#It was insane and I loved every second of it

[pup-pee]

ITS THEMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mari-lair]

I love your sif is out au bc it perfectly demonstrates that siffrin is at all times .5 seconds away from becoming self destructive. Like damn the party is gonna get a first hand lesson in every way that poor rouge can catastrophize.

Mira b4 sif is out: he's never worried about anything

Mira after: oh wtf.

Yeeeeees! Sif cares so much is insane, and the party will constantly be hit by it (be it his stress or his love)

Mira pre-game: Why would siffrin say my super dangerous country ending quest is 'the most fun they ever had'? Was he teasing me? That's... mean :(

Mira, living the sif is out experience:

[sundew199]

Reiner likes to eat pussy slow. And I mean slow.

This man is taking his time with you, teasing you with soft kisses to your inner thighs, running his teeth across the skin, he likes to work his way up to feasting on your cunt.

It drives you insane sometimes, especially when you’re so unbearably horny and want his warm tongue splitting your folds in half but he’s still sucking hickeys to your thighs. You’ll try to speed him up by pulling on his hair or saying his name prettily but Reiner will only give you a look and a gentle:

“Be patient sweetheart.”

And you try, you really do, but the talent he possess when it comes to eating you out is a craving that can’t be sated with patience.

You’ll be on your back already arching from the teasing and attention he’s given your inner thighs, just to almost lose it when he lightly kisses your clit, making sure to look at you directly in the eyes before flicking his tongue over it. He knows the power he holds over you and uses it to his advantage every time.

He’ll finally reward you with kissing up and down your slit, bumping his nose where it counts and laughing to himself at the noises you’re trying to quiet. Reiner likes to take his time eating you out because he can’t help but be selfish in the noises you make. It’s like being put under a spell when he hears the broken debouched moan leave your lips as he buries his face between your legs and thrusts his tongue in and out. He shutters to the twitches in your legs as he makes out with your pussy, wrapping his hands around them to keep you spread.

It’s worship to him, and why would he rush such a thing?

“Fuck, taste so good baby.”

He’ll moan and hum into your cunt, knowing the vibrations from his words onto your sensitive flesh stirs the heat hotter in your belly and brings you closer to coming.

Reiner will make sure to come off of your cunt just to give you a brief look at his wet lips and soaking goatee, diving back in a split second later to smear more of it on, getting lost in the undeniable loving lust he holds for you.

When your fingers tangle into his hair, he’ll laugh, moving to suck on your clit and look up from between your legs as he slips a single finger in, smirking at the slack jaw and hooded eyes looking back at him.

“Cum in my mouth, angel.”

Offering the last bit of encouragement in order to get you to cum, anticipation mixing with the adrenaline inside him, but not quickening his movements.

You’ll cum on his tongue with a broken whine, rutting your hips up into his mouth and twitching off the bed, seeing him lap at your cum leaking onto his face, wondering if it’d be enough for him, but deep down knowing it wouldn’t, accepting Reiner would keep your legs spread until he was satisfied.

A/n: Reiner and pussy eating is my fav thing, can you tell? Enjoy the blurb >:)

[soldrawss]

blinks at you

do you think mikey would have a favorite in your au

SO OBVIOUSLY NO BECAUSE HE LOVES ALL THESE BOYS EQUALLY AS WELL AS INDIVIDUALLY LIKE THERE IS NO "FAVORITE" ...but... but Leo DOES become his special little guy. Because all the boys remind him so much of his brothers, in odd and new ways then what he expected, but little Leo reminds 2k12 Mikey of HIMSELF the most.

He sees this funny, sweet little kid who hides all his insecurities behind jokes and puns, a walking poster child for smiling depression the same way 2k12 Mikey is, and he recognizes all those self-destructive qualities of himself, of self-worth issues of never being good enough and throwing him own safety away just to be WORTH something to his family, in this tiny Leo and immediately go "History is NOT repeating itself on my fucking watch!!!"

[writerdownbookworder]

Dear Diary,

I'm going to have to lock this diary away and destroy it. I love kids.

The Addams kids? They're menaces!

I'm fairly certain the girl wants to kill me. At least the boy seems fairly... sweet? No, not the right word. If I did die, he would definitely hide the evidence. Or eat it. The kid eats like a pig.

One thing is for sure. If I go missing, the girl got me and the boy finished me off.

Dear Diary,

Today was worse. I left the Addams kids playing upstairs while I went to make them lunch. When I came to fetch them, the girl had strapped her brother to some sort of contraption. I'm fairly certain it was an electric chair, though I don't know how she got one. Or why...

He was fine, just hungry. Which is almost more concerning. He ate so much at lunchtime, I'm not sure how he had room for dinner. I thought he might explode.

Oh well. Better luck tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

It's been a week. That girl - Wednesday - has tormented me within an inch of my life! There is blood in strange, unexpected places. Snakes and critters hidden in my bed. She locked me in my room for a whole day! There's even a disembodied hand in this house! It moves.

I think she might be clinically insane.

Pugsley on the other hand...I think he just does whatever she tells him to. Yesterday, she told him to jump out the second story window. I barely caught him. Then, I could barely pull him back inside. The kid weighs a ton.

The kicker? Wednesday said she wanted to see if he would bounce.

Dear Diary,

The Addams family will be reunited in two days. I'm overjoyed. I should've listened when everyone warned me. I won't lie, the house is interesting, and the stories the kids tell are...intriguing, at least, if not worrying. But you won't catch me anywhere near this place again. I wouldn't touch it with a very long pole, not even with several weapons hidden on me.

At least Wednesday has stopped trying to give me a heart attack. Instead, she takes it out on Pugsley.

But at least he seems used to it. Sometimes, I think he enjoys it.

