#but this was just supposed to be a lil thing 🥲

[moondirti]

141 x f! READER. [3k] — AO3 dub/noncon. age gaps. pregnancy. toxic price. implied kidnapping. daddy kink. uncle kink (?). gangbang. lactation. voyeurism. oral (f! receiving). feet stuff.

The captain does not keep his spoils to himself.

He's always been that way, Kyle thinks. Even before he bound them with gossamer strings, webbing his prodigal boys together under a three digit moniker — he'd feed a little bit of his pride into every conversation. Easy to spot in hindsight, the golden broach of morning illuminating spun beginnings, dew dotted on translucent lines. He heard of Johnny before he knew him. Simon, too.

It simply isn’t like him.

But you, on the other hand—

Now he's never heard of you.

And he's sure it isn't a lapse of memory. Kyle would be hard-pressed to forget a conversation of that ilk, or the mental image of his captain with someone so fresh. Skin still downy-feather soft, the whites of your eyes bright and wet, hands unsure as the porcelain bones within them. Nescient of strife, death. The metallic aftertaste of gunpowder, or the way a scar will adopt a gnarled edge. It astounds him for a moment, to think that someone could go their whole life unburdened by these things — but then again, your neck seems accustomed to the possessive curl of Price's fingers. The bullish way he urges you forward, polished feet stumbling over each other to greet the overgrown men at the door.

Fawn-like, he resolves, as you suppress your fear with practised blinks, a grimace breaking your face when Johnny wraps a rough palm around yours, shaking too forcefully to be considered polite, jostling the cleavage barely concealed by a low-cut babydoll dress. It's a combined appraisal of your attire, the late hour, your squinted eyes — still sleep drenched — that tells him you didn't know they were coming.

Funny, seeing as they received the invite a fortnight ago.

(got something t'show you. been meaning to for a while.)

It's more than something, he'd say. Caught off guard, you cling to Price, sticky demurral ensnared by the hair of his forearm, a pace behind while he leads his men to the parlour. The light is low throughout the halls — which, if he were being honest, are cosier than anticipated. It would've been anyone's guess that the captain retreated to a house of concrete during his time off, utilitarian as he is — and Kyle feels as though he's intruding upon a dream. A surreal approximation of reality, where harsher lines blur into curves and calluses are softened like under the run of hot water.

His tongue is heavy when he swallows. Behind him, Johnny whispers something to Simon, who does not reply and has yet to speak.

No reason to. You don't ask for their poison once they're settled. Conditioned, you uncap what he recognises as Price's favourite single malt and pour three fingers worth (your closest measure to two of their own) for everyone. It gains you an appreciative pat from Simon, palm heavy on the back of your leg. A rush of noise in the unsteady silence. Too sudden, he thinks — for you jump and scamper, tucking, shaken, into an armchair's side.

Kyle feels his lungs squeeze when you pass by him, the air cradling a waft of cashmere musk and bluebell. It announces something he'd rather not voice. Something they all must be thinking. A question of pause, hesitancy, in face of the way your perfumed curves dangle blatantly before them. They're strangers to holding back. Nothing's demanded deference before — this quelling of predatory instinct. Johnny's smile gleams, his shark teeth struggling to stay clenched. Simon's eyes dry out the longer he stares, red fissures spelling out want so clearly it makes him reconsider his own.

His drink carves a path through the doubt in his throat. Flitting over to the captain, he watches for a reaction to Simon's transgression.

None comes.

So the man on trial sinks into his seat, exonerated. His mask has since been tucked beneath his chin, lips, more scar tissue than anything, contorting with amusement.

"Y'have to excuse me, lads." Price says, tugging you across the safe distance you've made and into his arms. It's even more startling a sight now, your body pinned to the canvas of his larger one. This Eleusinian contrast; Persephone, pomegranate carnage smeared over her mouth, impelled to spend her days with a force that means death to so many. Kyle wonders just which meadow he managed to pluck you from, what flowers you'd been weaving when it happened.

"Been keepin' this one from you," He walks you forward another step. "was building something... delicate, see. Had to wait until th' timing was right."

"Wuid nae blame ye, Cap." Johnny licks his lips, drying sweaty palms on denim, fingers curling in and out to work through the fervour.

"Jumpy lil thing, i'n't she?" Simon returns. "Would'a made like a rabbit in shock."

"Needed to be broken in first, naturally." Kyle breathes, stomach cramping with the enormity of his desire. His ears ring with a feverish pitch. Every time he blinks, it's a few seconds before his vision comes back to him.

Your nose turns away, lashes stitching together to keep the tears at bay. He can almost feel the mortification spilling hotly off your flesh, pooling, sappy thick, to glue itself wantonly on their boots. In his periphery, Johnny lurches forward, fondling the lace edge of your night dress as if to console you.

"Mm. Still a ways to go, but–" Price cups your wrists in one hand, tightening only to guide them well above your midriff. "now tha' I know she won't run off, she can finally meet her uncles."

And it's that resolve, the flag bearing that has led them to bloodshed countless times, that preludes this next march. All of a sudden, what was off limits is thrust into their reach — on stumbling, wary legs, heels digging grudgingly into the dirt, but still there, for the taking.

(Jowls aching, salivate blooming heavily beneath a writhing tongue. It's like he's been clipped off the dog house. Unleashed. And no matter how hard he tries to find it — desperately, his hindbrain sifting through layers of depravity for the righteous man he once was — he cannot muster much concern for your say in it all.)

"Ye sure aboot that?" Johnny's eyes are as wide as saucers. Having since slipped off his seat, kneeled as he is, he's borderline reverent in this light. Looking above for security, for assent, crux immissa a dull gold between his pecs. Your diaphanous dress grows opaque where his fist curls through it, shivering with every tremble of flesh. It is not your permission he is asking for, of course.

Price nods.

"Take a look yourself, son. Go on." He says, hooking an ankle to keep you rooted in place. The scot lifts the fabric so quick it tears, coming apart in tatters. If he'd been more deliberate with it, Kyle would have taken the time to appreciate the reveal—

The rounded brackets of your thighs. Their fattened inner lines. How your panties barely fit over your hips, folded over so that your mons peaks over the trim. Tufts of pubic hair, not as neatly defined as the rest of your appearance but laying flat, as though they were brushed. Groomed.

They all take a backseat to your stomach.

Swollen, belly button protruding, darker line down the middle. Not nearly full term, but perhaps well into your second trimester, the baby just small enough to be hidden by loose garments. Your lips screw into a pout, wet shame slipping down your cheeks as the heart of their invite comes to light. Kyle wonders, almost angrily, what there is to be ashamed of.

(Nothing. Nothing. Not when the captain beams as he does, crows feet making a brief and rare emergence. If he could, he'd pay ten times your dues to see it up just a moment longer.)

Simon squeezes the bulge in his trousers, jaw ticking with perversion. While adjusting himself, he's honed in on Johnny, who trails open-mouthed kisses up the underside of your belly. You flail a little at the hot press of his tongue, wiggling into Price for salvation that does not come. He holds you still for the ravaging, fingers clamping around your wrists, and Kyle delights in your expression. Slow acquiescence, dawning on the realisation that there is no backing away from this.

"It's been hard so far, but would you look at what's come of it." He hums, nosing your temple until you bend. Behind the coarse thicket of his moustache, his teeth briefly gleam. Then, Kyle watches with rapt fascination as Price latches onto your earlobe. "Giving me what I've always asked for. Now, I needed to reward her somehow."

Simon barks a laugh, the jagged edge of it razing up your legs. "Congratulations." He derides. Your toes curl into the carpeted floor; finding purchase, or comfort, in the plush fibres. Used to being the end of a joke.

Price joins in, too. Just for a brief moment, something warm and all-knowing crackling from his chest, before he turns to Kyle, expectant. "Garrick?"

Only as he clears the fog in his larynx does he realise how quiet he's been throughout this ordeal.

"Congrats."

The captain does not comment on the grit in his tone.

"Isn't tha' nice?" He whispers to you instead, undoing the ribbon keeping your décolletage together. It's a wonder your breasts haven't burst from it already, tender and heavy, visibly relieved once the straps slip off your shoulders. You match their intrigue with equal parts dread, damp lashes downcast, lips a small O — unable to do anything but watch as your tits spill out into the open air.

"Gettin' harder tae forgive ye fur holdin' oot on us." Johnny groans, sitting back on his haunches to admire the view himself. His mohawk skims a nipple in the motions, scouring the flushed tissue, and you squeal. It's just the unseemly match to throw you further off kilter; Johnny's intensity is scalding, an attention so zealous it forces you to regress into prey. If Kyle focuses, he can see the quick-tick pulse drumming in your neck.

"Doesn’ matter no more, does it?" Simon says, patting his lap. "Why don't you c'mere, bird, show us your thanks. Don't tell me daddy didn' train you proper."

The last dregs of scepticism drain from his pores when Price nudges you forward, tumbling over, straight seated onto his lieutenant's lap. With all the composure of a fisherman feeding bait onto a hook, casting it out to the sharks, he finds his seat again as Simon seizes you under his limbs, adding to his drink to watch you be pried apart for the evening.

His paws look huge against your torso, stationed there to haul you by the chest so your back conforms to his front. Scarred knuckles ripple, thick fingers kneading into fat, disfiguring your tits to mirror the ugly skin stretched over his fists. Beyond saving after countless burns and cuts, cursed to a lifetime of spoiling everything he touches, too.

It's intentional, though. Cruel, but subdued. Simon does not use his strength when he catches your nipples between rough forefinger and thumb. Your breasts are already sore, raw and tender with the changes your body's going through. He only exploits that, fondling the swollen masses like toys, shoving his tongue down your mouth when you pitch your complaints. Plucks them, rolling the knotted peaks so that it gets too much by ways of overstimulation.

"I know they 'urt. Yeah, fat fuckin' jugs like these need to be milked, else it gets too much. Poor pet. Daddy's a selfish man, huh? Keepin' you from the attention you need." He huffs, nipping the thin skin over your jugular. If the degradation isn't enough to keep up with — which it is, your little legs kicking to combat the humiliation churning your stomach — Johnny's hunger etches itself plainly upon his face. Pupils the size of the sun, drool slicking the cracks of his chapped lips.

Kyle spoors his interest to the space between your legs.

(A competitive flame lights in him, kindled by the knowledge of what Johnny wants. It sears him out of the voyeuristic stupor he's kept so far. All too suddenly, his teeth ache with the same violent desire, the sight of your pussy trapped behind soaked cotton the only meal he can ever imagine wanting.)

Johnny pounces.

Blinded by his holy grail, he does not dodge your foot when it aims for his head. You — trapped, dazed, in the process of being devoured by their lieutenant — only catch him from the corner of your eye, tongue sucked over your shoulder, eyes incessantly teary. Kyle knows you do not mean to hit him, only to ward him off with your flailing limbs. But your vision is impaired, and your heel makes contact with his chin, anyway.

It's about the worst thing you can do for yourself.

The scot moans, hips bucking into nothing. Like a dog, his impulses easily deflect, new sights set on the foot you so graciously offered him. His mouth unhinges, tongue extending as far as it can to lave over the sole, nipping around its pillowy edge. Your toes, perfectly manicured, attempt to flick him away, sternum caving as you hold back desperate little laughs at the sensation. It draws his attention upward, eyes flitting maniacally to and from your face, lips popping around your innermost toe and assessing the way you react. Sucking it into his mouth when you're not as enthusiastic, one hand cradled around your twisting ankle, the other palming clumsily at his crotch, growing more and more erratic the shorter your breaths get.

Kyle takes his chance. Folds his collar, and unfastens the first few buttons of his dress shirt. No one pays much heed to him — not Simon, whose hands remain fixed on your heaving tits (leakin' like a bloody cow, pet. look'it it, drenchin' my palms); Johnny, seemingly endlessly enthused by your feet; or you, your work cut out between the two of them, back arched, round stomach thrust up. Skin glossy no matter where he looks; heels covered in spit, legs in sweat, tits and stomach in breastmilk.

He faces Price.

The captain has not faded from the foreground. Though he sits, perched in an armchair across the parlour, Kyle still feels him weaving iron filigrees of influence around their every limb. Like he's standing above them, puppeteering — or, rather, making good of the years of practised obedience, their bodies whittled into vessels for his will. The cool pour of it fuels this system, lends them strength to do what they've never trusted themselves to do. It is just as good as his hands groping your chest, his mouth at your feet. His passion they lay onto your poor flesh.

And they are just as good as his, in turn.

His shoulders stretch wider when he turns back to you. His voice a little clearer. "Thanks for the opening, mate." He taunts Johnny, snickering at the defiant twitch of his brow, before sinking to his knees.

The gusset of your panties is near translucent, drenched with arousal. Kyle takes a moment to admire how your pussy twitches, clit pulsing, white cotton slipping over it in concert with every spasming muscle. He can see it all like this — the oil-spill slick webbing your inner thighs, the swollen lips slowly engulfing the fabric on either side, the gentle flutter of your vulva. Pure hunger compels him forward, lips pressing over the sloppy mess, nose crushing into your mons and taking a lung-mangling whiff.

Tangy. Underpinned by a certain earthiness, like molasses but bittersweet. Your scent darts through his cerebral cortex, bridging synapses together until everything is that much clearer. Tunnel visioned, dead set on lapping it until your taste becomes a tangible weight in his stomach. Kyle's cock, already hard and leaking, jumps suddenly against the constricting button of his trousers, balls aching, looking to release the pleasure ballooning in his pelvis.

