#so if anything that makes him even SHORTER

[etherealrin]

Hey! Love your works, it's really nice to read them and I just love your style💖, may I request an isagi x reader but the reader is kaiser's little sibling? It sounds fun ☺️

⋆｡˚꩜ a comprehensive tutorial on how to piss off michael kaiser in his penthouse; by yoichi isagi.

yoichi isagi just wants to hang out with you...but your brother is making it quite uncomfortable

warnings: slight violent descriptions (as a joke), michael kaiser gives you no privacy, one mention of google translated german // wc: 957

note: i was giggling the entire time writing this LMAOO imo such a funny dynamic, the rivalry goes crazy.

your bubbly laughs that echo through the penthouse allow isagi to relax, just a little bit. the environment is new to him, and he’s afraid that the smallest slip-up will result in his head being chopped off by one of the rather large, menacing butcher knives lined against the marble kitchen walls.

but what’s even more threatening is the way kaiser is glaring at him, blue gaze more piercing than any dagger.

“micha, you’re making yoi uncomfortable,” you begin, shooting the blonde haired man your own look of annoyance. you turn your attention away from the mixing bowl in front of you to interlace your fingers with yoichi’s, trying to offer him some comfort. isagi wonders if theres nervous sweat on them.

“he’s in my penthouse, with my sibling? am i meant to leave him unattended, to let this donkey roam around with free will?” kaiser huffs, arms crossing.

yikes, was he in a mood today.

“you’re calling my boyfriend a donkey?” yeah, you were ready to throw hands right there.

isagi had practically jumped for joy when you’d invited him over to bake cookies. he somehow managed to forget that you were rival’s little sibling, and that your house was technically also michael’s—of course he would own a penthouse with a city view. michael was an oddly protective elder brother, or maybe his rivalry with yoichi just ran that deeply; was it not enough for isagi to steal the soccer ball on court? did he have to steal michael’s bloodline too?

“go, um, read a psychology book or something,” you say, wanting to get your brother off the scene. “hang out with ness! i’m sure he’d love to!”

yoichi nods his head hurriedly in agreement.

“you think you two are getting rid of me that easily? that’s-“ your brother is cut off mid-scoff, his phone ringing loudly and persistently. you snicker, knowing that you were about to win.

“was zum teufel,” michael spits, picking up the line.

“no, ness, i’m busy…what? you seriously can’t drive yourself? can’t i…uh….i guess you’re right,” he seems to be arguing with ness, going back and forth.

“you two lucky idiots are getting your wish,” michael snaps as he hangs up, hurrying out the door. before it closes, a warning: “isagi, if you try anything, i’ll screw you over before you can blink twice.”

“yeah yeah, shitty rose.” yoichi’s ego gets the best of him. great, now he’d been rude to your brother in front of you!

but you don’t seem to mind, maybe you didn’t care, humming softly as you add chocolate chips to the mix.

"you need to move out," yoichi doesn't think he can visit you if this is how your brother was going to be.

“hmmm, could be worse. what if we made s’mores cookies?” you reply excitedly.

“the ones with marshmallows?”

“yep! i think i have them somewhere,” you pull him into your startling large pantry. the size is almost that of a grocery aisle, and it’s stocked with an insane amount of protein powder—likely your brother’s doing—but you find the small package of the fluffy white sweets tucked away in a corner.

except, you can’t quite get to it, the nook being far above your head.

“let me,” yoichi says, reaching up. he has to be on the tips of his toes, curse michael kaiser for being so damn tall!

as yoichi fumbles above you for a bit, he doesn’t notice the odd position he’s forced you into, your back flush against the shelves. you’re not that much shorter than him, but he’s gripping onto your shoulder for support, and the proximity makes you flustered. he smells good, crisp and clean, a hint of citrus in the mix.

with a small flop, the bag finally comes crashing down, along with yoichi’s balance. he lets out a startled yelp, hurriedly latching onto your other shoulder.

oh.

you blink, fazed by his deep aquamarine eyes, and the way that your noses are practically touching. his breath is ticklish, irregular from the earlier struggle, and a cherry red blush painted across his entire face.

you’re both too scared to move, stuck in the haze, should you move? closer? maybe further?

it’s like that for an agonizingly long second—still—until yoichi chooses for the both of you, his fingertips make contact with your jaw and they’re warm, hot like the kiss he suddenly pulls you into.

you’re far too eager to reciprocate, hands finding their way into his soft dark locks. the cookie batter stays neglected on the sleek white countertop, both of you distracted and lost in another world.

when your lungs threaten to implode from lack of air, that’s when you pull away, gasping softly.

your boyfriend’s face is ten times redder now.

“sorry, i- i should’ve asked first,” yoichi stammers, flustered and unable to meet your eyes.

“it’s fine, i like you when you’re confident, yoi,” you smile, twisting a strand of his hair.

you fail to notice how the front door had opened, and you’re greeted with michael kaiser standing in the hallway, gawking at the two of you.

“why’s he in my pantry?” michael’s pissed now. “of all damn places, could you two not make out in the middle of my protein powder? seriously, that is gross. i won’t be able to drink that shit now!”

“oops,” you giggle. “you’re just upset that you don’t have someone.” your brother lets out an indignant huff, ready to start hell as he marches closer. you’re still snickering.

unfortunately, yoichi cannot find any of this nearly as funny as you do—no, he’s already thinking about the hell your brother’s going to give him during the game tomorrow, convinced that both of the kaisers would be the death of him.

a/n: michael says "what the hell" in german, i just wanted to make it diverse idk. like genuinely isagi is lucky if he makes it through the week dating a kaiser sibling...kaiser is not giving his blessing for the wedding LMFAO

masterlist!

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Hazbin Masterpost

Mimzy

Mimsy was an interesting one to work on. I wanted to make sure she looked inhuman like the other characters, but without making too big of a change. Canon Mimzy basically just has the black eyes and sharp teeth.

She's apparently loosely based off a chicken, which is why she has a hooked nose. But I knew pretty early on that I wanted to use peacock colors. It also helps increase the color variety of the cast by reducing the red.

More notes under the cut, including human Mimzy

Face: I gave her face markings that resemble running mascara, because I figured she wanted to be a showgirl or movie star or something. But she kept getting rejected, so she cried a lot. And apparently "mimsy" was a word coined by Lewis Carroll and is a blend of "miserable" and "flimsy".

She has vampire fangs for two reasons:

1. She leeches off others. Alastor was missing for 7 years, and the first thing she does is dump her problems on him.

2. In the 1920s, there was an equivalent to femme fetale called "Vamp". Vamps were more or less extra promiscuous versions of flappers.

Hair: An iconic 1920s hairstyle was finger waves. I made them a bit loose, because I didn't like how it looked plastered to her head.

I know she has a tattoo in the show, but I don't know how important it is for her to have it. So I just didn't bother with it. If it becomes significant, I'll add it back in.

Mimzy said that she and Alastor ran in the same circles while they were alive. He frequented the club that she sang at. But she also sounds like she's from New York, so I'm not sure how/why they ended up in the same place.

She died in the 1920s in her late 20s or early 30s. Not sure how she died.

1920s fashion--

I'll try to keep this brief. You know the stereotypical flapper dress? With the fringes? That wasn't really a thing. The style was slim, dropped waist, and no curves. The clothes weren't heavily tailored and just draped over the body like a potato sack. Fringes happened occasionally, but not often. More common was beading, pleats, tiers, and ruffles. The skirts were shorter than in previous generations, but they were still below the knee. Sometimes the stockings would be rolled down so the edge was visible--Scandalous!

While I appreciate the body diversity with Mimzy, she is honestly not an ideal choice to show off 1920s fashion. Plus sized women would utilize vertical lines to help create the illusion of thinness. So I changed canon Mimzy's film strip motif and made it vertical instead. Historically, the top would not be so form fitting, but I'm claiming that modern influences got to her a little bit. But in her human design I'm claiming it's just stylized.

The stereotypical flapper dress better resembles showgirls and lingerie, imo. Not entirely sure what to think of that, but there it is.

Makeup--There are two makeup styles to go over. Regular and movies.

Regular is fairly straight forward. Pale skin. Black eyeshadow(or a color that matched the eyes). Thin, pencil-drawn eyebrows that look kinda sad. Lips with an emphasized cupid's bow. Rosy blush on the center of the cheeks.

