#fellow hyperfixations I see you and love you

[guitarspearmybeloved]

[thegnomelord]

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it��� your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

[lordprettyflackotara]

professional || ben drowned

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: cam girl!reader, squirting, ben's just a little possessive, mutual masturbation, fuck machine?

Ben threw himself into his gaming chair, grabbing his favorite bottle of lotion. After a long day of doing unethical favors for his fellow mansion residents, the blonde needed to blow some steam.

Being a digital ghost had many perks, along with being immortal. However this also meant having seen anything and everything. He had been on every porn site, every forum, every twitter thread. He'd hyperfixate on one fetish or pornstar at a time before eventually losing interest. He found himself growing more interested in the pornstars themselves, resulting in him investigating cam girls instead. Something about seeing the raw reactions and unfiltered live shows made Ben the horniest he had ever been. He scrolled through the site, looking for who was online. The blonde had a few favorites, but you were his ultra fantasy. His eyes lit up at the sight of your screen name being online, his heart pounding as he clicked on your live show. You had just started thankfully, your skimpy pajamas still covering your soft skin. Your perky nipples were poking through the thin material. Ben relished in the sight of you smiling at the recognition of his screen name.

"Hey there, drowning_in_bitches, nice to see you again."

Sometimes the way you talked to Ben made you feel like these shows were for him and him only. After all he was your top donator. Money was an endless resource for him, the blonde not afraid to shower you in cash to see you cum harder. You usually had your toys linked to the donations, the vibrations only starting and going faster when people donated. It was a satisfying sight to Ben, to see your face scrunching up in pleasure as the sound of coins dropping came out of the speakers. "I have something different for tonight boys," You say, your eyes bright and full of excitement. You leaned out of frame, fiddling with something. "Thanks to everyones over the top donations, I was finally able to invest in something I think we all will enjoy," You say. Ben raised an eyebrow in interest, before his mouth dropped in the shape of an O. You pulled into frame a sex machine, a large pink dildo strapped to the end of it. Your chat of admirers was going crazy, many already spamming with excitement. You giggled as you read the comments, Ben's mouth watering.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, his cock beginning to ache in his shorts.

You got that for me huh? He typed, before pressing enter. You bit your bottom lip as your eyes flickered to his comment. "Maybe I did maybe it's something special for my favorite admirer," You purred. You pulled your shirt over your head, your breast bouncing out freely. Ben began to fiddle with the strings of his shorts, watching you play with your mesmerizing breast. A few small donations were made, Ben purposefully waiting. You were quite the tease, loving to draw things out. Ben was not a patient man however, and refrained from donating until you were getting down to business. He loved to overstimulate you and you being foolish enough to get a fuck machine was perfect for him. You adjusted the fuck machine into position, before bending over in front of the camera. You played with the hems of your flimsy shorts, before pulling them down. Ben matched your motions, shoving his shorts down to his ankles. No panties huh? Dirty slut. He typed, tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth. You glanced over your shoulder, reading his comment. Ben could see your face noticeably flush red after soaking in what he said.

it really felt like you were putting on a private show for him and him only. You were so flustered and interactive with him. He never saw you do anything like that for anyone else. In the back of his mind he knew logically it was most likely because of the money he showered you with. But the other half of him ignored that thought, obsessed with the idea of you wanting him as bad he wanted you. "Honestly quite nervous about this guys, I haven't been properly fucked in ages," You sheepishly admitted. Ben's breath hitched as he palmed at his cock. Were you being honest? Or were you saying that just for fun? I can change that. He typed. He watched you read the comment, before delivering the camera a sly wink. "Maybe you should Mr.Drowned," You purred. Mesmerized, he watched as you laid down on your set up. You spread your legs wide open, licking two of your fingers before drawing slow circles around your clit. Your chat was going crazy with excitement, the horny men thrilled to see you pleasure yourself. Ben began to stroke his cock, noticing no one was donating. You were going slow on purpose. Ben had spent countless hours watching you ruin yourself for his entertainment. He knew exactly what you could handle.

He hovered over the donation tab, donating an easy $500 to start with. It had a simple note: Let me fuck your face. The sound of coins made you sit up, reading the note. You giggled. "Yeah? Is that what we want chat?" You asked. Ben couldn't ignore his jealousy. Why were you attending to their desires? He was the one you belonged to. The chat was flooding with excitement, causing you to fully switch positions. You put the fuck machine in front of your face, kitten licking the dildo. You arched your back, giving the camera a divine view of the shape of your ass. "That's it," Ben grumbled to himself, beginning to stroke his cock. He made a donation directly to the machine this time, the speed beginning to pick up. You took it the dildo deeper into your mouth, maintaining a seemingly innocent gaze into the camera. Ben grabbed the lotion, now fully ready to stroke his cock. His fingers reacted faster than he could comprehend, dumping another large donation carelessly into your account. The sound of coins made you moan, the dildo now fucking your throat. Ben relished in the sound of you gagging, saliva messily dripping down the sides of your mouth.

Your eyes were beginning to flood with tears, your waterline so full the tears overflowed. You struggled to keep up with the face fucking as Ben continued to donate more and more. The dildo was abusing your throat mercilessly, your thighs squeezing together with arousal. Ben couldn't help but fantasize about seeing you cum for him, his fingers hovering over his keyboard once more. Now lay down slut and let me fuck you. Ben typed, pressing enter. You blinked away some tears, pulling yourself off of the dildo. You laughed as you wiped some of your smudged mascara. "Look at this guys, you're making me make a mess," You laughed, laying back down on your back. You brought the dildo to your entrance, the toy more than lubricated with your saliva. Your cunt was glistening with arousal as Ben stared at you wide eyed, his hand slowly edging his cock. He watched you slowly take the toy, your walls eagerly clinging onto it. Get ready, i'm gonna give you the best fuck of your life. Ben typed. Your chat was so full you missed his comment, your mouth in the shape of an O as the fuck machine began moving.

Ben frowned as he realized this, carelessly placing a donation of $1K. You gasped as the sound of coins came out of the speaker, the fuck machine beginning to fuck you faster. For a brief moment your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure. It was brushing against your g spot so deliciously, you couldn't help but moan. Your moans were sounds of encouragement for Ben, the blonde smirking as your doe eyes finally met the camera. He stroked his cock faster, dumping various large amounts of money into your inbox. You were gripping your pink comforter, your mouth running dry. Ben momentarily stopped, your other admirers simply watching instead of donating. You whined as the machine came to a stop, your eyes pleading as you looked into the camera. "Fuck please keep going, I wanna cum," You whimpered lowly. Ben bit his bottom lip, imagining hearing you beg for him directly. The other losers in your chat didn't have a shot in hell in making you cum as hard as he could. As he would.

The blonde continued donating, ultimately deciding on donating the maximum amount he could. He dropped his hand, watching the fuck machine whir at its highest speed. You were a moaning and whimpering mess, your knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets so hard. "Fucking hell, my fucking-, fuck!" You cried. Your cunt was abused by the toy Ben was controlling, a sick sadistic grin curling up his lips. Ben stroked his cock, rubbing his thumb over his slit as he watched you fall apart. Your legs were trembling, struggling to stay open as you took what Ben was giving you. Your head fell back as you squirted, your juices coating the sheets. You sheepishly closed your legs, your face red and cunt puffy. "Holy shit. I've never done that before," You panted. The fuck machine came to a brief halt, your lustful gaze meeting the camera. It was like you were looking directly into Ben's soul.

"Hey Mr.Drowned, wanna make me do that again?"

[hxmocrastic]

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐋𝐚𝐢𝐨𝐬 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | HCS

Pairing {📺} ; Yandere!Laios Touden x GN!Reader

Warnings ; Delusion, Obsession, Exhaustion, Brief metaphors of Cannibalism 👀👀

A/N ; He might be a tad bit ooc because I haven't kept up with the manga, but enjoy dungeon meshers !!!! There will be more dungeon meshi content after this 🤍🍲

Before anything takes place, I feel Laios would have to take an interest in you, Whether small or enormous. You'll have to do something that catches his attention, and evidently as short as it is it'll have to be something as large that snags his eyes away from his fixations or something as small as greeting him.

Laios continuous hyperfixation with monsters is an obstacle from granting you his concentration, But it can be done. Laios' obsession would stem from his insecurities and misgivings, Due to his inclination to monsters and beasts many people around him found his person to be eery and strange which lead to the isolation of his peers with the exception of his dear sister, Falin.

The constant sneers and scrutinization from his community of tall men and others have never weakened his resolve, And his love of monsters but the result of it still stings.

Once he takes an interest in you is one for the history books, Only the winged lion knows when or IF he looks away. Once you've caught his interest there is no undoing what shortly ensues.

Laios could hardly remember the people he had met even when they'd be as assertive as they could. Laios could barely remember Kabru's name not his party, So to think he'd finally grant you a portion of the attention he gives to monsters is downright impressive.

I see Laios taking the observational route before he deliberately approaches you, But I can see him greeting you fairly often. Laios would attempt to strike a conversation with you, Whether that'd be related to monsters or a simple warm greeting as he introduces himself. He would try to maintain his gentle demeanor ensuring that he doesn't frighten you away like the rest of his fellow comrades, But oh boy would he fail at doing so. You could just smell the excitement coming off of him.

Laios would begin to befriend you, Sharing the meals Senshi prepares with you, Inviting you to associate with his party, and most of all sharing all of his interests and passions with you.

Think of the way he behaved with Shuro but 10x more augmented with you. He'd talk your ear off day and night about all the different species of monsters as if he wouldn't wake the next day, He'd rant about the various types of basilisks, the eggs of chimera's, and strangely the taste of a female minotaur's milk?

But due to his connection with his party, I think he would be a lot tamer had he been if you had met on the island. Laios would predominantly share all his meals with you, And you'd better put on your best smile and chewing impression if you weren't hungry because your cheeks would be endlessly assaulted by a spoon full of food.

Laios would constantly make sure you'd have enough to eat and enough sleep, So much so you could to start calling him mom habitually at this point. Although you'd see this as nothing but an affectionate gesture, In a way he'd see it as courting.

To me Laios secretes a very delusional vibe, I can definitely visualize him justifying all of his latent clingyness towards you as normal and sweet despite your annoyance. Though the severity of his infatuation depends on when and where'd you meet him. I'd say with his party, He'd be much more gentle with his affections and try to be as sensitive as he could with his eccentricities.

Laios would still often make the mistake of being overly blunt with his observations and compliments, And it could sometimes even insult you. But spending time with this goofball would more likely than not make you aware of his intentions with his words and spare him the scrutiny he receives from Chilchuck, And the others.

Due to this, His infatuation with you will worsen and he'll start equating you with Falin. His sister was the only person who understood the true meaning behind his words and once you, the object of his obsession start showing him he same compassion He'd simply have no other choice but to entertain his delusion.

This is where it begins to take an odd turn in his behavior. The way he'd start to greet you would become jittery, Like a dog greeting it's owner. His excitement would increase tenfold whenever he'd be within a distance of you, like your presence fuels his eagerness. At times it feels as if he's trying to impress you.

Laios undoubtedly try to hog your attention, Try to keep your eyes on him. He'd begin fishing for praise in whatever way whether that be from formulating an elaborate strategy or simply fetching ingredients for the next meal Senshi would cook. He'd begin to grow possessive in a way, trying to pin all of your attentiveness on him, the way he does to you.

