#he's so mean to me on a level that makes it hit much harder than other things

[fruitysoupy]

🕳️

[epptimorphosus]

S-scooby gang? I think I'm developing an emotional attachment to director Phobos

[lustlovehart]

Hiii! I've never done this before but... What if Scara and reader had a fight... Like a fight fight... and reader was seriously injured due to him being blinded be emotions... What do you think would the aftermath of this...?

A/n: Yet again, another ask that i was originally gonna js give a short thought to, turned into something longer *sigh* (I need to stop doing this).

Summary: [Angst/Comfort]He could never say sorry, even in the moments it mattered.

Warnings: Harm to reader, Scars, Unrealistic Writing of getting hit with lightning,

———

During his time in the fatui, no one exactly had the galls of stopping his rampages. The balladeer is quite famed for his regular intervals of anger, you’re no stranger to it yourself, you’ve seen him mad. it’s just…

Hes never been angry towards you.

You’d get the occasionally scoff every now and then if you uttered something he found foolish, but never has he lashed out at you to such a degree. Not to this level. He’s painfully reminded by his ignorance as soon as his hand crafted eyes lay sight upon your bare form, a body, a human body, covered in scars from lightning. Lightning he inherited, lightning he engaged, lightning he struck you with.

There’s no doubt, the silence is defeaning while you sit with him in the empty room, waiting for one of the medical professionals in the fatui to check on you.

He’s silent. It’s rare. He’s never been quiet for more than 5 minutes with you. He’s either complaining or attempting to make small talk a vast majority of the time, typically the former. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t even stare at you like he always does. You’re about to break the silence before the harbinger breaks it for you.

“You don’t look okay.” He doesn’t look at you, his vision trained on the white tile at his feet.

“Yeah. you struck me with lightning.”

…

“oh.”

It doesn’t hit you until he releases a quiet ‘oh’ from his mouth. Something you probably know better than anyone else that has been on teyvat within his 500 year lifespan.

This man can not say sorry.

“oh? Oh? Kunikuzushi put your pride away for one second.” you don’t try to hide the frustration in your voice. You truly did not mind the eccentricities the puppet in front of you holds, you never did, not even when you first met him.

He still doesn’t answer but you can see the way his face winces and widens in the same moment. Seems he got way too accustomed to ‘Kuni’ and ‘Scara’ to remember that you do in fact remember his given name.

“What else should I say to you? I’ll strike harder next time?” He isn’t getting mad, he was only infuriated earlier, but not now. You can see his demeanor start changing. Whether it be in the direction you want it to go, you’re not sure yet.

“Maybe a sorry? An apology? A “oh forgive me [Name] I love you so much?” He doesn’t answer you, he only scoffs and fall back onto the back of his chair. You don’t miss the way his fingers dig into the cloth of his clothing, probably using it as a replacement for human skin.

The man can’t breathe, but you can hear him inhale and exhale before his next words.

“i don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to- well not at you.” It comes out softer than the other words hes said to you the entire period of time in the room. His eyes are finally off the floor, trying their best to maintain contact with your own.

Once again, all thats left between the space of you two, is silence. You look away from him for a moment, fiddling with the blanket draped over your legs. You’d like to assume that’s the closest you’ll get to an ‘I’m sorry from him’, but you can’t accept that, so you don’t reply. Ever since waking up, you never were able to see the scars on your body, only the ones on your arms. You wonder if they look hideous.

Your hand reaches behind you to your back, your fingers grazing whatever part you assume suffers scarring.

“Are you worried about how it looks?”

“No, not at all, fighting is commonplace in the fatui.”

“Lying isn’t good, you told me that yourself didn’t you?” Damn him and his pristine memory. You can never remember where you leave your keys yet he can remember things you’ve said to him years ago?

…

“No matter how scarred and beaten you are you’re still [Name] are you not?” With the way he’s looking at you, you’re sure this is another thing he’d want to keep out of the publics knowledge. “Even without your face i’d strike someone down for you in an instant.”

“Oh like you did to me?”

“…” Seems the sweet moment was ruined. You don’t mind though, it’s funny to you.

———

The weeks that followed still held some tension. You’d refused to see him for awhile. When asked by some trembling lower subordinate, one in which the harbinger had personally sent, why you weren’t seeing him, your reply made the soldier fear for his own downfall.

“He’s insufferable right now. I’ll talk to him when he shows me he’s not a man child who can’t admit his faults.” You’ve always been able to put up with his outbursts, but right now, you realize maybe you should turn up your attitude with him.

After that unfortunate event, not unfortunate for you, for the fatuss, your days have seemingly been more dull. You’ve forgotten just how eccentric the balladeer is. Waking up never seemed so boring, the puppet would either be by your side in the early mornings, or knocking on the door ready to whisk you away.

Seems that routine is coming back.

“Oh? Have you finally swallowed your ego-“

“I’m sorry.”

Seems he couldn’t go any longer without you, how sweet.

———

Tagging this, I was super confused if this could be characterized as angst w/ comfort or fluff. I just did both though.

[turcott3]

west side

lando norris x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, alcohol, smut, p in v, creampie, and ofc as per usual!!!!! fluff!!!!!

positions fics masterlist

~i’m gonna make you want more, i’m gonna be your new favorite~

-

you laid on the couch with a glass of wine, chatting with lando, who you became friends with through your cousin. the two of you had grown somewhat close, however, you always felt a bit of tension when you were together, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. the two of you sat watching youtube downing drinks. you were already past the point of a buzz, you were a bit tipsy. both of you were.

“i feel like i haven’t had sex in so long.”

“lando is the middle of the season, that checks out.” you laugh.

“yeah but like, it kinda sucks.”

“you like to get your dick wet huh?” you laugh.

“yep, no shame in it.” he admits confidently.

“you wanna know something crazy?” you say picking up your glass.

“hit me.”

“a man has never made me finish.”

“really?” he gasps.

“nope, only i’ve been able to accomplish that shit myself.” you say, face slightly pink at the fact that you admitted that to him.

“wow.” he scoffs.

“i wish i knew what it felt like to cum at the hands of someone else.” you continue, digging yourself a deeper hole.

“well i can show you, if you want.” he states taking a sip. you didn’t know why, but suddenly your heart dropped.

“oh uh, i mean you dont have to-“

“maybe i want to? i’m not pity fucking you y/n. you’re gorgeous.” he replies. you couldn’t help the blush that creeped onto your face at his words. you scooted close to him boldly, taking his face into your hands, connecting your lips lazily. you could taste the alcohol on both of your breaths, becoming more intoxicated by the second. not more drunk, but more horny.

“lay down for me sweetheart.” he states as you pull away. you pull your shirt over your head, exposing yourself to him. you lay back and he crawls over you, attaching his lips to your neck as your fingers pulled at his curls.

“lando please.” you beg, tugging at the brunette’s curls lightly. he pulls away giggling.

“so anxious.” he teases, helping you pull your pants off before discarding all of his own. you scanned his dark, toned body up and down, observing the way the light hit all of his muscles perfectly. you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. maybe the tension you couldn’t land you mind on, was sexual all along.

“i wanna do this the right way. so before you ask, no, i’m not eating you out. as much as i want to.” he smirks, leaning over you attaching your lips.

“don’t care, just want you in me.” you mumbled as you watched him rub himself hard.

“what’s that pretty girl?” he replies not hearing you.

“lan please, fuck me.” you say just a little louder and he smirks. he sits up positioning himself between your legs, running his hard cock through your folds before pushing himself into your wet pussy.

“god so wet for me huh princess?” he giggles as you attempt to gain your composure. you grip onto his shoulders as your head remained still between his hands that were on either side of you. he thrusted into you deeply, wrapping your legs around his hips. so far everything felt good. with every thrust he stretched you to a new level, his tip brushing the sensitive spot in your core.

“fuck lando.” you moan out.

“yeah you like that huh?” he grunts and all you can do is nod. your nails dug into his shoulders harshly. your moans beginning to be drowned out by the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he picked up his speed. he brought his lips to yours to quiet you down as your moans became yelps.

“shhh baby, you’re gonna wake up the neighbors.” he coos in your ear before replanting his lips onto yours. his kiss had become addicting to you, almost more so than the way his dick was pounding into you. he pulled out of you to roll over and get up on all fours, he plunged back into you easily, fucking you deeper and harder than before. you were a moaning mess, tears welling up in your eyes.

“oh my god.” you say. the familiar feeling of your orgasm was close. closer than you thought. it came out of nowhere.

“you gonna cum for me?” he smirks.

“fuck yes i think i a- oh my god.” you begin, interrupted by an orgasm ripping through your abdomen.

“good girl.” he mutters in your ear, slowing down his thrusts as you began to come down, your legs quivering slightly.

“oh my god, you made me fucking cum.” you giggle as he came to a stop, pulling out of you.

“told you.” he smirks.

“you’re fucking incredible.” you say grabbing onto his face and bringing him in for a deep kiss.

“too bad i didn’t get my turn.” he frowns jokingly.

“now hold on, that would be unfair of me. sit down.” you say and he does as he’s told. you straddle his hips shakily, sinking yourself onto him. you felt yourself get horny all over again. he placed his hands on your hips, assisting you in bouncing up and down on his thick cock. you knew he wasn’t gonna last long at the way he grunted every time you came down. you laid a kiss on his lips, lingering until you felt his cock twitch and spill his climax deep into you. you fucked him until he was dry.

“fucking hell.” he grunts leaning his head back to look at the ceiling.

“fuck this is gonna be messy.” you groan realizing the mess you’d make once you stood up.

“i mean you could just not move.” he suggests, his brain currently replaced by dick.

“very funny.” you reply slapping him lightly on the chest as you pull him out of you, the mixture of your climaxes forming a small puddle around the base of his cock. you dropped to your knees, sucking him clean of the juices, his jaw dropping at the sight.

“better?” you reply wiping your mouth.

“uh huh.” he replies, no words forming.

“uh here’s your clothes, i know you have practice tomorrow i don’t wanna keep you all night.” you reply picking his clothes up off the floor. you weren’t sure why you felt the need to tell him he could leave. you knew you cared about him but you didn’t know his feelings towards you.

shit for all you knew you liked him. after all he was the only man that knew how to make you finish. he was your new favorite.

“is it alright if i stay?” he asks, scratching the back of his head.

“oh uh- yes of course. i just wasn’t sure that you’d want to.”

“of course i do, what do you think this is? i didn’t fuck you out of pity, i told you that.” he giggles pulling his boxers back on and laying back on the couch.

“come here pretty girl.” he says opening his arms to you as you pulled your baggy tshirt over your head. you positioned yourself between his legs, laying your head on his chest as he strokes your hair.

“i’m glad you didn’t want to leave.” you mumble.

“what was that?”

“i’m glad you didn’t want to leave.” you state louder, leaning up to look at him. he replies by guiding your lips back to his, his tongue plunging into your mouth with ease.

“so what do we do now?” you reply giggling, pulling away from him.

“you busy tomorrow? i got a paddock pass.” he smiles.

“i’ll clear my schedule.” you blush, laying your head against his chest, dozing off to the sound of his slow heart beat and the feeling of his fingers running delicately through your hair.

“sweet dreams my pretty girl.” he whispers, that being the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

-

[im-ovulating]

(A/n: I got a new laptop so I can officially say goodbye to my sis's pc and get on your smut requests lmao)

(Istg my blog is just Obey me and Twilight at this point lmao; I do write for other fandoms I promise😅)

Word Count: 1,434

Summary- NSFW headcanons for our favorite boys + dick analysis

Warnings: Shibari, Creampie, Blowjobs, Throat Fucking, Choking, Belly Bulge, Tit Washing/Cumming on Chest

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Obey Me Brothers NSFW Headcanons

-----------------------

Lucifer-

Dick analysis:

6 1/2 inches and girthy

He has two thick veins running along either side, leading all the way to his mushroomed tip

Speaking of tips- his is almost constantly a pretty rose shade, just in between pink and red

He doesn't like mess and that translates to his body hair as well

He keeps himself nicely trimmed -not too much hair, but not clean shaven

The exception is his happy trail; he doesn't think his hair should come above his pants waistline

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves to tie you up and watch you fall apart on his cock -the only mess he'll tolerate

Lucifer is a master at shibari

He'll have you laid up on his bed with the most beautifully crafted knots pressing just tight enough into your skin as he plows into you

His favorite way to tie you up is on your back, arms tie up and behind your head with your thighs roped to your chest

It's perfect in every way: The satin sits beautifully against your skin as it exposes your pretty, fluttering hole to him.

