#anyway this is a HORRID man ty for looking :)

[hermits-hovel]

JUNELEZEN DAY 8 || Beauty

"Why should you be ashamed of sprouting a few scales? That dragon is your most beautiful project, is it not?"

[moonlight-prose]

I either want to tend to Gabriel’s wounds or make some with my nails 😏

bound in the strands of permanence

a/n: knowing how intense his battles get when monster hunting, he must be so numb to the pain. because of course he is. it's been centuries of life, countless wounds, and he's unable to stop from wanting that infliction back. but in a different way. i really just word vommitted cause this was meant to be a drabble. my bad.

summary: he walked with monsters in the night, claiming their lives for a vendetta placed upon him by the church. but he found peace in daylight with the touch of your healing hands.

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: gabriel van helsing x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, love, tending to wounds, pain kink, masochism, tw: blood, breeding kink, p in v sex, rough sex, they're unhinged and in love, dirty talk, forever.

Pain was inconsequential in the grand scheme of being God's right hand. Immortality ran through his veins like a poison without an antidote. He couldn't necessarily die. People have tried, monsters have nearly succeeded, but death never asked for him to deign its doorstep.

He was bound to life on a planet riddled with evil—destined to drag each horrid creature to the pits of hell with him.

But pain was a different matter altogether.

After so many wounds, knives, bullets, arrows, he could no longer register the nerves that stretched to and fro beneath his body. They were there. Unmistakable with the phantom aches and near deaths that still plagued his eternal soul. But remembering why they came to be eventually rescinded to the back of his mind—an afterthought to all the detriments of his waking life.

Years went by before he dared to ask someone for help. But a particularly nasty wound to his shoulder was out of reach even for him. Which is how he came to stumble onto your small quarters in the furthest reaches of the Vatican.

There were other healers, other doctors who could have easily stitched up his wound. But you weren't a member of the church.

He found that ironic.

Neither of you mentioned how long it'd been since he stumbled through your doors, shoving a bag of coins into your hand, before falling onto the cleared wooden table meant for patients in the city. Not that either of you couldn't remember it. Two years, three months, and two brand new flesh wounds that barely needed wrapping.

Yet he still came anyway.

"Turn into a beast again?" you questioned, wrapped the cloth tight along his scarred abdomen.

He smiled, shuddering at the icy touch of your hands. "That was one time."

"One time too many."

"And if it hadn't of happened I wouldn't have a reason to come here."

You scoffed, tying the knot painfully, relishing a bit in the harsh grunt he let out. "You don't need a reason to come see me Gabriel."

"It's impolite to knock on a lady's door this late without a reason." He shook his head, unconsciously sliding his hand over yours that remained on his wound. "I'm not one to mistreat a lady."

"I'm hardly that. They won't even let me in the fucking church–"

Sharp eyes dragged up to your face, glaring at the pout in your lips that formed a curse. He may have been a man who found your way of life refreshing, but he was still devoted to the God above. Your mouth curled into a wry smile—hand moving to tip his chin up. To remove his gaze and place it where you wanted him to truly look.

"It's not right how they treat you," he rasped.

The familiar dark cloud of grief began to drip into his iris, shrouding his once sharp gaze that pierced each part of your soul. They called him God's right hand. The man who was sent from the heavens above. You merely thought of him as the man who gripped your heart in an iron fist—reluctant to let you go.

"I'm not one of you."

He sighed. "You could be."

"Only through the binds of marriage would I enter that place and even then, I don't entirely wish to follow rules not made of my own volition."

"Marriage," he mumbled, eyes dropping to the lip you worried between your teeth. "To whom, if I may ask?"

"To no one."

"Why?"

The way he looked at you is what threw you off guard. Intense, without boundaries that may have been set in place for other patients. He weeded out your deepest fears and silently vowed to rip each one apart with his bare hands. Monsters walked beside him in the night, but Gabriel Van Helsing was doomed to wander the daylight alone. Yet he found...he didn't want to anymore.

"If I were to ask..."

Your knees almost buckled - the weight of his inquiry slamming directly into your chest. "Ask me what?"

Gabriel looked at you as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. As if nothing felt more right than the words about to spill from his lips. To be bound to a soul meant permanence in the eyes of his God, and how lovely it might be.

To have someone he could be permanent with.

"To marry me darling."

There remained an answer to this madness. A final solemn vow you might have otherwise been able to say. But his confession hung in the air like a cloud that refused to dissipate with the change in weather. When had he fallen in love? When had he finally relented to the ache that built in his chest?

When did he realize that he came here at night for you and not for his wounds?

You wanted to give him something in return—a promise that could outlast all that threatened to rip him from you.

So you kissed him. You dragged him close—your hand tangling in his hair—and caught his lips in a kiss that damn near threw him off the table. He didn't expect to finally taste you, his heart hammering an unsteady beat in his chest. But he certainly wasn't about to complain. He met your actions in kind, gripping onto the flesh of your hips with a soft groan.

His tongue met yours—hesitance bleeding through each action—and when he found no resistance he finally devoured what he hungered for. Standing to his full height, he licked into your mouth, his hand gripping the back of your neck painfully to keep you close. Neither of you even registered what happened when he crowded you against the heavy wooden door sealed shut with a lock.

"Gabriel," you sighed, bending to let him drag his tongue down your throat.

"Say yes," he growled, rucking up your skirts as you worked the belt of his pants still coated in grime and dust. "Marry me. Be mine forever."

"God above." A gasp tore from your chest when he notched his dripping cock at your entrance.

He held you there, fixing his gaze on your face, even as you tried to drag your hips forward. "Darling."

"I want..."

"What?"

A moan rumbled in his chest when you finally looked at him—the love you kept locked away pouring out into the furrow of your brows. The tears that fell down your cheeks. Hiding it felt pointless at this time. Because you knew your answer, you knew the second he stumbled through your door demanding you help him. You knew it the moment his gaze locked on yours.

Forever would be spent here. In the safety of his hold.

"I'll marry you," you breathed.

There were few times you managed to see this man smile. Once or twice when you told a joke. More often due to the biting pain on his body as you stitched him up—a defense mechanism rather than agonizing grunts he used to give you. And now when your words settled in his mind - solidifying something he wondered about for years.

His lips bloomed into a smile that met his eyes for the very first time. Light practically shone directly from the hazel iris.

You expected him to give you an answer, a shower of words full of love. Instead he sunk into you with a harsh groan, his forehead falling to yours, mouth swallowing the cry that erupted from your chest.

Lovers existed in your life before him—a sprinkle of men who once or twice believed you'd be their wife one day. But none of them compared to the one before you. Gabriel stretched you wide enough to hurt, but he quickly sought out the small bud pulsing for attention—circling it slowly with each shallow thrust.

Your legs shook under the sensations, nails digging into his bare shoulders, and for the first time...he felt pain.

A fractured cry escaped his mouth, finding its way into yours as you sharply cut him to ground yourself. Panic flooded your veins at the thought of hurting him. Only to feel his hips slam into yours, impaling you on his twitching cock spurting precum like a broken faucet.

"Again," he rumbled, pulling out at an achingly slow pace. Only to punch back in and drag out a shout from the depths of your stomach. "Hurt me again."

"But–"

"Do it."

Cutting your nails down his back—blood welling to the surface immediately—you felt his entire body shudder. His head tipping back as he fucked into you fast enough to hurt. There was no rhythm to how he moved. Rutting into you wildly like the beast he once became—his body overwhelmed with a mix of pain and pleasure. Agony merging together with the love he felt for you.

The wet squelch of your cunt swallowing him in with each thrust echoed in the small confines of your room. Each one followed by the loud resounding echo of your moans and his ragged grunts. You felt unhinged. Probably looked like it too.

But pleasure was creeping up on you faster than you could anticipate. Your nails marred his skin with each blinding strike of his cock against your walls. It drowned you. Swallowed you up with the promise to spit you back out later.

You'd never felt so whole before.

"I can feel her begging," he gasped against your lips, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his. "Will you let me?"

"Uh-huh."

He smiled, harsh and unforgiving. "We'll have a little one running around by the time our vows are exchanged mea amor."

His words struck something in your chest—dragging out the darkest secret you kept hidden each time he looked at you. Binding yourself with him through the bonds of marriage was one thing. Having his child remained something else entirely. You almost loathed how much you loved the idea.

"Oh–"

"You'll make me a sinner," he babbled, stimulating your clit until pain began to spark up your spine. "A child before marriage. What will God think?"

"G-Gabriel!" A violent tremble began in your legs, working up your body until he was forced to hold you up with his body weight. "I-I can feel it."

He chuckled, speeding up just enough to push you over the edge. A scream echoing off the stone walls—ringing in his ears as your walls clamped down, a gush of cum coating down to his balls. What he wouldn't give to see that again. Your face screwed up in pleasure, pain bleeding into his body with each scratch of your nails.

"It will simply have to take," he gasped, spilling into you with a cry of his own.

Seconds bled into a minute and yet he couldn't stop cumming. The sticky warmth of it trailed down your legs and dripped onto the floor. And he merely shoved back into your—keeping it from spilling out entirely. Intent on keeping each promise he made.

Kissing your cheeks, he found your lips with a sigh. "Take this."

"What?" you mumbled, vision blurry with tears.

The cold kiss of metal on your finger stirred you back to life. "Until I find a jewel meant to sit on your hand."

His insignia burned through your chest, claiming you under the very name he sought to learn more about. You were to be his. A Van Helsing of your own volition. It should have terrified you.

Yet the fear was nowhere to be found.

"I love you Gabriel. I should have told you years ago..."

With a soft kiss to your forehead, he curled his arms around your back. "Then tell me again tomorrow."

And each day after that.

[losersimonriley]

every way that matters

(Ghost/Soap, marriage proposals, first kiss, in that order actually)

“MacRiley.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ravish!”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

The longer he thinks on it (the longer Johnny goes on listing horrid mash-ups of their surnames,) the more convinced he becomes that they should just keep their own as is. It would make the streamlining process a hell of a lot easier (as easy as it can be for a dead man with a high-clearance-only military file to get legally married. Ghost’s paperwork will be a nightmare no matter if his name is changed or not.) Plus it would mean no unnecessary confusement in the field.

Johnny is quick to veto that idea.

“Where’s the romance in that, ye numpty? C’mon. What sounds better, John Riley or Simon MacTavish?”

Ghost actually full body snorts at that one. “They both sound dead weird.”

“Och, ye wound me. There’s no other choice then. Plain ol’ Riley-MacTavish it is. Simon Rhys Riley-MacTavish,” Johnny says his name with such softness that it hurts.

And that one…that one might work. Bit of a mouthful but nobody besides an officiant is ever going to be saying his full name anyway. And Johnny, apparently.

An officiant. With the highest of clearances. At their wedding. Their make-believe wedding.

This is all, of course, a joke. They’re meant to be having a laugh on watch duty while Garrick and Price sleep their dedicated four hours. Simon had maybe forgotten himself and delved a little too deep into the idea. Maybe he forgot this wasn’t a real conversation. Easy to do with electric blue eyes lit by a full moon and a perfect mouth spouting random, sleep deprived nuggets like “What if we got married?”

“Sure. That’s the one,” he says, regretting every single one of his life choices that led him to this moment. They need to stop. Now.

“That’s the one,” Johnny repeats.

Despite it all, his own jaws keep fucking flapping. Soap tends to have that effect on him. Curious, that.

“When I was a little brat,” he’s already second-guessing the confession about to escape his lips, “I used to think I’d make the perfect husband one day. Cause my old man showed me everything not to be.”

He tries to ignore the sharp inhale that Johnny attempts to mask with a clearing of his throat.

“You would be. Anyone would be lucky to have ye, Simon. I’d certainly be beside myself,” he says that last part in a mutter, looking off into the dark of the forest.

“Right,” he whispers, sarcasm dripping from the word. He hopes they leave it at that. He thinks they have left it at that, peaceful silence promising until Soap picks it up again within minutes.

“If it weren’t for the military, the task force, would ye marry me?”

“Maybe if you asked nicely.”

“Simon. I’m serious.”

He glances up and, yes, that is Soap’s serious face. He’s staring at him so intently it might burn a hole straight through the hard shell mask and into his skull. Fuck. Fucking hell. What is this? The fuck is going on here?

“I—Johnny, we aren’t…we aren’t together,” he can’t help but ease into it as if he’s breaking the truth to Soap. And yet he phrases it as a question instead of the statement it’s meant to be.

“Ye didnae answer the question proper.”

“You didn’t ask proper,” he quips, agitation rising in his voice. Why can’t Soap just stop this? Can he not see how much it’s hurting him? He’s usually so good about reading him.

Johnny grins evilly and plucks a blade of grass from the ground, quickly tying it off. “Need ye to stand up for a sec.”

“What,” he deadpans.

“Up.”

He stands, ever the obedient dog for John fucking MacTavish.

And John fucking MacTavish stays sat on the ground, switching his position to a kneel right in front of him.

He’s going to throw up.

This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening. He’s in a dream and he’ll wake up screaming and sweating and shaking any second.

“It’s not funny anymore, Soap,” he croaks.

It hurts.

“I’m not laughin’,'' he holds the blade of grass up, haphazardly knotted into a tiny circle. “Simon Rhys Riley, would ye do me the absolute fucking honor of being my husband in all ways except legal? Sir.”

It’s so stupid. It’s pretend—he knows that, but he’s sinking to his knees anyway. “This would make me your fiancé. Not husband.”

“That a yes then?”

Johnny is serious and his smile is blinding. Not for the first time, he’s bloody thankful for having his mask on around this ridiculous man. He’s sure his entire face could rival a tomato.

Maybe it’s not a real proposal but, Simon realizes, it’s real to them. Maybe not so far as a promise, but a wish. A what if.

“We’ll wait a bit, let it marinate. Maybe this’ll turn to gold, aye?” Johnny makes to slip the…ring…onto his finger but hesitates, motioning to the glove covering Simon’s hand. “Can I?”

He nods once and the skelly glove is far too gently pulled off and replaced with another far too gentle glide of grass up his ring finger. It’s the perfect fit. It doesn’t rip, doesn’t fall off when Johnny moves his hand back into his glove. It’s as if that stupid blade of grass was meant for him.

What a stupid thought. A stupid thought for a stupid, lovesick ghost.

They blink at each other, both seeming to be in a daze of their own when something possesses Simon—something unhinged and desperate and absolutely necessary in this moment.