Dear Diary,

Change of plans. Pugsley didn't want me to leave. He sat on my feet and cried when I tried to walk out the door. Not even Wednesday could make him move. Although, I'm not sure how hard she tried. I think I maybe saw a glimmer in her eyes.

It might have been a tear, but I guess it's more likely a plot.

Dear God, I hope it's not against me for leaving.

Maybe I'll come back to visit.

Dear Diary,

It's been awhile. The Addams family is...strange.

Wednesday and Pugsley meet me at the park every weekend for a picnic.

Morticia has me over for tea every other week.

Gomez decided I needed to learn how to fence. I don't think I had a choice. So now I have a fencing lesson twice a week. It's an odd sport.

That hand...Thing. Apparently, he likes playing checkers. I still don't know how I got roped into that.

I avoid the grandma though. She gives me the creeps. Not to mention the bald uncle. I'm fairly sure he's been arrested multiple times.

Anyway, now the Addams family is like my second family. My home away from home.

Who would've thought?

You, new in town and strapped for cash, see an ad in the paper; apparently, a "Gomez and Morticia Addams" are in need of a babysitter to watch their two children during a business trip. Despite the VERY high pay, no one has pursued it. Ignoring warnings from the locals, you sign up.

[linddzz]

If you think about the actual timeline for the Jayvik divorce arc it is so. fucking. funny. Guys that was like...five months?? Maybe a year?? And most of that was because Jayce got stuck going crazy getting his ass kicked by the bisexuality demons in a pit in the torment nexus.

Really, within the course of a few days all counted, these insane and enmeshed dipshits went through

-Frankenstein's Monster/Frankenstein Allegory Divorce. Came Back Wrong Event. "Can't Let You Go" as an act of betrayal. Sleeping alone in the lab crying listening to Coldplay's "The Scientist" after divorce vs divorcing your situationship to go become Jesus

-"We're Separated." Jayce doing Hellfire from Hunchback but make it bisexual. losing his mind in The Pit. symbolically recreating his ex's life journey. Viktor going through his "starting a cult and taking psychedelics in a hippy commune. getting a balayage bc I'm so over him while wearing the blanket he put on me as a wrap dress" era.

-Divorce 2.0 now with Judas/Jesus Allegory!! The "I love you and will scream as I kill you for all our sakes" ass trope. Hexcore, play "Judas" by Lady Gaga. play "Mary On A Cross."

-Separated era 2.0. Sexy Gay Villain. Im Evil and Gay and Here to Serve Exactly What you Are. Cunt. engaging in horny homoerotic fights with your rival/ex. The Magneto/Xavier era. "My ex came back and he's so much hotter now." Dom!Viktor truthers get our validation and get fed.

- Viktor getting turned down by his hot ex and taking it so bad he becomes Bodyhorror Evil Robot Wizard God. take a shot every time Viktor pins or lifts Jayce by the throat.

-brief cameo flashback of Jayce being haunted by Viktor smiling before getting blasted, just to sprinkle some "dead wife in an action movie" trope to the arc. as a treat.

- Madoka Magika Cosmic God Doomed Gays Era. The small devotee standing in awe before the Beloved God imagery.

-"You were always perfect to me. Your flaws are beautiful. I always loved you for everything you are. All I want is you." Piltover's Ultimate Dumbass Loverboy commits to the power of love except it isn't working. Jayce's voice cracking as he says how much he's always adored Viktor.

(Sidenote can you imagine Mel Medarda in the hive mind collective feeling so fucking tired seeing Jayce immediately confessing his endless devotion and adoration to the Evil Robot God Viktor? She's probably dealt with these two being unhinged and enmeshed for years. she's so fucking sick of them. she is so out of the polycule.)

- IN EVERY REALITY IN ALL POSSIBILITIES. "But babe our fates are inextricably enmeshed throughout realities and throughout universes." Life Without You Is Fields of Dreamless Solitude.

-We Go Into the Darkness Together. Fuck Orpheus I'm Built Different. Category 1000 Forehead Touch. clutching hands and each other as we enmesh our souls for eternity and explode into a butterfly launching into the cosmos. Undoomed Him From The Narrative The Wedding is Back On.

ALL OF THAT IN. HONESTLY. A SPAN OF DAYS. (jayce stuck in the pit barely counts ok). the last four points alone were in a fraction of a frozen second. unhinged. deranged. they're insane. your honor what the fuck is wrong with them???

[deathbringer]

does anyone besides me ever get preoccupied with how mind chess and the magatama kind of serve as yet more wrightworth character foil ammunition?

like, mind chess on its face appears to be exactly what it is: treating people like a strategy game, getting to the truth not via warmth but via logic. of course it's miles edgeworth, who the papers used to label inhuman, doing this, right? except when you look at it for more than two fucking seconds you realize that there is so much actual heart in the correct paths to the truth that it's almost insane. the games punish you for being needlessly cruel and playing to demon prosecutor stereotype. miles isn't callously treating people like pawns--he's using the chess framework to make the erratic nature of humanity a little less baffling.

meanwhile phoenix wright is fully out here supernaturally intimidating people. i love him and i love the magatama as a mechanic but every indication seems to point to "breaking a lock = causing some form and degree of psychic distress." yeah there's catharsis in the mix too but even so, it can only happen after a relentless onslaught of damning evidence. phoenix is complicated and full of bitchy depths but it's a core trait that he cares deeply about the people around him, and about humanity as a whole, and people see that commitment to defending the good from--sorry--a mile away. so you'd think he'd be the one with an investigative mechanic that leaves so much room for delicately picking people apart.

(sure, phoenix isn't a chess guy, but maybe that art school background could have come in clutch? except trying to imagine that just doesn't work, because the magatama is also a big, bright indicator of his bond with the feys. and there's something else to be made, i think, of miles' chess set as a commonly-known and relatively impersonal iconography versus the magatama's deeply personal and relatively obscure symbolic meaning.)

idk it just makes me want to gnaw the drywall a little bit.