Let's not forget his favorite part of all- he gets to see your gorgeous face, hot with embarrassment at being so exposed mixing with the way your mouth falls in to an 'o' as he finally sinks into you

Absolutely does slow deep thrusts

He knows how torturous it is, especially after he's wound you up so tight

He is just sadistic enough to ignore his own edging just to rile you up to your limit

-

Mammon-

Dick analysis:

7-8 inches and thin

He has a pretty narrow base with a larger head

Not quite a mushroom tip, but still flared

His tip sits at the same color as the rest of his length

He definitely shaves, at most he'll have a small patch of hair right at his base

Other than that, he keeps it clean shaven

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves downward doggy style

He loves being able to hit all the deep spots inside you as he presses your face into the pillows with a hand at the back of your neck

His thrusts are erratic and fast

With just enough control to have that coil tighten in your belly

He might not be the thickest, but he damn sure knows how to use his length to his advantage

He knows just how to make you crumble with his cock

If you can get pregnant, you better be on the pill, because he loves cumming deep inside you, watching as it squelches out around his base

His second favorite thing is watching his cum ooze out of you

It just means he gets to fuck it back into you

-

Leviathan-

Dick analysis:

About 5-6 inches and average girth

He rarely trims -just enough to keep his pubes under control without having to constantly go at them with scissors or a trimmer

He has a thick vein along the bottom of his cock that spiders out the closer you get to the tip

His tip is a pretty purple shade that gets darker the harder he is

This boy has h e a v y balls

He has breeder balls through and through

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves being in your mouth

There's something about the way you sit so prettily in front of him, sucking him off as he plays a game

The lewd sounds of your spit mixing with his precum egging him on to finish this boss quicker so he can properly fuck your throat

Once he finishes the level, his hand is in your hair, holding you in place as he bucks his hips into your face

If he's super lost to the pleasure or upset, his tip is pushing down your throat, creating a bulge with each thrust

He doesn't care if you're gagging around him

Just finish him off like a good little pet, hmm?

-

Satan-

Dick analysis:

6 inches and thick

He doesn't have any prominent veins but it almost bulges in the middle before tappering back down near the tip

Speaking of, his tip is deep red -almost maroon

He slightly curves to the left

Does not care about hair

He just lets it grow how it was intended

It grew there for a reason, why would he touch it?

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves taking you from behind while on your sides

He can simultaneously hike your leg up and choke you at the same time

What's not to like?

Not to mention the stunning arch of your back when he slams into that special spot

Or the way your head throws back, giving him unrestricted access to the column of your throat

If he's more into his feels, he'll hold you chest to chest as he grinds slow and deep into you

He loves to cum on your ass

There's just something about the way it drips down the curve of your cheeks that has his cock standing at attention again almost immediately

-

Asmodeus-

Dick analysis:

He's around 5 inches with an average girth

The shaft of his dick is a pale cream color that contrasts perfectly with his pretty pink tip

His tip is extra sensitive, the slightest touch has his dick twitching

The shaft has just the slightest curve upwards

The perfect angle for both reaching all your favorite spots and for getting jerked off

Definitely shaves all of his pubes

Why would he want to hide himself when his cock is just so pretty?

NSFW Headcanons:

Asmo loves all positions, but there's something special about missionary to him

Whether it's being able to see the pleasure he's giving to his partner or them being able to bask in the perfection that is his 'o' face

Maybe it's a mix of the two (It's mostly the latter)

He lets out the most serene sounds you'll hear in your life as he draws similar sounds from you

Doesn't matter if he's giving or receiving, it'll be the best time of your life, don't you worry

-

Beelzebub-

Dick analysis:

A solid 9, maybe 10, inches with a monstrous girth

He has a large vein that runs down the top that splits into a 'Y' shape as it nears the head

He's got a bigger base and shaft with a narrow head

His tip is a light purple-bordering red

He lightly trims his hair every other week

Except his happy trail -He maintains that to be the perfect trail starting just below his belly button and leading down to his v-line

Luckily for you, Beel's a shower not a grower

NSFW Headcanons:

He loves fucking you against a wall or on desks/counters

Hard and fast or slow and steady doesn't really matter to him

He just wants to fuck you

Don't get me wrong- he knows how to match the mood, he just doesn't have a preference

His preference is simply being inside you

Well, as inside of you as he can get

Most of the time, you can only fit a little more than half of him in you

Even that has a borderline uncomfortable stretch

Is kind of a sadist in that he loves to push down on the bulge that forms in your stomach

Doesn't mind pulling out if you want him to

Give him the chance, though, and he's nutting inside you, tip just inside your fluttering hole as it desperately tries to pull him back in

-

Belphegor-

Dick analysis:

6-7 inches with average girth

Definitely has a c-shape to it

He has a slight vein down the underside

Has a couple freckles along the length

Another member of the no-shave-club

He just doesn't care if there's hair or not

If you ask, he might trim it but otherwise it's as au naturel as you can get

His tip is generally the same color as his shaft, maybe a shade or two darker

NSFW Headcanons:

Whatever positions that require the least amount of effort are his favorite

His top ones being both cowgirl and reverse cowgirl

Don't let that fool you, he's still in control

Hands griping your hips in a bruising vice as he fucks you dumb

Edging is his absolute favorite thing to do to you

It doesn't require too much energy

All he has to do is still you once he notices your bouncing becoming more erratic

If he's not too exhausted, he'll have you on your back as he relentlessly pounds into you

He really only works on finishing you once he's had at least one orgasm (refer back to the edging)

His favorite places to cum are in you and on your chest

He likes watching your chest rise and fall as you gasp for breath and seeing his cum dribble down your torso

[tobiasdrake]

Fun Fact: Goku fights smarter. Vegeta fights harder.

As a martial artist, Goku's developed and cultivated his skills over the course of his life, mastering a variety of creative techniques and, more importantly, honing his mind. A quick-thinking and analytical counter-fighter, Goku prides himself on a creative and clever dismantling of his adversary's capabilities.

This is where Goku excels as a fighter. He's a formidable martial artist in his own right but when pressured, he falls back on a generally high understanding of violence and a creative mind for opening solutions. He reads his opponent's style and abilities, finds its weaknesses, and exploits them.

This, incidentally, is part of what what made Majin Buu such an insurmountable hurdle for him.

Majin Buu is a taffy monster made of magic who defies even this universe's conventional physics. He has no fighting style; He just does things, and his infinitely regenerative body and supreme liquid flexibility leaves no weaknesses to exploit.

He cannot be fought the way Goku fights.

For his own style, Goku has one particular signature technique and a couple other moves he's picked up from others. His mainstay is the Kamehameha. But he's innovated a wide variety of ways in which the Kamehameha can be used, based on the needs of his situation.

Goku's used the technique in a variety of ways, such as using it for propulsion instead of as an attack.

Bending it around the opponent's defense for a surprise attack.

Making stationary torpedos that he can fire at will to startle and disorient his adversary.

The coolest attack in Dragon Ball history YES I SAID IT. Learning to teleport? Cool. Kamehameha? Cool. Teleporting in while charging the Kamehameha in order to throw it directly under your opponent's guard before he even has an instant to react? Top-tier.

Point is, this is who Goku is as a fighter. Brilliant and innovative, bringing a great deal of cleverness and creativity to his fights. He breaks down his opponent's technique and adapts himself to the needs of the situation at hand.

Vegeta is also highly observant and analytical. Do not mistake me for calling him stupid. He makes plans of his own, and his greatest asset is his ability to follow everything happening on the field at once. It is next to impossible to get the drop on this man.

Vegeta pays attention.

Vegeta is always paying attention. He splits his focus incredibly well and quickly interprets what he's seeing and hearing with a critical eye. He misses nothing.

He is. Always. Paying attention. The one time someone actually managed to get the drop on him - and I cannot stress this enough - it was a person Vegeta did not know existed because he had not been a part of this battle up to this point.

Am I saying that Yajirobe's cowardice saved the world by not revealing his presence to Vegeta until this fateful moment? Yes. Yes, I am saying that. We literally have a counter-example from someone Vegeta did know and account for to contrast it with.

Vegeta is always paying attention. Unless he doesn't know you exist.

So. Yeah. Vegeta is incredibly brilliant and observant. But what he's not is a martial artist. Vegeta, instead, is a soldier. He's comfortable in the realm that overwhelming power creates.

Vegeta hits hard.

He hits very hard.

He hits very, very, VERY hard.

In fact, Vegeta hits harder than Goku does. That's not to say that Vegeta is stronger than Goku; Vegeta and Goku go back and forth on who's stronger in the given moment over the course of the series. But Vegeta's attacks are stronger than Goku's.

To understand what that means, you need to understand that certain kinds of ki attacks have a multiplying effects on their user's strength. Attacks such as the Kamehameha or the Makankosappo, which concentrate ki before firing it, produce a much greater level of ki than their user's standard power output.

When charging a Kamehameha, Goku's battle power reading on the Scouter rises dramatically. This is the secret of techniques like the Kamehameha: they concentrate ki into a point before releasing it all at once, like pulling the pin on a grenade.

As concentration moves go, the Kamehameha isn't actually that great. The versatility and creativity that Goku brings to it is what makes it so formidable. Pound for pound, it kinda sucks. Piccolo's Makankosappo here makes the Kamehameha look like noob shit.

This kind of ability is non-standard among ki attacks, which are typically like throwing long-range punches. In fact, it's super-rare among the Planet Trade to be able to do this. Raditz had never even heard of a move like this.

Vegeta had. He knew of exactly one.

I am so sorry to do this to you but we're going to have to talk about battle power numbers here for a moment. Vegeta's clocked at 18,000 BP as of his battle with Goku on Earth; it's brought up a few times in the Namek arc.

Goku, iconically, is OVER 9000 8000!!!

At the moment Vegeta and Goku's attacks meet, Goku is channeling the Kaio-ken x3 which is exactly what it sounds like. He's inflated the ki inside his body to 300% capacity. The drawback is that his body is now an overinflated balloon ready to pop at any moment from all this swelled and bloated ki inside of him. But the gain is that he's outputting 300% power.

At this point in time, Vegeta has a battle power of 18,000. Goku, formerly >8,000 is now >>>24,000. Goku, further, is using the Super Kamehameha rather than the regular one he used against Raditz, which brings with it a higher level of power multiplication.

Nonetheless, the Galick Gun is winning against the Super Kamehameha. Goku is forced to resort to a x4 Kaio-ken - which does leave his body utterly destroyed and incapable of continuing the fight - in order to have enough power to overcome a superior magnification from a weaker opponent.

We see another direct comparison between the two in the Cell arc. That killer Warp Kamehameha fired point-blank into Cell when he least suspects it, which hits him dead-on and unloads its absolute maximum power into him? It does this.

Brutal. If Cell didn't have both Frieza's ability to survive ludicrous levels of harm and Piccolo's regeneration, it would have been over right here. Meanwhile, a glancing blow from Vegeta's Final Flash left him looking like this.

Despite Vegeta being far less powerful than Goku was when he fired that move, the effect is about the same - With implication that if Vegeta hadn't pulled the Final Flash back at the last second to avoid destroying the Earth, he would have erased Cell completely.

Goku's shot hit Cell point-blank and full-on to do about as much damage, albeit with deadlier aim in terms of killing a humanoid being.

This is the distinction between Goku and Vegeta as fighters. Vegeta is very smart, and Goku is very strong. Neither of them is lacking in intelligence or power. But they are philosophically very different fighters.

Pound for pound, Vegeta's moves hit harder than Goku's. He is the unparalleled master in taking the power he has and channeling it into as much destructive force as humanly possible.

On the flipside of that coin, when backed into a corner, Vegeta falls back on outputting as much direct force as he can. Goku gets to thinking his way around the problem at hand and devising a creative answer.

Goku is a surgical scalpel. Vegeta is a warhammer.

[eli0004]

Okay. So I loved loved loved your relationship HC canons. They were so well written and I loved him❤

But can I also request Levi falling in love HCs? Like I can imagine him being in love but for the love of God I can not imagine how he would fall in love with someone. Like what certain characteristics would he like? Bold? Calm? Sunshine? Introverted? And how will he be attracted to them? Would it be easy for him to accept his feelings or will he be in denial?

Like please please please.... I love the way you write Levi. So please.

-🌼

Absolutely! I love this topic actually, it’s something I’ve thought a lot about! 🖤 I hope you enjoy!

Genre: Fluff

Summary: How does Levi Ackerman fall in love, and what is his ideal type?

Warnings: None, maybe some talk of insecurity?

Levi is a December Capricorn. December Caps are known for being highly emotional, but struggling with emotional expression. They’re also usually very uptight and disciplined, and tend to take a practical approach when dealing with situations as opposed to flying by the seat of their pants. Obviously these traits are pretty accurate to Levi’s character. A Capricorn’s most ideal match are typically Taurus or Virgos. Commonly known Tausus/Virgo traits are passion, stubbornness, dependability, logic and communication.

Now, obviously you don’t have to be a Taurus or Virgo to be loved by Levi, but think with that in mind, Levi would do best with someone who is very strong willed and independent. He’s not the type of guy who wants to be with someone he has to keep his eye on. Emotional maturity and practical thinking are very important traits to him when looking for a partner, and someone who can communicate well is very attractive to him, since he has a harder time putting his feelings into words.

He likes someone who is genuine, trustworthy and dependable. Someone who has a strong sense of justice and empathy, who defends and advocates for others when they are unable to defend themselves.

