#I will go to ungodly lengths to do so and by that I mean I will not hesitate to use that knife

[azrail-has-a-vendetta]

Does anyone else sometimes just unconsciously start planning what you would do if you were suddenly kicked out of your current home, had only the clothes on your back and no where to go? Just me?

[2tarbell]

happy birthday!! could i get vanilla birthday cake with crybaby!reader and “she’s so pretty, she still looks like an angel while i’m doing the most depraved and ungodly things to her”

- 🕷️ (if it’s available)

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

“good girl, right there, yeah?”

the drooling sounds of crybaby’s cunt swallowing the length of her boyfriend filled her frilly room. the baby blue decor seemed to judge her — being ruined in a space that was so precious. she could feel the beady eyes of her stuffed animals watching them. it should’ve felt wrong, but nothing wrong could make her feel so good.

the sex was always great with rafe. she thought he was heaven sent, so good with that mouth and seemingly all knowing when it came to her body. he knew all the spots to drag out animalistic whines and pearly tears from her.

it was all nasty words and sobs that filled the space. rafe’s large hands guided her movements roughly, pushing her to ride him in a way he liked. the realization that she was being used for his pleasure made crybaby clench around him. he rewarded her with a buck of his hips.

she mewled at the feeling, the sensation of him nudging her cervix making the tears fall harder and faster. fingers scratched at his toned chest, searching for any kind of stability.

“daddy, i— i can’t—“

a sting to her tear-stained cheek caused a choked sob to fall from her kiss bitten lips. the slap wasn’t even that hard — rafe tutted and gripped her chin, pulling her face down to his. body pliable and melting into him, her head all muddy from the contact of his palm to her cheek.

“yeah? you done, baby? tell me to stop.” he whispered, almost a threat. like he was daring her to back out.

but he knew her too well; silence broken by her little sniffles was all the response he got. those wet eyes stared at him pleadingly and pitifully. she wouldn’t say it — even if she had a gun to her head. too cock drunk to even function.

a wicked smirk etched its way onto rafe’s handsome features, resuming dragging her back and forth on his cock with her jaw still tightly in his grasp. her lips parted in a silent whine, he kissed her open mouth hotly.

“s’what i thought. you need this shit, huh? don’t fuckin’ tell me you can’t—”

she was a mess above him. hips canting when his tip kissed that perfect little spot, beginning to black out as stars dotted her vision. or maybe that was just the tears and mascara coating her lashes.

the sight had rafe pulsing inside of her, eyes flickering over her whole face and trying to commit her expression of pure ecstasy to memory. so beautiful.

his breath was ragged, a gravel texture to his voice that gave crybaby goosebumps, “love you… like an angel while ‘m doing dirty shit t’you. fuckin’… depraved and ungodly shit.”

she was hiccuping and writhing, almost to the precipice of that little death. from the way his navel continuously bumped her puffy clit. the pressure just right, his gaze so intense, his hands so rough—

crybaby came with a sob, babbling dumbly through ‘thank you’s and ‘i love you’s. her body was shivering and trying to squirm away from the blond boy. rafe caught her, working her through the sensations patiently. he pushed her onto her back and settled back into her warmth, pussy eagerly accepting his hard length with a squelch.

“get your lamb, there you go, atta girl—“

a soft white stuffed lamb was thrusted into her arms, limbs like jelly but clinging to the familiar source of comfort. her tears soaked into the plush of the animal and she bit the ear to muffle the choked cries that involuntarily left her mouth.

her pathetic little head lolled to the side into his forearm, nose nuzzling the warm skin. listening to the muffled sounds of his grunts and praises. she could feel him in her stomach — hazy eyes floating down to where they’re connected. a creamy ring collecting around his base and creating even worse sounds.

but crybaby couldn’t find it in herself to care anymore. their gazes connected and she felt the pleasure build once more. one objective on her mind:

it can’t get more ungodly than letting him fill her to the brim.

[witchywithwhiskey]

if the fates allow

pairing: avenger!captain america!steve rogers x tall!shield agent!female reader

summary: steve rogers accidentally got drunk at the avengers tower christmas party, and you're the one tasked with helping him get to bed. it's a good thing you have plenty of practice keeping your crush on him a secret.

warnings: sexual tension, steve is drunk, reader is conflicted (nothing happens while steve's drunk), feelings are expressed, kissing, sleepy cuddling, i think that's pretty much it!

word count: 2.9k

a/n: here's my december 13 fic for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!" tried to keep this one short and sweet so that i can catch up, so if something doesn't make sense, just ignore it i guess! also this is my first time writing a specifically tall!reader and that was nice since i'm on the taller side 😅 hope y'all enjoy!! ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

“I didn't know the egg nog was spiked!”

Steve Rogers’ voice was louder than it needed to be, and so close to your ear that you winced a little. You kept walking, a massive arm looped around your shoulders while you half-carried the ungodly large body of Captain America and tried not to think about how good he smelled.

Why exactly you had been tasked with helping the very drunk Steve Rogers to his quarters after the Avengers Tower Christmas party was still a bit of a mystery to you. You’d seen Natasha Romanoff and Tony Stark with their heads bent close, like they were conspiring about something, and the next thing you knew, Bruce Banner was asking you to help Steve get to bed.

The phrasing of the request had sent your heart skittering in your chest, even under the less-than-ideal circumstances of its reality. You’d had a crush on Steve Rogers since you’d met him as part of your SHIELD assignment to Avengers Tower, and you liked to think you’d kept it secret from everyone.

But, well, you did work with spies for a living, and you had a feeling Natasha and Tony’s conspiring had something to do with your predicament.

You’d tried to protest Bruce’s request. Sure, you were one of the taller female SHIELD agents, but you were by no means the strongest person on your team, especially when it included Brock Rumlow. But apparently everyone else had gone home or they were helping someone else, and you were the only one who could do it. 

Frank Sinatra’s “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” had been playing from the sound system of the Avengers Tower lounge as you’d made your way over to where Steve lay sprawled across the entire length of a sofa. He was singing along to the Christmas song—loudly and off-key—and nerves and excitement had fluttered through your belly like snowflakes on a winter wind.

You’d shoved your emotions away and put on the professional mask you always wore around Steve, pasting a polite smile on your face as you leaned over him and told him, in a not unkind voice, that you were going to help him get to bed. 

He’d given you a dreamy smile and did his best to help you lift his large body from the sofa while you’d ignored the way the snowflakes in your tummy had swooped at his happy expression and close proximity. 

With one arm wrapped around Steve’s waist and the other holding onto his wrist so his arm wouldn’t fall from your shoulders, you lifted a leg and kicked the elevator call button with your foot, only remembering to check to make sure no one was around after you’d done so. 

Oh well. If you’d flashed someone with the move, the most they’d see under the short skirt of your cocktail dress was the gun strapped to your thigh and the shapewear the tight, clingy garment had required you to wear. Thankfully, no one was around except the super-soldier draped across your shoulders, his head propped sleepily against yours.

“Of course it was spiked, captain,” you said, picking up the thread of the conversation he’d started. Your voice was patient and professional, if a little cold. “It was Stark’s Christmas party—he spiked all the egg nog with Asgardian liquor.”

The doors of the elevator slid open soundlessly and you huffed a sigh of relief as you dragged Steve in. You made sure he was propped up against the corner of the elevator, then stepped away to hit the button for his floor. As discreetly as you could, you wiped some sweat from your brow before turning back to Captain America. 

The expression on Steve’s face drew you up short. He was…not frowning exactly. Was that a…pout? 

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes poring carefully over Steve Rogers’ familiar features—the little pinched line between his brows, the dimmed sparkle of his blue eyes, the protrusion of his lush lower lip. You forced yourself not to linger on his mouth, even though it looked particularly inviting…

Yes, that was definitely a pout, you decided. 

Before you could wonder about what you’d said to garner such a reaction from Steve, he was talking. Or, rather, muttering.

“I don’t like it when you call me captain,” he grumbled.

The elevator was nearing Steve’s floor so you moved closer to him again, ignoring the way your body warmed when you pressed into his side and lifted his arm over your shoulder. The fresh scent of him wrapped around you like the most delicious blanket, and you wanted more than anything to be able to breathe it in until it lived permanently in your lungs.

“What should I call you then?” you asked, mostly to distract yourself from your body’s reaction to Steve. He was drunk, and you needed to get yourself under control.

You tried to pull him out of the corner, but you didn’t have enough leverage and instead of budging the big super-soldier, you bounced back into him, landing against his hard chest with a surprised little “oomph.”

Before that moment, you’d known, in theory, that you were only a couple inches shorter than Steve Rogers. But it was easy to forget because he had such a large presence, and he could very easily toss you around that mats of the Avengers Tower gym with his super-strength. 

However, in that moment you learned that the minimal height difference between you and Steve Rogers had a consequence you hadn’t considered. When you fell against his chest, your face was almost perfectly level with his—specifically, your mouth was almost perfectly level with his. 

You could taste the Asgardian rum on Steve’s breath and the thought of closing the distance and licking it from his lips was far more tempting than it should’ve been.

“Steve,” he rumbled, his arm tightening around your shoulders and hauling you even closer. “You should call me Steve.”

Your soft curves molded to the hard planes of his body and your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced, trying to figure out what he was doing. His blue eyes were dark, even under the bright lights of the elevator, and they were fixed very firmly on your lips—but they were still glazed from all he’d had to drink.

“Steve,” you said, his name soft and tortured as it fell from your lips, your eyes dropping to his mouth. 

You knew you couldn’t kiss Captain America while he was drunk, and you knew that if he tried to pull you any closer, you’d have to push him away. But you wanted so desperately to close the distance between your lips, the desire felt like it might incinerate you from the inside out. 

The ding of the elevator arriving at Steve’s floor brought you back to reality and you jumped away from the super-soldier, shaking your head at yourself as you grabbed his arm and heaved his weight onto your shoulders. You dragged him out of the elevator on stumbling feet, your mind spinning with what you’d almost done—what Steve actually had done.

For all the time you’d crushed on Steve Rogers, he’d never shown any indication of reciprocating your feelings. He’d always been just as professional and aloof as you’d been, and you’d taken that to mean he didn’t have any interest in you outside of work. But you were beginning to rethink your assessment…

Thankfully, Steve remained quiet and well-behaved for the trip down the hall to his quarters, and getting him inside seemed a bit easier after your practice with the elevator. You half-carried him to his bed and it took only a little push to have him sit down on the soft mattress.

Somehow, the movement left you standing between Steve’s spread legs, his arm curled around your waist from where it had fallen off your shoulder. His face was close again—closer than it should’ve been as he looked up at you from where he sat.

“Pretty…” he murmured, the fingertips of his free hand reaching for you but hovering just a hair’s breadth away from touching you. “You’re so…pretty.”

Heat suffused your cheeks and you ducked your head. “Steve,” you whined softly, your fingers wrapping around his wrists, trying to extricate yourself from his hold. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he said softly, your name falling sweetly from his lips. He brushed his thumb over your cheek so gently, it made your knees wobble.

You’d managed to get some distance from him, but the sound of your name made you stop. You looked at Steve, and his eyes were still slightly glazed from all the spiked egg nog he’d drank. 

You huffed a laugh that was sad and humorless. Of course the only time Steve had shown any interest in you, he was drunk.