[carlyraejepsans]

would you be okay pitching ghost trick to someone who doesn’t rly know anything about it? i’ve heard of it before and that it’s good but idk why, and i don’t really get a lot out of advertisements or game descriptions

you know the toby-typical campiness in how he writes his characters in UTDR? over the top, extremely iconic, clearly working from preestablished tropes but doing his own special spin on them? put toby fox on acid and you've got shu takumi's writing style.

ghost trick isn't "just" good. ghost trick is the type of good that invents a whole new categorization for itself. ghost trick invented a situation to put little fictional bitches in that is so good, the most popular works in the tag are people from other fandoms being like "oh shit, let me put MY fictional bitches through in this situation as well"

it is one of the most hooking, satisfyingly delivered mysteries I've ever seen in a videogame. there is not a single second of the game that feels unutilised, everything pushes you forward in the mystery, and still it never feels choking. the way it handles tension and delivers its information is phenomenal. if this were a normal recommendation i would start talking about the gameplay and how fun and good it feels to play and how genuinely clever it is but you're not here for that, are you, so let me tell you the real selling point: every single character in this game is fucking insane. not a single one of them is normal. it's a noir. it's a parody. it's an animator's wet dream. my friend is playing the game on stream and they said his fiancée can tell when we're streaming because she can hear him doing his pathetic man voice on call.

listen to me. you will fall in love with sissel. i played One Shot earlier this year. i thought i was never going to find a game with a protagonist that crawled into my heart as much as niko. i was wrong. jesus christ i was wrong. you need to understand, this is a puzzle game. once you know the answers that's it for the gameplay. the replay value is extremely low. I have replayed it 5 times in three weeks just to make the wrong choices and watch what sissel says and quips about it. he's my guy. i need to hold his face in my hands. you will see his fuckass red suit, you will see his fuckass banana hair, you willl see his goofy little smile and his dirk strider ass sunglasses and you will whimper like a DOG because you miss him so much. i am missing him right now as we speak. fuck.

play ghost trick.

[alisdarkwrites]

Yan! Oikawa and iwa Drabble <3

Fem pov

Tw: noncon, stalking, yandere behavior/themes, drugging, bullying, implied murder briefly mentioned, they put their cum into the drink (is that a tw?)

A/n: I feel like I talked weird in this but I kinda enjoy it and ahhhhh I’ve been gone so longggggg

Mdni

Everything is under the cut!

Oikawa falling inlove with someone so unpopular and insignificant to him that he can’t help but ask himself why? Why fall for her?

To cope with it Oikawa starts to make fun of her. The way she looks, dresses, acts. Despite the fact that he loves every single one of these things.

When he finds out iwaizumi feels the same way about her he isn’t happy at first. But as their feelings for poor, unsuspecting girl they have a crush on spiral into mad obsession they can’t help but work together.

Oikawa has some of his more insane, deluded fan girls stalk his darling, while iwaizumi takes out the trash. He scares off any potential suitors, whether by threatening them, or a more permanent solution.

Of course this isn’t enough! So oikawa throws a party, inviting everyone including his darling.

It’s perfect!

He has iwaizumi go up to her, acting all nice. Iwaizumi flirts with her a little bit and then offers to get her a drink. Once he goes off he has oikawa get the special little drink they made for her <3

They know it’s terrible, putting a sedative and a tiny bit of their cum into the drink but it’s ok… you’ll forgive them right?

Iwaizumi goes back to you, all kind and sweet, it’s to bad you don’t notice that gleam in his eye.

Once it finally kicks in, he asks if you need some rest. Of course you accept. Iwaizumi would never do anything bad right?

He brings you to oikawa bedroom, gently placing you on the bed. He leaves, locking the door behind him. You can’t help but drift into a deep, deep sleep…

When you wake up you can barely move. It’s hard to open your eyes but when you eventually do you see Oikawa in front of you. He beams at seeing you wake up. You feel someone wrap their forearm around your neck, putting you in a chokehold. You look up and realize it’s Iwaizumi.

You try to escape but your limbs feel so, so heavy. Iwaizumi grabs your arms, holding both of the with only one of his hands, pressing them out against your stomach. That’s when you realize that you were naked.

You started to freak out, begging them to stop and give you your clothes back. But oikawa just laughs and rubs you on the head.

Oikawa removes all of his clothes, gently pressing his cock against your hole. You beg him, beg and beg and beg him to not do this but nothing you say detours him.

He forces himself in

It’s painful, a burning sensation. It hurts before it’s even all the way in. Your telling him that he’s to big, that it hurts, but he just kisses you on the head.

His pace doesn’t make it any better. The second he thinks you’ve had enough time to adjust he pulls out most of the way. You feel relieved for a few seconds before he slams back in.

It goes on for hours, constant begging for it to stop and him mercilessly thrusting into you. Iwaizumi just kisses you, telling you that it’s ok <3

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-five of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Also then he fucking ruins his best non-funerary/non-gala slacks with ground-in gravel, rips a hole in the upper sleeve of his button-down, and nearly wipes out three times but only actually wipes out once, which ends up in him on his back and out of breath with Kon leaning over him and grinning down in delight as he reaches down to offer him a hand up. 

Tim takes it, because why the hell would he ever turn down the opportunity to hold Kon's hand? 

“That fall was sick,” Kon says as he pulls him to his feet, grinning wider at him. Tim isn’t really sure how to take that, considering. Like, Kon seems happy, but also he doesn’t love that Kon’s first comment was about him fucking up, so–“You’re really good at it, bet if you got tossed off a bridge you’d be super-easy to catch!” 

