#that could be downright Fascinating...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hello again everyone i'm putting on my tinfoil jester hat & passing out Hefty grains of salt. its batshit theory time!

in short: i think Julie is gonna get violent & might end up killing someone - or she'll at least try. and i'm pretty sure something terrible is gonna happen to her.

in long: hoo boy. strap in

first off, i'd like to say that i love womens' wrongs And rights! all of this is said with utmost affection & respect for Julie. i love it when characters do terrible things, its interesting and so tasty for the story and their development <3

second disclaimer: most of this is just based off of what we have / know as of now. which is, admittedly, not much! so despite having short arms, i may be reaching very far! i'll get the based-on-knowledge part of my thoughts out of the way before getting into the more abstract I'm Just Making Shit Up At This Point part (educated guessing, yk yk!)

not sure where to start so i'll begin with what starting this line of thinking - flower symbolism. I've gone a little bit into it in a previous post from a while back (where i just made observations about the neighborhood map), but i'll restate the relevant parts. there are two flowers in the neighborhood with greek myths attached, and similar ones at that: the hyacinths outside of the Post Office, and the sunflowers outside of Frank's house.

most people know the hyacinth myth! Apollo, while playing metal frizbee with his (male) mortal lover Hyacinthus, Apollo's thrown discus bounced off of the ground and accidentally hit Hyacinthus in the head, killing him - then Apollo turned the spilled blood into the hyacinth flower. in another - popular - version of the myth, the wind god Zephyrus was jealous and blew the discus off course to kill Hyacinthus. as for sunflowers: Clytie, a nymph, was in love with Apollo and grew jealous of his relationship with a princess, Leucothoe. Clytie informed Leucothoe's father of the relationship, and he buried Leucothoe alive as punishment. Apollo turned his murdered lover into a sunflower. two flowers attached to greek myths about Apollo falling for a mortal, and that mortal gets murdered by a jealous non-mortal.

next, I would like to bring attention to This Concept Artwork from 2021. now i'm not gonna use this as a definitive "oh this exists so it must mean-" but there are always elements of concept work, especially Canon concept work, that sticks or can allude to themes or information that will be revealed later in the story. concepts are concepts for a reason - it means there's a solid idea that's being explored in depth, most times for use (especially that deep into the story crafting).

specifically, right now i'd like to look at the type of flower Julie is holding. pansies. normal ones + the primary fucked up pansy. pansies are symbols of love - both romantic and platonic, but predominantly platonic. it can also symbolize nostalgia, thought, admiration, remembrance, and can even be used as an "i'm sorry" flower. in victorian times, it was often used to represent forbidden/secret love.

stick with me, i'm getting to the point i promise

now, another thing is how much of Julie's character (meta-wise & in regards to the WH show as a production) is centered around love. her house is the "cutest" or most feminine one in the neighborhood, and it's downright infested with hearts, from the windows to the bushes to the chimney. she exists as Frank's foil, and it's almost definitive that she was meant to be Frank's love interest (there's just. so much evidence that there's no way that's not it). and just look at her! she looks like a love interest! if WH was a real show that i sat down to watch, i'd see her and immediately go "oh, ok, that's her base role"

this contradicts with what we know of her character - Julie seems big on platonic love, loving her friends, but other than that? she very much steps around what her house/character design is trying to say. she's hopscotching right over what the production wants from her. the only thing she kinda sticks with is the whole flower thing

but. but but but. i wonder! after the update, I'm pretty confident that the neighbors are influenced by the "script" and the workshop, even if they're not aware of it. see: the difference in how they act in the "recovered media" (where they behave more like they're characters playing out a bit, their dialogue has no natural lulls and it just sounds like a (really good) script) vs the 14 audios & the phone calls (natural dialogue, they seem more layered & like actual people instead of just characters, there's no set shenanigan - they're just doing their own things). and we can assume that the latter audios are from the neighbors off-script off-the-air.

despite this, they still somewhat try to fill their roles. the question is: how much of that is authentic, and how much is them still feeling that pressure to perform? just like how We as people feel pressure and expectation from societal rules/norms, even if we're not conscious of it. like, say... kids growing up thinking being queer is wrong, even if they've never been directly exposed to / made aware of homophobia/transphobia. We fill in the absence of being told "this is right" with "it must be wrong", and We act accordingly

so apply that to sapient puppets who were (again, most likely) made with set relationships, dynamics, and character details in mind. they're meant to be This Way, even if they want to be That Way, and that internal "programming" has to conflict, at least a little. like how I've seen Clown mention that homophobia will/may be a theme, and the only way i can see that happening among puppets who have never been directly exposed to it is if the above happens: they feel pressure from something they're unaware of. expectation from a "higher" plane of existence. as above, so below.

OKAY NOW WE'RE GETTING TO IT I PROMISE! blend this all together into Frank & Eddie catching feelings. they weren't meant to fall in love. they're not supposed to be together. it's - from the perspective of Playfellow & society (in the time period WH was active/created) - wrong.

Julie is supposed to be with Frank. Frank is supposed to be with Julie. in a way, they are together - they're best friends. they're foils. they were created to compliment each other and click. in the media audios, they're almost always together. if one of them is in a scene, so is the other.

so what happens if Frank starts to pull away? if he starts to spend more time with Eddie - what if Julie feels like she's being pushed out? what if she asks Frank to come play, only to be told he already has plans with Eddie, and if Julie tries to join in, what if Frank tells her no?

if it were me in this situation, I think I'd start to panic a little. everything has always been the same - it's always been Frank and Julie. that's how it's supposed to be. Frank and Eddie, well that's just - that's just wrong! and if, at this hypothetical point in the story, things are tangibly starting to degrade/go wrong, Julie might cling even harder, panic even more.

you see where I'm going with this? what i meant with the flower symbolism and what it could point to?

their world is falling apart, and Julie's one constant - Frank, her best friend, her grumpy rock - is pulling away. for Eddie. the mailman. and so what if the jealous "lover" takes action? Julie can make things go back to normal. she needs Frank, and in her mind she's losing him, but she can't lose him. she can't. and maybe that little whisper of expectation that she can't hear but feels nonetheless, fuels this fire. it makes her feel justified, makes her feel the need to act and "correct" this. maybe if she gets rid of the distraction, Frank's love and attention will be hers once more.

i mean, people do insane things when they're under that much pressure. from current probably-horrible events, a loss of control in their own life, their closest person seemingly distancing themselves, subconscious pressure from societal expectation. especially when it comes to love - platonic or romantic. w/ Julie, i'm pretty sure it's platonic in regards to Frank. though she is bi, so you never know! could be both!

and maybe it won't be about Frank & Eddie, if any of this turns out to even a little right. maybe there's a factor I'm not considering or haven't seen yet. but i really do think that there are things pointing to it.

like yeah, the Concept Art linked above. the caption saying "liar", the specific species of flower, Julie holding it over her mouth as if keeping a secret, the hammer. not sure if the person standing over her is her primary puppeteer, an abstract, or something else (it seems cracked?) but that's not what this theory is about!

then there's the flower patch - both behind her in the concept art, and the one behind her house on the map. it's striking me now that the two look very similar. they have mostly the same flowers, even. blue/yellow/white/orange "daisies", some daffodils, what i think are roses (it's hard to tell specifics on the map). an odd choice to make them so similar (unless it's coincidence!).

when I first saw the patch, my immediate thought was "holy shit is that a body dump?!" bc it's oddly green compared to the rest of the map, it's placed at a noticeable distance behind Julie's house - as if it's supposed to be "hidden", and it's the lushest spot in the neighborhood. now, to provide a counterargument to my own claim: it could be very green because that's how things are shaded, it looks like it's at a distance from the house bc the map is 2D, and its the lushest spot bc Julie's all about flowers - also, i doubt flowers would spontaneously grow since we can assume none of them are real. it's a puppet world of props. but who knows.

(and okay this might or might not be relevant but we can assume Julie is the one who made the chalk drawings on the path, right? i think there's a spiral in front of her house. just making a note of it.)

and there's just how much "pressure" seems to be on Julie compared to the others. she doesn't match her house. she doesn't fit her "role" the way she's meant to. AND OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT - by the swingset, there's now a bowling ball and what looks like red scissors. idk about you guys but i associate scissors with Eddie. he's all about crafts, after all! now i'm really reaching but hey? murder weapon? Julie does seem fond of bowling balls... that's a perfect bludgeoning weapon to have on hand (in abundance!)

in conclusion, i just think Julie has major potential to do some deliciously fucked up stuff. in fact, i hope she does! it could be handled/done in an absolutely fascinating way, and could have intriguing consequences.

who knows, maybe i'm right about her trying to get rid of Eddie (not out of malice or anything, just fear & pressure), and there'll be a whole thing where he keeps on coming back, completely unaware that she tried to off him, bc he's a puppet and it's probably really tough to kill something that wasn't really alive in the first place. i mean, in This Observation post i made about some new map secrets, there's a strange window shine on the Post Office door that could be spelling out either "nexus" or "new us". that plus the apparent extra hands/faces behind the door... Eddie is quite accident prone. who's to say he's not used to being replaced by himself? it's not like he'd remember. or is that the reason his memory is bad? holy shit wait - no wait this is a tangent. sorry. this post is about Julie lmao maybe i'll make a different post for this Eddie Thought i just had bc ough. ough...

and also, before anyone tries to come at me - because there's always people who twist words to Start Shit or misinterpret/miss the point - i'm not saying that Julie is like... homophobic. or hates Eddie. or is a "jealous crazy-" just. yk? and if you think that, maybe reread the post. or take a reading comprehension class &lt;3

AS FOR THE SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENING TO JULIE. this is based on Two things and also Vibes. this section will be mercifully short compared to the rest of this clusterfuck of a post

so in the Livestream Trivia doc compiled by @/theneighborhood watch, yes i'm referencing this again sorry, there's this tidbit:

that, plus This Artwork, which features Julie (they're her shoes!) standing at the edge of an apparent chasm (the edge of the set, i assume) paints an interesting hypothetical picture. maybe she wanders a little too far and falls off the edge of her world. maybe she discovers something and Wally has to do something he doesn't want to do, but "needs" to. hey, who knows. maybe she is gonna hurt / try to hurt someone, and in an attempt to save them / stop her, Wally pushes her - either accidentally or on purpose, either way the end result would be the same. now I'm just pulling things out of my ass so lets move on lmao

then there's the Unknown Record in the website's media section. i actually recorded the audio and sped it up - i'll post that video later - and it seems to be an excerpt from Alice in Wonderland. the only part of it i've been able to clearly pick out is "Alice found herself falling down.... down... down..." followed by, presumably Alice speaking - who's high pitched voice reminds me of Julie's. so that's another point in the Julie Goes Bye-Bye Via Rapid Descent theory. or just goes temporarily missing! it could be that the only relevant part of the above trivia tidbit is the "falling down a cavern", and not the "never seen again" part. but it could. be. both.

though! though. Clown has stated that if all the neighbors were to take on roles in Alice in Wonderland, Wally is the one who would be Alice. which follows his direct connection to the spiral/eye pit, and the phrase "down the rabbit hole". so it could be either or. it could be both! it could be neither! this is all speculation, which brings us to....

the end! we made it! i hope you're still carrying your Hefty grains of salt! soon you'll be able to fill a large chicken-shaped shaker with it all!

#ok ive been feeling a little Clearer upstairs lately so i think this is actually written the way i wanted #the brain fog lifted just enough to be insane on main! #sorry about all the flower symbolism #i just think its there on purpose! why choose those specific flowers! why Draw specific flowers in a fictional puppet world #where not even the animals are real species! theyre just generic/fictional 'butterfly' 'beetle' etc #and how eddie and frank's main flowers are practically the same story just in different fonts #how julie is 'meant' to be frank's lover. the meanings of the pansy. the flower patch. #welcome home speculation #wh speculation #wh theory #homebogging #'i connected the dots' you didnt connect shit 'ive connected them' #i stg im gonna eat drywall.... #and hey. maybe this is all just wishful thinking #i love it when fictional women do bad things. its catnip to me! #we'll see we'll see #wow i actually dont have much to say in the tags. i put it all in the main post. this is a rarity! #i just think it would be interesting if julie clashed with frank/eddie #that could be downright Fascinating... #well whatever happens ill enjoy it! im im right - awesome! if im wrong - awesome!

[johns-prince]

Paul in 1971: “Dear friend, throw the wine

I'm in love with a friend of mine

Really truly, young and newly wed

Are you a fool, or is it true?

Are you afraid, or is it true?

• • •

John, in 1971, in response:

“I was feeling insecure

You might not love me anymore

I was shivering inside

I was shivering inside.”

#mclennon #john lennon #paul mccartney #y'all i could talk about dear friend and jealous guy for dayssss #the way these two communicated is astounding and fascinating if not downright frustrating #anyway john literally admitting he'd been scared that paul didn't love him anymore imma frow up #paul declaring to john and the world that not only did he love john he still loved him im dying

[bunny-lily]

Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise. 

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs. 

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything. 

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real. 

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault. 

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been. 

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you. 

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory. 

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it. 

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die. 

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading

#gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #fluff #chimera-writes #dad!gojo #husband!gojo

[rottenomelet]

yandere jjk thoughts

warning:: nsfw! i’m eighteen and you should be too! hints of kidnapping, non-con, and coercion. nothing is ever really explicitly stated but - still.

a/n: there’s no real rhyme or reason behind this - winter is just my favorite time to snuggle up and read about crazy ppl. also i wrote this in lowercase originally so u see a spot i missed, no u didnt. u can leave requests for different characters if u wanna

Gojo Satoru

In no world could I ever imagine Gojo Satoru treating you like a real human being.

He is the strongest. There is no one who could destroy him. He can see all. And the issue isn’t just that he’s the best, it’s that he’s been told that since the day he opened his bright eyes. He has a big ego and it’s justified because there is no one better than him.

And sure he’ll indulge you. He'll laugh at your jokes and console you when you cry. But in the back of his mind, in every kiss to your forehead, in every smile, there will always be a domineering aspect. Because he knows that you are insignificant in the grand scheme of the world. you are only important because he deemed you worth something.

