#my nana will always be my angel

[hotpotatopotat]

Why I don't think Shigaraki or his legacy is over.

I don't normally do canon delves but I am compelled as a Tomura fan to dissect the final battle. This isn't a post on whether it's good or bad, but observations on what's been told.

Shigaraki's crux has always been that he feels like no one can possibly understand what he is trying to accomplish, that his message and suffering is pushed under the rug, and that society is so rotten there's nothing to be done. Deku's goal is to try and understand this.

When Deku breaks through in mha417, Tomura challenges him on this. What would even change if you saw what happened to me? What would you even DO about it? Deku declares to the one person that needs it most: To reach out and give you peace, and "that is why...I am here"

But... When given the chance to go back to a time when he was happy, Tenko chooses not to. "Nah." he says. I think this is often overlooked, but Tomura didn't WANT to leave behind everything he's done.

Tomura says, even if you got rid of my hatred, even if you succeed in "saving me", it doesn't change the fact that I still believe in the future I'm fighting for, to destroy. The villains need a hero, the suffering needs to end, and things need to change.

Hang on to that for a moment. All for One shows up. He mocks him, his dream, his goals, claiming that they weren't real, that they weren't his, that his heart doesn't matter, that none of it does. He's evil.

All for One does kill Tomura here... or at least he would have....

With Deku's final blow, he ignites any remaining embers, Shigaraki, included. They land the final blow to All for One. Without that spark, and without Nana having saved Tomura from fading away, he wouldn't have been able to do this. Tomura would have died before.

Tomura's vestige is still decaying away, and he laments the fact that maybe...he wasn't more than the crying kid Deku said he was. He couldn't do anything. He didn't even destroy Deku's hands. His dreams are over.

Izuku says that he wanted to stop the cycle of grief and suffering. Tomura gives him a soft "hah..." This is such a cathartic moment for them, because I believe that Tomura finally feels understood. He's actually quite relieved.

Strangely, Tomura is soft here. He's not decaying away anymore, he's solid, he's wearing his old shirt. He's NOT the same. He declares how he wants to be remembered, as the one who never stopped fighting to change the world. Izuku says, it's already been...but...

In mha424, Tomura instantly challenges this. With a giant smirk, he tells Deku that he better do his damn best to make sure that things change. It depends on the choices that he continues to make, not the conclusion of one battle.

424 feels like a giant wink wink nudge nudge for the reader. Deku is dissatisfied with not getting that instant gratification of "saving" Tenko, just like after a final battle, he won't get the instant gratification of changing the world. We don't get the gratification either.

But honestly, I really do believe that Deku will carry on Shigaraki's legacy and internalize it just like All Might's.

One final thing... You see his hair change textures. Left to right, It's decaying like in the final form, it's defined and stringy like in his early days, and it's airy and blocked like in his liberation days. This is such guardian angel energy, I swear.

I don't think this is the last we will see of him. And if it is, at least physically the last we see of him, I'm happy Deku will carry on what was truly in Tomura's heart.

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:17」 — l.chan

» seventeen menu | dino menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ demon!Chan × fem witch!Reader wc: 3.5k summary: Y/N has been practicing her summoning, hoping to finally summon a demon. Imagine her surprise when she not only succeeds in summoning a demon but he’s insanely gorgeous and wants to make a deal. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: witchcraft and black magic, demonic summoning, demons; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this is for Nana. I hope you like it 😉 demon!Chan is hot and tbh, now I wanna summon him. Thank you for reading! Next part is shinigami!Hyunjin and it’s a bit of a departure from the general depravity of Kinktober. as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), lingerie, facefucking (f receiving), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do. Chan is a demon so he doesn’t use condoms or need to but humans should), use of pet names (babe, angel, etc.), multiple orgasms (f receiving, m receiving), titplay (f receiving), and that should be all. kinks: Lingerie + facefucking dialogue prompt: ❛❛ You look so good on your knees. ❜❜

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“Thank you! Come back soon!” you called as the door shut, the fake smile on your face falling the moment the last customer left the shop. You sighed heavily as your coworker, Hana, locked the door, flipping the open sign to the closed side and turned to face you.

“I hate working on Halloween,” she said as she stared at you. A chuckle escaped you as you started wiping down the counter. “It’s not even halloween yet,” you reminded her as she started over to where you stood behind the counter, leaning forward and placing her forearms on the surface. 

“Ay!” you hissed, shaking the towel in your hand at her, waving her away. “Go get the broom and start sweeping,” you told her as you wiped down the counter again before moving onto the tables as she disappeared behind the curtain separating the kitchen from the front of the shop. You wiped down the tables one by one, lifting the caddies as you wiped away coffee spills, stains, and crumbs.

The cafe was not the most exciting job but you loved it, interacting with the public and making coffees.

Hana returned with the broom, sweeping from the back of the storefront to the counter while you returned to the counter and started closing the tills, counting the money and putting it into the bank bag to deposit in the safe.

Closing sometimes seemed to drag on and today was no exception as you did the daily closing duties and accounting while Hana finished cleaning and putting away the cleaned dishes after sending them through the dishwasher.

All you wanted to do was go home and resume your practice. The last session hadn’t gone as well as you hoped and you were hoping this time around, things might go differently. As you finished up the accounts, putting the bank bag in your purse for the deposit, Hana appeared at the door, removing her apron. 

“Kitchen is all closed up, dishes washed and put away. Do you need anything else from me?” she asked. You shook your head as you shut the safe, spinning the dial and turned to her. “Nope!” you said as you got to your feet, grabbing your purse and keys. “We are all done!”

You turned off the office lights, shut the door and locked it as you followed Hana towards the front of the shop. She went around pulling all the shades down while you shut off all the lights but one in the back. At the front door, you unlocked and opened it, allowing her to exit before you stepped out and shut the door behind you, locking it.

A loud roaring drew both your attention as a motorcycle and its cyclist pulled up to the sidewalk. You watched as the rider removed his helmet and recognized Hana’s boyfriend, Daniel. “Hey Y/N,” he said, greeting you as Hana’s cheeks turned pink. It didn’t matter how long she’d been seeing this guy, he always made her blush like she had a school yard crush. It was endearing.

“Hey, Daniel,” you greeted back as he pulled a spare helmet out of one of the bags on his bike and held it out for Hana. “See you Monday!” Hana called as she walked towards him, taking the helmet and putting it on, clipping the buckle so it sat securely before climbing onto the back of the bike and wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s waist.

“See you, Hana! Bye Daniel!” you said with a wave as he put his helmet back on and revved the engine, backing up from the parking space and starting down the street. You watched them until they rounded the corner and out of sight before heading in the direction of the bank.

Once your business at the bank was complete, the money deposited into the cafe’s account, you headed home, excited to finally be in the confines of your house as you relaxed, unwinded, and could resume your practice.

After a quick dinner, you filled the tub and grabbed your favorite bottle of wine, poured the red liquid into a glass, setting it aside while you stripped and got into the tub. The water felt amazing, the heat soothing your sore and aching body as you leaned back against the tub pillow, grabbing your glass of wine from the floor and taking a sip.

You sighed, resting your head back and stared up at the ceiling, silence filling the room and washing over you. ‘Maybe I’ll just call it a night. I have all weekend to practice those spells,’ you told yourself silently, taking another sip of wine. ‘Going to bed early sounds really nice.’

You relaxed in the tub until almost all the warmth had gone from the water. Pulling the plug, you got out, dried off quickly and wrapped yourself in a black silk robe as you grabbed your almost empty bottle of wine and glass, heading down the hall to your bedroom.

Once inside, you walked over to the bed, setting the bottle on your bedside and downing the rest of the alcohol in your glass. As you turned towards your closet, your eyes fell on the black book perched on top of your dresser where you left it the previous night, memories of your attempt at summoning flashing in your mind.

You stared at the book, eyes narrowing as you scrutinized it. ‘No,’ you said to yourself, turning away and moving to pour the rest of the wine into your glass, picking it up and taking a large sip. You sat down on the edge of your bed, one leg crossed over the other as you attempted to finish your glass.

You glanced at the book briefly, frustration bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

You’d tried for weeks now to move to the next part of your training, attempting to summon a demon. Not that you wanted to make a deal with one. You just wanted to prove you could do it.

Taking another sip, you glared at the book like it was to blame for your multiple failed attempts. As you had a stare off with the black grimoire, you downed the rest of your alcohol, setting the glass down on your bedside and getting up. “Fuck it,” you hissed, moving to your closet, pulling out a baby pink lace set and pulling it on. You slid the sheer black stockings on and pulled the black silk robe back on over it. 

Back in your room, you moved over to the dresser and grabbed the book, heading out of your bedroom and into the next room over, shutting the door as you set the book down and opened a drawer of the desk, pulling out a lighter. You slowly went through the room, lighting the various candles before returning to flip the light switch off and grabbed the book once more.

This usually worked better during a storm but you figured given the close proximity to All Hallow’s Eve, the veil might be lifted enough to summon. Your last resort was to attempt on Halloween if this didn’t work. You moved to the middle of the room, a piece of chalk in hand as you knelt down and started following the guide in the book, drawing the symbols in order until you had created a summoning circle.

As you looked over the next part, making sure you weren’t missing anything, you started reciting the incantation, going slowly so you didn’t mess up the words. Every part of the ritual was important and you weren’t about to botch it and have to start all over again.

Your heart started to beat faster as you noticed the candles flickering around the room, a slight breeze swirling around the room despite the door and windows being closed. ‘Yes,’ you thought as you raised your hands up, continuing to repeat the incantation over and over as the wind grew.

As you reached the climax of the ritual, the candles extinguished all at once, plunging the room in darkness. You waited, breathing heavily as you waited for at least one candle to reignite which would mean you were successful. As you looked around, disappointment set in until you noticed it. A small candle, flame barely visible in the window across from where you knelt, flickered and danced until it was blocked.

“What the fuck?” you whispered. Your eyes trailed up upon realizing there was a figure standing in the middle of the circle, blocking the light of the candle from view but you could see the dim light dancing on the walls and ceiling behind the figure.

Your lips parted in surprise as you noticed glowing red eyes staring back at you. One by one, the candles reignited around the room, throwing the room into dancing light once more. Before you stood a man in black. He had fitted black pants, a black shirt that clung tightly to him under a black jacket. Dark brown hair fell into his eyes as he looked around, taking in his surroundings.

His eyes fell on you and a smirk crossed his features. “Well hello,” he said softly, his voice dripping with honey. “And who might you be?” You stared up at him wide-eyed before realizing he was waiting for an answer. “Y/N,” you answered quickly. “I’m Y/N.”

He squatted down to your level. “I see… and are you the one who summoned me, Y/N?” he asked, your name rolling off his tongue in the most delightful way, making your stomach flutter and desire settle in the pit of your stomach. You nodded wordlessly, staring back at him, admiring his features. He didn’t look like a demon. He looked like an ordinary man but those eyes…

“And why did you summon me?” he asked, tilting his head, the same smirk present on his face. He was enticing, enchanting, alluring. It made your mouth water. ‘Whoa, what the fuck?’ You shook your head, as if trying to shake your thoughts away.

“I uh…” you trailed off immediately. What were you supposed to say? Most who dabbled in the occult summoned demons for specific reasons, like making deals or wreaking havoc. Why did you do it? ‘To prove I could’ didn’t seem like a reasonable enough reason but you didn’t want to lie.

“Let me guess,” he said when you didn’t answer him. “To prove you could?”

Your eyes widened, a soft gasp escaping you. “Can you read my mind?” you whispered. He stared at you, his smirk widened until he burst into laughter, shaking his head. “No,” he answered. “I was just guessing.” His laughter continued for a moment longer before subsiding.

“Although,” he continued, eyes scanning your body, the front of your robe having come loose during the ritual, slipping down your shoulders and exposing the pink lace of the lingerie you wore underneath. “You seem awfully dressed up for just testing a ritual,” he continued.

