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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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Surprise husbands + "How are you real?" ; requested by @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff!

They may not have planned to get married, or even wanted it all too much at the beginning, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to treat each other right. It was rough going, with both of them coming out of relationships and having secret identities, but time had softened the hurt feelings and allowed them to actually get to know each other.

And Danny, Duke has discovered, is a really good husband.

Neither of them ever saw themselves as married at 20, but sometimes life throws horrible curses at you and the embodiment of balance and life and death swoops in to save your life. Via marriage.

His life is weird, okay? Duke has made his peace with it.

The thing is, if they had met naturally and started off as friends, Duke could see himself falling for Danny and asking him to marry him in a far off future. Instead, they’re doing everything backwards: married, then going on dates to know each other, and finally feeling close enough to be friends.

It helps that Danny does his best to communicate and that helps Duke find the words he needs as well.

He’s sweet, too, so kind and doting and affectionate. Like a really lovable cat, honestly. Duke’s never been cuddled so much in his life and he’s loving every minute of it.

He… might be falling in love with his husband. What a revelation.

“Duke?”

He blinks, looking up from his half-empty plate, pulled out of his thoughts suddenly. Tim and Dick stare at him, concerned, and he realizes he’s missed the entire conversation because he was so preoccupied thinking about Danny. In his defense, it was their one year anniversary the night before and Danny had kissed him for the first time after a date night spent playing video games and talking shit about their respective rogues.

Tim snaps a finger in front of his face, and Duke startles. He got distracted by his Danny Thoughts again.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You okay? You’ve been out of it all day,” Dick says, clearly concerned.

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s all good. Just… adjusting.”

“To what? Did something happen?”

Duke shrugs, scooping up another forkful of pasta to shove in his mouth. “Yeah, I… this is going to sound kind of stupid, but I think I’m in love with my husband.”

Tim, taking an ill-timed drink, chokes and spits out his Zesti. Dick springs back, trying to get out of the spray zone but doesn’t move far, shocked still by Duke’s words.

“Oh, yeah,” Duke realizes, “I didn’t tell you guys, did I?”

“You’re married?!” Tim shrieks as Dick clutches at his chest, eyes wide.

“You didn’t tell me?” Dick asks, offended.

“Seriously? That’s what you focus on?”

Duke smiles as they begin to bicker. They do it constantly, but this time it’s halfhearted, as if they’re just going through the motions of something familiar to distract themselves from the bomb he’s dropped on them.

In all fairness, Duke did forget that he didn’t tell them that he’s married to Danny. He’s also only mentioned Danny once or twice and heavily implied that Danny was just a classmate at GCU. And then forgot that he didn’t tell them, assuming that they’d figure it out eventually being Batman trained detectives, after all.

Well.

Oops.

Clearly that is not the case. Duke hurries to finish his pasta before Tim and Dick finish their joint freak out and get their senses back together enough to interrogate him. He can’t escape it, but he refuses to have this discussion with an empty stomach.

He just barely manages to scrape the last mouthful off the plate when his fork is being yanked out of his hands. Tim and Dick close in on him, standing to either side of him, trapping him in place, and look at him with knife-sharp smiles.

Here we go, Duke thinks tiredly, and resigns himself to clearing up this misunderstanding.

Somehow, he manages to explain the situation (I got cursed, he saved my life, we ended up married because magic is bullshit, he treats me so well) and Tim and Dick both agree to not hunt down Danny to show him the wrath of older brothers on one condition: Danny has to join them for a family dinner.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch everyone up on your… situation,” Dick says, pulling on his jacket to head out. Tim is already on his phone, no doubt telling someone already.

“Great,” Duke says, unenthused. “You’ll also be answering all the questions because I’m not in the mood. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to figure out a day that works for all of us, and then I’m going to kick my husband’s ass in Mario Cart.”

He walks out the door, grinning as he hears them scramble after him, then twists the ring on his finger (not a wedding ring, but a magic portal making gift) and steps into the portal. It closes quietly behind him, leaving him in Danny’s lair, a comfortable, spacious house with high ceilings and little bits of his personality scattered about. There are soft rugs with geometric patterns on them, star maps on the wall, stained glass windows that throw colors across the floor, and a giant couch and pillow pit in the living room.

Danny’s asleep in it, curled up and looking completely at peace. Duke toes off his shoes and carefully makes his way over, footsteps silent so he doesn’t wake him up, all plans of Mario Cart fading away instantly.

Danny doesn’t get much sleep, with the stress of school and an internship and ghost fights to worry about. It’s why his lair is so quiet and comfortable; it’s what he needs, and he doesn’t let anyone else in without invitation, rare as it is.

Duke is allowed to waltz right in thanks to the ring Danny gave him. It never stops making him feel overwhelmed by how much trust Danny puts in him to allow him unlimited access to what is his only true sanctuary, letting his lair be a place of safety and respite for Duke as well.

He crawls into the pillow pit, There’s no way to do this without waking Danny up since he can’t fly, so he isn’t surprised to see Danny blink his eyes open, still looking soft and content. He smiles when he sees Duke, reaching a hand out to him that Duke gladly takes, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his palm.

Sitting up, Danny tilts his head up in a silent request. Duke happily obliges, still reeling over the fact that he’s allowed to do this! He can kiss his husband whenever he wants!

Yeah, he’s going to be riding that high for a while.

“Hey,” Danny murmurs, sleepy and quietly pleased to see him.

“Hi honey,” Duke returns fondly, “Have a nice nap?”

Danny nods, leaning into Duke and closing his eyes again. “Mhm. How long are you staying? I wanna cuddle.”

“I got nothing going on today. I’m all yours, baby.”

“C’mon,” Danny tries to tug him down. Duke goes slowly, covering Danny’s body with his own, but holds himself with one hand before he blankets his husband completely.

“Wait. There’s something we need to talk about.”

Immediately, the sleepy haze is fading from Danny’s eyes, leaving him alert. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Not really? You know how we agreed to keep our marriage a secret until we weren’t in danger anymore and all those cultists and sorcerers were taken care of?”

“...Yes?”

“Well.” Duke sucks in a breath and offers a bashful smile. “Guess who forgot to tell people we were married after that whole mess was dealt with?”

The nervousness clears from Danny’s gaze as he stares up at Duke with incredulous amusement. “No. No way.”

“Yeah. Kinda dropped a bomb on them and they started freaking out over me being married. Anyways, they want you to come to dinner?”

“When?”

Duke leans back, sitting on his heels. “Let me check.” He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to the group chat asking for a day they could have a family meal to meet his husband.

His phone is bombarded with texts and calls immediately until Barbara, bless her entire soul, forcibly mutes all of them and puts in a poll with a few dates, setting the poll to close in 24 hours.

“Okay, well, they’re deciding now, but probably soon.”

Danny nods. “Alright. I know these aren’t normal circumstances at all, but I’m so excited to meet the Bats.”

“You do not mean that after hearing all my stories about them.”

“No, I do!” Danny laughs, surging up to wrap his arms around Duke and pull him back down to lay among the giant pillows with him. “They sound nice!”

“The Bats sound nice?!” Duke repeats in horror. “Did you hit your head?”

“They do sound nice! You talk about them so fondly, and yeah they have problems and are dysfunctional, but they’re heroes. Of course they have problems. Even with all their baggage, they’re kind. And you clearly love them, so I do too.”

It’s hard to resist the urge to hug Danny tight enough to make him squeak while peppering his face with kisses, so Duke doesn’t. He just goes and does it, because he’s allowed to shower his husband (!) with affection (!!!) as much as he pleases.

“How are you real?” he says against the corner of Danny’s lips. “How are you so perfect! To me specifically! Honey, if we weren’t already married, I’d be going down on one knee right now.”

“I mean, you still can. We never got a proper wedding either. Think if we offer them a chance to help plan our wedding, they’ll forgive us for secretly being married for so long?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Duke says. He’s already giddy, just imagining what their wedding will look like, what song they’ll play for their first dance, where they’ll have the ceremony… He should create a Pinterest account to start putting ideas together.