He nips, pulls your panties away with his teeth, sucking the spoiled cotton into his mouth to make the most of the slick you wasted on it. It isn't nearly enough, not as tart as it would be undiluted by his spit, so he snaps it to the side only moments later to dive face first into your cunt.

And it's a warm welcome. Balmy heat glides over his nose, spilling into his mouth like manna out of heaven. It's a feverish kiss, akin only to the throb of a wound about to fester, heartbeat about to erupt out the surface of your skin. Kyle would be concerned if not for the folds he had to explore, the dip before your insides pulse open for him, the tributaries drawn from your centre. His tongue twists your clit, grinds it under pressure, lifts the hood and targets a point that feels like too much. Your moans grow into whines that grow into sobs, air clotting with a symphony of lewd sounds. Tacky schlicks, slobbering, panting. The clink of ice in Price's glass. Simon's ceaseless insult to injury, degradation a molten river out his mouth.

"Crying, an' we 'aven' started on ya yet. Poor baby. Isn' a slut s'posed to be good a' this? Jus' gonna sit 'ere and wail for yer daddy, all while we do the heavy lifting." From his vantage point, peeking beneath his brows, your tits seem to have grown used to the lieutenant's abuse. A little less swollen, doughy in his big, nasty hands — though what they now lack in ripeness, they make up for in a hundred little bruises, already purpling. Dark and vibrant, the milk still trickling from your puffy areolas borderline pearlescent in contrast. "Look'it them."

He grabs your cheeks, forcing you to peer down at the men stationed below. Kyle, though occupied, does his best to smile. He feels Johnny puff up behind him — when he worked his way up your leg, he doesn't know.

"Nnnghhh."

"Say it." His nose crooks where he thrusts it against your temple, lip curling cruelly over your ear. A vein splits the planes of his jaw, arm bulging to reach up for your neck. Your face turns a shade darker, mouth puckering the deeper his tongue thrusts up your pussy. The words lodge in your throat, teeth chattering uselessly around unshaped air. Johnny hovers behind him. Price burns approving holes onto his back.

He doesn't expect it to happen as it does.

Your ass tenses, suddenly firm, lifting you off of Simon's lap. Kyle's hands smooth up his erection, his fingers digging into the plush crests of your pussy. Spreads them apart to be able to drive his maw further in, searching for just the right spot inside you.

But in the end, what does it is the accidental graze of his incisors over your clit. You burst, floodgates dissolving straight into his mouth — soaking the entire lower half of his face, the buttons he undid serving no other purpose than having exposed his chest to your mess, matting the dusting of hair over his pecs.

You don't look at any of them as you come down. Instead, your eyes prune shut, crusted in tears yet still snivelling wretchedly, trying to sniff and take back all that unfolded. Something buried in his heart twinges; resonant but stifled under layers of arousal. His cock spits pre-spend over his boxers, too heavy now to stand upright.

Simon does not take pity on you, flicking an oversensitive nipple.

"Still waiting." He says.

Your voice is barely legible. Raspy and whistle-toned. It occurs to him, as you sit there and muster enough energy to voice what's expected of you, that Kyle has yet to hear you speak.

"Thank you."

"Na fair." Johnny huffs against your cunt, eyes rolled to the back of his head, scleras foggy with desire. He's since shouldered his way beside him — the two sergeants sat between your spread legs —hopelessly chasing the climax Kyle managed to syphon out of you, mouth opened just in case you squirt again.

"You won't get very far with that, mate." His ego feels imperishable, amassing like a star before death. It cramps his ribs, makes him feel like nothing will ever amount to the way it crowds his chest. A smug smile stitching his lips. They both know that the half-dazed efforts won't amount to much. "Jus' focus on what you're good at, yeah?"

Not ones’ for subtly with each other, he guides Johnny hand to wrap around his width. The scot perks up, looking at Kyle's hard-on, then you, then his hard-on, then you.

"Dinnae want tae save your energy for the lass?"

But Simon's already unleashed his own cock — ruddy, angry, monstrous — lining it up to your exhausted hole. The head alone spans the space between your thighs, and judging by the panicked look wringing your little face, he shrugs.

"Think it'll be a while before he stretches her out."

[luxurysystems]

Do you remember the day I saved you?

[allofuswantgwinam]

i hate when people who im not into flirt with me bc i literally start buffering right in front of their eyes and then idk how to be myself anymore bc stop it 🤣🤣 one of my favs today was like “how are you doing pretty lady” and i straight up froze and looked like i was malfunctioning 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤧🤧🤧 but i made it out ok, I think 🤣🤣 cause I do t wanna hurt peoples feelings either but maybe he was just being nice lmao i just try to act like everything is normal and they didn’t say that 😵‍💫 THEN I think this one guy called me babe like a week ago and I wa s just like “… thanks” and I really think he did bc he hasn’t been back since then and I feel bad now 🤣🤣 was also one of my favs, why they gotta like me 😅😅

[anifever]

Hii, can you make Johnny cade or the gang with reader kinda like Charlotte LA Bouff from princess and the frog because I'm just thinking that it would be so interesting having kind of s/o so spoiled but kind and not a brat too, I love Lottie tho✨😭

Gang w/ a Lottie!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : The Curtis gang with a reader whose like Charlotte La Bouff from “Princess and the Frog”

A/N : AHHH I’m sorry this took me so long I’ve been busy w other stuff. Anyways, I always wanted to be Lottie when I was younger 🥲 hopefully I got this close enough to her character also sorry these are shorter than normal <\3

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🎀 ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ He’s honestly a little jealous of you

୨ He feels like you have everything he doesn’t

୨ That being said, does NOT stop the man from loving you once he sees how sweet and generous you are

୨ Your personalities are super different tho

୨ You’re so bubbly and bright and he thinks it’s endearing

୨ You definitely keep him on his toes

୨ You also keep him young

୨ Whenever he seems to be struggling more than usual with finances, you swoop in and save the day

୨ He’s like “??? Honey, I can’t take this,” and you’re just like “Too late, Dare-Bear, don’t worry about it 😊”

୨ Whenever you sleep over you wear a frilly pink sleep mask he has trouble not smiling over

୨ You love his cooking and are always drooling over it

୨ It’s a habit for you to bring pastries, etc from a bakery on the other side of town whenever you come over

୨ Earlier in the relationship/before you started dating, he knew how spoiled you were and he was like “..how am I supposed to compete with this.”

୨ Luckily you find him extremely muscly, attractive, and sweet so it makes up for his money 😋😋

୨ Either way, he still buys you whatever he can when he has the spare cash

୨ You have him wrapped around your finger

Two-Bit

୨ Couldn’t hold back his laugh when he saw a childhood picture of you dressed as a princess for Halloween

୨ You guys honestly go together so well

୨ If you have the same type of accent Lottie has- even better

୨ The first thing you said when you met his sister was “Well aren’t you as pretty as a peach!”

୨ Safe to say that made him more smitten

୨ You walk him like a dog it’s so funny

୨ He doesn’t spend as much money on beer anymore cuz he saves a lot up for you

୨ Found a stray kitty on the street and you started squealing when he brought it to you

୨ He was cheesing from ear to ear

୨ Has tried to get you to kiss a frog before after you told him you always wanted to when you were younger (mwahaha) and you freaked out

୨ That being said, he picks up random bugs all the time to try and gross you out- which works

୨ You never hurt them though⁉️⁉️ You just run away and start screaming

୨ Whenever he starts insulting people if they’re mean to you or something, you start dying of laughter which spurrs him on more

Steve

୨ He’s torn between thinking you’re a brat to also being extremely attracted to you

୨ He assumes you’re a mean girl who lives off daddy’s money (the second part being lowkey true)

୨ Doesn’t stop him from drooling tho

୨ Contrary to popular belief, you were actually really nice

୨ Like you came into the DX one day, giving him a huge tip while talking super animatedly and he was just like “Ah..”

୨ Whenever he talks about cars you have no clue what he’s talking about

୨ You have a pretty pink ‘62 Ferrari 250 GTO and that’s all you know!!

୨ You buy new clothes constantly and have lil’ fashion shows for him

୨ “Yeahhh, could you jus’ spin around one more time so I can see the back? 😇”

୨ “….Steve.”

୨ Whenever nobody else is around (Soda, etc) at the DX, you give him WAY bigger of a tip than normal lmao

୨ Brags about you to Soda all the time

Dallas

୨ He thought you were so annoying at first I’m sorry 😭

୨ Even with that, he still tried to get in your pants

୨ You slapped him for it which just made him want you more (he’s on that freak timing)

୨ You know what you want and he’s honestly really attracted to it

୨ He ends up spoiling you though, he can’t help it when you give him puppy dog eyes and pout your glossy lips

୨ Hilariously different

୨ Whenever he’s in your room he’s so out of place

୨ He’s surrounded by so much pink, stuffed animals, expensive jewelry and clothes, a big canopy bed, a crystal chandelier, etc

୨ His ego gets boosted when he’s out in public with you

୨ Like he’s with the prettiest and richest girl in town??? Yeahhh he’ll never let this go

୨ You not caring about his/his friends status’ is really important to him and he appreciates it even though he’ll never outright say it

Soda

୨ You guys both have a big line of people who want you

୨ Power couple!!

୨ You’re really ditzy- not necessarily stupid, but not all there

୨ He relates.

୨ You guys just sit there and look pretty

୨ Like you definitely have won various beauty pageants and have kept all the tiaras and sashes

୨ Makes you try the tiaras on every time he comes over

୨ He takes you to a drag race or rodeo and you’re like “Shew- Soda, I’m sweatin’ like a sinner in church,” while fanning yourself

୨ Probably because you’re wearing some expensive dress from a boutique in town made with thick material, but he’ll never smart off to you by saying that 🤍🤍

୨ Has a habit of ruining his DX shirt and you always pay for him to get a new one

୨ He already knew he was attractive, but it was only when you came along and started buttering him up that he started getting giddy about it

୨ He sucks up so hard to your mom and dad; they love him

Johnny

୨ Probably teased you a bit with Pony before you guys officially met

୨ After the initial iffy feeling he had about you wore off, he was head over heels when he knew you better

୨ He genuinely sees you as a princess

୨ You’re always wearing some shade of pink and some form of pearls and he’s mesmerized

୨ He thinks you deserve a lot better since he can’t give you much

୨ You literally couldn’t care less though since he treats you so well

୨ He’ll save up random coins off the street if he had to tho

୨ Your house is huge so you let him stay in a spare room which eventually just becomes his own

୨ Your house also did nothing to help his idea of you being a princess since it was way bigger and more extravagant than anything he could’ve imagined

୨ Your cat(s) love him, he’s a little overwhelmed at first but after that you’ll always find him with one around/on him

୨ You’re so comfortable fawning over him constantly and he gets pretty embarrassed about it LMAO

Pony

୨ He has a thing for pretty rich girls so this is fitting

୨ Once again, he also assumed you were mean and stuck up

୨ When you guys talked for the first time, he was definitely surprised

୨ You were definitely a bit out of touch with reality, but who cares!!!! You were pretty and nice!!!!

୨ Saw you stand up for one of your greaser friends once and felt his heart skip a beat

୨ Heard through the grapevine (he asked around) that you were enamored with some ‘pretty boy’ and couldn’t stop talking about him and he was like “Awww shucks 😞”

୨ He became extremely confused and denied it when Two and Johnny kept saying it was him after they saw you two interact at school

୨ He finally picked up on the heavy flirting one day and was like “…OHHHH”

୨ Whenever you get excited about something, he has a hard time understanding you since you start talking so fast and freaking out, but he just watches with a lovesick grin

୨ Your sass put together is on another level

୨ It scares Darry.

୨ And Steve.

୨ Back to the point I made earlier, you’d stand up for him about his status no matter what

୨ So in love it’s nasty

୨ Everyone in the gang is confused about how he bagged you especially considering he’s the youngest

[icycoldninja]

hey hey, love your writing a lot, first time ever requesting anything 😅 i thought reader comforting the DMC boys after a nightmare might be nice, those poor lil guys have gone through so much and i just wanna care for em

So do I 🥲

Sparda boys + V x Reader nightmare comfort headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante had another one of those awful nightmares where he relives every single traumatic incident that has ever taken place in his life all in one night.

-The loss of his mother, the supposed loss of his brother, the battle he had to have with his previously assumed dead brother, losing his brother again, etc., etc.

-It's honestly no surprise that he woke up screaming, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf.

-You were immediately up and at his side, rubbing away the sleep in your eyes and wrapping the scared man up in your arms, resting your head against his shoulder and soothingly whispering to him that it was alright.

-Dante believed you, and melted into your embrace willingly, still shaken, but comforted in the fact that you were there for him.

-You ended up being the big spoon for the rest of the night, threading your fingers through his snowy white hair and assuring him you loved him, and that he was safe.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil had a really vivid dream of the day he lost his mother and presumably Dante, which wasn't all that surprising--these things happened nearly every night.

-Still, Vergil was scared. He hated the feeling of being so helpless and weak, forced to watch as his home burned down and demons ran him through with their swords. Everything hurt. Everything ached. All Vergil wanted was to wake up, and so he did.

