#i love these characters so much man i just

[valenteal]

Okay I actually really hate this take I’m sorry. Anakin was not possessive or selfish and that’s not what the Jedi taught him.

The way I think of it is that Jedi pursue inner peace by disconnecting themselves emotionally from situations, they feel empathy in a very detached way. That’s what having no attachments means. It’s in the word. The Jedi are Detached from reality as it is perceived by humans.

The Force gives Jedi a glimpse of what it is to be a 4th dimensional entity with consciousness no trapped in a single moment in time. So to a certain extent they don’t actually perceive time linearly and thus do not feel they’ve lost something because it still exists in the past.

So now that we’ve established that yes Jedi are detached from the present let’s move onto the more problematic statement about selfishness and possessiveness.

It is not selfish to want unconditional love. That’s basic human nature. Anakin, a person who clearly suffers from borderline personality disorder which comes with symptoms such as fear of abandonment, an unstable view of the self, devaluing or overvaluing relationships to the point placing of one’s self-worth entirely in another person’s hands, and more, literally needs unconditional love and support. And he developed this disorder in large part because of the Jedi order and the way they treated him. He was simultaneously considered the “chosen one” and considered a burden or a problem. He had to change everything about the way he thought to fit the prescribed mold of what a Jedi should be, and he was held to higher standards because of his perceived “chosen one” status and people were disappointed when he failed to meet them. I know from experience how truly awful it is to be told “i know you can do better” in a disappointed voice when you’re honestly trying your best.

And that’s not even touching on how in Phantom Menace he created strong bonds with both Qui-Gon and Padmé only to have both of the ripped away right after he’d left behind everything he knew and loved. After the movie he was around nothing familiar or comfortable. He didn’t know Obi-Wan and he knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually wanted him as an apprentice or even in the Jedi order. So he was surrounded by a bunch of people who all thought he didn’t belong and only let him stay because of a dead man’s wishes. He was NINE and being told that everything he ever learned was wrong and backwards and leads to being evil and that he needs to be perfect for anyone else to think he belonged because even the smallest mistake would just confirm their preconceived beliefs about him.

And that’s not even mention Sidious’s manipulation. Anakin never would have become anything like Vader without Sidious leading him.

Also! There is a difference between possessive and protective! Anakin is protective! He has lost so much he’s clinging desperately to what he has! He wants to protect the one good thing in his life. He doesn’t try to control Padmé, they actually have a very healthy relationship, it’s the situation that’s toxic. Anakin doesn’t view Padmé as a possession, I don’t know why anyone would think that. Oh wait the Clovis arcs. Right. Those exist and other people actually consider them canon. That’s a whole ‘nother rant about writing that I’m not going to get into here. But let’s make this one thing clear, Clone Wars Anakin and movie Anakin are 2 totally different characters psychologically because of the awful reception of the prequel trilogy when it came out.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[seredelgi]

Do they get jealous?/ JJK x fem!reader

Featuring: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro, Yuuji Itadori, Kento Nanami, Ryoumen Sukuna

tw: kissing, making out, jealousy, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, implied/referenced sex, raw sex, groping I guess

Disclaimer: all featured characters are depicted as adults

Gojo would never admit it. He loves to think of himself as the carefree type, one confident enough not to fear other men stealing you away from him. However, he is also very much aware of how hot you are, and he can’t help but count heads turning when you stroll down the street, your arm securely hooked around his. You pretend not to hear his teeth gritting and not to notice the way he possessively circles an arm around your waist to keep you closer to him. He’s not jealous, they’re just too damn greedy.

Geto’s eyes immediately darken as soon as he catches sight of another man looming over you at the club. They’re awfully bold, honestly, considering you’re usually already grinding against him as they confidently approach the scene. As soon as the poor things meet his gaze from over your shoulder they’re able to catch a glimpse of the silent threat hidden within them. But he’s not satisfied with just that. No, he carefully snakes an arm around your waist, his palm shamelessly spreading across your belly to make them unequivocally aware of who you belong to. And if they still dare touch you, then they deserve what’s coming to them.

Toji acts cold. He freezes you out until he can have you as he properly wants. Whatever he’s had to endure while out with you, whether it be yearning looks from other men eating you up with their eyes or you exchanging words with way too lustful strangers in lousy bars, he patiently waits for you two to be alone to vent it out. As soon as you’re past the threshold of your apartment he slams you against the wall and claims your lips in a heated kiss. He takes you raw that night because he can, making you moan his name so loud that you’re sure the whole building can hear. That’s what you get, after all, for putting him in such misery all night.

Megumi’s not the type to get jealous. He knows how beautiful you are, and he loves the way boys look at you whenever they notice, too. He’s not scared of such attention, as long as you’re not bothered by it. His only response to the occurrence is to provide the comfort of his presence whenever it makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable. It always does the trick to pull you flush against his chest and start peppering sweet, passionate kisses down your neck, driving looks away and shifting your attention back to where it ultimately belongs: to him.

Yuuji’s not possessive in the slightest. He knows that you easily draw the attention of other men, and he’s okay with it. However, from time to time he does get a bit insecure about it. He wonders if you could find someone to satisfy you better than he can, if you would leave him were that to ever happen. That’s when he comes looking for cuddles and pitifully pouts at you as he asks “ You love me, right?”. You can’t help but chuckle at the display, affectionately bumping your nose on his before answering him “ Only you, always”. It’s enough to dissipate any lingering doubt, enough to make him playfully nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and inhale in your scent.

Nanami’s fully confident in your loyalty, that’s never been a matter of concern to him. However, as soon as anyone tries to do anything even remotely disrespectful in your regards he feels compelled to step in, first and foremost politely asking them to back off. Unfortunately, sometimes that doesn’t work, and considering the size of the man, you’re dumbfounded by how often he’s got to resort to the second option. Let’s just say none of the boys that have made him go with it have left his sight unscathed.

Sukuna’s not so much jealous as he is proud to showcase you around. You're always the prettiest girl at any part he takes you to, and it shows in the way jaws immediately drop to the floor as soon as you walk by. He’s happy to circle his arm around your shoulder and dive into deep make-out sessions in front of anyone who dares look at you as if you were up for the taking. You’re his alone, and if the hickies covering your neck are not enough to make them stay away, then he’ll make sure to give them a little show by shoving his tongue in your mouth instead.

So what about the way they kiss you?

What about AOT men?

[royaltea000]

YO! Being a drawing, what’s there to be afraid of!

[codnasties]

cod characters fucking fleshlights

this post includes: soap, ghost, gaz, price, graves, konig & alejandro

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soap 🧼- the one that takes his time

now, this ain't soap's first time using a fleshlight. he started with a tenga egg or something like that, just for the sake of trying something that wasn't his hand. and i just know that troughout the years he has created a decently sized collection with a lot of varietiy: fleshlights imitating pussies, asses, mouths,... even if a man like him could easily pull a pretty lass to fuck, with the job he has and what it requires of him, it isn't always ideal.

but there is one thing that soap does, no matter weather he's fucking one of his partners or a plastic replica: he takes his time. stroking himself tentatively before lubing his dick up and loweing the fleshlight onto his hard on until he's balls deep. and when i say he fucks it as if it were a real person i mean it. he's fucking int in diferent positions, jerking himself with it but also fucking into it, both slow and fast until cums all over himself

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ghost 👻- the stretcher

ghost sometimes has to ask himself if he's really that big and thick or if it's just that the one or two fleslights he owns are way too fucking small. he doesn't know, but he very much loves it. there is something about the size difference, the way the plastic stretches to fit him and how he can perfecly see it expanding as he pushes his dick deeper into it that makes him go feral.

now, other than his size kink goin brrr, he finds himself swiping his cock against the flesglight's pussy-like entrance, as if he were teasing a real cunt, before fucking himself slowly into it. he's mersmerized by the plastic doll completely swallowing up his aching hard dick until he's balls deep. he also intends to pull out - just to save himself some clean up - but he finds himself so overwhelmed by the feeling and visuals that he just fill the fleshlight up with his potent cum - more than once, at that -.

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gaz 🧢- mess making perpetrator

this may be my most repeated gaz headcanon but he's a mess maker and there is no deniying. when he get's home from a mission or something like that and he doesn't feel like trying to find a partner to fuck, he always has a trusty fleshlight. the thing is, he doesn't even make it to the bedroom most of the time, deciding to just fuck it in his livingroom.

he just plunged deeply into the plastic pussy, stretching the plastic over his limit because his dick is too long for the small fleshlight, almos breking it. the pent up hornyness and the feeling of something other than his hand wrapped around his dick sending him into an orgasm faster than he expected. he pulls out to first his impossibly hard cock when he feels himself about to cum. and he stains the sofa with it as the mess perpetrator that he is - and let me tell you, it ain't the first time he's had to clean his seed out of that sofa.

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price 🚬- the first timer

price is an older and more traditional man, he would rather fuck another person than some piece of plastic. but he keps hearing his men talk about fleshlights, how good they feel,.. and all that combined with the fact that he ain't getting younger, he's extra tired and trying to find a partner with a job like his is tedious, he decides to get himself a fleshlight just to try it out of curiotisty.

what he did not expect was that god forsaken piece of plastic would feel that fucking good. all it took was some slow deep strokes into it before he found himself cumming. and at that moment his lust filled brain took over and he started fucking himself into the fleshlight again, trying to extend the pleasure of the orgasm. let's say he now fully understands why his men praise them plastic holes.

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konig 🗡- the nasty fucker

lets be real, konig is fleshlight collector number 2. anxiety gets the best of him so he would rather to make do with some plastic pussy or ass than having to deal with the hassle of interacting with people. his not that experiended ass is fucking enamoured by the feeling of and ass or pussy, even if it isn't a real one.

now, konig allways finds himself doing two thing every time he uses one of his fleshlight. a. he moans. like a bitch in heat. he can't help it, it just feels overwhelingly good to have something wrapping tightly around his unexperienced cock. and the fact of finally getting some release. b. he makes messes - yup, mess making perpetrator no. 2 -. spit, precum, lube and cum mixing all together, covering his dick, hands and fleshlight as he fucks himself dumb and slaps his dick all over yhe plastic ass.

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graves 🪦 - the stressed

now, these military men always find themselves stressed out, it's a part of the job. but for graves, said job and the tension that it generates have kept him away for some time now from a real pussy or ass. so a fleshlight is a good alternative, giving him all that he needs to reach some much needed release.

the few occasions he has had enough time to indulge in some pleasure, he's going to make the most of it. alternating slow, sensual deep strokes and fast shallow ones. hands making sure that the fleshlight stays in place as he plunges into it chasing an orgasm and moanig at the sweet feeling of release. he for sure cums deep inside of the plastic masturbator, because it may be plastic, but he loves creampie-ing it the same way he would creampie a real person.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

alejandro 🤠 - the tip teaser

alejandro doesn't strike me as the type of person that would have a proper fleshlight, you know? instead of a piece of plastic that fully engulfs his dick he has one of those quickshot ones. a transparent one at that. it gives him a lot of options, from fully jerking his cock with it to just teasing his tip.

and oh does he love to tease his tip! using that comact masturbator to play with his angry red bulbous tip. pushing just the head in and out, sometimes tilting it to make his dick pop out of the fleshlihgwith a wet noise. and seeing his cock breach into the plastic, dick twitching at the feeling, his stomach spasming from the sensation... he always inevitably cums all over himself, staining his hard shaft, lower hairy stomach, thights and even the quilt.

[urdreamydoodles]

If you want to do another dog request, would you write for the x-men, especially Logan, with a reader who crochets little hats and sweaters for Mr Pickles??? I love Mr Pickles so much I wanna make lil clothes for him..

X-Men x Fem!Reader & Reader's Dog

You crochet little clothes for Mr. Pickles

As you sit on the couch, happily crocheting little outfits for your beloved dog, Mr. Pickles, your X-Man partner can't help but be charmed by your creativity and dedication.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Wanda Maximoff & Laura Kinney

As you sit on the couch, happily crocheting little outfits for your beloved dog, Mr. Pickles, your X-Man partner can't help but be charmed by your creativity and dedication.

Thank you for summoning Mr. Pickles. Hope you like it!

Logan Howlett

- Logan was the first to notice your tiny, not-so-bright dog, Mr. Pickles, wandering around the mansion looking somewhat confused in a bright yellow crochet sweater you’d made. The sight was enough to make even him chuckle. He’d never admit it, but the image of a clumsy little dog dressed up in various sweaters quickly became a highlight of his day. It wasn’t long before he found himself looking forward to the next outfit you’d make for Mr. Pickles.