Later, though. He wants to woo Danny properly and take him on so many dates.

Dates which include dinner with the Waynes and Wayne-adjacents, apparently.

“You sure you’re okay with meeting them over dinner?” he asks, just to be sure. He knows how intense they can be, even when pretending to be normal civilians. It took him years to get used to them, himself, and he doesn’t want to push Danny into doing something he’s not ready to do.

Danny cups Duke’s face in his hands and gives him a quick, reassuring kiss. “I’m sure. If nothing else, it’ll be fun to see how long it takes for them to realize I’m not fully human.”

“I really am glad it’s you.”

“Yeah, me too. I’d choose you all over again if given the choice.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Duke laughs, wrapping an arm around Danny’s waist.

“Can we nap now? Now that you’re here and holding me, it’s taking everything I’ve got to stay awake.”

“Yeah, we can nap now.” Duke settles into the pillows, Danny cradled in his arms and closes his eyes to bask in the quiet easiness of it all.

He really couldn’t ask for a better husband, unexpected as he was. The others will see that too, once they meet him. It’s impossible to not love Danny once you meet him; Duke knows this all too well.

He loves his husband.

And his husband loves him back.

Duke is fully prepared to keep making that choice for the rest of his life.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #dp x dc fanfic #prompt fill #my writing #it was such a struggle to keep this one short but i WILL do it. it will stay below 3k words. i promised myself this #wasnt too sure what the surprise husbands trope was so i winged it lol. i hope you enjoy reading this anyways!!#its all about choosing love and choosing each other and taking care of each other in a bad situation #turning it into something good and soft and kind bc neither of u want to hurt each other and its nice to have someone always by ur side #its abt choosing each other every day!!#these two are out here speed running love while doing it backwards. icons.#thanks for the prompt!!

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turtledotjpeg · 2 years

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I don't know anything about the hunter x hunter mobage aside from the art I see people post on tumblr, but it seems like Melody isn't in any of the cute seasonal outfit card sets and it makes me sad

So I scribbled some of my own beach Melodys o/ I think she deserves a beach day

#hunter x hunter #hxh #senritsu #melody hxh #i love herrr i hope she gets off the boat alive somehow #where is my melody fanservice mobage art you cowards #...i say that and yet i'm probably the real coward here for not drawing her in a swimsuit #my only excuse is that there's no canon reference for her curse skin and i was too lazy to make something up #these were supposed to be 'quick doodles' but alas #spent 2 weeks on em and got this bizarre combination of totally halfassed in some parts and completely overworked in others #the second one in particular ended up pretty deepfried-looking at one point lol hopefully it's slightly less crunchy now #(i didn't realize until after i started this that there's actually a hermit crab beach card with paku)#(didn't mean to rip it off lol but it's too late melody gets hermit crab friends too)#...sorry for that absolute wall of tags haha #apparently it's a putting-all-my-idle-thoughts-on-the-internet day

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soothedcerberus · 3 months

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Erik!! I keep seeing your adorable centaur OCs and I always wanted to ask what's the story behind them??

Plushi!! Sorry for the mega-late reply… 🥺I was so happy to get this ask but I didn't know how to explain my silly ocs…I will try now-more under the cut.

Dael Braam (dwarf) is a cooped up farmhand looking to see the world, but being immune-compromised from birth it took a lot of persuasion to convince her parents to let them go. They relent under the condition that she finds a capable and strong person to travel with to keep her safe… Just so happens that a strong and capable centaur knight is visiting in town…

Rembrandt (horsey) was created from a dark fusion spell by an amateur mage, who had intentions to construct a powerful warrior to do his bidding.

However, the spell cast did not result in a powerful and fully-armored warrior…. but instead a frail baby knight centaur, with only its top half made of living armor. The mage, not wanting to raise any kind of child, promptly abandons his creation. He can always try to make another one after all.

Into adulthood, Rembrandt still carries a lot of pent-up abandonment and self-esteem issues. You wouldn't know that from the proud facade he puts on though, lying about being a royal knight yet helping all those he comes across with a smile, but never staying long. When the opportunity of having a long-term travel companion (and perhaps a friend…?) arises from Dael requiring a bodyguard, his craving for companionship and affirmation outweighs his worries about her seeing eldritch elements of himself.

Dirk (beefy dragon thing) is the second (and more "successful") attempt from the same mage to create a powerful monster. Think Rembrandt's "big evil" brother. Except he's quite a bit younger. Dirk emerged fully-developed except for his wings-which remain as little nubs. Despite his brawn and warrior-appearance, Dirk was mostly a glorified errand boy, using his impressive strength to terrorize the nearby towns and their land-collecting resources for the mage.

Dael and Rembrandt meet Dirk after hearing word of a giant dragon-knight ravaging villages (and their livestock yum yum).

(I also like the idea of the mage sending Dirk to capture Rembrandt + Dael when he recognizes is his first attempt is not only alive and strong, but also quite proficient in battle.)

One way or another Dirk ends up roaming with the two. At first, Dirk is over-confident, rude, and stubborn... Overall a huge pain for them to travel with. After being shown kindness for the first time and being subject to more than a few humbling situations, Dirk allows a protective, loyal and softer side of him to emerge.

Lots of found family shenanigans and adventures occur-and yeah! This was rambly but thank you for reading about my guys! 💖

#i got rlly happy when i saw your ask but i had no idea how to explain my characters so i sat on your ask till now whah im sorryy #i have a whole 40 pg doc on these guys yet i struggled to write all of this lol thank you for your patience u are too kind plushi #I hope to see u at tfconLA next month if u are going!#also that little doodle u did of rembrandt i love and it hangs over my desk so i can see it always :]]#ALL THESE are subject to change...writing character motivations interactions and story is hard wow how do some of u do it??#my ocs #plushi #kind words #artists on tumblr #original character #all three of them come from isolated beginnings i realize

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kazamajun · 2 months

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well have you considered that maybe the unstoppable force is in love with the immovable object

maybe the reason one refuses to stop and the other refuses to move is because they both long for the collision

#jun kazama #kazuya mishima #kazuya x jun #kazujun #kazjun #tekken #tekkenedit #my edit #my stuff #wowie this took me AGES!#here is that thing I've been working on for our beloved mother nature and daddy electric #I wanted to do something encompassing the bits we see of their relationship throughout the games!#it's extremely clear to me they love each other intensely and have for the past 22 years so my aim was to evoke that sense of scope #guess you could call this my kazjun manifesto in a way haha #the quotes; layout; trying to balance everything visually took some planning!#hope youse like 💖💖#also thank u to divorce-enjoyer for the post caption text. i would have linked the post but tumblr yelled at me #bc all the coloured text html was too many characters already lol

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wasjustred · 1 year

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Winter Weather Warning - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: A blizzard comes barreling through the area and you find yourself stranded———in Larissa’s quarters.

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, smut – fingering and cunnilingus (reader receiving); Larissa gets an orgasm

Word Count: ~6.3k (oops)

Author’s Note: Whaaat? A fic? From me? Finally?? I hope this was worth the wait! Thanks to all you lovely folk who’ve been so patient with me; there’s been a lot going on in my life so I’m very appreciative of you all. Feedback, as always, is welcome and encouraged! ♡ ﹠. a special thank you to my beta readers @sapphicsbeloved and @zephyr-is-tired ——— sending you many kisses and finger waggles for your help! 😙🥰 ╱ AO3

You try not to begrudge the snow for falling when and where it will. It’s pretty, you have to admit: soft, and flurried, sweeping over the stone grounds of Nevermore without prejudice. You peer out from your window and watch scattered groups of students chase after each other gleefully, faces turned up toward the sky like small purple sunflowers in their school uniforms, arms outstretched and reaching. The low angle of the sun against the trees suggests dusk will fall soon, just enough light still to cast long, excitable shadows across the ground.