-He rocketed upright, heart racing, forehead damp with sweat. He turned and saw you groggily rising from your nest of blankets and breathed a soft sigh of relief, glad that those tragedies hadn't happened all over again.

-Wordlessly, Vergil scooped you into his arms and mumbled a soft "it was nothing, good night" to silence your inquiries, assuring you he was fine, even if he actually wasn't.

-Whether you saw through his lies or not doesn't matter; Vergil will cling onto you tightly, as if you're his lifeline, shivering slightly as he does so.

-All he really wants is comfort from you, either verbally or non-verbally. Hold him, kiss him, tell him you love him, just ground him in reality and make him remember those dark times are in the past, that he's here now, and that he's safe.

□ Nero □

-Nero dreamed of being eaten alive by demons, not at all a pleasant experience, even if it wasn't real.

-The pain of being gnawed and chewed on was somehow so realistic, despite the fact that this whole scenario was dreamed up by Nero's imaginative mind.

-Just as Nero was sure he was dead, he woke up, gasping wildly for air. He opened his eyes and, seeing darkness, thought he really had been swallowed by a massive demon.

-Then you sat up and asked him what's wrong, reminding him that he was in his bedroom, and since you were there with him, everything must be fine.

-You then coax him into lying back down and wrap yourself around him, your head on his chest and your arms around his torso.

-Nero felt at ease with you cuddling up to him, so he was able to close his eyes and drift off to sleep again, this time having actually pleasant dreams.

● V ●

-V had dreamt of falling apart right in front of your eyes. He'd watched, helplessly, as you screamed and sobbed, clawing at his disintegrating form in a desperate attempt to save him, which you couldn't.

-He saw how watching him die broke you; as a result, he began to break down and cry as well. He hated seeing you like this--the last thing he wanted was to leave you behind in this horrible world.

-When he awoke, V didn't believe he was alive. He thought he'd just ventured into the afterlife and would be judged very soon.

-Then he saw your concerned face hovering over him, and thought he'd seen an angel. When you spoke, asking him if he was alright, V was sure he'd met an angel.

-He readily confessed what was troubling him, ending up crying into your shoulder at the end of this revelation. He was scared, shocked, and very sad, all at once. He needed you; needed to be with you, needed to be surrounded by you.

-This is how he falls back asleep, curled up in a ball and trapped in your warm embrace. V's never felt so safe.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Submitting this... it's a long one, sorry 🥲

*Shakes out very, very long scroll*

*In Bildad voice* "Shall I summarize?"

✅ Demanding that an ab*se victim have a plan for how to fix their ab*ser's Evil Scheme

✅ Saying you would handle the situation better than they did

✅ Acting like outsmarting an ab*ser would have been as simple as writing a sneaky lil note on a sneaky lil piece of paper, like I'm sorry but holy sh*t y'all that is just the most patronizing, trauma-invalidating BS I've ever heard

✅ Saying "idiotic"

✅ Using it to describe an Autistic-presenting character

✅ Who is also an ab*se victim

✅ Calling an ab*se victim "egocentric"

✅ Which is even more problematic given that that ab*se victim is also feminine

✅ Assuming Aziraphale actually wanted Crowley to come back with him, when we aren't yet in full possession of the facts

✅ Assuming Aziraphale meant literally anything he said in the entire Final Fifteen

✅ Assuming that, if Aziraphale really did actually want Crowley to come back with him, he didn't have a valid reason for it (maybe he actually thought it was the safest possible option for Crowley! We don't know!)

✅ Obliquely blaming Aziraphale for maybe being scared to go back alone? Or just not wanting to be lonely when he knows he might very well die up there?

✅ In short, eviscerating an ab*se survivor for having the audacity to respond to the horrendous situation their viewer has trapped them in, in anything short of an entirely morally irreproachable manner, and acting like their (supposed) moral failings gives us license to pronounce judgment on their situation

✅ Accusing Aziraphale of thinking he's always right and Crowley is always wrong, when we know Aziraphale says all that stuff like "You, I am sorry to say, are evil" in the knowledge that heaven and hell might be listening in at any moment

✅ Calling the things Aziraphale said under the ever-watchful eye of his ab*sers "starting a fight"

✅ Ignoring that, if Aziraphale is to blame for "starting a fight" , then just maybe Crowley might share some of the blame. (For the record, we don't think either of them are to blame here, considering Metatrash deliberately trapped both of them in a pressure cooker and turned up the flame, while simultaneously trying to manipulate each of them into thinking the situation was their husband's fault. A strategy which, incidentally, to have worked on a good portion of the fandom... << But we digress. :p )

✅ Saying Aziraphale "meant" the things he said while those ab*sers were possibly listening to him, and had literally just made an extremely explicit death threat

✅ Implying Crowley "doesn't have any spirit left"

✅ Accusing Aziraphale, rather than his and Crowley's ab*sers, of bearing the real responsibility for Crowley's distress

✅ Ignoring that Aziraphale was every bit as distraught as Crowley

✅ Saying Aziraphale "refuses to listen" because he cut Crowley off, even though he was stressed at the time and that's something all of us, especially the neurodivergent folk, do when we're stressed (AND even though he also probably stopped Crowley from saying something that would might have gotten them both roasted on a spit in the flaming cesspits of Abbadon)

✅ Saying that an ab*se victim has been "ignoring" their problem and needs to

✅ "confront"

✅ the "consequences" of

✅ "their" actions

✅ Acting like Aziraphale hasn't already (like any other ab*se victim/survivor) suffered more than enough for a million lifetimes

Did I miss anything lol?

(And okay, yes, the OP is responding to the "Aziraphale has a perfect plan to fix everything" take, which is an arguably slightly-problematic take in itself - but honestly, given that they responded to it by piling on a bunch of crap that was a thousand times more problematic, I'm not feeling disposed to make allowances.)

[soapels]

flash

john “soap” mactavish x female reader

your good friend soap’s been actin’ a lil weird lately… but as long as you keep pretending otherwise, it’ll be okay. right…?

tw: nsfw/smut, reader has this thing where she playfully calls him soapy, friends to lovers sort of, comrades to lovers, alcohol use, emotional?? mentions of and allusions to mental illness

notes: yall this one took a while to cook up, ngl. but soap doesnt get as much love as he should!! so please accept this tender lil fic and enjoy 😖 and tell me if u enjoyed lol i’d be over the moon ♡ once again, readmore is bugging so…. Sorry 🥲

all hearts, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated!

There’s not much in this world that can ease the trauma that war leaves behind.

You’ve been a part of the team for a while, long enough to walk in on things you shouldn’t have- conversations meant for the higher-ups, things your ears weren’t supposed to hear. And you’ve shut your mouth, zipped it up tight and threw the key to the bottom of the sea by silently walking away from it all.

Sometimes you stumble upon things that aren’t inherently wrong, either- like Ghost winding down one night to a bottle of whiskey, a glimpse of his brown, doleful eyes- but it somehow feels out of place, too.

Nothing ever feels right, around here.

But you don’t want to leave, exactly, truthfully you think a big part of you will always be stuck here with the military and blood and gunpowder, like some dirty stain you can never quite scrub away completely.

And even stranger- you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

You dropped the hypothetical shit a while ago, no more dreams of living at the edge of a city in New York or owning a cozy little cafe like that one Simon particularly liked. Stopped wishing over shooting stars and leaning on pipe dreams of your life after the war’s done.

Because the war’s never really done, and that’s why you can’t go. To suddenly walk away from it all, emerge from a cloud of orange smoke to the suburbs- that’d feel worse than suicide, because you never finished shit, you let it finish you.

You’re not gonna leave first, you decided on your fourth mission, at least not on your own volition. Either you go down with the chaos, or you’re lucky enough and don’t.

And… You walk in on things you’re not always supposed to.

Like Soap hunched over by his bunk one quiet evening, the horizon a burning mess of red and deep tangerine outside the small window, curtains billowing ever so softly in the breeze.

…Doin’ something you still can’t find it in you to say.

And you wanted to do something, upon the door creaking open- pull a lighthearted scare on him like he does you sometimes, but more importantly, tell him that your Lieutenant told you to tell him that he’s on cleaning duty tonight. (He never likes cleaning much, Johnny, but he’s damn good at it- fast, too, probably under the incentive of a good night’s sleep.)

But there’s something in the air- must be- because your knees lock up and you gape at the back of his head, one large hand bracing against the bar of the bed, the other… wrapped around his front, jerking jerking jerking.

Confusion kicks in, for a solid moment as you piece it all together- the lack of a lamp light in the sunset-bathed room, the odd quietness and the precaution stitched in the stiff muscles of his back, shirtless and slightly sweating- and then comes the slow realization.

Common sense strikes you next.

You shut your mouth, turn on your heel, eyes bulging and all, nearly trip over your laces-

“Ah-“

And as the door quietly closes, your petrified gaze meeting Soap’s hazy blue one through the diminishing slit, you know you’ve fucked up.

You hear him call your name just before you go, his voice thick and heady, his Scottish accent just a rasping breath as you blink away the mad blush and counter it back with a frail call over your shoulder.

“Uhm- sorry! Ghost- um- h-he said you’re on cleaning duty!!”

Fuck.

♡♡♡

“All water under the bridge, Soapy.”

You tell him confidently after a whole week of awkwardly skirting around him, pretending he was nonexistent sitting across of you in the truck or plane. Truthfully, you were too embarrassed of your mishap to do much otherwise.

But none of that has to be known, so if he spots the nerves in your eyes, he doesn’t comment on it, and you’d like to think your little grin is convincing enough.

“Y’sure, lass?” He says uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck as his oceanic hues flit between you and the wall behind you. You nod, sparing a cautionary glance over his shoulder to your comrades swaying around with every bump of the gravel road, bodies knocking together, shoulders brushing and—

“Lass…?”

“Oh,” you blink owlishly, mentally returning back to the male before you, “sorry, guess my mind wasn’t all there.”

“All on good things, I hope?” He offers a half-embarrassed little chuckle there, and when the sentiment clicks, you huff fondly and look away.

“Good things,” you confirm, ever bashful.

And there’s a stretch of peaceful silence; the muted crunch of gravel beneath the big tires, some mild chatter and exchanged banter between your Captain and Gaz (albeit, it comes mostly from Price), and the light rustle of bodies brushing together.

Your mind wanders away in that wordless reprieve, and though you vaguely register Soap’s presence still there- those blue, inquisitive eyes hovering over you- he’s no more than an afterthought as you slowly zone out.

Far. Away.

The glint of the steely rafters overhead. The ripped fabric of the seats. Camo and black and bleakness, everywhere, all the time, no color. You can’t feel your body.

Gunfire. Chaos. Your ears ring, a perpetual bell of terror in your head as adrenaline courses through your veins, fear making its daily rounds within you.

No escape, no red exits or arrows to an end- just you and the field of sand, endless and dry, swarmed with enemies that you can’t find it in you to leave behind for another.

It’s over, something weak and brittle-boned screams inside you, wailing, in the high-pitched voice of a child hiding under the bed. It’s over It’s over It’s over.

It’s over again.

…But he’s there, in all your trembling, concerned sapphire and a boyish sort of gentleness, a gloved hand reaching for you.

(Gunfire, gunfire, gunfire. Something’s nicked your leg, maybe.)

“…You good?”

You gasp inaudibly. Wide, deer-in-headlights gaze meeting a vaguely worried one.

His hand, idly sliding over the length of his gun, almost jitters as he quietly searches you for a sign of response, for a familiar smile or a pleasant little laugh that serves as a salve to his soul.

And for a fleeting, terrifying moment, Soap looks earnestly for life in those e/c hues, and finds grains of sand in his boots.

Your lips curl, ever so slightly, and that curse is broken.

“Yes,” you breathe, lashes fluttering down to the gun in your own arms— much too big for you, heavy, full of bullets named home (because you can’t feel safe without them)— and then your eyes fall to your legs, the camo hiding the healing mass of bandages there.

Soap wrapped most of them.

“Thanks, Johnny.”

When his cheeks dust over an unsuspecting red, you realize you’ve fucked up for the second time this week.

Because nobody calls him Johnny. Nobody but your headstrong Lieutenant.

…Jerking your chin away, wordless and tense in the direction of the vehicle’s driver, Soap can tell you’re sorry.

And he sighs then, exasperated- just as you- yet soft, too. His eyes follow yours, equipment jostling quietly in the droning lull of the long trip ahead.

“…No harm done there, lass.”

There’s a trace of a smile on his lips. Exhausted. True.

♡♡♡

Bruises, cuts, heavy fists and evil intent— literal bullets to the skin- you’ve taken it all, yet none of that seems to matter now, every bad memory bleeding into the swirl of your glass, ice tinkling together as you slowly relax into Soap’s sofa.

It smells of him, you think. Something woodsy and unexplainably Johnny- perhaps a trace of minty aftershave…

You feel nice, slumped back into the cushions in a haze- happy, even. Or perhaps not happy, exactly, but dazed and dumb and good. The sweet-tanged concoction too dizzying to think.

You can’t think; good, it must be.

Soap’s sat next to you, clad in faded denim jeans and a white top that clings loosely to his built muscles. His legs are spread somewhat, long made himself comfortable, thighs thick and strong through the rugged-blue material.

His condition’s not far off from yours, sporting a glass of his own, approaching his fifth of the night, though you suspect he holds his alcohol much better, because you hardly ever drink, and you’re already feeling tipsy after the second shot. Meanwhile, he’s still managing to articulate a sentence, a dopey grin occasionally showing on his face.

