#I LOVE THE TUNA TEAM SO MUCH

[a-leg-without-fear]

i’ve got the best friends in the whole multiverse ❤️

@bellaxgiornata @shouldbestudying41 @justvalkyrie @shiorimakibawrites

[a-leg-without-fear]

fhaowneoffjn VI!!!!! i luv u guys so much ;-;

join the tuna team!

ever wanted to join a discord server full of people who share your love for one specific, depressed, hot martial artist with a lot of catholic guilt? do you have other interests such as baldur's gate 3 and musical theatre? if so, the tuna team is the place for you!

the tuna team began with the intention of a server where daredevil writers could unite to share our writing, beta read for each other, and just talk about our favorite blind lawyer/vigilante. since then, it has morphed into a place where we all talk to each other about our lives, share pictures of pets, and scream into the void about everything we love.

the tuna team welcomes anyone of any age (well, any age 18 and over), religion, gender, etc. etc. and we would love to have you! if you want to join, message me your discord username and i'll send you a friend request!

be advised that the server is 18+ and although we love charlie and his characters, we do NOT allow speculation on his personal life. we ask that anyone who joins be respectful of others' pronouns, identity, and boundaries- specifics on this are available upon request!

members of the tuna team:

here is a brief introduction to each current member of the tuna team! i am relatively new to interacting with the DD fandom (i've been a fan since 2022, but only just recently started talking with other fans online) and am frankly stunned that so many cool, talented, amazing writers who i look up to are in this server. everyone in here is inspiring and supportive, and contributes to the great vibe we have going in the server!

~~moderators~~

vienna @vigilxnte-shit: hi, as you may have noticed, this is me. i'm the owner of the server, i'm mostly here to write, talk about husband!matt, and send pictures of my cat, coconut.

brooklyn @jazerno: brooke is my irl best friend and roommate, as well as coconut's technical legal mother. brooke originally joined to be a moderator, but has since fallen for frank castle, as one tends to do.

mar @mar-thewriter: mar is a very good friend of mine who i met via another server of people i love. mar doesn't talk much here, but is a great moderator who i love dearly.

mads @madschiavelique: mads is the one who made our gorgeous get roles channel and is our coding genius. they are the ones to thank for

~~tunas~~

leg @a-leg-without-fear: leg is hysterical and our resident emoji artist. she has created all of our emoji in the server and also the lovely art featured above, as well as countless other fun works!

yuna @yarrystyleeza: yuna is the sweetest person you will ever meet and fun fact: tuna team comes from her name! yuna always has the best headcanons and her oc, madilyn, is DARLING.

sapph aka sunshine @sunflowersandsapphires: sapph is the mama of our server, she is sunshine incarnate and always has the best writing prompts + blesses our eyes with her pets!

hira aka robin @amphitrite-5: hira is a very soft and kind soul who regularly makes everyone's day with her kind words. she's also one of our best gamers and doesn't like to sleep (though really, none of us do)

via @zomtart: via is the #1 frank castle character defender and i have no choice but to respect that. they're hilarious and we love having them in the server!

i cant find mariam's tumblr: i was scrolling through mariam's messages and literally fighting the urge to laugh in the office. mariam is hysterical and our representative elektra fan.

eclipse @ecxlipse: eclipse is the baby of our server (i think) but has sent us plenty of gorgeous art and wonderful matt headcanons, and they always have the best contributions to our conversations!

crys @what-i-call-men: crys is responsible for several of the best, spiciest headcanons that have come about on the server. they also have sent the best photo of themselves wearing a DD mask.

zena @coxology101: zena is a busy bee and running her own server, but when we do hear from them, we get some of the best thoughts and BTS dardevil pictures.

ivy @catholicguiltboi: ivy is hysterical and has blessed is with photos of their son, yoshi (who i think is a lizard but i am not very smart).

pasta @pastafossa: my jaw dropped when i saw pasta wanted to join. they contribute so much laughter, many great ideas, and the best advice to the server and we are thrilled they're here.

sybil @gracethyomen: brooke and i have spent several nights since the server started laughing in our apartment over something sybil has said. they are genuinely one of the funniest people ever.

shiori @shiorimakibawrites: shiori has blessed us with some of the best matt thoughts time and time again. like pasta, their name is so recognizable to me that i was genuinely shocked when they asked to join, but i'm so grateful they did!

bella @bellaxgiornata: you'll be sick of hearing this but i genuinely could not believe bella wanted to join the server. in my eyes, she is like the taylor swift of the daredevil fandom (and for clarity's sake, that is the highest compliment i can give). in the server she constantly has the best ideas and is always so supportive of everything we all write.

@shouldbestudying41: much like bella, this is someone who i very much look up to and respect in the daredevil community. having her in the server is a blessing and they are insanely good at time management- i'm incredibly amazed by their ability to juggle so much at one time!

we also have a couple without blogs; aspen and paris. they are good irl friends of mine who don't say much, but are a joy to have in the server anyway :)

divider on top by @sister-lucifer

tuna team art by @a-leg-without-fear

[pastafossa]

"Do I Need To Beg?" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

Right so like a lot of other people, I saw that leaked trailer and had thots, mostly about Matt's new beard, and much like my thoughts on his coat, none of these thots are pure. This is pure fucking sin, in other words, one of the filthier things I've written, so scroll past if that's not your thing. Also thank you to my friends over in the Murdock's Tuna Team server, ya'll are the best fucking enablers ever.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

“Welcome home, Mrs. Murdock,” he purred darkly, lazily dragging his tongue across his lips in a way that told you, quite clearly, what he was imagining. “If you need to shower or drink a glass of water, do it now. Because the second you enter this bedroom, you’re mine for the rest of the night. And I have no intention of letting you go until I’ve had my fill.”

Wordcount: 4.1k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: oral f!receiving and a LOT of it like this is literally just a love letter to bearded Matt eating you out (Matt retains his 😺eating crown), brief oral m!receiving, Dom!Matt, Sub!Reader, bondage, overstimulation, subspace, dirty talk, PiV towards the end, Matt's new fucking BEARD none of us are ok

Matt with an oral fixation incoming, here have this:

Your trip out of town had lasted longer than you’d initially expected. 

Initially you'd only planned to be gone for ten days, but ten had abruptly been extended to an irritating fourteen with little notice. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything you could do about it, though Matt had reassured you over the phone that it was fine. While he missed you dearly and would have vastly preferred you back home and in his arms, he understood that things were out of your control. However, he did have one more thing to say before you’d both given your goodbyes, something that wound up eating at you for the rest of your trip in all the best ways. 

“Besides,” he’d murmured. “It’ll give me a little more time to work on my surprise for you.” 

What that surprise was had been a mystery, one he’d smugly refused to reveal no matter how much you’d tried to pry it out of him over the ensuing phone calls. It couldn’t have been a gift for your next wedding anniversary, which was still a few months away. Nor was it your birthday, or Valentine’s Day. As best you could guess, this was just one of those moments when Matt decided to give you something, just because he could, just because he wanted to, no prompting needed. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with him, one more thread in the tapestry made from all the many reasons you loved him. 

However, on the list of things you’d expected to find when you finally made it home, you hadn’t thought to include Matt standing shirtless in the bedroom doorway, his sweats slung low on his hips, his hair still damp from his shower. One corner of his mouth curled up into a wicked smirk, and oh, he knew. He knew, or he’d at least suspected what your response would be to his surprise, and you drew in a sharp intake of breath.

He’d grown a beard. 

You raked your gaze over it, taking in the way it seemed to change the angles of his jaw and his face, somehow adding a dangerous edge to his smile. What was more, there were little patches of grey scattered amidst the dark of it. You had no idea why, but something about those threads of silver only added to the building heat between your thighs, a fire that had started the second you’d seen him standing casually in the doorway, his beautiful body on open display just for you. 

How would it feel to touch him, cradle his jaw in your hands now? 

How would it feel when he pressed his lips to yours, to your throat?

And how would it feel as he made his way down, down, down, the rough scrape of his beard lighting you up as he drifted towards one of his favorite places on your body? 

Your shiver drew a rumble of satisfaction from him. He slowly rolled his head back, inhaling deeply, clearly savoring the scent of your arousal. 

“Welcome home, Mrs. Murdock,” he purred darkly, lazily dragging his tongue across his lips in a way that told you, quite clearly, what he was imagining. “If you need to shower or drink a glass of water, do it now. Because the second you enter this bedroom, you’re mine for the rest of the night. And I have no intention of letting you go until I’ve had my fill.”

You were pretty sure you’d never downed a glass of water and gotten into the shower so quick in your life.

Matt kept his promise. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, he was on you, his beard a deliciously unfamiliar sensation as he caught your face between his hands and pressed his mouth hungrily to yours. That wild kiss didn’t stop at just one, your lips separating only to meet again a half-breath later, over and over again. The two of you only grew more frantic with every second that passed, hips beginning to rock, bodies swaying towards each other, until you were both left gasping, frantic and breathless, hands groping desperately across whatever bared skin either of you could reach. 

“Bed.” The word was a low growl against your lips, his hand wound loosely around your throat, one thumb up under the hinge of your jaw to force your head back for him. One of your hands, meanwhile, had slipped back and down beneath the hem of his sweats, blatantly groping at the thick curve of his ass. He let out a rough groan that you eagerly swallowed down, the skin around your mouth already burning from the rasp of his beard where it had rubbed against you. “Fuck—Bed. Now.” 

He wasn’t going to get an argument from you. 

It was a short, stumbling walk from there to the bedroom. Neither of you bothered to keep your hands off each other, your fingers fisting in his damp hair as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to that special spot under your jaw that made your legs shake, Matt seemingly eager to drink the remaining droplets of water from your skin. You should have guessed his plans when you noticed the towel on the bed. But it was hard to focus with the tantalizing burn of his new beard dragging across the delicate skin of your throat, and with the taste and scent and touch of him filling your senses after a long two weeks apart. It felt like there was nothing in the world but him, nothing but the scent of cinnamon and copper and salt, the warmth of it so rich you couldn’t help but gasp with it as he herded you backwards until at last, you both found the bed. 

