#and no i definitely do not sense the guilt creeping on my back as i read

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: DDDNE, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, NSFW, masturbation, spying, camera usage, Miguel being an overall gross creep, stalker behavior, possessiveness, obsessiveness, mentions of murder from the previous chapter, manipulation tactics

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Woot! Sorry it's taken so long, everyone! I reinjured my back somehow so hopefully I can relax and get comfy enough to be a bit more regular with uploads to this! This chapter is a bit of filler before we once again, get into the heavier stuff later on. (And yeah I totally looked up the recipe for that drink because UGH I want it so BAD)

Part 2

Taglist: @vineberries9 @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua @peterbparkersburger @tojishugetiddies @aisyakirmann @itslariette @xxeclipze @oharasfilipinawife @amber-content @ixanne2006 @miguels-aranita

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Pt. 3

Several weeks had passed since the incident with the man in the alley, since Spider-Man had come to your rescue.

Several weeks since Miguel first felt the taste of euphoria from claiming you verbally. Even if you didn't know it, or knew he was Spider-Man.

Snapping that disgusting prick's neck was satisfying. It would only have felt better if he had sunk his fangs in his throat and just ripped it out, or curled his talons deep, his fist wrapping around his windpipe and yanking it free of his body.

No, no, he had no time for that, though. He had to hurry up and get home so he could comfort you, his scared Little Bird.

His precious Little Bird.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders and patting your back filled him with such a sense of accomplishment. Not even fighting and detaining anomalies felt that good. Protecting the multiverse paled in comparison to feeling your trembling little body beneath his hands, seeing your body visibly relax under his touch and in his presence.

Fuck, did he want you so badly. But, he couldn't. Not yet. He had to earn more of your trust.

Or at the very least, coerce it from you.

He felt pangs of guilt whenever he would think too deeply on it, but he realized when he checked your canon events, that... well. There was nothing saying you couldn't be his. That your universe would collapse.

You were safe, because you were in his native universe. You were safe because you were his.

Or, you would be. One way or another.

He wouldn't lose you the way he lost Gabriela. He wouldn't watch as you crumbled in his arms.

He wouldn't be alone again.

The way he rationalized it when his morals clouded his drive to possess you, was that you were precious. A cool drink of water after a run in the desert, a calm spot in the middle of a hurricane.

You were something pure that he needed to have. He needed to keep you safe.

Pulling up the statistics of your previous apartment district definitely solidified his reasoning that you simply couldn't be trusted to make decisions on your own. Why else would someone as naive as you move somewhere with a crime rate that reached nearly 76% in petty violent crime?

Which brought him back around to the garbage he tossed into a random alley in the city.

His fingerprints and DNA tied him to assaults and break-ins at your building and the neighboring district.

So once again... Miguel was merely doing what was best for you.

Thankfully you didn't have many friends, your busy work schedule from before saw to that. You were simply too raggedly worn to make friends. You even admitted that Lyla was probably the only friend you had (Miguel heard in the recordings of your conversations that you were still too new to Miguel as a person to count him as something so intimate just yet).

Another reason he was taking care of you.

You couldn't manage your work-life balance on your own, and you were struggling financially and mentally from the workload and lack of funds.

But because you were living rent free and with a paycheck to boot... Miguel knew that was the first turn of the proverbial key for your situation.

Soon, you would be locked inside your guilded cage where only he could touch and hold you.

You would thank him for it, eventually. He was sure of it. He would have you on your knees, smiling up at him happily, a pretty gold, necklace-like collar around your neck, the key would hang over his heart.

The thought alone made his cock throb.

No, no...

First things first.

He needed to earn you a bit more. He'd realized that with his work in Alchemax and the Spider Society, you and him hadn't had much interaction save for the end of the day, just after he'd come back from patrolling and you were headed off to bed for the night.

Well, lucky for him... Miguel had put in that he was taking a week away from work, and he even let Jess, Peter, and Lyla take control of things back at HQ, just so he can have time to spend with you.

He needed to make sure that you knew he wasn't afraid to be social with you, that he could be friendly and charming. Maybe once he hammered your walls down a bit... Things might be able to flow naturally. Maybe you would be interested in a relationship with him. It would make manipulating you that much easier.

'It's all for her own good. Nobody else can protect her like I can.' He kept telling himself.

'She'll realize that.'

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You had just let the dinner you made finish baking in the oven.

It was nice, you discovered, to have a conversation with your boss and Lyla while you worked.

Miguel--as politely as possible--convinced you to let him help you cook. He made some interesting dishes that smelled amazing, plus you two worked together to make a tres leches cake just for the two of you. He even showed you how to make homemade whipped icing! (That was messy but you two had fun doing it, of course)

He promised he'd teach you how to make chocoflan and a few other sweets, sometime. Maybe over the next week, since he had the coming days off; and your skills lie in appetizers and main dishes, not desserts.

And it was because of this topic that you learned Miguel had a hell of a sweet tooth. You made a note to add a few new items to your grocery list to make up for this oversight.

Because, hey, he's been working so hard, comes home ragged... who wouldn't enjoy coming home to a nice sweet, homemade treat after working all day and most of the night?

Thankfully your time as a bartender, you knew some things about making some good cocktails without skimping on the liquor.

Like, right now.

Miguel had a bar in his mansion (like most rich people in Nueva York, you assumed), and he allowed you free reign of it because he trusted you.

That knowledge made you feel a bit more pride than you normally would, because this rich and powerful man trusted you with bottles of liquor and champagne that cost more than a year's worth of rent at your old apartment.

At the moment, you were making him a cocktail you've always wanted to try, but menus priced them too high and you couldn't afford the proper stuff to make it right at home.

It was difficult, however, because he was so close, with his Adonis-like good looks and the body that surely made any woman's eyes wander. You had to snap your eyes away when he leaned on the counter, his biceps flexing beneath his partially unbuttoned dress shirt; the sleeves rolled up revealing his thick forearms and the veins lacing the gorgeous tanned skin that probably had phlebotomists fainting or swooning at the sight.

You tried so hard to stay on task as you carefully dipped the rim of the martini glasses in marshmallow fluff and rolled the rims in the crushed graham crackers. It took a few tries, because you were so distracted by the sheer inhuman beauty that was Miguel O'Hara, but his voice snapped you to attention.

"So... What is it you're making?" He hummed curiously, his brow quirking up from behind his glasses.

You cleared your throat and held up the two dusted glasses, "It's called a s'mores martini. It's a bit of a pain to make, but I'm told it tastes amazing."

"Ah." He smiled at you, resting his chin in his palm, his plush and pouty lips curled upwards as he watched. "But you've never made it before, hmm?"

You cringed. "Er... Well. I mean... I've seen other people make it plenty of times..."

Miguel laughed a little, the noise softly escaping his lips as you first poured in the Irish cream, heavy cream, the chocolate syrup, and finally the chocolate liqueur into the shaker.

"Of course. We learn from watching others experience, right?" He hummed softly, eyes tracking your hands.

You awkwardly avoided eye contact as you closed the shaker and held it above you, shaking the contents to make sure they were well mixed. You didn't notice because you were a little embarrassed, that Miguel was staring shamelessly at your cleavage as they jiggled with each over-the-shoulder shake of the metal shaker.

"Well... Yeah! Exactly!" You smiled, finally looking back at him. He'd corrected his line of sight swiftly so you wouldn't notice his hungry leering.

Once it was done, you strained the mixture into the glasses slowly, smiling proudly at the fact you didn't accidentally drop or--god forbid--throw the shaker into the glass bar behind you or across the goddamn room.

You then impaled two marshmallows on both of the smaller skewers you'd prepared, and held them up one at a time, lighting them with the small handheld torch.

You always liked yours a teeny bit more burned, so you let yours bubble and blacken a bit more to ensure optimum gooey-ness before placing it above your cocktail, leaving Miguel's lightly toasted before placing his.

They looked damn delicious, if you did say so yourself.

Miguel gave a tiny congratulatory clap as he watched you finish garnishing the drinks, his lips still curled in that smirk of his.

He took the stem of the glass and plucked the skewer from the rim, making a small show of his tongue curling around the sweet fluffy treats before pulling them off the stick and into his mouth.

He felt his gut twist with a fire as he watched you awkwardly avoid looking at him once more as you munched on yours a bit less eloquently than he did, getting some of the delicious sticky treat on your bottom lip. Miguel continued to watch with ravenous eyes as your tongue swiped the excess off and into your waiting mouth.

Miguel cleared his throat to get your attention again, and lifted his glass in a small toast, "Salud."

Your smile could melt his heart any day, and he felt it do a funny little flip as you returned it. "Salud!"

You wanted to squirm with glee when you saw his eyebrows shoot up when the flavor hit his mouth. You could tell by his expression that it wasn't bad; on the contrary, it was the look of someone who tried something new for the first time and absolutely loved it.

"Muy Bien." Miguel grinned. "You're right. This is good. I didn't know this cocktail existed 'til you showed me."

"See?" You chuckled, licking some of the fluff and crackers off the rim before taking another sip (something Miguel couldn't help but shamelessly watch). "I love looking up drink recipes. There's this one made from melon liqueur that involves soaking chunks of the melon in the alcohol, right..."

"That sounds good... Sprinkle a little chili-lime salt on it, it could almost be like a treat I used to eat as a kid with my brother." He grinned at you.

"We'd go to the park, buy a mango fresh from the bodega, some of the salt, and just sit on a bench and eat it after school."

"Oh! You can make it with mangos, too! We could try that." You chirp helpfully, ignoring how your heart skipped a beat

"I'd like that." Miguel chuckled, taking another sip. "Perhaps I can make you a white Russian, too?"

"Oh! That sounds good! I've never had one of those..."

You smiled, taking in the quiet, budding camaraderie between you and your boss. Lyla had long since moved her little holographic self to the kitchen, carefully monitoring the food so it didn't burn, so it was just you and Miguel in the comfortable silence as you enjoyed your drinks.

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God, of course you couldn't keep your hands to yourself. The moment you finished your chores and bade Miguel goodnight, you ran to your room, your heart fluttering like a wild hummingbird.

It was the booze. It had to be the booze.

Especially with these thoughts running through your head. He was your boss.

He was your boss.

You couldn't think about him like that, it would only complicate things. Being friends you could do, but... job romances always ended nasty. Like when you broke up with your coworker at the insurance office.

Bryce was still pissy about that and would harass you on occasion, sending hurtful and suggestive e-messages to your addresses.

But... working for a guy who may as well have been molded by the gods themselves; how the fuck were you to function properly without your mind wandering to less family-friendly thoughts?

The answer: not fucking easily.

Like right now, you were laid back on your cushy, soft bed, your fingers rolling soft circles onto your clit as you plunged your silicone dildo in and out of your wet and messy channel, your slick and juices leaving a shiny and creamy trail along the length as you twisted and pulled, desperately trying to get that orgasm you wanted. Thankfully you had a towel cushioned beneath you to contain your mess...

Hell, you tried watching porn on your phone, but even that could only get you so fired up. And thus, you were stuck with what your imagination could cook up.

And right now it was a heated image of Miguel leaning over you, whispering filthy things into your ear;

"Ah, so wet and needy, doll? Need my help to work you through it?" He would growl, his teeth just barely grazing the shell of your ear.

"That's it, just tip it up a bit more, thrust it harder--like that. Good girl."

You couldn't help the small moans and breathy gasps that trembled free from your lungs as you felt that wonderful pressure begin to curl your toes.

Your fingers slid down, gathering some of your slick as you imagined Miguel praising you, encouraging what you were doing as you used your wetness to lubricate your fingers so you could do smoother rolls on your little bundle of nerves.

"Good girl." He'd breathe softly, his voice a hair above a whisper as his breath fanned over your cheeks. You could imagine smelling his cologne and aftershave wafting off of him, his natural musk bleeding beneath it all...

"Get yourself nice and wet. Keep going. So close now, muñeca, so close."

You imagined him then, behind your closed eyes, hissing through clenched teeth as he would smack your hand off of your toy, taking the base in his palm before shoving it roughly up into you.

"Need my help, huh? Your little hands not good enough? Fine."

He'd lean back, staring down at you with heavy, lidded eyes as he roughly fucked you with that pale imitation of a real dick; the bulge in his pants straining against the seams in a way you'd swear they would burst.

Miguel would bring a hand back, slicking his messy hair, the sticky gel coming loose from the sweat and heat that was shared in such a small space between you; and he would rip the buttons of his shirt open as he watched you squeak and mewl as your orgasm got closer.

He'd grin down at you, his crooked teeth gleaming like shark teeth on display as he'd twist and thrust the toy up further and further, hitting every spot you needed with every deft curve of his hand.

"And once I'm done, magdalena, I will show you what a real cock can do to that cute little pussy of yours."

You tossed your head back when your imagination spat that line of dialogue out, and moaned wantonly as your orgasm gushed out of you, every muscle in your body tensing and relaxing all at the same time as the euphoria crashed into you like a violent surf.

You just couldn't contain yourself, crying breathily at the mental image:

"Miguel."

You laid there for what felt like forever, breathing, trying to regain from the intense orgasm that made your head and heart pound.

That's when the post-coital clarity began to set in, and you sat up abruptly, covering your mouth in sheer shock at the fact you just called out his name.

Your boss's name.

You looked around, knowing it was stupid, that he couldn't have possibly heard you from elsewhere in the house, but the flush that crept up your body was there all the same.

Equal parts shame and arousal, honestly...

Thankfully, Miguel didn't hear you.

But you were still none the wiser to the cameras above your bed, pointing straight down at you; feeding right to Miguel's office so he could watch you like his own private peep show.

And you were definitely none the wiser about the thick ropes of cum that covered Miguel's fingers, or how his lips curled into a sick smile as he licked his warm spend from his own hand, his face awash in the dim glow from the monitors in front of him.

Yes. You were going to be a fun little project.

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Part 4: Coming Soon

#yandere!miguel o’hara #yandere!miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara atsv

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Pairing: Steven Grant x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k (Explicit)

Request: "If you are still taking requests from the prompt list… what about Steven Grant and the Alleyway/Alley corner? I recently found your blog and it is *chefs kiss*"

Steven Grant + Alley/Alleyway: (prompt list here)

- Working under the guidance of an ancient Egyptian goddess was hard enough, without having to track one of your counterparts halfway across the globe every time he had a crisis of confidence. Marc Spector had been a thorn in your side for years on the job, his stubborn and erratic personality making him a nightmare to work with and the last person you'd willingly spend time with.

- So when you landed in London and started tailing him to see what shit he was pulling before you made your move, you could hardly believe the the change you saw in him - his arrogance facade faded into a sweetheart who took pride in showing little kids around a museum and helping them pick out toys, even if it seemed like a bittersweet irony that he always strayed into the Egyptian exhibits first. The man had become a creature of habit, taking the same route to and from work every day, stopping at the same places, and generally being far too easy to track for your liking.