I think he likes a good mix of pessimism and optimism. He’s a pessimist himself, so if you’re too optimistic it may irritate him rather than help, he prefers someone who is more of a realist. Someone who doesn’t enable his negativity, but who helps him to think rationally instead.

Like i said before, i think Levi is a deeply emotional person. If you’re only looking surface level, it wouldn’t be obvious, but when you breakdown a lot of his character traits in the show itself, it’s pretty clear that he tends to be swayed by his emotions. I think he would know immediately when he falls in love.

He’s the type of guy who’s always in his head, he thinks a lot, visiting the past, pondering the future. When he starts to catch his pondering turning into fantasizing about a life with you, doing domestic things, and being cozy together, that’s when it hits him.

But I think he’s also deeply insecure, not so much about his looks, but his personality. His ability to love again after having lost so many people. Whether or not you deserve someone better. He’s used to being misread as unapproachable or mean, so somewhere along the way, i think he might have begun to believe those things.

I think it would mean a lot to him if you just treated him like a normal person. Not humanities strongest, not mean or unapproachable, or someone to be pitied for his struggles. Just let him be Levi, and praise him for who he is in his soul.

All that said, i don’t think he would be the one to make a move 💀 because he’s so in his head, i think he’d be too worried that he’s misread the situation and that you don’t see him that way, perhaps you’re just being nice. He’s extremely oblivious to flirting.

But if you catch on first and decide to shoot your shot, he will be absolutely flabbergasted. He’s looking over his shoulder like “do you mean- are you talking to me?” Before that moment, he’s mostly convinced that he’ll be pining in silence for the rest of your lives.

Levi blushes. A lot. He’s very pale in complexion, so the smallest bit of flirting or teasing has heat spreading over his face, and it’s painfully obvious.

So when you’ve got him face to face, telling him how you feel about him, he may not be able to respond in beautiful poetic words, but his body language is enough to tell you how he feels.

He won’t make eye contact, he’s all red faced and bouncing his leg and gripping his teacup with so much force, you’d think it was going to crumble. And oh- what’s that? An ever-so- subtle, happy little grin; completely involuntary, he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. He feels boyish and vulnerable, but it’s strangely nice.

Your relationship with Levi is not a secret, but it is private. He values your time together, as it helps him to decompress. He all but melts in your embrace after a particularly hard day, and It’s crucial that you respect his desire for privacy, the level of raw emotion and vulnerability with these new experiences is something that he’s entrusted you with and that means everything to him.

And on the subject of new experiences, the more you handle him with care and allow him to process his feelings without judgment, the less he’ll worry about not being good enough, and you’ll find that he’s a very good and attentive lover.

Even still, you’ll find from time to time that reassurance is something Levi needs like he needs air to breathe, and this can come in the form of many things, like remembering little details about the things he loves, taking care of some of his responsibilities when he’s feeling overwhelmed, quiet touches when he lacks the energy to speak.

Having someone who sees him for who he is and loves all his broken pieces is what Levi finds comfort in while he’s nestled in your arms at night, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Would it be possible to read what happened during Phantom's mating season peak in The Bakery is a Front from Tim's POV? I just think the pure baffled energy that Tim would be radiating from being taken care of so nicely by his hot kidnapper from another dimension would be hilarious. Really the whole kidnapping had to have been a better experience than some of the galas Tim has been forced to attend; at least definitely the best kidnapping he has ever experienced, 10/10 would be kidnapped again.

It happens so fast.

One second he's suffering through Danny's overdose, and the next, the dead body in his arms is leaping over Bruce and trapping Damian in an iron-clad grip.

Jason and Dick react the fastest, but it does nothing to someone who can density shift. Tim can only watch Danny sobs on top of Damian, speaking in a strange dialect. It sounded like cracking ice every time he wailed.

"Unhand me!" Damian grunts snaping a knife into Danny's side. Despite the apparent red spot growing on Danny's shirt, the other man doesn't flatter in his movements in the slightest. He squeezes harder, but it doesn't seem like he's trying to hurt Damian. If anything, it looks like he's...cradling him? Yes, it did in fact, seem like Danny is attempting to cradle Damian like a baby.

What on earth-?

"Shit! Danny put him down!" A new voice shouts. Three women and a man burst into the room. Tim has yet to learn where they come from, but Bruce wastes no time throwing a pair of Batbolas at them. It hits the target on the man and the red hair women, tangling their legs and knocking them off.

The man yelps while the woman grunts, throwing her arms in front of her in an obviously trained reaction. She can't stop herself from falling all the way, but her reflex is nothing to scoff at.

She doesn't seem to care as she shouts at the drug dealer. "Daniel Fenton, you let that boy go right now! Are you listening to me?"

"Danny is not here right now."

Tim jerks his head in his fake boss' direction watching in horror as the man's usual blue starts glowing green, and his dark hair bleeds into white. There is an unnatural glow emanating from under his skin that makes him appear so beautiful Tim loses his train of thought for a moment.

This transformation seems a bit too much to just be a meta-gene activation. Is Danny....not human?

One of the women- who looks like a younger female version of Danny- blasts him with a zap of green from her hand. It reminds him of Starfire, but while his friend's blast is nothing but heat, the green of the girl seems more light than flame.

He drops, unconscious, letting go of Damian. The newcomers relax when the goth-looking one kneels next to him and presses her hands against his neck. Danny appears returns to the human one Tim is used to in another quick blink of an eye. "No pulse!"

"Thank goodness." The red hair, one says, sitting up. It's then that Tim realizes it's Jazz. The one that talked down Jason and the rest of Danny's men not even two weeks ago. So neither left of the siblings left overseas? How had they tricked Babs? "No pulse means he's still in his mating season. Quick we have to get him quarantined again before-"

"You are not going anywhere!" Jason growls, leveling his gun at her. Jazz blinks down the barrel, then raises a brow. It reminds Tim of Alfred when the man found his hidden coffee machine- disgusted, disappointed, but most of all, unimpressed.

His brother sneers. "I want to know what is happening here and I want to know now!"

"Can you not read?" Jazz returns, speaking as if an annoying customer demands a service she can not provide. "I put up signs that clearly said Quarantine do not enter around Danny's house. Why do you think that is? Oh, maybe, it means to leave this area alone."

"You bats are lucky we got here when we did," The man says, trying to twist out his binds. It's not going too well, as a few electric mobiles slip out of his pockets. "The only way to snap the human side of Danny out of his daze is by making him deny his obsession which is something I hate doing."

What?

"I hate hitting him too" The girl with the energy blasts pouts "I makes my stomach turn."

She twists at her waist seconds before Damian's foot swings through the air, where her head was only seconds before. She sidesteps his three other attacks, face twisting into a sneer. "Hey! Back off! We don't share the same obsession!"

"Silence wrench!" Damian sneers, which makes her even angrier.

"Make me, you wannabe pirate!" the girl hisses, and it's then that Tim realizes they may even be the same age. She is doing a masterful job of barely being out of Damian's deadly reach.

"Don't hurt him, Elle!" Jazz shouts, "Things are already complicated enough-"

The goth woman screams as she is suddenly launched into the air, slamming into Bruce and cutting off the redhead. Dick rushes to the now-standing Danny, aiming a barrage of attackers that the man easily slips through. Bruce throws the woman off him, slamming her against the wall and knocking her out in the same action. The man screams as Jason shoots out his kneecaps and Tim-

Tim suddenly finds himself unable to think as large green eyes overtake his vision. Danny's eyes and hair are bleeding in and out of different colors as the man stares at him. "Mate...."

Tim's mouth dries, and his eyes are drinking in the man. He knows he should be doing something, but Tim can't remember what he should be-.

"TIM!" Dick screams, snapping him out of his daze, and....oh, Tim is falling. Danny- or whatever is pretending to be Danny- has pushed him by pressing his hands against his chest and shoving him through a portal.

Danny is watching his drop with a soft smile, that is at odds with Jason appearing at his side with guns blazing.

Tim drops onto a pile of soft snow- or what he thinks is snow. It looks like it, soft like a fresh full pillow, but it's not cold. If anything, it's the perfect temperature to nap in.....he's exhausted. When was the last time Tim slept? He can't remember.

His eyes are getting heavy. His body is going boneless.....he has never been so comfortable in his whole life....is this what it feels like to rest on a cloud...

Tim blinks, around the room trying to fight the urge to give into the darkness, and he notes that he seems to be in a castle made entirely of ice and snow...like Danny's home.....he also appears to be in a tower? The windows are shaped like one.

Tim takes note of the sky being a bright green color which is..odd, but that's all he can think clearly as he finally goes under.

_________________________________________

It feels like he only closes his eyes for a second when Tim is startled awake by a scream of rage. Jerking away, he sits up, trying to gather his bearings. He needs to find out where he is and where his gear is.

Tim pulls on the crotcheted sweater he's been stuffed into, breathing a sigh of relief when he realizes his Red Robin outfit is still on underneath. He climbs out of the bed made entirely of snow, flickering his eyes about.

He's covered head to toe in other crotchety objects- pants, sweater, socks, gloves, a scarf, and a hat- all big enough to fit comfortably against him and his vigilante costume. Raising a hand to his face, he touches the smooth leather of his trusted mask.

Right. Danny let him keep his secret identity intake. That's... something.

He glances around his surroundings again, this time for sure, that his in some type of castle covered in ice. It's beautiful, like something out of a Disney movie with shiny crystal frozen designs everywhere. He carefully makes his way to the window, looking out into a far darker green of a sky.

He squints into the distance seeing acres and acres of a vast castle and land, but on the far right, there seems to be a drop....a cliff? Or the edge of this island. For you see, he could make out flouting doors and islands in the sky.

This differently wasn't his earth.

Danny, not being human, was becoming more and more plausible.

"Release me!" A voice echo. Damian.

Tim slams the door open, sprinting down the hall toward his younger brother's distress calls. It's a castle; even if everywhere he turns, it seems to be a frozen wonderland.

There are ice sculptures of Danny between every large ice pillar. They portray him as Tim usually is used to or as a being with a tail instead of legs mid-flight. There are portraits of various people hanging on the walls- he can make out Jazz and the others that busted into Danny's apartment- but there all encased in ice.

There are no guards, so when Tim sprints down a giant stairway, he is hyper-aware of his footsteps echoing on the cracking ice. He rounds the hallway, then stumbles to a stop at the sight before him.

It was Danny. At least, he thinks so. The being had a strong resemblance to him, but his skin had a slight blueish hue, his ears were pointed, his hair was pure white, he was glowing, and most of all, he didn't have legs.

The sculptures hadn't been a artistic choice Danny in this form had a tail and he was flying around a restrain Damian.

His brother was in a gaint baby doorway jumper, encased in what looked like a snow swaddle.

Damian is also covered head to toe in crochet clothing, but his Robin costume peaks from underneath it. Danny was flying around him, placing piles of snow on the ground around the struggling child, making noises like creaking ice and purring when he came close to pat Damian.

It also looked like Danny....was nesting with Damian in the center of it.

What in the world?

"I'll have your head!" Damian sneers as Danny gently places a bear beanie on his head. " I am not a child!"

"My baby" Danny coos, then starts making more cracking noise. He rubs his head against Damian like a cat which causes the boy to grimace.

Tim needs to get him out of there. He looks around for a weapon, but his gear doesn't seem near him. The only thing he can possibly use is the ice around the walls-

"Crackle, crack, Clank, Click!" Danny suddenly says in his face. He crossed the room at the same speed Bart would have, or maybe faster since he didn't even see a blur. Tim jerks back, but the glowing figure is already reaching out-.

He places a scarf around his neck with an adorable head tilt.

"Drake! Run! He'll swaddle you!"Damian screams, but Tim can't look away. He's so beautiful. Danny's bright green eyes, sparkling with the stars of the universe, and his lips are so full, he bets they would be perfect to kiss- is someone purring? Tim could fall asleep to that sound- it must be a white noise machine-!

He snaps his eyes open, shocked to find himself back in the original room.

Tim is back in the damn nest. Confused, he blinks around the room, noticing the sky is bright again and that he's tucked into the bed with great care. He's never felt more rest, so he knows he just spends hours sleeping.

He doesn't even remember getting moded, damn it.

""Red Robi- can you- where are you- report!" Tim's eyes widened when he realized Bruce's voice. It's his communicator! He scrambles out of the bed, straining his ears. "Re-Rob-in!""

There! His earpiece is in one of the ice crystals hanging from the ceiling. Miraculously it's still working, as he can barely make out Bruce's shouts. After four kicks of the crystal, he breaks it down, shattering it on the ground.

He quickly places it back into his ear. "Batman, I'm here!"

"Thank goodness!" An unknown woman says, making Tim flatter for only a moment. "Listen to me, my name is Sam, and right now, there is only one way to escape Danny's mating season without bloodshed. See, Phantom is in control right now, which means his obsession is at its highest. What does Danny not deem important enough to protect? Himself."