Movie makeup: I went down a rabbit hole with this topic. It gets pretty interesting, but I am simplifying a lot. I also only know the basics.

The 20s was a transition period of the types of film used. There was the older orthochromatic/blue-sensitive film, which struggled to pick up warmer colors. Reds ended up darker than they really were, and tended to emphasize facial blemishes. This was counteracted by lighting and makeup. They used Arc lights, which gave off a blue-green light, were noisy, and hard on the actor's eyes.

The idea was basically to wash everything in blue light, to counter any reds present. Then they just had to worry about values. White or creme makeup was used to even out the skin tone (At least for white people, didn't find anything for other skin tones, but I imagine the basic idea would be similar). Then dark blues were used to contour the face, enhance definition/contrast, and mimic blush. Light blues would act as highlights. The lips would vary based on if you wanted a natural look or not. Greens and yellows could get a natural to dark lipstick appearance. If red was used, it could only get a dark lipstick look. Overall, the actors would have looked pretty weird.

If regular makeup colors were used, then everything would end up looking too dark.

Panchromatic film started becoming more widespread by the late 1920s. It had a wider range of sensitivity(but was still more blue sensitive than the human eye, which is more yellow sensitive. Reds were difficult for film even into the 21st century. That could lead me into a tangent about the Raimi Spiderman films, but I'll hold it in). They were able to switch to incandescent lighting, which were quieter(important for the rise of "talkies") and easier to maintain. The way makeup was previously used in movies was essentially invalidated.

(Below)I'm not sure what type of film the left side was designed for exactly, possibly panchromatic(because the green and purple is an interesting choice) or early color. But the right side is for blue-sensitive films.

I guess I bring this up because it's interesting, and helps me justify her blue-green color scheme.

I think that's everything relevant.

(edit notes will go here if needed)

[aesthetic-rxssxs]

Universe: Haikyuu Troupe: Academic Rivals 2nd Person Of View Warnings: Smut Words: 6556

"Short Skirt And An Even Shorter Fuse."

Tsukishima and you. The top of your classes and constantly fighting for the title of number one. He was older by one year, but you were in the same grade being that you had skipped a grade.

What you had thought was going to be a smooth and drama-free High School life, turned into more.

From snide remarks and jabs between you two, there was no room for smooth or drama-free. Pretty much the opposite if we're honest.

It got to the point where you'd deliberately cheer for everybody but Tsukishima on the Volleyball team at their games. Making sure to flip him off or stick your tongue out childishly.

Tsukishima would return it with a scowl or a roll of his eyes. He always prided himself on being good at things without trying. So, there was no way in hell he'd try now just to prove he was good to a nameless nobody he didn't even know that well. Right...?

Wrong. He did. Despite his best efforts to not let you get to him, you always managed to. It was to the point where even his team noticed.

Coach Ukai even provided you with snacks from his convenience store just so you could motivate him to stop being so half-assed. And who were you to deny free food?

One day, you decided to take a new approach and instead cheer for the opposing team. Now, that got Tsukishima's attention.

That day, he had put in more effort than he had before. It surprised everyone. Even you.

They had won by a landslide and you'd think he'd be all smug—but no. He surprised everyone once again by storming off the second the whistle blew. Grappling onto your arm and dragging you out.

He took you to the girl's locker room and shoved you against the wall. His arms were on either side of your head while his eyes were as intense as you'd ever seen them. "What the hell was that?"

"Huh? What the hell was what?" You shook off the initial surprise with a scoff and crossed your arms defensively.

"Don't bullshit me. Why were you cheering for them?" He narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw ticked with tension.

"Because I wanted to. Why else?" You snarked back, clearly annoyed with his new way of annoying you—asking too many questions.

"No, you did it to piss me off. Well, guess what? Congratulations. You've officially pissed me off," He leaned down, his tall stature never intimidating before, suddenly switched to down-right terrifying at this moment.

"So what if I did?" You narrowed your eyes back at him, creating a false face of annoyance and nonchalance.

"So? So?" He scoffed in disbelief. "So, it pissed me the fuck off and now you have to deal with the consequences.”

"Consequences?" You swallowed nervously. Not once had he shown this type of behavior to you. It was new and oddly attractive.

"Yup. Consequences." He breathed against your neck as he leaned his forehead right next to you against the wall. His hands clenched against the wall before his head tilted slightly to glance at you.

Your breath hitched and he was too far gone to mock you. Too tempted to waste time. Instead, he gripped the back of your neck and tugged you in for a rough kiss.

His other hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer as he kissed you eagerly. You were too shocked to do anything but melt into the kiss. Kissing back, you parted your lips.

That was all it took for him to strip off your shirt and tug you over to the showers, stripping his own clothes as he did.

Everything was a blur after that. From the last piece of clothing shed to the squeak of the shower's knob as it turned on, surrounding you with warm water, and to the sounds of skin on skin and the panting noises that came along with it.

Your back against the cold wall as Tsukishima held you up, panting and grunting in your ear as he rolled his hips. His arms tightened around your lower back as he held you up.

The feeling of his dick running along your walls as he fucked out all of the tension and unresolved feelings you two had over the past year, to the feeling of his lips and hands all over your body.

That was the start. The start of your hookups. The random texts and the blissful feelings ignited.

So, as you're at a party, in some skimpy short skirt your friend made you wear, Tsukishima couldn't stop checking you out.

He wasn't the only one, and that knowledge only made his jaw clench and a feeling enter the pit of his stomach. A feeling that can only be described as one thing—jealousy.

His eyes trailed over your body, noting everything on display. From your tits to the pretty pink panties that peeked out every time you bent over to pick up a drink.

You had always been one to be on the less social side. So, seeing you in an outfit like this was a surprise. One he didn't think he'd find himself loving and hating at the same time.

He could already picture it. Him, bending you over against some random piece of furniture in some random room as he slips your panties down your legs before he thrusts into you in one swift motion when he finally gets to tug down his boxers and pants.

Making sure to keep your skirt on so he can mock and tease you for it. Calling it 'a perfect slut's invitation'. He would pick up your panties and dangle them in front of your face, not moving an inch as he does.

Adding that he'll but your next pair with his name embroidered onto it for good measure. To make sure his perfect slut stays his perfect slut.

He could already feel the possessive need to drag you out of the center of the party and up into a random room upstairs to play out his fantasies.

The need trickled up his body until his feet started to move on their own.

In one swift motion, he gripped your arm—just like he did the first day your hookups first started—and dragged you upstairs without a care of who might've saw.

He slammed the door shut and locked it, picking you up under your armpits before throwing you onto the bed.

He crawled over you, trailing his hand down your waist. He reached your skirt and snapped the waistband of it, causing you to gasp and bite your lip.

He clicked his tongue at the movement and tugged your lip down. "Now what did I say about biting that pretty lip, hm?"

Your face flushed at his taunting before you reluctantly recited the words he'd basically engrained in your mind. "That it's your job..."

He smirked smugly, running his hand up and down your waist approvingly. "That's right. And why do you think I brought you up here?"

"Uh, I don't know," You mumbled, forcing yourself not to bite your lip. No matter how tempting it was.

He scoffed, squeezing your thigh as his hand trailed up, hitching it onto his waist, "Don't play coy with me, slut. We both know this skirt is so short you flash your ass by bending over."

He let out a harsh chuckle, "I should know. I saw those pretty pink panties you love so much the second you reached down for a beer."

Your lips parted in shock, your face flushed and your hands gripping the hem of your skirt tightly, willing them to magically grow longer in size.

"Trying to catch someone's attention?" He taunted as he slipped his hand up your thigh slowly, dangerously close to slipping up under your skirt.

You shook your head immediately, "N-no."

"Then why wear this, huh?" He leaned down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He closed his eyes, inhaling that sweet perfume you always wore.

The same one that now stains his sheets for days on end every time you come over.

"My friends made me..." You responded, gulping. You tried not to let his closeness affect you but it never really works in the end.

"Do you always listen to your friends?" He kissed along your neck, nipping every now and then. "Would you jump off of a cliff if they told you to?"

"No," You scoff out in disbelief to which he leans back and grips your jaw. "Watch your tone, sweetheart. I'm not the one flashing everyone, now am I?"

