#this is impossible so it remains a fantasy and I don’t want it to come true

[tchaikovskaya]

Part of me wants a thing where u scan all ur grocery receipts and u get a Grocery Trip Wrapped at the end of the year and it tells u stats about ur food shopping. What stores u went to the most. What products u buy the most. Etc.

(in a fantasy world where i have the skills to make this app myself and not monetize it and the data is all private of course)

[sacrificialspice]

Helloo!! I don't know if you take request, if you don't no need to answer this one, but if you do, what do you think sukuna would do/react to cat reader being in heat? Like reader clinging to him type of way

Hiii! I’m always happy to consider requests, I don’t really have a strict purpose for this blog, just have wanted to write for my fantasies occasionally. Clingy reader would be sooo cute!

This will be 18+, fem!reader, catgirl!reader

What Sukuna is like when his Kitty is in Heat

Contains: Hybrid reader, Master and pet dynamic, pet names, heat cycle talk, slight teasing, mentions of sex, mention of potential future pregnancy, mention of fertility, kinda fluffy, reader is actin’ shy, scent kink, pussy inspection, fingering kinda, oral kinda.

This ended up being a bit longer than I thought, my one braincell was in a good mood today. This post is sponsored by late night Bob’s Burgers binges.

Sukuna would recognize the signs coming before even you do. A sweeter scent, the way blood rushes to your cheeks slightly faster when you greet him, and of course, the stickiness you leave on his lap.

You’ve been clinging to him more recently, and pretend to not know why. You know you will be at his mercy the moment that he calls you out on being in heat. Yet, you can’t resist him. Claiming your territory on his lap whenever he sits and running your hands up and down his muscles. (“Aw, can’t get enough of your Master? Clingy fucking little cat. Good thing you’re cute.”). You sniff his worn kimono when he has to leave the lair. After one particularly long inhale, you get embarrassed and cross your legs together as you feel yourself growing aroused. (“I’m not gonna last much longer without him…” you think to yourself.).

(“I-I don’t think it’s time yet, Master, usually my heats aren’t this close together-“) Sukuna would click his tongue, a small scold towards your attempt to hide from him. (“Really? Prove it to me, kitten. But we both know your Master is always right, hm?”).

Sukuna would gently lay you down on your back on his soft futon, which has an extra protective layer of a black silk sheet since he knows how messy you are. He then roughly grasps your ankles, lifting your legs and spreading them apart in one motion. You hold your breath as he takes one hand and slides his fingers up and down your folds, and he smirks at the squelch produced.

(“See pet? You’re so desperate and needy for me. Don’t deny it. I won’t deny you. We are both going to enjoy this thoroughly, I assure you.”) The crazed smile he flashes at you while spreading his fingers apart, strings of wetness bridging them, scares you and drives you wild. (“Fucking sweetest little peach,” he moans while sucking your melted sugar off his own fingers.).

He would shove his fingers deep down your throat after that, wanting you to taste yourself. (“See? Master was right. You cannot deny that your body craves me. ME. Little sex kitten.”)

It was impossible to deny any further, your body is basically a preheated oven for him.

Sukuna loves your heat because it is your peak fertility, so it’s his time to be hard at work with you. You become his top priority during these periods of time. He will drop anything he is doing just to come to you. You don’t leave his chambers until he is satisfied, and in turn, you as well. Don’t worry, he will bathe you and Uraume delivers food throughout the day and night.

When he feels that your heat cycle is coming, he holds off on ejaculating so that he can indulge in marathon sex with you. (“Be grateful, kitten. Master saved all his superior seed for this moment.”)

One question does remain though… will you and Sukuna have kittens after this?

[thedeathdoctor]

“Tell me who did this to you”

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1k

Summary: You are on a recon mission when everything goes sideways. One of your teammates comes and saves you.

Warnings: Blood? Gore?

A/N: This isn’t proofread in any way and my laptop shut itself down 2 or three times while writing so I continued it on my phone too. So I’m sorry if the pacing is weird but I’m impatient about writing for this man and there was supposed to be smut here but all I do is write exposition I just need to write some damn PWP but my brain needs my fantasies to be exhaustively researched/realistic or it ruins my immersion like come on, just write down all the thoughts about being wrecked by a big masked man its so easy. So to say there will be a part 2 with smut but its 5am and I need to sleep.

You float in a tomb of white hot silence. The first thing seeping in is the ringing, a screaming, ceaseless pain in your ears that banishes all thoughts from your head. Cracking open your eyes, you are greeted with the sight of the torn fatigues covering your mangled legs.

“Huh,” you thought dumbly, “I don’t think they should be bent like that.” Deep red blood spilled out of a tear in the fabric; investigating it revealed a gash so deep located about midway up the inside of your thigh. For a moment, you stared at it with the detachment of observing a punctured wine bag before beginning to return back inside your body which certainly was losing blood alarmingly.

Pressure. Apply pressure. Follow the training.

The pack you carried now lay a few feet away, the blast knocking it away from where you’d set it down nearby.  Your legs were certainly not working and the distance between you and the med kit you carried had been filled with a veritable minefield of shrapnel and debris.

But you had eyes on it.

In your attempt to manually haul one leg over the other, you discovered your broken left wrist as your hand struggled to lift your thigh without the other’s help. Your chest hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of you as you rearranged your body into a crawling position. You couldn’t give in so easily. The team had to know what happened.  

Inch by agonizing inch, you pulled yourself forward towards your pack on bloody forearms.  Thankfully, your plate carrier protected much of your chest, but your arms sustained more damage from the jagged ground. From the floor, the distance expanded into miles, disregarding linear space. Breathing grew damn near impossible as your lungs began to feel as useful as a wet paper bag lodged in your chest. Thick, viscous congestion pooled in the back of your throat, and the attempt of hacking it up just made your chest seize violently in pain. The glob of mucus, aided by gravity, slid slowly over the back of your tongue until you could attempt to spit, the concerning amount of blood mixed in with the saliva taking you by surprise. You didn’t want to think about the implications of that, but your leg still had the higher priority by the way it was leaking.

The moment you were able to hook your fingers into the strap and pull the bag close, you were tearing the whole med kit off the velcro, hastily opening it to find the neatly folded CAT-5 tourniquet inside. Your hands shook violently as you pulled the fabric apart from itself until it was taut, wrapped it around the highest part of your thigh you could manage, and threaded the red tab through the buckle. Grasping the tail of the wrap, you grit your teeth and -pulled- as hard as you could manage with your knuckles whitening before fixing it in place. One turn of the windlass pulled a hiss from your teeth, the second had you seeing stars, but you locked it in place. A lone tear fell involuntarily from the corner of your eye.

The stars persisted in your vision, and you activated your SOS beacon. Clutching the radio to your chest, it took all your remaining strength to hold down the talk button. Dear god, you prayed you were still on the correct channel. Your plea for aid bubbled weakly out of your mouth as you called out for the first person you remembered. The radio crackled out a reply, but by now, you were too far away from your body to hear it. A deep and dreamless sleep creeps up and overtakes you.

Flashes of moments interrupt the abyssal eternity you slip in and out of.

A familiar faceless figure, identity obscured by the image of a grinning skull, dark eyes darting frantically in their recessed sockets. Gloved hands roving gently, exploratorily over your body as you are examined for more wounds.

The rhythmic bounce of your chin off of a hard shoulder, one arm hooked under your bicep and another hooked under your knee. You don’t remember there being so many stairs on your way up before.

Blinding sunlight searing into your eyes, dust being whipped around viciously. The thundering whir of an evac helicopter landing, quite close by. A familiar, distinctly accented voice in conversation with unknown ones.

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. Hell, you had been on active duty for so long that merely waking up in any bed felt unfamiliar. Opening your eyes, you first took in the stark white hospital room you lay in, the smell of sharp antiseptic over the dull baby powder and latex gloves.

You were surprised to see the man resting in the visitors chair, eclipsing it with his massive body.

“Lieutenant?” You croaked, your throat feeling beat to shit.

“Thank fuck. Was worried I’d lost the best damn sniper I’ve ever had, but you still got some fight left in you yet.”

Praise like that was rarely handed out by him, and you certainly did not feel like you’d earned it based on how rough you felt.

Attempting a reassuring smile, you responded. “Takes more than that to put me in the ground, Sir.”

Ghost let out a small chuckle, leaning forward in the chair. His tone grew serious.

"Tell me who did this to you."

“The fucker was tipped off… someone rolled a grenade behind where I was set up… no wonder I didn’t see the car pull up…”

“Mhm.”

You had no idea what he could be thinking, not with his expression hidden behind his mask. You really never knew at any time, the man was a damn enigma.

After a moment of silent contemplation, he rose from the seat, announcing that he needed to speak with Laswell. Before exiting the room, he left you with more words of praise to puzzle over.

“Rest up. You’ve done well, love.”

[bestworstcase]

there is something i find really interesting with regard to the general consensus on salem that seems to have emerged in the year+ since v9 wrapped—namely that salem must be defeated somehow first, and then if she’s still alive in any meaningful sense she may be persuaded to stand with the heroes against the gods and/or heroically sacrifice herself in some way to save the world. it’s a strange amalgamation of entrenched fanon about her (salem disdains modern humans and only wants to die and is a spoiled evil bitch throwing a tantrum) with the now overtly textual point that the god of light is not any kind of cosmic authority, which sits uncomfortably next to the notion that questioning his rules constitutes unforgivable entitlement. eyeroll.

but theories in this vein always leave unanswered the questions of how? why?—akin to the widespread fanon presumption that summer and/or raven asked the lamp’s first question (how did they learn her name? why did they stop at one? why didn’t raven tell yang how to use the lamp, if she knew how? i still have yet to see anyone who takes this theory seriously even attempt to close these gaps). how is salem to be defeated, and why does this lead to her joining the heroes? why do they accept her help at all?

these are not impossible questions to come up with an answer for, but it strikes me as very strange to speculate about what will happen without first considering the how and why. the unspoken presupposition regarding salem’s defeat is perhaps purgation via silver eyes, which is its own can of worms and one that i don’t think holds up to close scrutiny.

overcoming impossible odds is a mainstay of fantasy for a reason, but i don’t think it’s an accident that v9 underscores the “how are we supposed to stop salem?” quandary in the way it does before ending the volume with the blacksmith gently suggesting that kindness, compassion, and patience are the only way to restore balance. it’s a mistake to turn their backs on the cat out of spite rather than reach out in empathy; likewise saving neo and letting her go is the right thing to do.

so the question of how to defeat salem is twofold; first the practical consideration of whether it is even meaningfully possible to force her to stop (all signs suggest ‘no’) and second the even more salient factor of what salem herself wants and what she will do to get it. raze kingdoms and torture a child, certainly, but is she beyond reason?

the thing is

well, consider it from the perspective of the kids once they return from the ever after. so long as she is not in vacuo, ‘defeating salem’ remains an abstract goal—something they can figure out later, once she’s here, once they’ve dealt with the more immediate problem of the crown, once they have a moment to catch their breath and prepare a counteroffensive… it’s, in a sense, imaginary. but what happens when salem either arrives in vacuo with half a million grimm, or they take that fuckoff huge battleship of theirs to vale for a defiant heroic stand only to watch her, you know, rip it apart like tissue paper?