“. . . uh,” Tim says, vaguely bewildered. “Thanks . . .?” 

“And your balance is killer!” Kon continues enthusiastically, grabbing his other hand too and squeezing them both instead of letting go of him, and Tim realizes that Kon was, in fact, actually complimenting him with the comment about falling, which is . . . really weird, okay, but does make him feel better about the first comment thing. And, well . . . it does actually kind of make sense that Kon would be more impressed by examples of control, rather than strength or superpowers or stuff he sees every day. Like–technical skills over just throwing raw power at a problem until it stays the hell down, which is definitely what Kon’s used to. 

But also it makes literally no sense at all, because it’s Kon. The idea of big and bright and flashy Kon who does everything he can to take up space and get attention being the type to appreciate things like the fiddling little balance adjustments he did on the fly and the way he controlled his wipeout just feels, like–weird. 

Maybe it's just another example of a thing Kon is too busy acting cool to show Robin, but doesn't mind showing Tim Drake. 

“Thanks,” Tim says again, briefly wondering why Kon is completely incapable of putting up with Robin getting technical or detailed but can appreciate it in Tim Drake. 

. . . admittedly, the fact Kon wants to make out and, uh–take pictures with Tim Drake probably does make him more inclined to not find him annoying. Also Tim Drake isn’t the one in charge of both him and their entire team in regular stressful situations and there’s no one around who Kon might perceive him as stealing the attention of. 

Yeah, alright, he’s asking himself stupid questions again. 

Well, alright, so everything he was actually trying to impress Kon with is literally not even anything he cares about, all his best and slightly-too-Bat-level attempts aside, but he had pretty much expected it, just hoped that–

“The rail slide thing was so cool,” Kon continues again, sounding just as enthusiastic and back to beaming at him, and Tim . . . pauses, and then–“I dunno how you even did that without flying, and you did it so fast, and–” 

Tim doesn’t intentionally time it, but he needs to disassociate a little so he’s just counting a bit in his head, and therefore he knows that Kon spends exactly forty-seven seconds talking his ear off about literally every single one of the skate tricks he just did while still holding both his hands. Which doesn’t sound that long, technically, but definitely feels pretty long. 

And also pretty mortifying, because forty-seven seconds of Kon recounting every single trick that Tim is perfectly aware of having just done to him in an excited, delighted tone with his face all lit up in delight is . . . is a thing. That is happening to him. Actively. For forty-seven seconds. 

Forty-seven seconds. 

Tim really does not know how he’s supposed to pretend to not be going insane about this situation. Like that just isn’t a reasonable expectation. 

Kon stops to take a breath at second forty-eight, and Tim decides this is actually the perfect time to be more proactive in their physical relationship without any chance of Kon feeling like he had to drop any hints first. 

Well, no, Tim just grabs Kon’s face and kisses him stupid. But the first option is how he’s gonna explain why he did that to anyone he might ever have to explain it to, as opposed to if I didn’t kiss him right then and there I was going to have to go murder the Joker at LEAST fifteen years early and I just don't think Batman's thinly-veiled excuse for mental health could handle that, which is understandably a more loaded response and might lead to inconvenient follow-up questions he really doesn’t have time for in his schedule. 

Ideally he won’t be explaining himself to anyone, obviously, but contingency plans are contingency plans.

[twoflowers]

Sentimentality - Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: The newest addition to the Straw Hat crew grapples with their easy affection, and especially with the attention from their doting cook.

Tags: SFW, character study, slight slash, scientist reader, no use of Y/N, female reader. First impressions, nakamaship.

Word count: 1397

Special thanks to @mere-mortifer for the encouragement to post my Sanji fics. I love your Sanji very much.

This one isn't very slash-y and honestly feels a bit incomplete to me, but I'm obsessed with this man in a psychological way and need to post at least something, even if it captures only an ounce of my insanity about him and the crew.

Also: thinking about making this into more of a series (as the reader is kind of based on an OC of mine...!). Please, please, Sanji fans: give me any and every prompt you can imagine.

__

Sentimentality

Every morning you settle into the golden-glowing comfort of the breakfast table: the press of arms against arms, the jostling of bodies to the time of the waves, the hard wooden bench softened despite it all. 

The captain is not at all what you expected. He’s a kid, and a downright grabby one at that. You have to slap his rubbery hands away from your plate at every meal, and if you don’t catch him, Nami always does.

You sit next to Chopper, whose tiny, furry body is so very warm. He likes to plan the day over breakfast, still thrilled to have another scientist on board. You watch him nibble at pancakes with his blocky teeth (it really is hard not to coo over him, but he has his dignity to uphold, so you restrain yourself!) and sip his milk and grin, white mustache and all. Robin leans over with a napkin to clean Chopper’s mouth, and he fusses, but concedes. Some of his drawings hang on the fridge, secured by magnets. You think of siblings with a pang in your chest every time you see them.

Roronoa Zoro is inexplicably softer than you imagined. There’s something about the curve of his cheeks, the careless sprawling stance, the way his nose whistles lightly while he sleeps. He barks laughter at Luffy, leans on his swords like they’re children, even smells better than Nami likes to say.

Robin terrified you at first, but you quickly became a sucker for her mellow gaze and old book smell. Besides, educated women are always of interest to you. Nami and Robin are incredible, always encouraging: proof that somehow, someway, a woman who has been chased out of her old life and hunted by the darkest parts of herself can uncurl and be seen. 

The first few sleepless nights aboard the Going Merry, you stared at the ceiling, heart pounding at the vulnerability of sharing a room. You are a scientist. You’ve long denounced the need for sentimentality, though Luffy manages to wring a few spare drops out of you every day. How could you have accounted for the love that permeates every board of this ship? How have you gone your entire life wondering if belonging like this could exist, only to find it among a notorious pirate crew- a crew who, really, is more bumbling than you could have imagined? How can Luffy stroll into any place- town, restaurant, heart- and break down every wall without a second thought?

