#n a personality too thanks

[kuromi-hoemie]

being like 5’2” - 5’4” is so attractive to me like omg ur head fits right under my chin and right in my tits ♡⁠ let me hold you. i love being a tall girl

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER SEVEN

Chapter Summary: You're having some interesting dreams lately, and one day after work you catch some unwanted attention. Good thing someone's started following you home. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Explicit, NSFW Chapter (18+ only; PiV sex) TW: public harassment, Barto's full-on stalking now, first dream is nice and steamy but the second dream at the end involves a bit of gore Ao3 Link: Chapter Seven (2,877 words)

Spring melted into Summer, and you quickly learned the AC rattled for just a bit too long whenever it turned on. It hadn’t yet been pushed to its limit, but it left you worried that it would kick the bucket when the first truly scorching day rolled around. It worked for now, at least, which was a godsend given the more pressing matter at hand.

Namely, someone pressing into you while you were bent over the kitchen counter. You weren’t entirely sure how you got there, or how Bartolomeo got into the apartment, but things had apparently escalated quickly.

His hands gripped your hips, your toes grazing the floor with each languid push. He nuzzled the shell of your ear, and you were surprised his septum ring was still cold against your skin, sending shocks down your spine.

“Sweetheart,” he purred, his voice impossibly low.

“Barto,” you whined, his name echoing despite the small space. “More.”

He obeyed, pulling out almost completely only to slam back in, his pace increasing. He was long, that much you knew, even though you hadn’t seen it. No matter how deep he pushed, he always seemed to be able to go even deeper, his cock dragging against your tight walls as his pace grew more erratic.  

“My girl. Mine.” He punctuated his statement with a hard thrust, the rough handling contrasting sharply with the soft kisses and playful bites on your neck and shoulders. Sparks flew through your veins as the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot. You hardly recognized yourself through the animalistic cry that wrenched free, your cunt being pushed to its limit.

Right on the cusp of release, a familiar rattling sound cut through the air.

Blearily, you opened your eyes. You were flopped over on your couch, dried drool on your cheek. The AC was wheezing to life, pulling you from your delicious reverie.

You groaned, covering your face. “Fuck.”

It was a beautiful evening as you got out of work for the day. The sky was a gradient of pinks and oranges as the sun began its slow descent below the skyline. Its reflection glinted off of buildings and cars, filling your vision with little sparks of gold.

The darkening sky made it easier for Bartolomeo to keep an eye on you as he followed you home, keeping three buildings between you and him.

For all intents and purposes, he could have casually walked up and passed off his presence as a coincidence, as if he was just out running errands. He imagined you’d ask if he wanted to walk home with you, something he’d do with all the enthusiasm of a puppy playing with his favorite toy. Maybe you could stop at the diner, and he’d actually get a chance to show that he loved the little brushes of contact with your legs against his. Maybe he’d even get to feel those legs around his hips—

Bartolomeo shook his head, expelling the thought. This was why he was following from a distance. He didn’t trust himself not to overwhelm you with advances, or let slip one of his more lewd thoughts.

You were blissfully unaware, a slight spring in your step as you walked down the steps to the subway platform. He watched you swipe a train pass and waited for you to turn the corner, before jumping the turnstiles and resuming the pursuit.

He’d never admit that, despite the risk of being caught, he was starting to get a bit of a thrill out of the whole situation. You hadn’t said anything about noticing break-ins in a while, which meant he was getting better about hiding his tracks. On occasion he hid on the fire escape when he knew you were awake, or sat by your door and listened to you play with Luffy or sing to yourself. Part of him felt guilty still, but that part was slowly getting quieter as he continued to get away with his antics.

Following you was another step down into the obsession pit. Bartolomeo could justify it to himself all he wanted to, despite the obvious truth. He boarded the subway car behind yours, watching your back through the windows.

The car you chose was less crowded than usual for this time of day, devoid of the locals you’d grown accustomed to seeing. It wasn’t completely empty, as there was a group of people near the front of the car who were too loud for the tiny space, horsing around and engaging in general foolishness. Not long after you sat down and started to look at your phone, however, the volume died down somewhat, replaced with some muttering and hushed snickering. Maybe they were being more considerate now that someone else was in the car with them.

If only they were that kind.

A few minutes passed before a shadow loomed over you. Startled, you looked up.

A blond man with sunglasses was staring down at you with a wide grin. He had two long scars across either side of his face, giving him an almost ruggedly handsome appearance, if it weren’t for the fact he was leaning over you with imposing intent.

“Hey there, dollface,” he said. “Traveling alone?”