The world lurched, and just like that you were pinned beneath him, the broad, heavy weight of him easily trapping you against the mattress, not that you minded. Your ragged moan of his name seemed to hang in the air, your fingers still tangled in his hair. God, your cunt was practically dripping already as you lifted your hips, trying to rock up against him in invitation. You'd been thinking of this the entire time you'd showered. He had to have sensed it. “Matt, sweetheart, please.” “I’ve been thinking about this since you left,” he purred in your ear, his breath a rush of burning embers before he started down your body. The moment he reached your bare breasts, he pressed his face between them, the rasp of his beard making you shiver. He inhaled deeply, dragging your scent deep into his lungs. That inhale led to a hitched, delighted moan, his hips rocking down against the mattress. Without warning, he turned his head and eagerly drew one of your nipples into his mouth. The greedy suction of his mouth when paired with the bristling scratch of his facial hair made you whine, writhing as best you could where you were trapped beneath the heavy weight of muscle and bone. But despite the way you offered up your chest in invitation, he had other plans, quickly releasing your breast to slide further down your body. His voice dropped into something low and sinful, then, soft as silk against your skin. “And I’ve missed this sweet pussy of yours, sweetheart.” He placed a tender, innocent kiss against your hip, the gentle nature of it at direct odds with the obscenity of his words. It was a combination that left you burning up, your breath hitching as he pointedly lifted one of your legs to drape it easily over his shoulder. He directed his blank gaze back up towards your own, his lips curling up into a feral grin. “So I’m going to see how many times I can make you come with my mouth tonight. And I’m not stopping until you’ve soaked everything underneath you.” 

Oh god—

Your eager moan and the fresh flood of arousal between your legs was the only answer he needed. He let out a quiet hiss before diving in, his tongue burying itself between your folds for one heavy lap up your cunt, the first taste of you he’d had in weeks. And with a rough moan that matched yours in volume, he threw one arm over your hips, and settled in.

And there he stayed, his face buried between your thighs, for hours. 

You lost track of your orgasms after you came for the third time, three of his fingers hilted deep inside you, his tongue lapping firmly, determinedly at your clit. It had been impossible to resist between that and the rhythmic,  rough scrape of his beard against the inside of your thighs—a sweet-edged pain you were quickly growing addicted to. You came so hard you saw spots at the edge of your vision, came so hard you left a puddle on the towel beneath you, your startled cry loud enough to wake the neighbors. Your brain didn’t even know what to do with that kind of pleasure, your thighs snapping shut around his head, your whole body writhing as the pleasure washed over you in uneven waves.

But Matt didn’t so much as slow. If anything, he simply opened his mouth wider, drank from you even faster, swallowing down that flood as if you were the sweetest of wines. The moment he tasted your orgasm, one that drenched his beard and mouth, his eyes snapped shut, his hips bucking against the mattress. A wild, shaky moan tore from his throat as he came with you, soaking his sweats, the rhythm of his mouth growing clumsy and uneven.

Yet still, he didn’t stop, despite the fact you'd both come. All it took was a few breaths before he was back at it. He seemed almost mindless now, focused only on taking, greedy and insatiable as he forced your body and his to start the climb yet again.

You lost control over your body not long after, your reactions instinctive and uncoordinated. Somehow you found your hands back in his hair, soft, sweat-soaked strands sliding through your fingers. You weren’t sure what you meant to do then, whether you wanted to push him away from your overstimulated body or pull him in even closer, ride his face the way you wanted. Either way, he wound up deciding for you. 

“Seems to me like someone can’t control herself.” He braced one hand firmly against your abdomen, and though he couldn’t see you, you still felt pinned by his gaze and the almost drunken little quirk of his lips. Even in the low light, you could see how his beard and mouth glistened, slick with the taste of you. “Do you need the rope, sweetheart? Do you want me to help you?” 

There wasn’t a chance in the world of you remaining still without that rope, not if he intended to keep going. And you both knew it. 

“Yes, please,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as he clumsily rose from his place between your legs. Despite the lingering oversensitivity in your body, the sudden absence of his mouth still made you whimper. You just—you needed more, the promise of it keeping the tide of your arousal from fully easing.  

“What a good girl, admitting you need help,” he crooned, crawling up the bed far enough to reach the nightstand, pausing only to brush his lips against yours, the scent of your sex clinging heavily to his beard and mouth. He opened the drawer and dug around for a moment, until he finally drew free a length of red silk rope, testing it out in his hand. Once he was satisfied, he began to loop the rope around your wrists. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you can’t move. Because I meant what I said. I’m not letting you up until I’m finished with you, and I’m nowhere near done, sweetheart.” 

The moment your wrists were properly tied, he placed his knees on either side of you, rising up to hook the length of rope to the hook set into the wall. But that put something else within reach of your mouth, and all the grinding he’d done against the bed had managed to drag his soaked sweats down just far enough to expose his cock. He was already half-hard again, the head slick and dripping, flushed dark and tempting. 

In that moment, you needed to taste it. 

The noise he made as you darted your head forward and took the tip of him into your mouth was inhuman, one part choked gasp and one part snarl. You suckled at the broad head eagerly, rapid little licks of your tongue against his slit to draw out more of the precum leaking steadily into your mouth, trying to get as much as you could before he could stop you. He wound up hunched over the top of you, one hand braced against the wall, the other fisted in your hair to hold you against him. And the harder you sucked, the more his rough growls and snarls shifted into high moans and soft little whines, his hips bucking instinctively, helplessly forward, pressing his cock deeper into the warm, welcoming wet heat of your mouth. Even those powerful thighs of his started to shake.

If you did this right, he’d come in no time at all. 

But it was the creak of the ropes as you instinctively reached for him that seemed to snap him out of it. 

Just like that, your head was wrenched back by his hand in your hair, his cock sliding free from your lips with a wet pop, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, and down onto your chest as you stared blearily up at him. Chest heaving, dark eyes burning, he slowly leaned down until his lips hovered mere millimeters from yours. But even though his lips hadn’t made contact, his beard did, the faintest brush of bristling hairs tickling against your overheated skin until you couldn’t help but moan. 

“And this,” he grit out, “is why you’re being tied: because you can’t keep your hands or your mouth to yourself.”  

“I’m sorry,” you whined, trying to nuzzle at him in apology. He dodged your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair in warning. This time, at least, you listened, rolling your head back into his touch, trying to make up for what you’d done, submit like he wanted. “I’m sorry, Matt. I just wanted a taste, I needed you so bad.” 

“If you’d asked like a good girl, maybe I’d have given it to you. Now you’re going to have to make it up to me.” He abruptly let go of your hair, climbing back down your body, ignoring the way you thrashed and twisted. Once he was back in place, he roughly shoved your thighs apart, dropping back down between your legs like he belonged there, claiming that space for himself. “Do I need to beg?” you choked out, practically shaking when he caught the thin, delicate skin of your inner thigh between his teeth, sucking hard. He lingered there for a long moment as you moaned and yanked desperately on the ropes, but it was no use. He was in control, not you, and you knew he wouldn’t let go until he’d left his mark, claiming this part of your body that belonged to only him. But what you weren’t expecting was for him to let go… and then tip his head, sliding his cheek, and his beard along the newly sensitive skin. The burn of it sent you soaring, your cunt clenching around nothing, your back arching as you tried to offer your core up to his mouth. “I’ll beg! God, I will, Matt, just—” “I don’t need you to beg,” he growled, his lips curling until he’d bared his teeth. “I need you to scream.” 

Then his mouth latched onto your cunt again, relentless and inescapable no matter how much you writhed. It was torture, madness of the best kind, and it wasn’t long before something in your mind began to unravel, drawn right down out of your body and into his mouth to be swallowed down the Devil's greedy throat.

Things… got a little blurry after that. 

There was no tracking the time, not when one orgasm melded into the next, minutes and hours falling away beneath the merciless lap of Matt’s skilled tongue, the brutal curl of his thick fingers, the rough scrape of his beard against your thighs and cunt until everything burned with pleasure and pain that turned the edges of your vision a fractured white. There was no outside world, no thought left in your mind but his name, nothing but the mountains he dragged your increasingly exhausted body up, and the swift fall when he mercilessly shoved you over the edge, over and over and over until you were ready to lose your mind.

“Matt!” you sobbed, wrenching hard at the ropes binding your wrists. It didn’t make one bit of difference, the rope firm and unyielding where you were bound. Down between your legs, Matt slurped hungrily, drunkenly at your cunt, his face and throat drenched with your slick, a wide puddle on the towel beneath the place where his mouth connected to your body. The burn of his beard was almost unbearable now, but you didn’t know what to do about it. You weren’t even sure he could hear you at this point, his eyes glazed over and glassy, the broad laps at your slit and clit so instinctive and clumsy that you were half convinced he was lost in the same place you were, drunk off the taste of your pussy, off your repeated orgasms and pheromones that he’d been drenched in. 

Another finger joined the three he already had buried deep inside you. He’d been at this so long that your body parted for him with little issue, and god, god, you were so goddamn full, so trapped in the haze that all you could do was choke out another sob as all four of his fingertips rubbed firmly at that spot inside you. You were too tired even to close your legs around his head, but you could feel it—that final orgasm curling hot and inescapable inside you, so close now you could taste the fractured shards of it, tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes snapped shut.  

“I think maybe you earned that taste you wanted,” he slurred, kissing lovingly at your clit like he might a lover, his lips parted just far enough to let his tongue brush against you. And god, it almost hurt, it hurt, your body so far beyond oversensitivity that even that light touch hit you like a bolt of lightning, your body jolting. “Not that you can answer me now. Or can you?”

All you could give him was a mindless whine. 

He chuckled, working his free hand down beneath himself as he lifted his hips. His mouth dropped open a moment later, face going slack against your cunt before he moaned loudly, his shoulder shifting rhythmically beneath your thigh, his eyes rolling shut. Was he—

He drew his hand up a moment later with a purr, his fingers now smeared and sticky with both your wetness and his, glistening softly in the low light. “What do you say, sweetheart? Would you like a taste? Because I would.”

You whimpered, tugging mindlessly at the ropes, and you—yes, yes, but your tongue couldn’t seem to quite form the word yes, because he still had the fingers of his other hand buried inside you, rubbing steadily at the spot that made you see stars. God, please, the mere thought of tasting your combined flavors on your tongue had you almost mad, your body a hairs-breadth away from coming. All you needed was a nudge—a brush of him at your clit, the taste of him on your tongue, and you’d tip over the edge. 

He clearly knew it, too. And you thought-you’d thought he would be offering his hand as he dipped back down to your cunt, but instead, he pulled his soaked fingers free from you with a sigh. Your cry was a broken thing, something thick with grief at feeling so empty when you were so close, more tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Shh, you’re alright, sweetheart, don't cry,” he crooned gently, hushing you as he crawled up over your body, nuzzling at your sweat-soaked skin. “Don’t worry. It’s only for a second. I won’t leave you empty. I promise. Almost done. Almost there. One more for me. You’re going to give me one more, honey.” But how, when you were so empty, when you didn’t have his mouth or his fingers, lost and—

He groaned as he began to slide his thick cock inside you. You’d been stretched so open by his fingers, by all of your orgasms over the past few hours, that he entered you with a delicious ease. The sloppy, wet squelch of his cock as he slid inside you would have made your cheeks burn if you’d had any sense left. 