" We have to snap him out of it by having those under his protection stand up to him and....hit him. Anybody attacks will confuse Phantom so much the human side of Danny will be forced to take the front." Another female voice puts it. Jazz. She sounds unhappy, as she admits. "A punch to the head, or slap or something, just one from enough people under his protection will freeze Phantom for a moment."

Tim frowns. "I have no idea what you mean. How will that help get us away?"

"Well, we have a plan for that," A man says wearily. The one with all the electronics. "You may not like it...but we must get you to sacrifice yourself for Robin's freedom."

His siblings start shouting over the communicator but Jazz silence everyone with her explanation.

A very long explanation of ghosts, cores, and obsessions, but the gist is that Phantom and Danny's balance was disruptive, so the only way was to cause his human side to get clarification was by presenting Phantom with a paradox.

Phantom will protect all. Danny will allow anyone to hurt him because of his terrible self-esteem. Hence Phantom will not know if it should defend them when it's Danny in danger but it will pull at his core because something is still under attack in front of him.

However, as ghost king, Danny is crazy strong, so they need to attack with something Phantom would never try to defend himself from. His sister and two best friends suddenly slapping or punching him? Phantom would typically react by beating them away, but that would mean hurting the beings he exists to protect.

That's just the physical aspect of it too. Tim's sacrifice would pull at Danny's human emotions while Phantom would panic about needing to save Tim from the ghost he was sacrificed to. Which would be himself.

It should snap them both by tugging them in two different directions of their instincts.

Tim wonders if it will work-

He wakes up to Phantom purring and messaging his sore muscles. To his left is a feast of all of Tim's favorites. Even though he is the elite of Gotham, he's never been so pampered in his life.

Dang, it better work. Tim is getting far too comfortable in this castle. He may never want to leave.

"Phantom if you let my brother go ill be your mate."

"!" Phantom pauses then let's out a sound that sounds like twinkling bells glowing so bright he could be a star

"Only If you accept me as a sacrifice in exchange for my brother's freedom" Tim holds his break then jumps at the sound of shattering glass that comes from Phantom's mouth.

He blinks a few moments, fighting himself, until Phantom nods determined. "Mate will bring children. I need children."

"Ugh sure pal. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal"

It's a weird Tuesday.

Damian is home ten minutes later, and within the hour, Phantom overloads from the paradox.

Tim opens a portal home that night, and Danny sleeps through the rest of his mating season, going under when Phantom and he fights about Tim's fate.

[webshooterrr9]

Stamina

Volleyball AU, in which Miguel is your teammate

pairing: outsidehitter!Miguel x setter!reader

Word count: 1.8k

CW: explicit 18+ content, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, dry humping, praise, arguing because they're both stubborn as hell

fic under the cut!!

The year is 2099, national sports teams are now gender-integrated, making it harder to get a spot on the team, since you have twice the amount of competition. Not to mention that volleyball is a sport heavily influenced by height, and although you’re pretty tall for a female, you’re going up against men who are almost 7’0" or above.

Luckily you placed on the USA team, marking your place as an incredible setter. Now, you’re two years in and preparing for the next Olympics.

During your team practice today, you got into an argument with your outside hitter, Miguel O’hara. You and your teammates were in the middle of running a 6.2 lineup, when you messed up a set towards Miguel. It wasn’t a huge issue at first, people mess up all the time, even at Olympic levels, but the screw ups kept happening. After practice was over, and all the other teammates left the gym, he spoke.

“Are you stupid?” Miguel clenches his fists as you two argue, his uniform sticking tightly to his muscular torso.

You gaze at his tall frame, beads of sweat dripping down his face from an intense practice. You had admired his physique during practice many times before, but you didn’t have time to ogle over him now, not when you were arguing like this.

“Am I stupid? You’re stupid! All of your receives today sucked, you only made it to the ball in time when you had to hit!” your hands find their way to your hips as you shout.

“And your sets have been trash! I could barely get a good hit in the whole time!” Miguel yelled as he stepped towards you. He looked almost intimidating, but you weren’t scared. This wasn’t the first time he had yelled at you before, and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, that didn’t mean that what he said didn’t piss you off.

“It’s a miracle you’re our main setter with how sloppy you were today.”

“Oh please, you’re lucky to even have your position. The only reason you’re a starter is because you’re a fucking tower.” That wasn’t true. He was an incredible player, but whatever.

You step closer to him, fists balled up just like his. There was a tension between you two, the anger rising. “At least I worked hard to get here, you just got your spot handed to you.” you spat.

Miguel was livid, his face was even more red now than it was from the workout. “Are you kidding me? I had to work for my spot just like everyone else. Your sets are the reason why I messed up today. I bet the coaches didn’t even choose you for your abilities, you probably just slept with them to get here.”

Oh hell no. “My sets are fucking incredible, you asshole!” you shove him. “I wouldn’t be on this team if they weren’t. I’m not a whore like you are.” you were all up in each other’s faces now, glaring at each other with the heat of a thousand suns. “You’re just a lousy snob who can’t adapt to your surroundings. Don’t project your high standards onto me.”

“I have every right to have high standards, we’re on the national team for God’s sake! I shouldn’t have to play cleanup for you all the time!” his muscular chest heaves with his anger, getting even more riled up than you were. So much for the strong, silent type.

“Play cleanup for me? I’m the one who has to play cleanup for you!”

Miguel just glares at you, fuming. You can see his gaze lingering down to your body, but you don’t know if it’s because he’s sizing you up or not. “Just admit it: you’re not good enough to be on this team.”

“I won’t admit to something that’s not true.” All the yelling almost made you out of breath, but you stood tall. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. “You don’t have the stamina to keep up with me… or anyone on this team for that matter.” you breathe out, glaring at him.

“Oh?”

Miguel’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned down to be eye-level with you. The truth was, his heart was pounding, he had never seen you so worked up before. The sweat shining on your forehead, the panting of your breath, and the fierce look in your eyes was a combo he had never seen before - not up close at least.

“You think I don’t have stamina?” his voice dropped just above a whisper, the question laced with a certain venom. “Try me, chiquita. I’ll show you stamina.”

Jesus Christ.

Oh he definitely did that on purpose. There was no way he made your heart race and thoughts cloud like this on accident. He knew what he said.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Your teammate looked at you in a way you had never seen from him before. His large hands, perfect for a front row player, find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him. But you wouldn’t make this easy for him.

“Don’t tempt me, muñeca.” he breathes, dipping his head right next to your ear.

Shit. Nevermind. I guess this would be easy for him.

When he pressed his lips to yours, ever so softly despite the attitude you were giving him, you didn’t reject it. The kiss progressed slowly, tentatively, the two of you unsure of how to explore the situation. The past two years of on-and-off pining for your arrogant teammate was paying off, but you never thought you’d get this far. His mouth kissed yours curiously, trying to read your feelings for him.

The gentleness of the kiss was short-lived, though, as the tension from earlier quickly returned to the surface. You took his face in your hands, cupping his jaw and pulling him closer to you. The inquisitive caress of his lips on yours became a stronger, messier, more desperate call for action. His hands wandered across your back, occasionally dipping down to grip the ass that was shaped by years of playing a lower body sport.

Much to your dismay, he broke away, panting. The flush on his cheeks and the thrumming of his heart was evidence of an excitement he hadn’t felt in a while now.

“You…” his finger lifted to twist a strand of your hair. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” you said back, completely captivated by the look in his eyes. He was staring at you like you were a goddess, like he was holding a piece of the sky in his hands.

“We can’t do this here,” he whispered. “Not on the court.”

“Let’s go back to your place, then,” you say, running your thumb over his cheeks. He absentmindedly leans into the touch. “You only live like ten minutes away, right?”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” he says.

“Well, you’ll just have to.”

“You like that, sweet girl?”

“God, yes…” you whined. He began to suckle on your clit, the pressure alone enough to make you see stars. You arched your core against his mouth as his tongue flicked over you, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him. You carded your fingers through his hair, reveling in the way it curled around your hands.

He moved lower and pushed his tongue into your entrance. He slipped one of his long fingers inside you, massaging your velvety walls in just the way you liked. The two of you moaned in tandem as he made his movements more precise, while grinding his needy bulge onto the pillow below him. You’ve never been with a guy who’d settle for humping a pillow, but Miguel seemed to focus on feasting on your cunt and hearing your pretty sounds to care too much about his own pleasure.

“God, Mig…!” you groaned, letting your head fall back against his sheets. He looked up at you from where he was settled between your legs, still fully clothed but with a look of pure wanton need in his eyes.

“That’s it, mami, let go for me…”

You moaned and writhed as he attached his mouth to your clit once more, pumping his fingers in and out of your entrance with fervor. You couldn’t stop yourself from clenching around his fingers. It was getting increasingly difficult to stop yourself from full-on riding his face. You whimpered as your orgasm slowly crept up on you. “Miguel…”

“Come on, baby, it’s okay…” he hummed against your core, the vibrations of his voice on your cunt making you twitch in delight. He seemed almost as needy as you, rutting against the pillow under him and chasing his high just as you were. “Cum on my face, baby, please.” your wetness was coating his lips and chin as he lifted his face to speak, and he quickly dived back down to eat you out. There was something so carnal in the way he pleaded for you to give into the pleasure he was giving you, the desperation in his voice to have you come undone.

The insane amount of precum seeping through his underwear was soaking his pillow as he thrusted against it, syncing up the timing with his fingers that were knuckle-deep in your pussy. The obscenely lewd sounds of his mouth working against your sex was enough to drive you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the mattress as your wave of pleasure crashed over you, your vision blurring and voice breaking into a sob.

Your toned thighs clenched around his head, trapping his face deep into your core. “God, Miguel… you feel so fucking good…”

Your praise was enough to send him into the throes of his own pleasure, his release soaking the pillowcase beneath him, just as yours had soaked his beautiful face. He pulled back from you, crying out your name as he finished.

The two of you were utterly spent.

After changing his cum-drenched boxers, and pillowcase, he came back to lie down next to you, slumping onto the soft sheets of his bed. You were still catching your breath from the passionate encounter, and so was he. Miguel pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and hugged your waist, pulling you close to him in a comfortable embrace.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby…” he murmurs into your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.”

“I’m sorry, too.” you reply, turning your head to face him. He looked more handsome than ever, a soft expression on his face that replaced his normally focused one. “You’re not a bad hitter. You’re our best, actually.”

“And you’re not a bad setter, chiquita. You’re wonderful.” Miguel smiles at you, planting another soft kiss on your skin.

“We should make this a regular thing,” he suggests, squeezing your waist.

“Don’t push it, guapo,” you laugh. “We’ll see how you behave next practice.”

“Deal.”

dividers by @cafekitsune

[madsnic1119]

Idk I’m having thots need them out (fem reader) I didn’t proof read this💀 aftercare at the end

He bent you over the counter, flipping you skirt up and pushing your panties to the side- too impatient to take them off. You hear him unzip his pants and undo his belt. He comes up behind you, slowly tracing your outer lips. He breaks the seal and slips his finger up to your clit

“OH-“ you say out of surprise not expecting him to press on your clit so suddenly

“I know baby- feels good huh?”

You nod not being able to form words with the pleasure he’s giving you. He presses and circles your clit a few more times. He pulls his fingers back a little to press them into you.

He slowly slips on finger in, all the way to his first knuckle. You clench around his finger- which is much larger than yours.

“Mmm”

“Can feel ya clenching around me love- fuck I can’t wait to fuck you” he grunts out

He pushes his one finger in and out a few times, slowly adding a second. Taking his time to stretch you out. No matter how many times you two have sex he makes sure to stretch you out as to not hurt you

“Please- please just fuck me” you pant “I need it so badly”

“I know bunny, but I need to stretch you out. Can’t hurt you- don’t want to hurt you my love” he says pressing a kiss to the back of your head after

He fingers you for a few more moments. Finally pulling his fingers out. You hear him hum and the sound of his fingers popping out of his mouth

“Fucking delicious love, could die happily eating you”

He pulls his cock from his pants. He presses the tip to your hole. You whimper wanting him to just push it in

“Shshshshhhh I know know baby- fuck” he says slowly pushing into you

You drop your head down to the counter, not having the strength to hold it up on your own

“Fuck bun you’re so tight, fuck will never get used to you pussy” he moans out

He finally bottoms out. Making sure he doesn’t hit your cervix (let’s be honest that probably hurts slamming into it). He pulls out slowly

He builds up a slow but mean full pace

“Mmmm harder- please faster. I need it so badly. Been waiting like a good girl. I promise I’m a good girl”

“I know baby- such a good girl for me” he says starting to go faster like you asked

He grabs your hips and pulls you up to his hips- making you level with him. As he does he starts hitting your G spot

You moan loudly

“Theeeeree it is- I found it” he chuckles out hitting your spot over and over again

“Such a good bunny for me” he groans after

He thrusts in and out of you as hard as he can while making sure to not hurt you. He keeps hitting that spot

His thrusts go sloppy, nearing his orgasm. He bands down- his head right next to yours. He circles your clit

“Ohhhh fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck- I-nmmmmnahh” you moan out

“I know baby- cum for me. Cover me in your cum bunny please” he begs

He keeps thrusting into you- going faster. You drop your jaw in a silent scream, cumming all over his cock. Closing your eyes and dropping your head back next to his

He oants into your heart- groaning at how good you feel. Useless babbles into your ear. He thrusts two more times frowning loudly finally hitting his orgasm. He pulls out and watches his cum fall out of you, down your thighs

He swipes his fingers in it before it hits your new thigh highs- not wanting to upset you with staining them. He pushes his fingers in your mouth

“Good girl”

He pulls you up gently. Making sure you’re steady. You tuck your head under his chin/ into his chest while wrapping your arms around him. Both of you still panting

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too” he says kissing the top of your head. He takes you to the bathroom and cleans you up. Helping you change into pjs- doing so for himself after. You both climb into bed, quickly falling asleep

The end. Idk what this is but I was having thoughts and needed them out lmfao. Imma tag this as multiple characters as I never said the name

[marvelmymarvel]

Heir

Silva x Reader

Synopsis: His wife was crazy, hell, you'd be crazy too if you knew your husband was sleeping around... But it wasn't your fault he loved you and not her.