- While Logan has a gruff exterior, he found himself strangely attached to Mr. Pickles. Maybe it was because the dog reminded him of himself—a little rough around the edges, not the sharpest tool in the shed, but loyal and oddly charming in his own way. He’d occasionally give Mr. Pickles a head pat, muttering something like, “You’re not so bad, ya dumb mutt,” when no one else was around.

- You’d sit on the couch with yarn strewn all around, focused on your latest crochet project, while Logan lounged nearby, pretending to read the paper. In reality, he’d be glancing over at you, watching the way your hands worked the yarn with such patience. It amazed him, really—how you could pour so much love and care into every little stitch for a dog that didn’t even realize how special he was.

- Logan would grumble whenever you asked him to help dress Mr. Pickles in one of his new outfits, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous it was. But you knew he secretly enjoyed it. He’d even hold the dog steady as you adjusted the hat or sweater, giving Mr. Pickles a scratch behind the ears when he inevitably wobbled. Once, Logan gruffly insisted the dog “needed a tougher look” and dared you to crochet a tiny “biker jacket.”

- On cold nights, you’d find Logan sitting with Mr. Pickles curled up in his lap, the dog snug in one of your creations. Logan claimed it was just to keep the “little guy” warm, but you knew better. The image of Logan cradling your dopey, sweater-clad dog melted your heart, especially when he’d absentmindedly scratch Mr. Pickles’ head with such surprising gentleness.

- One evening, after a long mission, Logan came back bruised and tired. As he sank into the couch, you handed him Mr. Pickles, already dressed in a new sweater. Logan sighed but pulled the dog onto his lap, letting out a soft chuckle as he noticed the tiny “X” you’d crocheted into the sweater’s design. In that moment, he realized he had somehow found a strange, unexpected family—with you, and even the clueless little dog in his arms.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy was absolutely charmed from the moment he saw you holding Mr. Pickles, dressed in a lopsided little sweater with paw prints. He thought it was hilarious that a beautiful, intelligent woman like you had such a goofy, clueless pet, and he was quick to dub Mr. Pickles “le petit clown.” It wasn’t long before he’d started slipping Mr. Pickles treats behind your back, delighting in the way the dog would eagerly follow him around, tail wagging.

- Remy loved to watch you crochet. He’d lean against the doorway with a lazy grin, watching your fingers work and occasionally tossing out ideas. “How ‘bout a lil’ beret for monsieur Pickles?” he’d tease, putting on his best Parisian accent. To his surprise, you actually made one, and he proudly took a photo of Mr. Pickles with the tiny hat tilted jauntily on his head.

- Whenever you were sitting with yarn and needles, Remy would slide in beside you, offering to “help.” Of course, his idea of helping usually involved trying to distract you with sweet talk or playful kisses, but you’d just laugh and shoo him away. Secretly, he adored how absorbed you got in your work, finding it impossibly endearing. Sometimes, he’d end up tangled in yarn as you playfully scolded him for making a mess.

- Remy was quick to make Mr. Pickles part of his card tricks, “borrowing” your dog to entertain the younger mutants at the mansion. He’d let Mr. Pickles “pick a card” or have him wear a little cape while he “levitated” the dog with one hand (though Mr. Pickles seemed entirely oblivious to the attention). It became a running gag, with the kids eagerly waiting for the next “Remy and Mr. Pickles” show.

- One night, you made Mr. Pickles a special Mardi Gras-inspired sweater, complete with beads and tiny feathers. Remy laughed so hard he nearly fell over, declaring Mr. Pickles the “king of carnival.” He insisted on taking Mr. Pickles to his favorite bar in New Orleans the next time you visited, already picturing the laughs and adoration the little guy would get from everyone.

- When he thought you weren’t looking, Remy would scoop up Mr. Pickles and let him sit on his lap, scratching his head and muttering in French about how “tres stupide” yet lovable the dog was. And every time, you’d catch Remy smiling down at Mr. Pickles with genuine affection. Despite his smooth-talking charm, Remy found a sense of comfort in the goofy little dog, and he’d often look at you with a soft smile, knowing he’d found a family in both of you.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt was delighted when he first met Mr. Pickles. He adored animals and immediately took to the little, clueless dog, finding him adorable in every way. When you told him about your hobby of crocheting little hats and sweaters for Mr. Pickles, Kurt was enchanted and insisted that you show him each new creation. It became a tradition for you to reveal the latest outfit to Kurt first, always greeted by his delighted laughter.

- Kurt would teleport around the mansion, carrying Mr. Pickles in his arms and showing off the latest sweater to everyone he could find. The sight of the fuzzy, sweater-clad dog disappearing and reappearing in a puff of smoke quickly became a running joke among the residents. And every time, Kurt would look at you with that infectious smile, proud to share the joy your little creations brought.

- You’d sit beside Kurt, working on your crochet as he watched with rapt attention, sometimes leaning over to give suggestions. He’d throw out ideas for elaborate costumes—“Maybe a pirate hat and tiny eye patch next time?”—and you’d humor him, laughing at his excitement. The more whimsical the idea, the more Kurt loved it, especially when you actually went through with it and made Mr. Pickles a tiny pirate outfit.

- Mr. Pickles quickly became attached to Kurt, often following him around and waiting expectantly for him to teleport them both to some new corner of the mansion. Kurt would always oblige, chuckling as Mr. Pickles looked around in a daze, probably wondering how he got there. Kurt joked that Mr. Pickles was his “faithful sidekick,” and you’d laugh, happy to see Kurt so genuinely joyful with his new furry friend.

- One winter evening, Kurt sat beside you on the couch, admiring Mr. Pickles in his new holiday sweater. With a sudden burst of excitement, he suggested that you crochet matching scarves for the three of you. You were touched by the idea, and after you made the scarves, Kurt proudly wore his everywhere, beaming whenever someone noticed the matching set. It became a special little bond between the three of you, something that made Kurt’s heart feel incredibly full.

- When Kurt was feeling down, he’d often teleport to wherever Mr. Pickles was, seeking out the dog’s clueless yet comforting presence. He’d sit beside Mr. Pickles, scratching his ears, feeling an unexpected peace in the dog’s simple joy. With you nearby, working on your next crochet project, Kurt felt a happiness he’d never thought possible—a sense of family, love, and laughter all wrapped into one.

Scott Summers

- Scott was a bit surprised when he first saw Mr. Pickles, your tiny, rather dim-witted dog, wandering around the mansion in a sweater you’d crocheted. He had to admit, it was a funny sight seeing such a serious, no-nonsense guy like him dealing with a dog in a pastel sweater. But, for you, he tried to be supportive and even gave Mr. Pickles a gentle pat on the head, which only made you love him more.

- At first, Scott was skeptical about all the little outfits. He didn’t quite understand why Mr. Pickles needed a new sweater every week, but he never said a word against it. He’d just watch you work with an amused smile, occasionally muttering things like, “He’s not even going to know what he’s wearing,” and you’d laugh, nudging him to let go of his practical side.

- Slowly, Scott started getting attached to Mr. Pickles. The dog’s clumsiness and clueless charm made Scott chuckle, and over time, he found himself looking forward to your “fashion shows” for the dog. You’d call him over whenever you finished a new outfit, and he’d come watch, nodding in approval and making silly, serious comments like, “That’s a very dignified look for him.”

- Scott found himself frequently carrying Mr. Pickles around the mansion, especially if the little guy was dressed in a sweater Scott deemed particularly cute. He’d mutter about “proper care” and “not wanting the dog to get cold,” but you could tell he secretly enjoyed being Mr. Pickles’ unofficial guardian. It became almost a ritual for you two, with Scott taking the dog out for “patrols” around the grounds as you watched with a fond smile.

- During one particularly cold winter, you surprised Scott with a matching set of scarves for him and Mr. Pickles. He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head, but he wore it with pride, and even went out of his way to take a picture with Mr. Pickles. He sent it to you with a small message: “Don’t tell anyone.” You never did—but you kept that picture as one of your fondest memories.

- When you were crocheting, Scott would sit nearby, reading or working, casting frequent glances your way. He loved watching you work so diligently for such a silly, endearing purpose. It softened his heart in ways he never anticipated. And on days when his responsibilities felt heavy, he’d look down at the silly, clueless Mr. Pickles, cozy in his latest sweater, and feel just a bit lighter.

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik raised an eyebrow the first time he saw Mr. Pickles toddling about the mansion in one of your crochet creations. He made no attempt to hide his bemusement, giving you a slightly amused look as if to say, “Really?” But it was clear that he found the whole thing endearing, even if he’d never admit it aloud.

- Over time, Erik grew fond of Mr. Pickles in his own way. There was something oddly relaxing about the little dog, with his clueless stare and innocent charm. Erik would occasionally sit in silence with the dog beside him, stroking Mr. Pickles’ head as if the small, simple presence helped calm the storm inside him. He began calling the dog “mein kleiner Trottel” (my little fool), which made you smile every time.

- Your crochet habit amused Erik to no end. He’d tease you lightly as he watched you work, remarking on how you were “spending time creating garments for a creature who won’t even notice.” But he loved the way your face lit up when you finished a new piece, and he’d always watch you present the latest sweater to Mr. Pickles, his eyes softening as he observed your joy.

- Erik would secretly play a small part in your crochet projects, “assisting” in his own way by lifting the yarn rolls with his powers to make them easier for you to reach. He’d do it silently, as if it was a simple, practical thing, but you both knew it was his way of spending time with you, of supporting your passion without breaking his tough exterior.

- Mr. Pickles became Erik’s companion in the quiet hours when the mansion was still. Erik would often hold the dog on his lap, absentmindedly petting him while he thought or read. The little creature’s simple presence and warmth grounded him, and he started referring to Mr. Pickles as “a noble soul.” When you heard him say it, you couldn’t help but laugh, which Erik took in stride with an amused smile.

- One night, you surprised Erik by crocheting a tiny helmet that resembled his iconic headgear for Mr. Pickles. At first, Erik looked at it with a mix of horror and amusement, muttering about how you’d made his dog look ���ridiculous.” But you caught him smiling as he placed it on Mr. Pickles’ head, shaking his own as he watched the little dog toddle around with his new “crown.” For a moment, Erik looked at you with a softness few people ever saw, realizing how much happiness you brought into his life.

Charles Xavier

- Charles was utterly charmed by Mr. Pickles from the start. He found the dog’s dimwitted nature incredibly endearing, and he loved that you’d taken it upon yourself to crochet sweaters and hats for him. The sight of Mr. Pickles waddling around in a tiny, handmade sweater was enough to make Charles laugh out loud, something he hadn’t done nearly enough lately.

- Charles would often join you as you crocheted, pulling up a chair beside you and admiring your handiwork. He’d sit quietly, asking about your process or sharing stories from his past as you worked. The calm, domestic rhythm of it all—of you creating something, of him simply being there beside you—felt more comforting than he’d ever imagined.

- Occasionally, Charles would insist on holding Mr. Pickles as you tried a new hat or sweater on him, laughing softly as the little dog wriggled and blinked in confusion. Charles found the whole process incredibly sweet, and he never missed a chance to compliment your skill. “Another masterpiece,” he’d say with a warm smile, and you’d always feel a rush of pride at his approval.

- Charles would use his telepathy to communicate with Mr. Pickles in subtle ways, giving the little dog gentle nudges to behave or come to him. The little creature’s simple mind and warm affection brought Charles a rare kind of peace. He’d often sit with Mr. Pickles curled up beside him as he worked, knowing that even a small comfort could make a difference in his day.

- Once, you made a small “professor” sweater for Mr. Pickles, complete with elbow patches. Charles was delighted, genuinely touched by the gesture. He took it upon himself to take Mr. Pickles to his next class, introducing him as the “assistant professor” for the day. The students got a kick out of it, and for the first time in a while, Charles felt the lightness of simply being happy.

- In quiet moments, Charles would hold Mr. Pickles close, resting a gentle hand on his small frame as he pondered the challenges he faced. Sometimes, he’d murmur to the dog, sharing thoughts he couldn’t share with anyone else, and he’d feel a strange sense of relief knowing you’d brought Mr. Pickles into his life. Charles knew he’d found a rare gift in both you and your small, slightly dim-witted companion, feeling a renewed strength in your shared happiness.

Jean Grey

- Jean was instantly in love with Mr. Pickles the moment she met him. His little quirks and clueless gaze made her laugh, and she was endlessly entertained by his antics. Watching him prance around in your crochet sweaters always brought a smile to her face, and she’d often kneel down to shower him with affection, whispering sweetly, “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” as he squirmed in delight.

- Jean loved how much care and creativity you put into crocheting for Mr. Pickles. She’d watch you work with admiration, asking about your patterns and colors, fully invested in the process. Sometimes she’d even lend a hand, helping you choose yarns or holding Mr. Pickles still while you adjusted his latest outfit. The two of you bonding over your little “fashion shows” for him became a cherished ritual that made her feel close to you.