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk and maybe I’ll believe you, Steve,” you said, a little forlornly, and pulled his hand away from your face, dropping it in his lap. 

Stepping backward, you broke out of his hold, ignoring the way he was pouting again.

“Stay with me,” Steve said, his fingers catching the tips of yours as you turned away. 

The desperation in his tone halted your retreat. When you looked at Steve again, his eyes were a little clearer, and his expression was pleading. You didn’t know if it was the best idea to crawl into bed with Captain America while he was drunk. 

You were pretty sure he’d fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, so nothing would happen, but you worried about your heart. If you spent a whole night sleeping in Steve’s bed, breathing in Steve’s scent, it would be that much harder to pretend you didn’t have feelings for him. And you couldn’t seem to imagine he had feelings for you, despite what he’d said.

“Please,” Steve said, his voice cracking slightly. His face was washed in the dim light of the New York City skyline filtering in through the windows, and he looked like a work of art come to life, flawlessly gorgeous features and perfectly expressive eyes.

Your heart thumped in your chest, and were helpless to resist his request.

“OK,” you whispered, twining your fingers with his and giving his hand a small squeeze while you smiled shyly. 

Steve beamed happily at you and then flopped back on the bed. A grin was still fixed on his face while he kicked off his shoes and fought to pull down the blankets so he could slide under them.

You bit back a laugh at his gleeful reaction, shaking your head as you went to the bathroom to clean off your makeup and strip out of your gun holster and shapewear. Thankfully, your dress was comfortable enough to sleep in for one night.

When you returned, you found Steve passed out under the covers still wearing all of his clothes. You took a moment to appreciate his handsome features, softened in sleep, and then slipped into bed beside him, leaving plenty of space between your bodies.

It took you a little while to fall asleep, but the quiet, steady snores coming from Steve helped lull you, and eventually you drifted off.

The soft wintry light of the morning sunrise was just beginning to peak over the Manhattan skyline when you roused, your body bathed in a nearly overwhelming heat that came from something pressed against your back and banded around your waist.

It took you a long, groggy moment to realize the source of that heat was Steve Rogers.

At some point in the night, he must’ve moved closer and wrapped himself around you because one of his arms was curled around your waist while his broad chest was pressed flush against your back. You were so close together, you could feel his steady heartbeat against your spine. 

You must’ve shifted even to wake him because you heard the tenor of Steve’s breathing change. He buried his face in the back of your head and took a deep breath before letting out a contented sigh. 

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, the words muffled and barely discernable. His arm squeezed tighter around your waist, dragging you even further into the wondrously warm cage of his body.

The sound of you sucking in a sharp breath was loud in the silent bedroom and Steve suddenly tensed. Quick as a flash, he removed his arm from around your waist and shuffled back a few inches, giving you space. 

Cold flooded in, even while you were still buried under the blankets, and you had to fight off a shiver. You missed his warmth, but you also needed to understand what was going on. You took a deep, steadying breath and then rolled over, looking at Steve warily. 

He was propped up on one arm, his blond hair mussed from sleep and his cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment. But his blue eyes were clear and curious, watching your reaction with interest. 

“What did you call me?” you asked in a trembling, hesitant voice. It probably wasn’t the first question you should’ve asked, but you had to know if you’d heard him correctly, and if he’d known he was talking about you when he’d said it.

Steve must’ve recognized the uncertainty in your voice or on your face because his expression softened and he lifted his hand, his fingers tracing the air next to your cheek. He was deliberately not touching you, and you had the urge to close the distance and feel his warm contact.

“You said to tell you you’re pretty when I wasn’t drunk anymore,” he said, his voice low and rough with sleep. His eyes had been wandering over your features, like he was trying to memorize the way they looked in the wintry morning light, but his gaze caught yours before he went on. “Well, I’m not drunk and you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Steve.” His name was a soft, desperate sound, your heart racing into a gallop as you tried to process the fact that Steve Rogers thought you were pretty. 

Before your mind had caught up, your hands were moving, reaching for Steve, eager to drag him closer. Your fingers were curling around the lapels of his dress shirt and you caught a glimpse of his crooked smile before you were both closing the distance between your bodies, his mouth slanting to yours for a kiss.

Heat and pleasure filled your body and soul, and you kissed Steve Rogers for the first time, your lips pressed together ungracefully in your excitement. After a few moments of blissful fumbling, you settled into a rhythm that was as delicious as it was delightful, made all the more breathtaking by the way you could feel Steve’s reverence for you in the way he held you.

It was a long time before you came up for air, and when you did, you laughed giddily when you saw the way Steve’s eyes were glazed over, a dreamy smile curling his lips, and you knew your expression matched his. He was drunk on kissing you, just as you were drunk on kissing him.

Steve dropped one last sweet kiss to your mouth and then he rolled you onto your side, tucking you into the warmth of his body while you both faced the windows, watching the sun rise over Manhattan. You were for a moment quiet as you enjoyed being with him, but something still bugged you. 

“I still don’t understand why Bruce asked me to help you to bed,” you said, your fingers playing with Steve’s hand that was clasped in yours. “But I’m glad he did, since it led us to this.” You pressed a kiss to his palm, marveling at how even that part of him smelled fresh and wonderful.

At your comment, Steve made a rough sound in his throat, something halfway between a cough and a laugh. It piqued your curiosity and you turned your head, catching his eye over your shoulder.

“That might be my fault,” he admitted, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I may have confessed to Nat that I think you’re pretty—and she’s been trying to set me up for ages.” 

Suddenly, everything from the night before clicked into place. Natasha and Tony’s conspiring, the way your SHIELD teammates were all otherwise occupied, the fact that Bruce—the least devious, and therefore, least suspicious of all the Avengers—had been the one to ask you to help Steve. 

It was all a very elaborate setup, and you had to feel a little impressed with Natasha, even as you rolled your eyes because it didn’t need to be so complicated. She could’ve just asked if you were interested, and then set you two up on a normal date. Instead, she’d concocted an elaborate scheme, just to get you and Steve alone. 

But you had to admit, it did work…

“You Avengers can never do anything the easy way, can you?” you teased, grinning at Steve over your shoulder. You reached back, fingers twining in his hair and pulling him close enough to brush a kiss to his lips. 

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” Steve murmured playfully against your mouth, kissing you more deeply before settling back down on the bed. 

For the next little while, you watched the December sunrise with Steve Rogers, basking in the feeling of being in his arms while he idly hummed “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” in between brushing delicious kisses to your neck. 

You did have yourself a very merry Christmas indeed.

december daze challenge masterlist

[prettynpinkputhy]

Cat and mouse

Warning: MDNI⚠️, Language, penetrative sex, raw sex, sexual themes, praise, breeding etc

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Sylus wants to switch things up

Sylus likes pain. Biting, scratching , choking the list goes on and on. You’ve explored the more vanilla side of things. Letting him take control and submitting yourself completely. tonight was different. he wanted a change of pace. You lay sprawled over the satin sheets of his California king bed, legs spread and face flushed. Sylus stepped away for a moment, leaving you needy and curious. Your hips wiggle with anticipation.

What was he doing? You could never predict the onychinus leader's next moves. After What feels like an eternity, he comes back. You admire his bare chiseled chest and low ride of his boxer briefs, that delicious V line is deep and prominent. A thick vein roots from his navel to the ungodly places you craved to explore. He stalks toward you, unraveling something you can’t make out in the dark.

you whimper helplessly. “Mmm such sweet purrs from my kitten.” He rumbles.

“On your feet.” He caresses your chin with the tip of his finger, tilting your low eyes to meet his. Your body moves on its own, dragging your weight up and over the edge of the bed. He takes your place, crawling up to the rumbled spot you’d been laying in.

You can see it now. A single wine colored tie, a lighter and a candle you’d recently bought together on a couples shopping trip. Your brow arches.

“We’re going to play a game of cat and mouse.” He smirks.

”take that there and bind my wrist.” Regardless of how out of place this dynamic feels, you obey. His body is huge in comparison to yours meaning you had to quite literally climb the length of him till you were face to face with his intense red stare.

You do a simple knot, mindful of his wrist.

”Tighter, sweetie.”

you swallow nervously at the familiar nickname. It still makes your pussy throb every time you hear it. With a nod you tug firmly, securing it so tight it might bruise. A deep rumbling moan vibrates through his chest.

”That's it. Don’t be afraid. You could never hurt me and even if you could I would enjoy every second.” This ignites something in you.

your hands are steady as you reach for the candle and light. You flick it, touching flame to wick. It flickers and the wax starts to liquify, filling the air with a sweet woody scent. Sylus picked the fragrance himself.

In no time a pool of hot wax forms on the surface. You swish it around unsure what comes next.

”Don’t be shy kitten. You know what to do.” You dip your finger in and hiss—it's hot. Very hot.

”I'll let it cool a bit.” You say.

”no. I want it now.”

”-but…”

”now.” He rasps desperately. His abs flex as you raise the candle above his torso.

He sucks in air as the first drop falls down the line of chest, it slides down his stomach before solidifying just above his belly button. His eyes are squeezed shut, his lower lip latched between his teeth. Something stirs inside you. A sense of power. Your movements are confident now as you pour a steady drip all over his upper body. His cock jumps in his boxers, twitching with every drop of hot wax.

“Ah, mmm, it seems my dove has transformed into a ravenous raven.” He pants, the veins in his arms pulsing under the confines of the silk tie.

”Do you want it?” You whisper close to his ear. He takes advantage of the proximity to turn his head and nip your neck.

”Show me all your tricks, Ms.hunter” your resolve snaps like a twig. You don’t bother with taking off your panties, you simply hook two fingers in the crotch and yank them to the side. Your fingers work his boxers down at a blurring pace. His rock solid pulsing length bobs free, slapping his lower stomach upon exit. The tip is beaded with sticky pre, a testament to his overwhelming arousal. You can feel him, the heady undeniable carnal lust brewing inside him. His cheeks are feverish, his lips parted as he holds your gaze hostage.

His brows scrunch. “Don’t make me beg.” He nods down to his throbbing engorged cock. The bulbous head leaks clear fluid on his stomach, your clit throbs in sync with your racing pulse. Your own slickness seeps from within, coating your thighs. As much as you wanted to take his swollen sensitive tip into your mouth you couldn’t wait. He had to be inside of you now. You straddle his waist, his hands fight his bonds frivolously as you hover above his needy manhood.

“Please.” His hips buck upward, seeking even just an inch of your warmth. Your chest heaves as you grasp his shaft, angling him at your slipper slit. It’s pure ecstasy as he breaches your tight channel. His cock head pulses in time with his beating heart. You can’t hold back, anymore. Those crimson fluttering eyes cast a spell on you. Your hips slam down in one fluid motion, taking him all in one go. It’s compact, the stretch leaving no room inside you.

Your head falls back as you howl in pleasure, he’s touching the very back of your cunt—the spot that leaves you breathless.

“Fuck. You’re being greedy, kitten.” He growls, pumping his hips up to grind into your G Spot. You back arches like a cat on top of him as you try to acclimate to his ridiculous size. You get your rhythm and soon find yourself bouncing up and down with ease. His nails dig into the fabric of the tie as you roll your waist, swirling his hardness deep inside your heat.