(remember how important amity the communications satellite was in v7-8? how crucial it was to try to restore the world’s ability to talk to each other? ripping that satellite apart to repurpose it into a really big gun is not going to end well for them. that is, to be blunt, an ironwood move.)

what then?

realistically: you cannot ‘stand united’ your way out of an inexhaustible siege against an enemy who is empowered by your fear and fatigue. defenders win sieges when the besieging force can no longer sustain itself—a besieging force with infinite reinforcements that doesn’t have logistical considerations will win. period. game over. (this is one reason i think they’re likely to try a counteroffensive; they have to defeat salem before she attacks vacuo because even if they repel an open assault, all she has to do is encircle the city to starve them into submission.)

and if the counteroffensive fails—which it will; remember what cinder did to amity with a single fireball?—then their fallback measures are 1. the sword of destruction (which they know won’t destroy her, otherwise jinn would have answered ozma’s third question differently) or 2. silver eyes (untested and hitherto unreliable). to use the sword they have to risk taking it out of the vault, and salem is probably counting on them to take that risk; all of them are operating under the assumption that if ruby blasts salem with her eyes and fails, salem will capture and warp her into a monster, which would have a devastating impact on morale.

turning her inner circle against her worked, but 1. it only bought them a little more than an hour of reprieve before she reconstituted and 2. her inner circle has been winnowed of everyone open to persuasion (cinder might stab salem in the back for her own reasons, but she sure as hell is not going to become less of a problem for the heroes if she does and she’s not going to listen to a word they have to say because, as far as she’s concerned, huntsmen and huntresses are just slave-catchers with a superiority complex). so that’s out, as a strategic approach.

what’s… left? realistically?

rwby is first and foremost a hopeful story, and the plain reality of this conflict is that the heroes have no hope of winning, short of a literal deus ex machina; the best ending they can achieve is to force a stalemate, driving salem back into exile or trapping her somewhere—and that’s fucking bleak. "we saved the charred husk of the old status quo by kicking the can down the road hooray" is not by any means a happy ending, and the only way to get rid of salem after doing so is to invite the gods back to be tyrants again.

hopeful story. hopeless unwinnable conflict. what’s the answer? how do you ignite real, incandescent hope in such overwhelming darkness?

you… circle around from a new direction. immovable obstacle -> change course. a river flows around a boulder. you can’t stop salem by force, you can’t destroy her, but can you reach her? persuade her? help her? has anyone ever tried? if you can’t beat 'em—

what do they have to lose, at this point? two kingdoms gone. strictly speaking, the heroes destroyed atlas, not salem, even though she and ironwood together forced their hand: i think this is an important thing to keep in mind, because it creates an opening for understanding. salem is not alone in feeling kingdom-razing levels of desperation. nothing else they’ve tried has worked. why not ask her why she’s doing this? why not at least try?

v9 promises an inflection point toward a happy ending, not that everything will magically start to go their way now. remember that the original plan for this volume was to have this searingly hopeful departure from the ever after slam into the harsh unexpected blow of “and while they were gone, salem utterly destroyed vale.” it’s always darkest before the dawn. you pick yourself up from rock bottom and you’re still standing in a deep hole. v10 is going to feel crushingly bleak because it’s going to be ABOUT rising up again from that brutally crushing blow of how bad things are in vacuo.

v9 is the looking glass; v8 and v10 are reflections. “that’s actually a risk we haven’t considered” is the turning point in v8 and i think it will be the turning point in v10 as well… in v8 it’s opening the vault and using the relic to get everyone to safety, but v8 also made a point of putting another risk on the table that everyone flatly rejected: penny suggests taking salem at her word that she’ll leave in peace if they bring her the staff. that happens at the beginning of v8; i think it will happen again at the end of v10, most likely in the form of either 1. salem revealing she has thousands of people alive but trapped in mountain glenn and promising their release in exchange for the sword, or 2. salem arriving in vacuo with a million grimm and offering the same terms as before.

they can’t just hand over the relic, obviously. but meeting her halfway—risking negotiation, instead of dismissing the possibility out of hand—is the paradigm-shattering hopeful answer they need.

and i think it’s a much stronger narrative choice, because it challenges expectations and services the core themes of the story as opposed to, at best, implying that what the woman who is being actively tortured by genocidal gods really needs is to be curbstomped and taught a lesson. lol

[tinietaehyun]

Mystic Trail ✧ * ˚ ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗˚

[supernatural!txt x researcher!reader] [One-shots]

Pairing(s): Various supernatural!txt x researcher!reader

Contains: Profanity, dark themes, mentions of blood & injury, romance, fantasy elements, supernatural creatures, fluff, angst.

Genre(s): One-shot series, Romance, fantasy, dark fantasy, comedy.

Link: Masterlist

Summary: Your fascination with the supernatural grew beyond just reading online journals and documentaries from a young age but rather it's now your entire career. As a rookie researcher, you have gone on a decent amount of field expeditions.

You knew some supernatural creatures were more dangerous than others, though that didn’t stop your pursuit towards them.

Though the question remains, how safe can you remain and to what extent were you willing to go to get your research?

———————-•••••••••••••••••————————

Take your pick and see if you make it out unscathed or utterly in love…

———————-•••———————

1. HUENING KAI:

Pairing: Elf!Hueningkai x Researcher!reader

Contains: Mentions of injury, profanity.

Genres: Fantasy, fluff, romance.

Summary: Your footsteps crunch through the dead leaf litter and you grunt as you push through the numerous vines. You’d gotten separated from your fellow researcher and now you were additionally lost. You had no idea where your base camp was?

You knew this was a fucking bad idea; but the pay check was just too damn good. Now you know it was more likely incentive.

A pure voice alerts you through the shrubbery, “Goodness, don’t you look all bruised up! You’re rather far from your little camp, no?” You peer to your right-

Holy fuck, this man was beautiful.

[CLICK HERE]

———————-•••———————

2. YEONJUN:

Pairing: FallenAngel!Yeonjun x Researcher!reader

Contains: Dark themes, mentions of blood, injury, manipulation, captivity, slight possessive behaviour, lots of angst.

Genres: Dark fantasy, fantasy, romance, thriller, angst.

Summary: When you wanted someone to fall for you, this was not exactly what you meant. Your lips tremble as you see his hands press against the glass panel of his containment. He was merely just a specimen to your team right? He was the first ever fallen Angel caught alive.

You’d been used as the bait, immediately once they knew you’d found one. Heartbreakingly, you toyed with his heart and trapped him for research.

His dark eyes stare into your emptily as he gives you a smile, “I lost my wings for you, y/n. I won’t let you go that easily. Not after what you did to me.”

[CLICK HERE]

———————-•••———————

3. SOOBIN:

Pairing: Vampire!Soobin x Researcher!reader

Contains: Mentions of blood, injury, profanity.

Genres: Fantasy, romance, fluff, slice of life, comedy, slight angst.

Summary: You peer at your fellow researcher with slight suspicion. “Are you…okay?” He hums trying to avoid any eye contact with you. Sighing, you say, “You’re pale. Paler than usual I mean. Have you eaten? Had anything to drink?”

Soobin freezes, “What?” You scoff, “Blood, I mean?” The man seems to pale even more impossibly, “You know?” You start laughing, “Doesn’t everyone know?”

You realise he’s not laughing with you. You murmur awkwardly, “Wait, is it not obvious?” Soobin murmurs, “It’s not supposed to be, yeah.” “Oh.”

[CLICK HERE]

———————-•••———————

4. TAEHYUN:

Pairing: Siren!Taehyun x Researcher!reader

Contains: Profanity, manipulation, gaslighting, dark themes, possessiveness, violence.

Genres: dark fantasy, fantasy, thriller, romance

Summary: You had heard about numerous siren sightings upon this very beach; and you were determined to take a photo of at least one!

Perhaps, it was stupid, though, you were just ever so intrigued. After all this field of research was your specialty. Though, you’ve been here for two days and there’s still not single sight of one. Was your effort coming here going to got to waste?

A sudden voice breaks your thoughts, “My, my, are all humans this adorable when they space out?” You freeze instantly. No way.

[CLICK HERE]

———————-•••———————

5. BEOMGYU:

Pairing: Fae!Beomgyu x Researcher!reader

Contains: profanity, thriller elements, mentions of blood and injury, manipulation.

Genres: Romance, fluff, fantasy, slight enemies to lovers, dark fantasy,

Summary: Stepping up the rocky terrain you grunt clearly unimpressed with how you weren’t alone. “Come on, won’t you tell me your name, pretty please?” Deadpanning, you scoff, “Surely you don’t think I’m that stupid?”

The ethereal man pouts innocently but you knew there was true mischief behind it. His eyes glimmer stepping forward, “What’s in a name? I’ll tell you mine. Consider it an honour to know my name.”

Glaring you mutter, “No thanks, I’ll pass. I’m here to study the elves anyway, not you.” His eyes narrow, “Sorry, what?” His sweet tone changes making you snort.

[CLICK HERE]

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter four | you can hear it in the silence

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.2k

summary: you try to keep your distance from ben after italy, but after a terrible day, there's no one else you'd rather be with. i wonder why that is...

A/N: sorry it took longer than usual to update guys, it's been a very busy week for me! this one's a bit short as well but the next will be longer. i'm so happy the prem is back and we're getting so much good ben content though, the chelsea media team is keeping us well fed (and inspired one line of this chapter lol). title is from you are in love by taylor swift 🙈

previous chapter | view all chapters

Your plan when you got back to London seemed almost foolproof at the time.

You picked up a bunch of shifts at work, more than you would ever normally take on in one week. If you’re constantly working, then that gives you 1) an excuse not to attend any more events with Ben and 2) a good distraction from the developing feelings you’re experiencing for him.

The facts are simple.

He is your best friend in the world. He most certainly doesn’t return whatever weird feelings you’re having. Nothing is going to happen.

You’re sure it’s just a weird side-effect of this fake dating you’ve been doing, but that’s just playing pretend. 

Seeing him return to his usual ways - that perhaps he never left - of sleeping with beautiful models, firmly planted you back in the real world. 

And there’s nothing that can help you snap out of your fantasy life than a double shift in an East London emergency department. 

By the end of the week, you’re burnt out, exhausted, and you’re coming off what might be the worst shift you’ve ever had. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, and it takes all your energy just to make it home on the tube and get yourself up the stairs to your flat afterward.

You don’t know whether you want to cry, scream, sleep, eat, or something else entirely when you finally make it to your couch and collapse into it. 

Some time passes - you’re not sure if it’s minutes or hours - without you moving a muscle, your face buried in a pillow as you try to forget about your nightmare day. You’re snapped out of it when there’s a knock on your door. 

You’re not expecting anyone, but you reluctantly force yourself off the couch and trudge your way over to open it. 

And there stands Ben, who you haven’t seen or really spoken to except a few texts in a week and a half. Perfect.

“Ben, what are you doing here?” 

You’re aware it’s not the most polite greeting, but you don’t really have much more than that in you. 

“Are you alright?” Ben asks as soon as he has a moment to take you in, his eyes scanning your face. “You didn’t answer my call yesterday or my texts this morning, I was worried.”

Although you missed the texts because your phone was off at work and haven’t had the energy to check your messages since, you did dodge his call. 

“I’m fine, I just had a long day at work and I-“ You pause as it dawns on you what day it is, as well as the fact that Ben is dressed a bit more smartly than usual, in black trousers and a nice leather jacket. “Oh, shit. The Nike thing. I completely forgot.”

