mahogany desk that had both a desktop computer and your laptop. Across from your desk was two couches and a coffee table between them with an assortment of fidget toys, a succulent, a handful of magazines, and a box of tissues. 

Everyone had been away on an important mission and normally you’d go with, but you'd been recovering from a previous injury, you still are when you hear a knock on your door, 

"Open." You let them know and just from their aura you can tell it's Tasha, but she's with someone else, an aura you don't recognize. You look up to find a girl with chestnut colored hair, and a dark aura around her. "Hey Tash. I'm glad you're all home safe. I'm assuming we'll restart our sessions?" You ask the red head. 

"Yes. We can resume them. Tomorrow. Today I need you to have a talk with this one." Tasha helps her into the room and gestures for her to sit down, Tasha walks over and hands you a large file. "She came from HYDRA, they had a lot of info on her, she had joined us in the fight against Ultron." Tasha tells you before lowering her voice, "She lost her twin brother during the battle. So maybe you can get her to talk." You smile at Tasha and then look past the red head. 

"Yeah of course we shouldn't have any issues Tash. Leave it to me." You tell her as I adjust your glasses, quickly looking over her file as Tasha exits, closing the door behind her, "Wanda Maximoff, 25, born in Sokovia." You say out loud as you walk around your desk to the other couch across from where she's sitting criss-cross. You take notice she's taken her shoes off and smile, taking note of the fact that she’s comfortable enough to do something like that. "I'm Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I'm 19. I'm also an Avenger. I have a power that allows me to see auras and emotions. I can also influence people's emotions and use my voice to influence others around me." You tell her a little about yourself first to help make her comfortable with talking about herself.

"You're 19? How are you a doctor?" She finally talks and you can hear her thick Sokovian accent which is like music to your ears. 

"I'm very smart. Graduated high school at 12 finished my Doctorate last year for psychiatry and Tony took me in as the Avengers Psychiatrist shortly after that. Everyone here needs a little bit of help and that is what I'm here to provide for you." You smile at her as you open a fresh notebook for her, choosing a red covered one noticing that she was wearing Tasha’s red leather jacket. "So tell me a little about yourself. Anything you want." You ask as you jot down her basic info on the first page. 

"I love American sitcoms." she tells you first. You smile and look at her over your glasses. 

"Why is that?" You ask as you jot down her words. 

"We used to watch them as a family every night so we could learn English." She tells you making a smile appear on your face. 

"When you say we who does that entail?" You question the Sokovian wanting to get to the root of her problems. 

"My Mama, Papa, and Pietro..." She tells you solemnly. 

"Who is Pietro?" You inquire, looking up from your notebook. 

"He is...was...my twin brother." You jot down everything she says during your session and she does open up a little bit with some persuasion on your part, but that isn't unusual for your sessions. 

"Well Wanda thank you for opening up to me. Your aura is looking a little warmer from when you first walked in. How about you come back in three days for another session?" You tilt your head as you grab a little card for her. 

"Why three days?" She asks nervously, tugging at her sleeves attempting to cover her hands, but the jacket doesn't budge. She starts picking at her nails as an alternative, chipping the black nail polish further. 

"I like to have frequent sessions the first month. Then we'll have them weekly just like the others." You let her know and she nods her head as you write the date and time for her to show up on the card for three days from now. Standing up with her, "I offer a high fives, hand shakes, fist bumps, or a hug at the end of sessions. Which would you like?" You ask and she's thrown off a bit by the statement at first but then answers. 

"Hug. I could use a hug right now." You open up your arms and let her come to you. She ends up crying in your arms as you sooth her, letting her know it is okay to cry. 

"I'll always be here for you Wanda. I'm always on your side." You whisper to her and she holds you tighter at the words.

You sat back down at your desk after Wanda left, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Empathy for Wanda's pain, determination to help her heal, and a lingering sense of dread about what HYDRA had done to her. But you pushed those feelings aside, focusing on the task at hand.

As the Avengers' psychiatrist, it was your responsibility to help your teammates navigate the mental and emotional toll of their work. Sometimes that meant delving into painful memories or difficult emotions, but it was a role you took on willingly. After all, you had your own share of struggles, and if you could use your powers to help others, then it was worth it.

You glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time for lunch. You decided to take a break and head to the common area, where you found Tony tinkering with one of his suits.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted you with a grin. "How's it going?"

"Good," you replied, sinking into a nearby chair. "Just had a session with Wanda. She's been through a lot."

Tony nodded solemnly. "Yeah, losing her brother and all that HYDRA stuff... it's rough."

You sighed, running a hand through your Y/H/C hair. "Yeah, but she's strong. I think she'll come through it."

Tony gave you a reassuring smile before returning to his work, and you took a moment to appreciate the camaraderie of the team. Despite your differences and the challenges you guys faced, you were a family, bound together by our shared experiences and our commitment to protecting the world.

After a quick lunch, you headed back to your office to prepare for your next session. As you reviewed your notes from Wanda's session, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to her story, something hidden beneath the surface. But for now, all you could do was continue to offer her support and hope that she would find the strength to confront her demons and emerge stronger on the other side.

With that thought in mind, you square your shoulders and prepare to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As an Avenger, a psychiatrist, and a friend, you were ready to do whatever it took to help your teammates and protect the world from whatever threats may come our way.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Three days passed in a blur of meetings, training sessions, and the occasional emergency mission. But today, you were back in your office, eagerly awaiting Wanda's return for your second session. As you sat at your desk, reviewing your notes from your previous meeting, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for her. Losing a loved one in battle was something you could relate to all too well.

Before you could dwell too much on your own past, there was a soft knock on your door, and Wanda stepped into the room. Her aura seemed a bit brighter today, though still tinged with sadness. "Hey, Wanda," you greeted her with a warm smile, motioning for her to take a seat. "How are you feeling today?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment before answering, "Better, I think. Thank you for... everything last time."

You nodded, understandingly. "Of course. It's what I'm here for." You gestured toward the notebook on the table. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

For the next hour, the two of you delved deeper into Wanda's past, her memories of Sokovia, her time with HYDRA, and her experiences with her brother, Pietro. With each word she spoke, you could feel her emotions swirling around you, and you did your best to guide her through them, offering comfort and support where you could.

As your session came to a close, Wanda seemed visibly lighter, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Y/N," she said softly, wiping away a stray tear. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of fulfillment wash over you. "Anytime, Wanda. Remember, I'm always here for you."

Before she left, Wanda surprises you by reaching out and giving you a tight hug. "Thank you," she repeated, her voice thick with emotion.

As you watched her leave your office, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, even if it was just one session at a time. And as you glanced down at the Power Stone embedded in your chest, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was the true source of your ability to connect with others on such a deep level. But for now, all that mattered was that you were making a difference, one session at a time.

[hoshigray]

I WANT TOJI TO GUIDE ME (like literally almost teach me) HOW TO GIVE HIM HEAD PLZZZZ

Ohhhh, I don't know how tf I'm gonna write this, but here we go!! Hope I did alright on this one hehehe~ *sweats nervously*

Cw: Toji x fem!reader - oral (m! receiving) - it starts off cute but gets dirty, so minors DNI - reader admiring Toji's dick lol - face+throat-fucking (Toji goes at a reasonable pace) - pet names (angel, baby, cutie, sweetie, mama) - heavily detailed descriptions of a blowjob - praise - Toji laughing at you asking him to help bc what are boyfriends for, but you get a laugh out of it too - some humor. Wc: 2.8k

"You okay, kid?"

"Hmm?"

"You look lost in thought about somethin'."

"I do?" He lifts a brow and nods at you. "Oh, it's nothing, Toji, honest." The man looks at you for a few seconds as if he doesn't believe your answer, yet he goes back to watching the television, and the big hand on your shoulder brings you closer to him.

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you and Toji are watching your favorite sitcom on the couch in your living room. But the show wasn't capturing your attention like it usually does. Instead, your mind wandered to other matters. Other...explicit matters.

How explicit? The two of you have been together for a long while now, and you can honestly say things have been going great. For him to be your first serious relationship — plus him being older and more mature than you — it's nice to know that things have been going way smoother than you'd thought in the beginning.

Although things may seem fine, something has been clouding your head recently. This is where explicit matters come into the conversation.

Through all this time together, it just occurred to you that you haven't given Toji head. Scratch that: you've NEVER given a blowjob, period.

It's always been the other way around. Not that you're complaining, because your boyfriend seems to enjoy eating you out. And he's actually good at it! Like, really good at it. Just reminiscing all the moments he's had you turn into jelly with just his scarred lips and relentless tongue is enough to make you go dizzy.

It's a pleasure how attentive he is to you during sex. And you appreciate that he cares for you in that regard...yet you can't help but feel like you're not a good partner in bed with your lack of reciprocity.

And it's not like you don't want to give him head. Because trust, you would've done so already! The real problem is that...you don't know how.

You've watched videos and read articles on how to do it, even practicing on a banana (per your friend's advice). Nevertheless, whenever you wish to initiate; or the opportunity arises, you just freeze on the spot and force yourself to forget about it. It's as if researching and amping yourself up is way easier than the execution.

Though, you can't just let your man be the only person doing the work — sex is supposed to be enjoyable for both parties, damn it! And you're gonna push yourself to have his dick in your mouth one way or the fucking other! But......where the hell do I start!!??

You release a defeated sigh, bringing your hand up to massage your forehead from the endless banter in your brain. And Toji watches you from his peripheral, his brows drawing downward at your display of frustration. "Alright," his gruff voice snaps you back to him as he lowers the TV volume. "What's goin' on in your lil' head, baby?"

You blink at his question. "Hmm? What do you—"

"Aht aht, don't do that with me." His jade eyes harden, and you hold back from finishing whatever you were going to say. "Somethin's wrong, so tell me. I'm over here watchin' this stupid show that you dragged me on to, and you're not even paying attention."

"Hey! It is not stupid," you counterargue, and use his comment to dissuade him from the topic. "You were very invested last week when my favorite character punched the guy she likes for stabbing her in the back! So who are you to—"

"Y/n." It didn't work. Your name was thrown at you with such seriousness that there was no use in trying to distract him. "Tell me what's goin' on. If somethin' is bothering you, don't be scared to come to me about it." He says it sternly, yet he's still gentle with his delivery.

"Toji..." You can only call him by name before he leans forward to kiss your forehead, and it almost melts all your worries away.

"Tell me."