You watched as his hand reached out, fingertips skimming over the lace. “Such a pretty set,” he said softly. “I’d hate for it to go to waste.” You stared back at him. “What?” you asked softly, heat coursing through your body. “Why else would you go through the trouble of dressing up in that?” he asked, gesturing to the lingerie under your robe.

“Don’t tell me you actually sleep in that,” he added with a chuckle. You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “I sleep in an old shirt and shorts.” The demon smiled. “I figured as much,” he said, shifting his weight. “So how about it? You summoned me for no reason in particular. How about we make the most of it?” You stared at him blankly. “Make the most of it?” you asked, not sure what he was getting at. He sighed, hanging his head. “Do I need to spell it out for you?” he asked. “Would you like me to peel that lingerie off with my hands or my teeth before I fuck you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, stomach jumping at his crass remark. “You’re going to fuck me?” you squeaked out. He chuckled, reaching out to caress your cheek. “If you’ll let me,” he answered. “You’re dressed for the occasion, aren’t you?” You watched as he stood up, moving to tuck his hands in his pockets. “So, how about it, angel?”

“Want me to make the most of my time here and fuck you?”

You stared up at him, breathing raggedly as he reached down to cup your chin. “You have to say yes or no,” he added. “I can’t read your mind, remember?” You licked your lips before nodding. “Y-yes,” you managed to croak out. A smile crossed his features. “Okay, where do you want me?” he asked.

You looked around the office, noticing the black futon in the corner. “One second,” you said, moving to get up but he stopped you. “Allow me,” he said, simply looking over at the futon and with a flick of his wrist, the piece of furniture pulled itself out, legs scraping against the wooden floor before it flattened.

“There,” he said with a smile, returning his attention to you. You turned back to look at him in awe. “Goddamn,” he said as he started to remove his jacket, letting it fall to the flood. “What?” you asked as he cupped your chin once more. 

“You look so good on your knees,” he said softly. “You know that?”

You fought the urge to smile, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Open your robe,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the dark locks back from his forehead before his hands moved to start undoing his belt. “I promise I’ll fuck you real good,” he said as he undid the buckle and pulled it open, moving on to unbutton and unzip his leather pants.

“But you have to do something for me first,” he added as he undid his pants. You nodded, staring up at him eagerly awaiting his next order. “Be a good girl and open your mouth for me.”

You did as he asked as his hand reached into his pants, pulling his cock free. You stared at it, taking in the thick veiny shaft and dark red head that was already leaking. “Tongue out, beautiful,” he ordered. You obliged, sticking your tongue out. He guided the head to your mouth, letting the tip rest on your tongue, the weight heavy.

“Lick it,” he commanded. You kept your gaze locked with his as you moved your head, giving the tip of his cock a slow deliberate lick. “Good,” he cooed. “Now keep that pretty mouth open wide for me.”

You relaxed your jaw as he slid his cock into your mouth, lips spreading as more and more of his cock entered your mouth until the tip was pressed against the back of your throat. “Good girl,” he said in a steady voice as he grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Stay right there.”

He held you in place as he started to pull back, his cock sliding along your tongue until just the head was in your mouth. “Remember, keep your mouth wide open for me, baby.” You made a hum of understanding and he thrusted forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag but he made no attempt to move. “Oh,” he said suddenly, giving your hair a firm tug, pulling at your scalp. 

“Name’s Chan, by the way. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

He pulled back, thrusting again and setting a steady pace, each time his cock hitting the back of your throat and letting out a groan as you gagged, your throat constricting slightly. Once or twice, he shoved his cock into your throat, effectively fucking your throat and cutting off your access to air. He showed no mercy, fucking your face roughly until your face was stained with tears, spit running down your chin and dripping into your chest in long trails. 

Your panties were soaked, your arousal seeping into the lace and no doubt dripping onto the hardwood floor but still Chan didn’t let up. He kept going, thrusting into your mouth, keeping a tight hold on your hair in an almost painful grip. “Undo your top,” he ordered. “Around your neck.”

You reached up, head bobbing with the force of his thrusts and undid the clasp around the back of your neck, letting the halter of your bralette fall, exposing your breasts. “Touch them.”

Your hands cupped your chest as you gagged around his cock again. Squeezing and feeling yourself, pinching your nipples between your fingers. The tips of your fingers touched the spit that had dripped onto your chest and you got an idea. You smeared it over your skin, swirling it around your breasts.

“Oh, so she’s filthy, is she?” Chan asked, breathlessly, pulling your head closer, forcing his cock into your throat until your nose bumped against his groin. He gave a shallow thrust before pulling your head back until his cock sprang free. You gasped, air filling your lungs. “Keep your mouth open,” he said. He forced his cock back into your mouth, thrusting faster.

“Almost,” he groaned. “Gonna cum down your throat and then gonna fuck you until you can’t stand.”

You moaned around his cock and he let out a growl, forcing his cock into your throat, fucking once, twice more before his seed spilled down your throat. He held your head in place until the last drop before he pulled back, dragging his heavy cock along your tongue.

Despite giving you a decent size load, he was still hard. “On the futon,” he ordered. “And keep the lingerie on,” he added. You got up, moving over to the futon, ignoring the ache and burn in your knees as he rid himself of his clothes and followed you. “On your hands and knees, angel,” he said, waiting for you to move into position.

As soon as you did, you felt his fingers slip between your folds, smearing your wetness as he played with your clit. His fingers moved quickly, enjoying the way your body reacted instantly. If it had been any other circumstance, you would have been embarrassed by how quickly he drew an orgasm out of you, walls clenching around nothing as he rubbed your clit.

As you started to come down, you felt the head of his cock rubbing against your folds before he pushed into your cunt, stretching your walls oh-so-deliciously as he filled you inch by inch until his hips were flush with your ass. “Fits like a glove,” he chuckled, hands moving to grab your hips tightly. “You might want to hold onto something,” he added.

“I’m not stopping until you’ve cum on my cock at least three times and are screaming my name.”

You cried out as he set a brutal, rough pace. Each thrust was hard and powerful and you could feel every vein as he throbbed inside you. It felt like he was about to blow again as he fucked you roughly, the sound of skin on skin filling the room, drowned out only by your moans and cries of pleasure.

He kept true to his word, coaxing another two orgasms out of you as he kept the same ruthless pace. Your walls fluttered around him in the aftershock of your third orgasm of the night. “Just one more,” he reminded you. “And you have to scream my name,” he added. “It’s Chan by the way,” he said again. “In case you forgot.”

“I haven’t!” you gasped, your cunt clenching around him as your body was sent hurtling towards another orgasm. “Scream my name,” he said again, angling his thrusts into the soft gummy spot that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cursed. “Gonna cum!”

“Good,” he growled. “Scream my name and I’ll finish,” he added. Part of you didn’t want him to finish. You wanted to keep going all night. As your orgasm washed over you, you bit your tongue, refusing to give in to his demands. As your walls spasmed around him, he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“I told you if you scream my name, we’ll be done,” he said as his hips slowed. You glanced over your shoulder at him. “I don’t want to stop,” you said breathlessly. Chan raised a brow at your words, a smirk starting to form. “So you want me to fuck you all night, then?” he asked, punctuating his question with a snap of his hips, making you cry out. You nodded quickly. 

“Yes!” you gasped. “I want you to fuck me all night!”

Chan let out a chuckle as he guided you further onto the futon, climbing on top behind you. “Fine,” he said, sliding his cock out of you and moving to lay on his back beside you. “But you take over for a bit,” he said, resting his hands behind his head. “My feet were getting tired. And besides,” he added as you straddled his hips, sinking down on his cock with a moan.

“I rather like the view.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[starmapz]

silent night - s. geto

❦ suguru geto x sorcerer reader

part four of the six degrees of separation anthology of oneshots, however can be read separately.

❝ christmas morning should bring with it joyous laughter and well wishes- but this particular morning is nothing but silent. when your fiancé's calls go to voicemail and you fear the worst, an unexpected guest shows up with news that could only come straight from a nightmare. ❞

❦ warnings ; no pronouns used. angst. hurt/no comfort. pet names (angel, sweetheart, darling). anxiety. panic attacks. mental illness. major character death.

❦ words ; 4.2k.

masterlist || sdos masterlist

previous (nicotine)

The sounds of Michael Bublé’s Holly Jolly Christmas fill the air, holiday joy spurring you to open your eyes.

Christmas Day.

You can only imagine how excited the girls are right now, having been told they can’t leave their rooms until you come to get them. Suguru had also insisted on Christmas music as your alarm to ‘get you in the spirit’.

As if you weren’t already in the spirit for your first Christmas engaged to him.

His fiancé. It has such a nice ring to it that the thought alone makes you smile.

Reaching over, you shut off the familiar bells and yuletide blessings of Michael Bublé’s sultry voice, opting for the silence of the snowy morning. After all, you would be hearing the girls’ excited shrieks and joyous laughter as soon as you made your way to the tree.

Flipping to Suguru’s side, it’s as though something sharp punctures your chest.

His side of the bed is empty. Cold. This wouldn’t be unusual were it not Christmas.

With a knot in your brow, you slip your feet into your slippers at the side of your bed, throwing on a housecoat and tucking your phone in the pocket, and pad over to the girls’ rooms. The chilly air of the house that Suguru prefers so that he can cuddle you at night feels more frigid than usual as a chill runs up your spine at the sight of Nanako’s cracked door.

“Nana?” You call her name gently as you peer through the door. Like every other year, she should be awake, practically bursting at the seams with excitement to see what you and her father had gotten her, but the room is silent save for the ticking of a clock.

You purse your lips, your feet carrying you much quicker to Mimiko’s room. Although quieter, she’s usually equally as eager to get to the tree, but her room is even more deathly silent than Nanako’s.

With concern pooling in your stomach at the lack of noise in the house, you jog to the living room in search of your family. The room is still, the tree untouched as the lights sparkle red like an omen. Your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of every gift wrapped to perfection, not a single one out of place.

The girls were so excited to open them.

Pulling your phone from the pocket of your housecoat, you dial Suguru’s number. It rings five times before going to voicemail.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

“Hi, Sugu. I don’t know where you and the girls are, but- um-” your voice breaks, fear gripping your words. “It’s Christmas. I hope everything is alright. I’m sure you’ll be back soon but just… let me know where you all are, okay? I love you.”

You hit the ‘end call’ button, staring down at the screen for a moment.

Maybe you should make yourself some tea while you wait. He’ll get back to you soon. Suguru’s always been good with that.

The tea does little to soothe your nerves. If anything, it sits uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach as you stare blankly at your phone screen. Your heart flutters with hope as it lights up, only to see a Merry Christmas notification from Duolingo.

That damn owl.

Picking up your phone once more, you open your texts with Nanako, your fingers flying across the keyboard.

10:02 AM You || Hey sweetheart, can you text me to let me know you, Mimi, and your dad are safe?

10:02 AM Nana || Message not sent. Tap to try again.

Your heart sinks, dread clutching your heart.

Over the years, Suguru’s put in a real effort to ensure you’re comfortable and happy. He bought a house away from the cult to keep you and his business separate, he never speaks of work even when he invites you along with his friends.

He made an effort to find you a therapist, and even attended couples’ therapy with you. He’s overly conscious of the fact that making the decision to defect from Jujutsu Tech with him is one that affected you deeply. It’s not something he ever took lightly, aiming to give you the best life.

Anything and everything for you. Whatever he could physically make happen, it would come to be. Every wish of yours at his command.

It was always at the back of your mind, the things he had done. The things you felt remorse over. The guilt and pain of failing Haibara and Nanami. The self-doubt of your decision to join Suguru all those years ago, abandoning your vow to keep humanity safe and leaving behind your friends at Jujutsu Tech. But after so many years of therapy, you’ve healed and have been able to live a fairly normal life.