You had agreed weeks ago to attend a big flashy party for Nike as Ben’s date tonight, but as you focused all your energy on work this week it completely slipped your mind. 

“I’m sorry, just give me a few minutes to get changed and I’ll-“

“Hey, hey,” Ben says softly, stepping into your flat and closing the door behind him. “Forget about the party, is something wrong?”

You shake your head. “I just had a rough day at work.”

Ben nods, gesturing for you to go on, and something about the sincere worry in his eyes makes it impossible for you to remain closed off from him.

“We were really understaffed, and it was just one thing after another and then I lost a patient and I just-“ 

You cut yourself off as you feel that you’re about to cry, the sheer weight of your awful day and week catching up with you, but Ben can see it in the way your lip is trembling slightly and you’re avoiding eye contact with him.

“It’s alright, come here,” he says, stepping closer and pulling you into his arms before you can insist that you don’t need to be comforted. You definitely do, and there’s no better comfort on earth than Ben’s hugs. 

He holds you close against him, letting you hide your face in his chest, and you can’t resist letting out a few sobs now that he’s opened the emotional floodgates. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” Ben says so softly that it almost makes you cry harder. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, and never breaking contact, Ben shuffles you both backward until the back of your legs hits the couch and eases you both into a seated position. He pulls you even closer so your legs are draped over his lap and your face rests in the crook of his neck, his hands slowly rubbing your back as your sobs taper off into quiet whimpers.

You can feel everything bad and stressful about today slowly leave your body with every soothing murmur and stroke of Ben’s warm hand against your back. 

He’s like an instant cure for everything wrong with the world, and it occurs to you that a big part of your terrible mood is probably the result of not seeing him for longer than usual. 

Now that you’re back in his presence, in the strong arms that have held you when you were eight and you scraped your knee falling off a bike and when you were sixteen and a boy broke your heart for the first time, you never want to leave. 

You’re no longer crying when you finally find the strength to pull away from him and look him in the eye. 

Ben releases you but keeps his hands firmly on your arms as he examines your face with worried eyes and a creased brow. 

“Are you alright?” he asks barely above a whisper. 

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Sorry, I guess this week was just a bit overwhelming.”

“You’ve been working a lot lately, yeah?”

“Yeah, well, have to pay the bills,” you shrug, as if that’s the only reason you’ve been drowning yourself in shifts on purpose. 

You do regret the comment slightly as Ben’s mouth opens and you know what he’s going to say before he even says it. 

“Y/N, if you ever need money, you know-“

“Ben,” you interrupt. “I don’t need money, I’m fine. It was just a stressful week, but I’ve got a few days off now.”

You’ve had this dispute before, with Ben freaking out whenever you seem overworked and insisting on covering some of your expenses. You never take him up on it, obviously. You do mostly love your job and helping people, and Ben knows that. He just worries about you. 

“Alright, fine,” Ben accepts. “Now why don’t we order some food and pick something to watch?”

You blink at him in confusion. “What? What about the Nike thing?”

Ben shrugs. “I’ll skip it. No big deal.”

“Ben-“

“Y/N, you had a shit day, you’re not going to some dumb party, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s his job to take care of you when you’re sad. Like he’s more than just your friend.

You can’t help but smile at his sincere expression, and how he’s gently rubbing your calf that’s still draped over his lap, as if you touch each other like this in private all the time. 

“I thought you said it would be a fun party?” you raise an eyebrow. “Or were you just trying to trick me into it?”

Ben laughs. “Well, it might be alright. A couple of the boys are gonna be there. But not as fun as watching a film with you.”

There it is again - that damn fluttering in your chest that is equal parts exciting and terrifying. 

Suddenly, doing anything with Ben sounds pretty good. Even a dumb party. 

“You know what, let’s go,” you say, wiping any remaining tears from your cheeks. “There’s no point in this whole fake dating thing if we don’t commit, right?”

“Are you sure?” Ben asks, frowning a bit. “We really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure. Let me go get changed.”

You get ready fairly quickly, putting on your go-to little black dress and comfiest heels, because you did just work a 12-hour day. You make your hair look presentable and apply a bit of makeup.

It’s nothing special, but the look on Ben’s face when you walk out of your bedroom says otherwise. 

The stress of your day continues to fade away to nothing as you and Ben make your way over to the party. Ben drives as they have a match Sunday so he won’t be drinking anything, and he loudly sings along to the Taylor Swift song on the radio in a clear attempt to cheer you up. It’s definitely working.

The party is a cool, lively affair at the Nike HQ. There are loads of athletes there, some that you recognize from television and some that you know through Ben. 

As you navigate the party, chatting with some Nike execs and some of Ben’s past and present teammates, Ben maintains some kind of physical touch with you. His fingers intertwined with yours as you walk in; his arm around your waist as you talk to his mates; his hand rubbing gentle circles on your lower back as you order a drink. 

You don’t know if it’s the fact that this is an event hosted by one of his biggest sponsors and he wants to play up the “man in love” thing or if he’s still trying to comfort you, but you can’t help hoping it’s the latter. 

After a while, Ben is approached by someone from Nike asking if he can do a short interview for social media. 

“Your girlfriend is welcome to join too,” the woman says nicely, flashing you a smile.

“You don’t have to,” Ben whispers in your ear, but you just shrug. 

Normally you would shy away from any press, but maybe a part of you doesn’t mind being called his girlfriend tonight.

“I’ll do it,” you say with a small smile at the interviewer. 

Ben keeps his arm protectively around your waist as the interview begins, glancing at you from time to time to make sure you’re alright.

They ask him a few questions about football before diving into the personal stuff, which you know is juicer for social media. 

“So, Ben, we see you’ve brought your lovely girlfriend Y/N here tonight,” the interviewer says. “How does she keep you grounded during the hectic football season?”

You tense a bit as you wonder what Ben is going to say, or if he’s going to be able to come up with anything on the spot, but he barely takes a second to respond.

“She’s such a calming presence in my life, really,” Ben says, squeezing your waist slightly. “She’s a nurse, so her job is infinitely harder than mine, and she still supports me emotionally whenever I hit a low point with my career. She’s…just the best person I know.”

Your heart is beating so wildly that you’re worried Ben is going to be able to tell, but you don’t have much time to stop being flustered before she’s directing a question at you.

“Y/N, I’ve heard that you two have known each other for quite some time before your relationship began,” she says. “What’s your favourite thing about Ben?”

There are a million things that come to mind right away, most of which feel too personal to share. 

You love how he takes care of the people in his life without expecting anything in return. You love how he cries every time you watch Marley and Me together, even though he’s seen it a thousand times.  You love close he is with his family and how he calls his mum every Sunday night just to chat. 

You love…

“I love how positive he is,” you say after a moment when you realize it’s taking you too long to answer. “He’s overcome a lot of adversity in his career, but he always has a smile on his face and makes everyone around him feel better by being in his presence.”

While you try to keep your answer somewhat football-related, since this is a work function, it’s also completely true.

And when Ben looks at you with that same bright smile, you think he knows that.

“Well, it seems love is in the air at Nike HQ tonight,” the interviewer swoons. “I hope you both have a nice evening, and we wish you all the best this season, Ben.”

As she leaves you standing there alone with Ben, trying to process the weight of your feelings, he turns to smile at you and tightens his grip on your waist.

When you meet his gaze and your stomach churns, you know two things for certain.

The first is that you’re in love with your best friend. It’s absolutely terrifying, due in part to the fact that you think you may have been in love with him without realizing it for a long time, but there’s no disputing it anymore.

The second is that you’re going to have to end this fake relationship before someone gets hurt. 

You just hope it’s not too late.

a/n: let me know what you thought, predictions, etc!! love chatting with all of you and your comments/asks make my day! <3 tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe​ @batmansb1tch​ @ncentic​ @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Attracting a Mate

Female Yandere Scorpion Hybrid x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Kidnapping, venom, no smut, mentions of oviposition, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.2k (I hope everyone likes this, this was done because someone requested a female Talin, so they act very similar. I am attracted to all genders so I do not mind making yanderes that are not male, I just don’t do female readers.)

 Ever since Tahlia saw her brother Talin’s tiny human mate she simply had to have one for herself. So feisty, energetic, cute, and the perfect size to pick up and move easily. You could even stuff em’ full of eggs apparently so one would definitely make a good incubator.  Tahlia did not want another scorpion-person as a mate, going into one’s territory could be dangerous if they were not seeking a mate or already had one, and if one entered her territory it could be dangerous if they did not have the best of intentions.  But these cute humans were no threat, and besides she wanted to be the strong provider in a relationship and mating with another of her species there was always a chance there would be a contest for dominance. And of course they might not even stick around after mating and she did not see any possibility that a human mate would ever want to leave.  Why would a human leave her? She was so much bigger and stronger than any other human, so surely to any human she would be the most fit mate, able to provide security, land, and food far more easily than one human could provide for another.  But how could she even find a human that was in need of a mate? She decided that she would have to travel if she was serious about having what her brother had stumbled onto.  You were part of an expedition team set out to explore the now open Treragar borderlands, near the edge of the desert. There were botanists, zoologists, geologists, a cartographer, a couple artists to draw specimens and landscapes, and you, a research assistant helping the botanists and zoologists.  The people native to this country would not even come within miles of the borderlands, telling strange tells of large skittering beasts and deadly serpents, the expedition members did not believe such superstitious nonsense, though there was a supposed disappearance of one of the first field scientists willing to come here, but it was far more likely that they just got lost and succumbed to the heat rather than any impossible fantasy beast nabbing them.  The expedition was slowly making its way to the predicted location of an oasis, and studying and documenting anything interesting along the way. The border land deserts may look barren and dead at first glance, but there was life to be found even in this harsh habitat.  The scene was almost fantastical, with sandy hills that were as white and smooth as milk. Were it not for the harsh heat of the midday sun and the sparse scrubland, anyone could be convinced they were gazing upon an endless scene of snow.    Your first days of the expedition were spent trudging through the sand and brush, collecting samples as directed. Seeds, leaves, flowers, shed scales from a creature yet unseen.  At night you would go to the far side of camp, you were not very friendly with the others and preferred to remain alone. You would start a small fire, heat up your rations, and then put out the small blaze before going to sleep in your sleeping bag.  One night you were so exhausted that your eyelids felt like they were made of lead, and you drifted off to sleep while waiting for your food to heat up. The scent of food cooking and the light of the fire caught Tahlia’s attention, who had traveled far from her land in search of a rare human mate.  She observed you silently, getting as near to the camp as she dared, she looked upon all the humans, most of them huddled on one side of the camp, but you left all alone.  Poor thing, must be the only one left mateless, so desperate for a mate to come and take care of you that you passed out while tending to your beacon that had so effectively attracted her. Well, no need to worry anymore, Tahlia was going to take good care of you.  The large scorpion woman approached carefully to the edge of the campsite where you were sleeping peacefully.  She did not want you waking up when you were sleeping so cutely, and she wanted to bring you home as fast as possible so she stung you quickly with her harmless paralytic venom that would make sure you would stay peacefully dreaming. She was anxious to communicate with you, but Talin had told her how his human had been so excitable and determined to play when he first found them.  Better not to cause any noise that may alert the other humans to her presence, she was in their territory and did not know how they would react.  When you woke up from the best sleep you had ever had your cheek was resting against a soft warm pillow… wait… that wasn’t right… and you were now leaning against something not laying down flat on your back as you normally slept…  That’s when you realized you were snuggled up close into the bizarrely warm bare chest of a woman. You blushed deeply as you inhaled her strong but not unpleasant scent. Had one of the other expedition members gotten drunk and wandered over to you? Had they gotten you drunk too? Your mind was a bit hazy.  You looked up and realized you had no idea who this woman was, her long red hair, pale skin, and surprisingly muscular physique were entirely foreign to you.  And where the hell were you? This was not camp, this was some kind of cave or burrow.  And then you looked down and shrieked. Dear gods, the stories were true, from the waist down she was a huge white and black chitinous arachnid, some type of scorpion beast.  You flailed wildly, falling back and landing on your butt. You scrambled to get up and ran in terror for the early morning light trickling through the entrance of Tahlia’s den. But your scream had woken the scorpion lady.  “Oh, you want to race little mate? So early? I think we should eat before we play!” You could not understand her and even if you could you were more focused on fleeing. She rushed after you and caught you right after you had taken your first step out of your new home.  She held you tight to her chest and nuzzled affectionately before making noises you could not interpret. “Oh, wow, Talin was right. Human mates are so eager and playful. I am just so so lucky I found you! Running off like that could have been dangerous before you had me to protect you~”  “Don’t worry my precious gem, we can play as much as you want later, but for now let me get you some food.” Tahlia picked you up easily in her muscular arms, her large biceps not even straining as she placed you back in her nest. She stroked your hair gently before going to prepare you a meal. You were too terrified to move… at the very least it did not seem like your life was in danger yet…  Maybe after you ate you two could play a while before she filled you full of nice eggs, she was sure you would love that. Keeping her new mate all cute and needy and full of eggs would certainly make sure you would never ever want to leave your new den right?  