Poor boy wouldn't realize what's wrong with it until he starts to see why you always seem so exhausted whenever he's in view, or how he's slowly taking so much of your time and energy you barely give the effort to do something for the party because he's already done it.

He'd still see nothing wrong with it of course, you're still eating, still getting enough sleep but he wonders why you begin to avoid him now. You of course say nothing, trying not to hurt his feelings knowing what he has gone through, See you want to be there for him when his father wasn't, You want him to be happy even with the absence of Falin.

And you prioritizing his happiness is what links you to the party. Laios is without a doubt beyond obsessed with you at this point in time, Your wellbeing far exceeds any voice of reason. Your health and happiness is at the far most importance, Even exceeding his.

You're his everything, And most importantly wants him to be yours. He wants you to dedicate yourself to him, To throw yourself at him like a rabbit to a wolf. To gift him your flesh to consume for HIS wellbeing, To gift yourself his flesh for YOUR wellbeing, The ultimate exchange of love.

Of course Laios himself would never ask you of this, But at times he desires YOU would come to him with such devotion. The same devotion he gives to you day and night, sunset and sunrise, to repay him the same way he has worshipped you ever since he's gained a glimpse of your eyes, and a glimpse of your heart.

A heart he'd consume with his own, Becoming singular with the person he has loved the most, For is that so much to ask??

Laios wouldn't kidnap you, But oh would he have you stay. I mean isn't that what he's been doing all along?? Draining your sense of independence, Training you like a bunny to a owner to rely solely upon him, For it is he who possesses everything you need.

And that's all that matters.

[holycrimin]

In honor of me getting my first ever TMNT Comic,

here's Leo with a crush who gets overly excited when gifted something they're obsessed/hyperfixated with (cough definitely not me cough)

while I did buy the comic for myself (it was an Eastman and Laird's TMNT adventure special) I wanted to explore this more because my brain is way too active and i need an outlet lol

pls dont blame me if its a little ooc, im trying my best and this is impulsive T0T

note: Reader uses they/them, Leo is a massive dork, semi proofread

2012!Leo x Expressive!Reader

Saw something he thought you'd like while on patrol,

"Hey guys, you think they'll like this?" He looks throught the window.

They snicker and shit on him (lovingly in a sibling way)

Whether it was a poster or figurine or comic, he's getting that baby just for you

Obviously he'd get it by paying because stealing would be wrong.

And by paying he means snatching it in the middle of the night and leaving a twenty with an apology note

Because that's what heroes do

anyway

Hops up to your apartment,

(with his brothers watching from the shadows because they absolutely cannot resist a good show. yes, even Donnie; like a true hypocrite)

He makes sure that neither your parents are there with you and he knocks on the window

You, with your ultra smart brain, immediately knew it was him because it was either that or a murderer that climbed up to specifically your window to murder you

which was unlikely, but hey, so was being friends with a giant turtle

You open your window and are immediately greeted with a shiny (not-so-brand new) comic/poster/figurine of the thing you talked about nonstop for weeks. maybe months. actually now that you think about it it mightve been year—

"Hey."

"Wh-"

"No way. NO WAY." You take it out of his hands (gently) and look at it in awe, before looking up at him with a dazzled expression

(If you squinted you could see sparkles coming off of you)

"What- Where- Dude. Where'd you even find this?!" A wide grin on your face as you look at him.

"Oh y'know.. Patrol and fighting bad guys, awesome stuff. Uh, then, y'know.. I found some merch that I thought you'd like."

"Dude he's seriously blowing this." one of the guys (mikey) whisper. "Yeah, he's worse than Donnie." he says, earning a 'Hey!' from Donnie.

Leo glares at them for a second before turning his attention back to you.

You let out a giddy giggle, "ahh! dude!"

"Dude." You set it down gently and put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I. Love you. So much. You know that?"

He blushes a little, "Well, I mean, it's not really a big de-"

"Not a big deal?! DUDDEE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Is this a marriage proposal?" You say, shaking him a little.

"Wh- um.. What?" Leo lets out a weak chuckle, he feels his face heating up. "Because I accept. Let's get married, I love you so much. Oh my god, you have no idea-"

Ohhh god.

Yeah, that does it.

Well, even more than it already has.

"Whahahaha... Okay, uh, You don't really mean that, do y-" Oh.

"..Oh, sorry, is that too far? I mean, I do it with my other friends, but I'm not sure- Leo?" Yeah, no this is going to kill him. Kinda pathetic, huh? That a kiss on the cheek could send him spiraling just like that.

"Ah.. hahahah! Okay cool, haha.. uh, bye! I'll ah.. see you tomorrow? yep. Yeah. Okay, bye!"

He runs off.

Aw crap.

Did you do something wrong? God, you hope not. Maybe you should tone it down next time.

"Smooth moves brother, really got them falling for you."

"Shut up."

------------------------

Total writing time: idk like 15-20 mins?

Any fellow fic writers feel free to take inspo or even write a direct sequel to this, I just really like this idea and would absolutely love to read more abt it lol

[sunkendreams]

Dwayne or David facesitting. Period. Like, vampires don't need to breathe! Hell, let em stay down there for hours. Also, am I too gross or crazy to think about having fun during that time of the month? 🩸

blood moon.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | dwayne (the lost boys) x fem!reader

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | drabble — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 3.7K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT (mdni), dubious consent (mild coercion) cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), reader is on their period, bloodplay (lots of it, he’s a vampire), facesitting, biting, hair-pulling, pet names (mama, girl, sweet girl), dwayne is hungry and he’s nasty, kissing, vampire antics, possessive dwayne, Dwayne is a little selfish in this

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | wow ,,, a fic three days in a row ??? you can tell I’m hyperfixated because I’ll produce a ton of content very rapidly. Also, I love dwayne so much, he’s my daddy. ALSO — please keep sending me horny requests for the lost boys, I’m being fed !!! also, hello to all of my new followers & tlb fellows :)) love y’all and hope you enjoy!

A blood moon — it was a humorous term that your mother used to use for your menstrual cycle, something that you’d grown to despise with every fiber of your being. It was another unfortunate shackle of humanity, a reminder that you were still flesh and blood. Whenever your time of the month came about, you were always tempted to beg David for a sip of that forbidden wine.

The oppressive heat of the cavernous labyrinth that the boys dwelled within had felt somewhat comforting to you as you curled up on Dwayne’s makeshift bed, form contorted into the fetal position. A slow, agonizing pain spread throughout your lower abdomen, making your muscles feel weak and useless.

Sunset was just upon the horizon as you struggled to endure the suffering that you were forced into with each passing month. The mattress felt cool and smooth underneath your cheek, having abandoned the scattered pillows in favor of awaiting your demise. You wanted to sob, biting at the inside of your cheek, teeth scraping against flesh as your fists balled into the blanket.

Everything hurt — what began as a dull ache soon manifested into a pain that gripped your entire body. Your back was sore, head throbbing, and your insides felt as if they were being stirred around by the hand of another. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to move from your spot, anchored to your slice of space.

Once dusk fell, the vampires you’d been living with came to life, no longer hanging from the rafters of some dark, damp alcove. You could heat Marko and Paul’s guffaws and laughter, accompanied by David’s stern, tempered remarks. It all served as idle background noise, prompting you to close your eyes.

The noise dissipated — it was too quick for your liking. Silence settled in, save for the faint rustling of ambience within the cave, combined with something rattling around out in the remnants of the old lobby.

As much as you didn’t want to move, you sluggishly rolled out of bed, discomforted by the sensation of sloshing liquid rushing between your legs. It was the worst part of your cycle — the unpleasant sensations, the feeling of being wholly unclean. You draped a blanket around you, hobbling from Dwayne’s roost.

Strong, veined hands were buried within the grease-laden guts of a motorcycle, dismantling a variety of components. The vehicle was partially dismantled, stripped down to the metal underbelly. Dwayne’s dark tresses were disheveled from slumber, parts of scrap scattered around him. An elongated, metal screw was lodged between his teeth as he concentrated on his work.

He could smell you long before you’d crept into the lobby, but he hadn’t expected to see you in such a downtrodden state. Dwayne was often respectful of your space, especially during your cycle. It wasn’t something he would ever endure, but watching you writhe and suffer wasn’t entirely enjoyable, either.

“Dwayne?” You croaked, awkwardly shuffling across outcroppings of debris and dirt, draped in your shoddy sheet as you spotted your boyfriend. There was something beautiful about him, particularly when he practiced his hobby of playing mechanic. Specks of black oil lined his forearms and fingertips.

Without missing a beat, Dwayne turned to look at you, hazel hues drinking you in with reverence and concern. Dark brows furrowed together as he abandoned his current project, grabbing at the tattered, red cloth that rode around within his back pocket. “Hey,” That familiar baritone held a subtle warmth to it. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

You knew that he knew, but he still asked you nonetheless. As he swiped away at the oil and pungent grease, Dwayne stepped closer toward you, stooping down to press a kiss against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful, natural sweetness intermingled with that of your menses.

“Everything,” You exhaled, shuddering when his large palm splayed out across your back, rubbing soothing circles into your sore flesh. “Where are the others?” Admittedly, it was a bit unusual to see Dwayne alone without the company of the pack.

“Hunting,” Dwayne confirmed, and without hesitation, he hooked a strong, taut arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up as he carried you like a blushing bride. Cradling you against his chiseled chest, he made sure you were back in bed, where you belonged. “I was worried about you.” He confessed, laying you back against the mattress.

His throat was burning — a fire so intense that he wanted to scream, but Dwayne was rather talented at smothering his hunger for the good of another. His thirst would be extinguished soon enough, whenever he could leave the cave to find unsuspecting tourists. He sat down along the edge of the bed, hand massaging into your thigh.

Guilt rippled through you, knowing that Dwayne had abandoned the hunt to tend to you, this fragile human. His brows furrowed together — he must’ve been reading your thoughts. “I’m sorry. You should go feed.” You encouraged him, despite keening into the comforting chill of his hand.

Dwayne’s mind had gone elsewhere — there was a way that he could feed without having to abandon you. Of course, it was purely self-gratifying and your best interests were secondary to his starvation, which crawled across his stomach, burning a hole through him. He kept quiet, gingerly massaging your leg with his hand, which drifted towards the swell of your hips.

He didn’t like seeing you this way, agonized and letting yourself sit in the suffering. “If there was something that I could do to help, would you let me?” Dwayne asked, gazing down at you with an incendiary look. It was distinct, reminding you of the plethora of times he’d seduced you. Your stomach lurched, insides feeling as if they were withering away.

Your expression was somewhat quizzical, lips parting slightly as you reached for his arm. He was so much bigger than you — the strongest of the pack, urging you closer until his fingers could sweep away the hair framing your visage. That thick, coppery swarm of blood invaded his nostrils, singing his throat yet again.

“What do you have in-mind?” You asked, somewhat hesitant as he caged you in between his arms, bending down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. Sex was the furthest thing on your mind, but you relented, moaning into his mouth as you reached for his dark tresses.

Dwayne was a phenomenal kisser — passionate and slow, as if he were savoring every second of it. Though, he had a tendency to let it whirlwind into something ravenous and primal, fitting for the quiet, stoic vampire. He exhaled, kissing you with a thinly-veiled desire, hand moving to cup your jaw.

“Could take the pain away.” He uttered, withdrawing from your lips with an indiscernible expression. Dwayne was always difficult to read — endlessly complex, an enigma that you wanted to unravel. His mystique was always present, but you knew him better than most.