A smile prods at your lips as you turn away from the window and further into your classroom with the intention of setting up for your last class of the day. You’d originally planned to guide them through a review period for an exam next week, but with the state of the sky and the weekend finally here, you decide a film might instead be just what everyone needs; you can afford to push the exam back another day, and really, they’ll be gunning for extra time where they can get it anyway. You know your students well enough.

When the kids begin filing in, you delegate tasks without explanation, the room abuzz as you instruct one student to close the blinds and a few others to adjust the desks just so. You catch a glimpse of the world down below before the windows cover up: Steady flurries still, but nothing that worries you. The kids’ thrill at spending the period in relaxation when you reveal your plan to them is enough to distract from any further thoughts on the weather, anyhow.

The hour passes swiftly as you sit in the back grading papers, every so often glancing up to take stock of the room. Everyone files out just as fast at the sound of the bell and calls out wishes for a good weekend while you’re left to rearrange the room back into its original state. You take care of the desks first, pack your own items up, decide to leave the windows for Monday since it’s dark out by now, no longer any ribbons of light sneaking through the cracks where the blinds don’t quite meet glass. A nice bottle of wine, a fire, maybe a few candles and a good book… the night is promising, and you run through a mental checklist of how many comfort items and practices you can employ as you wander down to the front entrance, bundled up tightly in your coat to brave the cold.

But when you reach the landing of the long staircase, the sight that greets you is not promising in the slightest: the outer floodlights cast a muted glow over what had been a harmless shower of snow, now furious gusts of heavy flakes collecting faster than your brain can entertain. There has to be at least a couple inches out there already, and the realization that you’ll have to navigate through the winding, hilly roads of Vermont in the middle of this elicits a groan. The treeline is hardly visible amidst the dark and the snow, and the roads are likely no better off: the town tends to skirt right around Nevermore when salting the streets. This drive’ll be a perilous one at best.

“Absolutely not.” The sound of Larissa’s disapproval startles you into a sharp and over-dramatic gasp, every muscle of yours tensing at once when her voice comes from just behind you.

“Jesus, you scared me! ‘Absolutely not’ what?” You turn to her with features marred by confusion - once the surprise has melted away - and tilt your head up, taking a small step back to balance yourself when you realize how close she is. She looms over you in a way only she can: regal and overwhelming–––yet cordial all the same, offset by the soft floralness of her perfume. The fact that she’d reached you there without a sound would likely be unsettling if it were anyone else. With her it’s just… attractive, the slyness of it all. The mischievous grin she bares in response to how you jump doesn’t help.

“There is absolutely no chance I’m letting you drive in that.” This elicits an incredulous scoff as you peer up at her, arms lifting at your sides like a pair of very exasperated, very amused wings.

“Letting me? What am I supposed to do? Break my back sleeping on the floor of the library? No thanks.”

“Don’t be silly,” Larissa tsks, pressing her lips together in an all too familiar demonstration of thought. She’s quick with her next words, though, and something tells you there wasn’t much thought to be given at all. “You’ll stay with me.”

The firmness with which she says this, the matter-of-fact tone that has always so easily slid off her tongue, leaves no room for discussion. You gape at her but Larissa’s already swiveling on her heel and walking in the direction of her office as though it’s been decided once and for all, no questions asked. She throws a crooked finger over her shoulder and gestures for you to follow, the sound of her heels now echoing through the mostly-empty halls.

You wonder, frivolously, how in the hell you didn’t hear her the first time around.

You rush after her with quick steps in an effort to keep up; Larissa’s long, unhesitating strides carry her farther and faster than you can move without some effort. The view of her backside, however, is not one that merits complaint. You follow the curve of it up until you come upon a landing you’re not familiar with, nearly knocking into Larissa when she halts abruptly and turns towards you for the first time since this little journey began. She looks almost unsure of herself now, eyes flitting about rather than meeting yours. It’s one thing, you know, to flirt in passing; to brush arms when you’re both chaperoning students in Jericho; to trade amused, knowing glances across faculty meetings. But it’s another to invite you into her sanctuary, a decisive and loaded crossing of one of the last lines between the two of you.

“If you’d prefer, I believe there’s an empty dorm room I can have made up for you. It’d be no problem.” She finally looks down at you long enough for you to read what’s going on behind that mask of hers, typically pristine and perhaps a touch righteous: she’s trying to give you an out, trying to relinquish control for a second before she commandeers your night, and she’s worried she’s already gone too far by bringing you up here in the first place.

But you’re not going to say no to a night at Larissa’s side, especially when the potential for a warm fire and a glass of wine or two is so high.

Especially when it’s her asking.

“No, it’s alright. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” she’s quick to blurt out, shaking her head. “I simply wanted to make sure you knew you had the option, that’s all.”

With that, Larissa turns again and begins the ascent to what you assume is her hall–––until you’ve reached another landing with only one door, and she pushes it open to reveal an entire apartment all her own. It’s very her, this place: Warm, shining, elegant. The living room is awash with low, simmering lights, furnished with a mix of dark leather and velour, a towering bookcase taking up the whole of one of the far walls with an accompanying reading nook. She walks you further into the threshold and eases the door closed behind you, hovering silently as you take the space in. There are a few framed art pieces that you promise yourself you’ll review more thoroughly later on, scattered vases of flowers and various, high-hanging mirrors.

What truly draws your attention, however, are the photos strategically lining the walls, clearly taken at various points in Larissa’s life: A small platinum-blonde girl carefully posed before a Christmas tree with two very proper looking hounds on either side of her, all very regal and staged except for the wide, nose-crinkling grin on the girl’s face; a beach trip with the same girl, slightly older now, arm thrown over her face as she squints against the sun and into the camera - and a pair of kids that look to be around her age chase each other in the background; teenage Larissa suited up and on horseback, smiling proudly as a judge strings a blue ribbon around the horse’s halter; graduation photos from Nevermore; a trip to the Scottish Highlands, it looks like, a twenty-something Larissa soaked to the bone but grinning out at the miles and miles of luscious greens like she couldn’t be bothered less by the weather. It’s the most you’ve ever seen of her.

Eventually Larissa brushes behind you, laying a hand at your waist in passing as she toes off her heels and begins the process of lighting the fireplace.

Her touch leaves an emphatic tingle in its wake.

“I didn’t think my wall was that particularly exciting,” she muses, glancing over her shoulder at you. You duck your head and turn from the wall, following her lead as you slip out of your shoes and place them next to her own.

“I always like to see what people were like before I knew them. It’s intimate.” Larissa’s gaze softens almost imperceptibly before she returns her attention to the fire, adjusting the logs one last time and replacing the latch on the brass screen.

“What do they tell you, those pictures?” She wipes her hands and comes to rest against the edge of a couch, gazing at you as you shift on your feet and consider her question. Her eyes remain soft, but there’s something else lurking there behind the blue now: Curiosity? Interest? Desire, even? You can’t read it for sure, so you clear your throat and move back to the photographs on her wall, crossing your arms over yourself.

“Well, .. this one,” you start, gesturing towards the Christmas tree, “screams rich.” Larissa snorts loudly and tilts her head in a way that says you’re not wrong. “Probably an only child - at least at the time, otherwise there’d be other kids with you.” Her smile gives nothing away this time, but you charge ahead, brushing your fingers against the frame that holds the beach between its borders.

“This isn’t an American beach, that much I know.” You choose not to elaborate, allowing your ‘Americanness’ to speak for itself. “But I can’t tell if you grew up going there or if it was a special vacation, maybe visiting family… ?” you trail off as your gaze drifts over to her questioningly. She just shrugs, and you click your teeth in mock disapproval before moving on.

“You look happy here,” you observe, allowing your hand to drift over the photo of Larissa in her English riding gear. “Unforced. You enjoyed competing, maybe preferred your horse to people.” This one might be an unfair deduction, supplemented by your understanding of how cruel kids can be–––especially to an outcast, especially to a 6’3” girl.