You bristled, tucking your phone away. “I’m meeting someone.”

He laughed, “Sure you are. Who’re you meeting? A boyfriend?”

You shook your head, pulling your shoulders in, instinctively making yourself smaller.

The man laughed, “Aw, no need to be shy. I’m just making conversation.” He suddenly leaned over you, putting one hand over the back of the seat. “Tell you what — why don’t you ditch whoever it is and come join us?” He tipped his sunglasses down. “I’m sure my friends and I could show you a fun time.”

You tried to inch away, pressing yourself closer to the cool window. “I’m just meeting a friend. I’m sure we can have a fun time by ourselves.”

“Maybe they can join us. The more the merrier, right?” He cocked his head, looking you up and down. “If they’re half as pretty as you, you’ll both look good on either arm.”

You suppressed the urge to gag, instead shaking your head again. “I’m really not interested in a night out, thank you.”

“So a night in, then? I don’t mind going back to your place.”

You ground your teeth, a dial in your head moving a few notches from flight toward fight. Why couldn’t this guy take a hint? Abruptly, you stood, throwing him off guard enough that you were able to push past him and stand by the doors. “No. Thank you. Maybe some other time.”

One of his friends piped up from the front of the car, “Come on, Bellamy. She said she’s not interested.”

He shot the group a glare before smiling at you again, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he regained his composure. 

“Your loss,” he said with a shrug and leaned against a support pole as the train slowly pulled to a stop. “See you around.”

You couldn’t get off the train fast enough, not caring that you were still several stops away from the apartment. You took off at a brisk jog, rushing back up to the open air and hugging yourself as you tried to come down from the adrenaline rush. You knew your way to the next station, you could get back on once the train came back around — surely they’d all be gone by then. The sky began to darken further as you slowed back down to a walk, pushing your hair back with a shaking hand. Granted, it was a brief encounter, but you were confident you’d had enough excitement for one night.

With that thought, you again tempted fate.

As you came up to the next subway entrance, you grew increasingly aware of a chill down your spine. Initially, you chalked it up to the slight drop in temperature of the crisp summer evening, but it started to feel more like there were eyes on you. You rounded the signpost for the subway entrance, trying to casually catch sight of whoever may have been behind you—

On the entrance stairs was the scarred man — Bellamy, was it? — surrounded by his entourage.

“Hey there, dollface.” He grinned, his tongue darting out between his teeth. “Where’s that friend you were meeting?”

After assessing each one of his friends in turn, the dial in your brain switched back to flight so quickly the knob broke. 

Voices shouted behind you as you ran faster than you believed you ever could, your steps thundering against the concrete. You couldn’t tell if the streets were strangely empty, or if you were running past people so fast that you stopped seeing them, only registering them as obstacles to dodge as you fled. You probably should have cried for help, but by the time you thought about it, your voice was lost in your lungs, smothered by the chilled night air that filled them. The only thing on your mind now was run.

Just as you made a sharp turn into an alley, a hand shot out and grabbed your arm, finally wrenching free the shriek caught in your chest. You clawed at the hand grabbing you, glaring daggers at Bellamy as he took off his sunglasses to stare down at you.

“Aw, you’re even prettier when you’re pissed off,” he laughed, lifting your arm over your head. With a sickening lurch in your stomach you felt your feet leave the ground, and your shoulder strained as he effortlessly held you up like you weighed nothing. He stopped when he had you dangling a good few feet above the sidewalk, his eyes wide and manic. “I’ll give you another chance: lemme show you a nice time, huh?”

It probably wasn’t the wisest decision, given the position you found yourself in, but it was the only thing you could think to do. You felt your palm sting and your feet hit the concrete before you fully realized you slapped him, hard enough to make him drop you. Staggering, you took off again in the direction you came, weaving around Bellamy’s friends only to run straight into someone’s chest. Panicked, you balled your hands into fists before you looked up and saw whose chest it was.

Bartolomeo put an arm around your shoulders and held you close, staring straight ahead at his target. In spite of the red creeping into his periphery, his expression was calm, only showing the bare minimum of the rage he felt firing through his nerves. “There a problem here?”

Bellamy’s troupe gave him a wide berth as he approached, a fading red handprint on the left side of his face. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’,” Bartolomeo started gently coaxing you behind him. “Just a friend passin’ through.”

The cocky grin from before slowly crept back up as Bellamy made eye contact with you. “Guess you weren’t lying after all about that friend.” His gaze then met Bartolomeo’s. “Not all that pretty though.”

“Funny,” Bartolomeo smirked, “that’s not what your mother was sayin’.”