“Shit,” he moaned, one hand braced beside your head, fisting in the sheets. One rock of his hips and he was buried as deep as he could reach, your cunt clenching around him as if it were trying to keep him there. You were too exhausted to lift your legs and lock them around his hips. All you could do was gasp and accept him, your eyes rolled back as you hovered on the edge. “Nn, there you go, sweetheart. There we go. Nice and-and full. Hold on just a little longer for me. Open your mouth, honey.” 

You parted your lips instantly, long past resisting, long past thinking. 

His fingers stroked gently against your tongue a moment later, allowing you to take in the combined musky taste of yourself, the bitter richness of his cock, and how it mingled and melded with the taste of his skin.

“Suck for me like a good girl,” he murmured, his other hand rising to wipe away a few of your tears. Once that was done, he settled his hand around your throat, as if he wanted to feel it when you swallowed. “Go on, sweetheart. You can have it.” 

You curled your tongue around his fingers, drawing them deep into your mouth with a grateful moan. The explosion of it across your tongue as you swallowed, the sheer obscenity of it, made you choke out a broken cry. His fingers were yanked back a moment later only to be replaced by his tongue snaking lazily into your open mouth, blatantly chasing your paired tastes with a filthy moan. All of it rolled up over you at once—his cock sliding up against that spot inside you, the whisper of pressure around your throat as his massive hand closed around it, the angle of his hips that let his body grind against your clit, the paired taste of you both filling your mouth as his tongue curled against yours, but… 

It was the harsh scrape of his beard against your skin that pushed you over the edge. 

Later, you wouldn’t remember the noise you made as you came, your body seizing as your orgasm slammed into you in one sudden rush. Your body went rigid, back bowing off the bed so sharply you felt something pop, your head thrown back as you lost yourself beneath a roaring tide of pleasure. Because this-this wasn’t something you rode, something you swam with, something that swept over you gently. This was something you survived, something you choked beneath, drowned beneath. You barely heard Matt’s shout, didn’t even notice the spreading heat as he came with you in slick pulses of warmth. You heard even less his slurred words of encouragement against your lips as your orgasm lingered in waves that just didn’t end, and you couldn't, you couldn't—

“There you go. Good girl, good girl, so good for me, let it all go sweetheart, I’ve got you, good gi—”

You weren’t quite sure where your mind went, then. But things cut out for a while.

How long you tapped out for was a mystery, the world around you faded into a soft black. All you knew was that when you finally floated back up from that quiet sea, your senses coming back to you one by one, Matt was there, your limp body cradled warmly against his chest. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, the sounds distant and still a little warped as he rocked you gently. He had to have untied you at some point, you thought blearily, since he was holding you now, his back against the headboard, your head tucked down against his neck. “Come on back, honey. Time to come back for me.”

You made a soft little noise of acknowledgement in your throat, all you really felt capable of at the moment, your eyes fluttering half open.  

“Hi there, sweetheart,” he hummed, nuzzling down warmly against your hair. One of his hands swept steadily up and down your arm, sensation that helped ground you, along with the easy rhythm of his breathing as he held you, the rasp of his skin against yours. “There you are, my good girl. You did so good, honey. Now you’ve got it. Take it slow. Breathe with me."

“Mmm.”

"That works." He huffed a quiet laugh, tipping your slack head back until he could brush his lips against your forehead. Your head lolled against his shoulder, your body feeling a bit like all your bones had just up and wandered off. Maybe Matt had sucked them out of you. “I got eight out of you tonight if you can believe it. A new record.”

“It’s,” you slurred thickly, “the… beard. I love it.” 

“I figured. And now I'm definitely going to keep it.” He nuzzled at you again, lifting one of your hands so he could knead gently at your wrist where you’d been tied. You'd probably have some bruises tomorrow considering how hard you'd yanked at the ties, but you'd wear them with pride. You always did. “And now you get the full aftercare treatment. Water, a snack, maybe a massage and a lot of cuddling before you fall asleep. I almost thought about drawing you a bath, but I’m not quite sure I trust you not to accidentally slide down into the water right now, even with me holding you.”

“...Fair.” You sleepily mashed your face against his throat, drawing the musky scent of sex and his skin deep into your lungs. You were still floating to a certain extent, your body sore and exhausted, but the comfort of his touch, the low rumble of his voice went a long way to soothing you. “Love you. Missed you.” 

“I love you and missed you, too.” He pressed a fond kiss to your wrist, letting out a contented sigh. “Let’s avoid being apart for a while.”

“Agreed.” 

[vivwritesfics]

Requesting either combo Landoscar x male!reader or separately x male!reader pretty please (whatever floats your boat in terms of story, I love your writing style)

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!! i've actually been thinking about this for the longest time, but every time i sit down to write i forget about it lmao. I used to write male reader all the time and I've missed tf out of it

It was an unprecedented situation, they found themselves in. Drivers being together wasn't. Look at Nico and Lewis, look at Max and Daniel, look at Max and Charles, look at Max and...

Teammates spent so much time together, it was expected that they were to fall into bed together. But this was new. Nobody really knew what to do with this.

Lando and Oscar stood outside of Zac's office, both of them leaning against the wall behind them. Lando had his hands folded over his chest and Oscar's hands were in his pockets. Neither of them touching, but the team knew exactly what was going on with the two of them.

But they didn't know about the man in the office.

No, not Zac (I might throw up at that lmao). The ex Formula Two champion stood in Zac's office, going over his requirements as a reserve driver.

"When do I get to drive?" He asked.

Zac laughed. "If one of those two breaks their legs or something, you can drive," he said.

A grin crossed his face. "I can make that happen."

They discussed when he'd be put into the car for practice sessions and things like that. His media duties with Lando and Oscar and more. They never crossed into the topic of his relationship with the drivers, not yet, anyway. That was a meeting to have with all three of them.

When he walked out of the office, Lando and Oscar straightened up. "So?" Oscar asked as he and Lando walked towards him.

He shrugged, but then a grin crossed his face. "Zac said I can drive if I break one of your arms," he said. "Who wants to go first?"

Lando threw his arms around his shoulders and dragged him away from the office, down the stairs in the MTC. "You're a little shit," he said through a laugh as the three of them made their way outside, to their cars.

"No more than you!" Oscar called as he jumped in. He grabbed him, pulled him away from Lando and into him. His lips met the top of his head as he fished the keys from his pockets.

Lando and Oscar had shown up in their expensive cars that couldn't hold more than two people. Now, that wouldn't do. But it was fine, because he had his shitty little ford fiesta that he loved more than anything in the world.

"I'm driving," Lando said, raising his hand for Oscar to throw him the keys.

"The fuck you are," he replied, catching the keys before Lando could. "It's my car."

Ever since he'd met the two drivers, he'd wanted a truck, one with a bench seat so that they could all sit in the front. Lando climbed into the passenger seat and Oscar climbed into the back. Lando reached forward to touch the radio, but he playfully slapped his hand away as he pulled away from the MTC.

"We're in my car, we listen to my music," he said as he pulled onto Guildford road and headed towards Woking. "What're we thinking for lunch?"

"Waitrose sandwiches?" Lando offered.

"Waitrose sandwiches," Oscar agreed.

The boys got themselves Waitrose sandwiches and got back into the car. They knew a dinner between the three of them would have looked weird, them crowding around a table, trying to eat. (Well, it wouldn't have looked weird, but there was a certain amount of paranoia that came with the three of them being together).

It wasn't romantic, the three of them sat in an empty car park as they ate their sandwiches. The moment Oscar opened his tuna sandwich, Lando let out a groan and scrambled to wind down the window.

"Want some?" He offered Lando. Lando leaned forward and bit into his sandwich, tearing off a corner of it. He hummed as he ate and offered him some of his own sandwich.

Oscar tried to do the same, but the moment he thrust his sandwich forward, Lando pushed open the door to the car and let out a retching noise, pretending to throw up.

"I don't think he's gonna kiss you after this, Osc," he mumbled through a laugh as he dug into his own food.

"Damn fucking right!" Lando shouted, sucking in deep gulps of fresh air, air that didn't smell like tuna.

Oscar rolled his eyes but leaned forward again. As soon as he did, he was kissing him, looking at Lando. Lando who was too busy with his head out of the window to watch the show. "I don't think it's working, Osc," He said against his lips.

He mumbled a quiet fuck it and climbed his way into the back with Oscar. If they were gonna make Lando jealous enough to join them, they were going to do it right.

[zomtart]

Day Off (Frank Castle x Fem!Reader)

this is inspired by the lovely Tuna Team and also because I realized I’ve never seen a fic of reader taking care of sick Frank. No established relationship in this one but LOOOOOTS of tension they’re just both too stupid to realize it :D

Content Warnings: p*king (not too descriptive), brief mention of injuries, veeeeery sick Frank, reader who matches Frank’s stubbornness <3

Word Count: 1.3k

It was your day off, and you were making the most of it. You slept in until 10am, cooked your favorite breakfast, wore your softest pajamas, and grabbed your comfort book. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. The world was at ease. 

…for about twenty minutes.

You were just about to brew your second cup of mocha when you heard the faint sound of groaning. Halting your reach for your coffee mug, the edges of your lips started to turn down as the noise continued. It seemed far away and muted. It seemed like it was…coming from next door.

You stared at the wall for a second before shaking your head. No. No! It was your day off. Frank had your number. He’d call you if he’d need you…right?

When has that ridiculous man ever asked for help?

But he only ever did his…job in the dark. And you had heard him come home last night, even checked out the door to ensure no trail of blood followed him. Surely he hadn’t gone out again. Surely he was fine. 

A loud crash erupted from the wall, so hard you could almost feel it shake in the floorboards.

Goddamnit.

You ran to the door immediately, snatching Frank’s spare key and not bothering with shoes. Stupid, stupid man. Couldn’t he stay out of trouble for one day? It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with him, but you had to admit you’d much prefer spending time with him when it wasn’t stitching his wounds up.

The moment you stepped through the door you were calling out his name, looking for signs of a break-in or injury. There wasn’t any blood or weapons, but his kitchen table vase lay shattered on the floor. The sight made your stomach turn, along with the fact that he hadn’t seemed to notice you had come inside. Frank was nothing if not alert.

“Frank? Frank!” You swore under your breath, wishing you had brought your taser. “If you’re--if you’re fucking with me right now I swear to god…”

There was another groan from down the hallway and without thinking you ran down to the end of the hall and pushed open the bathroom door. 

“Frank—“

You immediately turned away at the sight of Frank kneeling over the toilet, a hand pressed over your mouth as you smelled puke. As a nurse, you unfortunately dealt with this a lot, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t gross. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Frank sounded mad, and you couldn’t quite blame him. However, you weren’t about to let your own anger go so easily.

“I thought you were fucking dying! God, did you hook a boombox up to your intestines?”

“Leave,” he mumbled around a groan that lacked any sort of strength, and not just because his throat was hoarse. He sounded exhausted. More exhausted than you’ve ever heard him, including when he had bullet holes in his torso. He was clearly in no state to be alone. 