“The Duke,” Larissa pitches in, pushing up off the couch’s back to join just behind your shoulder, gazing over at the photo in question. “My mother hated the name, but I insisted. He was a gift for my fifteenth birthday,” she reminisces, breath coursing over the tip of your ear. You peer up at her as she smiles, something sad and regretful there before she sucks in a deep breath and points out a new photo to you, more recent by the looks of it: Larissa stands with a large group of students in their Nevermore uniforms, mid-laugh as one of the kids waves his hands wildly and another has their mouth agape in what looks to be protest. Her eyes are crinkled - genuine - and one of her hands seems to be in the process of making its way up to cover her mouth, the other mindlessly resting at her midsection. You know that laugh. It’s her most uninhibited, her most authentic, which only comes out when she’s caught completely off-guard. Your favorite, if you’re honest.

“My first class of students as principal of Nevermore,” Larissa offers, scrunching her nose happily at the memory.

“What’d he say? That student?” You’re part genuine curiosity and part selfishness: eager to know what made her laugh like that, and how you can take hold of that kid’s humor and use it for yourself, elicit a look like that, a laugh like that, which so rarely comes about during school hours.

“I wish I could remember,” she murmurs, taking one last look before clasping her hands together and shocking you out of the reverie. “But nevermind all that. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

You nod sheepishly, nearly apologetic knowing she likely hasn’t and is looking to be a good hostess. But she merely nods, looking relieved: “Oh good, I can’t be bothered to cook tonight,” Larissa admits, a teasing grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Let me show you where everything is, then.” She guides you down the hall and nudges one of the doors open, gesturing with an open palm. “Here’s the bathroom. Extra amenities are in the second drawer there, towels in the closet.” The suite is nicer than any bathroom you’ve ever had, really the stuff of luxury hotels: white marble floors, a deep soaking tub, gold knobs and handles on almost every appliance. You’ve no choice but to forcefully shoo away the startling, indecent imaginings that break through your reserves of Larissa sinking deep into the lush bubbles of the tub, skin glistening, chest bare––––

“Heated floors, too. I never go cold in the winters.” Ever humble, Larissa pulls at your shoulder gently and switches the light off, directing you to another door just diagonal of the bathroom. When she swings the door open, you’re embarrassingly aware of the way your jaw drops.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she says, stepping into the space. It’s gorgeous, swooping drapes of dark ruby and gold, satin bedding that pools over the mattress and onto the floor, puddles of fabric against a thick persian rug. There’s another fireplace opposite the bed, an area farther off with another scaling bookcase and two large, well-worn armchairs, a small number of intricately designed table and floor lamps, a matching vanity and armoire, the former of which is careful, lived-in chaos with its scattered tubes of lipstick and skin care tinctures.

It’s Larissa.

“Wow,” you breathe, meeting her amused gaze. “You never mentioned you live like this. I would’ve taken you up on a sleepover much sooner if I’d known.” Larissa flushes and coughs out a coy laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair as she looks out across the room.

“Yes, well. You’re here now.” She reaches out and lifts your handbag from you, pulling at your coat lapel next to signal you should take it off. Once you do, Larissa hangs it along one of the walls and places your bag on her vanity. Busy work. “I have clothes you can borrow of course, though they may be a bit big. I’ll set them out, although,” she pauses, glancing at her bedside clock, “it’s early still… Up for a movie? Glass of wine?”

You’re almost - almost - embarrassed by the unrestrained nodding of your head, but hell, it’s been a long week, and relaxing with a bottle of wine sounds like the perfect reward for making it through without breaking down [in front of your students]. The fact that it’s Larissa’s personal wine, in her personal quarters, in her personal hands does nothing to lessen the appeal.

The question of where Larissa will sleep, if showing you the bedroom was her way of offering it to you, hangs in your head, but you decide the answer can wait until the time for sleep comes around. By no means are you going to allow Larissa to banish herself to the couch in her own home. You’d sooner take the floor–––even if you’d jokingly complained about that very same concept earlier in the hour.

“Do you have a preferred genre?” She asks as you both return to the living room, you perching on the sofa as she disappears into what you assume is the kitchen to fetch the wine. It’s not normally a loaded question, nor one worth considering too deeply, but you realize you have an opportunity here… and if Larissa’s occasional blushes, her soft gaze, mean what you hope they do, perhaps there’s a strategy to be employed. You shift further into the cushions, absentmindedly running a hand over your clavicle in thought.

“Don’t laugh… but I’m a sucker for romance when the weather’s like this,” you call out. Larissa peeks her head out from around the corner, brows furrowed in funny disbelief.

“Really?”

“Wha–– why is that so hard to believe?!”

“It’s not, I just.. wasn’t expecting it, I suppose. You seem more of the action or thriller type.” She shrugs and disappears again without further explanation, leaving you to half-pout half-ponder at her words. Before you can make an argument in your defense, however, she’s returning with two full glasses, bottle tucked under her arm, and dimming the lights, a practiced look of concentration slanted across her features as she makes her way over to the couch and lowers one of the glasses into your waiting hand. The red sloshes up just near the edge when Larissa hands it off, and you half-jokingly prod at her as your brows shoot up in amusement.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Principal Weems?” She tuts with faux indignation, but the growing flush of her cheeks betrays her.

“I wouldn’t dare.” She settles next to you - still a respectable distance for colleagues, but closer than mere acquaintances - and places the uncorked bottle on the table ahead of you, grinning.

“Romance it is, but I pick.” You ‘d be surprised by her demand if you didn’t know Larissa’s need to be in control at all times. In fact, if anything surprises you, it’s her calmness in the face of this turbulent weather–––perhaps the most uncontrollable variable there is. Even the most headstrong people can be manipulated, but not the sky.

The film she chooses isn’t one you’ve seen before, which excites you, and you both sink into the couch with a comfortable silence. You share little notes back and forth on the revolving plots and chuckle at the occasional joke, however cliché, as the movie rolls, finding an easy rhythm you’ve never before been able to appreciate amidst the chaos of classes and faculty meetings.

It’s about an hour in, having finished your first glass and poured another for yourself and Larissa, that you make the mistake of peering over at her from the corner of your eye. A particularly sappy scene is playing out before you. The TV’s light flickers softly against her face, which is content and dare you say tender as the two protagonists share a moment together. The stumble before the fall. Her forehead creases and you have the sudden urge to kiss the lines away, warmed by the wine and her beauty.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers hoarsely, though her eyes never leave the screen.

Your heart jolts when she catches you out, running hot with guilt. Your legs shift beneath you as you move to scoot a few inches away - to give her space from your leering gaze - but you freeze when you feel her hand on your knee, holding you in place. You watch her for any sign that’ll tell you what’s going through her head but she doesn’t budge further, only loosening her hold on you a fraction when you relax against the cushions again. Your heart is beating hard at the door of your ribs as you tilt your head back towards the movie, far too distracted to actually process anything that’s happening. The air is so thick now your lungs can hardly keep up; it’s a dizzying thing, electric, and your thoughts jumble haphazardly as you wonder whether or not Larissa’s feeling it, too.

You risk a peek at her again–––but Larissa is already looking at you.

Her chest is heaving, albeit subtly, and her eyes are dark. A steep wave of arousal pulses through you when her tongue slips out along her upper lip, her gaze flicking down to your mouth and back up again: a question. The second you nod her mouth is on yours, both of you sighing into the touch. You cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer still as your other hand fists around the fabric of her dress. An insistent tug at your waist brings one of your legs between her own, hips rolling against each other as she gropes at you mindlessly, squeezing the thigh slotted over her heat.

“Is this okay?” she asks breathlessly, dragging your bottom lip between her teeth before she pulls away to look at you. Her cheeks are flushed a heavy pink and her lipstick is smudged. You giggle at the realization that there must be bright crimson streaks along your chin and lips.

“Yes,” you assure her between steadying pants, stroking a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and entwining your fingers, giving them a gentle pinch. “You alright?”

A smile briefly turns her lips, soft and loose. “Very much so.”