Her shrill cry hit your ears, making you wince from your spot next to Silva. He currently had you wrapped up under his arm, hand absentmindedly caressing the bare skin of your arm. "Kikyo" he warned, eyes darkening a bit as she continue to wail about how evil he was for having a mistress.

This wasn't new knowledge, she had known about it for some time now. This was just her weekly temper tantrum. "I just don't understand how you could do this to me. The woman who gave you your CHILDREN"

Silva's lip curled into a snarl, there was that jab again... The classic 'mother of your children' saying was always the stab she took in the hopes that it would wake him up, but it only ever angered him. Your eyebrows crinkled in distress as you felt the bloodlust oozing from the man who was now gripping you tightly against him. You couldn't run and hide from his anger if you tried. You were just thankful it wasn't directed at you.

"Kikyo."

The woman stopped wailing as the venomous tone and bloodlust hit her finally. You could see her hands shaking, and you felt bad. Not bad enough to stop the relationship you had with the head of the Zoldyck family, but enough to put your hand on his thigh, hoping it would calm him even a little.

And it seemed to work.

He let out a deep exhale, free hand coming up to rub at his eyes. If he could leave her he would, he would much rather be married to you than to her, but he hadn't met you when he needed to settle down some 26 years ago. "I've been nothing but loving towards you, what does she have that I don't?"

You lightly gasped at the question, eyes flicking from Kikyo to Silva in shock. He sat there in silence, staring into her soul as if trying to banish her from the earth altogether. "She was the one who gave me Killua" your eyes widened at his statement. Many things were well-known and talked about, but this was not one of them.

You cringed as Kikyo's sniffles hit your ears. Having Killua with Silva was not something you were proud of, the guilt ate you up to the point where you gave him up to Kikyo, allowing her to care for him as if she carried and birthed him herself. It seemed to have appeased her, and she went on to have two more children with Silva after. But you knew the reason for that was just her trying to prove that she too could give Silva what you did.

An heir.

It was a low blow though, and it made all of the guilt rush through you like a violent hurricane. "Silva..." you whispered out, tone teetering on guilt and warning. He paid no mind to you though. Standing from his spot, he walked towards a sobbing Kikyo. His hands rose to cup her cheeks and while you'd normally feel jealous, all you felt was shame.

You should have never slept with him 12 years ago. Should have never given in to his blue eyes and blonde hair, but you did and now you were here. Stuck in the middle of the family drama that you yourself caused.

He leaned down to be eye level with her, a passerby would have found it sweet, but you knew better. "You mean nothing to me. The children you've given mean nothing to me. I don't know what else I need to do to get you to see that"

That was a lie, the children part at least was. He cared deeply for all of his children, Killua was just special to him. You knew that the hurtful words were only spewed to bite back at her stab but you wished he would have let it go. "Silva" you called out as you shakily stood from the pillow.

Kikyo was now sobbing so hard that she was choking, the sound didn't do anything to Silva, but it was breaking your heart. "Silva leave her alone..." you whispered out as your fingers ghosted his arm before gripping the flesh to pull him away from her. He let you move him away from her, something Kikyo has never been able to do.

The sight only made her sob harder. How could you, of all people, make the man she loved do anything you asked of him? She gave him everything and loved him through everything. But you? You did nothing and yet can control everything about him. Before he goes on jobs, he asks you about your opinion on the danger of the task at hand. When he leaves the house, he asks you if you'd like to join him. When it's time for bed, he'll wait for you because he can't seem to sleep without you.

Her eyes snapped to yours as you looked back at her over your shoulder. "Can you please go get Gotoh" you called out to the butler by the door. The butler left without another word, rushing down the hall to get the head butler who helped Kikyo remain calm. Silva sat back down with a huff, legs crossing as he leaned back in annoyance. You turned back fully to Kikyo, sadness and regret written all over your face.

"I'm sorry Kikyo" you stated firmly, but anyone who knew you could hear the nervous waver in your voice. Despite being annoying, Kikyo was far from weak. She could kill you in two seconds if she really wanted to.

And she really wanted to right now.

But you didn't care anymore. Walking towards her slowly, you waited for her to break down again. But she was silent. You stopped just feet from her, lips pursing as you took in just how tense the air was. Silva called your name out in warning as if he knew deep down that she would attack you while he wasn't by your side.

But maybe you deserved it.

"I'm sorry for everything" your words caused her to inhale sharply, hands forming into fists as she shook in her place. You had no right to apologize. The only way to make this right was for you to leave. But Silva would never let you leave. So there was only one other way to make this right.

You had to die.

Silva felt the shift in the air quicker than you did. Kikyo's hand shot towards your chest, fingers shaped into a sharp form. Your breath hitched but you knew there was no escaping it. You should have been faster...

But Silva was fast enough.

His hand stopped hers right as the fingernails pierced the skin of your chest. She could feel the way your heart was beating frantically under her fingertips. Oh, how she wanted to feel it pound in her hand as she watched the life drain from your eyes. But, with the way Silva was gripping her did she realize she had made a grave mistake.

Silva pushed you behind him as he ripped Kikyo up to him angrily "Lay a hand on her again and I will feed you to the dogs" the words hit your ears, and you would have scolded him for uttering them, but you couldn't think straight - not with all the adrenaline in your veins and the tension in the air.

Kikyo sputtered out apologies but it only angered the silver haired man more.

It all went silent though when the door opened. "Madame. I was called to retrieve you" Gotohs voice broke the tension and you sighed in relief. Silva let her go, allowing her to run to Gotoh in fear. Gotoh didn't say anything, only grabbed her by the shoulder and moved her out of the room.

The sound of the door closing echoed in the room and mixed with your heavy breathing. Silva was in front of you before you could blink, hand reaching for your shirt where blood was pooling. "I'll be okay" you croaked out but he ripped the shirt open regardless, eyes narrowing at the cuts Kikyo marred you with.

"She will be dealt with accordingly" he whispered as he applied pressure to one of the heavier bleeding wounds. You didn't say anything, knowing that not even you could stop what would happen to her. He loved you a lot, maybe even too much. But you couldn't deny that you loved him as well. You reached up to pull his hand away, smiling softly at the confused look on his face.

Dropping his hand, you stepped forward before wrapping your arms around his torso, hiding your face in his chest as you gave into the part of you that needed him close. You didn't care if you were hurt. You didn't care that Kikyo would try to kill you every chance she got. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was him. And as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head -

You knew he felt the same.

[spidernuggets]

I legit beg of thee please can you do prompt17. "Why the fuck did you have to make me fall in love with you" but like he's infected with some toxin from a mission and is genuinely angry at reader for making him fall in love with her, but like they're not together she's just his oblivious best friend and this is how you find out he's in love with you. I just find this hilarious cuz reader being overjoyed like oh shit he loves me but also like hey dude calm down lol Its also a tinge angsty cuz he's tiny self esteem thinks you could never love him back and thats why he's mad

Jason Todd x Reader

"Why the fuck did you have to make me fall in love with you"

You love Jason Todd. And for a long while, you believed it was a platonic type of friendship. Because you loved the way he laughed, his smile, his combat skills, his snarky remarks.

And then an oh shit hit you harder than a bomb. Not only did you love Jason Todd, but you were in love with him.

You joined the Titans a couple of months or so after he officially did. He offered you a brew the first time you met, and you politely declined but thanked him for the offer. This is where Jason immediately took interest in you.

When him, you, Rachel, and Gar were doing that blindfold sparring thay Dick recommended, he was even more intrigued at your skill level, but you weren't as skilled as he was, and ultimately lost the sparring match.

You were mesmerised by his advanced ability, asking him if he could teach you some tricks.

Boy, did this boost his ego.

And then the two of you became best friends. You guys trained together, played video games together, and listened to music together. Sometimes, he'd read lines from his favourite novels to you, ranting how dumb one character was or how stragetic another was.

Eventually, Jason took you to the school that he took refuge in during the time he was living on the streets. He told you his story before he got adopted, telling you his mom was a drug addict, his dad was abusive.

You listened, and you comforted him.

Then he told you how he admired the other kids for performing on stage. That's when he became so passionate for literature.

You joked with him, saying that you couldn't believe his biggest secret was being a theatre nerd. He quickly answered back that they were called 'thespians'.

That's probably the exact time you fell in love. Even after all the pain and neglet he's been put through, he still managed to become the strongest person you've ever met.

When you thanked him for showing you his school, that you appreciated how much he trusts you, you swore you saw a glimmer in his eye, even when he tells you it was no big deal.

Jason means so much to you. That's why you'd never tell him you love him. You think you'd break into a million shattered pieces if he left you because of your devoted but selfish feelings towards him. So you kept your feelings tucked away at the back of your heart, concealed from him.

Jason means so much to you that when he arrived back from what yoh heard was a dangerous mission, you instantly ran up to him, pulling him in a tight embrace, mumbling that you thought you lost him.

And it broke you when his response to your worry was a harsh shove.

He didn't say anything and walked straight to his room. He looked horrible. There was a bruise forming around his eye, dried blood under his nose, dark bags under his eyes and a busted lip.

You quickly turned to Dick, who just came in, confused at Jason's glum behaviour.

"Crane ambushed out of nowhere. Cooked up a new toxin. Anger. We gave Jason the antidote for fear toxin, but it doesn't do much. It should wear off after a couple of hours," Dick tries to assure you, but to no avail.

You pace around your room, biting your nails in worry. You look at the clock, and only 15 minutes have passed, and at this point, you feel like pulling your hair out from how stressed you were.

Jason slammed his door so hard when he went into his room that you felt like it could've broke.

Jason hasn't stepped a foot out in those past 15 minutes, and though you might think it hasn't even been that long yet, you couldn't help but stress and worry for your best friend.

So, you went out of your room, heading straight to his, knocking on the door waiting for an answer.

A depressed looking Jason opened the door slightly, and before you can say anything, he slams it shut.

You wanted to cry. He's never done this before. When he has issues, he always talks to you about them. You think that the anger toxin might've been the reason, but still. You aren't taking a toxin for bullshit, so you let yourself into his room, locking the door behind you to ensure no interruptions.

"Jason, what the hell happened? Talk to me!" You pleaded, trying to take both his hands in yours for comfort. In response, he swiftly pulls away from your touch.

"It's none of your goddamn business! Leave me the fuck alone," he says. He doesn't yell at you, but he sounds annoyed. He turns and walks towards his vinyls, pretending to sort them out, but just meaninglessly flipping through them.

"No, it is my goddamn business because you're my best friend! Why are you even pissed at me? It's not like you have a reason to!" you answer back.

"Says fucking who?" He spits as his voice slightly raises. You didn't want it to, but it slightly scares you. Jason has never acted like this towards you before. And if he is pissed at you for something, what was it?

Stealing the last pudding cup? Accidentally dropping his last beer? Winning the last sparring match against him?

"Okay, tough guy, what the fuck did I do to make you so pissed off!" You yelled back.

"For being so fucking annoying!"

What?

He thought you were annoying? Did he not like being friends with you? Did he regret being friends with you? You guess you are a bit too clongy at times. Or maybe you just talk too much.

Possible reasons start flooding your mind. The one person you loved and was your best friend was so angry at you because you were annoying.

"What?" Was all you can say, and it was heard as a tiny, pathetic squeak in your voice.

"You! You wanna know why I'm so angry?? Because you're so goddamn annoying! The way you smiled so brightly when you beat me in sparring, the way your nose scrunches up when you decipher a code wrong, the way you keep notes on everyone's birthdays on your calendar, the way you compliment me when I'm training you! All of it! It pisses me the fuck off!" He yells. You swear you can see tears at the brim of his eyes. "And the most annoying thing is how perfect you are! You- You're so beautiful and so skilled, and you deserve so much! And I can't give you what you deserve!"

But you stand confused. What the hell was he on about?

Jason rubs his forhead in frustration.