To you, it was an act of generosity — you were gullible, naive to Dwayne’s true intentions of feeding from you whilst making the ache fade away. Your heart fluttered within your chest, causing you to wet your lower lip. Dwayne’s thumb rubbed along your jawline.

“How?” With a soft gulp, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips graze your jugular. His natural musk was enticing, often intermingled with the twang of stale copper and machinery oil. Dwayne shrugged his jacket off, bulky musculature engulfing you.

His shadow eclipsed any sliver of torchlight as he bathed you in darkness, gaze dusky as he gave you another deliberate kiss. Dwayne was silent, adjusting himself until he knelt at the foot of the bed, partially on top of you. His hand pushed against the inside of your knee, and that’s when you stopped him.

“N—No,” Your protest was weak, embarrassment rippling through your voice. There was something that felt inherently dirty to you, if Dwayne intended to follow through on whatever it was he planned on doing. “Dwayne, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” A shrewdness crept into your tone.

He read your mind — you thought he wanted sex. If you weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve been fucking you within an inch of your life by now. Dwayne’s chest rumbled with a brief chuckle, lips curling into a faint smile, pearlescent teeth glimmering against his caramel skin and stubble-coated visage. “Not like that,” He exhaled. “Something else. Help us both.” He murmured, stroking along your leg.

So that’s what he wanted.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous about the idea. He’d never insisted on feeding from you before, and certainly not in this manner. It sounded so crude and messy in your head. He’d bitten you, but never enough to cause any lasting harm. “I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling another sharp, dagger-like jolt course through the pit of your stomach.

“It’ll make the pain go away,” Dwayne was gorgeous — like a chiseled god, crouched between your legs as he sought your consent. Of course, it was somewhat swayed through consistent persuasion, but there was something mutually beneficial to be found in this. “Let me.” His voice dropped to a husked octave, dripping with something amorous.

You were still hesitant, heart beating like a fluttering of a hummingbird, swift and constant, pounding just above your breast. Goosebumps coalesced along the length of your spine, crawling across your flesh like a tidal wave as he pressed a series of kisses against the inside of your thigh, face dangerously close to swarming forward.

“Okay, just — Just go slow.” Molten heat sloshed within your belly as Dwayne stalked forward, musculature parting your legs. He was so broad and strong, smooth underneath your fingertips as they brushed against his taut, veined forearms. He bracketed you in, arms like a cage as he kept you close.

Dwayne felt that blistering itch within his throat, the urge to feed, to savor the sanguine heat between your legs. He had no intention of being slow. Once the feeding commenced, it was difficult to stop. “‘Course, girl.” He nodded, dark eyes glued to your features as he flattened down against the mattress.

Sinewy hands curled into the waistband of your panties, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, one that didn’t happen to be covered in age-old blood. You were flustered, beginning to squirm as Dwayne peeled it all aside, menstrual pad included.

He rucked your shirt up, propped up on his elbows as his palms gripped at your hips so hard that it was sure to leave bruises. That smell of blood hit him immediately, scorching his throat and insides until it was all ash and dust. Dwayne was silent, broad tongue parting past until it drew along the length of your cunt.

Blood wept from your core, which felt uncomfortable for you, initially. You huffed, nearly sinking down into the mattress in a heap as Dwayne began to openly lap at your slit, drinking you in as if you were the most delicious thing he’d tasted. Your cunt clenched, nerves set ablaze as his nose bumped against your clit.

You tasted saccharine — coppery and vitriolic, but it was his sort of feast. Dwayne let out a grunt, lapping at the blood that oozed from your cunt, letting it linger upon his lips, invading his senses. Once he heard your sweet moans from above, he tugged you forward, a growl ripping through his chest.

Those aches and pains were sluggishly beginning to ebb away, soothed by the vampire who drank from between your thighs. It wasn’t as much as he wanted, but it was enough, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt as the pleasure unfurled within your stomach.

“Dwayne,” A blissful sigh escaped you, back beginning to arch off of the bed and toward his mouth. Your fingers clamored to hold on, finding their purchase amongst his tousled mane of jet-black hair. He’d eaten you out before, but not like this. There was the added element of blood involved. “D—Dwayne, don’t stop.” You whimpered.

Within the dim light of the alcove, those orange flickers of light from the small array of candles made his skin look like velvet. Those dark eyes never left you, pinning you in-place as he drank freely from your cunt. Your menses stained his mouth with red, tongue occasionally drifting from your entrance to your clit.

A burnished, golden sheen glistened within his eyes, hunger somewhat dissipating. He wasn’t satisfied nor satiated, intending to drink his fill — as for you, he suspected you’d have to endure his constant lapping and sucking until you were nothing more than a sobbing mess.

Your poor legs were quivering, wobbling on either side of his face as he steadied you, hands clamping down to keep you still. He idly massaged into the pliant flesh of your thighs, tongue assaulting your cunt with a viciousness to it. Crimson dribbled down his chin, but your flow was beginning to taper off from your prone state.

A myriad of throaty, wanton mewls escaped you, toes curling in delight as he gingerly suckled at your clit. The sensation was temporary, fleeting as his attention drifted elsewhere, tongue lapping at another slow-trickling rivulet of blood. Dwayne hummed, deep and gravelly, stubble tickling the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

It was only when he withdrew that you were babbling and stammering, wanting to know why he’d suddenly stopped. “W—Wait,” You whimpered, pitiful as ever, cunt aching something awful as he licked at his lips. Seeing Dwayne’s mouth and chin drenched in a darker shade of scarlet made you feel hot, heat creeping through your belly. “Please.”

His hearty chuckle made you irritated, but it was short-lived. You watched as Dwayne settled himself onto the mattress beside you, hues a vibrant gold, his countenance stained in your menstrual gore. “I’m not finished, pretty girl. Still hungry.” He reassured you, and plucked you up with two strong hands.

You were eternally grateful for Dwayne in that moment, who placed you on his chest. Without missing a beat, he bumped you forward, and you were gazing down at Santa Carla’s most stoic, vicious predator. An endless hunger danced within his eyes, soon to be quelled by the delicious blood that pooled between your legs.

Dwayne could tell that you weren’t expecting this, and it certainly made it all the more enticing for him. You were so smitten, his sweet little human. He’d fantasized about having you sit on his face until you were nearly unconscious, but this was all the more sweeter. Embarrassment flooded through you, but Dwayne seemed entirely unphased.

Initially, you were scared of hurting him, a notion that Dwayne found to be a little too innocuous. He could hear your heartbeat pounding away beneath your collarbone, thrumming like the beat of a drum as he lowered you back onto his mouth.

Your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his head, dark tresses splayed out like a halo. With this newfound angle, you were staring at Dwayne — or more like, he was gazing at you. His tongue quickly invaded your throbbing cunt, blood catching on his lips. It was messier this time, making you tremble beneath his hold.

A liquid heat coursed throughout your body, pooling heavy within your stomach. Cruor oozed from your throbbing cunt, and now that you weren’t lying on your back, Dwayne was getting another taste. He continued to dutifully lap at your slit, ensuring that he didn’t miss a single drop of blood.

It sat thick and heavy upon his tongue, beginning to bring some semblance of relief to that raging fire that scorched within his throat. His pain was relinquished, and so was yours — a mutual exchange. Even then, he wanted more, digits digging into your haunches as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again.

There was something disgustingly entrancing about the way he greedily lapped at your core, face buried deep within your cunt, hungry for your menses. If he wasn’t a creature of the night, you might’ve been somewhat indifferent to all of this, but he was bringing you such a wave of relief.

You wiggled your hips, accidentally grinding yourself onto his face, and Dwayne indulged you. As he lapped at another stream of crimson ichor, you moaned, chest heaving with heavy pants and wanton mewls, hands perched along the rickety, half-torn headboard.

“S—Shit,” You exhaled, tears stinging your eyes as you began to make that steady climb toward your climax. Dwayne didn’t stop, never relenting or slowing any movement as he lapped at your cunt, broad tongue swiping over every inch of your slit. The pleasure began to outweigh any pain you felt, muscles spasming. “Dwayne!” A whine left you, head rolling forward.

A deep, guttural growl emanated from Dwayne as it rumbled throughout his wide chest. It was mesmerizing to watch him from above, your hands splaying themselves along his bronze shoulders. His mouth drifted toward your inner thigh, and he looked to you, seeking approval before he bit you.

With a messy, lazy nod, your cunt throbbed and pulsated with molten heat, causing your nails to dig into Dwayne’s skin, hard enough to leave behind crescent-shaped imprints. Golden, crimson-ringed irises flashed in your direction as his countenance contorted into something inhuman, monstrously beautiful in your eyes.

Pearlescent fangs and pretty teeth sought out the pliant, soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he bit down — hard. It left behind the angry-red marks of unusual teeth as ringlets of a sanguine color trickled down your leg. Dwayne licked his lips, appraising you with an incendiary stare as he hastily collected every scrap of your lifeblood.

“M’close,” You whimpered, shuddering when he pressed a kiss atop the freshly-formed bite. His face promptly nestled back to the cleft between your legs, drawing another stream of your menses into his mouth before seeking your clit. “Close.” You said again, breathless and drunk with desire.

Dwayne felt his cock twitch within his jeans, able to smell your arousal through the haze of blood. The siren’s song of cruor was far more powerful, but even then, he could savor both with a feeling of sheer delight. His hunger steadily dwindled, fed by your saccharine cycle — if only you were like this all the time.

His lips formed a tight seal as he began to suck, causing you to nearly double over. “Don’t stop, Dwayne,” Perspiration began to break out along your body, coalescing along the length of your spine, dewy beneath the shirt you wore. “Please, please.” You were desperate, wanting to feel that white-hot explosion of a release.

Exhaustion settled in, your energy having been expended by keeping yourself aloft atop his face. Your cunt tasted sweeter than anything he’d had before in his centuries of existence. Dwayne considered you to be his fountain — a very captivating fountain. His touch screamed with amorousness as he rocked you into his tongue.

At last, your body began to quiver, muscles twitching and spasmodic as you climbed toward your orgasm. Dwayne could feel your weight fall a little heavier atop him, and he happily supported you, so long as you were bleeding. He added that edge of teeth, letting them graze over your clit with a feather-light pressure.

It sent you careening over the edge, cumming onto his mouth with enough mewls and moans to last him for days. It echoed throughout the alcove, and you were on the verge of sobbing, having gained some sliver of relief in the end.

Dwayne lapped at your cunt through it all, consumed by the shadow of greed and possessiveness. He could hear the rest of the boys clamoring throughout the cavern, which soured his mood just a little. They had a poor habit of acting up whenever you were enduring your menstrual cycle — understandable, of course, but an annoyance for Dwayne.

With a grunt, he gently nudged you back onto the taut, musculed expanse of his chest. His mesomorphic stature felt so solid underneath your pliant body, and your hands brazenly felt along his sternum. There was no heartbeat, forever frozen by immortality. His countenance was one of sheer satisfaction, lips and chin smattered in your blood as he licked at his mouth.

“Feel better, don’t you?” Dwayne mused, unable to withhold that little twinge of amusement in his voice. His large hand rubbed and massaged along your thigh, drifting up towards your hips, and then back down again on a continuous loop.