[soleilnomoon]

Hey there! I’m loving the ~selection~ of your blog! I was wondering if I may request a strawhat!fem!reader x Law, please? Something like they meet on Punk Hazard and it’s a ‘love at first sight but I will die before I admit it’ sort of situation. They get closer to each other as time goes on, becoming sort of ‘unofficial’ as a couple, but then when the alliance is over and they have to part ways there’s this really deep aching for each other and they find ways to secretly meet up so as to not cause an incident. Of course, because it’s the Straw Hats, they get caught sneaking around pretty quickly. I’m okay with smut and if you want to make the reader GN, that’s cool too!! Thanks in advance!

hihi! hope you had fun perusing through said selection~ i do love secret relationships, and making law suffer through feelings is my favorite pastime <3 ty for your patience, i hope you like it😊i kept it tame (shocker), but mostly bc i knew i'd be writing forever if i didn't lmao

2.1k words, fem reader (no pronouns), sfw, 18+, mdni; tiny, tiny bit of angst (i promise, ok maybe more than a tiny bit), fluff (???? in this economy??? idek anymore); no real warnings, rly, just law x reader being idiots in love somehow. robin makes an appearance (briefly!) & reader is over-complicating things 💛

“i am tired of explaining the fire, / it burns because it must.” — gwen benaway

it was never your intention to fall in love; you were actively against it for as long as you remember, finding heartache to be comparable to miniature deaths where you don’t quite die all the way. a morbid, ridiculous affair, one that you want to eliminate before it spins and transforms into something wholly unrecognizable and equally difficult to get rid of.

you actively remind yourself to guard your heart, to steel your emotions — to ensure that no one ever penetrates the concrete walls that surround your heart. to love, you fear, is to give away the most vulnerable parts of yourself; you’re not quite ready to do any of that just yet. or ever if you have it your way. being a member of the straw  hats crew makes it all the more easier for you to distance yourself from bothersome feelings — where you can, instead, pour your focus into getting stronger, into protecting your crew mates, and into enjoying the adventure without any flimsy romantic ties.

to survive the harshness that comes with the territory of being a pirate, you mercilessly carve out the parts of yourself that you predict will willingly leave you helpless as hope continues to remain out of your reach. in your quest for liberation from your absurd fantasies, from your wily desires and cumbersome thoughts, you fail to fortify yourself properly — what you think is an impenetrable, thick glass casing around your fragile heart, is something much more delicate and easier to crack.

impossible is not a word you use often, but that’s the only thing that comes to mind when you meet hm for the first time. it’s all you hear when he opens his mouth, when his eyes catch the way you openly stare at him — shameless on your part, really — like a fish flung out of water, you find yourself gasping and before you can embarrass yourself any further, you decide that a quick walk will suffice in freeing your mind.

it’s not that he’s incapable of romantic love, but he prefers not to deal with needless emotions if he can help it. for as long as he can remember, love’s always been the one thing that overcomplicates his life. it leaves him breathless, as if there’s never enough air around him whenever it passes through; and when he meets you, it collides into him so hard, he’s pretty sure he must be dreaming. because dreams cushion the fall, makes things easier to deal with; they’re collectively an infinitely more gracious, uncomplicated ordeal — one that law would rather deal with than the alternative.

reality, it seems, is entirely too brutal; the truth of the matter is, he’s never been quite this taken with anyone before in his entire life. it’s unnerving, to say the least, and while he’d rather gouge his eyes out repeatedly than admit anything like that, he can only deny the truth for so long.

you ask the others about him, as your original opinion — taken from tidbits you’ve read about him in the papers — needs some serious amending. here before you stands a formidable foe-turned-ally, a man who is more myth than legend, one that exudes an intimidating enough aura to make you nervous enough to look away several times. he doesn’t understand why you do that; why whenever he attempts to cut through whatever bullshit façade you’ve constructed for the time being, you always find a way to escape.

what is it that you’re running from, and how long will you keep running? and why is he so intrigued by your plight, even when he doesn’t know the exact details behind it?

it’s bad enough that you can hardly stomach a few minutes of conversation with him; you find his haughtiness absurd, and his confidence even more so — although, he wouldn’t be a pirate captain if he didn’t exhibit those qualities at least, right? still, it doesn’t exactly stop you from seeking out his company, nor does it stop your curiosity from growing. you’re engrossed with his manner of speaking, with his rigid views and inability to stop luffy from derailing his plans. you think it’s funny that law thinks he has a handle on the alliance, when you know your captain will have his way regardless of who says what.

while he may have initially thought that his insistence on surveilling you was simply a force of habit — to ensure you can be trustworthy, that you won’t mess up anything he’s set in motion — he knows that, deep down, that isn’t exactly true. he also thought his inclination to ensure that you’re always accounted for, to come up with additional plans in case you’re in danger, to find reasons to talk at you in that patronizing tone of his was normal behavior. but, on a brisk evening, robin breaks it down for him — into bite-sized, digestible chunks, for him to mull over for the duration of the night, for his brain to agonize over certain realizations and ignore the way his heart beats a tiny bit faster around you.

and, because she’s not done playing the role of matchmaker, robin also approaches you, tells you that you’re being a little silly, doing all you can to avoid prolonged contact with law, while also watching him from afar. you don’t know how to take that, try your best to come up with excuse after excuse, but she gives you a knowing look, which only makes your face grown unbearably hot. it’s childish, really, this feeling; the way it slows your movements, dulls your reflexes, makes you think about law more frequently than you should. and when it gets to be too much, when you keep finding yourself in compromising positions with him, you eventually blurt out things that don’t make sense.

“your face is distracting,” you tell him bitterly as you sip your coffee and glare at him over your mug. he chokes on his food, eying you warily as he wipes his mouth. “do something about it.” you’re not one to give out commands like that, let alone give them to him, but you find it ridiculous that you can’t seem to focus whenever he’s around. if he could reel back his attractiveness, then you’d function better. you’ve shattered one too many dishes over the past week, and you can only come up with so many excuses to give sanji and nami.

law finds your argument lacking, yet somewhat comical; he tilts his head and studies you carefully, the corners of his lips tugging downward as he tries to wrap his mind around your logic.

“it’s my face,” he waves your concerns off, “there’s nothing i can do about it, so…” and even if he could, he probably wouldn’t. “why do you have a problem with it now?”

you don’t know how to explain it to him without sounding completely out of your mind, so you don’t; you dump the remainder of your coffee into the kitchen sink and huff under your breath, hands shaking as nerves get the best of you.

“of course, you wouldn’t understand.” because you can barely understand it yourself if you’re honest. “i won’t bother explaining, then.” again, you say the impossible, and he’s left feeling frustrated; rather than let you walk away, though, he corners you. he grabs onto your wrist firmly, and rather than fight him, you stay.

“every time i think i have you figured out,” his eyes narrow, but he lets out a sigh, face softening briefly, “you say or do something that makes me think otherwise.”

you’re not sure if you should feel offended or relieved or both. so, you remain silent, instead letting his words slowly crawl along your skin. it’s the closest you’ll get to a confession right now, but you accept it anyway.

what begins as a begrudging curiosity, turns into an awkward friendship wrought with petty arguments and witty jokes, which soon fast-tracks to a full-blown romance. it’s silly, really; the sneaking around, the shared looks and secret kisses, the moments during the day where you both disappear for hours, the way you think you’re being subtle, when both of you are so terribly obvious with your affections for one another.

there are a few, of course, who are oblivious — zoro, luffy, chopper, the like — but the rest are well-aware; it’s robin who advises them to keep quiet about it, who suggests that the two of you think you’re being clever by keeping things a secret. if anything, it sparks another bet between all of them, one where they debate over how long you’re determined to keep your relationship hidden from them.

it's not that you don’t want to tell them, but you dislike the idea of them knowing, because you have yet to process the relationship completely. he’s also of the same mind, although he’s made his peace with it much sooner than you have. it’s less him not wanting people to know, and more his concern with what will happen once people do find out. distance certainly does not make the heart grow fonder; he can attest to that.

and when the alliance finally runs its course, he’s faced with a reality he didn’t anticipate. he became so accustomed to being around you constantly, that not having you by his side feels… strange. unwanted, even. there’s an emptiness that sits inside of him that he can’t fill no matter what. you’re equally as miserable, pouting and sighing whenever you find the time; you attempt to write him several times and rip the letters up before you can send them. he asked if you wanted to join his crew, you turned him down out of loyalty for the straw hats.

you don’t feel burdened by your decision, but you don’t exactly feel whole afterwards. it’s by using transponder snails and encoded messages that you make plans with one another. the beauty of having a submarine for a ship means he can travel wherever he pleases; the downside is that his crew often questions the various deviations on their route to various islands. he reminds them that it’s to ensure they’re always stocked on supplies, but bepo sees through that flimsy excuse. whenever he tries to broach the subject, law waves him off, dismisses his theories, and insists that his first mate is wrong.

it's zoro who confronts you, who tells you that what you’re doing is putting the crew at risk; he questions your loyalty, not out of malice, but out of genuine curiosity. you understand where he’s coming from, and even try to talk yourself out of meeting law again (and again, and again), but you think about how you’re not ready to give anything up just yet. you’re not sure why you’re being forced to choose, but a small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that love, while a truly beautiful and miraculous thing, is every bit as insidious as it is outrageous.

still, you don’t think about that when you’re with law; your mind stills, a sense of peace taking over, making things feel warm and right. he doesn’t bother telling you about the worries from his crew mates, and you don’t saddle him with your grief over potentially having to end things one day. you tuck it into your heart, compartmentalize it meticulously, shelving the box to be dealt with in the distant future. instead, you enjoy telling him about various things you’ve seen since you were last together, and he pretends that he’s not trying to find ways to convince you to come along with him.

love is every bit as fickle as it is draining — constantly demanding your full attention, lording guilt over your head whenever it can. you’re not sure how much more of it you can take, but you’ve come too far to turn back now. and every time you kiss him, you willingly lose a piece of yourself; he’s collected so much, you’re afraid you’ll disappear by the end of it.

it was vulnerability that you feared for so long, but it should’ve been longevity — feelings are fleeting, but what happens when the particularly irksome ones, the ones that have you blushing and stumbling over your words around him, when they stay for longer than necessary? you don’t know what to do with it all — with the excessive anxiety over what ifs and why nots — so you bury it all over again in the hopes of uncovering it when life isn’t quite as complicated. he refuses to let you retreat into yourself, and reminds you any chance that he gets, that no matter what you try to tell yourself, everything that’s happened is real.

because if he must suffer the burden of carrying love around with him every moment of the day, you will to; he absolutely will make certain of it. and even though your crew mates aren’t particularly pleased with your decision, it’s not up to them, now, is it? you don’t go flaunting it, but you’re tired of hiding; after all, what’s the point of keeping up a charade where everyone is already privy to your secret?