You pout, annoyed. But then you feel a striking sensation between your legs at the implication that he's jealous. And not just jealous, but possessive too.

"Not denying it, huh?" He chuckled and teased your nipples through your shirt. The movement was easy due to you not wearing a bra.

You gasped at the sensation, your head dizzy with pleasure. Your mind already turning to mush as you whimpered out, "Please don't stop, Tsuki..."

He smirked and stopped his movements. "What was that?"

Your lips formed into another pout, knowing he wouldn't continue until you stroked his ego with some begging. "Please, keep touching me..."

He hummed in acknowledgment, thumb rubbing against your ribcage, "Keep touching you where?"

"My breasts," You admitted, finding yourself still able to blush. Even after the many nights you've spent tangled in each other's sheets.

"Good girl," He purred out before tugging your shirt up, kissing up your stomach, leaving your breathing growing in huffs. He reached your breasts and sucked hickeys along them, marking you as his.

He relished in every moan and whimper you let out. Loving the way you gripped his hair when he swirled his tongue around your nipples.

"Of course you'd love some attention to your breasts, you slut," He chuckled and suckled around the perked bud. When he glanced up and saw you about to retort, he used his free hand to tweak your other nipple.

As he saw your lips part and your eyes squeezed shut, he knew his mission succeeded. A prominent smirk settled on his lips as he had gotten what he wanted. Your compliance.

No matter how many times you'd told yourself you'd never let anyone degrade you, he made it seem so enticing. Much to the point you ended up looking forward to it with every interaction you two had.

Even now as he degraded every little response you had to his teasing touches, it couldn't help but make you throb even more.

"That's a good girl," He cooed as he trailed his hands down your waist, caressing every part of you he could. His hands trail down to your hips, caressing them as he practically makes out with your breasts.

Your leg shifts to rest on his back, leg curving to rest your foot on his back where you rub up and down in appreciation to his attention.

He smirks, moving his hand up and under your skirt, teasing the waistband, and pecking your breasts before he kisses down.

He moves your leg up on his shoulder the lower he gets, kissing all the way down to your waistband. "Well if it isn't the one thing that had me throbbing this whole damn party..."

He lets out a husked chuckle when your breath hitches, trailing his finger along the waistband. "How cute."

You whine out, "Stop being so mean..."

"Mean? Mean?" He laughs in disbelief before he pinches the fabric, "Now, these are mean. Making me wanna tilt it up and fuck you in front of everyone. You're playing coy, sweetheart."

"I'm not playing anything," You whined out in protest before he tugged and let go, causing it to snap against your skin.

He grins up at you in a way that makes you think he'd be the perfect Cheshire cat in a play. "Oh, come on. I know you enjoy a little pain. You're my precious little masochist."

You huff, cheeks flushing as your whole body feels hot. You wish you could protest, but you knew it'd be futile. Let's face it, you are his little masochist.

"Ah, so you don't deny it, huh?" He moves his hands down and lifts your skirt up. "I knew my girl wouldn't."

His girl. Something he found himself saying more frequently. He couldn't help it. Especially when you give the best reactions. Like now, for example.

You were tilting your head back, swollen lips parted into a moan as he bit your thigh to emphasize your arousal to pain.

It worked perfectly, he had the perfect view of your panties and watched as a wet patch started to form. He grinned devilishly before he leaned down and poked his nose into your panties.

He relished in your surprised yelp, hips trying to move away but stopped by his nails digging into your thighs, pulling you back.

"Not so fast, pretty girl."

You swallowed hard, hands clenched together at your sides as he grinned, lips brushing against the fabric as he did. Which only serves to make your body tingle with pleasure.

He gave a nice open-mouthed kiss right on top of the wet patch, making your heart race.

"T-Tsukishima?" You trailed off before you yelped. His teeth nipped at your panties, slowly tugging them off, hands trailing up to follow the movements of your panties before he threw them to the side.

"H-hey!" You protested before he pinched your thigh, making you wince and instinctively look down.

"Don't worry, honey. I'll buy you a new pair." He rubbed your thigh before casually adding, "With my name embroidered onto them."

Your eyes widened in surprise but before you could ask him to explain further, his mouth is on your clit as a distraction. That instantly makes your brows tug together and your eyes roll back in a strung-out moan.

He nibbles gently, making your moan grow in pitch. He pulls back and kisses your swollen clit sweetly, looking up at you with a knowing smirk.

Your face is flushed and your eyes are half-lidded as you look down at him with a half-assed glare. Lips forming into a pout, "No fair..."

He chuckles, "Are you seriously complaining right now, sweetheart?"

You shake your head reluctantly and he takes that as a no. His hand rubs your thighs up and down, loving the sight of you laid out with your legs on his shoulders.

He makes a point to kiss up your thighs until he reaches where you want him most. He looks up and you nod in encouragement.

He dives in, licking a nice long stripe up along your slit, ripping another moan out of you. He continues, this time flattening his tongue and trailing his tongue up, making you shudder.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control your noises but find that entirely impossible once he slips a finger in.

You choke on a gasp and your gummy walls clamp down on his finger in reaction. He hums in satisfaction and wraps his lips around your clit, suckling.

You whimper, legs trying to clamp around him but failing when he pinched your thigh with his free hand, making you stop.

You gulp when he slips another finger in, pumping them in and out before he pulls off your clit and pecks it. “You’re making such sweet noises for me.”

You whimper, the compliment making you blush even more.

“Please, Tsukishima…” You gasped, trying to think about anything but his relentless movements with his fingers. “I-I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” He taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance and confidence. He didn’t stop moving, finger-fucking you steadily while gently sucking on your swollen clit, making you writhe helplessly beneath him. “Can’t take it? Or can’t handle the fact that I’m the one making you feel this way?"

You swallowed, trying to find the right words but failing as your mind grows blank the more he touches you.

“How cute,” He cooed, borderlining on mocking. “You can’t even speak properly anymore. Just a pretty little mess for me, huh?”

“God, yes—just like that," You whined, not even hearing his previous comment when his fingers curled to hit that spongey spot that made your mind go blank.

“Look at you. So small, so needy. I could ruin you, you know. Make you want it so bad you wouldn’t know how to function without my fingers inside you.”

“Please,” You whimpered again, desperation creeping up to an almost embarrassing point. “I’m so close...”

“Close to what?” he challenged playfully, pulling his fingers out for just a second before plunging them right back in, mixing pleasure with just the right amount of edge.

“Tsuki!” You choked on a moan, trying to keep your dignity but finding it hard when he was teetering you to the edge of bliss. “Stop—stop teasing me!”

A devilish smirk crossed his lips, one you saw him make plenty of times in situations like this, “What’s the fun in making it easy for you?”

“I… I—” You stuttered, mind foggy from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and his relentless teasing. You clutched the sheets, knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself.

“That’s it, let go for me,” He encouraged, suckling harder on your clit. With a gasp, you felt the tension snap, and your entire body tensed up as pleasure surged through you.

“Good girl,” He murmured

“See,” He whispered with a teasing tone, licking his lips. “I told you I could ruin you, and no one else would even come close.”

“You’re insufferable.” You grumble out, not able to refute his evident-backed statement. You sat up on your elbows, looking down at him. The lower half of his face is glistening and it makes you flush.

He smirks at your comment, knowing it's a weak attempt to get back at him for his arrogant remarks. "You're just realizing that now?" He teases, his voice low and husky as he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, making you whimper at the loss.

He smirks at your reaction, loving the flustered expression that overtakes you. He crawls up over you until he's face-to-face with you. His face with a mischievous grin, bordering on a smirk.

"Look at that face... completely spent from just my fingers." The arrogant smirk still plays on his lips as he brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly sucking them clean.

"I bet you'd say anything right now just to have something else inside you." His voice drops further, becoming almost seductive.

You swallowed. He leans down and nuzzles his glistening nose against yours, face tilted in a way that lets him kiss the corner of your mouth.

"Would you rather my tongue? Or maybe..." He pauses, intentionally teasing you further. "...my cock? You're dripping wet and whimpering my name so nicely, maybe you're not so proud anymore, hmm?"

His dark eyes fixate on you with a mix of satisfaction and further intent. It was a look that you see just before he decides to fuck you.