You nodded, feeling all warm when his body shook with a brief tremor of laughter. Dwayne sat up just a little bit, palm grasping at the back of your neck as he brought you forward for a very intimate kiss. A startled gasp tore through your throat, but he held you there, letting you taste yourself — ichor and all.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your entire physique hummed and buzzed with satisfaction. Of course, the ache of your cycle never fully dissipated, but Dwayne had certainly done his part in quelling the pain, for now.

Dwayne gingerly patted the swell of your ass, copping a feel in the process before pressing another string of kisses against your neck. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up a-ways. He was quiet, and you were fine with that, eyes widening as he wiped his mouth off with the remnants of your nightshirt.

Jesus — you knew better than to tempt fate, arousal stinging at your core again. You huffed, taking a moment to compose yourself as you attempted to reach for your panties. He intercepted you, snatching your wrist before your fingertips could even reach the lace trim.

“Not tonight, girl,” Dwayne uttered, placing you right beside him, bulky arm curling around your frame. He made you feel so safe — a glaring juxtaposition to his ravenous hunger and vampiric state.

You felt a pair of fangs tauntingly scrape over your jugular, able to feel the chill of his bare chest nudging into your back. “Might get hungry later.” He rumbled, pressing a chaste kiss against the back of your shoulder.

[bluesidez]

The Love Lab presents:

One Bite for You, One Bite for Me

💗 THIS IS MY 100 200 300 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x AFAB!Reader

summary: One of the things you and Miguel bond over is delicious food. One day, you notice that your clothes aren’t fitting like they used to. Miguel is there to remind you how beautiful you are.

content warning: established relationship but they’re not married, 18+ so MDNI, non-Spiderman Miguel, LOTS OF MENTIONS OF FOOD AND DRINKS, weight gain, cycles, insecurity about body, alcohol, body worship, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up 🫵🏾), cunnilingus, lots of praise, a little Spanish (if wrong please lmk)

credit for art + dividers: Me! + @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

a/n: This is actually the first fic I wrote when my Miguel hyperfixation came back in full force. I based it off of this video and a comment saying that girls are usually the ones that gain weight super quick in a relationship. Please know that gaining weight is not a bad thing, especially in this story. Relationship weight can be positive and food is here to nourish your body! Also know that everyone’s body is different. Our bodies will react to things in different, unique ways. If you’re ever feeling icky about your weight/health, please take a step back, breathe, and know that you’re beautiful no matter what. There are also sources out there that can help you if your thoughts overpower your heart. Please don’t hesitate to seek help.

word count: 4.3k

To all my food-lovers and fellow plus-size girlies, kisses to you! You’re beautiful!

SPRING 🥭

“Baby!”

You grinned as you heard Miguel’s shout from the front door. His voice had a giddy tilt as if he made a breakthrough in one of his projects.

“I was finally able to stop by the new Jamaican spot before they sold out and look what I got us,” Miguel says before he slides the take-out bags across the table. “Ribs, oxtails, rice and beans, mac, and your favorite…fried plantains!”

You quickly untie the bags, happy to have a break from your research paper, and immediately get hit with the smell of spices both sweet and savory. “Oh my god! That looks incredible.”

After frantically digging around for a plastic fork, you were finally able to pull a piece of meat off the oxtail. It looked mouth-watering and tender. One bite of the meat and you’re immediately groaning, slumped in your chair. You nod your head and scrunch your face, watching as the juice from the gravy soaks into the pieces of rice stuck at the bottom of the take-out plate.

“That is so fucking good, Mig. No wonder there’s never any combos left by the time you leave work.”

Miguel just watches you eat with a glint in his eyes, happy to see you so relaxed and enjoying the food. He reaches into the second bag, pulling out two bottles of juice, “And to make it better, I got their fruit juice, made fresh daily-”

“Passionfruit and mango flavor!” Your eyes got big as you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He knew how much of a juice fanatic you were, so this drink was just the cherry on top of the large ice cream sundae that was your generous boyfriend.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled and gave his cheek a fat smooch. You patted his chest twice and moved back to set up the table, “Now, hurry and wash up so we can eat this before it gets cold! We’ve got shows to watch.”

“Entendido, I’ll be right back”

SUMMER 🍦

You and Miguel were walking hand in hand along the Cancun Hotel Zone, taking in all the sights. Miguel’s job had given him a promotion along with an extremely high bonus, so what better way to celebrate than to use his PTO and bring the love of his life on vacation?

Granted, the area you guys were currently in was a little touristy, borderline bougie, but it was all worth it when Miguel got to see your eyes light up as you watched the turquoise waves fade into white foam along the shoreline.

You wobbled a bit while clinging to Miguel’s side, a little tipsy from the frozen paloma you drank to pair with today’s lunch. It was a waterfront restaurant with a live band so the vibes were just right for a little bit of liquid fun.

The downside was that the two of you were supposed to meet up with Miguel’s family later that evening and while you were fine with the confidence boost you were sporting, you wanted to be more alert when speaking with loved ones. Plus, you needed to give a good impression to the relatives you hadn’t met yet. It will be nice to put a face to the names of Miguel’s childhood.

“What do you say we stop and get some ice cream?” Miguel suggested, chuckling at you when you grinned up at him, ecstatic over the proposed plan.

“You know me so well,” you said, arms reaching around his waist, face squished into the side of his chest. “I would absolutely love some ice cream. Cool me down from the inside.”

Miguel chuckled and kissed the top of your head. You were especially cute when you got like this.

FALL 🍕

“Baby, check this out,” Miguel shouted, finally returning to your table with your food.

The fair was packed full of people, especially due to the pop-up food truck festival happening that same week. You had never seen more people run to get fried turnip greens and loaded fries in your life.

Still, this was just another chance to hang out with Miguel. You really didn’t care where you went with him, as long as you got to see that pretty smile.

You look down at the table and see what he brought back. Before your eyes sat the most un-Miguel order ever: birria pizza and two walking tacos, one Hot Cheetos and the other Dorritos.

“Dorilocos, Miguel. Really?” you raised an eyebrow watching him try to steady the open chip bags over some spread-out napkins.

“Amor, don’t look at me like that! I had to get them because Gabriel kept talking my ear off about this new food truck that made them better than the ones we used to eat on our trips back home. I, for one, don’t believe that for a second, so what better way to test that theory than to eat it with my baby?” Miguel gave the saddest look he could muster and slid his hand across the table, trying to convince you to indulge with him.

“Fine, fine. Don’t give me that look,” you say, pulling off a slice of the pizza, making the cheese stretch as long as you can. “Just don’t complain to me from the bathroom while your stomach fights to digest something it hasn’t had in over a decade!”

Miguel pursed his lips while shoveling as much food as he could on one Doritto, “Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? That’s a lot of cheese, babe.”

“Oh my god, some queso tears up my stomach one time and you can’t let that go, can you?”

“It was once and yet you were in agony about it for days. I think I’m allowed to remind you at least monthly.”

“Just eat your food and leave me and my iron stomach alone. We’ll see what happens between today and tomorrow,” you quip, pulling your phone out ready to record Miguel’s reaction to send to Gabriel.

Miguel takes a bite and just leans against the table, head slumped on his clean head.

“Dios mio, he was right. This can’t be happening,” he groaned, slightly annoyed that Gabriel wasn’t exaggerating. He was also shocked at the fact that someone even came close to getting the local snack right.

You giggled behind your phone, happy that his reaction worked in your favor. You zoomed in a little more on his face, capturing him smacking his lips and licking off excess sauce. He was so zoned in on his food that he didn’t even notice you with your phone up.

“Is it good, Mig?” you asked, mirth in your voice.

He looked at you ready to answer but his eyes snapped to your camera and started to whine, “Amor, please stop recording!”

With a small smile, you made sure to add the video to your folder full of Miguel. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You just look so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Miguel just mumbled to himself while stacking up another chip, neck heated over the interaction. “Here, just try this,” he said, holding a nacho close to your mouth.

You opened your mouth, just barely getting the chip in. Cupping your hand under your head, you begin to hum, the flavors all tangy, spicy, and savory. “I don’t know what your childhood Dorilocos tasted like, but this is really freaking good.”

“Just know that this one is only slightly better. By 0.00001% to be exact,” he said, rubbing sauce off of the corner of your lips and licking it off. The movement was muscle memory for him as he always liked to watch your face when you ate food, especially when it came to any nostalgic or homecooked dishes you never tried before. It warmed his heart to see you find comfort in his favorite foods.

“Well, I can tell you it’s 100% better than the ‘Taco Tuesday’ luncheon my job hosted last month. Nothing but unseasoned ground beef, endless black olives, and store-bought guacamole for two hours,” you respond, shuddering at the memory of soppy taco shells and your coworkers complaining about how spicy the mild salsa was.

“On second thought, this is absolutely a step up. Was the guacamole name brand at least?” He asked, peering up at you with a twist on his lips.

“I’m pretty sure it was a grocery store brand, so no.”

“Damn.”

WINTER 🍫

You were at your apartment in your bed, completely covered under the comforter with a fluffy blanket on top.

It was snowing heavily outside and you were freezing. However, your heater tended to make your apartment feel like a sauna, so you kept snatching the blanket off only to put it back on minutes later. Plus, your cycle was here. Your cramps left you lying on your side, rolling back and forth between the cool side of the bed and the warm side.

Physically, you were exhausted, but mentally, you knew you had so much to get done.

Christmas was just around the corner but you still had so many presents left to buy and wrap. Your job was doing the dreaded Secret Santa gift exchange and you were stuck wondering what gift would appeal to the stuck-up director in the accounting department.

You and Miguel were also hosting a small Christmas party amongst your friends, and there was still food left to buy. To top it all off, you were worried about your gift for Miguel, wondering if a silly little apron saying “Kiss me, I’m Irish” would hide the fact that you spent a ridiculous amount of money on some new tech he was eyeing.

You heard the apartment door open and close.

Knowing it was Miguel, you groan out dramatically.

He opens the bedroom door and peaks inside, “Baby?”

You just groan out again, “Everything hurts, Miggy.”

He comes up to bed and sits on the edge, “I know, amor. I’m sorry.” He bends down to kiss your head. “Want me to plug up the heat pack?”

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into his hands. When he gets up to grab the pack, you whine at his absence.

“I know, I know. I’m coming back,” he says, voice soothing.

Instead of turning the pack on, he removes your covers and sits back down on the edge. You shiver a little bit and he’s quick to cover your body with his, rubbing the top of your head as he kisses your temple.

“Are you feeling too bad to eat something for me?” Miguel asks, the timber of his voice settling you.

You shake your head and lean in closer to him.

“I think I want some food,” you reply, squeezing his body. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Miguel tuts as he sits up and pulls you up with him, “That’s no good, baby. You have to eat so you can feel better. Your body needs it.”

You groan again and put your face in his neck, not wanting to move.

“Come on,” Miguel says, rubbing you from your back to your leg. “I got you some soup and a grilled cheese.”

“Did you get the stuff for the hot chocolate bar? For the party?” you whisper.

“Mm hm. Jumbo marshmallows included.”

You nuzzle his neck before you look at him, “Carry me to the kitchen?”

He makes a swift move to wrap your legs around his body and hike you up.

He gets up and holds you close, heading to the kitchen, “Let’s get some food in you, yeah?”

SPRING 🍇

The short spring break trip that Miguel surprised you with has been lovely. Miguel woke you with kisses down your body, taking you to the hilt with his mouth alone. You had to muffle your cries as to not disturb the neighbors in the inn. As his tongue danced inside of you, you gripped his hair with one hand and his head with your thighs. Miguel wouldn’t want it any other way.