[shiinata-library]

Invisible desires

Relationships: Bilbo x First person narrative (fem!OC or fem!reader)

Content: Rated E - Smut, invisible hobbit

Summary: A smut story with an invisible hobbit.

N/A: One comment on one of my old smut stories gave me the motivation to write this new one.

Have you ever had a dream that felt very real? Well, I have. Many times. And I'm not talking about fantasy dreams or nightmares. I'm talking about, hm, erotica dreams. Oh, it's embarrassing but I can't forget them and they are too recurrent to forget them. 

So, where do I start? 

Well. It always starts in the middle of the night in our bed. When I say “our bed”, I mean the bed of Bilbo and me since we live together in Bag End since the quest is done. The dreams never happen outside or in another place. The night through the windows is always darker than ever, the light only coming from the fireplace at the end of our bedroom. 

More or less awake, I wake up slowly when I feel kisses on my skin, my eyes remaining closed, warm lips starting from my ankle, and moving slowly to my tights. Two hands follow the same path until they grab my thighs to spread them out without any resistance. 

When the lips arrive at my most intimate part, a warm breath makes me shiver. Then, without waiting any longer, a famished tongue starts to devore me., like a hobbit eating his second breakfast without having the first, and I know what I’m talking about, I’m married to one. 

So, hungry licks. Again and again, giving me delicious sensations until I can’t think of anything and strong waves of pleasure waking me definitely. 

So far, you will tell me there's nothing exceptional about it, will you? “Good for you if someone wakes you up like this”, right? “Why are you telling us this?” Just wait. 

While my senses come back to me, the lips and the hands softly get out of my legs, then under the blanket. The next thing I feel is the wet lips coming on my neck, kissing or nibbling it, as the two hands run on the top of my nightdress to rest on my breasts. 

It's always after the first orgasm that I open my eyes. Despite the light of the fireplace, I don’t see anyone, yet I can confirm that I feel those lips and hands on me ; especially when one of them raises my nightdress to touch my naked buttocks!

There's no one with me, I mean I can't see anyone. I’m used to it now, but the first time, I was nervous, but it’s my dream right? Why would I be nervous? 

At first, I always try to stay quiet, as if I would be afraid of walking up Bilbo next to me. As if he would sleep behind me in my dreams while an imaginary man takes care of me. Impossible, right? But most of the time I can't contain my moans, my cries, my demands… I noticed the more I'm loud, the more he responds vigorously.

So, as my imaginary person goes down to taste my recently freed breast, I can already feel his hardness growing under his trousers against my fine nightdress. Weird thing, he rarely kisses my lips. And when he does, it feels like Bilbo’s. Maybe I’m unable to imagine another man than him. It’s a shame because it’s my dream. I could imagine anyone…

Even though he is invisible, I can obviously touch him. His clothes are as light as mine. When I run my hand on his back, I can feel his hot skin, already sweaty because of the time he spent under the blanket. I let him rub himself against me as much as he wants while I run my hands under his shirt.  Oh, his skin is very hot for the middle of the night...

When he seems breathless with excitement, he escapes himself from my hand and I hear him taking off his invisible clothes. I always take advantage to remove mine too. A nightdress is quick to remove, but he seems as fast as me. I barely have time to lie back on the bed that he is already above me, his breath starting at my navel, ending at my breasts.

At this moment, as every time I start to feel his burning skin against me, he takes my wrists and holds them tightly to the sides of my head. His strength is always stronger than I remember but he never hurts me. I would be lying if I told you I don’t enjoy it…

As my arms are blocked, he buries his head in my neck and flats his body against mine, letting me no escape. My whole body shivers while his is getting hotter. His hardness easily finds my sensible woman’s part, even more wet since he tasted it. He rubs it slowly, making me breathless. Not knowing when he will enter arouses me so much that I can’t even keep my eyes open and my mouth closed.

Sometimes, he enters me suddenly, burying himself as deep as he can, not waiting for me to adjust before withdrawing and thrusting again in the same way. 

Or, sometimes like now, he pulls on my wrists, raising me up. I have done it too many times not to know what he wants, so as soon as he lets me wrists go, I turn around, my hands and knees on the bed. 

More eager than before, he doesn’t wait to grab my hips and enter me. Deep, hard but slow. His hands are firm on my hips, leaving him the choice of the pace.

I’m totally at his mercy.. If this position seems to be his favourite, I can’t lie. I always hope we end up like this. He fills me so deep and so well that I can’t think of anything. But he knows how to call me back. Keeping his thrusts in the same pace, he leans towards me, his skin sweating under his efforts.

Even though his lips are soft, his teeth are hard, and when he bites at the back of my neck, I can't help but whine of pain-pleasure. Sometimes I can feel his teeth on me again the next day, but Bilbo always confirms to me he sees no marks on me. Maybe my imagination is too strong…

Yet, the pain feels real and the more I whine, the faster he goes. My voice is echoing with the sound of flesh on flesh through the bedroom. Do I sometimes exaggerate to make him speed up? Yes. It's my dream, isn't it? I can do whatever I want, right? And right now, I want him to go faster. I know he won’t last either.

In this position, it feels like he’s using me. His hands on me, his pace, his bites… Of course, I don’t care. But if I want to end it, I have to do it myself. 

One hand on the bed is enough not to suffocate against the blanket. When I start to touch myself, I can’t keep myself from raising my buttocks. The change of angle gives me the most delicious pleasure and I know he feels it too. The pace quickens as his fingers sink into my hips. 

In no time, pleasure ravages me, my previous orgasm already forgotten. My moans echo with the only sound I hear from him, his loud breath. He straightens up and after a few deep thrusts, he fills me with his warmth in a loud, long groan.

He stays inside me for a short moment, kissing where he bit me, as if he was regretting it. Sometimes I hope I could see this man if I turn around but I already did it a lot of time and I never saw anyone. My mind seems really into this invisible man…

After he withdraws, I feel his hands a last time caressing my neck then my back. When his fingers leave me, I can't keep myself from shivering. Luckily for me, the blanket is never far away. All I have to do to fall asleep is fold it over me. As if I had to sleep back to end this delicious dream… 

Alright, I have a question! Imagine the oc/reader becomes pregnant after that? Do you think the ring could influence something? 🤔

[danganronpa96]

Oh, this is very interesting. I assume you mean like from the DR3 anime, so (rubs hands together)

DR69:

Luigi - going into a room with the lights on (as no. 2, isn’t it your duty to be in the dark? Also this could stir up some interesting situations in the dark)

Mario - running or jumping (can’t yahoo his way out of this one)

Peter - talking (yep not a peep outta funny family moments guy, no cutaway gags no nothing, what will tiktoks use for footage now)

Brian - reading or writing (no books, no laptops, no pens. He won’t be needing them)

Miku - speaking in English (as an idol, it’s her goal to spread her voice to everyone around the world, so what if it was limited? She can still speak Japanese, and Chinese, but only a select few will understand her. Sure, it’s fine for those who can translate, but what if she was in a dire situation with someone who couldn’t…?)

Teto - Hatsune Miku dying (since she loves her so much, she’ll do anything to protect her, even if that goes for protecting her own life too)

Nagito - telling the truth (kinda like his despair disease, seems he can only lie or keep quiet… How can someone who hardly has any trust here gain any now?)

Sans - telling a joke/pun (at first this was gonna be a joke answer, but… it would be tough for him to remain serious in situations where he’d rather not be)

Parappa - crying (he really has to keep believing now, or else he’ll be clawing not to let all those emotions spill out)

Fluttershy - touching another animal participant that isn’t herself (therefore she cannot tend to any of them if the time comes)

Ashley - being more than a room apart from another person (ultimately forcing her to stick around people rather than isolate herself)

Ayano - not killing anyone in 20 days (this would really challenge her “yandere” persona, and reluctance to kill here)

2D - listening to music (this goes for music out of speakers, hearing someone sing, and even humming a tune. Man loves music so what if no song machine /album ref)

Mr. Krabs - giving or accepting a bargain (not just with money, but favours, requests, and payback all count too)

Dedede - fighting with another participant (whether physically or verbally)

The Conductor - witnessing any act of violence (since he is usually is very disregarding of other’s safety, especially during filming his own movies, perhaps now he has a chance to redeem himself with preventing danger)

DR96:

Hayasaka - giving the poison antidote he was provided to someone else (he can save someone else who triggered their action, at the cost of his own life…. (I smile deviously))

Kurumada - flirting with Hayasaka /JJJ ok but actually using his physical strength to protect someone (this goes for violent acts such as punching, or manual labour such as catching heavy objects from falling)

Mai - making eye contact with anyone (she’s such an outgoing, bubbly gal… so what if she could never meet someone eye to eye ever again? Never being able to look at the ones she loves properly… oh my)

Walter - telling a lie (cue a Walter White version of the Pinnochio scene from Shrek 3)

Jesse - swearing (Jesse don’t say “bitch” challenge impossible 5 dead 20 injured)

Saiki - using his telepathy to communicate (either open your mouth or say nothing, Saiki, your choice)

Kaidou - daydreaming (this includes roleplaying as the Jet Black wings and wearing his bandages and blazer over his shoulders, no more fantasies grow up boy /jjj)

Retsuko - raising her voice (this goes for her heavy metal screaming as well, she can’t stand up for herself anymore seeing as she mostly did it on her own in private)

Natsuki - being called “cute” (I think this would be simple but effective, cue her attempting to never share her forbidden action, and doing all she can to never be called such a thing, even going so far to be as rude as possible even if she doesn’t want to be)

Yuri - everyone does not die in 30 days (if she really wants everyone to die, she’ll do all that she can to make sure it happens before it’s too late for her. Whether she utilises their forbidden actions to do the trick or not is up for thought…)

Hiroshi - touching white objects (such as plates, paper, his own scarf… how practical can one practical boy be now?)

Brian - witnessing spiritual or supernatural activity (this could be talk of religion, going to the Shrine, reading books about such things, and anything to do with Mr. Devil…)

Bojack - participating in the consumption of alcohol (rip this guy IMMEDIATELY)

Latte - verbally conversing with a student (she can be around them, and use body language, but speaking is a no-no, so much for being a professor huh-)

L - performing any of his usual quirks (includes sitting with his knees up, eating sweets, holding things with his index finger and thumb etc., L be normal challenge)

Ena - changing emotional states (meaning they can’t go into their sad, drunk, depressed etc. states. Oh boy get ready for a challenge folks)

[jabberwondia]

memento mori

Malleus had found a way to make time stop.