- She would telekinetically lift the yarn, guiding it back to you whenever it rolled away, making sure you didn’t miss a beat. Jean even experimented with telepathically nudging Mr. Pickles when he seemed particularly clueless, gently encouraging him to stay put when you tried on a new hat or sweater. The simple joy you two shared while fussing over Mr. Pickles helped her relax in ways nothing else could.

- One night, you surprised Jean with a red-and-gold sweater for Mr. Pickles, inspired by her Phoenix costume. Her eyes lit up with joy, and she laughed, a hand covering her mouth as she took in the adorable sight of Mr. Pickles strutting around like a “mini Phoenix.” She hugged you, whispering, “You’re amazing,” and you felt warmth bloom in your chest at her genuine appreciation.

- Sometimes, during quiet evenings, Jean would sit with you on the sofa as you crocheted. She loved the calm intimacy of those moments, watching your hands move in steady rhythm, occasionally reaching over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. Mr. Pickles would curl up between you both, his clueless gaze softened with comfort. Jean treasured these times, the simple joy of being with you both grounding her.

- When things got hard, and Jean was struggling with the intensity of her powers, she found peace with you and Mr. Pickles by her side. She’d hold Mr. Pickles in her arms, letting his silly antics pull her out of her dark thoughts, and you would be right there, holding her hand. Those small, quiet moments made her feel like everything was going to be okay—like no matter how heavy her powers weighed on her, she’d always have this little family with you.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda was instantly taken by Mr. Pickles and his innocent, somewhat dim-witted charm. She found it adorable how such a small, simple creature could bring so much joy, and she was delighted by the little outfits you crocheted for him. Watching him toddle around the mansion in colorful sweaters brought a lightness to her heart, something she often craved amidst the weight of her powers.

- She would watch you crochet with quiet fascination, sometimes reaching out to help untangle yarn with a touch of her magic. She loved seeing your creativity come to life, and she’d often tell you how proud she was of your dedication, even if it was for something as simple as dog sweaters. Wanda appreciated the gentleness of it, the way you brought a piece of yourself into every stitch.

- Wanda developed a unique bond with Mr. Pickles, often using her magic to create small illusions to entertain him. She’d cast little sparkles or floating shapes in the air, watching him try to chase them with his clumsy, happy steps. Seeing his joy was infectious, and she’d laugh with you as you both watched him tumble around in his latest outfit, eyes wide with fascination.

- When you made a tiny, crimson-and-black sweater inspired by her own costume, Wanda was incredibly touched. She looked down at Mr. Pickles, who was proudly (if cluelessly) wearing his new attire, and then up at you with a wide smile. Pulling you close, she whispered, “Thank you. You’re always so thoughtful.” In that moment, she felt so grateful for the warmth and creativity you brought into her life.

- During quiet moments, Wanda would sit with you on the couch as you crocheted, watching you with soft eyes and occasionally reaching out to run her fingers through your hair. She loved how peaceful you both felt together, with Mr. Pickles nestled between you, wearing his latest creation. She treasured these moments, feeling the weight of her responsibilities melt away as you all relaxed as a little family.

- On days when Wanda felt the burden of her powers bearing down on her, she’d find solace in your presence and the little world you’d created with Mr. Pickles. Watching you fuss over the dog or crochet something new gave her a sense of normalcy and peace that her life often lacked. She’d hold Mr. Pickles close, drawing strength from his silly, happy presence, and feel that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright as long as she had you by her side.

Laura Kinney

- Laura was a little skeptical when she first met Mr. Pickles, your small, not-so-bright dog. But his harmless, clueless nature quickly won her over. Watching him stumble around the mansion in one of your crocheted sweaters always managed to bring a rare smile to her face. She might try to act tough, but you knew she secretly found him adorable, especially when he looked up at her with those big, innocent eyes.

- Though she didn’t quite understand your obsession with crocheting new outfits for Mr. Pickles, Laura respected your dedication. Sometimes she’d sit nearby as you worked, quietly observing the way your fingers moved with such focus. She wouldn’t say much, but you could feel her silent appreciation for the love and effort you put into each creation.

- Over time, Laura grew attached to Mr. Pickles, even if she tried to hide it. She would carry him around when no one was looking, giving him little pats and murmuring soft words to him, though she’d deny it if anyone asked. Seeing her gentle side emerge around him made you love her even more, knowing that Mr. Pickles brought out a softer, more vulnerable side of her.

- You made a tiny black leather jacket for Mr. Pickles as a tribute to Laura, and her reaction was priceless. She tried to look unamused, raising an eyebrow and muttering, “Really?” But you caught the slight smirk tugging at her lips as she took in the sight of the dog prancing around in his little “X-23” outfit. She even let you take a picture of the two of them together, though she claimed it was “just for you.”

- Laura was fiercely protective of both you and Mr. Pickles. Whenever the dog got himself into trouble, she’d scoop him up, muttering about how he “wouldn’t last a second without us.” Her bond with Mr. Pickles became something you both cherished, a symbol of her softer side. And watching her take care of him, guiding him with a firm but gentle hand, always warmed your heart.

- Despite her tough exterior, Laura found a sense of peace in the little family you’d created with Mr. Pickles. She’d sometimes watch you as you crocheted, content to just be by your side in those quiet moments. Having Mr. Pickles around brought her a sense of calm and belonging, reminding her that she didn’t always have to fight—she could also be part of something soft, something warm, something that felt like home.

[logoleptic-since-06]

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

✮ Pairing: Satoru x Fem!Reader

✮ Content: Fem!Reader, Non-Sorcerer AU, College Setting, Mentions of Family and Financial Issues, Mentions of Other JJK Characters, Language, Smut (Fingering, Cunillingus), Slight Angst, Fluff, Dislike to Love, Mentions of Smoking, Slowburn, Not Proofread

Based On This Concept I Made

✮ A/N: I know I said I will not be writing fics for the concepts I made, but I love this trope too much to not have written it.

★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ -> Some songs this was inspired by (I know I listen to white girl music, what about it?) ✮ Also heavily inspired by the book The Deal by Elle Kennedy.

✮ Word Count: 4.6k

MDNI

“This was your last chance, Gojo, I’m gonna have to revoke your captaincy.”

“Please, coach,” Satoru’s usual cocky tone was replaced with desperation, “One more chance, please. My econ test scores came out today, and I’m confident I did well. Just consider this for once.”

Coach Yaga pauses for a second, “Listen, kid, I will consider it for now, but it’s really not on me. College rules say athletes can’t have more than three F’s. And according to that, I should bench you till you get your grades up.”

His eyes widen. “What? No, you can’t bench me, I’m your best player!”

“You know it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck…” he murmurs in frustration. His econ test, that he has already given, is his last straw. If he fucks this one up, he will be benched until he gets his grades up. Basketball tournament season is right around the corner, and being in his senior year of college means his professional recruitments will start this season. Being benched is far from an option he wants to go for.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

He fails.

He fucking fails the test that he was so sure he’d pass.

“And then he benched me,” he groans as he finishes telling the story to his friend group/housemates/teammates. He looks at Suguru, his oldest and closest friend, “Oh, and he made you the captain for the time being, by the way.”

Suguru simply shrugs. “Then get your grades up and re-secure your spot. I won’t even be going pro, you need this.”

"We are all rooting for you, Gojo," Haibara's over-enthusiastic voice speaks. Haibara and Nanami are in their junior year, and Haibara is probably Satoru and Suguru's biggest hype-man, despite playing in the same team.

“I’ve tried, you know I have. I don’t know what else to-”  Satoru stops as an idea strikes his head. He tilts his head towards Nanami, “Hey, Nanami.” “No,” he says simply.

“I didn’t even-”

“Whatever you ask, no.” “Tutor me, you’re like the only smart person I know.” “I’m your junior.”

“We have the same course, we study the same thing in the same class.”

“Fuck, you’re such a manchild,” Shoko’s bored voice speaks as she takes a puff from her cigarette.

“Don’t smoke in our house,” Satoru scolds her, causing her to flip him off.

“Although,” Shoko sits up from laying against the couch, “I might have someone that can help you. My roommate.”

Shoko doesn’t live with the others, but Satoru has never heard of her roommate before. “Your roommate, huh?” he repeats lazily.

Nanami snorts, “Y/N? She’s in my year and I doubt she’ll ever help him.”

Shoko nods, “You can try if you’re desperate enough.” She takes another puff of her cigarette. “Offer her tons of money.”

Satoru thinks for a second, “She can be convinced using money? That’s perfect, I have money.” 

Everyone except Haibara rolls their eyes.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Having finished your last assignment of the day, you relax back against your chair, taking in the hushed ambience of the library. It was a stressful, but productive day. You only relax for a split second before a wave of anxiety gushes over you– you’ve recently lost your job at the local barista due to it being shut down. It was the only place close to the campus you can get a job at, and there is no way you could afford a living on campus without a job.

You decide to get up and head to your dorm room instead of musing upon your issues. As you begin to pack your things into your tote bag, you see a tall, white-haired figure sit across from you at the table with a bright smile on his face that shows off his dimples. 

Satoru Gojo?

The star athlete is Shoko’s childhood best friend. Ever since she became your roommate in your freshman year as a sophomore, you’ve only heard tales of him and Suguru Geto. You’ve seen them around the campus, of course, but you’ve always chosen peace over any interaction with them. People flock around them like a group of fans rushing over to buy tickets for a sold-out concert. Arrogance seeps out of him every time he walks through a door, making every head turn towards him.

“Hi,” he says, looking straight into you. You look behind you, trying to see if he is talking to someone else. “No, I’m talking to you. Y/N, right?”

The sound of your name in his voice sounds weird. How did he know who you were? 

He continues, “I am–”

“I know who you are.” You cut him off for a reason that is unknown to even yourself. He tilts his head in confusion, but you can tell it's not from the knowledge of you knowing his name but rather from the fact that you are wearing an annoyed expression on your face right now. You almost feel bad but it's not like you can help it, you just lost your job and it is not easy for a girl from a middle class family to survive in this environment filled with some of the richest brats in the city, Satoru Gojo included.

“I need your help.” Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds so foreign, you wouldn’t have imagined them in your wildest dreams.

“My help?” Why is he talking to you?

“I need you to tutor me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We are in the same classes together. I need someone to tutor me because I’m failing my classes and if I’m benched and won’t be able to play until I pass them. And if I don’t play this season, I won’t be recruited to go pro, so basically my entire future is in your hands.”

Your disturbed grimace is probably a little too noticeable, because the next words that come out of his mouth are, “Why are you making that face?” He says it with such innocent confusion, you almost give in.

“I don’t even know you,” you finally say, your voice sounds bored.

“But you are the best I can find.”

“Why can’t you hire a professional tutor?”

“Because then my parents will know, and they can’t know.”

“That’s not my problem.” “God, you’re insufferable,” he exasperates, “I’ll pay. A lot.”

That gets your attention. You raise an eyebrow. “How much?”

He sits up and excitedly takes a piece of paper and pen, writes down an amount, and slides the paper towards you.

One look at the paper and your eyes go wide. He wrote an hourly rate and as you do the quick math in your head, you realize this would pay twice the amount you got as a barista.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says firmly.

“And you will cooperate?”

“Of course, I need this, Y/N.” Will you ever get used to your name on his tongue?

“When and where?”

“Five days a week, so all working days. My house? It’s off campus. Give me your number, I’ll send you the location.” “I know where you live, I’ve dropped Shoko off to yours before. And yeah it works.”

“Great! Thanks so much, Y/N; you’re a lifesaver.” In the blink of an eye, he gets up and leaves you stranded at the library table.

Lifesaver… The word echoes through your head. You’ve been called that so many times, it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. You’ve been a lifesaver to your classmates for sharing your homework with them, or giving them answers during a test; you’ve been a lifesaver to your parents when you volunteered to look after your younger siblings, or when took care of dinner; you’ve been a lifesaver to your siblings for helping them study, or for solving any problem they’ve had. 

Even now, as you study in an elite university where the annual tuition is more than what your family earns in a year, you push yourself to work hard and maintain a scholarship, and work two jobs while simultaneously being a full-time student– just so you don’t have rely on someone else for anything, even if they’re your parents.

At least Satoru Gojo is willing to pay you a good amount for being a so-called ‘lifesaver’. Sure, there was a time when you thought money couldn’t buy you happiness, but spending so much time amongst your classmates made you realize it’s quite the opposite. Money brings you respect and recognition, and one day, you will have both of them, you are sure of it. For now, you are at peace with the fact that you are nothing but a phantom made up of invisible smoke, haunting the hallways until someone needs her.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The next day, you find yourself on the doorstep of your new student’s house. You shake off your unwanted anxiety and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a tall figure with long luscious dark hair.