“No no wait, not like that. Fuck I’ll cum to fucking quick if you-“ he hisses, trying to break free. You take that as your que to move harder, faster. Your ass slaps against his pelvis with every stroke, the pressure in your pussy an intoxicating ache. Every drop of your hips forced him into your weak spot. Sweat mixes with the smell of the candle making your head spin. You bend over to bite the smooth skin of his chest as you fuck down onto him harder.

“Fuck fuck fuck no I’m close fuck slow down y/n…” he groans, his silver head falling back into the pillows. The words barely leave his lips before you feel him spasm inside your clenching soaked pussy. A hot flood fills your womb as your own release washes over you. You fall into his neck, panting and exhausted.

“Untie me. We aren’t finished.” His cock is iron stiff inside of you.

[jellyfishthingblog]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ NSFW Alphabet: Ekko 𖥨᩠ׄ݁

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog, so if you're a minor please click off! If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point, you are more than welcome to click off too!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Super helpful, makes sure everything is okay and that you aren't in too much pain.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of himself is his arms, because he knows his partner loves them. (Like have you seen them? 😍) His favourite part of his partner would be hips or thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Colour is #FDF2F2, a bit translucent and despite very little precum, he's a big loader. Also, it squirts if his partner takes of it correctly ;)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Loves when his partner leaves hickeys.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He isn't the most experienced, but he's trying his best.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, or mating press. He wants to see his partner's face and br close at the same time.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's a huge tease, so he isn't very serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It may not seem like it, but he does trim it at the least. Surprising, the carpet does match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Super romantic, his teases aren't too mean, they are always laced with love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only does it in front of his partner, gets him excited when his partner watches.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves being dominant and taking care of his partner. He knows exactly how to do it right.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In his tree house because it would force them to try to be quiet.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When his partner begs. Next thing you know, he is on his knees and pulling your pants down.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He doesn't like to share his partner. He despises the idea of it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to give, cause he's a huge giver. Surprisingly good at it though.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Whatever his partner wants, but he's usually fast. Not in a painful way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he knows he teased his partner enough that day, he'll give them a little taste of what will happen when they get home.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Absolutely, if anything he wants to try different locations.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

10 rounds. Up to an hour each.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own toys, but if his partner wants, he can make a vibrator to keep them happy if he's away for long.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ungodly amounts of teasing, but he always makes up for it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts and whimpers. But their quiet cause the walls aren't as thick as you'd wish for them to be.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's into lap dances.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Length is 5.9in/14.9cm soft and 6.1in/15.4cm hard. Length colour #815C4C, tip colour #A3666B. Uncut, curved up slightly.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not high, but high enough to keep up with his partner if needed.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Within the hour.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Just a quick disclaimer, these are my headcanons, you do not have to agree with me.

[p0orbaby]

For a Good Time, Call… (4)

summary: as you grapple with your burgeoning feelings for Leah, a door opens to new possibilities and the potential for something more

warnings: SMUT 18+ strap on use (leah receiving), some dirty talk

a/n: last main part my guys. might treat you all to an epilogue

word count: 2.5k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | epilogue

-

It was early.

The sun had yet to fully rise over the rooftops, and the morning dew still hung heavily to leaves and blades of grass.

Dawn. A time of day you’ve seen more and more of as of late. You have a five foot seven blonde centre back to reluctantly thank for that.

As you blink blearily at the dim light filtering through the curtains, you couldn’t help but marvel at the ungodly hour Leah’s penchant for early mornings has dragged you into. The day was breaking, and there you were, already contemplating the meaning of life and the distinct absence of a warm body beside you.

With a resigned sigh, you acknowledge that Leah’s status as an early riser was, indeed, a force to be reckoned with. Who knew the early bird could be so… early? Catching worms doesn’t even sound that appealing anyway.

But hey, every sunrise brought with it the promise of new beginnings, right? Right! And if those beginnings involve a quest to locate your elusive bed companion, then so be it. Off you go, brave warrior, into the wild (downstairs), yonder!

As you trudge into the kitchen, you’re greeted by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a freshly showered Williamson. “Well, look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” she teases, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

You don’t even have the energy to respond with words, so you grant her a grunt as you shuffle towards the cupboard where the mugs are kept.

Leah chuckles softly, her playful demeanor a stark contrast to your early morning grogginess. “Rough night, huh?” she quips, sidling up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist.

“Hmm, and I wonder whose fault that is” you respond through a yawn, reaching lazily out to grab your favorite mug from the it’s usual hiding spot. But it’s not there. Confusion flickers across your face as you glance around the kitchen, then over your shoulder at Leah.

“It’s in the dishwasher” she informs between the soft kisses she's placing along the length of your neck.

You groan petulantly at her words. Of course it is. Lucifer is alive and well, it seems.

Leah releases you from her embrace, but her smirk remains as she grabs her own mug and takes a sip of coffee. “So, any plans for today?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in questioning.

You take a moment to ponder, mentally running through the checklist of tasks that await you. “Well, my dear Watson, I probably need to head back home at some point,” you reply, stirring your incorrectly decanted coffee absentmindedly. “I believe I have a pressing appointment with the laundry basket and a certain fern in dire need of hydration”

“Want me to drop you?” She offers. “We can get lunch on the way back”

You grin, feeling her warmth and energy seeping into you, banishing the last remnants of sleepiness. “Hmm, tempting offer,” you muse, turning to face her and gently tracing your fingers along her jawline. “But we’ve got training tomorrow and I could do with some shut eye. Sans distractions”

Leah pouts playfully, her bottom lip jutting out in disappointment. “Oh, come on,” she whines, wrapping her arms around your waist again and pulling you closer. “Who needs sleep when you can have fun with me?”

“As much as I’d love to indulge in your company, baby,” you say, brushing a stray strand of damp hair from her face, “I really do need to catch up on some sleep. Plus, I’m already on thin ice with Jonas”

One late fee away from a game suspension thin. Hence the need to stay at your own house, away from the wandering hands and mouth of one Leah Catherine Williamson

The culprit sighs dramatically, but concedes nonetheless. “Fine,” she offers before leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips. “But promise you’ll make it up to me?”

You smile, unable to resist her. “Of course,” you reply, returning her kiss with equal fervor. “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise”

-

Love is a funny little thing.

It hides purposely in the shadows when you go looking, and punches you square in the face when you least expect it.

Or confesses its feelings for you in the street and fucks you silly not an hour later.

It’s all semantics really.

“When did you know you loved grandma?”

“Hmm, let’s see. When she railed me with a strap and gave me a three day limp?”

Yeah, no. Not everything needs to be passed down through the generations. That’s what jewellery and hereditary illnesses are for.

“What's that face all about?” You’re dragged abruptly from your thoughts by a voice beside you. “You look like you’re in pain”

“I’m just thinking”

“Oh god, don’t strain yourself”

You roll your eyes, abandoning your act of loosening your boots. “What do you want, Beth?”

She leans back against the wall of her cubby, smirking as she tries and fails to play off like she isn’t about to start bothering you.

“Answers”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t bribe Win. She just likes me more because my personality is far superior”

“You’re a liar” she doubles down.

“Jesus Christ, I have better things to do than lie about a dog, Bethany. Get a life”

“Like what? Like the fact you’re hiding that you’re seeing someone?”

Your blood runs cold.

“Why on earth would you think that?”

“I don’t know” she leans forward in her seat. “Maybe because one doesn’t normally stroll in covered in love bites if they haven’t at least been sucking face”

“Oh”

Do you look panicked? You feel panicked. And embarrassed. Love bites? Jesus Christ Leah, you’ve been walking around all day with those on display.

“Yeah, oh. I thought we were friends, I feel betrayed!”

“I-, I didn’t…,” you stutter, unable to get your words out as she looks at you with wide eyes.

What are you supposed to say? That you were knuckle deep in her vice captain just over 24 hours ago? Absolutely fucking not!

“I told you to keep me posted about Bar Girl!” She exclaims as she leans back against the wall once more, obviously disappointed in your inability to keep up with her requirements for gossip.

All you can do is blink at her, mouth agape at the whiplash she’s just given you. What on earth is happening right now?

“Yeah, right. Urm sorry. Me and Bar Girl are back on” you mutter when you have a second to think.

It’s her lie, not yours, alright! Don’t you dare judge.

“I knew it!” she says, smirking like a cat who's got the cream. “You’ve been acting so weird”

Your head swivels. “Weird? What do you mean, weird?” You didn’t realise you were under surveillance.

“You know, like all smiley and energetic and nice. It’s almost like you’re in love with her or something”

Love.

There’s that word again. The word that’s has been dancing on the periphery of your thoughts for weeks now. You understand it can be hard to find someone who can make you orgasm as much as Leah can, but love? Already?

Subconsciously, you look across the room. Even through the bodies of your teammates filtering in from off the training ground it doesn’t take you long to spot who you’re searching for.

She looks good. Too good for someone who’s been sweating all afternoon. Your eyes drift down to where her top has ridden up from how she’s pulling her hair back. Further still to where she’s rolled her shorts up her thighs. Thighs you frequently find your head trapped between. Then back up, past the swaths of skin on show to find her eyes boring into you.

She holds your gaze and smirks when you start to blush. Heat spreads across your face, down your neck and up to the tips of your ears. You’re not embarrassed she’s caught you, not really. Sure she’ll tease you about it later, but deep down you know she likes you staring as much as you like looking at her.

Beth clears her throat.

“You good?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m good,” you stammer, hoping she doesn’t see through your flustered demeanor. But her knowing look tells you otherwise.

-

You trail wet kisses across her chest as her hips roll against yours. Once, twice, throwing her head back on the third.

Showered, fed, unsatisfied from a night spent at your own house, you’re sat up against the headboard of Leah’s bed pulling sounds from her only you have the privilege of hearing.

Your mouth closes around a pebbled nipple. Sucking then biting then licking to soothe the sting. Her hands fly to the back of your head when you pull away, a string of saliva keeping the two of you connected. So as per a silent request you give her second breast the same treatment. Tugging at it with your teeth. You’ll leave marks, but yours won’t be visible like the ones she so graciously gifted you.

With one final suck you pull your head back to look up at the woman you’re buried inside of, and you almost die at how pretty she is. Her chest is flushed pink and her eyes are blown as they look down on you with a hunger that almost makes you fall apart then and there. You don’t have a chance to though, because she leans in to rub her nose against your own, cupping your face and licking into your mouth.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur against her when she pulls back to breathe. Your hands running up and down her naked back. “My gorgeous girl”

You lean up to kiss her again. Using your thumb to maneuver her face, nipping at her kiss bitten lips. Red and swollen and as sweet as can be.

When you shift below her, the new angle has her sighing into your mouth, so you place your hands on her hips and encourage her to work through it all herself. And she does, bringing her knees up, crouching as she slides up and down to find the perfect drag against her walls.

Her chest bounces with each movement and you feel your eyes glaze over at the sight of it. She leans back then, keeping herself balanced with her hands on your shins, opening up for you and giving you a show.

“Fuuuck”, she moans as your fingers find her clit. Expertly rubbing tight circles over it, bringing her closer and closer to an edge she is desperate to fall off of.

She’s almost there, you can see it in the way her abs tense and how her hips begin to stutter. So close to tumbling when you pull your hand away from her, wrapping her up in your arms and flipping her over.