Sat at the armchair across the coffee table, Ghost is a stoic wreck of fatigue and relief, steadily nursing a bourbon as Soap babbles on about some old highschool story of his.

It’s probably something funny, something the sober you wouldn’t want to miss, something you’d tuck away in your brain for later to poke harmless fun at your pal with. But you’re so tired and lost and intoxicatedly stupid right now, and for the life of you, you can’t convince yourself to turn over and hear him out.

Later, the hopeful part of you whispers, when you’re less fucked up and leaden. (Later never comes.)

Ghost’s brown eyes are glossy beneath his balaclava, a sort of look kin to post-nut clarity glinting in them as he witnesses the two of you slowly. Processing, processing, processing. As if he’s looking through a pane of glass, not really there, but he feels every crippling sensation all the same and his mouth feels awkward, he’s drunk and his tongue is heavy.

He shouldn’t take another sip. He does anyway.

Maybe he’s not listening to Johnny half-coherently list off fables from his youth, maybe he’s simply existing and basking in the otherwise quiet moment-the temporary peace. And maybe Soap knows his Lieutenant zoned off a while ago, that now no ears in the whole entire world are listening to him spill the humorous side of his heart.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. None of it.

…There comes a point, though, where Soap looks over to you.

Those eyes, a murky, inscrutable sapphire, drag over you. Slowly. There’s something on his mind, something heavy and wild and that he can’t control, yet he doesn’t tell a word of it, and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why.

(You’re drunk anyway, you’re done and over with for the night. So what’s it matter anyway?)

(But it’s Soap, so you want to know.)

Finally, those hazy blues settle on your empty glass, clasped loosely in your fingers.

“…Pour y’another?”

You snort halfheartedly, mustering up a joke. (‘Cept, it’s not really funny, and your words are slurring. You sound stupid, you can’t feel your body. Pop pop pop, gunfire in the distance, playing like a broken vinyl cd in the crook of your head…)

“Soap… I don’t think I can take another…”

His chest rumbles low at that.

“S’pose yer right.”

He’s reaching forward, leaning into the coffee table, snatching a bottle and gesturing to your mug anyway.

You’re smiling like a plastered, exhausted bimbo when you obediently proffer it out to him and watch him fill it up. Slowly, but his strong arm’s a little uncoordinated as he pours it, and he almost spills some.

It’s more than you can ever hope to drink right now, you realize as he sets the whiskey back down, pressing the glass back to you. You think with enough ambition and torturous silence, though, you’ll be able to find way to swallow it all.

(The lot of you are good at that.)

It’s when you take your second sip that Ghost rises from the couch.

“I’m done-in for the night.”

He’s fucked up too, bad, you can tell. But he hides it well, always has, hardly a stumble to his step as he spares you a tired, mutual nod and turns in the direction of the hall.

“Sure, Lt,” Soap calls after him, the two of you watching Simon disappear into the dim glow of the hallway. “There’s blankets in the hall closet if y’get too cold.”

And it’s when you hear the soft click of a door, a bed promptly groaning under a foreign weight, that an unprecedented sense of drunken boldness takes over and you rise.

“Lass-?”

(He’s already poised to reach for you, prepared to follow right behind you should you say the word, if something’s wrong.)

Pop pop pop.

You tip your head back, gulping down the liquid- an evident bit of spice that sears your throat, a complimentary vanilla, too- ‘til you’re staring at an empty bottom.

Turnin’ back to Soap.

Jaw slack, eyes a glossy mess of intoxication and confusion- maybe even worry- Soap looks up at you with knitted brows. Ready to sit you back down, perhaps noticing the quiet war behind your dopey blinks- eager to convince you there’s nothing to be afraid of- he shouldn’t have poured you another, it’s time to hit the hay, maybe—

“Johnny,” you say, and it knocks the very breath out of him, “More.”

…More it is.

He belatedly takes your emptied mug in his hands, almost trembling as he snuffs out all of his internal turmoil and brims your glass with more of that addictive substance.

Pours himself another, too. (Figures he’ll need it to sleep tonight. Though, it’ll hurt like hell in the morning- that’s when he’ll truly pay for it.)

Settling back into the sofa (admittedly not in best shape, leather worn-in, a few scratches), he watches you tap in and out of your beverage, and when your hips start to sway- thin fabric of your nightgown shifting along your thighs- a good piece of him (the last of his rationality) burns with the whiskey at the back of his throat.

Oh, you want to butcher him tonight, don’t you?

There’s no sound, just the pleasant backdrop of rain dripping off the apartment’s roof and the occasional car whistling down the city streets, yet you move like it’s your favorite song.

Lazy, loosely-controlled, like every sentiment flows through you like a conduit.

Brokenness there, Johnny finds snapped twigs and bullet shells and the screams that catch deep in your lungs after another close call. But he discovers hope there too, a courageous peace and a beam of your forgiving moon…

Wants to swim in your waters.

(But you don’t bleed the same chaos he’s realized he can. You reek of immovable innocence; he’s beheaded men and liked it- he’s imagined you outside of your hellish job and shimmied out of those thick fatigues- pictured you naked and happy on his cock. And that lovely gown you’re in now makes you so fuckin’ precious in his eyes…)

(It frames you like an angel. You are, Soap knows. You are. And he deserves no part of it.)

Your body ebbs like a tide.

A gentle, hypnotic lullaby that Soap thinks is awfully inviting, jaw stiff at the way your perky ass tempts him beneath the pale silk, jeans growing a touch tighter as the seconds tick by. (Has he been watching you for forever? Have you been swaying for only a moment? He doesn’t know, but—)

It’s enough.

He rises too, then, large hands meeting the curve of your hips, settling there like he’s belonged for some time, eyes hooded as they sweep over the expanse of your neck and collarbones, point of his nose scraping against the column of your throat.

“Want t’kill me tonight, d’you, lass?”

You almost pause for a moment at his touch, he can feel it in the way you stiffen, the faint shiver of your spine. But you don’t let his presence stop you, and for that he’s ever thankful.

“No,” you breathe, and it’s just as soft as it is drunk.

Slurred, and falling apart, still you’re a sight for sore eyes, the callous pads of his fingers slowly riding down the plush of your thigh… “Never, Soapy.”

Soapy. What a fucking nickname. Probably one of the stranger things he’s gotten hard at- not that he’s complaining, because though for anyone else it wouldn’t slide, it sounds so sweet leaving your lips.. makes warmth furl out in his chest…

Hands roaming, roaming, and roaming some more.

Stopping midway, where the frilly hem of that tantalizing gown lies…

Testing your waters, though he wants nothing more than to pull the fabric off you and dive right in.

“Gorgeous thing,” he murmurs back, this time into the side of your jaw, his lips smushing into your cheek as he insinuates himself behind you. Wonderin’ if you fully realize the persistent bulge at your rear-side and if you do, whether or not you like it.

(D’you want him, too? Oh, fuck, he hopes you want him, too. Don’t know what he’ll do otherwise…)

When his thumb grazes against the smooth skin of your belly and you offer no rebuttal, he relaxes some behind you, blood roaring through his ears (down south, too). Hoping you’ll be impossibly generous with him, even if just for tonight, even if you’ll both forget it all by the morning and this little daydream of his will be swept under the rug ‘til he stumbles again and needs to revisit it.

“Fuckin’ hell, lass…” he sort of groans. “Sway those hips s’more for me, yeah…?”

You’re too good, he thinks as you lean back into him and give him just what he asked for, you’re too good and now he’s hot and needy for you. Only you. (Why’s it only ever you?)

The alcohol’s getting to his head, his mouth feels fuzzy and his throat is cotton but he likes it- the embers licking at the pit of his belly doing no favors for his intoxication.

M’ drunk off you, lass. He wants to say, or at least something of the sort. But his lips are sealed, and the patters of rain stay steady outside. And not a word comes out.

Not until his hips start grinding against yours, hands hungrily groping up to the mounds of your tits, and you mewl. You fucking mewl. A soft whine, hardly a breath, really- but it’s somehow satisfied and greedy all at once and Soap knows right then that you need him just as he needs you.

(You need him.)

“Fuck, Y/n,” he grunts, voice thick with arousal, low with remnants of exhaustion. “Let me take ya to m’ room… Please?”

And you do, obedient as he flips you around, carefully hoisting you up, palms cupping the unders of your thighs as he heads off in the direction of the hallway.

He wants to kiss you, to twirl his tongue with yours and taste the sweeter option of liquor you let him pour you tonight, he wants to do everything he’s ever wanted to with you- but he doesn’t.

Sex is one thing- to fuck you is already worse enough but at least he could chalk it up to just blowing off some steam. But kissing... That crossed a whole different line and leapt over into something far more personal.

You two will be in big trouble should Ghost suddenly emerge from the guest room and find you- you’re certain this isn’t allowed, but Soap’s arms are setting you down on his bed and his mouth is suckling at your neck and you like it.

But—

“Johnny,” you whine breathlessly. He somehow, amidst the inebriation and the heady poke of your breasts against his chest- the sin of his name on your tongue- recognizes the hesitance there and finds it in him to pause.

“What?” Voice all raspy and fucked-up. Impatient, slightly harsh.

(But his heart is running so fast it echoes in his brain.)

“This is-…” you swallow. “This is wrong.”

Johnny sighs. “Lass,” the backs of his knuckles brush over your cheek, up along your jaw ‘til his fingers are stroking back your hair, and his eyes are a tsunami, roaring waves folding over a gentle tide as he peers at you.

(Fuck, he sees you. He totally, fully sees you.)

Pupils a blown-out mess of adoration and tenderness and something deeper you can’t quite place.

“M’fraid it all is.”

His lips ghost over yours- for a moment he almost sinks his teeth into the softness there, but at the last second they shift gears and descend upon you, placing a flurry of pecks on your tummy. Down down down, ‘til he’s rucking up your gown and the tip of his nose is burrowing into the dip of your panties- the wetness there exacerbating his raging hard-on.

You shiver violently at his touch, lazily propped up on your elbows as you gape down at him. Your fingers find his head, tangling into his mohawk, grazing against the shaved hair. His eyes glow like a beast, large palms dragging your hips in, bracing into your thighs.

His eyes roll back some at your touch. The gentleness you regard him with in those shimmery eyes of yours- you’ve had him on a tight leash for a while now. He hopes you know, and wonders if you’d loosen his chains a little, just to free him some. (Does he even want to be free?)

“Johnny, I…” (The intensity in his gaze so heady and endless you can’t muster up a proper sentence.)

“…Can make y’happy,” he huffs out, then, his hot breath melding against your clothed pussy- needy and aching for your usually-cheery comrade. “Can make ya cum on my tongue, if that’s what y’want.”

The moon slivers in through the still curtains. His words are slurred. Johnny is so drunk. You are, too. You’ll regret this tomorrow morning if you remember. And you will, of course you will, because you remember everything. (Least, all the things you shouldn’t…)

Johnny, though- cheeks a ruddy mess of infatuation and tender, overwhelming arousal- is worth all of it.

“I jus’ want you,” you breathe incoherently after a belated beat of silence.

There’s a split second of nothingness- where Soap has to piece together your sloppy (yet no less sincere) whisper-

And then there’s a broken little whimper on his end. His fingers hooking into the hem of your panties and tugging ‘em down- vicious, almost. No more waiting. You asked too nicely for him to turn you down anyway.

“You’ll get me.” He whispers coarsely. He hikes your legs up over his shoulders, fumbling flat onto his tummy- still, somehow careful of the bandages around your knee- and doesn’t waste any time.

Diving in, placing a preparatory kiss to to your clit before nuzzling into your folds—

Your head immediately thrashes into his pillows, jaw gaping as you stifle a desperate moan, eyes pinned to the ceiling.

“Oh, Johnny,” you whine, and your voice is so thin- skin so glassy in the flicker of the moon- that he’s sure one wrong touch will break you entirely.

(And he wants to break you, maybe. If only to put your pieces back together, bring you to beautiful ruin on his cock and tongue and fingers and soul, just so he can recombine you after all is said and done. Be the one to kiss away your tears, pocket them like souvenirs- whenever he feels particularly awful he can pull them out and remember how they made your eyes shine like magic 8balls. And for a moment, all the wrong will fade.)

“That’s it, pretty gal,” his palms hold your quivering thighs apart, keeping you mostly steady beneath him. But when he shifts, teases his index finger at the core of you and sinks it in- so deep- so much longer than yours- you let out a shivering moan that the back of your hand can’t hold.

He hushes you, briefly pulling away from your pussy, and you think you hear something close to love there. “Hush, lass,” he whispers. “Much as I want t’hear ya, word gets out to Shepherd and we’re done for.”

Soap gets a shaky, long exhale in return, and from where he lies between your legs, he watches your tummy stutter with every breath, breasts torturing him with every jostle.

“I don’t think I can take it.” You confess.

(Fuck, he has to ruin you.)

He sighs deeply. “You will…”

You beg him a lot; small fingers fisted in his stripe of hair, unwittingly tugging and whining as quiet as you could, that he’d save you the hell and give his cock to you already. But it’s only after you’ve come undone on his tongue that he finally indulges you- though he’s more than willing, fumbling for his slacks as he settles you back down, nose brushing against yours as he lines himself up.