Bellamy seethed, cracking his knuckles. “Looks like you and your little bitch need to learn some manners.”

Bartolomeo’s brow ticked and he took a step forward, before he felt you lightly pull on the back of his leather jacket. He looked down to you, putting an arm around your shoulders.

You tugged on his jacket again. He was outnumbered, and you really didn’t want to see him get hurt. “Come on, he’s not worth it,” you said. “Let’s just go home.”

His expression softened slightly, his fury abating. “You sure?”

You nodded, and he relented, turning his back slightly—

Before ducking out of range of a right hook. He backed up to keep out of Bellamy’s reach, nudging you further behind him. Bellamy threw another punch, and Bartolomeo brought both fists up to protect his face. 

You quickly backed away from the fight, surprised to see the rest of the group do the same, as Bartolomeo swung from the left. As Bellamy went to block, he was struck from the right and nailed in the solar plexus, knocking the wind from him. Fueled further by the anger flooding his veins, Bartolomeo started wailing on his face, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and crunching bone echoing against the buildings.

You flinched with each hit, unable to look away as Bellamy’s face turned bloodier and more bruised. One of his friends tried to step forward before another one stopped him, muttering things between them before giving Bartolomeo a wide-eyed stare and backing up further.

Finally, the sounds stopped, and Bartolomeo shoved Bellamy backward toward his friends. He looked dazed, for as much as one who could barely see through the swelling on his face could, blood staining down the front of his shirt. Cuts on his cheeks and nose stood out sharply against the bruises, and he struggled to stand upright, before staggering back and being caught by two of his bigger comrades.

Bartolomeo turned back to you, barely having broken a sweat, knuckles bruised and his shirt spattered with blood.

You gaped, your heart racing, and a faint flush crept to your cheeks.

That is. Disturbingly hot.

He pulled you to his side with an arm around your shoulder, holding you close as he led you from the bloodbath. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get home.”

When you returned back to the apartment, you spent way too long in your living room helicoptering around Bartolomeo and dressing his knuckles, trying to insist that you treat his shirt with peroxide, and fangirling about how he handled that fight. He happily let you do so, even allowing you to shove an icepack into his less bruised hand to take with him, despite him having plenty of first aid material already. He was just relieved he’d gotten off the subway in time to follow you, and that you hadn’t noticed him when you were trying to get to the next station.

And he was relieved to show that prick what happens when someone messes with his girl.

Later that night as you slept, you felt a weight on your chest. You tried to move it, assuming it was Luffy, but your arms wouldn’t listen. You tried to roll over, but your body wouldn’t budge. You felt hot, heavy breathing across your face, and with immense effort you managed to open your eyes.

Bartolomeo was straddling your waist, his arms on either side of your head to keep his body from completely pinning yours down. His lips were pulled back into a snarl, his eyes glowing. His teeth looked even larger, especially up so close. Puffs of steam came from his mouth as he breathed, and in the darkness you weren’t sure if what was dripping from his lips was drool or blood.

You couldn’t stop the snarky part of you from saying, “What large teeth you have.”

Bartolomeo’s snarl turned into a grin. It was definitely blood coming down from between his teeth. His voice came out low, layered over itself as he growled, “Better to eat you with.”

The weight on your chest moved, and you looked down. There was a pile of gore, gently beating.

“A gift?” you asked, your voice detached and distant.

He leaned down to your ear, “Our heart.”

An interesting word choice. Not “my”, not “your”. Our heart.

His tongue slid over your cheek as he pulled away, leaving behind a dark, wet trail over your face. Your arms finally responded to your demands as you reached up to try and keep him in place. But your hand slipped right through him, instead landing right on top of the messy heart on your chest.

It felt strangely furry, and made a very confused “mrrreep”.

You opened your eyes with a gasp. No Bartolomeo, no heart, just Luffy wondering why you awoke him from his sleep. You pushed yourself upright, surveying the room.

Nothing. No one. Just you and the kitty.

And it was uncomfortably hot in your bedroom.

You groaned and gently nudged Luffy off of you, stretching as you rolled out of bed to find a box fan. There was no way in hell you were going to try messing with the AC this late at night. You retrieved the fan from the hall closet, flicking on the light in your room as you dragged it over to the window to the fire escape. Before you could push it open, something on the floor caught your eye.

Flecks of rust, dirt, and chipped paint were scattered around near the window. You groaned, crouching down to look at them a bit closer. You knew you vacuumed just the day before, so where the hell did the stuff come from?

You got your answer when you opened the window and bits of rust shook loose, littering the carpet.

It occurred to you that you’d never opened this window before now.