She lets out an uncharacteristic squeal at the sudden change in position, and you can’t help but laugh a little.

This is absurd, you think. This is your life. Secretly fucking the England captain silly almost every chance you get. If only the others knew what she was really like when she wasn’t on the grass. No one would believe you. You don’t really want them to, this version of her is solely yours to enjoy.

You sit back on your haunches. Something you like to do when you have her in this position, you have come to learn. You’re very inquisitive. Curious even. You want to know what’s happening. What’s going on when you push in and out of her. What it looks like.

She’s exposed in the best way. Pretty and pink. Ready for whatever you give her. Whatever you're willing to let her take.

You watch eagerly as you push forwards. Mesmerised by how the silicone disappears and reappears with each thrust.

“You’re taking me so well” you tell her. “Are you going to cum for me?”

“Mhm” she hums as she bites down on her bottom lip.

“Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock?”

Your question is paired with a particularly hard thrust that has her reaching for you with desperate hands. You go, obviously, because you’re finding it increasingly difficult to deny her anything these days.

“I’m close” she manages to say through her laboured intakes of breath. Looking up at you with hooded eyes and a need that makes you feral.

You lean fully forward, bracketing her head between your arms as you claim her mouth and rut into her like it’s the last time you ever would. The bed creaks unforgivingly. She cries out before she bites into the hard muscle of your trap. You hold her when she stills then shakes and leaves crescent shaped nail marks in your skin.

Everything is perfect.

“I love you”

The words fall out of your mouth before you can even stop them. Lust induced word vomit that has you wincing.

“What?” Leah asks from underneath you, but you’re too embarrassed to even speak. “Y/N?”

You freeze, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air. You hadn’t meant to say it, not like this. You weren’t even sure if you were ready to.

Panic floods your veins as you scramble for something else to say, but the words stick in your throat. Leah’s confusion is obvious beneath you as she uses a warm hand to push at your chest to get you to look at her, searching your face for answers.

Finally, you manage to croak out, “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ but the damage is done. The silence stretches between you, filled only by the sound of your racing heartbeat.

At your words she untangles herself from your embrace, sliding out from beneath you and sitting on the edge of the bed. You watch her, your heart sinking as she puts distance between you. The air feels thick with uncertainty, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve ruined everything. Your mind races with self-doubt, the fear of rejection consuming you. You use what dignity you have left to unclip the harness around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely audible even in the heavy silence. Leah turns to look at you over her shoulder, her expression hard to read in the soft light of the evening's purple haze.

There’s a pause, a pregnant moment where the world seems to hold its breath. Waiting on your judgment. Preparing for heartbreak and pain the wish to turn back time.

But before you can say anything else, Leah turns fully to face you, her gaze steady. “I think… I think I might feel the same way,” she admits, her voice quiet. Quieter than you’ve ever heard her. But it doesn’t matter, your heart skips a beat, a rush of relief flooding through you in waves.

Without hesitation, you reach across the bed to take her hand. “Really?” you breathe, unable to hide the hope in your voice.

Leah nods, a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I think I do”

[galactic-rhea]

I think that despite aaaaaaall the very obvious problems about the whole Tuskens plot in AOTC (that also come from IRL bias); something people seem to be hung at is about Padmé's romance being unbelieveable after Anakin confesses the massacre to her; and like I can understand why, since not everyone thinks too hard about her character, but I do, and it's just kind of annoying to have most people saying it was character assasination for and that she shouldn't have known about the fact. BUT! I think it shows quite a lot of deepness and the dynamic about their relationship.

Is a very, very morally gray moment of Padmé, I would say is one of the most charged moments for her, her response is "To be angry is to be human"; Padmé had been, since she was presented, going through ungodly amounts of stress, her people was dying and being taken to camps when she was 14, at the start of AOTC one of her handmaids died in front of her eyes, and through none of these moments she has been able to express much more than some veiled, some composed, some acceptable, anger, I don't believe this to be coincidencce.

Padmé pretty much represents the justice and the good ideals of the Republic, she's pretty much a source of light in the story; this isn't to say she can't do wrong, or that she isn't flawed. She's giving Anakin a chance to do better, even though isn't within her right to decide so, but she's also kind of the only character that does seem to understand Anakin the best, almost beat for beat and she knows he's coming from a very very bad place, with a terrible childhood, she knows how he was when he was nine, she knows of her past.

She isn't oblivious or naive about how terrible Anakin's actiones were, she's just aware of his reasons, she's just able to sympathize with him, she's able to see he feels inmense guilt, and she also is sure he can still be able to do better (and he did! As an audience we know he was capable of much better and of being a force of good very needed. His fall doesn't undo the fact Anakin did went through great lengths to help others) Her reaction, honestly, just puts her in league with Luke imo. "Hey, that's terrible, awful, beyond , but you know, I still love you, because you're still a person I care about. You can do better."

But it also shows how her love is, in many ways, similar to Anakin's, in the sense that's very encompasing, very loyal, very "Follow you to hell and back", she's able to offer him the sympathy and the belief of his ultimate good nature that she wouldn't offer to others (she fell in love with him before going to Tatooine). It can be see as hypocritical, but she's also kind of right, she's proven right. She's still shocked and heartbroken in ROTS because the situation was much more different, because there wasn't any reason for her to believe he would commit something like that again after he clearly expresses so much guilt and trauma over it.

And, when it comens to the relationship with Anakin, I think it makes some senses; it means there is honestity between them, he confessed to her one of the most evil deeds he had commited yet, there's something about it that makes all of Anakin's others relationships different: Obi-Wan and Ahsoka didn't know about this In Anakin's POV, is probable that any kind of love or appreciation Obi-Wan and Ahsoka showed him came with a layer of guilt and distrust because he thinks they don't really know him, probably thinks they would hate him or think he deserves punishment.

And yeah, like, morally talking, he should've gone to jail or at least have a trial or something, but like, what exactly would that manage, or fix in your little fantasy-sci-fi movies? But you know who knew and still loved him? Padmé and Palpatine. In one had, you have Padmé who truly, does love him and believes in his ultimate capacity for goodness. On the other...

So yeah, I think knowing of what he's capable is actually a very integral part of the anidala relationship, and it does give Padmé some deepness you wouldn't usually see in other female characters, and the narrative does tell you she was kind of right.

Because, if I'm honest with you, Padmé and Anakin marrying with Anakin keeping the secret of murdering a whole village, wouldn't do it for me, would actually make me not like or not care for the relationship at all, at least not in their 'romance' sense, because it would be just kind of a Blue Beard, kind of your average "Woman finds out Her Wonderful husband/boyfriend is secretly a Serial Murdered and keeps it hidden for her". That, and also that Anakin is actually very honest, maybe a bit too honest for his own good, when it comes to Padmé and Palpatine, he spills at the edges all the time.

It's meaningful, for them both, that they met each other when they were under extremelly bad circumstances, she knew him as a literal child slave that risked his life to save strangers, and he knew her first as a servant, a handmaid, and then as a queen. And then she knows of his crimes, and he knows he can be fully honest with her, and now he knows how she felt about being a queen, about being a politician, things she never says to anyone else. They're kinda in equal footing and that's why it's meaningfull, as inmoral and messy and kinda selfish it can be.

But yeah, yeah, I ramble a lot, sorry this is very very messy and idk kind of badly written i just wrote as it came to me,I was sleepy and saw yet another youtuber trying to explain why padmé's character was assasinated or something. Because when it comes to her is a flaw and her being irrational, but when it comes to Luke is all encompassing goodness and proof of undying love, siiigh.

[deleteddewewted]

Long Distance relationship HC W/ König

MDNI

W: NSFW, Sub! König, Dom! Reader, Long Distance Relationship, Fluff, Angst, Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Cute Babygirl König, Bestfriend Elias (He's his wingman and hypeman), Cum Eating (He tastes himself)

He's such a sweetheart. He sends you pictures of strays he finds or of himself doing the most mundane things when he's at the base.

Doesnt matter how far into the relationship you're at, he's still kinda insecure about his face and sending you pictures that show his face.

He has his friend Elias though, so the guy gives him pep talks to boost his confidence.

Sometimes he does it too well cause you'll be getting a whole 12 pics of him in a span of 5 minutes all different angles and levels of motion blur.

Emoji user so expect kissy faces and hearts at the end of messages.

He texts you at ungodly hours but he'll stop if you ask him to.

He will stay up late in order to send you a good morning text.

He sometimes holds onto his pillow and pretends it's you.

You both have met a few times in person but even then it didn't feel like enough for him.

He wanted to envelop you in his arms, keep you flush against his body, and just lay there forever.

(Such a romantic, I know.)

He wishes he didn't need to leave your side but he also knows asking you to move with him wherever he goes is risky and inconsiderate of you.

He'll never make you choose so instead he promised you he'll be the one asking for a transfer once he feels ready/is forced into a less demanding position.

He just wants to live with you in the end.

He dreams of little kids running around in the living room while he embraces you from behind and lays his head on top of your own.

He can feel himself blush every time he dreams of you both finally being together and having a family.

He calls you sometimes, maybe even facetime you if he feels confident and does things with you.

He eats with you on facetime, gets himself ready for the day, changes clothes, takes a shower, cooks, anything really.

He just wants to pretend that you're both together and do theses mundane things together.

NSFW

He's so horny and it's somewhat pathetic.

He whimpers every time he jerks off and it's cause he's so sensitive. The tip of his cock is always this deep red and it looks painful.

He likes to tease himself by dragging his fingers over his length and over the veins and thinking it's you doing this to him instead of himself.

He doesn't know if cumming at a picture of you on his phone is creepy or not so he never asks you to send him anything to help him out.

If you do send him nudes or videos, maybe even audio, of yourself masturbating just know that he's going to be running to the community showers or finding some storage closet to get off in.

Because he's so pent up he needs to be quiet when he gets off. He's sharing a room with other people and sometimes the bases he's staying at doesn't provide individual barracks.

Fucks his pillows or makes a makeshift pocket pussy that he can fuck into like a dog.

In the rare case, he gets his own private barracks, he's calling you and you're both going to have some cute phone sex.

Cute phonesex? How?

Well, he's a talker and a whiny guy so he's throwing out praises like your some kind of divine being.

"Bit- Bitte! L- let me cum meine liebe~" He almost screamed into the phone but he'll be ok. He won't go against anything you say or do.

He wants to please you no matter if it means he'll have to go the next 48 hours or week hard and uncomfortable.

When he does get to cum he's thanking you profusely.

"D-anke, dan-ke, danke~!" Breathing heavy and light-headed he still finds it in himself to be grateful for you helping him relieve some of the tension he's been having.

What a good boy.

He stays on the line for a while longer just to tell you just how much he loves you and can't wait to meet up again.

He wants to hold you and take care of you and its painful to watch you take care of yourself after he got off.

He feels like it's unfair but he promises you, even though it's not necessary, that he'll devote the entire time to taking care of your needs.

Don't skip out on the praise either. He likes being told he's your good boy.

Give him kisses too. The feeling of your lips on his face is reassuring.

But, while you're both apart, just tell him that you love him and can't wait to be with him in person.

That's all the motivation he needs to make sure to keep his injuries to a minimum.