You tend to a beautiful garden during the summer, opting for indoor plants during the winter. You learned to dry and make your own tea leaves, and run a small online business from the comfort of your home. It’s nothing that could pay bills, but it allows you a sense of independence while Suguru provides. You cook for your family and keep the house clean and every single night without fail, Suguru returns and envelops you in his arms, enjoying a warm dinner with his family.

This is the first time in a long time that doubt rears its ugly head in your mind, bringing back with it a familiar sensation of drowning. That feeling that something is wrong and you’re losing control.

In a flurry of unease, you pick up your phone and dial Suguru again. It rings a few times, but his voice repeats that same phrase.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

“Sugu, please call me back. I’m worried about you. You never miss Christmas. I love you, baby.”

The end call button somehow feels more daunting than it ever has, as though pressing it tells the tale of an end that you aren’t ready for. You rhythmically tap your nails along the screen in thought, dialing Suguru’s number again. Five more rings, one more voicemail.

“Suguru, please call me. Nanako’s texts aren’t delivering. I’m worried about you all. I can’t find anyone. I love you.”

You chew on your lower lip, leaning over the table on your elbows as you shut your eyes. You shouldn't be worried, they’re all strong sorcerers. They can take care of themselves. Suguru will keep his girls safe, you included. He always does.

You can hardly move in the hour that follows, calling Suguru every so often and trying Nanako, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. Mimiko’s phone is still in her room, there’s no use calling it. It makes you think that maybe this is all a misunderstanding. She wouldn’t simply forget her phone.

It’s the following hour that leaves you stranded, alone on an island of terror in the deep sea of your anxious worries.

It’s around noon when Suguru’s phone stops ringing before going straight to voicemail.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

Your voice is no longer even, you have to strain to feign even a semblance of control over your emotions, but you would be lying to say you aren’t a wreck. Your heart pounds each time you hear the phrase.

Hi, angel. Chances are this is you, since I don’t give my number out to anyone. Sorry I missed your call, I promise I’ll return it once I have a moment. I love you.

“Sugu, come home. Pl- please come home. I need you. I love you.” The encroaching tears are evident in your voice, choking you with each word.

You don’t know what to do, at a complete loss and alone, so painfully alone.

What are you supposed to do, call one of your non-sorcerer friends to tell them that your fiancé who barely tolerates them on a good night has gone missing? The reality is, a search party won’t help in this case. A search party can’t help you search for your criminal partner.

The loneliness had gotten easier to handle over the years, but between the doubt, fear, and concern already creeping into your heart, there’s little you can do to fend it off now. You continue to chew on your lip, gripping your phone tightly under white knuckles.

The following hour sees your tears fall. Suguru doesn’t go this long without answering. Nanako never puts her phone down.

You have to resign yourself to the knowledge that something has happened and you’re helpless in tracking them down. You haven’t used your cursed energy in so long you can hardly call yourself a sorcerer, but if ever there was a time to use it, now is the time.

Your pacing comes to a halt. When had you even started pacing? You’re not sure.

Someone with strong cursed energy is approaching your home. Suguru.

You run to the door, tears of relief falling as you practically tear the door from its hinges at the relief of seeing-

Satoru.

His expression is solemn, his hands buried deep within his pockets.

“Merry Christmas, sweets.” His voice sounds different. Deeper, forlorn. He’s traded in his dark shades for white bandages, equally snowy locks pushed out of his face. He’s filled out over the last ten years, his shoulders much broader and his chest much more pronounced. He still wears the Jujutsu Tech uniform, though it must be as a teacher now.

“Merry Christmas.” Your voice is meek, it sounds almost foreign to you. “You look good, Satoru,” you force a smile, though it’s hardly convincing given your distressed expression.

“Likewise,” he returns your smile.

“I don’t mean this in a bad way,” you begin, wiping your tears at the realization that you likely look like a mess. The most you’ve done today is make tea using your hand-dried leaves. It didn’t sit so well in your stomach though, and the remainder of the tea is still in a mug on your counter. “But, why are you here?”

Satoru shouldn’t know where you are. You suppose he does have those stupid Six Eyes, whatever that even means, and he could realistically have found you years ago if he so pleased, but he never did. For all the care that Suguru still held for Satoru, it was exactly that care that drove him to push his friend away, for their ideals and values stood too far apart. They weren’t as blurred as yours had become.

“Suguru mentioned I would find you here.”

“You spoke with him?” You perk up, your heart skipping a beat at the mere mention of his name. “Is he okay? My daughters, did you see them?”

Satoru’s tongue swipes over his lips before he presses them into a thin line. Your throat tightens, suffocating you.

“Can I come in?”

You purse your lips, slowly opening the door for Satoru, who has to duck to enter the house. He takes in your home, well organized and clean, with a cozy looking tree lit at the back. The overcast sun pours in through windows near the tree, illuminating the awaiting presents.

He makes his way inside, confidently making himself at home in typical Satoru fashion. He finds the first comfortable looking chair and plops himself down with spread legs. He hasn’t changed one bit. You follow after him, standing at the edge of the living space.

“You’ve got a nice home,” he comments, punctuating the phrase with your name. 

“Thanks.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, fear shaking your vocals as you push out the question you’re dreading. “Where’s Suguru?”

Satoru doesn’t move. You can’t read his expression under the bandages. You think you prefer the sunglasses to the makeshift blindfold, even if they made him look like an asshole.

“Have you turned on the TV at all today? Checked the news?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. A pit could open up and swallow you whole and it would be a kinder fate than whatever easy way Satoru is trying to let you down. You appreciate the way he’s gentle on your frail heart, but you wish he wouldn’t beat around the bush.

Maybe the fact that you’re aware he’s letting you down easy should be your first clue that something is wrong.

“No, I haven’t.”

He sighs deeply. This is the most serious you’ve seen him since Suguru defected. “Sit down.” It’s not a request, nor a demand, but you oblige anyway. You fear if you don’t, you’ll collapse as your legs begin to quiver under the gravity of your emotions.

Satoru turns to face you finally, pulling a strand of the bandage and allowing it to unravel so that you can see his eyes. They seem to glow even in the well-lit living area. He blinks a few times, before he seems to find his voice.

“Has he spoken to you at all about what the cult has been doing?”

You shake your head, your voice caught in your throat.

“I see.” He straightens, facing you as though he’s giving you a debrief. It almost brings you back to your high school days. “Last night, Suguru released two thousand cursed spirits in Kyoto and Shinjuku. I won’t cover the casualties given your relationship, but I need to stress that this wasn’t an act of self defense.” He pauses, searching your expression. He sounds like Yaga when he speaks like this, it makes you feel sick.

The formality of his tone drives you crazy as you take in what he’s saying, yet his words don’t feel like they’re processing. It’s as though you’re watching this conversation from outside your own body, experiencing Satoru’s presence from afar.

When you don’t reply, he continues. “He attacked the school. He attempted to kill my student.”

Contrary to his prior explanation, this one registers. “A kid? He tried to kill a…?” You trail off, trying to comprehend how your fiancé could possibly act on something like that. He has two daughters himself, how could he attack a child sorcerer? That was his original breaking point, that was what had affected him so deeply he had finally broken.

That was the reason you had two adopted daughters at such a young age.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” You shake your head, tears freely falling although you’re numb to the warmth of the salty liquid falling down your face.

Satoru frowns, clasping his hands together. “He went down a path that there was no coming back from.” He’s beating around the bush still, searching for ways to help you understand your loss without directly saying it, to help you come to terms with your grief. He himself is still grappling with his own, but Satoru had ten years to heal where you didn’t.

He couldn’t deny his only friend’s final request, to seek you out. It didn’t take much. A house in the countryside, far from the cult’s quarters, it only made sense for you. Satoru was never really sure why you followed Suguru. He knows your love for him runs deep, but he also knows you have a kind heart. It didn’t shock him to hear that you had never been involved in the cult’s businesses, nor had you ever laid a hand on anyone with intent to cause harm.

You had always been the kindest of them all. Troubled, perhaps, but kind, always.

He watches as you absentmindedly fiddle with a ring on your finger. An engagement ring. Shit. He never realized. He supposes that the distant, uncomprehending look in your eyes makes all the more sense knowing that you were soon to be married.

Your silence speaks volumes, tears still trailing down your cheeks, your eyes reddened and puffy. Satoru understands your pain, even if his pain culminates in a different form. Still, the distant look in your eyes pains him.

“Still with me?” He asks, leaning forward.

“I don’t get it.” You shake your head adamantly, sniffling. “He wouldn’t attack a child sorcerer.”

Satoru nods slowly. Denial. You’re in denial, that’s understandable.

“Okkotsu, first year student. He accidentally cursed his first love and she became a special grade apparition. Suguru wanted to absorb her.”

You shake your head, brow furrowing. “He wouldn’t.” Your breathing is growing ragged and Satoru can’t bear to see you suffer this way.

Getting to his feet, he approaches slowly, taking a seat on the couch beside you. He offers a hand, thankful you take it, although your tight grip on him sends a jolt up his body. “Damn, sweets. Quite the grip,” he chuckles, a barebones attempt at comforting humor.

His joke goes over about as poorly as you would expect as reality begins to set in. You pull away from his grip, bringing your hands up to your face as you gasp into your shaky palms.

He’s gone. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. There won’t be a honeymoon in three months. There won’t be a wedding to celebrate. There won’t be a Christmas shared in the warmth of his arms.

Every last hope, dream, and tradition, shattered for a vision that you never once believed in. There wasn’t a world where Suguru succeeded, and there’s a small part of you that thought he was aware of that. A part of you that thought he only surrounded himself with people who believed in this vision simply because they shared his values and ideals.

Suguru Geto wasn’t an innocent man, but you didn’t think he was a foolish one either. You didn’t think he was one to sacrifice everything he had built for a vision that he couldn’t possibly achieve.

Strangled gasps part your lips as grief claws its way up your throat. You have to swallow down bile as you struggle to get air. Everything crashes in on you at once, pulling you underwater into a sea of what were once well-controlled and understood emotions.

If the world pities you, it shows no sign of it, letting you choke as your world splits down the middle.

Suguru was your lifevest, he kept you above water even as the tides grew and shifted. He would be there to watch over you as the ocean grew and the shore lessened. Even at your worst, he shone as a beacon to guide you back to land, to him.

Satoru pulls you into him, rubbing your back with gentle coos and shushes, but he isn’t what you need. He isn’t who you need. He doesn’t provide the calm escape from the storm that Suguru did. His warmth doesn’t feel the same. His arms enveloping you are foreign. It’s as though he’s little more than another cloud leaving your mind foggy and uncertain, lost in chaos.

Sobs repeatedly wrack your body and Satoru fears he’s losing you to grief. There was once a time that you two were close, and while he’s sure he can’t provide for you what Suguru did, he hopes as he tightens his grip around your frame that you feel that he still cares.

He never resented you for leaving with Suguru. Even as you were sentenced to death and he was told to hunt his closest friends, he never once attempted it.

The higher-ups knew. They knew he could find you. They never pushed. They feared Gojo for what he could do. What he would do if he did manage to find you both.

“I- I can’t-” you stammer out choked words, clinging to him suddenly as though your desperate gasps for air aren’t enough. They aren’t enough. You’re pale, clinging to him for purchase as you fail to catch your breath.

Everything seems to close in, your vision blurring as black closes in on all signs.

Satoru recognizes the signs that you’re losing consciousness. So choked by your own grief that your body fails you, allowing your anxiety to tear a hole through your chest as though your heartbreak wasn’t enough.

He fears there’s nothing he can do, simply holding you as your mind fails to make sense of the situation you find yourself in. He’s not sure how long he holds you before you come back to the present. He doesn’t move an inch, opting simply to be there for you. Even if no one was there for him as he wrapped his own head around Suguru’s crimes, he wouldn’t let the same be said for you.

You’ve suffered enough.

Your breathing accelerates rapidly as you blink and take in your surroundings, every limb sore to the point where you’re growing numb. Satoru may have a penchant for endless talking, but he remains silent as you come to, processing the world. All he offers is the occasional squeeze of reassurance or a quietly whispered ‘I’m here’.