- You were sure it was a trap, some fucked up game Marc was playing with you, but that didn't stop you deciding enough was enough and confronting him one night. He'd just finished his shift at the museum, leaving late after being punished with inventory, and as always got the bus back to his side of town. You were sure he'd noticed you sat with your back to him on the bus, but he chose not to say a word which only left you feeling more confused about this game of cat and mouse.

- Finally he slipped down the dimly lit alley that took him almost all the way home, footsteps speeding up slightly, like subconsciously he could sense that he wasn't alone on his journey.

"Marc!" You called out, stepping into the alleyway and blocking his path, his strict daily pattern making him just too easy to intercept. You expected him to start running, to scale the walls beside you, but instead you just heard a quivering voice, with a slightly unplaceable accent, reply,

"Umm, my name's Steven. With a v."

- As you strode closer the cowering man didn't back away, or even try to move a muscle, his wide eyes tracing over your silhouette as he took you in, surprised by the colour flushing to his cheeks and his rumbled brain choosing your beauty to focus on above all else.

"Fuck off Marc, you don't think i'm falling for that do you? We have work to do." You sighed frustratedly, feeling a tinge of guilt as he shook his head vigorously, eyes apologetic and soft, the antithesis of every interaction you'd had with Marc Spector.

"I'm really sorry, I don't know who that is, but I promise I'm just Steven, and we've never met before. Except you were on the bus before right?"

"So you did notice me tailing you?" You countered quickly, trying to get the truth behind the spark of recognition in his eyes. He gulped and nodded, suddenly very self conscious,

"It's hard not to notice a woman as pretty as you."

- His gentle smile, the warmth in his words, the slight hint of both fear and excitement in his eyes, this was definitely not Marc - and you were starting to feel more and more pleased with that fact as you let a smile creep across your cheeks, like everything that bothered you about Marc was reversed here, but in same gorgeous muscled package that you'd wanted to get a better look at for years.

- You only had to take two steps forward before Steven backed himself against the wall, desperately confused by the overlapping feelings of intimidation and arousal building up inside him, sure no-one had ever looked at him quite this way before, the happiest a deer has ever been to be in headlights.

"You're not so bad yourself Steven with a v, and SO much more charming than the guy I was looking for." You purred, inching forward until your body brushed lightly against his, the contact enough to know he was just as interested as you are.

- He didn't know quite how he ended up here, but Steven's mentally cheering himself on for managing not to mess this up yet, confident that anything else he says might be the thing that scares you away - not that you seem like the kind of person who's ever scared really. So he decides not to open his lips again, and instead listens to the voice in his head that tells him to lean forwards, setting his lips lightly against yours, testing the tempting waters he'd let himself sink straight beneath.

- You're leaning into him in no time, fingers trailing through his hair as your lips part, tongue taking control of the kiss and showing him he really doesn't need to be gentle with you. It's been a long time since you'd been able to take a break from work to have a little fun, and even if you still have to hunt down Marc, you can take a night off to enjoy a sweet British guy who takes way too long to build up the nerve to put his hands on your waist.

- You use your arms looped around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, grinding your hips against him and swallowing the whimper he lets out in response. His eyes are clenched shut as he tries to keep some semblance of self-control, mortified by each of the soft moans that slip out at every brush of your hips, determined not to let this opportunity get away from him. He lets his hands drift down your hips, skimming over your thighs as one gingerly reaches under your skirt, stopping when it finds the wet patch starting to form on your panties in all the anticipation.

"Bloody hell love." He breathes out as he starts to toy with you through the slick fabric, the sweet noises his touch elicits emboldening him to apply more pressure, rubbing firm circles over your clit, feeling your breath falter against him. He captures your lips in a greedy kiss as slips his fingers inside the fabric, his thumb returning to your clit as two fingers slide inside you, the delicious stretch almost enough to buckle your knees. His free hand keeps you pinned to his chest as works you up, every touch leaving you panting against him, your kiss trailing to his neck, leaving a bruise he'll wear with endless pride tomorrow.

- As his relentless pace starts to build the pressure inside your core, your thighs tremble again, making it harder and harder for you to keep upright in his arms, his own aching need growing inside his straining trousers. When he hears you moan out his name, he decides it's now or never, taking his hand away just short of your bliss, the whine that escapes your throat entirely involuntary.

"Just a second love, I'll be all yours again soon." Despite his clear power over you, he still stumbles over the words as he glances over his shoulder before undoing his belt, slipping his trousers down just far enough for his throbbing manhood to spring free, the cold night air making him hiss through his teeth at the sensation. Dropping to his knees he places a constellation of gentle kisses on your inner thigh as he slides your soaked panties down your leg, handling you oh so delicately as he helps you step free of them, stuffing them in his pocket before bringing his lips to sensitive skin again.

"You really know how to make a girl weak in the knees." You praised, surprised by the sweet giggle your comment drew from the man. The comment spurred him on to pull your thighs around his waist, rising back to his feet and pressing you against the wall behind you, now face to face again with so little fabric between you.

- Reading the uncertainty on his face you quickly nodded, squeezing your legs around him until you felt him start to slide inside of you, his fingers barely doing his size justice. Pure elation flashed across his face as you moaned out his name, the way he filled you quickly bringing your building pleasure back to the brink again. His hands gripped your ass hard as his hips bucked against you, sharp thrusts fucking into you over and over, his lips hungrily swallowing yours like he'd been starved pf the sweet affections of a kiss for as long as he could remember.

You grabbed at his broad shoulders, struggling to stay upright as his pace quickened, holding off his own release with everything he had before he could give you everything you needed. You were grateful he lived a pretty quiet side of town, the noise of the two of you echoing through the alley, the danger of getting caught only heightening all your senses as Steven's needy whines grew with the frantic pace of his hips, fighting his release but losing the battle in such a salaciously hot situation. You couldn't help but think you might need to extend your time in London to find out what other talents this Steven held, all thoughts of Marc long gone as a his new heavy rhythm brushed just the right spot inside you to have your head rolling back against the cold brick wall as you clenched down around him, your release all the more satisfying for his immediately following it. He clung to you like you were the first life preserver he'd been thrown in a very long storm, panting and moaning as your waves of pleasure seemed to ripple straight through him too, his lips chasing yours even as he desperately struggled to fill his lungs.

- As you come down from your high you'd have to tap him on the shoulder,

"Steven, you can put me down now." Straight back to bashful and embarrassed he'd apologize and pull out of you, cursing the whimper he let out as he finally left your soft warm entrance, dropping to the floor to ensure you were safely back on your feet, and feeling his heart do a flip as he caught a glimpse of his cum starting to drip out of your pussy and onto your thigh.

- By the time he's started to redress himself you're halfway down the alley, disappearing into the dark, leaving him calling after you,

"Am I going to see you again?" He wants to shout your name, but realises he never found it out.

"Maybe. I know where to find you Steven with a v." You replied without looking back, smirking to yourself at the thought of showing up at his door any time you wanted. You only missed the proud smile he gave himself as he pulled your underwear out of his pocket, knowing he'll struggle to think of anything else on his lonely nights now, mumbling to himself 'more like Steven without a v.'

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #steven grant fluff #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagines #moon knight headcanon #moon knight smut #moon knight imagines #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine

[help-i-lost-my-sock]

A Helping Hand

Hey guys!

I know I said I'd have this done soon but I definitely underestimated my school assignment (and then kinda forgot about this hehe, my bad), but here it is! Better late than never, I guess 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hope you like it!

P.S. only half proofread 😅

P.P.S. - Slightly edited, mostly grammar mistakes and typos (04.02.2024).

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Read on AO3

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Tags & Warnings: Buddha x Reader smut, M/F, (getting caught) masturbating, oral (F receiving; M receiving), PiV, friends to lovers

Prompt:

"- Were you just masturbating?

- I... Uh... No? I was just...

- Want some help?"

Word count: 5092

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Alone in your room, sitting at your desk. Slowly but certainly, boredom turns to drowsiness, as you stare out the window and listen to the clock tick by. It was just one of those lazy days. The sun was up, the skies were blue with nary a puffy cloud in sight. There were no meetings today, no errands to run, no… nothing really. So, you decided to invite your best friend over to hang out – have some snacks, maybe play a game or something, maybe just sit under a tree and chat, who knows.

Buddha was supposed to have been there by now, but he was delayed - by how long, he couldn't tell, and it's already been an hour. Your eyes begin to slip shut as you lay your head on your arms. ‘A nap wouldn't hurt. Buddha could just let himself in whenever he got there’ - he had your permission and your key. No, a nap certainly wouldn't hurt. Besides, who knows how much longer it'll take him? Might be hours until he gets there. Your lids fall shut, and you sigh lightly as you relax at your decision, and focus on the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick…

You get no chance to fall asleep proper, when there it is again - that one thought. That one stray, intrusive thought that kept invading your mind time and time again. That thought that makes your heart beat just a little faster. That thought that makes a soft blush creep up to your cheeks. That thought that makes your hairs stand on ends. That one thought that makes you feel tingly all over. That one damn thought that seemed hell-bent on draining you of every last drop of sanity you may have had left in you. Him. It's always him. Every day and every night, it returns to haunt you, as if to mock you for your helpless infatuation.

You mentally groan at yourself. 'What in blazes is wrong with me?!' Instantly on edge, you get up from your desk and run a hand through your hair in frustration. You close your eyes in a useless attempt to banish the image. It makes no difference. Nothing does. Nothing ever does! That all too familiar tingle runs through your body, stirring butterflies in your stomach like a whirlwind of emotions. The more you try to deny it - the more you try to ignore it - the more you feel your every muscle tense. You sigh, exasperated at your situation. This is getting ridiculous. Why, of all people?! Why did it have to be him?! He's your best friend for crying out loud!

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick…

The ticking clock on your desk punctuates the passing of time. The cruel thing seems to be mocking you, as if emphasizing all the time that's passed since these thoughts, and all your woes, began; as if asking how much longer will you last.

You sit down on your bed, staring at your hands as they fidget in your lap. A sense of guilt and shame tugs at strings unseen, deep within, as desire starts to gnaw at you, and you're not quite sure how to respond. There’s a certain thing you’d like to do now more than anything, yet… It feels so weird doing that while thinking of your best friend…

Despite being all alone, you instinctively glance around your room as if to make extra sure no one can see you - another telltale sign of how you felt about this whole thing. Yet, you fall back on your bed, hitting the mattress with an exasperated groan. 'It's been months now!' Months and months of this torment, yet nothing you've tried could make it go away. So, you figured you had no choice but to listen to that pesky little voice within and just give in. Besides, ‘he doesn’t need to know about this anyway, right’?

Your hand trails softly down your belly, to your thighs, lingering there for a moment. That hint of shame is still gnawing at you, though its grip is weakening, as more thoughts and memories come to mind... You remember his smile, his bright blue eyes looking straight into yours, and a soft blush creeps on to your cheeks. The thought of his strong arms, and his warm embrace makes you long for his warmth. Slowly, gently, your fingers glide over your plush thighs, and eventually slip under your skirt. Your warm fingertips trail over your soft skin, and travel upwards to graze over your mound, still not quite daring to reach for that special spot, as your lust and shame battle it out.

Your brows furrow ever so slightly, as you mentally bemoan this sorry situation. But it's hard to stay mad when thinking of him... His calm and comforting aura ever so clear, ever so soothing; his laughter so contagious and refreshing; and that cocky grin of his... This man was by all means an intoxicating vice. You allow your fingers to trace the edges of your panties.

Loud and clear, your mind recalls his voice, before twisting it into all those words you'd wish he'd say to you... the soft, sweet, and gentle... the daring, and provocative... the reassuring, yet teasing... and, oh, those dirty whispers you'd wish to hear him utter in the night... Your fingers finally settle on your clothed bud, rubbing gently in slow circles, as those forbidden fantasies start pouring in like wine, addling your brain, and slowly stripping you of your inhibitions.

'Fuck...' If the mere thought of him could do this to you already... 'Gods... how pathetic... What a pitiful joke...' Your lips twist into a bitter-sweet smile, as you listen to the clock tick on, punctuating the silence.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick…

Finally, you sigh in defeat. Drinking in these forbidden fantasies, your mind drifts off to darker places; what would his warm hands feel like gripping your hips? What would it feel like to have him kiss your neck, from your collar bones up to your jaw - to feel his lips on yours, to feel his tongue slip into your mouth? You remember his scent – sweet, yet so fresh – and imagine his mouth, hot against your own, and sweet with the taste of a cola lollipop. Your fingers trace up and down your core. The soft fabric is warm and moist under your fingers. You quickly slide your panties off, tossing them haphazardly to the floor.

Laying back down on your bed, your mind continues to slip down the gutter. As time marches on, tick by tick, shame gives way to desire, and you succumb to temptation, finally sliding your fingers over your bare, wet core. 'Ah, yes. That's better...' A soft sigh escapes your lips, as you close your eyes and bite your lips.

A shiver runs through you as you imagine his strong, large hands roaming over your body. Subconsciously, you wrap your free arm around yourself, allowing it to gently caress your waist and hip. As of its own accord, this hand makes its way up your chest, sliding your shirt up along the way, and settling on your breast, gently kneading the soft flesh in your palm. Another lustful thought, another needy touch, another longing sigh…

Drunk and still drinking of this forbidden wine, your arousal continues to build, becoming ever more ardent and slowly starting to drip onto your skirt, as your fingertips trace and tease your slick folds.

What would the look on his face be as he touches you so - as you sigh and squirm under his touch? A grin? A smirk? Perhaps half-lidded eyes, being as ready to take you as you are for him…

By now you are aching to be filled, and you oblige your body by slipping in one slender finger. Yet, you can't help but think, with a hint of bitterness, just how much better his fingers would feel in there... Longer, thicker, but above all, his. The thought prompts you to add a second finger, lazily sliding them in and out, or curling them up. Your other hand roams over your body, caressing and squeezing here, there, and everywhere.

Tick… Tick… Tick… Tock…

The ticking sound of the clock fades in and out, as your sighs and pants regularly drown it out.

You bite your lips, wondering what it might feel like to say his name in your current state. You imagine him biting down on you, his fangs nipping at the tender flesh of your neck, and his name leaves your swollen lips on a breathy, needy moan. 'Ugh... This is so wrong... But why the hell did that feel so right?'

The sound of a lollipop being crushed jolts you out of your thoughts, and you instantly bolt up to a sitting position, throwing your shirt back over your chest and belly, and your skirt over your thighs. Your nipples, still hard, are visibly poking through your shirt, and your fingers, still coated with your arousal, now clutch at your skirt.