[emmyrosee]

heres a list of characters from all of my current fandoms who deserve and need to be annoyed (affectionately) bc thats like. my whole love language

1.) sakusa kiyoomi from haikyuu. dont even look at me. read almost any of my sakusa kiyoomi pieces and TELL ME he doesn't need to be bothered. bc he does. you have to be clawing him from the outside in, you need to eat his drywall, need to pick his nose, ANYTHING to bother him, do it, bc his life is too boring when you dont

2.) shinsou hitoshi from my hero academia. omg. please pester him. shinsou finds so much amusement to the lengths you go to to bother him, because you don't do it so intense; like sure, you could rip the manga out of his hand as a means to cuddle with him. but instead, you merely worm under the arms holding his manga, and you're content to cuddle like that for hours, and he is too

3.) the feminine urge to put sukuna- hot take but choso??? needs to have a nuisance by his side. because he is so deep in his head all the time that he needs the lightheartedness of your teasing and affection keeps him grounded. like sure, he could spiral out of control because of his anxieties… or he can let you bite his arm after you “salt it” because he’s “so yummy.”

4.) omg basically anyone in tokyo revengers, just please annoy him. make him so emotionally confused in your presence. like sure, he’d love to be annoyed at the fact that you’ve texted him twice about having to poop, telling him you’ve had no water, you miss him and you want to gnaw on his bones, but he’s not going to be because how could he be? no one could prepare him for the way you talk to him, and now he gets to see what… creative ways you can show him affection. sometimes, he smirks at his phone when you text him, and when he’s asked what he’s smirking about, he shakes his head and sighs, “my troublemaker just took a dump. they wanted me to tell everyone.”

5.) easy, rayne ames HASSSSSSSSS to have an annoying insignificant other. he’s got this whole ‘mysterious’ aura around him that you need to absolutely obliterate. he’s not cool, he’s a nerd who likes it when you gently run your nails over his back and hair, and you have no problem calling him out over it, much to his delight dismay. you love telling people about the stuffed rabbit he keeps on his bed and cuddles with at night when he’s mad at you, just as much as he loves grabbing your hand and dragging you away in embarrassment. he’s not fooling anyone, or escaping the “he actually loves this” allegations by keeping you around.

6.) ITOSHI RIN NEEDS TO BE BOTHERED YO. I DONT MAKE THE RULES. the mental image of poking your head over the side of the bed and flashing him the biggest set of puppy eyes to ask for a sweet treat at ungodly hours is all that’s in my brain. when he slides into bed next to you, and AS SOON AS he gets comfy, you ask him for a glass of water??? BRO HE HAAAAAATES YOU (literally loves you so much he gets it for you)

6.5) also chigiri??? i want to bother him so bad. i want to be his menace. i know for a fact he loves to pretend to hate you when you’ve just spent the past three minutes trying to squeeze a blackhead from his nose, his groans of agony ringing through the house so loud, you’re surprised the neighbors don’t hear. you both know damn well he could fling you off and across the room. but he doesn’t. again, he’s REALLY not escaping the “he actually loves this” allegations by keeping you close. 10/10 would annoy him again 🩷

——-

@reverie-starlight it truly takes one person to say yes and im frothing at the chompers SJDJDENSJ

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

rewrite the ending in the scars of sea glass・l.f

—From the moment Felix saw you drawing your dreams in the sand, he knew you were a daughter of the seas, with frozen fingers and feelings like the tide. So when the waves rush overhead, he will place his soul upon your tongue so your hollow heart can finally feel the warmth of the sun.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・felix x mommy issues!reader 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・angst, smut, a collection of moments the two of you have ever wanted to say I love you 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・10k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・I tried to make this as gender-neutral as possible so if there are any pronouns let me know and I'll fix it :) The reader had mommy issues that are heavily described, manipulation, verbal abuse, references to physical abuse but it really isn't described, love bombing, alcoholism, references to blades and knives, self-harm is kind of mentioned but its a metaphor for how her love feels, an ungodly amount of crying, panic attacks, PIV sex, CONSENT, ngl this is just some passionate lovemaking, tears during sex, references to the princess bride the greatest love story of all time I will die on this hill, nothing else so far...

𝐚/𝐧・I have poured my heart and soul into this fic this was my beckon to live my hurt through the scenes of this story I hope that it heals you the way that it healed me

screenplay

❝ "In every lifetime?" you utter ❞

i. It is the wounds we hide from the light that beg most to be seen.

— For the first time at age twelve, stuck in sweat-caked sand, your heart formed the words I love you.

ii. I could find your soul in the sky because yours is the only one that smells like home.

— After a long night, caught in a bubble of beer, all you want to do is collapse. But what will you do if you're in the middle of school and the teacher just announced a test?

iii. There are so many things in the world that must first collapse before they are born; why do we not believe humans are the same way?

— You show up at Felix's house, broken and distraught. What will he do with your shattered heart?

iv. Just once, let him rewrite the story; just once, he promises you will never have to watch the same ending again.

— You were still friends, even as he fucks your pain away.

vi. She is only in your DNA.

— Well... I think we'll just leave this one a surprise.

❝ "In every lifetime." Even the earth knows he means forever ❞

Fair warning: I have written around 8k words of this, but I'm through the middle of iii., and I've already written iv. So, assuming the length of the rest plus any add-ins, it will be around 10k-11k. I have a terrible habit of changing my mind, so all of this is fit to change, though I doubt it will. Most likely, I'm just going to add more.

Okay, I hope you're excited to read it, and let me know if you want to be tagged!

[hollowsart]

Thaal Sinestro of Korugar

-cracks knuckles-

Here's ALL of his lore that I cooked up:

(warning for: the sheer ungodly length of this, mentions of death, and a low-key humorous mention of alien physiology at the end cuz I couldn't help myself--)

(Some of this might still be a slight work in progress and/or may be subject to change later on. I'm not sure yet.)

-----

Backstory:

It wasn’t supposed to end that way. He wanted her to be safe and far away from the threat of action. Unfortunately.. he had made a mistake and it cost him greatly. Both heart and mind.

The loss of his wife.. the loss of his best friend, Abin Sur’s sister.. it caused quite the disruption in their friendship.

Some time well after that horrible event, Sinestro and Abin got into an altercation. An argument while out on duty. Abin had heard of Sinestro’s plans, but he didn’t agree with them. Both men were already still rocky and broken from the loss of Arin. So, when Sinestro was plotting some way of utilizing his GL powers to enforce order and protection.. no matter how unreasonable. Abin Sur lashed out. Calling him crazy, delusional, that nothing will ever bring her back.

Sinestro.. well.. he wasn’t thinking and without any ill intention.. he attacked Abin Sur. He only wanted to try and reason with him. He didn’t mean to do it.. but a stray blast from his ring managed to wreck the ship they were traveling in.. and the blast severely damaged Abin Sur.

..Sinestro fled the ship in horror, not seeing the fate of his friend as the ship hurtled down to a particular blue planet. The thought of having presumably killed his own partner and friend on top of having already dealt with the loss of his wife.. well.

That absolutely destroyed him. Shattered him so deeply.. he’s grown distant. Disconnected and apathetic. Bottling up, locking away, and throwing the key away with his emotions..

This was the beginning of the end of his GL career.. and the lead up to him being picked up by the Yellow Corps. The immense fear and angst building up inside him being strong enough he found a new life with the Yellow Lanterns. However, he couldn’t take the life and went rogue. Taking the ring with him and starting his own little sect.

----

imagine. some late series episode that ends with a little close up of some guy who looks a bit like Vincent Price for some reason lowering his newspaper and staring in Guy & Feste's direction as they head back home for the day after having a chat at some outdoor cafe.

you don't know who this weird guy is until it's later revealed that it was Sinestro. He ALSO used his ring to go incognito and appear human so as not to attract any attention while he "stalks" Guy & Feste for some reason idk I didn't think this far.

---

it kinda adds weight to the act of killing him. but like.. it probably killed Sinestro, too.. to do it. maybe it was an accident..? unintentional… during a fight.. and Sinestro was hiding it. and although Guy reminds him of Abin Sur… he hates Guy because he reminds him of Abin Sur and what he did to him. like a weird sort of "reincarnation" thing?? if that makes sense??

Guy being so angry at Sinestro for what he did feels almost cathartic for Sinestro cuz he knows he deserves it.

---

Sinestro sees occasional visions of his wife and friend begging and pleading for his help that will never come. This fuels his fear to power his ring. he needs fear to wield it. and that is a big fear. the repetitive action of losing his wife and friend and not being able to do anything about it.

---

Miscellaneous:

Soranik Natu was given the Natu surname as she was raised by another family. whether on Ungara or Korugar is undecided, but she does keep it.

Sinestro was unable to continue raising her as he was in no condition to do so, and Arin was.. well. out of the picture.

Sinestro sees Soranik and hears her name and he knows that's his daughter and he feels sick. She looks like her mother, he can see it. There's the underlying fear of what she may think of him and how much she may take after him. He is very aware of the terrible things he has done but he is blinded, in a sense, thinking what he is doing is for the greater good. to protect people..

To protect Soranik.

From a fate that fell upon Arin Sur and many others.

---

Soranik is like a combination of the two. her horns are smaller and so are her ears. she has tiny "tusks" (fangs?) compared to her mom.

but she also has elements similar to her dad.

also I can't help but think about Sinestro saying he wishes for his daughter to not become like him, but to instead become more like her mother. honor her memory. it's a terrible loss for the universe for someone like Arin Sur to no longer be in it..

---

I 100% want there to be a moment in an episode where Sinestro's backstory is revealed. like… his life he had up to when Guy first met him. We get to see just how tragic his backstory is.

There's been some subtle little hints here and there before, like someone from on Oa hearing Guy make a remark about Sinestro's weird earring and they tell him what they know.. how it's actually something very meaningful, a combination of two races and their culture. how it is a show of respect and mourning..

the mourning rituals of both Ungarans and Korugarians came together when Sinestro lost Arin. The piercings worn by those who lost a partner from Korugar.. and the wearing of a specific flora from Ungara..

Sinestro's mournful earring has a unique flora depicted hanging from it. A custom metal made to resemble that flora from Ungara.. to honor the memory of Arin Sur. He wears it always except when bathing or resting, but he keeps it with him ever so close at all times.

Should he lose that earring at all… well…

we might just see Sinestro become a Red Lantern.

---

I do kinda like the idea that Ungara and Korugar are relatively close planets with their own races inhabiting them. and because of this, the two races are uniquely compatible, genetically speaking, which leads to how Soranik Natu was born at all when Thaal Sinestro got with Abin Sur's sister, Arin Sur. Sinestro & Arin were the first ones to discover this.

Also, Ungarans are taller than Korugarians. Soranik stands a little taller than Sinestro.

Sinestro is 5'5" (average)

Soranik is 5'9"

Arin & Abin Sur: 6'6" 6'8" (average)

---

(Warning for alien physiology talk & humor)

what if Sinestro has never seen a human before and the first time he sees Guy shirtless in the Oa locker room he notices Guy only has 2 n1ps and Sinestro is like:

"Only 2? However will you feed all your young? Surely they should starve with such a lack of bodily provisions."

And Guy stands there extremely confused. Asks him what in the ever-loving heck he's talking about. Sinestro responds by merely removing his own clothes and presents his 8 n1ps.

Guy is understandably disturbed by the implications now registering in his mind.