"Why the fuck did you have to make me fall in love with you," he says, way more quietly in contrast to his rant. But his voice breaks. And a single tear falls from his eye.

You couldn't believe what he had just told you. He loves you? He's... in love with you??

You were about to smile and admit your reciprocating feelings, but to Jason, your confused look on your face was disgust towards his undying emotions.

He wipes his cheek, face scrunching up, and his anger rises once more.

"No. No, no. I don't- I can't do this right now. You can kick me to the curb later, just- just get out!" He starts yelling again, stepping towards you, pointing to the door.

You attempt to calm him down, but he continues his string of get outs and leave me alones.

You didn't even notice that he unlocked the door and pushed you out before slamming the door in your face once more. You wanted to feel happy that he felt the same towards you. But he just looked so... hurt.

You decided you shouldn't continue to push. You knew he'd come talk to you later once he calmed down, so you go back into your room, waiting for his arrival.

It was late. Last time you checked your phone, it was 2:37am. You don't know how long it's been since then. Jason still hasn't come to see you.

You had your headphones on, writing notes in your journal for future training sessions and abstract plans for upcoming missions that may help Dick during debriefings.

You didn't hear the light knocks on your door, but saw a figure from your peripheral view walking towards you. When you look up, you see a dejected Jason Todd now in front of you.

He sits down on the edge of you bed as you quickly removed your headphones, storing away your jojrnal, ready to listen to him.

Jason couldn't look at you. "I'm sorry," he says. He thinks it's pathetic. Confessing his feelings because of some stupid toxin. Now he has to apologise, and he pressumes after this, you'd look at your friendship differently.

"It was selfish of me to tell you that I... That I lov-" He was quickly interrupted by you. You crawled along the bed to him, kneeling beside him, taking his chin to move his face so you can see those gorgeous green eyes you always adored. They were red and glassy. For the past few hours, he had been crying, even after the toxin had decreased. But you lay your lips ever so gently on his, and he couldn't believe what you were doing.

It took him a second to respond, but he happily kissed back, reaching forward, wanting more as you pulled away.

"You have no idea how much I love you, Jay," you say, barely above a whisper. His eyes widen.

"What? What, but I.." he sat there speechless. Was this real? Or was this the after effects of the toxin? "But.. But I've been dropping so many hints that I was so interested in you and... and you just seemed to have ignored it all," he quietly says. He thinks he whimpering like a kicked puppy.

"Literally, what hints?" You ask, dumbfounded.

"Are you serious? I've- I've called you babe multiple times, hinted at a date, gave you a flower," he lists the many times he had shown a liking to you. "I offered to teach you some combat skills- I keep those skills sacred, I've never taught anyone! Even Gar was yelling at me because I wouldn't teach him!" Jason says unbelievably.

Your hmfave heats up with embarrassment. "Well.. I never really said that observational skills were my strong suit," you weakly say, looking down, avoiding his gaze. And Jason couldn't helo but laugh a bit. He just found you so cute.

He takes hold of your waist, and you squeal as he shifts you so you're sitting on his lap.

"So.. You love me?" He asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "God, you and your ego," you mutter, holding his face in your hands as you and him share one last kiss for the night.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Been scouring your blog to see if you have a specific take and i only managed to find the post where you said you are more for people coming up with their own meaning for Tolkiens work. anyhow, after reading you boromir post on how hope is his poison I am super curious as to what meaning you personally ascribe to it all. A lot of scholars will tout hope over despair as the ultimate meaning here (and the ultimate meaning of real life...ugh) and considering your very gut wrenching but meaningful takes on boromir i was just curious. Your thought process is fascinating from a scholarly viewpoint (which is not my strong suit) but also an artistic, emotional, philosophical, and human viewpoint. Whew sorry this ask is so long and disorganized! Have i mentioned I am not a scholar? :D

First off I love this ask it made me so happy to read I had to do so like five times before I felt qualified to answer it and then I spent like months writing this response which is over 4000 words now if you want to know. And, on that note, dw about scholarliness or whatever this ask has more desire to engage with lotr in nuanced ways than most tolkien scholars achie- (gets hit by a piano) anyway~!

It's also just extremely flattering that you're curious of my personal opinion at all so thank you so very much!

(this is the post anon is talking about for context)

As with all things, my answer has many layers. At the most basic and applicable level, and when taking only my Gondorian/Stewardship investment into account, I am engaging with the story for personal catharsis.

The fact that Gondor felt hopeless, that the enemy was merciless and invincible, that even those figures who were supposed to help had only judgement and platitudes to offer until it personally benefitted them, that Boromir and Denethor were isolated and generally condemned and that many only showed them pity after their deaths, feels extremely cathartically familiar to me and my story with chronic illness. I've spoken about this before here and there, but that is the kind of simplistic, energy giving, 'he's me fr fr' comparison that brings me uncomplicated comfort and inspiration.

But that is definitely not 'what lord of the rings is about' not even just to me, it's not even just what BOROMIR is about to me, it is an element of the story and worldbuilding that I have isolated and consumed but that still exists within a far larger whole. And that whole is also fascinating and compelling but in a far more esoteric and harder to define way.

BUT before we get into it, I do also feel the need to explain the limitations I percieve within the 'lotr is about hope over despair' narrative since you've brought it up but neither your ask nor the post you mentioned properly explains it and it'll enhance my point later. SO.

As far as my experience has lead me to believe, when people say 'lotr is about hope triumphing over despair' they mean it in a moralising fable kind of way. This is definitely the narrative the films latched onto, like a leech. Good characters have hope, lose it only to reclaim it again, teach others to have hope etc, and that is good of them. Bad characters are despairing and therefore have no hope, and they do evil deeds because of the despair and lack of hope. The Aragorn vs Denethor film paradigm.

But nothing within the books is anywhere near as cut and dry. As I said in the linked post, Boromir gains hope after having none (the hope that he can save Gondor by using the ring) and that is bad, it is something he has to 'pay for' according to the narrative. Meanwhile charmed and blessed Faramir admits that he never had any hope quite a few times, yet he is not punished for it. Theoden also has no hope and is explicitely going to war to die, but his death is not considered evil or selfish by the majority. Saruman is very hopeful, he's hopeful that Sauron can be reasoned with, that if they work together they can make a better world, but he suffers 100 indignities and then is killed by a cannibal! And most of all, Frodo also rarely (if ever) shows any signs of hope, he merely doggedly marches on regardless and in the end even takes the power of the ring for himself, essentially the ultimate evil act of desperation, but that saves the world!

For the record the idea that LotR is a fable-narrative of any kind seems exceedingly erroneous to me, like the idea that we are supposed to glean any universal Good Moral from the tale due to Tolkien's 'emminent wisdom' feels bizarre in and of itself. But at the very least this aspect is more complex, I think we can all agree.

But even more than that (and this is more perspective than narrative analysis I suppose but I think it bears saying), ‘despair is evil’ is a kind of horrible thing to teach! If the villainisation of people driven to desperate actions or anhedonia because of the deep despair they are suffering is what LotR is about then that’s.. awful! That sounds like a bad book and I don't think I'd want to read it. But lets put a pin in the concept of condemning people for despair for now, look out for the pin cus it’ll be coming back later. 

FOR NOW lets get back on topic, if I don't think LotR is 'about' hope triumphing over despair, what do I think it's about?

Well. I know what I'm about to do appears highly out of character for me so please remain calm and gird yourself before I say this but; Let us start with hearing what Tolkien had to say on the subject.

I do not think that even Power or Domination is the real centre of my story. It provides the theme of a War, about something dark and threatening enough to seem at that time of supreme importance, but that is mainly 'a setting' for characters to show themselves. The real theme for me is about something much more permanent and difficult: Death and Immortality: the mystery of the love of the world in the hearts of a race 'doomed' to leave and seemingly lose it; the anguish in the hearts of a race 'doomed' not to leave it, until its whole evil-aroused story is complete.

(this quote is actually from a letter to a fan who suggested lotr was an allegory for atomic power and he was pretty mean and dismissive about it in reply, it's kind of funny)

Now I've been a bit glib about this in the past, along the lines of 'tolkien's own opinion on what his book was about changed for every year of his life and by the time all his friends started dying around him it became about death, what a surprise' mainly because, again, we've had enough people caring about Tolkien's opinions to do us for the rest of civilisation. But I've always known this glib comment to be pretty baseless and unconsidered, since death was a major aspect of his life from his earliest childhood and it makes sense for that to have been a large part of his work. And since I am being sincere I will, just this once, take Tolkien's hand instead of ignoring him.

For him, the theme of his book was not power or domination (or the evils of war or hope over despair), it was about death. It was about people trying to deal with the realities of death existing for them, not existing for others, and what love (loving the world) meant in that context.

On it's surface I find this quote kind of clinical in it's first impression. There's a prescriptiveness to it that does not inspire me, which isn't surprising since this came from a letter full of veiled snootiness on his part.

But mostly, as a concept.. it seems pretty distant from what actually happens in the story itself, right? What aspect of death and immortality was the fellowship embodying? Boromir certainly died, but he was not looking for immortality and his death is far more concerned with guilt than the fact that he is dying. Theodred is dead already, but not even his father appears all that bothered about it and it's quickly set aside to focus more on the war. Denethor kills himself but his and Gandalf's last interaction says far more about despair and faith than death.

And then no other main character 'dies' at all, unless you count Gandalf. And the only main immortal character we have (other than Gandalf) is Legolas whom, whilst he does have quotes associated with his immortality, is far more invested in his and Gimli's relationship than anything else. It's no wonder people choose 'war is hell' or 'hope over despair' narratives over 'death' as the main theme for lotr from their perspective.

It also does not satisfyingly link to one of the most compelling aspects of the books as a whole; that of how they are presented. The thread connecting death and immortality to writing a story that is from in-universe historical accounts, editted and compiled by many subsequent in-universe hands, is there but hazy. The intense catholic-ness of the story is also intuitably related to death and immortality, but not explicitly.

In essence, death does not feel like the main theme of the books when you are reading them, at least I don't think most experience them that way.

However, in spite of all that, Tolkien's opinion on what his books are 'about' is still the closest I have seen anyone come to my own. Which I assume is hard enough for you all to hear, but imagine how I feel 😩

To me, LotR is most themactically consistent when viewed through the lense of Frodo and Gandalf's ever misquoted early interaction;

"Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought.’ ‘It is not,’ said Frodo. (emphasis mine)

It is not comforting to know that the suffering in front of you was always meant to happen, no matter how comforting the idea of a divine plan might be to some. And that is what Gandalf is offering Frodo in this moment, the relief of a divine plan and its ‘high beauty for ever beyond [the Shadow’s] reach’. But this is never comforting to Frodo in the books, the comfort he finds on his martyr's journey is in Sam. Indeed, it is actually Sam who finds comfort in 'the high beauty', this reminder that beyond all his own suffering there is an imperishable and eternal light that can never be dimmed.

But not Frodo, how can he? His eventual fate is to grasp the power of a weapon so unholy it sickens his soul, to do that which he has been told is irreversible and unforgivable, so that he can never be at ease or even survive in the lands he has loved ever again. The 'High Beauty' is what is doing this to him, what made the rules, what meant for this to happen, what he is doing this in service of. And Gandalf, whose soul will be present to see the very end of this tale, cannot possibly understand what it is for your whole life to be encapsulated by just your own small painful part of what Gandalf would propose was a beautiful and universal tapestry.

And lack of agency against the divine plan is precisely the narrative thread that ties every character together. To some it is a comfort, Aragorn and Gandalf and Sam are all gladdened and encouraged by the knowledge that there is some higher power ordering their lives, some greater beauty they are all a part of beyond any earthly pain or suffering. They are not in control and to remember this is a relief. It inspires them to better fulfill their ordained duties and drive themselves through terrible trials.

To others it is no comfort at all, Boromir and Frodo have no faith in the prospect that the divine plan will include success or happy lives for them at the end of their tasks. But it is a hopelessness and uncertainly that they both accept. They simply believe their duties must be attempted anyway, hopeless or not, even if it makes no difference to the outcome in the end. Lack of control is just a reality they live with.

And to some it is a horror. Denethor and Eowyn want to fulfill their duties, but these duties are torture. They demand loved ones die, they demand relentless fear and sacrifice, they demand ceaseless and hopeless toil. And in the end both of them are given rebellious breaks from these duties by the narrative, ones that are horrifying in and of themselves (and portrayed as wrong to one degree or another) but that are still extremely cathartically presented as attempts to reclaim control of their lives away from a callous divine. Even if, ultimately, this also was out of their control.

Merry, Pippin, Legolas and Gimli appear to have never quite had to confront the realities of their powerlessness before. But through the story they become intimately aware of it in ways that force them to make choices they are not ready to make. For Merry and Pippin, this leads them to ultimately empathise with Eowyn and Denethor’s positions, wracked with guilt and equally horrified, attempting to find agency in death where (it appears) none can be found. For Legolas and Gimli, they confront the spectors of lack of agency/death for the first time in the narrative (sea-longing and the Paths of the Dead) and are irrevocably changed by them, eventually leading them both to attempt to circumvent their fates by illegally sailing to the uttermost west. Obviously fandom likes to believe they made it and live happily, but narratively it is also suggested that they died at sea in the attempt.