Stiff as a plank, you try to act normal as you desperately pray to whatever it is that you could possibly pray to that this is just a nightmare. 'How long has he been standing there?!'

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick…

Neither of you speaks a word, both of you just staring at each other. Your heart is pounding so loud you could swear it's just about ready to burst right out of your chest and make a run for it. Your face is visibly red, and you can feel the blush burning all the way down your chest. Your best friend just walked in on you pleasuring yourself at the thought of him - and moaning out his name none the less!

"Were you just masturbating?"

"I... uhh... No? Of course not! I was just-"

"Want some help?"

You blink at him in dumbfound silence. 'Did he just...?'

"I- I'm sorry, what?"

"D'ya want some help? I heard you say my name while having a go at yourself. Not gonna lie, that sounded pretty good~" A smirk spreads on Buddha's face, and you can see his eyes dart to your soaked panties on the floor. His fangs poke out at the corners of his mouth as his smirk grows wider. Those fangs... Those fangs you'd just imagined biting into you... That mouth you'd just imagined against your own, so hot and sweet... You're transfixed by his eyes, as your brain still tries to process the invitation.

"So, what's it gonna be, petal"?

You continue to stare at him in dumbfound silence, as the clock ticks ever on.

Buddha shrugs his shoulders, and slowly turns back towards the door. "Guess I'll just come back lat-"

"No."

Buddha turns to look at you over his shoulder, with a raised eyebrow and that damned smirk still plastered on his face.

"No what?" His eyes pierce straight through you, and you can't help but avert your gaze.

A brief silence falls over you again, as your hands fidget with your skirt, and you can swear that blush on your face was going to burn you alive.

Buddha doesn't wait long for an answer.

"Oh, well!" He sighs as he turns to leave once more, waving at you over his shoulder.

"Wait! I... I want your help."

He turns to look at you, closing the door behind him, a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s looking you dead in the eye, when you notice that... his eyes seem somewhat... darker than you remember them. Certainly not a bad look on him, though.

Buddha chuckles as he eyes you up and down - flustered with need and anticipation.

"Well, then – how could I possibly say no to a friend in need?"

You’re quick to avert your eyes from him - his stare is too intense, that grin too cocky. He notices your discomfort and comes to kneel in front of you. His fingers grab your chin, gently prompting you to look at him.

"Hey. Look at me. There's no shame in this, okay?"

You slowly look up at him. There's a soft smile on his lips, yet the lustful look doesn't leave his eyes for a moment.

Buddha slowly leans in and claims your lips - a soft kiss that quickly turns hungry, and you feel his free hand start to roam up your thigh, slowly sliding further and further under your skirt. His hand is much larger and stronger compared to yours. His touch is gentle, yet firm as it caresses and squeezes along the way. The feeling is intoxicating – his lips on your own, his hands on your body. It feels almost too good to be true. This is when a thought hits you, and you briefly break the kiss.

"Buddha... I... We don't have to do thi-"

"Shuddup. I'm doing this because I want to. Matter of fact...," he continues as he kisses you hungrily once more "I've wanted to do this for a long time." Buddha pauses just long enough to look deep into your eyes. "So don't fuss about it, mkay?"

"You di-"

Buddha cuts you off by crashing his lips back onto yours. He smells so good... Is that vanilla and orange? With a note of caramel and spice… You close your eyes and allow yourself to fall into his touch, to lose yourself in his kiss. His hand is warm under your skirt, rubbing circles on your inner thigh, as you relax into his touch.

You feel his fangs brush against your lips and you slide your tongue over one of them. Buddha chuckles, and meets your tongue with his own, deepening the kiss and earning him a moan from you. His mouth is just as you'd imagined it would be - hot, sweet, and sinfully skilled against your own.

His hand leaves your chin to cup the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. Buddha raises to his knees, and wraps your legs around his waist. Holding you close, he swaps places so that you are now straddling him. His hands start to roam your body, squeezing and pinching playfully every here and there.

Your head still spins with his words -

"I want to. [...] I've wanted to do this for a long time."

His mouth starts trailing open-mouth kisses down your neck and collarbone, until he reaches your shirt. Buddha quickly removes the obstacle, tossing it to the floor, to join your discarded panties.

His hands trail up your sides, grabbing your breasts, before his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, rolling his tongue around it. Holding on to his shoulders, you dare look down at the sight - his hot mouth working your hardened nipple. He briefly meets your eye, and smirks against your chest. His eyes then close, and he becomes fully absorbed in his task.

Tension is building up higher within you and you start to roll your hips against his hardened member, earning you a small grunt from him. Buddha sucks hard on your nipple before releasing it with a lewd pop, and immediately diving in for the other, giving it the same treatment. Your back arches slightly, pressing your chest closer against his lips.

Panting, your grip on his shoulders tightens, as you start grinding against him harder. You know your dripping pussy is probably making a mess on his robes right now, but you couldn't care any less. You still can't quite believe this is really happening - it all just seems a bit surreal. You moan softly. The friction between your thighs increases, as his mouth continues to feast on your heaving chest.

Just as you seem to be getting a bit too carried away, Buddha grabs you and rolls you both over. You find yourself on your back, once more, legs spread wide open, but this time, he is there, between your thighs.

He smiles softly at your flustered face, a gentle look in his eyes as he looks at you from below his long dark lashes.

"What a cutie..." His long fingers reach up to caress your face, before moving to remove his glasses. He places them on your nightstand, and quickly returns his full attention to you. You stare at him transfixed. Every single feature of this man is sculpted to perfection. 'Good grief, how is he so handsome?'

His lips recapture yours in a passionate, intoxicating kiss, as your hands roam up his strong arms, and down his chiseled chest. His strong hands caress up and down your thighs, squeezing them gently every now and then. Laying there, legs wide open, and skirt barely clinging to your thighs, you wish Buddha would just take you already. His mouth starts traveling down your body - from your lips, down your neck, over your heaving chest, and down your belly, giving you goosebumps. Reaching your lower half, he quickly glances up to you with a smirk.

"Let's see what we got 'ere, hm?" Buddha doesn't waste a moment hiking your skirt all the way up, and exposing your needy core - hot, and ready, and glistening with arousal.

His eyes widen slightly - a detail so small you might have just missed it had you not been so intently studying his reaction. A whiff of your scent and you can see his lips part slightly. His gaze meets yours - the look of hunger in eyes makes you tense up with anticipation.

His warm lips latch on to your soppy cunt, his hands holding your thighs open as far as they could go. You moan loudly, as his strong tongue darts in, past your folds. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, tugging gently at the luscious locks. Panting and gasping, you try to buck your hips against his mouth, wanting more of him. You can feel his fangs against your skin as his tongue retreats, and he grins at your attempts. His large hands slide up to your hips, holding you firmly in place, as he starts teasing your swollen, sensitive clit, licking circles around it. You whine in protest, but with the way he's holding you down, there's not much you can do about it. You don't even dare trying to fight it, afraid he'll pull back completely - all you can do is moan and whimper to let him know you want more, and hope it's enough to persuade him to give you more.

His left hand returns to your thigh, gently caressing it up and down. Buddha is relentless in his teasing - licking you slowly, and passionately. His slow, torturous movements are driving you up the walls, especially when he kisses and sucks on your clit.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet, petal," he mumbles against your core.

Buddha's mouth moves up and down your folds, as he licks from your needy slit to your sensitive clit, giving it a couple short, quick flicks of the tongue before starting over. Meanwhile, your hands travel up to your chest, squeezing your breasts and playing with your hardened nipples. Your moans and whimpers are like music to his ears, and the sight of you touching yourself like that - so hot for him, so needy for him... is enough to break his resolve and grant you your sweet relief.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting up your hips, and giving that sinful mouth of his a better angle to sate both your desires, as his tongue dives back into your core. You can feel the knot in your belly tighten. From the way you squirm and writhe, the way your walls start clenching around his tongue, and the way your voice starts getting louder, he can tell you're getting closer. He grunts, as he starts licking faster and deeper than before, his grasp on your thighs tightening ever so slightly, pushing you over the edge.

With a broken moan, you release into his mouth. His face is still between your thighs, as those gorgeous blue eyes look up to meet yours. He laps up your juices diligently, before slowly pulling back. Panting, your body relaxes as Buddha's mouth leaves your core. The look of pride on his face is undeniable as he looks down at your flustered face, his gaze meeting yours through half-lidded eyes.

Crawling on top of you, he claims your lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, giving you a taste of yourself. You moan in his mouth, your hand darts between his legs, grabbing his rock-hard shaft and earning you a groan. You can feel it throbbing under your touch, as you start palming it up and down. Buddha's lips leave yours, and you feel his teeth biting into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder, as  your warm hand slips into his pants. You can feel his tip slick with precum, as your hand pushes in further, grabbing a firm hold of his cock and starting to pump it slowly.

He lets out a small, relieved moan at your touch. His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply, and passionately, as his hips start grinding into your hand. Your free hand clutches at his shirt, pulling and tugging at it. Buddha takes the hint, quickly pulling his shirt off over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room, before getting back to your mouth.

His hips start grinding into your hand harder, his breath becoming uneven. But, no, this won't do. He pulls back, making quick work of his robes and boxers, as you dispose of your skirt.

Bare at long last, you eye the god with marvel and lust. His physique is absolutely divine in every sense, his imposing stature as he towers over you, his shoulders strong ans broad, his arms, his chest, his legs, his abs toned and chiseled. The man is ripped. And this masterpiece of a man's cock - large, and hard, and throbbing with need - stands tall at attention only for you - a sight that damn near makes you drool. You can't help yourself anymore - you drop to your knees before him, staring up at him, eyes blown wide with wild lust, ready to worship him. Your left hand cups his balls, while your right hand grabs his shaft. His eyes snap to you with something akin to surprise written on his face. Your tongue slips out to give a few small licks, to test his reaction. You feel him tense a little, before the situation sinks in and he relaxes, smirking down at you. Your tongue starts dancing over the tip, tasting his readiness, before licking a long strip from the base of his shaft to his tip. Your soft, warm lips wrap around his tip and start sucking softly, teasingly, before sliding his length deeper and deeper into your mouth. You bob your head on his cock, as your right hand pumps the length that could not fit in your mouth, and your left hand toys with his balls. You hear a sigh leave his lips. You slide your head back, teasing his tip with your tongue and lips. His hands cup the back of your head, gently pushing himself back into your warm, welcoming mouth, and guiding you along his length, as his breath becomes increasingly ragged. His sighs and occasional moans, and the salty taste of his precum on your tongue spur you on. Your cunt is dripping with need, jealous of your mouth for being so full of him. You continue to suck him deeply, with a seemingly insatiable hunger, until you feel a slight tremble in his legs and his balls starting to tighten in your hand. 'He's getting close.'

You release him with a lewd pop, a small string of saliva hanging between his eager cock and your swollen lips. Buddha is visibly disappointed. The air feels cold against his cock, coated as it is in your spit.

You look up at him with a smirk, as your hands continue to stroke him slowly. Buddha chuckles slightly at the cocky look on your face.

"You little minx..."

Bending down to your level, his fingers gently guide your chin to his lips. Before you know it, you feel his hands pulling you off the ground and tossing you on the bed. Smiling, he gazes down at your naked body.

"Damn. You look even better than I imagined", he says, as he reaches up to let his hair down. "Now, why doncha turn around for me, petal? Lemme see that ass of yours." His eyes are beguiling, and dark with that same desire coursing through you. You happily oblige, turning around for him, propping yourself up on all fours and exposing your needy cunt to his gaze.

A moment passes and nothing happens. You look over to him over your shoulder, and catch a glimpse of him stroking himself, his eyes trained on your core, as it clasps and clenches so needily in anticipation, your slick folds so inviting as they glisten with your arousal.

He catches you looking and chuckles. "Just enjoying the view, petal."

"Hmm... I can think of a better view", you hum suggestively, as you arch your back, pushing your hips slightly higher.

Buddha chuckles to himself, positioning himself behind you, his tip pressing to your entrance. He leans over you, supporting himself on one arm, while his hand moves up to guide your chin towards him. His thick shaft slowly pushes past your folds and deeper into you, stretching you up gradually, as his lips meet yours in a warm and tender kiss.

Buddha gives you a moment to adjust to him, placing soft kisses on your face and neck. His large hands hold on to your hips, pulling you as close as your bodies would allow. You can't help but moan when you feel him bottom up against you, his hips pressed flush against your ass, and his balls pressed against your clit. In both length and girth, this man is nothing to scoff at. His size is just perfect for you, stretching you up so deliciously, and filling you up entirely. To you both, this was a dream come true. What were the odds you'd get just what you wanted, and through an awkward accident nonetheless? You both needed a moment to regain your wits, as the lust and mild disbelief mixed into a haze, your thoughts racing as fast as your hearts.

"Fuck..." You both sigh in unison, as your head falls down, and his falls back.

One more moment, one more sigh.

Your walls clench around him as your body adjusts to the intrusion, and you let out a small whine. You can feel him twitch inside you, and you hear him groan at the feeling. Slowly, you turn your head to give him a nod, letting him know it's alright to move now.

Buddha wastes no time, as he slowly starts to move in and out of you. His hand reaches between your legs, and his nimble fingers start dancing over your sensitive pearl. The feeling sends a jolt through your body, making you clench a little more around Buddha's size. Your panting slowly turns to whimpers, as your legs shuffle a little further from each other, spreading just a little wider to accommodate him.

Your soft sounds, and the way you open up so nicely for him lets him know you're ready for more. Buddha quickly builds up to a steady pace, while making sure to hit all the spots that make you gasp and twitch.

Your heart is racing in your chest, as your moans get louder. Your breathing is growing more erratic by the moment, and you can feel the temperature rising.

Buddha leans over to you. His breath fans over your cheek as his teeth nibble on your earlobe. "Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking tight." His voice is low and coarse, nearly growling in your ear.

"Harder..."

His fingers dig into your flesh, pulling your hips towards him to meet his every thrust, as he picks up the pace. His hips slam against your ass, his cock hitting that special spot within you over and over again. As his thrusts grow rougher and sloppier, your moans grow louder, gradually turning into screams. The sounds you make are music to his ears, spurring him on; the sound of skin slapping against skin punctuating each thrust, as the scent of sex fills up the room.

Your bodies glisten with a sheen of sweat, as you lose yourselves in the moment - in this long-awaited union. Your body begins to shake, as your breath catches in your throat. Buddha notices and slowly pushes you down on the bed so that you're now laying on your belly, trapped between him and the bed, as he continues to rail you into the mattress.

Caught between his hot, hard body, and the soft mattress, all you can do is gasp and scream his name, as you feel his cock hit that special spot deep within you over and over again, making the knot in your belly tighten, and your head feel light. You can hear his breath getting more and more ragged. His thrusts grow sloppier, and more desperate as he nears his own end, slamming his hips hard against your ass.