Suguru Geto, certified asshole number two (one is Gojo, of course). He looks down at you with a slight smirk. Seriously, what’s so funny? He motions you to come in.

“Satoru’s upstairs in his bedroom,” he drawls.

“Can you call him?”

He pauses for a second before answering, “Sure thing.” His gaze doesn’t avert from you as he calls out his name. Why is he so ominous? Why is Shoko friends with them?

Gojo comes out of his bedroom and stands by the stairway as he calls you up enthusiastically. You head upstairs and he leads you to his lavish bedroom and closes the door behind the two of you.

“So,” he says as he plops down on his bed, “Where do we start?”

“Let’s go through your assignments first.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

After an hour of tutoring, Satoru is officially done with his first tutoring session. He thinks you are a little odd with your bored yet annoyed expressions, yet he can’t stop but think you’re cute. He clearly gets the vibe that you aren’t the biggest fan of his as whenever he asked you a question about anything other than studies in the past hour, you had simply glared at him. It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever.

It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever. Since every question that he asks you about basketball is also either met with a glare or a “Finish this first, then we’ll talk.”

Your annoyance doesn’t matter to Satoru– if anything, he’s loving the fact that he’s getting on your nerves. It isn’t just you– annoying people has always been his specialty. Despite being the captain and the strongest player, his cheery demeanor is always met with eye rolls or groans of displeasure. 

Sure, girls around him would die to be with him– even for a moment– but if it’s not for sleeping around, he isn’t quite ever wanted. He tells himself he is okay with it, that if they don’t want him, he will turn himself into someone they need. Which is exactly what he did; and now, without him, the team will fall apart.

Once the tutoring session is over, he hits you with a similar question, a cheeky grin plastered on his beautiful face. “So, you ever been to any of our games?”

“No,” you answer simply.

“Why not?”

“I’m not interested in sports.”

“None at all?”

“None at all.”

“What ECAs did you have in highschool?” You look up at him. “I had plenty. Why do you wanna know?”

He shrugs. “Curiosity.” You sigh. “I was in the debate club, I worked for the school magazine, hosted multiple events, wrote articles, did internships, signed up for a bunch of award programs.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. “And your SATs?”

“1560.”

Fuck. Satoru back in highschool was even bigger of a menace than he is now. With an SAT score of 1230 and basketball as the only ECA, it almost seems unfair to him now that both you and him are in the same university– one earned while the other given. Satoru never feels bad for exploiting his family’s money, after all, that’s the only thing they are willing to give him. But seeing someone work this hard– even harder than Nanami– to get to where they are is something Satoru can’t help but be impressed by.

And Satoru isn’t one to be impressed easily.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

A few weeks pass in a breeze and the air now carries the hint of winter, the first fall of snow just around the corner. Students are locked inside their rooms, their heads buried in textbooks trying to prepare for the upcoming exams.

“You better pass this one, Gojo,” you tell him one day as you both are sitting in his room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He makes a salute gesture, causing you to stifle a small smile.

“I don’t wanna be that person, but why don’t you smile much?” His question takes you aback. “I’m not saying you should smile more; do whatever you want. I’m just asking why.”

You shrug simply, the guards you have around you have weakened a little in the past few weeks, but they’re not completely shattered. “I don’t smile without a reason.”

“I crack jokes.”

“You’re not funny.”

He rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging up his mouth.

You check the time and your eyes widen. “How long have I been here for?”

He leans back against his chair, “Almost three hours.”

“Shit, I was gonna call Shoko to come pick me up.”

He laughs when he hears that. “Yeah, good luck with that. It’s exam season, she definitely has her phone turned off right now.” Catching the worried expression on your face, he adds, “Do you want me to drop you off?”

You think for a while, trying to figure out other possibilities. Once you fail to do so, you feel your guards cracking a little more as you answer, “Okay.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The drive from his house to your campus dorm is a short one. Yet, something in you makes you want to stir up a conversation.

“So what made you start playing basketball?”

His eyes don’t drift from the road when he answers. “You know my dad, right? He was a professional basketball player. It’s all I’ve known ever since I can remember.”

You won’t admit it out loud, but you are impressed to see him be so passionate about something. “So, you’re close to your dad?”

The chuckle he lets out sounds almost bitter. “No, no, I’m not. I was sent to a boarding school when I was very young. Grew up there. Met Suguru and Shoko. Been home very less. My school’s coach was more of a father figure than my own dad ever was.”

Something pangs in your chest as you let his words sink in. “I’m sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s cool, you know? My parents were too busy with their own lives, I was busy with mine– it’s just what I’m used to.”

“So you don’t contact them?”

“When I need something, sure.” He pauses for a second. “I know what you think of me, okay?” His voice has a hint of sincerity now. “You think of me as some spoiled brat who loves to spend daddy’s money. And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am that, shamelessly. But this is only because I realized at a very early age that money was the only way they would be present in my life, so I decided to exploit the shit out of it.”

You don’t have an answer to what he said. His experience of family is unique and unrelatable to you in every way. “I would’ve done the same if I were in your shoes,” you say, not quite believing your words. “You shouldn’t feel bad. You’re doing a great job.”

He looks at you like you hung the moon. “You think so?”

You try to hide your surprise at his reaction. “Yeah, I mean, you’re the captain of the team and the strongest player. You’ve been working so hard to get your grades up this semester, I’ve seen your dedication.” 

He smiles at you– not his usual cheeky smirk, but a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me, Gojo, I’m just stating an observation.”

“Satoru.”

“What?”

“Call me Satoru. It’s what my friends call me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Are we friends?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were nice to me just now. I doubt you’re nice to a lot of people.”

“Well…” you trail off.

“Well…?” he echoes as he stops his car in front of my dorm building. 

You unbuckle my seatbelt. “Maybe a conversation for another day. Thanks for the ride, Go– Satoru.”

He smiles for a split second before it is wiped away and replaced with a pondering expression. “Wait–”

You stop before you can open the car door. “Yeah?”

“Let me walk you to your room.”

It’s your turn to smile now. “I can walk myself to the dorm, Satoru.”

“It’s late.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“Come on.”

He’s so cute– wait what? Why would your mind go there? That’s Satoru Gojo, a certified college whore.

“Fine, walk me to my dorm room,” you hear yourself say. What is wrong with you?

The two of you get out of the car and begin to walk towards the building gate. The midnight air sways against your face while your cardigan protects the rest of your body. The place is quiet, only crickets heard amongst the trees. The moonlight reflects on the cars parked in the parking lot as you and Satoru walk through it.

“So you were saying?” He breaks the silence.

“What?”

“You said ‘Well…’,” he points out.

You chuckle softly as you look away to the ground. “Nothing really… you said you doubt I’m nice to a lot of people; I was gonna say I don’t talk to a lot of people to begin with.”

He looks at you with his head tilted in confusion. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Not a lot of people approach me here, you know? I just… exist, I guess. I mean, I’ve got Shoko. I talk to Nanami and Utahime sometimes. I’m not completely friendless, so that’s nice.”

“Three people in a college with around 20,000 students isn’t really… you know…” He trails off.

You feel the walls around you crumble a little as you speak. “I know, I know. But like I said, no one approaches me, which makes sense. And I’m not one to randomly approach people. Not great with social cues.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Why would you say it makes sense for no one to approach you?”

Why was he asking you so many questions? You can’t remember the last time someone had been interested in getting to know you in this way.

“I’m a scholarship student, I’m not exactly…” You try to think of a word, “relevant in your social hierarchy.”

He is quiet after you say that, probably trying to figure out how to respond to that. So instead, you continue, “It doesn’t matter to me. I always think that if they don’t want me, I’ll make myself needed. I’ll become an important person. My parents may not be rich, but who says I can’t be?”

“So you’re really ambitious,” he says. “I mean, I kind of got that from er– your constant hustle.”

You laugh at his remark, appreciating his humor instead of showing you pity like most would. 

The two of you begin to walk up the stairs to your floor when he asks, “Which floor is it again?”

“Second.”

“Right… I’ve never been here. Shoko’s always coming over to ours to hang out.”

“The three of you must be really close.” He nods. “Yeah, well, five now actually. Nanami and Haibara came along during our sophomore year when we moved in together. They are good athletes, so I thought keeping them close would be good for the team.”

You nod as you reach your dorm room and ring the doorbell. When Shoko doesn’t answer, Satoru says, “She’s probably at the library. Or with Suguru.”

You nod at the possibility as you take out your copy of the keys. The jingling echoes through the empty hallway. You unlock the door to reveal your room filled with darkness. Turning on the lights, you politely invite Satoru in, to which he happily obliges.

He casually plops down on your bed, his legs swinging down.

“Make yourself at home, don’t be shy,” you say sarcastically. His phone rings. When he picks it up, you watch his demeanor change as the person on the other side of the phone speaks.

“No, I told you guys to not attend any parties for a month,” he says in a serious tone that’s very unlike him. “We have practice first thing in the morning every day before the season starts, and I will not stand any mishaps.”

Listening to him scold his teammates and watching him be a good captain stirs something unknown in you. It’s so attractive for one to be this responsible and laidback at the same time. Your eyes roam around his big biceps, stopping at the hand that holds the phone against his ear. He has nice hands, you think, wondering how it might feel inside you. 

Snap out of it.

You will not throw yourself to him only to be tossed aside. You remind yourself why you’re with him– for a job. A deal that benefits the both of you equally. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then why did you tell him things you’ve never admitted to anyone?

What bothers you more is the fact that he was so interested in getting to know you. The way he is always so grounded around you makes you wonder if your previous perception of him being an arrogant asshole was just a misconception.

He hangs up the phone and smiles sheepishly at you, his dimples denting his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “It was Haibara.”

“It’s fine,” you say as you subconsciously move forward and sit beside him on your bed.

“Hi,” he says as his blue eyes pierce through you.

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to stop yourself from wondering what the hell he was doing in your dorm room of all places he could be right now. “Did you have to be somewhere?”

He scrunches his brows. “No, why?”

“No, I thought Haibara needed you or something.”

“Oh no, that’s been dealt with, don’t worry.”

When did you both sit so close together? You can almost feel his breath against your skin. “You have practice early in the morning.”

“I can function with less sleep.” He is almost too quick to answer.

Your faces are only inches away when his eyes fall to your lips. You close your eyes and feel his lips brush against yours. You kiss him back immediately. 

Once you give him the green light, he deepens the kiss and you let out a low moan. His tongue enters your mouth as he hovers over you on the bed with you lying on your back. He trails his kisses down your jaw while pressing down to your tit with one hand.

His other hand trails to your inner thighs and you feel the heat pool between your legs. You let out a needy gasp, causing him to contact his lips against yours again while his hand unbuttons your jeans and slides inside them. He rubs your clothed pussy and intoxicated bliss spreads over you.

“Ahh, fuck, Satoru,” you whine. He takes that as a sign and slips his fingers inside your panties. Your eyes roll back when you feel two fingers thrust inside you while his thumb works on your clit.

“Nghh, Satoru, fuck, hahh don’t stop,” you don’t even know how loud you’re being, neither do you care right now.

As you say that, he takes his hand out of your pants, which makes you squirm needily. He positions himself such that he is facing between your legs. He reaches for the hem of your jeans as you lift your hips up and he pulls them down, followed by your panties, leaving your bottom bare in front of him. 

He finally brings his face closer to your heat and licks a long stripe along the slit your pussy. You moan out in utter pleasure, spreading your legs further for better access. He begins to nibble at your clit, making you see splashes of euphoria in front your eyes. The pleasure is too all-consuming for you to even think of what’s right or wrong, of what you should or should not be doing. And you couldn’t be bothered to care about any of it right now. 

He adds two fingers deep in your cunt, hitting the g-spot repeatedly as his mouth sucks on your clit. You feel the pressure build up like waves. “So close, Satoru, don’t stop,” you cry out. The waves crash over the shore with a loud moan escaping your lips. 

You lay there panting, recovering from what you would call the best orgasm you’ve had in your life, as he sits up and looks down at you, a proud expression masking that pretty face of his, now all glistening in your juices.

The realization of what you just did hits you the moment the high dies down. You quickly close your legs and sit up, trying to find your panties. 

“What happened?” Satoru asks in a concerned tone. You ignore him and put your underwear on. 

Once you are done, you finally look at him. “Get out,” you state simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

“Did you not like it?”

“Gojo, leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong?” you echo his words. “Everything about this is wrong. I’m your tutor. I work for you.”

“So?”

“So, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s inappropriate.”

“Are you serious? I thought we–”

“No, I don’t know why I told you so much about myself. Starting tomorrow, everything is strictly professional, or I’m gonna have to quit.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that, you know that, right?” Satoru sounds determined.