Everything you had been trying to ignore, everything you thought had been resolved, all of it came flooding back, pouring in from the window and sending debris to your floor.

Someone had been in your bedroom. And the fire escape was how they got in.

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[skapediem]

love

[cosmicdenro]

'rhm and wilhelm trying to hang out but their duties getting in the way so much so their relationship deteriorates throughout the months but in a way that makes them prone to jealousy of others getting to spend more time with the other and unable to figure out what the other even enjoys enough anynore as a gift' for tonight sir?

[celestie0]

SOMEONE MAKE A CHARACTER AI BIT OF IHM GOJO NOW anyways ily ellie

-Bakudeku anon💚🤎

nauurr i actually thought about the whole character ai bot for kickoff gojo thing a bit more n i kinda don't want people making bots for my characters!! so please don'ttt. idk how to take down the current kickoff gojo ai bot tho lol if someone know how to report it or sumn if there's that option, please lmk

[jichanxo]

sooooo... *twirls her hair* how many asks should i send until kuwagami art. jk as well. the real question will be: does it happen often that someone else’s art inspires you? in fandom spaces specifically

well you see it’s like a loyalty card program, every 10 asks or so you get a complimentary kuwagami

just kidding you can just breathe in my direction and I’ll be tempted to draw them. kuwagami blast! (you've caught me on a... just okay art day lol)

(people still like kabedons, right?)

anyway for my actual answer: in terms of direct inspiration, it doesn't really happen much? the last two times i did art directly based on someone else's work is probably this one from this fic, and also that time i drew art of someone else's judgment au. oh! and there's that moriohpsycho art based on this comic! (filthyguts' work is so very. hgngngghh. very good.) nothing else really comes to mind, and when i think of the other things i've been into recently there hasn't been as much opportunity for that to happen...

flex and herds = strong fixation but lmao. almost nobody else made stuff about them. nobody is surprised umineko = surprisingly i don't read much umineko fanfiction? and in terms of illustration, i certainly picked up imagery and indirect inspiration but nothing concrete enough for me to give an example... now that i think about it, i did once draw andromalius from redaction/sunny, but that was years ago, and also mostly because i was acquainted with the writer. ...i don't have that artwork on hand right now death note = didn't really get involved with the fandom + i enjoyed my own ideas well enough! ...i can't recall if i drew long-hair-L art before or after seeing other artists do it. and as for everything else the same kind of reasoning applies. didn't really get involved with the fandom or wasn't really compelled to make art in response to stuff i saw, or i just don't remember anymore.

buuuuuuut if we're opening this up to just... pulling ideas from other people? then yeah, all the time, though that kind of goes without saying when you have a creative hobby. ...it's probably going to be hard to come up with examples of this since it's more ambiguous.

there's uhhhhhh... kuwana listens to nickelback which was a @/four-white-trees invention, wasn't it? (EDIT: and @/overdevelopedglasses!) (not tagging in this post so he doesn't feel obligated to read my big ass ask responses 💀) as of writing this, it's not posted but i did end up making kuwagami art based on a nickelback song so. yknow. there's that LMAO

for sawashiro and arakawa, i do sometimes go reference @/todayisafridaynight 's art to help me with my own. ("how did he draw this part of the suit? oh, like that huh? hmm" <- this kind of thing)

and um. i'm not trying to pander to you (at least not this time), but genuinely it's one of the few examples that come to mind at this moment. but when i was writing my first kuwagami fic, i could feel the influence of the ever-changing on my brain... was turning over some of your ideas there...

you remember this? (you even pointed it out in your comment on my fic, and i should've said something then, but whatever i'm saying it now)

that was absolutely because of this

(obligatory poke at anybody else reading this post that you can read passthroughtime's fic here.)

so, um. yeah. not really sure what else to add to that. pretty self evident i think. (i'm always talking about the ever-changing but i don't think i can overstate the impression it left on me at the time)

anyhow there aren't really any other examples off the top of my head! these are all recent examples so they're not so difficult to recall, but there are probably others i've forgotten...

[eccentricmya]

I'm a firm believer of "fic writers don't owe readers anything, and readers don't owe fic writers anything".

But. When you're writing for a fest or a fic exchange in response to a prompt, then I believe there is some owing involved. Writers owe a fic based on the prompt given and the recipients owe a bare minimum token of appreciation for the writers' efforts. Otherwise, what's the point of participating in such events? At their core, these events are meant to encourage creativity and positive interactions. And the participants must be aware of the same before signing up.