"I can see it in your eyes, you want me to fuck you senseless. Beg for it." He commands, voice low and demanding.

He leans down, lips brushing against your ear. "Beg me to fill you up and I'll give you exactly what you need."

"God..." You moaned softly, your hips bucking slightly as you try to get friction anywhere. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and lust as you swallow thickly.

"Please..." You whimper, almost inaudible. You try again, louder this time, "Tsukishima..."

A smug grin spreads across his face, satisfied with himself for breaking your determination so easily. He leans down, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

"See? I knew you could beg properly when you wanted something bad enough." His hand slipped between your thighs again, thumb brushing against your soaked folds.

"You want this?" He asks mockingly, moving his finger up slowly to brush feather-light over your clit.

"You want me to fill you up and make you forget everything else?" He adds, adding pressure. He can feel the way your breath quickens, hips slightly rocking as soft moans spill out of your swollen lips.

You choke on a gasp, nodding. His eyes boring into your foggy ones, eyes welling up.

He chuckles darkly, amused by your desperate attempts to draw him closer. With a swift movement, he removes his fingers, leaving you aching and whimpering.

"Greedy girl," He murmurs against your lips, reaching down to his belt, and unbuckling it. He licks his lips, the movement making you feel the whisper of his tongue grazing your lips.

Once he unlatches the metal, he unbuttons and drags the zipper down his pants. He tugs his boxers off just enough for his erection to slap against his abdomen.

He laughs at the way your mouth grows slack-jawed. He always loved the way your face morphed when you see his cock.

He tilts your head and gives you a quick slow kiss, body arching slightly as his erection squeezes in between your bodies. The feeling of him pressed against you making you moan into the kiss.

He pulled back, pecking your lips before he spoke. "Last chance to beg, princess. Should I fuck you or leave you like this? I think you deserve it for wearing such a short skirt."

His self-control is barely hanging on as he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily from anticipation. "Because I don't know if I can wait for you to answer, baby..."

His hips nudge forward slightly, letting you feel his thickness and the cool metal of his belt against your thigh. He grins when he hears your breath hitch, your body shuddering at the contrast of the cool metal to your heated body.

A smug grin plays on his lips as he teases you, pressing just the tip of his cock against your entrance without actually entering.

"You're so fucking wet, I could slide in so easily... Should I?" He leans down, catching your lip between his teeth again.

"Please...?" You whimper as you swallow down your pride, clit pulsing as he teases you. His self-control snaps at the desperate plea you made against his lips, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides himself inside you slowly.

"Oh fuck..." He whispers, voice thick with pleasure as he stretches you. "You were right to beg, baby..."

He begins to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm, making your body arch. His hand finds your breast, squeezing and kneading it as he picks up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He groans, burying his face in your neck, breathing ragged. "I could fuck you all night..."

He pulls out of you suddenly, his cock slick with your juices, making you whine out in protest. He stands up, towering over you as he grips your ankle and drags you to the edge of the bed.

"On your knees, princess. You know how I like it," He orders, his voice cold and commanding. "I'm not done with you yet."

You quickly get on your knees on the bed, your ass high in the air, waiting. Your cheeks are flushed, your hair disheveled, and you're covered in a thin a layer of sweat.

He takes one look at you and almost looses control again. He spreads your thighs wider with his hands. "Atta' girl."

"God damn..." He mutters, watching your soaking wet pussy spread open for him. He spreads your cheeks further apart, lining his tip against your entrance again, and pushes in hard and deep, making you cry out and grip the sheets tightly.

He finds your hips again, his thumb spreading you wider while you can do nothing but moan and whimper.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well... such a good girl, aren't you?” He increases his pace, each thrust hitting deeper, slapping against your ass. You choke on a moan, clenching with every thrust.

One hand moves to grab your hair, tilting your head back and making you arch. "Who owns this perfect little pussy? Who fucks it every other day and eats it out the other days, hm?"

"Y-you..." You gurgled out, drool pooling in your mouth before it spilled onto the poor unsuspecting host's sheets.

"Fucking right it's me." He snarls possessively, his hips snapping forward and back, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

His other hand moves to play with your clit, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. You squeal, the harsh treatment making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. "F-fuck...Tsuki..."

He chuckles darkly at your desperate cries, feeling the smug satisfaction of owning your pleasure so completely.

"Ngh," He slurred slightly. "Scream my fucking name then," He demands, rubbing your clit faster, harder. Aiming to drive you wild.

"Let everyone at this stupid party fucking hear who wrecks this tight cunt. My cunt."

His cunt. And there's no way you'd ever deny him that. Not when he fucks you so good you forget until the beautiful aching settles in your foggy brain when you wake up the next morning.

You whimper and grab the sheets as each thrust makes your body coil forward. Your breathing heavy, panting like a dog.

He grins wickedly and leans down over you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as his hips slam forward in rapid succession, his thick length massaging that perfect spot inside you.

His actions only serve to make you cry out louder, moans and whimpers impossible to hold back. His fingers are a blur on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come on, princess."

You gasp out desperately, shaking your head as you croak out, "S' too much... always too much..." You whine, body shaking with pleasure as his hips never falter.

"Too much of what?" He growls, breathing ragged. His smirk is present as his warm breath washes over your shoulder. He continues to pound into you mercilessly, his fingers working your swollen bud furiously.

"Too much of my thick cock stretching you out?" He chuckles cruelly, punctuating each question with a hard thrust. Making you thrust forward with his harsh thrusts, whimpering and puffing out breaths.

You claw at the sheets, the pool of drool underneath your mouth making the experience all the more surreal.

His free hand wraps around your throat from behind, tilting your head back further as he continues his brutal pace. He wipes the drool off the corner of your lips.

"Answer me, princess. Is this cock too much for your needy little cunt?" His fingers move faster on your clit, bringing you dangerously close to orgasm.

You can't form words, too choked up on your sobs and hiccups to properly respond. Moans and whimpers are the only things you're able to make.

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip around your throat slightly, silencing your desperate noises.

"I'll take that as a yes," He chuckles darkly, his relentless pace making the bed creak ominously. The squelching noises of you sucking him in on par.

You mewl, arching as he hits that spot inside that makes everything not register. Nothing but the overwhelming pleasure that makes your body tingle.

He lets out a satisfied grunt, feeling your inner walls start to convulse around his length. "Fuck… you’re so fucking tight," He groans his fingers moving in frantic circles on your clit as he chokes you gently.

"You think I can make you cum harder than all those other times I've fucked you nice and snug?" He chuckles tauntingly, kissing your temple.

You gasp and lean into his touches, body lolling back and slacking as you clench uncontrollably, body on the verge of euphoria. Moans and desperate pleas coming out in croaks.

He smirks in satisfaction as he feels your walls flutter desperately around his throbbing cock. His fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, your orgasm hovering tantalizingly close.

"That's it, clench tighter for me, princess. Milk my cock like you've never had anything better. Which we both know you haven't..." He teases, nibbling on the shell of your ear.

You whimper and clench, clit pulsing beneath his skilled fingers, body aching and sweaty as it takes every punishing thrust of his.

He watches your body writhe and tense, your moans getting louder and more desperate. His teeth sink into your neck possesively, making you yelp.

"You know what would make this even better?" He rasps darkly into your ear, and his finger moves faster, pressing down harder on your little bud.

You pant, gulping before you manage to respond. Croaking out a small, "What?"

"If I wrapped my arms around your waist, and pulled you even closer, making it hurt a little more but feel even better," He growls, his powerful arms wrapping around your midsection.

He pulls you back, his chest to your back so that his mushroom-shaped tip hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You whine and convulse, your body shuddering at the feeling of his arm squeezing you. The pressure makes you feel his cock pound into you even more. You croak, "F-fuck...!"

"That's right, princess. Take my cock like a good slut. You're squeezing me so perfectly I might actually cum before you," He punctuates each word with another brutal thrust.

He maintains his punishing pace against that sensitive spot deep inside you, panting, "Or maybe I'll just edge you..."

“Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsuki...!" You let out a dragged-out moan in a mantra. Pleading for him to continue or to stop, you don't know. All you know is that he's fucking your gummy walls just right.

Groaning in arousal at your desperate moan of his name, he leans in to nip sharply at your ear.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty begging for me," He rasps, his hips maintaining that brutal pace. The wet sounds of flesh smacking against flesh fill the air.