“Yes, I very much can. I’m sorry but I simply won’t let you think you can have me like that just because you’re you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is that I know you hook up with like hundreds of girls, and I just don’t want to be another name you tick off on your list.”

He looks exasperated. “You think that’s what you are? A name on a list? First of all, I don’t have a fucking list. Secondly, I don’t hook up with hundreds of girls. I haven’t done that since freshman year.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the time to hook up with anyone.”

“You haven’t had sex since your freshman year?” Your voice is softer now.

“Not once.”

“Then why did you…” You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand it.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, really. It felt right.”

You would be lying if you say it didn’t feel right for you. But you don’t tell him that. Instead you ask, “Since when have you wanted to?”

He reveals his dimples at that question, “Since you asked me if I would cooperate with you if you tutored me.”

This brings a chuckle to your voice. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, something about you bossing me around was… you know.”

You laugh at his words. “You’re a dumbass,” you say as you lean forward and take his lips to yours.

[kokusfluffyhair]

I don't mean any drama by reblogging this, but by saying "you cannot reblog my post and also include other ace's experiences" is also being exclusive. Before jumping at a further reply, please read the rest of what I have to say. In my own personal experiences being asexual, I have had the opposite happen to me -- as in that because I was not repulsed by the topic of sex or imaginative sexual fantasies that I was not asexual. My irl experiences and lack of attraction towards people irl have been invalidated by multiple people just because in the scheme of some fictional characters or "celebrity crushes" that I have engaged in sexual thoughts. I have been told so many times for over a decade now that if I think sexually of anyone that I am not asexual and that I just have to "lower my standards" or to "learn to love a man for his personality and then he'll be attractive physically". I do apologise that because your experiences were not the same that my reblog made your or any sex-repulsed ace feel invalidated or demeaned. I don't know what you experienced, and likewise, even if you might view where I sit on the ace spectrum as the "accepted way to be ace", you don't know my experiences either. When you post something online, everyone has the right to share and communicate with the post. By saying "you can't do this"/"you can't say this" because it feels conflicting to you on what you wrote, you're inherintely limiting conversation, limiting speech, and even outing other members of the queer community.

It has taken years for asexuals to even feel a bit of acceptance in the queer community as a whole, and for all of us, regardless of how we experience our sexual orientation, we have been invalidated and cast out by many. Because we weren't "queer enough" and are just "traumatised", "scared", "immature", etc. This still happens today, and is why there needs to be solidarity in the ace community. Now, you may say that such a thing is why you made the post, because you were told "you aren't asexual" by people who experience this orientation differently. But, how is further segregation of who can/who cannot reblog/comment/discuss/share your post going to lead to greater solidarity, understanding, and acceptance in both the ace and queer communities? By reblogging your post and sharing my own impressions that came, I did not say that your post was wrong. I did not say that you couldn't have the experiences you did. I did not mock your experiences. Instead, reblogs that are civil and promoting sharing are intented to validate everyone's experience and to form community. As much as I don't think that division and silence is the answer, if you don't want me, as someone who does not experience asexuality in the same way as you do to interact, comment, and converse with your posts, please block me, because even if I don't follow you, I might see your content again on my feed.

In honour of ace week, and because I don't hear it enough:

REPULSED ASEXUALS EXISTS AND ARE AS VALID AS OTHERS

IT'S OK TO BE DISGUSTED BY SEX

IT'S OK TO NEVER WANTING TO DO IT

VIRGIN ISNT AN INSULT

YOU DON'T NEED AN EXCUSE TO NOT LIKING OR WANTING IT

SEX ISN'T WHAT MAKES US HUMAN

IT ISN'T VITAL

IT'S NOT SHAMEFUL TO NEVER DO IT

YOU DON'T NEED TO "TRY IT" TO KNOW THAT YOU HATE IT

IT'S NOT CHILDISH TO BE GROSSED OUT BY IT

IT'S FINE IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE WHEN PEOPLE TALK ABOUT IT

IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT AND PEOPLE SHOULD RESPECT YOUR BOUNDARIES

YOU ARE NOT BROKEN EVEN IF PEOPLE INSIST THAT YOU ARE

FUCK APHOBES AND FUCK PEOPLE WHO MAKE FUN OF PEOPLE WHO HATE SEX

YOU AREN'T ANY LESS VALID

WHEN SOMEONE IS BEING APHOBIC, INSTEAD OF SAYING "BUT SOME ACES DO ENJOY SEX", SAY "IT ISN'T AN ISSUE NOT WANTING IT"

YOU ARE SO VALID IF YOU ARE A REPULSED ACE PLEASE NEVER FORGET THAT!!!!

PEOPLE ARE JUST BEING CREEPS IF THEY INSIST THAT YOU MUST DO IT

IT'S OK IF YOU'RE NOT THE STEREOTYPICAL "ASEXUAL WHO WRITES SMUT AND MAKES SEX JOKES"

IT'S OK SKIPPING UNCOMFORTABLE SCENES IN MOVIES AND SHOWS

IT'S OK TO NEVER DO IT IN YOUR LIFE

THE WHOLE "OLD PERSON WITH CATS" ISNT EVEN AN INSULT CUZ IT SOUNDS DOPE AF NGL

ALSO IT'S OK TO BE MAD WHEN YOU HEAR PEOPLE CLAIMING HOW GOOD SEX IS AND ALL THE "IT'S HEALTHY" BULLSHIT BECAUSE NO YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DIE EARLIER BECAUSE YOU DON'T DO IT

ALSO ITS NOT A SHAMEFUL THING TO NOT DO ANYTHING YOURSELF EITHER

AND ITS ALSO OK IF YOU EVEN STRUGGLE TO SPELL SOME WORDS OUT BECAUSE OF YOUR REPULSION

IF YOU'RE AN ADULT YOU'RE VALID AND YOU DON'T NEED TO DO IT IN ORDER TO BE VALID AS AN ADULT

YOU'RE NOT MISSING OUT ON ANYTHING

YOU ARE QUEER ENOUGH !! YOU DESERVE A PLACE IN THE LGBT COMMUNITY, AND YOUR VOICE DESERVES TO BE HEARD!!

[featherandferns]

I got inspired by this post and deeped it probably a bit too much lol

"I can't read cursive".

It was the sort of thing his friends laughed at, giving scoffing remarks and rolling their eyes at JJ's quirkiness. He'd laugh too, shrug it off like he was in on the joke. But underneath was an insecurity; a panic as to why. He'd look down and the letters were merely scrawl. They were swooping and swooning characters that made no sense, illegible and intelligible. If he tried to focus then they'd start to dance around the page. He experienced that too, though to a lesser extent, with print text. It was as if the words were mocking him. Taunting him.

But being the way he was with school, nobody paid it much mind. Not even JJ. He didn't care for reading. He'd rather smoke or surf. Books were dull and drab, what with growing up in an education system that force fed Shakespeare down an eleven year old's throat. JJ started to skip class the older he got. He'd sneak off to the bathroom to light one up or just ditch the day entirely. Maths was a bore and science utterly useless in his planned profession of handy-man side gigs, and so the concern with his reading got swept under the rug.

He had tried once, though. It was when he was nine and they had been reading collectively as a class, playing 'popcorn'. Someone had innocently passed over to him and JJ spent a good ten minutes stuttering over his syllables and stammering over the vowels and constantans. He was so glad when he reached the end of the page and could pass the burden off to someone else. Afterwards, he lingered behind and spoke to the teacher. The sting of embarrassment lingered like a prick from a bee. But the teacher shrugged him off. You're still learning, they'd said. For some it takes longer. He'd been too humiliated to bring it up again. Future popcorns were spent with JJ being the class clown, making lewd jokes that had the other kids laughing until the teacher banned him from popcorn altogether. That was that.

"You can't read cursive?"

"It just...It's harder for me to follow, s'all," JJ halfway lies. He looks up from the card that you gave him to meet your gaze. Your brows are tugged together in concern and JJ immediately wants to crawl under the covers like a child, embarrassed beyond belief. But instead of poking fun like the others (as well-natured as they mean by it), you take the card back and clear your throat.

"JJ, I hope you have a wonderful birthday and get everything you ever want. You deserve it. With love," you read aloud. There's a warmth to your face and a meekness to your tone as you tell him your message. It was the sort of sweet thing someone recites in their head like scripture, keeping it safe on the page and not out in the world. Smiling shyly at him, you offer the card back out to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Thanks, though. That's, uh...that's sweet."

You chuckle. "Well, I mean it."

JJ takes the card back with a smile and you lean forward, pressing a kiss against his cheeks. His face feels hot like sunburn. You sit back on your haunches, perched pretty on your bed, and then your smile dwindles into something of worry.

"Do you often struggle," you wonder, nodding down to the card, "with reading and things like that? I mean, is it just cursive?"

"I can read," JJ replies, a little defensive. You thankfully laugh.

"No, I know you can read JJ," you chuckle, shaking your head. "I just mean is it easy to read? D'you think you need glasses or somethin'?"

"I don't know," JJ murmurs, shrugging. He looks down at the card and closes it. His thumb swipes across the front. A small ruby red love heart bobbing on rolling waves as if it's a boat, alongside a phrase that JJ focuses desperately hard on to read. With you, I feel like I'm floating. It's something so unexplainably you to pick out. Clearing his throat, he looks back up at you. "Never really thought about it before."

Humming, you get up and walk to the bookshelf by your closet. You ponder for a moment before retrieving a thin paperback and taking your previous spot on your bed. A random page is picked out and you hold it out to him.

"Read this to me."

It's popcorn all over again. That same dreaded panic bubbles in his throat.

"Feels like I'm in school," JJ chuckles, hoping to play off his nerves. "You're like my sexy teacher or somethin'."

"Har har, you wish," you say with a roll of your. "Read, though. Please."

Sighing, JJ relents and takes the book. He squints down at the pages and tries and tries and tries. The letters won't cooperate. They jive and jig on the lines. Shaking his head, sighing again, growing frustrated, JJ blinks and focuses. The anxiety builds in his chest like a hammering train on tracks. As his lips go to form the first word, your hand on his has him taking pause. You smile kindly at him.

"S'alright. You don't gotta read," you tell him. You take the book back and close the pages and JJ feels like he can take a breath. Ditching the flimsy paperback, you clear the small gap between the two of you and cup JJ's face in your hands. The kiss the two of you share is tender, lingering like a mist. "I love you, y'know that?"

"Even if I ain't a reader?" He means for it to sound like a joke but there's a sincerity in JJ's voice. His insecurity that has been there since childhood, that fights to come out whenever he hangs with Pope, that growls with jealousy when you lounge back on the boat with a book. His insecurity that he isn't all that smart and maybe you - someone who lives and breathes education like a bong hit - would figure that out sooner rather than later, and find someone who is.

"Even then," you hum, kissing him again. "Just gives me another excuse to spend more time with you, huh?"

And when you put it that way, maybe it ain't all bad.

[ghostbite0]

I freakign.LOVE how much tengen and his wives love each other. With the whole arranged marriage it would be so easy for them just to live around each other and file their taxes together and leave it at that. But no. Tengen cares for his wives. He loves them as if he chose them himself. He protects them and tells them to put themselves first. He's completely faithful and loyal to them. They love him. They protect him and listen to him and protect themselves. And I love when they have relationships with each other too, where they don't just feel like accessories to tengen. I love fanfics where they tag the wives as bi because they love each other too!

With how they were all raised it especially would've been easy to just follow along with it. Force the girls to carry his kids and disregard them as objects. Follow tengen around, doting on him and being big tiddy house wives. But no, they broke away from all that. Tengen loves dressing and acting like a slut, but it's not because he was forced to. He just loves looking hot and being fawned over and what a coincidence! His wives think he's hot and love fawning over him!

Tengen isnt my favorite character but just love love love him as a character. I've never posted a take before and I'm sure someone's said all of this but idk it's just been brewing inside of me and since we're doing takes I just threw it in if I'm so dead wrong that it's funny you can tell me to kill myself btw

anon writing this take

no because you're so right. i love tengen's character and i wish people hyped him up more. that man loves his wives and loves his family and loves the hashira so much its insane. and i love his self confidence so much. ppl claim hes egotistical and maybe it is but you do see that side ofhim where he does have a lot of self doubt and feels he is deserving of hell and is the weakest hashira. he beats himself up constantly. but hes wonderful and i love him

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Thank U

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violenc, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bruce Wayne/Batman (Christian Bale version)

Summary: you try to thank the vigilante who saved your life.

In the same universe as Home Sweet Home

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

‘To Batman’ 

No, that sounds ridiculous. All of this is just absurd. You don’t really think this will go anywhere but you just need to get the thoughts out. After a sleepless night, you need to put it somewhere before it boils over inside of you. 