Something under the tree catches your eye, a gift you don’t recognize, but Satoru doesn’t dare let you go in this state.

“Can you breathe, sweets?”

You swallow hard with a shaky inhale. “It hurts, but I can.”

“Good.”

“Wh- where are the girls?”

Satoru leans back to get a look at your face. “I don’t know. I didn’t see much of Suguru’s followers beyond Miguel.”

You cling to the hope that maybe they’re okay, but the dread in the pit of your stomach tells another story. You can’t reach Nana and Mimi left her phone here. It all has to be for a reason. This is premeditated and there was a calculated decision made not to contact you. Not to fill you in.

They’re gone, too.

Your eyes remain fixed on the new gift beneath the tree. Leaning your full body weight against Satoru, he still refuses to let go, following you to the ground by the tree as you drag him off the couch.

Placed atop the largest wrapped gift is a tiny box with a folded note attached. You don’t recognize it and it’s too nicely wrapped to be from the girls.

With a sharp intake of breath to try to regulate your emotions as you tug the note from the box, unraveling it.

Angel,

Merry Christmas. If you’re reading this, I suppose I have some explaining to do.

Suguru’s penmanship is impeccable, and tears stream down your face at the realization of exactly what you’re reading. Satoru’s grip tightens around you as he reads over your shoulder, feeling every muscle in your body tense.

I think there was always a part of you that thought more of me than what I truly am. For that, I am deeply sorry. I’m beyond grateful that you accepted my proposal. You would have looked absolutely stunning standing at the end of the aisle.

But someone like you deserves more than what I can provide. It’s destroyed me, all these years, to know that you allowed me to break your spirit simply out of love. I don’t think any words could help me fix the error of my ways, but it’s one of my greatest regrets.

If you’re reading this, then the cult’s plans went sideways. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for Christmas day. You can add that to the long list of promises that have now been broken. I made many vows when I got down on one knee, but I suppose it was presumptuous of me to speak so highly of my ability to provide for you when I imagine you’re falling apart again.

Promise me something, my love. I want you to pick yourself up, and start fresh. Seek out Satoru, he’ll help you find a place to begin again.

I don’t expect it will be easy, but I know you can keep your head above water. Keep staying strong for me. You’re a diamond in the rough and no one will ever compare to the way you shine so brightly. Keep your chin up and keep going, my love.

I am so deeply sorry. I only ever wanted what was best for you.

I love you always.

Your Sugu ♡

You gasp between choked sobs, running your hand over the note. The ink is smeared in his final apology, a circular marking on the page’s corner as though he’d shared your tears when he wrote the note.

Setting it aside, your hand hesitates over the box. Satoru squeezes you gently, a reassurance that at least you aren’t alone. He might not be Suguru, but the reminder that you aren’t alone does provide some sort of comfort, regardless of it not being what you truly need right now.

Pulling the box into your hand, you chew at your lip until iron stings on your tongue, the taste bitter and miserable.

Holding your breath, you finally find the courage to tear the wrapping paper from the tiny gift. A small red velvet box sits in your hands.

One final gift from Suguru, one so cruel it could only have come from him.

Sitting within the box are two beautiful matching silver bands clearly crafted custom to suit your unique styles.

Wedding rings.

All over again, everything seems to crash in on you.

masterlist || sdos masterlist

previous (nicotine)

❦ a/n ; i'm so sorry :') this has been in my mind for a bit and i figured what better time to complete this series than christmas? but! i promise i have some christmas fluff coming soon too <3

❦ taglist ; @ghost-buddies @depressedemosantaclaus @s3vtrue @troyesivanfrl

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight and cafekitsune.

[cotl-flower-crown]

Wip showcase

I most likely won't be finishing any of these WIPs, but I figured that I might as well show them off already

This might be a bit long

Obligatory Bishop doodle

They turned out a bit boring tho. I wanted to redraw them properly, both with their bishop forms and follower forms, but I don't think that's happening any time soon.

The Lamb before the execution, aka Kora

That is Angel, before they became the Leader. They were born in the Lands of the Old Faith right before the Sheep Genocide begun. Them and their parents were fated to live a life on the run. It wasn't always bad, but it wasn't easy. Their parents sacrificed a lot to raise them. As you can see one of the sketches is unfinished.

Cotltober "You are what you eat" prompt

Gave up halfway into this drawing, but I think it would be a waste not to show it off. Like to think that the Lamb actually devours the hearts of the bishops to get upgrades

Cotl Red District (gang au) oc

A red panda that Grinder used to know very well in his high school years

Angel's harem

Yes, Angel was supposed to have a harem. Funnily enough, most of them are women. Even funnier, only one of them is not jealous of the other spouses. I wouldn't be surprised if Angel thought for the longest of times that they were a lesbian. First one is Nana, the first follower of the Lamb, second is Ruri, third Sylvia (my OC) and at the last is Narinder, the latest addition to the team. The wives tend to exclude him though, due to the clear favorism from Lamb's side. Well, mostly Nana does, the other two understand Lamb's infatuation.

I wanted to make more doodles of them interracting with each other and a relationship chart, but I've been putting it off for a long time already and I doubt I'll ever get to it

And lastly there is a series of VERY rough sketches for Red District AU lore Those were supposed be Lambert's Isaac's (yes, I changed his name) family photos to depict the family dynamic in his life before he met Grinder

The first one is a wedding photo of his parents. They married young, Isaac's father is beaming, while his mother has more of a toned kind of happiness on her face. She's posing, which is going to be a pattern in these photos.

Second depicts the parents holding their first son, Isaac's older brother. They both look very happy, as they pose for the picture in embrace. A nice heartfelt photo.

Third one is where the tone shifts. It was taken some time after Isaac was born. His father, looking noticably more tired, holds newborn Isaac, while the mother happily clings to her first born son. Shouldn't it be the other way around though? Notably, there is also a bit of a space between the parents, they no longer as much as touch each other.

Fourth one is taken after the birth of Isaac's younger sister. There's notable variety of expressions here. Most of them are clearly forcing themselves to strike a nice pose for the photo. Couldn't hide father's judging look as he observes his wife holding a child that looks vastly more different than any of them, nor could it hide the mother feeling said look like sins crawling on her back. It kinda looks like the parents just finished an argument. Why did they decide to keep it?

Fifth picture is a graduation day for Isaac's brother. The mother is leaning on her unimpressed first son proudly, while holding her daughter closely. Meanwhile Isaac and his dad stand around as if they're not supposed to be there, tired, but still smiling for the picture. Isaac is notably thinner and than anyone else in the photo.

Sixth sketch is about Isaac's graduation. The older brother is not in the picture anymore, off in the college, arguably couldn't bother. Isaac is flusterred by the attention he's getting from his dad, who's clearly doing his best to make up for the lack of attention from his mother. She's just there to strike a pose and look pretty, holding her lovely daughter as if trying to shield her from Isaac.

Seventh picture is of Isaac's sister and her graduation. For one reason or the other, Isaac and his older brother are not in the view. Her mother haven't been this happy since the birthday of her first son, while the sister herself looks more like she's trying her best not to cry. At that point the young girl looks vastly more different than how she looked when she was a child, and clearly she's not happy. Meanwhile the father looks too tired to even acknowledge her hidden despair.

Eighth picture is a complete family photo with the parents and their grown up children. The eldest doesn't seem to care at all, the youngest looks clearly uncomfortable with the presence of either of her older brothers, and Isaac is trying his best to ignore his mother's killer stare with a cute pose. She's clearly not happy with his presence there. The father tries to pleadingly look at his wife, but she doesn't even acknowledge him.

Nineth picture... Welp It is chaos. While Isaac is strangling his mother on the dinner table, the sister is cowering in the corner as their father is rushing in to help in panic. The eldest brother, who's haven't been off his phone the entire time is taking the photo among many.

The dialogue in the 10th picture goes as follow, in case my writing is too hard to read. It was written before I decided to change Isaac's name: Grinder: "Lambert, this is a proof of crime. I think you should get rid of it." Lambert/Isaac: "Aww, that's my favourite one tho!"

Thanks for reading!

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Just A Spark (Gonna Let It Happen)

Or: five times hasan helped you + 1 the one time you helped him

feat: fire fighter hasan

tw: mention of drinking, cursing, mention of ptsd/trauma

thanks to the wonderful @the-phantom-author for letting me run with their idea. @medlarmeadows and @abadarkade for their wonderful suggestions and always offering ideas when i run out

more hasan here

one. first encounter

sometimes, when the thick blanket of night falls in the room, hits his eyes even though they’re blocked by his arm-he wonders exactly what he did wrong in a past life to be here.

he isn’t sure if he believes in that past life bullshit; people with cards and stars that tell him he looked at someone the wrong way, years ago, in a different lifetime, landed him here- but fuck, he did something wrong.

it’s the steady beep of a half broken fire alarm that makes an eye snap up. it’s ironic, or something, that the fire stations fire alarm would be broken, but he can’t find himself caring enough to pull up a chair, find the screwdriver, to care long enough to do something for it.

instead, he lays with his forearm over his eyes, counts the seconds in between the beeps, find the peace in the lull between the five seconds.

there’s parties to go to; things he could make himself do-instead, he lays in a twin sized mattress that lightly reeks of a delicate mixture of body odor and oil.

Last nights call plays in his head: what was suppose to be a harmless call for a ninety year old-the flash of fear in her eyes when he gets there, holding her hand and promising her it’ll be okay-

he sits up and flips the pillow over to the cooler side, hopes that makes a difference, tries to face the wall and count the markings that line the wall.

An alarm blares over head.

he wonders if he squeezes his eyes shut long enough, picks the sides of the pillow up and slams it into his ears. instead, he sits up with a sigh, pulls his shoes up and says a hail mary to whatever supernatural powers be, wills it to be better.

The engine starts up, James, his partner forever, hops into the seat next to him and they’re off.

Three streets away in a yard only lit up by a fire, you find yourself borderline pacing.

The coughing didn’t bother you. At least, not at first.

The bonfire started hours ago, before the sun had set, hiding behind clouds and dipping in and out of them, as if it was an elaborate game of hide and seek that you were losing badly.

The coughing was almost expected. Peter and Paul, the two idiots together, disappeared off an hour ago with a large container of gasoline and a glint in their eye that you didn’t fully trust-honestly, you were surprised it took this long for it to catch up with you.

“Dude,” someone, you think his name is Scott, a friend of a friend, speaks up: “The first cough is whatever. The second? Sure. but the third? Can you please get it together?”

It’s dramatic.

an anxious habit, your hands go to the side of your hand, nail to your head to scratch at an invisible itch.

"Hey," Scott says in-between the coughs, scratches at his throat, "what's in these brownies anyways?"

Peter speaks up: "Nothing ground breaking. A family recipe-"

"Oh, please," Ava snorts, "Is the family recipe from a box found at Meijer's?"

"Fuck off, you're disrespecting my dead Nana," Peter puffs his chest out, "Who's dead, by the way, you sick fuck-"

"Guys," Scott is borderline wheezing, "The brownies?"

Peter rolls his eyes, "Oil, mix.." He ticks them off on his fingers, "Oh, I added some chopped walnuts in, to spice them up-"

"Stop trying to make 'spice them up' happen. Your Nana did not say that."

"Walnuts?" his eyes go wide, "I'm allergic-"

it's a blur after that. Yelling, running around, phone calls with fingers shoved in their ears to block out the noise, frantic googling that yielded no results

Honestly, the first thought you had when you saw him was relief. you wonder if that's what he's use to; the guardian angel status, the way he walks into a room with authority, like nothing actually scares him

Ava walks next to him, although it's less walking and more running, trying to run to keep up with his strides

You have Scott leaning against a dead tree trunk, his shirt ripped off in a panic, his hand on his throat as if he could scratch the itch out-your hand rests over his, your face close to him as you try to talk him off an invisible ledge.