Now, at the risk of indulging in my ever-derided biographical criticism, I do think that all of these characterful arcs are represented in Tolkien’s own life. I feel comfortable saying that Tolkien was not a happy man by default. He was wracked with guilt from a very young age (wow a catholic with guilt, groundbreaking) but that guilt followed him and found new reasons to manifest until the very end of his life. And a lot of this guilt had to do with death, his father's death, his mother's death, his friend's deaths. And a lot of it had to do with fear of leaving unfinished or poorly finished business behind him at the time of his own death: guilt about how he had taught his students, about his scholarly work, his parenting skills, his so-oft-mentioned faith. 

And being a man of faith, he would have experienced all these things as a part of the divine plan, even as they were also his guilt to bear. So, clearly, Tolkien's experience encompassed all of these characters, right? The despair and the torment and combined love-of and frustration-with the divine. The failure. He knew them all. And within all of them, as well as within the narrative and world itself, there is a wrestling, there is an ever-shifting complexity and multitude of different opinions to how one experiences a life that hurts in a beautiful world that you love but that you eventually must leave, with the sensation that you have no control over any of it.

However, a complication to any declaration of ‘what LotR is about’ is that it is a self-admittedly unreliable narrative. If you cannot necessarily believe everything the narrative is telling you, then suddenly additional layers of complexity come into play in determining the meaning within an already complex text. In LotR you can actually track which characters are recounting which parts of the story to Frodo or Sam at the time of writing. But it is also just obscured enough to make it ambiguous and to enforce the idea that this is a version of this original story edited and compiled for many generations after it's writing.

So not only are these characters and events transient, uncertain and being (sometimes bluntly) misrepresented by the narrators, YOU are now complicit in that. You are yet another interpreter to alter this narrative through your perspective, just as all works and all lives are interpreted by those who view them, with no way to control that judgment. You are also a character now, making it even more difficult to make definitive judgments about a question like 'what LotR is about'.

The clearest example of how this narrative unreliability and reader interpretation comes into play within the text itself is when Frodo describes the fellowship's entrance into Lothlorien to Faramir. He is being blindfolded in order to be lead to Henneth Annun, and he recounts;

‘As you will,’ said Frodo. ‘Even the Elves do likewise at need, and blindfolded we crossed the borders of fair Lothlorien. Gimli the dwarf took it ill, but the hobbits endured it.’

But we, as readers of the previous book, know this is a gross mischaracterisation of Gimli. He did not take issue with being blindfolded, he took issue with being singled out as the only member of the fellowship who needed to be blindfolded.

‘As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.’ This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. ‘The agreement was made without my consent,’ he said. ‘I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.’

In this one moment Frodo has taken what was a reaction of justified indignation against racial prejudice, and made it sound like a minor tantrum over a shared burden. He has also used it to further aggrandise his own people in Faramir's eyes. And it is up to YOU to notice this, to review it in your mind, to choose what it leads you to believe about all characters involved. The narrative certainly never helps you, or addresses it ever again. You have to wrestle with what it means in your mind.

I believe this is the reason I have observed that every person who reads LotR and loves it and keeps rereading it feels like they are excavating something. There is a narrative under the narrative for every new pair of eyes on the tale. And that narrative is you, it's who your experiences and sympathies lead you to listen too harder, it's the story of the experiences you understand. And in that excavation, you are also reclaiming a moment of control for yourself in conversation with the story and whatever you have chosen to excavate. One might say these are all aspects of every story, but LotR is unique in its investment and immersion into the concept.

Because, to me, when Tolkien says his story is about 'death and immortality', what I read is that it's about the ultimate lack of control we have (death) and trying to empathise and accept the unfairness of what will become our inherently false legacies (immortality). And then just the vast spectrum of experiences and emotions those things conjure. It's not just about those things, it is an attempted soothing of those fears and struggles, it is an offer of comfort or catharsis or applicability. It is also an acknowledgement of the love that drives you and that you will eventually grieve.

Frodo leaves the shire to save it because he loves it, but he knows the entire time he will never be able to fully return. He is frustrated, it hurts, but a piece of the Shire in Sam comes with him and whilst it cannot save him, Frodo is still comforted. 

Sam leaves the Shire because he loves Frodo, and he loves the high beauty as embodied by elves and magic and history. He also knows implicitly that this is a task he cannot refuse, but these things comfort him. He is glad to be guided and strengthened to even greater feats the more he trusts in a higher power, but he has a life and a family in the end. And if that is what the Higher Beauty decrees for him, where it has doomed Frodo to incurable soulful wounds, are we surprised at either of their choices? Can we blame anyone for their hope OR despair in the face of powerlessness? Oh! Look at that! It’s that pin I mentioned quite literally last century ago. TOLD you it’d be back.

And that brings us back to the question, what do I think LotR is about. 

We are all powerless in the face of death and in writing a book about death Tolkien’s work has an inherent universal applicability in this regard. Tolkien asks an unconscious question within lotr, how should we cope with being creatures that love the world but that are doomed to die and leave it? And then he leaves that question entirely unanswered. This is what sets lotr apart and truly creates a story in which people can read narratives therein that appear entirely separate from death or any other recognisable theme others might see, without losing the sense of universal appeal. He offers multiple perspectives, including that of the dominant religion’s prescriptive decrees of right and wrong, but there is no solution brought forth in the story that saves anyone from grief or death or regret in the end. Not even Aragorn or Arwen, who are in essence the most holy and faithful characters barring Gandalf within the story, end without heartbreak and despair!

‘‘I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.’’ ‘‘Nay, dear lord,’’ she said, ‘‘that choice is long over. There is now no ship that would bear me hence, and I must indeed abide the Doom of Men, whether I will or I nill: the loss and the silence. But I say to you, King of the Numenoreans, not till now have I understood the tale of your people and their fall. As wicked fools I scorned them, but I pity them at last. For if this is indeed, as the Eldar say, the gift of the One to Men, it is bitter to receive.’’ ‘‘So it seems,’’ he said.

There is no such comfort!! … Or is there?

To me, the appeal of Boromir is in the solution he offers; the comfort is in the wrestling! 

Aragorn and Arwen did absolutely everything they were supposed to do, unquestioningly, to the point that Aragorn goes to the Silent Street and just lies down to die because it’s ‘the right time’ and he mustn’t become ‘unmanned and witless’. And then he dies and he makes a beautiful holy corpse that cannot comfort Arwen or his children or his people for even a moment. 

But Boromir dies with a smile. Aragorn promises that Minas Tirith will not fall, and that does comfort him, because that was the wrestling he chose, the love he decided to hold, the meaning he decided to find and fight for beyond all his powerlessness to protect it. So that’s the answer I find and it might be different from yours, but it’s in LotR to be read because the story is about the wrestling as much as (if not more than) it is about the end. The road DOES go ever on and on, after all!

So ye das wat lotr was about I fink thanks 4 askin 👍I REALLY hope it makes sense. I also really hope Anon manages to see it after it took so goddamn long to respond 😂

[i-cant-sing]

Dabi would punch a kid who was rude to his kid on the playground

Of course 10000% Just because you refuse to be a menace to society like him and will literally be nice to every stranger that comes your way even if they tried to hurt you (because let's be honest, baby reader ain't getting hurt as long as Dabi is around), doesn't mean he's going to shy away from violence, because that is the only language most people understand.

Let's say a kid has been bullying you, and you're such a sweet thing that you didn't even know what "bullying" was, or why that kid was being mean to you, so you never bothered to complain to your father. But then the day you return from school with a small but slightly deep gash on your forehead, Dabi is CONCERNED.

"Baby? Are you okay? What happened?" Dabi asks, picking you up to inspect the gash.

You gave him a toothy grin as he lifted you up, before pecking his nose when he pulled you closer. "Yeah! I fell off the swing!"

"Fell of the swing?"

You nodded, playing with the loose staple on his cheek. "Mmmhmm. I was on the swing and then my friend came and he pushed me too hard and I went flying!"

"And then you hit your head?"

You shook your head. "No, no! I landed on my feet the first time. But then I got back on the swing and he pushed me hard again but I didn't fly this time, I just fell! Then he laughed, and I laughed. Silly me, daddy!"

Pushed two times? Dabi never really believed in coincidences but he didn't wanna beef with some kid until he's sure.

So the next time you go to school/park, Dabi comes along. And when he spots the boy who "pushed you accidentally", he knew instantly the kid was a bully who had no good intentions for you. The moment the kid tried to push you off, Dabi immeadiately caught the swing (and you along with it).

"Y/n? Sweetie, will you go and get the water bottle from bench over there? Good girl." He watched you skip along and just when you were out of earshot, Dabi gave the meanest glare to the bully as he crouched down to his level, holding his arms so he couldn't run away.

"Now, listen here you little shit. That girl is my daughter, and I know what you've been trying to do. Now since I have never introduced myself before, I'm going to be lenient with you." Dabi's hands began to warm up, not enough to burn but enough to cause severe discomfort and make the threat clear. "If you ever hurt Y/n again, if you even think about it, I will know. If you hurt her, I will hurt you more. If she cries, I will make sure you cry harder. If she even has a pebble in her shoe, I will stone you to death. If she's in pain, I promise you- you will fucking regret it. I don't give a single shit if you tell on me- I will hurt everyone you care about too. Do you understand?" The boy with tears in his eyes nodded shakily.

Dabi looked over his shoulder to where you were and saw you struggling to hold the 1L water bottle. Honestly, you looked so cute with your little face puffed up as you used all your might to carry the bottle that was almost your size.

So cute.

He looked back at the kid who was trying to escape Dabi's death grip, but he only patted him on the shoulders before a manic grin appeared on his face.

"Now, its good that we've made things clear. However, you still pushed my daughter and she's got a scar on her forehead. Will it heal? I don't know, but I do know that I need to return the favour. So, hold still. This won't hurt... much? I don't know I've never done this before."

And with that, Dabi singed off the bully's eyebrows, the boy yelping in fear more than in pain.

"An eye for an eye, kid. Remember what I said." Dabi said before turning around and walking to help you.

Natsuo is both in shock and also laughing his ass off once he heard about Dabi burning off a kid's eyebrows off.

[reobabesstuff]

Sae Itoshi x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Self-hate, non-consent kiss, oral sex through panties...? Orgasm denial, mean sae typical sae, slapping, pet names (slut, whore, puppy), the reader has a degrading kink

Walking out of the bar you rubbed the side of your forearm, and the cold wind hit your wet puffy face. You sniffed and tried to warm yourself but failed terribly. The tears streamed down from your puffy eyes spilling the mascara. You bit your shaking bottom lip.

Your vision was blurry as the tears clouded your eyes. You bumped into a hard shoulder causing you to disbalance. You trembled on your feet, a hand pulled you preventing you from falling.

You lifted your eyelids and saw a familiar yet unknown face, you were too occupied with the past event that you didn't want to put any effort to recall the person. "Tch, You are pathetic" You recalled, he was Sae, you gulped and looked away from him.

His eyes scanned you for a moment, hair a little messed up, your make-up messed up, your chest pounding faster, your legs trembling. The dress you wore was a bit very revealing, you wore a turtle-neck sleeveless dress with a heart cut on the cleavage.

"I'm leaving " you announced in a faint voice and stepped away, but a hard grip caught your arm, "you know what time it is?" he said, "well I don't care about the time.!" you huffed. "It's late night, And have you ever taken a look at your dress?" he said monotonously.

You snatched your arm away from his grip, "Stop chasing Rin, it makes you look pathetic" he said. "what do you even see in him?" he raised an eyebrow. "I don't wanna hear your lecture," you said.

"I'm pathetic, I know," you said while rubbing your arm to comfort yourself. "Everyone is so...so much better than me" you felt yourself breaking down again. "What does she has that I don't?" you fell in your knees, which surely left bruises. "I-I just want him to acknowledge me" you sobbed.

"You are annoying" sae bent to your level, and grabbed your cheeks with his index finger and thumb causing you to look at his face. His lips smashed against your puffy lips before you could react. You widened your eyes, his tongue ran against your lips. He pulled away after a peck. "Keep talking shit about yourself and I'll choke you with my spit," he warned...?

The next thing you remember you were in his car, sitting on his lap while he sucked on your neck. Faint lewd noises escaped from your lips which sounded heavenly to him. He nibbled your earlobe, "Always so dressed up for Rin" he whispered in your ear you could hear the jealousy in his voice. His other hand rested on your bare thigh, "I bet you're gonna be a good slut for me" his fingertips drew circle on the skin.

You bit your lip and nodded excitedly. "Such a desperate whore" he patted your head and pulled your hair gently. "I'll be a good slut for Sae-San" you whined. "please f-fuck me" your 'innocent' eyes looked into his lustful eyes. You grabbed his hand and guided it to your soaked panties, "abuse by slutty pussy" The blush spread over your face as his rough digits pressed against your clothes throbbing clit.