The two of you look at each other for mere seconds, you searching for any sign of uncertainty before confessing your thoughts to him. You sigh once more and lean onto Toji, his hand rubbing on your shoulder — a silent gesture of him giving you all the time you need before confiding with him.

You told him, "Don't laugh, okay?"

He scoffs. "Can't make promises I can't keep, kid." His smile manifests when you shake your head at his shenanigans. "I won't laugh, angel."

When he uses the pet name on you, it seals the deal. It's now or never.

"I was just thinking that...I might need your help with something."

A brow is lifted. "With what?"

"Umm, it's..." Your fingers find each other to fiddle with to keep you busy from the awkward tension. "It's for......y-you know—"

"I don't know."

"I-ahem-I want," you can only gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob in your throat. ".........Iwannagiveyouablowjob."

No words. No movements. Nothing. Only the noise from the TV gives a sense of life to the silence following your confession. Even the big hand on your shoulder chose to remain completely still. And you can feel the slight quiver of your lips start to come to fruition.

Nothing happens until you feel a jolt on the shoulder you're resting on. Your face blooms hot, and your lips can't fight the uncomfortable twinge. Oh, this motherfucker is about to laugh.

"Is...Is that—ahem," A tiny gust of wind exits through his nostrils, trying to extinguish the beginning of a chortle. "Is that what was botherin' you this entire time?"

Now your ears get hot, and all you can think about is how you'll dig a nice big hole for yourself to crawl in later. God, why me??!

"W-Well, I mean, I notice how you're always doing it on me," another jolt from the older man. "And...I just feel like I'm not doing my part." He lifts his hand from your shoulder and rests it on his face. Fits of chuckles silently enter the air. "But I don't know how to....do that kinda stuff. So, I was just wondering—" He starts smacking his thigh, and with the twitch of your eyebrow, you've had enough. "Toji, I swear to Christ, if you don't fucking stop—"

And with that, the floodgates opened. The laughs he was doing a terrible job suppressing wheezed out, his hand covering his eyes while the shit-eating grin was present with laughter seeping out his system. You cover your face with your hands, shielding away from the embarrassment and not letting him hear giggles of your own.

"Oh shit, c'mere ya damn cutie." Toji pulls you in with both arms, caging you so he can place a kiss on your temple. "Pfft, kid, I'm not laughing at you. But goddamn, you looked so fuckin' stressed fr' no reason."

"But it is a reason!" You chuckle under your hands, only prompting your boyfriend to laugh harder. Once he calms down, you explain yourself further. "Toji, I'm serious. We've been together for this long, and it's always been me getting eaten out. I just think it's unfair that I get to feel good and you don't, ya know?"

He snickers. "I'm always feelin' good when I fuck the shit out of you."

"You KNOW that's not the same thing!!" Toji barks a laugh from you yelling at him, and you can't take this anymore. Removing yourself from him, you get up from the couch before you sink further into the internal pool of regret. "Just forget it. This conversation never happened...I'll just go to sleep." And hopefully, die of suffocation from my pillow.

However, before you could step toward your bedroom, Toji quickly caught your wrist. You reluctantly turn to see him looking at you with a playful smirk and soft hooded emerald eyes. "Not so fast there, sweetie." His hand slides down to fully grasp your hand, engulfing it with his size. "Ya know, you're a real cutie when worryin' about me. But don't go thinking you're not making me feel good, because you do with what you got. I woulda found someone else if you didn't." You briefly glare at him, though you know he has a point.

"Yeah, I know. But I want to do more. You always take good care of me, so...I wanna do the same for you." And Toji knows you're serious about this. It doesn't matter if you can't look directly at him because of your bashfulness; your words are sincere. God, you looked so cute it drove him crazy.

He sighs quietly with a smirk, his thumb making circles on the back of your palm. "Well, if you're really sure about putting y'r mouth on my dick," and before you could fully process his words, the older man spreads his legs for your eyes to observe. And the first thing that corrupts your vision is the outline of his erect cock, the tent prominent through his dark sweatpants. "Looks like ya got yourself a lesson. Up for it?"

You gawk at his erection for three extra seconds before you look at your boyfriend and give him a nod for confirmation. Seems like your plans of suffocation and dying in a hole have been postponed to another day.

Toji grins hard, his teeth peeking through under his scar, and then he points to the floor with his chin. As instructed, you kneel between his legs.

He pulls down the waistband of his sweatpants, freeing his cock from the clothed prison for you. And you're in awe with the sight before you. Of course, you've known his girth to be immense. You've had the damn thing inside you, for God's sake. But now, seeing his length so close, it's hard to believe you had him before. You can take note of every dent and vein of his shaft, how they structure all the way down to the base, and the pinkish-red color of the tip. It all overwhelms you and makes you second-guess what you're about to do...and the throbbing sensation down south flourishes.

"Like what ya see down there, angel?" The heat on your face worsens when you glance up and see Toji sneering down at you, and a hand comes down to massage your cheeks. "Try lickin' it first."

You gulp before following his suggestion, opening your mouth for your tongue to flick on the frenulum of his cock. You can hear him moan from the action, so you proceed and lap around the head of his cock until you feel adventurous enough to take his glans in your mouth. Toji groans from the wet walls of your mouth, and your teeth brushing against his glans makes his body jerk. "Hmmm, be careful with y'r teeth, baby. Relax that jaw and puff those cheeks a bit fr' me."

His comments are taken wholeheartedly, making sure everything goes right for him. Your cheeks go hollow for you to suck his cockhead and take in a few more of his length, his hums of pleasure egging you on. It goes well until the tip hits your uvula, resulting in your gag reflex. And Toji is quick to gently pull you from him, your saliva coating his dick.

"Woah there, sweetie. Don't forget to breathe." He coaxes while you cough. Your eyes start to water as you gasp for air to even your breathing. "We can stop now, don't want you chokin' on— Aisssh!!."

He's unable to finish his sentence when your hand strokes his cock, paired with kisses to the underside of his shaft. "No, I can keep going." You look at him with half-lidded eyes, having the man twinge his lips upward.

"Alright, then we're gonna go slow, okay? No rush." He aligns his cock to your lips, waiting for re-entry. "I'll push, and you breathe."

You give him a nod to signal you're ready, and your mouth agape to take in his returning limb. Toji brings your head in while you remind yourself to breathe, but your body jolts when you feel the tip come almost close to your uvula again. "Relax, mama, relax. Keep taking deep breaths fr' me." He coos at you, and you do as he says. Breathe in, breathe out. Once you slowly move, Toji aids you by gently pushing the back of your head toward him. And a wave of astonishment and relief hits you when you manage to have his dick hit the back of your throat.

"There ya go, cutie." He smirks at you, aware of your tiny display of giddiness. "Now, try goin' at your own pace."

With a few bobs up and down, slowly but surely, you get used to having Toji's cock in your oral cavity, going at your own tempo and enjoying yourself with this. Your movements are filled with confidence, and you whimper every time you try to go as far as you can but not too crazy.

And Toji loves every second of it. Your moans vibrate the walls around his cock, and it turns him on even more when he peers down to see you suck on him so deliciously. Spit covers your lips the more you take him in your mouth, and he groans when he feels your hands stroking him and kneading his balls (something you've learned to do from the articles you've read). "So good...Hmmph! So fucking good..." It's been a long time since Toji's been given a blowjob, and it feels so good to have you — his sweet thing — do it for him.

But then a thought pops into his mind, and the pleasure in his body churns into a different path of want and need. "Sweetie." Your eyes flutter up at him when he calls you, stopping midway through. "Wanna go a lil' further than this?" It takes a moment for you to register, but you give a curt nod with a hum on his dick, which he can only assume is a "yes."

"I'm gonna stand up, okay? So keep taking deep breaths and follow my lead." You don't answer, only gaze at him as you mentally prepare yourself. Toji rests a hand at the rear of your head as he gets up from the couch, keeping you still on his cock in hopes you don't choke. Now he's standing upright, and his sweatpants slide down to his sturdy thighs. He places both his hands on each side of your head. "I'm gonna start moving slowly, 'kay baby?"

And so he does, unhurriedly pushing his shaft into you, and your hands find purchase on his thighs as he does so. His dick that once stopped at the back of your throat eventually finds its way deeper within, and you're senses are clouded with his smell when your nose and mouth meet his pelvis. It all feels so overwhelming that tears start to form.

Toji lets you adjust to all of him for a while, grinding his hips on your lips to fully accommodate his whole girth, prompting more muffled mewls from you. He ruts his hips at your face when he notes your steady breathing. Gradually, every inch of his cock sinks into your mouth. Your head starts to pound as you enter a haze.

The pace of his thrusts eventually goes faster and faster by the minute, and the tears finally come down with every jab to your throat. Saliva runs down your chin with the smack of his balls, the head bullying your insides with the erratic rhythm. Your nails form scratch marks on his thighs from all the stimulation you're going through, but you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't feel so fucking good. Having your boyfriend's pelvis smack on your face on par with the sounds of you sucking him off felt like fire to your eardrums. So hot but so electrifying the more you indulge yourself.

As for the older man fucking the hell out of your face? Oh, how he missed this. It's been so long since he stuck his dick on such a pretty mouth. And your throat's tight, velvety walls have him rutting for more. He knew this would make his thirst return, and now he was sure an addiction would form from this. But right now, he can feel the surge of his orgasm arise, and his brows crease with a guttural groan as he thrusts into your face with harsh motions.

"Shit, ahhhhh shit, shit," It's so close, almost there. "Gonna cum, mama, gonna—Mmmm! Haaah, oh fuck, oh fuckin' Christ!" Through his moans of pleasure, Toji releases his load down your throat. And you're in no other position than to just take it, whimpering blissfully onto his length as he gives you a few more ruts to your face.

When he's done experiencing his ecstatic high, the older man withdraws himself from you. Your throat and mouth become empty except for his essence that you swallow. Strands of spit and come connect your wet face to him for a crude yet intimate moment before they break out.

He pulls up his sweatpants and drops down to wipe your pretty face with his hand. "So? Was I a good teacher?"

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

would you write Eddie x reader where he's like, dropping everyone off at night and reader is last, when the kids are gone she takes her bra off because it was definitely hurting her aaaaand Eddie notices that she's got pierced nipples? NO NEED to make it smutty if u don't feel like it, just curious about his reaction? lol thanks <3

reader is 18 in this, and obviously, minors dni!