"You're going to be fine," You're saying, trying to convince yourself, more than anything, "by tomorrow this is going to be a funny memory we'll all look back at-"

Hasan recognizes this-knows that it's you more panicked than him, and he realizes how out of his element he is-needs to rescue a cat in a tree, reset a fire alarm-

EMS comes in first, breaks up the two of you-you take the hint, inch further away so you're not in the way, but can still hear what’s going on-if he’ll make it.

“Hey.”

your head whips up. eyes stinging, didn’t realize you were crying until the familiar pinch came.

“Hey,” you shake your head, “sorry. Am i in the way?”

The taller man shrugs, “he’s good. James got him, too.”

He studies you for a second.

“are you okay?”

before you can answer stuff is flying from his belt; a smaller pack hits by your feet, a walkie talkie inches from your toes-

he plops down next to you with a groan, like that took a lot out of him.

Panic looms. blooms in your chest, fills it, threatens to take over-

“here.”

he digs in his jeans and pulls out a caramel candy, holds it by the wrapper.

“isn’t that an old man candy?”

you sniffle but a shaky hand reaches out, grabs it and unwraps it.

“it’s Hasan, by the way.” the man says gently, eyes downcast as he unwraps his own, “and it’s not.”

finally some comfort, the rise of panic crashing like a wave in your chest as it retreats for now.

“Hasan the old man,” you settle on, “got it.”

two

"You've got to be kidding me."

Hasan chomps on gum as if he doesn't have a care in the world

"I know the medical emergency was a little above your pay grade," You hope your voice doesn't come out as shaky as it feels, "So I figured saving my cat would be more up your alley."

He snorts, rolls his eyes as he cranes his neck to look up the tree.

"What's it's name?"

"My name?" You scratch at your neck, not sure how this is relevant but if it saves your cat-

"No," hasan says slowly, "The cat-"

"Oh."

You hope he doesn't see the rising red splash across your face

"Tomato," You clear your throat, "Tomato is the asshole who thought it was a good idea to climb a tree at five in the morning when i have an interbiew in an hour and my hair is still wet-"

and my hair is still wet- your hand flies to your head, where a towel is still damp and wrapped around your head, stained and worn with age-past hair colors stained and marked the towel up

"Hey,"

Hasan's voice brings you down, crashes you back to earth. Instead of the rising heat on your face and the worried roar in your head, your back in your front yard. Hasan stands in front of you-a too tight uniform shirt across his chest, stained, a mop of curly hair and a constellation of freckles across his face.

wide eyed, looking at you, his hands on either side of your arms:

“you’re fine,” he’s saying, “Tomato is fine. i’ll get her down in time.” he hesitates for a second, considers the weight behind it, “i promise.”

he turns to the tree before you can see him flustered:

“what a fucking stereotype,” he sighs, calls over his shoulder, his shoulders already aching from the work out he’s about to get: “got a ladder?”

there’s a quick fight between you two (“just tell me where the ladder is“ “you’re going to save tomato! you can’t carry the ladder too!”) before he throws his hands up and makes his way to the small shed in the corner of the yard, ignoring you, all but marching back to the scene of the crime.

“can you hold the ladder?” he says gently, before a smile paints across his face, “can you handle that much?”

the bastard is smirking now. in the sunlight his freckles are more pronounced, can trace the lines of them on his face.

“shouldn’t you have someone with you?” you’re calling up gently as he scales up a ladder. he’s clicking his tongue as he does so.

he doesn’t answer:

“i fucking hate cats,” he’s saying instead, “murderous, ungrateful bastards-“

his fingers reach out at the branch, so close to touching Tomatoes tail-he hisses, climbs up another branch.

“I don’t think he likes me.” Hasan huffs, scaling the tree higher

“can you blame him?” Nibbling fingernails, “some scary man is climbing up a ladder and invading his space-“

“handsome?”

head titled back as he slowly climbs the ladder, “what?”

“a handsome man, i assume you said,” hasan continues, silence for a second before there’s light rustling; a branch falls, a bundle of leaves-you’re about to ask if he’s okay before he retreats back, an orange bundle under his arm, meowing and yelling at him as he carefully climbs down. Heavy gear clatters around him, and you worry about it falling off of him for a second

once his feet are down he continues:

“a handsome man,” he finishes, “who rescued your cat, right?”

silence

“right?”

“thank you, hasan.”

three

you run through the list in your head: eggs, milk, loaf of bread-

music seems to blare around you. wraps around you, makes your head pound-your only plan to try and get out as quickly as you can.

Faces pass; none familiar, all just as frantic and busy as you are-

cans of soup- your eyes scan the shelves, falls on the familiar red branding-fingers reach out, almost grasp it-fall

again.

reach, fingers brush against it-push it back a little further.

“mother fucker-“

“need help?”

the voice is familiar. too familiar. your eyes narrow, back still to them.

“i think you need me at this point,” the voice is almost gleeful, “should just follow you round to help-what is it? chicken noodle? you look like a chicken noodle soup enjoyer”

“it’s tomato.” you grumble unhappily.

“tomato?” he turns around, head over his shoulder, “hmm.”

he looks tired. bags under his eyes, hair a million different directions, shirt is untucked and stained-a pen cap is hanging on for dear life at the neck of a stretched out shirt.

“shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“shouldn’t you be calling the fire department for something?”

“awe,” you finally smile, snatching the can, “you do miss my calls-“

“when they see your number they automatically dispatch me to you. you’re a liability.”

you reach for the can but he holds it higher in the air, a smirk creeps on his face:

“what do you say?”

a huff, “please?” you try, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes: “there’s no way you think that’s what i want.”

“who’s your favorite fire fighter?”

“what’s your partners name? Rob? He is-“

he huffs, turns his back to you and sets the can back on the shelf, his fingers still brush against the can as he hums like he’s considering his own soup options-

“hasan, please. my chili depends on you-“

he ignores you, still humming, as you pull on his shirt:

“you’re my favorite firefighter,” you find yourself saying, “it hurts to say that.”

he turns around, hands you the can: “was that so hard?”

four

weeks pass. with job deadlines on the horizon, your apartment all but falling apart-it’s easy to forget about about anyone else.

sleep finally finds you. a cold side of the pillow, eyes finally shut-

a fire alarm blares that makes you shoot out of bed. tomato lays at your feet, grabbing him, running outside to the yard, sweater long forgotten.

by the time you’re at the yard, you can at least see the building isn’t burning up. in fact, you can’t see anything. you weigh your options for a second, considering ignoring the blaring fire alarms before you hear the fire truck and groan, knowing what’s coming up, knowing who’s around the corner.

the second the car parks everyone is running out, talking into walkie talkies-

“is this you?” hasan calls as he jogs past you, “you’re an arsonist at this point-“

you go to yell back and he’s gone.

an hour later he appears. his hair is disheveled, his shoulders slump. he walks next to his partners, something in his hand-

“if you need cooking lessons, i volunteer,” hasan says, “i can teach you how to fucking make ramen-“

“why do you assume that i’m behind all bad things that happen here?”

“your track record doesn’t help,” he says, “to begin with. and this has your name written all over it. please,” he stops, drops the pan and claps his hands together as if begging: “let me teach you how to cook.”

“it wasn’t fucking me!”

his eyes narrow: “Please. no one believe you-“

“you’re a dick. don’t you have a donut to eat? or-“

“that’s police officers, idiot.” he huffs, “and fuck them, anyways. look-“

he stops, leans into you, “i know just the place. i’ll teach you-“

“you aren’t teaching me how to cook! and it’s not me!”

“fine,” his eyes narrow, “but the next call here, if it’s yours, i take you to a cooking class-“

“what-“

“even if it isn’t your call. you owe me a date.”

his hand outstretched to you: “a deals a deal-“

“what’s in it for me?”

“i’ll leave you alone.”

you groan, knowing that’s not going to happen. sunrise threatens to fall over the horizon, and you know he won’t give up anytime soon-

your hand falls into his-larger and calloused-slips into his like a missing puzzle piece, like a perfect piece-

“it’s a deal.”

five

look, this isn’t bribing.

but after your fourth call to your apartment this month, you figured you at least owed them something for coming out-even if they somehow always sent just Hasan out-

you couldn’t sleep, anyways. or at least, that’s your excuse. the tray of baked goods threatens to fall out of the seat any second.

The door to the station is open, all the workers walking around, half suspenders down, shirts untucked, plates of food half eaten-

you couldn’t find your guy in the line up,is your first thought. before you quickly shake your head, trying to get that idea out as quickly as it came. he isn’t your guy. if anything, he’s the pain in the ass who keeps saving your ass-

putting the car in park, saying a prayer before grabbing the plate and walking in, hoping you look more confident than you feel.

“Well,” one of the firefighter smirks as you show up, “have any batteries that need to be changed?” he teases, “or is cilantro in trouble? hasan hasn’t shut up-“

“it’s tomato,” hasan appears behind him, “i know my mortal enemies name.”

“look what the cat dragged in-“

“it’s almost like you’re at the place where i work. imagine that-“

“i made brownies.”

the guy next to him immediately perks up, grabs the plate and pulls back tinfoil: “thank you!”

hasan stops him before he can run off, grabs a brownie before he can leave, eyes it as you stand in front of him.

“so,” he says, “what’s the trick with this? i don’t have any allergies-“

“damn. nut allergies are the most common allergies. i thought that’s how i could take you out-“

“and they aren’t burned-“

“that wasn’t me with the ramen, you dick.”

“these look good.”

“always the tone of surprise,” you roll your eyes, “most people would say thank you.”

“why would i say thank you before I’m potentially poisoned?”

“you’re insufferable.”

“here,” he smirks, “you take the first bite.”

“i’m not hungry-“

“that’s exactly what someone who poisoned food would say to get out to eating it.”

“you’re a dick, give it to me.”

“ah,” he says instead when you reach for it, his hand still on the brownie as he leans forward, a hand cupped under your mouth as he goes to feed you the bite.

“this is outrageous,” you roll your eyes as pink rises up, but don’t put up more of a fight as it makes contact, as you bite off, “it’s delicious”

he watches you carefully as you chew

“see?” you roll your eyes: “now you.”

“eh?” he shrugs, “i don’t know how hungry i am-“

you gasp and he giggles, before shoving it in his mouth:

“not bad.” he settles on.

+1

“if you’re looking for your guy, he called in sick.”

you aren’t proud of the fact that they know who you’re really here for, and less that you know the man who yelled that-Michael-will proudly tell hasan that.

“what?” you tease, “the big baby can’t handle a little bit of a cold?”

he snorts: “he did the kids fire safety at the elementary school this week-he blames them.”

“what a baby.”

you try and make polite small talk. they’re all fine-the entire time, thinking of the plan you’re already cooking in your head.

everyone knows where he lives. the house was famous before the newest fire fighter bought it (and when you’re in a small town like this, a new guy on the team is a big deal, gets around) and in the center of town, you pass it every day on your way to and from work: seeing him leave in the morning, at night, still in his uniform, shirt untucked and wrinkly as he moves around his front yard: tends to the garden on the side of the house (looks like he’s very proud of his herbs he’s growing, at least) hunched over as he flicks his tongue and has a small ceramic bowl of kibble for the gang of cats that seem attached to him-

a quick stop at the only grocery store in town, the paper bag of groceries on your lap, your stomach bubbles and bursts as you worry your lip about this-

you park the car and find yourself in front of his house before you can talk yourself out of it.

tapping your foot, waiting for him to answer-

“hullo?”

he still looks good, even sick.

glasses crooked on his face, his hair a mess, the tip of his nose is red, lines over his freckles from a pillow-

he groans. stands in the doorway, his hand against the doorframe.

“i’m off duty,” he tries, “you’ll have to put out your own fire-“

“heard the kids made you sick,” you say instead, ruffling through the plastic bag on your wrist, “nothing ramen can’t help.”

“ramen?” he laughs, “like-“

“it wasn’t me!” you insist, can feel your heart thump in your ears, “let me redeem myself; make you some soup.”