You’re not quite a toy or a pet to him. You’re more like - an indoor plant to him. Something that needs nurturing from his caring hands, watering and sunlight granted to you by him. You adapt and grow according to his needs and his conditions. But at the same time, you are to be cherished. never handled too roughly, case you begin to wilt. You don’t have to do much but sit and be nurtured and be pretty while he gives you whatever he deems necessary for your survival.

It fascinates him, really, how simple your little life is. How much you don’t know and never will know because as a flower, all you need to understand is that water and sunlight and love are given to you before you’ll even realize that you need it.

But you still have a job to be pretty and sometimes that’s sitting on the bed, still, as he observes you or bouncing on his cock. It just depends on the day.

Geto Suguru

Suguru is a calm man, a quiet man. He makes decisions based on logic. He is not exactly one for emotional outbursts, and even at his angriest, he rarely raises his voice.

But you.

A little non-sorcerer that can’t even see curses somehow made him look twice. Little unimportant you constantly runs through his mind. What you’re doing, what you’ve eaten, what places you’ve gone to. Who you’ve talked to, who your friends are. Your hobbies, your interests. Your lips and your eyes and that special something between your legs.

Just thinking about you, even innocently, makes him harden. It’s uncomfortable, it’s infuriating, it’s maddening.

He thought, surely someone in your family was a sorcerer, a powerful one at that. But no, your family is normal. You are, genetically, as average as they come.

He doesn’t treat you softly at first, doesn’t have a mind to. You’re a filthy little nothing, after all. When he fucks, he fucks without care. Suguru treats you like a doll, not made of porcelain but made of cloth, one he can throw around and still be in decent condition. He keeps a hand pressed to your mouth, to keep your voice down. A blindfold around your eyes so he doesn’t have to look into them. Your hands are bound behind your back so you don't touch him even by accident. Flat on your stomach, unable to see or feel or say anything is how you find yourself every time. He doesn’t even come inside of you, the only thing you’re grateful for.

It’s scary, how roughly he treats you. But it’s downright terrifying when he begins to lay softer hands upon you, begins to kiss instead of bite, caress instead of pinch.

Nanami Kento

He is a very traditional and stern man.

You are, silly, to him. stumbling and bumping and in general, unsure of yourself and what to do. But he sees potential. Even when you’ve tripped over thin air or broken something by accident, there’s a certain grace to your movements. A grace he wants to harvest and invest in.

And while he wants to give you direction, he also doesn’t have the patience or time to teach you like he wants. So, it’s best to ‘learn on the job’ when it comes to Kento.

Learn how to cook his favorite meals and bake the sweets he loves just right. When he’s okay with speaking and when he needs quiet. Remembering to kiss him goodbye every morning and remove his coat for him every night.

Learn how to suck his cock right - which vein is most sensitive, when to suckle and gag and slurp, what noises to make, and remember to always always swallow. He hates messes after all.

Learn his favorite positions. The lingerie sets he like best. How loudly he wants you to be. Accept his cum in your tummy with a smile.

It’s not hard - please him and you will be rewarded. Rewarded with pleasure, with time outside, with gentle hands.

And if you stumble or forget, he will easily remind you of your job.

Mahito

You’re his personal entertainment. You’re an experiment.

Mahito is incredibly laid-back, even lazy to an extent. He lets you roam and explore and fall. He doesn’t care what you do as long as you stay within the four walls he’s placed you in.

It's hard to understand him. For a curse, he’s always laughing, finding almost child-like joy in the most odd things. Whether that’s watching an animal documentary or wondering if a human’s neck can extend like the turtles on TV.

One thing you do know is that he likes games and he likes playing with you. The only problem is you don’t when the game starts and ends, the rules or even if you’re playing right. Oftentimes, you find yourself playing a game that you don’t know the rules of and Mahito has named himself the gamekeeper.

He usually starts by asking a question. Something simple like “What time did you wake up?” or “What did you eat today?”. You find out the hard way that no matter what you say, you’re always wrong.

Say you woke up at ten? Then you’ll find yourself pressing into the mattress, drooling on your pillow as he drills you, punishing you for waking so late in the day. You had a slice of cake earlier? Then don’t be surprised when you’re in the kitchen licking icing off his cock as punishment for an unhealthy lunch.

Itadori Yuuji

He's the jock that gave you a chance. That made you feel special and pretty and popular.

He's sweet. He gives you his hoodie when you’re cold. He drives you home after school. Buys you lunch when you can’t afford it. Takes you on nice dates.

He wants you sitting front row at all his games, wearing his varsity jacket so everyone knows you’re his girl. He twirls you and kisses you in front of the whole school when he wins, the whole thing right of a cheesy rom-com.

But, surely, you didn’t think he was doing all that for free? No, he wants compensation. He deserves a reward for treating you so sweetly. It's only fair.

It doesn’t matter if you’re ‘not ready’. No, no, you’re just nervous, sweetheart. But he’ll be gentle with you so calm down. Yeah, calm down when he slides a hand up your skirt on a date to the movies. Be quiet when he asks you for head in the janitor’s closet between classes. And don’t make a fuss when he slips his cock inside of you, raw, even though you begged him to use a condom.

‘Rubbers hurt,’ he says. ‘It feels better raw’,’ he pleads. ‘Don’t worry - I'll pull out.,’ he promises.

And you better be understanding when he comes inside of you. Afterall, he’ll buy you a plan b.

Choso

Whatever you do, do not stress this man.

He’s going through enough as is. The last thing he needs from you is any attitude or ungratefulness. Even an upset face will have you with your knees pushed beside your head and Choso making you scream, all while watching you with that same tired expression.

Choso is the oldest of ten siblings. He is used to dealing with bratty behavior. He handles your tantrums with grace - once you’ve finished throwing things and screaming, he’ll only ask if you're finished. And then he will be upon you.

But, beyond punishment, he is caring and quiet. He prefers it when you speak, likes it when you prattle on about your day or your favorite show. He likes it when you’re happy.

#yandere #yandere jjk #tw yandere #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto #yandere mahito #yandere nanami kento #yandere nanami #yandere itadori yuuji #yandere itadori #yandere choso #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #rottenomelet

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCXDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 5)

—

Tw: torture scene (GiW agent receiving), general angst, canon-typical violence (DC), nobody is having a good time

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was pretty easy for Danny to forget that Dr. Crane was a rogue at times.

Most of the time he wasn’t comically evil, like what he’d expect of a Gotham rogue. He was helping Danny, even if only because he didn’t want to be taken in by the GiW as well. He was even downright nice most of the time, or at least neutral.

Sure, he had a strange obsession with fear and psychology, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for Danny. It didn’t feel like living with a rogue, just like…staying with a distant relative, or something.

He seemed like just an ordinary person.

Today, though, Danny was brought back to reality.

The GiW agent they’d tracked down together writhed on the ground, screaming in pain and terror. Scarecrow was sat a few feet away, setting up a syringe of the antidote he’d made.

After a few more moments, he injected the man with the antidote, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Suddenly, the man surged forward, lunging at Scarecrow with a feral scream.

Unluckily for him, though, he was still weak from the fear toxin in his system, and from the beatings he’d received prior. Scarecrow easily wrestled him to the ground, settling himself on the broad part of the agent’s back with a vice grip on one of his arms.

“Let’s try again,” he said sharply, all of the warmth Danny had grown used to gone from his voice. “Where is the GiW base of operations?”

The agent took several shuddering breaths before spitting at Scarecrow, defiance and hatred written all over his face.

For just a moment, the room was utterly silent.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Scarecrow began to twist the man’s arm further. It wasn’t long before the agent began to squirm, then writhe, beneath him. Danny’s stomach churned.

“You know,” Scarecrow began, almost conversationally, “there are plenty of jobs that one can get without the use of their legs, especially with the level of education you have. Anything that doesn’t involve hard labor, really.”

The man’s face was beginning to turn red in his struggle not to scream. He took in gasping breaths, the way that his mouth moved almost reminding Danny of a goldfish.

(He felt awful for the comparison, but it was true.)

“However,” Scarecrow continued, “I find you’d be rather hard-pressed to find a job without the use of your arms. Especially in a place like Gotham, where you can always be replaced by someone eager to do your job for even less money. Of course, you could most likely coast off of savings and severance pay for a while, but…”

He leaned closer to the man’s head, his voice lowering.

“Would you be able to live like that? To live with yourself, if you no longer have a purpose?”

He allowed the agent a few seconds of rest before increasing the pressure on his arm. The agent gasped, letting out a strangled hiss. His arm bones were making fascinating noises in response to the strain. Danny felt sick.

“You seem like a rather driven young man. I’m sure your family would hate to see you unmotivated, directionless. Would they resent you, do you think?”

“Fuck you, you—”

The man was cut off by his own scream as Scarecrow finally allowed his arm to break, audibly splintering into thousands of useless shards of bone.

He had the exact pressure memorized. Clearly, he had done this before.

This was wrong. This was wrong.

Shouldn’t Danny step in, do something?

“That won’t heal cleanly. Even with the best medical care in the world, you’ll end up with permanent damage.”

The man below him wheezed and sobbed, choking on air as Scarecrow let go of his arm carelessly, letting it flop back onto the ground.

“Just the sort of thing something like you deserves,” Scarecrow hissed, his voice cold.

“You tortured a child, and you enjoyed it. You laughed with your friends about it. In your notes, one of your friends complained about the screaming,” Scarecrow brought his leg around, grinding his boot into the man’s broken arm. He howled in agony, writhing uncontrollably.

“Was it inconvenient to him, do you think? Too loud? If you were joking about it, clearly you thought so, too. I could fix that as well.”

He drew out another needle, this one once again filled with fear toxin.

“Scarecrow, wait,” Danny choked out.

Scarecrow turned to look at him.

Even his posture was different than usual. He looked… stiff, more like an animal than a man. When he tilted his head at Danny in a silent question, it looked like something in his neck had snapped, his head lolling to the side.

Danny wondered if he was consciously moving like that, or if it was habit at this point.

“You—we don’t have to do this. We can get information some other way, right? You don’t have to…”

Danny looked down at the GiW agent below Scarecrow. He didn’t even have it in him to glare up at Danny like he had before. Instead he laid limply on the ground, tremors rolling through his body uncontrollably.

“We’ve exhausted every other option and you know it,” Scarecrow said, his voice low, “this is the only way we can move forward.”

“Still, I—I don’t,” Danny swallowed, his throat tight, “this isn’t—this isn’t right. Isn’t there some other way to do this? Like—a truth serum, or something?”

“Truth serums are notoriously unreliable. They’re almost as bad as lie detectors. We’re much more likely to get a reliable result from this.”

Danny just stared at the GiW agent and his splintered, ruined arm. He began to weakly wriggle in Scarecrow’s grasp, which was graciously ignored.

He vaguely remembered himself doing the same thing when he was on the operating table; even if he knew there was no chance of escape, he still thrashed and screamed, desperate to get away. The jagged I-shaped incision on his torso felt uncomfortably warm.

What was there left to say?

“The Bat does the same thing at times, you know,” Scarecrow said, “him and the rest of his brood. By using my toxin, I’m actually lessening the amount of permanent damage that I’m doing. Physically.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it right,” Danny said desperately. “Even if—even if everyone in the world did this, it wouldn’t make it right.”

Scarecrow hummed.

They were both silent for a moment.

His next words were gentle, absurdly so when compared to the scene in front of him.

“I would love an alternative. But…”

He shrugged, hand coming to rest on the break in the GiW agent’s arm. Even without applying any pressure, the man stopped squirming immediately.

“There aren’t any other options,” Danny repeated, his voice flat and his body numb.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. No one moved a muscle. Eventually Scarecrow spoke again, his voice strangely empty.

“You can stand outside and keep watch, if you’d like. At such a short distance their radars won’t pick us up.”

Danny said nothing, leaving the room silently.

He sat outside for quite a while.

He was grateful that Scarecrow had, with his help, dragged the agent to one of his previous hideouts. It was soundproofed, after all.

He was glad that he didn’t have to hear the rest of what Scarecrow did to the man.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Crane left the building, joining him outside. He guided Danny back to his beat up old truck and they drove home in silence.

“Did you at least…do you know where they are, now?” Danny asked as they entered the apartment, his voice small.

“They didn’t share the details of all of their locations with any one person. I know where one of their locations are, but not their main base of operations.”

Danny felt disgusted. With himself, with Dr. Crane, with the GiW.

He was disgusted by the agent, too. Did he just hate the restless dead so much that he would prefer to be tortured than to give them the upper hand? Did he really think he was in the right?

Was there a chance that he was?

Danny felt very, very small, and very stupid. Stupid and weak and cowardly.

“Danny,” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice soft.

“I’m truly sorry that this is happening to you. I really, truly wish that you didn’t have to endure my company. I…”

He fell quiet. Danny wondered if he was just saying this to pacify him, or if he truly meant it. He wondered if it really mattered in the end.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Crane sighed, looking truly pained.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Danny was quiet.

“I’m going to bed early,” he finally said, turning away and leaving without a second glance.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #this kinda shit is how the fic got its name btw. #like yeah obviously it’s also in reference to the contrast between crane and danny’s actual parents #but it’s also about doing what you need to survive vs what is best for the people dependent on you #tshirt that says I love moral quandaries I love when no matter what you do you lose I love torturing characters #Scarecrow: why isn’t torturing everyone who wronged you healing this child. it worked for ME #meanwhile Danny is undergoing the torment nexus #and red hood is doing some doomguy shit #getting swarmed by GiW agents bc he’s one of the only ones showing up on the radar #Tucker voice Wow Mr red hood this is kinda fucked up. can I use the bat computer to hack the pentagon btw

[bromcommie]

tbh I still think Brock Rumlow was an interesting character and upon further examination way more unsettling a villain than most to me because like. Let’s be real, the second you lay eyes on Robert Redford as Pierce monologuing in his pristine suit and glass office high up in the sky he just screams Evil Politician! at you. You can see it coming a mile away. Meanwhile Rumlow is….Just Some Guy. On the surface, he’s just some side dude. He’s not enhanced, he’s not in some major position of power, he’s just someone who’s really good at what he does and seems dedicated enough to the work and functions well with his team. He respects Steve, might admire him even, but not so much that he gets starry eyed like everybody else. He’s lighthearted but focused, he’s no nonsense, he’s the everyman Steve can relate to way more than spooks like Natasha or Fury.