And the cook… 

You have to look away from him sometimes. The first time he made a meal for you, he sank to a kneel to present it, like he was a servant and you were a queen who could take his head at any moment, and have it willingly. You took the plate with shaking hands and nodded a thank you. When he stood back up, there was a bit of dust on the knee of his fine-pressed pants. You kept your eyes on it as he fluttered around, crooning to the women and brusquely serving the men. What were you supposed to make of that?

Sanji squeezes your heart like it’s an old rag. The way he remembers your favored flavor profiles makes your toes curl. You’re not even sure you’ve managed to smile at him yet, even a month after joining the crew, because he throws you so off-balance you’re left feeling like you’ve been thrust into a hurricane without any solid structure to grip onto.

His… whatever it is- admiration, loyalty, devotion, all of the above and more- has only gotten stronger in the past month. He floats into the lab as if on a cloud to tell you he made you a snack and left it outside, mindful of the potential for contamination. He tells you how lovely your eyes look that day, and every day- that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and that he lives to serve you.

“A snack for you is outside, miss,” he says today, like he’s itching to bow. “I prepared carrot cake and spiced milk for you, with turmeric, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Let me know if anything is not to your liking.”

You side-eye him from your bench, pipette paused in midair. Miss, miss, miss. Every time he says it you’re left breathless. As usual, you nod and mutter a thank you, still focusing on your work, lest you do something stupid like offering him your hand to kiss or backing him into a wall to taste his neck.

He usually leaves right away, but you don’t hear the door close today. When you look back at Sanji, he’s beaming, eyes practically heart-shaped. 

“May I make anything else for you?”

“No. That will suffice.” Something in your chest is shouting at you for being so formal with him. 

“I like carrot cake,” you add.

Sanji’s smile turns tremulous and melty. A hand moves to cover his heart. “I will keep that in mind. And I don’t wish to disturb you- your work is very important- but it will be best eaten soon, while it’s still warm.”

You surprise yourself by setting down your pipette and moving to the sink to wash your hands. Sanji is still lingering at the door as you scrub between your fingers and under your nails, similar to the way he washes his after handling raw meat. You take extra time drying off, the feeling of him behind you prickling at your neck. 

In the hallway, the cake and milk are placed carefully on a table. The mug is to the top right of the plate, handle tilted at the perfect angle for you to grab. A dainty dessert fork leans against the plate, next to two sprigs of mint forming a heart.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” you say. “It looks perfect.”

“I can make you as many as you’d like, all with love. Please. It’s my pleasure.”

You lift the fork, and Sanji leans forward with the eagerness of a child witnessing a magic trick. When you take a bite of the cake, his visible eye widens.

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Sanji.”

Sanji lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, miss. I can make you anything your heart desires, provided I have the ingredients. And if I don’t, I will make sure to procure them as soon as we make landfall. And if you want them before that, I'll swim to shore.” 

Why does the man have such puppy-dog eyes? You know with certainty that he would do anything you asked of him, or else die trying, and you’ve hardly spoken to him. There’s a string of tension in his body when he’s around you, loosened slightly now that you’ve complimented his food. Is he just that eager to please?

You have met many men happy to go through the motions of wooing you for one reason alone, but something about Sanji tells you that he would be at your beck and call for the rest of your life, even if you never said “thank you” again.

You nod, moving to try the spiced milk, which is, of course, perfect. 

“I noticed that you like cinnamon, so I tweaked the recipe to add more.” He sounds hopeful. “You don’t find the turmeric overpowering?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, lowering the drink. “It’s good. You’re very… perceptive.”

“Of course! I pay special attention to my lovely ladies.”

You’re included in this group, somehow. Why does that make you want to push and prod at him, despite the measured indifference you’ve culminated?

“Sanji,” you say, and he snaps to attention.

“Yes?”

“Could I have some marmalade with this?”

This is the first time you’ve requested anything from him. A broad smile spreads across his face. 

“Right away.” He falls into a bow before walking down the hallway. When he’s out of view, you hear him begin to run, legs pounding the wooden floor strong enough to rattle the pictures frames on the walls. 

You pluck a sprig of mint from the cake, grinding it between your teeth. It’s refreshing, new, with a bit of a kick. You smile to yourself, imagining Sanji in the kitchen, carefully scooping marmalade into a dainty dish, heart thrumming with the thrill of receiving an order from his newest object of affection.

[sammyslovergirl]

Sam Winchester Eating You Out

Sam had an obsession with eating you out. If Sam could eat you out every second of the day, he would. The taste and smell of your pussy drove him insane. He couldn't wait when he returned from hunts because he knew he'd be able to taste you. Sam was always eager to eat you out; he would get on his knees and beg you, "Please sweetheart, I need to taste you so bad." You couldn't say no when you had a 6'4 man on his knees wanting to please you. Sam has come in his jeans multiple times just from eating you he couldn't help himself he's eaten you in Dean's Impala, the library, and the kitchen his favorite position is when you would ride his face he would palm himself through his jeans making himself cum as you used his pretty mouth to make yourself cum. When he pulled your panties down, he groaned at how pretty your cunt was and how soaking wet you were. The first lick had Sam moaning and his eyes rolling in the back of his head. All you could hear was Sam's moaning and the wet smacking sounds. He would lick, suck, and trace patterns on your clit. He loved to hear you praise him, telling him how much he's making you feel good and how he's a good boy. He loved how you ran your fingers through his hair, and when you came, how you would grip his hair, and your soft moans and whimpers.

[whiteferraristurns]

𝒲𝒜ℛ𝒩ℐ𝒩𝒢𝒮! Implied smut, no actual sex. She/her pronouns. Frat boy Chris x “party girl” reader.