“i can’t call the fire department-“

“if i start a fire i’ll put it out myself, i promise.”

he laughs: “i guess i’d like to see that.”

comfortable silence for a second.

“so?” you push, “the soup?”

his eyes narrow for a second before his hand slowly slides up the doorframe, an invitation in-you duck and act like you can’t see the smile light up his face

[faiszt]

CHRISTMAS TREE FARM. ︎ as ︎ arthur ︎ donaldson ︎ song⠀🎄 ♡⠀'cause ︎ he ︎ just ︎ wanna ︎ be ︎ there ︎ tonight. ︎ ੭

.⠀𖹭⠀🔔⠀NOTES⠀.⠀i'm testing the waters 'cause i really wanna make this art x christmas tree farm bot, so i decided to put my little headcanon here. 👋🏻 (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)⠀⠀⠀⠀SFW.

arthur donaldson, the cute little boy with freckles, blond hair and a big smile who was always eagerly waiting for christmas. not only 'cause he wanted to get his gifts from santa claus after spending the whole year being a good boy, but also 'cause he loved putting up the christmas tree.

all huddled together in warm clothes wearing his papa's old aviation cap that was almost too big for his little head, feeling the red pickup truck rock on the dirt road as they headed to a christmas tree farm. every year was the same thing, but artie (as his dear nana called him) loved being able to choose the christmas tree he'd have at home and decorate it however he wanted.

oh, how many years had it been since he had done that? he couldn't even remember exactly what it felt like to be home. not home like the house he lived in, his real home, in the countryside—where the smell of cookies was stronger and the snow seemed thicker, but the clothes were warmer, the people were warmer.

far from home, but not that far. he still had some tapes stored in his attic, he kept them in a special space, not only physically, but in his heart as well. like the tape recording of the first time he helped his grandfather put up a christmas tree, riding on his papa's back in silly pajamas, putting the little angel on top. memories like these were things art would never forget when he heard the christmas bells in los angeles.

deep down, he felt a little weird, a little guilty, 'cause he hadn't made those memories with his daughter yet. but, who could blame him but himself? christmas wasn't the same after his grandfather died before he went to stanford, then his grandmother died too and... anyway, everything lost its meaning, even the holiday he loved the most.

he wants to go home, take you and lily with him, use his papa's old pickup truck—or, at least, what's left of it. maybe buy an aviation cap and try to get it beat up enough to put on lily's head and make her feel the same warm feeling he felt every christmas week, twenty years ago.

art wants to look for his nana's cookbook, bake christmas cookies for you using her unmistakable recipe, try to show you how much he misses something other than stress and holiday shopping traffic. how he misses being artie, the little boy who didn't yet know he was good at tennis, but was really good at chasing the farm's chickens just 'cause he thought it was funny.

he only has one (or some) christmas wish: you, him and lily at that little farm where every wish came true, under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow and telling you: “i love you”. well, he's been a good boy all year, so hopefully santa will listen to him.

[siltslut]

my dealer: got some straight gas 🔥🔥 this strain’s called “the silt verses” it’ll have you zoinked out of your gourd 💯💯🦀

me: yeah. sure. i don’t feel shit.

one hour later: hey i think there are some fucked up wolves over there

nana glass: the door’s been sticking lately, give it a good push. lay the table. we’re almost there. if it doesn’t rain tomorrow, we can get you started on repainting the coracle. what do you think? we’ll have enough leftovers for tomorrow. would you like to say grace, mallory? you’re very quiet, girl. everything all right? it’s getting dark. damn, em, he knows he mustn’t be out this late. you’ll have to do his work for him, mallory. you’re old enough now - yes, it’s about time. unlock the cellar. take that boy by the halter and lead him down to the garden. make him ready for the angels to come. and see that he’s tethered properly, too. lose him, and i’ll make you chase him down yourself. what do you mean, you don’t want to? “a coward comes prepared with the soundest arguments. courageous souls need none at all.” and why not? if we want our god to hear us, this is the method. it’s the only method - it’s the way that’s always been. it isn’t a pleasant duty, it isn’t something we should take joy in, but it’s a part of life. the boy’s to be given tonight. and you’re the only one who’s to do it. do you think you’re above this, mallory?

[your-nanas-house]

gurllll ~

you know I go FERAL for Jerome × Coquette doll fem!reader

can u PLEASE 👺 do a SPICY 😫 on that !?

I will let you marry me if u do 😻

ALSO, I CLAIM STRAWBERRY ANON 👺

~ 🍓

Girlll?? I can, darling 🤣 my my what a offer and YESSS MY FIRST EMOJI-ANON!! -Nana 🍓

His not so innocent dolly

◇ Pairing: Jerome Valeska X coquette fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, innocent kink, choking, breeding, dirty talk, daddy kink

◇ Summary: Your boyfriend Jerome has a huge weak spot for your innocent sexy style.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. This could be the second Kinktober 2023 fic.

Jerome's gloved hand was holding you by the throat, pressing the pearls of your necklace against your delicate skin, leaving probably a red mark.

His other hand was buried under your white dress that hugged your chest perfectly and left all the accessibility for your man to play with your sex as much as he wanted, without restrictions.

Jerome was cupping your pussy, three clothed fingers inside of you and his hot palm rubbing deliciously against your clit.

He was pumping and moving his fingers messily but stil managing to make you moan his name like a prayer as your eyes closed and your head fell back, your arms around his muscular exposed shoulders.

As you reached the peak of your first orgasm, Jerome wasted no time in ridding himself of his pants and sliding his entire length into you, admiring how your face contorted in pain and pleasure.

"Look at ya, dolly—" he purred while cooing at you, his wet fingers caressing softly your flushed cheek

"Ya taking daddy soooo good" he added as he thrusts a couple of times up, making you bounce and whimper loudly while he laughed.

The pace he took wasn't delicate at all, it was fast, angry and needy but you didn't mind, it described your Jerome perfectly and you loved it— even though you knew you wouldn't be able to walk without limping as soon as he was done with you.

Your walls still hadn't gotten used to or adjusted to his huge cock, so they gripped it like they didn't want to let go of it, eliciting delicious grunts from the ginger

"Yesss, doll. Just like that— keep taking daddy" Jerome grunted reaching slowly his peak

"Ya so tight and warm, 'm gonna fill ya and make ya so full with my babies!" He grunted another time, opening his eyes to take in your apparence.

You were a complete mess, your face red, your hair messy, your nipples erect and your dress still intact for some weird reason; you looked like an angel and at the same time also like a little devil— Jerome was always so excited when he could see this contrast in you.

Which is why after a few more thrusts he shot his load deep inside you, filling you as best he could before collapsing on the bed with a satisfied but sleepy smile.

"My dolly" Jerome whispered with his raspy voice as he cuddled you while catching his breath.

He really loved your innocent, hot style.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj , @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter

[jeridandridge]

Send Me An Angel

Continuation of my College years series. Can be read on its own, but is sweeter when read with the rest. The first time you see Melissa in a couple years is when her nana dies.

It’s one in the morning on a Thursday when your phone starts ringing off the hook. Waking up to the high pitched beeping you wipe your eyes not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Yeah?”

Hearing sniffles and a staggered breath on the line you immediately perk up knowing exactly who it is on the other end.

“Mel?”

“It’s me,” she croaks out. “I need you to be here I need you to get to me as soon as you can.” She lets out in a sob.

“Mel, honey what happened?” You ask tucking the cell phone between your cheek and shoulder as you get up and move to pack a bag.

“It- it’s nana,” she breathes. “She died.”

Feeling your heart drop into your stomach you freeze where you stand. Maria Schemmenti had been sick for a little while, refusing most treatments despite you and Melissa begging her to, even offering her a blank check to cover the costs. The old school Sicilian woman declined, saying she was as healthy as a horse.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Red. Hang tight, okay?” You say tossing clothes into your carry on.

“Be careful,” she sniffles. “I’ll see you.”

As soon as Melissa hangs up you’re calling a pilot friend of yours offing him a crazy amount of money to get you across the country as soon as possible. Forty five minutes later with a bag slung over your shoulder you walk with your friend onto the tarmac. The flight from San Francisco to Philly would be long and excruciating not only because of the reason you’re going, but because you haven’t seen Melissa in person in two years.

The first time she came to visit you in California was ten years ago and it had been a yearly occurrence up until recently. You were nervous to see your person again after so long, but she needed you and you needed to pay your respects.

The sun is just coming up when the private plane touches down at the Philadelphia airport. “Thank you, John. I owe you big time.” You give him a hug and a big check.

“Go take care of your woman and you can buy me a drink when you get back,” the man pats your shoulder. “I’ll be at the hotel if you need me.”

Hustling through the airport like you’re about to miss a flight, you get to the pick up location hailing a cab panting as you speed dial Melissa on your cell phone.

After two rings, a groggy voice answers.

“Hey, Red. Im in the city on my way.”

“You’re here already? Hon, how?”

“I know a guy.” You smirk quoting your best friends famous excuse as you ride through the streets of Philly. “Are you at home or your mom’s?”

“I’m at home. I’ll get started on breakfast.”

“Don’t even. just get dressed and we’ll go to that diner I’ve heard so much about.” You smile against the phone hoping the little outing would help her.

“Okay, hon.” She lets out a weak chuckle.

“I’ll see you soon, Red.”

In the cab you tuck the phone into your carry on and reach for your make up compact hoping you looked presentable after the long night and the nerves you felt eating away at you. When the cab pulls onto Melissa’s street you sit up taking a breath. Paying the driver you hop out jogging up to the door lightly knocking.

Not even ten seconds later the door opens and you’re being hugged by Melissa. As always, it’s as if the time apart doesn’t matter. Her face is hidden on the crook of your neck and her arms are around your shoulders.

“Walk backwards, honey.” You instruct walking carefully inside, hand rubbing her back. Sliding your bag off your shoulder it lands on the floor with a thud, discarded for the time being. Wrapping your arms around the redheads frame you let out a sigh just standing there with her, her walls always broken down with you.

“Thank you.” Is all Melissa says keeping her arms around you in a warm hug not willing to let go yet. You had always been a safe place for her, that much you knew, and you loved it.

“Have you eaten at all?” You ask with your lips against her hair.

“Not since yesterday morning.”

Reluctantly pulling back you keep her at arms length running your hands up and down her arms. “Cmon, let’s get something to eat and when we get back I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

Melissa looks up at you with a wobbly lip wiping her eyes as she moves to get her shoes. “God I look awful.” She pouts looking in the hallway mirror.

“No you don’t, Red.” You meet jade eyes in the mirror. “And if nana heard you say you haven’t eaten she’d chase you with a wooden spoon.” You tease getting a weak laugh out of your best friend.

As she always did, she hands you the keys to her car silently asking you to drive and you happily accept. Getting in the vehicle you drive her through the familiar streets smiling when you see all the old spots you haven’t visited in many years.

“Turn left up here, hon.” She points resting her hand on yours as it dangles off of the center console. Flicking your signal on you relish in the feeling of warm skin on yours happy to provide her even just a little bit of comfort. Having known Maria Schemmenti yourself since you were a freshman in college this death hit you hard. She was a confidante for you when visiting the family with Melissa, and you were going to miss her.

In the cozy mom and pop diner you sit across from Melissa adding sugar packets to your coffee when the server comes over.

“Melissa, I was so sorry to hear about your nana. My condolences.” The young woman says gently.

“Thank you, hon. It’s been a rough 24 hours.” She gives the girl a weak smile. “This is my friend I was telling you about.” Melissa smiles at you reaching for your hand across the table.

“Oh Melissa talks about you all the time! Let me hook you guys up with some comfort food.”

As the server takes the order you can’t help but glance down into your coffee cup biting back a smile. Of course Melissa talked about you. Despite how you left and how you reconnected, it was no surprise she told other people about you.