And okay, maybe what Rumlow does for a living is beat intimidate and kill people, but it’s not like that’s the primary objective, right, because SHIELD are the good guys and this is what Steve does now, too, anyway; except that Steve doesn’t really use any weapons other than the shield, he holds back, he doesn’t carry a gun anymore which is usually fine since he’s dangerous enough without it. But when that leaves him vulnerable, he’s covered: Rumlow’s got his six, and he does it well, and he earns some of his trust. This is familiar to Steve.

And maybe Rumlow’s a little too good, fine, maybe he shoots a guy in the head within the first fifteen minutes of the movie when he doesn’t necessarily have to and then cracks jokes immediately after but that’s alright too, because that guy had Steve at gunpoint and that guy was Bad whereas Rumlow is One of the Good Guys just doing his job, right. Rumlow’s joking around because he’s used to the violence, they’re all used to it, and this is just how it works. They’re just soldiers doing the grunt work and following orders, and this is familiar, too.

Except that they’re not soldiers and this isn’t a war, except that the work is for an intelligence agency whose job it is to hoard and steal information and monitor civilians and orchestrate and sabotage and meddle in internal and external state affairs. Except that the Good Guys, in reality, are extremely grey at best. Except that many of the Good Guys turn out to be Nazis on top of everything else, and it’s not that far of a stretch.

But when it’s all starting to unravel, you’re still thinking well maybe some of these guys didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t do it out of individual belief, and if faced with the right choice, they can be redeemed.

That is until you realize that Rumlow maybe didn’t respect Steve and what he did so much as what Steve could do if only Steve weren’t “weak” in other ways, if Steve had chosen the right side. That it not being personal is less a cop out and more a taunt the same way just following orders has always been, for Rumlow and many many men that came before him and will continue to come after. Until the vault when, by the most charitable of interpretations, Rumlow looks at the Winter Soldier letting himself be smacked around and crying and getting shocked like he’s maybe a little unnerved (if not just downright fascinated) by the whole thing, but not enough that it really changes anything for him, because the end justifies the means and it’s not really his problem, anyway.

Until Sam shows up and Rumlow looks at him like a bird of prey and says This is gonna hurt with a fucking smile on his face, and then you think: shit, man, obviously. How was it not clear from the start.

To me, what makes someone like Rumlow a good villain, even a side one, is not that he’s straight up Insane & Evil™️ or suffering from Tragic Backstory Syndrome or all hopped up on magic superstrength juice or whatever, but precisely the fact that he’s Just Some Guy with a cockroach survival mentality who operates well within the established system and just so happens to be really good at his job - a job that he might’ve even joined thinking it was for a good cause, or because he had something to prove, or simply because it gave him one hell of an excuse to be a bully. Because he either wholeheartedly believes in HYDRA or he just doesn’t give much of a shit either way so long as he gets his due in the end, and both are just as bad.

Because when you strip away all the grand scale superhero theatrics, you’ve seen this before. You’ve seen Rumlows in your school and in your neighborhood and in the military and the cop car patrolling your street. They’re the ones who sometimes say or do somewhat offputting shit but you figure it’s fine because they’re otherwise real nice or charismatic or normal looking, or maybe they work a job that’s framed as helpful or protective or inherently good despite the power dynamics at play, or they share your background and interests and you chat about the weather being crap this time of year.

And every time one of them turns out to be a violent, hateful piece of shit, you’re still somehow surprised then, too, when you really shouldn’t be.

#apologies for the extra long post but I’ve been thinking about why he freaks me out as much as he does #the world is full of brock rumlows is all i’m saying. #and that to me is way more terrifying than evil crazy russians in underground labs or deranged aliens could ever be #brock rumlow #ca: tws #brock rumlow meta #I guess???? hello how the fuck did I get here at 5 pm on a tuesday jesus christ #mcu meta #max.txt

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 273

You know what? We need more Good parents Fentons. 

And you know what else? Technically, Jack helped Danny defeat Pariah via the use of the Ecto-Skeleton. And like, that’s his son, his baby boy. Sure Danny is and has always been a mommy’s boy, but it doesn’t change that fact. They’re both already feeling horrible about the fact they could have hurt him, they could have hurt their son- they have hurt their son, killed him with their inaction and never again. 

So when these oversized jello-eyeballs try to insist that their baby, their precious baby boy, take a crown? Become a king when he’s not even out of highschool, when he doesn’t want it? No. Hell no! That is his Danny-o, his baby boy who was terrified of his own parents! 

Which is how Jack, despite technically still being alive even if so-very ecto-contaminated, became the Ghost King. 

And for some reason there’s several ghosts rather happy about this- oh, these are his Danny-O’s ghost-parents? Not-ghost parents seeing as some of them have never been anything but a realm denizen? That’s really fascinating- y’know what, want some fudge and we can exchange childcare- Maddie dear come over and meet our co-parents apparently!  

Now it’s not all easy, but they’re trying their best, and that’s all that can be asked. 

…

Which is perhaps why it’s so exasperating- or as Maddie would put it, downright infuriating- that it is now, almost an entire year and a half later that the Heroes finally arrive to investigate. Well, at least he has plenty of fudge since it’s almost time for the council meeting. 

#DCxDP #DPxDC #Prompts #Ghost King Jack #Jack is never picking up a gun again #Why yes they did have a one-night stand with Constantine before #The fentons adopt Ellie as soon as they can which also ends with some conversations with Vlad #Lots of conversations & therapy and Y E A H #Jack is like an unmovable object and Danny is like an unstoppable force #Dan gets snatched up the moment he goes back in time from his timeline #He has no clue wtf to do because it’s Not Fair that Danny gets this #That he gets his parents- that he gets acceptance #Dan doesn’t realize until the whole Fentom Family (& Vlad) hugs him that he realizes he can #Jordan is very overprotective of his second chance at family thanks to trauma #Somehow him and Vlad get on well together- probably the villain-leaning habits #GIW had a complete info blackout on Amity to the point they erased the existence of the city #Hence why it took so long for the heroes to find out #Eventually via Deadman after he disappears for a bit & returns telling them there’s a new king & everyone #is getting little information packets on new rules & getting their paperwork taken care of #Pretty much getting visa (Sp?) cards on what they’re doing in the living world

[roselibrary]

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

Trigger Warnings: murder, targcest, eventual dark!aemond, yandere!aemond, obsessive behaviour, typical targ madness

Summary: Aemond would have his sea-nymph one way or another.

Requests are open!

Summer blossomed like the pink buds on a cherry tree coming to life the day the young Prince Aemond realised his affection for his niece. She had ensnared his soul and enraptured his heart like the vines of ivy devouring the exterior of a Keep. Silver locks and lilac spun eyes that beheld all the secrets in the world, it seemed. Soft-tanned skin – a perfect blend of her mother and father though the same could not be said for those she called brothers – that beamed soft gold in the light of the sun and lips that looked as if only the sweetest of fruits had kissed them. Her hair shone pearlescent in a similar fashion to the decorations often found woven into her curly smooth locks. They fascinated him; the way the peals glimmered in the light and emerged from her curls like the foam atop a crashing wave.

More Velaryon than Targaryen in truth was she. She, too, had no dragon to call her own but instead proclaimed the sea as her abode and its treasures her horde. He wished to be considered a valuable item amongst those she already kept. Soft-spoken and gentle in nature she was her mother's pride and joy – the image of her grandmother they deemed the sea nymph. Sometimes, he wondered if she could grow a tail much like the mystical mermaid on the sigil of House Manderly and if she could, would she finally join her beloved sea and leave them all to wither on land? Those thoughts never brought him any comfort. Instead, he remained grateful that for as much as she wished to join the sea in all ways; she simply was unable to.

He often prayed to the gods in thanks for her inability to simply vanish on the waves.

It became lonely, living in such cold solitude, after a while and none could deny the younger prince led a cold, solitary life. His other kin shone so brightly, vivaciously and with such vitality that it was easy for him to fall into the shadows, the darkness, and the madness. He was a scarred second son of a King who did not even deem his firstborn son his heir. Aemond believed deeply in tradition and the stability such a thing brought to the realm; he could not fathom his elder half-sister bringing chaos with her untraditional succession claim. His sister would openly have a bastard follow her on the throne. Perhaps that’s where his true sentiments lay; he did not despise his sister for being a woman with a powerful agency, or even for being the heir to the throne, but for what would come after his sister's succession. What precedent would it set if bastards could inherit before trueborn children? What chaos would that sow within the realm? Aemond was a man of routine, tradition, and unrelenting stability all of which Rhaenyra was inherently posed to ruin.

Aemond didn’t wish to see his little sea nymph fall with her mother, as she undoubtedly would, due to her unending loyalty and devotion to her catastrophic family. His Gentle Dragon had no qualms openly expressing her love and devotion to the young men that would steal her birthright; it was bad enough the elder prince Jacaerys would steal her place upon the iron throne but downright insulting that, the younger than she, Lucerys would steal the birthright of her father from her person by claiming Driftmark. Aemond wished to see her claim her rightful place as the heiress of Driftmark as the only trueborn child of its heir, however, he would not want to see her seated atop the iron throne.

The monolithic, fearsome work of art did not suit the gentle and ever-changing disposition that she carried with her. Unmoving iron and sharp-edged swords should be nowhere near the supple curves and smooth skin lining her form, instead – if it were not for his no-good elder brother – he would sit upon the iron-casted seat of death in her place. He would be her King and she, his Queen. He had only to find a way to keep her with him permanently.  

Perhaps his father's addled mind and desperation for peace would smile fortuitously upon the one-eyed prince, for once.

It had been many a year since his eyes last wandered upon the form of his beloved sea nymph – a name he only acknowledged in his mind's depths. The realm’s Gentle Dragon had returned to Kings Landing alongside the rest of her kin when protests were raised on the legitimacy of her younger brother's claim to Driftmark. Something many deemed rightfully hers. She glowed effervescent in her Velaryon blue and soft violet threaded gown the silk gently forming the curves of her body and flowing down the lengths of her arms and back. It seemed the dress also recognised the girl's call of the sea for it moulded like waves and rippled in each minuscule movement of her own. The train of the gown followed behind her like the sea lapping at the sand of the beach never quite reaching as far in as it wished.

She stood beside her mother with her head held high in pride as her uncle all but disparaged what remained of her mother's good name - if anything was left of it to begin with. It had delighted him to see the Strong princelings debased in such a public manner and their mother alongside them. He enjoyed much less the disparagement of the Crown Princess’s only daughter and the belief that she would fall to the same whims her mother had and beget only bastards for her future husband. No, that did not please the prince at all. He had observed and planned and waited patiently for many a year to gain his nymph and she would give him no bastards – he knew she wouldn’t. His nymph was too intelligent, dutiful, and self-aware of the consequences of such a thing to attempt such a crime.

Still, his blood boiled, and his hands clenched behind his back. It took an effort to keep his stoicism about his person in the face of his ever-present wrath but within a second his wrath was replaced with bewildered wonderment. Gone was Ser Vaemond’s head; instead the figure of his uncle stood tall, proud, and nonchalant in the face of such grotesque violence. Aemond felt the stirrings of admiration and conflict within his chest at such a sight. This man, his uncle, was a threat, an obstacle, his biggest unrelenting guard towards what Aemond had deemed his. All the realms knew of how Daemon favoured his girls over his boys, and none could deny how he had claimed the Gentle Dragon as much his own as his other brown-skinned, silver-haired darlings. He clenched his jaw. It seemed he would need to confide with another of his aspirations if he wanted to succeed where others had failed.

As if the man could hear the thoughts echoing in the princeling's brain the Rogue turned and leered. Aemond could see the taunt within his gaze, the dare for him to be as foolish as the man who kept his tongue but lost his head.

He could hear the whisper Daemon Targaryen’s eyes conveyed.

“Claim her, if you're bold enough.”

Just as he proved to his father when he claimed Vhagar; Aemond would once more prove that he was, indeed, bold enough.

#hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x targaryen! reader #aemond x reader #daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen x y/n #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #velaryon reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd smut #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones smut #aemond x oc #dark!aemond x reader #yandere got #yandere house of the dragon #yandere!aemond #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #yandere!aemond x reader

[coentinim]

Crime scene

ADULT + DARK CONTENT - MDNI !

JPM is beautiful in the act of killing, how can his wife not appreciate that?

Contains: descriptions of murder (not of reader), gore, blood, sexual content (at a fresh crime scene), you are (almost) as deranged as him, you are married to him, dead dove - please feast <3

I am not responsible for what you see on the internet!

Edit: forgot to tag people T_T

@fear-is-truth @taintandviolent @feefymo @slutforgarlogan @silverzoomies @yandereunsolved @maeriavizsendingjpmdose @evanpetersbf @carniv0reev

You heard it again. Those screams, those ear piercing, mind shattering screams of some poor soul being gutted alive. Supposedly, the walls were soundproof, but you could hear well and clear the wails of another one of James' victims in the next room. Perhaps the wall connecting your rooms was the only one he didn't line with asbestos... and on purpose for sure. He wants you to hear.

A young woman - no older than 25, judging by the noise - was currently being sliced open slowly and deliberately by your husband's hand. After only being married to him for a few weeks, you could already tell apart the screams of terror before a quick death and pained, tortured wails of a slow one. And during this time, you've grown accustomed to this peculiar hobby of his, even fond of it at times. His bloodlust and cruelty were undeniably fascinating, and having the honour of being the only person he never wished to harm was something to cherish. His debauchery was just contagious, really!

Curiosity had overcome you, and you decided to check what exactly was your beloved doing as he worked. And oh, were you amazed at the sight when you entered his room.

The screaming was so much louder and clearer here, begs for mercy - even for a quicker, painless death - made for a terrifying noise, but you paid them no mind. Oh no, you focus was on your husband only. He was a true artist, the way he worked the woman's body like it was an instrument, a work of art for art's sake, a horrible perversion of what a piece should look like. A bloody image it was - James was cutting all over her skin, ignoring the wails, and carving flesh with quick, steady strokes of the knife. You couldn't help but come closer, almost beside him, and you made your presence known by walking into his line of sight. He raised his eyes from the half-dead girl to you and you noticed his expression. He did not look human, not even one bit. His eyes were widened, pupils engorged and cheeks flushed bright red. He wore the mask, the strange mask you didn't know the purpose of that made him look like a horrible monster mothers warn their children about. He did not wear the apron he usually did, though. His white shirt (one of the informal, "not as good ones", you recalled) was half unbuttoned and stained crimson with the explosions of the woman's blood. In the act, he looked like a beast. He was panting when he stopped skinning the woman to gaze at you.