———————

Another fun evening was had at Hellfire Club, and you & Eddie were ready to wind down at your place. He dropped some of the other members off at home first, and your house was the last stop on his tour. Eddie had been your close friend since you were eight and he was ten, and you did everything together: D&D, drama club at school, drugs, booze, you name it. Every chance you got, the two of you were always together—usually getting into some drug- or booze-induced shenanigans. When you weren’t doing that, you were doing the exact thing you were doing tonight, which was going home to chill out together on the couch or in your room.

You loved being around Eddie, and it far exceeded just friendship for you. The thing was, you had always harbored a little crush on him, from the moment you’d met him all those years ago. In fact, for the last few years, that crush had turned into all-out love. He didn’t know, of course; you would rather gouge your own eyes out with a hot poker than ever tell him and risk losing him.

You & Eddie sat in your living room, with the TV on and drinking beer that Eddie had smuggled into the house. There was a show that neither of you were paying attention to, some kind of weird sitcom that was neither of your tastes. You were sitting close together, as usual, practically cuddling as you mindlessly took in the show and drank. Your parents were upstairs, probably in bed or watching TV themselves, but they didn’t come down to greet you when they heard you return home. Since their car was outside, it told you they probably turned in for the night. That left you & Eddie completely alone, which could be either a good or bad thing, depending on the mood the two of you got into.

Things started off innocently enough. The two of you discussed the new campaign, how your classes were going, what your weekend plans were, all the usual topics. You were digging around your chest almost the entire time, trying to fix the discomfort that your bra was causing. It always annoyed you to wear one, but you had to; without it, your nipple piercings were going to be extremely noticeable, and you couldn’t have that in school. Nothing helped, and short of taking it off, you had no relief whatsoever. But it was becoming ever clearer that removing it is exactly what needed to be done, with no other choices available.

Eddie is in the middle of talking about his favorite part of the campaign when you do it. You unclasp the bra under your shirt, sliding your arms into the sleeves to remove the straps, before pulling it from the bottom of your shirt. Eddie stops talking and watches you closely, his doe eyes wide in surprise as he sees the bra land on the coffee table. His eyes trail back to you, but they don’t find your face again. They are transfixed on your chest, and on the unmistakable impressions of nipple piercings that are pressing against the fabric of your Hellfire Club shirt. He swallows thickly, running a hand over his cheek as he tries so hard to look away. You chuckle, unable to help it, and he turns his gaze with a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“It’s okay if you noticed,” you say. “They’re kinda hard to miss when they aren’t in the bra.”

“I…” he says, swallowing again as he finds your eyes. “I didn’t mean to seem like some kind of fucking perv. I guess I'm just more surprised than anything else. Why didn’t you ever tell me that you got them pierced?”

“I guess I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” you say, glancing at your chest. “I haven’t had them pierced for long. They’ve healed nicely, but sometimes they’re still a little sore.”

“Well, they seem very….um….” Eddie began, and you could tell that he was clearly flustered. “They seem nice. Probably got someone good to pierce them, huh? I hear those can be really hard to do.”

“Yeah, the guy who pierced them did a good job,” you say, and you can sense a shift in Eddie at the mention of another man. His jaw and fists clench, and he looks to the floor. You laugh, reaching over to run your fingers through his hair. “Aw, what’s the matter, Eddie? Are you jealous that another guy got to see my tits?”

“No,” he says, but he’s lying. You can always tell; after ten years of friendship, it wasn’t as if he could fool you. “I’m not.”

“Mmm hmm,” you say, then teasingly add: “You know, I’ll let you see them, if you want to.”

Eddie nearly chokes on the drink of beer he had just taken, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand after thumping his chest. “Sorry, but I’m going to need you to repeat that. I need to make sure I heard you correctly.”

“I said,” you repeat, brushing some hair back from his shoulder before ghosting those fingertips over his neck, “you can see the piercings, if you want to.”

“I don’t want it to be weird,” Eddie says, looking at you and leaning closer into your touch. “Will it be weird?”

“Only if you make it weird,” you say, your hand on the back of his neck and tangling into his hair. “It’s just boobs, Eddie. I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie says with a soft smile. “But these are yours. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying no. As long as you swear this won’t ruin anything between us, or make it awkward.”

“I don’t think it will,” you say, reaching for the hem of your shirt and slowly lifting it. “You can always change your mind before I get it hiked up, though. Tell me if you do, okay?”

He nods quickly, pulling the corner of his lip into his teeth. You keep moving the shirt up little by little, until your breasts are fully exposed to him. Eddie sucks in a breath, his eyes unable to leave them. He took in the shape of them, the way your nipples looked, and how the piercings gleamed in the lamplight of the living room. His breath caught, and he exhaled in the form of a shaky “fuck.” You laugh a little, biting your own lip as you watch him admiring your chest. You can tell that he’s enjoying it, and that whatever worries he had about this being awkward were long gone. In the front of his jeans, you could see the unmistakable outline of a forming erection.

“What do you think?” you ask, smirking.

“They look fantastic,” Eddie says, his eyes still taking in your breasts. “And I guess the piercings are nice, too.”

You laugh a little louder at that, and feel even more boldness coming over you. “Do you wanna touch them? You can, if you want to; I won’t mind.”

Eddie’s eyes flickered to your face, and they widened again. “I can?”

“Sure,” you say, taking one of his hands in your free one. “Here. I’ll show you that I’m not kidding.”

You place his hand over your right breast, and he hisses at the contact with your skin. His lips part, his brown eyes already filling with lust as he kneads experimentally on your skin. You whimper pleasurably under his rough palm, feeling a rush of heat in your cunt as a response. He mewls softly, taking his other hand and placing it on the opposite breast. He ghosts his thumbs over the nipples, against the piercings and your sensitive skin, and you cry out at the touch. Ever since getting them pierced, the sensitivity in them had increased tenfold, and that little brush of his thumbs nearly had you up the wall with pleasure.

“Eddie…” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together to dull the throbbing ache that was settling between them.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking at you worriedly. “Do you need me to stop?”

“God, no,” you say with a breathless chuckle. “Please don’t stop.”

He gives them a light pinch, and when he sees you reacting positively, he does it a little harder. You grab onto his arm, moaning and biting your lip to quiet yourself a little. The last thing you needed was for one or both of your parents to hear, and come down to investigate. Eddie massages circles onto your nipples, before cupping your tits and pressing them together, massaging them, and bringing his face close to them. He looks up at you through bangs and lashes, smirking as he does so. His lips travel from your breastbone to your stomach, and then back up, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. More wetness starts pooling in your panties, and they cling to you as his soft, plump lips continue pressing your skin.

“You know,” he says, nuzzling his way between your breasts before leaving hard, open mouthed kisses on your sternum. You tangle a hand in his hair, head tipped back as you moan hotly. “Not trying to sound like a creep, but I always knew you had some amazing fucking tits.”

You laugh, and that boldness from before takes over again. “Oh yeah? Well, I always thought your dick would look fucking amazing pressed between them, or just rubbing on them, or a combination of both. Whatever you would prefer.”

He shivers violently at that, groaning against your skin. “Fuck, y/n…”

He wraps the tip of his tongue around one nipple, still looking at you as he does so. You meet his gaze with a shiver, pushing some hair from his eyes as his tongue swirls the metal of the piercing. “I’ll bet you would love to cum all over them, wouldn’t you? Seeing me with it all over my tits, maybe even on my chin and tongue if you’re the type of guy who can really shoot one off.”

“Jesus, that’s…” Eddie breathes, giving your other nipple the same treatment. “That’s hot as shit.”

“Wanna do it?” you ask, and he shivers again. You can feel his cock, hard and throbbing in his pants, against your leg. “I think you do; the thought of it is getting you rock. Fucking. Hard. Isn’t it?”

“Yes, fuck,” Eddie hisses, pulling your nipple between his lips and sucking rapidly. He tugs it in his teeth, and you moan loudly, clamping your lips shut to keep silent. He toys with the other one, two fingers pinching the nipple & playing with the piercing. He draws back to look up at you, one hand settling on your waist as he tries to pull you closer to his body. “How does it feel? Does it still feel good?”

“Mmm hmm,” you breathe, grinning at him. “It feels so good, Eddie. You wanna know how good?”

“Yeah,” he says with a quick nod as he moves over to the other nipple for equal treatment.

“I’m so wet right now,” you say, your nails grazing his scalp as your hand deeply embeds in his long brown hair. “Mmm…I really want you to see just how fucking wet.”

“Please, let me see,” he practically whines, his lips pressing all over your chest in desperation as he ruts against your thigh. “Or let me touch you, or anything you want. Please, fuck…”

“Hang on,” you say, unbuttoning your pants and taking his hand. You guide it inside your drenched panties, where he groans at the feeling of your warm, wet pussy. “Feel that? You’re doing that to me, Eddie. It’s all you.”

“Goddammit,” he breathes, bucking himself harder against your leg with a low moan. He circles a finger around your entrance, before moving to your clit. You shiver and mewl as he rubs circles against the small bundle of nerves, head falling back again. He rapidly flicks his tongue over one of the piercings, before pressing the tip of his finger inside of you as an experiment. “I’ll bet your pussy tastes fucking incredible, and I’ll also bet that you would feel good squeezing around my cock.”

You groan filthily at his touch, chuckling as his free hand plays with your breast. You pull his head up by his hair, gazing into his eyes for a moment before kissing along his cheek, his jaw, and finally reaching his ear. Your teeth tug the lobe, a smirk on your lips as you whisper: “Why don’t you take me upstairs and find out?”