The next few moments are sweeter, slower as you take your time savoring her taste, tracing the swell of her lips, the delicate scar at the top there, following the line of her jaw up into her hair with your fingertips. She presses into you as gentle as ever, drawing shivers up to the surface of your skin as her hand snakes up the length of your spine. Barely there still is the sound of the fire lingering in its box and the distinct roar of wintry gusts at the window, mere suggestions at the back of your brain. The wine’s been long forgotten on the table.

You shudder when Larissa’s fingers tease at the lower hem of your blouse and brush against a bare sliver of skin, resting there before you arch into her and take hold of her wrist, guiding her hand higher. Her lips quirk to one side at your earnestness, especially as she reaches the clasp of your bra. She hesitates again, more teasing than searching, and slides her tongue into your willing mouth, exhaling sharply when you meet her move for move. Nimble fingers unclasp the bra without issue before they drift around to your front, putting distance between your bodies as Larissa palms your breasts, takes a nipple between her fingertips and pulls and twists with wicked dexterity.

A whimper escapes you when she sinks her teeth into your lip for a second time, much harsher this go around before she suddenly parts from you and begins pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and soothing in time with the hapless rocking of your hips. She adjusts to unbutton your top, never once pausing in her assault on your neck as she does so.

“Wait,” you pant out suddenly, and all at once her body leaves you, drawing back to give you space. The look on Larissa’s face is a concerned one, but gentle still, and you know she’ll follow where you need. It’s everything you can do not to keep her waiting in exchange for the chance to look at her, swollen lips and mussed hair, dress askew.

She’s never been more beautiful to you.

“Take me to bed.”

Her concern is washed away and replaced with relief - and then more prominent, want.

Larissa rises up from the couch and reaches a hand out to you, catching you off-guard when instead of walking you to the bedroom once you stand, she bends at the knee and scoops you up, your legs coming to wrap around her waist as you laugh in surprise.

“Who am I to say no,” she teases, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before making the careful trek over to the bedroom.

The question of where she’ll sleep is hardly that anymore.

You’re both already naked and rocking against each other beneath her blankets when the power goes out. Neither of you truly take notice until the temperature in the room’s significantly plummeted.

“Oh–––one moment, darling.” You push yourself up on your elbows and whine as Larissa slips out of bed, hissing against the cold. Goosebumps raise along her skin, the peaks of her nipples hardening further as she rushes to kneel before the fireplace, sparking a flame in record time. Her skin nearly glows in the moonlight that trickles in from the windows, reflective amidst the snow. She looks like a ghost before you - ethereal, hauntingly so - and you tilt your head, gaze tracking from the deep slope of her calves to the fine curve of her ass, the faint divots of her spine, the wisps of hair that have come loose from their hold and fallen to her shoulders.

“You’re staring,” Larissa chides as she slides back under the covers, shivering.

“I’m admiring,” you correct lamely, a pitiful pout coming to rest upon your lips as you open your arms and draw her closer to warm her now-frigid skin. She hums as if to say ‘yeah, okay,’ burrows into you and drapes an arm across your middle as she pushes her leg between yours. Your hips instinctively buck when her thigh slides against the wetness of your cunt, and you’re both abruptly reminded of what had you so distracted in the first place.

Larissa tentatively nods towards you again and runs the tip of her tongue along your pulse point, your hips beginning to rock together once more, panting heavily and in unison while the storm surges on outside, unabated. The heat pooling in your stomach is in stark contrast to the drifting chill in the room, rearing a confused, overwhelming sensation of hot-cold along your skin. Larissa’s breath, warm on your neck, only further urges the feeling along until you feel as though you might snap if she doesn’t take you fully.

“Please,” you whimper, dragging your nails up over her back with little reserve. Larissa nips at your chin and yanks your leg further across her, taut against your clit.

“Please what?” Her voice is raked over with a carnal desire the likes of which you’ve never seen on her before, deep and airy. It only serves to pull the coil tighter. Your breath hitches as she pushes herself up on her hands and knees, hovering over you now, and she leans down, down until her face is level with yours, an intense wave of adoration flooding through you as she caresses one of your cheeks. She whispers, “I want you to beg, sweetheart,” and it’s all over, never a chance, the air all but torn from you, slick heat gone straight to your cunt.

Beg for her. Beg for Her. No matter how many times the thought bounces around within that empty little head of yours, you’re frozen in place both by lust and surprise. You’ve had your share of fun, of course, but the type that usually involves you calling the shots, taking charge. You thought you liked it that way.

You might’ve been wrong.

You’re only finally jostled from your thoughts when Larissa pulls back and draws a brow up at your silence. A shadow of concern passes over her face but you’re quick to pull her back in, nodding.

“Please fuck me,” you all but whisper, desperate to be filled, to be warmed, to be taken care of while the elements ravage the earth beyond these four walls. Larissa grins smugly at your feebleness, pressing her full weight upon you before she winds a hand down between your bodies, cupping your slickness in her palm. You’re dripping all over yourself, you know: a cool, nearly chafing wetness coating the inside of your thighs, so easily spread when Larissa dips her fingers in between your folds. She sinks a single digit into you just halfway, draws it out, sinks in again and curls it against that soft spot, yes, right there––

She easily adds another and hums at the way your body translates its own neediness, busying her mouth with the soft line of your jaw.

“You feel so good..” she murmurs as her fingers bury themselves into you knuckle-deep, so long and soft and better than you’d ever imagined (and you’d certainly spent time imagining it). Her hips press into yours from above, throwing weight behind her hand as she rolls against you, a slow and steady fucking that excites the fire already roaring within you. You gaze up at her in awe as her eyelids flutter in time with the movement of her hips, realizing she’s found just the right friction against the back of her own hand that each time she thrusts into you, a firm, rippling pressure rubs up against her own clit.

Your hands search frantically now until they’re planted at the slope of Larissa’s waist and you watch, carefully, as you pull her harder into each drive of her hips, rejoicing when she gasps and shudders into the pattern, breaking it for a fraction of a second before driving into you with a far greater desperation.

“Oohf, yes, th-that’s it, darling,” she pants out before capturing your lips in a sloppy, bruising kiss. Suddenly your own orgasm is incidental as you revel in the picture of her coming undone above you, chest flushed, cheeks pink, her hair falling further from its updo as she works her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at me, I want to see you,” you clamor with a novel burst of confidence, hands drifting up from her waist to cup her face in your palms. You want to look her in the eye when she cums. You want the memory of her sounds, her face, so deeply imbedded in your mind that it’ll keep you warm when you’ve returned to your own quarters. You want, you want, you want, and she whimpers - a heavenly sound - and obliges, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks down at you, tongue darting out as she attempts to maintain some degree of focus.

“Right there, right there.. I can feel how close you are,” you huffily encourage, shifting so that both of your legs wrap tight around her and wrench her deeper, harder into you, smiling when her breath hitches at the change of pace and pressure against her sex. You watch her closely, in awe: Larissa’s brows are furrowed, her mouth fallen open and the pink of her tongue closely matched to that of her cheeks, the slight swell of her tits lurching which each thrust. The knowledge that each plunge into your cunt brings her closer is surreal––that she’s so obviously getting off on fucking you, that the frantic snap of her hips is building both of you up, simultaneously.

Her hips begin to stutter into you, airy whimpers falling from her as she teeters on the edge, fingers curling haphazardly in an attempt to continue fucking you through the oncoming rush of her orgasm. The mattress rocks and dips momentarily as Larissa gasps, sharp, and suddenly bows over you with the force of her climax, breath hot on your neck, forehead pressed into your temple, chest heaving against yours as she mindlessly ruts. Her fingers remain buried in your heat, pulsing slowly in time with her come-down.

Larissa’s body shudders as you run your palm over her in light, gentle sweeps, one hand carefully traveling to cup the back of her neck.

“You’re alright.. I know.. ‘s good, hm?” You feel a weak nod at your side, Larissa eventually stilling atop you. The pad of her thumb draws slow, lazy circles around your clit as her breathing slows, nosing the crook between your shoulder and neck.

“Christ,” she mumbles against your skin, and you chuckle as her lips draw a line from your ear to your chin.