With a loud scream you cum undone around his throbbing shaft, spasming hard around his length. Your sounds, and the feeling of your tight little cunt squeezing him so tightly, pushing him over the edge too, and he released his seed deep within your walls.

Buddha slowly lowers himself over you, careful not to squeeze you under his weight, as you both try to catch your breath, slowly coming down from your highs. His heaving chest against your back feels right, as does his hot breath over your shoulder.

"You know," you start, still panting slightly, "I still can't quite believe this actually happened." There's a short pause as you sigh, and look back at him with a warm smile. "But I'm glad it did."

Buddha chuckles. That smile would be enough to melt his heart, but your words truly bring a new meaning to joy.

"So am I," he whispers to you softly. He presses a tender kiss to your lips, before sliding out of you, and rolling over on the bed.

Perhaps the best thing to do, as the clock ticks idly by, is to just take a nap - cradled safely against the man you love, as he holds you tightly in his arms.

#ror buddha #buddha ror #snv buddha #buddha record of ragnarok #record of ragnorak #buddha x reader smut #buddha x you #buddha x reader #buddha x y/n #ror smut #buddha smut #smut #smut prompts #ror x reader #snv x reader #friends to lovers #Moth writes

[levmada]

Random but I can’t get this tiny scenario out of my head

Canonverse, levi and reader are bickering about something (they haven’t acknowledged their feelings/confessed) and someone (I’m picturing either eld or gunther) walks by and says to another “why are mom and dad fighting?” Or “I don’t like when mom and dad fight” something along those lines and levi & reader hear that and just immediately stop arguing to look at whoever said that in pure, slightly flustered, shock & confusion

Then at the same time they both start fumbling to disagree with the sentiment, completely forgetting what they were arguing about before

I’m so sorry if this doesn’t make much sense, terrible at expressing my thoughts/ideas but I just really wanted to share it with you bc I thought it was cute and funny

You sigh, stressed. “Do you have to be good at everything?”

The only reason Levi agreed to take his work outside today is the shade the clouds provide from the half-summer, half-autumn sun. Leaves whirl around the courtyard, but the heat has its foot halfway out the door still. And maybe because you were taking your work outside, which you do often together anyway, by candlelight. Maybe.

“Not everything,” Levi mutters. He’s even multiplying—numbers of soldiers, numbers of supplies, those lost, those on the way—as he talks, large and uneven figures. He can do it all in his head.

“Yes, everything,” you whine. You stare forlornly down at your papers. “Strategy, math, fighting—”

“Fighting,” he bites back, looking at you now. You actually can tell that he’s not being serious—that sparkle behind his eyes wouldn’t be there if he was annoyed with you.

“Ah… What you’re best at.”

“I get the job done.”

“You do not,” you bicker. “You’re Humanity’s Strongest—”

He flicks your ear with a sour expression on his face. “Enough.”

“Denial, is it?”

“Shit-for-brains, is it?”

You swallow a laugh like a heavy stone in your throat and bite down on the inside of your cheek, attempting to scowl like Levi’s effortlessly doing. In the middle of your staring contest, you forget the courtyard and catch a voice—Gunther?—as he and someone else amble by.

“Hate it when Mom and Dad fight.”

Eld snickers.

Levi whips his head in their direction, but, definitely sensing a punishment, have already hurried off in the direction of the Mess Hall.

You for one freeze, heat creeping across your cheeks. That vague warm feeling that you’ve become accustomed to letting bloom whenever you’re around Levi fills you with a profound sense of guilt. But mostly embarrassment.

“Idiots,” Levi mutters. One hand on his ledger curled into a fist. Only one side of his face is visible, but you don’t need to make eye contact to see that he’s blushing almost crimson.

“...Yeah,” you agree awkwardly. You clear your throat. “Gods, if I had kids, I’d never send them anywhere near the Survey Corps.”

“I’ll get them for it. Later.” He finally glances at you, only for his gaze to drop back down to the ledger.

You nod, your heart panging in your ears. Mom and Dad. Oh gods. Oh fuck. He’s so fucking pretty when he blushes. What were you arguing about?

“You do that,” you say.

#levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi x reader #levi x oc #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi.thoughts

[kitorin]

OUR SPRING

010. creep

3:40 pm

"Pfft." The giggle slips out as you leave the school building.

You can't emphasize enough how much school life has improved, there's been a significant improvement for the past few weeks, and you can't put into words how free you feel. Even everything outside of you and Hyoma's relationship was going well,

Everything's been going great. The majority of Hyou's fan base loved and supported you (with the rest either being hateful and salty or weird and obsessive).

Egoism's public relations team was highly capable too, with Reo's family assisting with managing the media and any undesirable articles.

But of course, an idol and his famous group, a PR team and the media couldn't fix your personal life.

"y/n."

A self deprecating speech that has the purpose of guilt tripping you, or a childish fit of anger. When it comes to Kira Ryosuke, either could happen.

Kicking and lashing out at him was very tempting, but now that you have a public image you have to be careful.

"What?"

"Why do you do this to me, I know I'm not perfect but you didn't have to do that to me."

Ah, so he chose both.

"Please stop."

You keep any sort of emotion out of it, wanting to deal with this quickly and avoid any sort of unnecessary conflict or fighting.

"You've been dating Chigiri, why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm not obliged to tell you anything." Your voice is steady, yet you're still ready to break down and just run away. But you refuse, although you're terrified nothing would change for good if you turn a blind eye. "Stop obsessing over every detail of my life."

"But it doesn't make sense, y/n please, I know you're going through a lot right now-" Again with that fucking phrase, all because you ranted a bit about school being troublesome. Even if you had been going through something messed up and overwhelming, it was none of Kira's business unless you wanted his involvement. And no one has the right to use that in attempt to manipulate you.

"Look, I heard from Taka that you said I liked you back." A look of horror and shock materializes on his face. "I don't reciprocate. I liked having you as a friend."

"Then why ignore and avoid me? Don't lie-"

"I said liked. Not like. There's a difference in tense." As painful it was to admit now, he was a nice person at first. Or maybe he'd been this toxic the whole time and simply gave up on concealing it. Either way you wanted him out of your life for good. "You ignored and avoided me for no reason, you've gaslighted and guilt tripped me."

"That was only once."

As if that was an excuse. And it definitely happened more than once.

"Just fuck off." You were getting impatient, blood on the verge of boiling and teeth almost clenching. "I don't want to deal with you ever again." With that, you turn to leave, but his hand grips into your wrist.

"Don't make me the bad person here."

His grip goes as sudden as it came, with someone pulling you away from him.

"?!"

Chigiri doesn't even acknowledge you verbally, one arm wrapped around your waist the other holding your hand.

He's livid, resentment scrawled all over this face and eyes almost glowing with disgust.

"Don't. Touch. Them." Despite how obvious his emotions were, he still maintained a stoic tone, although you were saved by him you still found him intimidating. It wasn't the right situation, but you still admired how he looked, hair tied up neatly and an extra button of his school shirt undone.

Something about Chigiri's heroic action seems to piss off Kira, his personality did a 360 from seemingly polite, to straight up animalistic and feral. His deceitful smile became an ugly expression of him gritting his teeth, he only got louder and more rude, going off at you.

"It's your fault for flirting with me all the time."

"You spread all these rumors only to blame me, you made all the advancements onto me."

"You're a fucking bitch."

Slap.

Hyoma had released you, a loud and clean strike across Kira's cheek, now red and swollen. Gasps fluttered along the corridor, Kira's accusations and screaming attracted attention.

Flashes of videos and photos engulfed you with discomfort, sure you were nice to Kira, but it wasn't with intentions to be anymore than friends. You'd rather be a nice person to everyone, not specifically to someone you were interested in.

"Don't run your mouth. Or try to ever disrespect y/n. Don't even try to accuse them of anything. Of course someone like you would misinterpret kindness with flirting. Y/n never liked you, never will, and doesn't owe you anything." He glances around, wanting to check on you but refusing to take his eyes off Kira, just to be safe. "Last chance. Before I actually try something."

Chigiri immediately runs over to you, even though you weren't that far from him. His jacket comes off, covering you and your face as he guides you out of the commotion, with an arm protectively wrapped around you.

"Shit, are you okay?" He finally speaks, after you've both lost the crowd, now hiding near the front gate of school.

"Yeah." You were slightly shaken up at the event, not used to conflict, let alone conflict with complete strangers watching. "Thanks, a lot. I dunno what I would've done without you."

He smiles with relief, eyes squinting and dimples showing again. "Of course, anything for my fake lover. C'mon, let's get out of here, before they find us again."

You nod, feeling abnormally hot and your heart beating a bit faster than usual, it must be the aftermath of the drama.

NINE | ELEVEN | MASTERLIST

PAIRING. chigiri hyoma x reader

SYNOPSIS. school gets overwhelming with constant rumours and accusations, thankfully someone is willing to help. but what happens when this mutually beneficial agreement escalates into something more?

GENRE. social media au, fake dating, idol / actor au

TAGLIST. @izzylovestnbhd, @angelchigiri, @punkhazardlaw, @silly-ez, @y-sabell-a, @mellozhi, @luvlunazx, @oldest-dream-pdf, @misfits1a, @hoshithinker, @livelaughloveisagiyoichi, @mave-in

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

#our spring - kitorin #IZZY I HOPE YOU'RE OKAY WITH YOUR APPEARANCE #i had no idea what to tweet so i used an ask you sent to jo :> #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk #fluff #itoshi rin #blue lock x reader #blue lock smau #bllk smau #smau #social media au #chigiri hyoma #isagi yoichi #mikage reo #chigiri hyoma smau #chigiri hyoma fluff #chigiri hyoma x you #chigiri hyoma x reader #bllk bachira #bachira meguru #nagi #nagi seishiro #chigiri x reader #chigiri imagines #chigiri x you #chigiri fluff #bachira #isagi

[hanasnx]

(if this makes u uncomfy in any way plz ignore)

idk if mj exists in SW ‘verse, but like—sex with ani while ur both high as kite?? BIG YES (from me at least).

esp cause!! it would probably heighten ani’s force sensitivity?? like he’s feeling high and tingling and extra touch sensitive and all of a sudden you’re touching him and he’s getting a rush of emotions, floating, hungry, hot, i love you i want you.

and you. you look like heaven, like every sin he’s ever indulged in, all flushed and glowy and smiley, touching him with a fluttery touch.

ani needs you when he’s high cause there’s something almost spiritual, almost heaven scent and hell touched, about the rush of you he gets in every way.

as a former pothead i think i've gotta set some records straight. long post about marijuana + fucking + anakin under the cut <3

warnings: marijuana, negative + positive for anakin experience with marjuana

when i was smoking enough for a circle and then playing whatever videogame was in my ps for 20 hours a day, i can say that it did nothing but make me hungry, my attention span elongated, and my anxiety non-existent. i wasn't interested in fucking, i was mostly into wasting away while naked. it didn't do much (that i can remember) for my sense of touch.

i do know that when i did fuck while high, it wasn't a remarkable experience because i don't remember any of it. nor did it make me horny or add to the sensation. those kinds of effects were from an entirely different drug that i did that i dont feel like putting the trigger warnings for so i wont talk about it

pot is definitely good for mellowing out, chilling, and fucking really casual. and i mean really casual. that's my experience with it anyway i have no idea if its diff for other ppl, im sure ppl who arent demisexual and have higher sex drives than me can say different who knows.

for anakin, i can see him smoking and fucking. definitely. in very specific circumstances. let me lay those out for you:

he smokes very occasionally for spirituality reasons. he does it respectfully, with great care. a big stickler about it. he wants to emphasize to himself it's not for recreational or social reasons. the jedi discourage drugs that cloud your judgment. marijuana is frowned upon to rely on for things like calming yourself or meditating because you should be able to do that alone. however, it's not frowned upon to partake in it every once in a while. it's all about new experiences and as long as you treat it with respect, it's alright. anakin treats it with the utmost respect.

he does not care to be under the influence of something. being high or drunk is a very rare form for him indeed. he gets very uncomfortable when on something, and especially uncomfortable being reliant on something, so when he is smoking he does it alone most of the time. he does not like being disillusioned, and he certainly does not like the idea of someone's no-nonsense idea of him being shattered.

he's led a ceremony with younger people of the order. taught them how to partake, how to roll, how to use it mindfully. and if someone is having a negative first experience, they had too much or it does not agree with them and it gets into their heads, he knows how to calm them.

when he smokes with you, it might be a rare moment of rebellion. a "i'm an adult, i can smoke a little weed." moment. and even with that notion, his darkness may catch up to him. the guilt of using it under different circumstances than usual may put him in a bad place, memories he pushes back into the reaches of his mind creep up. his past with tatooine, the tusken massacre, etc. he gets paranoid, those doubts you couldn't love a monster like him get the better of him. it gets in his way. and you're there to lead him back to the present. like op said, "you look like heaven" he'd hone in on you. tunnel vision.

anakin's way of calming himself is often self pleasure. and so since youre here, and willing and able, he might use you to guide him back to the present in a more physical way. he can't think if he's inside you, all he can do is chase his orgasm. he's tingly, he's got those nerves in the pit of his stomach, he's trying to ground himself using you and at the same time fuck you out of this world. however, with marijuana you're both slowed, and clumsy. the love-making wouldn't be coherent, or poised, but it'd be enjoyable. less concerned about what you must look like, and more cuddly. more shallow thrusts, and humping ruts, and sloppy kisses and no dialogue.