Malleus Draconia x Gender Neutral Reader Notes: This one is a little sad. Hurt and comfort, existential angst, fear of death, mortality. Please skip if this is not your cup of tea.

Malleus had found a way to make time stop.

Granted, it wasn’t foolproof, as it would often end up speeding time instead. And yet when it worked – oh, when it worked, it was stronger than any magic he could ever hope to master.

You, on the other hand, were always running out of time. Mostly literally – running from class to class, cramming the night before exams, chasing after Grim – life in Twisted Wonderland had been a vortex of emotions and activities that were hard to get used to. Somehow, in all that madness, you had fallen in love with Malleus, and to your surprise, he had returned the affections with every fiber of his being. But, as it turns out, falling in love with a magical entity is a problem in and of itself. Malleus was always late to your nights out together, insisted on taking you to disheveled ruins far hidden in forests, and although he meant well, a part of him was enveloped in this eternal sadness – not just by his gloomy disposition, but by his adamant apathy to all things regarding school duty, and his jaded view on human life.

“Malleus,” you call softly. “You know, you don’t have to help me study.”

Cradled in his lap, he simply watches in silence as you go through your books.

“The time that remains for us is a precious gift. I’ve come to terms that I cannot have you by my side forever, so in turn, at least allow me to be there for all your moments.”

“That’s... dark.”

Silently, you wonder if the Fae feel the same range of emotions as humans. A different lifespan comes with its own kind of existential dread, though you cannot begin to fathom what it must be like. That being said, Malleus suddenly turning the subject of every other conversation into a constant reminder of your mortality is unwelcome on this particular day, as you are feeling especially emotional.

“Well, your journey is short. Spending it all by your side it the least I can do.”

“You.”

He’s said nothing new. He’s said nothing that he hasn’t before. Listen – if you spin it the other way around, it might actually sound romantic. And yet today – for some reason, today, you’ve had enough. Does it not suffice that you are thrown into a strange world, forced to learn magic (even though you cannot invoke it), lost all notion of what your regular life used to be like – how can he possibly understand? He’s never told you, so don’t even know – what his powers are like, how many centuries he’s lived through. Everything shrouded in mystery as you need to sort all his conundrums and metaphors, deal with his taciturn demeanor; enough is enough.

“Aren’t you tired of playing-pretend as a high school student?” You hiss, holding back tears that go so deep, they feel like they’re forming in the back of your throat instead of your eyes. “What gives!? I’ll be dead in another sixty or so years anyways, eighty if I'm lucky. Please, just stop reminding me.”

At first, your choice of words clouds his eyes with anger and dejection – you can sense an electric current rising as suddenly the outside air is not so clear anymore. But quickly and surely, Malleus steadies down, and so does the weather.

“Child of Man,” he begins to say. “I apologize.”

“No. I’m sorry,” you shake your head. “I’ve been... pondering a lot lately.”

“I should not have voiced such sad thoughts out loud. It won’t happen again.”

“No, really, it’s okay. It’s just... this impossible dream.”

“What do you dream of?”

You dare not say, but you dream of becoming a fairy. I mean, if magic is possible in this crazy world, then it’s not such a farfetched fantasy, right? Not out of greed – you could not care less if it’s ten, sixty, or five hundred more years until you die. Time is not important. You just want to live in the same dimension, the same frequency as Malleus, grow gray hairs together – is that too much to ask? In the current scenario, both your existences are so foreign to each other, that if you had to put it in easier terms, you'd say it feels like being a dog –loyal, unconditional, and sure, we love dogs as much as we love our kin– but an inevitable barrier separates them to us. We might meet one, two, thirty dogs – yet to them, we are their Only Human. How is that fair?

Malleus is not good at guessing other’s thoughts. He’s told you that much before. But when he sees you start to weep quietly, he knows.

“I can stop time.”

“No weird magic, Hornton,” you warn. “And please don’t joke about this. I’m not in the mood.” In all honesty, it’s hard to tell if the Thorn Prince himself is jesting or not – hey, he's capable of the occasional wisecrack now and then, and you don’t doubt him, but then again, stopping the flow of time itself seems like an overpowered cheat skill for anyone to have.

“No,” he assures. “Not magic. Or perhaps it is. Just not the conventional kind.”

A deep sigh escapes your lungs. He is not going to let this go, so you feel obliged to comply. “Fine. I’ll humor you. Show me.”

Malleus shifts your weight on his lap easily, and when he places a hand to cup your face, it dawns on you how it’s so big and monstrous and his fingers are like claws – so much so, that the tip of his little finger extends to your neck, and the span of his hand clutches your nape and ear and cheek all at once, effortlessly. His lime green eyes shine in the rising moon of the evening, heavy lids, zooming in on you, seeing nothing else. And then his pale face inches closer, and he kisses you. It’s that simple. There are no tricks, no spells. But he does it slow and carefully. At first, a peck on the lips, which inevitably tastes of your tears; he wipes them off gently with his thumb, crisscrossing your cheeks, so gently that you can mentally trace the zigzags his fingers are making by the lingering static of his touch. Then again, but this time Malleus is a bit more forceful; not too much, he knows exactly how to handle your fragile skin. Taking turns between nibbling your upper lip, then switching to sucking on your lower lip – wet, tender, reddened; pausing to allow you to catch your breath, and also just to take the sight of you in, as you are panting, squirming on his lap. The sadness is ever present, but a bittersweet joy soon fills you instead – and Malleus kisses you over and over again, scaling in intensity, making you lose your sense of balance, being or gravity, as if you cannot smell or see or hear anything else, all that remains is your sense of touch, and all you feel is him. “See?” Malleus whispers, breaking the lock of your lips, still remaining so close that it makes you shake with the vibrating tones of his voice; like a cat’s purr. “But a fleeting moment, yet it feels like an eternity.”

Malleus had found a way to make time stop.

It wasn’t foolproof, but oh, when it worked, it was stronger than any magic he could ever hope to master. And for a brief instant, time had forgiven you both.

“to kiss you”

A series of one-shots and drabbles featuring the Twisted Wonderland boys, kisses, and a specific body part.

Part 1: Azul Ashengrotto x Gender Neutral Reader, legs.

Part 2: Malleus Draconia x Gender Neutral Reader, lips. [you’re here]

[hareofhrair]

Typed out a whole long post on reddit that it won’t let me post for no apparent reason, so y’all have to read it instead. It was a response to the question…

Imo, Dragon Age 2 was worse (because it just wasn’t *finished*) but DAI had some pretty glaring flaws. People have mentioned the gameplay issues with things getting annoyingly mmo-like, and the terrible war table timer, a lot of the fights being unnecessary slogs or just annoying to fight- the fear demons that teleport in front of you, knocking you over, then stun you while you’re still in the standing up animation comes to mind.

But for me the biggest problem was a culmination of writing problems that had always been present, but compounded as the series went on. It’s always been a bit… I don’t know if centrist or just contradictory is the better word.

The writing of inquisition is very concerned about *judging* or punishing the player’s negative moral choices and this has an impact on the consistency of the writing, even for people who aren’t interested in engaging with the ethical issues the game presents, because it’s afraid to give you consequences for your actions or allow them to make major impact and it goes out of its way to try and justify any choice you make as morally right or at least pragmatic in a very surface level way. This is consistently teeth grindingly annoying if you’re playing a “good” character/aligning yourself with the elves and mages, because the game is constantly finding an excuse to interrupt whatever you’re doing to say “but what about the Templar’s feelings??? QmQ” or “Did you consider… some elves are really rude???” or “This one mage did something Bad(tm) therefore it’s actually reasonable and right to want to murder all of them!” It also undermines player choice if they want to be evil or self serving, since it’s constantly bending over backwards to tell them how right and just and good their choices are. The writing itself won’t commit to a moral position because it’s too afraid of contradicting the player, and that makes it impossible for it to actually bring any of its themes to a satisfying conclusion.

(It makes this worse by choosing to really backseat the darkspawn storyline in favor of the templars vs mages conflict, which is annoying for multiple reasons, not the least of which is because they can’t bring it to a real resolution without drastically altering the worldstate and having to create two separate storylines- something inquisition is desperate not to do because of money and time restraints. You just can’t do meaningful branching narratives in a triple A setting as this whole series really illustrates- so they just pivot away from it into the *bullshit* with Tresspasser which I will get into in a minute…)

DAO handled the moral issue at least slightly better, I think. There were consequences for deciding to be an asshole at least. I was recently playing a Dalish elf and slogging through the Sacred Ashes questline getting more and more resentful as they essentially forced my character to Become Fantasy Catholic, so I dumped dragon blood in the ashes just to be spiteful… with Leiliana and Wynn in my party. Whoops. In case you haven’t played DAO, there are multiple big moral choices you can make- among them deciding to defile the mortal remains of Fantasy Jesus- which will cause your party members to leave permanently or straight up try to kill you! They have firm personal morals, and if your actions go against those morals they won’t just tolerate it.

Unfortunately, there’s a reason DAO connected such a major party breaking choice to the unavoidable-if-you-want-the-best-ending Player Has Become Catholic quest. These games have some issues with religion.

On the surface, it wants to pretend all the different religions are equally valid and it’s not taking a stance on which one is *real.* Wink wink nudge nudge. Then in practice it trips over itself to provide proof the Christian analogue is real. From finding Jesus’s ashes which have magic healing powers in DAO to Corypheus in Inquisition confirming the blight really was started by Tevinter mages desecrating heaven and pissing off the Maker, which up till then at least had a plausible deniability veneer of “this might be church propaganda, we don’t know what really happened.” And the games will *consistently* assume you are fantasy Catholic 90% of the time, *even if you’re a dwarf or an elf or FUCKING QUNARI*, the only concession being essentially flavor text dialogue where, if asked directly about religion, you can tell people their god is fake in the rudest manner possible. You are either catholic or an asshole, that’s it. Inquisition really knocks it out of the park though with making you *literally* the leader of the titular fantasy catholic inquisition. You can protest throughout the game that you’re not actually fantasy catholic, but this doesn’t have any meaningful effect on anything, and you obviously can’t just choose *not* to lead an explicitly religious order of a faith you don’t actually ascribe to.

This isn’t just me ranting about how much it sucks to be Assigned Catholic At Character Creation (though it is) it’s about how consistently the game renders player choice meaningless. And I fully believe it’s an extension of the already discussed issue with being terrified to contradict player choices or have to account for them in gameplay. It’s just that it treats believing in the Christian analogue as something *default,* standard and unobjectionable. “Of course our players will be Christian. Everyone believes in god! They’d only choose *not* to be as a fun wacky role playing experience! Which means acknowledging those other religions is optional and we can cut it for time.”

Which brings me to *fucking* Trespasser. First of all, and totally besides discussion of the writing, they released DAI without its actual ending, and then released the ending nearly a year later, as PAID DLC. That dick move alone engendered a Lot of negative feelings about the game, even from people who loved everything else. And then there’s the actual content…..

I actually just decided it’s too goddamn much to get into for a reddit post that probably no one will read. Short version- remember the religion problem? And also the bending over backwards to make the player feel morally justified for hating the elves and mages problem?