"Can...can't take it, Kei, baby..." You sniffled, chirping out a whimper. "Gonna—gonna cum."

He smirks darkly, knowing he's making you go crazy with pleasure. His hand on your hip tightens, pulling you back onto his cock as he pistons into you relentlessly.

"That's it, princess. Cum for me. Remind me of why I keep your pretty little cunt around..." He encourages into your ear, pinching your clit.

You throw your head back and buck, cumming around him on instinct. You sob and spasm, your body squirming as he fucked you through your orgasm. You whisper his name out in a mantra, vision blurry.

His eyes roll back in ecstasy as he feels your tight little cunt milking his cock for all it's worth.

He grunts and pounds into you a few more times before finally stilling, his cock throbbing inside you as he unloads a massive load of his seed deep into your womb.

Your eyes widen and you claw at his arm, your voice slurring, "N-no... can't cum in me," You hiccup, "Not on... birth control...."

He freees at your words, his mind hazy from the intense high of his orgasm. For a moment, he just stays still, buried deep inside you as he processes your words.

Then, he pulls out, his softening cock slipping out of your used hole with a wet plop! You fall down onto your front, shaking and panting as you try to calm down.

Your body clenches from the after-effects of your intense orgasm, making his and your shared cum spill out from your position on your front with your ass up.

He watches your body wracked with aftershocks, his seed mixed with your fluids trickling down your inner thighs. His jaw tightens.

"Damn," He mutters softly to himself, his eyes fixated on your spread thighs and your puffy, well-used little cunt.

You pant, looking back at him from over your shoulder. Your eyes are half-lidded and red from your previous sobbing.

"I'm sorry, princess," He murmurs softly, reaching out to gently stroke your cheek. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I didn't mean to cum inside you. I'll make sure to pull out next time, okay?"

You swallow, not used to his sweet demeanor but finding yourself not complaining in the slightest. You hum against his lips in acknowledgment, "Okay.."

He smiles softly, ruffling your hair before pulling back. He watches your body, your back glistening with sweat and your thighs sticky with their mixed fluids.

He swallows hard, his Adams apple bobbing and his eyes flicking to your round bottom. He bites his lip, eyes darkening again. "Baby?"

"Yeah...?" I croak out.

"Can I...?" He hesitated, his fingers trailing along your curves possesively. "Can I check if any of it went in?" He asks softly, his fingers splaying out on your bottom possessively.

"Just to make sure none got in..." You nod, giving him permission to check with a mumble, "I s'ppose so..."

He nods, his fingers spreading your bottom apart gently. He leans down, his face inches from your used hole. He blows gently, making you shiver, before pressing his mouth to your aching entrance.

He licks gently, cleaning you up and checking for any of his seed that may have gotten inside. You whimper and grasp the sheets, his check-up making you squirm.

He hums softly, his tongue delving inside you to make sure none of his cum got in. He pulls back after a moment, satisfied that he got it all out.

He presses a soft open-mouthed kiss to your hole before standing up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tilting your skirt back down.

You pant and look over your shoulder, breathing ragged. "Are we done...? Can I...Can I get up..?"

"Mmh," He answers softly, watching you closely. He's half hard again from how needy and sensitive you look. "You can get up," He adds, his eyes flicking down to your thighs again.

You nod and roll onto your back, slowly sitting up, your body feeling sore and achy.

"Easy there..." He moves closer, catching your waist as you sit up unsteadily. His eyes darken slightly as he notices fresh tears welling up in those beautiful eyes.

"Are you okay?" His touch is surprisingly gentle now, all business-like dominance forgotten. "Did I... hurt you?"

"No," You let out a choked laugh and sniffle, "Just the overwhelming pleasure, you know?"

He blinks, momentarily stunned by your response. Then slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Overwhelming pleasure, huh?" He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Well, princess, that's called being fucked properly. But that’s no news to you, is it?”

You scoff, but your lip twitches up into a grin. You stand up and reach for your clothes that he had thrown to the side prior. He watches you dress, his eyes roaming over your figure appreciatively.

He can't help but notice the way you wince slightly as you pull your pink panties up. He stands up slowly, buttoning his shirt back up, "Where are you going?"

"Well, I can't exactly stay at this party all wobbly-legged. I'm a total mess. I'm not trying to have the walk of shame and parade around. I'm going home." You go to the nearby mirror and fix your appearance.

He nods, understanding. He moves to stand beside you in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at you.

He runs a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking a bit worn out from the late night and the intense fuck session. "Alright, I'll walk you home."

You smile crookedly, "Thanks."

His reflection smirks softly back at you, watching you try to tame your wild hair. He noticed how you wince slightly as you put on your heels. His jaw tightens slightly.

"Are you sore?" He asks softly, his voice lower than usual. You turn around to look at him once you're satisfied with how you look.

"You know I am." You peck his cheek and grab your purse before heading to the door and opening it. "You coming?"

He follows you out of the room, his eyes on your swaying hips. He catches up to you easily, his long legs eating up the distance. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk down the hallway, guiding you gently. "I'll make sure you get home safe."

"That's not what I'm worried about. I just hope nobody can smell the sex on us. I do not want to be known as the chick who hooks up at some random parties." Your nose scrunched up at the mere idea.

He chuckles softly, his hand tightening on your waist possessively as he guides you through the crowded party. He can feel eyes on you, wondering where you disappeared and who you disappeared with.

He can already imagine the whispers and rumors spreading like wildfire tomorrow. Especially considering how you two are known as academic rivals—enemies.

You lean onto him, trying to mask the wobble in your step as you head out of the party. He wraps an arm around your waist in response, pulling you closer to him to steady you.

He can feel the curious stares and whispers following you two out of the party. He ignores them, focusing on getting you home safely before the rumors start to spread on the internet.

You follow his steps. His stride is steady and sure, guiding you down the dark streets leading away from the party. The crisp night air hits your faces, covering you both up slightly.

He steals glances at you every few seconds, noticing how you're trying to walk normally despite everything. "Stop pretending like you're not limping."

You huff, pouting. "M’ not pretending... I'd just rather not put any unnecessary strain.."

He arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he glances down at your determined yet pained strides.

In one swift movement, he scoops you up bridal-style, ignoring your startled gasp. "Like hell you're walking any further. I'm carrying you."

"What the hell, Tsukishima?!" You yelped, holding onto him tightly in fear of falling. He just smirks, his arms tightening around you to keep you secure as he continues walking.

He ignores your outburst, knowing damn well you wouldn't be able to walk much further anyway. His long strides eat up the distance, bringing you closer to your home with each step.

You huff and instead let your head fall back, watching the scenery upside-down while he carries you to your house. He finds the whole situation amusing, carrying his academic rival and casual hook-up like a bride.

He can't help but chuckle softly to himself as he walks, the upside-down view of your face making him smirk wider.

He reaches your house sooner than expected, his long legs covering the distance quickly. You lift your head up, your head spinning from whiplash before you rest your head on his shoulder.

He sets you down gently in front of your door, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. He fishes your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door swiftly.

He steps inside, carrying you again once he's inside, kicking the door shut behind him. "Shh...! My parents will hear you," You whisper shout at him.

"Then stop squirming, "He mutters softly, his hands on your ass to keep you still as he carries you up the stairs.

He freezes suddenly, hearing your parents' TV on downstairs. He swallows, trying to be quieter. "Your room?"

You nod and he carries you to your room, being as quiet as possible. He sets you down on your bed gently, looking around to make sure everything is in order.

Satisfied, he turns back to you, kneeling down to remove your heels. "Stay put," He orders softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nod, head bobbing and your eyes droop as the night finally catching up to you. He watches your eyelids flutter heavily, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he realizes just how drunk you actually are.

Finishing with your heels, he gently tucks your blanket around you, ensuring you're comfortable before standing up quietly. "Sleep it off, idiot."

You place your hand on his before he leaves, murmuring out a soft, "Be careful on your way out."

Tsukishima pauses, glancing down at your hand on his with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Momentarily taken aback by your sudden concern, a softness brushed across his usually stern features.

With a brief nod, he squeezes your hand lightly. "I can handle myself."

You smile softly before you let go of his hand and slowly succumb to sleep. He watches your breathing even out, a rare gentle expression softening his angular features.