You blinked. “You do know there’s a broken vase on your kitchen floor right?”

He breathed your name, exhaling roughly through his nose. He closed the toilet and collapsed against it, letting his head hang backward. 

“I’m fine. You see I’m not dying, yeah? Now go.”

“Well you’re not far from it.” you crossed your arms. His grouchy mood would likely have turned most people away, but you knew him. Christ, you could see how much pain he was in. Sweat coated his temples, his face pale, his nose red. You knew he needed help, and a little arguing from him wasn’t going to scare you off. “Frank, you’re not fine. I don’t even think you can walk back to your bed. I’m not leaving you. Not like this.”

“I can take care of myself,” he grumbles, trying to stand up. Keyword: trying. He immediately stumbled, and you were right there to catch him. 

You grunted as his weight fell into yours, the two of you working to get him back upright. 

“Jesus—fucking—yeah. Yep, you can totally take care of yourself. Can totally stand on your own.” you shook your head, grabbing one of his arms and slinging it over your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s just get you to bed, okay?”

He mumbled something under his breath as he began to walk out of the bathroom with your support.

“That better have been a thank you.”

Once you got him into bed, with heavy groans from the both of you, you stared at him with your hands on your hips. 

“Alright. I’m gonna…well. Do you have food in this house that I can make into soup? Or just tubs of spam?” 

He pressed a pillow over his head, and that’s when you realized how badly he was sweating. And shaking. You swore under your breath and knelt down at this side, gently removing the pillow from his face and placing a hand on his forehead. 

“You’re burning up.” you murmured. “Where do you keep the towels?”

“No.” he responded immediately, flinching away from your touch. “I’m not getting you sick. It’s your day off, for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re not going to g--how did you know that?”

“You told me,” he said nonchalantly, swallowing around a sore throat with a wince.

You blinked, recalling that you mentioned how you finally got a day off…but you could have sworn you told him that a week ago. Did he really remember that?

“I’m not going to sit here and give you whatever the hell I have.” he said roughly. “Just leave.”

“Did you hear me the first time?” you placed your hands on your hips. “I said no. You’re in no condition to be by yourself. I’m a nurse. I know when someone needs help. If I have to force you to accept that help, then so be it. Where do you keep your towels?”

There was a long bout of silence where you both stared at each other, the tension of your conjoined stubbornness almost tangible in the air. When he realized you weren’t going to give in, almost at the same time you realized he was finally too tired to fight you back on this, he sighed loudly. 

“Bathroom. Third drawer to the left.”

You huffed and started walking past him. “Thank you. Was that so difficult?”

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” 

“Another weird way of saying thank you…” you trailed off as you grabbed a washcloth and soaked it with lukewarm water.

“You never listen to anything I…say…” Frank’s arguing ceased as you pressed the washcloth to his forehead, and he just about melted in your hands. “Fuck…” 

“Feels nice, huh?” you smiled a little, feeling that familiar warmth you always got when you got to take care of people. Or Frank, specifically. You weren’t sure when that feeling had tailored to him exclusively. 

“Yeah, yeah…” his eyes drooped shut and he leaned against the towel, the edge of his cheek sinking into your palm. With your other hand, you brushed some of his sweaty hair away from his forehead. He hummed lowly, shamelessly reaching for your hand and pressing it back to his face. Your eyebrows shot up at the show of affection, a thing he rarely gave out.

It must be the fever. 

“I’m gonna make you some soup, okay?”

“No,” he groaned. “Head hurts. Just…just stay here. Need the towel.”

“You also need to eat.”

“Will you just listen to me?”

You rolled your eyes, using your index finger to tuck some hair behind his ear. “For a few more minutes.” 

In the end, it didn’t matter. He fell asleep within moments.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

🎀💗 Birthday Kisses With Ace and Deuce 💗🎀

Since it’s my birthday (again) I thought I’d give myself a little treat 

Reader is written as female

Masterlist

ACE TRAPPOLA 

If there’s one thing you know about Ace was that he loved affection - kisses, cuddles, you name it. As much as he loved to play up the PDA to feed his ever growing ego, get a rise out of everyone in his vicinity, and get gifted your flustered expression, he truly did love smooching you until the both of you were left breathless, if the way he would smile into every kiss was any indication, or the delirious joy that would spread across his reddened face.

And it wasn’t like you were against his insatiable need for affection, if anything you enabled and emboldened him. If your heads weren’t resting on each other’s shoulders, or his arm isn’t fused around your waist, then you were the one reaching out for his hand, or pulling him in by his collar or tie, or sending him flying kisses or finger hearts whenever your eyes would meet.

The only ‘problem’, so to speak, was that Ace far preferred to give affection rather than receive it and if there was one way to describe Ace’s love it was ‘overflowing’. If you pecked his cheek or forehead or gave him a hurried kiss on his lips, or even just throw your arms around him with words of praise, he’ll instantly wrap his fingers around your wrist, pull you towards him, and cradle your face in his hands before taking your breath away and making you see stars, not caring (or perhaps even because) of the crowd around. Countless times the pair of you have been chided by Coach Vargas for your boyfriend’s late arrival for practice or interschool match whilst the rest of the team would either roll their eyes or send teasing smirks in your direction as you’d hurriedly smooth down your hair or arrange your askew clothes (meanwhile, Ace would make no indication of even thinking of doing the same as he’d stroll into the gymnasium with that lopsided grin).

So knowing that, you weren’t the least bit surprised to find yourself being on the receiving end of an onslaught the first thing on the morning of your birthday. For a boy like Ace, whose daily kiss count is somewhere around a hundred, the idea of not giving you kisses on such an occasion was blasphemy. 

“You-you know,” you managed to gasp out between the split second it took for the redhead to move from your lips to your jawline, switching between slow and tender kisses and a flurry of pecks peppering down your neck, “birthday kisses are really only supposed to-”

You cut yourself off with a keen when you feel teeth lightly graze the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Psh, only-shmonly,” Ace scoffs after his mouth leaves your skin with a smack, “when have I ever been the one to do things the way they’re supposed to be done. No way am I limiting myself.”

And he goes back to your mouth, kissing you harshly and desperately but still managing to seep in that gentle care you’ve always felt in his embrace. Against your own judgement, your hands find purchase in ginger locks pressing him closer.

Normally, you’d be fine having a make out session but your current position, with you straddling him on the living room sofa of your dilapidated dormitory, one of his hands around your waist to keep you steady, where just about anyone could walk in and see, wasn’t exactly ideal. The ghosts were busy playing their card game in the kitchen, though it was an open secret that they were very much aware of what inevitably happens every time Ace comes makes a visit and Grim could only be distracted with extra servings of breakfast tuna for so long, especially since his clinginess and need for affection and instant gratification was the only one that could rival Ace’s - those two certainly give each other a run for each other’s money and you loved both of them very much.

Once the unfortunate need for oxygen makes you pull away, he is quick to cup your face in his palms and through the hazy vision past your eyelashes, all you could sense was a blur before you were pulled down and felt his mouth pressing against your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, any sliver of uncovered skin he could reach. Fireworks crackled beneath your skin as you panted, red hair tickling under your chin as Ace did nothing to soothe the frantic beating of your heart. You could feel his lips curling upwards at the space between your collarbones, an arm tightening around your waist, as he looks up at you.

“Say, babe?” he sings, a devilish smile betraying the oh-so-innocent lilt of his voice, “what do you say to getting a hickey as your first present of the day.”

Despite the euphoric fog clouding your head, you managed to weakly smack him on the shoulder, “Ace! Don’t you dare!”

“Kidding, kidding,” he chuckles and hugs you, pulling you downwards and sideways so that he was now spooning you on the couch, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you, all nice and snug. With his lips to your ear, he whispers, “Happy birthday, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You snuggle back against him, “Thank you, Ace. You sure know how to make me feel special.”

Without a word of warning, you found yourself being unceremoniously turned on you back, and Ace was on his knees, holding himself above you, his hands on either side of your head. 

“Ace! What-”

“I want to show just how special you are,” he smirks, a hand trailing down the collar of your blouse and stopping right at the first buttoned-up button, fingers twiddling with the smooth, round plastic, “is that alright, sweetheart?”

DEUCE SPADE

“Happy birthday!” The first thing that greeted you when you opened the door of your dormitory was a bouquet of fresh purple roses, baby breath and caspia, all wrapped up in baby pink and lilac tissue paper and tied together with a delicate blush pink ribbon.

You blinked at the flowers being thrusted into your face before you smiled at the red faced boy holding them, “thank you, Deuce. Would you like to come in?”

Once you’ve taken the bouquet from him, you step aside, letting him enter.

“Do you like them?” he blurts out, rubbing the back of his neck, “I thought I’d get you some flowers since it’s your birthday and all - not that these flowers are your gift or anything. I did get you an actual gift and not just something that would die in like a week. I wrapped it and everything only it doesn’t really look that nice since I’ve never really wrapped a present or anything so I’m really sorry and I don’t even know if you like what I got you so-”

“Deuce,” you say gently, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I love the flowers and I’m sure I’ll love what you’ve gotten for me. Honestly, the best present you can give me is staying here by my side.”

He sputters and coughs before clearing his throat, “well, I don’t plan on doing anything else.”

After unhooking his back from his shoulder, he took out a small box and handed it to you with a shy smile, his head bent so that his fringe shadowed his eyes, as he meekly said, “here you go.” 

Taking it from him, you inspected the packaging. You could see where he was coming from since the clumsily taped on baby chick patterned wrapping paper was far from what most people would call ‘neat’. It was messy and unorganised, with rips and creases and too much cellotape covering it, but it was so quintessentially Deuce you couldn’t help but swoon. Affection bubbled up within you at the thought of Deuce trying his hardest to wrap this, the image of his adorably frustrated face with his furrowed eyebrows and wide, confused doe eyes being brought to the front of your mind. You knew that if you laughed, he would’ve taken your endearment as something to be embarrassed about so you forced yourself to keep silent.

You did away with the covering to find yourself holding a sleek black cardboard box. Opening it up, you found a block of foam inside with a pretty little obsidian coloured, spade shaped metal pendant sitting inside.

“Oh, Deuce,” you gasp, turning to look at him in adoration, “it’s-it’s gorgeous. I love it.”

“Really?”

“Truly,” you carefully pull on the pendant, letting the thin silver necklace it’s attached to cascade below it, and gently place the box down, “would you put it on for me, please?”

He gulped, “s-sure.”

With shaking hands, he takes the necklace from you and you turn around, swiping your hair to the side with a swish of your hand to give him more access. Behind you, you hear the telltale click of a clasp before you feel a thin strand of cold metal rest against your nape. You were about to turn back around but before you could move, strong arms circle around your waist, sturdy enough to hold you in place but loose enough to give you wiggle room, and pull you against him and soft lips press against the back of your neck. Slow and tenderly, his mouth lingered before it pulled away.