So it turns out not only is the elven religion *not* real, it was actually just a bunch of evil elven mages doing a slavery! You know, just like the empire of slave owning evil mages we already had? Remember Tevinter? Yeah, turns out that happened twice. Fuck mages, am I right? Also the racist egg you’ve been trying to make friends with all game has, apropos of absolutely nothing, decided actually Fantasy Islam is the biggest threat to the elven people right now (not the civil rights issues or the slow cultural genocide or anything) and he needs to blow up the world before the elves become muslim.

I don’t even know where to go from there frankly! What else can you say! His entire justification for turning against the player and wanting to tear down the veil is wanting to “save” his people (people he has spent the entire game calling inferior and not real elves) by…. Killing them all! Which will fix them, somehow? The specifics aren’t important. All that matters is it’s better they die now than join a different religion. As for everybody else on the planet? Well, we already established he’s racist, not giving a shit about destroying all the non elves is actually perfectly in character. No notes there.

Uhg. I’ve gotten very off track. Trying to bring it back in-

The dragon age series has always been over ambitious in trying to center player choice, stumbling into the same pits Mass Effect did when they simply didn’t have time or money to implement branching narratives, leading to games that talk a lot about how your choices matter while actually giving them very little impact. Origins came the closest to that goal, giving you more choices than most games of the time for how to approach problems. But as the games went on and the team was expected to continue accounting for those choices going forward, it became increasingly avoidant of giving the player choices that had any actual significant impact on the overall worldstate. Combined with a growing reluctance to be perceived as punishing players for in game moral choices (potentially alienating players when they needed to be as broadly appealing as possible because capitalism) and the writer’s centering an explicitly christian perspective as default, these problems snowballed and by Inquisition became very difficult not to notice, creating a choice driven rpg where you can’t make meaningful choices and can’t role play.

[nightbunnysong]

hey i just wanted to comment on your recent therian post you made and uhm, bestie that’s a bizarre take imo lmao

first of all to say that being therian/nonhuman is a fetish?? and not an actual belief system is uhm?? i could point you in the direction of 100 therians that could tell you about their spiritual beliefs and how it’s tied to their therianthropy and how deep it runs for them, myself included. a good portion of them also believe in past lives and reincarnation. plus not all therians are spiritual, some are also psychological.

and the “lack of respect for animals” is also strange to me. folks in this community do so much research and reading on their kintypes and the folks that own tails or pelts always preach to make sure and double check that any animal product like that is from a ethical seller and not a fur farm. respect for animals and nature is quite literally the foundation for this community.

you said twice that you didn’t know much about the community and it clearly shows and you said some strange things and i just wanted to point it out- maybe do more of a deep dive into things of this matter before making bizarre takes 🫶

I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to be offensive. As I said, I don’t know much about it, so you can message me privately to explain more if I’m wrong. 🌸✌️ However, I repeat, based on what I’ve seen, my opinion remains the same and doesn’t change.

Now, from a biological standpoint, the claims made by the Therian community that humans can somehow spiritually or psychologically be non-human animals are not only misguided, they completely disregard basic evolutionary biology. Humans are Homo sapiens, not wolves, not tigers, not any other animal. The notion that a person can "identify" as an animal species has no scientific basis—none. Our cognitive abilities may allow us to connect with animals emotionally, but this does not grant us the ability to cross species lines. It's a psychological construct at best, but biologically, it’s simply impossible. Any attempt to blur these boundaries is a fundamental misunderstanding of nature itself.

Let’s talk about Theria—the real mammals. These are creatures that have evolved over millions of years, with specific biological adaptations that define them as marsupials or placental mammals. Therians might like to romanticize themselves as having some special connection to these animals, but frankly, this reduces these complex creatures to mere symbols for human identity crises. True respect for these animals means appreciating their place in the natural order, not claiming some fantastical connection based on vague feelings. To suggest that a human can "become" one of them—without acknowledging the biological and ecological roles these animals play—comes off as both absurd and disrespectful.

And let’s not ignore the cultural appropriation at play here. Indigenous cultures and ancient civilizations have had deep, authentic spiritual relationships with animals for millennia, rooted in folklore and religious practices that honor the natural world. To co-opt these sacred traditions without understanding their context or depth, and then apply them to personal identity politics, is not just disrespectful, it’s offensive. These cultures have always valued nature for what it is, not as a canvas for individual fantasy. By claiming to "be" animals, Therianism risks distorting and trivializing these deep cultural ties to the natural world.

So in the end, for me, this is just a subculture that I don’t think would survive without TikTok or other social media. I may have been blunt, and I’m sorry, but coming from a scientific background and from a millennia-old society that lives in harmony with animals (I literally have wolves and bears in the forest behind my house), I can’t help but notice how superficial this community is. (Again, I’ve tried to dig deeper and understand it ;)

I urge you, as I do, to spend entire days immersed in the mountains and forests, with nothing but a pair of binoculars, quietly tucked into the hollow of an old beech tree, observing these magnificent creatures as they truly are—each with their own unique and unrepeatable nature. I invite you to sleep beneath the sweeping branches of a chestnut tree or at the roots of a larch ablaze with autumn colors, only to be stirred awake at dawn by the bark of the deer. Feel the pulse of the earth beneath you, breathe in the crisp air, and listen to the whispers of the wild. Live the real, raw beauty of nature before you feel the need to invent another version of it.

[scriptlgbt]

i'm currently in the writing process of writing my first book. the main love interest is an androgynous non-binary heir. Considering it's a fantasy world, I chose to make it societally normalized. My biggest issue so far has been gender coded appearance descriptors and gendered titles (ie. prince/princess). I want this character to remain as impossible to misgender as possible. close friend's of mine who are non-binary said that oxymorons (ie. softly angular) are my best bet - (1)

(2) - as a cis writer, i thought i'd ask you on how to describe someone androgynous in writing without using gendered words/descriptors. I'm sorry if this may seem like an overbearing question, and please correct me if I had said anything misinformed or offensive. Thank you for your time.

Don’t worry about this being an “overbearing” question - it’s not at all. This blog specifically exists to answer questions like this. There are undoubtedly other people who wonder the same things but who either are afraid to ask (so don’t) or are rude about it. So asking a question respectfully, especially in a setting where you are specifically invited to ask questions, is the best option of those. At least when it comes to something where you need to know the answer for some reason, like in writing good representation.

To get to the actual advice though: I can’t actually tell what you mean by gender-coded appearance descriptors, so I’m going to try to cover what I can. If you’re worried about something like, “soft ringlets and bold eyeliner” skewing feminine (for example), I wouldn’t worry that much about it. Something that describes body parts that happen to be gender-coded by society (breasts or an Adam’s apple for example) will land a lot differently, however. They will likely read with a fetishy tone in most writing. (I’m sure describing these characteristics on a trans character *can* be done in an alright way, but I don’t advise it because of how difficult that would be to pull off.) But as for general descriptors, I wouldn’t worry too much about making sure the descriptions are perfectly even.

Androgyny tends to be perceived differently based on the birth assignment as well. This isn’t fair, but it’s something society does a lot. Ideas of masculinity bringing a DFAB person closer to androgynous, and vice versa, as though our birth assignments are inherently going to skew us one way or another and we need to take efforts in our presentation to counteract that. I found when I started presenting in a way where I was confident and assuming what I would want to wear after top surgery and being on testosterone for a long time, people started assuming I had a different birth assignment more often. I think some of this may be just that people tend to assume groups of people are the same and that I am most often with trans women. But I only think that’s some of it. I’ve sometimes gotten this assumption when I am on my own as well. (Someone once asked me how I’d deal with it as a nonbinary person after being on testosterone long enough to “start passing as a man” and I had to explain that I never really passed as a cis man. Maybe I’ve passed as DMAB, but not as a man. These are not at all the same things.)

Another thing: I get what you’re going for when you mean “as impossible to misgender as possible” but I think it’s also important just to keep in mind that people will find ways to misgender us no matter what. Being seen as myself doesn’t change that some people are going to want to undermine that by making up details in the absence of information. There’s no shortage of people on the internet who tried to hurl transmisogyny at me when I was pointing out transphobia, because their sole perception of transness was the kind that transphobes fearmonger about. So if you can’t get an audience who genders the character correctly, it’s not your fault. Pronouns are easy to get (w/ some variation) when you fundamentally believe that a person is who they are and that their pronouns are part of that. And/or when people practice enough. Don’t take this as a measure against your writing.

Some neutral-coded description ideas:

(Note: some of these may not be neutral-coded depending on setting, but I read them as such personally.)

describing mood/facial expression

mannerisms/the way they carry themself

tone of voice

the way they dress (do their shoes look comfortable? jeans look well-worn? shirt ironed? aesthetic choices?)

confidence, hesitancy, timidness, how this may change around different characters or in different settings

voice speed/volume/pacing

their body language in relation to others present

hair, complexion, other physical features (highly rec this masterpost by Writing With Color on describing various features)

interacting with some object or hobby that helps paint a picture of them (smacking gum, holding a skateboard, paint stains on an apron, boxing gloves hanging off their bike)

piercings (& jewelry), tattoos

the way the weather is interacting with them (wind making their hair blow into their face constantly, rain weighing down their velvet pantsuit, clumsy on the frozen sidewalk, twirling a parasol)

- mod nat

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

The smell is what hits her first. The smell and the rain.

Rose Wilson grits her teeth as her face is planted on the road, her nostrils flaring even as the hands holding her—impossibly strong hands, with impossibly strong grips—force her mouth open and place her upper jaw over the rim of the curb. She had never noticed it before, but wet concrete had a faint smell to it—a kind of moist, dusty odor noticeable only thanks to her enhanced senses and current proximity to the material. It wasn’t a nice smell. Definitely not the kind of thing you wanted in your nostrils before you died.

She struggles, more for the sake of struggling than for any real hope at escaping, but the hands hold her there, tightly, their inhuman strength making it impossible for her to turn her face or even close her mouth in the same way the Lasso wrapped around her wrists and legs made it impossible to move. In the darkest corners of her mind, Rose feels glad. They had made her watch videos of heroes being executed via the electric chair without a sponge to direct the electricity, and while it hadn’t come close to breaking the white-haired ex-mercenary, it had reduced her resistance somewhat. Watching people be cooked alive for the crime of fighting for a movement you helped start was never gonna be fun for anyone, no matter how tough they were. At least this way it would be quick.

She could content herself with that.

Maybe she’d be a martyr, she thinks suddenly, finding herself not entirely opposed to the idea. She’d feared dying without anyone who actually gave a shit about her, but maybe it was in death that she’d find acceptance. She can almost see it, in that moment: crowds of people chanting her name as they tore the Tower down, waving orange and black banners with her skull-and-crossbones logo on them as they marched through the streets of San Francisco. It’s a nice image, and she lets herself indulge in the fantasy for a moment before the sharp mental reminder that she wouldn’t be around to see it spoils her sudden good mood.

Whatever, she thinks, scoffing at her own mind. I didn’t do this be a martyr anyway.

“If you’re going to kill me, then get on with it already,” she snarls into the concrete, feeling a sudden bitterness roil up in her stomach. For once, she’d done nothing to deserve this, absolutely nothing. All she’d wanted was love. Family. Someone who cared for her.

And instead, she got her.