"My darling, I didn't- hah, disturb you, did I?"

His voice from behind the metal and leather sounded different, too. Savage. Inhuman.

"No, Jimmy, I was just curious..."

You gazed at the wailing woman on the table. Dear god, she was a mess... her arms and thighs were a mosaic of cuts, some more refined and artistic, some deep and rough, careless. She was almost bare, her under dress riding up enough to only cover her breasts, and only a small pair of knickers on her bottom. You hummed in approval; James listened to your rules against seeing his victims naked unless necessary. But you quickly turned your attention to her stomach, because that was certainly a sight to behold! Around the navel, there were a few deep lacerations, one of them definitely deep enough to penetrate muscle and cut into the intestine. The blood flowing out in rhythm with the erratic pulses of her heart covered her pristine underwear, making her look downright pornographic. It wasn't hard to understand his savage interests in such moments - the bloody, shining gash on her stomach was a curious sight, to say the least. It truly looked nasty; that must be why she was writhing in pain so much. She seemed to beg for your help, but it was unintelligible - besides, there was no saving her now, she had lost too much blood. Not that you would have saved her otherwise - she would just run to the nearest police officer and get you and your husband arrested. Accepting James might be hard at times, but seeing him executed while people leered at his undeniably painful demise would have been much harder. He was hard to love, and hard to let go of.

You trailed your hand over her split stomach, ignoring the thrashing and protests.

"May I?", you asked.

James' eyes lightened up even more, humanity mixing with the animal in him.

"Would I ever deny my darling wife to share my pleasures?", he replied in his syrupy voice distorted by the metal mask, the terrifying sound making your head spin. He was the only one who could scare you yet make you feel so safe.

You kept looking him in the eyes, barely visible under the eye protection, while slowly putting two fingers into the woman's wound. You were terrified, but you just wanted to tease your James just a bit, just a tad... It was wonderful. The quiet, pained screech, the blood exploding under your fingertips and the pulse of her insides. It felt like touching something slimy, is that what James felt upon fingering your cunt? He absolutely adores doing it, and now you see why; the texture is nothing short of divine. Your ministrations had a great effect on your husband, as he started panting and gripped the edge of the table the woman was sprawled on. Oh, he was hungry like a wolf at that moment. You let go of the victim's body after just two seconds, slightly disgusted with yourself, observing your bloodied hand and James' face. It was hard to see anything but his nose and eyebrows through the mask, but you knew he was more aroused than ever. In fact, you feared him. He was terrifying in his murderous attire, even more so now that his body language radiated pure hunger. You held his killer gaze for a few long seconds until something made him glance away. Right. The woman.

To your surprise, she was still making noises despite the blood loss. James walked right past you, close to her face, and held her cheek almost tenderly. Her gaze was unfocused, but she tried to squirm away from his touches. In response he just gripped her chin tight and tutted at her hazy thrashes. He raised his blade and sliced her neck open, so deep the blood exploded in his face. She went quiet rather quickly after that.

You saw him kill a dozen times, yet it always stunned you just how predatory it looked. His muscles taut, the vulgar display of vitality, as if he absorbed the life force of his newest victim.

Slowly, James turned to face you. He was dead silent, and at that angle you couldn't see his eyes. Your instinct told you to back away, so, naturally, you stepped forward, your thighs slick with arousal from the fear and guilt.

The growl that came from his throat was definitely unexpected. But more surprising was his direct action - he gripped your shoulders tightly and led you into the chaise-lounge next to the table. He pushed you hard onto it, making you gasp, and he pressed your shoulders to the soft pillows as if you were to be another victim. That particular thought went straight to your pussy.

"James... maybe after you clean up after yourself?", you suggested in the most sultry voice you could. Ah, did you have to tease him so much? He was impatient, after all! The tension from the kill had to be resolved somehow.

"Nonsense, dove-" he was already pulling up your gown, "I need to take my fellow murderess... now "

You bit your lip, nervous. Were you really a murderess?... that girl was already half dead when you touched her wound! You were merely an accomplice, and...

Oh, you forgot you didn't wear any panties until you felt the cold air hit your pussy. He gripped your thighs and left blood handprints all over, making you forget your guilt. Your dress was all red now, too, as he used it as some sort of napkin to clean himself after his meal. He was savage today, but even now he remembered to at least taste you before taking you. He attempted to take off his mask and you whined.

"James... no, keep it"

He chuckled darkly. Then, he spoke with his metallic, leathery voice:

"Oh? If that is to your tastes, dearest wife..."

He wasted no more time after that. He almost ripped the silky dress off in his hurry, and slipped out of his pants with an impatient growl. Oh, you looked like a prey ready to be ravaged. He groped you all over before sinking his painfully hard cock inside you, leaving bloody handprints on your waist and breasts and neck. You looked like a masterpiece of pain. You whined, the stretch was pretty painful despite your wetness. He looked like a feral beast above you; his terrifying mask making him look like a strange monster taking you all for himself. The thought felt so erotic you could barely stand it, and you whined. Oh, his girth felt so invigorating...

He fucked the same way he killed. Impatiently, roughly, and yet meticulously, both in control and completely out of it. His moans were distorted by the mask, and it felt as if he was all around you, he was in your brain as much as in your cunt. It felt divine, to be violated by that beastly killer, by your beloved husband. Sweet, honeymoon lovemaking with him was terrific, but the desecrating pace he treated you with right now was a feeling no other man could recreate. You gripped his shoulders, staining the back of his shirt with your bloodied fingers, bringing his body closer. Each thrust was punctuated by your obscene moans; he slid himself in at a slightly upward angle, hitting your sweet spot hard each time.

You whined and whined, and he slid his bloody fingers past your parted lips, making you taste his victim’s blood. Your guilt was all-encompassing, yet it felt so good to give in, even just once. Morality was for the stupid, uneducated folk, James used to say. Regulations, rules, faith; all of it is supposed to limit freedom of thought and action. You believed every word of his, no matter how ridiculous it all sounded in the context of his serial murders.

He always knew when you were close, always knew just how and when to toy with your pussy with his red hands and when to edge himself so you two finish at the same time. He had a thing for it, it felt like unity, like your bodies were truly one.

You thought he would never kill you, but he did it quite frequently. You died a little death many times with him, unravelling beautifully under his strong body, core exploding with spasms and locking his seed deep in you. You two came as one, him filling you up, making your mixed releases drip down and combine with all the blood. In this moment, you were his victim and he was your killer, taking you from life and lifting your soul up, or maybe dragging it down to hell, for a few seconds of blissful pleasure.

You always envied his victims. Oh to see his face as the last thing before you fade away, oh to feel him inside you as you pass! The blood all over your body, his mask and the body nearby made you feel such eroticism and guilt...

He pulled out with a whine and tucked himself into his pants, pulling your dress over your dirty body soon after. The casual nature of the situation made your head spin in confusion. That was it?... he can just get up like that, like nothing happened? You were panting, staring at his body, beautiful and shiny with sweat. He took his mask off, revealing a devilish grin.

“Miss Evers! Bring me fresh linens and draw a bath for my wife, would you?”

#james patrick march #ahs #american horror story #ahs hotel #james march #james march x reader #jpm #jpm x reader #evan peters #kai anderson #kit walker #ahs fanfiction #ahs x reader

[gamerwoman3d]

◜ mk1 men kinks & darker motivations part 1 of ?◞

▸ includes: sub-zero [mk1 versions] ◂

[Spicy/Explicit after the cut 🔞]

SUB-ZERO

Bi-han is a man who secretly enjoys being told what to do by a confident lover more than anything else in the world. In his day-to-day life, he feels exhausted from doing the mental labors of ensuring he's made the best leadership decisions possible at all goddamn times because his choices affect everyone's lives. He's sick of being tested and questioned by incompetent whiners. He is constantly surrounded by people who feel insecure in his presence, and that they express their insecurities in grating, passive-agressive ways agravates him beyond belief. Bi-han wants and needs a break from the decision making processes, and longs for any chance to let his hair down. He needs this break the most in the bedroom, with his closest relationships.

For part 1, Reptile, Click Here

When he wants something from a lover, he will *ask* for it. But it is up to the lover to *decide* whether or not to give him what he's asked for. What he wants most from his lovers is the ability to not only articulate what they want, but to *decide* what will be done about it.

Whatever you decide you want, he'll get it to you. And he has no moral qualms about it. Do you fantasize of prostitutes and expensive imports? They're yours, if you only set him to the task of acquiring them. Do you fantasize about that idiot that left you on read and broke your heart long before you met Bi-han? Say the word and he'll go fetch the fuckwit. He'll deliver anything or anyone to you in any state you desire it to be delivered in. You can be merciful or cold-hearted. You can be selfish and downright evil. As long as you're competent, confident, and happy, Bi-han is satisfied.

Because every time you make a decision, in life or in bed, it grants him an opportunity to just make you happy. And if he makes you happy, then to him, he just made the whole world happy, because in those moments when he's with you, you are the world to him.

Your most heinous requests would be met only with a bow of acknowledgement, followed by action.

What you want is important to him, and he'll be very accommodating to your desires. If you want him soft and sweet, or rough and demanding, don't stop at simply expressing it- command him. Every single day, others try to command and control him, and every day he's tempted to just let them have control. No one else has earned that privilege but you, and he's excited when you exercise that privilege.

He has issues with blind obedience. He wants to obey someone who at least considers his wants and takes his needs into account. He wants to obey someone who makes him feel validated. And above all, he wants to obey someone that he has chosen to obey. As long as he's chosen you, he'll open up and trust you with his secrets.

He has buttoned up his own desires and fantasies, and dreams of you commanding him to express them. Telling him "I want to know your darkest fantasies" isn't enough. Demand them. "Tell me your darkest fantasy." Call him out on it if he hesitates. "You're hesitating. I asked you to speak. Don't delay me."

He will tell you that he's fascinated by the fact that the people he killed make the same expressions at the brink of death as the people he pleasured have made at the brink of orgasm. This realization has left him very curious about the way death at his hands must feel.

He confides that he savors the moments spent watching his victims composure fall apart, and that when he kills someone, that he commits their shocked, dying faces to memory. His darkest fantasy is that he could freeze every face at its climax, and kept them stuck in that moment forever, forever watching him as he studied them. The more beautiful the face, the more he regrets not saving the moment.

He admits that after he's been forced to kill powerful people, he sometimes feels aroused for days. He hesitated to say anything because he feels some shame over this arousal - he isn't disgusted with himself over enjoying it, but he feels it is somehow wrong. He *asks* you to keep it in mind in the future; he wants you to take advantage of his arousal, while also placing you in a position to manipulate his shameful feelings. He does this because he trusts you to manage your relationship with each other, while he manages everything else in the world.

After coming home from battle, he wants you to command him - and hopes that you'll command him to fuck until you're both senseless.

He confesses he's into the idea of overstimulating lovers because of how similar their actions are to the dying. The muffled howls, the pleading, the shock in the face, the sudden tension, and the uncontrollable shuddering are the same across the two activities. He dreams of being overstimulated and killed, just so he can know what it feels like.

But until then, he would like to overstimulate beautiful lovers. He wants to be responsible for extreme pleasure, trusted with a lover's body during those moments when their body falls completely out of their own control. Bi-han figures that that is the one thing in common between the dying and the cumming - the loss of command over their own body. The loss is temporary while cumming, but permanent in death.

He makes your expressions the object of his focus. He wants the loss of control to last as long as possible. He asks if he can do anything to make you cum, hard. He asks permission to do things to you that would make you cum, and also permission to keep going. He says if he can make you cum, if he can hit just the right spot, if he can make you howl and contort in pleasure, maybe he can make that moment last for a long time by freezing your body.

The thought of being totally unable to move during orgasm isn't for everyone. Even if it is, there's always a risk of injury. But you don't have to tell him yes. "We are not doing that," is a phrase he longs to hear from you when he knows his desires are unwise or downright evil.

"Harder," "Quiet," "Not yet," "Stop," and "Don't stop" are some of his favorite words, but only when they come from your lips. Not only can you use these terms when he's pleasuring you, you can bring him attractive people and order him to pleasure them, or torture them, for your entertainment.

He might find he loves to hear you say "Stop" when he's on the brink of cumming into someone else, or on the brink of making them cum. Not because it isn't torture; it is. But it also proves that he can be obedient to the ones he's chosen. And above all, it proves that he is making choices when he disobeys others who claim to have power over him.

Every time he obeys you, it's as if he's saying "Fuck you" to everyone else who desires to control him. The harder it is to control himself, the more it pleases him to obey your commands.

"Me first," he wants to hear you say. "Down," he wants to hear you say. He wants to feel your hand in his hair, lowering his head between your thighs. He longs to hear you say "Make me scream your name."

I'd caution against confusing obedience with disrespect. This man is feral - he probably grew up in a wilderness, interacting with more wild animals than tamed peoples on any given day. Any whiff of true disrespect in the form of humiliation or denigration might make him seek to choose another at best, and put you in your place at worst. He wants you to feel like you're proud to have earned his trust; you can gloat that he desires you, chooses you, and respects you, but do not dare to gloat as if you conquered him.

If you call yourself his, you can call him yours in the same way. He will call you "mine" in a possessive way, and he expects you to feel the same about him. You do not belong to any master. You do not belong to any god. You belong to yourself and you choose to belong to him. Just as it might excite you deeply to hear him growl "mine, you are mine, this is mine," he is equally aroused to hear you claim him. He melts to hear your declarations and commands.

"You're mine. If anyone else tells you what to do... kill them."

[Need more MK1 smut? Check the pin 📌]

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #sub zero #bi han #mk sub zero #bi han sub zero #mk bi han #bi han x reader #x reader #sub-zero x reader #sub zero mortal kombat #subzero #sub zero x reader #sub zero mk1 #sub zero x you #sub-zero x you #no beta we die like outworld empresses #sub zero bi han #bihan

[sanjifucker42069]

Stuck - Zoro x Reader

Word Count: around 2700

Haha….I've never written Zoro. This will probably be a bit shit.  Oh well. If you see a spelling/grammatical error, no you didn't. It's 2am lmao.