He yanks the mask completely off before surging forward and kissing hard enough to hurt both of their noses and quick enough to leave them both aching for more. Johnny whines pitifully and follows his lips when he pulls back.

“Think we’ve done this all backwards, LT,” Johnny breathes into his mouth, hands coming up to pet his face.

This is everything. Everything. Backwards, frontwards, sideways, he doesn’t give a fuck because Johnny is everything.

“You started it, Sergeant.”

***

Six months and six thousand kisses later, Johnny presents him with a gunmetal black ring. Fucker had it planned from the start.

Engraved on the outside:

Riley-MacTavish

And the inside:

In every way that matters.

[jahascouch]

Origami || Excerpts of their daily life [Jaha Lee x GN!Reader]

Cha Seongtae watched as Lee Jaha did his best to craft something with his hands, an unusual concentration underneath his crimson red eyes. Seongtae had practically been looking for Jaha everywhere, the sect leader being needed for something, as usual. However, he checked everywhere, and the last place he thought Jaha would be in was his room.

What surprised him even more is that Jaha was clumsily trying to fold several pieces of paper together, and tying them together as a makeshift bouquet. While Seongtae knew that Jaha was smitten for [Y/N], he didn’t realize how far the sect leader could take it.

Well - he now knew that Jaha was a lot more smitten for [Y/N] than he initially thought. To be fair, Jaha always had a bored look on his face whenever he wasn’t killing or mocking anyone, so when Seongtae saw Jaha smiling softly at the person, he was stunned.

Anyways. To focus on the situation at hand, Seongtae watched Jaha for a bit (the man’s concentration never wavering, despite him usually being observant to everything happening around him). He watched as Jaha failed multiple times at folding a rose, or as he messily tied a few of them together, before sighing and putting it to the side.

Upon taking a closer look, on the side of the table Jaha was working at was an entire stack of paper bouquets - if you could even call them that. They were all messily strung together, and the bottommost bouquets look horrid. He did note that the ones on the top, the more recent bouquets, looked slightly better than the ones before.

After a bit of watching the man struggle, Seongtae spoke up, “Master Jaha, what are you doing…?”

For the first time since he met Jaha, he finally caught the man off guard. Jaha jumped slightly in his seat, before sheepishly turning to Seongtae and making a half-assed effort to hide the paper bouquets behind him.

“Nothing,” He mumbled.

Seongtae raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie, crossing his arms. He replied, “That doesn’t look like ‘nothing’.”

Jaha looked awkward, knowing that Seongtae caught him. His eyes averted, internally battling with himself. He wondered if he should tell Seongtae the truth. Jaha wasn’t the type of man to be so hesitant, and he wasn’t the type of man to be scared if he was acting out of character. After a few moments of debating with himself, Jaha sighed and answered Seongtae, though with a slightly reluctant look on his face.

“I’m… trying to make a paper bouquet for [Y/N].”

“I can see that,” Seongtae quickly answered, earning a sharp glare from Jaha. He quickly shut up. After another few moments of silence, Jaha continued.

“They mentioned it would be romantic, so I’m… working on it,” He finished, looking off to the side as if he were avoiding Seongtae’s gaze.

Seongtae raised his eyebrow again, staring at the bouquets, “They’re quite ugly, to be honest.”

This earned him another sharp glare from the sect leader, and he put his hand up to defend himself. After a bit, Seongtae offered (after he saw the dejected look on Jaha’s face after he finished glaring at the manager), “I know how to make origami. It’s not a bouquet, but I can teach you how to make a swan.”

…

That day, you came back to your own room, noting something out of place on your desk, on top of several books. It was a singular paper swan, clumsily folded on the corners but was neat. You let out a small chuckle as you noted the writing on one of the wings.

‘Aside from your cooking, you're my favourite.’

[scryarchives]

𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢

yuuji's not a hair stylist, and tsubame's mistake was letting him try anyway.

masterlist

��� pairings: itadori yuuji x oc ✭ warning: mentions of abuse, canon divergent, pre-shibuya arc ✭ author’s note: i actually had a lot of fun writing this, it's a nice break of fluff from the angst HEH– ✭ word count: 2.7k words

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

There’s nothing better than a good night’s sleep, everyone can attest to that. Tsubame couldn’t agree more if it weren’t for the nightmares that haunted her mind, ones of anger, ones of regret, but most recently, ones of her father, a man she trusted, one who should’ve cared for her since her mother’s passing.

His horrid sneer permeated her memory as he grabbed her hair pulling her around like a ragdoll, this one moment staining her memories of home. She would often wake up in tears after, sometimes not even realising that she was crying until she reached her hand up to find the trails of tears leaking down her face.

This led to her constant urge to cut off her hair, no matter how nicely she styled it. Just the feeling of her hands running through it made her shiver in discomfort. Up to this point, she held in her discomfort, tying it up in a simple ponytail to ignore the way she had to look over her shoulder constantly.

However, during a particular training session where her hair was lightly tugged on, it spiralled into a little fit of fight or flight, causing Tsubame to almost beat her classmate, Itadori Yuuji, into a pulp, which she felt extremely guilty about – she ended up buying him dinner for the next few days.

Tsubame sighed at her miserable reflection in the mirror, scissors in hand as she willed herself to cut her hair to a shorter length, fearing that she might hurt someone else if they weren’t the wiser. Heck, she still couldn’t explain to Yuuji why she reacted in such a fashion, the words dying in her mouth the moment she tried to explain. 

Sweet as ever, he never pushed her, only smiling in acceptance as he lightheartedly brushed off her little outburst as an outcome of her trained instincts. It didn’t help with Tsubame’s guilt, however.

Just as Tsubame raised the scissors to make her first cut, her bathroom door burst open, interrupting the silence as she jumped, almost snipping off a big chunk of her hair. Relief washed over her nerves as she saw that all her hair was still very much intact.

“Itadori,” Tsubame huffed, placing the scissors on the sink’s countertop to rub her face anxiously. “How many times have I told you to knock before you enter my dorm…”

Yuuji nervously rubbed his neck, a sheepish smile on his face as his tone was filled with apology, “Sorry about that, it’s just that the others were– are you cutting your hair?”

His big brown eyes now looked at her in curiosity as he pointed at the scissors on her countertop. Tsubame followed her eyes to where he pointed, and she exhaled softly, nodding. Yuuji didn’t miss the way she looked fidgety, almost as if she wasn’t sure about her decision to cut her hair.

“Hey… are you alright?” Yuuji frowned softly, looking over to the scissors. “You don’t look confident about cutting your hair. Is this about last time? Tadashi, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to tug on your hair–”

In an instant, Tsubame shook her head, reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault she was cutting off her hair, “No, no, Itadori, it wasn’t your fault. It’s just… my hair was getting in the way, you know?”

Yuuji frowns, not buying her lie, but he doesn’t push it. Tsubame knows he can see past her lie, and part of her hates how well he can read her. Sometimes, she forgets that just because he’s not as academically advanced as Megumi and her (as she often finds herself tutoring her pink-haired classmate, not that she minded), it didn’t mean that he doesn’t read people and their emotions well.

He sees the way her hands shake slightly, and he gently takes her palms into his, the sparks returning as she swiftly looks up at him, his kind eyes looking into her nervous ones. He doesn’t say anything about the pink blush on her cheeks, a soft smile growing on his face.

“Would you like me to help you?” He asks gently. “You’re uh, shaking quite a bit.”

Tsubame looked at the scissors once more before her attention darted to her hands which were engulfed by his larger, warm ones. She bit the inside of her cheek, exhaling softly before nodding.

“Okay,” she nods, finally meeting his gaze.

She never wears a smile, Yuuji notes. Tadashi is never seen with one, but everything is in her eyes, the way she carries herself. From the slightest hunch, he could tell she was either exhausted, or the stress from a mission was weighing her down. From the slight quirk of her eyebrow, she was thinking about the answer to a question Gojo-sensei asked, and from the little glimmer in her eye as she held a book in her hand he could tell she was excited, turning every page eagerly.

But right now, her eyes are soft, gentle almost. It’s quite the contrast from her sharp wit and tongue, and he feels his heart flutter softly as she looks so gently at him. Yuuji begins to smile, taking Tadashi’s hair in his hands.

“You’ve got pretty hair, are you sure you want to cut it?” He asks softly, and she nods, more confident in her choice this time.

“Yeah, I just… I want it short, I can’t really… maintain long hair anymore,” She huffs softly, looking at herself in the mirror as Yuuji stands behind her, her soft hair in his hands.

It’s silky, he thinks to himself, and it easily cards his fingers through her hair. Tsubame flinches but, his touch is gentle, and it reassures her that she’s in safe hands.

Finally, Yuuji raised the scissors, snipping away bits of her hair, bit by bit, and Tsubame kept her gaze on her hands, watching as bits of her dark locks fell onto the floor, bit by bit. It's a moment of silence between them, one of mutual trust.

Unfortunately, that trust is broken the moment Tsubame looks up at her reflection, seeing that her hair really is, rather awkwardly cut, with bits of hair sticking up and cut to uneven lengths. Horror fills her as she sees this change, but Yuuji doesn’t seem to notice her look of shock as she quickly pulls out her phone, texting Nobara and Megumi for help.

“Who you texting?” Yuuji asks in curiosity, Tsubame shrugging as she tries to cover up her previous expression with a small hum.

“Just Nobara and Megumi,” She hums softly. “I just uh, wanted a little outside opinion on the haircut.”

He grins, clueless as ever, “I’m sure they’re gonna love it! You look great with any hairstyle, to be honest.”

“...Yeah. Totally.”

Tsubame continued to eye her phone for a response, almost letting out a sigh of relief as Megumi quickly texted an ‘omw’. She plays with her fingers anxiously, dread filling her as she sees more and more bits of her hair falling onto the floor before finally Nobara and Megumi bust in, a laugh instantly escaping Nobara.

“Oh, my, god.”

“Shut up, Nobara,” Tsubame whispered to herself as Megumi eyed her haircut in amusement. He can see Yuuji smiling sheepishly as he holds a tuft of Tsubame’s hair in his hands, the said girl’s head lowered in humiliation.

“Oh come on, that’s hilarious!” Nobara grins, snapping a photo of Tsubame’s fuming face and badly cut hair.

Yuuji looks down at the haircut, brushing off some hair from his hands, “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Oh, it’s so that bad, borderline horrifi– HEY!” Nobara hissed, clutching her forehead as Tsubame threw a tube of toothpaste right into her face.

“I’ll fix it,” Megumi sighs, walking over towards where Tsubame stood, gently pushing Yuuji aside as he takes the scissors, working his way through the mess.

Nobara mutters, rubbing her face, and eyeing Tsubame, “Sheesh, why’d you let Itadori help you? He clearly doesn’t look like he knows what he’s doing.”

Yuuji pouts a little at Nobara’s comment, and Tsubame can’t help but find it cute.

“Yeah, Tadashi, why didn’t you say anything?” Yuuji frowns, almost as if betrayed that she didn’t say anything.

Tsubame fiddled with her thumbs a little, calmed just the slightest from the way Megumi’s so gently cutting her hair – not that Yuuji wasn’t gentle, it’s just that he didn’t know what he was doing. Not one bit.

“Well, you were just really nice about it, and I felt bad if I told you it looked bad,” She mumbles, trying to brush it off with a shrug. “Besides, you were giving your best, and I admire that.”

Yuuji looked into her eyes, and with just one glance, he knew she was being honest. His stomach flipped a little in excitement, knowing that she was honest about her admiration towards him.

“Well, you could’ve just said it was bad,” Yuuji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know,” Tadashi looked away guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t help the way his heartstrings were tugged at the sight. 

He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her the most reassuring look he could muster, “It’s alright, Tadashi. I get what you mean, but next time, just be honest with me, okay?”

Her eyes soften the slightest as she looks up at him. Since she can’t nod, she mumbles a small, ‘okay’, but what takes him off guard is the small upturn at the corners of her mouth. Yuuji felt his cheeks warm, turning them into a shade of pink similar to his hair.

“You guys are so mushy and ick,” Nobara sighs, winking at Tsubame’s direction. “Just get together already.”

Yuuji glared over at Nobara, his entire face red with humiliation. Tadashi’s face was the same shade of red as his, but as she glared her head moved and Megumi clicked his tongue, inwardly relieved that he hadn’t cut her hair yet. He placed his hand on her head, gently guiding it back before resuming his actions.

“Itadori and I just became friends, leave us alone,” Tadashi huffed. 

Yuuji agreed, his arms crossed against his chest in defiance, “Yeah, what she said!”

“And if I’m being honest, even though we just met, I trust you all,” Tsubame sighs. “So I might as well let you both in the secret, which Nobara has kept ever since we were kids.”

Yuuji raised his eyebrow in confusion, glancing over at Megumi who didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Let me just… how do I phrase this,” Tsubame sucked her teeth in thought. “My name isn’t exactly Tadashi.”

“It either is or isn’t Tadashi,” Megumi quips, brushing the hair off of his hands, “Which is it?”

Tsubame sighs, fiddling with her fingers, “Fine, fine. It’s not Tadashi. Tadashi was a stupid name my parents picked when I was a kid because my grandparents wanted a grandson – my birth name’s Tsubame.”

Yuuji felt his jaw drop as he turned to Nobara who nodded in agreement.

“And you knew this the whole time?” Yuuji pouted in Nobara’s direction, the girl in question raising her hands in surrender.

“It’s a secret for a reason! I’m not that bad of a friend, sheesh,” Nobara puffed her cheeks in annoyance. “And Tsu-Tsu and I have been best friends since childhood, of course, she’d trust her secret with me!”

Tsubame mumbles a curse, a blush growing at the humiliating nickname, and Yuuji can’t deny how her flushed cheeks make him smile the slightest.

“Tsu-Tsu?” He grins, “Oh my god, can I call you that?”

“Absolutely not,” She glares, her cheeks flaring a darker shade of red.

“And done,” Megumi announced before Tsubame could lurch in Yuuji’s direction with her hands around his neck. “At least look at your hair before you murder Itadori.”

Tsubame sighed, placing her wire-frame glasses on the bridge of her nose before looking in the mirror, her eyes lighting up as she leaned closer, admiring her reflection, “...It looks great, thanks, Gumi.”

Megumi nodded in acknowledgement, but Yuuji brushed past the fact that they were on a nickname basis, more in awe of Tsubame’s new haircut.

Her long hair was snipped short into a pixie-cut kind of appearance, but the length of the hair varied, appearing to be longer at the front than the back with a little bit of her head shaved, resembling a medium fade undercut.

Perhaps it was the lighting in the bathroom or the overall renewed energy between them, but her eyes just seemed to sparkle more, and her presence just made his heart beat faster. Maybe it was the way her short hair framed her face better or the way he could see more of her true personality shine through as she admired her new haircut. It was definitely… unique, but she pulled it off.

“You look great, Tsubame,” Yuuji smiled, and his heart thumped harder when her coffee-coloured eyes met his. “I like this haircut on you.”

She rolled her eyes, and even if he was supposed to feel a little hurt by it, he couldn’t help but smile at her sarcastic tone, “You don’t get to like my haircut.”

“Oh, come on,” He whined playfully, pouting. “Don’t I get a little bit of credit? ‘Cuz if I didn’t mess up, you wouldn’t get to look this amazing?”

He can hear the annoyance in Tsubame’s voice, but the way her mouth quirks upwards and the way her eyes sparkle the slightest makes him think he’s hit the jackpot.

“Yeah,” She groans, admittance in her tone. “You did mess up my hair.”

“So, do I get to like it?” Yuuji grins, his heart beating faster, pride filling him at the sight of her smallest smile.

It was a step forward in the right direction, considering that this was the most direct form of happiness he’d received from her yet. He’s just that bit closer to breaking down her walls. 

“Yeah. It means you get to like it,” She crosses her arms, smile vanishing, but the twinkle in her eye says otherwise as she flicks his forehead gently, walking out of the bathroom.

Yuuji grins, following after Tsubame as Megumi sighs, tossing out the last of her hair into the bin, Nobara snickers as she takes a quick photo of Yuuji and her childhood best friend.

“Does that mean we get to use nicknames?” Yuuji peers over her shoulder as she huffs.

“No.”

“But you call Fushiguro ‘Gumi!” He frowns with a mumble, and she scoffs the slightest.

“Because we got along better, and I owe him lunch now for fixing up your mess,” She pokes his shoulder and he playfully whines.

“Then at least let me make it up to you!”

Tsubame hummed in thought, giving Yuuji the smallest smile, and that was enough to make him smile again. Her smile, her rare smile that no one else saw other than their little group, was enough to make him feel as though it was all he needed.

“I’ll think about your offer, but you can start with helping Gumi out with the tidying process,” She quips, walking out of the room as Nobara follows.

“What?!” Megumi grumbles, Tsubame’s voice echoing through her empty dorm room.

“You’re amazing, ‘Gumi! I owe you lunch and dinner!”

Yuuji sighed with a smile, grabbing the broom from the corner of the bathroom, and sweeping her hair together with amusement in his eyes.

“Ridiculous,” Megumi mutters to himself, watching his friend hum to himself happily as he sweeps up the bits of hair, as though he was simply re-energised at the sight of a girl smiling her smallest smile at him.

“Yeah, but didn’t you see her small smile, Fushiguro?” Yuuji grinned. “I’m closer to knowing the real Tsubame.”

“You’ve still got a long way to go,” Megumi hums to himself, tossing the last bit of snipped hair away.

“I know, but I’m not gonna give up just yet,” Itadori grins. “I’m so close, don’t ya think?”

Megumi thinks to himself in silence for a minute, taking a glance at a small picture by Tsubame’s bedside before opening her dorm door, his clothes and hands now free of stray hair.

“You’ve still got a long way more but… if anyone can open her up to us, it’d be you, Itadori.”

And that was enough encouragement for Yuuji as he grinned, walking out of the dorm as Megumi watched him in amusement.

“That’s enough for me to keep trying!” He laughs lightly. “I’m gonna be her best friend, just you wait!”

“Yeah… I’m sure you will,” Megumi nods in agreement.

“Now, where were they meeting for lunch? I’m starved.”

gif by @planetafiyu

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[kittenchancorruptionarc]

((nervous anon here! if something sounds off-putting forgive me!!)) -🧡🤎🐰

"..."

["Is it over...?"]

["I feel so numb... Did I die? Head is spinning..." Rachel's head felt like a hurricane of emotions, those monitor lights, so blinding...]

[Laughing echoed through her head, the clicking noise of a keyboard...

Chains...

That... mechanical voice...]

[The girl resting on what seemed like... a bed? Beeping on her side... like a heartbeat monitor? It.. sounds normal... is it mine? Am I alive?]

[Lights above her "Why is so bright...?"

"I.. don't want to open my eyes..."]

[Her small form couldn't move, it felt too painful to move... but she was awake.]

[Fox was always one for experimentation with various different methods in his livestreams, and tonight was no exception. This one was unlike anything else he’s ever done however, as he wanted to test something brand new he discovered while in his teams medical unit with one of his unfortunate “pets” who landed there after a brutal stream: Hooking up a heart monitor to one of his “co-stars”, tying them down to a spare bed from said medical unit…

and testing their limits to see how much they can take before their heart rate skyrockets to dangerous levels. The beastkin has used heartbeat monitors before for various other things, but not in a way to purposely induce a goddamn heart attack in someone!

Unfortunately, Rachel was chosen as tonights “guinea pig” for this new method the older man cooked up. She was originally taken in to be auctioned off like most people captured by Fox and his men, but he found her…rather interesting. Interesting enough not to hawk her off to some random rich asshole, anyway.

Although, this is probably way worse than whatever a potential buyer would have done to her. ]

“Oh?”

[Fox was speaking to his chat like he usually did before a show, hyping up what he has planned for tonight to his audience as he heard poor Rachel struggle in the bed he chained her down to, his head whipping around to look at her as his horrid, sinister laugh boomed throughout the room and in her ears.

Oh god. ]

“Look who’s finally awake, everyone! Our sleeping beauty…~”

[The silver fox fixed his camera’s focus onto the bed the girl was forcefully laying on as he shifted over to her, his recently purchased platform boots audibly stomping on the ground as he now towered over Rachel in the bed, his orange eyes piercing into her as he growled and shook his head in disapproval at her still tightly shut eyes. No no.

She needs her eyes open for this

“Open your fucking eyes, or I’ll open them for you. Your choice!~”

[Fox’s threat sounded VERY serious…she should probably open them now.]

[mothxmoons]

Lost in the woods

You truly didn’t mean for it to happen, one moment you were defending yourself from someone the next you were racing through the snowy woods as others chased you.

Wesker

Gender neutral/Medieval au/Very slight yandere

It was just a trip into town, how did it end up like this? You were just trying to buy some herbs and while you did get your herbs, some guy started talking to you and getting pushy. So obviously you said you weren’t interested and started to move, to which he pulled a knife out and threatened you so you obviously grabbed it and stabbed his arm when he lunged.

How you were you supposed to know he was the son of the founder? Maybe the founder shouldn’t have raised a creep? Anyways you’re running from the villagers through the snowy dense forest, usually a place they wouldn’t dare venture, but then you’re shot with an arrow through the abdomen and you fell hard on to the ground.

You didn’t really know what happened after that, but you heard growling and screaming. You couldn’t really focus, but you could grab your hand around the arrow in your side and assess any damage. Luckily it didn’t hit anything, but it still hurt and it needed to come out, however you were loosing a lot of blood extremely quickly. You also couldn’t see very well, your vision was blurry and you were blacking out. The last thing you saw was a blur of black clothing and you felt you were being picked up before you lost consciousness, hand still gripping the arrow firmly.

When you came to, you were in a very nice room. Fancy drawers, big bed with very soft bed sheets and covers, a big window with fancy curtains, even some very nice looking chairs. You groaned, you couldn’t sit up, but you felt for your wound and found it was patched up. The door opened to reveal a very tall man, obviously a werewolf, with tall, blonde, stiff ears sticking out of his slicked back light blonde hair, and a very big, very bushy tail following him as he made his way into the room.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Thought those horrid townsfolk had done you in.” He said, his voice was so charming.

You got a good look at the man, besides his obvious features, he wore a very fancy black vest and pants with golden trimming, a black coat, his hands were also covered with gloves for some reason. You could only blink as the pain wouldn’t let you speak, hand clenching at the pain from time to time.

You nodded to the best of your ability as you could only focus on the pain. The man quietly checked on your wound, making sure nothing was infected before tying new bandages into place. He picked you up with ease, he didn’t need help to fix your wound.

“I’m very impressed you lived, I’m more impressed how tightly you held that arrow. Saved me a lot of trouble.” He said as you watched him dress and clean your wound. “It had gone all the way through and yet you held onto it to keep it from moving even while you were unconscious.”

Tenacity was always something you were known for, however that also meant you were very stubborn.

“Although, I have to wonder. Why were those wretched things chasing you?” He asked, looking over to you with his beautiful, piercing, orange-yellow, slit eyes.

You groaned a bit before finding your voice, “Some creep wouldn’t take no….urgh…for an answer. He pulled out a knife, I grabbed it- ow- stabbed him. Turns out he’s- ugh- he’s the founder’s son.”

The man was stunned for a second and responded with a chuckle, “Stabbed him?”

“He shouldn’t have been a creep then.” You responded, looking down at your now patched wound.

“And the founder?”

“Shouldn’t have raised a creep.”

The man laughed, genuinely, and it was incredibly charming to hear. He grabbed your still limp hand and kissed your knuckles, “Albert Wesker, welcome to my mansion, dear.”

He smirked at your red face as you stuttered out your name. He set your hand down onto your chest and leaned over to you to “make one last check” when he was most likely just trying to fluster you more. It did work, and he left you to gather your thoughts with a very sly smirk.

You sat there, in the comfy bed, heart beating a million miles per hour and you were sure that Albert could hear it. Seeing as he lingered in the doorway from time to time before going off and doing god knows what. He said he was just checking up on you every now and again, making sure you’re alright. Which was odd, considering he bandaged your wound and you feel fine. Besides the pain every now and again.

After a while, he came back again but this time with some food and water. This man is definitely rich, you don’t know his family but this is a very nicely cooked steak with herbs. You have no idea why he’s being so hospitable to you, but you’ll take it. He only smiled when you asked if you could anything to repay him. He shook his head and said, “You’re recovering. This is the least anyone can do.”

He seemed pleased that you were recovering really quickly, and you knew enough about your body to know that you shouldn’t have healed from that arrow so quickly. And something told you this Albert had something to do with it.

And you think he knew you were suspicious, as he kept checking up on you. When he had been gone for a while, you would slowly climb out of the bed and stretch your limbs. You even checked the wound and it seemed to have been completely healed over, which was weird, you weren’t even out for a day.

“So, you do know something is wrong?” A voice asked behind you. Whipping around only to be pinned to the wall by the very man who saved you. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as his arms caged you in, body pressed close to your’s so you couldn’t escape.

“I must say, I’m impressed how quickly you figured that out. Most don’t realize until they’re transformed even a little.” He said, eyes glaring down at you. Transformed? “You’re different. I gave you my blood to keep you from dying, and anyone else would’ve been quickly turned into a werewolf permanently.”

One hand went down and grabbed your chin, pulling your head from side to side, “You’re just so exciting. Someone…finally like me.” His eyes were wide and wild, a sharp smirk pulled at his cheeks.

With every ounce of strength you had, you pushed your body against the wall, reeled your legs up and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him into the bed and you to the floor. He stumbled in surprise as you immediately ran out the door, and he started to chase after you.

Your legs definitely felt stronger, as you slid through the hallway making a sharp turn, your legs didn’t give out underneath you. You heard him thud into the wall behind you as he ran after you. The rooms probably didn’t lead anywhere, so you would have to rely on the hallway to lead somewhere. God this was worse than running through the woods and you kinda wish you could return to that instead.

You ran through the winding hallways until you made it the stairs and slid down the railing, rushing to the bottom and looking for an exit. Open window or door, anything. He was jumping down the stairs when you managed to run through the dining room, there wasn’t a soul to be found here.

“Why do you run? I just want to talk!” He called from the room behind, you’re not hearing that, you’re gunning it. You’re very certain he can smell you so you’re only option is to run through every room, get your scent on everything and fucking go.

You did find the entrance, however it was locked, and you had no idea where the key was but it was probably on his person. So maybe you can stage a surprise attack with the confusing scent trails. You could smell him too, your body was…transforming to be more like him. The pain in your side started up again at the thought but quickly subsided when you saw him run past.

You leaped as he turned to your scent and pinned him to the floor with your knees on his arms.

“What the hell did you do to me?!”

“I made you better, obviously. How else do you think you could do any of this?” He smirked up at you, surprised at the strength you now showed. “And you’re already showing features. Now, how about we calm down and I can help you adjust, hm?”

A half an hour later, Albert was explaining what changes to your body you were experiencing. He even explained the ears and tail, saying how they could be hidden if you wanted to. However, the full transformation takes a lot of concentration, a sudden surge of emotion, or the full moon.

“…You know,” He caught your attention once again, “I think your ears are very similar to mine, now that I’m looking at them.”

Oh brother he was examining you again. Apparently, he had done this to other people who were dying outside his mansion but none of them survived the full transformation and those who did were no more than an animal. He was very surprised to see that not only had you survived the transformation but you also managed to keep your human mind.

Oh- so this guy is why there’s so many werewolves around the town.

He was very interested in your form, you could feel and smell him being so close to you it was strange. He examined your ears and made comments about them as well, he took a step back, looked in the mirror, looked back to you, and looked back at the mirror. Smacking you with his tail when he did so.

“It seems since it was my blood that transformed you, you received traits from my form.” He said, utterly fascinated. “Oh, my dear. I think you and I will be getting along just fine.”

You glanced confused at him when he said that. “Together, we’re going to make a better world for people like us.” He explained, a conniving smile pulled at his lips, “If you can withstand my blood, even in an injured state, I wonder how healthy individuals will fair.”

“What-?”

“You and I…are going to make a new world. And I know you’ll follow me, because you don’t really have a choice.” He interrupted you, wrapping his arm around your side, “However, I don’t think you want to leave, my dear.”

Pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his other arm around you, he looked down at your smaller frame. Your hands rested on his chest, and he chuckled at your red face. His hand came up to rest stroke your cheek before he bent down and kissed your forehead.

“We’ll be leading a new world very soon, my dear.”

[e-jaegerenthusiast]

aot boys kink hcs

here are some kink hcs i found written on a piece of paper during my super important class 🥴 fr i was sitting in class as my professor gives a lecture— instead of listening i zoned out and wrote different kinks/overall sexual things down and thought if eren, jean, and levi would be into them 🤞🏻

eren art by aidan.k_art on insta

levi cosplay _hakkencoser_ on insta

warnings/tw; like many many kinks 💀

would they let you choke them?

eren: yes. surprisingly, it’s the only dom-like thing he lets you do him. (other than ride him) he would love the thrill of his life in your hands :,) although it would take him a while to let you do it to him. he says it mid-sex, i’ve written something for it with eremika here ;)

jean: yes yes yes. he loves it so much, gets him whining and moaning

levi: i feel like he’s claustrophobic :( so he’ll let you put your hands around his neck, just don’t put in any pressure. the first time you did it was when you were riding him, you didn’t really think much of it as you put your hands around his neck, giving pressure with your fingers. suddenly his lust-filled droopy eyes turned into one of horror. pulling you off of him as he grabbed his own throat, coughing. you apologized so fucking much and hated yourself for it. he hugged you and told you it was okay, that he’s sorry but it brings him ptsd and makes him uneasy :(

choke you?

eren: surprisingly, no 😳 i feel like he would love to see his own purple fingerprints on your hips. however, he doesn’t like the bruises he leaves on your neck, he inspects them with a frown, kissing all of them and burying his head in your neck. once he chokes you, he feels animalistic. more than ever. its like he doesn’t trust himself to put your life that closely in his hands :(( so once he doesn’t do it anymore, you don’t ask him why. you know him. you know what goes on in his head.

jean: only if you ask him to, he’d be scared to apply too much pressure tho, so he’d do it lightly

levi: yesyesyes. i feel like levi would do all dom things to you mostly when he’s mad at something or at you. he’s the type to grab you by the neck and kiss you passionately. awooga

would they whine?

eren: very. very. very rare. only if somehow you’ve managed to take the upper hand.

jean: yessir. definitely. mommy kink all the way.

levi: mostly no. although he really really needs to. he wont let himself. mostly grunts. although he does when you’re sucking him off, he whimpers and tries to hide it, but you humming around his length throws him over the edge.

would they overstimulate you?

eren: all fuckinggg day. he doesn’t care if you can’t anymore. shaking? pffttt suck it up. literally

jean: only if he’s super horny. would do it if you want to.

levi: not really. he likes it when you overstimulate him 👀— doesn’t really ask you to, however you can obviously tell by the way he bucks up his hips into you or your hand even tho he just came.

their fave position?

eren: he absolutely loves spooning you, fucking into you as your warm back is pressed against his chest, your back arching and head going to his shoulder when he hits that special spot in you and kisses your neck. he can easily hit your g-spot in this postition, loves when you squirm against his chest. his hand holding you close. —he also loves the most weirdest positions omg- he likes bending you in ways that could almost break you like a pretzel - your thighs pressed against your chest, your legs at a wide angle resting on his shoulder—you must take yoga classes for this man he loves fucking you in the positions🥴 even upside down

jean: he loves loves loves when you ride him. he’s called a horse for a reason😩 also loves mirror sex. we know he can get cocky sometimes, so he loves fucking you infront of the mirror as he holds your jaw and forces your eyes on the mirror, fucking you hard. also is a sucker for passionate/slow missionary.

levi: doggy. fuck yes he loves it. or reverse cowgirl omf— loves the view sm. not that he doesn’t like to see your face in sex omg😭 it’s just- he prefers it that way cuz he kinda doesn’t want you to see him, in all his vulnerability. :,) its rare he lets you. but when he does omg- the image is burned into your memory, his face and the way it contorts into pleasure, his thin brows going up as his mouth is wide open— or he’s clenching his jaw.

would they agree to you handcuffing/tying them?

eren: no. he likes to be free LMAO i’m sorry

jean: yes. definitely. finds it so hot but still tugs on them so so much and begs you to untie him.

levi: won’t admit it but he loves it. eventually comes around. pounces on you like a wild dog when you untie him and fucks the shit out of you. grunting as he calls you a brat for tying him.

would they tie you up?

eren: 100% fucker loves to see you squirming.

jean: not really, he tries it out of curiosity but just doesn’t know what the fuck to do without your touch. likes it better the other way ‘round.

levi: yes. he would like to take revenge for you tying him up. would def torture and edge you a lot.

let you blindfold them?

eren: never. would like to see you and every single expression on your face.

jean: yes. loves it. makes him so so sensitive and he loves the thrill of not knowing where he’s gonna feel your touch.

levi: maybe. if you really beg him and annoy him for it.

blindfold you?

eren: yes yes yes do i even need to elaborate

jean: not really. same as tying you up, he would get too nervous and flustered and not know what to do.

levi: absolutely. he’d actually almost chuckle at how responsive you are to his touch. he’d literally just sit there for minutes, gliding his hands over all parts of your body, your arms, legs, thighs, stomach. loses sense of time as he plays with your body.

would they let you peg them?

eren: absolutely not. fucking scoffs and chuckles at you and mocks you when you suggest it.

jean: yes. with persuasion. he’s mostly open and experimental. would he end up liking it? maybe. he finds the feeling very weird at first, but asks you with a blush if you can do it again another time.

levi: no— thinks it’s disgusting.

anal?

eren: yes. yes. yes. would absolutely destroy you. loves the tight asf feeling.

jean: would try, doesn’t like it. makes him cum too fast 💀

levi: thinks it’s filthy.

breeding kink?

eren: yes. loves filling you up. doesn’t like baby talk tho— he hates kids 💀💀 is sorry but maybe eventually?

jean: likes to cum on your back, stomach, or tits more. however he loves the idea of having a family with you. definitely cums in you while baby talk + “you’d be such a good mommy.”

levi: he rarely cums in you, you’d have to beg him to or wrap your legs around his torso, then he can’t stop himself. doesn’t trust condoms or birth control. he’d say there’s still a chance of you getting pregnant 🥴— not that he doesn’t want a baby with you- not yet tho. he needs to warm up to the idea of becoming a dad. trauma n all yk.

jealous seggs?

eren: definitely. he’s possessive.

jean: definitely. he’s insecure :(

levi: yes but doesn’t admit it (surprise surprise) not a lot tho, he knows he has you wrapped around his finger. doesn’t really show his jealousy much. lets it eat away at him silently:/

lets you pull their hair?

eren: hell no. you do it anyway , he goes absolutely feral.

jean: yes. loves it so so much. also open to basically anything that makes you happy

levi: even tho he doesn’t like anyone touching his face or his hair, he warms up to it. likes the feeling of your hands in his hair. (also- mostly kiss his scars. he’ll actually cry. oop imma write a fic on that ✍🏻) he also loves loves loves when you shampoo his hair for him. gets him turned on. did y’all know thats an actual kink

would they spank you?

eren: definitely. more mid-fucking to see your reaction and the way you clench around him.

jean: likes to hold and squeeze your ass more as you ride him.

levi: oh fuck yeah. when you act like too much of a brat, he makes you go on all fours, or lay on your chest on his thighs, giving you spanks and making you count. talking to you after each spank, “will you be a brat again, huh?” spank, “you do it on purpose dont you? like to rile me up? hm? get me fucking mad like this?” another spank as he molds the flesh of your ass with his palm after each one, holding himself back from kissing the flesh.

face slapping?

already made drabbles for you slapping them

eren: yes yes yes. he would be a sucker for the innocent look in your eyes as tears swell up in them. he would do it repeatedly and keep bringing your jaw back to look at him after each slap.

jean: no, he doesn’t have it in his heart 🥺 would love if you did it to him.

levi: this is very difficult. i’ll leave it for you to decide between these two; 1. he doesn’t lay his hand on women. (spanking’s an exception in his book, other than that, hell no) 2. he only does it when he’s angry. like genuinely mad at you during sex, so that’s how he takes it out on you. but kisses you afterwards.

dacryphilia?

eren: hell yeah he loves when you cry for his cock, for him. this fucker does anything on purpose just to make you cry. gives a sadistic smile when tears finally come to your eyes.

jean: no, he wouldn’t wanna make you cry. although you do cry for his horse cock😩 he’d have a concerned expression on his face as he wipes you tears with his thumb, “what’s wrong ,baby?”

levi: absolutely not. literally despises crying. for himself and other. especially you. he’d wipe your tears as soon as they come when his dick is in your throat.

knife play?

eren: YES. he would purposely put a little pressure on the knife to scare you. this mfs a sadist. but he would be very careful to not hurt you. (if you ask why he would be into this but not choking you, it’s cuz with a knife, he knows he won’t actually fuckin stab you. he has control over the knife. his hands, he’s afraid not.) pain

jean: no omg— he would think you’re joking at first, his face forms the most horrid expression as he asks you if that’s an actual thing💀

levi: yes, he would never put pressure on the knife tho. he’d only glide it accross your body teasingly, the cold blade making you shiver under his touch as his eyes go dark. would like to do it to you when you’re blindfolded. doesn’t want you to see that dark look in his eyes.

blood play?

eren: yes. he likes to sometimes bite on your lower lip so hard it draws blood, he would keep kissing you, the iron-like taste not bothering him the slightest. it turns him on. also loves when you make him bleed by scratching your nails on his back, he throws his head back and fastens his thrusts 😩

jean: not really, my baby would get concerned— blood makes him uneasy 🥺

levi; absolutely not. too much ptsd and trauma from the sight of blood. doesn’t wanna see it painting your soft skin at all.

gun play?

eren: not really, he’s too violent to be handling a gun in sex.

jean: no—

levi: yes. he’d empty the gun beforehand tho, without you knowing.

candle wax 😳

eren: not really, he doesn’t like the redness it brings to your skin afterwards.

jean: likes if you do it on him, fucking loses it. he actually cries and whimpers, making you concerned but he nods his had swiftly, urging you to continue. likes the burn, reminds him of your touch, it’s not really any different from the burns your fingertips leave on him upon your touch.

levi: yes omfg- he loves it. he would also blindfold you for this one, probably tie you up too. loves to see you squirming in this situation. (omg i read this one fic on wattpad called “submit” and he was using candle wax and ice— AWOOGA)

ice play?

eren: yes yes yes, he’d run the ice down your stomach after rolling it on your nipples with his hands, he’d put it on your clit and chuckle as you squirm from the coldness of it. goes down on you to warm you up with his tongue afterwards.

jean: he likes it when you use it on him. holding the ice between your teeth as you run it over his nipples and down his chest. he’d be squirming and moaning.

levi: fuck yes. he’d put it in his mouth and kiss you with it, the ice melting between both of your tongues as he hums in your mouth. he’d also run it down your stomach and your nipples as he holds it in his mouth. the contrast of the cold ice and his warm tongue making you moan and whimper beneath him.

podophilia (foot fetish) dont read that as pedophilia uhm💀

eren: not really no, never crosses his mind.

jean: yes yes yes. omg absolutely this man having a foot fetish is canon to me😩 he’d love you giving him a foot job omf- would whine so much. also would kinda like licking your anckles and your toes as you giggle

levi: uhm. you must already know this clean freak. he thinks it’s fucking disgusting. i agree with him

ear fetish

eren: he likes it when you nibble on it or bite the shell of his ear. absolutely his weakest and sensitive spot

jean: not really idk why but no

levi: would nibble and tug on your ear as he’s fucking you, head burried in your neck as he pants and grunts.

food play?

eren: would loved to drizzle honey or whipped cream on you and lick it off your chest or stomach.

jean: would love for you too do it to him, with whipped cream or chocolate on his abs and chest, even his neck. he’d be a moaning, panting mess.

levi: does not like to involve food with sex 💀

chastity (holding back from sex to rile themselves or you up)

eren: hell no💀 he’s an impatient fuckin bastard. cannot handle going without fucking you for more than a couple days

jean: would love for you to do it to him. would beg you and plead as his cock throbs for days, though you know he likes it when you don’t give it to him instantly.

levi: yes yes yes. he would make himself go without sex for weeks. you have to beg him to stop and just let you fuck him, but he’d mutter sum about needing to “train his own stamina and self control, and your patience, brat.” but when you do break through him, trying to seduce him after weeks, it would be some of the best sex y’all have. going for rounds on rounds.

voyeurism

eren: as much as i love the “eren watching you fuck jean/reiner”— i think his possessive self will never ever let another man touch you. i mean cmon have u even read 139 🥲

jean: dont do that to him 🥺 he’s gonna be super insecure like omg- no

levi: absolutely not. do not test this man. he might not show his jealousy openly but you are his and only his.

role playing?

eren: i feel like he’s not that into it but he’d do it, he’s very picky so hmm maybe good cop and bad cop? 👀

jean: as i mentioned before, he’s very experimental and would do almost anything you ask of him, so yes. he’d be into doctor/patient ;) he likes it more when you’re the doctor but you can switch too oh my god bye now i’m thinking about jean in a white thingy doctors wear omf

levi: only captain/subordinate 😩😩😩

daddy kink

eren: not really, it makes him think about being an actual dad which turns him off 💀 sorry to crush yalls dreams 🤞🏻

jean: as i said, mommy kink. though he would like it if you addressed him as daddy while he takes control.

levi: no💀 finds it fucking weird. lowkey makes him sad n think about his dad and who he is or where he is he like being called captain sometimes tho ;)

degrading?

eren: fuck yes likes degrading you all the way. “look at you, my little slut.” “such a whore for my cock hm?”

jean: would like to be degraded 😁

levi: would keep it on the minimum— occasional “brat”s or “dumbass” jdjsjs nothing too intense. he has a way with his words :)

somnophilia sneaked this in at 200 when i forgot to add it cuz it’s my absolute fave kink

eren: he’d play with your body for minutes on minutes, loves to see you so responsive to his touch even in your sleep. he rubs slow circles on your clit, to get you wet. raises his brows when he notices you’re already soaked in your sleep. he literally fucks you awake. shoves his length in you balls deep as you scream and wake up— hitting his chest as he chuckles at you

jean: you’d both be asleep, until you wake up to the feeling of jean humping your thigh, whimpering in his slumber softly, you smirk. he’s chasing his high in his dream, mumbling your name as it’s barely recognizable. he wakes up to your mouth wrapped around him, cumming so fast as soon as he realizes he’s awake.

levi: he barely gets any sleep. but as he’s laying down next to you, head buried in his book while you’re stuck to him like a koala, he’s content. having one arm wrapped around your body and hand stopping at your waist. he’s brought out of the focus of his book by you moving against him. at first he thinks you’re waking up for some reason, then is proved wrong when you’re repeatedly grinding against his thigh, your leg wrapped around it. he chuckles, catching himself off guard. he watches as you hum in your sleep and say his name. he starts slowly meeting your grinds against his thigh, shaking it. he’s now rock hard in his shorts, teasing your hole through your panties with the hands on your back. you end up cumming in your sleep, he cums in his pants. fuck.