You spun around and wrapped your own arms around his neck before drawing him into a kiss of your own. He takes a few steps forwards and pushes you backwards so your spine meets the hard wood of your front door, and instead of feeling pain, all you could focus on was the way his lips moved against yours, at how perfectly the two of you slotted against each other like jigsaw pieces that were made only to complement each other. 

Deuce naturally ran warm but now his calloused hands were burning, leaving sparks in their wake. His mouth finds its home along your neck and your fingers play with the navy strands at his nape.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against you, “I love you so much. It scares me sometimes - just how amazing you are. I’m worried that when I’m with you I will start to believe I'm greater than I actually am.”

“Don’t be silly, Deuce,” you reply, “you’re so strong and brave and brilliant. You’re so much smarter than you think you are and are so much better than you give yourself credit for. All of your achievements are your own. A result of your own hard work. And there'll never be a day when I’m not proud of you.”

“Hey,” he looks at you with almost glowing eyes and gives you a faux-annoyed look, only it doesn’t sell when paired with the redness that has spread across his cheeks, “today is supposed to be about you. It’s your birthday.”

“Exactly, it’s my birthday. And if I want to spend it praising my handsome boyfriend then I should be allowed to do so.”

He huffs, but it’s obviously for show, and leans in to claim your lips yet again.

“Thank you so much for being born,” he says once he parts away, “you’ve made my life so much brighter and you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I promise to make you happy for as long as I live.”

[twisted-gremlin]

So uhhh

Twisted Wonderland Yandere Purge AU

The ideas here stem from @yanderemommabean and @blughxreader for the og creator and some excellent world biulding- so here I am- just adding this to a gay ass mobile game

Yan Twst students x Reader

Twisted Wonderland, is a... odd world. Filled with magic, odd creatures, and the sort. It's the perfect place for a loner nerd like yourself to be!

The school and the land in itself feels so nostalgic to you. Things that you learn about each town, city, and country, just make all sorts of sence to you.

Then... you got 22 red letters. Grabbing one at random you open it to read the contents of what's inside.

Dear Shrimpy♡

Here we have this thing called the Purge. It's comes from the rose place, so we also do it here since teens tend to often get someone they adore so much that they just rip out the troats of whoever they talk to♡

Whops~ I said the quiet part out loud~

Do wait nicely for me when the day comes, it be soon♡ I can't wait to squeeze you tightly and keep you close forever♡

Love,

Your favorite Eel♡

Ok- the purge. In this fuckin Disney ass world?- do they even own that- I guess they own half of all media so MAYBE- (nope, it's own by Universal)

Opening the other letters there was more talking about this purge, and how that they are going to keep you here forever and keep you safe.

What the fuck?-

Grim was in the corner happily snacking on 22 tuna cans.

"Grim"

"What is it henchman, can't you see I'm haveibg the feast if a lifetime!"

"Uh-huh- and- do tell me- who gave you all that tuna?"

"You know- all the guys that we helped out and kicked the asses of"

"..."

"Yeah- along with Ace and Deuce. They seemed to be getting along- witch was odd'

"Crap they are teaming up- oh no- that means-" others are probably teaming up too-

Not good not good-

Let's see here so it's people that I know-

We have Floyd as 'your favorite Eel' and he called me Shrimpy so obvious giveaway-

Fuck Tsunataro also signed it in his Nickname and called me child of man. He dosent know much about this, so thar could be either safe or very dangerous

Two your queens- oddly enough- but probably Vil and Riddle

One that called me Waifu/Husabando/Spouseu signed by Gloomurai

A big sis/bro/sib from someone, seemingly young so maybe ortho- witch isn't at all good

Two knights, one calling me their dream

One written in shakespirian for whatever reason

... I just realized this one has feathers and a shit ton of money in it and called me their jewl

One of the more scaryer ones just says I'm comeing, dont fight it

And more oddities.

Well, might aswell use that cash that, maybe Kalim? Sent me to get some defense. Or maybe bribe Azul- scraych that, Floyd and Jade are after me.

I don't want to hide in town and get them hurt...

Oh what to do- what to do-

Knock

Knock

Knock

"Child of man?"

[jesswritesthat]

Hi!!! I just read your poly Iwaoi (and will slowly make my way through the rest of the writing hehe) and was wondering if you could write poly SakuAtsu???

If not I will take absolutely anything for Semi Semi or Tendo <333

Thank you if you end up writing this <3

Oh my gosh yes! I definitely want to write more for Semi and Tendō, but first I have what you requested.

Hope you enjoy!

>>>>——————————>

Being in a Poly-relationship with Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi would include:

• Atsumu will wind Sakusa up constantly, the amount of sponges Miya has taken to his face is surprisingly high - especially when he feigns biting something or smearing dirt somewhere.

• Sakusa gets his own back however, when you come to one of their training sessions and hold your palms up for a high-10 he will hesitate but give you one with a smile. Atsumu will do the same and Kiyoomi will look at his hands with disgust and walk away.

“Wha— but you gave (N/n) a high-10!”

“I love them.”

“Excuse me?!”

• There is always something interesting going on, Atsumu will come home with a random story, Sakusa adding a tale of horror to the mix, and you’ll tell them about your day. Communication is so good, even if it took more time, Kiyoomi feels comfortable opening up to you both now.

• You each take turns in cooking when you can or sometimes you’d do it together. Sakusa cleans as he goes and leaves the kitchen area spotless - then there’s Atsumu who manages something.

“This is really nice Atsumu, thank you!”

“Yeah, give our regards to Osamu will you?” Sakusa comments, always blunt.

“Hey?! I cooked this, what made ya think it was ‘Samus huh?” Unfortunately you know he’s lying but you chose to ignore it momentarily…

“Because at this rate, I know his cooking better than I do yours.” Sakusa highlighted with a cocky smirk, yourself following up.

“Plus uh, the delivery wasn’t exactly discrete…”

• Jealousy? Atsumu certainly shows it more and is by either if your sides demanding space if you or Sakusa look uncomfortable. If it’s you, while Atsumu is intervening, Kiyoomi sneaks you away and poor Miya turns around to emptiness after expecting praise. It’s so cute.

Sakusa on the other hand sort of unnerves others with his silent glare and disgusted presence alone. Yourself and Atsumu find it amusing in all honesty.

• Everyone always jokes about how you and Sakusa manage to put up with Atsumu and your partners’ responses kill you every time.

“It’d be more trouble to get rid of him.”

“Kiyoomi.”

“Why? Do you want him?”

“Kiyoomi!”

• Atsumu gets overwhelmed with emotion whenever either you or Kiyoomi doing anything remotely romantic/kind for him. Like you’ll buy him flowers or team up to make fatty tuna and he has tears in his eyes making up a lie about hayfever.

• Sakusa expresses his love very much by acts of service, the place is usually spotless and if you mention anything you need it’s there the next day. Atsumu however is very vocal about his love for you both, saying mushy stuff all the time if you catch him in one of those moods. However it’s really nice to spend quality time together.

• You are also victim of whatever diets they are assigned during volleyball season, and they always get a bit pouty if you eat something they can’t in front of them. Atsumu is more susceptible to teasing than Sakusa, he sticks to his diet without complaint.

• If you ever watch a series together due to varying tastes, Atsumu has a habit of commenting throughout the film - Kiyoomi humming along as the two of you engage in deep conversation about some nonsensical scene.

• Involved in such chaos is also the mini completions yourself and Atsumu have that involve getting Sakusa flustered. Pick up lines. Yes you’ll agree with Kiyoomi that it’s stupid, but it is fun.

“Oh oh Omi-Omi, are ya a hitter? Because I can set ya up~” Atsumu started, leaning to the left of Sakusa while he cleaned his trainers.

“Idiot.”

“Kiyoomi, if I serve you my heart will you receive it?” You slid to the right of the ravenette.

“Yes (Y/n) but why are you—“

“Are yer a volleyball? Because I’d hit that~” Atsumu smirked with a wink, yourself following up.

“Oh you play volleyball? Let me grab my kneepads so I can slide into your DMs gorgeous~”

Immediately Kiyoomi became flustered and covered his face.

“Yes I win! Take that Atsumu!”

“Nah that was a fluke!”

“Oh you’re definitely a setter, we both know you’re good with your hands~” Came your lowered voice, both men flustering now.

“I— shit (Y/n)— yeah, you win…”

• If you feel upset or saddened, these two are a dynamic duo - Atsumu has instantly enveloped you in his arms with either soothing words or threats to the world, meanwhile Sakusa has equipped himself with blankets and snacks to cheer you up. Even their cute bickering over you makes you smile and you can’t help but hug them both.

• Sick? Oh Sakusa never gets sick but if you or Miya come down with a cold, he is ON IT. You’re scolded for you idiocy and told to stay away from him but he is the most attentive doctor whilst you two are confined to a bed. Medication? Check. Home remedy? Covered. Healthy food? Duh.

Atsumu is needy but more grateful for your cuddles and kisses during this ‘tough time’. You and Kiyoomi are rolling your eyes at his dramatics.

• Sakusa particularly finds comfort in cleaning day, it’s one regularly reserved for a deep clean and because you see how content Sakusa is, you join in. Well Atsumu takes convincing but that’s easily done with food or kisses.

• As proud members of the MSBY Black Jackal volleyball team, it means you get VIP tickets to every one of their games. (Atsumu and Kiyoomi secretly compete for who gets to give them to you but shhh).

• They also get a bit competitive about whose number you’ll wear for each game, as naturally you have merch for both of them but mainly MSBY in general. They basically died when you wore Hinatas number one time.

“Look I’m just going to wear my MSBY jersey, with my name on it.”

“But (N/n)—“

“No, I like it. It’s the first one you both got me so it’s important.” You’d kept it all this time, the pair blushing slightly with Kiyoomi replying to you.

“That’s fair, we appreciate the support regardless of what you wear.”

“Well I mean…”

“Atsumu.”

• They have a tradition where they both come to the railing to greet / hug you after their games and they’ve done so with their team. Atsumu practically fell over it once but you caught him and he played it off - Kiyoomi still rips him for it.

• They’re both extremely aporecitive of your support with their volleyball careers, especially considering they’re off travelling for matches. They bring back souvenirs or snacks, with Atsumus’ being more random whilst Kiyoomis’ gifts are more thoughtful. At least with the Olympics you were able to come with them for part of the trip and they were determined to show you everything.

• Overall, it’s wholesome chaos - you have your disagreements but manage to make up and compromise (some with more persuasion than others) but you each love each other too much to care.

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[circyexistforcontent]

My overworld team is Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, and Zhongli. I love all of them equally, but as a tiny goldfish player, my primogems are limited. Still, I bought Diluc his Red Dead Night skin (he's carrying the giant tuna but I swear he'll get Wolf's Gravestone the instant it comes home) and both Kaeya and Zhongli have the BP weapons. And my beloved.... DPS Venti with R5 Stringless but 35k tap e. This team is a full DPS team,,, ehe?