You need to thank the man who saved you. If that’s what he is. He seems inhuman with all that he does for Gotham. 

‘My hero’ 

Ugh. New page. 

‘Hi. 

You don’t know me, but you saved my life. I know I’m not the only one and I hope I’m not the only one to say thanks. That’s what this is. I know it isn’t much but I’m not sure how else to do this. 

If you don’t remember me, that’s okay. I was walking home and there was a man following me. Then two. Then three. Then you were there. 

And just as quick, you were gone and so were they. I didn’t get the chance to thank you but I got home safe. Because of you. 

Batman. My hero. 

I owe you my life. 

Stay safe. 

Just another Gotham citizen.’ 

You reread the letter and cringe. What are you doing? You’re crazy. Is this pick-me energy? 

Ugh. You just can’t get over it. Your heart races every time the scene plays out in your head. Those men, their footfalls echoing yours, getting closer and closer, penning you in as they came at you from all sides. 

Your shoulders rose as you shrunk down and braced yourself for a heedless fight. Then the sudden flapping, the crash and crunch of violence, the shadows at battle against the brick wall as you stood by helplessly. Then the silence and his grizzled command. 

‘Go home.’ 

You ran all the way there. You didn’t look back or stop. And you didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. The dregs of adrenaline are still in you. 

Fatigue finally sets in as the sun rises. You fold up the letter and slide it into and envelope. You don’t expect this to go well. You don’t know what you’re doing. 

You’re in the same clothes as the night before. You feel like you’ve been frozen. That night fogs around you like a cloud. So close... it could’ve been so much worse. You could have been another news story. Another body in and alley. 

You walk down to the precinct. You stare at the doors for a while before you make yourself enter. The last time you went there, the only time, they wouldn’t even file a report about the man who sleeps outside your apartment door. He went away though... just a few days later. 

You go up to the counter. 

“Hi, erm, I need to get this to Commissioner Gordon.” You say. 

The uniformed officer doesn’t look up. He laughs.  

“It’s just a letter,” you plead. 

“Girl, you’re wasting everyone’s time right now,” the man doesn’t look away from the computer screen. 

“Please,” you hold the envelope through the little gap under the thick plastic window. 

“What’s this? A love letter?” He scoffs. 

“Joe, don’t be a dick,” another officer approaches and takes the letter. “I’ll give it to him.” 

“Oh, thank you so much,” you preen. 

“Don’t know if he’ll read it,” he mutters. 

“He just needs to look on the outside,” you point. 

He flips the envelope and reads your writing; ‘Batman, c/o Commissioner Gordon’. He tilts his head as he looks up at you. He shrugs. 

“Whatever, it’s a reason to stretch my legs,” he wiggles the letter between his fingers. “Have a good day, ma’am.” 

“Thanks, officer.” 

You turn and scurry out of the precinct. You don’t think the caped crusader will ever see that letter but at least you tried. It might not help you sleep at night, but it will be one less thing keeping you awake. 

[love-fictional-ppl]

5 (smut)with remus lupin

AHHHHH DADDY REMMY

Don’t Make a Sound!

Summary: Remus gets a call from his best friend while you’re having sex and tells you to keep going.

Pairings: Dom!Remus Lupin x fem!reader ft. Sirius Black

Warnings: modern au!, language, smut, praise and degradation , use of the word ‘Daddy’, hairpulling, stomach bulge, size kink, face fucking, facials, etc.

Prompts: 5.) *Character A gets a phone call while having sex* “you gotta be good, okay?”

Today was Remus’ day off from work and he enjoyed it the best way he knew how, the two of you spent the majority of the day lounging around without a care in the world.

You couldn’t remember whose idea it was but eventually the two of you wound up on the couch with you bouncing up and down on his cock. Remus did most the work, lifting you by your hips, he would occasionally fuck up into you meeting the set pace. You babbled nonsense drunk on the feeling of him inside of you.

Remus sucked on your exposed nipples while continuing to fuck you on his dick. You let out quiet moans, enjoying the sensual moment with your boyfriend.

“You’re so beautiful,” Remus compliments from underneath you. “Could stay like this forever.”

You grabbed Remus by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a steamy kiss. As you rode the dorky brunette, you could feel the slick dripping down and pooling on the couch and Remus’ lap.

“Mmmgh- I love you, daddy,” you moaned out — eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Aww, I love you too, sweet girl.”

Remus moved his hands from your waist to your ass cheeks. Remus would occasionally land a light smack to your ass. Remus grabbed you by the jaw and pulled you in for a slobbery kiss. When he was done he lifted you up so he could fuck up into you at an angle that had you seeing stars.

You let out a fucked out laugh while also choking on your moans. Suddenly Remus stops, and you quickly realize why; Remus’ phone is ringing. And it’s the annoying ‘who let the dogs out’ ringtone Sirius had set for himself. The lycanthrope raised his index finger to his lips in a shushing expression and grabbed his phone.

“You got to be a good girl for me, okay?” You nodded your head enthusiastically.

Remus accepted the call and pressed his phone to his ear. “Hey, mate,” he spoke into the device. You could hear the faint sound of Sirius rambling ecstatically.

You slowly grind yourself against Remus, you see him visibly restraining a groan. You smile at the effect you have on him. Remus had zoned out of his conversation, which Sirius picked up on because he asked, “You good?”

Remus glared at you, “yeah I’m good, man. I’m just trying to do something right now.” Sirius continued his rambling unsuspectingly.

You hid your face in Remus’ neck to prevent yourself from making noise. Every now and then Remus would respond when appropriate, stumbling over his words.

Remus eventually decided he had enough of your teasing and ended his conversation with Sirius.

“Alright, I gotta let you go. I’ll talk to you sometime later, okay?” Remus spoke into the speaker. The two men said their goodbyes and Remus tossed his phone to the floor

Before you knew what had happened Remus flipped you on all fours. He pushed his hand into your lower back to force you into an arch, Remus then grabbed you by your hair and pulled your head back.

“You think that was cute?” Remus asks harshly. “Fucking whore.”

You moan, harsh words and pain going to straight to your pussy. You clench around Remus’ cock, feeling how much deeper he was at this angle, you could feel him in your stomach. Remus slammed into you at an impossible pace, your eyes rolled into your head — Remus fucking you dumb.

Fucked into oblivion, you pleaded to Remus, “Please! Please- I’m sorry! Daddy!”

Remus pulled your hips back to meet him in his thrusts. Remus groaned feeling how tight you clenched around him, sucking him in with a vice like grip. The brunette continuously hit your sweet spot, making you twitch.

Remus threw his head back and chuckled, “f-fuck, you feel so good around me, sweetheart.”

Remus lifted you so back was pressed against his chest, both of you on your knees. Remus grabbed you by the hair to force your head to look down, down at the bulge of his cock is your lower stomach.

“Fuck, you see me in your tummy?” Remus spoke in a raspy voice.

You could feel Remus twitch inside of you, enjoying the sight. Remus knocked the wind out of you with the force of his thrusts — bullying your poor sweet spot. You felt your stomach tighten, the familiar sensation of an orgasm approaching.

“Remmy! Please I need to cum!” You begged for release.

Remus looked down at you displeased, “that’s not my name. What’s my name, slut?”

“Daddy! Please, daddy!” You were begging pathetically, “I wanna cum!”

“Much better,” Remus praised.

The brunette looped his arms under your thighs and lifted you up, fucking into you at an even more intense pace than before. Your head fell back on Remus’ shoulder and you came with a cry. You continuously thanked your boyfriend through your orgasm.

Remus slowed his thrusts and eventually came to a halt as you came down from your high. Remus pulled out and laid you on your back before straddling your chest.

“I didn’t cum yet,” Remus states looking down at you. “Open wide, love.”

You opened your mouth expectingly, Remus wasted no time in working his cock in between your lips. You placed your hands on Remus’ waist, needing to hold onto something. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling aroused from the desperation of the man.

Remus held a hand in your hair and bucked his hips into your face wildly, he used his free hand to attempt to hide the moans and groans he let escape his lips. You hallowed your cheeks to add to the pleasure and massaged the underside of his shaft with your tongue, tracing the prominent vein that ran up to his tip.

It didn’t take too much longer for Remus to blow his load, he pulled out and you stuck your tongue out for him. Spurts of cum landed on your tongue, cheek, nose, and forehead. A full blown facial. Remus stood up, allowing you to lift yourself up, he disappeared to the kitchen and grabbed a wet rag to wipe your face.

But, little did either of you know, Sirius never hung up and was listening to the entire thing. Sitting in his room he imagined fucking your tight cunt whilst fucking his fist. After cumming in his hand, he hung up as he should have done in the first place. Now Sirius had to live with the guilt of jacking off to his best friend fucking his girlfriend.

A/N: sorry ending was a little rushed. This has been in my drafts for a minute now but I finally finished it!! If anybody would like to be added to a taglist for Remus, or any HP character lmk! Not proofread.

[trash-and-trash-accessories]

I love Spike so much. He's the most character of all time. But it's more than that. He's more than bleached hair, a pretty face, and bloodlust. He makes sense. The character makes sense.

He's William. He's still, despite it all, William Pratt, the god-awful poet and pathetic wet cat of a man under the thumb of mommy his whole life. He just wants to be loved and held and to satiate his unending bloodlust. He's not the big bad. He's pathetic.

He's burnt out on all the plots and schemes. Plots and schemes are Angel's thing. Serving some grand evil purpose is Darla's thing. Cruelty is Drusilla's thing. William Pratt is a poet and a mama's boy who just wants a strong woman to love him and tell him what to do. He's tired. He's so tired of the plots and schemes.

Sure, he knows how to have a good time, he plays kitten poker and sells demon eggs to the highest bidder but that's a matter of making money or hanging out with friends. It's not what he WANTS. The only thing he wants is to be loved by someone who loves him back. The problem is, he's toxic and obsessive. He doesn't fall in love. He becomes consumed. His whole world revolves around the object of his obsession. So when he's with Drusilla, he's the big bad evil guy doing schemes. Trying to impress her with extreme violence and death. Because that's what Drusilla is into. Torture and death. She's Catholic. And a vampire.

He also tries to impress Angel by killing Slayers because Angel is into Slayers and Angel and Spike canonically slept together don't at me. This man is bisexual.

When he's with Buffy he's a loyal dog. A bad boy, a part of the demonic world, but a dog nonetheless. He's a soulless monster but his obsession with Buffy turns him into one of the good guys. It's not natural for him. He feels it happening and he fights against it, but he's madly in love with her and he will be and do whatever it takes to impress her and make her love him back. He's obsessive.

He knows it, and he doesn't like that side of himself. He doesn't like that he's a pathetic dog. Sometimes he pushes against that side of himself. He tries to be a good person, for real. Not just a pathetic stalker of a man.

But he can't fight it. He is what he is.

And unfortunately that is a soulless vampire.

Hence that one scene that I pretend didn't happen.

But despite being definitionally evil, he can't stop being consumed the person he's obsessed with. Buffy wants him to have a soul. She wants him to not be the monster he is. So he rips William Pratt from his grave and resurrects him for her. He goes through hell to put his soul back inside his body for her. It takes her a long time to accept him again after what he did.

But he's the good boy now. He's a good dog.

Only she doesn't see him that way. In the end, he has her trust. Her love. She cares about him and sees him as her equal. As someone she can trust. She can't trust her friends because they're messy and constantly fucking up and betraying her because they don't understand what it is to be The Slayer. To have a human body and a human soul, with demonic power inside, and the divine mandate to sacrifice yourself for others, to save the world. No matter what that does to you.

Spike has a human soul, a demon inside him, trauma, and a divine mission to save the world. To sacrifice himself for everyone.

Spike is the only one who understands Buffy, and maybe the only one who ever will.

He's the perfect culmination of all her other relationships.

He fucks. Unlike Angel, Spike can fuck. He can experience joy alongside her.

He respects her strength and isn't emasculated or intimidated by the fact that she's stronger than him. He loves that she defeated a god. Unlike fucking Riley.

He's lived lifetimes worth of traumatic experiences. But he isn't currently experiencing an ongoing mental health crisis like Faith was.

And he likes poetry!

They even have the same ex boyfriend!

In conclusion He and Buffy are both the most character of all time and the narrative's favorites and therefore they are both perfect for each other and have the potential to be extremely toxic together and I'm so happy for them, I hope she pegs him, I know he would love that.

[winchesterwild78]

The Demon and Me pt 2

Master List 

Characters: Demon Dean x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Demon Dean, Angst, Language, SMUT! 

TW: Demon Dean is very rough in bed. The sex will be consensual, however I wanted to write a warning because it’s not going to be sweet and fluffy. 