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, you get stuck in a wall, reader has a vagina. P in V baby, stuck in a wall, sorta dubcon, some light spanking, established relationship. My normal blend of Reader being a dipshit, (you're submissive tho this time so that's something).

Zoro was lost. Again. He didn't get it. Everyone was exploring some ruins they'd found. He'd seen you wandering off, claiming you had seen an animal they could catch and eat. It made no sense. You should be around here somewhere, right? 

Wait, didn't he pass that column already? Fuck.

The swordsman roamed some more, finding himself at some minor ruined building. It was a wreck. Only two walls stood standing, with remains of a third smashed against them, debris strewn about. There was hardly anything left, nature having collected everything else. All he could see was the pale cream crumbling bricks, the dirt floor, tufts of grass, and the rear of a human, legs bent and hanging from a hole in the wall.

A human?

No. That was you. 

Zoro would recognise that ass anywhere.

"Babe, any reason you're crawling through the dirt." You mumbled something unintelligible. "Wha?"

Zoro really had a way with words.

"I'm stuck." Your voice was louder this time.

Zoro laughed. "Stuck? How the fuck did you get stuck?"

"I tried chasing that stupid animal! I was gonna catch it, but…it dove through this hole. I was sure I'd fit!"

"You got tricked by some kinda fucked up squirrel?" Zoro was shamelessly staring at your ass, highly amused at your predicament.

“Will you shut the fuck up and help me out you asshole?” You snapped, trying desperately to pull yourself out.

Zoro felt his throat go dry. Your weak attempts at escape looked downright sinful from his view. He watched with rapt fascination as you bucked your hips, curving your back deliciously, the way your hips snapped forward and back, a desperate attempt to get free. All it did was jiggle your thick thighs and make your skirt flutter around your ass, the fabric rising and falling with your frantic attempts.

Fuck.

"Zoro?" Your voice pitched up, terrified he'd abandoned you. You tried to twist your position, all that did was flip your skirt up. A blush rose on your cheeks. You squirmed harder, trying to get the fabric to fall back down.

Fuck! 

Zoro choked back a groan, eyes landing on your white panties. The chaste cut and untouched cotton somehow looked more lewd than possible. Zoro felt his brow tic as he took in how the fabric stretched deliciously over your ass. Your struggling shifted the garment, pulling it obscenely tight and digging into you. If he truly focused he swore he could see your folds, the thin fabric clinging to and highlighting the form below it. Were you trying to kill him?

"Zoro, you didn't leave did you? You motherfucker! When I get out of here I'm gonna kick your fucking ass so help me-" 

Hands settled on your hips, thumbs digging into your hip bones deliciously. You froze deathly still. Terror plunged your heart into your stomach, the feeling of burning static clawing at your lungs. A low voice grumbled behind you, clicking his tongue.

“You’re being a brat for someone who can’t defend themselves. I’m right here.”

All at once the fear you felt subsided. You knew you would be safe. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Ah, my hero! Baby I knew you'd never leave m- whathehellareyoudoing?!"

The way you flipped your attitude brought a grin to the swordsman’s face. Zoro began trying to pull you out, his large hands branding fingerprints into your hips. He heaved, pulling you harshly. Ow! Fucking ape! He really couldn’t be more delicate with you, could he? You clenched your fists and braced yourself. Despite his tugging, there was no movement towards escape, just the feeling of you being slingshotted back and forth in the few centimetres of leeway you had.

The noises that tumbled out of the mouth were driving Zoro insane. You were whining and huffing, the protests sounding obscene out of context. Flailing, trying desperately to get purchase, your legs periodically kicking out, jutting with the escape attempts. Fuck, the way that you couldn’t even ground your feet, suspended in the air! As it was you were on your tiptoes, at such an angle where it was obvious they were barely skimming the hard earth below you.

Fuck.

Zoro was definitely hard now.

He felt disgusted with himself. It’d be so easy to just touch you. You couldn’t fight back, he could just take you. Shit, he could probably just slide straight in. Would you like it? Would you clench deliciously against him? What was wrong with him?

Zoro cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“Do you think I’m stuck here?”

“Nah.” He rasped out. “Nah, we’ll get you out. Wanna try something?”

The moss haired man didn’t wait for you to ask what, he trailed his hands to caress your thighs. He dipped his thumbs inwards, the digits dragging down your inner thigh with a featherlight touch. You immediately responded, thighs quivering beneath his touch. He heard you suck in a breath.

“Are you serious Zoro?! Now?” Your voice came out as a hiss. Zoro immediately felt himself grow defensive.

“If you were seeing what I was seeing, you’d want to too.”

Silence. Ugh, Zoro hated when it got awkward like this. He opened his mouth to apologise.

“Fine.”

What.

What did you mean ‘fine’? Zoro frowned. Could you be more vague? The swordsman became aware of his hands still clasped around your spread thighs, the way your skin had goosebumps. Interesting. When the silence showed no sign of being broken you groaned.

“Fine Zoro! I’m not gonna beg. Do what you want, just…” Your voice trailed off, hesitating on what to say. “Make it quick, and make it worth my while.”

That forced a light chuckle from Zoro. He resumed trailing his hands up and down your thighs, relishing in how you whimpered.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands, babe.”

Zoro was not a man for properness, or waiting, or being appropriate really. He tore your panties down your legs, letting them hang lewdly around your ankles. You squealed in surprise and embarrassment, snapping your legs shut and teetering from the lack of balance. The underwear fell to the ground, wet and ruined. You bobbed back and forth, a perverse see-saw. You felt mortified at the situation.

You squirmed, knees glued together and ankles flared apart. It was obvious you were trying to hide yourself. Zoro watched with amusement at how you clenched your asscheeks and tilted your hips down. It was, of course, hardly of any use. Your entire ass was completely on display, and Zoro was getting impatient at only being able to see half your puffy lips. He clamped his hands just above your knees, loving how you jumped at the feeling. He saw you clench. 

Right.

Zoro pried your legs apart, perverse satisfaction flooding him as more and more of you became exposed. You rewarded him with a loud squeal, followed by a ramble of something. Zoro wasn’t really listening. No offence, but he had much more pressing things to attend to than your embarrassed whining. You were already slick with juices, glistening appetisingly. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, no doubt caused by your embarrassment and the cool air that hit it. Poor thing.

He could warm you up.

Zoro dragged a finger up your slit. You whined, shivering beneath him. He prodded and petted at you, grinning at the lewd noises that fell from your mouth. Sliding his fingers back up, he pulled back to one finger, sliding his first finger around your hole, picking up your essence and tickling you. Experimentally, he slipped a finger in. You cursed. He pulled out, immediately causing you to whine.

A smirk. Good.

Zoro wasted no time, plunging his two middle fingers into your pretty pussy. He knew you could take it. The squeal that rewarded him brought a smirk to his face. He quirked the fingers upwards, watching as your ass jiggled when you squirmed, a moan escaping. Zoro resumed his work, languidly rocking his large fingers in and out of you with one hand. With the other he harshly grabbed your asscheek, squeezing and groping it. Your symphony of sinful noises spurning him on. He kneaded the flesh, relishing as you squealed when he pulled at you, spreading you fully for him.

“Stop that!” You ordered weakly, trying to angle your hips away. Zoro laughed, the way you tried to sound intimidating was cute. 

“Sounds like you still haven’t realised the problem you're in.” You could hear the smirk in your lover’s voice, causing you to bristle. Zoro removed the hand on your ass

“It’s embarrassing!”

Swat!

“Zoro what the fuck!? AH!”

Swat!

Your complaint pitched up into a surprised whine as he spanked you. Not too hard, he didn’t want to hurt you, just enough to get what he wanted. Zoro felt a bead of apprehension, technically he had never bought that up before. Did you hate it? Your body answered for you, Zoro’s eyes widening at how you lightly fucked yourself on his fingers, desperate for anything. 

Oh.

Zoro rubbed at your ass, soothing where he’d swatted. With the hand that was pleasuring you, he snaked his large thumb up, prodding at your clit as a reward. You startled, gasping at the addition. He resumed pleasuring you, fingers pumping and thumb working circles into your nub, You whined and moaned, praises tumbling from your lips. Zoro’s fingers began to cause a squelching sound with their ministrations as you throbbed around him, the two of you both taken aback. Shit, you were really enjoying this. Zoro stilled, completely in awe.

“Z-Zoro? Come on! Do something! Anyth-”

Thwack!

“SHIT!”

The way you clenched around his fingers had him salivating. Shit, shit, he needed to be in you now. He removed his fingers from you. You whined at the loss, trying to chase him with your hips. 

Zoro couldn't get his pants down quick enough, fingers clawing at the fabric like they were on fire. Worst still, you were whining in front of him, goading him into acting sloppier than he'd like to.

"Baby! Zoro!" No response, your cute act dropped. Zoro, meanwhile, had finally got his thick cock free, letting the garment pool at his feet. "C'mon dude that isn't cool! I am going to bite your arm off when I get outta he-"

Zoro rolled his eyes, hands back on your hips. You were so fucking overdramatic sometimes. The protests died out at his touch, bringing a grin to his face. You wiggled your hips, clearly having caught on.

Unfortunately, you really were mouthy.

"Oh shit! Did you…have you got your cock out? You gonna fuck me? Fuck yeah!"

Zoro groaned. 

"I'm starting to wish I was on the other side, if just to shut you up."

"Hurry up and fuck me man!" Your offended gasp and annoyed bite managed to earn a small laugh. "I heard that chuckle, asshole! Made you laugh. Gotta fuck me now, pirate's law."

Swat!

A little spank, hardly any heat. You laughed. Zoro supposed he was glad you were enjoying this, shaking his head at your silliness. He lined himself up, dragging his cock down your slit to prepare himself, coating himself in your juices. You shivered.

"Ready."

Zoro didn't wait for you to say something absolutely stupid and ruin the vibe. He pushed in, relishing in how you stilled and sucked in a breath. You were left dizzy by both the pressure of the intrusion and the hot groan you heard from him. He stilled when he bottomed out, a deep grunt escaping. Zoro let you adjust, cringing at the feeling of you clenching and unclenching around him. That certainly couldn't have felt good for you. You moaned.

Huh.

Maybe it did.

"P-please move Zo." 

Well, Zoro guess he always knew one way to make you quieter.

He began a slow pace, deep thrusts forcing your hips to slap against the sides of the hole you were stuck in. He tried to keep up the slow pace, really he did, but you were clenching around him so hard, he could hear you muttering curses, trying to push your hips back to set a faster pace.

Who was he to deny you?

"Tch. Brat. You're gonna have no one to blame but yourself if I hurt you." Zoro warned, a breathy laugh rewarding him.

"Yeah? I'm falling asleep over here. Speed it up sword-boy."

Zoro growled, setting a pace that made you see stars. You moaned, amusement audible. He grabbed at your ass roughly. With a bruising grip, he fucked into you hard and fast. 

"Do you have to, hah, be so…hah…" Zoro groaned through breaths.

"Annoying?" You panted. "Only for you babe."

Zoro wanted you to crumble. He wanted you to feel as affected as he did. (You were just as affected, of course. You were just a little shit.) He began attacking your clit with one of his hands roughly, thumb massaging the bundle of nerves. The squeal of pleasure and surprise that rewarded him flooded his ego. You clenched down on him, constricting him.

"Fuck Zo! Shit! C'mon, please say you're close?" A grunt. "Fuck! Good! Can I cum? Wanna cum on your cock. Please baby!"

Your filthy whines spurned him to rut into you harder. You blanched, you didn't even think he could go harder. His movements on your clit became clumsy, clear he was caught up in his own pleasure. Oh, he was close. You knew his tells by now. So when you felt him lean forward, trying to get more skin against skin, you clenched. Hard. A fucked out grin stretched your cheeks at the curses you heard. Zoro swatted at your ass, harder than other attempts. Fucking bastard! You moaned at the pleasurable sting. 

At once you felt the thumb back on your clit, still clumsy, but trying to pleasure you. Your legs shook. You were so close.

So close.

Zoro felt his balls become painfully tight.

So close.

"Be a good slut. Cum on my cock (name)."

You gasped at his vulgar request. Zoro wasn't one to use your name often, preferring nicknames or just 'babe'. The use of your name sent you wild. The tether snapping, white filling your vision.

Zoro felt you clamp down hard before you began spasming around him. He keened. Fuck. He hurtled over the edge, cumming deep into you. His hands must hurt you, the iron grip on your hips desperate. He felt his seed shoot from him, painting your walls. Like after an explosion his senses dampened. All he could hear was  a high whine. Yours, he assumed. His senses were dull, pleasure overriding him. You were milking him for everything he had, the spasming pressure almost too much. Fuck. 

The swordsman slumped forward,resting his chest against the wall above you. He greedily sucked in gasps, trying to get his breath back. Senses coming back, he could hear you panting, trying to regain your bearings.

A comfortable silence, save for your combined breaths, filled the area. Zoro cringed as he pulled his softened cock out of you, the drag overstimulating, and he heard you wince. He began redressing quickly, and within moments was decent.

You, on the other hand, were not. Cum was leaking out of your abused hole. Zoro wished he could take a picture, keep it with him forever. Instead, he tried to commit the view to memory. Fuck. That was hot.

"Can you let me out now."

Zoro groaned. 

He took your fallen panties with one hand, and lightly lifted one of your feet with the other. Quietly he redressed you, feeling a perverted smirk as he pulled the underwear back over your ass, the cum sticking to the fabric. Eh, you could get clean when he got you out. Was definitely hot to see you, with his cum leaking out of you, so full that is was spilling out of the legholes of your underwear. If you weren't careful on the walk back it would gush down your thighs, obvious you were his. 

Fuck.

Now was not the time. He pulled your skirt back down and took a step back. 

Hmm. 

"Zoro?"

"Yeah, hang on. Let me think. What if I try to just…punch a bigger hole in the wall?"

You sighed. You were going to die here.

#zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #smut #lmAO ZORO IS SO HARD TO WRITE??? #anyway...bone apple teeth

[lakesbian]

i have had like 10 friends rec worm to me but nobody’s given me a good like, gist of its vibe and what its abt because ‘its best blind’, could u please give a like brief summary and vibe check of it 😭 it’s so long i dont wanna try and invest that much time without knowing much abt it

so, worm is a 1.7 million word long webserial written in 2010. 1.7 million words seems like a lot, but it was also written over a relatively short period of time, which means the writing style is very easy to parse--the ideas aren't without complexity, but the language itself isn't intimidatingly dense. you can get through it at a very decent pace. i agree with your friends that there are vast portions of worm that hit best when you're unspoiled, but the thing is that worm is long enough that giving you the basic plot pitch is in no way spoilers for any of the things that i wouldn't want to see spoiled for someone. i'm actually kind of baffled they're not telling you Any Thing, because it is in my estimation one of the best books i've ever read, but it also Needs a briefing before you get into it for like five different reasons. which i will now provide. i swear to god this is brief by my standards it's just that i am very thorough

worm is a story about superheroes and supervillains, set in a world where superpowers are traumagenic--rather than appearing randomly or innately, some people gain powers after a traumatizing event happens to them. the protagonist is taylor hebert, a 15yo girl who has the power to control insects and desperately wants to be a superhero. and then accidentally finds herself scouted by a team of teenage villains instead. who's to say how she's going to react to all that!

one of the most compelling things about worm is that the superpowers in it serve as visceral, hyper-literal metaphors for the trauma and traumatized coping mechanisms of the characters with those powers. each power is incredibly specific and thematically relevant to the person who has it, and it's incredibly interesting and evocative. it feels so natural and well-done that it comes off like how superpowers are just meant to be written.

the fact that superpowers stem from trauma also means that worm is fundamentally a narrative about trauma. specifically, about traumatized teenagers and the relationships they form as they cling together while struggling through growing up traumatized & mutually coping with an increasingly intriguing, intense, and far-reaching escalating plot. worm's depictions of trauma + mental illness--including unpalatable trauma responses, including traumatized characters who are allowed to be complicated and nuanced and messy while still receiving narrative respect--are deeply real-feeling and impactful, and they're placed in the context of a well-spun + engaging story.

i really do have to stress how excellent the character writing is. worm is fully deserving of being as long as it is. over the course of 1.7 million words of character development, the average reader's reaction to the main characters goes from "sorta interesting" to "okay, i want to see where this goes" to "augh...really likable" to "i am now on hands and knees crying and these characters are going to stick around in my brain forever." wildbow has incredible talent for efficiently conveying complicated, real-feeling, and viscerally evocative characterization. many of the interlude chapters (chapters written from the perspective of different characters other than taylor) are so interesting, fleshed-out, and emotionally affecting that they make you wish you could read an entire novel about just the side character being featured. with that level of characterization for just the side cast, it's not surprising that taylor (& co) are genuinely just downright iconic. and i do not say that lightly--taylor is truly one of the best-written protagonists i've seen in anything. ever.

the other main pitch-point for worm is that it's a fascinating deconstruction/reconstruction/examination of the conceits of the superhero genre. it answers the question of--what would the world have to be like, for people with superpowers to act the way they do in classic cape media? and it does this well enough that it's interesting even if you have only a passing familiarity with cape media. i am not a big superhero media fan, but worm addresses virtually every aspect of cape media that was under the sun around 2010 in a way that's so interesting i still find it incredibly engaging. the approach it takes makes the narrative very accessible even to people who aren't usually cape media fans.

and speaking of the narrative: the end of the story is coherent and satisfying and deeply thematically resonant*. the way worm follows through on all of its main mysteries & plot threads is excellent. you don't have to worry about getting thru 1.7 million words and being dissatisfied by the author shitting the bed at the end, or anything like that. he does an amazing job of weaving together plot events in a way that makes each successive one feel rationally, thematically, and emotionally connected to what came before. there's really only one part where i feel the story stumbles a bit, but i think it was the best option he had for the narrative, and it's by no means a dealbreaker. it's in fact really impressive how cohesive and satisfying worm is for such a long webserial released over such a brief period of time.

*this is subjective ive seen some people who didnt love it but ive never seen anyone who downright Hated it who didnt also demonstrate egregious misunderstanding of literally everything worm is about. so thats a good sign

as for the downsides of worm/things that might put you off:

there is a very long list of trigger warnings for it. if you have any trigger warnings you want you should ask your friends to let you know about the relevant parts, because the fact that it's About Trauma (& about typical cape media circumstances presented very seriously) means that traumatic and violent things & their realistic aftermath are constantly happening and/or being discussed. i would not classify worm as needlessly dark or spiteful to the audience by any means, but it is intense and covers a lot of heavy topics. i do assume if your friends are all recommending it to you, they think none of the material would be too much for you, though!

worm was written in 2010 by a white cishet guy from canada. it's typical levels of 2010-era bigoted, it has a deeply lesbophobic stereotype character, it has some atrociously racist stereotype characters, the author really hates addicts, It's Got Blind Spots. i think worm is generally fully worth reading despite these, but very fair warning that it can get bad. i think what exacerbates this is that worm is generally extremely nuanced & sympathetic regarding ideas such as "crime is a result of systematic circumstance vs people just being inherently evil" and "mentally ill people who are traumatized in unpalatable ways are still deserving of fundamental respect as human beings" and so on and so forth, so it's extra noticeable and insufferable when you get to a topic the author has unexamined biases on and all that nuance drops out. the worst part is that a lot of this is most concentrated in the early arcs, so you have to get through them without being super attached to any of the characters yet. it is worth it though.

worm like. Does have a central straight relationship in it. and it's a very well written straight relationship for the most part and i like it quite a lot. but worm also passes the bechdel test with such flying colors that it enters 'unintentionally homoerotic' territory. which means a lot of people were shipping the main character ms taylor hebert with her female friends while the story was being released. which caused the author to get so mad he 1. posted a word of god to a forum loudly insisting that all of the girls are straight and 2. inserted a few deeply awkward and obvious and out of character scenes where he finds an excuse for the girls to more or less turn to the camera and go "i'm not gay, btw. this is platonic." This is fucking insufferable, and will piss you off immensely, but then you will get to any of the number of deeply emotionally affecting scenes between them, and at that point you will be too busy sniffling piteously and perhaps crytyping an analysis post on tumblr to be mad about all that other shit. also they're only a couple tiny portions out of an entire overall fantastic novel

overall: if those points don't sound like dealbreakers (i hope they aren't they're really massively outstripped by the amount of devastatingly good moments in worm, worm still has a thriving fandom over a decade later for a reason), you should absolutely give it a shot and see what you think. my final note is that you have to read up until the end of arc 8 to really see where what makes worm Worm kicks in, so aim for at least there to see how you feel about it if you're just thinking about dipping your toes in vs fully committing. i hope that was helpful and not too long :)

oh and don't go in the comments section on wordpress if you don't want spoilers. or anywhere else in the fandom at all. you will be spoiled. quite possibly for things you could not even have imagined were topics to be spoiled on.

#ask #wormblr #parahumans #ill tag it to save it so i can reference later. and maybe other people will find it helpful

[istoleyoursk1n]

How do you think the companions would be with a tiefling gn Reader who's insecure about their horns and tail / just in general being a tiefling? Idm which companions!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a tiefling Tav who's insecure about being a tiefling?

(Little note, I personally love tieflings, I think they're so pretty)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Oh, poor thing, you’re gorgeous! Whoever told you weren’t? My, you’re simply the prettiest little tiefling I’ve ever had the pleasure to see, and trust me, darling, I have seen many.”

Baffled that this would be something you’d be ashamed about. I mean, he’d tell you to your face if you were hideous but he hasn't now has he?

He doesn't quite understand what's there to be insecure about, you look just fine in his eyes but if you need his honest opinion then he’ll give it to you.

He thinks tieflings are fascinating in their own right.

With long curled horns, rigid skin, and a gaze as intense as the fiery pits of hell, you’re not exactly the worst thing he's seen.

He’s not a poet but he’d show you how much he adores every inch of your body to prove just how stunning you are in his eyes.

Damn anyone who says otherwise, he’d reject the heavens in favor of a more hellish embrace that comes in your shape.

He really likes touching your horns/grabbing onto them, he’d never explain why but the texture of them under his cold fingertips is something he pleasantly enjoys.

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Love, you are above the heavens itself. No angel could compare to the warmth I have found in your every touch. You’re someone I am proud to call my lover, horns and all.”

He gets it, I mean he was turned into some sort of devilish fiend by his wretched patron.

He understands how it could make anyone feel insecure. The horns feel heavy, your skin isn't as smooth as most, and there are cases in which people easily judge you for what you are.

Though, are those reasons to make him love you any less? Absolutely not.

You looked at his transformed self and still chose to love him, so of course he’d do the same for you. In fact, he loves you even more now.

He’d call you beautiful in every way he knows how, concealing each thought of you in words that all come to praise everything that you are and more.

Besides, there's something rather poetic about two devils dancing in the moonlight.

Would compliment every part of your body you feel the most insecure about on a daily basis so that perhaps someday you’d love yourself the same way he loves you.

He’d fall in love with you and those fiery eyes again and again if he could. You hold his heart.

: ̗̀➛GALE

“No magic can compare to the spell you’ve cast upon me. Akin to a moth drawn to a flame, I will gladly fall into your fiery embrace.”

Upset that you view yourself in such a way.

He understands that a bad light is often shed amongst tieflings but he didn't think it would affect you to this degree.

He’s completely in love with every bit of you, he can't bear seeing you hate yourself like this.

If anything, this gives him more of a reason to praise you more, going above and beyond to make you feel like the god/goddess he sees in his eyes.

He’d speak in loving whispers about each and every part of your body so that not an inch of you goes unloved.

He loves staring into your eyes, they dilate and pulse in a way that bewitches him to a point where he’d rather meet your gaze than look up at the stars.

You could describe yourself in the most downright horrendous way possible and he’d still look at you with the most smitten expression you've seen a man hold.

He’ll help you get over your insecurities little by little, doing everything he can to make you see yourself as the specialty you are.

: ̗̀➛KARLACH

“What?! Why would you be? You’re only the greatest thing that's ever happened to me! The hottest thing to come into my life! You’re amazing.”

I mean she gets it, there's a dark stigma around tieflings that she faced herself. For a long while, she was seen as this brutish devil who’d kill children!

But tieflings can be cool, she thinks tieflings can and are badass! There's nothing else like them.

Would constantly reassure you that there's nothing you should be ashamed about, you’re amazing as hell and she loves you for it.

Fuck anyone who tries to slander you for who you are, she’d gladly set them ablaze.

The constant heat she feels on a daily basis is nothing compared to the burning feeling you give her. It makes her go weak at the knees.

Very direct about how much she loves the way you look, it's impossible for anything she says to be a lie.

She’d scream it out loud for the hell of it, making sure all of Faerûn knew how gorgeous you were with all your devilish little features.

She thinks the tail and horns are hot, nothing you say can make her ever think otherwise.

She’ll love you until every part of her body burns into ash in the hopes that by then, you will have learned to love yourself.

: ̗̀➛SHADOWHEART

“Hm. Well, I suppose we all have our own insecurities… if it makes you feel any better, I think… no. I know you’re beautiful. You’re beyond every loving word I could ever use to describe you.”

Surprised by this but she doesn't take it against you. Instead, she’ll find her own little ways of helping you out of your insecurities.

The stigma around tieflings is bad but it is something she herself can relate to with once being a follower of the goddess Shar and the misconceptions that come with it.

Gentle reassurances of your appearance and her love for you would constantly come unprompted.

She’d notice you sadly staring at your horns in a reflection and she wouldn't hesitate to walk up to you and remind you about how pretty they are.

If she sees you scratching and your rigid skin, she’d come up to you and gently take your hand into hers, proudly confessing how much she adores your skin.

She wouldn't bombard you with compliment after compliment but she'd certainly be there if the self-hate gets too much.

She would carefully drag you out of that darkness just as you did for her.

She’d gently drag her fingertips across your horns and every rigid part of your skin, entangling her hand into your tail if not for a simple display of affection.

There's not a single part of you she hasn't come to adore and she’ll make sure that in time, you’ll come to adore those parts of you too.

: ̗̀➛LAE’ZEL

“Insecure? How could someone like you be ‘insecure’? Your mind has no place for such degrading thoughts. You’re better than that.”

She doesn't quite grasp the concept of being ‘insecure’ about something other than it being a sign of weakness hence her confusion at first.

She sees you as a brilliant warrior, someone she deeply admires, how do you find yourself hating anything about yourself?

She sees no reason for your self-loathing and may across as rudely direct such as telling you to simply move past it.

But soon enough she’ll realize how much these ‘insecurities’ of yours may be affecting you and go out of her way to try a different approach.

She’ll start off by saying how being a tiefling doesn't make you any weaker or lower than anybody else, in fact, you are more than worthy of praise and respect.

She believes every part of you is attractive, you’d never have to worry about her ever falling out of love for you.

Besides, aren't tiefling’s fire resistant? That's another thing you should be proud of, some do not have the privilege of being able to withstand strong flames.

It's mostly listing every advantage your body holds against others before ever so subtly squiggling in an actual sweet compliment that she sort of hopes you don't pick up on.

She couldn't have asked for a better partner, you are far better than anything she could have wished for and she wouldn't have you in any other way.

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“Nature has built you in the shape of beauty, my heart, every part of you was intended to be loved. Even the prettiest of roses are put to shame in you’re presence.”

He looks more hurt than you by the newly found information.

He believed nature had made all its creatures perfect to every single degree, that includes you.

He could hardly bear hearing you degrade yourself in such a way, not when you’re the most precious thing he's ever laid his eyes upon.

He’d have to sit you down, and allow both of you to discuss your insecurities and where they could have possibly stemmed from.

After which he goes on an entire monologue about how deeply infatuated he is with you and everything that you are, horns and tail included.

If anything, he thinks your horns and tail are adorable. You’re the very peak of beauty in a world filled of glorious things.

He’ll compliment and praise every part of yourself you've come to hate until you’re a speechless, blushing mess.

Try convincing him otherwise and you might as well faint from the amount of sweet little whispers he’d be sending your way.

There is no way he's letting you get away from this without feeling like the most loved thing on this planet.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 headcanon #bg3 astarion #bg3 karlach #bg3 halsin #bg3 lae’zel #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 x reader #astarion #karlach #halsin #lae’zel #wyll #gale #shadowheart

[ozzgin]

Hai, sweecheeks thanks for accept my request, i'm so really Grateful for that 💋. If you don't mind, do you accept my request again regarding Inuyasha and Sesshomaru.With a beautiful butterfly demon, and sexy but has a fox-like demeanor, she is very elegant and has never been attracted to shika no tama. She just wants to live a quiet life.The beautiful butterfly demon is the girlfriend of Inuyasha and Sesshomaru. (separate) .