“Tell me you still want it…”

“I want you,” you breathe.

He’s kissing you, cock pushing in with a feral little growl that rocks the both of you, muffled in the swirl of your tongue as his hips meet the underside of your thighs. He pushes ‘em to your chest.

“Fuck, lass, wanted to do this for a while,” he confesses in a breathy sort of whine, and when you whimper confusedly back he pulls away some, gives you a shaky nod. His balls are tight already, belly flipping with arousal and lust and the pure need to fill you up.

“Mhm,” he hums, all reassurance, gentle, uncoordinated fingers smoothing back your hair as he drinks in the sight of you. Perfect beneath him, eyes hardly meeting his, lashes dewy with pleasure- all given by him- breasts jostling like a treat as he drives himself into your warmth.

As tender as he can make it, as good as he can hold back.

“Thought about this for too long. Was so afraid that evening you walked in on me— ah— but… suppose you wanted it too, yeah?”

He’s kissing you again. Why’s he kissing you again-?

“I want ye,” he murmurs against you, and you’re trying so hard not to make a peep, gnawing on your love-swollen lips when Soap finally pulls away for oxygen- but perhaps something inside him snaps, looking down at you, ruined by his hand, because the next thing he says—

“Fuckin’ hell- don’t hold back, lass, don’t care who hears anymore,” he near begs, low voice rubbed raw with alcohol and, well, the sight of you, raising a pitch.

“Y’sound so pretty, so fuckin’ good, just let me hear you…”

And the pathetic part is- he’s already getting close, already feels that niggling, simmering sensation clutching in the pit of his belly as he rams his length in and out of you, watching your pretty face contort with pleasure— all given by him— and—

And when you finally unhook your bottom lip from your teeth and loose a whimpering, wanton moan for him, he comes on the spot.

Witnessing the twisted, cloying expression he makes as he lets out a long, feral groan, you think you come, too.

(Sure felt like it anyway- on Soap’s end, too. Fuck.)

But he just collapses over you, letting your sweaty skin fold against his as he burrows into the crook of your neck, suckles little red and pink marks that’ll linger tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…

“Yr’gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning away some to look you in the eyes.

His glitter with warmth- you suspect he might’ve hidden a tear in the juncture of your neck- and they harbor this unmistakeable, eddying flash of love.

“You know that, yeah? …How gorgeous y’are?”

His pupils are blown wide, swallowing up a ring of baby blue. His calloused palms hold you close. So close. You can’t leave, you think, can’t squirm away even if you wanted to— not in Johnny’s grasp.

You muster up the sweetest, most fatigued little smile, and send it his way. “I-I know, Johnny.”

He shifts one final time, grinning tiredly (still, he’s won a medal, tonight, the best he could’ve ever aspired for) as he makes himself comfortable behind you- still tucked inside you- and wraps his strong arms ‘round your torso.

The bed creaks once more- loud, may you add, because Johnny stopped—

“Bloody hell! Go to sleep, will ya?!”

[holdmytesseract]

Well, uh... My insecurities are kicking a bit at the moment, and uh... I already apologise for this post... 🙈 I pondered long about even making this post, 'cause I know that everything I write should be for myself, but... It's difficult to think that way sometimes. Sure, I am supposed to like the things I write, but I want to make you all happy, too, so...

This is about 'Echoes of Hope'... I truly love this AU and I've got so many ideas brewing in my mind, but I discarded most of them, because I, uh, don't want to... annoy y'all, I guess... I know it's stupid, but I can't help myself. I need a lil' push, I suppose - or well, rather clarity.

Again, I'm sorry... 🙈

Guys, what do you think? @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @mischief-dream @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-Of-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @wolfsmom1 @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007 I hope I didn't bother y'all... I just... Yeah... 🥲

P.S. To all my Loki readers who see this or stumble accidentally across this... I didn't forget about our fictional husband, I swear. I'll return to writing for him, for the Ice Flower AU and for the Baby Fever AU. I just feel writing Daryl more at the moment. I hope you understand. 🥺

[piracytheorist]

Spy x Family Code: White thoughts!

Alright, time to write down my thoughts about the film! I liked it a lot, and for this anime only it was a HUGE satisfactory dose after not having had anything new since December 🥲 there were a few parts that I found meh, and I will mention them here too, but overall I got a very positive view of it!

Related to this, my mom was in the next room where I was sitting watching the film, and when I finished and passed by to get some water, she asked me what film I watched that made me laugh so much. So I think that speaks for itself 😂

Anyway, on to the film!

Having seen the trailer where Twilight rips off the disguise of a woman with long, curly blonde hair, as soon as I saw her here I was like is that her? But then that guy appeared and I recognized his voice and, dare I say I was confused XD

Damn, isn't that past their rating? XD

And then the music started! STRIX theme with a new twist for the film!

I think by this point we've already shrugged away Twilight's ability to make disguises. It gets even crazier near the end, so it should be of no surprise that he just disguised himself as that woman. Lucky she happened to wear a choker, too, good cover for his Adam's apple.

The way they showed the woman wrapped in a blanket underneath the desk, though 😳 that's the kind of visual you'd use to show a character died. What am I supposed to infer from this, guys?!

Then we cut to Yor!

There's a review on letterboxd saying how easy the film is to watch and follow for someone who hasn't watched the original, and I'm happy to hear that because as someone who already knows these characters and their dynamics, it didn't feel like it dragged on too much on that.

Yor, ever being the sweetheart, will call a guy a traitorous scumbag yes but she will be kind as ever when she kills him 🥰

The way she dodged the bullets! Queen! And also a set up to later show her dodge all the ammunition thrown from the shooters and Type F!

This. Was. Amazing. I actually gasped out loud. The animators understood the assignment, 10/10.

Right after that, we see Loid reach his door, and for the first time we see him go to use keys. A few other times I remember anyone opening the door they just... opened it. You'd think an apartment where a spy and an assassin live would have better security! XD

I love how they kinda showed it like Yor was going to attack Loid, and then Loid just turned and went like "Oh hey beautiful wife, welcome home! :D" It must have looked funny for anyone who hasn't seen the anime/manga before XD

Yor wants to cook! Everybody hide!

That... is a horror of an omelet. Yor's cooking is always for the "congrats lil buddy that’s the worst anyone’s ever done it" meme. She does try, though, bless her heart.

Anya evades the horror. And Loid wants to make... peanut butter pizza???? Is that even a thing??? WITH MEAT ON TOP???

What does it say about this film that this isn't the weirdest thing to happen in it

TITLE CARD WITH THE THEME ENDING AND THE ORCHESTRA GOING WILD <3333

Damian, shut the fuck up

... I mean, with a mother like that... I'll give this to him XD

Did Anya call him an asshole? Serves him right, tbh XD

Knowing that the story can't veer a lot far from the anime/manga canon, I already knew Anya wouldn't earn a Stella in that competition. But it was a good set-up for the rest of the film to move on from.

Twilight read Henderson's lips through a window and through the latter's thick moustache, and lip reading is already hard to do accurately, if not nearly impossible. Boy's nuts. But I think it only prepared us for a fucking falcon to fly above him and throw him the message from WISE. Show-offs XD

A rare view of Berlint!

DAAAAMN the higher animation budget is really doing those characters such good favour 🥰

Bro actually read a book by flipping through it. Get outta town.

The idea of having another guy take over Operation Strix from Twilight feels a little shallow. It's already a very delicate and long-term operation, it feels that it wouldn't make sense to replace their best agent with just a dude just because said dude has connections.

Twilight meets with Nightfall outside, and Yor sees them across all those streets (I mean, she is an assassin with a deadly aim) and... she doesn't recognize Nightfall? Is this supposed to take place before Nightfall visits the Forger household?

I mean, at the current time in the anime, Yor is supposed to be over her fear of getting replaced, but I get why they retreated back a little, so they could explain the later scene of Loid taking her hand and reminding her of his vows.

Very conveniently, Yor's coworkers are chatting about cheating men, and Yor, being inexperienced with relationships, immediately believes everything, her suspicions even taking root with what she just saw.

Back home, Twilight thinks about how, since he's dismissed from Operation Strix, he'll have to move out, and the camera shows their happy family picture 🥺 he's not ready to admit his feelings to himself but the narrative is.

Making the dessert that's the favourite of the judge and in particular the one he grew up with feels kinda cheating, no? XD

Come on, Loid. A child filling her bag with toys does not deserve that murder glare 😂

That train looked a little too modern for the supposed 60s/70s aesthetic. I know Germany has some top trains (as does Japan) but like, still XD it's very different from the train we see on the very first episode when Twilight boards one for Berlint.

Lovely visuals, though!

I wonder if there's any system as to how Bond's powers work. He has the vision of Anya finding the suitcase and opening it... but that's creating a sort of paradox because without the vision coming to him and without Anya seeing it, it wouldn't have been made true. I mean, I get why it was put there, but still.

Again, the story needed a little backtracking in order for Yor's doubts to make sense. I'm not sure how much they contributed to the whole story, but at least there it was funny. The small awkward laugh she throws at the end before she exits their booth to go look for Anya was hilarious XD

Gremlin Anya is best Anya <3

LMAO at least she enjoyed the chocolate XD

The following part was intense! I found myself saying "Run Anya run!" even though I knew from trailers that they'd eventually catch her anyway.

So the microfilm hides intelligence about a research lab in Westalis. Hmm.

I think it was at this point I noticed that they had Anya react to people's thoughts way too little. I get that it can get repetitive but with her curiosity she would have tried to look for more information through the guys' thoughts.

"Chocolate thieves" is actually perfect to describe those two. They were conveniently - and hilariously - incompetent.

But it did get intense. It's always like that when a bad guy threatens to hurt, let alone kill, a child.

I love how Yor asked Anya to close her eyes while she was beating up the guys but then told her she can open them when they were down and fully expected her to believe her lie that they just passed out XD

Also, her snowman jgvllublftlulbj

Chekhov's military airplane! I didn't expect it would actually work by the end, though XD

I love the music in the restaurant. Poor Bond being left alone outside where it's snowing, though 🥲 at least they brought him food!

Yor notices that it's rare for Loid to wear turtlenecks, and that's actually true. Too bad, though, they fit him so nicely :)

I actually laughed out loud at the guys jumping on Yuri to stop him. They were prepared. They knew who they were dealing with XD

"Rubble and Bonds"... the chef is very wholesome but he literally named his restaurant after his trauma and like... dude. Therapy exists. And then he starts laying out his trauma thick while Twilight is sitting there like yup this doesn't affect me at all

I don't think he was prepared for that when he asked about the restaurant's name. I was kinda disappointed they showed the exact same footage of him as a kid from the first episode. I think they could have afforded making a few seconds of new footage of the same imagery. But maybe that's just my anime-only ass who has been waiting for a certain manga arc to be animated for nearly two years now 😶

Snidel appears! And he has the absolute nerve to just... steal the meremere plate from someone else's table. Perfect way to make us hate him.

And... I'm sorry. I have to say it. When Snidel challenges Loid to a game and the camera focuses on Loid... that zoom-in and fade to black was SO CRINGEY. Sorry XD

The music there was nice, though. I think I notice a tiny bit of James Bond music influence.

Fucking Snidel shifting the goalposts with the amounts of sugar. That's not being detailed, that's not explaining the rules of the game properly. They really wanted us to hate the guy.

Twilight looks really stricken by the fact that he lost. And we know it's not because of despair - since he immediately says they can have meremere the next day - and it's not because his pride was hurt... so you can't take it out of my mind that it was because he was disgusted by how a grown-ass man practically stole a piece of cake from a little child, and Twilight was unable to stop him.

But then XD Loid has the absolute gall to ask a chef for his recipe, and then reprimand Anya for calling him stingy. Like mah dude it was already a far-fetched request to have the guy give you the recipe XD

Twilight being totally not suspicious and bolting through the market to buy all the ingredients. Cause that's what normal people do.

The way Twilight tries to cheer Yor up and he only manages to make her feel worse never disappoints XD

Right, I forgot this film was released in December in Japan. It feels weird for it to have a winter-y, almost Christmas-y feeling while I have my A/C on XD

I like how Twilight actually cared enough to expose the guy at the shooting gallery, and advise him to run an honest business. You'd think this would be low on his priorities... but having a child will expand your sensitivities. It feels similar to how he encouraged Carroll Campbell into playing tennis more fairly and to depend on his own strengths.

And then he wonders why a little child has fun on a train ride XD

I... am not sure how I feel about Yor's outburst there. It feels directly inspired by the Disastrous Date, if not a copy of it, and I'm not sure it helps Yor's character develop in any way. I mean, again, I get that the film can't allow the characters to develop a lot since it can't veer from canon, but still, it felt a little forced just to give Yor more screentime and to have a very subtle twiyor tease.

Anya finding out about divorce through Becky's soap-opera filter, though XD

They feel too confident leaving Anya all alone (even if she's with Bond) in a strange town. I know they can keep an eye on her from the ferris wheel cabin, but still.

Now that's a character development moment you can have without veering from canon: having Yor feel guilty for allowing Anya to notice her dark mood, and then feeling happy that Anya pushed her and Loid to having a moment together to talk things out.

Also, beautiful visuals!

Twilight, best™ spy™ of Westalis™, being unable to read the room whenever his wife is involved.