A/N: Oh Demon Dean…he makes me feral-sorry not sorry. Just a short story that popped in my head. I have a ton of chapters for other stories half written, but I couldn’t help myself. Dean is now a demon and the reader is left with the weight of his absence, he shows up in her hotel room, and leaves her reeling, Sam and Cass arrive, and Cass gives the reader some unexpected news. 

Minors DNI 18+

A panic filled my body. Then the light turned on. “Looking for this darlin’?” Dean was standing in my room, holding my demon blade. I gasped, “Dean.”

“Hey sweetheart, looking good in my shirt.” His eyes flashed black and then green. I grabbed the blanket and covered my exposed body. 

“Dean, what are you doing here? How did you get in here” I knew the question was stupid before I even asked it. He knows how to pick a lock. That’s how he got in. 

He stepped closer, tossed the knife to the side and smirked, “I couldn’t stay away from you. Your smell is intoxicating. I need you baby.” 

I pulled the blanket up further as he stepped closer. My head low and I had to bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. I knew he was still a demon, but hearing his voice and seeing his green eyes look at me like he loves me was just too much. 

“Dean, I’m not your baby anymore. You don’t love me. You chose this over me, over us.” I couldn’t look at him. My voice was shaking and I felt the sting of the tears. 

Dean stepped to the side of the bed I was on. The one I always slept on, away from the door. Dean’s side was closest to the door so he could protect me. At least that’s what he always told me. 

I could feel his body heat. Then his hand gently cupped my face and turned it up and towards him. I looked at him, his face was soft and I thought I saw the love he had for me. 

“Sweetheart, please. I do love you. I want to be with you. You swore you’d love me no matter what. Remember Cass said we’re soulmates. We belong together, no matter what happens.” 

Tears started to fall, his thumb gently wiping them away. I instinctively leaned into his touch. It had been so long. 

“What about the girl from the bar?” I asked in a soft voice. “What about her? Why would I want her when I have you?” 

My breath hitched, “Dean, I..” I couldn’t finish the sentence, he captured my lips in a soft kiss. My mind is reeling. He was so gentle I lost myself in his kiss. I got up on my knees, meeting him and kissing him deeper. His hands gently pulled me to his chest, and I moaned. 

I pulled back, needing air and I looked in his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of green I’d seen. “Dean, I miss you. Please..” Dean’s hands ran up my body, tracing every curve I’d learned to love because he loved them. He removed the shirt and his lips trailed down my collar bone and to my full breasts. 

My head leaned back and I moaned. My body responding to his touch, I could feel the slick forming between my thighs. I knew my panties were soaked. Dean leaned my body back and he positioned himself between my legs. His bulge pressing against my panties. 

His hands and lips trailed over my body, he kissed every scar and every stretch mark like he was memorizing my body again. Dean’s hands stopped at the hem of my panties, his eyes flicked to mine. I nodded and lifted my hips. My mind screamed at me to stop, but my heart and my body needed him. 

As he removed my panties his hands slid in between my folds. I heard a soft growl from his lips, “All this for me sweetheart?” I moaned and nodded. “Use your words.” “Yes, Dean, please I need you.” His tongue and mouth attached to my clit and pussy. I quivered under his touch. 

He sucked and licked like a starved man. I came almost instantly. Dean lapped up my juices. I moaned and squirmed under him. His grip tight on me as he pushed me towards another release. I came almost as fast the second time, this time his name leaving my lips loudly. 

As Dean helped me ride out my second release my senses were completely gone. Dean, my Dean was the one making me feel like this. My heart ached for it to be true. 

As Dean picked his head up, smiling down at me in my euphoric state. “Mmm look at you sweetheart. You tasted so sweet, different but sweet, almost new.” I smiled up at him and pulled him down to kiss my lips. “I love you, Dean.” 

A smirk tugged on his lips. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and removed his jeans and boxers. His hard length sprang free. I bit my lip, I really missed him. “Dean, baby, please take me.” Dean positioned himself between my legs and his green eyes turned black as coal. 

I gasped as he slammed his cock deep inside me. “Dean, baby, come back to me. I don’t want you like this, please.” “Oh baby girl, you wanted this, remember?” His eyes flashed back to green, but he kept up his brutal pace. 

He would pull out and slam back inside, hitting my cervix and pulling a half scream, half moan from my mouth. “Oh this pussy, it’s all mine.” My legs were in the air, draped over his shoulder as he kept slamming into me. My tits were bouncing so much they started to hurt. 

Tears formed in my eyes. Dean was never this rough, but god my body craved him. Dean held me down, slipped one of his strong hands around my throat. “You take my cock so good baby. Fuck! This pussy was made for me. You better not let anyone ever fuck you. You, your pussy belongs to me.” 

I felt like I was going to pass out, throw up and cum again. Dean’s mouth covered mine in a deep, hard kiss. “Dean, please, slow down.” I begged. “No! I will take you how I want. You’re mine.” I laid under Dean, feeling his hands grip my body tight as he pounded into me. 

In one swift movement, Dean had flipped my body over and pulled me on my knees. He slammed into me, pulling my ass up and pushing my face into the pillows. His large hands gripped my hips as he continued his brutal assault on me. Then without warning his large hand came down and smacked my right ass cheek, hard. I yelped in pain.

Dean was getting close. “I’m going to fill this little pussy up with my seed. Fuck a baby into you. I know you want that.” “Oh Dean, please baby, not like this.” My pleas fell on deaf ears as tears fell. Dean was spilling his hot seed deep inside me. His grunts and groans filled the room. 

After he came he stood, put his clothes back on and left without a word. I laid on the bed naked, a complete mess and utterly alone. I was ashamed I gave into him, and my heart broke because he used me then left. 

I felt his cum spilling out of me. As I got up to clean myself, I winced at the pain in my body. Dean’s marks were peppering my skin and between my legs was so sore. 

I allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I cleaned myself up, laid a devil’s trap out, something I should have done before, and crawled back into bed. The smell of Dean on the sheets and my body. I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach that filled my body. 

As I laid there I felt the bile creeping up my throat. Throwing the blanket back, I leaped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I sobbed as I began to vomit. Emptying what little contents there was into the toilet. 

After I was sure I was done I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth. I crawled back into bed, pulled the blanket around me and exhaustion took over. 

The next morning I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the phone and it was Sam. I had no idea what I was going to tell him, how could I tell him I found Dean, allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I felt the familiar feeling fill my stomach, I was so ashamed of what I had allowed, it was making me physically sick. 

I answered the phone, voice very weak, “Hey Sam.” “Oh thank god! Y/N, where are you? I got your note and called your sister. She said you broke down and had to stay waiting on the part. Are you okay? You sound off.” 

“No, I’m not. I found him, Sam. I found Dean and Crowley. I wasn’t looking and they were in the bar I went to last night. Sam I…” My voice trailed off. Not sure how much more I could admit. “Y/N, Cass and I are on our way. Tell me where you are. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

I sighed and told him where I was. “We will be there soon, and Y/N, it’s going to be okay. Just stay away from him until we get there.” I thought to myself that was easier said than done. Even though Dean was brutal last night, my heart and body ached for him. I still loved him, and would never give up hope he still loved me. 

After a few hours of laying in the bed I decided to take a hot shower and go find something to eat. Before I left the room, my phone went off with a text notification.

Crowley: I told you to stay away from him. Now all he can talk about is how you tasted last night, how it was different, sweeter, innocent.

Me: I woke up with him in my room you asshole. I didn’t invite him over. Besides, I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. 

Crowley: No, but you definitely invited him in, didn’t you. Now you’ve complicated things and you’re going to pay.

Me: What’s wrong Crowley, is there a little trouble in paradise? His love for me is too strong to keep up this bro fest? You know if you hurt me, Dean will never forgive you. It doesn’t matter how long he stays a demon, I know his love for me keeps me protected, and you know it too.

Crowley: We’ll see.

I sighed as I put my phone away. Walking outside the sun was shining and the air was cool. I walked to the diner on the corner to grab some food and saw Bubba. “Well howdy, Miss. I was about to call you. I was able to get in touch with my friend and he has a hose that will fit. His wife is going to deliver it later today so I should have you up and running by this evening.” “Oh that’s great, thank you so much.” He nodded and walked away.

I walked into the diner, I could hear the clinking of dishes and chatter fill the room. The waitress smiled and told me to sit wherever I wanted, so I grabbed the corner booth at the back of the diner. Dean had taught me to find the furthest table from the entrance so I could see everyone coming and going. 

The waitress came over and took my order. I sat stirring my coffee, a weird feeling creeping up from inside. I played last night over and over in my head, along with what Dean and Crowley kept telling me about me “tasting different, sweeter, or smelling like vanilla and cookies.” It was really strange. In all the time Dean and I had been together, he had never said that to me. 

By the time my food came I was so deep in thought I didn’t realize it had arrived. “Ma’am, here’s your food.” The waitress’ words pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up and smiled, “Thank you.” She nodded and walked away. 

I ate what I could, still feeling sick, paid my bill then left. I decided it was probably a good idea to stay in the room until Sam arrived. When I got back to the room, I turned on the TV, laid down and fell back asleep. The dream I had sent my head reeling. 

*Dream*

Dean had just gotten home from work. He loved his job as a mechanic and was working towards his own shop. I stayed at home working towards my degree. Dean and I were also expecting. Our first child, a boy, was due in a little over 3 months.

I hadn’t realized I was pregnant until I kept getting sick and Dean jokingly brought home a pregnancy test. Taking the test into the bathroom I sat it down, walked away and forgot about it. Dean and I had just sat down for dinner when he asked if we knew if I was knocked up yet. I gasped and told him I forgot about the test. Dean and I went to the bathroom and saw the two lines. 

We were shocked, excited, but shocked. Dean had been having Cass come down at least twice a week to check on me and the baby. It was endearing at how excited and scared he was. When we found out I was having a boy, Dean beamed with pride. 

As I stood cooking dinner, Dean had just come home, showered and walked up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my pregnant belly, kissed my cheek and rubbed my belly. “How are my babies today?” He asked softly in my ear. “We are good, we’re glad Daddy is home, though.” 

Dean smiled, spun me around, kissed my lips and said, “I’m glad I’m home too. I missed you two.” “I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

*End of Dream*

As Dean said he loved me in the dream I woke up, reeling. My heart ached for that life. A normal life, Dean back being Dean, and us together with children. Now with him as a demon and gone, that isn’t possible. 

When I looked over at the clock I realized I had been asleep for hours. I looked at my phone and saw a text from Sam.

Sam: Hey, we are about half an hour out. When we get into town we will head straight to you.

You: Hey, sorry I was asleep. It’s been about 30 minutes since you sent that text, are you close?

As I hit send there was a knock at the door. I walked over, looked through the peephole and saw Sam. I unlocked the door and opened it. 

“Hey Sam, Cass.” Sam pulled me into a hug, “Hey, Y/N. How are you doing? Did he hurt you?” Tears pricked my eyes, “No, Sam. He didn’t hurt me. I just…” My voice trailed off as Cass stepped closer to me, looking concerned.

“Cass, we’ve talked about personal space, buddy.” “Yes, but you smell different, Y/N. You smell like sex, cookies and vanilla.” I whipped my head towards him, “Why the hell does everyone keep saying that. You, Crowley, Dean!” Sam stepped closer, “I don’t smell anything, Y/N.” 

Cass was right beside me and inhaled deeply, “That’s because you’re human. Y/N, you smell like…” His words stopped and his eyes went wide. My heart beat fast.

“I smell like what Cass?” “Y/N, I think you’re pregnant.” The room fell silent. The only sound was the sound of my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Cass, what?” Sam asked, finally breaking the silence. “I think Y/N is pregnant. That’s why she smells like cookies and vanilla. I don’t know why she would smell like sex, though.” I hung my head.

“Cass, are you telling me because I smell like cookies and vanilla you think I’m pregnant?” “Yes, pregnancy always has the same smell, cookies and vanilla.” “But I can’t be pregnant. Dean’s been gone almost 2 months and I haven’t slept with anyone but him.”

Sam stepped closer, touched my arm, “Is it possible, before Dean died and was turned into a demon the two of you had sex and made a baby?” “I guess it’s possible, Dean and I had a lot of sex, so I guess it could be possible. 

I stood in stunned silence. “Y/N, what happened when you saw Dean yesterday?” Sam’s voice low, but full of concern. I hung my head, “I woke up to him in my room, and we…um..” My voice trailed off. Sam’s eyes flashed with understanding, “Oh Y/N, please tell me you didn’t.” My voice barely a whisper, “I’m sorry Sam, he was my Dean again.” Sam gently touched my arm, “No, he’s not. He used you.”