TEAM COMP: DILUC, KAEYA, VENTI, ZHONGLI

♥ Kaeya and Zhongli just stare at the person they don't like getting more attention from the Almighty God. Diluc is just blushing at the new outfit he got from you. You dressed him up like a doll, will he say anything against it? N o. Venti is frolicking around Monstadt as he flexes his artifacts and bow. Because of this, there is a lot of bad blood around the team since neither of them like the other. Kaeya and Venti as well as Diluc and Zhongli may tolerate one another, they still have their guard up.

♥ Diluc is flustered about his new clothing, you really went on your way to buy this for him? Very well, he will cherish this and do his best to maintain the cloth for as long as he exists. He gets frustrated whenever he gets hit by a charged arrow, inspecting his coat and tunic to check if it has left a burn mark or tear. Sighing in relief that there is no such thing. He ignores how Kaeya rolls his eyes or scoffs whenever Diluc combs his hair back into a neat ponytail. He needs to look his best for the Almighty God, he can't waste how much money you spent to make him look like this. When he's participating in challenges he makes sure to kill the enemy as swiftly as possible, he needs to prove his worth. He has to pay back the kindness that you've shown him!

♥ Kaeya likes his new sword, when he does his idle animations he realizes how light and sharp the BP sword is. But still, he hungers for more. He doesn't mind that you didn't give him a new fancy outfit (that's a lie he really wants a new fancy outfit-) but if you focus more on the other team members he would turn salty and snarky towards them. It's a challenge since he is only a 4-star character and the rest are 5 stars, but does that really matter? Honestly, he never understood why vision holders are ranked. Everyone has just as much potential to overpower one another. And he is willing to prove that.

♥ Venti is so smug. Everyone! Move out of the way, the favorite has arrived. He doesn't outright say it but he makes sure everyone knows just how insignificant they are compared to him. Zhongli was tempted on multiple occasions to squish the green bard with a meteor if he doesn't learn to shut the fuck up. But he couldn't, even if he wanted to because of ✨Game mechanics✨. Venti does his best to prove just how great of a DPS he is, killing opponents with one charged arrow and forcing his HP to be high. He is the most envied teammate (what a surprise) and he loves it. He revels in their jealousy with a smile on his face. He doesn't care if Diluc has a shiny new outfit, it's not like his looks will be useful in challenges.

♥ Zhongli is just sitting over there, holding back the jealousy that threatens to spill over. He adores the spear you handed him, and he makes sure to polish it every day so it still shines as bright as the first time you gave it to him. He's ashamed to say that...he is jealous., of Venti. He does appreciate all that you do him, but...why not him? He knows he shouldn't be questioning your actions but he can't help but wonder about the possibility that it was him that you chose as your main DPS.

♥ Arguments are frequent, but the fights aren't physical. Venti would commonly be drunk which makes him easily irritable and as a result, would commonly start verbal fights with the other team members. Kaeya and Diluc have a little contest going on to see who would do more damage than the other. And Zhongli is just there sighing at his team's immaturity. But deep down Zhongli knows he's just as immature as all of them when it comes to your attention.

[a-leg-without-fear]

Insomnia🩸🌧️

some lore for vampire!!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 2.0k

Warnings: angst, nightmares, PTSD struggles, cursing, alcohol mention, Logan is a Flirt (i guess?)

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

You woke with a start. Heart pounding against your ribs so hard you swore they would crack. Sweat dripped down your forehead and the back of your neck. The pale blue sheets draped across your bed were tangled with every limb they could wrap around.

Wooden walls and antique furniture met your frantic gaze as your eyes darted around the room. Your room. In Charles Xavier's mansion. Where you'd lived for several decades at this point.

The concrete walls of your cell in Washington, DC were a thing of the past. Rust-colored blood stains splashed across the floors, slivers of light leaking through the metal door, spiders making a home in the upper corners. You were free of that life.

So why did you still dream of it?

The muscles in your neck groaned as you sat up against your headboard. You were tense, anxiety oozing into your blood. Your head made a thunk when you let it fall back against the headboard.

Nightmares weren't a foreign concept to you. Almost every night, your mind would be filled with your past. Flashes of pain and terror and blood. Scenes replaying over and over, night after night, tormenting you with long claws digging into your mind and scratching your sanity away.

You needed to walk. To clear your head, to calm your pulse.

Unwinding your legs from the sheets was like pulling the limbs from a nest of angry snakes. You tugged at the fabric in near desperation. It clung to your clammy skin, restricting you, restraining you, keeping you captive.

Breathe.

The memory of Charles's calming voice gave you pause. Your eyes fell closed, a deep breath filling your strained lungs. Air blew from your pursed lips as you released the tension from your shoulders.

You were safe. Nothing could hurt you here. Your friends were here, your kids were here, the life you'd built with bloodied fingernails was here. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Charles would never let anything happen to you.

Now that the shaking in your fingers had subsided, it was quick work to pull your sheets away. The damp fabric fell away like clouds on a windy day. You pushed yourself to your feet. A tremble ran up your legs, unsteady feet finding purchase on the hardwood floor. You gave yourself a few moments to find your balance.

The cold of the untouched floor seeped into the balls of your feet, grounding you. Bringing you back to the present. You were in the mansion. You were safe. The mantra repeated in your mind as you scooped up your sweatshirt from the end of your bed.

Grey cotton filled your hands. Soft, comfortable, familiar. You wore this sweatshirt nearly every day. Finding solace among the plush fabric that shielded you from your own mind. The fleece interior tickled along your arms as you pulled it on. Like securing a piece of armor, you tugged at the zipper until you were completely encompassed.

You made for the bedroom door as you pulled up the hood. Fabric cradled your head, acting like horse blinders and centering your focus, while your fingers wrapped around the brass knob. Cold metal caressed your palm like a frozen kiss.

Another strained breath forced itself through your lips as you pulled open the door. Empty halls decorated in plush carpets, large vases, and dimmed sconces met your tired eyes. All of the wooden doors lining the hall were shut tight. Made sense, given it was the middle of the night.

Bare feet padded along the patterned carpet as you walked. You kept your focus zeroed in on the design woven into the fibers. Spiraling leaves and floating flowers chased each other across the artwork. Faded reds and golds braided amongst one another. You remembered buying this particular rug. In spring of 1983, when you and Charles had been decorating the mansion together.

The fond memory of your shopping spree with your closest friend kept your thoughts comfortable. You clung to the feeling, holding it close to your chest, as you followed the routine path to your destination. Framed paintings of stretched landscapes passed in your periphery not covered by your sweatshirt's hood.

Moonlight shone in gentle rays through the balcony's glass doors. Silver bounced off the polished hardwood and gave the surrounding space a comforting glow. You grabbed one of the iron door handles and pushed out into the night air.

It was cold. Nearly biting, the breeze blowing across your face in brief nips over your sensitive skin. Barren trees spotted along the vast lawns of the mansion. Just barely green grass flowed in an ocean of waving blades under the moonlight. The empty duck pond was still, the water calm, where it sat far off to your right.

Directly beneath the balcony was the dried-up vegetable garden Jean liked to maintain. The tomato plants had withered earlier in the month, with the green beans and peas following closely after. Winters in New York were not to be trifled with when it came to gardening.

You leaned against the metal railing. Chilled metal dug into the fabric of your sweatshirt and leeched the cold into your skin. Though, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding. A reminder of where you called home now.

There was a special sort of peace to be found on this balcony. Especially since during the colder months, it often went untouched. The small table and chair off to your left remained vacant for the vast majority of fall and winter. Not many students preferred the view from the balcony over the comfort of the common areas.

Crisp air filled your lungs as you took in your first deep breath. It poured down your throat like cool water, pooling in your chest and spreading through your body. Tendrils of gentle water ran under your skin. Telling you that you were safe, that you were home, that you were loved. The night air often was the exact thing you'd needed to calm your mind.

It seemed easy to forget your past, now that the comforting chill coursed through your body. Days spent locked away from the world were distant memories. Like glimpses of another life through a thick fog. Flashes of chains and blood were tucked safely away behind a wall of moonlight.

"Mind if I join you?"

You spun on your heel to face this intrusion. This brutal slash through the comforting silence you'd so carefully cultivated.

Logan stood in the open doorway. Sweatshirt that matched yours clinging to his chest, jeans hung low on his waist, dark hair styled in those two points that reminded you of cat ears. A playful smirk tugged at his lips.

"Why?" was all that could escape your throat in your startled state. Your palms dug into the rail as you squeezed at the metal behind you.

The smirk remained firmly in place as Logan sauntered through the doorway. His hands were clutched behind his back, the top of his sweatshirt unzipped to expose his bare chest, hazel eyes catching in the moonlight as he looked at you with faint curiosity.

"Figured you could use some company, seeing's as you're out here on your own an' all," he replied easily. He kept a healthy distance from you as he approached. Long fingers trailed over the table's surface, dragging freshly-formed drops of dew in their wake.

You chuckled lightly in an attempt to mask your wariness, "Trying to make friends on your first day?"

"Something like that," he said softly, stepping up next to you near the railing. Thick arms rested on the iron as Logan mimicked your earlier position. One leg crossed over the other, chest leaning on bent elbows, half-lidded eyes surveying the landscape.

Mirroring him, you turned back to the vegetable garden. Wooden stakes jutted up from the earth like small saplings. Dry brush and long-rotted vegetables lay strewn inside the dirt beds.

An easy silence rested between you, disturbed only by the wind rustling the barren branches of nearby trees. Undeniable warmth spread from the man next to you. Like he was a furnace placed on the balcony to make anyone taking in the view nice and cozy. You could nearly feel the heat spreading from his arms and into the railing beneath you.

"You get nightmares too, huh?" Logan finally asked after several quiet minutes. It wasn't unkind, the way he phrased the question. It was more curious. An offering of relation between the two of you.

"Most nights," you answered simply. A low hum of recognition rumbled deep in his chest.

"Every night, for me. Can never remember them, though," he said with a sigh. You noticed the repetitive tap of his pointer finger on the back of his hand. Nervous tick, maybe.

"Seems we're both pretty fucked up," you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Logan barked a quiet laugh.

"You could say that again."

The kinship you felt with him was like nothing you'd ever felt before. From what Jean had discovered earlier, Logan couldn't age. Neither could you. Logan had a troubled past he couldn't fully remember. You had a troubled past, but one you remembered all too well. Logan was the product of experimentation and years of heartache. You were the result of decades under the thumb of the U.S. government, forced to torture POWs during WWII.

Maybe there was finally someone who could understand you. Understand what you've been through.

Charles did the best he could. He was the only one in the mansion anywhere near as old as you. Unfortunately, you still had 27 years on the great Professor X.