I always love you and your blog my dear, sorry I always disturb your time❤️🌹

Hi and no worries! How very unexpected, it‘s my first time writing anything Inuyasha related so I‘m both nervous and excited haha. Let‘s see how this goes.

Inuyasha Characters x Butterfly Demon! Reader Headcanons

Featuring Inuyasha, Sesshomaru and a stunning demon reader.

Inuyasha

“Eh?” Followed by a prolonged pause and confused blinking. That’s the reaction you always get when people learn you’re Inuyasha’s girlfriend. You’re always amused by it and clap your hands in delight, especially because you get to see Inuyasha’s response to it. “What’s so shocking about it?!” He barks, appalled. To everyone’s defense, it is rather unusual to see a demon of such elegance and charm followed closely by a half-human, unrefined mutt.

But you can’t get enough of his antics. He’s raw and unfiltered. He wears his heart on his sleeve and even when he tries to deny his feelings, you can read him like an open book. Most demons are prideful and scheming as you’ve learned in your very long life, but Inuyasha appeared to you like a breath of fresh air and you’re grateful to see someone with a humane side to them. Humans have always fascinated you and Inuyasha is now your source of never ending curiosity.

Inuyasha, on the other hand, took some time to get used to you. You’re stunningly beautiful yet sly like a fox and he was very suspicious of your intentions in the beginning. Always with a smile on your face, he could never tell what you’re thinking. Your graceful display of power would also remind him of Sesshomaru and therefore his inability to compare, given his human side, so he’d quietly retreat into insecure annoyance. He was running an imaginary race for power, until he’d come to the realization that you were never part of it in the first place. You yearn for peace and quiet, completely uninterested in this competition of strength.

In a way, you both complete each other. Inuyasha has helped you uncover an intricate spectrum of emotions that might’ve remained dormant had you not encountered him. And you’ve allowed him to find a sense of peace. In the tumultuous search for the Sacred Jewel, you’ve taught him that sometimes it’s okay to just enjoy life as it is. His desire for power has slowly been replaced by his blooming love for you.

Your guilty pleasure is teasing him relentlessly. You can easily tell just how attractive he finds you and how embarrassed it makes him. So every now and then you’ll ambush him with flirty innuendos and watch him squirm, frustrated and red-faced, while you tilt your head in innocent confusion. You find his genuineness adorable.

Sesshomaru

While Sesshomaru has grown to be more accepting of humans, he can’t help but feel a certain sense of pride about having a partner of your prestige. You’re both powerful demons and your union has only further spread your envying reputation. It feels almost natural that the two of you ended up together.

It was actually you that softened his views towards humans. He found your interest in the feeble creatures to be downright ridiculous and borderline foolish. Why should you, a vastly superior demon, concern yourself with such pitiful matters? Yet this is what intrigued him most about you. You don’t seem to think like other demons and your behavior and actions are often times unpredictable to him. There’s a mysterious twist to your cunning smile and he’s surprisingly eager to decipher it.

Jaken likes to boast his gratitude for you. Ever since you’ve joined them on their travels, Lord Sesshomaru seems to frown less, and Jaken himself has gained a conversation partner that’s not threateningly taciturn and might punish him at any moment. Rin often marvels at your beauty and charisma and wishes she could grow up to be like you. Just like Jaken, she’s thankful you’ve helped Sesshomaru leave some of his hate behind. His eyes hold less malice, and when rested upon your figure there’s a glint of adoration that can be discerned.

Similar to you, Sesshomaru is entirely indifferent to the Sacred Jewel. He’s confident in his strength and abilities and has no need for external aid. Once this entire mess involving Naraku is over, he might even be tempted to give in to your dream of a peaceful, quiet life. He could use some rest, especially if it’s in your company.

Sesshomaru is very reserved in displaying his emotions, though he can be overly affectionate after brief encounters with other males. Your looks are enough to turn anyone’s head and while he is certain you wouldn’t leave him for anything less, he can’t help the faint jealousy that wells up in his chest. He’d rather let it be known who you belong to. You like his possessiveness, but might occasionally tease him by saying that one simply cannot cage a butterfly. It will rest on your shoulder out of its own volition.

#inuyahsa #inuyasha x reader #sesshomaru #sesshoumaru x reader

[wol-fica]

[ℝ𝔼ℂℍ𝔸ℤ𝔸𝕄𝔼]-ℙ𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘-

parings - jennaortega x fem!reader

summary - jenna loves to praise you, and you love to do anything she asks. unfortunately, a guy tried to get in between that…

warnings - m e n, oral sex, fingering, anal sex, sixty-nine, praising, r being a downright simp

an - hey guys !

—————

Do you ever dream up such a surreal thing that could never happen, but it surprisingly does?

Some people beg for unrealistic expectations, like a fancy new car, or a shiny rollex with your initials engraved in gold. Sometimes you get those things, most times you don’t; it’s a heavy ‘what if’.

You were one of those people, dreaming of the impossible and wishing for the utmost crazy things. But unlike others, you didn’t crave a new car or a fancy wrist watch; no, you wanted someone. 

See, you loved to be involved with movies and celebrities, tracking down what films they work on and all that jazz. You ranged from smaller, upcoming actors  like Tom Blythe, to bigger faces like Millie Bobby Brown. It was so fascinating to you, being that you valued cinematography and everything that comes with it, so your appreciation for the faces behind the wonderful characters that you love so much need the same attention. 

Naturally, crushes did form on certain actresses; how could you not fall for such an attractive person? You had such a heavy crush on Jenna Ortega, forming from her performance in The Fallout; she was just so beautiful to you. You would have little fantasies, picturing yourself dating her and just having a blast, it was perfect.

Now somehow, you actually met Jenna. It was completely an accident; you were working your normal shift at the library and she happened to stop by looking for some books. To say that you were awestruck was an understatement, but you didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable in any way so you opted to control your fangirling and stay cool when she came up to purchase the novels she chose.

To your complete and utter surprise, Jenna asked for your socials. She claimed you were ‘good looking and charming’ and she wanted to become friends of the sort. The two of you chatted in instagram dm’s constantly, until you sent your number one day and then Jenna asked you out about a month later. 

Fast forward to now, two and a half years later on the set of a movie that Jenna was acting in. She had (informally) posted you as her personal assistant, meaning you had to listen to whatever she said and asked for with no complaints, not like you would anyways.

“Excuse me! Coming through!” You shouted, running past some crew workers while holding a cup of coffee and a pastry. 

Jenna had asked you to get her some food, claiming that she was a bit peckish, and if you were quick she might share some with you. To say that you sprinted was true, harnessing your inner highschool track legs to be as fast as possible so you could deliver what she wanted.

With a shove and a slight “omph” from shouldering a door open, you hurried into the big production room. Cameras were everywhere, with large lights and wires connecting all around the large set piece. People were hurrying about, actors and their makeup teams rushing to add some last touches before they started rolling.

Jenna was sitting in her chair, a script in her hands while she lazily flipped through to review some lines. As you neared her, she looked up to meet your eyes, a smile crossing her face at the sight of you.

“I got the goods!” You said breathlessly, holding up the items.

“Did you get what I asked for?” Jenna asked, taking the pastry bag to look inside.

“Yep! A white mocha iced latte with one pump raspberry and some strawberry purée cold foam, and a unicorn cake pop!” You said enthusiastically, proud that you remembered her favorite order.

“Good girl.” Jenna praised, pulling you down by your collar so she could kiss your cheek, “I’ll let you have some when we finish this scene.”

You nodded, a blush covering your face at the subtle comment she slid in. Jenna would do that often; whenever you did something good or did what she asked, she would either say “Good girl” or “That’s my girl, just what I asked for”. It gets your brain to short circuit and your stomach to churn pleasantly everytime.

“You can sit in my chair while I work, I don’t think anyone will mind.” She said, sipping her drink with a satisfied hum as she stood up, “Tastes perfect darling.”

You smiled, doing a little fist pump for being so damn good at pleasing your girlfriend. After settling into her chair, you took out your phone to scroll through instagram. Beside you, Jenna was chatting to the director about little things they could do to make the scene better. You heard something about a line delivery, but a funny reel caught your attention and you zoned out for the rest of her conversation. 

“Baby.” Jenna’s voice called to you after a while, causing you to quickly look up.

“Yeah?” You said, eyes on her as you gave her your full attention, “Do you need something?”

Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup your face. The pad of her thumb brushed across your skin, rubbing gentle circles on your cheek bone.

“No, I just wanted to let you know we are on a three hour break.” 

You smiled, nodding happily, “Do you want to go to your trailer? Or for a walk? I can grab your hiking shoes!”

“No need for that, we’ll hang out in the break room.” She said, tapping your leg as a silent command to follow her, “There is lunch in there as well.”

You stood up, stretching and cracking your back with a sigh. Jenna’s hand patted your stomach, her nails scratching your skin through your hoodie before she walked away with you hot on her tail. You both made your way into the room, Jenna heading to set her stuff down while you went straight for the donuts.

“Hungry much?” She asked with a laugh, watching as you stuffed a maple glazed donut into your mouth.

“Mphmmmm.” You moaned softly, relishing the taste of the sweet treat. 

“Chew with your mouth closed, don’t you have manners?” Jenna said, coming over to you with a napkin. 

“Omf curse I do.” You said, your words muffled by the donut in your mouth.

She raised her eyebrows, pulling back from wiping your mouth to give you a look that said ‘for real?’. She shook her head when you shrugged your shoulders, reaching up to finish wiping your mouth off. 

“Always so messy.” She noted after throwing the napkin away, “You need a portable pack of Kleenex or something.”

“I usually have one in my backpack.” 

Jenna hummed and nodded, picking up a plate to put some salad on. While she added her toppings, the sound of a door opening caught your attention. Turning your body towards the door, your eyes widened at the sight of who was walking in.

It was Mason, one of Jenna’s co-actors. He was around her age, maybe a little older, with a sturdy build and charming face. Almost everyone loved him, since he was claimed to be so charming and handsome, and loads of girls have unbreakable crushes on him. You used to think he was a great guy, until he started flirting with Jenna and giving you dirty looks every time he saw you. 

Soon you picked up on the fact that he had a thing for your girlfriend, and clearly disliked you for getting to her before he did. He always shot flirtatious comments towards her and constantly made sure he was around her at work so he could talk to her, and that unfortunately made you super uncomfortable and upset about the situation.

You have never been a confrontational person, and when anyone ever disliked you or was angry, you would just duck your head and nod in submission. Jenna usually defended you, knowing that you had a tendency to just take the blunt of the aggression, but for some odd reason she never noticed how Mason treated you. 

“Jeeeenna!” Mason dragged out, a charming smile on his face as he heard towards her, “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, how are you?” She said, setting her salad down to give him her attention.

He held his arms out, signaling he wanted a hug, and leaned in to wrap his arms around her waist. His hand went a little too low for your liking, his fingertips brushing way too close to her bottom, but Jenna pulled back before he could go any farther. Your eyes narrowed in jealousy, but not a word was uttered from your lips.

“I’m great.” He said, his hands still on her arms, “Care if I join you for lunch?” 

Jenna shrugged and nodded, gesturing to the seat next to her. You watched as they both sat down, letting out an irritated puff of air when Mason sneakily scooted his chair closer. Their conversation blurred while you stared, unease bubbling up in your stomach. The way he would so subtly touch her, whether brushing his hand on hers or rubbing their knees together; it made you mad. Your emotions were begging to be let out, scratching at your throat to just go off on him, but your anxiety held you back; yet again, you were afraid. 

The thing that was irking you the most was how Jenna responded to him. Her body language was open towards him, her focus and attention almost fully on him. She was smiling, nodding and laughing at mostly everything he said. It was like she completely forgot of your existence and that made your heart ache. With a sigh, you grabbed your phone and moved to leave the room. 

“Y/N?” Jenna called to you, making you turn to meet her confused gaze, “Where are you going?”

“Gonna get some air.” You said, eyes cast down away from Mason’s condescending smirk, “Just text me if you need something.” 

With that, you exited, and Jenna didn't miss the sense of urgency in your step. A pang of hurt came from her heart, a small frown of sadness coming to her face. 

“Anyways…” Mason said, gaining her attention back, “I’ve been meaning to ask you a question.”

“What is it?” Jenna asked, her eyes locked on the door in case you came back in.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner?” He asked in a hopeful tone, “A date at Providence?”

She finally turned to him, disbelief all over her face. As she stared at him, it suddenly clicked in her mind why you so abruptly left. You were insecure and upset, over the fact that Mason was flirting with her and she was doing nothing to stop it.

“No thanks. I have a girlfriend.” Jenna said, standing up to toss the rest of her salad and pursue you.

“But-.”

“Don’t, I’m not interested.” She interrupted, grabbing her bag and hurrying out of the room. 

She speed-walked down the hallway, eyes peering into every open door in search of you. Each time she looked for you, but didn’t see you, the feeling of dread filled up more and more. She almost gave up after about ten minutes, that was until she found you sitting outside.

You were curled up against the wall, your knees tucked into your chest while your chin rested on your arms. Jenna approached slowly, sliding down beside the wall to sit beside you. She stayed silent for a moment, staring up into the sky while listening to you breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Jenna said after a while, turning her face to you, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine.” You mumbled, your hair blowing in the wind while you spoke.

She pursed her lips, feeling like your response was not how you actually felt. She tracked your features, searching your eyes and finding a trace of unease inside your irises. 

“Pretty girl,” Jenna tried again, bumping her foot against yours, “Can you look at me?”

You turned your head, meeting the brown eyes that you fell so hard for. She smiled at you, her hand reaching out to interlace her fingers with your own. Her thumb rubbed your skin, warmth cascading throughout your body from the gentle gesture. 

“I want you to know,” She said, her voice full of confidence, “That no one will ever deter my love from you.” 

You couldn’t help but crack a smile, a small blush coating your cheeks at her words. Jenna giggled softly at your reaction, pulling her hand from yours to cup your cheek.

“I adore you; some stupid guy will never change that.” She murmured softly, her eyes flickering to your lips; a request.

You made the first move, unraveling your knees from your chest to push yourself towards her. She met you halfway, sighing through her nose when her lips pressed into yours. She tasted like vanilla cookies, her scent overwhelming you while you kissed her. 

Your hands went up and around her neck, hers sliding down to your waist to pull herself into your lap. She leaned into you, breaking the kiss for a breath before diving right back in. Her lips slotted into yours, her body weight pushing you against the wall while you both made out. 

“You’re beautiful.” She said between kisses, “My perfect girl.”

“Jenna-.” You started but she cut you off with a kiss.

“My good girl.” She purred, sliding her hands under your shirt to feel your skin, “My trailer is about five minutes away.” 

You nodded furiously, following her closely when she stood up. Her hand grasped yours, fingers intertwined as she pulled you along the gravel path towards the trailers. The walk took less than five minutes, equaling to three since Jenna decided to do a bit of a jog.

Once she unlocked the door and pulled you inside, she pushed you up against the wall, kicking the door shut. Her lips found yours again, her hands pulling your face down to hers to be as close as possible. The feeling of her tongue prodding at your lips set you ablaze, a moan slipping from your mouth while her warm muscle explored you. 

“Bedroom. Now.” Jenna said breathlessly, trying to tug you in the direction of her bed.

You complied, falling onto the mattress. Your clothes were practically ripped off of you, with Jenna somehow undressing herself before you even laid down on your back. She straddled your lap, her hands running along your naked body.

“I think we should try something different.” She mumbled to herself, turning around in your lap.

You opened your mouth to ask what she was up to, but was immediately shut down when she slid down so her mouth was directly above your heat. Her legs went back, knees on either side of your face; sixty-nine position, one she has been talking about doing for months on end. 

A puff of air hitting your clit made you shiver, your eyes falling shut when you felt her fingers drag through your already drenched folds. After a bit of rubbing and messing around, Jenna pushed her fingers in about an inch; a test to see if you were okay to keep going. You whimpered, your legs automatically opening wider for her to easily penetrate you. 

“I’m expecting you to do something back there.” She said sternly, still slowly pushing her fingers into you, “I don’t want to wait.”

Your eyes snapped open, immediately directing your attention to the task at hand. You gently pushed her thighs farther apart, your thumbs coming up to spread her folds open. Carefully, you pulled her onto your mouth, your tongue licking and prodding her entrance as you tasted her wetness. She moaned softly, her movements unwavering while she still fingered you. 

You whined in pleasure when she wrapped her lips around your clit, arousal flowing through your veins. Between the two of you, Jenna was definitely more experienced with sex. You loved to be of assistance to her however you could, being labeled as a “service top”, what your friend called it. 

You pushed your tongue inside of her hole, relishing in the way she moaned around your clit. You thrusted back and forth, filling her up with each push inside of her. The feeling of something spongy on your tongue made you giddy, focusing your assault on massaging that sensitive spot. 

Jenna pulled back from you to give a guttural moan, her fingers finding a faster pace to match your tongue. You could feel your orgasm rising quite quickly, and you knew Jenna’s was close behind from her velvety walls tightening on you.

You came first, your body seizing and mind going blank for a moment. Jenna stroked you through it, her other hand rubbing your thigh while you calmed down. Soon though, she followed you suit, her thighs squeezing your head as she released on your tongue. A cute little noise exited her throat, sort of a moan and an exhale; either way it was adorable. 

“Oh…” Jenna sighed, her fingers twitching inside of you.

“You good?” You asked, knowing she could either want more or be completely burnt out, “Need anything?”

She pulled her hand away from your legs, rolling over and moving until she was sat up beside you. Her eyes met yours, brown irises burrowing into your soul as she analyzed you. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she stared at you, desire pooling in her pupils.

“God…” She said, her hand reaching out to affectionately stroke your thigh, “I want you to sit on my face.”

“J-Jenna!” You stuttered, your face going red in shock.

“Please?” She asked, leaning over so she could peck your lips, “I wanna make you scream my name.”

You’re not sure when you said yes, or when Jenna flipped you both over, or when she got you sat up and over her mouth, but either way she had you where she wanted you. 

Your hands gripped the headboard, trying to not lean all of your weight onto her head in fear of hurting her, but one pull from Jenna and you were done for. She guided your hips down, her tongue licking lazily between your folds. 

A whimper exited your mouth, which turned into a satisfied moan when she finally pushed herself inside of you. The stretch felt nice, and the sensual rubbing she was doing to your thighs was pleasing to you. 

“Oh Jenna!” You moaned out, throwing your head back at the feeling of her tongue finding your sweet spot. 

One of your hands went down to wind into her hair, while her hand slid up to your chest to pinch your nipples. She groped and pulled at you, pumping her tongue in and out of you at a fast pace. Your hips started to rock back and forth, small whines slipping out everytime her teeth caught your clit. 

“Fuck…” You whispered, your eyes rolling from the pleasure between your thighs, “I…I’m close…”

Jenna hummed beneath you, causing you to cry out, and proceeded to pull your thighs farther apart and press her fingers against your other hole. She rubbed for a moment, before gently pushing two inside of you. 

The attention was too much, being that her tongue was inside of you, her fingers were inside of you, and your breasts were being squeezed so pleasantly that you practically broke down on top of her. A guttural moan erupted from your throat, your orgasm crashing down hard. Jenna helped you through it, licking and pumping until you had to push yourself off of her due to overstimulation. 

“You okay?” She asked after you settled yourself into her side, your arm lazily slinging over her waist.

“Mhm.” You nodded, burying your face into her neck for comfort. 

“You did good, pretty girl.” She praised, kissing your temple before grabbing a towel off of the side table to wipe her face with, “I’m impressed with how you ate me out earlier.”

“Don’t underestimate me, idiot.” You joked, patting her stomach, “I’m not that vanilla anymore.”

Jenna laughed, pulling you closer to her chest. She threw her blanket over the two of you, snuggling into you and intertwining her legs with yours. 

“Don’t we have to be back soon?” You asked sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open, “They need you.”

“We have two and a half hours.” Jenna murmured, tucking her head under your chin, “And I need you right now.”

“But-.”

“Shhh.” She whispered, kissing your neck, “Just hold me.”

And hold her you did.

————————

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @rainbow-love4ever  @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @andsoigotabutterfly @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg @frasersgf @thispussyshouldcomew

#jenna #ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jennaortegaedit #jenna ortega fluff #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega smut

[mangobug]

Alenoah is so goddamn appealing to me for the same reason i like aleheather: they're both enemies/rivals with a tension. However, what makes alenoah so much more interesting to me is the fact that Noah just would not visibly care about, or outwardly acknowledge, Alejandro's advancements. When Alejandro flirts with the other contestants, he easily throws them off or (in Heather's case) pisses them off, turning them into putty in his two hands. When he attempts to throw Noah off, though, it doesn't (visibly) have an effect on him, and it bothers Alejandro because Alejandro always has the upper-hand, around both women and men. It makes Alejandro feel almost humiliated when Noah brushes him off or shoots back sarcastic comments in response to his flirting. Noah barely even bats an eye. But Alejandro can't bring himself to stop when he finds Noah as a person so interesting. Alejandro loves debating with Noah and adores his snark and intelligence, and this adoration drives him. He makes it a goal of his to somehow really fluster Noah or throw him off his game like he does with the other contestants, which has proven to be quite a difficult task. But Alejandro isn't a quitter.

In reality, Noah enjoys the playful and teasing banter just as much as Alejandro, even if he seems uninterested, because it's entertaining to be debating with someone of similar intelligence. Alejandro's flirting, though, does actually throw him off, just not in the same way it does to other people. Noah is entirely (and rightfully) convinced that Alejandro's flirting with him is just a part of his slimy, slippery, eel-y personality, and a sad attempt to rid of Noah in order to further himself in the competition. And Noah is nothing if not stubborn, so even if he feels his stomach twisting into a knot every time Alejandro compliments his brown eyes or his hooked nose or his impressive intelligence or his interesting personality or even the peaceful, curled position he sleeps in—Noah will always just nod his head and respond with a doubtful "sure" or a sarcastic "thanks, honey."

And if Alejandro were to hear about how Noah views his persistent advances, then he wouldn't deny it, because in the beginning that was about half of the truth. He did want to use this new challenge to knock a few opponents out, and if reaching his goal would not only prove to Alejandro that the cold-presenting bookworm had a heart that could be tamed but would also get him out of the way and push Alejandro one step closer to his imminent victory, then, well, that's a win-win for Alejandro. That isn't all the reason though because, against all of Alejandro's big ego, he does actually quite like Noah. This "like" didn't mean the same in the beginning as it did in the end. Because it didn't start with Alejandro wondering if Noah had had anything to eat that day or if Noah had any pets or what Noah's favorite book was, or even if Alejandro could borrow that book Noah was reading once he was done.

Against all of Alejandro's wishes and expectations, he finds that between the two of them, he is the one who has been getting flustered. And it is downright embarrassing, because Noah doesn't even do anything. Well, except for all of the things he usually does. He makes his sarcastic comments and argues with Alejandro just as he did before, but now the details are so much clearer. It's like every feature of Noah's has been enhanced, including his features that previously Alejandro would have considered flaws. His forehead was rather larger than average, but Alejandro has decided that it fit his face and personality and that it was only natural for a head to be big enough to store all the fascinating knowledge and wit that Noah had proven to have. And that pimple just below his right cheekbone, well, that is just time's beauty mark, a proof of growth and maturity that was one feature of many on his face that showed that he was very alive. He found an adorableness in the way Noah uncurled from his sleep and rubbed his eyes first thing after a long night of rest, and he felt a burning discomfort in the unmistakable image of Noah curling into Owen's nap for a makeshift pillow later that day. Alejandro felt electricity course throw his veins and his hands become shakey and clammy at every short lock between ivy and coffee irises. He felt his heart beat a thousand miles a minute each time he stood next to the other, and he would feel it speed up ten times fast at every sarcastic comment the other would make.

Alejandro found himself staring.

Alejandro finds himself studying his face, gauging his face for reactions whenever he makes a joke, and he finds himself way too excited when Noah cracks a smile at it. One time, Alejandro had made Noah laugh. Belly laugh. Gasping for breath laugh. A laugh so full of joy that Alejandro found himself smiling. Not from the contagiousness of Noah's laugh nor from the humor of the comment he had made about Duncan, which, truth be told, he couldn't recite on the spot even if he needed to because his memory had been wiped and replaced with this. Rather, he was satisfied that of all people, he could make Noah laugh like this (and Owen.. he supposes.) That night held for him some distasteful news, because how could Alejandro be the one melted into somebody else's palms?

Noah had noticed the sudden change in Alejandro's behavior, but it'd be a lie if he said he knew why it happened. And if anyone were to tell him why, he would deny it, because not only was it obviously not true, but he also didn't want it to be. The idea of someone as slimy, slippery, and eel-y as Alejandro even daring to approach him was for one, unfortunate, for two, terrible, and for three, impossible. But he couldn't help but ponder why this change had happened. Just why was Alejandro so... fidgety? He was running his hand through his hair what felt like every five minutes (Noah heard him curse under his breath once in spanish, likely at the realization of the inevitable accumulation of grease by the end of the day due to the excessive hand-to-root action), he kept unbuttoning and buttoning the top button of his shirt (Noah heard him mutter once, "is it too scandalous undone?"), and he wouldn't stop playing with his fingers, cracking and popping them, pulling and intertwining them—not that Noah was always watching his hands or anything, because he wasn't, but it was just such a drastic change to Alejandro's usually confident demeanor that you must be a fool to not notice it.

Alejandro did not notice—how could he be such a fool? Developing a crush on an opponent with a million dollars on the line? Pathetic.

The night following Noah's laughing fit, Alejandro found himself staring at Noah's sleeping form. Alejandro had noticed the way he usually sleeps, which would be creepy if Noah didn't have such a noticeable way of sleeping. He curled up to sleep, upright or on his side, and it was pretty cute. His eyes observed the way Noah was curled up against Owen's side, face resting into the other's fat. Ah, right. Owen. Alejandro felt a scowl creep up on his face when his eyes shifted to the blond's face—only to immediately divert his eyes, because Owen was already looking at him. He heard Owen laugh, which made his embarrassment double—embarrassment? I don't get embarrassed.

"Don't worry, Al." Gross. Al. "Noah doesn't know, so your secret is safe with me."

Alejandro blinked. He looked back at Owen, although reluctantly. "...Secret?"

Owen laughed again, and Alejandro was getting worried that he would wake Noah as he watched the smallest of them bounce against Owen. "You know, Al. Your cute little crush on Noah! He's smart and all, but he kind of sucks with love. You can take as much time as you want before you tell him. But between you and me, I think he likes you, too."

Alejandro's mind blanked. Crush? "Uh. My what."

Owen's face turned confused as well. "Oh... Do you not? Oops. Forget I said that about Noah."

Alejandro wished he could think of a decent response, but, what?

"Uh... No, I wouldn't say you're wrong. I just... didn't know myself."

"You—" Owen laughed again, this time making Noah groan in his sleep.

"Ugh... Owen. Stop, 'm trying to sleep." He said, not even opening his eyes.

"Sorry, buddy." Owen giggled, "Al's just pretty funny."

Alejandro glared at Owen, and the other shrugged.

"Sure." Noah groaned, adjusting his position before quickly falling back to sleep.

"Wow! How could you not know, Al? You're always looking at him and talking to him, 'n stuff. It's like Tyler and I aren't even there! And you're so nervous around him. I didn't know someone as cool and confident as you could get nervous around anyone. It makes me proud to know my little buddy could do that."

Alejandro nodded. "Hmm. You're right... Maybe that is the case."

It was a silent agreement between the two that it was their business and no one else's, an agreement that Alejandro wasn't too confident that Owen wouldn't break, but it was enough. Alejandro couldn't decide what was more shocking, an agreement between him and Owen, or the fact that he actually liked Noah in a more than just curious way. Looking back on what Owen said though, he thinks an Owen and Alejandro alliance is much more surprising.

#started as a simple post #evolved into and infodump and extended fic idea #maybe I'll write this #but in an academic setting rather than canon-divergent #because academic rivals #is my FAV trope ever of all time forever #alenoah #alejandro burromuerto #td noah #td owen #fic ideas #academic rivals #rivals to lovers #idea dump #RAHHHH #alenoah takeover #typos? idk #i didn't proofread