🐻ྀིྀི - I have a love hate relationship with this.

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬ღ

The music pulsed through the packed fraternity house, reverberating in Chris’s chest as he leaned against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand. The air was heavy with the scent of cheap beer, sweat, and cologne, but none of it fazed him. This was his domain.

“Yo, Chris, have you seen her yet?” Nick asked, nudging him with his elbow. Chris smirked, shaking his head. “Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll know the second she walks in.” You were infamous at these parties, a force of chaos wrapped in the body of a goddess. You had a way of making the whole room tilt in your favor, guys and girls alike stumbling over themselves to bask in your orbit.

As if summoned by thought alone, the front door swung open, and there you were. You strutted in like you owned the place, your crop top clinging to you in all the right places and your ripped jeans showing just enough to keep people guessing. Your hair cascaded down your back, and your plump red lips curved into a dangerous smile.

Chris straightened, tossing his cup into the trash. “There she is,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Your eyes scanned the room, a predator looking for your prey. When your gaze landed on Chris, your smirk deepened. Without missing a beat, you sauntered toward him, your hips swaying to the beat of the music.

“Chris,” you purred, stopping just close enough to make his heart race. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re at my house, pretty,” he replied, leaning in. “You expected me not to show up to my own party?” You chuckled, the sound low and sultry. “Touché.”

Your conversations were always like this—sharp and layered with tension that neither of you dared to break. But tonight, there was an edge to your demeanor, a challenge in your eyes that made Chris’s pulse quicken.

“You dancing tonight, or are you just here to tease me?” he asked, his tone light but his gaze serious. You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Maybe both,” you replied before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the makeshift dance floor in the living room.

The crowd parted for you like water, and soon you were in the center of the chaos. You turned to face Chris, your movements fluid as you matched the beat of the music. You danced like you didn’t care who was watching, but Chris knew better. Every sway of your hips, every flick of your hair—it was all intentional, all meant to drive him insane. And it was working.

Chris stepped closer, his hands hovering near your waist but not quite touching. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could control you. You weren't the type to be claimed.

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You grinned, your lips dangerously close to his ear. “You’re not dying yet, frat boy.”

The song shifted, the bassline deepening, and You turned around, pressing your back against Chris’s chest. He hesitated for half a second before his hands found your hips, gripping you firmly but not possessively.

You moved together like you’d done this a thousand times before, the chemistry between you crackling like static electricity. Chris couldn’t focus on anything else—not the crowd around you two, not the music, not even the fact that you two were putting on a show for half the house.

All he could think about was you.

When the song ended, you spun around, your cheeks flushed and your eyes gleaming. “Not bad,” you teased, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“You don’t make it easy,” he shot back, his voice hoarse.

Before he could say more, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the stairs.

“Wait what about—”

“Don’t tell ‘em,” you interrupted, flashing him a mischievous smile. “Unless you’re chicken.”

Chris didn’t have a chance to reply before pulled him up the stairs, the door of his room slamming shut behind you fading the party. 

You leaned against it, your eyes locked on his as you bit your bottom lip, a coy smile tugging at the corners. The air between you crackled with tension, the kind that had been building for weeks, maybe months.

Chris stood near the edge of his bed, his heart racing. He could hear the muffled bassline from downstairs, but it felt like it belonged to another world. This moment, this room-it was just you two.

You pushed off the door and slowly walked toward him, your shoes clicking softly against the wooden floor. When you stopped in front of him, you tilted your head, your expression daring yet soft.

"Are you scared of me, Chris?" you teased, your voice low, almost a whisper. Chris huffed a laugh, his smirk barely masking the way his pulse thundered in his ears. "Should I be?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you reached out, your fingers grazing the hem of his shirt. You looked up at him through your lashes, your lips parting slightly as you tugged at the fabric.

Chris swallowed hard. "You're playing with fire ma."

You raised a brow. "Maybe I like the burn it gives.”

That was all it took to break his restraint. Chris grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. Your breath hitched, and for a split second, you just stared at each other, your noses nearly touching.

Then you kissed him.

It wasn't soft or hesitant; it was fierce, full of all the teasing and tension that had been simmering between you. Your hands slid up his chest, tangling in his hair, while he gripped your hips, anchoring you to him as if he was afraid you'd slip away.

"Ma," he muttered against your lips, his voice gravelly.

"What?" you murmured, kissing him again, deeper this time. Chris pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hands still firmly on your waist. "If we do this... it's not just some game for me."

Your expression faltered for a moment, your eyes flickering with something unreadable. But then you smiled, softer this time.

"Good," you whispered. "Because it's not for me either."

His lips found yours again, and this time, it was slower, more deliberate.

Chris guided you back until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You laughed softly as you fell onto the mattress, pulling him down with you. You moved together in perfect sync, every touch, every kiss igniting something deeper. Your laughter mixed with Chris's low murmurs, the weight of your usual banter replaced by something infinitely more intimate.

The mattress dipped under Chris's weight as he hovered over you, his hands pressing into the bed on either side of your head. Your hair fanned out against the pillow like a halo, but the mischievous glint in your eyes was anything but angelic.

"You're staring," you teased, your voice softer now, almost breathless. Your fingers toyed with the chain around his neck, tugging him closer.

"Can you blame me?" he shot back, his tone low as he leaned down until your noses brushed.

Your lips curved into a smirk, but there was a flicker of something deeper in your gaze-something Chris hadn't seen in you before.

Vulnerability. He didn't comment on it, didn't call you out. Instead, he closed the distance, his lips meeting yours with a mix of heat and tenderness. You sighed into the kiss, your hands sliding down his chest and under the hem of his shirt. Your nails grazed his skin, sending shivers down his spine. "Off," you murmured, tugging at the fabric.