“Yeah?” She hums and - slowly, determined - begins to wriggle down your body until her face is level with your cunt, glancing up at you with a blissed-out smirk before she presses an open-mouthed kiss to your slickness. The wet warmth of her tongue slides easily against you, dipping between your folds, lapping up the puddle that’s collected at your center, working in tandem with the pressure of her thumb at your clit, a feeling dumbly akin to religious devotion: a reverent prayer at your sex, holy flames licking up the walls of her bedroom, the weighted creases of her sheets stretched where she kneels before you.

A strong gust of wind wracks the shutters of her windows. They bang haphazardly against the glass, knocking in time with the surges of the storm.

Your fingers clench around the bed covers as Larissa rolls over your entrance once more, teasing, then pushing into your dripping hole with an embarrassing ease. She fucks you slow and as deep as she’s able, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips. Not even the devil themself could stop you from rolling your pussy against her face in search of some greater friction, whining as the sounds of her tongue wading through your arousal mixes with the crackling of the fireplace, the moan of the storm outside.

“Ohfuckyes,” you pant as your legs spread further on their own accord, knees drawing up to alter the angle at which your pleasure floods through you. She moves with delicious ability, and you watch the stark blondeness of her hair bob with every fervent lap of her tongue, overwhelmed with the sudden realness of the moment: Larissa’s scent on the pillows, her lipstick smudged across your lips, her sweat on your skin. Her thumb abandons your clit, and a desperate cry waits at the threshold of your mouth until her finger is replaced with the pointed flicking of her tongue, quick and full and firm against you. The coil pulls tight within your core.

She murmurs something brusque but you’re too consumed with the sensation of her fingertips at your inner thigh to process, but she repeats herself as you release a heavy sigh, her fingers sinking deep into your cunt.

“That’s a good girl..." Your back arches at the same time Larissa takes your clit into her mouth, sucking and slurping as if to drink from that little bundle of nerves drawn straight to your core, as if to quench an otherworldly thirst. She pulls your orgasm from you quick and unforgivingly, never stumbling in her ministrations when your thighs begin to close in around her, or when your hands wind into her hair and pull, hard. She continues to devour you as if she doesn’t notice the snapping of that coil, the sounds that melt into the satiny sheets of her bed as you cry out for her–––the curling into yourself as your clit throbs towards unbearable tenderness.

“Fff––please, please, I’m––” Sapphire eyes bore into yours as her lips stretch into a devious smile, slowly but surely unlatching. A mercy, if you’ve ever seen one. You tremble in relief.

“You can’t take it?” she coos, superficial concern floating by your quivering sex. You don’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away when Larissa glances down towards your soaking cunt again––––

but the choice is made for you when she draws herself up and grabs hold of your chin, pushing her tongue into the waiting cavern of your mouth. The sure expanse of her thigh slides between your legs as she does so, eliciting a startled twitch as she brushes against your clit. She swallows your gasp.

“So sweet.” Larissa nips at your chin, presses her thigh against you more firmly and rubs her thumb back and forth along your cheek. Your hips buck of their own volition, acting solely on the most primal of instincts despite the sensitive twinge between your legs. There’s only Larissa’s softness, her warmth, her gentle affection circling your head, coloring the air around you. The world’s ending outside and it’s just her.

“Please kiss me,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with the need to absorb her, to touch her anywhere and everywhere all at once as if you could meld together somehow amidst the tousled satin.

She stills, hovering over you with a smile so soft you’re almost certain this has all been a very long, very desperate webbing of dreams until she obliges, brushing her lips against yours with the utmost of care.

“Are you alright?” Her voice is hushed, eyes searching.

“Better than alright,” you assure her, brushing a stray hair from in front of her face. “Kind of just wanted to be close to you…” You shrug sheepishly and turn your attention to the far wall, suddenly very interested in the twisting shadows of trees cast against the space there. The abrupt rush of vulnerability reddens your cheeks, lips pursing as the regret at such an intimate admission prickles up with equal swiftness. It’s quickly brushed away, however, when Larissa clicks her tongue and tilts your face towards her with a palm against your cheek, brow arched amusedly.

“Then be close,” she says, pressing a small kiss to the tip of your nose before she pulls you flush against her and buries her face into your neck. The fire’s dwindling, informed by the dying light of the room, the falling temperature beyond the bed, but neither of you notice as you wrap yourselves up in the arms of the other, tending to a warmth all your own.

#i’ve been super stressed trying to live up to ‘easy does it’ tbh so i hope this is at least decent 😅#don’t think i’ll ever beat the sugar mommy fic lol #ah well!#i love exploring/constructing the parts of larissa we never saw (like her childhood) ﹠. i hope you guys do too!#my girl’s def a rider #i’ll stand by that till the day i die #accompanied by expensive purebred well-trained dogs throughout childhood #but is more of a cat person now – relaxed and easy #guilty pleasure romcom is ‘the proposal’#and not just bc that’s also MY guilty pleasure romcom 😇#n e ways hope you all enjoy :)#lmk your thoughts! 🫶🏼#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x you #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems reader insert #larissa weems smut #principal weems x reader #principal weems imagine #wasjustred

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pixelatedraindrops · 7 days

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Yuma Month: Day 9: Love

I think that he forgot his love identity too… 💓💦

#Yuma Month 2024 #rain code #master detective archives: rain code #yuma kokohead #pixeldoodles #my art #kokolight #kokowendy #kokobolt #so this prompt seems to be a likely shipping prompt #I actually don't heavily ship yuma with anyone #I do have some people I can see him with though #so thats when I came up with this idea of him thinking about said candidates #in a bisexual panic sort of fashion xD #always wanted to make one of those memes myself #questioning his sexuality because he lost that along with his memories #I personally see him as ace but I can also see him going both ways with dating #I feel like this meme is appropriate for him because he can be shipped with...literally anyone in this game #these are just my personal ships that I can see with him #everyone has different ships and that's okay #kokobolt: funny and cute #kokolight: love the height difference dynamic so much #kokowendy: so sweet with all the support she gives him #and yes that small moment he had with pucci got to me lol #anyway hope you enjoy yuma getting flustered over being around too many attractive people LOL #and shinigami being a jealous little gremlin as usual XD

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oshiawaseni · 1 year

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Japan’s concept of confession and why Ochaco might not confess

“Confession” is a big deal in a country as subtle as Japan. Not all people have the courage to confess, but when starting official relationships confessions are often expected. This is what I know confessions to be like in the world of manga: Person A talks alone with Person B and shares with them the secrets of their heart. “I like you please accept my feelings.” This usually ends either with them going out or A being rejected by B. The usual reason for the rejection is “I like someone else.”

I’ve been having some more ideas about the day Izuku fell into Kacchan’s arms and how what Kacchan did for him was almost confessional in a way. He told Izuku what was in his heart, why he bullied him and that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t escape him. He called him “Izuku” and we saw the impact this had on Izuku’s face.

Izuku just couldn’t believe that Kacchan was calling his name properly for the first time in 12 years, it completely shocked him, and after apologising for everything, he told Izuku, “Come home, let’s do this together. We need to help each other in this fight against AFO.”

The conclusion of this confession was that Izuku acquiesced to 1-A’s request for him to return, but it was only really possible because his attachment to Kacchan triumphed over his motivations to stay away. It was Kacchan who broke down his walls with his apology. It was Kacchan who filled him with hope that things would be better, and Kacchan who finally hammered into Izuku how important it was for him to be part of the collective. That his inclusion was very wanted and needed, and that he in turn can rely more on everyone as well. That together, they can push forward, trusting in and helping each other.

I think what hurt Izuku the most during his solo arc was being away from his friends, but especially Kacchan. Because that day in the rain, he literally gave up on his solo vigilante mindset for him. After hearing Kacchan’s unbelievable words he had patiently longed to hear for years, it was impossible for Izuku to stay away from him any longer. As he passed out, he stumbled a few steps towards Kacchan who, without missing a beat, caught him in his arms and gently held him. This embrace told us “From now on it’ll be different. I’m gonna be here for you, Izuku.”