[inkykeiji]

hey clari! i hope you’re having a good day!!

i’ve been wondering, how would touya nii react to natsuo starting to really like a girl, possibly the way touya nii fell for reader? would there be any chance of him accepting her, would he want to have a hold on her as well, would reader be somehow okay with it all? i’m really curious on how that dynamic would work (if it did at all). but i don’t know if you’ve ever answered these questions, sorry if you did!

i love your tnii au so much ❤️❤️

ooooh so i touch on it a little bit in this answer right here, but as i said in that response, touya-nii would be quite jealous if natsuo entered into a steady and serious romantic/intimate relationship. natsuo is his little brother, and anyone or anything that threatens his position in natsuo’s life is automatically an enemy. he would never fully accept the partner, because as far as he’s concerned, no one will ever be good enough for his little brother (except for him, of course). touya would always be caustic towards them, constantly grilling them on matters related to natsuo and ‘evaluating’ their competence + care when it comes to his brother.

touya definitely wants power over natsuo’s partner as well, but it’s a different kind of power than that which he holds over his siblings—it’s harsh and cruel and cold, void of any sort of obsession or ‘compassion’ (for lack of a better word) at all. this is more to keep natsuo’s partner under touya’s heel at all times; to keep them in their proper place beneath him. that’s the only way it would work in some sense, but touya would never be happy about it and his consistent malice towards the partner could potentially be viewed as him actively trying to sabotage the relationship (though he would claim otherwise and say it’s all for natsuo’s best interests and benefit). moreover, natsuo’s partner would have to wholeheartedly accept touya’s role within natsuo’s life without criticism or complaint—which would be pretty damn difficult for any sane or mentally healthy person to do/handle!

reader would hate it. i’ve said this before, but reader and touya actually share a lot of the same traits—they just manifest differently and to different severities. but she’d be feeling considerably jealous, too!!! she’s so used to having natsuo’s attention on her and touya, and now this new person has just wedged themselves into the mix (unwanted and uninvited, as far as she’s concerned) and she Does Not like it. reader can be quite selfish and needy, too, just like her niichan.

aw thank u so much anon bb!! + thank you for your questions! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[phagodyke]

dating an art student was so crazy I'm just thinking abt that one birthday I had where my ex got me stickers from the etsy of the person they were cheating on me with....

[tartagliove]

me vs. the urge to spill the beans about the gift fic i'm working on but i can't because what if the person sees!!! they'd know it was for them right away based on the au and character and then it would be all over!!!!

[deeisace]

..

[voxxian]

lol

[incorrigiblemind]

I’ve just turned 18 and the world hasn’t caught fire.

I spent the better part of these 18 years planning to end it. Hoping to get in fatal accidents or praying for lethal illnesses.

I’ve spent countless days and nights sitting on my bathroom floor begging it to end, because i couldn’t take the idea of existing. I couldn’t see why i should go on.

It’s been two years since I decided to give myself a chance. Two years since i started looking people in the eyes and listening to them talk.

I’ve heard the birds sing and the wind speak. I’ve heard my friends laugh, over and over and over again. I thought that if there was ever anything worth living for it might be this.

I saw the best in people and was let down a lot. I was betrayed by people I thought would stay with me forever. I sat in my anger and it told me its name was grief. I sat with my grief and it told me its name was love.

I figured that it’s better to have loved people and to have been let down, rather than to have never given them a chance at all. My love for them taught me more about myself than anything or anyone else could ever.

I started painting again. I started smoking again. I started letting the little girl in me laugh more, with her laugh that was always too big and too loud for those around her. I found people who love her. I saw a little more of the world and realised how small my perspective has been. I decided I need to see more. I fell in love again, with someone I’ve missed for a while. I cried a lot.

Giving life a chance hasn’t been easy, in fact it’s probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And I spend the better part of my days romanticising it so I can keep moving forward. But I’ve met so many people and I’ve felt so much love. I’m happy I didn’t end it.

I hope it’s only up from here

[castorfell]

My favourite kind of ososan skit is when the characters are just doing something completely normal but are monologueing the situation with the depth and complexity of a government science experiment

[strike-9]

saw a post on here about making friends as an adult and i feel conflicted cuz like, overall i agree that all you have to do is get the courage to show up and get the ball rolling by talking to people/getting their numbers even if it feels cringe or 'wrong' to do so however i can't help but raise my eyebrow at the 'act like they're already your friend' part because some people lean way to into that to the point where they forget we're not actually friends yet which inevitably leads to them saying/doing something that's pretty out of line so like. yes put yourself out there, talk to them and get to know them but please remember that people need to actually like, warm up to each other which could take weeks of speaking to them regularly at minimum