Through a nice breakfast, you sip your coffee picking at your own plate while making sure Melissa actually eats a full meal. It’s mostly a comfortable silence unless your server comes over, and at the end of the meal Melissa meets your eyes.

“I can’t believe how fast you got here.”

“You needed me.” You shrug sipping your coffee. “And I loved your nana too you know.”

“She loved you a lot.” The redhead cracks a smile thinking about her wedding and how her nana held her as she cried for you after the ceremony.

You smile tightly playing with a sugar packet on the table feeling guilty. “I wish I came sooner. Got to visit one more time.”

“Oh, hon. None of us knew it would happen so fast.” She reassures you reaching across the table again for your hand.

Fingers laced together you give her a soft smile as your arm rests on the table. “I can stay here as long as you need me to.” You offer after a moment of thought. “After the funeral and everything, you could- you could come back to San Francisco with me. Even for just a couple days.” You shrug.

Melissa looks at you surprised, biting her lip in thought about the idea. She hadn’t seen you in so long and phone calls weren’t scratching her itch anymore. She was already hurting and needed you. “I’ll go with you, hon.”

“Yeah?” You smile in surprise.

Letting out a content sigh Melissa smiles at you. “It’s been too long and my phone bill is outrageous.” She teases you.

“I can’t argue with you, Red.” You chuckle leaning back in your chair, an odd relief hitting you at her answer.

After arguing over who gets the bill, you happily pay and tip the young girl generously before resting your hand on the small of Melissa’s back as you two leave.

“All that coffee and I could still sleep.” Melissa yawns.

“You didn’t sleep did you.” You say more as a fact than a question knowing how she is when she’s upset. When she was going through her divorce she would call you every night staying up until the late hours of the morning on the east coast.

“‘Course not. I was goin through family photos after I got the call.” She hums climbing in the car.

Driving back to her house you glance over at her seeing her start to look sleepy. “Koala time?” You ask referring back to the dumb joke between you two from college. Quickly into your friendship you learned that Melissa loved to cuddle. So much so that even when drunk she would wrap herself around you.

“Yeah.” She smiles getting the key out to unlock the door. Inside your bag still sits on the floor next to the door. Kicking your shoes off you lift your arms in a stretch ready for a nap yourself. Looking at the clock it was hardly nine o’clock, and it was obvious the redhead needed sleep.

“Cmon, Red.” You hum wrapping your arm around her shoulders as you both go upstairs. When you enter Melissa’s room, the environment is completely her. More family photos are on the walls, a massive bookshelf loaded with books, and a signed eagles jersey hangs above the bed.

“That’s amazing.” You chuckle looking at the jersey as you stand there, a little nervous to climb into bed with her. You’d thought about being in bed with her ever since you left, and now you were here and she was right in front of you.

“Do ya need a formal invite, hon?” She teases snapping you out of your trance.

Getting under the blankets you shift with Melissa, wrapping your arm around her as she hides her face in your neck letting out a content sigh. She needed this comfortable bubble as much as you did.

After years of being apart, the feeling of your legs tangling with the redheads and her steady breathing lulls you to sleep faster than you even remembered.

Waking up to knocking and a voice that isn’t Melissa’s you bolt up keeping your arm over the redhead ready to jump out of bed, Melissa jolting awake beside you.

“Ain’t this cute? Bout time you came back, world traveler.” Kristen-Marie leans against the door.

“Jesus Christ, how’d you even get in here?” Melissa huffs, you lay back down letting out a breath trying to calm down.

“I have a key, genius. You weren’t answerin the phone, I came to see if you were okay. And I found letters from nana.” The blond woman shrugs in the door way. “If I knew lover girl was here I woulda stayed outside.”

Rolling your eyes you turn over burying your face into the pillow.

“What letters you talking about?” The redhead looks at her sister. No one had gone through any of nanas stuff yet.

“They were in her purse.” Kristen-Marie clears her throat handing two over.

“This one’s envelop had a stamp on it and everything.” She gestures to you handing it over to Melissa. Confused, you sit up looking and the white envelopes, one completely addressed to you.

“Why would I have one?” You ask quietly, almost afraid to open it.

“Alright, hold on, let’s go downstairs and read these, yeah?” Melissa looks between you and her sister.

Holding the envelope your arm feels like it weight about a hundred pounds as you file down the stairs with Melissa and her sister. Melissa is already tearing up as she sits on the couch, envelope unopened. Curiosity getting the better of you, you carefully peel the paper open. A piece of stationary with Maria Schemmenti’s beautiful cursive handwriting sits on the page. As you begin to read wonderful compliments and praises from the now gone woman, tears begin to flow down your cheeks when you get to the very end.

And you my dear, need to make this old lady happy and take care of my Melissa. I know you two love each other more than friends, more than sisters. I held her during her wedding reception in tears because she knew she made a mistake. I remember those glances you two tried to hide during family dinners. Please, tell her how you feel.

I’ll be watching.

Love, Nana.

Sniffling you re read the words over and over again letting them soak in. She knew. Of course Maria Schemmenti knew.

“Hon? Hon?”

Your head snaps up to meet watery green eyes, Melissa holding her sisters hand on the couch.

“What did yours say?” She asks through her own sniffles.

“It uh, she just reminded me of some things.” You shrug with a smile.

Maria Schemmenti, the matriarch of that entire family, was right and you intend to do as she says.

[babyniigo]

gosh i’ve been seeing so much bad stuff with mizuki lately :( i’m not sure if you already have, but if not, could you maybe do some little mizuki hcs? i just wanna comfort her so bad 💔

Little Mizuki Headcanons ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

Sweetest baby girl ever! Regresses from 0-7 usually, but on harder days she’s more likely to be around 0-1 in a more baby headspace!

Very sweet and polite baby, unlike when she’s big, she’s way more shy and scared to express herself or her needs. Is very quiet and shy, so sometimes she clings to her caregivers shirts and just points at what she wants while avoiding eye contact ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

Loooooves snacking! She has little Sanrio plates with dividers that her cgs fill up with yummy treats and she snacks on them happily ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

When she’s struggling with dysmorphia, ena sits her down in front of a mirror and brushes her hair softly while having her repeat soft affirmations like:

“I am safe and cared for.”

“ ‘m Safe… an cared for.”

“Good girl, Princess! Now say: I’m beautiful and worth it.”

“I’m beautiful… n worthit.”

Her favorite pet names when she’s little are: babygirl, princess, sunshine, darling, Angel and bubbles! ♡

Whoever is caregiving for her, always makes sure to gently affirm her gender by little things such as:

“Does the princess want the my melody sippy cup? Or the Bon Bon ribbon sippy cup?”

“Sweet Angel, which pretty pink dress does my pretty pink girl want to wear today?”

“Come let nana hold you, my lovely girl.”

Her regression is mostly due to her childhood trauma; and even though her caregivers try to make it a positive experience for her, she tends to cry a lot when she’s in a little headspace especially when bad memories resurface on her little mind :(

When she’s crying, she does it very quietly to not alert/burden/worry anyone with herself,, however! Her caregivers are very perceptive and always running to the rescue! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

When she’s crying, Mafuyu cradles her in his arms and rocks her gently while he walks around the room, soothingly singing to her and comforting her.

If she’s crying and Kanade finds her, she cuddles her in bed against the headboard, gently carding her hands through her hair and kissing her head while comforting her.

If Ena finds her crying, she picks her up and talks to her and cuddles her and gives her sooooo many kisses and blows little raspberries on her tummy until she’s a happy and content baby again

Back to fluff!!! She looooves stickers soo much! Whenever she’s done good she loves it when her caregivers put a tiny sticker on her overalls or notebooks, makes her so giddy and happy! ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

Has names for allll her stuffed animals! Whoever her caregiver who’s putting her for a nap is, must kiss her and all of them goodnight on the forehead or else she can’t sleep! ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

Very silent and clingy baby! If she’s in a more toddler headspace she’s very chatty and even more clingy hehe!!!

Loves forehead kisses, always bends down her head shyly and taps her forehead waiting for a kiss!

Also loves cheek pecks! 🥺 she will Shyly tap on her cheek and wait for her caregivers to swoop her in their arms and drown her in kisses!!!!

They all love their baby girl sooo much ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝♡

PS: yes I’ve seen the stuff on twitter :( it’s very devastating to see people still misgender her and disregard her struggles and everything she went through just to be ignorant and refer to her as a boy :/

I’m glad the mizu5 event comes on October 11 which is the National coming out day ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ <3 I’ll be so proud of my baby girl when she comes out to ena and niigo!! I hope everything goes well she deserves all the love and happiness in the world, she’s the sweetest ever ૮⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ _ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀིა♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

[ofmdrecaps]

11/23-24/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Republic Of Pirates: Airport Con! - Rhys, Con, Nathan, Vico, and Kristian; Photo Dumps on Tumblr; Positive Comments from the Con; ROP: Fan Spotlight!; More Cast & Crew Sightings: Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Zayre Ferrer; Voting Reminders; Love Notes!

Hey all! Sorry after tumblr killed my drafts I lost all motivation because I was very grumpy so this is much later than intended-- but it did let me get a hold of a few more lovely folks so it worked out!!

= Rhys, Con, Nathan, Vico, and Kristian =

So many of you got to make it to the Republic of Pirates Con this past weekend with Starfury Conventions! It sounded like a completely bonkers, amazing con! So many cool pictures from cast and crew, and fans alike!

Sources: Con's Instagram, Starfury IG/Twitter / 2

Some shots of Kristian's awesome concert with the cast!

Source: Vico's IG Stories

And that video of Rhys and Con from Rhys---Thank you @sherlockig for bringing it over to tumblr!

Source: @sherlockig's Tumblr

== ROP Photo Dumps on Tumblr ==

There were some awesome folks who attended the convention that posted more photos if you wanna check them out!

= Crimson & Clover =

Super huge thanks to the extremely kind @crimson-and-clover-1717 for sharing these uplifting pics!!

Rhysie Pics

Message and Pic From the Crew

Source: @crimson-and-clover-1717

= London Spirit =

Also major thanks to the darling @londonspirit who was kind enough to let me share her photo dumps and this cast photo! She's going to be doing a write up and another dump soon (but needs a much deserved break!) so keep an eye on her blog for more fun stuff in the future!

Photo Dump 1

Photo Dump 2

Source: @londonspirit's Tumblr

== Some Uplifting Convention Comments ==

Source: TrixnTreats Bsky

(Also by Rhys!)

Source: Comedy Nerd Bsky

== Republic of Pirates Fan Spotlight! ==

= Unicorn Death Race =

One of our incredibly talented crewmates @unicorndeathrace cosplayed as the absolutely devastated (and devastatingly gorgeous) Widow Olivia! The cast gave a standing ovation and everything! So well done hon!

Source: @unicorndeathrace's Tumblr

PS: Does anyone know who else placed in the competition? I'd love to reach out to them!

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Rhys Darby =

Are you going to be in LA on the 6th of December? Well Rhys will be there at his RD Saying Funny Things Society! You can get tickets here: Tickets to the show on December 6, 2024 in Largo Los Angeles (Note: I could have sworn he was going to Galaxy Con Columbus that weekend but it sounds like he's not (either anymore or ever?), sorry if I gave the wrong info previously!)

Source: Rhys' Bsky

Rhys got a new phone pen and the Darby Daily Doodles are back!

Source: Rhys' Substack

= Taika Waititi =

More pictures from kokocamden from a couple weeks back!

Source: Julien MaxP Instagram

= Zayre Ferrer =

One of our Fab writers, Zayre Ferrer has been doing an "Imaginary Spin Off Series" set of posts where they are coming up with amazing spin off ideas for shows that have ended/been cancelled. Their latest is Nana-- but if you arent already following along, there are some pretty bad ass ones in there!

Source: Zayre Ferrer's Bsky

== Voting Reminder! ==

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White, and audiobook narrated by our beloved Lucius, Nathan Foad has made it to the final rounds of the 2024 Goodreads Choice Awards. If you enjoyed it and want to support it, can you please give it a vote when you have a moment? Thanks!