He circled his fingertips making you a moaning mess, "So-so good!" you moaned. You grabbed your breast and pinched your nipple. Sae scoffed at you, pushing his finger a little too hard on your sensitive bud.

"Ah...more h-harder" you shyly demanded, his digits moved back and forth, and you felt your insides knotting. "Sae! Sae! fuc–" You were cut off with a hard slap across your cheek, "no cursing, little puppy," he said, you quickly nodded. You were almost close as his fingers perfectly abused your clit. "Sae-San, I-I'm cu–" Before you could spill your cum out he pulled his hand away.

You tried to protest, "I was so close!". "No complaints!" he rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb, "we have the whole night, don't we?" he looked seductively into your eyes.

[piratefalls]

i have no real opening remarks, so have some fic, mind the tags, and have a good day!

masterlist

did the light hit my blush (when i told you you could be enough?) by matherine

Henry wasn’t eavesdropping. Really, he wasn’t — he had just come home from work at the shelter early, toed off his shoes at the door, and began to settle in when he heard it. “No, Nora,” Alex’s voice groans, floating out into the hall from where his bedroom door must be cracked open. “I can’t tell if he’s just not interested or oblivious. I’ve used my whole arsenal of flirting and Henry’s completely unresponsive.” Or: Alex has been flirting for months. It’s not that Henry didn’t notice — it’s that he thought he couldn’t possibly mean it.

Only Fools by OrchidScript

Henry rolled his eyes. “No. You tell me — that sounds better — why I should bring my ex-hook up to my brother’s wedding?” Pez hummed and half-shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you? He’s the perfect thing to light your gran’s helmet of hair on fire.” Pez set his cup down and leaned forward onto the table. “That’s what Pip encouraged you to do, didn’t he?” “Martha more than Pip, but yes. He did.” Henry sighed. “Then ask Alex.” -- With his brother's wedding a few weeks away, Henry Fox is determined to not show up alone. Not wanting to ask a stranger, he instead turns to Alex, hoping to manufacture something believable from something familiar. Try as he might to keep a level head, Henry can't help falling in love with the man. Will it come around to bite him or will it turn into something more than he had hoped?

kitchen confidential by stutteringpeach

The NDA is approximately a mile long. “Jesus fuck,” Alex splutters. “What, is their favourite film The Menu or something? Am I gonna come out of this one alive?” ~ Or, the one where Alex is hired to cater a private dinner party for Prince Henry and his friends, and it does not go as he expects.

Can You See Me? (I'm Waiting for the Right Time) by affectionatelyrs

“Whose turn was it?” Henry asks while Alex is busy pondering the merits of throwing himself out their fifth-story window and hoping his boner doesn’t take anyone’s eye out on his way down. “Forgive me, but I am a bit tired. Do you think you could take it?” There’s no way that Henry’s not doing this on purpose. He makes words mean things when put in a certain order for a living, for fucks sake. Alex almost quips back depends on how big it is just to see how—or if—Henry would react. “Yeah, um, no problem.” There. Much more normal. He could steal Henry’s job at this rate. “Truth or dare?” - Or, Alex’s world gets flipped on its axis during a game of truth or dare

getting good now by Standinginmoonlight

Alex sighs and balls his hands up into fists, digging them into his eye sockets until he sees stars, and then he’s speaking without his brain giving his mouth permission. “I can’t believe I’m going to marry someone British.” Or: the Love is Blind AU that no-one asked for.

A Sin Better Than Heaven by AnchoredArchangel

“Show me,” the king says, a demand. He sets the vial back down, careless to where it lands compared to where it originated. He leans back against the table, crosses his arms over his chest; chin raised, jaw set- a picture of regality. Henry’s heart is pounding in his chest, the unstable beat of too many horse hooves overlapping, like the canter through the woods that very afternoon before he was shoved from his saddle. For the first time, he considers the possibility that perhaps he had hit his head harder than he realized- against the ground or against the tree, because certainly his hope is misplaced; certainly he is not following this conversation as well as he presumed. “Show you what, Your Majesty?” The king only deigns to move a hand, untucking it from his elbow in order to wave it vaguely. “How your body responds to men.” Or: A criminally loose reimagining of the tent scene from Mary & George, only Alex is a sexually confused king, and Henry's the one who has been sent to seduce him.

it's so hard to get to heaven with my head in my hands by anincompletelist

His mother would have a fit if she could see him now, taking comfort he isn’t owed from men he shouldn’t want it from. But Henry wipes his tears with the back of his hand and Alex begins singing the dulcet tune of a Spanish lullaby and George feels, perhaps for the first time in his life, like he belongs.

Silence & Sound by @nocoastposts

Alex tugs at his hair and tries to focus on choosing his next words. He knows that Henry will help him - that he wants to help him. He knows that all he has to do is say the word. Henry stands and steps closer, holding Alex’s chin firmly and tilting his head up so their eyes are forced to meet. “You need me to clear that lovely head of yours, hm?” “Please,” Alex says in barely a whisper. or: Henry helps Alex fill the silence before indulging in the sound.

baby boy by smc_27

It starts as a joke. Alex taking the piss about how much money Henry has. How he could have anything he wanted, from anyone he wanted, if only he just asked.

all so human with our guards down by maxbegone

“Constant fear is debilitating,” Alex tells him later on. The sun has risen, though it’s barely prominent through the dark clouds in the sky. “Even in the world we live in now, you need to find the things that make it feel…normal.” Of course, Alex isn’t even sure that makes much sense, and he thinks about doubling back on what he just said with something stupid and word-vomitty, whatever pops into his head first, but Henry beats him to it. Much more suitable, and it puts Alex’s mind at ease: “I’m starting to think you’re right.” The world ended three years ago. No more all-night study sessions, no more drag brunch and mimosas, no more societal expectations. But out of everything Alex was expecting from an apocalypse, Henry sure as hell wasn't it.

Dallas, Texas by annesbonny

i thought I knew hopelessness. i thought I'd learned its specific dread years ago There's an assassination attempt on Ellen, Henry is caught up in the damage. Alex is... coping about as well as you would expect.

Best Practice in Sexual Favours by everwitch

They meet at a bar. Alex is young; fresh out of law school, sharp and charismatic and oh-so attractive. The sex is absolutely incredible, and Henry has no regrets. At least not until the morning after when he finds himself opposite Alex in a meeting — equipped with the painful knowledge that Alex’s boss thinks Alex’s only function in said meeting is to sit there and look all pretty. Somebody ought to call HR right about now. Or: when sexual relationships mix with professional ones, Alex and Henry make the most of it.

this is the first time I've felt the need to confess by theprinceandagcd

Alex frantically unlocks his phone and stares at their text thread, at the heart reaction that Henry had left on his most recent message. His thumbs hover uselessly over his screen, trembling as moisture burns his vision. The entire room is thick with uneasiness, heavy enough that it’s hard to breathe, and Alex wants to tell Henry something, wants to reach out and find the solace that Henry so often offers him without even realizing it. But mostly, as his brain finally catches up to what’s actually happening, all Alex can think is that he doesn’t want to die. He tries to come up with a list of reasons why in his head, a comprehensive one that probably should include family and career goals and a million other things, but in the end, in the moment, all he can fucking think about is Henry.

out of the kitchen by rizcriz

Alex looks to his right where Henry’s standing at his own door. Any moment now, Gordon Ramsay is going to tell them to turn the handle and one of them is going to cascade into a new life. He doesn't care if his door doesn’t open; in fact, he’d rather it didn’t. He’s come all this way, he’s proven himself as a chef, but there’s no denying that the man beside him was made for this role. For the last five weeks, he’s watched as Henry’s given his all to every challenge and dinner service. -- or, the Hell's Kitchen au literally nobody asked for.

i love you (ain't that the worst thing you ever heard) by coffeecatsme

Henry doesn’t doubt that, just as much as he doesn’t doubt now that Alex won’t have a single issue with him being trans. In another life, when Henry whispered it in the quiet hours of the night, he didn’t. In another life, when he kissed Henry anyway, he didn’t. In another life. In this one, when Alex meets his eyes, all there is left behind them is a cold glare that freezes Henry to his soul. One year ago, Henry had a whirlwind of a day with Alex after a chance meeting in a coffee shop, only to leave in the morning to protect his heart. He doesn't expect to see Alex again, until he shows up at June's wedding and finds out her brother is the same Alex he hasn't been able to get out of his mind for a year - and he's pissed.

Fragile Things by SatinBirds

Alex does not scare easily. But the moment he sees Henry fall, all breath leaves his body at once.

Trim my Christmas tree by clottedcreamfudge

Henry is a writer, not a mall Santa, but unfortunately this year - thanks to his adorable and conniving nieces and their Aunt Beatrice - he's going to have to be both. This doesn't leave him a great deal of time to pine horribly over the part-time bookseller and Law student over at June Claremont-Diaz's shop, but somehow he manages to jam it in anyway. Ho ho ho.

All Kinds of Wounds by allmylovesatonce

It throws Alex off when it takes longer for the door to close, when he hears Henry’s footsteps but doesn’t hear him approaching. As he listens closer, there are steps on the stairs and eventually the sound of feet on the second floor. Henry avoided him. Henry gets hurt at the shelter and tries to hide it from Alex.

blurred lines by seafloor

Henry is a lovesick writer; Alexander a charismatic bartender. They’re still fated to fall into bed at some point.

keep me up all night/ i wanna scratch your surface by @firenati0n

They step inside, greeted by moonlight streaming through the windows, illuminating their living room in a dreamy light; it’s enough to see outlines and shapes, enough to keep everything just a little bit secretive, a little softer around the edges. Henry moves his hand to flick on the kitchen light, and Alex’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist. Henry looks down at him questioningly, blue eyes sparkling even with the absence of light. Alex always feels a little off-kilter around him, Henry both his center of gravity and his reason for vertigo. He’s stabilizing, and dizzying, and everything. Alex’s thumb and index finger circle Henry’s slender wrist, exerting the slightest pressure. He feels Henry's pulse jump under his thumb. “Get on the couch.”

Voted most likely to run away with you by dreamsinthewitchouse

Alex drifts into consciousness in a bed full of tangled limbs and warm, sleep-rumpled skin. He’s lying half on his stomach and half on his side, the shoulder smushed against the bed protesting in a way that tells him he’s going to have a crick in his neck for the rest of the day. But fuck if he cares, with Henry stirring next to him, one of his long legs draped over the back of Alex’s thigh. Alex doesn’t need to open his eyes to know the room is hazy with filtered sunlight, spilling pale yellow through the carelessly drawn curtains.

everything just stops by HypnosTheory

Alex hums, pushing his nose into the side of Henry’s cock. “Let me give you your gift, Hen.” “You’ve already given me my gift,” Henry says, fingers tightening on the edge of the countertop. “Twice.” Alex laughs and takes Henry’s cock back into his mouth. Henry keens, knees shaking. He’s oversensitive already; Alex woke him up with a hand on his cock, and then in the shower surprised him with three fingers against his prostate. Each orgasm was greeted with a happy birthday, baby, which is a phrase that’s starting to have a Pavlovian response on Henry. --- Alex gives Henry all the birthday orgasms - Henry believes turnabout is fair play.

the wrong place by congee4lunch

“I don’t want you, I don’t want anything to do with you, Alexander,” Henry breathes out, his breath ghosting over Alex’s lips. “I just want to feel good.” “Perfect,” Alex grins. “I want the exact same thing, Fox.” henry and alex hate each other. when they're forced to share a hotel room and a bed for a night, they fuck about it.

Total Eclipse by @myheartalivewrites

Alex is not sure what the fuck is happening here. “And if you only hold me tight…” A man—probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen—is up on stage in this karaoke bar, absolutely murdering Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart and he’s pretty sure the guy is crying and it’s one of the most horrifying things he’s ever seen and Alex cannot. Look. Away.

Late Bloomer by @sparklepocalypse

Alex Claremont-Diaz is sixteen years old, and he hasn’t presented. His dad seems to think it’s fine and offers Alex regular reassurance that his cousin Angel hadn’t presented until nearly 20. His mom, though, gets a little crease between her eyebrows whenever she thinks Alex isn’t looking. Presenting is a Big Deal in the Claremont family, and Alex just... hasn’t. So Alex is sixteen, and he’s… a boy. That’s it. Just a boy. Not a boy and an alpha like his friend Marco, or a boy and an omega like his friend Noah. Just a boy.

living in a new normal by @forever-fixating

Henry Fox could write an entire dissertation based on how much information his twin nieces Penelope and Grace have told him about their favorite band, Austin Heat. The girls peppered him with neverending facts since he surprised them with tickets and meet-and-greet passes to their concert at Madison Square Garden last Christmas. -- Henry Fox takes his nieces to a concert of their favorite band, Austin Heat. He gets a bit more than he bargained for when he meets singer and guitarist Alex Claremont-Diaz.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift