#but in that desperation for SOMEONE to care

[a-s-ter]

THE KIND OF GUY

( squid game edition boys ) nsfw

Frontman / 001 /

— HE'S THE KIND OF GUY who’d manipulate you subtly, weaving himself so deeply into your life that you wouldn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s made himself the sole person you can rely on, the only one you can trust.

— He’s the kind of guy who rarely lets anyone get close, especially in a place like this. As the Frontman, he’s used to controlling everything with precision and cold detachment. But when it comes to you, something shifts. The games are brutal, unforgiving, but he finds ways to make sure you get a little more help—extra food to keep you going, or a quiet word to the guards to make sure they would help you. He doesn’t do this for anyone else, but for you, he bends the rules just enough to keep you alive, his actions hidden beneath the mask but speaking volumes about the care he won’t openly admit.

— The kind of guy who’d undress you with his eyes from across the room, watching you as you laugh and chat with your teammates, completely unaware of the intensity of his gaze. His stare is almost predatory, soaking in every detail, devouring you without a single word.

— The kind of guy who never shows his jealousy outright, keeping his emotions carefully concealed behind a calm exterior. But his eyes—sharp and piercing—will find the person you’re talking to, delivering a silent, bone-chilling warning. Without a word, he makes them feel exposed, unsettled, and unwelcome.

As their confidence crumbles under his unrelenting gaze, they’ll stammer some flimsy excuse, their discomfort driving them to leave in a hurry. You, sweet and oblivious, will watch them go, your mind never grasping the quiet dominance he just asserted.

And when the space between you clears, he’ll step in with perfect timing, his presence effortlessly stealing your focus. His voice will be warm, his words lighthearted, drawing you into an easy conversation as if nothing had happened.

— The kind of guy who always gets what he wants, and if he’s set his sights on you, nothing and no one will stand in his way. Anyone who tries to come between you and him is dealt with swiftly—whether it’s a rival or someone foolish enough to fall for you. If they dare challenge him, they’re as good as gone.

— In sex, he’s the kind of guy who revels in your every movement, his hands gripping your waist with just the right amount of force. “Good girl,” he’d murmur, his voice low and dripping with desire, each word sending shivers down your spine. “That’s it, attagirl,” he’d whisper, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with raw admiration, as if every move you made was crafted to drive him wild.

If you’re straddling him, bouncing on his cock with desperate urgency, he’d lean back against the wall, his head tilting slightly as his eyes flutter shut, a deep, guttural moan spilling from his lips. His fingers digging into your waist, controlling your movements with a firm, possessive grip as his ragged breaths mingled with husky groans. “Fuck, you feel so good—so tight, so perfect,” he’d rasp, his voice dripping with raw hunger. The words would make your pace falter for just a heartbeat before his hands tightened on your hips, driving you down harder, faster, his need for you utterly insatiable.

But if he’s mad at you, it’s completely different. He’d have you on your stomach, your back arched as he pushes your head down into the bed, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “Such a fucking bad girl.” in a deep, rough voice that makes your body shudder. His frustration would translate into every powerful thrust, his movements unrelenting as your muffled cries echo into the pillow. The way he claims you, rough and demanding, would send you spiraling, your body surrendering completely as he makes sure you feel every inch of his cock.

— He’d absolutely be the type to let you cockwarm him while he’s busy, his focus shifting between his work and the needy little whines you make every time you shift in his lap. His hand would lazily rest on your thigh, occasionally gripping tighter when you squirm too much, a silent warning to behave.

But when you get too desperate, too needy for him to ignore, he’d smirk, shifting his hips just enough to tease you, his cock pressing against all the right spots. “Patience, baby,” he’d murmur, his voice dripping with amusement as you let out a frustrated whimper.

And when he finally indulges you, he leans back on the couch, drink in hand, watching as you take control, bouncing up and down on his cock with reckless abandon. His eyes stay locked on you, hungry and half-lidded, while he takes a slow sip of his drink. The big screen glows in the background, but his full attention is on the way you move, the way you moan his name like it’s the only word you know.

“Look at you,” he’d groan, his voice low and thick. “So fucking desperate for me, riding my cock like a good girl. Keep going, baby—show me how much you need it.” And when you finally fall apart, trembling in his lap, he’ll just chuckle, pulling you close to kiss you as if rewarding you for putting on the perfect show.

— He’s the kind of man who makes your whole body burn. His panting breaths, low grunts, and the slick sheen of sweat gliding down his chiseled abs are enough to drive you mad. His hand pushes back his messy hair, but that one strand falls stubbornly over his forehead, making him look devastatingly wrecked as his tired, lust-heavy eyes lock onto yours. Each deep thrust is accompanied by a guttural sound from deep in his chest, the intensity in his gaze leaving you utterly undone. He’d lift you like you weigh nothing, slamming you onto the bed with a feral growl. His tie is gone in seconds, ripped away and tossed aside as his jaw clenches, every move commanding your attention and submission.

You were utterly wrecked beneath him, legs spread wide on his bed, your body trembling as his fingers plunged into you, hitting every spot that made your back arch off the sheets. His smirk was downright sinful as he watched you fall apart, his voice low and teasing.

“Feel good, baby?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. The way your thighs quivered and your nails dug into his back said it all. He chuckled when all you could do was nod, your breathless moans spilling out as his fingers worked you mercilessly. You’d already cum twice, your mind foggy and body pliant, but he wasn’t done with you. His dark, lust-filled eyes pinned you in place, making you feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and it only made you crave him more.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me, baby. Can’t have my girl getting hurt when I stretch this pretty little pussy out.” His words were sweet and filthy all at once, paired with soft kisses along your jaw and forehead that contrasted with the way his fingers fucked into you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and desperate, he unzipped himself, letting his cock spring free, already slick with precum. He stroked himself slowly, teasing you as your eyes went wide, taking in how thick and hard he was.

“See this, baby? All of it’s for you.”

As he pressed into you, inch by inch, your walls stretched to take him, the fullness almost too much to bear. You cried out, clutching at him, but he only groaned deeply, his voice husky. “Fuck… this tight little pussy was made for me,” he rasped, his hips sinking into you completely.

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your lips as he leaned in to kiss you deeply. His thrusts started slow, deliberate, every movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“fuck, you’re perfect… so good for me, taking every inch like the sweet little slut you are.” His praise was filthy, his tone raw, and the way his body pinned yours down left you completely at his mercy.

HI I'M BACK! also Happy new year everyone! Which person should i do next? Thanos? Salesman? Player 333? Lmk!

[simpjaes]

head empty..i just finished reading hypersexual for the nth time and i cant help it. please PLEASE PLEASE give me hyung line thoughts on all of them with the same affliction. its not a want anymore i need it sj PLEASE

hyper sexual hyung line

☆ jay:

jay is the type to let himself lose his mind until he enters dangerous territory. he has so many pocket pussies, he's fucked just about anything he can get his hands on to offer new sensations. has dabbled in porn that he should be incredibly ashamed of and only keeps getting worse...i think he'd need someone just like himself if he were suffering with chronic boner syndrome. all day, all night. drop out of college babe, he needs to get his dick wet. probably leads into a lot of different kinks too. public stuff mostly. what's even better is the thought of how insane he gets without it....and you, depriving him of it for fun. dom jay lets go. anyway, jay is also the type to genuinely expect you to drop out and let him take care of you if it means you'll spread your legs 24/7 for him.

★ jake:

this is basically just a small description of jake from the fic: hyper sexual, but yeah. He genuinely has an issue with jerking off to the point that he's practically numb to the feeling of his own hand, or jerking off in general. He can't fucking get off to anything anymore, which sucks when your cock is always pulsing and leaking in your pants. He's the type to go through every fucking dating app, never able to land a girl because he genuinely is just...way way too much for them. Absolutely gets horny at work, and practically tastes the heavens when any mention of "free use" is considered. Def into somno, and borderline dangerous if he doesn't get what he needs.

☆ sunghoon:

hides it well until he doesn't in the form of a huge boner always poking his friends via hug simply bc they rubbed against his arm the wrong way and he's way too sensitive. And thats what I think about sunghoon, he's sensitive. Any touch, any lingering touch will have him wanting to bury himself into anyone, fucking anything to feel good. definitely the type to pay sex workers for their services but also make them breakfast the next day before asking for a freebie. He would very likely go bankrupt if he can't find a girl to match his energy and be ready to fuck the second he pulls it out.

★ heeseung:

GOONER. an entire porn addict. Heeseung will jerk off to a fucking gaming magazine that shows a group of guys playing a table-top game just because there is a leg at the corner of a picture that kind of looks like it belongs to a girl he would absolutely fuck. he's desperate about it, which doesn't work in his favor at all. he's probably similar to jake in terms of being very close to committing....not good things. like, he will probably end up with restraining orders at one point because he'll find someone he wants to fuck and basically become obsessed with them until they give in. but hey, it's hard to meet people when you spend all day at home online, right? gotta make it count when he finds someone :/

[cyripticchronicler]

Sooooo i need you to write more azriel becauseeeeee you are amazing at it and I adored healing

His Shadows

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: A disastrous date leads to an unexpected revelation: Azriel’s shadows aren’t just protective—they know the truth about the bond between you and him. Can you embrace the love you’ve always craved, or will fear hold you back?

TW: Kissing, one swear word

A/N: You ask and you shall receive! Ngl I love this fic so much!! Azriel longing has such a special place in my heart fr <3

Masterlist Azriel Masterlist

Azriel was sure he looked pathetic. He looked like a dog; wide, pouty eyes gazing at you longingly as he followed you around with desperate steps.

He was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Your smile was the sun to his shadows, your laugh music to his silence. He loved how you talked to him - gentle and kind, like he weren’t a man carved from death and pain. 

Tonight was like no other. Stealing glances at you from across the dinner table, his heart was warm with adoration. You were absorbed in a conversation with Feyre, bright smile lighting up the room. Cassian was sitting next to him, chatting his ear away. He wasn’t paying attention, too enraptured by you and your colossal beauty. 

He wasn’t all that surprised when he felt the tug in his chest; a tug that led to you. Despite the suspicion that you were his mate - he’d never felt this comfortable around someone, so warm and fuzzy - he still felt the breath leave his lungs. His nervousness was unmistakable, breathing laboured and cheeks flushed. His heart was racing, his palms sweaty, and his shadows…his shadows were everywhere. 

They were swirling around his shoulders, darting towards you and wrapping around your hair as an invisible force attracted them. It was only when a shadow brushed against your cheek, so slow and caring, that he yanked his shadows back with a brutal force. 

“Az?” Cauldron, your voice was enough to bring him to his knees. Your head was tilted in concern and he knew if he looked around the table everyone would be wearing the same concerned look. 

“I-” His voice cracked, a rare slip in his usually perfect facade. “Sorry. I’m fine.” He wasn’t. And his shadows betrayed that as they reached out once again towards you as if wanting to confirm the bond was actually there. That it exists. 

He had to force them away from you once again, taking everything in him to stay in his seat when all he wanted to do was go down on his knees and beg for your love and acceptance of the bond.

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel’s nervousness had amplified. It was embarrassing how his heart would stutter when you got too close. Or how his breathing would stop when you touched him in any way, even if it was a mere shoulder tap. 

His shadows, a lifelong companion, have betrayed him in ways unthinkable. They don’t listen. He can no longer trust them around you. Like now, you’re walking next to him, shoulders brushing against his own as you talk about your latest mission for the Night Court. 

Your conversation was momentarily interrupted as someone’s arm bumps harshly into yours. Azriel’s eyes narrow in a glare, instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. 

“I'm okay, don’t worry.” He looks down at the hand that’s found its way to his arm, squeezing it comfortingly. “Good. She didn’t even apologise.” Azriel would like to blame the mating bond for his protectiveness, but, truthfully, he’d been this protective before the bond even snapped. 

You started walking, smiling once again. Azriel could still feel the anger boiling in his gut, his attentive eyes noting the shadows that swirled around your ankles, watching with a grimace as they continued to rise and slowly envelope you in darkness. 

Return to me. 

They rise quicker, your legs hidden. You’ve stopped in your tracks, eyes flitting up to look at Azriel curiously. 

Return to me. Now.

They wrap around your waist and you move away from the busy sidewalk. “Azriel? What’s going on?” He grits his teeth, your voice an echo in his head as he tries to regain his composure. 

Listen. Return.

They begin to wrap around your arms, almost your whole body shrouded in darkness. Your eyes, thankfully not panicked, scour the streets, looking for the danger that could explain why Azriel’s shadows were acting up. 

Enough. Go. 

His shadows hesitated around your frame, the icy chill of Azriel’s voice reminding them who their commander was. One by one, Azriel watched them slip away and into the darkness, banished into a space where they couldn’t interact with him or anyone else for the time being. 

“I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” His voice was raw, cheeks flushing and eyes moving everywhere but your own. Your smile is filled with adoration and understanding. Azriel was too blinded by his nervousness to see it. “It’s okay. Let’s go get lunch.”

 ๋࣭ ⭑

Azriel was going crazy. Sitting in the corner of the room, his hands clench and unclench as he watches you. The dim lighting in the living room does enough to hide Azriels shadows from everyone else. 

The moment you entered the room, his heart rate picked up and his shadows sharted flitting around the room erratically. Since then, he’s attempted to momentarily ignore you in a desperate hope to slow the beating of his heart and leash his shadows. 

“How…is your garden going? Did you plant those Dasies you got?” Azriel mutters distractedly, eyes still on you even as he talks to Elain. Her candy-like voice reaches his ears and he forces himself to look at her. 

“My garden’s going well! The daises really suit the rest of the garden. The white is a nice contrast with the buttercups-”

“Azriel, what the fuck?” Cassian’s confused voice cuts Elain off from her passionate rambling, his head snapping to look at him from where he sits next to you, hand raised above your shoulder like he was about to touch you. 

But he can’t. Azriel’s eyes move from Cassian's confused, worried ones and down his arm to watch the shadows swirl around his arm and hand. The shadows are physically preventing Cassian from placing his hand on your shoulder. They wrap around tighter and tighter until Cassian’s face twitches in pain. 

“You’re gonna have to explain this, Az,” Cassian teases, shaking out his arm. His voice was light, but his eyes flickered with genuine concern.

“Enough,” He muttered through clenched teeth, voice low in command. The trembling shadows obeyed, shooting away from Cassian's figure and back to Azriel, swirling around his ear as they whispered apologies in hopes of subduing the anger of their master. 

They don’t stay by him for long, Azriel’s nervousness growing as the eyes of his family lock onto him. His shadows reflect his anxiety, darting from corners of the room and swirling around bodies. As a shadow twirls around Rhysand’s neck once again, Azriel stands up abruptly. 

“I need to go,” Is all he mutters before leaving for the House of Wind with a brutal tug on his shadows, ensuring they follow his orders. 

What in the cauldron was wrong with him?

  ๋࣭ ⭑

“What’s wrong with you?” The question quite literally stuns Azriel in silence. He’d been locked up in his room for days now, trying meditating tactics to calm his shadows - even going to Madja to see if she could help in any way. She couldn’t. He hadn’t seen you in days, and, despite the desperate longing in his chest, he’d rather it be that he doesn’t see you instead of embarrassing himself. Again. 

You’d grown worried in his absence, constantly asking your family if they’d heard from him. Cassian had grown sick of your constant questions and offered to fly you up to the House of Wind himself. 

You had happily taken him up on the offer, leading to you now standing in Azriels room, hands on your hips as you inspect his tense stance and flushed cheeks. “What’s wrong?” You repeat again, eyes narrowed as his shadows leave his side, seemingly darker than usual.

You’re still not used to how vulnerable he looks when his shadows aren’t around him. He looks so lost, hands fidgeting in front of him while his wide, brown eyes watch as his shadows leave him. 

“Nothing’s wrong…My shadows are just acting up.” His eyes flit to the ground, folding his arms against his chest to stop his nervous fidgeting. “I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you. I just needed to figure out what’s wrong with them.”

You smile apologetically, pulling him into a hug so you can feel his warm body against yours. Warmth coats your skin and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying something stupid like ‘I love you.’ 

A shadow slinking up the wall catches your eye. “Um…” You mutter, still hugging him tightly. “I didn’t know your shadows could create shapes and stuff.” You feel him pull away, albeit hesitantly. He turns to look at where you’re pointing, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. 

There, against the wall, rests a lone shadow, the darkness taking the form of a clawed hand, desperately reaching out to your own shadow, formed by the dim fae lights. It’s almost sad how it fights to get closer, yanking at invisible chains, stretching its long fingers in an attempt to touch you. 

Azriel sucks in a sharp breath, placing a strict yet gentle hand on your back and slowly pushing you out of his room, all the while rambling. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Push. “You need to leave.” Push. “-what?-”  “I’ll talk to you later.” Push.  “-wait-” With one more push, you’re standing outside his room. 

You nod in defeat, your protests ignored.  “I’ll come and see you after my date tomorrow night.” He quite literally freezes in the doorway. “Date?” Before you can say anything, his shadows swarm around behind him, slinking behind gaps to reach you. The swarm around his wings, the darkest they’ve ever been. They seem to lash out, yanking at his hair. 

He slams the door before the shadows can reach you. A quiet curse and thump is heard from the other side. You can faintly see a shadow slithering between the gap in the door before it’s yanked back. 

Oh. Your heart is still racing at what just happened. He’s left you standing there in a pool of nervousness, anxious fingers attacking your nails as you debate whether or not you should knock on the door and ask if he’s okay. 

You decide against it. 

  ๋࣭ ⭑

The evening was interesting enough. The good-looking male was nothing short of kind. He had opened doors for you, pulled out your chair and bought you flowers. The warm glow of the candles at each table along with the gentle jazz music helped put your mind at ease, despite being on a date with a man you knew you could never truly love. 

You smile politely at the male's joke, sipping your wine, knowing deep in your heart that something is missing. Azriel had stolen your heart years ago, practically yanked it out of your chest and refused to return it. No matter how many males you talk to or sleep with, no one could replace him. 

“So you work for the High Lord and High Lady?” He asks curiously. You nod, playing with your food. “Yeah, I have a range of roles but I’m mostly a diplomat.” His smile was kind and attentive, nodding along as a sign for you to keep talking. “I-It’s a fun job. They’re like my family and I’d do anything for them.” 

“I have a feeling you’d do anything for a lot of people, wouldn’t you? You seem sweet.” His hand reaches out, fingers gently grazing yours before completely holding your hand, fingers lacing between yours. 

His hand feels weird. Too soft. You crave the rough scars that should be grazing against your palm. The tight way Azriel holds your hand (when he dares to; usually with the excuse that you’re in danger). 

“Thank you-”

The air shift is subtle but you notice it almost immediately. The temperature dropped, a chill slinking up your spine despite the warmth of the restaurant. You glance around, suddenly aware of how shadows deepen in the corners of the room. 

“Do you want my jacket?” Your date asks, brows furrowing as he notes the goosebumps trailing up your arm. “No. Thank you.” You smile, trying to return your attention back to the conversation at hand but it's captured by the flickering light in front of you. The flame of the candle danced erratically, as though it was caught in an invisible wind. 

Then you felt it. 

A wisp of darkness slipped between you and your date's hand. You gasp, yanking your hand back to your side with a speeding heart. The shadow didn’t stay away from you for long, slithering around your wrist tightly and anchoring itself to you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, leaning closer and inspecting your face. You nod, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, everything’s fine-”

Before you could finish your sentence, the shadows surge. 

First, they twist around your ankle, raising up and up until your legs feel trapped, so tightly surrounded by shadows it feels restricting. Then they move to your arms, twisting until you can barely move them, pressed to your side and unwilling to move. 

“I- I need to go. I’m sorry.” Panic ceases as you struggle to stand, your heart beating faster while the shadows grip tighter. You ignore the protests of your date, sending an apologetic smile while you walk out, the shadows loosening up enough for you to move your legs. 

Though they loosen around your legs, their grip on your arms grows tighter by the minute. It’s constricting, suffocating even. As you scavenge to find the leader of these shadows, your panic worsens. You. Can’t. Move. Your. Arms. 

You search the bustling streets for any sign of Azriel, figuring he’d be close since his shadows were. But, after ten minutes of looking, and fresh rain dripping down your clothes, you try to find another way. 

You lift your arm to your mouth, whispering desperately, “Get Azriel.” The shadow shoots away in seconds, rushing off into the distance while you find a bench to sit on, uncaring of the rain that pours freely. 

After a few minutes of waiting in the cool rain, the loud flap of wings is the first of Azriel to greet you. Next, it's the shout of your name as he rushes towards you. He abruptly stops in front of you, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight of his shadows slithering over your body like a snake. 

“What-”

“Get them off. I can barely feel my arms.” Your glare is lethal, the numb feeling in your arms getting stronger. His eyebrows furrow in worry, eyes squeezing shut in an attempt to focus. “Stop.” 

Everything halts at once. The shadows stop moving, returning to their owner hesitantly. “I am-” He shakes his head, any ounce of frustration leaving his body as soon as his eyes meet yours. “I am so sorry. They’ve been so out of control recently. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts I didn’t even notice they were gone.”

“They interrupted-”

“Calduron, did they hurt you? I’m so sorry-"

“-Stop Azriel.” He halts, eyes looking down in shame. “This whole thing has been getting out of hand. I was on a date, Azriel. What’s going on? This has never happened before.” You place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes as he speaks. 

“I’m really sorry. I hope they didn’t hurt you. They’ve been acting up ever since the mating bond snapped and I don't know how to control it- They get so protective over you because I feel so protective. I’m trying to control it, I just think, because the bond just recently snapped they’re unsure of how to act around you-”

“The what now?” Your breathing stutters, your voice cracking in nervousness as you try to absorb everything he just said. Mating bond? He’s your mate? The one you’ve loved for so long is your mate?

“The-” He steps away, flinching when he processes what he’s said. Turning his back to you, he looks the part of a fallen angel, wings drooped, shoulders hunched while rain drips down his wings. “The mating bond,” he whispers in defeat. 

You take a slow, timid step towards him. “The mating bond?” Your heart skips a beat, breathing ragged as a strange feeling warms your chest. A phantom string tugs at your heart, connecting you to your one true love. “The mating bond.” You say more confidently, a tentative hand reaching out to touch Azriel’s shoulder.  

His back relaxes at your touch, head moving to look at you over his muscled shoulder. “I need you. So badly. I need you like the air I breathe. Please, if you’re going to turn me down do it quickly.”

You shake your head, shaking hand moving to his chin, turning him so he’s facing you. “Who says I don’t need you the way you need me? I’ve loved you for so long. I’m ecstatic to be your mate?” 

Rain drips from his hair and down his nose. You quickly wipe it away. His scarred hands move to your cheeks and he does the same for you, brushing the rain away from your face like he were protecting a precious painting. 

“You love me?” His eyes, so filled with love and hope have your heart melting. 

“Of course I do, honey.” 

“I love you too.” 

You smile, heart so full you feel like it could burst. “Then kiss me.” 

He does just that, warm, soft lips grazing against yours cautiously. He pulls away, eyes looking into yours. When he sees nothing but glee, he dips his head to kiss you again, this time more ferociously. All the longing and desperation he had been withholding leaked out in one kiss, the cold rain barely noticed in the warmth of the kiss. 

He pulls away, gasping for breath as his forehead falls against yours. Shadows return once again, trailing up your back, through your hair and wrapping around your arms causing you to gasp. “You're mine,” He mutters. 

“I’m yours.”

The shadows dance in joy. 

[marsmaximoff]

🦑 hwang jun-ho; headcanons 〇△□

content warning: gn!reader. fluff. mentions of death, coma and jealousy. pet names. no season 2 spoilers. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 941

author’s note: well, my man is back, and i had to write some headcanons for him. the OBSESSION that i had back in 2021 needs to be studied, omg. anyway, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, english is my third language, so i apologize for any mistakes. in case i don’t post anything else this year, happy 2025 everybody!! enjoy! 🩷

divider by @k1ssyoursister

〇 pre-games

best. boyfriend. ever.

that’s it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

🙃🙃🙃

his love languages are:

1) quality time

he may be a police detective, but he ALWAYS tries to make time for you 

and see you every day, and if he can’t, he’ll save some minutes to call you

loves to hear about your day

big on communication, that’s key on your relationship 

type of boyfriend that picks you up after work, or anything really

he just wants to see your cute face :3

takes you out on cool dates

to the park, to eat, to cute animal cafés

he’s okay with staying in too, just cuddling, talking, watching something….

and 2) acts of service 

will drive you anywhere you need

you get ‘good morning/night’ texts every single day you’re not together

makes you breakfast 

and has no problem with cooking for you

opens doors for you 

pulls out the chair at the restaurant ☝🏻

he’ll simply do anything you need

loves coming home to you, it doesn't matter how shitty or overwhelming his day was, you just put a smile on his face

his favorite thing to do with you is eating

it may sound boring, but he loves to see you taking care of yourself, well-fed and happy

takes you to meet his family

his mom loves you

even his brother likes you

he’s a tease and enjoys seeing you all flustered

i feel like he’d be the type to have many pics of you on his phone that he goes back to whenever he misses you

you’re probably his wallpaper, perhaps even on his wallet too 🤭

some pet names like: “honey”, “love”, “beautiful”, “cutie”

would never cheat

a guard dog

not super jealous -a bit tho- but won't hesitate to step up if someone acts stupid 

(picture that one scene in season 2 when that man mocked him and didn’t believe he was an actual police detective hehe)

shows you off 🤩

checks you out :p

his hand is on you in some way when you’re out

has good emotional intelligence

big spoon

reminds you to take your make up off before bed if you wear any -he may even do it himself if you're too tired

or to take meds

he is just really caring and supportive

doesn't like seeing you worried or anxious because of his job

absolutely hates to see you suffer

doesn’t mind that you may be struggling financially, it won’t change what he feels

will help you with whatever it is

just don’t hide it, he hates secrets and lies

i hate doing it, but there always has to be some 🚩 

he’s the first one that would do it (lying and hiding stuff) to ensure you’re okay and don’t get worried

on a particularly overwhelming day, he will raise his voice at you

can get really overprotective 

some days you may not hear from him, or at least not much

will sometimes struggle to open up about his issues or what’s upsetting him

△ during the games

after your sudden disappearance, worry and fear ate him up

while checking your house he found a weird card

and once he discovered the exact same one at his brother’s, he knew something was going on

heard gi-hun at the police station rambling about some weird symbols and immediately recognized the design

interrogated him about you, desperate to know about your whereabouts 

as soon as he successfully infiltrated the games, he began your search

almost had a heart attack when he spotted you

had to make the effort of his life to stay calm and not run to you

would somehow manage to get you two alone so he can get you out of there (i’ll write about this soon)

almost gets caught

feels betrayed you didn’t tell him and quite angry you’d risk your own life like this

but mostly relieved you’re okay (and still alive)

watches you like a hawk from the distance, ensuring your safety

constantly around, you continuously sense his presence close by 

□ post-games (you died)

had to see your death and practically went numb

blurry vision, ringing in his ears, shortness of breath, sting in his throat

the worst thing tho, was finding out his brother had been behind everything

how could he have done this to you? you trusted him! 

feels completely disgusted

after his coma, he blames himself for everything

dreams about you 

gets you a cenotaph given that your body will forever remain strayed

nevertheless, he still talks to you like you’re there

tells you about his recovery and his progress finding the island

you are his strongest motivation

he’s doing this for you, to provide the love of his life a much deserving peaceful rest

gets you new flowers every few days

he’ll never stop feeling guilty

〇 post-games (you survived)

has nightmares he failed and left you to meet your demise on those cursed games

always there when you have them, and so is his shoulder if you need to cry

reassurance king

hides the identity of his attacker from you

becomes even more overprotective

shared location on at all times

gets paranoid if you don’t text him all day

he swore to never miss a single detail of your possible struggles. not again

you can still tell he holds himself responsible for your time on that island

stays awake at night just watching you sleep safe and sound (will never say it tho)

babies you

bigger spoon

doesn’t let you go out on your own if it’s late, afraid that something may happen and those psychopaths will reach you again

[noleftexit]

They shouldn't be here Doing this It had been years since they'd seen each other

"I'm surprised to see you at a baby shower?!" she laughed nervously He was leaning against the bar in between her and the bartender "Well I couldn't turn down the invite after Rachel mentioned you'd be here. I thought you were out of town?" he replied "I am. Living the high life in the big city with my fiancé and dog" she laughed, trying to get the bartenders eyes

That stood there for ages chatting and laughing about everything that had happened since that night and at the absurdity of this event Who even has a baby shower this late in the evening at such a swanky hotel This close to New Years Rachel and her adorable husband, that's who

After too many drinks and some dangerous flirting they both knew they'd made a mistake But the look in their eyes tried to deny it "I need to go get something from my car before I forget" she sighed placing her glass on the bar "I'll escort you. It's dark out there" he quickly offered

The cold December air hit them both as they stepped outside They had barely reached her car before they were all over each other "We shouldn't be here" she gasped in between kisses As her hand reached down to feel him through his suit trousers "I thought about you every day for the last three years" he replied, spinning her around and kissing her neck from behind His hand ran down her front Cupping and squeezing her breasts before moving down to the slit in the side of her dress And as he ran his hand down her thigh she was his Laying down against her car bonnet she spilled every thought she'd had about him too How every lover she'd had since that night didn't compare to him He'd become her biggest fantasy and obsession and she didn't know what she was going to do if he hadn't showed up tonight

She stopped dead and gasped as he ripped off her panties and slid his hard thick shaft into her wet pussy They didn't care if someone caught them This needed to happen now "Fuck… I've wanted you to fill my desperate cunt for so long" she moaned while grabbing at him to pull him closer His grip on her waist was strong She squeezed around him with each thrust Wanting him to stay deep inside as her legs quivered at the sensations flowing through her body "Don't stop. Fuck, I'm going to cum. Don't you stop" she squealed into her forearm Her pussy spasming as he slid in and out The sound of their skins coming together with each thrust as her excitement dripped down her thighs "Cum for me" she whimpered. "I need to feel you cum in me"

[Previous]

[elliee3e]

imagine being logan’s controversially young girlfriend. like, controversially as in 19-early twenties… ugh i’m screaming MMMM

and nobody knows.

content warnings ;

size kink, age play, slight humiliation kink, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected piv, teasing, brief mention of thigh riding, spit play also not proof read i got lazy !!! sorryyyyyyy😭

nobody knows how you show up to his room late at night in just a little nightdress, when the x-mansion’s quiet — filled only with the soft snores of students slipping out from their room… nobody knows how he’ll open the door for you and you two will be at it crazy.

he’ll take you into his bed — let you cozy up into his big arms until you’re squirming into his lap because you just can’t handle the size difference between you two.

and you were just making it so damn hard to stay rational for logan. every shift, every breath against his skin was making him want you more and more: and sometimes he’d give in, sometimes the guilt would eat at him.

“you’re a goddamn kid, baby. you don’t know what you want, let alone need.” he’d grumble, hand squeezing your soft hips again as he thought to himself that you should be with someone your age. not some old and broken man. and you were pouting at him, reminding him that you were well over the age of a ‘kid’. that small pout of yours that he thought was adorable, that soft, pretty pout, now was going to be the end of him.

“doll, you gotta just understand you’re too young for me. you need—“ he was cut off suddenly by that small body of yours against his thigh, your hips against the thick muscle, driving his mind wild. he exhaled a low groan deep in his throat, his hand gripping your waist on instinct. and this is where he knew he’d lost it.

that single roll of your hips against his thigh made him grip you tighter, his hand on your soft waist holding you down on his lap. He was trying to control himself, trying to think but you were making it damn hard when you were grinding against him like that. “jesus, darlin’..” he’d groan, voice deep and husky. “careful, don’t wanna hurt ya..”

and it was ironic, how he was worried about hurting you right now. because if he’s already that concerned with just you grinding innocently on his thigh, imagine how worried he’d be when you ride him.

as soon as your small thighs were spread on either side of his thick ones, his hands would move down to hold them — gently lifting you up so you could hover just slightly above his aching length, before slowly letting you slide down to take it.

he’d feel you trembling from the big stretch: you were just so small and delicate — and he always felt like he was definitely going to break you. he’d murmur soft little things like: “c’mon baby.. i’ve got ya, got ya right on me— that’s it.. mhm..” into your ear, big roughed up hands running through your soft pretty hair gently; tucking the loose strands behind your ear, watching your face in pleasure.

he’d keep at it like that, just letting you move your hips against him for your pleasure — milking it out of him. until he’d notice your moans turning into little whines, your eyes rolling back and fluttering shut. he knew he’d found that sweet spot when he heard you gasp out how good it was, and god was that an accomplishment for him.

“ah, yeah. there, huh? that feel good, baby girl?” he’d groan, making sure you were alright as his hands would grip your hips tighter, trying to prevent himself from throwing all his self control out the window as he started to push his hips up to meet your now sloppy little bounces. “found your spot, hm? right here?”

you’d moan incoherently at this point, nodding desperately, head lulling against his neck as you’d mumble how close you were, feeling the heat in your belly burning up more as his rough hand found the soft flesh there — grabbing at it. “close, ain’t ya, doll?” he’d pant, feeling more desperate as you’d moan his name desperate for more — your back arching and hips bucking for more.

but he couldn’t have you finish without him, no.

“not yet, baby. gotta hold it.. just gimmie a few minutes..”

he’d curse under his breath to himself as he watched your thighs tremble from the denial. god you were too damn pretty right now. his body trembled as you whimpered and whined even more. he’d then suddenly pull out, making you gasp and leaving you empty, his breathing short and heavy. however his hands quickly went to your hips to flip you over. “on your belly, baby.” he’d pant, needing you in a new position.

and holy fuck would that be the most life changing position ever.

slipping into your gorgeous pussy from behind, letting his cock stretch it to the hilt, buried so deep you felt him all tangled up in your guts with each and every thrust. the type of fuck that had your eyes rolling back in an instant and your lips parting, little whimpers and babbles spilling outta it like they were all your pretty mouth knew.

he’d grab your chin too, tease you for it, make you look at your reflection in the mirror.

“ah, such a mess. look at ya, you see yourself? gettin’ fucked stupid by me, baby?” his rough voice would ask, keeping his hand there to make sure you looked at your own fucked out reflection — and also the catch the drool that had pooled and fell from your lips.

he always loved you like this. it was when you’d get the most messy, and where he could really humiliate you — tease you — and yet even praise you, leaning down and placing little kisses all over the side of your pretty face whenever he had the heart to.

until finally, he’d let you cum.

only after you’d begged so much though your head was getting foggy, till your small body was quivering under his big one to the point that it looked like you were gonna collapse. his rough fingers would snake down and prod at your swollen clit, giving it the attention it had lacked this whole time.

“mm, i ignored her this whole time, didn’ i baby?” he’d lean closer to your ear and ask, as if he didn’t already know the answer. he just loved seeing you struggle even more to form something other than your meaningless babbles. and only when you’d manage to get something other than that, would he let you cum — letting his fingers do the work on your clit as he just kept you nice and full and satisfied, like the pretty princess you were.

౨ৎ

[bunny-jpeg]

max verstappen, blueberry bars, belgian waffles, tim bits with margarita and root beer. like, reader is max's naive and innocent best friend and he does this without her knowledge, asleep or drugs. she ends up preg and max convinces her that it sometimes happens and promises to take care of her.

bakery menu

want to submit an order? the bakery is open! submit your orders and i'll try to get through them as fast as possible. been a bit of a slow period because of the holdays/end of the year, but i'm making a comeback with 'em since they are very popular with ya'll! i was immediately drawn to this one, i love a good dark fic and i knew i had to write it! so thank you, thank you! enjoy <3

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” + belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night." + tim bits: "stupid little thing." + margarita: unprotected sex + root beer: filming/recording served by max verstappen!

tags: smut/pwp, dark fic/dark themes, filming/recording, unprotected sex, breeding& pregnancy, best friend!reader, non-con somophilia, innocent!reader, mad!max, drugging

the sight of you was beautiful, there was something about your sleeping form that drove him mad. max knew that he could have any woman he desired, but why would he desire them when he could have you. you pulled him in, but even after years of friendship. you never seemed to notice max's advances, and he was getting desperate.

earlier in the evening you complained about not being able to sleep. you were visiting your best friend who was happy to house you in his apartment in monaco, so when max handed you a dainty little pill and told you to have a good night, you happily took it. and when your soft snores could be heard from the doorway of the bedroom, max felt himself getting arousing.

you looked like an innocent princess, and max believed himself to be the prince who will protect you. even if that meant having his hands under your shirt while you were asleep. a prince deserved a reward didn't he?

you laid under the sheet, which max pulled off slowly. you were in a thin tank top and underwear. he felt his heartbeat leap at the sight of you. he took out his phone to take photos.

he chuckled to himself lowly, "i cum in that every night." a cheeky joke as he had spent the last week slipping you a little pill and having his wicked way with you once you were asleep. you were quite nice when you were asleep, so much softer. it only made max yearn for you more. he wanted you, you were just too beautiful. he groaned as he felt tension in his sweatpants, "stupid little thing."

there was hunger inside of him, he needed you. wanted you in carnal ways that he couldn't put into words. the sight of you, he took more photos as he got his cock out of his sweatpants and rubbed it against your now bare stomach. he shuddered, "beautiful little thing. so stupid. need someone to protect you. you need to be saved don't you? well that's what i'm here for." he then got your panties down around your ankle and exposed your entire form to him.

it was only right for him to admire every inch of you, you were going to be his wife. the mother of his child. he said softly, “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.” and you shifted a little, it excited him as he got between your legs. he felt the rush through him as he sank his cock into you.

he had been doing this every night for a week now. every evening like ritual, he made sure you were tucked in, only for him to peel back the sheets and fuck you with a feverish want while you sleep. max had enough of beating around the bush with your love, he was a man of action.

and all he needed was for two little cells to meet before that action became a plan. some would call it baby trapping, but he'd call it a promise of commitment. you weren't going to do it alone, you'd have max every step of the way. he'd even retired to make sure that you and his baby were taken care of.

he could feel the pleasure through his body as he moved against you. he held your legs wrapped around him as he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he snatched his phone up from the bed and snapped photos and took a small video of his cock being rocked in and out of you. he let out a small groan as the pleasure seeped into his blood. you felt amazing, he eyed your sleeping form as he picked up the pace a little bit more. he filmed a little more and let himself just enjoy the feeling of your slick cunt.

it was like a warm vice that pulled him in further. he took it as a sign that your body wanted it. you wanted this too, to carry his child. of course you did, you were so innocent and sweet. bordering on naive that max knew that you'd want a baby. a chubby little verstappen baby at your hip, you'd make a good mother.

and max knew that, even if you didn't at that moment.

he groaned lightly as he held onto your hips. he felt the climbing warmth in his body as he fucked you. feeling your body against his. your sleeping form was like the future in his eyes. he could imagine your wedding, having your family. you being the perfect wife for him. it was only destiny for the two of you, you had been friends for ages.

he knew everything about you, no other man would be able to compare. to think they could would be stupid to think, you were meant to be with max. for him to dote, love and protect. you didn't need to do anything else besides be his wife and the mother of his children. he had already made enough money to sustain a full house for three lifetimes. you deserved a man who could provide, max knew you 'dated', but they never lasted long. they didn't deserve to be with a woman like you. an angel from the heavens brought to earth.

"i love you." he said, "even when you don't see it. i know you do, i know you love me. you want me badly, but you don't think you're good enough. hopefully when i get you pregnant you can realize that i love you. i need you." his breathing was heavy as he thrusted against you.

there was no protection between you two and honestly he didn't need it. 'protection' wouldn't get you pregnant, wouldn't keep you as his. plus, it felt so much better bare-back. to feel the closeness to you. fill you with his seed and let it take root inside of you. then maybe you'd come to your senses.

maybe he could've done it a different way, but why would we do that? you looked so peaceful, he knew you weren't getting sleep. and max, the dutiful husband, would always make sure that you were alright. he just happened to want your sweet cunt wrapped around his hard cock at the same time. who could blame him, your pussy was the kind to salivate over like a hungry dog.

to love you, in his own twisted way, was a sign of utter devotion. even in your sleep, he would protect you. he knew what was right, and had convinced himself that breeding you while asleep was the best course of action. it'll prove that max is the man you need in your life, the protector. you were so innocent at times, anyone could hurt you!

but not max, at least in his logic.

you cunt felt amazing around his cock. his heart hammered in his chest a she rocked against you. he panted heavily as he moved against you. he held onto your thighs firmly and the dirty talk spilled from his lips. it was hard to make it stop at the feeling of your cunt like a vice around his cock. he rutted up into your further, as deep as he could go, as he said, "you're a fucking good girl. always did everything right, you were so trusting. that's why i have to keep you with me. close to me, where you belong. you're my wife, i knew that from the moment i met you. but the older we get, the further you're getting. time to bring you home. you, me and baby." his voice was hushed, but his words were protective and loving. or his version of loving.

if anyone saw or heard what he was doing. they'd be in shock, but they didn't understand. they didn't get how much you meant to him. he spent so much time trying to find you in other women, but why bother with them when he had you. all of you.

and soon there would be a product of your love. your union together. that only made him work his hips faster against you. you remained limp under him as he drilled his cock into you. your let out a small moan in your deep sleep and it made max near drool as he finished inside of you.

he thrusted quickly against you and felt all semblance of control start to slip. he was left hungry, near feverish from the intensity of the pleasure. he loved it, just as he loved you. of course the love of his life would have a cunt that drove him to near insanity.

he soon finished inside of you after the pleasure took hold. he clutched onto you tightly and felt the intense heights of pleasure. he let out a loud moan before he slowed to a stop. he wiped his sweaty brow and eyed your still sleepy form. it made his cock twitch inside of you for a moment.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips before he pulled away to get you re-clothed and tucked back in. before he left the room, he kissed you on the face once more and said,

"everything i do. i do for you."

-

you were in tears weeks later, you showed max the pregnancy test when fear in your eyes. and while you looked distraught, max looked excited. the test clattered on the floor as max took you in his strong arms and kissed your face.

"how..how did this happen?" you asked meekly.

max replied with a wide smile, "don't worry about it! it's our little miracle! you and the baby won't go without. we'll have to get a bigger place, and move your stuff back home. or i can buy you new things since you'll be going through so much change... and then of course, i have to marry you. it's only right!" he was already talking like you two had planned this pregnancy.

but it was hard to do much thinking when max held you so protectively. you held onto the front of his shirt and rubbed your face against his chest. you exhaled deeply, still feeling shaken to your core. you held on tightly like a lifeline, knowing that max's child was growing in your womb. a part of you wondered if the things you were feeling late into the night weren't dreams after all. <3

[moomuzan]

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝖔𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊 𝖏𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖊

ᴛᴡ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ they find out about your eating disorder

ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ chuuya , dazai , akutagawa

The red-haired had always admired your strength. Carrying yourself like a quiet fire that seemed impervious to the storms of life, unyielding under the weight of the underworld’s chaos. You were his protégé, the one he poured himself into, the one who embodied everything he once longed to be but couldn’t. His pride. His light. The proof that even in the darkest corners of the world, something radiant could exist. But even the brightest flames can flicker, and it was in the faint tremors of your hands, the tight smiles, and the hollow laugh that he began to notice cracks in the armor you wore so well.

When you were alone, the emptiness gnawed at you. It was a beast you couldn’t tame, one that whispered lies into your ear about control, about worth, about the ugly truths buried in your reflection. Those nights, after the world fell silent and your facade could finally shatter, you found yourself in the kitchen, hands trembling as you pulled open cabinets, rifling through anything you could find. Bread, chips, sweets, anything to fill the void, anything to quiet the roaring need that felt like a punishment and a salvation all at once. You ate until you couldn’t breathe, until your stomach screamed in protest, until shame curdled in your veins like poison. Then came the guilt—a black wave that crashed over you, suffocating, pulling you under. And so, you purged, desperate to rid yourself of the weight, of the regret, of the proof of your failure. It was a ritual of suffering, one you endured in silence, hiding it from the world because no one could ever understand.

Therefore, food had always been the battlefield. Chuuya had no words for how your face tightened whenever a meal was placed in front of you, how your laugh sounded strained when he joked about how little you ate. At first, he thought it was preference, something trivial. But then came the patterns. The way you’d push food around your plate, the careful excuses that masked avoidance, the too-frequent trips to the bathroom after meals. He dismissed it, once, twice, too many times, unwilling to shatter the image he had of you—unbreakable, invincible, beyond fragility.

Until one day, he couldn’t.

Upon a quiet night, after a grueling mission, the two of you were eating together. He had cooked, something rare, almost celebratory. He wanted to see you smile, to hear your laugh ring genuine, unguarded. But the moment was stolen by the slight twitch in your brow, the way you forced yourself through each bite like it was a penance. And then you were gone, chair scraping against the floor as you muttered some excuse about needing the bathroom.

The mafia executive wasn’t sure why he followed. Perhaps it was the gnawing pit in his stomach, the accumulation of every unease he’d ever felt about you but hadn’t wanted to name. Or perhaps it was the way you hadn’t looked at him when you stood, the way your eyes seemed fixed on something far, far away. Whatever it was, it pulled him from his seat, silent, careful, until he stood outside the bathroom door.

A choked sob, raw and jagged, as if your chest was being ripped apart—the sound hit him. Then came the gagging, the frantic, broken attempts to purge what little you’d eaten. His heart clenched at the sound, a violent, suffocating force that left him frozen for a moment too long. When the retching stopped, there was silence, and then another sound—one that would haunt him far longer than any gunfire or scream. You were crying, but it wasn’t the kind of crying he could soothe. It was feral, unrestrained, the sound of someone drowning in their own skin.

He pushed the door open, and the sight gutted him.

You were on the floor, knees pressed to your chest, fists clenched so tightly your knuckles were white. Tears streaked your face, mixing with the remnants of your futile attempts to purge. Your shoulders shook violently, your breaths ragged and shallow, as if the weight of existence itself was pressing down on you. too lost in whatever storm was tearing you apart from the inside, you didn’t even notice him at first.

As he called your name, his voice broke, soft but weighted, you flinched as though struck. Your head snapped up, eyes wide and wild, filled with a mixture of shame, fear, and something he couldn’t name.

“Don’t—don’t look at me,” you choked out, your voice shattered, hands scrambling to shield yourself from his gaze as though his presence alone was enough to destroy you.

But he didn’t look away. He couldn’t. How could he, when the person he cherished most in the world was falling apart in front of him? When the strength he admired so fiercely had been a mask for a torment so profound it left you hollow? His hands curled into fists at his sides, trembling—not with anger, but with helplessness. Chuuya Nakahara, the Port Mafia’s finest, a man who had survived horrors most couldn’t fathom, didn’t know how to fix this.

And yet, he moved. Slow, deliberate, he crossed the space between you and knelt down, ignoring the mess, ignoring everything but you. He didn’t speak. What words could possibly touch the depth of what he felt? What comfort could ease the anguish that had been festering in your soul long before he’d ever noticed? Instead, he reached out, his gloved hand trembling as it brushed against yours.

Although you tried to pull away, he held on, firm but gentle, grounding. Your protests were weak, broken, crumbling under the weight of his quiet persistence. Eventually, you stopped fighting, your hand going limp in his as the sobs wracked your body anew. He pulled you into his arms then, holding you like you might shatter, like the world itself would crumble if he let go.

Heavy and suffocating a silence followed. Though in it, there was an unspoken promise. A vow etched not in words but in the way he held you, in the way his gloved fingers gently stroked your hair, in the way his own shoulders shook with the weight of what he’d just realized. You weren’t invincible. You weren’t unbreakable. But you didn’t have to be. Not with him.

Truthfully, chuuya didn’t know what came next. He didn’t know how to help you, how to fix the cracks in your foundation. But he did know one thing: he would never let you face this alone again. You were his pride, his light, the fire he’d chased his entire life. And no matter how fragile that flame might be, he would protect it with everything he had—even from yourself.

,

Dazai had always known how fragile you were, even when you didn’t realize it yourself. It wasn’t just your body, though the sharp lines of your frame had always seemed on the verge of disappearing, as if you weren’t fully of this world. No, it was something deeper—a fragility that resided in the quiet spaces between your laughter, in the way your eyes lingered on the edges of mirrors as though you feared what might look back at you. He had been drawn to it, at first. That strange contradiction of strength and delicacy, the way you carried yourself like a wisp of smoke in a room full of storms.

But even smoke can suffocate.

It began so subtly that Dazai almost missed it. The way you picked at your food with a practiced indifference, your careful avoidance of meals disguised as nonchalance. He watched you fold excuses into your routines like origami, delicate and precise—“I already ate,” “I’m not hungry,” “I’ll grab something later.” Lies so thin they barely held their shape, but he let them pass because he thought he understood you. You were his quiet escape from the chaos, a tether to the normality he so desperately sought. But now, as the days turned into weeks, and your sharp edges grew sharper still, he realized your fragility wasn’t simply a part of you—it was consuming you.

The obsession, your obsession, was was unsettled him the most. The way you clung to control, as if it were the only thing keeping you alive. He saw it in the numbers you counted in your head, the mental calculations that flickered behind your eyes whenever food was near. You moved constantly, restless and relentless, as though standing still would unravel you. And yet, despite your need to escape the shape of your own body, he saw how you lingered in front of mirrors, tracing the lines of your collarbones and ribs with trembling fingers. You hated what you saw, yet in that hatred, you found power. A twisted kind of triumph.

Dazai, for all his sharpness, didn’t know how to confront it. How could he, when you had built your cage so carefully, so intricately, that he feared any wrong move might trap you further? He watched in silence, a ghost hovering at the edges of your pain, his own heart growing heavier with every meal you skipped, every lie you told, every step that carried you further away from him. Naturally, you didn’t know, couldn’t know, how much he had come to love you—not in fragments, not as something fleeting, but entirely. Utterly. You thought you were a passing indulgence, something temporary to fill the void in his life, but you were so much more than that.

Fighting demons, he waited until the night he couldn’t stay silent anymore.

You’d spent the day evading food with a grace that was almost artful, your avoidance so practiced it might have been rehearsed. By the time evening came, you were a shadow of yourself, moving through the room like a ghost. Dazai sat at the edge of your shared space, watching as you ran your hands over your arms, up and down, like you were trying to prove to yourself that you were still there. Your fingers brushed against the sharp jut of your bones, and for the briefest moment, your expression flickered—triumph, control, and then disgust, so fleeting he might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking.

“You’re hurting yourself,” he said, his voice soft but resolute.

Hands lingering in the air before it dropped to your side, you froze “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmured, the lie falling from your lips like ash.

He stood then, crossing the room in slow, measured steps. There was no anger in him, only a sorrow so deep it felt like drowning. “You do,” he said simply. “You’ve known all along. You’ve been counting every bite, every step, every ounce of control, but you can’t see what it’s doing to you.”

While your chest tightened your eyes darted away from his, searching for an escape. “I’m fine,” you whispered, but the words rang hollow, as brittle as your frame.

“No, you’re not.” His hand reached out, but he stopped just short of touching you, as though afraid you might break beneath the weight of his concern. “You think this is control, don’t you? That if you can keep shrinking, you’ll finally be enough. But you’re already disappearing. You’re fading, and I…” Being the first sign of the turmoil raging beneath his calm facade, his voice cracked, “I can’t lose you to this.”

Tears welled in your eyes, unbidden and unstoppable, spilling over as the dam finally broke. “I don’t know how to stop,” you confessed, your voice trembling with the weight of your admission. “I don’t know how to be enough for you, for anyone, for myself.”

Closing the distance between you then, his arms reached around your trembling frame. You felt impossibly small against him, as though you might dissolve entirely if he held you too tightly. “You’ve always been enough,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low, raw. “I didn’t fall in love with you because of how you look, or because of the shape of your body. I love you because you make me want to live. Don’t you see? You’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel alive, and I can’t lose that—not to this, not to anything.”

Then you collapsed against him, your sobs muffled against his chest as his words sank into the hollow spaces inside you. For the first time, the control you clung to felt less like power and more like a chain, one you weren’t sure you could break alone. But in Dazai’s arms, in the steadiness of his voice, there was a flicker of something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

And for a moment, in the fragile quiet of that night, you allowed yourself to believe it.

,

When you came back from the hospital, Akutagawa thought you were better. Not whole—he knew better than to believe anyone could walk out of that kind of war unscathed—but better. You were quieter, more restrained than before, but he chalked it up to the aftershocks of what you’d endured. He wasn’t one for excessive concern or sentimentality, so he gave you space, trusting that your resilience would guide you forward.

Working alongside him, just as you always had, you carried out the ruthless tasks of the Mafia with precision and poise. But there was something in your movements that had changed—something more deliberate, almost rigid, as though you were holding yourself together through sheer will alone. At first, he dismissed it as adjustment. You’d been through a storm, after all, and even the strongest took time to rebuild.

What he didn’t see was how the storm had followed you.

In the dead hours of the night, when you were alone in your quarters, the thoughts crept back in—quiet at first, like whispers. You’re too much. You’ll fall apart if you let go. Control is the only way. They slithered into your mind, wrapping themselves around the fragile progress you’d made, and you welcomed them like old friends. You told yourself you’d stop before it went too far, that it was just temporary, just a way to feel steady again. But control was a ravenous thing, never satisfied with half-measures.

Like an old, repeating pattern, you began skipping meals—not all at once, but enough to convince yourself it wasn’t dangerous. A missed breakfast here, a lighter dinner there. You avoided eating in front of Akutagawa whenever possible, claiming you weren’t hungry or were too busy. When you couldn’t avoid it, you picked at your food, calculating every bite, every calorie, with a precision that bordered on obsession.

Of course, you thought you were hiding it well. Learning to wear looser clothing to disguise the weight you were losing, staying late in the training rooms, pushing your body until exhaustion numbed the gnawing hunger, you told yourself this was strength, that the growing sharpness of your cheekbones and the hollows beneath your collarbone were proof of your control. But the truth was, you were spiraling, and you were too afraid to stop.

Akutagawa, on the other hand, didn’t notice at first. He was consumed with his own duties, his own battles, and you were careful to keep your mask intact around him. But as the weeks passed, he began to see the cracks. The way your energy faltered during missions, the unsteady tremor in your hands when you thought no one was watching. He noticed how your voice grew quieter, how your laughter—rare as it was—disappeared altogether. And then there was the weight.

Now you looked fragile, as though a strong wind might shatter you. He told himself it was stress, that you were still recovering, that if it were serious, you would tell him. You had promised him once, after all, that you wouldn’t keep him in the dark again.

But you didn’t tell him.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, he caught you lingering in the shadows of the Mafia’s base. You were leaning against the wall, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as though trying to hold yourself together. He approached silently, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the gauntness of your face, the dark circles beneath your eyes.

“You haven’t been eating,” he said bluntly, his voice low and steady.

Stiffening, you didn’t turn to face him. “I’m fine,” you replied, your tone carefully controlled.

“No, you’re not.”

Heavy and unrelenting, his words hung in the air. Slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, and for a moment, he saw the truth in your eyes—the fear, the shame, the desperation you’d been trying so hard to hide. But just as quickly, you looked away, your mask snapping back into place.

“I said I’m fine,” you repeated, your voice sharper this time. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

He stepped closer, his presence as unyielding as his gaze. “This isn’t about need,” he said. “It’s about what I see. And what I see is you killing yourself.”

As your hands clenched at your sides, your nails were digging into your palms. “You don’t understand,” you said, your voice breaking despite your efforts to keep it steady.

“Then make me understand.”

For a moment, the room was filled with silence, heavy and suffocating. And then, like a dam breaking, the words spilled out of you.

“I thought I could handle it,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I thought I was past it, that I could stop whenever I wanted. But it’s always there, Akutagawa. The need to control, the fear of letting go. It’s… it’s like drowning, but I’m the one holding myself underwater.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, slowly, he reached out, his gloved hand resting gently on your shoulder. “You’re not alone in this,” he said quietly. “You never have to be.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “But what if I can’t stop? What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not too late,” he said firmly. “And even if it takes everything I have, I’ll make sure you remember that.”

There was no grand gesture, no dramatic declaration. Just the quiet promise of someone who refused to let you fall. And for the first time in weeks, the walls you had built around yourself began to crack.

a/n: i‘d like to leave a few words actually, i got this request around midnight but i wrote it on sitting and got pretty emotional (yikes) i never wrote something like this so it might come off as stiff. i had anorexia myself, and am now still dealing with bulimia. help. i spent all my teenage years counting calories. i still do , sometimes. this disorder leaves you with nothing but despair. i don’t mean to romanticise it so i tried making it realistic — though it probably sucks. well whatever. if anyone is struggling with this, please get help—even if it’s just online, reaching out won’t make it disappear but easier. love you all so much!

[my-castles-crumbling]

fireworks - december 31st - jegulus - @stag-microfic - word count: 288

James is absolutely sure he's going crazy. How else could a kiss affect him so much, while it seemed to have no effect on the other person involved?

He can't stop thinking about it. Reliving it. Closing his eyes and touching his upper lip, trying to recreate the heat of it.

Fuck Sirius for daring Regulus to kiss him, honestly.

But it's been over a day, now, and Regulus still seems just as unaffected as he did on that night, when he pulled back after a few seconds and sent James a completely bored, apathetic, almost tired look. Like he'd rather be digging up Flobberworms.

And James is no stranger to unrequited feelings. So he's in the process of resigning himself to just that. To the fact that he is, again, hopelessly, desperately gone for someone who could not possibly care less.

But then, he hears a voice float through the library where he is hiding.

"....that bad, Reg?"

It's Pandora, Regulus's best friend. Which means....

"It's not bad...it was..."

That's Regulus.

"I mean, you got to kiss him. Isn't that a good thing?"

Are they talking about...? Is Regulus that upset about it that he's complaining? But why does Pandora think it's good?

But then Regulus's next desperate words make James gasp out loud.

"It was like fireworks, Pan. And he...he doesn't feel the same way. I know it."

But his gasp is loud, and suddenly, someone is moving around a stack of books to lock eyes with him. Gray eyes on a deeply blushing face meet his, and James knows he needs to say something.

"It was like that for me, too," he mumbles, still half-convinced he's in a dream.

The rest is a happy blur.

[rafedaddy01]

hiii i love your writing so much!

can u maybe do rafe eating his babysitter y/n out

and his wife calls y/n during it for an update on the kids

and she has to talk to his wife while trying not to moan but rafe does it harder

and she accidentally a moan slip and his wife asks her "are you okay?" and y/n has to come up with an excuse

🫶🏻🫶🏻 thank you!

Summary: request ^^

Warnings: smut, cheating, age-gap, oral fem receiving, mentions of fingering, slight bj, 18+ content

His tongue teased and tasted your dripping desire.

His strong arms encircled your waist, effortlessly holding your thighs apart.

Your back arched off the bed, overwhelmed as the pleasure surged to its peak.

Just as you were about to lose yourself, the sound of your phone’s ringing pulled both of you back to reality.

You reached for the phone, showing Rafe that it was his wife calling. He urged you to answer.

“You cleared your throat, your voice a whisper, “Hello?”

Rafe's head fell back down, his tongue teasing your clit then he thrust the muscle inside you, exploring and testing his limits.

Your eyes widened, shooting him a glare as you struggled to maintain your composure on the phone.

But your composure faltered as a moan, part groan, escaped when Rafe added his fingers to the mix. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Just—just stepped on a toy. The kids are perfectly fine!”

Rafe smirked against your skin, his chin slick with your juices as you thrashed beneath him, desperately trying to push him away.

“Okay. Yes, I will, thank you.” You quickly ended the call, tossing the phone aside and gripping Rafe’s head as he deepened his focus between your legs.

“Fuck”, you moaned as his tongue lapped at you, flicking and sucking the sensitive nub into his mouth.

Your legs trembled, thighs threatening to close, but Rafe's strong arms held you down as he dove deeper, using his finger to tease at your entrance.

“Rafe—“ His name slipped from your lips like a prayer.

He slid a finger inside you, adding a second and curving them just as your back arched off the bed. His free hand pressed against your belly, holding you in place to endure the relentless pleasure he was giving you.

You could feel the smugness on his face without even needing to look at him.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Rafe Cameron loved to play games, and he knew how to drive you wild, making you talk on the phone while his tongue was buried inside you. “Gonna cum, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes, oh god, yes!”

You feel the dam break, your release crashing through you as you not only cum, but squirt all over Rafe's face, chest, and the bed.

“Ah, fuck, baby. That was the hottest shit I've ever seen”, Rafe groaned, his eyes locked on you as you trembled.

Your hands covered your face in embarrassment. “That was so embarrassing.”

“Sweetheart, look how hard that made me. There's nothing embarrassing about it; that was sexy as hell”, he groaned, adjusting himself in his boxers.

He gently pulled your hands away from your face, and when you looked down, your legs instinctively rubbed together at the sight of how hard he truly was for you.

Your breath hitches as he draws closer.

His palm gently caresses your cheek as he sweetly plants a kiss on your lips. “Now, are you gonna help me take care of this?”

He gently urged your head down until you were face to face with his erection, straining against his boxers from how hard he was.

You swiftly pull the material down, gasping at just how big he truly is.

For a moment, you wondered how his wife handles him. He clearly has the goods, but do they even have sex? Was this why Rafe brought you to bed, or was it just because he was bored and needed someone to occupy his time?

Too lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Rafe growing impatient. He gripped your hair, guiding your mouth open as he slid inside.

He pulled back, then thrust forward, making you gag around him. “Oh shit, that's good!”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21 @wtfdudesblog @akobx

[alarajrogers]

There are probably people who will give me a lot of shit for this, but...

You are a human. You have the ultimate power over a cockatoo -- you can sell him. To a family who really wants a cockatoo. You don't have to keep him just because he thinks you're his destined mate.

Don't give him away. No matter how desperate you are to get rid of him, the only way to make sure the people who are taking him consider him valuable and will take care of him is to sell him for a good price. Cockatoos in my experience run $600-$1000. Give someone a free cockatoo and they will probably just turn around and sell him.

Make sure the would-be cockatoo owners understand that cockatoos scream, a lot, when they are annoyed or when they don't know where their human is. And they need a lot of attention. They're about as smart as a two year old and need about as much social interaction as one, and if they don't get it, they will scream. This isn't a cute chirpy cry like you hear from a budgie or a conure; this is a full throated ear-splitting shriek. They are not appropriate pets for households with autistic people unless the autistic person is obsessed with cockatoos.

Cockatoos live for like 60 years or so, so the odds that he will outlive your grandfather and end up as yours are pretty high, actually. Make plans for how you're going to humanely get rid of the cockatoo and get him to a place where he can be happy and far away from you.

i am so absolutely utterly scared that my insane grandfather in his 80s who runs miles every morning is going to leave me a bird in his will and i am especially scared he is going to leave me a large cockatoo named "captain hook". hook has been trying to make me his child bride since i was like 6 years old and every time i see him again which has only been a couple times with decades in between hook is like "you. it's always been you. ever since you were born i've known we were meant to be" captain hook you are a bird and i am a LESBIAN and i don't WANT an eternal sentinel captain HOOK!!!!!!!

[verxca]

Imagine Jason being so soft and sweet and clingy with you that when his siblings see him in a store with you they have to do a double take. It would be extra funny if his family didn't know about you yet xD

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #04 ]

[ j. todd ft d. grayson ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which dick spots something very unusual from his brother at the grocery store.

Late night grocery trips were preferable to Dick for two primary reasons; One, being as the stores were usually less busy, meaning less people would spot him. And two, crime was typically preformed at night here in Gotham, meaning he could keep an extra eye out. It was like killing three birds with one stone!

Turning the corner, Dick hummed a random tune to himself upon entering another produce isle. He was just here to pick up some cereal and butter, nothing too important. As he leaned down to grab what he needed, a friendly couple entered the isle from the other side— giggling and holding hands.

Not wanting to seem nosy or rude, he didn’t stare, still scanning to find the brand he liked.

“Nope- All they do is knock shit over, claw your back, and piss all over the fucking furniture.” The guys voice from across the aisle sounded familiar, a little too familiar— almost like his brother Jason’s. He ruled that one out quickly, though… It was obvious that that dude and Jay acted completely different. Though, the mysterious guy did sound like one of his old friends from high school. Maybe it was him— Damn, how long had it been? What a coincidence to see him here!

Dick looked up, realizing he was wrong as the boyfriend moved his face into view, eyes still glued down to his girl. Oh, it was Jason! What was he doing here at this hour? Dick chuckled, looking back down before snapping his neck up for the fourth time.

Wait— that was Jason?

“But, like- Same for dogs! You have to walk them twenty times a week, and pick up their shit too. No animals are easy to care for, but cats are definitely easier!” You argued with your boyfriend, squeezing his hand to try and enforce your point.

You two had been dating for a good couple months now, but still, Jay was ever so reluctant to get an animal! Every time you brought it up, he’d make the same five points. “Kay- That’s fair, babe, but-”

Jay teased once more, laughing as you tried to protest. Fuck, was it ever cute when you got all defensive like that. It was definitely Jason’s guilty pleasure, and he couldn’t help but tease you when the opportunity was in front of him— practically begging to be taken. Jay quickly leaned down for quick kiss, hands moving to your waist. He hadn’t even realized the two of you weren’t alone in the aisle, nor that the other person here was his brother.

You couldn’t help but just melt into your boyfriend’s touch as he kissed you— moving his lips down your jaw and neck. Your hands steadied on his abdomen, as he lavished your collar in desperate affection.

“Holy fuck.”

Dick was completely in shock. Jason was not only acting clingy with someone— completely vulnerable and desperate, but was also with a god forsaken secret girlfriend he had never told anyone about! It showed in the way he kissed the girl’s neck, and in the way he held her tight, that Jay was in love. But still, was this all some fucking witchcraft? How in gods name did someone get him to open up and act all lovey-dovey like that?

He didn’t know what to do, but sure as hell didn’t want to get caught. Dick slipped out of the asile, your collective giggles still faintly audible as he entered the parallel row. He was debating on taking a photo or not… but he didn’t want to invade the girl’s privacy.

Instead, he made a mental note of the encounter, checking out and leaving, already picturing the faces of his family when he’d bring it up at the next dinner.

[unacknowledgeable]

Continued: Serial killer reader x yan!batfam

.........Ooooookay, I guess yall really liked my serial killer!reader? I guess I'm honor bound to continue??? Oh noooo, the horrorrrr. But seriously, I'm glad! Because it only gets worse from here! >:}

Anyway, this was really difficult to write because I literally could not find good starting and stopping points, I tried to make my thoughts flow into each other as seamlessly as possible but there's SO MUCH I wanna write for this, it’s eating me alive, (also like, feel free to send asks bc I get sidetracked a lot in my writing and looove just answering questions as jumping off points, so please gimme gimme)

That being said, enjoy!

WARNING for disturbing imagery, untreated mental illness and trauma, blood, and depictions of murder (seriously)

So obviously, this M/c is a serial killer, so how do they go about keeping this hidden while simultaneously living with the world's greatest detectives?

Simple, ya don't.

Okay so that's not completely true. Compared to the average criminal, you put in a lot of effort to not get caught, but the average criminal doesn’t live with THE Batman either

Compared to the rest of your family though? You basically put in the bare minimum required to hide your… unsavory activities

Of course, you'll wash your blood soaked clothes yourself, in the lesser used washrooms of the manor, but once in a blue moon, when you’re too tired to care or your catch of the night put up a greater fight then anticipated, you'll throw your tainted clothes in with the rest of the families

And they just… don't fucking notice.

Or when they do, they just assume that one of the others had an unfortunate run in with some criminal while in civvies 

You've overheard many admonishments from Dick or Alfred over the years, telling Tim or Jason to “Please stop putting bloody clothes in with the whites, there's a basket for them two feet away!”

It was always pretty hard trying to keep a straight face when hearing those scoldings, but you always did, you didn't want Damian demanding to know what was so funny and dampening your mood

Or Cass giving you one of her calculated looks and suddenly getting nosy, that would make losing your clothes to Tim’s closet a lot less worth the laugh.

It’s just that, this assumption is waaaaay more plausible then say, the serial killer they've been tracking relentlessly for literal years, is just…tossing their VERY incriminating evidence in with the family's laundry, then passing out on some couch in one of the many sitting rooms of the manor, while the family goes out and discovers their latest victim

It's just easier to assume it was one of the others, Dick would never connect you, of all people, to the gore tossed haphazardly in the hamper, it's way more likely to be one of the many crime fighters of the family, not the soft spoken hermit of the manor, and even if that was a possibility in his mind, you don't even have a scratch on you

Not that he’s ever bothered to check you for injuries before, like he does almost religiously for the others

And Alfred? Well he's of the belief you'd grown out of your… tendencies, that it was a one time thing. Despite his reputation as an omnipotent presence in the manor, he never did realize just how deep your mental issues ran. Not until it was far too late.

You don't even have a specific weapon either, half of the time you'll just take one of Alfred's steak knives and hit the lower levels of Gotham, wandering around the decrepit streets till you found someone suitable 

Other times, when you’re in an exceptionally bad mood, be it because Damian said something particularly venomous or Alfred missing an important event for you because something came up with one of your siblings, or even when your classmates decided it would be funny to key your car-

Or it's just one of those days

Those days when the abstract voices simmer louder in the back of your mind, pushing and nagging. Images that you desperately want to forget but can't help the need to recreate. All threatening to boil over until you either crumble into a sobbing heep on the floor or go out and do the one thing that has always been able to shut. them. up.

Those days you’re… forgetful

On those days, you forget to grab one of Alfred’s pristine knives, but that's fine, Gothams streets are littered with dangerous items, so there's no shortage of tools at your disposal. You're creative, resourceful, you can use whatever's on hand at the time, whatever's in reach.

But if there's nothing? No sharp objects, no discarded bricks or loose pipes or even a half empty beer bottle, well… you're no stranger getting your hands dirty

Those times however, are pretty hazy in the aftermath.

You’ll forget certain details, like how they gripped your arms in a vain attempt to draw your own blood as you drew theirs, in the event that if they dont get away, at least you'd be caught, (all it leaves are dark, tender bruises along your arms, that you'll spend weeks poking and prodding at, in the hopes of reliving that moment)

Or how they'd flail their legs, inches from the ground, trying to kick your legs out from beneath you (it was kinda cute, how much shorter they were then you, how little their attempts to free themselves did when it mattered the most)

Even their last, warbling pleas for mercy were lost to you. You know they said something, could vaguely recall that they spoke, too absorbed in watching their bloody lips turn blue as the oxygen in their body slowly ran out (No no please please…My girls are waiting)

No, no you don't remember much but what you do remember, what you always, always remember, are the eyes 

You remember the tears, the fear, the acceptance, the rage, the refusal, the disbelief, the confusion, the indignation, and most of all the recognition. 

Whether it be them recognizing just who you are or realizing that this is who will end their life, you don't know, you’ve never bothered to ask. 

You prefer to think it’s the latter, it's hard to explain, but it makes you feel so so important

When it’s over, and the adrenaline in your veins soften, your breathing calmer, the blood rushing through your ears no longer so deafening, and you can feel the pleasing ache in your limbs, you sit, and asses the damage, as you always do

You always make sure to grab their wallet, take out the ID and memorize it, before gingerly putting it back, and finally walking away, head clear and numb in the cold Gotham air

There's no real reason why, its mostly force of habit at this point, it started with your very first kill, you don't feel like breaking the little ritual now, or anytime soon

It just feels wrong, to take a life and not even know whose life it is...was.

Later, long past any reasonable hour, you lay in bed, fresh out of the shower and thumbing the bruises, listening to the voices over the family's communicators (you stole one of Dicks, he has a nasty habit of leaving them around the manor) as they patrol the Gotham streets for crime and mayhem

You honestly can't help the small smile that graces your face, falling into sleep, as you hear the quiet, defeated sigh over the highly protected com link, “B, I've found another one, it's…it’s pretty rough tonight”

The pause is long before a small, gruff, “I have your location, ETA in 10 minutes”

You slept pretty good that night

Damn, sometimes the shit I come up with scares even me, again, feel free to send asks (shh I'm not begging), the brain worms are always hungry and I have sooooo many thoughts about this thing. lol 

Hope you enjoyed!

[quandledlngle69]

Black!Butler x Blue!Lock

☆ Content: How Blue!Lock boys would be as demon butlers and lords, + demon hound Shidou. 

☆ Characters: Micheal Kaiser, Nagi Seishiro, Itoshi Rin, Shidou Ryusei, Reo Mikage, Oliver Aiku, Itoshi Sae, Isagi Yoichi, Meguru Bachira, Barou Shouei, Hiori Yo, Rensuke Kunigami + Wild!card kunigami, Karasu Tabio, Hyoma Chigiri, Alexis Ness. 

☆ Genre/Themes/Warnings: Mention of disabled reader and Chigiri in his part, demons, Victorian England, anime, blue lock x black butler, lords and nobles. Angst + slightly suggestive + manipulation + slight mentions of abuse.

☆ Pairing: Demon Butler!Character x Lord!Reader

Demon Butler!Reader x Lord!Character + Demon Hound!Shidou x Lord!Reader. 

☆ W.C. 3.1k

Micheal Kaiser could be both, considering his cocky and arrogant behaviour, he would be the perfect demon butler who simply has everything under control. And even though you both share a contract which means he is your servant until the end of your days, it doesn't mean he isnt the one pulling the strings. Although your contract states he has to help you achieve your goal, it doesn't mean he won't manipulate and gaslight you to do it his way. He is a centuries old demon after all, and you trust him fully, as he has never let you down, has he? Yet in the same breath, if you were his demon butler, you would have a headache for how many times you would be rolling your eyes. He truly fits the role of someone who wants and craves to be worshiped and have someone at his beck and call. He is hotheaded and cold, an arrogant, spoiled brat. Everything he does is with a purpose and it's fortunate you can keep up because–well, let's just say he has no use for useless pawns.

Nagi Seishiro would be a Lord. There's no question about it, he would be way too lazy to take care of himself, let alone serving someone left right and centre for the rest of their lives.  He would be used to the pampering, especially since he got that way from Reo, so it wouldn't be surprising he would have a butler do everything for him. The only reason you made a contract with him was due to his soul being full of the sin of the sloth, other than that, his soul would be worthless to you. He would be notoriously known as one of those noblemen you hear but you never see. He simply doesn't leave his estate unless he absolutely needs to. Any attempt to have him out of the doors of his manor for any mandatory events would be through bribery. Days are long and boring, your schedule never being fully filled, and you wonder if you should just kill him to end the torture to yourself.

Itoshi Rin would be a Lord. His aura of disdain and driven need and desperation to make his brother acknowledge him or become superior would have any demon following his scent. You were just quicker. It would be a concrete yet impulsive decision on his part. He would only see his butler as a pawn, yet in reality it's him that's the pawn in your game. It's hard to even get a sentence out of him, you had gotten used to the blunt and sour one–word replies. He is simply too blinded by his goal to see the consequences at the end of the game. Yet it almost makes your duties easier, knowing he’ll sacrifice anything without a fuss. He spends most of his days in his office, wanting to not be disturbed. He looks at you with hatred, as most humans would do with demons, yet at the end of the day, he’ll remember the one that came to him in his darkest hour, and he's afraid he’ll realise in due time it was a mistake.

Shidou Ryusei would be a Demon Hound. For some reason, he is one of the only demon hounds that can talk and is extremely intelligent. But do not be mistaken, he is not calm or collected at all. He thrives in complete chaos and simply doesn't care for social etiquette of the 1880’s or your reputation of being a higher class. He is simply a rabid dog you barely keep on a leash until you release him to create complete destruction. That's the whole reason he was able to sniff you out in the first place, because your soul had a malicious ache for chaos, destruction and violence. He had first come to you in the form of a scruffy doberman, watching the satisfaction on your face from burning down your orphanage. When you had managed to inherit back your dead parents estate, you had allowed him to follow you. When you found out what he truly was, you formed a contract for him to protect you. He is more of a guard dog than anything. It's more of you trying to keep him in check then the other way round, but he will obey you, as long as he gets to devour your soul. 

Reo Mikage could be both. He would be a perfect butler beside Barou. In his old life, he knew the importance of keeping up a reputation as a noble and how social etiquette works. Everything he does is with a precise eye and is perfect like a cut diamond. He leaves no room for error in his duties and would put any other demon butlers to shame. The reason he was so drawn to your soul was because you longed to be acknowledged by someone who left you in the past to better themselves. Whether it was a love, a friendship, or a family matter, your burning passion was what made Reo sign a contract with you. If Reo was the Lord, however, it would be almost the same story. His soul would burn with an ache not to be left behind, to show a person he truly cared about that he was worthy of being acknowledged, that was Nagi. Since Nagi had a contract, he didn't need Reo anymore. Which clearly shattered him, as he has a need to be depended on. You would be used to show Nagi that Reo is worthy of being acknowledged, and once that goal is fulfilled, his soul is all yours. 

Oliver Aiku would be a butler. In his past life, he gave up on making himself bloom and instead, turned to making those who may need him bloom instead, in his own twisted way. Your soul attracted him with your strong goals. No matter what they were, it was passionate enough to have him at your beck and call after signing a contract. You were almost surprised he wasn’t a succubus–though, with the way he shamelessly flirts with all types of women at balls and gatherings. You can count on your fingers and toes how many times you've had to pull him away by the ear to avoid your butler being whisked away for a night of fun. And don't think you're an exception–he’s handsy. In the aspects of his duties, he’ll let you take the lead most of the time, guiding you metaphorically with a firm hand on your lower back. He is the eyes that pick up the subtle obstacles or margins of error and quickly get rid of them, no matter what it takes or who's in his way. He is more casual, and not uptight like most Butlers are, but that doesn't mean he’ll let you off easy. He still needs that passion in your soul to desire devouring it, after all.

Itoshi Sae is both. Yet what is different from him, is that no matter what position he is in, you are always the pawn. And he doesn't hide it either, and there is nothing you can do. As a butler, there is a cold and unpleasant aura that always follows him. You will always be unsettled in his presence. Everything he does is with purpose, yet it's not because he cares, but is only doing it out of direct orders from you or is indirectly linked to the contract. Those who are looking to backstab or exploit you in any way will think twice when Sae is in your presence. He became aware of your soul as you drastically changed your dreams due to something soul shattering you couldn't come back from. It was almost like a reflection of himself, which peaked his interest. 

Yet if he was the Lord, he would use everything in his power to fulfil his goal, no matter what pawns he ends up losing. Sometimes even his plans are unpredictable to you, which makes this game even more entertaining. In aspects other than his goal, you spend a lot of time covering for his rude lack of manners and turning down the numerous letters asking for your Lord's hand in marriage.  He understands that you will stay by his side until the very end. And until then, the piercing gaze of his teal eyes will always make your eyes squint with desire to devour his soul. 

Isagi Yoichi would be a Lord. The growing obsessions of greed for more in his heart had your ears pricking up like a hound dog. His decision would be a long, dragged out process with hesitation like no other. You recognize that he is a clever human, and he won’t be swayed by tricks of any kind. At some point, you believed that you would never gain a contract with Isagi, but with a little more time and persuasive words, you were able to get him to agree to your terms. You are polite and sweet in front of others, making them believe there is nothing going on. You carried out his dirty work, helping Isagi do whatever it takes to achieve his goal, no matter who gets hurt in the process. Isagi’s soul is one in its purest form, something that abnormally hasn't been tainted by the darkness even with his Gluttony. Even though Isagi knows you're a demon, you go to great lengths to keep the most violence and bloodshed away from his eyes. The purer the soul, the sweeter it tastes. 

Meguru Bachira would be a Lord. You would be attracted by the loneliness in his soul for a true relationship, something he had felt heavily throughout his life. Something you can give him. It really wasn't that difficult to get him to sign the contract; humans are so fragile when they don't have each other, and clearly he felt it deeper than ever that day. Of course, you would sugarcoat the parts of devouring his soul but–doesn't he want a friend? You eliminate any threats, to his life or to the contract formed. Most days are spent playing games for children or chasing after Meguru playing tag. However you run into the real problems when the marriage proposals come in, and most are denied or taken back after meeting with him, which detriments his spirit even more. Even if everyone else in his life ends up leaving him, or turning on him for a reason out of his control, you will always be there. Even if you are the cause. How else are you supposed to keep the fire of loneliness in his soul sparked?

Barou Shouei would be a butler. And he scares you, if you were being honest. Although he cleans like the contract between you will cease to exist if he doesn't, he has a permanent scowl etched into his features. Even though he is a demon, he has a soft spot for animals and children. NO he will not let you put makeup on him (he will) and he will not hold your shopping bags for you (he most definitely will.)  Most people mistake him as your personal bodyguard with how big his frame is. And even more surprised at his domestic habits. And don’t bother trying to find a male suitor anytime soon, Barou will frighten them away, intentionally or not. He found your soul from the burning envy in your heart and the desire to be better and devour others, which in turn makes him want to devour your soul. He reminds you constantly that he is not your friend, while also simultaneously ironing fifty of your shirts over and over again to make sure there are zero creases. An amused smile forms on your face when he does say those words.

Yo Hiori would be a Lord. The pressure from his parents to marry the estranged girl from the other county would cause him to snap. He felt suffocated, almost drowning with this need of perfection and following a path that naturally didn't feel his own. On a cold night of despair, you came to his huddled form in the corner of his room, and whispered the sweetest promises of release and freedom. Everyone expected him to keep up the family line, but what happens when his parents die in a strange fire and he disappears, only to emerge a few months later with a personal butler. You still notice the uneasiness he feels that lingers when he’s around you, the air will always be full of unknown intentions.Occasionally, asks you about heaven and hell, demons and angels, and you tell him as much as you know, supplying his curiosity. You promise to fulfil his wish of freedom in this life, yet his soul will forever be bound to you. 

Rensuke Kunigami would be a Lord. Having his dreams crushed, simply realising he is not good enough to keep up with the world he wants to join, he crumples. Yet this is where you come in; you show him another chance, show him the light in which he can strive down, while you eat up the darkness that threatens to consume his light. You simply do his burdensome work as you live in the shadows. His family or friends don't see him much due to his obsession with chasing his dreams–and what kind of butler would you be if you couldn’t make excuses for something as simple as that? He trusts you to a certain extent, a deep part of him believes there is a catch–but there is none. That is, if you don't consider devouring his soul, the catch. 

Now, Wildcard Kunigami would be a butler. He notices your soul crumpled with the loss of your dreams, yet for you, this fate only fuels the burning desire to grab it back, no matter what it takes. He is blunt and open with you, he will work hard to make your dreams come true, in place for your soul. He will carry out whatever nasty work you want him to do with a quiet nod of his head. He is more in the headspace of a knight, working to do whatever it takes to protect you and your dreams. He doesn’t do pleasantries or politeness, only what he knows, which is loyalty and fairness. 

Karasu Tabito would be a butler. Yet, if you told anyone in the first place why you chose a contract with him, they would laugh. Even Tabito was amused by your reasons to form a contract. When people first see you both together, they assume he is your suitor by his handsome face and charming manner, which to your dislike, he entertains. You had to teach him (yes teach him, your butler) to try and speak with a posh accent, so he doesnt get mistaken for a commoner (it doesn't work, of course.) He can see himself in you with your cocky attitude and arrogant behavior, yet it hides the deep vulnerabilities and insecurities you have with yourself. He sees a reflection of himself in you when he was a mortal himself. You hastily shook his hand to form the contract when your soul had called to him. He had never met a mortal so amusing. It was clear you don't truly understand the depths of your agreement yet Tabito was satisfied with the arrangement. He protects your little secrets and fragile heart, and you give him your soul at the end of your life. 

Hyoma Chigiri would be both. If Chigiri was your Lord, be prepared for the restless nights, and frustration that emits off him. His permanently torn ACL triggered despair in his heart, making his soul deliciously wanted. There will be times of purposely spilled cups, plates, bowls, trashed rooms, and thrown insults. Yet if you couldn't handle all of those things, what kind of a butler would you be? At the estate, Chigiri would mostly be using a wheelchair, he mostly refuses to use anything but a cane when out interacting with society, as he doesn't want to be pitied on or seem as less. On his good days, he would be silent and his mind wandering. When he wants to be cheeky, or thinks you're being too slow with your duties, he’ll whack your ankle with his cane, an amused smile crossing his face when you lecture him about minding his manners.

If Chigiri was your butler, however, it would be for the same reasons. You were born with a leg deformity. A congenital limb defect that caused a limp which required a walking stick to help you keep stable. Ever since you were younger you had realised you were different from other kids. You couldn't run, do sports, or even perform basic tasks by yourself. Even finding a husband was impossible, even with your status. You were slowly isolated from others, including your family who gave you secret looks of disgust. It infuriated you, the burning hatred in your soul of being treated differently beckoned him to help you for a price. Chigiri will be your legs, your eyes, your brain and your body. He will do the physical things you can’t do, the physical manifestations of the burning pain you want to cause with the hands you can't do. You may not have the perfect body, but your soul is exquisite to him. 

Alexis Ness would be a butler. At the same time, he would be the most pathetic demon butler ever. A demon like him would thrive off being under someone's thumb then being the one in power. A soul so full of ego that it would almost be considered a god complex would have Ness’s tail wagging like a pitiful dog. If he wasn't a demon, he would have many scars on him inflicted by the abuse you cause. He seems to be bewitched by the fact you are far from a good person at all, and teething the edge of being an epitome of a spoiled brat. If you ever want someone to take out your frustration on, his uncanny smile will be compliant. You have only a handful of servants, as they either left due to your tyranny or because of the fact you stuck your nose up at them constantly. The rest were too afraid to leave or naturally had nowhere else to go. Ness would allow you to use him like a dirty cloth, but the minute someone else even tries to challenge or insult you, Ness reminds you why he really is a demon.

☆ Credits for dividers: @fukuonagirl @anitalenia @ioveartfilm

[vidduality]

Yeah, dude came out of his goo after being fused to the Hexcore and literally walked off wearing NO CLOTHES. Then proceeded to never wear clothes again for the rest of his human life. Just a blanket given to him by the person he cared about stylized into a messiah robe. When he tried to destroy the Hexcore *before* he was fused to it, it stopped him and then attacked him, so even prior to death #1 he knew it was influencing him, and that only Jayce could destroy it (he didn't 😅). Heck, he only started going wild with his experiments in the first place after he coughed blood on it and accidentally gave it some dna and it started making him hallucinate.

I think his core baser instincts were still there post-fusing (help people, make the world a better place, and eventually make Jayce be his partner again), but he was definitely not fully in his right mind. It's a cautionary tale, but one that lies more in not messing with things you don't understand. His desperation to help people and himself led to the creation of something with the power to influence him to terrible destruction, using his core instinct (end human suffering) and his guilt over someone he accidentally killed to manipulate him, and that to me makes the story INCREDIBLY compelling.

(That said, I also love when people headcanon him as just an increasingly deranged little scientist turned messiah turned borg demigod. His speedrun villain arc and back is entertaining no matter how you believe he got there 😆)

You know, it's probably ridiculous to assume that Viktor is being somehow mind controlled by the Hexcore in S2 of Arcane. Obviously his actions are entirely his own, right?

After all, mind control plotlines can be a tricky to pull off and when it's employed, creators tend to put a lot of signposts in to let you know what's really happening and how the character isn't themselves anymore.

For example, creators might do things like... having the character's eye color suddenly change, since eyes are the windows to the soul.

Or... creators might indicate that the character's voice has changed somehow, to indicate that another will is acting through them and they're not entirely themselves anymore.

Certainly one really common trope in mind control plotlines is the mind-controlled character is hearing some kind of voice in their head telling them what to do, or seeing someone that isn't there who guides them or controls them.

Certainly in a pinch, if you really want to drive home that a character has been mind controlled and hasn't been themselves, you'd make it pretty obvious by having them be horrified by what they've done once the mind control wears off!

Bonus points if their eyes revert back to their natural color and any other signs of a different voice or appearance go away once the mind control is finally lifted! That way it's definitely clear that they've been set free from whatever influence was upon them.

But seriously, without these sorts of really glaring signposts we can't really be sure if a mind control plotline was intended at all!

(Tongue-in-cheek aside, I actually love the subtlety of how Arcane executed the Hexcorized Viktor plotline, and I love how much ambiguity remains. But for anyone who thinks he was totally in control, I mean, come on guys. When I started going down the list of all the things film and tv usually does to signal a mind control plot I literally burst out laughing when I realized how many of them Arcane had hidden in plain sight.)

[solxamber]

(I sprint in like the Flash on a sugar high)

I'm here for the holiday event!! Hopefully I'm doing this right, I just love love love your writing & didn't wanna miss the opportunity.

I'd like to request the following: Scarabia, prompt #5 (It's always been you), and fluff (like romantic), pretty please!!

—🐈‍⬛

omg hi 🐈‍⬛️ anon!! and thank you <3

It's You || Jamil Viper

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "It's always been you: ; Genre: Fluff (+ very mild Hurt/Comfort)

Jamil was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. But his next words shattered the facade.

“What’s your type?”

You blinked at him, pausing mid-bite of the snack he’d casually handed you moments ago. “Huh?”

He shrugged, looking at the ceiling like he didn’t care, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I’m just curious. You’re always surrounded by people—Ace, Kalim, everyone else. Surely you’ve thought about it.”

The question was so startlingly out of character for Jamil that you just stared at him, trying to figure out if this was some weird prank. But when his gaze flickered to you, there was a vulnerability there, fleeting but unmistakable.

“Well,” you said slowly, deciding to indulge him. “I guess I like someone who’s reliable. Smart. Quick on their feet. Someone who takes care of others, even when it’s thankless. And, uh…” You smiled to yourself. “Someone with nice eyes and hair. Maybe good at cooking too.”

You looked back at him, and he looked like you’d just punched him in the gut.

“Jamil?” you asked, concerned.

He didn’t answer. His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound came out. Instead, his expression twisted, heartbreak and disbelief warring in his eyes.

You laughed softly, trying to ease the tension. “You’re a sharp guy, Jamil. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that, you stood and stretched, brushing imaginary crumbs off your hands. “Goodnight.”

You left him there, frozen, and retreated to the safety of your dorm.

Hours later, frantic knocking yanked you out of sleep. You groaned, stumbling to the door.

“Who—” you began, but stopped when you saw Jamil.

He looked… frazzled. His scarf was askew, his hair messier than usual, and his expression was an uncharacteristic mix of panic and determination. He looked like he had run straight from his room, like he couldn’t wait another second.

“Jamil? Are you okay?” you asked, alarmed.

“No,” he said bluntly. “I mean—yes. But no.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, pacing in your small space. “I… I’ve been trying to figure this out. What you said. And…”

He stopped, turning to you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“You didn’t say it outright, but it’s me.” His voice was soft, almost disbelieving. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He looked so lost, so unlike himself, that it broke something in you. You stepped closer, placing your hands on his arms. “Jamil, you’re one of the smartest people I know. But sometimes, you’re incredibly dense.”

Before he could respond, you tilted up and kissed him.

For a moment, he froze. Then he melted against you, his hands coming up to hold you close, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak. He kissed you like he’d been dying of thirst, and you were the only oasis he’d ever known.

When you finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing heavily. “You make it impossible for me to recognize myself,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with awe. “You… you’re changing everything I thought I knew.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Because you’ve been changing everything for me too. It's always been you.”

“I love you,” he said, the words almost trembling as they left his lips.

“I love you too, Jamil.” You smiled, pulling him into another kiss.

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