[fandomhcs]

dating wanda maximoff would include:

dating one of the most powerful people in the universe is definitely a trip, let me tell you.

wanda values quality time above most other love languages so expect to be sharing each other’s spaces most of the time. she could spend all of her time reading in the corner with you across the room from her reading or scrolling through your phone.

that said, she loves when you choose to join her in whatever she’s doing. read with her, ask her about whatever magic she’s learning now, or bring her tea and curl up beside her while she’s watching an old sitcom on the couch. she’ll melt.

she loves any kind of date night. whether it’s staying in and ordering pizza or going out to a new restaurant and an arcade, wanda just gets this warm gooey feeling whenever you two get to spend a night with no interruptions. she loves the more stereotypical date nights, the things she’s seen in shows and movies. finally having someone to experience the things she considers normal with is so, so special to her. take her to a movie and a cute dinner, take her dancing, take her stargazing. make her feel like she's in a movie and she'll melt.

wanda is forever grateful to you and thankful for the love you’ve brought into her life. joining the avengers, meeting you, finding control and strength in her powers? at one point in her life everything she has now seemed impossible. for so long it was just her and pietro against the world, now she has a family again. and more than that? she isn’t afraid of her own power.

her powers used to be something she feared. she was terrified to lose control, terrified to learn the limits of her powers. terrified that there may not be limits. but you’ve never once been scared of her. all the things she’s done, all the things she can do, you’ve never shown fear. you trust her, completely. and she has vowed to make sure every single day that your trust in her is never misplaced.

and an upside to that means she’s constantly practicing her magic. the red swirls of her magic are fascinating, and even now you can’t help but stare as a book hovers in the air before her while wanda’s hands are occupied cooking dinner. her magic is beautiful, no matter what the rest of the world may say.

you’ll catch her meditating three feet in the air, magic curling around her gently weaving itself through her hair. can’t reach something on a high shelf? you can hear wanda giggle at your struggle before whatever you need is floating towards you. cleaning is a breeze when your girlfriend can levitate the couch while you sweep the dust bunnies out from under it.

wanda does try to stay out of your head, though. she refuses to abuse your privacy and read your mind without consent. she struggles with this when she hears you having a nightmare at night, or whenever you won’t come to her with a problem. but she never breaks, instead forcing herself to be patient with you and let you come to her when you can. and you do, once you’re ready. there is nothing you could ever tell her about your fears, your pain, your anger that would ever make her feel any differently about you. whatever you think of yourself, wanda sees you as you are. she sees your faults, yes. but she sees the good in you above everything else. whenever you may feel insecure, she’s right beside you with a warm hug and constant reassurance.

you both balance each other. on your bad days, wanda is right there to comfort you however you need. and you do the same for her. both of you keep an eye on each other, boost each other’s spirits on your bad days, and remind each other that you two are a team. no matter what may come, you two are on each other’s side.

the cabin she has in multiverse of madness? that's her ideal home with you. a warm, inviting place the two of you can fill with plants and books. something cozy and hidden away from the rest of the world. she'd be free to practice her magic away from prying eyes, plus having a garden or an orchard is a dream of hers.

however, if you're stuck in an apartment? wanda will make it a home for you. she'll find cool art to post up on your walls, intricate tapestries that she could stare at for hours. candles and knick knacks, little trinkets bought on your dates together. she'd love to decorate a space with you, to make it reflect both of your personalities.

just?? build a home with her. build a future, build a family. it's all she wants, really. she wants a life with you more than anything else in the world, even more than being a hero. she'd rather live a comfortable, peaceful life with you.

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

“You did what.”

Keith coughs. “We, uh, we got married.”

“Accidentally,” Lance pipes up, because he can see the Stress Muscle in Shiro’s eyebrow start to twitch, and doesn’t want him to start freaking out which will make Keith get defensive and put his foot in his mouth — he’s as bad as Lance, really — and then the whole thing will be more difficult to handle than it already is. “It’s a whole big thing.”

Shiro stares at them for several minutes, then sighs, sitting heavily onto the kitchen floor with his bowl of goo. He shovels a bite in his mouth, then reaches blindly for the intercom switch on the wall, slapping around until he finally manages to hit it.“Team,” he says tiredly as it crackles to life, “please make your way to the kitchen. Keith and Lance made something stupid again.” He drops his hand back down, returning his full attention to his goo, committing to pretending Keith and Lance aren’t in the room.

Which.

Fair.

“I resent that ‘again’,” Keith mutters petulantly. “We’ve been remarkably well-behaved lately.”

“No,” Shiro says, without a second of hesitation. He doesn’t bother arguing.

It doesn’t take the rest of the team long to get here — Hunk and Allura have appeared to have sprinted, drama loving bastards — and they join Shiro on the floor, turning expectant eyes to the Red and Black Paladins. After a look of deliberation, Keith and Lance sit down, too.

“Tell them what you just told me,” Shiro says, voice garbled through his food goo.

Here’s the thing.

Lance knows he should feel nervous. Or worried, or scared, or embarrassed, even, about getting literally magically bound to his self-proclaimed rival (once a rival always a rival) because he got brained by the jacket that he left unattended. It is, objectively, a sitcom-level ridiculous situation. He knows that he is going to be shamed, and possibly gently bullied.

However.

Keith’s hand still grips him tightly. Lance doubts the Black Paladin has noticed, but every so often he runs his thumb over his knuckles, and every time he does his lips twitch up in the slightest smile. Lance couldn’t feel anything but ludicrously happy if he tried.

Plus. He and Keith just, like, made out in the hallway a bunch. If Lance is being honest, his brain is still kind of fuzzy. He’s half focused on everyone else and half focused on replaying the feeling of Keith’s hands pressed to his cheeks, cupping his face, kissing him like he was drowning and Lance’s lungs were the only place he could get oxygen. He’s still kind of lightheaded, and keeps having to fight off giggles.

“We got married,” Lance says, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face.

As much as the team is used to their shit, that visibly shocks them. Coran squints at them and types something rapidly into his tablet. Pidge cusses and hands Allura a handful of GAC, which she pockets with a cackle. Hunk is the only outlier, the only one with a reaction Lance can’t place: he straightens up, looking between them with narrowed eyes, mouth flattened into a line.

“Explain yourselves.”

“It was an accident,” Keith assures, much like Lance did earlier. But instead of expressing is understanding, Hunk’s eyebrows only climb higher. Lance gets the same distinct feeling he gets when he knows he pressed the Wrong dialogue option in a video game.

“I hope you didn’t marry my best friend on accident, Kogane.”

Lance puts his head in his hands. He can physically feel the panic leeching from his husband’s (!!) body. He considers all the ways he can murder his best friend and make it look like an accident. He honestly doesn’t think he’s ever been this mortified in his life.

“No no no, I didn’t mean accident, well I guess I did —”

“Hunk,” Lance says through grit teeth. Hunk gives him a ‘what did I do’ look, stubborn set to his shoulders. Lance vows to take a seam ripper to his shirts.

“— like it was technically not a planned sequence of events, per se, if you want to look at things technically —”

Hunk continues to stare at Keith with his eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. Lance digs around in his pockets for something to chuck at his face.

“— if it went according to how I’d planned it in my head there would be more flowers involved, probably, and we’d be on Earth at least, but it kind of just happened, you know? It was so fast I swear I couldn’t have done anything —”

Lance tears his gaze away from Hunk and stares at his rambling mess of a husband. Any annoyance practically evaporates from his system as the implications of Keith’s words set in.

“You thought about marrying me?”

Keith flushes redder than he already is. “I’m not answering that.”

Lance barely manages to shove down the giddy laughter that bubbles up his throat. Keith, his crush, his rival, his husband, spent time daydreaming about marrying Lance. And kissing him, probably, and holding him and building a future with him. Keith maybe even got just as flustered as Lance did when they got too close, back off when sparing got a little too close, breathing heavy. The knowledge is exhilarating. Lance leans over, pressing his beaming smile to Keith’s lips. He softens immediately.

“I thought about marrying you, too.” He smirks. “Among other things.”

Keith’s gloved hand finds it’s way back up to his cheek, for the second time today, and the blood rushing in his ears downs out the sound of Pidge gagging.

“Gross. Can we force them to divorce? This is worse than the pining.”

“Physically impossible for me to divorce him,” Lance murmurs, distracted. “Since he technically owns me, now. Kind of.”

Keith makes a face. “I hate that a little.” He presses one last chaste kiss to Lance’s mouth before pulling away. It’s casual, and small, but the novelty of it is not lost on Lance.

He was not kissing Keith this morning, that was for certain.

It’s not until Lance manages to blink away his ga-ga eyes that he realizes that the rest of the team is looking at him in shocked confusion, and it clicks that his sentence would, sans context, be kind of horrifying to hear.

“Oh,” he blurts, without thinking, “I’m a Selkie.”

“You’re bad at this whole revelation thing,” Keith notices. “I think my Galra thing was somehow handled better.”

“Shut up.”

To his credit, Keith’s observation isn’t too far off. If anything everyone’s shock has only worsened, and it’s clear that Lance’s messy, half-explanations aren’t going to do much. The Alteans could probably do with some actual historical context, but for now, Lance thinks a demonstration is the wisest choice. And since he doesn’t have an ocean available to him, he decides to do the next best thing.

He slips his jacket carefully over his shoulders, spreading it out over his legs and gently running his fingertips over the rough canvas. Just as in his room, the fabric begins to blur, warp, change. He understands the change that is happening — it is his coat, after all; his own flesh — but he cannot find the words to describe it. There may not be. The coat simply changes in a way that is not comprehensible by non-Selkie eyes, as evidenced in the various strangled noises of bewilderment around him. Even Keith looks at the pelt in awe, unused to Earthen magic.

“How long have you been a seal person?” Pidge asks, hands twitching like she’s itching to touch.

“Two decades,” Lance says drily.

It doesn’t take long for the shock to melt away. That’s due in part to everyone’s curiosity, and the rest is because, as Lance suspected, their lives are just so goddamn weird — this Selkie thing just doesn’t even make top ten.

“So was that what the whole dramatic running out of the common room was about earlier?” Hunk clarifies.

Lance nods. “Yeah. I didn’t…I got too comfortable. Left my pelt out, Keith tossed it at me, boom, it’s not longer mine. Luckily I was wrong about how dangerous that is, ‘cause I didn’t lose my free will or anything, but I am essentially married to Keith now. So.” He turns to his husband and grins. “I don’t think he minds.”

Ignoring Pidge’s mutter of “here we go again,” Keith smiles back, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t.”

“I’m sorry you weren’t comfortable before.”

Lance looks up at Shiro, startled by the seriousness in his voice. His tired look from earlier is gone, replaced with something narrow-eyed, serious.

“Huh?”

“You said you got too comfortable.” He gestures to Lance’s lap. “With your pelt. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell us.”

“And I’m sorry for threatening you, Keith,” Hunk adds. “Well, it was barely a threat, but still.”

Keith reaches over to pat his shoulder. “All good, man. It was understandable. Lance probably warrants some threatening on his behalf.”

Lance narrows his eyes. He’s sure that’s an insult, somehow.

“Hunk, do not scare my husband away with your foolishness —”

“I know you’re just saying that to have an excuse to say ‘my husband’, you whipped simp —”

“Fuck off, no one asked you —”

“Pardon my interruption,” Coran says, holding up a hand. “But what is a Selkie?”