#indy lore #cw marijuana #indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!! #anakin #little-celestials #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #x gn!reader #reader insert #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x gn!reader smut #anakin x you #no y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin x reader #anakin smut #star wars smut #star wars headcanons #anakin skywalker headcanons

[spacedlexi]

Wait, people think Carver is the best TWDG villain?? I always thought he was basic as hell, and the fact that he was beefing with an 11-years old girl... Now Stranger on the other hand was great, he was super intimidating and off-putting and I was genuinely so scared he would hurt Clementine. I also liked Minnie for the same reasons (she was so creepy/off-putting), but I still think Stranger is the best villain bc he had a great setup while Minnie was kind of a secondary villain. But going back to Lilly/Carver, I also definitely prefer Lilly over Carver even though neither are my favorite... And now I'm kind of curious how you would rank the rest of the TWDG villains? 🤔

carver being the best villain is a sentiment ive heard for years 😭 im sure its coming from the "S2 is the best season" crowd tho which i also dont agree with 💀

the stranger is an effective villain. hes not exactly the typical villain type people expect. but hes very unsettling and him stalking clementine for who even knows how long through the walkie talkie is 🤢 he really makes me feel sick. she was using that talkie to deal with the loss of her parents, and this fucking creep took advantage of that so hard he was able to convince her to trust him. ugh he makes me feel so gross. and think of all the guilt clem must have about that situation. trusting this freak to help her find her parents, when if she had just stayed then lee wouldnt have gotten bit looking for her, and her parents were already dead the entire time anyway. oof. theres no way that isnt one of the biggest regrets of her life

carver is fine. i definitely think his character wouldve made more sense if they put kenny in that role instead. that way theres less "i am a grown man beefing with an 11 year old" and more "this is a child i helped look out for once, and im gonna make sure shes raised Right". but i agree that carver as he is is just over the top. overly villainous to the point of it being a little comical. like when villains are all tough like that my reaction is usually "god i WISH youd fucking kill me already so i dont have to hear your bullshit anymore do you know how GOOFY you sound??". if it was kenny in that role i definitely think they wouldve been able to tone it back a bit, and him "having a good side" wouldve been way more believable. as he is carver is kind of one note

joan.... definitely the weakest of the bunch. i dont really have much to say about her. david isnt even technically a villain but i definitely saw him as the better antagonist for the season. i mean hes definitely a villain in clems eyes. and is a constant semi-antagonist towards javi throughout the whole season. joans just kinda.. there.. doing things behind the scenes to cause conflict until the final confrontation. and then she can just disappear... okay

i like the way the antagonists work in S4. theres more of a discussion around what actually makes someone a villain and the difference between a person who fucked up and made (very horrible) mistakes, and a person who is straight up a threat. and i like that it connects back to the idea of lee and his murder of that senator. did he do something horrible? yes. did he destroy his relationship to his family? yes. does he regret what he did? i think so. and he definitely has guilt about his fucked up relationship with his wife. in S1 they mention how non-guilty people got sent to prison all the time. while lee is Definitely a murderer, we get to see over the season that hes a good guy who just wanted a family and in a moment of rage and betrayal did something he can never take back. this is why i never hated marlon. did he fuck up and do horrible things? of course. but he was a scared fucked up teen leading a group of other scared fucked up teens. he knows he fucked up, and continued fucking up to cover for his previous fuck ups lol. but he can be talked down. its a shame it ends the way it does, but i really like being able to teach aj the difference between people like marlon and people like lilly

lilly takes that kenny/carver idea and applies it to a clementine that has grown up and has been looking out for herself (and baby aj) for years now, instead of the 11 year old trying to figure shit out she was in S2. shes too old for lilly to be able to sway her in a way she couldve been more susceptible to in S2, and when lilly finally realizes this she just turns her attention to aj instead, seeing the potential in him (a potential clem does NOT want aj to live up to, wanting him to get to be a kid and not just a survivor, let alone a killer). lilly is fun because you can see in her that she WANTS clementine on her side, and throughout the season progressively realizes that its just never going to happen. both lilly AND clem come to the realization that this person they once considered family is beyond reason, their views too different, and so the fighting begins. their fight at the end of EP3 really feels like a "so its finally come to this" moment for both of them, their final fight. i always shoot her.

whats interesting about minnie is seeing her evolve from secondary antagonist in EP3 to straight up primary villain in EP4. the things shes done, the way shes been broken. she becomes her own downfall, seeing herself as someone beyond redemption. that this is just who she is now, its how things have to be. because if they didnt have to be this way? well then theres a lot more guilt she'd have to deal with. yelling at her in EP4 to just STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS ANYMORE but she has been changed (in her eyes) so irreparably that she cant see any other option. and she progressively sees clem as the one who fucked everything up for her, instead of accepting that it could all finally be OVER. after killing sophie, the delta was all she had left. it cant have all been for nothing. and so she blames clem for taking it all away from her, even tho clem is just trying to protect her family. the family that used to be minnies. and so in her rage she gets bit. something else that she couldve avoided. but shes just too lost to her own downward spiral, unable to be reasoned with. by that point she just wants it all to be Over. and she wants to take tenn with her so she can finally pretend things can all go back to the way they used to be. her, sophie, tenn, and their parents all together again, where no more bad things have to happen to them. shes super tragic and i love her for that. and i love how she holds this dark mirror up to clem. clem struggles to let go of her past too, and the guilt she has over the things shes done and people shes hurt. and that if she cant learn to let go and move on she could get lost to it the same way minnie did. theres a reason clem is so quick to accept her fate, but shes finally able to leave that guilt holding her to her past behind in that barn. and she returns to ericson a much happier and lighter person, so much weight finally lifted from her shoulders. its finally over for her too

so yeah. my fave villains are definitely the S4 ones due to their nuance and layers. then the stranger, then carver, then joan. if i had to put david on this list he'd probably be above carver. but thats mainly because he has more nuance than carver ever did

#S4 addressing themes of rehabilitation makes me sooo happy #twdg #long as post be upon you #replies with lexi #incognito

[n7punk]

“Make Me a Monster” Fic Notes

MMaM was pretty short and this will be too but this fic has some Backstory and I wanna talk about it lmao.

Playlist:

Warriors (AJ Michalka version)

heavy. — Au/Ra

The Creeps — Garbage

LIFE AFTER SALEM — Lil Nas X

The Heartless (original rock version) — PVRIS (kind of hard to get. Was only available on their PARIS EP which isn’t available for streaming last I checked)

Waking Up (Acoustic) — PVRIS (from the acoustic version of the PARIS EP, which is available on youtube)

chaotic — Tate McRae

Hate myself — Tate McRae

R.E.M. — Mothica

Shatter — Against The Current

Frankenstein — Rina Sawayama

My Limb — Hayley Williams

Epilogue Life:

It takes awhile and I could never write this fic in a timespan where it’s complete, but Adora does come to accept her new prosthetics. After the revelations about She-ra and the Heart, she comes to realize this version of them is the most ideal she could get purely because they don’t need maintenance, removal, cleaning etc and she can care for them the exact way she can the rest of her body, which makes them feel a lot more like her body. Her sense of touch isn’t 100%, still losing some texture differentiation and the ability to really feel light touches (she wouldn’t feel a bug walking on her arm for example), but as shown in the epilogue she learns to adapt, and eventually she stops covering up so much either. When she starts to wear her jacket less is when Catra knows she has made real progress. Her prosthetics are magic and never need intervention, which helps.

On Catra’s part, her guilt also takes a lot to process, as does her trauma from her time chipped, which only feeds into her guilt because she feels like she inflicted that same dehumanization on Adora. She comes to focus her energy on “fixing” things instead though, which does lead to some unhealthy burnout, but the worry her friends show for her then does a lot to help her internalize that no, they really don’t hate her.

It’s one of those cases where they take longer to get to a healthy place than in canon, but they do eventually reach it. They get through the worst of it early on, but those effects echo for a long time.

Chapter 1:

⦁ I was pretty worried going into this how people would feel about this, mostly because it’s an incredibly complex situation. Prosthetics are often helpful, but they tend to not be as effective as people hope and even when they are, that still doesn’t mean people don’t look at them and see what they lost sometimes. This situation in particular, where the prosthetics were largely unnecessary and completely forced on her, was painful. Adora is struggling not just with that, but with the very familiar process of trying to get back where she was before an injury/disability, but sometimes that’s just not possible. She’s seeking every piece of functionality and feeling she gets with her prosthetics, but that doesn’t mean she is less for having lost something either. I was worried about people thinking that attitude she has is ableist, when it’s really just a part of the disabled experience. Some people never have it, but I’m definitely someone who has struggled with trying to get things back while knowing I’ll never get it all. It… really sucks, and even when things seem good, there can be a bittersweetness to them. That’s the kind of attitude I was approaching this fic with. There was also the medical abuse angle with her prosthetics. Despite her impossibly advanced prosthetics, this is a very real thing I actually saw conversations about when TotK came out, which is what gave me of the exact phrase for that trigger because I was having trouble naming/describing it in the content warning before that.

⦁ Hordak was working on prosthetic limbs in the event that his deteriorating state made it impossible for him to keep working, using Adora as his guinea pig to test their effectiveness. Shadow Weaver kind of thought there was a chance She-ra could regrow them entirely even if that wasn’t what she was banking on. She actually thought the second accident was a mercy, because Hordak already wanted to test out the set on Adora at that point, so making it “necessary” was supposed to be easier on Adora. Her empathy meter is broken.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Catra just can’t “get” why Adora stayed, but it was kind of impossible for her to leave before that. Part of her already knew Shadow Weaver would be back for more, but she couldn’t let herself do it because it was the “wrong” thing to leave Etheria to the princesses. When she realized the Rebellion wasn’t actually monsters, it was all so much worse because she realized everything — her arms, Catra’s punishments, the horrible way they grew up that she didn’t even really have perspective for — had been for nothing. Catra was right all along. They should have runaway. So she did

⦁ I didn’t intend to title the chapters of this fic since it was so short, but then the “You promise?” line came up and I wanted to make that the chapter title for clarification purposes if nothing else, so I added them in.

Chapter 3:

⦁ I know I’m kind of the “let’s talk about traumatized Catra” person but tbh I still don’t think we give enough weight to having your body literally puppeted while you watch and undergo nightmare hallucinations. Like how the fuck was she functioning after that. So yeah on top of Adora being extra traumatized in this (and Catra additionally having extra trauma from watching that happen), I wanted to go a bit into the echoes of having been under Horde Prime’s control for Catra too. (Other members of the Princess Alliance who were chipped definitely deal with nightmares from this too, but I have a feeling the nightmare scenarios were mostly unique to Catra, especially considering the green pool wasn’t used on the others and by the time Prime had the others under his control he was dealing with a lot of chips and conjuring up nightmare scenarios for them all doesn’t make sense.)

⦁ In this AU there was a lot more immediately obvious awfulness from Shadow Weaver, so even after the portal Glimmer did keep her confined to her room, not that it helped Adora’s mental state much. She was a lot more hated and shunned in Bright Moon and when they were on the run. Catra and Adora still cried watching her die, but after the fact their general attitude is a mixture of “good riddance” and “how could she do all that to us and then just die without ever acknowledging it?” They take her sacrifice as the closest thing they’ll ever guilt to an admission of feeling guilt.

⦁ The thing about Adora never being able to tell if her sensation is back to “normal” is a very real thing when it comes to disability. I remember at one point telling a friend that I couldn’t tell if I wasn’t in pain or was just shouldering it because I didn’t remember what not being in pain felt like anymore.

⦁ If you know my poll, this was “in the engine room.”

Chapter 4:

⦁ In this AU, they have no idea the First Ones Virus could infect She-ra with just the sword since it seemed “obvious” it spread from the robots, to the sword, to her prosthetics, which somehow caused everything to go haywire. Because she was working with her original set that was less advanced, the virus was legitimately latched onto She-ra itself, which also explains why it went away with she reverted the transformation. They just thought changing “bodies” let her purge the virus when she transformed back. The corruption from the First Ones… worm, thing, corrupted Adora’s limbs similarly to how the virus took over her, only with green instead of red, completely changing the colors of her arms and legs and then slowly creeping up her veins. It was gnarly.

⦁ Entrapta just has a better connection with Catra and was looking to her for an answer, but a small incline of the head was their signal back in the Horde that she should really just agree with whoever she’s talking with. She almost never paused to notice it, but Catra was trying her best (and failing) to keep her out of trouble.

Original Outline:

Originally this AU was supposed to be longer, starting when Adora first lost her limbs, then skimming through scenes throughout the series, until finally landing on Darla. That was just an extra 2-3 chapters probably, but 1) god that’s too much angst. It kept me from writing it for like 9 months because I didn’t want to do it, 2) the balance just wasn’t there? Everything got “minute-to-minute” once they were on Darla, with entire chapters dedicated to it, where as the previous chapters were scattered moments taking place over literal years. This did mean I lost some ideas that were supposed to take place in the war and such (the princess prom scene, for example), but it’s still better for it.

I started to write that longer version of it back in 2022(!) but only worked on it for two days to about 2k before I was like this is not vibing and dropped it. When I picked it back up with the shorter timeline in mind, I wrote 70% of this fic in one sitting back in September, but then I got kind of stuck on their reconciling conversation and I think it was just a little too much angst for me then so I didn’t come back to it the next day. I’ve opened it occasionally since then to glance over but it just wasn’t clicking until this week. I edited what I had and wrote the rest of the fic in two days once I was there, though. I am proud of this fic but it’s definitely a very emotional one so it kind of has to happen in bursts like that. I’m glad to have finally gotten it out now, as rocky as getting from idea to completion was. I had the idea November 14th 2022, wrote most of it September 4th 2023, and finally finished it March 9th 2024.

Upcoming:

Start Your Engine ;)

#MMaM #fic notes #ficmeta

[juneknight]

Good Fences // 1

June finish a WIP challenge…but eh, I go where the hyperfixation leads.

You had escaped your mother’s abuse years ago when you moved out from her flat, but the woman’s failing health and an injury have brought you back into her clutches as you are guilted into caring for her.

The neighbor in the flat next door though—he is a welcome distraction.

About this: fem!reader/MK system. Features ableism, references to childhood abuse, current abuse both mental and physical from a parental figure. More acute warnings will be included with later drabbles.

Immersivity: reader is an unnamed, undescribed cis woman. Her mother is also described minimally, though descriptions about the frailty that comes with aging are used. If you see any other details which hinder your immersive experience, please feel free to point them out to me.

*

*

You come home on a Sunday. It is a bright day for the typical gloomy London, but you imagine that it is only because all of the gloom has packed its way inside you, inside the little apartment building downtown, inside the hallway on the top floor where you stand outside your mother’s flat, the flat where she had raised you. The sight of the door alone gives you nausea. You know that she is in there, that she is injured, that the only reason the hospital let her leave when they did was because she told them you were coming home, that you would be caring for her day and night. She needs you.

You wish that her fall had broken her neck instead of her leg. You wish that it had killed her. But Billy Joel said that only the good died young, so your mother’s mortal persistence makes universal sense.

Down the hallway, the elevator doors open. You turn, pressing your back against the wall, heart pounding. Somehow, you are convinced that it will be her, that she is trying to creep up on you. It makes no sense—not when you know that she is basically bedridden—but the fear persists. Suddenly, you are a child again, pressing your back against the wall as she approaches, hoping to slip through a crack in the plaster and disappear before her wrath can reach you—

But all you see is a tired, handsome man who is struggling to put his key is his lock. Your mother’s neighbor in the apartment next door. He seems flustered, perhaps feeling your eyes on him—definitely feeling your eyes on him, as you see him shoot you a cautious, curious glance. When he sees you looking at him, he drops his keys and has to stoop to pick them up, his smile bashful.

“Hullo,” he says mildly.

Your mouth opens to return the greeting, but then the door behind you opens and you feel her. She has a presence like that: one you feel before you see, one that you can feel sometimes in the dead of night even after moving across the country to get away from her.