If Guy ever mentions pregnancy, Sinestro responds "The women carry the young and the men provide for the young. ..What does your kind do? Don't tell me the women do all the work and that you're utterly useless? You humans are quite the odd creature."

Guy is very much offended.

[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter -Chapter 3-

A/N Sorry for the longer wait!!! chapters 4 and 5 are ready to go and will be out this week/weekend as well!! hope yall are doing great and enjoy this chapter! its a bit of a slow one, the next few are too but I promise it will get better!!

@abbiesxox

Word count: 1.1k

Reader pov:

*Beep beep*

*Beep beep*

4:45 AM, your alarm was blaring. You let out an ungodly noise as you stretched your still sleeping muscles, reaching over to shut it off. Breakfast started in 15 mins, reporting was mandatory. You used the restroom, brushed your teeth, washed your face with your standard issue bar of soap, which to be honest, didn't do much for skincare. It was more for sterilization than anything.

You combed your hair back into a low ponytail. Luckily the uniform regulations were much more relaxed here than your old base. Your hair only needed to be tied back in some form if it was past chin length, instead of the required sleek low bun most other military organizations required.

Putting on your uniform and double knotting your shoes, you opened your door and began walking to the mess. Almost running face first into a man with a mustache. You looked up to apologize and realized it was your father.

"Watch where you're going fatass," You joked. (A/N- please tell me yall got the mean girls reference.)

Your dad laughed, your footsteps fell in sync and the two of you walked to breakfast together.

"How was your first day of training with your Lieutenant?"

"I don't think I'm up to his standards," you confessed. Remembering Ghost's disapointment with you the day before

"Ah yeah, Ghost is tough to please. Don’t stress about it kid, if he’s mean to you it usually means he likes you,” He winked.

You rolled your eyes, “he doesn’t even think I belong here, he kicked my ass when we sparred.”

“Ghost is a great soldier, he’s incredibly strong and has seen a lot of hand to hand combat. He can be blunt, but it’s cause he wants to make you better, not boost your confidence,” your dad tries reassuring you.

“Thank you dad, but something tells me him and I won’t get along too well," your opinion unchanged.

He sighs, the two you enter the mess hall and fall into line.

"Speak of the devil," your dad says, lightly elbowing you.

you turned around to see Ghost and Soap had gotten in line behind you.

"Captain!" Soap exclaimed, with just a tad too much energy for 5 in the morning."

You looked up at him and grinned. He had shaved his face, which appeared to have shaved a decade off of his life.

"MacTavish!" Your father clapped him on the back. "You don't look a day over twelve," he teased.

The four of you laughed, the first time you've seen your lieutenant do anything of the sort.

Ghost caught your quizzical expression and quickly stopped, expression reducing to the same stone faced soldier you were growing familiar with.

"Ghost?" Soap wondered why he stopped laughing.

Soaps gaze switched from him to you.

"Oh," was all that came out of his mouth

You were confused, why wouldn't Ghost laugh around you?

Why did soap seem to instantly know why?

Ghost pov:

I was not about to let Y/N see my "human" side, maybe once she proves she can handle herself. I think as I fork bacon onto my tray.

I dared to steal a glance at her, she was back to talking and laughing with Soap and Price. It is odd seeing someone act so informal around him. I know he is her father and all, but everyone else acts so reverent towards him.

I am due to continue her training at 4:00 this afternoon. Dread fills my veins. I hate the thought of being in charge of the training that is designed to save someones life. What if I fail to teach her something that she needs in a dire situation? What if I am too soft on her and she remains weaker than her opponents.

No, that won't happen.

You will be hard on her, you will show no remorse, you won't feel bad. She is not your friend, she is your sergeant. I repeat this to myself in my head as we gather our trays and walk to the table. I ate in silence, paying little attention to the conversation. Gaz and Alejandro had joined us at this point. I stared down at the plate in front of me. The bacon here is nasty.

I wanted to leave. I hated it with Y/N here.

Its not that I don't like her, well actually maybe that is partially why.

But, when I look at her, its like seeing a child. Something that needs to be looked after, someone with a lot to learn, someone who isn't ready to face the world.

I stood up to leave without a word. I head towards the gym to get in a quick lift before the morning briefing.

"Simon!"

Soap had followed me

"Fucking hell" I said under my breath.

"You cant be a jackass to her forever," Johnny said, jogging to catch up with me.

"Until I can safely befriend her without having to worry about having to identify her body a week later I will be," I huffed.

"Simon, I know it hit you like a truck when Henry Jones, and Bill Anderson died, I know how you get when you hear about the death of anyone," he tried to reason.

"I know you always think it's your fault when something goes wrong. I know you want to protect everyone, and I know you don't mean to be an asshole." I looked at him from the corner of my eye.

"But not everyone else knows that," he continued. "Your colleagues are afraid of you. They think you're heartless. I know you aren't, the rest of the squad knows you aren't, well except Y/N.

Him and I walked the rest of the way in silence. I contemplated his words.

Your colleagues are afraid of you

"I don't want her to be afraid."

"Hm?" Soap turned his head

"Y/N, I don't want her to be afraid of me," I confirmed

"The mask sure isn't helping," Soap joked to break the tension. "Actually, keep it on- whats underneath is worse," he snickered.

"You bastard, I'm not ugly," I cracked a smile from beneath said mask.

Johnny has seen my face once, on a mission. I was sucker punched and it cracked.

"What does she think of me?" I say, curiosity besting me.

"She thinks you're a total dick."

"figured"

"You can fix that though," Soap said "It's pretty simple, maybe instead of beating the shit out of her to start training, you could ask how her day is going." He sarcastically adds

I roll my eyes, "I'm capable of friendship."

Soap laughs, "I'll put in a good word for you LT."

Smiling and shaking my head, I walk away.

[uchihaharlot]

Shsjdjdj Imagine, you want something back from Shisui that he borrowed from you, so you sneak into his room to get it, but you hear him coming so you hide in his closet, and him and Itachi come in and are just talking, and then they start making out and stuff, and your just watching from the closet, and and and and maybe they secretly know your there and fuck each other infront of you or something like that- my brain all over for this one - also yes that was all one sentence. Fight me.

Oooo. I love this. It’s no secret Shisui can be sort of inadvertently be a kleptomaniac. It’s not malicious by any means. He just is really bad at returning things to people.

NSFW; some hot ass Shisui and Itachi; read for the details.

— So when he borrowed your favorite book. You instantaneously knew that prying it from his hands would be problematic. Not in sense that he would purposely withhold your belongings.

— But his room in a fucking mess. Aside from the rest of his house; yes you absolutely tore through it—nicely of course. The last place was his bedroom. You feared for your book and your sanity on its retrieval. Aside from the empty cans of water, and the various energy drink. You couldn’t find your book.

— Even checking under his mattress, nothing. Then you heard footsteps enclosing at an alarming rate. He was supposed to be out training with Itachi, this put a wrench in your recon mission. The second they enter the room its hushed whispers, you fortunately ended up in his closet. Chakra concealed, crouched beneath a pile of sweaty ass training clothes. Mundane words of clan business between the two as usual.

— Then silence, followed by the unforgettable sound of lips touching and soft panting. More hushed whispers, but you distinctly hear Shisui say, ‘you’re gonna get it for that little number earlier.’ Your curious eyes and hands lifted at the god knows what you used to cover your face, and holy shit. The immaculate amount of arousal spread through your body was embarrassingly high. This…this was not expected, but also not surprising. Extremely welcoming though.

— Your own Uchiha show. They worked fast, Shisui lazily stroked Itachi’s cock in one hand as the other worked his own. How would Fugaku feel knowing the clan heir was getting plowed by his best friend? Surely he wouldn’t be as excited as you. It was hot, two of the most attractive men in this clan just going at one another’s throats. Sucking and nibbling each other. Then Shisui forcing Itachi to his knees and tapping his cock against eagerly parting lips. Roughly shoving it in Itachi’s mouth eliciting him to gag. It was almost unfair how good he was at it.

— You clearly had died. This was the only sane conclusion, Shisui came home and mistaken you for an intruder and killed you without it registering. But no, it wasn’t, because the sound of Shisui’s deep moaning matched the fervent mouth pace Itachi had on his cock. Your eyes did not deceive you. Yep, this was real. It was happening, no matter. Hidden in your stuffy sanctuary, this was one thing you could see to the end and if you hand ended up in your pants. It was merely a coincidence.

— Your excitement only grew as Shisui lifted Itachi to a searing kiss, pushed him on the bed and slicked an ungodly amount of lube over his length. Itachi’s desperate effort to pull his pants down was just fast enough for Shisui to breach his waiting hole. That alone had you on the verge of climax. Your own mouth almost betrayed you with a moan. You had to stop, allow the buildup to simmer down. Watched as Shisui wrung Itachi’s beautiful hair in one hand and smack his ass with the other. Hard thrusts that made Itachi moan in falsetto. Even not touching yourself you could almost cum.

— Yet, it was endearing. They had been doing this for a while, there was no way that either one weren’t familiar with each other under these circumstances. Shisui towered over Itachi’s back side. Hand expertly stroking his cock, the way Itachi and Shisui looked at one another in this moment was ethereal. And there was that damn hand of yours. Playing tribute to yourself, matching as best you could to Shisui tenderly plowing Itachi. Their loud moaning turned into soft panting. More hushed whispers, ‘I’m close’ and ‘don’t stop.’ Had you reeling in pleasure.

— The resounding groan that Shisui let out, his hips jutting. Your eyes couldn’t keep up. Itachi milked by Shisui’s hand as his thrusts tapered and eventually stopped. The heat of your own climax felt dirty, but why should you care? It wasn’t like they heard you. Or saw you.

— A snug grin spread Shisui’s mouth. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.” Which, to your surprise. You though he was talking to Itachi. But when he looked behind him, it seemed that Itachi was as just as perplexed as you were.

— It was comical to at you tried to cover yourself in his smelly clothes again. Shisui wasn’t having any of it, opening the closet doors. A bewildered Itachi in the background, Shisui more amused than anything. “Next time, you’ll join us.”

— “Uh.” Where was that stupid mouth of yours when you needed it? “I came for my book.” Shisui didn’t doh t that, you were stingy with your belongings. It wasn’t his laugh that made your stomach disappear, but rather when he said. “I gave that back to you two weeks ago.”

— “Oh. Really?” Yea; you did. You hounded him for it. You usually didn’t forget these things; but there had been so much going on you forgot about it. “My bad.”

— It was a good thing Shisui was so chill. Helped you up and spun you around into the center of his room. Itachi was less than pleased that you had seen one of his darkest secrets. He was more irate with Shisui for knowing you had been there all along.

— “You owe me.” Itachi slapped his back, Shisui snickers. “You owe Itachi too.” Which wasn’t what he was getting at. “Don’t go too far after tomorrows training.”

— With that you nodded silently and made you way out the window.

[nimonabigbang]

Participant Spotlight — Wiz!

Writer pinch hitter, Artist pinch hitter | Tumblr: @wizisbored | AO3: Wiz_is_bored

Wiz's dog is called William and he is an old man (twelve)

Why did you join the Nimona Big Bang?