So to recap all of that... Kacchan became vulnerable and spilled what was in his heart, Izuku accepted his desires, with it all culminating in them becoming closer. Which is just like a successful romantic confession!?

I think after watching this all go down, something inside Ochaco clicked. A lot of the class are rushing over to Izuku when Kacchan catches him because they’re just so worried about him, but a few of them, Ochaco included, stay standing back. It doesn’t make much sense at all. But we’re given a zoom in of her without knowing any of the thoughts going through her mind.

They got Izuku back, but she doesn’t really seem all that happy. Momo says to her “this is just the first obstacle we aren’t done yet” and she agrees. Ochaco knows that there’s still more they as a group need to do for Izuku to make his return happen. But the fact that there’s a few panels dedicated to zooming in on her staying put, her almost emotionless face (mirroring Shoto’s) while she’s watching Kacchan save Izuku and his new unbridled intimacy he has with him - could be telling us that there’s something else she’s processing.

Is this moment somber for her because she realised the person Izuku needs the most is none other than the person he has openly admired since she first met him? The very same person who always bared his fangs at Izuku because he was scared him getting close?

Was Ochaco witnessing the beginning of something new between them and suddenly finding herself sidelined as a contender for Izuku’s affections?

Somehow… this could be what it was all about. And that’s why I think there’s a good chance Ochaco gave up her crush on Izuku for good when she witnessed Katsuki return his love and embrace him after that emotionally-charged apology. After this, a more defined distance between her and Izuku appears visible in their next scene together. A respectful distance of Izuku’s own choosing.

It was like a definitive line had been drawn out that can’t and perhaps shouldn’t be crossed. Maybe they both understood that the person Izuku wanted close by his side has always been Katsuki. That desire wasn’t simply a pipe dream to Izuku anymore, it had become reality. And who is Ochaco to get in the way of that?

And then it’s almost like she is bookending Katsuki’s confession to Izuku with a confession of her own about Toga, putting a close to the Izuocha chapter and she makes a comment which feels double in meaning. “I guess that means we are the same.” or You love a boy, just like I might love a girl. (To put it bluntly)

And Izuku remembers this line again after he gets separated from Kacchan and Ochaco is telling him to go. Go back to Tenko. Go back to your Kacchan.

The concept of “knowing how someone feels because you love them and always watch over them” comes up from time to time in manga. In a way, that’s also a reason why Kacchan and Izuku understand each other as deeply as they do and they aren’t afraid of showing it off. They were always watching each other from a safe distance and learning things about each other in this way. I think during chapter 322, this concept is what was happening to cause such a realisation in Ochaco. (And it’s also for this reason Tsuyu, who never had feelings for Izuku, still doesn’t get it.)

It was hard for her, knowing everything she does about Izuku’s deep attachment to Kacchan, to learn that Izuku’s affections for him weren’t one-sided and they were now closer than ever before… That’s why I don’t think she’ll want to get in the way by confessing anymore. If Kacchan’s apology was intended to be compared with a romantic confession, then Ochaco is probably aware that Izuku already “has someone he likes”… and that person isn’t her.

#bakudeku #idk if this is Hopium copium or whatever it’s just my thoughts and feelings lately on ochaco’s state of mind #and why I don’t think a confession is going to happen #prone to being wrong at any time ofc lollol #but that said I also fantasise about Izuku rejecting her if she does haha 😂#it would make for the best kohei troll ever #I think she’s going to accept togas feelings too #so there’s that #Katsuki’s feelings for Izuku aren’t going to be shoved aside #it’s mutual lol it has to be #kacchan loves deku #deku loves kacchan #op #Bnha meta #kana writes #I WAS GOING TO WAIT TO POST THIS BUT NO MHA THIS WEEK #LETS FALL INTO DELUSION TOGETHER MY SISTERS #i hope this makes even a little bit of sense but even if it doesnt then #I still hope you got a kick out of reading it!#this is all only my thoughts/theories - hopefully something nice to think about :)#<3 #must read meta #bkdk canon #oopsss

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hopefuloverfury · 6 months

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could you write something about your first kisses with the bachelor/ettes? I feel like you're the only blog who characterizes them well ugh

Hey, anon. Sorry for disappearing on you, that’s my bad. I hope this is worth the wait.

Honestly, I try not to look at a lot of other stardew blogs because someone else’s opinion of a character can pretty heavily influence my own interpretations—however—Jo, Beets, Snail and Bom are all great, and I can’t recommend them enough. (Minors do not follow/interact with Jo or Beets, and Bom and Snail don’t want any kiddos interacting with their NSFW stuff, so don’t do that either. Be nice and respect everyone's boundaries.) But besides them, I’ve got nothing. Maybe some good samaritans will drop a few more users in the notes for you? But as always I appreciate the love, anon.

There’s cursing (my fault), a little bit of dialogue, and some suggestive moments (also my fault), but it isn't bad so I’ll settle with a “Minors Proceed With Extreme Caution” warning. I know that some of the bachelors have a proper kiss in their heart events, but I like my ideas more so we’re gonna ignore those lmfao.

Sam

Out of all of the bachelors, he’s the most nervous

Which is ironic, given the “jump-head-first-into-things-with-no-care-for-my-personal-safety” vibe he’s got going on, but whatever

He refuses to touch you, at first—but not because he doesn’t want to

Sam is an extremely tactile person, so of course he wants to touch you—but he also knows he can be a bit much sometimes, and he doesn’t want to chase you off with his greed or his enthusiasm

So he goes for soft, gentle, and perfectly pliant under your touch as you pull him in

It’s honestly a little jarring, because he seems the type to get desperate (true) and not be able to control himself (also very true)

But this boy is exercising an immense amount of self control to not jump headfirst into getting heavy and fast and yanking on clothes too hard

He does a good job keeping himself contained atta boy, buddy

He thought that once he’d finally gotten a taste of you, maybe he’d finally be able to think about literally anything else

Unfortunately, he would be incorrect

And now that he has experienced it, he’s overwhelmed and dizzy with his want

He keeps his eyes closed and basks in it for at least five seconds after you pull away

He is absolutely heaving, wrecked just from the tiniest chaste press of your lips against his

He’s been waiting for you to do that for weeks

His eyes flutter open slowly, and then his gaze flicks up to you

Licks his lips as he tracks his eyes down your torso and back up

His palm is warm against the back of your neck as he pulls you down for seconds

And yeah, this is more like how you thought it’d be

Does not stop pulling you against him, even though you physically couldn’t get any closer if you tried

Your shirt gets rucked up to your waist untintentionally, because he keeps gripping you and yanking you closer

But the moment he feels your bare skin against his palms, he’s flinging himself backward

Blinks up at you with bright pink cheeks and his hands twitching against your waist

Swallows hard and clenches his jaw

He knows he should let go but he really doesn’t want to

If you lean back in, he drags his hands up slowly, and traces the line of your spine with his fingertips

I’ll stop there lol

Seb

This boy. Jesus.

He’s got next to no experience, let’s just get that out of the way now

Is immediately overwhelmed, even before you kiss him

Just the feeling of your palms warm on his jaw as you angle him just so is enough to have him trembling

Stares at your lips through half-lidded eyes until you finally finish closing the distance

Shivers at the slightest brush of your lips against his

He gasps high and can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed by it

Grabs onto your hips for dear life

He is immensely glad that you decided to kiss him while he was leaning on his bike, because otherwise he would have collapsed at your feet he might collapse anyway

Lord help him if you try to deepen the kiss though

If you do, he might actually pass out

Similarly to Sam, he’s going to get desperate after a minute, but he’ll hold himself back

He’ll have way less success with it than Sam, though

Sebastian definitely holds you a little too tight, and doesn’t give you enough space or time to breathe between kisses

Even if you don’t touch him beyond holding his face, when you pull away, he looks absolutely debauched

Like you could’ve sworn your hands were never in his hair but somehow it’s still ruffled?