Chris chuckled, sitting back just long enough to strip off his shirt, revealing the lean muscles you'd only caught glimpses of before. Your gaze lingered, and for once, you didn't have a snarky remark ready.

"What?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Nothing," you replied, your voice quieter now. You sat up slightly, your hands tracing the lines of his chest.

"Just didn't expect you to look this good." He laughed, the sound low and rich, before pulling you back down beneath him. "I could say the same about you," he murmured, his lips brushing your jaw, your neck, every spot that made you shiver beneath him.

You felt yourself slipping with every touch, every kiss. You'd built your reputation on being untouchable, unbothered, but Chris was different. He wasn't trying to win you over with fake charm or empty promises. He wasn't trying to tame you. He just wanted you.

As sweet as it was it scared you

"Chris," you whispered, your fingers curling into the sheets.

He paused, pulling back to look at you. His brow furrowed, and the intensity in his eyes softened.

"What is it?"

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip—a rare moment of hesitation for you. "This... This doesn't mean anything, right? Like, we're just..."

Chris's jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might pull away. But then he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was gentler than any you’d share so far. 

"It doesn't have to mean anything tonight," he said quietly, his voice steady. "But don't pretend it's not there. You feel it just as much as I do."

Your breath caught, and for the first time in a long time, you didn't have a witty comeback. You just nodded, pulling him closer again, letting the conversation fade into the background as you lost yourselves in each other. 

🧸ྀིྀི

The morning light filtered through the blinds in Chris’s room, casting soft rays over the tangled sheets and clothes strewn across the floor. Chris stirred awake, his head pounding faintly from the aftermath of the party, but it wasn’t the hangover that made his heart race.

It was you.

you laid beside him, one arm draped over your head and your lips slightly parted in sleep. Your hair fanned out across the pillow, and the faint remnants of last night’s lipstick still stained your mouth. You looked peaceful, almost angelic—nothing like the wild, chaotic force you were downstairs just hours ago.

Chris leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his messy hair. What the hell did he get himself into? Last night was a blur of heat and tension, but it was crystal clear how you ended up here. You had a way of drawing him in, of making him forget everything else. And now, in the quiet of the morning, reality started creeping in.

“You’re staring again,” you muttered, your voice raspy with sleep. You didn’t even open your eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Chris chuckled, leaning forward. “Hard not to when you look like that.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned to face him, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Careful, Christopher. Compliments like that might make me think you’re catching feelings.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And what if I am?” you froze for a split second before laughing it off, the sound light but guarded. “Don’t make this complicated, Chris,” you said, sitting up and pulling the sheet around you. “Last night was fun, but you know how I am.”

Chris sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, I know. But maybe I’m tired of this back-and-forth. Maybe I want more than just—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your tone sharper than he expected. Your eyes softened as you looked at him, but there was a wall there, one he couldn’t push through. “This isn’t… I’m not the kind of girl who does ‘more.’ You know that.” Chris clenched his jaw, biting back the words he wanted to say. He knew your reputation, knew how you kept people at arm’s length, but last night felt different.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and searching for your clothes. “You’re a good guy, Chris,” you said, your voice softer now. “But you deserve someone who can give you what you want. And that’s not me.”

You found your jeans and slid them on, your movements quick and efficient like you were trying to get out before you could change your mind. Chris sat there, watching you, his chest tight.

“Don’t leave,” he called, his voice low.

You paused, your hand on the doorknob, but you didn’t turn around.

“You keep running from everyone, but one day you’re gonna realize you’re only hurting yourself,” he said, his tone both frustrated and resigned.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the world waking up outside. Then you turned your head slightly, just enough for him to see the flicker of pain in your eyes.

“Maybe..” you whispered “I’ll see you ‘round Chris.” You sighed slipping out the door.

Chris stared at the empty doorway, his chest heavy with everything unsaid. He could still smell your perfume lingering in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what he couldn’t have.

Soon enough his phone buzzed. Don’t tell anyone about last night.

He stared at the message, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. I won’t. But you can’t keep running forever.

There was no reply, and Chris didn’t expect one. You were a storm—beautiful, wild, and impossible to hold onto. And even though he knew you’d probably blow through his life just as quickly as you entered it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop chasing you.

TAGS ʚ♡ɞ @sturniqloo @themotherofmattschildren @chrislilcumslvt @strnilolover @aymeesblog @il0vecatzzz @chrissturnioloslvt @mattsfavginger @heartz4matt @starfuckoff

[furornocturna]

And then the ending with Dimentio’s defeat.

I will never stop praising how Dimentio went out. This madman’s ego may have been his downfall and kept him from creating a more thought-out plan B… but his last ditch effort in his final breath cements his selfishness as a person. Either he would get his perfect world, or he’d ensure all existence dies with him out of spite. It could also be read as a particular jab at Count Bleck, as was this not what he wanted?

Of course, this fails as well, but not without a cost. And no other Mario game that’s come after SPM has ever replicated this trope with the impact SPM punches you with.

Blumiere and Timpani’s love thwarts Dimentio’s “last surprise”, but it isn’t just their love, but their sacrifice, as you mentioned. Their love ignites the Pure Hearts, but it’s their sacrifice that empowers the Purity Heart to erase the Chaos Heart.

The multiverse is saved, but it’s a Pyrrhic victory. It’s bittersweet.

Blumiere and Timpani are dead… or are they? They’re finally together at long last, but they’ve left behind everyone else they’ve formed bonds with to mourn them. Luvbi miraculously got a second chance at life when the worlds were restored, Sammer’s Kingdom came back no worse for wear, but Fracktail is still gone, who you were forced to mercy kill after Dimentio made him insane to make things more entertaining. And Squirps is still all alone, the last and only survivor of his extinct people and kingdom.