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies! I hope those of you who got to go to the convention this past weekend had such an amazing time! Those of us on the opposite side of the world, or who couldn't make it really appreciate all the love and sharing you did! It sounds like you had such a blast! One thing I want to send is many many hugs because I know there's always the post-con funk that can happen, and I know coming down from that high can be a bit rough! Just remember to be kind with yourself and give yourself some extra grace if you're having some big feelings this week okay? Prioritize you! Things will look up again, and I hope you have those beautiful memories keeping you warm while they do <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Katie Abey 🌈 (@katieabey)

Source: KatieAbey's Instagram

[actuallysaiyan]

question, I’ve been wanting to ask this since I found your tumblr. Why do you like All might??

Holy crow...

Anon...

What is not to like about All Might?

He's real with his emotions. He's supportive(sometimes misguided at times aka when he first met Izuku), he learns from his mistakes, he has a heart of gold. TIDDIES FOR DAYS

But also there's a man under all those muscles. A man who saw that the world was becoming worse with increasing violence and he just lost his family and for the first time, I think he knew someone was there to teach him. And with Nana's help, he continued on his journey towards his goal of being the symbol of peace. And HE DID IT! It was probably so fucking hard. How many times did he cry because he missed his family? How many times did he get angry because Torino beat him down and showed him how far the gap of power was?

He continued on because in his HEART OF HEARTS he knew he could be number one. And with that came so much sacrifice. So much more hard work. Losing Nana...moving away from Japan...meeting Dave...becoming number one...

He's gone through so much HEARTACHE so much LOSS

And yet he still saves people with a smile because he knows it's important to save their hearts too. No matter what happened to him, he never really gave up...no...

Even losing the embers of OFA, he still continued even if he felt like he didn't want to/didn't deserve to. He showed the world that All Might is forever a hero, even if he has to retire. And he shows Izuku that even a Quirkless boy can be a hero.

Speaking of Izuku, his relationship with him is so sweet. Yes he's a little misguided and says the wrong things to him at first, but All Might rectifies it. He knows he's in the wrong. And then he chooses to help Izuku. He's always there to boost him every step of the way because he's so damn proud.

With the other students too, he loves to lend a hand or give advice when he can. And to think, he's never taught before so he's just winging it too. The symbol of peace now gets to pass on his own talents and tips and tricks to the next generation

He fights with heart, with honor, for love...

Not to mention, he's so fucking gorgeous. He's beautiful. Inside and outside. All Might and Toshinori Yagi. Both sides of this man...beautiful, divine, an angel...

I don't know if I should keep going but...I think this paints a good picture. This is why I love All Might

ALSO parts of him are based off of Goku, so that's a win win in my eyes!

[fahye]

book recs: oct/nov 2023

I read an obscene number of books during my weeks travelling in the USA, so here are some highlights!

A GENTLEMAN UNDONE by cecilia grant - I actually read all three in this excellent series, but this is the highlight. a tense, engrossing regency romance between a gentleman desperate to make money in gambling halls and the woman who teaches him to count cards, who unfortunately happens to be someone else's mistress. extremely horny and very smart.

SHADOW MAGIC by jaida jones & danielle bennett - after HAVEMERCY I desperately needed the rest of the series, and happily I had dinner with jaida and dani and was given them! this one is classic political fantasy: assassins, ambassadors, a devoted bodyguard and his beautiful prince, and a flamboyant little chaos magician who wonders why nobody else in his delegation is enjoying the beautiful local Fashion Robes. this book has never had a heterosexual thought in its entire life.

AMERICAN QUEEN by sierra simone - okay, this is a rec for the entire series (AMERICAN PRINCE & AMERICAN KING follow), a modern arthur-lancelot-guinevere retelling where they're american politicians and they're all in love and kinky and fucked up about it. mostly smut, lots of angst, occasional plot. maybe the hottest thing I've ever read in my life?? damn, sierra simone knows what she's doing.

THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS by robert a. heinlein - what if we were a moon colony and we decided to stage a revolutionary war and we asked a bored AI computer to run the logistics for us? I'm such a sucker for logistics, and heinlein delivers in spades. very funny, great worldbuilding, fun characters. has aged surprisingly well, I think.

10 THINGS THAT NEVER HAPPENED by alexis hall - a pure shot of gay grumpy/sunshine delivered via FAKE AMNESIA TROPE and a plot lovingly and lampshadily borrowed from the classic sandra bullock vehicle while you were sleeping. alexis hall's protagonists and glorious supporting casts always grab me, and this was no exception.

THE FALL THAT SAVED US by tamara jerée - do you like the good omens setup of bookshop angel vs. snarky demon, destined to be enemies but oh no we're in love, and you'd like to add some recovery from family trauma + sex scenes + also they're sapphic? yes. good. enjoy.

CHAIN-GANG ALL-STARS by nana kwame adjei-brenyah - holy shit!! finished this one yesterday and will be thinking about it for a long time. premise: criminals can choose to compete in deadly televised gladiator matches instead of remaining in prison. this is an absolutely brutal examination of the prison industrial complex and the violent commodification of bodies (especially bodies of colour) under our capitalist hellscape. lyrical, wonderful, cutting. very queer and very angry. I flew through it. what a fantastic book.

[sleepy-vix]

Hey tumblr, please give me moots who love the following:

(btw im always updating this lolhdbxj)

-mitski

-lamp

-laufey

-project sekai/colourful stage

-osemanverse

-bungo stray dogs !!!

-banana fish

-jujutsu kaisen

-link click (its so underrated pls where yall lc fans at??)

-Moriarty the patriot

-CHERRY CRUSH webtoon by yemsao

-the case study of vanitas (i kin domi and hate towards her will not be recieved kindly :))

-genshin impact !!

-honkai starrail

-indie games (little nightmares, omori, etc- even tho i havent played it myself i want to be moots with yall :( )

-the secret history by donna tartt

-if we were villains by m.l rio

-six of crows + crooked kingdom (ive only wwatched s1 of the series though + i've read shado and bone trilogy but not king of scars duology yet. tho ive also read hell bent and ninth house by leigh bardugo!)

-manga in general (especially shonen and/or obscure mangas or horror mangas)

-tamen de gushi and/or other GL webcomics

-NANA (i havent watched or read yet but i love the characters alrdy)

-sk8 the infinity (my fav is miya)

-art

-animation

-typology (mbti, etc.) (i suck at it tho i just think its fun and interesting to research when im super bored- im not an expert lmao)

-chainsaw man (my fav character is angel devil)

-horimiya (i love Yuki Yoshikawa)

-poetry/philosophy/shakespeare (im not a bardhead or anything but i do love having mutuals that are interested in these things)

please

[arcadekitten]

Because I’m a really normal person I decided to make a list of (almost)all my characters that have appeared in games and what their Loves(Primary Interest), Likes(Secondary Interest), and Dislikes would be if they were MySims characters.

Some disclaimers:

Some MySims games have different names for the various interests–this list is based off the original MySims and its 6 interests. 

One of the interests in the original MySims is classified as “Tasty”. Please note that if a character has “Tasty” in their dislikes, it should not be taken as an indicator of a character having a negative relationship with food. A character disliking tasty does not mean the character would hold negative opinions over your relationship with food, either, regardless of what that relationship may be. Rather, it would probably be more about characters perhaps being bad at cooking, disagreeing with most characters who DO like tasty, not having a very varied taste palette, being a picky eater, or other things along those lines. Maybe this disclaimer appears silly to some but I always want to encourage others to have a positive and healthy relationship to food. And like me, my characters also want you to eat well. 

Characters are more or less separated into the games they appear in (with some exceptions, like for repeating characters) but individual games will not be labeled. 

Full list under the cut as it is rather long! 

Mary: Loves Spooky, likes Cute, dislikes Fun

Reggie: Loves Studious, likes Spooky, dislikes Tasty

Vasilis: Loves Geeky, likes Spooky, dislikes Studious

Crowven: Loves Fun, likes Spooky, dislikes Cute

Twyla: Loves Studious, likes Spooky, dislikes Fun

–

Ovidius: Loves Cute, likes Studious, dislikes Fun

Zapara: Loves Fun, likes Spooky, dislikes Cute

Theo: Loves Fun, likes Spooky, dislikes Studious

–

Embry: Loves Cute, likes Geeky, dislikes Spooky

Dr. D. Light: Loves Cute, likes Fun, dislikes Spooky

–

Ryo: Loves Fun, likes Spooky, dislikes Studious

Rune: Loves Studious, likes Spooky, dislikes Geeky

Ingram: Loves Studious, likes Fun, dislikes Spooky

Venna: Loves Spooky, likes Tasty, dislikes Geeky

–

Necrotary: Loves Spooky, likes Cute, dislikes Geeky

Sunny: Loves Cute, likes Spooky, dislikes Studious

Mafuma: Loves Cute, likes Tasty, dislikes Spooky

–

(Headmistress) Aesirel: Loves Studious, likes Fun, dislikes Spooky

Netina: Loves Cute, likes Fun, dislikes Spooky

Mitzi: Loves Fun, likes Cute, dislikes Geeky

Ollie: Loves Spooky, likes Geeky, dislikes Fun

Gunter: Loves Cute, likes Fun, dislikes Spooky

Moth Prince: Loves Spooky, likes Studious, dislikes Fun

Acanthibar: Loves Fun, likes Cute, dislikes Studious

Bubblegum: Loves Cute, likes Fun, dislikes Tasty

Jik-Jak: Loves Cute, likes Tasty, dislikes Geeky

Nova: Loves Tasty, likes Fun, dislikes Geeky

– 

Angel: Loves Spooky, likes Geeky, dislikes Fun

Drekaride: Loves Cute, likes Studious, dislikes Fun

Minspella: Loves Cute, likes likes Studious, dislikes Geeky

Emerald: Loves Geeky, likes Studious, dislikes Tasty

Griindel: Loves Studious, likes Spooky, dislikes Fun

Gus: Loves Tasty, likes Fun, dislikes Studious

Hyllindrix: Loves Fun, likes Spooky, dislikes Cute

Ioro: Loves Cute, likes Fun, dislikes Studious

Mallory: Loves Cute, likes Geeky, dislikes Tasty

Nurse: Loves Cute, likes Spooky, dislikes Studious

– 

Capella: Loves Fun, likes Studious, dislikes Tasty

Pogo Gogo: Loves Spooky, likes Fun, dislikes Studious

Yoyo: Loves Studious, likes Fun, dislikes Spooky

Savannah: Loves Fun, likes Cute, dislikes Spooky

Clyde: Loves Fun, likes Cute, dislikes Spooky

Esmond: Loves Fun, likes Cute, dislikes Geeky

Vis: Loves Fun, likes Studious, dislikes Spooky

Nana: Loves Fun, likes Cute, dislikes Studious

Darwin: Loves Fun, likes Studious, dislikes Spooky

Furnando: Loves Fun, likes Spooky, dislikes Geeky Raphael: Loves Studious, likes Spooky, dislikes Fun

–

Stella: Loves Cute, likes Fun, dislikes Spooky

Lambchop: Loves Spooky, likes Tasty, dislikes Cute

Ruuuby: Loves Tasty, likes Cute, dislikes Spooky

Acorn: Loves Fun, likes Tasty, dislikes Spooky

Raj: Loves Studious, likes Cute, dislikes Spooky

Buck: Loves Fun, likes Cute, dislikes Spooky

–

Fia: Loves Tasty, likes Cute, dislikes Studious

Bianca: Loves Cute, likes Tasty, dislikes Spooky

Jaxter: Loves Studious, likes Geeky, dislikes Spooky

–

Allie: Loves Fun, likes Geeky, dislikes Tasty

Clawdi: Loves Geeky, likes Cute, dislikes Spooky

Enide: Loves Tasty, likes Studious, dislikes Fun

Tabby: Loves Fun, likes Spooky, dislikes Studious