Nevermind his hoodie sitting askew on his shoulders and giving a considerable peak at his collarbones

Honestly you don’t know how he managed to do all that, but don’t bother asking him because he is not able to think straight at all

His eyes are hardly open, blinking slowly and zoned absolutely the fuck out while he tries to catch his breath

Homeboy is straight up panting

“Breathe, Seb.”

Whines out a “no” all petulantly, pulls you flush against his chest, and dives in again

Alex

Homeboy spent weeks fantasizing about kissing you before he finally worked up the courage

He wants your first kiss to be special, like something straight off the movie screen

But he’s constantly second guessing himself, convinced that no moment is perfect enough to cut it

He’s hoping that the moment will come when you’re on a date or something, and he’s planning romantic shit left and right with the hopes that something will click and that’ll be it

He’s dropping you off at home after another date, and another failed attempt

He walks down your porch and turns around briefly to make sure you get inside safely

You’re watching him go, a knowing smile on your face as you reach for the handle

“Goodnight, Alex. Get home safe.”

You lick your lips, and turn to go inside

That’s what does it. Because of course it is.

The urge, the determination, the sudden desire thick and pooling in his chest that he’s never felt before—he knows without a doubt that if he doesn’t kiss you right now, he’s going to cry

Fuck perfection, fuck the moment, he just wants to kiss you

Practically stomps up your front steps, breath heaving in his chest as he reaches out and pulls you right against him with a hand on your jaw

Angling you just so, and leaning in to seal your lips together

He breathes a sigh of relief

Finally.

Something like satisfaction settles in his chest, warm like honey dripping into a mug of tea

His touch is firm on your jaw, keeping you perfectly angled for him to kiss you how he wants

You hold onto his arms for dear life, anchoring yourself to him as he kisses you so eagerly that your back actually hits your front door

It doesn’t hurt, but that makes you gasp into his mouth, and oof that sound is dangerous for his sanity

Isn’t really rough about it, but he is firm

Hisses a curse or two between kisses, licks his lips a lot because he can’t get enough

Bringing your hands up around his shoulders, you tangle your fingertips in the short cropped hair on his nape

You run your fingernails over his skin lightly, and he shivers hard

Practically pins you against the door in his effort to get closer

He accidentally presses too close, and the tiniest noise rumbles against his lips from the back of your throat

He knows what that sound means immediately, and alarm bells go off in his head

Tears himself away from you and pants for breath

Drops his forehead against your shoulder and props himself up against the door instead of holding you

“Alex?”

God, your voice is all hoarse from kissing him and it’s putting dangerous thoughts in his head

“I should go home. Before I…”

You agree, but he doesn’t move away

Your eyes flick down to his lips for a split second, and that’s enough

Just one more, he tells himself, and then you’re swapping the air in your lungs again

With one hand spread against the mahogany and the other gripping your hip, he gives you a few more than just the one

Elliott

Same dilemma as Alex

Wants it to be special, dramatic, memorable, heart-stopping, all the things

And he tries

He tries so hard

And it almost works.

God dammit, his picnic by the pond next to Marnie’s almost works

The moment is perfect, you’re smiling up at him with the breeze blowing in your hair and the sun in your smile

Until the sun is suddenly gone and the wind picks up into a howl

In almost no time at all a storm cracks the sky open and you two get absolutely drenched

You run to your farmhouse, practically soaked through as you make it to the safety of your porch awning

The picnic is ruined, and he’s super disappointed because he was so close

Then he looks at you, and he’s never seen such a beautiful sight

Hair glued to your face from the rain, with a wild grin on your face and your laughter chiming like bells in his ears

He drops the picnic blanket heavy with rain water across the top of your porch bench to dry, and sets the basket down

He needs his hands free if he wants to do this right

He’s stepping towards you, shivering from the rain sticking to his skin

And we all know Elliott is a romantic at heart

Wipes the rain off your cheeks as best he can, all while he smiles softly at you

“May I kiss you?”

You nod quickly, immediately hooking your hands on the lapels of his jacket and hanging on

Kisses you gentle and slow

Cradles the back of your head and neck like you’re made of glass

It isn’t a particularly long kiss—maybe a few seconds at most

Breathes quietly against your lips when you part

Looks at you for a few long moments with all the love in his heart, and doesn’t plan on kissing you twice until you’re glancing at his lips again

Elliott brings his hands to your shoulder blades and presses you close to his chest

But he can’t get close enough

Drags his hands down to your waist and grips you tight

You squeak against his mouth when he does, and that’s when he loses his composure

Starts kissing you a little more firmly, tries deepening the kiss a bit

Shivers and gasps when your fingers tangle into his hair, still stringy and wet from the rain

And he doesn’t stop shivering

You pull away, feeling his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, and then you giggle because his teeth have started chattering

“Cold?”

“Extremely.”

You invite him inside to dry off and warm up

He may or may not kiss you again.

Shane

You’d think your first kiss would be nervous and awkward—no.

Shane holds himself back for at least a few weeks into your relationship, worried out of his mind that one wrong move is gonna shatter everything for you two

So once he’s confident and knows for certain that he’s what you want,

He’s not holding back for shit

Homeboy physically can’t stand the tension anymore anyway, especially with how often he catches you staring at him—at his lips

Pulls you in by the back of your neck and keeps his hand there to hold you close

Even when he pulls away to let you catch your breath, it’s barely enough because you’re still gasping into each other’s mouths

He literally does not let you go more than an inch or two

Your lips are 100% flushed and tingling from how much he nips at them

His other hand is firm on your waist and he does not let you go unless you ask him to

Struggles to choose between looking into your eyes or staring at your lips any time you part

So he does both

His hair is usually a little scruffy looking, but something about a kiss like that has him looking particularly disheveled

Shiny pink lips, bruised and angry red from how hard he’s pressing into you

Eyebrows pinched together and it almost makes him look angry

His hoodie is probably pulling at his shoulders a bit because somehow you managed to push it down his arms

Presses his thumb against the pulse point beneath your jaw, just to make sure he’s not the only one who’s losing it

And he struggles to keep it together when he feels your heart thumping wildly in your throat

Recognizes which direction you’re both going and starts switching to chaste pecks

Rests his forehead against yours as you both calm back down

Gets a little teary while looking at you, and huffs a wet laugh too

He’s so happy with you, and doesn’t know how he got so lucky

Harvey

Softest fucking kiss you’ve ever been given in your entire life

Your noses bump together a little before he’s diving in close

Holds you so delicately, because you’re so precious to him

Gives you a few test pecks before he actually goes for it, and breathes in heavily through his nose when he does

It’s the kind of kiss that has you pulling on each other to get as close as possible

He holds the back of your neck like Shane, but he’s much more gentle about it

Will let you pull away however many times you want, but chases after you every time

His eyes are all hazy and he physically cannot stop looking at your mouth

With one hand on your waist, Harvey will dip his thumb under the hem of your shirt and rub back and forth over your skin

You’ve never seen him as focused as he is when he’s kissing you

Doesn’t move to take the kiss deeper, and doesn’t use tongue—but he doesn’t need to

Just the insistent press of lips is enough to get his point across

If his glasses get pushed up or clink against your face, he’ll pull back to take them off and set them down

The tension is kind of overwhelming

Every time he tries to restrain himself or exhibit self control, it only takes one look at your big eyes blinking at him with a flush on your cheeks and he’s getting right back up in your business

You’ve never heard him curse so openly before, but trying to control himself is nearing painful

Dives in, pauses a centimeter away, swears viciously because he’s failing miserably at controlling himself, and then he’s giving up entirely

Couldn’t resist you even if he wanted to

You’ll have to be the one to put an end to it because Harvey cannot

Don’t call his name while he’s like this though because then he won’t give you a moment to speak again

#stardew valley #sdv #harvey #sebby #sammy #elliott #shane #alex #asks #anon #requests #i'm gonna save the bachelorettes for later lol #hope you enjoy <3 #as always reblogs are appreciated #and please make sure to give the other blogs I mentioned some love too!#they're all wonderful #and super kind too #long post

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