Not everything is fixed when the Void is closed, but the characters are all working towards achieving their goals and fixing the remaining problem. The Cragnons and Floro Sapiens are working towards a better coexistence, Squirps tells you he plans to possibly rebuild his kingdom, and Bleck’s minions all want to heal from their loss. And create the better world they wanted for their Count, and be punctual to Nastasia’s “appointment for hope”.

We don’t live in a perfect world, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. There’s many terrible things out there, but also a lot of good. What matters is we fight for that good, doing our part to stand against the bad and allow for the good to shine brighter. And that hopeful message SPM leaves us as the storybook closes still brings me to tears every time I see it.

a lot of people will try to sell you on super paper mario’s story by pointing to blumiere and timpani and going “look! it’s a very sad love story!” and i think that’s a disservice to why the story grips me honestly. it’s a love story, yes, and similarly, a story ABOUT love. but it’s also a story of loss. deep, DEEP loss. there’s a heavy air of melancholy that hangs around everything in the story. the void’s constant approach, the fact that so many people dedicate their entire life and its purpose to helping a mysterious hero that will only appear thousands of years into the future, a heavy theme of sacrifice. all of it. it makes the love themes so much more potent to me. because it’s not JUST the power of love winning out. it’s this love born through hardship, through sacrifice, through the brink of desperation… that’s what grips me. it’s a very bittersweet love. and that sort of weird, grey love is a type of thing i never expected to see in a mario game. of all things.

[ianthewife]

Chapter 8 is so quintessentially sibling it’s insane… Carpenter and Faulkner arguing like they want to bite each others heads off while a kidnapped woman lies in their trunk, making it personal so quickly, trying to jab at each other in the most painful way, Carpenter being like ‘you’re stupid and nobody wants you!! you talentless little bitch🖕🖕’ Faulkner straight up going like ‘🖕🖕dad (the Trawlerman) loves me more!! and uncle said I can call the cops on you!!’— Carpenter shutting him down literally every time he speaks, Faulkner literally with eye twitching foot inching closer to the gas as he contemplates running her the fuck over— these two bickering so hard it seems they’ll start ripping each other’s hair out any second now— AND YET AND STILL when Faulkner gets hurt while going against what Carpenter said for the sake of trying to get them all out, all he says to her is ‘im sorry’ in the most glistening wet eyed way of i threw up AND she just tells him that he did alright with what transcript describes as GRUDGING GENTLENESS!!!!!!!

[vvachillessongvv]

Fade Into You

written for the music poll challenge (not even close to 5 sentences- more like 600 or so words)

✨️

“I don't know how you didn't see it.” Wille admits breathlessly, his cheeks blazing, his heart so high in his throat the words almost don't come out. 

“I–” Simon stutters. His lovely brown eyes are impossibly wide, reflecting twinkling lights and flickering candle flame. “See what?”

Wille sighs, bringing a hand up to run his thumb across the sharp angle of Simon's jaw, resting his fingers on the soft skin of Simon's neck wordlessly. Wille watches his mouth drop open the tiniest bit as he leans into the touch and they're so close Wille can feel Simon's breath fan across his face. Wille frowns, his heart twisting in his chest. 

Simon is everything he has ever wanted. If only he wanted Wille, too. But it's impossible to keep it in any longer. Every second he spends with Simon somehow feels like the warmest embrace and the cruelest torture all at once. He felt like he might go insane this entire weekend, being so close to Simon, every tentative smile and brush of fingers so close to what he really wanted to have with him. He swallows and forces out the words that have been choking him for months.   

“That I– I love you.” Wille's voice shakes, and hot tears sting his eyes. This is the end. The end of their friendship, the end of them, whatever fledgling thing that had began to grow between them being squashed by Wille's impulsive words.

Because Simon doesn't feel the same. He doesn't. 

Right?

Except Simon's breath hitches in his throat, and his eyes are shining with more than just the Christmas lights adorning his tree. There's something swirling in them, something Wille has seen before but has never been able to put a name to. It stirs a hope inside of him that threatens to burst the dam in his mind, letting all his repressed feelings for Simon flood out and drown him. 

“Wille.” Simon breathes, and Wille's entire world tilts on its axis as Simon leans forward, covering the hand Wille still has laying on his neck. There's a second between them where time seems to stand still, a simultaneous intake of breath, and then Simon's lips are pressed against Wille's, soft and sweet and everything. His fingers grip Wille's hand while he uses his other hand to grip Wille's shirt and pull him impossibly closer.

They part with a gasp, too soon. “Simon.” Wille says his name between them like an exaltation, running his hand up into Simon's hair, threading his fingers through silky curls. 

“Say it again.” Simon murmurs, his eyes closed. Because Wille knows Simon, knows him to his core, he doesn't need to ask. He leans his forehead against Simon's gently, rubbing circles into his scalp.

“I love you.” Wille replies without hesitating. He feels the words like they're a part of him entirely, like there will never be Wille without loves Simon. 

“I love you, too.” Simon gasps wetly, his eyes shining with tears, his mouth stretching into a wide smile, all gleaming teeth and crinkling eyes. A warmth blooms in his chest, the sweetest ache. Wille feels like he might crack under the weight of this moment, the beautifully synchronized way they lean into each other again, the blissful feel of Simon pressed against him. It rivals every fleeting fantasy he has harbored over the past year. 

Beyond them, a room over, the track-list plays the next song, soft and sweet to match this moment. Simon throws his arms around Wille's neck and nuzzles his face into it, his warm breath sending a shiver down Wille's spine.

He wraps his arms around Simon and squeezes him closer as Hope Sandaval sings the lyrics fade into you. Pressing his face into Simon's hair and inhaling deeply, he can't help but to think that's exactly what's happening.

✨️