With a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, he turns and exits your room silently, closing the door with barely a sound.

Masterlist. Masterlist.haikyuu

February 9, 2025. PST: 7:40 PM.

[mealonlegs]

After beating endwalker, I think his problem is that he's royalty. Like, the problem he has with his life. He's probably going to be a problem for all sorts of people no matter what, but so is everyone with that drive and power. WoL causes all sorts of problems.

But Zenos, Zenos was raised as royalty, heir to the empire, and taught with the assumption that others will work to bring things to him. The best weapons, the best trainers, the political people he needs. Everything is handed to him, so when he's not handed the thing he really, truly, wants (sick epic fights to the death that push him to the limit), he has no idea how to actually get that.

He kinda fumbles around trying to get people to fight him, but he's bad at it. You can see him treating enemies with a sort of respect, while trying to encourage them to be stronger. He leaves foes weakened but not dead, hoping that they'll just sorta happen to dedicate their lives to training and beating him. When he meets one of the best, who still isn't quite on his level, he leaves them alive.

And if you're in a 'get into wicked sick fights' it's a pretty shitty success rate. Epic sick fights Goerge (also known as the WoL), knows exactly how to get into epic soul-rending fights: By doing a bunch of boring tedious shit that makes you want to pull your hair out.

You gotta go on stupid fetch quests. You need to kill 3 squirrels to prove you can stab someone with a slightly shorter sword then the one you saved the world with. You gotta be told to talk to this person, and then go back to this other person, and then return to go talk to the person who you were told to talk to, but an Important NPC didn't tell you, so you gotta check in with them, when this all could have been a link pearl conversation instead of being told via link pearl to come back and report before being told to go do what you were doing.

But you do that long enough, eventually you'll be in a place where whenever there is some epic monster, or battle, or god, you know about it. And you can go fight it. You can fight and fight and fight until there is no one left to fight, but if you grind a bunch of wrap up political bullshit and do some stupid fetch quests, another fight will come around soon enough. And every poor-broke no-skill having adventurer knows this basic fact of life. You gotta do the boring, tedious work to get that real high of pitting your soul against everything and all. But Zeno's, who never had to work at anything he didn't want to, just was completely blind to the adventurer-based economy that defined the world. There's more then a few Zeno's Types, even in FF14, and for the most part these thrill-seeker adrenaline junkies have no problem finding shit in the world to test them. Alisaie, that guy from the ARR capstone society quests, Estinien, That Warrior quest trainer... everyone implicitly understands how to find challenging trouble: Be out and about in the world, but Zenos stuck in an ivory tower of royalty and generalship is blind to how 99.9% of the world works. Even in his general social sphere, someone like Gaius gets in a lot of sick fights, because he's out trying to do shit. But Zenos sits around waiting for problems to come to him, and that's why he hates his life. He may still be an evil villain causing naught but pain and suffering for all those around him, but he could have been happy like that if he wasn't the crown prince.

I wonder what Zenos would have been like, had he grown up under different circumstances? Like, is he just evil/endlessly selfish to the core and that's the way he is as a person and everything about him and his actions were just inevitably going to happen no matter what - or, if given a chance, could things have been different?

[777bae]

OUT OF REACH EMIL LILLEBERG

Summary :: Emil always forgets you’re not as tall as him, constantly putting things on the top shelf just out of reach. After a few failed attempts to grab a box of pasta, you call for help—only for him to tease you as he effortlessly grabs it down. Despite the frustration, you can’t help but appreciate his charm… even if he’s a walking kitchen disaster.

Warnings :: reader is quite a bit shorter than him (Emil is like 6’2)

Word count :: 2.0k

The kitchen feels unusually cramped tonight, the space shrinking with every stretch of your arm. The air is thick with the mix of frustration and determination that’s building up inside you. Every inch you gain feels like an impossibility—like the pasta box is playing some cruel game, just barely within reach but always slipping further back when you think you’re close. You tiptoe higher, your breath catching as you stretch even more, fingertips brushing the edge, but not quite making contact.

The box of pasta taunts you with its proximity, daring you to reach it, daring you to be taller, to be more clever, to be anything but the person you are right now—straining, balancing on the balls of your feet, your entire body bending and twisting to meet its challenge. Your fingertips graze the corner of the box, but the moment you think you’ve got it, the damn thing slides away like it’s mocking your efforts.

You step back, exhaling a huff of frustration. Your arm aches from the stretch, muscles burning, yet you can’t help but feel compelled to keep trying. You’ve been at this for what feels like an eternity, and all you want is that stupid box, just a simple task, but it’s like the shelf is an enemy in some poorly scripted battle you’re never going to win.

You’ve already tried everything. The edge of the counter, the tiptoeing, even the desperate stretches with your spine curved in ways it shouldn’t be. You’ve jumped a few times too, almost knocking over the spice rack in the process. But nothing works. The top shelf remains just out of your reach, and it’s becoming an endless loop of failure. You feel a surge of irritation wash over you, the kind that turns even small tasks into mountains you can’t climb.

Just then, you hear Emil’s voice from the living room—soft, almost muffled by the low hum of the TV. It’s a lazy kind of sound, his usual drawl that lets you know he’s not really doing anything, just existing. He’s probably sprawled out on the couch, wrapped in the warmth of his own quiet, effortlessly relaxed state, while you’re here, fighting an invisible war against a shelf.

You glance back toward the living room, almost as if you’re expecting him to materialize at any moment, like he might suddenly walk in, notice your struggle, and offer some sort of unsolicited advice or assistance. But no—he’s probably lost in the game, or checking his phone, or just… completely unaware of your ongoing battle.

You can almost picture it—his easy posture, the way he probably doesn’t even realize how long you’ve been at this. He wouldn’t know what it’s like to fight with something that’s supposed to be easy, to have something just out of reach, no matter how hard you try. His world is probably so effortlessly simple, and here you are—on your tiptoes, straining with a dumb box of pasta like it’s the most important thing in the world.

The frustration builds again, and you let out a long, exasperated sigh, as if the air itself is feeling the weight of your irritation. You can’t just give up—not after everything.

You stretch again, pushing your body higher, giving a little hop in a last-ditch effort to finally grasp the elusive box of pasta. It’s no use. The box taunts you, stubbornly staying just beyond your reach. Your fingertips graze the bottom corner again, but it slides away, like it’s playing its own game with you. Frustration builds in your chest, and your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as your muscles scream in protest. This was supposed to be easy.

You stand there for a moment, frozen in a mix of disbelief and irritation, your arm still outstretched, hovering in the air. The feeling of helplessness gnaws at you—how can something so simple be so maddening? The corner of the shelf, so close yet so far. Your gaze flickers to the rest of the kitchen, but the air feels too heavy, and you just need to let it out.

With a dramatic sigh, you drop your arm, the sense of defeat hanging over you. You turn to face the empty space behind you, shaking your head. This is absurd. He had to put it there, didn’t he? The box of pasta. The one thing you can’t reach.

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Emil!” you call, the words coming out louder than you intended, a mixture of frustration and resignation in your voice. The name cuts through the silence of the kitchen, a sharp cry for help. You wait, your pulse still racing as you let the annoyance settle in.

You hear the familiar sound of Emil shifting on the couch—his casual movement, a shift of weight on the cushions—before his voice drifts toward you, muffled and unconcerned. “Yeah?”

A second later, your irritation creeps up again, this time spilling out in an exaggerated tone, the kind of thing you didn’t mean but can’t hold back now. “Can you come in here for a second?” you call out again, the words dripping with the kind of annoyance you usually try to suppress, but tonight, it’s all spilling over. You don’t even try to hold it in; you’re done. You need help, but you’re going to let him know how ridiculous it all feels.

The sound of him standing reaches you next, the soft shuffle of footsteps that tell you he’s not rushing. A few moments pass before he appears in the doorway, moving with the same laid-back ease that’s practically his trademark. His hands are casually shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants, his posture relaxed as he leans against the doorframe, eyeing you with a faint glint of amusement already tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes flick up to the top shelf—your target—and then back to you, still standing there on your tiptoes, arms stretched up, straining for the box of pasta that’s just out of your grasp.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You still trying to get that?” he asks, the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to ignore. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he knows exactly what’s going on. And maybe he does—maybe he’s been watching you struggle from the living room, quietly enjoying the show.