"Do they have alcohol in this place?" Logan grumbled with a tired groan. His head fell to rest on his forearms. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Not readily available to newcomers, bud. Play your cards right and you may be shown the secret stash," you said with a dramatic whisper. Logan's shoulders shook with a chuckle, shaking his head where it laid on his arms.

"And what cards would those be? We talkin' blackjack, poker, or go fish?" he replied as he straightened his back. Hazel eyes connected with your own. A spark of familiarity flashed in your mind.

Conversation flowed so damn easily with Logan. It was like talking to your reflection. A male, ruggedly handsome, 6'2" without shoes reflection. The sense of relaxation you felt around this man you'd met this morning wasn't a fact to be taken lightly.

Was this part of his mutation? Getting others to trust him? It wouldn't be too far out of left field. Hell, you could pop people like balloons with your mutation. Manipulating others' emotions wasn't that strange of an idea.

"Y'alright, doll? Suddenly got quiet," Logan asked softly, breaking you away from your swirling thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry, I just... Zone out sometimes," you explained quickly in one breath.

You jumped as a warm hand landed on your shoulder. Strong, heat bleeding from the large palm into your skin. An involuntary shiver rocketed up your spine.

"Seems like I ain't the only one needing a drink," Logan said with a small smile. The effortless kinship that emanated from him was nearly intoxicating. Reeling you in on an invisible fishing line. Clouding your judgement with a haze of quickly developing trust.

You should pull away. Nothing good could come from falling into friendship this fast. Decades of being a mutant had taught you that intentions weren't always what they'd seemed. A person could be offering you a hand only to shove you into oncoming traffic.

"Know what? A drink sounds great right now," you murmured as you stepped back. Logan's hand fell from your shoulder like a dead weight. You turned on your heel to lead him inside.

Maybe if you pumped this guy full of liquor, you'd be able to tell where his head was at. Why was he being so nice to you? Especially after you'd heard how he'd acted around Scott? You hugged your rapidly chilling sweatshirt closer to your body.

Logan Howlett. "The Wolverine." You'd get to the heart of what made him tick soon enough.

and she doooooes >:) i LOVE my babies so much. exploring their relationship in its entirety is SO FUCKING FUN!!!

taglist: @ripleyswife @just-a-nightdreamer @venomqueen2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @c1eepypas1a

Want to be on the taglist? Fill out this form!

[vigilxnte-shit]

you can hear it in the silence || matt murdock x reader

summary: it’s been a rough couple of days, but there is always a safe respite with him. you don’t need to see him or hear him talk to feel his love- it’s so strong it’s undeniable, and it’s present in every action he takes.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: if you are a mutual from the w*lb*r s*ot days or just a former [redacted] enjoyer, this may seem familiar as it was originally written for him. however, i was really proud of this little story, so i wanted to revisit it and edit it a bit as my first matt x reader to hopefully make even more friends within this lovely little community! additional warnings: mentions of ED’s, anxiety, stress, domestic cute fluffiness.

a/n: i am such a sucker for husband!matt and i am not sorry about it. dedicated to the tuna team- i love u guys long time <3

you’re tired. that’s nothing new, especially not as of late, but something about the perpetuity and the fact no amount of rest seems to take it away makes it that much more deep. forget your bones, this is the kind of tired you can feel in your lungs, the kind that squeezes out all the oxygen and mocks you for trying to gain it back.

nothing is going your way. the darkest thoughts you thought you’d chased out of your mind were actually just hiding in the shadows, not even collecting cobwebs, lying in wait for the day your brain is just weak enough you’ll give in. 

you did end up eating dinner. you almost didn’t, were too close to teetering off that edge again, the little voice in your head telling you you can’t afford the calories. you’ve sat down too much, it says, you won’t burn those off, but in the end that didn’t matter. in the end, you sat there, staring at your takeout food and sitting in your desk chair, your mind running a million miles a minute before you picture your husband. his beautiful, endless hazel eyes and the way they would slump in heartbreak if he found out you were doing this to yourself again.

so you ate your dinner. you ate it fast and you quickly shoved it away, the container near-empty and forgotten in the bin by the time you left work. even that didn’t stop the tiredness, though, didn’t prevent the slumping of your shoulders and the way each step felt like a mile.

you’re getting home late from work again, as if having dinner at your desk wasn’t an indication. it’s almost 9:30 pm and you have two and a half hours until the devil comes out to play, so matt is probably asleep- dozing off for the precious hours sandwiched between the system’s justice and his own. one immediate detail of the apartment tips you off. it’s not the lights- the constant buzzing of the electricity is too much for his sensitive ears- instead, it’s the lock. he’s left your cheap and semi-rundown apartment unlocked, as per usual.  you always insist he always locks it, what with his track record of ninja break-ins and unexpected visits from old mentors, but he never listens. to him, it’s a little way of saying “i missed you”- i missed you too much to intentionally put an obstacle in between you and i.

inside, the lights are, as expected, off, save for the bathroom light in the hallway. to light your way. despite his hearing, despite the fact he can hear the neighbors breathing and smell a cigarette lit down the street, he always leaves the bathroom light on when you get home. it’s his wordless way of saying you need to head straight to bed, straight to safe, straight to him. he’s shut down the apartment and left a single light to guide you, one that you can turn off as you breeze by or leave it on, if that’s what you prefer- sometimes the dark is scary, and he’ll do anything to make you feel safer.

in the bathroom, he’s laid out your favorite sweats and his columbia t-shirt. your skincare routine is set out in order on the sink and there’s a glass of ice water in the best-insulated glass he could find- you can tell the drink started life as simple a cup full of ice cubes by the way the remaining particles are stuck together. he wanted you hydrated, and he wanted your water to be cold- he knew you wouldn’t drink it otherwise.

when you’re all prepped, your teeth brushed and your skin cosily coddled by the soft, well-loved cotton of the t-shirt and your moisturiser patted in, you switch off the light and make the very short walk to your bedroom.

matt has left your blinds open. you normally close them at night, the glass and plastic giving a slight cushion to every noise on the street, but he can’t have you tripping on your walk to him because you can’t see, can he? in fact, thanks to the little light you have, you can see his figure silhouetted in the covers. he’s a side sleeper, facing towards you, perfect cheekbones and beautiful features only enhanced by the moonlight.

you waste no time in snuggling up to him. you climb onto the other side of the bed first, not wanting to wake him, but once you’re adjusting the duvet around yourself he shuffles to the tiniest bit of consciousness. 

“hi,” you whisper. he’s not even awake enough to give you a verbal answer, his arms simply sliding around your body as he tugs you close to him. you might as well be a stuffed animal, the way he’s clutching you- you don’t mind in the slightest as he lets out a sleepy groan as the only response to your greeting. your head is tucked up against his chest, his nose in your hair as his breathing returns to a slow, relaxed pace. these are your favorite nights, the ones where you get matt to yourself for a bit. the nights you have moments in his arms, calming his senses, your scent and your feel and the sound of your heartbeat easing his aching soul for just a moment before he slips out the window to save the world again.

you close your eyes and just listen to him breathing, to the sound of rest and the man you share your life with. he is everything comforting. he is warm, he is kind, he handles your heart as though it’s the greatest gift anyone has ever given him. 

you didn’t need him to say i love you when you crawled into bed. you didn’t need a text reading that when you were scaring yourself over dinner, you didn’t need a note on a pink post-it next to your toothbrush. you know already.

you are matt murdock’s everything. he would lose his mind for you, fight any war you ask. there’s a picture of you in his office- he can’t even see it, but the edges of the frame have the paint rubbed off, eroded from hours spent tracing the frame, knowing it contains your image.. you are his best friend, his lover, his lifetime companion.

you can hear his love in the silence of your bedroom. you felt it on your solo drive home. you can see it right now, your eyes closed and your lights turned off.

you two are in love. desperately, deeply, unendingly. that may not fix your problems- it may not take your sadness away or shorten the commute home, but in this moment- this little cocoon of blankets and touches and adoration- there is nothing and no one that could touch you.

never in a million years.

[neothedragon1]

Persona 5 Shift!AU

So! Because me and my cohort have been discussing this AU and they gave me permission to actually post about it:

The Shift!AU is basically a what-if we put our lovely Persona 5 cast in different roles? Now for the most part, we are thinking that the overall personality should be mostly be the same but there are definitely differences. Also some backstories for characters are different to explain why they are in the role they are now. Now on to the fun part of explaining who's taking what role!

Now in order from when they join the team:

The trickster: Ryuji Sakamoto

Morgana but less cat: Takuto Maruki (as my cohort says: TRUST ME IT WILL MAKE SENSE)

Yuuki Mishima

Haru Okumura

Futaba Sakura

Ann Takamaki

Makoto Niijima

Goro Akechi

The black mask: Yusuke Kitagawa (Ah yes. Trauma time.)

Ren Amamiya (but he's our third semester boy)

Characters that aren't part of the thieves but are existant:

Sumire Yoshizawa (probably taking regular Mishima's place)

Morgana (legit is a lock picking cat that still loves fatty tuna)

I would mention other Confidants but that's an ENTIRE post on its own. SO as for palaces some are not the same ruler but for example Kamoshida is still there but the sin he represents is different! (We are thinking Wrath instead of Lust) However, we haven't planned all palaces just yet.

But I will make an update post later discussing more, I just wanted to get this post out. Also any questions are welcome because there is SO MUCH more to explain!

[mahinabi]

hello! i'm hinabi, a colloseum leader at the Pokétopia battle resort in Hoenn. i'm rather new to rotomblr, but i've found myself having way too much time on my hands recently, so... here i am!

i'm mostly a reblogger (which is still important!), but if you have any questions about me, i'd love to answer! my team(s) and more information about me is under the cut.

//PS OOC: this really only has bare minimum information atm, but I'll update it with more info as time goes on. I just wanted to get to posting LMAO. it does also open up for opportunity for other blogs to ask about my pokémon ofc,, please ask 👉👈. "//" before a paragraph means it's out of character, but the first paragraph in a post will usually say it's OOC.

//POTENTIAL TWs:

religion (pokemon religion ofc),,, that's pretty much all I can think of atm

if there's any other common triggers that you find under the cut (or in any of my posts), please let me know and I'll add it here!!