“There you are,” she says. “Plan to stay out there forever, do you?”

“No ma’am,” you mutter. You take her in for the first time in years: there is a frailty about her, one which belies the strength you know she must still possess. Her mouth is made for frowning, lined deeply, eyes bloodshot and hateful. You have her eyes. You know you do. On her foot is a boot, helping to support her fractured ankle as it heels. It makes a sound as she hobbles out of the apartment just a foot, neck craning to see what has you so interested.

Her eyes alight on the neighbor and then positively burn with hatred that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“You,” she says through her teeth.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the man says mildly, though his politeness is obviously forced.

“Don’t speak to me, you devil! Don’t speak to my daughter either,” your mother says, reaching out to grip your shoulder and jerk you towards the open door of the apartment. She says to you, none-too-quietly: “Stay away from that man. He’s a madman—he’s got that split personality disorder, like you see on the telly.”

You glance to him, looking for him to refute this accusation, but all he does is make a long-suffering expression, like he is much used to your mother.

“They don’t call it that anymore, ma’am, remember?” he says, thrusting his key into the door with perhaps a little more force than necessary. “I know your brain is soft like an old, over-ripe fruit, but—”

“Bastard,” she shouts. “I’m going to the building manager first thing in the morning to have you thrown out of here for good, do you hear me? For good!”

“Best of luck,” he says cheerfully. His gaze drifts from the hateful old woman to you, and you have the feeling that he is talking to you as much as he is snarking at her. When he smiles to you, it is soft and genuine, his fingers lifting to his temple in soft salute. You know right then that you don’t care if he is a madman in your mother’s eyes. There is kindness in him, a quality which means more to you than any other.

Then your mother has managed to pull you inside and shut the door on the last bit of light left in your day.

#marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader

[scoopertrouper]

If you’re still taking Stancy prompts, Nancy wondering what Steve is up to while they keep their distance in s3 is always my jam. Love love love your Nancy and Steve.

my first prompt fill!

i have to be honest, i don’t know if this is really what you were looking for? like, i admit there’s altogether more jonathan than probably anyone wants to see. but alas, i banged this out in like four hours last night and this is where my brainworm took me. thanks for prompting!

also, if you want to get a more exact idea of the kind of headspace i was in writing this, you’ll just want to listen to tswift’s death by a thousand cuts on one long, endless loop.

2,200-ish words under the cut.

-*-*-*

the only thing we share [is this small town]

She sees him sometimes. 

Not on purpose. Definitely not on purpose, but Hawkins has a population smaller than the enrollments of some state colleges. It’s kind of inevitable that their paths will cross more than occasionally.

And it’s not that Nancy's avoiding him, exactly. It’s more that every time she gets a glance at him even in passing, it’s impossible not to recall the sad way he’d stared down at her the last time they’d really spoken to each other, resigned to an outcome she wasn’t even sure she herself had reconciled with yet.

It doesn’t make her feel good, and after the past year, she’s more than sick of seeking out reasons to feel bad. 

So she doesn’t avoid him, but she also doesn’t not hide behind aisles in Melvald’s when she sees him pass by. And if they happen to be walking along the same side of Main Street at the same time, it just so happens that she’ll remember several urgent reasons why she needs to cross the road right away.

But that’s not avoiding. It can’t be, because Nancy doesn’t avoid. She barrels, head on, right into even the most fraught situations, because at the end of the day she has nothing without her resolute confidence in the fact that she is right.

She is right, and nothing – not Department of Energy hacks, nor the assholes at the Hawkins Post who make a sport of changing up their sandwich orders and the way they take their coffee every other day (“See if you can solve this, Nancy Drew…”) – can shake that certainty.

(Except sometimes – sometimes/especially when she sees Steve – a creeping sense of wrong begins to slither its way in, wraps icy tendrils of doubt around her carefully guarded resolve and squeezes. Hard.

But before it can do too much damage, before it can cause the kinds of hairline fissures that turn into cracks that end in endless interdimensional bloodshed, she turns away. Takes Jonathan’s hand, and looks into his eyes, and remembers why they’re the only two people in the world who could possibly get each other. Even when she can’t understand why he hovers in uncomfortable silence while those dickheads laugh at her. Even when he doesn’t get why she just can’t stop pushing, because a job’s a job and maybe if she let up a little they wouldn’t laugh at her so much.

None of that matters, because she and Jonathan…they just make sense. The photographer and the journalist. Shared goals. Shared trauma. Right? Right. 

And so the ground steadies beneath her feet, and her breathing eases, and she sinks back into the safe surety of her belief.)

Most of the time, not-avoiding-Steve also facilitates not-thinking-about-Steve, which is easier now that he hasn’t been around town much lately. She’d heard via the grapevine – amid some derisive tittering that had irked her for reasons she preferred not to examine – that he’d gotten a job at the ice cream parlor at Starcourt, and that he wasn’t headed to college after the summer was over, because he didn’t get into a single school, can you believe it?

The guilt was suffocating. She puts it out of her mind.

So it’s a blessing in disguise that Jonathan’s aversion to crowds and hypercommercialism means that Nancy hasn’t spent as much time at Starcourt as she’d planned to once she heard they were putting in a Gap. Because less time at Starcourt meant less time not-avoiding Steve (and less time – and money – spent stress shopping).

In fact, Nancy’s been lured into such a false sense of security that she never sees the stupid commercial coming.

It’s evening, and still boiling outside, and she and Jonathan are languishing on his beat-up couch after a long day spent toiling in the darkroom (him) and chasing down a specific kind of pastrami on rye with grain mustard available only from the sole deli in Hawkins, which just happens to be about as far across town as you can get on foot (her, of course).

Nancy is the kind of mentally exhausted that means that while she’s valiantly trying to pay attention to CBS Evening News (she likes to flip back and forth between all the major network shows), she’s actually staring off into space as Dan Rather covers a TWA flight hijacking that she knows she should care more about.

The jingle of the commercial doesn’t even penetrate the fog until Jonathan scoffs.

“Christ,” he mumbles. “They’re still playing this shit on TV?”

“Huh?” Nancy grunts before she can stop herself, rousing from her stupor. (It’s only now that she realizes she’s been doodling daisies where she usually takes careful notes on each story’s lead-in.)

“The Starcourt commercial,” Jonathan says, nudging her with his shoulder. “It’s been open for, like, a month. When’re they gonna give it a rest?” 

“Oh.” Nancy gets with the program, and laughs perfunctorily at the cheesy stock footage that’s eaten more airtime over the past six months than she’d ever thought city council would have the budget for. (Huh. Maybe there’s a story there.) “I kind of forgot about it.”

“Maybe…we could check it out soon,” Jonathan says, eyeing her almost cautiously. “See if it’s as awful as it looks.”

Nancy does a double-take before she can stop herself.

“You said it’d take a literal alien invasion to get you to set foot inside that mall.” And with the bizarro turn their lives have taken over the past year, she can’t be entirely certain he’d been joking.

Jonathan shifts, and scratches the back of his head.

“Well – they do have a bookstore,” he says, defensive. “And, like, I know this internship hasn’t been what you were hoping, so it might be nice to –” His jaw drops before he can finish the thought. “Holy shit, is that Steve Harrington?”

Nancy’s head whips around so fast she almost hears a crack. And yeah, that is Steve Harrington. In vivid technicolor, standing behind a cash register next to a vaguely familiar-looking redhead with a tousled bob – Nancy’s pretty sure she’s seen her around school before.

She recognizes the discomfort in his face all too well – it had stared across the table at her every time she’d tried to quiz him on SAT vocabulary words last summer. 

Only then, he hadn’t been wearing a hideous polyester sailor costume.

“That’s new,” Jonathan says, the ill-disguised laughter in his voice so uncharacteristic that Nancy’s head whips back around again. She’s going to need a chiropractor by the time this commercial ends. “I guess we definitely gotta check out Starcourt now.”

She rolls her eyes, and relaxes the fist she’d clenched around her pencil during the seven seconds – max – that Steve had been on screen. Jonathan doesn’t seem to have noticed her tension, and she’s grateful.

“What’s so interesting about watching Steve scoop overpriced ice cream?” she deflects skeptically, sinking further into the couch, wincing as she hits a spring. Now Jonathan’s the one who double-takes.

“Um. Nancy. It’s King Steve.” She doesn’t love the way he says that. “Dressed like a stand-in for The Village People. Slinging banana splits. What isn’t interesting about that?”

“It’s just a job,” Nancy retorts, face heating. “D’you think it’s funny that I run around buying lunch and pouring coffee for a bunch of dipshits who wouldn’t know a good above-the-fold if it hit them with a two-by-four?”

“Of course not, Jesus!” Jonathan sputters helplessly, shoulders hiking up to his ears. “I just meant – I didn’t – of course I don’t think that’s funny.” His mouth flattens. “I think it’s really shitty. You’re right, I shouldn’t make fun of anyone’s job. We don’t have to go to Starcourt. I just thought it’d be something we could do together.”

He looks deflated, and all at once, Nancy feels like shit. Jonathan was so serious all the time, and usually she liked when he let that go a little bit and dropped his guard. But she’s ruined it by getting defensive, and she doesn't even totally understand why.

“No, I’m sorry,” she backtracks, grabbing his hand and linking their fingers. It’s warm, as familiar as her own at this point. “It’s just…been a shit day. I overreacted.” She just has to work harder. Make them see how serious she is about this. Make them see how good she is at this.

All at once, she’s acutely ashamed of how lax and distracted she’s been, scrawling stupid pictures all over her notepad when she should be working. Improving her craft. Showing everyone that she belongs in that newsroom. Showing them that she’s right.

In return, Jonathan’s smile is strained, but it seems genuine enough. He squeezes her hand, with a strength that still surprises her sometimes.

“Things’ll get better. You’ll see. You’re brilliant. They’ll figure it out. Eventually.” He ducks his head, then looks up again, a little more relaxed. “Speaking of ice cream…I think Mom brought some Rocky Road home last night. Two spoons?”

Nancy nods, accepting the peace offering for what it is (even though she prefers strawberry).

“Yeah…that sounds good.” He leaves to clatter around in the kitchen, and she turns back to the TV, suppressing the urge to chew on the end of her pencil (what serious journalist walks around with bit-up erasers?).

Against her will, Steve’s face plays on a rewind loop in her mind’s eye.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but he’d looked miserable, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t stage fright (he used to preen whenever the yearbook photographers were in his general vicinity. It was equal parts endearing and annoying).

Had he really not gotten into any colleges? (None of her business.) His dad probably hadn’t taken that well. (Really none of her business.) 

She should’ve tried to help him more, after the whole…incident. He’d been insanely concussed, and that couldn’t have helped with the whole college essays and applications thing. He’d already been having a hard enough time with it all.

But what could she have done? The thing with Jonathan had been so new, and every time she chanced a look at Steve, he was already staring back, hurt scrawled plainly all over his face.

It would be better now, though, right? A lot of time has passed. She’s firmly settled into her new relationship, and Steve is – Steve knows how to rebound. He’s always been good at that, on the court and in life.

Maybe she should go visit him. Not – not to laugh at him, but just to see how he’s doing.

Would that girl be there? The coworker? She’s cute, in a “probably listens to too much Depeche Mode” kind of way. So not Steve’s type. (Nancy, why would that matter?) 

But they had been standing kind of close in the commercial. Maybe they’re friends?

Nancy snorts. Steve didn’t have female friends, except for maybe Carol, and that was mostly vis a vis that shit-for-brains Tommy. In fact, after he cut the two of them out, Steve didn’t seem to have many real friends. Or any. At all. He’d focused all his attentions on Nancy.

She swallows past the tightness in her throat. Anyway. This girl. Definitely – definitely not a friend. Maybe a friendly coworker. Or…

Nancy glares at the whites of her knuckles. None of her business. 

It really isn’t. After all, she has Jonathan, and Steve has, well…whoever he wants, really. That’s never been an issue for him, not even after he’d been officially “dethroned”. Girls still lined up at his locker for crumbs of his attention, right smack dab where Nancy used to wait for him in between classes. She assumes that in that regard, not much has changed besides the venue.

In fact, she can see it pretty clearly: Steve, raking a hand through his thick hair every time a pretty girl happens to make her way into Scoops Ahoy. Drumming deft fingers against the glass of the freezer. Handing out free scoops of ice cream like they’re not gonna eventually come out of his check.

Suggesting that they stick around until he’s off-shift so they can catch a movie or – or – something else.

The pencil snaps. Startled, she stares down at her hand, where the two jagged pieces haphazardly dangle, connected by little more than a few bare slivers of wood. What the fuck?

She’s got pretty much no time to figure out what the hell just happened, though, because Jonathan picks that moment to come back into the living room, a carton with two spoons balanced in his grip.

“Sorry that took a sec,” he apologizes, and  Nancy shoves the pencil’s remains in between the couch cushions before he can notice. “Will left eggs in the pan again, and I told him he’s gotta wash them out, like, right away or it’s a pain in the ass to scrub them off later –”

“It’s okay,” Nancy cuts in, unsettled by the stinging in her palm as he flops back down beside her. Despite the heat, he curls an arm around her shoulders. It’s light, and wiry, and she tells herself she prefers it that way.

“Dan’s kind of boring tonight,” Jonathan tuts, leaning back. “Wanna see what Tom’s up to?”

Nancy nods, curling into his side and scooping a spoonful of ice cream out of the container crammed between them. It’s creamy, and deliciously sweet on her tongue.

It’s just right.

(It has to be.)

#stancy #stancy fic #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #my stuff #prompt fill

[nurgletwh]

*pokes head up*

*sees the world still exists*

Huh. Look at that.

On a more serious note, having essentially dropped off the face of the earth from the perspective of almost everyone who's following me here or my works on AO3, I am alive. This was not in any great danger of changing any more than the normal (one can always get hit by a bus, for example), but it turns out I haven't been well.

My first clues probably should have been long before I found myself sleeping eighteen hours a day for 'no damn good reason,' but since there were also some extremely difficult and terrifying weeks at work and the stress that goes with it, it crept up on me.

Unlike previous times I've disappeared, it wasn't related to my mental health this time. Not that it's any better, really, because it turns out that my diabetes was creeping out of control. I wasn't monitoring the way I should have been, and I missed a doctor's appointment without rescheduling (which is terrible when you have ADHD, because fucking remembering to call someone to reschedule is damn near impossible).

Anyhow.

It turns out that chronic high blood sugar makes a person feel all sorts of crappy in vague and indistinct ways that, in and of themselves, don't really trigger a sense of 'something is wrong, I should see a doctor.' It just leaves me feeling 'bleah' and 'ugh' and unable to do anything but sleep when I stop moving.