You roll your eyes dramatically, letting out a long exhale as you throw your hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, and I swear, if that pasta box is laughing at me right now, I’m going to lose it,” you say, your voice a mixture of exasperation and playful exaggeration. The frustration still pulses under your words, but you know you can’t take it too seriously—after all, it’s just pasta. Right?

Emil chuckles at your theatrics, his chest vibrating with amusement. He uncrosses his arms and steps forward, a slow, deliberate movement that only adds to the easy confidence he exudes. His arms fold back into his chest as he leans against the counter, watching you with a half-amused, half-sympathetic expression. “You know,” he starts, his voice light but with a teasing edge, “if you just asked, I’d grab it for you.”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes as you give him an exaggerated, dramatic pout, trying to mirror his smugness. “I’m trying to maintain some dignity here,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You take a small step back, waving your arms theatrically as you turn your attention back to the shelf. “But you—” you pause, making sure to emphasize the point—“keep putting things on the top shelf like you’re trying to make me lose my mind.”

He doesn’t even flinch. If anything, his smirk only deepens, that knowing look in his eyes never leaving. Without another word, he steps forward and reaches up to grab the box from the shelf. He does it so effortlessly that it seems almost cruel. The motion is fluid, practiced, like he’s done this a hundred times before, and he’s only half-paying attention.

He pulls the box down in a single, smooth motion, not breaking a sweat. His eyes flick back to you, a playful grin stretching across his face. “It’s not my fault you’re not as vertically gifted as me,” he teases, his tone light, but there’s that underlying sense of mischief you know too well. His words are almost too perfect, a reminder of how, in this moment, you’re not the one winning.

You huff, frustration still bubbling in your chest, and snatch the pasta box from Emil’s outstretched hand. Your fingers brush his briefly, and you can’t ignore the warmth of his touch, even if it’s just for a moment. You give him a playful shove, the kind you’ve given him a hundred times before when he’s pushed your buttons just enough. “Can you stop putting things on the top shelf like you’re some sort of kitchen god?” you ask, your voice half-mocking, half-exasperated. “I swear, it’s like you’re doing it on purpose!”

Emil’s laughter is instant, his deep chuckle rumbling in the air between you two. He leans back against the doorframe, arms still casually crossed over his chest. His eyes gleam with amusement, a mischievous twinkle you know all too well. “You’re welcome for my assistance,” he says, his tone light and teasing. “But seriously, you’d be better off just asking next time.”

You hold the pasta box up, waving it in front of him like a prize you’ve just won—an exaggerated, triumphant gesture that only makes your frustration more ridiculous. “Oh, I’ll ask next time,” you reply, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “But only if you promise to never, ever put the cereal up there again.” You give the box a little shake for emphasis, almost like you’re bargaining. “I’ll start hiding your snacks if you do.”

Emil’s grin widens, and he tilts his head slightly, as if considering your offer, but you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “If you do that, I’ll just move all the snacks to the highest shelf of the pantry,” he says, feigning seriousness, though you know he’s enjoying this playful back-and-forth. “You’re not winning this battle.”

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms in a mock display of defiance. You give him a playful side-eye, your lips curling upward despite your best efforts to appear stern. “You just wait,” you say, a quiet promise hanging in your words. “I’ll find a way to get back at you for this.”

Emil just shakes his head, his smile broadening even more. The laughter still lingers in his voice as he pushes off from the doorframe, but he’s clearly not done with the teasing. “You’re lucky I’m around to help,” he says with a playful sigh, the words drawing out a little more than necessary as if he’s giving you some rare gift of his presence. “Where would you be without me?”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated disbelief but can’t help the smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. There’s something about him—something about the way he teases, so effortlessly, without even trying—that softens your irritation every time. “Probably managing just fine, actually,” you mutter, trying to keep up the act, but the grin that you can’t suppress says otherwise. “But it’s good to know you’ll always be there when I need you to—what was it? Rescue me from the shelf?”

“Exactly,” he says with a wink, his voice dripping with mock-heroism, and you can almost hear the dramatic music playing behind his words. He turns to head back toward the living room, the casualness of his steps belying the smugness in his grin. “It’s a full-time job, you know. I’m basically a hero around here.”

You can’t help but laugh at his antics, the sound escaping you before you can even think to hide it. You watch him saunter back into the other room, shoulders relaxed, a confident air about him. You stand there for a moment, the faintest smile still tugging at your lips as you shake your head, knowing full well that maybe, just maybe, you secretly appreciate having him around—even if his brand of “help” involves ridiculously high shelves and pasta-box placement strategies.

“Hero,” you mutter under your breath, still smiling as you shake your head, half in disbelief, half in fondness. “Yeah, sure.” But you both know the truth—you’d never trade him for anything else.

[cursedcanon]

Jjk men in a relationship with somoene shorter than them.

Characters: Gojo, Choso, Sakuna, Geto, Toji, Nanami, Yuji and megumi

GOJO

Gojo would love the height difference and never let you forget it. He’s constantly resting his arm on your head, lifting you off the ground just to tease you, or holding things out of your reach so you have to jump for them. But beyond the teasing, he’s incredibly protective. As a non-sorcerer, you’re fragile in his world, and that terrifies him more than he lets on. He always keeps a close eye on you, and if he ever senses danger, he teleports you somewhere safe immediately. Despite being the strongest, he loves how normal you are—it’s grounding for him. Expect spontaneous dates, endless sweets, and him being incredibly clingy when he’s not working.

Affection Style: Super touchy—always pulling you into hugs, ruffling your hair, or carrying you around just because he can.

Pet Names: Shortie, Angel, Cutie, My Love

CHOSO

Choso is naturally very gentle with you, aware of his own strength and size. He rarely teases about the height difference and instead finds it endearing—sometimes he even bends down when talking to you just to make sure you're comfortable. As a non-sorcerer, he worries about your safety a lot. He doesn’t want you near jujutsu battles or curses, and he’ll always walk you home, even if it means following you in the shadows. He’s incredibly warm and affectionate, but his love language is more about acts of service—bringing you food, fixing things for you, and making sure you're always taken care of.

Affection Style: Protective and soft—he’ll hold your hand in public, press kisses to your forehead, and tuck you into his side when you’re walking together.

Pet Names: Little One, Beloved, My Treasure

SAKUNA

Sukuna sees the height difference as another way to assert his dominance. He lives to tease you—patting your head like a child, smirking down at you, and making jokes about how “fragile” you are. But beneath all of that, he’s insanely possessive. The fact that you’re a non-sorcerer makes him even more territorial—you're his, and he won’t let anything or anyone hurt you. He’s not the type to be openly affectionate, but when he does show it, it’s intense. He’ll lift you onto his lap when he's in the mood, tilt your chin up to make you look at him, and dare you to defy him. He might act cocky, but deep down, having someone as soft and human as you actually soothes him.

Affection Style: Rough but passionate—he’ll grip your chin when he kisses you, pull you onto his lap, and smirk every time you have to crane your neck to look at him.

Pet Names: Brat, Pet, Mine (he’s not one for cutesy names, but you are his.)

GETO

Geto is surprisingly sweet about the height difference. He loves that you’re shorter than him and enjoys wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. He’s very gentle with you, especially since you’re a non-sorcerer—he sees you as something pure in his otherwise dark world. He doesn’t want you involved in jujutsu society, and he’ll do everything to keep you safe from it. That said, he’s also possessive—he won’t make a scene if someone flirts with you, but his aura alone is enough to make them back off. He has a soft spot for spoiling you, whether it’s bringing you gifts or just pulling you into his lap after a long day.

Affection Style: Soft but protective—he’s always touching you in some way, whether it’s holding your hand or brushing your hair back.

Pet Names: Sweetheart, Doll, Little One

TOJI

Toji lives for the height difference. He teases you constantly—resting his arm on your head, calling you fun-sized, and effortlessly lifting you up just because he can. He’s cocky and playful, but underneath that, he’s insanely protective. The fact that you’re a non-sorcerer makes him hyper-aware of your fragility, and though he plays it cool, he’d go feral if anyone or anything threatened you. Toji isn’t always the best with words, but he shows his love through physical touch—throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his lap, or just carrying you over his shoulder if you’re walking too slow.