POKÉMON:

other battlers:

pokétopia battlers:

tuna (female appletun)

atlas (male furfrou)

enchilada (male lopunny)

cielo (male surfing mantine)

wellyn (female whimsicott)

flurrie (female shiny alolan ninetales)

non-battlers:

hotaru (male hisuian typhlosion)

daikenki (male hisuian samurott)

piper (female primarina)

ezurye (male hisuian zoroark)

lunette/poofy (shiny galarian rapidash)

asuka (shaymin)

burmy. just burmy. he doesn't have a name

torbie (multi-colored spinda?)

i am a lunalist! just wanted to get that out of the way, if anyone is bothered by that. it's pretty much just the religion following and worshipping lunala. religion in general fascinates me, and i love hearing the little differences between different faiths! i actually want to make a pilgrimage to the Altar of the Moone someday.

important things to know about me:

i was born on Mareyo; a relatively small island region between Alola and Hoenn. it's very similar to Alola climate and geography-wise, but there's lots more water, even inland.

just because of how close Mareyo is to both Alola and Hoenn, i've actually lived in both regions! currently because of my pokétopia job, i live in Hoenn, but for most of my childhood, i lived in Alola.

//OOC Guidelines:

i'm 21. (//OOC, I'm 18)

for better lack of term, i have a shit sleep schedule (my own fault most of the time, not because of my occupation). information on this might change because i passed out while in the middle of writing or something, and it's inaccurate. worse case scenario i sound like i'm going insane

no magic anons for now, until i familiarize myself more with rotomblr. ty pookies

completely fine with eebies interacting

yes to pelipper mail! as long as it's not malicious mail

these guidelines are subject to change!!

[puckpocketed]

18/01/2024 - SEA @ EDM

Tuna and his soft hands -> Dumo - clipped all the way back in January before I even knew how to make gifs. a bit of a season obit + thoughts about Tuna under the cut.

ooough this is gonna be very off the cuff and unedited so here goes!

this clip is from the oilers match that ended the kraken point streak. it was a strange, tense match. filled with penalties and scrums. this is where we lost Yanni to a charging major and 2 game suspension. as an aside: I don't think about players and their hits the same anymore after this. at the time, I was pretty much on the train of "well, he didn't hurt the guy", but since then I've done a lot of thinking. every player has thrown a questionable hit, or has the potential to - including all of my favourites. on principle: if a bad hit delivered by a random opposing player is wrong, that standard has to apply to my faves too. anyway. everyone was getting sick around this time, and if i remember correctly we lost a bunch of guys to illness during the pens match just days before this one. the vibes were high up until then, and it feels like we never really recovered. I know the season hasn't panned out the way we wanted since, but I still look back on those times so fondly.

a little breakdown of the clip:

there are two people bearing down on Tuna here. Darnell Nurse (#25) gives a pretty half-hearted effort after he realises Tuna isn't going to rim the puck along the boards. Tuna cuts into the middle - I wonder if he's looking for a cross ice pass to Ebs (#7) here? he stops pulls the puck in so so quickly - avoids the sweeping stick check from Evander Kane (#91), and shovels a backhand pass to Dumo from such an awkward angle that I'm baffled as to how he even did it. he opens himself up for a pass on the blue line after, which I'd have liked to see. but oh well!

thoughts on tuna which have been rolling around in my head like those lint balls in the dryer:

i'm always thinking about Tuna and the little things he does. he's one of the most interesting kraken (to ME). i don't like to play favourites but i have to admit that games just don't have the same shine when he's not in </3 I like that he holds on to the puck a little, I like that he's got good hands in tight spaces, I like that he shoots with accuracy over explosive power. I like that he has a tiny bit of grit to him. I like that he's opportunistic - what I noticed most about him was his habit of just... being in the right place at the right time. he'll probably never be one of those guys who can generate chances on his own unless he miraculously makes a late leap in development, but if there's a chance then he'll be there to finish on it.

he's a quiet player in terms of hype around the league. a journeyman, a depth acquisition. hot on the market when his contract is up, but rarely spoken of otherwise. I felt some kinda way when I saw him answer that question about staying with the kraken. he's been shuttled from team to team, seemingly unable to find a home for so long - and I know this is common, I know that's how this league works for the vast majority of players who aren't franchise altering superstars. whatever. it still hit me that he could simply leave, and this team would just be another team where he couldn't put roots down. there's an article from the 2010s naming him a 'core' player of the red wings, did you know? and since then, he's just bounced and bounced around. i know this league is a business, i know teams just need to do what they have to in order to win. I don't care. let him rest. let him find a home. god.

i've said this about my other teams too, but 23-24 kraken will always be special to me. my lovely losers who fought and stumbled and failed. my first wagon. my little cobbled together family of leftovers. this team won't ever be the same again and I'm trying to be okay with that - but to contradict myself... I hope Tuna stays with the kraken. yeah, okay he's just some guy, but to quote that one tumblr post: hes MY just some guy. i am woefully attached, and it's such a long shot but I hope he can be a part of this team growing and blossoming into something strong for the next couple of years. hockey gods if you are listening - I hope he retires a kraken.

failing that, maybe he goes to one of my other beloved teams in need of a solid middle 6 winger. shark girl summer? haha? <3

[an-atlas-or-other]

So I may or may not have started another list of notes for the first season or RWBY. It’s a habit okay-

Full disclosure I only started writing at like episode 7 or 8 so my notes aren’t comprehensive, nor do they address anything in particular. They’re just thoughts I felt the need to write down. That being said;

The moon is fucking oblong. Aside from having parts missing, that is (unless that’s supposed to be reflections and the moons not full. But it’s still oblong???)

Since all the teams’ names start with the leaders name, if Weiss were to lead the team I think a cool name would be WYBR (said wihb-er)

Some of the sound design is… not great. Most of the effects are too loud or too highly pitched. The music is good though!

How does evil dude talk normally with that massive cigar in his mouth?

AHAHA WEISS’ SCAR DOESNT MATCH UP WHEN SHE CLOSES HER EYE

Jean is really annoying. I know he’s stupid for comedic purposes but it happens too much, and his voice is also irritating. So is Ruby’s but at least she’s not dumb so I can excuse it more

Some of the scenes are kind of weird. Case one: episode 9 scene 1. There’s more but that’s the one I’m at right now. Some other scenes have that same sort of… feel? I don’t know how to explain it

Ahaha I’m wondering if that cup of coffee is just part of Ozpins character model. I don’t think I’ve seen him without it yet

When they say “our planet” it admits that they’re advanced enough that they know the concept but how do the kingdoms work. How are there only four? We don’t have a world map, and the one they showed us looked about the scale of your standard European map. Do they just claim a bunch of territory? But not do much with it? And against who, the grimm? They’re not going to respect national boundaries-

Are they implying Mr Peter is a pedophile? Also where did the cage come from. Why is the beast only now being rowdy-

Is Ozpin fucking omnipotent? Why is he everywhere, doesn’t he have anything better to do?

When did they change. Why did they change. There’s a uniform for a reason? Don’t you wear it during all school hours?

AHAHA JAUNDICE HAHAHA

Why do the teachers here drink so much

Fort Castle? That’s uncreative

Wow do they have noticeable stage posture

Jean is a little less annoying now

“You need to be wider and lower to the ground” what, does she want him to squat?

Isn’t it a liiiitle weird for the only even moderately dark person in the show to be the stowaway monkey guy

How did they know Penny is from out of town. She has no accent, and Vale seems to be racially homogeneous, so how do they know?

The jokes can be pretty funny sometimes (case one: “she does like tuna a lot”)

All the streets look exactly the same. No city is that perfectly planned

I really wish penny’s stockings (?) were pants. They’re really odd

I am loving that cane gun. I wish my cane had a gun (for legal reasons that is a joke)

Why is Weiss suddenly nice to Blake again. Did all her character development happen offscreen? Why?

[mx-mongoose]

Crossover prompt, Casey and Casey Junior centric

So when meeting Casey Junior, the 2012 gang is just AWESTRUCK on how different Casey is in this universe. He’s nice, calm, considerate, well mannered, respectful- you get the point. Everything 12!Casey ISN’T. And most of the 2012 gang absolutely likes him. It feels nice to have a Casey that doesn’t constantly push their buttons and feel like they can have a mature or calm conversation with.

Leonardo spars with him and is shocked by how formally trained he is.

Since Junior grew up with Rise Donnie, he tries to help Donnie with projects when he allows him to and is actually good company for Donnie!

Junior is the only one who can stomach Mikey’s cooking since he survived on roadkill and scraps most of his life so maple syrup and tuna pizza tastes like Gordan Ramsey to him,

April is just appreciative to have a meaningful conversation with another human for once.

Raphael is the only one on the fence about Junior for a reason stated later.

As for 12!Casey, he absolutely HATES Junior’s guts. Mainly out of jealousy. He’s jealous of how his team trusts him and how they’re not generally annoyed to be around him, hell he’s even jealous of how sick his weapons are! I mean a chainsaw hockeystick fusion and a grappling hook?! No-one would trust him with those but apparently these guys do. There’s also this thing where Junior is just so… Bland?! (In his eyes) He can’t understand why anyone likes him, universal cosmo law or not that wasn’t Casey Jones and he’s not gonna share his title to the equivalent of white bread.

So it sparks this one-sided rivalry and Junior doesn’t understand any of it. Like Casey will start random competitions, will pick on him, purposely make him mess up on missions, hell he’ll even try and make Junior physically fight him a couple times before someone will have to tear Casey off of the poor boy. (It doesn’t help that 12 Donnie constantly calls Junior the “better Casey”)

Eventually the two of them talk and they make a truce then they become friends (i have no idea how, just imagine some emotional conversation between them)

Then they’re walking and they go up to one of the Donnies and ask

Casey Jr: Hey Dona- i mean Donatellos, my counterpart wants a replica of my weapon if that isn’t any trouble

Casey: What my good looking bro is trying to say is- Dude I NEED a hockey stick chainsaw

Rise Donnie: Okay two things, one-

2012 Donnie: No way in hell that i’m giving YOU a chainsaw

Rise Donnie: And two, who said you guys were counterparts?

Then there’s this long silence and Casey asks

Casey: how we are not counterparts? We share the same name, we share the same handsome face and both play hockey??

Rise Donatello: That’s because he’s the counterpart of your would-be-son Casey Jones Junior. Your counterpart is our friend Cassandra Jones, you guys haven’t met because she doesn’t visit much-

Casey: JUNIOR?! CASE, WHY DIDN’T YOU MENTION THE JUNIOR PART OR YOUR MOM.

Casey Jr: It never came up! But i guess that makes sense, you do remind me a lot of my mom.

Rise Donatello: It also explains why when I asked Donnie over here how his Casey was sent to the past without mystic energy he looked at me like I was crazy

2012 Donnie: To be honest, I was more shocked that a Casey was put in charge of saving the world. Now I can sleep easy at least

Casey: YOU’RE FROM THE FUTURE?!

Rise Donatello: You didn’t tell this guy anything did you???

After that, Casey loves to pull the “Technically i’m your dad, so you have to listen to me” and teasingly calls him “son”. Of course this is all out of earshot of Cassandra. But this also is a weight off Casey’s chest that this is indeed a separate person and of all things his son! Hell it kinda gives him an ego boost (not that he needs one) that someone as crazy as him can raise someone like Junior.

They’re close friends and I love them