Allura raises her hand as well. “I would also like to know!”

“If I’ll be honest, I’m not that familiar with the legend either,” Pidge admits.

Lance pauses for a moment, considering. He knows that explaining everything would take a long time, and he knows he doesn’t have the energy for that. It’s something you learn over time, anyway, over years of stories at the right time. He can simplify some information, though. Get the point across.

“I’m not human,” he starts carefully. “I’m also not alien, not not-human. It’s complicated.” He runs his hand over the soft fur of his coat. “My pelt is like…a physical manifestation of my soul, I think. My quintessence? I’m not entirely sure. But when I wear it, I become another form of mine. Kind of like your shapeshifting, maybe? I turn into a seal, but I’m still very much me. And it’s not like I’m a seal with a human brain, or whatever. I’m a seal, I’m a human, I’m a Selkie. I’m never not those three things.”

Pidge cocks her head. “So you’re a seal right now?”

“Yeah. I’m a Selkie, I have to be. Unless my pelt were to be truly lost, I guess. If someone set it on fire I wouldn’t be a Selkie anymore. I’d lose my soul.”

“Jesus,” Pidge shudders.

Keith looks determinedly at him. “I won’t let that happen.”

“No shit,” Lance says, raising an amused eyebrow. “That’s your job now, Mullet. The pelt is yours to guard. You took it, it’s your responsibility.”

Keith’s determined expression does not change. Lance is just a little endeared but it. As unconventional as this has been, Keith genuinely seems to be excited to be with him. And if Lance trusts his word — which he does — then Keith has wanted to be with Lance for a while. With his space family’s approval, and the certainty that he will have the same from his Earth family when he makes it home, the weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying finally drops from his shoulders.

“God, I can’t wait to human marry you.”

Shiro sighs. This time, it sounds significantly more amused. He gets to his feet, dusting off his hands. “I guess that falls to me, huh,” he says, waving them over. “C’mere.”

Keith and Lance scramble up, running over to where Shiro stands, at the head of the table. He holds two twist-ties in his head that he has formed into rudimentary rings.

“I feel contractually obligated to remind you about Adam’s stance in elopement,” he says, looking pointedly at Keith. “And Lance, I don’t know your mother personally, but your sister and I were colleagues. You are also going to get into leagues or trouble when we get home.”

Lance grins brightly. “I am going to get in leagues of trouble anyway!”

Keith nods. “I left Earth against Adam’s specific instructions. I’m toast no matter what, so I might as well do the best thing I will ever do in my life before then.”

Lance’s ears burn. He glances down at his sneakers, embarrassed and pleased all at once.

He’s the best thing that Keith will ever do in his life. God.

“Well, that answers my first question, then.” Shiro turns to Lance. “Since Keith obviously does, do you, Lance, wish to take Keith as your lawfully wedded husband, so long as you shall live?”

Lance grins. “I would love nothing more.”

“Then by the power vested in me by the five dollar certificate I got online, I pronounce you wed. Congratulations. You may kiss the groom.”

Neither of them wait for Shiro to finish his sentence, surging forward immediately, colliding in the middle like magnets. Lance feels the weight of his pelt on his shoulders and Keith’s hands on his face in equal measures. It feels like swimming free.

[reidslovely]

Frat! Peter who basically kicks you out after doing the due but things shift a little bit and he’s warming up to you right? So after sex they talk a little bit and that’s when reader gets up to put her clothes back on, and Peters like “🤨 the fuck are you doing? We were talking” and readers like “:0 oh” and gets back in bed for a cuddle (and maybe they fall asleep together)

Idk idk. I was the one who requested the Toxic! Peter ask a while back, so if you couldn’t tell this was another maladaptive daydream scenario :D. Have a good day

eeeeeee hehehe i love this *giggles and twirls hair* okay so..

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“Has the sun gone down already? Fuck Emma is gonna lose her mind.”

 You rushed out, your body moving just as fast as the words falling out of your mouth. Your clothes had been scattered around the floor: shirt tossed onto the footboard of Peter’s bed, your underwear even tossed onto the open windowsill. You were sure you would get all kind of comments from Peter’s brothers. 

Reality was Emma, your roommate, wouldn’t care where you were. She never expected you to come home after hanging out with Peter, but you always did. You just liked to use Emma as an excuse to end your hook up with Peter as easily as possible. You wanted to stay, trust you wanted to stay. However, Peter was clear his room was his space and you were not wanted in his space unless explicitly stated. It took you a couple weeks to catch on, after trying to cuddle with him multiple nights in a row failed you figured you’d save your ego from another bruising and leave before he could ask. 

“You don’t wanna hear the rest of my story?”

There was a fragility to his voice he looked up at you with his big doe eyes, and you swallowed your pride. “I didn’t even get to the good part, you didn’t even answer my question about how your day was. You can’t leave yet. I won’t allow it.”

His hand reached out and grabbed your hip, the skin where he grabbed going warm. You swallowed what was remaining of your pride and grabbed his wrist. 

“But your rule.” You whisper in return, thumb stroking the underside of his wrist. 

“Fuck the rule. I want you, in my bed, where it’s warm and you aren’t walking away from my conversation. Now get your ass back in here.” 

“Oh..” Was all that you could manage out, crawling back into the soft gray sheets. Your legs intertwining with his, head laying against his arm. 

“Now I’ll finish my story after you tell me how your psych test went.”

You smiled and started recounting your day following up to and after the psych test, even mentioning how you forgetting to turn your phone off during the test and Peter calling you almost costed you your grade. 

You listen to the rest of his story about how he, Miles, and Harry had been trying to get everything together for the party this weekend and Miles got his fake I.D. taken away. You smiled adding commentary here and there, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence besides the soft mumble of the sitcom on the TV. It wasn’t long before either of you were asleep.

The next morning you woke up to Peter turning off your alarm, his lips pressing to your forehead mumbling something. The weight of the mattress shifted as he got up and walked to the bathroom. You tucked your head under the pillow listening to the shower turn on. 

“Come on bashful, get up. Shower and we gotta get to class.” 

You smile as you peek out from under the pillow, maybe waking up in the Theta Tau house isn’t so bad after all.

___

taglist: @helloheyhihowdyheya @sincericida @moonyslove78 @a-lumos-in-the-nox @messymissy @adhdhufflepuff @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @ateliefloresdaprimavera @eevylynn

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

Nuanced and Multifaceted Conflict vs. “Good v. Evil” in fiction

So. This is another thing I’ve wanted to talk about for a while. I promise I won’t always be focusing on Helluva Boss in my critiques, and I actually have quite a few other series I want to talk about.

There’s a big chance that I’ll be saying everything other people have already said, but I can’t help but WANT to talk about this specific character in regard to the story’s conflict. I think that it’s important to recognize when a character is written to be a complex person, and when a character is written to be an enemy to be defeated, and how not following through with your set-up can affect your story.

And HB does that A LOT in my opinion.

So. Let’s get into it. This time I’ll be talking about complex conflict between characters vs. black and white conflict, and I’ll also be touching on story set-ups and audience expectations.

I want to talk about a character who could have really made some of the internal character conflicts have so much more depth and intrigue. I want to talk about Stella Goetia

*as a side note this post is MUCH longer than I intended but I really wanted to get into a lot of the background and reasons for how Stella’s character development has actually completely changed what HB’d story conflict could have looked like. I’ll try and sum up everything in the end in a TLDR for y’all

So. Most of the reviews of her character I see talk about how she’s been “ruined” by the writing team revealing that she’s always been very abusive towards Stolas

I have to start off by saying I actually don’t think that Stella or her portrayal was “ruined” by the writing direction her character has been taken in.

In fact, this critique bothers me, because it doesn’t really get to what I think the actual root of why people are disappointed in Stella’s characterization, and the type of conflict that now exists between her and Stolas.

The main reason I believe people are unsatisfied with Stella is because they believed that her character was being set up for a complex and nuanced conflict between her and Stolas, and then that turned out not to be the case.

A quick disclaimer- I do think it’s possible to subvert audience expectations about story and characters in a satisfying way. But it has to be done in a way that respects the audiences intelligence and willingness to think about the story.

If your plot-twist, unreliable narrator, subversion, or what-have-you is done well, the audience should be able to either figure out what’s going based on the little information you’ve given them, and if they don’t, the change or subversion should still make sense and CLICK in hindsight.

Otherwise, your subversion will end up feeling cheap or confusing. Or worse, like a lie.

And this is one of the MAIN issues I think people have with Stella.

As the audience, we were NOT given enough information on her or her character before it’s revealed that she’s just “evil” and always has been, apparently since she was a literal child.

Again, I don’t think it’s an inherently bad decision to have a flat or pure evil villain. I’m fine with Stella being one, even if it’s less interesting to me personally.

But it’s definitely very different from what was initially implied and set-up, and the audience can pick up on that.

Before S2E1 “The Circus” we see Stella a total of 3 times in person, with one time being a flashback.

I’m going to go over those times to analyze if anything set-up in Stella’s appearances points towards her being. Well, totally and irredeemably awful and abusive I guess.

The very first time we see Stella is in the same bed with Stolas—Octavia calls for her parents, both Stolas AND Stella. Stella grumbles and refuses to get up and tells Stolas to go. This doesn’t immediately strike me as a sign of her being a terrible person. That exact scenario is present in a lot of family comedies, kids’ movies, and sitcoms.

Nothing about this screams that Stella is a terrible parent or an abusive partner to me. It just tells me she’s tired and doesn’t want to get up, which again, is not uncommon.

The next time we see her, she’s yelling at Stolas, and she throws a servant at him in anger.

Now, there’s no excuse for this, her behavior here is not okay, regardless of her feelings. But we understand why she’s acting the way she is--she’s furious with Stolas for cheating on her. At this point with the information we have, it’s also very reasonable to believe her feelings have been hurt.

Later Octavia talks about how her parents didn’t used to hate each other, and the way Stolas’ tries to explain their failing marriage to her comes across like his relationship with Stella is one that’s always had difficulties that they have tried and failed to overcome.

None of this information is enough to really convey or hint that Stella is and has always been abusive or evil. It shows that Stella and Stolas have a very rough relationship, and that Stella most likely has anger management difficulties, but you have to do lot of extra work to come to the conclusion that Stella is completely at fault here.

The next time we see her though, things have clearly escalated, because it’s revealed that she’s one that hired Striker to assassinate Stolas.