MAH DUDE. THERE'S ONE THING TO DESCRIBE WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND THAT'S BEING TOO DIRECT

That's a phrase you don't wanna hear from your little kid, especially when you're fake married XD

Handler: Go and help Twilight. Nightfall: Yes ma'am! Handler: Not you. Nightfall: SENPAI WILL NOTICE ME SENPAI WILL NOTICE ME Handler: jfc

It was really sweet seeing Anya and Bond play, and then Yor joining in. That makes it more plausible that the film is set earlier on in the story, since it looks like Yor isn't used to playing with Anya.

No, really, what did that woman who was at Franky's kiosk want to ask him when she would come by with her friend??? 😳

One day the way Twilight abuses Franky's services will come bite him in the ass, I'm calling it now.

Yet another scene where character/relationship dynamic can happen without veering from canon: Loid comes back to the hotel and says he'll go out again, Anya says she wants to come too, and Loid tells her she has to stay in the hotel. Anya goes back to the bedroom dejected, but Yor reminds him it's a family trip and they're supposed to spend this time together, connecting that to her memories of Yuri being happy whenever he spent time with her.

And I think that speaks to another level of distance Twilight has kept from his emotions; he denies himself that he loves his family, but that also leads him to forget that his family won't like missing out on quality time with him.

I especially noticed his surprised reaction at Yor saying that being away from loved ones can make one feel lonely. I don't think Twilight has allowed himself to grasp just how lonely he's felt all these years, it was just the norm for him to have no-one. He's forgotten what it's like to have loved ones and to miss them when you don't get to spend enough time with them, and he's also forgotten that for most people, this is how everyday life is like. We love people, we like spending time with them, we miss them when we haven't seen them in a while. A master of disguises he may be, but this role forces him to face the thing he understands the least: human relationships.

And so, he realizes that Anya's motivation here wasn't petulance or restlessness. It was her need to have fun with him. He considered it easier to sneak around to find the liqueur if they weren't with him, but he failed to consider that casting them aside would actually impact them. Give yourself some credit, dude 🥺

Nightfall: I will surprise Twilight with my effectiveness!

Twilight when he sees her unexpectedly:

I did love however how he looked so sternly at her when they were outside. Like lady, first, bad timing, second, this is why Handler didn't want you to be the one to help Twilight XD

Once again, Bond's power works in a form of paradox. He saw the shop where the liqueur was, and Anya went there because she saw it. If she hadn't seen it, she wouldn't have gone, and Bond wouldn't have had the vision.

I love how the military guys get a rough sketch of Anya and go like "Nah no-one can actually look like this" XD

Anya must have swiped some dalcs as she ran off. That liqueur wasn't gonna be cheap!

Poor Bond!

Endo has surrounded Anya with two physically exceptional parents and a big strong dog to protect her, so it's hard to make a case of her getting kidnapped believable. Realistically, I think Bond would have fought harder to keep her safe, but to achieve the kidnapping the bad guys would have had to get more violent with him. That would make for a sadder scene and also take away from the humor of those guys' incompetence, so the most violence against an animal they could resort to was a conveniently falling beer can.

And thus, the "Anya Has to Poop" side plot starts! With the amount of fear she went through in those scenes, I'm surprised she didn't just... accidentally let go 😶

I just realized when Loid was checking the plane's radio they were also refuelling it. Again, kind of a surprise the whole system worked XD They were a little too chill about the fact that Anya was with the military, though? Maybe I got the wrong vibe off of their acting, lol.

The way that Yor decides at the last moment to join Loid and just... runs and jumps into a plane that's right on takeoff. Madwoman. I love her.

Meanwhile, at least Nightfall is funny XD

They really went on and made an entire sequence in a different animation style for a poop joke. Respect where it's due 👏

Someone: So how did you save world peace this time? Anya: I refused to take a shit.

The incompetent duo have a bedpan that's shaped like a duck and, funny thing... in Greek the word for "bedpan" can also be called, colloquially, with the same word that we use for "duck". So. There's that random connection I found funny XD

Twilight tries to ask for permission to land on the airship and they immediately turn their guns on him and damn, that must be terrifying.

And damn, again, that's a huge risk he took just to get Anya back. My man was prepared to do anything. And he walked out of the plane crashing into the airship without a single scratch like GET OUT OF HERE. I wanted my whump and I only got a single drip of blood near the end 😞 when will I have my whump.

And then Yor just... ran on the top of the airship, fully exposed to the freezing weather of not only outside but also a few hundred (thousand?) feet off the ground. My girl runs on hot steam. AND THEN SHE ALSO FUCKING TOOK HER COAT OFF.

Meanwhile, Anya finally finds a private moment to take a shit. And that marks the end of the wackiest plotline in this movie XD

Okay now, look. I can maybe imagine Twilight quickly making up a mask of Snidel's face from earlier in the day (though he wasn't shown to have any time to do that), and he somehow had it ready when the time came for their duel. But making a mask of that random military guy? Yeah, my suspension of disbelief is stronger for that than for freaking time travel XD

Yor also has her moment of going like "Excuse me, may I ask a question" and immediately getting guns aimed at her.

Damn. What the actual fuck is Type F even. At first I thought it was a full-on robot, but apparently it's a modified human? The fuck. Also. Just how many fucking bullets does he have???!

For real, though, Snidel isn't fucking around. He not only is fine with murdering a kid in cold blood, he also finds it entertaining to make her terrified as well. Like, even that guy from the Doggy Crisis arc said "Nothing personal, kid," when Keith commanded him to kill her.

And then Twilight overhears the incompetent dudes mention Anya... and mighty spy Twilight's emotions get the best of him and he beats up those guys for no other reason than getting back at them? More likely than you think.

Fuck, that scared me. That bullet was literally millimeters from piercing his brain. Cool visual, though, with his real hair popping from beneath the mask.

Anya worrying about her papa :(

Okay, I don't care about the logistics. This was fucking awesome.

AND THEN THIS???

10/10. They understood the assignment.

AND THEN THE OTHER THING???

QUEEN SHIT.

No, but really, their fight was going in circles because Type F has a shit ton of bullets and Yor has great stamina and ability to dodge bullets. She can't win with her strength, so she has to use her brain and her environment. AND SHE SLAYS 👏👏👏

My dude why are you still surprised 😭😭 what did you expect your kidnapped daughter to do once she saw you came to her rescue 😭 HUG YOUR DAUGHTER BACK I BEG 😭

Nah, I know he can't yet, this guy's got the emotional type of constipation. He'll get there.

So we'll never know what he thought about her sneaking out to get him the liqueur, and why that made her smile, eh? Okay 🥲

I love how Yor and Loid just both buy each other's lies. Oh yeah I just decided to jump on your plane while you were taking off, no biggie! Yeah this military ship was totally run by chocolate thieves! And also, I was flying part-time as a student :D

(I also love how high his voice went there. It's full-on "nice sweet Dr. Forger" voice XD)

And then :)

My crops are watered :)

With the action part over, I gotta say that they handled it all of it awesomely! I felt that the whole film was a little slow at first, but I didn't really mind. The climax was great, I got my whump, I got my fake family working together with all of them pretending that oh it was just chocolate thieves and not an actual threat of war breaking out.

My question is... didn't Anya just gulp the chocolate down?

... how did the microfilm get stuck in her teeth?

... you know what, never mind XD

Aw, Twilight got Handler a bottle of wine! And she actually looked thankful for it!

... was she the one who went in disguise to trap Depple into cheating on his wife??

*squealing*

Yor offering to help with the dessert and everyone going "Naaaaah you don't have to 😁"

Damian, shut the fuck up.

It is funny, however, how Anya can say one (1) thing and unintentionally leave him a blubbering mess. Girl is not even trying for that, lmao.

And then, another trip! Buddy who has the time and money--

Oh, wait. Yeah they're going on vacation on WISE budget lmao XD

It's kinda funny to see this with me having the Cruise arc as the "last" I saw of them, as an anime only, cause it was "trip to the ocean!" then "trip to the north!" and now it's "trip to the beach!"

Aw!

Meanwhile, after the credits...

Hang in there buddy. Your time will come to get Twilight back XD

Overall, definitely recommended, it did have its weak parts and its parts that you had to happily kick your logic out the window, but it was great fun, with awesome action, character depth, and even angsty parts that I adored. This will keep my anime-only ass satisfied for a little while, hopefully we also get news about Season 3 soon!

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

Barbatos Falling in Love with a Cat Hybrid MC (Obey Me!)

A/N: AAAAHHHHHH!! This was supposed to be posted for Barb's birthday, I'm so sorry, guys 🥲🥲 But I got a lil busy and distracted and didn't get this finished up when I was supposed to, my apologies!! So this is very late, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!! Also, I'll be completely honest, these headcanons are first of all, very long 💀 And second of all very self-indulgent considering my MC is a cat hybrid. This also mentions a lot of my own personal headcanons about demons in general, but they aren't necessarily super prominent. Also, I tried to keep the description of the cat features as vague as possible so that everyone could imagine their own details however they wanted, but if any of you wanna know how I personally imagine a cat hybrid MC looking, I'd be happy to share my thoughts on that!!

Side Note: So, apparently Tumblr has a 4,096 text per block limit. However, tumblr did not tell me this, and I had to experiment and figure it out completely on my own. So, there's a couple of headcanons that are separated a little weirdly cause tumblr required me to do so in order to post. It was only just now after I'd figured out the problem and started getting everything ready to post that tumblr decided to give me an error message while I was editing that specifically mentioned the text block limit. That error message never appeared previously 🤦 So yeah, might be weird break up points, so my apologies!!

Pairing(s): Barbatos x MC, Diavolo x MC (Implied/Mentioned), slight Diavolo x Barbatos if you squint

Tag(s): Mention of panic attacks, slight reference/implication of trauma, slight blood, I guess? Lemme know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3,277

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

-When MC first came to the devildom, Barbatos was…intrigued. Slightly. Even during his frequent visits to the human world for various things, he’s never really interacted with humans very much, mostly just for transactions. In fact, the human he’s interacted the most with in decades is Solomon, as offending as the man is. And Solomon is a lot of things, but a hybrid is not one of them. So, it’s been years since he’s actually taken time to really speak to any humans, let alone one that’s half animal like yourself. Usually, he still wouldn’t think much about it, but maybe it’s the way you immediately went on the defensive and took a swipe at all of them the moment you were summoned, or maybe it’s just that he was immediately charmed by you just like all the others. Either way, he found himself keeping an eye on you.

-Barbatos doesn’t exactly love cats the same way that Satan or even Solomon does, but he does prefer them over most animals, especially dogs. He finds them extremely amusing and sometimes even sweet. Which is why he takes interest in noting all of MC’s cat behaviors and mannerisms. Like how you stick your tongue out in a new environment, trying to do so discreetly so that you aren’t questioned about it. Or how your first instinct is not to use a napkin, but to groom yourself, whenever you spill something on the fur along your arms or sometimes even your legs. One of his favorite habits of yours is your cat-like vocalizations. No matter what the situation or what emotion you’re feeling, you always end up letting out various sounds that usually only a cat makes, whether you’re in the middle of speaking or not. He has to admit, whenever you let out a happy mew or chirp, he has to hide a smile.

-He didn’t know it at the time, but the moment his intrigue and curiosity became full-on investment is quite clear now that he thinks about it. He had gotten up at his usual time of night to start making preparations for the Young Master’s day, and as he started a quick cleaning sweep of the whole castle, he discovered something strange. There’s a small crawl space in the left wing of the castle that the Little Ds frequent and sometimes he’ll stop and say hello as he passes by, should any of them be inside it at the time. And yet, this time, he finds scratches. Surface scratches on the wall on either side of the crawl space and deeper scratches in the hardwood floor right in front of it. He couldn’t help but be concerned. This isn’t something he saw coming, nor did he sense anything amiss in his sleep. And the Little Ds are never this destructive. The only logical thing for him to do is check inside the crawl space. And so he opens it up, and is stumped by what he finds. It’s…you. Curled up into a tight ball and covered in…one of Lord Diavolo’s spare blankets. A heavier one, that the Lord prefers on colder nights.

-Where in the world did you get one of those? How did you even get into the castle? As he continues to observe, he notices that you’re asleep, though it doesn’t seem like you’re actually getting much rest. And there’s Little D No. 6 and 7 snuggled up right beside you, also asleep. He kneels down and clears his throat, touching your arm gently. And as he had hoped, you woke up. But then you were flinging the blanket in his face and trying to push yourself further back into the corner despite not having any room to do so. The Little Ds are startled and scamper away, behind the butler, while Barbatos watches as you position yourself much like an animal getting ready to pounce. But you don’t. Instead, you hiss and growl at him, the sounds echoing through the long, mostly empty hallway.

-Your lips are pulled back from your teeth, your feline canines glinting in the low light. Usually he wouldn’t care for gentleness. You’re intruding into the castle and it’s his job to get rid of you in case you are a danger to his Master. Or in the case of a human from the exchange program, he must at least send you back to the House of Lamentation immediately. But as he opens his mouth to speak, he hears something that makes him pause. Among the warning sounds to stay back, he hears…a whimper? And so, he takes a moment to sniff the air. And that’s when he realizes. This human isn’t shaking with rage. They’re shaking in fear. The smell of terror wafts from you in deep waves, and now that he’s paying more attention, your eyes are darting around, your pupils dilated as you try to watch every piece of your surroundings. He sighs and moves back, deciding that not crowding you in is best. You’ll be easier to deal with if you’re calm, he tells himself. Nothing more.