I had only just watched the film for the first time when the original sign-ups were happening. I considered it, but ultimately decided that I wasn't invested enough in the fandom yet to commit. Fast-forward to my hundreth time watching it with my flatmate, at least one wip deep already (I don't remember if the cowboy au was around at the time), and I have an idea for another fic. We're a few weeks away from a uni deadline and my project isn't going anywhere good so I decide that I won't start the fic until after hand-in, and I won't even mention it on tumblr to avoid distracting myself. When I do eventually start I think hey, I've made it this far, let's see how long I can keep this to myself. So when I see the post asking for writer pinch-hitters, I've already got 600-800 words of a secret fic that I have a solid plan for, and that isn't going to be an ungodly length like most of my ideas. So, here I am.

Share something you like about the Nimona movie or comic.

This allegorical pink shapeshifter is the thing that made me fully understand why representation matters to people. I'd watched stuff with explicit, literal trans rep before and thought 'oh hey trans person' and 'oh hey trans thing I do that' but I never *felt* anything. I appreciated it more in a 'making trans stuff visible to other people' way than anything, but really it didn't mean all that much to me. But Nimona *resonates*. I don't care if it's not explicit or literal it made me *feel* something, for the first time. And I have theories as to why that is, but without going into all that I can only be thankful to the filmmakers who saw something there and ran with it. I still yell 'cis man behaviour' at Ballister on the train every time.

Favorite characters: Nimona (movie version), Nimona (comic version), the Director

Other fandoms: Beetlejuice the Musical

Other hobbies: I play irish tenor banjo and am working on transfering that skill to mandolin, collect horse brasses and country records from charity shops, and dabble in various arts and crafts.

Is there anything else that you'd like to share about yourself?

I study performance design at university with a personal focus on theatre puppetry, and have just started a project where I will be building a life-sized Nimona puppet. Unsure how much of that I'll be able to share online, but I'm excited.

[vellichorom]

favorite ships for the new year?

looks around. what, just generally? 👀 ouue,,, how does one go about doing that so casually,

WELL,, let's see now,

GoreGuts ( The Narrator x OC; The Stanley Parable ) of course; i can't begin to describe in words what this ship has done to me over the course of the 3-ish years it's existed, but i'll have you know it's the most devastating & visceral thing i've ever seen & one of the most invested i have ever been in regards to a ship ( that you know about (( when i tell you about all the crossover ships i've formed in rp with my friends & all the lore that comes with that you will keel over, )) )

NanaIwa ( Shuu x Kazuaki; Hatoful Boyfriend ) my more recent addiction, the DEFINITION of " toxic yaoi "; to forcibly become a man's EVERYTHING after he ripped what fragments of happiness you had right out of your hands,, to be stripped of all your influence & might by a victim you didn't think twice about & be reduced to his very own patient; how ironic for a doctor fallen from grace... ouhhh my god. the game's final ending will make You a believer. i mean- what i just described doesn't explicitly happen but i don't think it's that far of a stretch to assume Either. of course, i could be insane;

KingShuu ( Shuu x The King; Hatoful Boyfriend: Holiday Star ) this one's hard to explain without full context but just know it involves two dead guys & the co-dependency that comes with being the Only two dead guys in a separated section of the afterlife. one of them was coerced into suicide & went on to Make this separated section of the afterlife & the other was passively suicidal to begin with & got dragged Into this afterlife by the other prematurely & just let himself go. there's also a bit of " the royal dates one of his would-be servants " going on except the king's a pussy & the would-be servant could kill him twice, so it's really just strange & gross & unusual in there. once again a ship built off of co-dependency because there Is no one else for either of them,

Godiance ( Godseeker x The Radiance; Hollow Knight ) who doesn't love a bit of god x devout, eh? godiance FEELS right, with the godseeker & her tribe's undying adoration & worship fueling the radiance's EXISTENCE & both of them needing the other to survive ( albeit in different ways ),,, oh- more co-dependency, t'would seem i'm a sucker for that, there's also something so Damning about how the godseeker's worship toward the radiance directly perpetuates the plague of hallownest but that's Probably not a concern to her / a blessing in her eyes & that just makes me downright insane, especially considering the endings that involve godseeker - feeling vaguely like a representation of them both going down & Needing to, as a pair, to wipe the radiance & her plague from existence, godseeker ( & by association, her girlfriend ) makes me upset did you know that,

Godseeker x The White Lady/Midwife/Flukemarm/Herrah - any of the other women in hollow knight unironically, i assure you there's an ungodly amount of potential in godseeker, the devout directly attuned with the gods, interacting with anyone from the Gods Themselves to Important Figureheads Linked to The Gods to even the random villagers around dirtmouth,, & they all just so happen to be lovely bug women 😳 please invite me to go on at length another day,

Sagimita ( The Ultimate Imposter x Ryouta Mitarai; Danganronpa ) OH LOOK MORE CO-DEPENDENCY; a young man who desires to abandon his identity in order to work himself to death in peace & another who desires to steal others' identities just to feel like they exist - their desires were one in the same. & then they sort of got tangled together as the imposter gave too much of a damn about ryouta's wellbeing & now they're situationshipping me into a FUCKING GRAVE. they just introduce a REALLY interesting dynamic to me, & invite some Delicious slowburn as the anti-social animator slowly lets the imposter into his heart against his will.... yum, & put mikan in there for some Extra spice,

SagiKiyo ( The Ultimate Imposter x Korekiyo Shinguji; Danganronpa ) i don't even have good reasons to ship these two but i Do because they are my favorite characters & this is simply what happens,

FujiGishi / Chigishi ( The Ultimate Imposter x Chihiro Fujisaki; Danganronpa ) issues with identity & gender identity,,, finding solidarity in another who deals with similar problems.... size difference....... i'm running out of steam here but it's actually a dynamic i'd Really like to explore someday,

FowlPlay / ChickenDinner ( The Narrator x Shuu Iwamine / Rosemary Baker x Shuu Iwamine (( or polycule it )) ) no i don't know either. indulgences. you'd be surprised how well i think it could work. THIS ONE I JUST TURN OVER IN MY BRAIN SOMETIMES

UM YEAH. I SHIP A LOT OF THINGS & not a lot of things at the same time,,, but feel free to come back & ask for more if so you are that intrigued.... if i listed all of them Ever here we would be here for decades, SO TAKE WHAT YOU'VE LEARNED & CONSIDER THESE SHIPS AS NEW BRAINROTTING MATERIAL FOR YOUR NEW YEAR,

& thank you for asking!

[ddarker-dreams]

Meet The Parents II. 🎀

Giorno x F Reader / Narancia x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Word count: 3.3k. Note: Dialogue in italics is meant to represent words spoken in English !! [Scarlet Ribbons Index]

It’s the type of day a tourist couldn’t be happier with. Cloudless baby blue skies, nonexistent humidity, and a light northern breeze to cool the skin.

Giorno Giovanna thinks that the timing for such weather couldn’t have been better. Given your current frazzled condition, entertaining your two special guests from overseas is made easier by the outdoors' availability. The young Don fears you’d stress yourself into an early grave otherwise. You said you’re going to dazzle and distract your parents with Napoli’s beauty, so as not to allow any downtime.

Downtime means more intimate conversations. Apparently, this is a risk you don’t want to take, hence your current tour guide persona.

“Is she still looking out the window?” Giorno queries your Stand, who has taken to floating around dejectedly. In an attempt to soothe your nerves, Scarlet Ribbons tried braiding your hair, an effort met with reproach. While you normally let your Stand amuse itself by fashioning your hair into innumerable styles, you claimed ‘you have a strict image to maintain and can’t go around looking like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.’

Your Stand nods in affirmation at Giorno’s question.

“Did she at least put the binoculars down?”

This time, a shake of the head.

Hurried footsteps echo against the tile of Giorno’s villa, footsteps that can only belong to you, as he’s dismissed the few employees trusted with the home’s upkeep for the day. Your Stand fades away, apparently still in low spirits from your earlier altercation. You round the corner and sigh in relief upon spotting Giorno.

“They’re returning from their walk,” you have a distinct pleasure in confirming. “We’ve almost made it through this harrowing trial.”

Giorno disguises a chuckle by clearing his throat. “Has it been that cumbersome? You look like you’re in your element to me.”

“Yeah, if my element is ‘ungodly distress’. I think I’ll need a therapist when this is all said and done.”

“I’ll see that it’s arranged.”

Giorno’s attempts at soothing your nerves are fruitful. It’s strange, this switch in roles. You were usually the one who made a point of uplifting the spirits of others. While Giorno’s more reserved nature doesn’t lend well to making you burst into hysterics like Mista or Narancia can, he fills another role. One that is specially carved out in his shape, unable to be occupied by another.

He is the best at getting a read on you. Though he’d never admit it aloud, he takes pride in the fact. The others may have known you longer, but he catches the nuances they’re blind to.

For instance, he sees the genuine sprouts of concern hiding beneath your typical display of theatrics. You’ve gone to great lengths to hide your involvement with Italy’s underbelly. This false impression, meticulously crafted, could shatter like glass at the slightest pressure. Doing so would undoubtedly break something inside you too.

Giorno refuses to let that happen. Not when you’ve become so integral in his life, that he can scarcely remember a time when you weren’t around.

He trails not far behind as you run to greet your parents. Their faces light up the second they spot you — he can’t blame them. Before he enters the conversation, he recalls the words spoken by Bucciarati many years ago on his first trip to Libeccio.

“The others might give you a hard time at first, but try not to hold it against them. That’s just their way of getting to know you,” Bruno trailed off. Then his lips quirked into a fond smile. “However, you don’t need to worry about that with [First]. She’ll make you feel like you’ve known one another your entire lives within minutes.”

It was exactly as Bruno foretold.

“GioGio, my mom and dad want to thank you for your ‘cousin’s’ hospitality,” you call over to him.

Giorno wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or impressed by how quickly you crafted a lie to explain away his opulent residence. For safety’s sake, Giorno thought it best if he met your parents privately, away from the prying eyes that came as a consequence of being Passione’s boss. Thus came the tale that his Posillipo estate actually belonged to some rich cousin who felt gracious enough to lend it to him for a few hours.

Your worldbuilding went beyond that, but that captures the essence of things. He admires your tenacity.

His appearance in the backyard where your family unit has huddled together is met with a chorus of accented ‘grazies’.

“Woah, that was pretty solid,” you give an approving look. “Have you been practicing that?”

“I read on a pamphlet that we should know how to at least say hi, yes, no, and thank you,” your mom confirms.

“Still can’t roll my r’s if my life counted on it, though,” is your dad’s contribution.

“Well, one year of high school Spanish can only do so much,” you give your dad a conciliatory pat on the shoulder for good measure.

He shakes his head. “I took French.”

You make a face of faux sympathy. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Giorno feels a stirring within the recesses of his soul. This close-knit bond is unfamiliar to him, a long-forgotten desire he chased after futility as a child. He knows of the hardships you endured, and how you were brought into Passione’s fold for the lack of a better alternative. This is what you fought to preserve. What you shed blood, sweat, and tears for, hiding the damning trifecta behind a seemingly carefree smile.

He resolves himself to fight for it too.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Giorno responds in kind. He might not be as English savvy as Fugo, but he can roughly follow a conversation and chime in on the occasion.

The young Don then turns his attention to you. “I’ve prepared a small gift for them, if that’s alright.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, contemplative. “Is it… proletariat friendly? No Giorgio Armani or Gucci, right?”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. You can look it over first if you’d prefer.”