Now. Usually. Yeah. That would be a HUGE red flag. And I mean. It still obviously is.

But, and I never thought I’d use this uno reverse card, this is one of the few times where the explanation of “But it’s hell, what did you expect???” actually makes sense to me.

Because yeah, it is hell. It’s the end of episode 5 when we learn this, and our protagonists have killed and assassinated multiple people. Taking a hit out on people really doesn’t seem to be that uncommon of a thing in hell.

Even the next scene after the reveal that Stella is the one who hired Striker makes light of how serious this is, by showing that Stella was basically yelling her assassination plot right to Stolas’ face.

This is played for laughs! I genuinely am not sure if the writers intended for this to be foreshadowing of Stella’s abuse or not because if so, they turned her attempting to kill her husband into a joke!

If you cannot keep your themes or tone consistent, how is the audience supposed to follow your story?

There is subtle storytelling, and then there’s tacking information and character points later on in your writing. And this can have two causes.

Either your audience has to do the work of story-telling for you and make up their own reasons for what’s happening to make the story coherent OR they will be disappointed and dissatisfied by the final product.

I think that’s the main reason why S2E1 of Helluva Boss felt so jarring story-wise, and why Stella, to me at least, suddenly felt like a brand new character.

Like I haven’t been this confused by a character being suddenly evil since Hans from Frozen.

(like seriously why the hell did they put this scene in if not to just trick the audience. This isn’t giving us any plot info it’s only giving us contradictory info on his character. Like I talked about before, Hans’ heel-face-turn doesn’t feel like a twist. It feels like a lie.)

Okay so, how does any of this actually affect anything? Who cares if Stella is evil, that doesn’t automatically make the story bad!

Well. Yeah, of course not. Ironically, having the main conflict your story being a battle between “Good v. Bad” characters is neither good nor bad. It’s just a story decision. And ultimately at the end of the day, the writers of Helluva Boss can choose to tell their story however they’d like.

But, depending on how this is executed, good v evil stories can be a lot less interesting than morally grey or complicated conflicts and characters.

I am more interested in the version of the story where Stella and Stolas are imperfect and messy people. I am more interested in the story where Stolas has an affair to escape being in an arranged marriage, and Stella overreacts by arranging a hit on her husband (unless calling out a hit is normal in hell, but we can’t know b/c there is no baseline for what is considered normal in hell)

I am so much more interested in the story where Stolas and Stella are both depicted as being in the wrong, as being incredibly hurt by each other’s actions, and as not knowing how to repair their broken relationship for the sake of their daughter.

That story feels very real to me. It’s one I want to engage and invest in.

I want to see if these characters can grow to accept their mistakes and learn and change for the sake of Octavia and having to co-exist with each other, or if they’ll slip back into mutual destruction and toxicity.

But that’s not the story we’ll get to see, because it seems like the writers are more interested in keeping Stolas from having to grow as a character. And because of that, Stella has been turned into an evil obstacle that must be defeated, instead of a nuanced and real person.

I also feel like I have to say. I know I would be MUCH less frustrated by this if I hadn’t seen an HB crew member talking about how their show is similar to Bojack Horseman.

Because. It’s just not. I’m sorry, I’m not saying that to be mean, or condescending, or rude, but the way characters are written in Helluva Boss is almost completely black and white at this point.

Regardless of the writer’s intent, the vast majority of the choices they have made in Season 2 come off as explanations to excuse the protagonist’s mistakes, and give them a “get out of being potentially in the wrong” free card.

Compared to the writing decisions in Bojack, which almost always has characters confront their wrongdoings, for better or worse, HB honestly feels like it’s the Anti-Bojack.

It would take a TON of character development and time to make HB’s characters as interesting, fleshed-out, and as real as Bojack’s are, and at this point that’s I don’t think it will ever happen.

Again. Having black and white conflict is FINE. It is a choice in story telling that can be done very effectively. But if you are making a black and white story where one side is always terrible and evil, and one side can do no wrong, you can’t act like you’ve written something that is deeper and more emotionally complex and grey than that.

And the first time the writers gave Stella more than 3 sentences to string together, they made it very clear that any chance of her being a more complex and engaging character was being tossed out the window.

————

TLDR:

The main reason people are upset about Stella being shown as abusive in S2E1 of HB is probably because the initial depictions of her didn’t give us enough information on her character to tell that she was just evil/a terrible person.

The way the story was written in S1 to set up the possibility of a very interesting and complex conflict between Stella and Stolas, and when it was revealed that she’s just. The worst. There were people that were disappointed by this, because they expected more.

Audiences actually aren’t idiots, and when you subtly foreshadow something and then completely change things, that can be frustrating.

It’s MORE than okay to write a straightforward good v evil story, but it depending on the way it’s written and executed, it may not be as interesting to mature audiences as a more morally grey story would be.

If you can’t write characters confronting their flaws and being in the wrong, please don’t compare your writing to Bojack, I mean. C’mon.

[appendectomy]

the house/cuddy relationship is also so interesting because a big part of the essence of 'doom' that the writers give their relationship is also based in direct comparison to the not-doomed-ness of house/wilson. there are so many moments where it feels to me that the writers are grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking me and going 'look!!! look at them and compare them look at how different these two dynamics are'.

one of the most obvious examples of this is in 7x09 when house is trying to get out of hanging out with wilson and going to cuddy's birthday dinner at the same time. cuddy outright asks 'you have to choose one of us,' and house replies 'i choose wilson'. apart from making me giggle, these lines also serve the very obvious purpose of not just being about where house would prefer to spend a thursday evening. it's quite blatant foreshadowing about the fact that, at the end of everything, house always prefers to choose wilson and is more capable of being there for him than he is for anyone else, including romantic partners and especially including cuddy.

the next big example of this that struck me is in 7x15 when cuddy is in surgery. this is an almost word-for-word recreation of the scenario in 6x10 where wilson went into surgery. they both want house to be there, and house struggles to show up both times. we even get this wonderful visual parallel between the two, which is something i've noticed has been talked about a little by other people on here, and so is definitely something I imagine the writers thought about too. with 6x10:

and 7x15:

the key difference between these two situations is house being sober in one, and on drugs in the other. house can be there for wilson and emotionally support him while also being sober, but he cannot do the same for cuddy. this comparison i think is such a clear communication that not only is house's relationship with wilson easier for house to maintain than his relationship with cuddy, but that it is also better for him mentally. with wilson, there isn't an anxiety that he isn't good enough for him the way there is with cuddy, and this just fundamentally fosters a better environment for him as an addict.

this says a lot about house/wilson, but it also says a lot about house's approach to romance versus friendship in general. he places so much more importance on the emotional challenges of a romantic relationship than he does platonic. he spends the whole episode of 7x15 practically agonising over wether cuddy will be ok or not, whereas he spends most of 6x10 telling wilson he's an idiot. he seems to doom himself in romantic relationships by creating so much of his own anxiety: he worries about getting it right, being the man cuddy needs him to be, doing what a good partner should, and it causes him to be unable to actually perform any of these actions without the crutch of being high. this in turn underminines the genuineness of any attempt to be better that he makes in cuddy's eyes. i don't think any of the emotional demands cuddy makes of house are unreasonable at all, but because house is such an emotionally stunted and volatile person he can't approach the very normal expectations of a romantic relationship in any sort of healthy way. the only relationships he can maintain are unconventional ones that don't have these expectations, like his friendship with wilson.

the next example, and the one that is most likely a little bit of a reach, is also in 7x15, specifically in the few dream sequences cuddy has that feature wilson. in the first, she imagines house and wilson as rachel's adoptive fathers (which i've already written a little bit about here if you're interested). then she has another dream set in a black-and-white 50s sitcom where she is the breadwinner, house is the housewife, and wilson is the mailman/milkman (not completely sure which of these he is, but he's definitely one of them). in both of these situations, wilson is the proverbial 'other woman': he takes the place of house's domestic partner in one of the dreams, and in the other he's the mailman/milkman to house's housewife, which traditionally in media is a comedic character pairing that involves the housewife cheating on her working husband with the mailman/milkman. i doubt this symbolism is really that intentional, and i don't think that it's meant to imply any sort of genuine romantic coding between house and wilson, it's probably just a couple of early 2000s gay jokes. but if you critically look at these instances, you can begin to extrapolate a sense that in house's romantic relationships, wilson is always hovering in the background. wilson is always the proverbial 'other woman', someone who's relationship with house is just as important and very likely also easier to maintain for house, just as the inverse is true for wilson as established by testimony from his ex-wife bonnie. i mainly think this inclusion of wilson in these dreams and the deliberate role he plays just serves to remind the viewer that while house and cuddy's relationship is rocky and uncertain, house and wilson's is pretty much constant and inevitable.

the last comment i have on this is about the scene in 7x23 where house crashes his car into cuddy's home. i think you can pretty easily compare wilson and cuddy situationally in this scene: house is putting cuddy in immense danger (though not actually intending on hurting her), whereas in comparison he yells at wilson to get out of the car before he does it. to me, there's an obvious difference there - a deliberate effort to endanger a person vs a deliberate effort to remove a person from danger. and in both instances, house is intentionally causing the danger. it very strikingly reminded me of the scene in 3x07 where house tells wilson to get out of their hotel room before he does something that could incriminate wilson. he specifically tells wilson 'maybe i don't wanna push this til it breaks' in regard to their friendship. house is very cognizant of not pushing wilson away completey, not squandering their relationship once and for all with his dangerous behaviour. but with cuddy, he gets to a point where he actively burns the bridge. the difference to me is sad and clear: house is willing and able to maintain his relationship with wilson. he is not willing and able to maintain his relationship with cuddy. and by comparing the two, each dynamic becomes clearer.

[emmettland]

reasons why Dean/Sam are husband/wife coded: they decide things for each other.

so i rewatched S1E6 last night and made a note of this for my own Wincest purposes. Rebecca offers the brothers a beer, right?

ID: Screenshot with Sam Winchester on the left and Rebecca off to the right, standing in the kitchen area. She's looking over at Sam and asking, "You guys want a beer?"

she just addresses them as 'you guys' which is a very casual and normal thing to do. the typical response would be for each guy to say either yes or no in response, answering for themselves.

Dean doesn't say 'yes', but he does give a very enthusiastic 'heyyy' which implies that he does in fact want a beer. or rather, he starts to say 'hey' and Sam almost instantly cuts him off with a 'no thanks'.