I am so far behind on anything and everything fun. I owe everyone who has a pending comment on my works a deep and heartfelt apology. I didn't mean to disappear. I know several of you have been worried, and it turns out at least semi-rightfully so. Not that there was much any of you could do about it, which really just makes it feel worse. I apologize for any stress and worry this may have caused. I can't promise to never do it again, unfortunately, because I am:

a) human b) a human with ADHD, and c) a human who is horrible at keeping up with communication the way she should.

I want to do better; I will try to do better. I have actually managed to continue writing, albeit at an exceptionally reduced rate. That's picked up markedly in the last week or so now that my meds have been adjusted. Hopefully, it continues to pick up. However, I don't think things are quite where they need to be based on my personal blood sugar testing, but it's a strong improvement. I still don't have much energy, but when I get home after work and sit down, I only sleep for forty-five minutes to an hour, not four followed by crawling into bed for the night and still not feeling rested in the morning.

I hope to start working my way through my inbox on AO3. If you're following me here and see this before I get to your comment, hi! ♥ Know that I have read them all and they give me sparks of joy to think about, but I have been very emphatically squashing any guilt at my non-response for now. Feeling guilty is a potent anti-motivator for someone with ADHD. It makes a growing mountain that I can run away from like an Olympic sprinter, which means that the only way I will successfully get back on track is to not feel guilty or compelled, which is the opposite of how it works for many folk.

I also seem to have gotten into some fucked-up screwy mindset where my brain is telling me I have to have something ready to post (or nearly so) before I can answer comments now. Which is just... wrong. So very, very wrong. I'm working on that, too. Blood sugar fixing first, however.

Take care, everyone. I've definitely been thinking about all of you and have seriously missed having the conversations and speculations that go with successfully generating writing but also require successfully responding to comments. It's been a seriously sucky couple of months; here's hoping things improve.

♥

#personal stuff #my health #my life #mental health stuff

[imagionationstation]

To go with the previous post which can be found here-

Post Vampy~

Feel like I should clarify something I said in the last post, where I mention this scene:

Some might believe that this is out of character, and in a way, it both is and isn’t. An almost desperate need to protect his family at all costs is ingrained on every Leonardo out there, but if you notice, Raphael has already been lost. Now, it’s only a theoretical that he can be cured as of that moment. Leonardo has no reason to believe that this is something that can be reversed.

So now he has two options: Spend his time chasing down the brother that has already been ‘lost’ while putting the other two and the planet in jeopardy, or write off Raphael (for now) and continue with the mission to save their home.

That’s an insane and incredibly difficult choice to make.

But, as leader and now sensei, he has to do what’s best for his team. And it’s a well-spread fan theory that Leonardo is an expert at shoving his feelings to the side to get things done. He’s made the hard choices a million times, and now he shoves down his feelings to continue the mission.

That’s not to say he doesn’t care.

He does! I truly believe with every bone in my body that if that mission had ended with a win, but they lost Raphael in the process, Leonardo would carry the weight of that guilt and pain for the rest of his life. He would be utterly devastated.

Here is the moment @sr200916 referenced:

“I don’t know, man. Unless you or Renet come up with any bright ideas, Raphael may be lost forever.”

So, @tmntforeverinmyheart, Leo is still Mr. Wait All Night for Donnie to turn Raph back to normal. He was waiting for a cure after the battle with The Creep, with the belief that Donnie could give it to him. The disaster was over, so now he could allow himself time to worry.

Leader duties were finished. The big brother emerged full force. (He was big bro the whole time, but also leader, if that makes sense?)

And, @sr200916, you’re also right! Leonardo wasn’t really giving up on Raph, but he was setting his concerns to the side for the moment.  I was upset about the ‘for the moment’ part, mainly because of how much Donnie clearly believed that he could save him.

Donnie was convinced that he could be saved.

Leo, less so.

And considering how much regard Donnie holds for their eldest brother’s opinion, that could have been cracking at his hopes and making him doubt himself. And considering I’m over there routing for a Donnie-miracle, it rubbed me wrong.

Ergo, my unnecessarily aggressive statements clearly passed across the wrong message. Thank you for your comments! I’ll definitely be more careful about the things I say in the future!

Additionally, if anyone does not want your comments responded to as a post (I like to do this to clarify things with everyone), please let me know. Or just drop a /nopost with your comment!

Thank you!

#all of this is just my unprofessional fan-bred opinion #I do like to make sure these boys get the love they deserve #No hate in this blog #See what I see TMNT #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #tmnt donnie 2012 #2012 donnie #leonardo hamato #tmnt leonardo 2012 #leonardo 2012 #tmnt leo 2012 #leo hamato #leo tmnt #leo 2012 #tmnt raph 2012 #tmnt raph #raph 2012 #tmnt raphael #tmnt fandom

[ksyongi]

hello hello so I absolutely suck at writing but I've had this concept in my head for days now and I need to get it out so pls don't judge me too much..

teasing cheol all day, from the moment he leaves the house you’re be taking pics in all your lingerie sets. And I mean, all of them. Ofc this man has bought too many pairs to keep count, but you manage.

9am : *picture*

shutting your phone off

11am: *picture*

shutting your phone off

11.30: *picture*

shutting your phone off

this keeps going until late at night, constantly ignoring his messages until the point he stops replying.

Sitting on the bed, scrolling through your phone, counting down the minutes until Cheol normally comes home, when a smack from the door drags you out of the trance.

you just continue scrolling, knowing Cheol and his dominance will soon burst through the bedroom door. And you were right.

He comes in silent, the silence being deadly.

“hi love, how are you?”, you say not looking up from your phone.

silence

a minute passes until you finally lock eyes with him.

You expect to see the lust in his eyes.

But it’s not there.

He sees your confusion but doesn’t acknowledge it, instead he just blankly stares back.

“is something wro-“, you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not impressed. This is far, even for you. In fact, I won't even punish you. Because that's what you want, right? No instead I'll give you nothing until you break, until you realise you fucking need me to put you in your place”

before you can speak he walks out of the room.

when you slowly start getting that sinking “oh fuck” feeling you decide to follow him

he’s sitting on the couch, laptop open, headphones on, leg bouncing, hand grabbing his pen the way he always does when something is bothering him.

You plop down next to him, putting your head on his shoulder.

This however, doesn’t catch on.

Seungcheol sighs, closing his laptop and going to the kitchen.

More hours pass, 

the both of you in bed, his back turned towards you. Far colder than the usual koala grip he has you in.

After that, days pass,

days of not talking, no acknowledgement of your existence, to the point where he comes home late and just sleeps on the couch.

The longer this goes on, 

the heavier the guilt gets.

And that’s when the next plan goes into motion.

Eventho Seungcheol thought he came home way past the point you fell asleep, you’d have been awake every single day.

Which gives you the chance to know his new routine.

you kneel infront of the front door.

Not wearing anything except the lacey see-through cover up he’d gotten you for your first valentines together.

Giving him the sight of a lifetime once he finally enters the front door.

You kneel your head down, he just scoffs.

"Please p...."

“Please what huh, come on speak up” he interrupts after you weakly stutter out your first plea

"Please... put me in my place" you choke out, feeling the emotions of guilt and need build by the millisecond

“Oh so NOW you want to act like a good little slut huh? What happened to the girl from a few days ago? Thought you liked being a little bitch”, a scoff comes out right before he pretty much growls at you.

all you can do is nod, the feeling that this will be a long night creeping up.

this... don't ever blame your writing skills because this made sense and i love it sm,,

cheol would definitely do this, this might be similar to a nnn (no nut november) concept, to be honest, cheol would also break at one point, but his control is much better than yours, so its a competition of limits at that point. opening up his phone to see the images you sent him, it made him hard, and it made it riskier that the fact that he was in dance practice, quickly excusing himself to solve his little problem, he came back and continued practice,,

he would see how you kept sending him things and he got kinda annoyed at how you could not wait for his return in the night and could not let him work in peace. his desires for you were real, and they were growing after all the pictures sent. he wanted you to break and be at his knees, and coming to no choice but to sub for him. he knew you wanted that punishment sm but he refused because of some sort of 'teaching you a lesson' or as you may call it a punishment by making you suffer, he wanted the need for him fucking you into the mattress, face down, ass up as he fucks you hard and rough some degrades and praises coming out of his mouth, he wanted that need to grow stronger. so you would do anything, to get him to make that imagination a reality,,

<3

#dinosbestie👯 #seventeen #seventeen smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen scoups #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol svt #svt seungcheol #svt scoups #scoups svt #answered!!! #kat's brainrot #<3

[gralunaisland]

Hey there, it's the same anon who brought up the Gray's actual type topic. I'd like to talk about it more. I want to explain why I think Gray needs someone like Lucy or Erza are as a potential love interest, with some individual qualities.

Gray has spent years after years drowning himself in the guilt causing Ur's death. He has been saved by Ultear too. The burden isn't easy to carry. He needs someone to make him feel easy. He needs someone who cares about him and will slowly peel off the heavy covers of guilt gradually.

Juvia forces herself upon him. She never really gave a shit about Ur or Ultear or Gray's past issues. She makes him awkward at every given moment.

Gray needs someone to keep him in check, by not limiting his interactions but by ensuring he doesn't stray. Erza and Lucy both are capable of slapping sense into him.

While Juvia defends him even when he's in the wrong.

Gray needs someone who can match his goofiness with her smartness while joining him in his antics at times. Both Lucy and Erza are smart, but also pretty goofs when need be. Not overly strict or serious.

While Juvua relates everything to romance. Blindy puts Gray on a pedestal. Acts like a dumb lover mostly. Her only trait is her being in love.

Interestingly though, Lucy and Erza's abilities to change into dresses contasts Gray's stripping habit lmao.

While Juvia adapts to his bad habits.

It's been forever but Gray hasn't even said I love you to Juvia even though he's quite straightforward with his statements. Because the Gray who fell for Juvia isn't the Gray himself. A doppleganger.

I wish we had someone like Lucy or Erza for Gray instead of horrible Juvia. Yuck. Ewww.

Part 2 of Gray's Real Type (Anti gr///via Post)

Oh my gosh, I agree with everything you say AGAIN!!

First before I do a short dive into what you said, let me just tell you that your first ask was reblogged a few times by people who really like what you said! And no wonder, because both of your asks have been utterly fantastic! (Their first ask, for anyone who's curious, is linked here.)

I don't really need to say anything here either because of how complete your wonderful thoughts are, but I'll give some of my thoughts so I'm not being lazy haha.

First point:

You analyze Gray's guilt and trauma very well, Anon. He definitely needs someone to care for him, someone to put him first and to want him to be safe and happy. He needs to realize it's okay to live for his friends, and that he doesn't need to throw his life away like those who've done so for him before if he can live for them.

Interestingly enough, instead of alleviating or healing any of this guilt, juvia instead only added onto this trauma by willy-nilly throwing her life away in the Alvarez arc. I go into that more in this post, but basically what I said was that juvia doesn't exist without Gray. If he died for her there, then honestly and seriously, (TW) she would probably find a way to die afterward regardless because her entire reason to exist, her entire personality, her entire being would be gone. she would rather saddle Gray with the extra trauma of making him believe he was the reason another woman in his life died for him than to live in a world where Gray isn't alive. That's not selfless, that's selfish, and she has no sense of self without Gray in the first place.

You also make a great point, that juvia actually doesn't ever seem to care about Ur's or Ultear's effects on Gray. Very briefly in 413 Days, for her bothering Gray on the sad day, juvia said sorry, but then she went right back into being her usual, slobbering, non-consensual harassing self. To quote my Analysis of the 413 Days post, "If she actually did any sort of actual reflecting on her actions or soul searching due to remorse over bothering Gray, then she would know that he's completely uncomfortable and creeped out by this, and that giving him a lewd, completely inappropriate body pillow would be a terribly rude idea for a gift."

That doesn't show any real self-reflection, and any self-awareness she has, she smothered with her obsessive desires to own Gray. But otherwise, in general, juvia really doesn't seem to care about Gray and his past and his dreams and his desires. she never really asks him anything to get to know him better. The reason why is because she doesn't care who he is, she's just in love with a fantasy version of him that loves her back and is her prince, which just shows again that she doesn't really love Gray Fullbuster as a person. This makes it no surprise that she doesn't care about his Ur and Ultear trauma, but it's nonetheless despicable of her.

Second point:

I totally agree that Lucy and Erza slap sense into him, and that he needs it from time to time!

And I am SO glad you mention how juvia defends him even when he's wrong!!! I made this exact point in my Analysis of the Daphne Arc post, how blind trust isn't good, and how it helps to show how dangerous and unhealthy juvia's feelings for Gray are since Gray can do no wrong in her eyes, which is a hazard for him, for her, and for many people around them. Being put on a pedestal does nothing to help Gray grow as a person, and real friends want to help push each other to becoming the best version of themselves they can be. juvia being Gray's blind cheerleader no matter what he does literally cripples him from growth and keeps him devoid of any constructive criticism.

Third point:

As for Lucy's and Erza's smartness, I totally agree, they can be total doofuses, but they're also so intelligent and capable at critical thinking. Even Gray knows that, as he defers to Erza as a leader, and in the Tenrou Island arc, he trusted so much that Lucy was smart enough to figure out the riddle that he sought her specifically out.

And then I continue to agree that juvia is very much the opposite of intelligent. she, as you say, thinks everything relates to romance and can't seem to comprehend Gray's actions being motivated by anything but romance. For most of the main story of FT, Gray couldn't be clearer in his rejection of juvia's advances, and yet she continued to misunderstand everything he did, chasing after a man who didn't want her.

I have no clue how some Pro gr///vians insist that juvia is an example of "girl power" because if anything, she's anything but an example of girl power. she can't live or function without a man, not to mention it's a man who doesn't even want to date her. (Disclaimer, I believe women who want love and want to depend on a significant other for certain things are still capable of being powerful. However, juvia is an example of a weak person in general because she is utterly dependent on Gray for personality, for motivation, for her will to live. she has zero independency. That isn't powerful in any regard.)

Everything you mention in regard to her being a "dumb lover", I concur! Relating everything to romance when Gray was treating her platonically, blindly putting him on a pedestal even when he's clearly in the wrong, having only a singular trait to her very one-dimensional character... All of that just points to her being honestly just a stupid, ignorant, naive child.

Fourth point:

That's such a fun point, Anon, that Lucy's and Erza's abilities contrast with Gray's stripping habit, while juvia literally acts as an enabler to his bad habit by acting like him.

Honestly, that's one of the things that make me the most disgusted with juvia, despite how I don't mention it much. It's technically a smaller portion of the terrible things juvia does to Gray, but it's one that boils. My. Blood. How does anyone find this endearing??? she's literally turning into Gray (just how Gray is turning into her in FT100YQ). It just demonstrates yet again that juvia doesn't exist without Gray, and that she can't help but steal his habits because she has none without him.