After his first course, Miguel treated you to breakfast on the balcony. You two enjoyed looking over the horizon as you ate yogurt parfaits and fluffy omelets.

Later on, the two of you enjoyed a few tours of the vineyard and the city. The sights were beyond compare and the atmosphere was serene.

“Thank you so much for this Miguel,” you say, interrupting the silence.

“Anything for my lady,” he says back. “You’re doing great work this semester so you need the break.” Miguel stopped and turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You leaned up and kissed him, hands warm on the sides of his face.

You both started to makeout for so long that Miguel forgot about the massage he had planned for you before tonight’s farm-to-table dinner.

Needless to say, he laid you out on your bed and oiled your body down. Your head was in your arms as rubbed his hands up and down your back. His hands were heaven and you felt like puddy by the time he flipped you over.

After he massaged your inner thighs he pounded you into the mattress. Something you’re sure the hired masseuse would never be able to do.

Miguel joked and called it the Miguel Magic Massage when you asked if he offered this special regularly. The price? Being his cariño, his amor, his sweetheart.

By the time dinner started, you were glowing. You felt adored and the courses were amazing.

Miguel made sure everyone knew you were his. His hand never left your thigh the entire meal, staring down the older men sitting at the end table who were looking a little too long at the dip of your dress.

You were oblivious, feeding Miguel bites occasionally and humming at how fresh and delicious everything was.

After the last course was over, the men came to you all’s side of the table quickly. All of them started to make conversation with you, plugging in their businesses, and stuffing their business cards in your hands.

It was as if Miguel was invisible. He scowls deeper when they let out hearty laughs at something you said.

“Are you fellas here with your wives?” Miguel asked loudly, completely irritated. “My wife and I have really enjoyed our time here. It’s a beautiful place for couples.”

Some of the men went red in the face flustered at Miguel catching their scheme. Others just scowled, pissed off at being interrupted.

None of them could answer his question.

You looked at Miguel, eyes heavy and relaxed.

“You gentlemen have a great night,” you said, putting your hand in Miguel’s as he guided you to the exit.

“Your wife, huh?” you asked, core on fire. It was hot watching Miguel get so worked up over you.

“Baby, they were looking at you like you were some fresh meat. Like I wasn’t even sitting there,” he grumbled.

“One of them already offered to bring me on a cruise. He’s staying right next to us,” you say, standing outside your room as Miguel swipes his card at the door. You walked your fingers up his chest, heated over the grit you could see from his profile.

He was oh so upset.

“He’s next to us? Right here?” Miguel asked, voice low.

You nodded as you bit your lip, arm around his neck.

Miguel picked you up and dragged you to the bed. You giggled a little to yourself as he plopped you down. Mission accomplished. Silently, you thank those older men. If it weren’t for their overconfidence, Miguel wouldn’t have been tearing at your clothes like he us right now.

Miguel kept you up almost that whole night, making sure that the neighbors heard your cries. Those old geezers were sure to know his name by the next morning. Buying you a ring wasn’t enough. He needed a bat.

It was all worth it to see the tired and flushed looks of their faces when you all checked out the next day.

SUMMER 🍯

“What the fuck,” you mumble, looking down at the pair of jeans you were trying to put on.

It was early morning. You had a family reunion that you and Miguel would take a bit of a drive to get to.

You made sure that everything was packed the following night. Some clothes to stay for a few days, a few snacks for the road, a book for you to catch up on, and even a crossword puzzle book for Miguel.

You planned ahead. You were diligent. So why is it that when everything else is going right, your pants decide not to button up?

You pulled at the flaps once more, trying your hardest to connect the button with the hole. It fails as they slip from your grasp. You try again, sucking in your stomach as much as you could. You get the button to snap in this time, but it’s digging unbearably into your skin. The zipper fights against you as you try to pull it up.

You huff out in frustration and the pants snap open again.

Defeated, you let out a watery sigh and look in the mirror.

Your stomach was bigger than you last remembered, fupa a little more prominent. Your thighs were also a little thicker, the jeans hugging them a little tight. Your breasts looked a little big in your shirt. The family name stretches a bit more across your bust than the original design intended. Even your face was a little chubbier than normal. When was the last time your jaw was like this? High school?

When did you get like this?

You felt your throat start to burn, a sob building in your system. You’ve always been fine with your body, loving the dips and curves. Adoring your flaws and finding beauty in what society decides is not worthy.

You knew this. You knew that you were beautiful. Why was it so hard to get that thought into your conscience?

You felt the tears roll down as you peeled the jeans off of your legs. They were especially tight at your hips and you wondered how you even forced them past in the first place.

You didn’t know what to do. It was so hot outside, so you needed something comfortable, but those jeans…you had your mind set to wear those jeans.

You rummage through your closet in frustration, pushing and pulling the clothes across the rack.

By the time Miguel found you, you were squatting in the closet, hot tears covering your face.

“Babe, it’s been almost 30 minutes and we need to head out before the work traffic starts-”

Miguel stopped in the doorway as he noticed the state of the closet, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? ¿Que pasó, cariño?”

You wipe furiously at your face, sniffling loud as you hear Miguel push clothes to the side to get to you.

“My pants don’t fit. I don’t think anything else will fit either,” you say, stuttering out your words as Miguel gets to your side.

You let him pull you up into a standing position. You felt defeated.

Miguel looked at you and wiped away the tears that you missed. You feel horrible as your face scrunches up again, tears forming in your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Miguel says, hugging you close. “Listen to me. I know that this feels like a lot, but this is normal. Your body will always change with you. You’re still the same beautiful, gorgeous woman I met years ago and that’s not changing because you got some extra hips, baby.”

“But Miguel,” you say, voice so sad. “I feel like I just got those pants. And. Nothing else in here goes with this shirt. I’m scared that nothing else will fit-”

“And if that’s the case, I’ll buy you new clothes,” Miguel says, pressing kisses over your face. “If these clothes mean that much to you, I’ll take you to the gym. Let me work out with you, but until then, I’m loving your body as is.”

You stare at Miguel, heart beating at his revelation. He stared right back at you, daring you to question or challenge his words.

“Don’t beat yourself up over something like this. If anyone has ever let you feel insecure about your body, they’re an ass, let me deal with them. If I ever do anything to make you feel insecure, tell me. Yell at me. Question me, because as far as I’m concerned, that’s not me.”

He hiked you up on the closet island in the middle of the room. You shiver a bit as your naked legs hit the wood.

He leans closer, placing his hands on the side of you, “Now, let’s think. Don’t you have a pair of cargo shorts that match the ones I’m wearing right now?”

You whisper out a yes.

“Would you be ok with wearing those? I’m sure they fit perfectly.”

You say yes again, head leaning onto his. You could accessorize it perfectly. It would make a great couple’s look.

Miguel knew this much, he just had to get you to see it.

“I love you, ok?” he says, voice clear.

“I love you, too. Thank you,” you say.

“Anything for my girl,” Miguel says. “My beautiful girl. She’s just for me. I can’t believe it.”

Your heart beats faster as he starts to kiss down your body.

“Her face is so lovely.” A kiss to your cheek and your lips.

“She’s always working so hard.” A kiss to your neck and your collarbone. He pulls your shirt over your head.

“She makes me so happy.” A suck to your breasts as he unclasps your bra.

“Her body is beyond comparison.” A trail of kisses down your stomach, your belly twitching as his breath twinkles on along your skin. “Soft. Amazing. Irresistible.”

“Her thighs are my earmuffs.” A caress to your inner thighs. Your legs snap a bit, ticklish at his ministrations.

“Miguel?” you whimper out.

“I have to relax you before this ride. Can’t have you upset,” he says, kissing his way up your thighs to your panties. “May I?”

You nod your head, fingers grasping at nothing but then a flat surface.

Miguel was swift. He pulled your underwear down and kissed at your clit. You could only hold tight as he pulled your body forward and dove in.

It wasn’t long before you were shaking like a leaf. Miguel sucked at you for minutes, pulling a long orgasm out of your system.

He kneaded your thighs as you trembled around his tongue, humming as your legs squeezed tighter. That was the queue for him to go further, so he added his fingers to the mix, moving his mouth up so that his fingers could pump in and out of you.

It took all of your strength not to let your body drop off the other side of the island.

“Miggy, please,” you wailed. You wanted more.

Miguel looked up at you whining above him. You pull your legs up, holding your hands under your thighs, practically begging for him.

Miguel kissed up your body again. He was swift with removing his clothes. You still had to have these clothes fresh for later and Miguel was about to wear you out.

He moved to push himself inside of you, grunting as you gripped him.

He replaced your hands with his and pulled your legs up by his head. You balanced yourself on the island as he slowly started to thrust.

“So good. Just for me,” Miguel said, watching as your body moved with his movement. “Perfect. And all mine.”

You remained quiet, whimpering softly as he dragged against you.

“You heard me, hermosa?” Miguel said. “You’re beautiful. C’mon. Say it for me.”

“I’m,” you stopped, mind foggy. You didn’t know how you were supposed to respond when he was going so deep.

“Say it.”

You cried out as he snapped harder, “I’m beautiful.”

“That’s right baby,” Miguel praises you, bending further to give you a kiss. “So amazing.”

He praised you until you finished, squeezing at any of you that he got his hands. By the time he was done, your arms felt like jelly from holding you up.

He carried you to the bathroom for a quick shower, never stopping his reassurances of you.

You guys made it in the car an hour and a half off schedule, but it was worth it for the uplifted way you carried yourself throughout the day.

It was worth it to see you happy and healthy.

By the time you made it to the reunion, it was like you were born anew. You greeted your family with smiles and laughter. Miguel couldn’t help but to cheese watching you do your thing.

He felt his heart soar as you caught up with family. Your smile was the biggest as you were out on the floor line dancing your heart out. He was right up behind you when Outstanding came on. The song was really a declaration of how he felt about you.

You giggled as he crooned in your ear.

“You light my fire,” he sang, swinging your hips in time with his.

“I feel alive with you, baby,” he spins you around to him, a smile on his face.

“You blow my mind,” he pulled you out and back in.

“I’m satisfied,” you squeal as he spins you in the air and puts you back down to keep dancing.

Outstanding. You really knock him out.

Another season where Miguel adored you more.

Another season where Miguel wanted you to be forever his.

Another season where he made sure he fed you well.

Another season of you making his heart pound.

Another season of your love reaching to the fullest.

Miguel was excited for the next season with you.

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading! 💗

Any likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. Let me know how you feel! 🥺🧁

Until next time,

-Lauro 💗

[synchodai]

Explaining the appeal of Brokeback Winterfell

Alternative title: The Inherent Homoeroticism of Jacaerys Velaryon and Cregan Stark's Relationship that Has Taken Residence in The Deepest Recesses of My Hyperfixated Brain

Let me establish these characters before everything else.

Jacaerys Velaryon. His deal in the books is ambiguous but it's pretty clear in the show — he knows his claim to the throne is built on a lie, so he overcompensates for this by trying to be the perfect prince. He is dutiful to a fault, severely self-conscious and self-critical, and protective of his mother and brothers. He knows his uncles, his rivals to the throne, with their bigger dragons and silver hair have more claim to Valyrian heritage than he ever will. This all manifests in him striving to become this idealized image of the perfect Targaryen prince that he knows he can never achieve.