ID: Screenshot with Dean Winchester on the left and Sam off to the right, more in the foreground. Dean is smiling and pointing towards where Rebecca is off screen. Sam is not smiling and looking in the same direction at Rebecca. Dean is saying "Hey" while Sam says "No thanks".

i apparently upset my stream site by trying to capture this shot so i don't have a screenshot for it...BUT there's a split second after Sam turns down the offer that Dean's smile drops and he gives his brother this disappointed look. just for a split second, but it's there. and neither boy is given a beer as a result.

Sam wasn't just saying no thanks for himself. he was answering for both him and Dean, and ultimately making the decision for both of them not to have any beer, despite Dean clearly wanting one.

so why does this very tiny insignificant detail matter? well it probably doesn't but it matters to me sdfhdsjfgs

it's very stereotypical (i'm thinking like, American sitcom style) to have this dynamic with nuclear man/woman married couples. the husband wants a drink, the wife does not. though the husband may be considered the 'head of the house' and gets to make the most important decisions (as Dean's responsibility tends to be, whether imposed on him by others or self-imposed), the wife gets to decide more insignificant matters, like drinks.

we even see Sam decide for both him and Dean again when he asks Rebecca if we can take those beers now -- which he only asks to get her out of the room, and Dean knows this right away without having to be told.

ID: Screenshot of Rebecca sitting on couch, Dean sitting on the head of the couch behind her, both facing where the TV is off screen. Sam is the foreground with his head turned towards the other two. He asks, "Beck, can we take those beers now?" Rebecca replies, "Oh, sure."

ID: Screenshot of Rebecca leaving to get beers, looking blurry as she goes out of frame. Dean is now looking over at where Sam is off screen, his brow furrowed.

he immediately looks at Sam knowing he's found something on the tape, hence the excuse for Beck to leave.

now remember when i said the wife gets to make inconsequential decisions like what they have to drink? well later on, when the cops show up to the latest crime scene, Sam tries to make a decision that's actually important and about Dean's safety.

ID: Screenshot of Dean hopping over a fence, slightly blurred, with the back of Sam's head in the foreground. He's shouting, "Dean! Stay out of the sewers alone!"

he very firmly tells Dean not to go in the sewers alone, and even emphasizes this command with a stern 'I mean it!'

ID: Screenshot of Sam yelling at Dean, who is off screen. Sam is saying, "I mean it!" Dean responds with, "Yeah, yeah."

and in the distance we hear Dean respond to his brother with a dismissive 'yeah, yeah'. which, y'know. i'm not saying that's only something married couples do, but it is very married couple for them.

and ultimately, Dean disregards his wife's command and worry for his safety, going the good ol' fashioned husband route of 'it's easier to ask for forgiveness than to get permission'.

ID: Screenshot of Dean closing the trunk of the Impala and saying to himself, "I'm sorry, Sam. You know me, I just can't wait."

which, for the record, is a decision Dean makes that ends up being the best decision, since Sam is captured by the monster and once again put in the Damsel in Distress role (that i love so much for him).

OH BUT YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE???

well okay this detail isn't totally related to the Husband/Wife argument but it kinda is because i love seeing the small ways that both of the boys are passive aggressive with one another.

in S1E2 we had a snarky comment from Sam about how "people are only missing if nobody's looking for them" or something to that extent, which was clearly about his frustration with the interrupted search for their dad, and Dean calls him out on it instantly.

AND IN THIS EPISODE--

we started off with Dean telling Sam the plan to get to Bisbee, and Sam diverting from the plan to go help his friend in St. Louis. Dean resists at first, of course, but one look from his baby brother and then suddenly they're peeling out of the parking lot, on their way to St. Louis.

so we get to a point where Sam is lying to Beck about his brother being a cop, and when she asks where Dean's district is--

ID: Screenshot of Dean looking at Rebecca (who has her back to the camera and is in the foreground, a blurry shape) and saying, "Bisbee, Arizona."

--he gives her this dry smile before saying Bisbee, Arizona and looking directly at Sam. who says nothing, ofc, but he does kind of look down for a split second.

okay now i'm done. this has been "overthinking and looking way too deeply into every little thing" with Emmett.

[starlitmark]

Summary: You’ve been hooking up with and hanging out with San and Seonghwa for a bit now. You’re tired of the lack of labels, though.

Pairing: dragon!Seonghwa x fem bunny!reader x dragon!San

Tropes: hybrid au

Genre: fluff, angst, (barely) suggestive

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: emotional breakdown, arguments, suggestive comments, y/n has blue eyes due to being a rabbit

Word Count: 1,616

Note: Look forward to more of this! @sanjoongie and I have created a whole universe about these hybrids!!

Cotton Tails & Simmering Fires Masterlist

It’s become common for you to sit on the couch between two dragon hybrids. It should be weird, considering you’re a bunny, but here you are. You hadn’t really sat down and thought about it too deeply yet. The way you met them was odd. First, you were out of your safe space, but now here you are, and now you’ve been hooking up with both of them together and individually for a few weeks now. You’re tucked under San’s arm, wearing one of his shirts, and watching some random sitcom. Your legs are resting in Seonghwa’s lap, his finger drawing random patterns on the bare skin of your leg. The mixture of San’s sea breeze scent and Seonghwa’s strawberry jam is oddly comforting.

You watch as Yeosang walks through the living room to the kitchen. Truth be told, you smelled him before you saw him. His peppermint scent cut through the air more aggressively than some others, though it wasn’t unwelcome. He looks you up and down, not a care for his friends being tangled with you right now. His electric green eyes draw you into his gaze.

“I might have to try you out for myself, hops. Damn, your legs look so nice bare like that.”

You know your scent heightens a bit, even gets a tad sweeter. The two dragons cuddling with you notice too. Seonghwa snarls under his breath. His electric blue eyes almost glow brighter as his slitted pupils become thinner. Icy shards building just beneath the surface of his fingertips. And if that wasn’t enough, his typically sweet scent goes extremely sour to the point your nose crinkles. San is in no better state. Smoke puffs from between his lips as he attempts to hold back from burning Yeosang to a crisp right then and there. They had no right to be jealous, though, none at all. You throw your legs off Seonghwa and remove San’s arm around you. Then, making your way over to the green-eyed dragon, you look up at him with your big blue doe eyes.

“Maybe,” you start, rocking on your heels, “maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“No, you won’t.” Seonghwa deadpans.

“Remember what we told you?” San adds.

You see red, and your typically sweet sugar cookie scent burns out of pure anger.

“You don’t fucking own me. We aren’t dating, and I’m not your property. I knew you dragon hybrids were territorial walking into whatever the fuck this is, but that is no excuse to be an asshole.”

You don’t even give them a chance to respond to you. You lock yourself in San’s room as you change and don’t allow them to explain themselves when you leave. Your mind is a flurry of emotions and thoughts as you navigate your way back to your hollow. You texted a member of your fluffle that you were on your way back. She was more than ready to hear whatever you had to rant about. She was one of the best listeners you know. That being said, she’s also the worst enabler you know too.

“You don’t understand!” you exclaim as you pace through your room.

“You’re right. I don’t.” your fluffle-mate chuckles from your desk chair.

“They’re fine with sharing with each other. Hell, they even mentioned that they would probably share me with the rest of their thunder and-”

“Woah, woah, woah… they said what?”

“That they’d share me. Now, keep up-”

“You’re telling me,” she sighs, “You’re telling me that they told you they were going to share you and then decided to get jealous ‘cause of a comment one of their thunder members made? You realize how hypocritical that is?”

You’re about to respond, but there’s a knock at your door. The scent of someone uncomfortable or fearful of something accompanies it. You turn the worn nob on the dark wood of your bedroom door to see one of the slightly younger fluffle members practically shaking in front of you.

“Are you o-”

“T-there are two dragon h-h-hybrids outside the house, and I just wanted to warn you guys.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “Two? What do they look like?”

“I didn’t stick around long, but they both have kinda long black hair… I think the one had his hair in a ponytail. T-the one had really scary neon blue eyes, and the other’s eyes looked almost white. They were so pale… I didn’t like how they seemed.” she admits.

“Did you see what color their tails or any scales were?” you pry further.

“Black… and really shiny purple, I think… it might’ve been dark blue.”

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, “I appreciate you telling me.”

She nods, scurries to her room quickly, and shuts the door tightly. You close your door much more gently and turn to face your friend. She’s already giving you a knowing look. She knows what you’re about to say.

“I guess I’d better go ta-”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves you off, “go talk to those emotionally constipated dragon boys of yours.”

You’re dreading walking outside your home. Not because you’re scared of them; that’s far from the case. You simply do not want to interact with them right now. You trudge your way out of the home to see both boys standing at the edge of the front lawn. They look horribly out of place. Both of them are dressed in dark colors; San has a chain on his hip yet again. Seonghwa decided to have all his piercings in and use the most obnoxious dangling ones in his ears. As you approach the duo, you notice how Seonghwa’s pupils widen, and his strawberry jam scent sweetens upon seeing you. That, at least, is a comforting feeling.

“What do you want?” you ask with a bite in your tone.

“We want to talk.” San replies shortly, his salty scent growing even saltier somehow.

“What he means is, we fucked up, and we want to talk things out with you.”

You sigh annoyedly, “You have 10 minutes.”

You think for a moment about taking them back inside your home. You decide against it, though, since you know some of your fluffle are uncomfortable with their presence outside the house as it is. You plop down on the grass, and they follow suit. There’s a small patch of wildflowers right beside you that occupies your attention. You delicately fiddle with the petals of a vibrantly purple one before Seonghwa takes your hand in his. The gesture makes you look up from the flower and the sight you see you’ve never been privy to before. Seonghwa’s eyes are lightly brimmed with tears. His slitted pupils are narrow again, and you swear that the scales framing his face are paler, with little bits of mist coming from beneath them. His scent becomes subdued slightly as well.

“Hops,” he sighs, “I’m so fucking sorry. We had no right-” he lets out a shaky breath, “We had no right to be territorial over you when we aren’t dating.”

“Yeah, sorry we didn’t account for your feelings.” San adds.

San seems far more apathetic about the entire situation. It pisses you off. Seonghwa, you know, is being genuine. He’s told you before that he doesn’t often cry, so to see him on the verge of tears now shows the authenticity of his emotions.

“Don’t you have any remorse, San?” you bite, and the scent of burning sugar returns to the air.