-He moves to the opposite side of the hallway, directly across from the crawl space, and sits on his knees, watching you with a slight tilt of his head. The Little Ds, however, stay nearby. And as patiently as he can, he waits. Slowly, your hisses and growls quiet, and your body relaxes slightly. The fear is still in your scent, but now there’s also curiosity and…a slight sense of embarrassment? After a few minutes have passed, you slowly slink out of the crawl space and crouch right in front of it. Then he watches you hold a hand out to the Little Ds and help them crawl onto your leg, a slight smile appearing on your face as you do so. Oh? He then calls your name, and immediately your ears flatten back against your head again, and you look at him with uncertainty. And then he questions what you’re doing in the castle and how you got in, in the first place.

-You quietly explain that some of the Little Ds led you inside. From your description, Little Ds 2, 4, and 5. Apparently, earlier that night at the House of Lamentation, Lucifer had gotten angry and yelled at a couple of his brothers. MC incidentally caught Lucifer’s attention while he was still upset and got caught in the crossfire, which greatly frightened you and caused you to run off. You found yourself outside and lost, not realizing you were right by the castle grounds until the Little Ds stumbled upon you. And for some reason, they felt the need to bring you inside. They’re the ones that also brought you the blanket, trying to help you stay warm. But then it started storming and due to what had already happened, it spiked a panic attack. That’s where the scratches came from.

-And usually, he wouldn’t care much for a sad tale from some random human. But here he is, watching you look around anxiously, tail wrapped tightly around your arm and ears flattened, scent dull like you’ve already accepted that a terrible punishment is coming your way, and he finds that he absolutely can’t stand it. This image in front of him is wrong. The scent coming from you is wrong. And for the life of him, he can’t place why. Nor does he know why he goes easy on you throughout the next day. The only thing he requires of you is that you explain to Lord Diavolo what happened and you work in the castle for a day, including cleaning up your own mess. The Young Master holds nothing against you, unsurprisingly, and from that day on, Barbatos was keeping an even closer eye on you, with one very strange question running through his mind. Just what did the human world do to you, hybrid?

-When you start to take more of an interest in Lord Diavolo, Barbatos is torn on how to feel. On one hand, whenever you and Lord Diavolo spend time together, both of you are filled with so much joy and delight. It makes his heart feel a little warmer at the sight. But on the other hand, he feels something slimy and hot crawl around his insides at the same exact sight, especially when it’s confirmed that what’s happening between the two of you is heading towards something romantic. It doesn’t take the Lord too long to notice, either. He’s the one that informs Barbatos that what he feels is jealousy, which surprises both of you. Jealousy? Why would he be feeling jealousy? And then the Young Master suggests that he join them for tea one day, take a break to enjoy new company, he says, with that damn twinkle in his eye.

-When he first sits down at the tea table set out in the gazebo overlooking the lake, the last thing he expects is for all of your attention to fall on him. You turn your entire body in your chair to face him, your ears perking up and your tail twitching in his direction, a bright, warm smile on your face. You hold your teacup in both hands, close to your chest, and start speaking to him. Complimenting him. The tea set is so pretty, you’ve never seen anything like it, and the tea itself is amazing. Does it have an herbal base or is it more similar to a black tea equivalent? The Young Lord must’ve told you about his interest in tea. And so, he answers you. Gives a slight chuckle as he thanks you and tells you all about the tea. And he’s delighted to realize that not only do you listen to everything he says, but you retain all of it as well. Ask him even more questions. And at some point in the conversation, he finds himself smiling for no reason other than the fact that he’s enjoying himself. And soon after, he feels your tail brush against his arm. As soon as you realize he’s noticed, you apologize, claiming it has a mind of its own sometimes with a sheepish giggle. And as you look away he notices that a flush has risen to your face. How curious.

-The first time that Barbatos finds a dead bird on the windowsill of a castle window, he thinks nothing of it. It’s something that happens from time to time. Until a few days later when he finds not just one, but two. One outside of his own window and one outside of Lord Diavolo’s. It’s too specific for him to see it as mere coincidence, so he stores both birds and watches out for more. And like clockwork, twice a week on the same days, one, sometimes two, birds would appear on both of their windowsills. When he asks his Lord about it, he doesn’t know either. It was purely accidental that he found out the reason. One day at RAD, he overheard Satan speaking to a few of his brothers and he went on some ramble about cats. The butler was only partially listening, but his interest was peaked when he heard mention of cats leaving gifts for people they enjoy the company of. Most cats will kill small animals, like mice or birds, and leave them on windowsills or near front doors or anything similar, sometimes even by a bed or other place the person frequents. And the thought came to him. Are the birds from you? A supposed gift for him and the Young Master? And so, the next time birds are left at the windows, one of the first things he does is ask you to the castle that same day.

-After you arrive, he presents you with the birds from that morning and asks if they’re from you. Immediately, your tail starts swishing behind you, and you look not anxious but…shy, and flustered. You ask if the birds are okay, or if there’s a different animal he and Lord Diavolo would prefer. He can’t help but laugh. Not at you, but at the absurdity of such a question. And at his own emotions in response to the confirmation that you’ve been leaving them gifts. Leaving him gifts. And when he tells you that the birds are perfect, that they can be used for many meals and other things, your tail stands straight up as you let out the sweetest of feline chirps. And for some reason, he feels a slight flush rise to his cheeks

-One night, the Young Master decides to host a dinner party with all residents of the House of Lamentation and Purgatory Hall. Both demonus and human alcohol was brought out and everyone was having a good time. The Young Lord especially was having so much fun that he invited everyone into his private common room after dinner was finished, insisting that Barbatos himself take a moment to sit and relax. He follows his Master’s orders, as he always does, and takes a moment to sit down and observe the others. And that’s when he feels a warm weight against his side as someone takes up the space beside him. Immediately, he turns in the direction, ready to tell off whoever it was, when he lays eyes on you and freezes. You’ve snuggled up beside him and placed your head on his shoulder, looking up at him with hazy eyes. You tell him unnecessarily that you’re just a little bit tipsy. And then you comment that he’s cozy as you wrap both of your arms around one of his, your tail quickly following. And then you spend a moment sniffing his shoulder. He’s unsure why until you suddenly start rubbing your cheek against the same spot. Since meeting you, he’s started doing a bit more research on cats to learn more about things they do and why they do them, how to read their behavior and such. And one of the things he read is that all cats have scent glands within their cheeks and they use those scent glands to mark their scent on people they’ve claimed as “theirs”. He instantly looks away and tries to ignore the burning of his cheeks. He lets you stay there all the way until the brothers drag you back home.

-Barbatos is not emotionally naive. He just finds the concept of romantic love and care very difficult to understand and therefore hard to detect immediately. But eventually it reaches a certain point in which the fact that he is falling in love is absolutely undeniable. Such as the case with that silly little cat hybrid. And within that realization, he’s realized that you’re the one who’s been making all the moves in his direction. Well, that just won’t do. If he is to accept your romantic pursuits, then he must return them as well. And so, he requests for a very rare day off and invites you to spend the day with him.-First, a breakfast at the castle that he personally makes for you, making sure to include a mix of your favorites and his own. The two of you eat together in his favorite area of the garden, right by the acid tulips that he was happy to tell you all about when you asked. And then, when he asks what you want to do next and you tell him that you’d like to do some of his favorite activities, in order to learn more about him, he lets out a surprised chuff. With how energetic you are, he was genuinely uncertain whether any of his preferred hobbies would actually keep you entertained.

-But to his surprise, you bird-watched beside him with eyes of wonder and hung onto his every word as he told you all about the different bird species the two of you encountered. And when it came to herb gathering, mainly for teas, it seems you not only had an interest but also a knack for it. All he had to do was describe an herb to you and you’d be able to find some of it almost quicker than he could. Almost. He supposes your feline hunter instincts help a lot with that. And speaking of your hunter instincts, when the subject of lunch is brought up and he asks what you’d like, you simply ask him, “Bird or fish?” He blinks at you and says fish slowly, unsure as to what the question means. And then you tell him to…stay. You’ll be right back. Intrigued, he does as you say, listening carefully to your near silent footfalls as you bound through the trees head in the direction of the river not too far away. He hears a series of splashes for the next few minutes before you start making your way back to him. As you appear in front of him again, you have…fish. Multiple in your arms and one being held in your mouth, all of them already dead. It’s like the butler’s fondness for you grows tenfold in that moment, as you look absolutely adorable. Your tail swishes and curls high in the air, a sign that you're happy with yourself, if the grin on your face didn’t already reveal so. He gives you a warm smile and chuckles softly as he takes the fish you’re offering him and thanks you. When you release the last fish from between your teeth, there’s a thin stream of blood coming from the corner of your mouth. It would be a completely dishonest statement if Barbatos said that he didn’t feel a strong urge to kiss you in that moment. He has to look away and take a step back when you simply lick the blood up as if it’s nothing new, in order to prevent himself from doing anything impolite.

-Seeing as you caught fresh fish, he brings you to a place he and the young master tend to camp at occasionally where he’s able to make lunch for the two of you, which you both eat happily. And for the second half of the day, he asks to learn about your own hobbies, places you’ve come to enjoy since coming to the Devildom. And over the next few hours, you take him to all kinds of places, from your favorite lounging spot to your favorite place to shop. By the time it’s time for dinner, you’ve brought him to a little cafe in town that you enjoy spending time at and the two of you stay there awhile and chat over a meal. The entire day was an absolute delight and he takes it upon himself to personally escort you back to the House of Lamentation, especially with it being night now. The walk is slow but enjoyable, and at the front gates of the house, he says goodbye to you, however, you pause. A pink comes to your cheeks as you step forward and before he’s even processed the action, your lips are on his. You kissed him. Very few have ever been so bold, and definitely not a human. He places a hand on your cheek and a hand on your waist, both touches gentle and light, as he returns your kiss, a slight smirk on his face as he pulls away again. “I thank you for allowing me such a delightful experience.” He bows to you, and you let out a ‘mew’ before turning away and hurrying up to the house. He finds himself humming an old tune with a small smile on his face the whole way home that night.

~*~

A/N: Please let me know what you think!! I very much hope you enjoyed writing these out, so I hope you enjoyed reading them as well. I'm thinking of writing more of these for the other dateables, so keep an eye out for those 👀 Also!! Unlike with Barbatos, I will actually be posting something on Mammon's birthday in a few days!! I've already gotten quite a bit of it written out and it's very spicy 😏 So keep an eye out for that as well ^-^

[scaredexpert]

Oof... I have to say that every single storyline in that episode was unsatisfying imo

Bobby waking up 30 mins into the episode and everyone just lightheartedly moving on?

Buck and Christopher didn't hug goodbye and Buck and Eddie also didn't hug?? This episode's Buckley-Diaz scenes were just kinda meh aside from Eddie telling Christopher goodbye (pls Christopher come back next season wahhh) and I liked seeing Eddie's parents be more supportive

Bucktommy scene was cute but there continues to be no chemistry between them so what's the point???

Madney taking in Mara in a truly flabbergasting series of events???? There's no way they'd be approved as a kinship home for Mara, and there is no possible way on this earth they would be licensed as foster caregivers that quickly. Also, if Ortiz's interference removed Mara from Henren, why would she not continue to interfere with Mara being placed with Madney? (As if such a person would even have influence in this situation in the first place.) I mean, I like that the outlook is positive now, so yay? This one might just be me because I work in foster care and I just know how things work, but it is so grating. Oh, also, there is no way Hen would be able to just march into the group home and see Mara. No. Way. A fabricated tale that doesn't exist. I know, I know, I know, it's tv. But they could have done a modicum of research :')

I thought we were supposed to get some kind of cliffhanger????? I mean, I guess?? I'm not feeling a lot of suspense lmao. Gerrard will be captain while Bobby figures out how to take the 118 back, there will be drama until suddenly it'll all be better again.

And lastly, Family Feud theory is bones </3 But if it turns out eventually that Eddie is queer, we will all know that Family Feud was always on our side lmao

Okay, I guess the one satisfying part was that Amir's character and intentions were finally made clear... he was so clearly innocent, just hurt. I appreciated his role in this season and the actor KILLED it.

Dang I'm just frustrated with this season's writing overall. Bi Buck is wonderful, but I can't say I enjoyed a lot else, but it seems like I'm in the minority idk! I understand it was only 10 eps though and I'm still glad we got the season. I'm a Buddie shipper btw, but if it doesn't go canon, I'll live. However... it seems almost like the writers themselves haven't even decided, and um... they need to decide and then they need to commit to what they decide. I've been saying that for a loooong time. Keeping it THIS open-ended and hinting around is a disservice to everyone at this point, I think. I just think they're scared to make a choice, honestly.