Cregan Stark. If Jace is supposed to be the perfect Targaryen prince, Cregan is talked about like the second coming of the old Kings of Winter. He is formidable swordsman and a stern ruler who doesn't hesitate meting harsh punishment. He is the idealized image of a Stark lord — stoic yet fierce in battle, someone who keeps to his oaths and the law.

However, what most characters in the books (and people in the fandom) seem to forget is that Cregan, at least in the dance, is very young — that's why I personally love the fact that HBO made him clean-shaven on the show. He's still a gruff northener, but it emphasizes his youth. He's 21-23 during the time of the dance, and he is ruling over Winterfell as someone who had to depose his uncle when he was a teen.

Mind you, northerners have tighter-knit families compared to most everyone else in Westeros. To quote the books: When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Cregan had to make himself a lone wolf in order to assert his lordship over Winterfell — which to a northern lad who already lost his father and younger brother must have been a difficult choice to make. Add to that his childhood friend/wife dying in childbirth and leaving him a single father, Cregan must be a very lonely wolf indeed.

But despite his loneliness, he does not let anyone in — or rather, he believes that he can't afford to because he knows there are people who will take advantage of his youth and his affections. It's shown in the Hour of Wolf that he is unforgiving, guarded, and does not trust anyone. This is understandable given that his uncle who raised him as a boy committed treason against him. But he seems to have a soft spot for those who are fierce and free-spirited and people who appeal to his sense of duty — these give him "acceptable" avenues to put down the northern masculine mask and be less rigid. Both tie back to a yearning for family.

Okay, so you got these two fellows: Prince Perfect Not-so-Valyrian Heir and Lord Stoic Northman Who Is Actually Deeply Lonely. Both of them have molded themselves to fit this mask of ideal masculinity because they believe it is their duty to their families and the only way to protect themselves in the arena of feudal politics.

Now put them together and what do you get? Chemistry. They see themselves in each other which leads to identification which leads to empathy which leads to curiousity which leads to dissection which leads to vulnerability which leads to intimacy. Jace sees the authority and respect Cregan commands and Cregan sees Jace's attachment and support from his immediate family, and they both desire something the other has, not fully realizing that they are forced into situations where they could not have both. It's juicy, it's rife with tension, it's the pact of ice and fire, baby.

Anyway, this is all to say...Sara Snow is a metaphor for the feminine vulnerability and yearning these two shared. That she is both a bastard and beloved sister is a combined manifestation of the two men's most deeply held desire — for Cregan, his yearning for close family who has no political claims that will get between their relationship, and for Jace, his need to be acknowledged and accepted as a bastard child.

They trained and hunted and drank together — things regular young men do, but that the crown prince or Lord of Winterfell wouldn't have much opportunity to when one is studying Valyrian/dragonriding while the latter is making sure his paramountcy doesn't go into famine come winter. It's easy to imagine them bonding over the honor and burdens of their stations, their lost childhoods, their grief over losing loved ones, how their uncles who they grew up with betrayed them — just finding so much in common that it allows them to finally lower that meticulously crafted persona they use as their strength and shield.

And you wonder then, have they found someone who sees not as a fearsome wolf or powerful dragon, but just as...a handsome dude who they love to hang out with? Cause that would be sweet, bro, no homo. (But maybe some homo if you're okay with it.)

And the actors just really play into all of that with how they look at each other. Ugh, beautiful.

(Shameless plug: This is all why I wrote a fic about them.)

[sweet-honey-fruit]

In relation to my last post, I want to clarify some misinformation surrounding Dottore. I see a lot of it, and as someone who hyperfixates on him, I want to attempt to clear the air. Cause I feel like some of the hate towards him (and his fans) are based around misconstrued info.

Warning for spoilers!

Let me tell you the bad things he has done:

He has unlawfully experimented on living beings. Children, women, and men have been a victim of his. He even had a deal with the last Knave to send over the "rejects" from The House of The Hearth for experimentation.

Allegedly, he faked being a certified doctor as a way to experiment on patients at the Elezar hospital. Not cool man.

Also alleged, he killed a young woman on a picnic date and framed it to look like the tigers did it

Honestly he's probably done more but we don't know his entire story yet

Now that that's out of the way, let's go through the misconstrued information I often see.

"He unrightfully experimented on Scaramouche!" I know some people might not want to hear this but, those experiments, were a mutual agreement. Harbingers, as hinted at in voice lines, are not allowed to harm one another.

To back up my claim: Arlecchino has a voice line on Dottore that says "If he was not my fellow harbinger, I would have expedited their happy little reunion long ago." With context clues we know she's saying that if they weren't coworkers, she would've killed him so him and the previous Knave could dance around the flames in hell together.

With that we can conclude that the abyss experiments, the god experiment; Scaramouche agreed to it all. He wasn't forced to do any of it, because by harming another harbinger without an agreement, it would have caused dire consequences.

"He experimented on Collei!" While Collei was taken to The Doctor for "elezar treatment" it wasnt him who experimented on her. It was whoever this bitch is, as shown in the genshin comic

Blame that guy. That's the guy you wanna attack.

"Dottore killed Scaramouche's friend and caused his second betrayal!" You are correct on that, except there's a very important aspect of that that people gloss over. Dottore says "Jester, I have completed the task you gave me. Creating a gap and infiltrating Inazuma's inner workings."

He killed Scara's friend because Pierro gave him that task.

Kinda insane that he followed it up with "heh, what fun it was" but that's just a little quirk of his /j

All in all, he is a menace to society, I'm aware of that. People are allowed to hate him, just please hate him for the right and factual reasons!

Collei and Scaramouche fans (like to clarify: not all) love to infiltrate my inbox and go on rants about what Dottore did to them, yet most of it is incorrect (and in some cases, hypocritical). At least come at me with correct information.

He's a harbinger who has done bad things. If you have a favorite harbinger, there's a 100% chance that they also have done something horrible. They're harbingers, they've all done some horrid shit, that's basically their job. But they're also fictional horrid shit, so let's all hold hands and love our fictional criminals as a family.

[nimpnawakproduction]

The ultimate reference sheets for all of Vash's outfits in Trigun maximum (with commentaries)

IT IS DONE. I'M FREE. Now I can forget all about Trimax and draw Trigun stampede designs only hahaha (just kidding I have things for Trimax on the stove).

Trigun bookclub was an awesome initiative, I loved the manga with my all heart and wanted to honor Nightow's designs ;w; I also wanted to help my fellow artists with references for Vash's clothes because DEAR GOD it's difficult to understand how the hell he dresses himself in the morning. I have a lot of fun dressing and undressing him like a barbie doll. My hyperfixation is completely healthy.

I put a "read more" section to avoid spoilers :) !

The July coat

The very first coat in Trigun chronology and the one he wores during the destruction of July ! There is not a lot of panels to take references but I tried to stay as close as possible to the manga. I don't know what number of prosthesis he had before but let name this one Prosthesis 1.

Scars map

Next, nakey Vash ! There's A LOT of changes between one panel to another. Scars changes places and forms panel to panel and the design evolved from the first chapters of Trigun, the time we see him naked as Eriks and his undressed state while he was a prisoner on the Ark. I drew the scars that appeared more than once or were in clean view in a panel (but really you can do like Nightow and draw as many scars as you want without thinking about consistency, this boy has been in a meat grinder)

After July underclothes

Or the jumpsuit that gave me grey hair. His suit does not make ANY sense, I don't know how the hell he dresses himself in the morning with this. My solution is that it's very long gloves and chaps strapped to a belt. The position and shapes of the belts changes IN EVERY PANEL. Same for his knee guards, sometimes they're here, sometime they cover his shins, sometimes they are tiny..... I gave up in the end and draw them as we see them in the very last panel he wears this suit. But damn he looks good in it.

Also in all of the 13 volumes, there is not a single panel with a clear view of his holster (I checked...) so here is my interpretation.

This is prosthesis n°2, the design is a little different from the first one so I guess Prosthesis 1 got destroyed (this happens a lot).

After July coat

The very first Trigun coat he wears in the manga ! Very simple, very basic, it gives him impossibly wide shoulders but Vash deserves it. The first one is worn Post July until Vash's confrontation against Brilliant Dynamite Neon. The second one is the state of his coat after the sandsteamer incident. He loses his prothesis after his fight against Monev the gale. He meets Wolfwood with only one arm and stays that way while he fights Knives for the first time.

Eriks

I took liberties with colors because there's no colored panels with Vash as Eriks. Yes I drew him without suspenders because he has them for like 5 panels and then Nightow drew him without them for the rest of Eriks arc so I made choices ;w;

I love the fact that Vash choose to wear tight jeans even in his casual outfits, this boy will not let his skin breath. This is now Prosthesis 3 ! It's way less advanced than the ones he wore in the rest of the manga, the other ones seem to replicate skin.

After his years as Eriks

And now the first Maximum coat, he wears it until the famous Yuri hospital arc! Finally an undersuit that makes sense, I love it, too bad Nightow-san decided that I had to suffer and changed it again to add BELTS EVERYWHERE. We only see his legs in this part of the manga so I gave him the same top because I can.

The tubes he has on his waist are filled with bullets, he can connect them to his prosthesis to have a mini machine gun.

We are now at Prosthesis 4 !

Hospitalization on the Home ship

The famous Yuri hospital phase! Vash definitely shared his wardrobe with Wolfwood, you can't tell me otherwise.

The first outfit still shows Prothesis 4 but he keeps it for like 5 minutes and lost it again against Nine-lives. I don't really know if the prothesis comes with the integrated glove or if there's synthetic skin under it but why would he keep the glove on if it's not intergrated?

The second pictures is the different outfits he wears during his convalescence. I took liberties with the colors, I drew this in like 10 minutes, everything seems easy when you don't have to draw BELTS. We are now on Prothesis 5 ! Nightow drew it as a regular arm so I guess Vash wears gloves on top of it??????

Back on the road in pursuit of Knives

He wears this one after his stay at Home, throughout the Dragon's nest ark and until his 2nd fight against Knives.

I liked the design of his jumpsuit until I looked closer at the panels and saw that the design change ON EVERY ONE OF THEM. Knee guard on only one knee? No kneeguards? Two??? WHO KNOWS ??? I tried to make it work but really go wild with this one, even the author does not know how his pant looks.

Still prosthesis 5, BUT UNTIL WHEN?

Prisoner on the Ark

THEY MASSACRED MY BOY. Did they even feed him at least in 7 months? Those pictures are the definition of the drenched kitty cat left under the rain. Give this man a blanket and a therapist.

Bye bye Prothesis 5 ! And see what I mean when I say that his outfit does not make sense????? It comes out in parts????

After his imprisonment on the Ark

The last suit in the manga! He keeps this coat until the end of the story. From this point, only his hair changes (or the color of his coat).

I adore the little angel wing symbol on his left arm, such a cute addition. Too bad it appears in one of the most traumatic event of his life.

Speaking of his jumpsuit...The return of belts.... But at least this outfit stays relatively coherent except for his kneeguards who appear and disappear panel from panel but most of the time he doesn't have any, so no kneeguard it is. Prosthesis 6 hello !

Final battle and end of the story

It hurted to drew those outfits ;w; And working on the design of his coat when he fights Legato made me realize where Orange studio took inspiration to chose the colors for Vash's coat in the final episode of Stampede ! Great job ! I tried to color the same effects as one of the illustrations showing dark Vash but I'm not really good with colors..... He actually radiates energy but with some purple undertones, I took some liberties because those are my drawings I do what I want.