“Don’t you think I know that!? I gave him myself again because I still fucking love him, and after he used me, he just left. Without a word, he grabbed his stuff and walked away. I’m so fucking stupid! Now Cass is telling me I might be pregnant. Sam, what am I going to do? Dean and I wanted children, but Demon Dean, could you imagine him with a baby!?” Tears started falling hard and fast, my chest rising and falling as my breathing quickened. 

Sam didn’t say a word, he stepped closer to me, wrapped me in his arms and held me as I sobbed. “Shh, it’s okay, we will figure this out. First we need to know for sure if you’re pregnant.” 

I nodded and wiped my eyes. Sam said he’d be back, he was going to run to the drug store and get a test and some other things, leaving me with Cass.

The silence was awkward at first, then I spoke softly. “Cass you told me there was a plan for Dean and I, is this what it was? For us to fall in love, for him to become a demon and leave me alone raising our child, without him?” “No, the plan is still in place, you, this child will bring Dean back.” My eyes met his, “What do you mean, Cass?” “This baby is what will help bring Dean back. This child, the product of true love, is destined for great things.” 

I looked at him, not believing what he was saying. I still wasn’t convinced I was pregnant. Then the thought kept playing in my head, what if he’s right. What if I am pregnant and this brings Dean back to me, to us. 

As we sat in silence my heart filled with a mixture of emotions. I was excited at the thought of having Dean’s baby, terrified to do it alone, and even more sad I would have to do it alone. 

What if Cass was wrong, what if Dean, well Demon Dean didn’t care about our child. What if he chose to stay a demon instead of being with me and our child. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Sam walked in holding a plastic bag. He pulled out two different types of pregnancy tests and a bottle of prenatal vitamins. “I didn’t know which one to get and if you are pregnant you should start taking these. He said as he shook the bottle at me. 

I nodded, took the two boxes in my hand and walked into the bathroom, closing the door. 

I grabbed one of the disposable plastic cups I use to rinse out my mouth and collected my urine in it. I dipped the first test in, replaced the cap and repeated it with the second test. 

One of the tests was your standard test, the other was digital. They both took about the same amount of time. I sat on the side of the tub waiting. The few minutes I had to wait felt like it drug on for hours. 

There was a soft knock at the door, “Hey, Y/N, you okay,” Sam asked softly. “Yeah, just waiting. I’ll be out soon.”

Sam didn’t push. He knew you were going through a lot, he was going through a lot. So he figured with this new possibility you were probably extra anxious. 

Your phone dinged indicating the timer was done. You stood on shaky legs, swallowed hard and picked up the first test. Two lines. You softly gasped, picking up the second test, the digital one. Pregnant was on the screen. 

Tears fell as an overwhelming wave of love, excitement, sadness and anger filled your body. You softly placed your hands on your belly. 

You opened the door to Sam standing anxiously, “Well?” He asked as he stepped closer. I looked at Sam and buried my face in his chest, “I’m pregnant, Sam.” Sam held me protectively, “okay, we will figure it out. We will keep the two of you safe.” He then placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. 

I had no idea what I was going to do. 

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[wanderingmind867]

Of all these character descriptions, I feel like I relate most to Captain Boomerang (besides the sociability thing) and The Weather Wizard. Speaking of, the old 60s and 70s Flash comics don't have nearly enough Weather Wizard. Why!? They was so much potential in weather powers! Weather is fascinating as a gimmick!

But I also want to mention Rainbow Raider and Captain Cold. Captain Cold is someone I just really like (for one thing, I like his romanticism and his attempts to just find love. He just feels lonely, which is relatable). And although I wish Rainbow Raider showed up sooner (i'm still stuck in 1968 or 1969 on my reading), I do still love him and his just being a man with a tragic disability.

But since they're not here, let me also shout out Eobard Thawne and Abra Kadabra. I love those two. Eobard Thawne is more like a combination of a character like Professor Moriarty and The Joker, to me. He's someone who comes off as clever and well educated, but also maniacal. He revels in his evil, and I love that. I also love Abra Kadabra. I don't love all his stories (in fact, some of them weirded me out and I skipped them), but i still love jis backstory. A 64th century magician who just came to the 20th century hoping to find people to applaud him.

(this is based on the comics between 1960 and 1985) 🙇🏻‍♀️

I found it fun to do and I thought it might give ideas to the struggling fanfiction author (and I don't even have the same opportunity because I would also like to start writing some 🙇🏻‍)

I kind of abbreviated some of the information because I didn't really know how to word it ���⁠‿⁠ಥ

I'm not sure it's all true because the comics I'm basing it on are in English...I have difficulty understanding English 🙇🏻‍♀️ With that, I wish you a good day 🥲

[wanderingwnderland]

yandere! boyfriend x fem reader ೀ⋆⑅˚

currently listening to: angel by massive attack

Matthew was an incredibly valuable employee to one of the most prominent cybersecurity companies in the city of New York. He would often get called into work during his off hours when a group of fellow engineers were greeted by an especially indecipherable cyber attack. However, the undeniable value and intelligence that he added to the company didn’t necessarily reflect on his willingness to be social with those at his work environment. Matthew preferred to keep to himself most of the time as he lived by the statement: “I just don’t speak if I don’t have anything to say”. He wasn’t too fond of participating in playful banter with those around him because he was simply there to do his job and leave. What was the point of putting in that extra amount of unnecessary effort to talk to people he wouldn’t even speak to if it weren’t for work? Maybe that was why his boss liked loved him so much. Matthew wasn’t shy about the fact that he was there to do his job (incredibly well at that), leave and wander off to experience whatever else life had to offer. No bullshit there. Just a man that would have no trouble doing whatever his job required of him.

However, Matthew would often be teased by his older sister because of the fact that he was almost always enveloped within the poisonous vines of his work, that he never really made an effort to take his life to the next level. Sure, his job paid incredibly well and he was stable in most areas of his life but his sister never failed to remind him that there was one thing missing from his puzzle.

“When are you gonna give me a sister in law, Matty? I mean mom and dad clearly failed to provide me with a biological one, so I’m appointing the task to you”. Claudia, his sister, enjoyed throwing playful jabs at him as that was her job as an older sibling, but she truly wanted to see her brother with a girl by his side. Someone that he could come home to, share his life with, someone that would stay at the end of the night.

Matthew couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that he’d been hit with a wave of loneliness more times than he’d like to admit. When the city was quiet for a moment, his work phone was silent, and he could hear his heartbeat singing within his chest, Matthew could no longer ignore the painful yearning he felt for the opportunity to finally have his other half by his side. So, after a while of attempting to put up an “I’m alone because I’m so enveloped within my work and that’s fine” facade, he decided to start putting himself out there. However, he preferred to stick to the people around him and refrain from downloading a single dating app.

Funnily enough, it was the exact morning that he was clocking in for work where he first laid his hazel eyes on you. There you were picking up your usual coffee order at the cafe nestled within the same building of his place of work. You were so beautiful and everything you did that had him in shambles seemed all so effortless. Matthew knew that he probably appeared a bit unsettling as he caught himself staring at you for a bit too long, so he took it upon himself to walk up to you, make small talk (which he rarely ever did with anyone), and ask for your number but not before paying for your coffee & pastry. You were pleasantly surprised by his approach because online dating/dating apps have become the norm for some years now, and you rarely ever heard of people meeting potential suitors in person anymore. Not only that but the way in which he did it almost made you feel as if you were the main character in a Jane Austen book. Matthew wasted no more than a second before saving you as a contact in his phone and messaging you as an effort to get to know you more.

The story of how the two of you met was something you couldn’t look back on without a smile being plastered on your face. Matthew knew from the very first time that he saw you that he’d do everything within his power to keep you satisfied and by his side. He didn’t expect for his first experience with a women to go as smoothly as it did with you, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. You were absolutely everything that Matthew envisioned when he thought of his future. The incredible sense of security and love that you provided him with was something that he swore he’d do absolutely everything to protect. In his point of view, you were nothing to be played around with. He wouldn’t tolerate or expect you to tolerate any sort of disrespect from anyone, and he’s willing to get his hands dirty to get his point across. Matthew truly doesn’t mind getting out of character when it comes to you, suddenly he’s the most confrontational man in the entire room and his tongue is sharp enough to cut down a giant sequoia tree.

Not only does he get out of character for you in the ‘confrontational’ sense but you have him partaking in activities that he most likely wouldn’t do without you. Matthew prefers low energy spaces over places that are ‘extroverted’ or involve large amounts of people/loud noises. So, he adores when the two of you visit coffee shops, bakeries, art museums downtown, botanical gardens, estate sales, nights at the movie theater, etc.

In the beginning, Matthew is everything you could ever want in a man but you could tell he was a bit…anxious? He was getting used to being in a romantic relationship with somebody and he wants to make sure that he doesn’t make any mistakes. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had the opportunity to have an angel such as yourself in his presence just to have you gone due to his idiotic actions. The pet names that he has for you are quite traditional but the absolutely love struck tone in his voice when he says them make their effect on you so much worse.

(Ex: Baby, princess, pretty girl, and muffin once he starts getting even more comfortable)

Thanks to him being an incredibly talented cybersecurity engineer, he’s able to hack into various electronic devices (including yours). Listen, Matthew obviously trusts you with his entire being but he’s doing this to keep an eye on the people in your life that he’s suspicious of. Of course he wants the love of his life, the apple of his eye to have an amazing night out with her friends but it just depends on who those friends are. He doesn’t want anybody to steer you in the wrong direction or peer pressure you into doing anything out of character. He just loves you so much and he’s willing to do everything he can to protect what the two of you have.

has an obsession with older romance movies and it shows through the sickeningly sweet way in which he treats you. He holds you as if you’re made of fine china or a knife of some sorts.

knows how to throw down in the kitchen as he’s had enough time gifted to him in order to learn how to cook/bake. He made you a cherry flambé one night after dinner and you almost fell out of your seat because of how good it melted in your mouth. You think it’s adorable how often the two of you visit restaurants, bakeries, & cafes and he takes every opportunity to expand his palate and get ideas of what else to make in your shared kitchen.

has a hooked nose and dark curls that ring around his neck like vines.

Every time he sees you naked it’s like the first time all over again. His eyes are watery, his fingers are shaking and he’s aching to get his hands on you, fingers inside you, his hips flush against yours as his cock makes a creamy mess out of your pussy. He swears you’re something straight out of a Peter Paul Rubens painting.

Couldn’t be happier when you obviously agree to go on a trip with his family and him to the villiage in Mykonos where his parents are from.

enjoys listening to rock and bands that have supposed ‘self-loathing anthems’. FE: Sublime, Soundgarden, Matchbox Twenty, Radiohead, etc. He listens to a wide variety of music but he favors jazz, rock, and folk music.

He runs hot in his sleep so he wears a simple set of a black tank top and black polo plaid boxer shorts to bed.

Prefers colder, rainy, and foggy weather.

He had a habit of smoking but somehow managed to quit once you entered his life.

[theesteppenwolf]

SPOILERS FOR LUCANIS ROMANCE

So i finished the game yesterday and i have to admit that i am pretty disappointed with how they handled his romance.

It severely lacks in reactivity from him because it really feels like he doesn’t have a response written in to some of the flirting and just continues talking. He has very short scenes and very few outings as opposed to other characters so it never really feels like there is enough happening in the relationship and the moments he does get are very underwhelming save the end game convos and the “backing away from flirting” scene.

His lock in scene was very awkward I was surprised that was the lock in romance scene at all and after that you get absolutely nothing with him. One coffee scene that is about him and spite that has a minuscule ending thing about you and until the end of the game that’s all you get. Even his combat dialogue stays pretty much the same, the stuff added you can’t even tell are romance specific.

If you don’t romance him or Neve they get together and it feels a lot more fleshed out than when he’s with Rook. I stopped having them together because it genuinely started to piss me off and i felt like i was third wheeling it. Even his fade quest implies his interest in Neve and not Rook and as a player romancing him how am i supposed to be completely fine with that?

(I love Neve and am not bashing on here but it was damn annoying)

Now i love his ending convos but the way you get there is dissatisfying to say the least. I filled in so much with headcanons and I shouldn’t have to.

I have to say even without the romance i think his lack of content does him a great disservice, just comparing how much you can talk with davrin or harding is wild. It feels like outside of him liking coffee and being a professional assassin they didn’t really know what to do with him.

Now i would definitely blame the lay offs for this but the fact that they managed to write out his relationship with Neve AND Bellara makes me feel a bit otherwise. And Mary Kirby has stated that she doesn’t like writing romance but the build up to his character really leads to very little.

This is just my little rant because I really do love the game, and when his scenes are good they are REALLY good, i adore his ending conversations but man, it’s just disappointing and frustrating getting there.

There is so much potential and stuff to work with and they just… did nothing. I’ll headcanon a lot and think of the wigmakers job to compensate i guess.

I don’t like being negative online, there is enough of that going around but i wanted to vent.