“Someone’s getting ahead of themselves,” comes the smug, amused voice of Cassandra Sandsmark. Rose hears footsteps to her left as someone walks around her before they suddenly stop right in her blindspot, and Rose knows for a fact that she’s standing there on purpose. She knows Rose hates it when people talk to her from the side she can’t see. She knows, and she’s doing it anyway, because she’s that special kind of vicious bitch that gets off on doing things like that to people who had trusted her. “And here I thought you were supposed to be smart, Rose.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” she demands, trying unsuccessfully to turn her head so she might look at the woman who tore the country apart and stomped on its remains for good measure.

“It means I’m not going to kill you,” she says, and Rose doesn’t believe her until she hears the creak of fabric as she crouches down and feels the softness of her skin as she threads her fingers into her hair. “Oh, don’t pout at me like that. We both know you’re more useful to me alive, Rose.” There’s a pause, and Rose can hear the smile in Cassie’s suddenly husky voice as she gently lifts a few strands of Rose’s hair to her face and inhales deeply, letting out a content sigh a moment after that makes all the hairs on Rose’s arms stand on end. “A lot more useful.”

“You’re insane,” Rose growls, trying to pull her head away. “You can’t really believe I’d join you after everything you’ve done.”

Instead of responding, the new Wonder Woman takes another long sniff of Rose’s hair, ignoring the way Rose tries to move away at the invasive action. “God, I’ve missed you. Can you believe I lost the last of your old shirts during the earthquake a year ago? I swear, it’s like the universe doesn’t want me to have anything to remember you by.” She moves in closer, her breath tickling the strip of skin between Rose’s ear and her neck. “It’s been hell for me since I lost you. I want you to know that.”

“You didn’t ‘lose’ me,” Rose sneers, incensed by the presumption. “I left your sorry ass because of what you did!”

That does it. Rose lets out a pained grunt as a boot connects with her stomach, but she is kept in place by the hands holding her. “And now you’re gonna pay for it!” Cassie snarls in her ear, suddenly frothing at the mouth, so hysterical her spit is hitting Rose in the face with every word she says. “I-I can’t believe you—my mom, Donna, Diana, Kara, Cissie, Greta, Anita, all lost to me on the same damn day with no time to mourn them… drowning in stress and responsibilities for months and months without a word of help from you, and you’re b-bragging about the fact that you left me when I needed you the most even while we were together!??Bragging?!”

Rose doesn’t know who half those people are, but she doesn’t particularly care. “Oh, quit whining,” she sneers, voice scathing. “You’re not the only one who lost people in the crisis… and after what you did, you’re lucky I didn’t break Regulator out of jail and slice the lot of you to ribbons on my way out.”

For a moment, Rose thinks Cassie really will kill her, before she hears her take a deep breath and moved back. “You can survive a broken neck thanks to your healing factor.” Her voice is utterly toneless, and something about it suddenly impresses upon Rose the true severity of the situation. “But it won’t be pleasant, and we won’t give you any medical aid. You’ll be in agony for weeks, unable to move, unable to feel below the neck, unable to do anything but wallow in the consequences of your actions for as long as it takes for your body to heal itself. And I’ll do everything I can to make it even worse.” Rose hears footsteps, and suddenly Cassie is behind her, and Rose’s heart is beating in her chest. “You made my life a living hell, Rose. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“I’d rather die,” Rose replies, and it’s not so much a challenging cry as it as a plea to the girl who had once loved her.

“Too bad that’s not up to you,” she says, and Rose can sense there’ll be no mercy from the golden-haired demigoddess. “But don’t fear… after your punishment is over, I’ll extend my offer again. Maybe then you’ll reconsider what you said about joining us.”

Rose thinks for a moment about saying something final and martyr-ish, like “The East Dies Free”, but she hadn’t done this to be a martyr, and she had never been the type to believe in the slogans.

“Go to hell,” she says instead, and she hears the crunch long before she feels it.

———

Rose’s eyes shoot open, and she sits up, panting hard, her heart running a mile a minute.

“So? What is it?” She hears someone ask, and her heart beats two more times before she recognizes the voice as Tim’s. “What’s in store for us, Rose? What did you see?”

She barely hears him over the sudden ringing in her ears. “Cassie.”

“What was that?” someone asks, louder than Tim had. He—Bart, she realizes—reaches out as if to grab her shoulder, but thinks better of it halfway and lets his hand drop. “Rose, you’re whispering. What did you just say?”

“Cassie,” she murmurs again, blinking several times in an effort to banish the strange spots floating over her gaze. “Cassie.”

“Did she just say…?”

“She did,” another voice says, and there’s movement, and suddenly Cassie’s face is right in front of her. “It’s okay. Whatever you saw in the future, we can deal with it as a team. As long as we stick together, there’s nothing we…”

The ringing in her ears gets louder, and Rose brushes aside the piles of empty epinephrine inhalers laid out on the cot and gets her feet under her, managing three steps before she has to lean on the wall, and then Cassie’s hand is on her shoulder, and she tenses, and the world lurches to the side, and her vision crystallizes, and Rose can breathe again, and…

“Easy.” Cassie sounds confused, but stern, insistent, terribly similar and not at all like the golden-haired apparition she can still hear in the back of her mind. “You’re disoriented. Whatever you saw in the future, we have time to…”

“You wanna lose that hand?” Rose sneers, the sound of her own voice chasing the shadows at the edges of her vision away enough for her to remember she doesn’t like being touched.

“Do I wanna…”

Rose moves, and Cassie’s suddenly against the wall, and people are crying out and grabbing at her, but Rose can’t see them, can’t hear them, can’t remember they exist in any way, and the shadows dance and a god laughs and it smells like wet concrete and everything is happening too fast, always too fast, and she doesn’t know who she is, who she was, who she will be, but she remembers the word ‘together’ and knows it cannot happen, knows it cannot be allowed to happen, so she presses her arm against Cassie’s throat and snarls, or whispers, or sneers, or moans, or grunts, or growls, or breathes—she isn’t sure which—in her face. “Don’t ever touch me without my permission, wonder bitch.” Her lip curls. “As a matter of fact, don’t ever lay a hand on me again.”

The words exit her mouth and then she’s out in h the hallway and futures keeps flashing before her eyes and they won’t stop and the world spins and she can’t breathe and someone keeps laughing at her and she’s not sure why and her father screams and screams and screams and there’s a needle in her arm and then in her neck and then she’s bleeding from her eye, from just beneath it, from just above it, and there’s a crunch, and then two, and then three, and then cheering, and fire, and people die, and the wall collapses inwards, and then none of these things happen and she’s left just standing in the hallway, alone save for the ringing in her ears.

[hinatastinygiant]

11 | Golden Days

Pairing: Hinata x Fem!Reader

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Later that evening when you get home, you make yourself some food and sit down to scroll through your phone while you eat. However, about halfway through your meal, you get a call from Hinata.

You quickly wipe the food from your mouth and swallow down the bite in your mouth before answering the call.

“Hello?” you hum curiously into the phone.

“Y/N?” he responds. “Hey, I’m sorry for calling you unexpectedly. I just wanted to hear your voice. I’ve been meaning to ask how your vacation went.”

After hearing what he has to say, you can do nothing but smile from ear to ear. As you begin to tell him about your fun girls’ trip, minus the whole fantasy you had about kissing him when you were with another guy, you stand up from the table you were eating at and walk around your house mindlessly.

As you speak, Hinata asks questions about your friends, the beach, and even how you felt after the long drive there and back. You can’t really put how his voice makes you feel, but the butterflies in your stomach remain for the entirety of the conversation.

“What’ve you been up to since you got back?” he then asks.

“Do you think I forgot about you?” you smile to yourself. “I promise I haven’t.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You’re all I’ve been able to think about since the last time I saw you,” he responds. Once more, your face heats up and the butterflies cause a knot in your stomach.

“Well, since I got back I’ve been trying to help out with some things but my mom’s been making it almost impossible. I basically told her to fuck off today,” you admit.

“Shit, Y/N, you need a fucking smoke,” he teases.

“No kidding. But since I’ve been busy I haven’t been able to see my friends and get high,” you sigh.

“Well if you’re not busy now and you’re feeling up to it, you could come over to my place. I’d enjoy the company.”

“I think I might have to take you up on that,” you smile. “Can you send me your address? I’ll come over in a half hour. I was just finishing up my dinner.”

“Sorry, did I call at a bad time?” he asks. “I usually don’t call without asking for that reason.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you shake your head. You don’t mind the impromptu call at all. “I’m glad you called. I’ll be right over.”

After hanging up the phone, you shovel the rest of your dinner into your mouth and run to your room. You quickly change and fix yourself up. Not that you need to look good for him. You have nothing to prove. But you don’t want to look sweaty or dirty, either.

When you show up, Hinata answers almost right away. He hugs you and steps to the side to let you in. Then, when you get inside, you see a pre-rolled joint on his coffee table right beside the game Monopoly.

“You’ve got this all planned out, don’t you?” you smile at him.

“Just something I came up with,” he shrugs. “You said you wanted a smoke and I thought playing a game of investments and spending money would be a great combination.”

“You know me so well,” you sigh, smiling as you walk toward the table. “I call dog.”

“Good. I wanted car anyway,” he smiles back.

When you sit, Hinata passes you the joint and grabs the lighter from the table. Then, just like he did last time you smoked together, he lights the end for you.

“Thanks,” you mutter just before pulling the smoke into your lungs. Something you regret each time you go back for another hit.

While you get high off Hinata’s stash, he begins to set up the game for the two of you.

“How much money do we start off with, Mr. Banker?” you ask him.

“One thousand five hundred dollars,” he smiles, “but you just get one thousand.”

“Hey, play fair!” you scoff.

“I bet you’re the one in your family who didn’t play fair. You probably always had some kind of trick up your sleeve.”

“Momma didn’t raise no fool,” you grin.

“So you used to get along with your mom?” he asks curiously, accidentally causing your smile to drop.

“Yeah, used to,” you reply emotionlessly. “Except she didn’t appreciate a good trick, even if it was legal. She wanted everything out in the open.”

“So you outsmarted her and she didn’t like it?” he asks, grinning.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you shrug. “Guess you’ll just have to find out. Don’t drop your guard,” you smile. “And you better hope I don’t get a ‘Get out of jail free’ card before you. ‘Cause I’ll sell that for an unreasonable price.”

“Well if you do that, I might have to do the same,” he teases. “Here’s your dog.”

“Dogs are lucky, you know,” you explain to him as you trade the small metal dog for the joint you were just smoking.

“Oh yeah?” he nods as he puts the rolled weed to his lips. “How so?”

“Well, in China, the dog is one of the twelve Zodiacs and all of those are considered lucky. Besides, dogs and loyal and honest. They represent loyalty and good fortune. Not to mention the countless studies that show owning a dog can drastically lower your blood pressure,” you nod.

“Then you better hope your dog brings you good luck,” Hinata hums as he breathes out a puff of smoke.

“More than a car will,” you smile. “Ever heard of the tortoise and the hare?”

“Are you trying to say I’m compensating my fast car for something?” he gasps jokingly.

“No,” you hum, “but remember to slow down and pick the flowers.”

“Didn’t Goldilocks’ mother tell her not to pick the flowers?”

“No,” you laugh this time. “That’s the completely wrong story. It was Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Oh. That’s right, I remember now,” he agrees.

Once the game begins, you and Hinata play a long and intense round that’s broken up by laughter and puffs of smoke. But once it finally comes to an end, and you begin to realize how late it is, your heart drops to your stomach.

“Y/N?” Hinata calls you by your name. “Do you want to stay over tonight?”

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