You have no room for being gentle or kind right now. You’re angry; how, after what happened, could he be so nonchalant about it still?

“Excuse me?” the younger dragon asks.

You can see the flames burning below his fingertips, searing the grass below him. His already sharp, salty scent grows even more intense. Now you’re fearful. You know he wouldn’t hurt you, but your natural flight tendencies are screaming at you to bolt away. So instead, you watch as Seonghwa places his hand on San’s and instantly cools his hand.

“You know we’re not great with the whole emotion thing. San doesn’t apologize. So the fact that he’s apologizing to you is huge.”

“I kinda love you.” San says quietly, sniffling slightly while his scent dulls to a post-storm kind of sea scent.

You look at the purple-scaled dragon and see he’s not looking at you. Small puffs of smoke are coming from his nostrils, and his silver eyes are nearly metallic. He’s crying. You find yourself tossing yourself into his arms and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands instantly reach your waist and hold you against him. He cries into your shoulder as he holds you in his lap. Seonghwa runs his hand over your fluffy white ear and soothes you. You hadn’t even noticed you were crying until Seonghwa ran one of his fingers against your cheek, catching a stray tear.

"I can't believe that you want me. Both of you. Actually wanting me, not just my body." you half joke.

You hear a chuckle rumble through San’s chest at your comment.

"Well, you're good company. You and your body." he teases back, earning him a gentle smack to his shoulder.

“Should we go back to the lair then?” Seonghwa asks softly.

“I’d like that.” you respond, voice muffled by San’s shirt.

“We have a lot to make up for. We’re doing everything and anything you want for the next week.” Seonghwa chuckles sweetly

“Some of us have work to do.” San replies. You hold him tighter, “I mean, I’m sure that my secretary can handle the paperwork for a few days. We need to spend a whole lot of time with our precious girlfriend.”

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[nunalastor]

tbh one of my biggest fandom pet peeves has got to be when people judge works by the same literary standards

because then you get annoying arguments like "it's not that deep" or "this interpretation is wrong because of this minor detail"

often, it has a lot to do with the type of creative who made the show and their intention.

with shows like breaking bad, hannibal, walking dead? a significant amount of the work is probably that deep. they're very traditional writers / film makers, one person is responsible for a lot of things and has a lot of creative control. so, they tend to care about things like color and name symbolism, foreshadowing, etc. etc. and if you read interviews with creators like greg nicotero, bryan fuller, or vince gilligan, you get a sense that a lot goes into every detail and there are massive canon bibles. it doesn't always mean it's true of every episode - but it is true of a significant amount of the work.

and it's not just fancy dramas - it's also sitcoms and animated shows/movies like over the garden wall and most disney stuff from the 90s like the lion king. but people are quick to dismiss those genres as "not that deep".

those are just some of the more obvious examples off my head.

then there are works that are somewhere in the between like a lot of modern sitcoms like community, most marvel movies, bluey, rick and morty, bojack horseman, and helluva boss/hazbin hotel where the creators put a lot of time, effort, and depth into certain ideas or parts of a work but are just having a good time with others. often, they can't be as precious with the work because there are a lot of people working on it. so, at the end of the day, their focus is good overall storytelling, good characters, or humor/entertainment.

their characters aren't always meant to be 100% in character. their world-building isn't always going to be 100% consistent - either because they don't have creative control over all of it or it's just not a priority for them. and on the most extreme end (e.g. marvel's civil war), they're going to shove characters into certain roles for the bigger picture theme/idea or do something extreme with them for a laugh (e.g. alastor doesn't sleep/shower- alastor would wear his clothes in the shower).

because at the end of the day, they want to tell a good story or good joke and there's more of a micro vs. macro focus. some people are focused on characters. some people are focused on the world. some people are focused on certain episodes.

but fandom tends to go to one of two extremes and dismiss it all as not-that-deep or try to analysis it by the same standards as something that's written more traditionally

for me? hazbin/helluva boss very much fit into that latter category.

a lot of parts of the show are just not that deep. the creators probably don't care about name or color symbolism. there are a lot of contradictory uses of it in the show. often, the names are picked arbitrarily (lute = lieutenant, sera/em = seraphim) because they had been calling them that so long

viv likes world-building and has assigned colors to each ring and differentiated male/female imps and classes of characters ... but she changes stuff a lot and would rather have a good shot than be nitpicky about color symbolism. she changes things so often, she forgets about's been established as canon. oftentimes, she dosn't want to sacrifice a cool design for something nitpicky.

she's not precious about every aspect of her characters' specific personalities - but you also can't totally dismiss them as not-that-deep because she does care a lot about certain personality traits and the arc the character will take based on it (e.g. blitzo's trust issues).

but in fandom, people use both extremes as a way to shit talk other creators' interpretations or police how they write or draw and it's just so tiring.

[formosusiniquis]

Am I the Asshole?

Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington; Robin Buckley/Original Female Character(s); Steve Harrington/Original Character(s); Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 6052 | Rated: T | Tags: Modern AU, Reddit AU, Some AITA typical terrible people, QPR Steve & Robin, NB Steve, NB Robin AKA the Stobin AITA fic

r/AmITheAssshole u/HufflepuffHero94 9yrs ago AITA for being concerned about my girlfriends living situation?

Context: My (20F) girlfriend (18F) is amazing. She's a polyglot linguistics major, speaks three languages fluently and she's completely self-taught, a genius basically. We go to the same college (Midwestern Liberal Arts college) where we met in the marching band. Now R, my girlfriend, is from a small town. Like the kind of small town that they make jokes about in sitcoms, she isn't really online (so I'm not worried about her seeing this) because she claims they didn't even have the internet until she was in high school. She isn’t really “out” because of this. It’s like she lives in this semi-closeted space like some kind of TV queerbait character. It's not really a problem, I mean she’ll tell people we’re dating if they ask and all of our marching band friends know but when I ask about it she says it’s because it wasn’t really safe in her hometown growing up. But it’s 2014 not 1980…

Even though R is a freshman she’s in special accommodations. Instead of living in the dorms like the school usually requires she’s got a small, studio apartment just off of campus. A perk considering how awful living in the dorms is. R is a pretty private person and super studious. Most of our dates have been in the library or a study date at the coffee place on campus. She’s not big on PDA, she says she’s trying to get better at it but she’s still only sort of out and I’m her first real girlfriend. I was psyched when she asked me if I wanted to go with her to her apartment to study, said her best friend had a never fail study method that she was eager to try (and when she told me what it was I was pretty eager too).

R can’t drive, so when I pull into the parking lot of her complex she notices something and says her roommate hasn’t left for work yet. I’m a little confused because like I said she lives in a studio apartment, but she just brushes it off and says something about asshole parents and this being what they could afford when some money fell through. She’s sent me snaps from her place, so I know it’s pretty cozy so I tell her it’s fine. Obviously I’m concerned about what the set up is going to be like when we get up there but she insists that dingus (her words) will only be there for another couple minutes before they have to leave for work and that Stevie (again her words) is her best friend in the world. They moved here together from the same small town or something.

To give R credit, she’s definitely done the best she can with the space. When I walked it it definitely felt as homey as it does in her pictures. The door opened up into the kitchen and living room and she’s got those spaces divided off from the beds with one of those Chinese paper divider thingies. Anyway to make a long story short it turns out her roommate and best friend Stevie is actually a whole dude (19). He comes out, gives her a look and asks her if “us girls are planning a sleepover” and if he should make himself scarce for the evening. R says she doesn’t give him shit when his “special friends” come over and after that I kinda stopped listening. I slipped off into the apartment looking for the bathroom and that’s when I saw how their “bedroom” was set up. Twin beds INCHES apart, they might as well be sharing the same one.

Here’s where I might be the asshole. When her “friend” finally cleared out I told her the truth. I didn’t know how comfortable I was hanging out in her place where she lives with a guy. I do live in the dorms but I’ve got a single right now. I asked her to move in with me so she wouldn’t have to be in this situation. I guess it maybe sounded like I was dissing her friend, which I was but I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just think it’s weird that she won’t come out to anyone and is also living with some guy! I told her I wasn’t interested in being an experiment and if things were serious then she would want to move in with me.

That’s when she kicked me out and called me an asshole. But really I don’t think I’m being a dick for being concerned that she might just be jerking me along while she plays lesbian so she can tell her boyfriend about it at home. Even if nothing is going on I'm just worried that living in this kind of environment isn't safe for her. I mean this guy is probably just pretending to be her friend to get in her pants, I think the fact that they're from the same small town means she can't see that. I really think she would be better off if she moved into the dorms with me aita?

u/otpsnotbrotps NTA

u/foreplayisntreal NTA guys and girls can't be friends. If she even is a lez and a katy perry wannabe then roomie is just biding his time til she's ready to be converted

Read the rest on AO3

[scintillyyy]

i do feel like talking about tim's "you're not in the kitchen so you're not baking me a cake" line from robin #40 but. in context, y'know.

so, we set the stage: tim has come over to ari's house & they're alone. ari is flippant about the fact that her aunt and uncle might know this fact. she tells tim to take off his coat & go to the living room, which he does while ari disappears into her room.

tim and her chat, which her shut firmly behind her door as tim is complaining about the fact that ives is hiding something from him. he also asks "what are you doing?" to which ari responds "it's a surprise".

they continue chatting--tim talks about trying to solve ives' mystery. speaking of mysteries, he's also curious about why ariana has been shut up in her room for an hour--as tim later, it's been two episodes of a sitcom so we know it has to be that long because sitcoms run in 30 minutes slots.

as you can see, he's trying to figure out what ari's big surprise it--thay whole "you're not in the kitchen so you're not baking me a cake" this isn't even him making a sexist joke lmao. he's just deducing that her big, mysterious surprise can't be that she's making him a cake because she's in her room, not the kitchen. which. cakes are common surprises, so he's just throwing out a *very common relationship suprise that take a long time to make* and then saying her surprise for him can't be that because she's not in the kitchen cooking & again. all he's doing here is wondering what she's doing because she's been in there. for an hour. two sitcom episodes. he's trying to figure out what surprise that could possibly take her so long is.

and again. baking a cake/cooking in the kitchen is a very common surprise that takes about an hour to do. tim mentioning that her suprise can't be that isn't even sexist. all he's doing is trying to figure out what she's doing. all he's genuinely doing here is asking a completely normal question in context that almost anyone would ask when trying to figure out what surprise someone has been preparing them for the last hour is.