“Nah, I trust you. I’m just on high alert. Mista wanted to give them a vintage bottle of Chateau Cheval Blanc and I almost died. I can’t keep giving everyone rich cousins…”

Giorno can’t say he didn’t expect such shenanigans. Everyone is doing what they can to land themselves in your parent’s good graces, for if you hold their opinion in such high regard, it might be the key to claiming your hand one day. This appears to be an unspoken yet universally understood truth. While Giorno would find it unbecoming to consider your parents a means to an end, he isn’t going to pass on this rare opportunity.

It isn’t just about winning them over either. Your approval factors into the equation as well.

After a brief departure, Giorno returns with two wrapped boxes in tow. He hands them to your mother and father respectively. You look as curious as they do, inspecting the present’s outward appearance for any hints. He takes a deep breath. It isn’t often he’s nervous, since his position doesn’t permit such weakness, yet he can’t deny the fluttering in his stomach. He moves on to the next stage of his plan.

“Please tell them I wanted to show a small token of my appreciation, for having raised such a kind and thoughtful daughter,” Giorno isn’t surprised to see your face morph into embarrassment. Still, he continues, a touch of mischief underlying his tone, “I’ll know if you mistranslate, [First]. English was my foreign language class.”

You give an exaggerated sigh and resign yourself to your fate. You repeat what Giorno said to them, uncharacteristically sheepish as you do so. His heart soars at how endearing the sight is. A devious side of himself tempts him to tease you more, but his polite tendencies win out, advising that now isn’t the time.

True to his word, the gifts are nothing that showcase his exuberant bank account. It’s a simple tie for your father and a brooch shaped like a ribbon for your mother — both a recognizable shade of scarlet. You look at the gift, then him, your mouth agape and your eyes glossy. He can decipher the depths of your gratitude without you needing to utter a word.

“Well, look at that,” your father holds the tie up for closer inspection. “You’re always wearing this color anymore, [First]. I guess it’ll be a family thing now.”

Your mother expresses her appreciation next. “What a thoughtful gift. I have an outfit that’ll match this perfectly! Tell your friend he has such good taste…”

Giorno decides the evening couldn’t have ended on a more positive note.

Your parents don’t depart long after that, jet lag still weighing them down. You offer to accompany them in the taxi back to their hotel, but they say they don’t want to take up any more of your time than they already have. So you settle for staring out the window until the cab leaves your line of sight. This time, you’re noticeably missing your binoculars, which Giorno believes your Stand hid in a vengeful act.

Once you’re certain they’re long gone, you run at Giorno with open arms.

He lets out an ‘oof’ at the unexpected impact, his cheeks flushing and hands uncertain where to settle themselves. Eventually, he reciprocates your embrace, ignoring the knowing thumbs up Scarlet Ribbons gives from behind your shoulder.

“I can’t thank you enough, GioGio,” you pull back, much to his disappointment. The bright smile lighting up your face instantly makes up for it. “I really… wow. This might sound kinda silly, but whenever I get homesick, I think I’ll feel better knowing they have a reminder of me like that near them.”

A wistful yearning fills him then. This wish to pull you back to his chest, reassure you that he’d do anything to appease whatever negative emotions you may harbor — homesickness or otherwise — but he keeps himself in check.

It wouldn’t be appropriate for him to do that yet.

Still, he’ll see to it that a day will come when he can.

“It’s the least I could do. I consider your family to be my family.”

And so they will be, if his next dream is to be fulfilled.

-

It doesn’t take much to excite Narancia.

He’s always brimming with energy — too much energy, according to Fugo, but who cares what that guy thinks — ready for anything and everything. His infinite enthusiasm somehow doubles whenever you’re involved. Anyone with a set of functioning eyes could see how utterly lovesick he is for you. Well, except for you, apparently, who finds it presumptuous to assume others’ feelings.

When you still came back to visit him at the hospital, despite the way he snapped at you for what he considered ‘pity’, he swore an oath to himself. No matter the cost, he would see to it that you’re happy and never cause you distress again. If presented with the choice between having you or the world, he’d pick you every time, without hesitation.

You’re precious to him, living proof that not everyone will cast him aside at the first opportunity.

Convincing himself of this has been an uphill battle. He’s been left behind too many times to count, made into nothing but a stepping stone for others to advance forward. Distrust cultivated throughout an entire lifetime is not so easily dissipated. They linger, like sediment that’s fallen to the bottom of a pond, waiting to rise at the slightest stir.

Narancia rattles off the gelato order you gave him, barely comprehending the fact he needs to pay once the employee confirms it. His head is elsewhere. He hands over more cash than necessary, grumbles something about keeping the change, then scurries to the side. In the background, he catches the melodic sound of your laughter. He sees you clutching your stomach, your eyes crinkling with mirth, and both your parents smiling as well.

Narancia has always wanted to secure your happiness… so why is it this sight unsettles him so?

Feeling the way he does now is nothing short of aggravating. He doesn’t understand it or know how to make it go away.

Regardless, he knows he needs to try. It would put a damper on the mood if he comes back over and sulks. He likes your parents and wants them to like him too. He might not be super smart the way Fugo is, or as charismatic as Giorno, but he still wants to showcase his strong points. That’s why he’s been mentally preparing for this day. Practicing English (by listening to rap music, but he still counts it), fixing his posture, and even acting all gentlemanly. He can’t recall a time he’s held open so many doors and pulled out so many chairs.

“Nara, need some help carrying all that?”

Your abrupt appearance nearly has him yelping in shock. Narancia steadies himself, preparing to ask what you mean when he recalls the tray in his hands. He can’t recall a time when he crawled so deep into his head.

His skin flushes when you poke his cheek. “Hello? Earth to Narancia? Did looking at the gelato give you some sort of existential crisis?”

“N-No! There’s, uh, no crisis here.”

You give him a quick glance over, as if not entirely convinced, yet ultimately relent. Narancia sighs in relief. Had you decided to keep pressing the subject, he isn’t sure if he would’ve been able to deflect your attempts. Lying hasn’t ever been his forte.

The gelato is dispersed among the four of you. You’ve settled at a quaint picnic table, rustling branches overhead granting refuge from the Mediterranean sun. Although Narancia can’t understand whatever conversation is taking place, he nods along, his eyes never leaving your animated form. He admires how your hair billows in the breeze, pulled up in a high ponytail and strung into place with a ribbon.

He’s always thought your hallmark color suits you. It’s warm, bold, and passionate. He couldn’t see a shade of scarlet without his thoughts instantly drifting to you.

“My parents were wondering if you’ve ever thought about visiting the States.”

Narancia does what he can to shake the shackles of uncertainty off of him so he can respond. “I kicked the idea around when I was younger, yeah. It might be kinda hard now. Lotta work to do.”

“I can’t blame you for developing an aversion to flying after Sardegna,” you nudge him with your elbow. “Maybe we can revisit the idea when things settle down. There’s so much I’d want to show you. I just know you’d love it! In Times Square, grown men walk around dressed as Elmo and harass people if they don’t give ‘em money after you take a picture together. It’s hilarious.”

Your dad throws something in, which you translate with unrivaled excitement. “I almost forgot! You’d get to try New York pizza… it apparently descends from a Napoli immigrant, what’re the chances of that. I know you fiercely defend your Neapolitan pizza’s honor, but I’m confident I can convert you.”

He scrunches up his nose. “No way. That shit sounds—”

Remembering his company, he slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Pff, Nara, it’s fine, they can’t understand you,” you wave off his concern. “They wanted to let you know you’re welcome anytime. There’s no need to rush an answer, though. I’ll just say that you’re thinking about it.”

Narancia pushes his melting gelato around with a spoon. “Hey, [First]?”

“Mhm?”

“Have you ever…” The words die on his tongue, for the mere possibility submerges him in grief, “Have you ever thought about moving back? To your home, I mean. Cause… Giorno would let you. Then you could pursue your dreams again and be happy.”

He can’t bring himself to face you. Guilt weighs down on him like an anchor — here you are, trying to enjoy an outing with your parents you haven’t seen face to face in years, and he’s bringing down the mood. The fear of this future manifesting into reality hurts. It isn’t a brief, weak pang, it’s a heavy ache that reverberates throughout his entire being.

You’re his best friend, his first love, his everything.

Would seeing your parents — a reminder that you have a home elsewhere — threaten to take that away from him? And could he ever be selfish enough to stop it?

You rattle off something, causing both your parents to stand. They send a friendly wave Narancia’s way, which he returns with as much enthusiasm as he can muster, given the tempest brewing in his heart. Then they’re off to overlook the Golfo di Napoli, fitting in perfectly with another cluster of tourists.

“Is this what’s been bothering you, Narancia?”

He can’t bring himself to speak, so he nods his head.

You rest your hand over his. Your skin is soft and warm, a combination that serves as a balm to his malaise. He recalls when he’d been forced to live in the streets, after serving time in a detention center for a crime he didn’t commit. He remembers how his former ‘friends’ abandoned him, spreading rumors that the eye disease he’d contracted was contagious, his isolation seemingly set in stone. No one looked at him, came near him, much less touched him.

When you visited him in the hospital for the first time, you practically tripped over yourself to hug him. His heart monitor had gone through the roof — he couldn’t believe a pretty girl like you would willingly come into contact with him.

You intrinsically knew how to comfort him then, and you know how to comfort him now.

“Well, I guess it’s natural to wonder that. I won’t lie and say I’ve never considered it. For the longest time, I tried to push it to the back of my mind, because there was a lot of work to do before my debt would be paid off. What you said about GioGio is right. It’s one of the first things he asked me after overtaking Passione.”

Narancia swallows thickly, the silence following your last statement deafeningly loud.

“That being said,” you squeeze his hand then, “I made up my mind. Dreams are fluid, Nara. At least to me. They change shape over time as we grow, experience new things, and meet new people. I don’t want anyone else to experience what I did. By doing some wrong, we can bring about good. I want to keep Passione strong so a worse entity doesn’t take its place.”

You give him a wink. “That means you’re stuck with me.”

To further emphasize the point, you use your Stand’s ability to manifest a ribbon, tying your wrist to his.

“Will that make you happy?” Narancia asks.

“Not always, but life’s about more than being happy,” you reply without hesitation. He can tell you’ve given this some thought, far before he broached the subject. “That’s why we need each other. Gotta keep things bearable, y’know.”

A beat passes. Then he grins, wide enough that it almost hurts, but he pays it no mind. He squeezes your hand back. Sensing his lifted spirits, you mimic his smile, allowing the ribbon to fade away for it served its purpose. You never fail to amaze Narancia with how utterly lovable you are, he swears it’s almost supernatural.

“You’re right. You’re always right, [First].”

At this, you put your hands up, a laugh leaving your lips. “Oh, far from it. Now let’s go get my parents back before the crowd gets any worse.”

Narancia springs into action, the usual pep in his step making a triumphant return.

“If we’re making plans to head to the States, there is one place I really wanna visit.”

You raise an eyebrow as he helps you up. “Oh? And where might that be?”

“The mouse’s home turf. Disneyworld.”

“You know that means we’d have to go to Florida, right?”

“What’s wrong with this ‘Florida’ place?”

You place your hand on his shoulder. “That, my dear Narancia, is a long tale, full of mystery, intrigue, and alligators…”