••••••••••

© all content belongs to e-jaegerenthusiast, do not repost or copy any of my work

and there we have it— sorry if i left anything out- these are all the kinks i could think of for now 🥴

also ik i usually write hcs for aot and jjk boys but with this one, i kinda felt like only doing aot. since the paper i found had these 3 boys written on it 🤪

[ghostofcrow]

I got Queen of Hearts through a bright engram today, which was the last thing in Cayde's set I needed (if you don't count the vanguard ornament set, I don't), and have made the horrid discovery that literally nothing of his matches. The only thing tying everything together are the spades. Like Cayde, wtf man.

Anyways catch me sobbing trying to shade everything to match Ace so it actually looks like a set ✌️

[felikatze]

give me the a brainworms i am deeply invested in this man

(0) (2) (3) (4)

okay first of all you asked for this. second of all if i am a little off track from the game that is explained by me just building thoughts like building blocks without looking back. third i was supposed to be studying for an exam but this counts as practice right? it's character analysis anyway lmao.

buckle the fuck up, my dearest anon, because I have sub headings.

1. A as the Player Character

Let me begin with why I am obsessed with this horrid little guy in the first place: he's a silent protagonist. I am always obsessed with protagonists. It's a law of nature. I love taking hollow characters and dissecting them for scraps. It's a long standing practice of mine.

Being a silent protagonist, A, as X, does not have a set personality. However, there are patterns. Firstly, as any semi-silent protagonist, A is a reactive character. He does not start incidents, he only responds to situations, presented by the Sephirah, as they arise. He does not actively seek out new information, merely going about the routine of expanding departments, but expresses curiosity when information is presented to him.

I'm aware fandom likes to characterize X and A differently, likely because they are initially presented as different characters. I, on the other hand, would like to pose the theory that they are more similar than expected.

I believe that A is also a reactive character, rather than active. Despite the fandom wiki describing him as stubborn, the goal A pursues with such fervor, the completion of the Seed of Light, is not actually a goal he set for himself. Carmen is the one who set this goal for him by leaving him her legacy.

Throughout the backstory we get relating to the Cogito Project, A is Carmen's assistant, whereas Carmen is the driving researcher. This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be; going with the flow of goals set for them by superiors. Yes I will get into his attachment to Carmen later.

The above is not to say A isn't stubborn. Once he has accepted a goal as his own, he will pursue it at all costs, as is obvious from any and all flashbacks leading to horrible deaths. But the point isn't his pursuit of the goal, but where that goal comes from. Even Lobcorp itself supports this, despite what Hokma may say; A as X follows the "simple" task of managing the Corp's day to day activities, and executes any mission given to him by the Sephirah. He outranks them, and doesn't actually need to do their missions, but does so anyway. Players are driven by the reward offered by those missions, of course, and A might be the same in that regard. Nonetheless, at no point in gameplay do you do anything somebody else hasn't told you to.

The overarching narrative of the Script would be the most obvious example. Every single person in the game follows the script, whether they know it or not.

Lastly on this note, a phrase we hear attributed to A, "Machines must behave as machines." Now, Angela may be attached to this phrase because it bears significance to herself as a machine, and informs most of A's unjust treatmeant of her. However, what if it doesn't just apply to machines? The phrase reads as such, "Everyone must act according to their own role."

2. A, Carmen, and the disease of the mind

So, A will at any cost pursue goals Carmen set for him. Question is, why? The obvious answer would be saying he's in love with her, which like, true. But also, how did Carmen come to be so precious to him?

Let us return to the comparison, "This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be." We don't really know why exactly most characters joined Carmen, excluding mainly Daniel and Benjamin. But this does not mean we can't have theories.

Carmen's ideal was curing the "disease of the mind." What is the disease? Complete hopelessness. The inability to form aspirations and dreams, to think of a better future. A is a very reactive character who does not set goals for himself. Therefore, I personally conclude, that initially, Carmen's ideology resonated with him because he could identify with the disease.

This is the point where I start rewatching Lobcorp story clips. Dear god.

So, by briefly binging day 27 onward, I've come up with lines that very much support this lil theory of mine:

First, from Carmen, a description of the disease, "People lock away their own potential."

Second, a line from Angela, after the memory synchronization, "You've locked yourself in this prison without bars."

Carmen describes A as humble, and Benjamin thinks he is warm. If I suppose A was one of the diseased initially, Carmen would be the catalyst for this change. Carmen was someone with big aspirations, with plans to heal what is wrong with the City, and it gave him hope. He was one of the diseased, but through time with Carmen, with that relentless optimistic spirit, he may have been cured, for a time. It's not a stretch to say that she was his light.

But lor shows us what happens when the seed of light sprouts wrong, doesn't it? It distorts. A grasped hope for the first time and then it is ruthlessly crushed. Carmen was everything. Yes, A is described as a jack-of-all-trades, as a genius in all pursuits he puts his mind to, but what does that matter in the face of someone who can unite people? Who can give them hope of a better world? Who can inspire them to actually use the talents they have?

And what kind of pressure is it to put the legacy of a messiah in the hands of the diseased?

3. A and the Perception Filter: A is weak to White damage

No, I am serious about that. He's extremely weak mentally. Obviously death of a loved one is a changing experience for absolutely anybody, but Carmen's death destroyed him.

Not only did he refuse to confide this grief to anyone and bottled it up, now everybody looked to him to lead the project, but he just isn't Carmen. He isn't an ambitious person, he doesn't have the same optimism, he can't bring people together, but people expected him to, and he failed. Hard.

While he was without a doubt talented in science, he was also just an average guy.

After her death, A grew to hate humans. He lost trust in them. He refused to confide in anyone, and be confided in by anyone. Thus, the team fell apart.

In both lobcorp and lor, we get interesting tidbits about precations taken to protect the manager.

Firstly, Lobcorp's perception filter. The cartoony art-style of the game is a result of the game being in first person. Through the eyes of the manager, everything is cartoony!

This is a measure undertaken to specifically protect the manager's psyche. Angela tells us that, before it was deployed, the manager would frequently go insane, one notable incident including the manager trying to hang himself. When we first hear this, the previous managers and X are still separate in our minds. However, they're all A! A went insane multiple times without it.

This is understandable, considering that employees also frequently go insane and try to kill both themselves and others. But they're there in action, confronting the Abnormalities directly. Just watching them made the manager go mad. They could not handle the responsibility for the employees' deaths.

In lor, Angela explains why she picked the Rabbit Team from R Corp as their main contractor instead of any other team. One team was simply too big for L Corp's narrow hallways, and the other team... dealt in psychic damage. It was simply too big of a risk for the manager. But the manager is always secure behind the cameras. Would that teams methods just be that brutal visually, or would their attacks have reached the manager?

Combined with his immense grief at all of his friends and coworkers dying in part because of him, A cannot bear to look at death.

4. A's greatest flaw: Avoidance

A common thread during Core Meltdown flashbacks: A refuses to look at suffering. He just can't. Whether it be looking away from Elijah writhing on the floor or hanging up on Daniel's panicked report of death.

This is actually the thing Angela takes the biggest issue with, and what hurt her most. A would never look at her, acknowledge her, and she did not understand why. But I think A did not refuse to look at her out of maliciousness. Rather, it was out of grief over Carmen. He could not look at her without being reminded of what he lost.

Angela's creation came about because A wanted someone to guide him, someone like Carmen. He threw himself into the project to the point it made Benjamin happy that A was passionate about anything again. But as soon as the project he distracted himself with is complete, he is filled with regret. Carmen cannot be replicated, and he breaks again.

Furthermore, tying this back to my first point about A being a reactive person, we see Angela take charge over A. She's the one recruiting employees and leading the business. It was likely a relief for him to be able to step down from the leading position.

But avoiding it made everything worse. He did not act when he saw Elijah's unchecked ambition, he did not act beyond a simple check at Gabriel's decay, he gave Giovanni the same hope he clung to to no avail, et cetera et cetera.

Avoiding his problems is making them worse and sending everything down the drain (including his psyche), so he deals with it the only way he knows how, avoiding them more!

Biggest example of A's big avoidance problem as his psyche crumbles: the memory wipe. A, in perhaps his one singular moment of acknowledging his emotions, recognizes that he is incapable of fulfilling the Script in his current state. His grief is just too much.

By erasing his own memory, he could start fresh without his grief, because he might've really killed himself otherwise. His suffering became bigger and bigger, and he coped by avoiding it.

The memory wipe allowed him to distangle his problems. Through his interactions with the Sephirah (which I will not individually detail for the sake of my sanity and because I dumped all this on a friend on discord already), he can deal with and actually process his issues one at a time.

As the motto describes, only by facing the fear can he build the future. Only by finally facing his grief and acknowleding it, seeing that the past cannot be changed and he has no choice to move forward, can he actually do so.

5. The Sephirah as ghosts

Lobotomy Corporation feels like a ghost story. I've touched upon this in my previous A post.

As you reach the Corp's lower levels, there are less Sephirah. First there are four. They act like normal employees, and do not breach into the story's underbelly until you reach their core supressions and the facade breaks. Second, counting Tiphereth as one, there are three. They still go about their duties, but they know what they are. Third, there are two, and the facade is gone. They know what they are, and they will tell you about the sins of the past.

And finally, you reach Keter, and there is only one.

This gradual decay of the facade is what really gets to me. I said that by interacting with the Sephirah, A deals with his issues one by one, but that's what the Sephirah are, in this case. Representations.

The people the Sephirah used to be are dead, and the Sephirah are their ghosts. The core supression involve putting these ghosts to rest. Doesn't it match the progression of a typical ghost story? Find the ghost, find what they used to be, and help them move on.

So, if everyone is a ghost, then A is alone.

But, behind the scenes, the Sephirah are still there. They are still people, and they have changed for the better, too. As always, A simply does not look.

(Does he even see the good others see in him? Does he look away from praise, too? Did he even realize Benjamin's admiration for him? Will we ever know?)

6. A's end.

A's progression of moving on would be fine and dandy if it did not end as thus: A does kill himself.

A sees himself beyond the point of no return. Everyone is dead. He is alone. Carmen is never coming back. He can't call it quits now, or else everything has been in vain. (Even if the last days show us a part of him wants to just quit, so badly.)

So, there's only one thing left to do: follow the Script to its ending. Fulfill Carmen's legacy at all costs. Death as the ultimate release.

This is the point where I admit I do not like the death as release trope. But the game does a good enough job as presenting it as the only option A had, or the only option he saw himself as having.

However, I've mentioned it before, I'll mention it again: A was not alone. Death was his release, but he left wreckage. In order to end his own suffering, he inflicted the same pain he went through on others.

Throughout the game, he moves on and pushes through. The ending shows that in reality... he didn't.

At least in lor the characters stick together and help each other heal.

This has been most of my thoughts on A, amounting to my longest analysis post ever, having taken me approximately two and a half hours to complete, and clocking in at 2337 words including up to this paragraph.

Thank you anon for giving me the incentive to verbalize all of this, so I can finally be at ease having inflicted my thoughts on everybody else.

[vegalocity]

Fluff 12or11or10 for ironbull (pif X dbk) if you're okay with writing this ship :-DD

Dialogue starters

10. “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

11. “I’m so proud of you.”

12. “Could you say that again?” “Were you not listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice."

I haven't written for Ironbull before so this got a lil long

--

Back when they had more of a court it would be up to the servants to help Iron Fan get prepared in the morning, the fashion of the era would make more ornate clothing difficult to put on singlehandedly and her more ornate hair style choices nearly impossible to do alone.

But she didn’t trust the Bull Clones to do it for her, so in the time between their court falling apart and her King being freed, it had been Red Son’s job to help his mother with her continued fashion choices (on days where she was willing to get out of bed)

But now her husband was back. And-- okay yes, initially she had been continuing to go to Red Son to help her into her perfectly stylized peaks and lace her up, but only because she didn’t want to put that on her husband so soon after him being freed!

But after they’d left the city (ignoring her husband and son’s attempts to ‘go straight’ at New Years as her foolish boy had put it) it had become far more obvious to the Bull King that Iron Fan’s preferred style required assistance.

And when they were both starting their morning rituals, and Iron Fan gathered together her hairbrush and outfit for the day, ready to forcibly wake her son up from another ‘tinkering’ bender (or force him to sleep if he was awake and twitchy at his silly worktable, that horrid sugary smell of energy drinks absolutely oozing from the room) Her husband spoke up.

“My princess-”

“Yes my love?”

“May I assist you in getting ready for the day?”

She supposed with most married couples without servants, that it would be expected for the husband to assist the wife with various grooming habits that required hands in places she couldn’t reach on her own.

They’d been married for centuries.

They had a child together who was now a man in his own rights.

They’d spent the first night he was home (despite the sting of defeat making it a mote bittersweet) thoroughly ‘reacquainting’ with eachother.

Why did her face feel hot as if they were still courting?

All the same, she nodded, offering her husband the top she couldn’t quite reach the back lacing of as she slid into the skirt.

He shrunk down about as small as he could be without making himself uncomfortable, still towering over her easily, though sat on the bed that he was. She felt her husband’s fingers fumble a bit with the laces as he strung the top tight (but not too tight) against her back. She felt those claws gently and harmlessly catch every so often on skin, and did indeed feel much the same as she did as a starry eyed youth, eager and excited to be courted by a bull prince slotted to become a king of his family’s mountain oh so long ago.

It really had been far too long they’d been apart, and launching into the revenge plots had possibly been a mistake. If something so simple and domestic was enough to make a youthful jittery feeling return to her stomach.

But Princess Iron Fan was no blushing ingenue, even back then. So she began to lay out the day’s plans, they were in the middle of properly rebuilding their court after all and they needed allies, so she’d been putting out some feelers to anyone they still had a blood oath or two with, though some had faded into obscurity and others into ineffectiveness, and Demon Courts weren’t exactly that much of a ‘Thing’ anymore they should still be giving it a shot.

And just then she felt her husband finish up tying up her top she was about to go over to her vanity and get started on the tangled mass that her hair had become in the night when without even saying a word the Bull King placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place and began to work on her hair himself.

“Could you say that again? About the Ocelot family?”

“Were you not listening?”

“No I was.” His voice was so light and casual, “I just like hearing your voice.” …She was gonna divorce him right that fucking instant.

“Ah. Well then-” She felt the gentle tugs as the brush was pulled through her hair, and… continued to talk as requested.

What on earth had gotten into her husband this morning?! Sure in their younger years she remembered a more romantic side of him that he only was comfortable to show in private, but she’d thought that after being buried beneath that mountain for half a millenia he’d lost it along with his fur (though she’d never mention it out loud, she knew he was self conscious about that particular cosmetic change) and she’d been alright with that, she’d been without such attentions for five hundred years it wasn’t a struggle to reconcile.

But the idea that it was slowly returning seemed to be.

Eventually the brush stopped catching on tangles, and this part she knew he wouldn’t be able to do on his own. The look she’d favored her hair to take had slowly evolved over the years, yes, but it had for the most part kept the same general shape and style as it had even back then, and the servants would often fuss over her hair when there were three of them working on it at once. She and Red Son had gotten the hang of it when it was only the two of them, but it still needed both of them, and there was no way that the Bull King would have any idea of what he was doing in that regard. So once again she moved to pull away and go hunt down their son, but the hand returned to her shoulder.

“Stop moving-” a tone of fond exasperation made her follow as requested before her brain even caught up with it. “I won’t be able to get it in the style you prefer my princess, but would you let me braid it?”

He had no. fucking. Right. Her heart leaped into her throat and Iron Fan found herself helpless but to allow her husband’s doting to continue.They weren’t expecting anyone today, nor were there any plans to leave, so it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if she didn’t have her hair as pristine as usual anyway.

He began to confer with her over the day’s plans, admittedly it was mostly going to be a ‘writing letters’ day as they discussed back and forth which former allies it would be worth to seek out, so if anything the simpler hairstyle for the day would probably be a help as it would mean she didn’t have to worry about her center of gravity needing to be adjusted.

By the time her husband was done the tail of the braid only barely brushed the ground, and her head piece was in place (though it was a little more precarious than usual as she had less hair around it to latch onto) and her heart had finally calmed down.

“Thank you, my love.” She turned unobstructed this time and pressed a quick kiss to her husband’s snout. “It’s lovely, I’m proud of you.” He huffed a laugh and she felt the snort of breath tickle her neck.

“Now, shall i help you with your armor as well?”

Well, there was one good thing about her husband loosing his fur, it was amusing to watch his face turn dark burgundy in turn. As if he didn’t just spend the last hour making her feel like a flustered teenager.

She was due for a little revenge after all.

--

Send me Stuff!

[seijohsfairy]

𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙳

rhi, this is for you ♡ remember when you said mafia seijoh and i said i’d write it?? but then i got super distracted with other fics and never did the thing? weLL I FINALLY FINISHED IT. she’s cut up into two parts bc i didn’t want to make it too long but part 2 should be up soon for @/seijorhi​ & massive, big fat ty to @/xplosiveboy​

.wordc. 3k+ tw mafia!big 4, noncon, sexual harassment, yandere, coercion

horrid pt 2

It was written somewhere in your favorite library, on a vacant page of the grimy literature textbook stuffed between two shelves maybe, you read it just once. Back then you didn’t care much for the radical, unwilling to trust the faith of someone destroying what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Long, curved words littering the white; claiming full of hate that the poison our mind makes is the most powerful decay, that humans are the most horrid of creatures.

Back then you’d closed the book, sliding it back into place and tucking the knowledge far back into your mind, unwilling to use such a straight-set line of thinking on a world which had given you life, gifted you virtue and loudness. So terrifying; but splendid. You had swallowed, light and unwavering in the knowledge that you were still capable of processing, and giving kindness. You had settled above the cold of those words, thinking them sickly and rotten.

But you didn’t forget, the fire of them on the curve of the page. Or rather, you couldn’t.

It isn’t unlike you to falter in your step, feet rushing ahead faster than your mind can catch up and taking those half-hearted fumbles as just what it needs, before granting you another dash of mindless cadance. Not lost but wanting to reach home a bit faster, slicing off the unnecessary travel so you’d be able to cuddle up in a blanket a second sooner. Even without anything waiting for you on the other end. So you correct your balance for long enough to notice the long straight between brick walls, the direction of it catching your eye more than anything of value. The buildings here are taller, stubbier in their set size and darker, like the grime of the city has never been washed off them.

You’re small in between, but that has never stopped you before. You wonder if you could take that road, rush it. An alternative for the boring path you’re supposed to take. The monotony aches. You’re young, invincible, not having existed nearly long enough for something truly horrible to happen. Unbalanced, in a way.

But you’re not foolish either, and wasting precious time is the exact opposite of what you want. You bite your lip, carefully crossing the street to peek into the alley. Littered, wet, vacant. Until the breeze picks up and ruffles your hair, calling out for disaster. Unwilted flowers and those dusted grey to the core aching to meet, to make the balance even.

A show of red, white and black in the form of a man, and one that has your chest craving to be leveled with his. It isn’t that you haven’t been blown away by beauty before, but equality is something else entirely. Those things are weighty in their presence, heavy enough to break your reasoning and to have you rolling forward without will of your own. The heavy-set darkness of his eyes, his hair, his dress shirt. As if he wants to melt into the background, yet everything about him seems to demand attention. The bony points of his hands and fingers are bloodied, chafed and red shows through the split skin where his nose is lowest. But he fuels your wonder with a dignity, leaning against the metal door just as practiced as the cigarette held between his lips.

Never would you be more aware of your foolishness than looking back on that instant. But sadly you only figure that out long after you allow your body to drift towards him. Your kindness hasn’t failed you yet. It does crumble slightly when the weight of his gaze falls on you, staring your way like you’re a broken record disturbing his peace. But even in your clumsy approach you are obviously good and innocent, dragging closer. The pitter-patter of your feet against the wet concrete is shy, it drips from your lips. And beasts hidden in the cracks of society always sniff out that kind of virtue. “Excuse me,” you say. “Do you know where this alley leads?”

It’s a silly thing, more close to an excuse to speak than true curiosity but it has his mind churning. He blows out a white cloud beside your face, picking the destructive thing from between his lips with a tick of his brow. The tilt of his head in the way you had motioned leaves you tense, used breath building in your lungs, your tongue rubbing on the roof of your mouth like it has something to scrub away. “Don’t think you wanna go that way,” he simply says, eyeing you up and down with the languid movements of a lioness not yet bothering to stretch her muscles, “it’s dark and scary down there.” The glint in his hazel-greens should remind you of water pulling far back from the beach. It does remind you of it, but for reasons beyond you it doesn’t quite click.

So you puff out your chest, basking in the tiny bit of confidence you house to nod. “I think I can handle it,” you smile. As you consider your chances of making it to the other end, a feeling of irony comes to press on your shoulder. Sucking at the brave front until you’re all but left a shivering deer on two dainty legs. It feels colder here than it did on the main street.

So you look back only once at the handsome stranger, bowing in gratitude. “T-thank you, I— I’ll be going now.” Polite despite the tremble you feel, you were raised to be good. He only tilts his head in response, choosing silence the moment you wish for anything else, but you too are at a sudden loss. You turn on your heel and start tiptoeing away from the vast security of the street to drown yourself in sudden doubt in your ability. Most times you experience the opposite. You know the feeling of living, breathing with no worry, well and polishing your renewed understanding only later.

But the path his eyes take in chase of your body has a stickiness, and you can’t help but imagine he has already eaten you up in his mind, walking away with sweat on your palms. Two bangs sound against the metal, leaving you skittishly darting forward with your nails pulled into your palms. It’d be easier to pretend to be strong if you had a bit more faith in your own destructive power. Should you be a monster of preposterous size in the body of a cowering young woman, it’d be easy to push away the need to check, to make sure that you are not under threat. But you’re painfully human, so you glance over your shoulder anyway.

The handsome man has already slipped back into the building, but the memory of his expression gives you goosebumps. A reminder that humans are greedy in nature even when you don’t want them to be. You let the tense air out between parted lips, continuing down the wet curve of the buildings until a creak up ahead calls your attention. Against the darkness where another door swings open, two figures come out into the chill of the falling evening. You envy them for a moment, as they are not alone and you are, but then your feet halt to let your thoughts churn. The men, one with pretty, brown hair and the other a strawberry blond color, don’t need to search to find what they are looking for. The sharp eyes are turned your way the moment they exit the bruised building.

And you blink a few times, before taking a step back in the narrow space. They stand at the door with a stony confidence. Running now is definitely proof that you are not as brave as you pretended, but you can’t help it. With a deep breath you turn back, suddenly feeling hurried. No one reason could be good enough to put yourself into the jaw of an animal willingly, definitely not one as feeble as yours. You scurry back around the corner with a speed that would go unnoticed by most, but still you have to stable yourself again when you connect with another body. It catches you, wraps a large hand around your arm and you look up to express your gratitude by habit.

It’s another tall person, dark curly hair and a surprised expression. Something about his touch is debasing, seeming to latch onto every single one of your fibers. If it had only been this, it would leave you starving, your greedy heart categorizing everything under love at first sight— though you are barely old enough to have liked properly. But the contact is too long to sit well, your body straightening from him as best you can. “S-sorry,” you begin, silencing yourself with a gasp. The brunet of earlier, as well as the other two are upon you already, the presence of four men surrounding you so suddenly a frightening thing. “I- I’m sorry,” you mumble again, though it is lost in the intrigued gazes. They crowd around you before you can think of what you should do.

One of them shoots you a grin bright as the sun, leaning over your shoulder to come into view. “Look at you being the gentleman, Mattsun. You saved the cute girl from falling down!” You are still held onto by the curly haired man, who shrugs off the compliment with an indifferent expression. The cheerful one clicks his tongue, before rounding back on you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The weightlessness he carries reminds you of something out of a fairy tale. Bright, obnoxiously cheerful. “What are you doing here, gorgeous? How old are you, you in college?” Voice lithe, sweet on your tongue like honey.

So you try to straighten up, dropping your lip from between your teeth. “Y-yes,” you say, to be interrupted by another voice. This one is more familiar, the first of the few. Tanned skin, handsome at every angle.

“All alone like this?” he breathes, “you must be pretty brave.” With an endless intrigue laced in his eyes, you’re pulled closer to the man with dark, spiky hair by your free hand. You stumble forward with the sudden shift. If you were ever an angel, your wings are useless now. And something tells you these men will make sure that soon they’ll be no more. He only smiles when you have to steady yourself on his chest with gentle fingertips, keeping you close to his warm body. But eager, it plays on his lips like you’re the thing he’s been looking to find for hours, maybe days. He lets out a chuckle at your dumbfounded expression. “I’m Iwaizumi, that’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa.” He waits a moment, smiling wider when you don’t show any recognition at it. “What’s your name?”

You’re so overwhelmed that it’s hard to even sound out the syllables. Your name doesn’t matter, you don’t disillusion yourself to think any of it matters, truly. But the looks remain even when you hesitate, and you find yourself speaking aloud. Though you barely get your name past your lips before you’re turned around by your shoulder, your response setting them alight. You’re left glancing up into a happy grin and pink hair. “You’re dressed up pretty. Nice skirt,” he coos, picking at the edge of it just once before leaning his face a bit closer to yours. “You’re pretty all over, you know that? Really pretty,” he draws out the sound until it sounds almost comical. “Right, Mattsun?”

You believe him when he says it, he looks at you like you’re shining, reflecting light like a diamond. The compliment, not your first but never truer, stews in your veins and boils your blood. There’s a vague hum from behind you, the man who caught you in your fall putting his big hands on your shoulders. Content to be near, if for a moment. With your constantly shifting gaze, you miss the lines on their hands and arms, the overwhelming smell of different colognes mixed with the smell of blood. “Not gonna say ‘thank you’?” He pouts.

“Tha—”

“Be nice, Makki!” The voice drowns out yours. “She’s just flustered. Right?” The unintroduced man smiles down at you again, his pretty face coming so close you can feel hit breaths tickle your cheeks. Kind or not, you jerk back instinctively. He continues, unbothered. “Sweet girls like her aren’t used to this. But we’re not so bad, I promise.” His pretty hand comes up to brush your hair back, cooing when your skin turns up the degrees more. Stupid, silly, your mind screams; it’s like your feet have been cemented to the floor. Like you’ve been here for centuries, and finally someone’s come to worship you.

Though his hand is shoved away from you rather harshly, with a frown. “Oi,” Iwaizumi growls, “let us do it ourselves, Oikawa.” He turns back to you with a certitude, closer and though you try to back away you’re only met with the hard lines of the person behind you. Mattsun still has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles into the thin fabric of your blouse. Quiet, but not forgotten. You don’t dare look away from Iwaizumi though, his pretty eyes dark enough to make your heart jump uncomfortably against your ribcage. “He’s right though,” the noiret’s voice sinks low, “we’re not so bad. I think you’d like to see, huh?”

The words feel claustrophobic, your eyes widening. You glance at their faces in confusion, switching between each person quick enough to make you dizzy. “Uhm- I,” you stutter, but a brush up your leg has you gaping, frozen. “I don’t-” The cold fingers trail up the inside of your thigh, too high.

“Of course she does, look how nervous she looks.” Makki is so close now he’s molded to your side, the other men not far behind. “So precious,” he coos. “Here, take my hand for a second.” It is put in your field of vision like a peace offering, the breaths on your neck feeling suffocating. But with his long fingers opened invitingly, it’s almost easy to believe they have good intentions. You give in and drop your smaller hand in his, if only to get rid of the revering stare. Hiro grins wider though, and laces your fingers with his. He giggles, softly. “Like this, isn’t it so easy to just,” he drops your interlaced hands to brush up against his crotch, “put them here.” Every muscle in your body seems to quiver, but spun too tight to move. “You like it, right?” he taunts when you look down at the floor, holding your hand in place stubbornly. “Eheh, I can tell.”

“W-please stop,” you try to pull away, but the grip on your hand only tightens, thumb pressing down hard enough that you jerk back from the pain. “Aw, aw!” It’s painful, like your bone will shatter if he moves wrong, and the harder you pull back the more he clamps down. “That hurts!” you gasp, turning away in Issei’s hold.

“Such a good girl, look at you,” Iwaizumi says, his hands sliding around your waist to secure you a spot against him. You’re struggling now but there’s hands all over. More touch, more overwhelming motions to keep you near. You’re tucked into Mattsun’s chest, each swell of his chest brushing against your shoulder blades. And your cheek is pressed against a face, someone who starts pressing small kisses there. “You’re precious, I could just eat you right up.” Hajime grabs your face to turn it more towards him. On the inside you want to bare your teeth, show your claws and rip yourself out of the fragile shell, but then he presses a kiss to your forehead and all your fight sinks away. You were never the warlike type. You’re small, frightened and worst of all, cowardly. He smiles over your shoulder. “Right?”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” the tallest behind you grins, his deep voice shaking your body in his hold. “Just look at her.” One of his hands slips under the edge of your blouse, sparking like a smoldering ember. Though you start whimpering in their arms, he smiles. “Are you scared, little girl?” he chuckles, hovering his lips over your ear long enough to give you goosebumps. Your breathing is laboured, unable to stop the whimper that comes out.

“Pretty face, pretty hands, pretty legs,” Hanamaki names, his lips glued to the curve of your neck, “I bet you have a pretty tummy too.” He slips his free hand easily under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it away from your skin and you try to push him away to no avail. Though the pressure of his grip on you is anything but playful, he’s grinning like there’s no worry in his mind. “And pretty tits.”

“Guys,” Oikawa breaks the moment to motion his head towards the door then, already holding it open as the stroking continues. “If you would, please.” They’re suddenly pulling away from you, all but Mattsun who turns you in his hold and wraps your arms around his body, picking you up. His large hands under your butt, he chuckles when you gasp at the touch. Your arms are pulled over Issei’s shoulders and grabbed tight, forcing you in place.

You’d been overwhelmed, stunned and frightened, but when Iwa looks at you like you’re a new toy he can’t wait to use, to break; the building feeling shifts into something else. Terror.

“No, no, nononono,” you start pulling back against the brunet, looking around at the four men with big eyes. You try to kick your legs so that he’ll drop you, get fed up, anything. But he carries you into the building without a problem, much stronger than your pitiful attempt. “I have to get home, I can’t come with you,” you squeak, bristling when someone laughs. It’s a mean sound, cold and vicious and it makes your faltering heart drop. There’s an explosion of— some emotion or other, a stutter in your capacity to take in the world. You can only open your eyes wider, hoping that some sense comes through with it.

Excitement and fear always have a similar taste on your tongue, close enough in their thickness to mistake one for the other until it crawls out of your throat with a violent gasp for life. But this is more bitter, a feeling you recognize as panic too late.

“Let go! Let me go!! I don’t want to be here,” you rasp, the feeling slipping out in tears of stress at the corners of your eyes. The door is shut, casting you and them in darkness together.

“Yes, you do.” It’s Oikawa, though you can’t see him. The touch dragging up your back is enough to leave you with shivers. “We’re only going to take a second of your time, promise.” You’re carried deeper into this hall, the cold and draft the least of your worries. Part of you wants to scream, wants to bite and kick until you’re out of the door and as far away from them as you can. But a bigger part of you is more afraid of what they’ll do in retaliation, so you just bite your lip and try to control your tears.

“Hey, we promise,” the strawberry blond echoes, slipping around the tallest to shove his lips to yours. A deep rumble comes from his chest when you tilt your head away from him and against Mattsun’s neck instead. But he’s undeterred, instead pressing a few kisses to your wrist. “We’ll take real good care of you.” You can’t shake the feeling that their promises count for nothing. And as his long, scarred fingers tangle with yours like a mimicry of comfort, you can’t help but wonder. If those words on that page were written with so much conviction because the thing penning them down was the same as these men. Beastly, ungrateful monsters.

//

part 2 coming soon

[alyblacklist]

Hey, Aly! Is it me, or is the show slowly getting more and more boring? I saw on Wikipedia that the viewership for Season 7 is four times less than the viewership for Season 1 (about 12 million viewers in 2013, now dwindled down to about 3 million viewers as of 2019). Honestly, I miss the fun of the first season and wish that the writers hadn’t complicated things by giving Liz a baby. On top of that, I think it would’ve been interesting to see Tom as a Big Bad rather than what he was reduced to. He had the potential to be a very rich character (even if he might’ve been bad). And we can’t forget about the horrid writing for Liz. Like, how much more unstable can she get? She switches sides at the flip of a switch and decides to trust literally everyone EXCEPT the man who has watched over her, protected her, and built an entire criminal enterprise for her. These days I don’t even look forward to a new episode anymore. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for the viewers who’ve been watching this since 2013. Anyways, I digress. What are your thoughts? Do you think they should’ve kept things simple rather than complicate things beyond repair?

We all watch for different reasons and like different things. For me, as long as the elements I love are there, I forgive a lot. If they take those away, I lose interest. Liz’s absence for 1/3 of this season was a major negative for me so yes, I would call this season more boring than past seasons on that factor alone. I also think the pace of “reveals” has slowed to the point of being unbearable. But I stick it out because the characters and relationships I love are still there and I want to see how their story ends. 

I get frustrated with Liz’s flip flopping but I also don’t fall into the camp of believing she should fawn all over Red and just blindly continue to trust him either. She’s a grown adult with a child of her own and he refuses to tell her the truth about her own past. I find that enormously problematic at this stage in the show when they have offered no reasonable justification for his continued silence. I hope Liz will finally gets some of the answers she’s been desperate for since the beginning before they turn and have her fall happily into place at Red’s side again. Otherwise this whole “war” will have been a total waste of time.  

In terms of audience, I don’t think you can fairly compare audience numbers from S1 to S8 for any broadcast show without looking at trends overall and ALL shows are down from where they were in 2013. People are just watching TV differently. I’m not saying that people haven’t dropped the show because they’ve lost interest for one reason or another - of course many have - but some of that would’ve happened regardless.  All the time slot changes over the years had a negative effect on audience retention completely independent from the plot.

Finally, I don’t think this is a matter of simple vs. complicated because as far as I’m concerned, the show was never simple and that was part of its allure. My frustration lies in the sheer number of loose ends, the storylines that drag out an entire season or more only to meet an ambiguous end that doesn’t resolve anything etc. They need to start tying up some of those ends if they hope to keep the audience’s attention for another season.

[thousandsunnywrites]

How about law meeting a girl who has the same energy as Luffy and tends to touch him in some way all the time, her favorite being ridding on his back. He has long since given up trying to get her to stop, only to find out when he teams up with the straw hats she’s Luffy’s sister by blood. The oldest of Ace Sabo and Luffy.

Law

Law x f!reader; romantic

⤷ a/n: g o l l y this ficlet was a whopping 2.7k words 😭😭i really do love picking on law; also ps this isn’t proofread yet so enjoy the rawness ty

----

“traaafFFFYYYY!” He stumbles forward to balance the sudden weight tossed on his back, hands instinctively grabbing the legs wrapped around him. His life was never like this, until you came around.

It was a regular night in the submarine, Law doing his routinely watch through the sub’s finder. What the hell is that, he zoomed in to get a better view of the blurry image, hm, what is that?

He found a floating bucket under the sea with a tightly sealed lid and a hole carved on the upside with a plastic straw sticking out. Confused and hoping it was some lost gold, he made Bepo fish out the container and check it out. Instead of finding what he hoped to uncover, he discovered a limp body of a young female.

“It’s not breathing, captain! What if it’s been purposely tossed into sea... what if...” his words begin to trail off when the horrid realization of the sea being the graveyard to rest the corpse crossed his mind. He shrieked. They messed with the dead! They’re going to die! He watched too many Asian horror films to know where this is going.

Not before long, Law sighed out of annoyance, moving Bepo’s paw from the right side of the chest to the left, instantly calming down his tremors and leaving the poor bear sheepish.

Footsteps approach Law’s office and busted through the door. Low and behold, it was no other than Penguin and Shachi.

“Cap’n!! What’s wrong? We heard Bepo scream!—” Penguin tugged on Shachi’s sleeve, forcing his attention to the corpse curled in the bucket. Bepo covered both mouths before a squall was ripped from their throats, “Shh... it’s alive.”

“Room,” the iconic blue sphere encapsulates the room as Law unsheathes his Kikoku, “Scan.” The sliver glint of the sword flickered against the blue hue as it perused the physique. Producing no results, he sheathed his sword. “None” was all he could report.

“Oh thank god!” Penguin leaned over the large wooden pail, examining the face of the woman. “She’s kinda cute,” his hand reaches out to caress her cheek. “Mind if I say that I saved her?” He bantered with a sly smile.

“Move outta the way, lemme see!” Shachi shoved Penguin, an instant grin apparent inside his face.

“Stop fucking around.” Law jostled the apologetic duo to hoist majority of the body’s upper half out the bucket. “Bepo-ya, grab the feet”

“Roger!” He saluted before doing as told.

“Pen-ya, Shachi-ya,” their attentions turned to him, responding with a “Yes, boss?”, to which Law replied, “Get out.” As they left, the captain and first mate transfer the patient to the resting ward and laid her on a more comfortable bed.

“Catch some sleep, Bepo-ya.”

“What about you Captain? Who’s gonna watch her if she wakes up?”

“I will. Go ahead and sleep. Lack of sleep isn’t good for your fur.”

Bepo bowed, trusting all will go well since the captain was watching over her, and left to do as told. Meanwhile, Law pulled out a chair and raised his feet atop the bed. It was going to be a long night.

Surely, he must’ve fallen asleep because next thing he knows, he’s the one in bed and his crew bustled in the kitchen. It was a different ruckus this time; it wasn’t the same morning liveliness he knew, no, it was something more like... a party?

He made his way to the kitchen, head slightly pounding due to the loud vibrations bouncing off the walls. Swinging the kitchen door open, he’s faced with a festive bunch surrounding a stranger. Who the hell is she and how’d she infiltrate my ship?

Now on alert, he reached for his sword, preparing to attack but was stopped by his lovable white bear, who had multiple syrup stains resting on his fur. “Captain!!! Look!! She’s awake!!”

Who?

Oh yeah, the bucket girl.

“Yeah man that was suuuuperrrr crazy! I really thought I was gonna die out there!” A guffaw rumbled in the room, the crowd listening intently to what you have to say, “dude there was this big—and I mean big— whirlpool! With nowhere else to go, I just hid in a good ol’ barrel and hoped for the best.”

“Woah, you’re so cool Y/n!” The crew chanted as Law made his way through the crowd, sitting rightfully at his bench, head against his propped up hand.

“Hey, you must be the captain!” You greeted him with a hearty laugh while you reached over to the opposite side to pat his back, unintentionally thrusting his body forward with every rough pat.

“Don’t touch me,” he pulled away and dusted himself off, “I take it you’re better. Any pain?”

Completely ignoring his question, you continued, “Yeah how rude of me, I’m Y/n!!! I’m sorry for intruding so suddenly, it’s just I thought I was gonna die out there because—“

He held up a hand and finished the same sentence you said prior, “Yeah, yeah, there was a whirlpool and you thought you were gonna die, so your pea-sized brain said to stuff yourself in a barrel and hope for the best, yes, I’ve heard it earlier.” He said all in one breath. This amount of stupidity reminded him of a certain captain he was supposed to meet soon.

Instead of feeling offended, a big cackle bursted in the suddenly tense room. “I like you!” Slamming down your fist on his table as a sign of determination, he saw that same look of craze. Oh, how he could never forget that gaze.

“From here on out, I’m your crewmate now.” Cheers erupted from your mates, picking you up in rejoice to congratulate your recruitment.

“No, everyone quiet. You are not a part of my crew. Find yourself another place to loiter in. We don’t accept stowaways here.”

“Yeah no, it’s fine! I’ve been looking for a crew anyways.”

“I am captain of this ship and when I say I will toss you overboard if you insist you’re a Heart Pirate, I will toss you—”

“Y’all I’m hungry, got any food? Preferably meat, yeah?”

“Do not feed her.”

They feed you anyways despite his protests. He didn’t need another one like him on his ship, let alone in his crew.

“By the way, what’s your name Mr. Captain?” A piece of meat was ripped right off the bone. What a slob, Law grit his teeth, and as if I’ll accept her messy behavior. I’m tossing her right off the sub when she’s done.

“It’s Trafalgar Law!” Penguin chimes in, beating the captain to his own introduction. He grunts in annoyance. “Address him as Captain or doctor,” added Bepo.

“MMmmmmm,” your face twisted comically after a brief ponder, “Too boring, how ‘bout Lawsy?”

“No.”

“Trally?”

“Not a chance.”

“Gar.”

“Just shut up, I’m losing brain cells from you. Address me accordingly.”

“Okay, Traffy.” You burped as you chugged down the last of the juice.

Law could only sigh, because even if he threw you overboard, he’d still be stuck with you.

And that’s how it all circles back to Law giving you a ride on his back while walking along in the designated plaza. This is how his normal looks like nowadays. And nowadays, he doesn’t complain, even if he hates being ordered around, he just does it. His crew speculates him having only a soft spot for you, but he denies it every time. It was obvious though.

Today was the day he and Luffy agreed to meet at Dressrosa to take down that son of a bitch named Doflamingo. Everything was going as plan.

“Hey, Tra-guy!” The strawhats called putting from the other end of plaza, stirring a commotion contrasting the daily chatter of the citizens. He scans around and only sees Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky out of the troublesome gang. Where’s Luffy?

His grip tightened to hold you in place after your legs thrashed around in excitement, that never leaving irksome grin plastered on your features as always. “Stay still,” he sneered as he forced your legs to settle.

“Woah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/n,” Usopp whispered to Nami, to which she nodded in agreement.

“My, they have gotten quite close,” Robin’s chuckle was covered by her hand.

“Wow!” Franky drawled out, his stance in his usual super pose, “Since when did you two get together?” The glint of his shades gleamed as Law approached.

Law simply responded with a “Never” and carried on with discussing the plan that Luffy and most likely his crew won’t follow suit—but it was worth a shot. Hell, he didn’t even bother to explain it to you, knowing you’d do your own thing anyways like what you were trying to do now.

“Traff, Traff, Traff!” With every chant, you kicked your legs outwards to catch his attention.

“What, what, what.” He propped his arms upwards to readjust your sagging position caused by the sudden movements. The strawhats paused their chatter, noting that the stoic doctor had no sign of vexation on his face. That was a first.

“I’m hungry,” you smooshed his cheeks together. With a lilt, you asked, “Food?”

He casually nods, telling you “Later”, inattentive to the cheek smooshing and now cheek pulling. Nobody said anything, but it was obvious he had a soft spot. I mean, nobody can touch him—let alone his face— like that. If they tried, they’d be in a million pieces.

“Guys!!” The scream approached fast along with a mob of angry citizens following, “Got the meat! Now run!” The strawhat captain zoomed by, dragging the rest of his crew and allies along with him until stopping at a hidden alleyway.

During the time of escape, you hung your head down as Law transferred you from his back to his chest, face-to-face, in one swift motion, so you never caught a glimpse of the runner.

“‘Eyyyy, Tra-guy! Didn’t even notice you’re here!” The man gnawed on his meat while stuffing the leftovers into his big orange bag.

“Glad to see you too, Strawhat-ya,” he greeted back, eyes meeting with yours for a hasty second before trailing his gaze to your relaxed lips. It was intimate, seeing you close to him, bodies pressed together, arms around his neck and waist whilst his rested on the underside of your thighs. You and him always been together since the day he was held at gunpoint to recruit you, so it was normal for him to have some form of physical contact, whether it’d be hand holding to prevent you from straying away or the constant elbow hitting the back of his head while you whistled a verse or two. Giving you piggyback rides was common, so why did his heart start racing? This is what he always did, what was so different that could make him feel heated?

His chain of thoughts broke when you ripped yourself off of him to hug Luffy. “It’s been so long,” the shorter make cried, “I missed you Y/n! So nice seeing you out here! Especially with Tra-guy.” Seemingly impossible, your arms drew him tighter to you. “I missed you Luffy. God, I’m so happy to see you alive, I read all those articles. Really making big moves out there, kiddo.” Dramatic tears flowed out both his and your eyes, basking in the nostalgia and memories you shared.

To you, it was a touching moment; but to others, it was a cloud of confusion.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Usopp’s question dripping in disarray. But, their confusion was unparalleled to Law’s. That’s who you reminded him of—Luffy. He fell in love with someone who’s basically Luffy. He fell in love with Luffy’s sister. He fell in lo— no. No he’s not in love, what is he thinking?

“Huh, that’s a shocker,” Law’s lips were dry, mouth slightly agape as he watched the two monkeys hit it off.

Parting ways as the sun retired for business, Law took you to the hotel he had a reservation for. He was definitely gonna ask about Luffy. Grabbing the keys, it was a nonstop travel to the bedroom. Gotta hand it to Mingo, the bastard is a sick fck but he has some classy taste. The hotel was flooded with the natural shine of the moon, decorations silk and simple to compliment each other and the luxurious smell that was hard to miss.

Immediately upon entering the room, the first thing you checked was the fridge, searching for sweets whilst Law leaned idly against the doorframe as he watched.

“Yes, they have kinder eggs,” you shoved an egg in his field of view, “See?” He lowered your hand away from his face and ran his calloused fingers against his hair. It was a long day today, and he was tired as hell, but in this moment, all he wanted to do was to watch you.

“Want some?” Already munching on the Cadbury you found, you waved your face in front of his to break his daze.

“What?”

You simply pointed and broke off a piece to lay it against his outstretched palm.

“No wonder you seemed familiar to me,” he started, “You’re his sister.” Responding in a hum, he continued, “How did that happen? Sister by blood or by choice?”

“By blood dummy,” you popped a jawbreaker in your mouth, “We grew up together. If Ace and Sabo were being a jackass, I’d beat their ass flat. They were such bad influences! But seemingly in a good way..? They were like brothers to me too, ha, I was kinda like their mom if you really think ‘bout it,” Your mouth stopped sucking as the words you said became more and more sentimental. “I miss them. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. But I’m happy. I guess it���s just... with everything... it’s nice seeing him alive and laughing. Enjoying life. And happy! Must’ve been hard on him all by himself. Besides, I can’t bear to lose another brother, not again.”

“I understand,” naturally that was his response, being that he could empathize since he did lose a sibling, a mother, and a father—twice— because of people. The world was fucked up. No other words were exchanged, effectively ending that convo.

You dug through the multiple bottles of wine, haphazardly throwing them away to search for more candy. A set of hands joined you on this search, crouching right beside you.

“Seems like you need help.” He offered a tiny, yet genuine, smile, to which you smiled back.

After endless digging, you found a can of whip cream and laughed as you sprayed a heaping load on the doctor’s nose before running around. He chased after you, grunting and hitting his long limbs against the small obstacles you placed, and lost you after he moved said objects to clear the path. You climbed onto the wall and pounced on his back, causing him to fall down completely, the cream crushed against his pointed nose and marbled floor.

“I win,” you sat on him as he struggled like a caught spider underneath your weight.

“Okay, I concede. Get off me.”

You flipped him over so his face was towards the ceiling, which was dark after you turned off the lights, and laid back on his chest. His chest had a subtle, yet rhythmic rise to it and made you fall asleep without trying too hard. You peeped a sigh of content before snoring away.

He admired how peaceful you looked when he wasn’t busy babysitting you. The moonlight doused your features in a soft light, turning even the harsh features into something delicate like a flower. The way your lips parted to let out obnoxious snores, the way your hair is tousled in a perfectly imperfect manner, the way your eyelashes contrast your skin tone, the way how there’s something about this moonlight that makes him wanna just lean down and plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

So he does.

You barely felt it graze against yours.

His hand caressed your hair with feathery light touches and his other brushed against your cheek.

Only the moon knew about the endearing look hidden in Law’s eyes that night; it was that same endearing look that showed he was in love.

[silenthillmutual]

I'm assuming you mean writing prompts! Not sure what kind of mood you're in so I'll give you 2. First: Daniil or Artemy bragging about their partner to someone else. They're not trying to but. They do anyways. There's too much love. Alternatively: One of Artemy's kids (Sticky or Murky, perhaps) fall grievously ill and he's got to be a good dad and tell them everything's gonna be ok. Sorry idk anything about jjba dr or mp100 lol

i’m so sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for forever while i’ve hit writer’s block. so i’m gonna write something short for the first one, ty<3

The way Daniil is going on at length here is going to give him a migraine. He’ll admit to this: he’s mostly gotten used to it. The man can talk - and talk, and talk, and talk. It’s really a shame they haven’t got a school set up in the Town. He’d be a natural lecturer. And he knows Daniil used to give lectures sometimes in the Capital, which is probably how he manages to either follow him or tune him out depending on the subject.

It’s just that right now, Artemy is the subject. So his levels of embarrassment are about through the roof, but there’s no real polite way to stop him.

Were they back in Town, Artemy would just get up and leave. Daniil just does this sometimes. Artemy started to realize about a month ago that he was the sort of person to speak his affection rather than show it. Which always felt like some sort of issue, because Artemy is - “Acta non verba,” he hears Daniil say, right on cue. The grip Daniil has on his hand is remarkably strong for someone of his size, and Artemy’s face feels like it’s going to explode. Daniil’s got his head tilted, looking up at him with those wide brown eyes and he can’t leave. Even if Daniil wasn’t anchoring him to the spot, he’d just feel bad about it when he looks that damn sincere. “Really, it’s remarkable,” Daniil says, eyes never leaving his face. He pulls Artemy’s hand up to his mouth to kiss it.

He swears the woman Daniil’s been speaking to rolls her eyes. Artemy feels like his face is going to explode. His cheeks hurt so much he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel them again. And yet, he can’t be too mad at him, because he knows there’s not a hint of sarcasm to his words, and this is probably the nicest Daniil’s ever been about anybody.

“So what is your specialty, exactly?” the woman asks, though it’s clear she’s only doing it for the same reason Artemy hasn’t left this soiree altogether and headed back for their hotel room.

“I’m a herbalist,” he says flatly.

Her eyebrows raise, but Artemy doesn’t get a chance to find out if it’s a genuine pique of interest or more high-class Capital snobbery because Daniil scoffs and says, “Don’t be so modest, Tëma.”

The nickname is what really sells it. “I need another drink,” the woman says. Her own has been empty for a while now, ice melting in the bottom, but she throws back what’s left of it to crunch the ice between her teeth, stepping away. Daniil uses her leaving as an excuse to set his body against Artemy’s, leaning against him to get better leverage to kiss him on the cheek. He’s been wondering the whole time if this is normal for the Capital. He hasn’t exactly seen many couples like them, but then he’s not sure if it would matter if it was. It seems Daniil doesn’t blend in any better here than he had in Town.

Artemy sighs. Doesn’t push him away, but leans into one of the fleeting moments of physical intimacy. And sighs again. “Why don’t you talk about your own accomplishments, Daniil?”

“What accomplishments?” he snorts. Daniil avoids looking him in the eye, but he can feel the anxiety in the way his grip bruises him. “You know how poorly I did those two weeks. What on Earth do I have to brag about? No, no - I’m already well known here, though. But you - you deserve the glory, darling.”

“I’m not interested in glory.” He watches Daniil’s expression fade into a frown. And he doubts the man intends for him to read into the way his grip loosens, but it would be impossible to just not notice it. “I just mean -”

“No. I know what you mean.” His voice is already so lacking in tone that the difference is almost difficult to tell, but Artemy squeezes his hand to try and get the life back to him. He expects Daniil to speculate that he’s managed to embarrass him, but the next words he mumbles are, “It’s all rather trivial to you.” He shifts weight from one foot to the other. “The games they play here - it’s not all that different from the rulers of your town. Reputation is worth so much, but to you it’s meaningless.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s entirely meaningless.” He pulls their hands up and over his stomach, trying to drag Daniil closer to him. “Hey. Come on. No, it’s just that - I’m right here. It’s embarrassing to hear you say all that stuff about me. As if I did something special, and not just my job. You would’ve done the same thing.”

Wrong choice of words. Daniil doesn’t even bother raising his eyebrows to that, though he humors looking at Artemy for a moment. “Well I didn’t. Clearly I didn’t. You know I didn’t. You were there!”

“Alright, I get it.” Artemy nudges Daniil’s shoulder with his own. “But don’t act like you didn’t do anything while you were there. What about that vaccine you made with Rubin, huh? The discoveries you made in the Polyhedron?” He’ll have to gloss over that one quick before the ice sets in. “The Stamatins are sticking around, you could always talk about one of their projects -”

“Has no one ever praised you before?” Daniil interrupts. Artemy’s mouth shuts so suddenly his teeth click together. Daniil takes the moment of silence to look up at him, and that horrid smirk starts to work its way across his lips. “Nothing is stopping you from speaking for yourself, you know. Or leaving, if my incessant chatter bothers you so desperately.”

“Your hand is,” Artemy grumbles.

“Oh please. Just before we left - on the way to the station, in fact! I saw you cart four children on your back. Three of them were teenagers. This -” he rubs their joined hands against Artemy’s stomach - “Is hardly holding you back.”

Now he raises his brows, and Artemy has to let out his breath under Daniil’s scrutiny. “I don’t want to leave your side,” he says. “You’re the man I came with, and I won’t leave without you.” Daniil continues to blink at him. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “And this is probably the nicest you’ve ever been. I don’t mind the words, it’s... it’s the fact that people are staring.”

“Aha!” Daniil says, and really, Artemy does not trust the sentiment one bit, not with the wicked smile he’s wearing. “So you’re unused to positive attention, and that’s making you uncomfortable.” He pulls their joined hands back to his side, and up to his mouth to kiss Artemy’s hand again. “I should praise you more often,” he says with his lips pressed to Artemy’s skin.

“Alright, whatever. But could you do it in private?” His words come out as a grumble, but he knows as soon as they leave his mouth its a mistake, cheeks tingling from the blush. “That’s not what I meant!” He doubts very much Daniil believes him. “How do I explain this? These peoples’ opinions - they don’t mean very much to me. And I don’t want them staring at me like I’m some specimen under their microscope. I didn’t come here for them, emshen. I came here for you.”

Daniil hums, and lets their hands drop. “Duly noted,” he says. “I will cut back my bragging to a minimum. That should keep conversations short, anyway. The less time we spend here, the sooner we can get to admiring you in private.”

Artemy rolls his eyes, but doesn’t drop the other man’s hand. “You just live to be difficult, don’t you?”

[queen-rayche]

A Royal Masterlist

Parr-odies (Prolly the whole list tbh :D ) Anyways, I’mma list the posts under their queen if I can, use their names as a header of sorts (well, except for those two)

Multiple Queens (and/or Henry...)

Don’t lose your head, Keep your cool

Queen drawings

The Annes

The Catherines

Gacha Queens

Ye olde Sorting Hat

Zodiac Signs

Alternative Theme Songs

Daughters Are So Easy To Forget

Caption This (Part 3)

Queen Wars

Catherines

Mean Queens

KAnna

The plan to steal the man

PhoeSix Wright

SixRonpa

Biggus Henry

DanganSixpa

Castle Block Tango

RPG Queens

Sat Nav/GPS

Left Brain Right Brain

Doki Doki Six Club

Salt and Pepper Diner

Release the bitches

Baby Six

Little Shop of Holbein

Steven Universe

Disney Queens

Tumblr Poop

Close Up

Playtime’s Over

Sixfeld

Cat, Kat and Cathy

The adventures of Anne and Anne

Catherine of Aragon

Aragon’s Emotions

Catherine of...

Caption This (Part 1)

Please tell me what you think I’ve done wrong

Rumour Has It

Sixter Act

Not On My Watch!

Anne Boleyn

Gacha Life Anne

Angry Anne

Anne Bowlin’

Chibi Anne

MulAnne (Part 1)

MulAnne (Part 2)

MulAnne (Part 3)

Pret Anne Manger

CartmAnne

Ight imma (be)head out

Anne Bro-lyn

Anne-ger management

Jane Seymour

The Jane

Jane Seymour

We get it Jane...

Caption This (Part 2)

Mama Jane

The Royalling Stones

I didn’t get no sleep cause of y’all

Anna of Cleves

Didn’t look like my profile picture

Should’ve gone to specsavers...

Love is an open drawbridge

Katherine Howard

Gacha Life Katherine

And that’s the ugly truth

Spilled Nick

HIP

How ard has she had it?

Catherine Parr

Catherine Par

Catherine Parr-ty Hard

South Parr-k

Parr-ks and Recreation

Parr-t of your world

Parrtridge in a pear tree

Misheard Lyrics

Catherine Parr-kour

Central Parr-k

Hans Holbein

Haus of Holbein(ding)

Hans Grubein

Pretty Girls

Henry VIII

Angery Henery

That Pope won’t stop me, I’m the king!

Henry The Draketh

Did they send me daughters? When I asked for sons?!

Decisions, Decisions...

Henry Sucks

Pixar VIII

Netflix Adaptation

Little Girls

You’re the Prince of the Playground

Puberty - you’re doing it wrong

SCATTER!

The King Nobody Likes

MineHenry

Run.

Henry Run

Horrid Henry

Metal Gear Six

Gets beheaded for putting Henry at the bottom

Royal Requests... Just ask ;)

^ I’mma just leave that there as a request page is always useful to have ^