I'm not sure at 100% that he has a tuft of blond hair left when his outfit turns black but his hair is all black at the end of the fight. His prosthesis is destroyed at the end of the fight. He got another one in the final chapter. So 7 prosthesis throughout the story!

[yandere-wishes]

Long ramble anon here, I'm happy you liked my long ask I was just concerned that I put way too much as I have a tendency to hyperfixate snd overexplain, hence the tldr at the end. To be honest ever since seeing the fox beastman I've been on a bit of a kick with theorizing things for him. (Did the same thing with Rollo hehe) Anyway, if you want some more of my takes I'm happy to share.

Alright so you know how beastmen retain some of their animalistic traits? Well my brain immediately goes to what this means for their romantic endeavors and courting behaviors. Not much is known about the courting process for foxes, but we do know that scent marking and loud vocal barking is used to attract a mate. How does this carry over to a humanoid fox? Well, my theory is that he will likely give his darling something like his coat, or spray whatever cologne he uses on their things or use more of it when he knows he's going to see them. As for the loud vocal barking you better believe my mind immediately went to him just belting out a serenade for his darling, regardless of how he actually may sound I think he's self-assured and prideful enough to believe this would definitely entice his soon to be mate.

Another interesting thing about foxes is that they are monogamous to a fault, rarely ever taking another mate after the passing of their partner, instead remaining loyal until their own passing (at least this was what I've read in my admittedly surface level research). To me this means two things, 1) once Fellow sets his eyes on a darling that's absolutely it for him regardless of how he has to get them by his side it is an inevitability so if they would just be a good dear and surrender early on everything could be so much better, and 2) should anything unfortunate befall to his darling he wouldn't ever fall for anyone else and likely never fully recover emotionally.

Tldr; The fox man would woo his darling with his surely illustrious (at least to him) voice and his cologne or perhaps natural pheromones, and once he woos them Fellow would never so much as look at another in the same light.

Don't apologize Anon!! I love it when people send in long asks about their hyperfixations!! It feels so endearing and sweet and makes me want to give you a big hug!! I'm literally the same when it comes to hyperfixate and overexplain, when I'm obsessed with something (TV show, movie, game, etc) I need to feel it in my veins!! Plus being able to chat about it with people on Tumblr is always one of the best parts!!

I can't stop laughing at the thought of Fellow sending his darling with loud obnoxious barking 🤣🤣 Bonus points if the reader is a regular human and just stares at him confused, while Leona, Ruggie, and Jack just nod in approval in the background (or in anger and disbelief, depends on the scenario). The idea of him sharing his cologne and jacket with Reader is actually really sweet. I like to think that some ways down the line if Fellow ever had to go away for an extended period of time. Reader would just cuddle into a corner hugging his jacket and spraying some of his cologne on herself. He'd be so delighted coming home and smelling his scent so strongly on his beloved.

I love this!! Just Fellow knowing that reader is the one from the first look 😍😍😍😍 He's so smitten and lays on the charm extra thick. Wanting them all so badly and doing anything to get them. If Reader should die (Lord forbid) Fellow definitely wouldn't get another partner BUT he'd also go the extra mile and try to resurrect them. Magic exists in Twisted Wonderland so I'm sure someone out there has the ability to raise the dead. He'd do absolutely anything to hold you in his arms again.

Look Reader is getting a really sweet deal here. A tall handsome man (+ bonus he comes with A SUPER FLUFFY TAIL AND EARS) with a smooth voice, and a charming personality. Willing to give her anything, do anything for her, and make sure she had the best life imaginable. He's physically incapable of cheating and would fawn over the reader like a lovestruck puppy. He's literally just perfect!! Ignoring the manipulative tendencies, obsessive behavior, and ability to maim someone with his teeth😊😊

[grison-in-space]

You know, I've been reading things written by people on the internet for my whole life, or at least my whole life after I was about ten. I'm thirty three now. That means there are people whose words I read on the internet twenty years ago who are presumably still around and occupying the internet—sometimes using names I can recognize from back then, too. (hat tip to my fellow "changing usernames is unnatural actually" brethren; I've only changed one myself twice in the whole world since I was about fourteen or fifteen.)

Sometimes I think about a person I see around occasionally on the internet. That person wrote a story about a character in a rather silly fandom we shared, and I read it as a child just beginning to conceptualize being someone whose opinions might matter. And I remember reading that story at some point, because at that age I had a hyperfixation on that character in that fandom at that time and I read pretty much everything in the genre. I never really got to talk to anyone but the inside of my head about it. My friends didn't read fanfiction, and my parents viewed my reading fanfiction as some kind of depraved, shameful secret. Anyway, I read that story and I remember having some kind of deep realization about how adult humans work while I was reading it.

I learned something about the world from that story. (It was one of those insights that are now so molten alongside my core that it's difficult for me to disentangle them from myself, like "people outside you have their own perspective on your behaviors, but that doesn't mean they have to be right.") And I remember that they know it, because they taught it to me, without meaning to. One of the anonymous impacts on readers that writers never see unless they're extraordinarily lucky.

And I smile, because it's lovely to see them again, and they showed me a skill I still use today. We don't have a relationship of any kind—it would be very difficult to recognize me, I think—but they did me a favor a long time ago. And I remember. Now I get to be reminded that this person still exists, and is still a pretty cool human to be around today, at least for the specific circumstance of internet neighbor. Well, and our modern level of concern about once beloved elders from the distant past going terrifyingly cult-addled and bigoted on short notice.

That has not happened in the slightest. They're just still a pretty nice fandom person who is a bit older than me, who is recognizably the same person they have always been, but more intensely and thoughtfully—like a distilled brandy, not a sour vinegar left out on a countertop too long.

Weirdly, that's a thing I find comforting: this tiny, one way, invisible affection. Every so often I feel this intense affection for a person I've never spoken to or about, because I see them and I love them intensely for a moment and then we both go about our days.

Think about how many interactions you have with people as you go about your day. Wouldn't it be nice to imagine that other people feel like that about you?

I think I'm going to imagine that there's one person that read something I said and thinks that about me. I don't need to ever actually know if it's true: I can just imagine someone who happened to be at a formative moment when they learned something against the background of my words. We'll never know each other as our screennames are lost along the years and we move in and out of touch with parts of ourselves, but we still have that little fond impact on one another, those fingerprints in one another's clay.

It's a nicer world to imagine than the one where no one is paying attention to me, or the only people paying attention to me are mean. And there's really no way to ever know for sure, so why not inhabit the pleasant end of the imaginatory pool if you can?

[nico-di-genova]

“I don’t like Alexander Rossi at all,” I say, as I trip and thousands of ‘Rossi Off Track Lore’ screenshots from my notes app spill out of my jacket pocket. Anyway, here’s more about the freak :)

Got into cycling because he went on a cycling trip with a group of “guys and their wives” (Kelly was not with him) in 2023. He said he was motivated to get into it because everytime you think you’re good, someone would come by ten times better than you. Competitive Rossi and his competitive tendencies, no surprise there. Tim joked he was going to sell his plane now, since biking was going to become the new thing, and Alex was like “no, I need the plane to get me to places where I’ll be biking.” James teased that this was going to become his new hyperfixation and Alex was like “yeah.” We love a self aware king :).

Immediately bought $300 bike shorts and an anti chafing cream called “deez nuts” because he thought it was funny. James wanted details on where and how it’s applied - feels self explanatory Jimbo, but you can be a freak on the pod if you want I guess. Freak 4 freak behavior.

Frequently does not check his texts and emails. Well, actually, he does. But if it’s an email he doesn’t want to respond to, he will not open it so that way in his mind it is unread - same with texts.

Just this whole bit of convo between Alex and James, it’s not lore, I just think it speaks to their dynamic:

They barbenheimer’d or as James called it “oppenbarbied” because they opened with Oppenheimer and closed with Barbie. Who is they you might ask? Why, James, Alex, and Kelly of course - because they are obviously glued at the hip. Alex didn’t want to see Barbie at all, described it as horrifying (he describes a lot of things he doesn’t like as horrifying, like things that ick him out or piss him off are little jumpscares in his life), because he is a loser and lame. James said they had time to do it, Alex said they didn’t, James corrected “we made time” - making time to go to the movies with your best friend and his fiance he’s secretly already married to, ain’t that what life’s all about.

“Kelly and Becky talk more than you and I do about the stuff you and I do” - James about how his and Alex’s wives are intimately involved in their friendship.

Alex loved Oppenheimer. And lowkey outed himself as a “historian”. You know how kids get hyperfixated on specific historical events growing up? This one might have been his, very conceivable and real possibility. He was very passionate about Oppenheimer. Also called the cast “characters” before he corrected and was like “well they’re real people”. He’s also called his fellow drivers on 100 Days to Indy “characters”. Anyway, all this to say, this was basically him:

They did not like Barbie. Alex didn’t think it was cleverly done, thought it was too obvious (he’s not wrong, but maybe he was not the one to speak on it). He said he, “asked James three times if (they) could leave.” Someone tell Alexander he still has free will, I think he’s tied himself too closely to his people and forgotten. You’re not on a leash bud, just go outside 😭.

[zorosdimples]

HYPERFIXATION

pairing ༄ yandere!naruto x f!reader

warnings ༄ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, stalking, religious imagery, a bit of blood, and generally toxic behavior. reader wears a dress and some lacy underwear and has a vagina, but is only referred to as “you.” this gets icky, so please heed these warnings before reading.

word count ༄ 1311

notes ༄ this work is for the lovely @tired-biscuit! manda didn’t ask for this, but she is the reason why dark naru has infected my brain, so she must accept this creepy lil fic as a token of my gratitude <3 it was fun to write the sunshine boy as…well…a freak. please keep in mind that our narrator is unreliable and filters reality through naruto’s skewed worldview. anyway, please enjoy!

his eyes are an unfathomable ocean of blue, wide and limitless as the horizon. his gaze holds a palpable warmth, as if dipped in golden sunlight, glowing with inhuman kindness and charisma.

only a god, or perhaps a fellow monster, could see past the carefully constructed façade of his eyes. the veil of sincerity is mere gossamer, but appears too natural to be false. it’s intended to attract and allure—the ruse of a predator so beautiful his prey doesn’t perceive danger until after poison is thrumming through their bloodstream.

you are just a human. perhaps your mediocrity is what initially drew those moonless eyes. why else would they turn to you? it’s a secret he will never divulge to another soul; not until you are wholly his, anyway.

he will forever remember the first time he stumbled upon you at the market on a sun-drenched saturday. he was out of eggs and on a quick mission to grab a dozen so he could cook and eat breakfast. there weren’t many people out since it was early, dewdrops clinging to shaded blades of grass and shivering leaves, so he easily traversed the market without much of the idle chit chat that comes with being a public figure.

but there you were: sorting through oranges as vibrant as his jacket. the breeze rustled your hair into what looked like a luminous halo in the morning light. his quick pace came to a lurching halt when he saw you, lithe body slightly swaying as his feet rooted in place.

he was fixated on your handling and inspection of the citrus, fingertips delicately dancing along the skin of each fruit. you plucked up one orange at a time, rolling it in your hands to test the firmness, holding it close to your thoughtful face to check for spots, then placing it in your produce bag. you were too immersed in your methodical fruit selection to notice that the hokage was only a few feet from you, slack-jawed in wonder.

from a single glance he could tell you were a civilian. your movements were too fluid, too carefree; you had none of the mechanical sharpness that marked a shinobi. and if you were a shinobi he would have recognized you instantly. he has met every ninja in the village at least a handful of times.

no, you were a rare breed in konoha: one of the ungifted few.

his mind grew dizzy with questions: was anyone in your family a shinobi? were your parents disappointed that you couldn’t use ninjutsu? were you bullied growing up by more talented and popular peers? he certainly understood the pain of an isolated upbringing.

he thought of your plainness, your innocence, your naïveté to the horrors of his world—to the horrors his bloodstained palms have wrought and rent. in a village of expert spies and killers, you were a lone lamb ripe for the picking. it was painfully apparent that you needed protection. who better than the hokage to be your protector?

his dick twitched at the thought.

he followed you home for the first time that day, his empty stomach a forgotten memory. his deep eyes consumed you: the sway of your hips as you strolled down the sidewalk, the hem of your sundress swishing around your plush thighs, the swing of the produce bag draped over your shoulder. he hungrily watched you bend over to marvel at blooms along your route, peek into colorful shop windows, and kneel down to pet a friendly calico cat.

bitter jealousy seized his gut when you waved at a neighbor, offering a bright “hello!” and flashing the man a disarming smile. his jaw ticked and nostrils flared. the caged beast within him growled in disgust at the man’s audacity to leer at you as you bounded up the steps of your apartment building.

he had to shield you from those who would take advantage of your vulnerability.