I'm relieved to hopefully not be thinking about 9-1-1 anymore for a few months, but I have to find a new lil hyperfixation for a while. Suggestions? Lmao and does anyone wanna talk about our feelings? 🥲

[what-about-yogurt-night]

I drew a lil puppet ^u^

I was thinking about how I like the idea of making a Welcome Home OC but don't see myself ever actually making a full fledged character so I decided I'd just draw the kind of character I might turn into a welcome Home OC if I ever had the motivation lol

The clothing is loosely based on some stuff I designed for a fashion illustration class a couple months back (pictured below lol):

^^I drew these all in one day I think and my wrist still hasn't fully recovered🥲💀 my bf had to help color in the second-to-last one cause I was in so much pain at that point😂😅

pro tip: don't draw 6 fully rendered full body portraits in one sitting (especially if you're drawing on physical paper) if you want to be able to use a computer mouse or a soap dispenser without wanting to scream for the next 2 months👍🥲

I wanted the vibes of this collection to be like witnessing someone else's nostalgia??? Like imagine discovering an old kids show that no longer runs, or exploring an abandoned indoor play place you've never been to, or stumbling across one of those birthday party rooms tucked in the back of a family restaurant or something, and the collection is supposed to kind of match the vibe of those sorts of places and maybe be the kind of thing you wear while chilling in a liminal space lol (idk if any of this makes sense but one of the lines I came up with at the time when trying to describe the vibes of the kind of liminal spaces I was picturing was "oddly, you feel like you are trespassing in a place that wants you to stay" and I think that's the most ominous poetic thing I'll ever write please be proud of me lol)

[bubblegum-blackwood]

FOR MAEL - 13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character? 27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to? 50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

I see what you did there Kacy 😅

If I could draw the way I imagine things in my head and I had enough time to draw like that, I would draw so much Mael, girl. Mael and Marius in the tavern. Mael in his stupid lil cowboy outfit from QotD. Mael with Jesse, Mael with Maharet, Mael with Jesse and Maharet. Avicus braiding Mael's hair. MAEL!!!!!

Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

I used to say it was a joke thing but I think I've tricked myself into genuinely shipping Marius and Mael 😅 I also ship Maharet/Mael/Jesse and Avicus/Mael, but I unfortunately don't often get a lot of coherent ideas for them though =T him with Jesse in QotD makes me so feral though!!!!!

Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

Idk about fic bc like I'm responsible for around a third of his character tag on AO3 🥲 but I love @nasnyys's Mael!

A headcanon I have about him is that after going in the sun at the end of Memnoch he's just been chilling having a Big Vampire Dirt Nap to sleep it all off; he woke up, saw that Vampire Court shit with Marius and Mini-Marius in charge, and went back to sleep. I'm also partial to Mael Is Filled With Rage: a Compilation

I suppose that counts as a quote but I also want to share one of the many moments in QotD that makes me absolutely fucking feral every time:

The getting so horny for Jesse he accidentally explodes a vase with is mind is a close second place, but I just love this entire exchange. Maharet yeets him off the terrace to stop him drinking Jesse's blood, then he just gets up and BLOWS HER A FUCKING KISS!!! I'm throwing a fucking fit

I'm lovem him

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

hello hellooo! how about Mikey for the character ask game and 🍄🤔 for the WIP ask game?

Thank you for the ask!

here are the links to the ask games:

https://www.tumblr.com/just-sp-in-inginthevoid/747133689068158976?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/just-sp-in-inginthevoid/747130592726007808?source=share

My first impression

Typical overpowered goofball that steals the protag's spotlight and who's likely to be interesting once his past gets revealed. Probably has a large part of the fandom having him as their or one of their favorite characters. Don't think he'll be mine tho (I always end up with favorite characters who are (mostly) the ones without a huge fanbase behind them 🥲)

My impression now

He needs a hug. He needs therapy. He needs to cry. He needs Takemichi.

More seriously, he's more complex and important to the story than what I've anticipated. He's just so detrimental to the story. From start to end he's tangled with it. He deserves that happy ending. If I think too long about his dynamic with Shinichiro I sob uncontrollably and ugly.

I love how trauma is depicted with him. It can get so much ugly despite one's unwillingness to be and one's best effort. He's a great character.

Favorite thing about that character

He has no power over his own fate. His life wasn't meant to last as long as it did and so when it continued even though it should've ended, it got set in stone as counterweight. He got cursed by the person he loved immensely and who loved him back immensely as well. He came back wrong and he wasn't aware of it. He's an antagonist despite himself. He was meant to be since the start and Kisaki helped to speedrun it but even without him Mikey would've sunk in darkness. There were clues about that since the start and I love that for him. He's literally cursed to ruin his own life (and lose his loved-ones). Talk about doomed lol gotta love a lil tragic man.

(I'm very happy he got his happy ending tho, don't get me wrong)

Also: he's got a blanket-plushie <33 he's irritable when he wakes up and that's relatable

Least favorite thing

Idk... I don't think there is one? Perhaps when he refuses to apologize because he doesn't see the point to it (in the hospital when visiting Pah's friend's girlfriend with Draken, when meeting Kazutora's father after drop-kicking him, ...) but that's just because it makes me anxious lol I can apologize a bit much

Favorite line/scene

obligatory 'save me' moment mention

It might be a bit cliché, but the whole Manila Mikey scene. It's when Mikey actually started to pique my interest. The whole 'I killed them' bit *chef's kiss* - I needed to know more asap and I knew I wouldn't and it was awesome.

Favorite interaction that character has with another

Mikey stealing Takemichi away for Christmas from Hinata made me chuckle and still do.

I don't think about the trust he puts in Takemichi that much but it does linger on the back of my mind at all times. It's very dear to me.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

I wish we would've seen more of him with Izana and him with Senju. There are a bunch of others, but ultimately I wish his relation with Izana and Senju would've have more elements to it, more dwell on. Also where are the scenes with Kazutora and Mikey being content and happy, Wakui. Wakui. Wakui, I need them.

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

Loosely, I'd say Ace from One Piece. Damn character smiling to hide their clinical depression

it's when I'm being asked for things like this that my mind goes blank fr, I'm sure I have best examples somewhere

A headcanon about that character

The reason he sleeps so much is because he's supposed to be in a vegetative stage had Shinichiro not messed with the timeline :D!

A song that reminds of that character

I've got a entire playlist for him with +130 songs in it (as for now), how am I supposed to choose.

Imma just put the first song that triggered me doing playlist for TR and sharing them on Tumblr I guess

降伏論 sang by 宮下遊(Miyashita Yuu) (Eng sub in CC)

And take Body And Mind by Girl in Red as a bonus

An unpopular opinion about that character

I don't think I've got one???

Favorite picture

This panel is just so beautiful.. *sobbing on the floor for several reasons*

I like every lil Mikey as well

🍄Describe your wip/one of your wips in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Baji as Shinichiro's time trigger + canon compliant up to a certain point = Kazutora still kills Shinichiro

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

AU where Shinichiro (19, living in 1999) and Takemichi (18-19, living in 2010) swap bodies between May 22nd and July 30th. They're both from their original timeline and so the connection cut when their timeline stops having the same course of event. And while Shinichiro lives through original timeline the same way he lived it in canon, Takemichi kinda forcefully got his life together (it's tucked together with tuck tape but he's making it work) because of when Shinichiro was living his life and is now way too attached to the Sano family (&Co) not to try to meet with Mikey from his time period (very bad idea). What could possibly go wrong with Takemichi from the start of canon trying to reconnect with Hinata, Mizo Five, Kakucho at some point bc I want him and S62 here, and saving Mikey when... When it's first canon timeline and they've never met?

It's a fix-it somehow; the time leaping powers plotline remains the same as in canon too, when it concerns Shinichiro (Takemichi's part of the story obviously gets changed)

I haven't written a single word yet but I did brainstrom it xd. Got a handful of other long-fics I want to write first before starting a new one

[skinnybinnietitties]

Im bouta kms I sWEAR😀

HELLOOOOO Fellow kind my first post bouta be a stupid ass rant bc I got into shit😭

(My spelling and grammar are literally shit I'm so sorry...)

So basically on last weekend my mom caught me cutting in my room and taking pictures of it. I was in my room trying to blow off some steam w my slicey bcuz my mom kept calling me and needing me to get stuff for her and my lil siblings because she was doing my sisters hair and around the middle end of my session my mom calls me while I have a bunch of blood still on my and a good bit of the blood smeared on my thigh bc thts my safe zone but I didn't have any pants on bc it was easier to access the area I was cutting. Before I come out of my room my mom is calling me and getting more and more pissed off bc I'm not coming and when I do she keeps asking me what took me so long and what the hell I'm doing so I obviously tell her nothing while trying to pull my shirt down (it stops at the beginning of my knee) and cover my bloody nails so she doesn't see them. And after I fin8sh doing what she asked me to do I go back to my room and decided it would be a good idea to take a few pictures and videos bc why not (wanna punch my self in the face jst thinking about this shit😭) and after I'm done making 2 more cuts on video I decide I need music so I was picking some then all of a sudden I hear my mom's footsteps coming to my room and mind you I had FUCKIJG gasue packets and wipes that were sufficiently bloody enough to need an explanation. Anyways she bust in my room and I wasn't thinking properly ofc bc I jump up and grab a tissue off my dresser and hide it in my hand and turn off my phone. When I so that dumb shit I leave my blade on my nightstand and when she walks to my side of the room because we have a division curtain because I share a room she looks at me and is like "what's in your hand??" "what were you just doing??" type shit and when she sees me try to leave the room she goes and closes the door and when she does that I swipe my blade onto the floor and start panicking thinking "oh yeah your cooked your so done😭" so eventually she sees what sin my hand and makes my ass sit down and originally the excuse I used was that I hurt my self trying to cut something off my bra with a knife BUT😮‍💨 tht evolves into cutting my nipple and soo after my kitty cat by accident and her thinking I was going at it🥲😭. She believed the last one not before asking me if I hurt my self and when I told her I acted like that because I was embarrassed asf about it and panicked but during those poorly made excuses she says something about my phone and I yeet it behind my bed to "get later" because mind you I had the video plus other cutting sessions along with ana progress and just other screenshots and downloads I don't want her to see PLUS I have this hellish thing called Family link where she can lock my device and block apps (clearly didn't help because I have accessed the internet from an app that doesn't even show how much time I've spent on it plus other things) so I'm not supposed to have YouTube or tiktok or anything like that so if she were to go through my phone it would get taken away and I really got this phone in may becau6my last one was taken away for more than a year so obvi don't wanna get in trouble. Okay getting side tracked but anyways so when I yeeted my phone she made me get it and told me ima check your stuff so I go into the living room and ask can I watch her look and she says yes with a side eye. When she checks everything and doesn't see anything she says I feel like I'm missing something and finally clicks my pictures and before she can click the gallery I tell her you shouldn't click that because it's stuff you don't wanna see on there but obvi she does anyways and gasps when she sees my thighs and when I try to grab the phone she grabs my wrists and makes me get away. Eventually she makes me go in her room and strip to my undies and bra off and checks but she only sees cuts on my once safe zone and time skip blah blah blah she asking me a bunch of questions and stuff I end up saying too much about how I am essentially a people pleaser and I'm not satisfied with my life yada yada.

Not enough space so making a part 2 to the story for who ever wants to read this💀

[butteredfrogs]

https://www.tumblr.com/buttertrait/748467582285316096/i-know-im-not-just-a-simblr-but-i-do-have?source=share

SQOTD anon here, thank you for this! I appreciate your feedback, I have been considering starting a completely separate blog for SQOTD for the last few days, I enjoy sending SQOTD asks and it makes me quite sad when I can't send them to people with anons off! I prefer to preserve my anon identity and I realize that in that aspect, i cannot send a SQOTD ask to anon off blogs, and I've taken you and others' suggestions to encourage others to share my asks, I've also started doing this just because I've seen some people, you included, mention that SQOTD feels picky choosy, which wasn't my intent at all, but I am only one person and cannot send an ask to every simblr, and I'm very glad to see that my asks are getting spread to others outside of who I actively follow.

On a side-note, I do apologize that you felt excluded from the SQOTD asks, I'm not the same anon who did these asks some months ago, and I only started them back up around the same time you turned off your anon asks. I want to assure you I was actually sad that I was not able to send you a SQOTD.

I thank you again for your feedback, I do my best to see what others have to say about SQOTD, and just know I have considered adding a bonus question in my asks on whether I should start a blog or not and will use your post as some foundation of reason to start a blog. If you have anything else to add, feel free to, I'm very open to feedback (this can be applicable to you and anybody who sees this and would like to add feedback, if you [butter] are okay with your post to be used in that way)

~💛

hi anon! i wanted to post this just so other people could give their feedback and opinion as like i said in that post i’m not just a simblr, and also i’d just like to clarify some stuff

i would defiantly say starting a blog would be a good idea. as i said you could post the question of the day as a text post, and also send it to people, so that way regardless of whether they received the question of not people can choose whether they want to answer it! it also means if people didn’t receive a particular question they can just reblog the post with that question and answer it themselves, and it also means you don’t have to worry about missing people because like i said it gives people the opportunity to answer the question themselves and literally anyone can answer it! also just a lil side note if you do make a blog don’t make it a side blog of an existing blog as you won’t be able to send questions from it

i do understand why it is anon, and again i appreciate you cannot send it to every person on simblr, however i did think it excluded people (such as myself) who have anon asks off because they receive a lot of negative asks from anons, and also it excludes some smaller simblrs just because you might not actively follow them as you said yourself. again i’d like to reiterate, i get you are only one person it’s impossible to send it to everyone, but i do feel like if it’s supposed to be a community thing to only see certain people get it can defo feel like it’s picky ?

thank you for your ask and for taking my feedback onboard. i am very happy for this post to be used to as a way to leave suggestions in the replies and i am very sorry for the long post if you read this all the way thank you🥲