And this stripping habit isn't even a good thing! Yes, hardy har, naked people in anime, sooo funny, it's clearly meant for comedy, but just think irl, people who compulsively strip down to their underwear in public would and should be punished swiftly for public indecency. And yet juvia still does it just to act like she's a perfect fit for Gray.

And it might even be a trauma response for Gray, where doing it makes him unconsciously feel closer to his dead teacher, where it reminds him of her. He also does it without thinking, which is apparent when he freaks out when someone tells him he's naked, which really makes it seem like a trauma response, but I don't know enough about PTSD and such to be definitive, and I don't want to impose such on Gray. But if it were, then juvia is being even more inconsiderate of his trauma by mimicking it for no reason beyond her wanting to be closer to Gray, wanting to be more like Gray. Even if it wasn't the case, it would be seriously creepy regardless for someone, who likes you and follows you despite you rejecting them, to just copy an integral part of yourself. Honestly, that happens to people in real life, and it's the most unsettling thing. They're almost erasing you as a special, unique individual, which is exactly what happens to both Gray and juvia, Gray turning into juvia through Mashima's terrible gr///via writing, and juvia trying to turn into Gray through her creepy black-hole of a personality.

Fifth point:

And your last point is great as well, Gray is quite the straightforward person, and yet he hasn't said he loves juvia yet. That might just be because Mashima, ugh, is just milking gr///via and keeping all the Pros hooked for as long as he can (despite the fact that gr///via has further devolved into something even some of the Pros don't want to see). It could also be Gray just doesn't love juvia yet, that maybe a semblance of the real Gray is fighting back within him. I unfortunately don't have much hope in the horrible fever-dream-fanfic that is 100YQ, so I fear Gray may be lost forever and irredeemable by this point.

But I absolutely agree with you that the Gray who's fallen for juvia isn't the real Gray, only a doppleganger in the sense that he's not the same character he used to be. The real Gray would fall for someone who's his type, a smart, loving, kind, funny, good person, not a stupid, self-serving, selfish, self-centered, bad person who lacks any self-agency, which juvia is.

I'd ask Mashima to give Gray Fullbuster back to his real fans, but that might be too blissful of a hope...

Closing Notes:

Thank you for your patience and thank you for coming back with another awesome ask! I loved reading your words and typing up a response. I hope mine made enough sense!

#juvia just exhausts me #I still don’t understand how she has fans #askgraluna #ask #anti gruvia #anti juvia #fairy tail #anti juvia lockser #anti juvia loxar #defend gray fullbuster #gray fullbuster #anti gray x juvia #lucy heartfilia #erza scarlet

[prismonautic]

PROTECTIVE WARD: THE THREE SISTERS OF ROSALIA

hello everyone — i’m back from my little sabbatical with a pretty ubiquitous ward. what you put into this ward is what you get out of it, and the limits of this ward are the limits of your creativity + resourcefulness. if you’re nifty enough, you’ll be able to use this ward for any type of purpose freely.

think of using this spell as downloading a program — in order to gain access to the copy of the program you’ve downloaded into your device (which in this case, downloaded into your reality), you must agree to the terms of use and understand the consequences that will ensue if you misuse this spell. it’s embedded into all copies of the spell cast, and any attempts to tamper it will be met with consequences ranging from the ward being disabled, or you being blocked from accessing any of the spells and spirits i’ve created in general.

anyone who is seeing this likely doesn’t have to worry about any backlash from the spell — the main rules:

A) don’t attempt to use this spell to intentionally harm / sabotage me or my loved ones with anything in their lives. this WILL work against you.

B) don’t attempt to change the source coding of the servitors (in this case, the three sisters) of this spell. while you can have them do various things + there are few limits to what you can stretch the spell to do for you — don’t try to control these spirits as if they were your own. this spell can be an incredibly useful tool for you and benefit your life, but don’t get too hasty about changing around the spell’s composition.

C) you can create something separate INSPIRED by this spell (w/ credit!) please treat this creation of mine with respect — in the best case scenario, any infringements will simply not work. if mimicking this spell comes from a place of envy, jealousy, or any baneful energies that encourage you to steal it and claim it as your own, your work will work against you. please use this with an authentic heart.

unsure of any of the conditions above before using? want some clarity? need to be reassured? feel free to dm me and i’ll address any concerns that you have.

now that we’re through all the formal stuff, let me get into the spell.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

I. LORE

II. CASTING INSTRUCTIONS + SIGIL SHEET

III. ADDITIONAL DETAILS / SUGGESTIONS.

I. LORE

notes: why would i need this?

you know how in more popular forms of paganism, there is mythos that gives context to the energies that you’re working with + give you a deeper sense of how that energy will work with you and your purpose? it’s like that.

much like how devotees to aphrodite know her origins, correspondences, and relations to certain energies — those who work with the three sisters should know some lore to have a grasp on what they’re working with. it’s like how a person devoted to apollo would know the lore he has as a bringer of plague or healing would know his lore before appointing him in supporting a healing spell.

this mythos isn’t literal - this fictional story is a simple aide to preparation for the spell.

by reading this simple story, you’re already connecting to the energy of the three sister’s ward.

use this short story as a little mirror of divination to see if you’re compatible for this spell. if you feel creeped out / too intimidated after reading, this spell may be too heavy for your energy. i don’t recommend those who are strictly “love, light, harm none” to engage with this spell. if you’re someone that feels guilt for fighting back against things that seek to harm you, this is not for you.

if you feel vindicated/allure/relief/hope at the idea of having strong protection that is both offensive + defensive towards those who seek to harm you, this spell is definitely going to serve you well.

this story is written with heavy amounts of metaphors. it’s not designed to be read as you would read prose - think of it as poetry. you fill in the gaps of this story with how you resonate with it.

enjoy!

THE THREE SISTERS OF ROSALIA’S FOREST.

The Three Sisters of the Forest originated from a solitary witch named Rosalia, who created and summoned them in order to protect the forest she dwells in from being decimated and dominated by enemy ritualists that aim to use the forest for their selfish purposes.

These enemy ritualists, were only enemies because they disregarded her forest’s wellbeing and brought harm to it in the process. They excessively harvested the abundance of her plants, leaving the flowering bushes near the lakes barren.

Scorned and with a pounding heart, Rosalia decided that all the harm brought into this forest would turn into beneficial and nurturing energy for the forest.

She summoned the spirits of the three lakes of the forest: N’vai, U’nai, and Ktaa.

Each lake spirit had a different personality and different attributes of the element of Water. While the lake spirits were different in performance, they shared the foundation of water’s energy. Fluid, transformative, yet destructive.

N’vai was the western-most lake spirit of Rosalia’s forest. She was like a fly-trap. Her lake is surrounded by colorful fruits and animals that were appealing to the eye — but for anyone who knew better, all of the appealing colors were a trap. The nature around her trapped the greedy and baneful. Those too haughty would feast on her abundance of fruits, and be left there to be paralyzed and at the mercy of the nature around her. Gradually, all the entities there would become one with the fertile soil around her lake. Venomous, she is. The wise know to avoid what seems easy to conquer.

U’nai was the eastern-most lake of Rosalia’s Forest. She was absorbent and resistant to anything coming her way. Spirits passing through U’nai’s lake made sure to not stay there too long, for they would have a fate of eternal slumber within her area. Like Midas’ touch, all the entities around her would slowly slip into becoming one with her. Some dying spirits experienced it as sinking into quicksand. Others experienced it as feeling a euphoria they melted in, until they went into a deep eternal sleep. Regardless of how their fates came, U’nai has worked with N’vai protecting undesirable energies away from the final lake spirit of Rosalia’s forest — K’taa.

K’taa was the southern-most lake of Rosalia’s forest. She was the spirit closest to the cottage of Rosalia, and where seeds would go to flourish. Her waters guaranteed growth and nourishment to any energy she was told to give power to — she loved sleeping at the bottom of her lake, letting each breath of hers give life and power to the water. Rosalia would use K’taa’s water for scrying, blessing, clarity, healing … it felt like K’taa was the purified life force of those who scorned U’nai and N’vai, transformed into pure energies used to the benefit of Rosalia and the peaceful inhabitants of her forest.

The lake spirits heard Rosalia’s plea, and fulfilled it by unifying and creating an energetic ward around the forest — this ward, however, was special. It knew to target those who were desecrating the fruitful parts of the forest for their own.

Under these wards, these enemies turned into flies that were going to unknowingly decompose in their traps.

The Three Sisters of Rosalia’s forest united to materialize the protective spheres of energy surrounding Rosalia’s forest, emphasizing their unique traits in each layer of the sphere.

Rosalia’s enemies were met with destruction the next night they came to disturb the peace of her forest again. N’vai was the outer sphere of the ward, and they met her wrath for daring to attack the area — no being that comes with malice in this forest shall come out.

The soil upon the bare feet of the enemies shot feelings of needles through their feet. It was like each grain of dirt looked up to stab the feet of the enemies who stood above them — shooting pains made them collapse to the ground, paralyzed. Their deeds were stopped right then and there, and their process of being decomposed into being pure energy that circulates the forest.

Any enemy that decided to tread here sealed their fate. They will become the pure water that waters the fruits in this forest — they will be the nutrients that the trees leech upon to continue standing tall. No weapon shall prosper in this domain.

The ground slowly swallowed them up, one by one. While N’vai struck them down and swallowed them into the Earth, U’nai would absorb and neutralize their beings into part of the forest — U’nai would feed what she got to K’taa.

From how the waters K’taa produced became more potent, versatile, and sacred, along with the peace she experienced with no ill-willed beings treading on her forest — Rosalia knew that her forest was now protected.

Who needs to waste energy on actively fighting when you can simply use them as a resource anyways?

No ill will shall cross into her domain without consequence.

II. THE THREE SISTERS WARD: INSTRUCTIONS + SIGIL SHEET

NOTE: before you try casting this spell, KNOW WHAT YOU ARE PROTECTING AND WHAT YOU’RE PROTECTING IT AGAINST.

this is a long-term ward that has offensive capabilities, and it’s best that you’re using this ward for something you’re VERY SERIOUS about guarding. if you wouldn’t fight to defend it, do not ward it with this spell.

do the grounding, centering, and cleansing you need to do before / during / after the spell. i’m not responsible for what’s up if you fail to do that.

1) Write your petition to the Three Sisters of Rosalia’s forest.

Your petition will consist of the subject you want protected, what you are protecting the subject against, and any other clauses that you would like to include while working with the Three Sisters ward.

Your petition should be clear and direct, addressing each problem you want warded off — and preferably, how you want specific events to be dealt with. The more detail you push into your ward petition, the better this ward will function on your behalf.

If you’re having trouble writing the petition, visualize your ideal outcome + petition actions that the ward can do to bring that ideal vision to life.

If you want help with this, you can commission me to write a detailed and strong petition for your subject — we’ll discuss the needs of your ward 1 on 1, and work on your petition until you are satisfied.

2) Name your petition, and turn the name of your petition into a sigil.

It’s like compressing a folder with a ton of information into one .zip file. It’s more effective to sigilize the petition than have the entire petition laid out in the casting circle — trust me.

3) After necessary energetic procedure (cleansing grounding centering etc) on any piece of paper, draw the casting triangle below, and draw the sigils in THIS ORDER: N’VAI —> U’NAI —> K’TAA —> YOUR SIGILIZED PETITION.

4) Near the casting circle, repeat the following incantation TEN times, observe any visualizations that arise as a result:

“N’vai protects endlessly, U’nai transmutes endlessly, K’taa’s fruit of abundance shall always bless us through her graceful energy — may the Three Sisters of Rosalia’s lake rise and bring these petitioned desires to me.”

(nuh-vEYE, Oo-nEYE, Kh-Taah, pronounciation, if you need it. “ai” is like “EYE” here.)

5) Close the spell with “The deal is sealed, the wall is raised, all undesirable energies are destroyed today.”

6) Take the paper and burn it somewhere safe. If burning is not an option, destroy it by soaking it in water and tearing it. The spell is over, and the ward is fully raised and activated.

III. ADDITIONAL DETAILS + TIPS

In the event you want to edit your petition (you probably will), keep your petition written out somewhere safe + editing. The ward will update with the changes of the petition, since it is connected to the sigil you destroyed in the casting triangle.

You can communicate with the Three Sisters through any divination method that’s most comfortable for you. I’ve found that dream-work is a solid medium, along with clairvoyance + clairsentience.

In the event you want to dismantle / relocate the ward, re-do the ritual but have the petitioning sigil be a petition of removal.

—

i think i covered all i could.

if you’re interested, intrigued, abhorred.. like this post and follow me to show your appreciation <3

any love is met with much love back, and if you follow my page follow the link below!

take care, my oneironauts <3

#witchcraft #warding #protection magic #prismo’s spells #beginner witch #intermediate witch #energy work #spellwork #spirituality #witchblr #paganism #pop culture paganism #pop culture pagan #servitor #servitors #spells #advanced witch #defense spell #return to sender #magick #chaos magick #black witch

[catboymitosis]

Your Daan/Levi fic is so good, I had to reread it once I realized you wrote it!

They'd be so co-dependent together 🥰

Also, the struggle of shipping Levi with so many characters, directly or peripherally, it's hard to get a definitive vision for post ending a where most/all contestants survive.

Tho, one idea I keep crawling back to is Daan opening a pub to deal with needing to serve and take care of people, still doing doctor-y things for Levi, Samarie, Marina, etc.

Anyway, Daan/Levi is highly underrated, I'll toss it on my pile of ships I really need to write

Thank you so much I'm glad you like it :') They are literally so codependent and fucked without each other <33 If you do write something for them I'm definitely reading it every time a new Daan/Levi fic is posted I'm elated they are so underrated!!

Omg I love that idea Daan, Levi, Marina and Samarie crossing paths post festival actually makes so much sense. Daan needs Levi to not let himself get pocketcat'd immediately + Daan's past with nightlife scenes making it something he can fall back on + Marina turning to red light districts post the festival + Samarie going where Marina goes. The math adds up it just makes sense! Thank you for sharing that I'm gonna thinking about barkeep Daan and his gaggle of troubled queer teen regulars.

Their collective dynamic would actually be so fun I'm actually getting obsessed with it. Particularly Samarie and Levi becoming friends would absolutely rule and Samarie bearing witness to all of Daan's thoughts with his extreme guilt and self deprecation about how much of a creep is for starring at Levi's legs in his Ending B shorts.

#my current termina file is daan levi marina i did magna-medicinal levi and got him engraved so this is like my spoil levi playthrough lol #but ive thought about their dynamic as a trio a fair bit but adding samarie to the mix makes it even better