༄

moonbeams peak through the gaps in your cheap blinds at this hour, illuminating your slumbering form, limbs curled up beneath a mass of soft bedsheets and cozy blankets. the whir of the fan reverberates through your cold bedroom and masks any noise that the stranger in your apartment might make.

naruto has watched you for days, for weeks, for months. in truth, time has been a blur of your tender laugh and saccharine gaze and supple flesh. since he fell for you, his love has been a hazy dream he can’t seem to wake from. all he can think of is you.

this is the first time he has been brazen enough to visit your apartment while you’re home. his heart was aching for an unobstructed view of you; tracking your figure through windows and computer screens doesn’t do your beauty justice, he determines as he looks down at your angelic face. the rush he feels being so close to you is pure ecstasy. he devours the sight of your sleeping silhouette. he knows that you’re nude under the sheets—he knows everything about you, after all.

he knows that you’re on your period, and that your cycle makes you especially needy. he knows that you masturbated this evening right after your hot shower. he knows that you wore a slinky pair of blue panties while you were getting in the mood. he knows that you didn’t touch yourself until your arousal soaked through the gusset and dripped down into the swell of your ass, proceeding to tease your clothed clit until it throbbed. he knows that you peeled off the soiled lace, lazily tossing the garment on the floor before you spread your puffy lips and fucked yourself with three fingers, rubbing tight circles on your clit until you cried out as you climaxed.

he wishes he could trace the curves of your soft skin, your heavenly body untainted by war and violence unlike his own. to see your eyes flutter open as he worships you with gentle kisses and prayerful praises. to adore your most sacred parts as your sole disciple. to bring you divine pleasure with his cursed lips, tongue, hands, and cock.

he picks your underwear up from where you carelessly dropped it. his calloused forefinger and thumb rub the delicate lace—the same color as his lustful irises—with reverence. he unfurls the fabric, the pearly moonlight highlighting an intimate gift: streaks of your essence and dribbled blood staining the gusset. he buries his nose in the garment, inhaling your musky scent with a shudder. he’s addicted.

he’s painfully hard as his tongue darts out to graze the remnants of your desire and ichor, tentative licks yielding to ravenous laps as he decides there is no sweeter taste. he has to stifle a whimper as he fishes his aching cock out of his wet trousers and smears a mess of precum down his shaft. he pumps his length to the sight of your dreamy face and the overwhelming smell and taste of your arousal, panties flat against his tongue. he should be worried about the schlick schlick schlick of his jerking cock rousing you from slumber, but all he can focus on is quelling the animal urge to blow his load all over your face, to officially mark you as his.

it doesn’t take him long to cum. he rips your underwear out of his mouth and shoots creamy white ropes all over the fabric with a rumbling groan, his fluids mixing with your own. naruto shoves the sodden garment into his pocket and takes a final look at you before disappearing into the velvet night.

the next day you search high and low for your missing pair of underwear; it seems to have vanished into thin air. your confusion only mounts when you find it a few days later, freshly laundered and neatly folded in the top drawer of your dresser.

[pray-montana]

as a fellow Maxime Le Mal enjoyer, i was wondering if you had any specific ideas/headcanons about him? any predictions for the film (beyond the FUN stuff some of the toys/shots from the trailers have hinted at 😉)? would love to hear your thoughts :3c

Hi! Thanks for your question. Now I finally got my thoughts together👏

Well, I'll start with the serious part:

First of all, I saw a similarity between him and me: when one is filled with self-confidence, one easily steps into the spotlight, hits one's opponent with a sharp tongue, etc.

But this behavior also has the other side of the coin, which was mentioned even by Renaud and Ferrell themselves: behind the feigned affectation and bright charisma, there is a huge lack of self-confidence. Renaud spoke about an incident that happened to Maxime in high school but did not reveal details. (I think those who have already delved into the lore of Maxime Le Mal will guess what we're talking about.) He tries in every possible way to hide his inner demons, showing this with his clothes, his self presentation, and even the fact that he hooked up with the most beautiful girl in his high school. It seems to me that, first of all, he proves to everyone and himself that he's not a loser, while all Gru does is convince the whole world of the opposite. Ferrell promises that Maxime is a very deep character, and even called him "the most despicable" in one of his recent videos, and the others agreed with him. And, I think, in the end, being extremely angry at Gru and blaming him for all the troubles will not play into his hands...

And now let's have some fun🤌

1. I think he styles his hair every day, hiding the cockroach antennae beneath his hair, and from time to time he checks with his fingers whether they've come out and pushes them back in.

2. He doesn't drive his giant ship for some stupid reason. Afraid of driving? Hypersensitivity? Being distracted by something more interesting while driving? In any case, Valentina simply rolled her eyes and took the driving into her own hands without trying to correct his behavior.

3. In the gas station scene, we see how quickly Maxime explodes if things don't go according to plan. I can imagine the apocalypse that would begin in his home if he didn’t find a sock or ran out of hairspray...🔥🔥🔥

4. His hyperfixation on the topic of cockroaches is also a reflection of his emotions and insecurities. He proves that he accepts himself and makes it his thing. My favorite quote: “Don’t kill the cringe part of yourself. Kill the part that cringes.”

5. He feels really sick from dichlorvos. No need to sprinkle it next to Maxime

6. Venus flytraps too. He'll stick his finger in there because the flower "smells too good and he had to try it"😭

7. He has beautiful, calligraphic handwriting that is impossible not to read hearing his voice. The letters he wrote in Valentine cards for VALENTINA will melt anyone because he's a master of words.

8. He is friends with insects, like Snow White with animals. Just as saccharine as she is. (If he sings a song to them, will they run around him???)

9. His pet cockroach is part of their family.

10. Most likely, he needed a cane for some time due to health reasons, but now it’s just a feature.

[theoriginalkaminari]

Would you ever write what Yandere Aizawa or Present Mic would be like? Also I love your writing!

Thank you so much! I appreciate you!

Also, would you like both?

Because like goddamn, there is no escape from EITHER.

Imagine you're a fellow teacher at U.A hero academy.

You're literally the perfect thing, beautiful, (handsome), kind, innocent and intelligent. Who wouldn't like you?

When you first got a job at U.A, Shota Aizawa was pretty distant towards you. As he is to most people.

"Aizawa, would you like to-"

"No."

"But I didn't even-"

"No."

So yeah, at first Aizawa had no interest in you or what you had to offer. But you were so nice...and every kid in his class looked up to you because of how amazing you were...and Aizawa just couldn't ignore you for long. He would often hear his class talking about you in class.

"Y/N-Sensei looked so cool today!"

"How did they get their quirk to be so strong, ribbit..."

"Man!! They're so manly!"

"Tch. Whatever. Their not that strong."

"Huh? Oh, come on, Kacchan! You know their awesome! Just admit it!"

"Shut it, dunce face, before I toss you out the damn window."

These were just some of the conversations Aizawa heard about you. Most of them talked about how strong you or your quirk was, with the occasional pervy comment left by Mineta.

Aizawa gets more and more interested in you day after day. The way you dress, how you talk, he slowly but surely starts becoming more and more protective and even possessive over you.

He gets closer to you, listens to you ramble about your hyperfixations, or just anything, really.

He stil trys l convinces himself that he doesn't love you, but that ends quickly when you start dating a pro hero.

Aizawa was fucking furious. Why would you waist your time on a person who loves the spotlight more than they love you, when you could be with him?!

The only reason the person isn't dead yet, is because Aizawa doesn't want you to be upset.

So instead he just makes sure that pro hero can't climb up the hero ranks. For your whole relationship with them, that pro hero is stuck at the 30th spot.

But that all changes when you don't come to work one day. Because Aizawa is a good person, he goes to your apartment to make sure you're okay.

You end up spilling your guts out to him, cryong as you say you found out the pro hero you were dating cheated on you with a hotter co-worker.

All laws about murder, prepare to be ignored!

The raven haired man kills him, obviously. Not like a lot of people would be distraught, he wasn't popular at all. Thanks to him, of course. Hardly anyone cared, even you. That asshole treated you like shit, but you still felt bad.

Doing you a favor, Aizawa even made it seem like the girl that pro hero cheated on you with was the one who killed him, and she was sent to the slammer.

But he still didn't have you.

"Heya, Shota!" Hizashi smiles brightly as he takes a seat next to his friend in the teacher's lounge.

Aizawa simply nods at him. Hizashi tilts his head, leaning back on the chair he sits in. Hizashi isn't stupid, he can see that something's bothering his bestfriend. "Somethin' wrong, Shota?" He asks in a quieter tone, which isn't saying much.

Aizawa nods again.

Hizashi looks around the teachers lounge, making sure its empty. He leans in closer, a devilish smirk on his face. "Ya know, Shota." He whispers, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"I know what you did." He whispers in his ear, making Aizawa freeze. Aizawa panics inside, but he remains a calm exterior so Hizashi doesn't suspect anything. Maybe he's talking about something else.

"I know you killed that new hero, didn't you?" Hizashi finally whispers again. Aizawa freezes again. No. Hizashi...wouldn't report him to the police...would he? He wouldn't expose him! Would...Aizawa have to kill him too?

Suddenly, Hizashi smirks. "Hey, hey, don't panic." He laughs, pulling off him slightly. "You did it for L/N, right?" He asks in a very quiet tone.

Aizawa glances at him. Now he was confused. What? Why was he asking? "Why does it matter?Don't tell me I'll have to kill you too." Aizawa says in a threatening and quiet tone.

Hizashi smiles and shakes his head. "No, no!" He leans closer again. "In fact," that same devilish grin appears on his face. "I want in." He whispers.

Thats how Eraserhead and Present Mic became partners in becoming incredibly obsessed with you.

Now, Hizashi was a lot different than Aizawa, and 10 times more obsessed. He's a lot more manipulative and controlling, and very very very clingy.

Together, they work together. Aizawa kills, and Hizashi covers it up.

Hizashi puts secret cameras in your office and Aizawa watches the footage. Honestly, you should really lock your doors...

...because they also enjoy watching you sleep in person.

I mean, what?