Affection Style: Playful but protective—he teases you nonstop, but his touch is always firm and grounding, like he’s reminding himself that you’re safe.

Pet Names: Shortcake, Doll, Bunny (he likes that you’re smaller and softer than him).

NANAMI

Nanami doesn’t tease you about your height—he actually finds it endearing. He loves subtle things, like how you have to tilt your head to look at him or how your hand is smaller than his when he holds it. He treats you with quiet, deep affection, always making sure you’re safe, warm, and comfortable. As a non-sorcerer, he knows you don’t belong in his world of danger, so he keeps you as far from it as possible. Nanami is a gentleman—he’ll always place his hand on the small of your back when guiding you, offer you his coat when it’s cold, and give you the kind of unwavering devotion that makes you feel truly loved.

Affection Style: Subtle but deeply caring—he’ll brush hair from your face, hold your hand without a word, and make sure you never have to lift a finger if he can do something for you.

Pet Names: Darling, Love, Sweetheart

ITADORI

Yuji adores the height difference—it makes him want to protect you even more. He’s a golden retriever boyfriend, always hugging you, holding your hand, and getting excited whenever he sees you. He loves that you’re a non-sorcerer because it gives him a sense of normalcy, something to hold onto in his chaotic life. He’s always looking out for you—walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic, texting you to make sure you’re safe, and giving you his hoodie when you’re cold (even though it’s way too big on you). He’s the type to lift you up and spin you around when he hugs you, completely oblivious to how strong he is.

Affection Style: Super touchy—he’s all about hugs, hand-holding, and forehead kisses. He loves physical closeness.

Pet Names: Babe, Cutie, Snugglebug (yes, he would call you something ridiculous and own it).

MEGUMI

Megumi acts like the height difference doesn’t matter, but secretly, he finds it adorable. He won’t tease you outright, but he will silently enjoy the way you have to look up at him. Unlike the others, he’s not big on PDA, but he shows he cares in little ways—offering you his scarf when it’s cold, making sure you’re on the inside of the sidewalk, and subtly stepping in front of you if he senses danger. He’s very protective, especially since you’re a non-sorcerer, and though he won’t always voice his concerns, his actions make it clear. He’s not great at verbal affection, but if you catch him off guard, you might hear him mumble something like, "I like that you’re small… easier to keep safe."

Affection Style: Reserved but thoughtful—he’ll carry your bags without asking, stand close enough to shield you, and quietly watch over you like a loyal wolf.

Pet Names: Dummy (affectionately), Angel, (Your Name) (he’s not one for excessive nicknames, but he says your name in a way that makes it sound special).

[kastalani123]

ToA, but the A stands for Ares

Bc I think many have questioned why Ares wasn't (noticeably) punished for helping steal the Master Bolt and Helm of Darkness. He's already the Olympian pariah of sorts, a major punishment shouldn't be out of the question.

So he spends about a year in limbo before being dumped in Manhattan as a ball of immortal rage confined in a tiny mortal body. Haven't decided whether he's in his early or late teens, but regardless, he is smol with like. Toothpicks for arms.

He does not initially intend to head to Camp. He intends to squat at some fighting ring or something until Zeus gets bored. Anything to keep others, especially his siblings, from seeing the state he's in.

However, he has no weapon and nobody is particularly intimidated by a roughed-up, dirty kid, regardless of the inferno raging in his eyes. So, off to Camp he goes, just in time for The Sea of Monsters.

He. Does not know that a mortal immortal's services have to be claimed. He would've made one of his kids do it, if he had. Instead, he gets caught off-guard and Annabeth gets him. He hates it. Not only has he lost all control over himself, but he lost it to a child of Athena, to a friend of Percy's. He has a rough time with it.

Iiiiiiii don't know how Clarisse gets her ship without Ares as a god. Maybe he can summon it without his powers because the soldiers owe a debt to him regardless of his mortality? Sure, let's go with that.

(Also! Disregarding the "abusive father" characterization of PJO Ares. If there is one thing that man loves, one thing he will never be violent against, it's his kids, fuck off, Rick. He may not be a great dad (as all gods), being too rough and overestimating his kids' capabilities and being bad at emotions/empathy, but he is never raising a single finger against his kids. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean they don't have some degree of fear about not living up to his expectations)

He goes with the trio on their secret quest because he's. Kind of tied to Annabeth, at the moment, and also because it's a chance to fight and hopefully regain the shred of his Father's favour he still had before TLT. Percy hates it and they fight constantly; Ares spends a good chunk of the quest muzzled with Annabeth's "Shut up!" commands. He's not having a good time.

Clarisse is pissed that he came because she thinks it means he doesn't trust her abilities and thinks she's weak. This is Not True but Ares really fucking sucks at communication, emotions, and relationships in general, so she stays pissed at him.

His temper gets even shorter than it already was when he, Annabeth, and Percy get separated from Clarisse because he's worried and wants to hurry up and find her. Percabeth don't realize that's why, so it ends up as a huge mess. Ares is trying to rush through everything by immediately attacking while Annabeth and Percy are actually trying to plan some things out, so he ends up being kept on a really short leash. Like, "Don't do anything but follow us" short. It's almost enough to get him to spill his worries; alas, he cannot speak.

(Honestly, that probably ends up as a huge part of the story; his arc would probably essentially be to get him to open up and help him understand and deal with his emotions, but he keeps pissing people off which makes Annabeth make him shut up so he can't talk shit out like he's supposed to. The first proper steps of his character development have to happen away from Annabeth, which means it's really convenient that she gets kidnapped in the next book!)

Anyways.

Annabeth lets up on the commands when they get to Polyphemus's Island, with the caveat that he doesn't rush into anything. He wants to absolutely decimate the Cyclops for daring to capture and think of marrying his daughter, but unfortunately, he does not have the ability to do so, even with a godly power up born of his protective rage. He absolutely vows to take care of it when he regains godhood, though, regardless of Poseidon's potential wrath. This also further cements his hatred for Poseidon's children, which is honestly very impressive because they're probably already one of the things he hates the most.

His reunion with Clarisse is. Well. It certainly is. Unfortunately, they are both allergic to admitting how worried they were. Instead, Clarisse just gruffly thanks him for his help and Ares says that no one is allowed to touch his kids (which Clarisse takes in a possessive/neg way, of him sort of taking ownership, as gods are wont to do. This doesn't get rectified for. A while). They both want a hug, inexperienced as they are with them. Neither will get it.

That's about it for SoM. It'd be more about him learning about his limits and getting a better idea of his kids' limits than proper Emotional Character Development. That'd start in TTC, kind of like how Apollo really started growing after TBM.

Ares absolutely has his own flavour of trauma; more "typical" soldier PTSD and stuff about being the hated Olympian than past lovers, tho. A good bit of his arc would probably be something about learning what healthy relationships look like, how to manage his feelings in a non-destructive way, and that he doesn't always need to be "the strong one" and should be protected sometimes too. He doesn't get the same speedrun as Apollo, since he'd be mortal for a few years (until TLO), but considering his thing is more about learning how people and relationships work while Apollo's was a bit more about his ego and actions getting checked, I think that can be justified. This man has been ignoring emotions other than rage for millennia, it'll take a bit more than six months to get him to open up.

(Mortal Ares in TTC)

[tricitymonsters]

I mean no offense when i ask this, but how come the intro demos for the characters are different than the actual story? Like, for Akellos, when he saved the mc the mcs leg or ankle was hurt, and he took her home and got to know him and i not trying to sound rude or anything but i just dont get it. I felt like i played two different stories when playing the official one on steam . I would like to apologize if this sounds like im spaceheaded or being judgemental i just want to understand.

Ah! The answer is actually pretty simple. :)

The concept chapters aren't a preview for the official game, they're conceptual or beta chapters. They were made to test whether or not people were interested enough in the character to justify writing a whole route (and whether or not I could even program a VN) back before I was sure TCM was worth pursuing as a big project. Also, most of the beta chapters were written years before the official release so they're really just early development/bonus content I'm keeping accessible to people who might be interested to see how the game's evolved since then.

So, essentially yeah! You are playing two different stories because the beta/demo chapters were always intended to be a shorter, less in-depth/broader crack at what a full route with that character might look like.

At this stage, I think TCM has enough of an audience where I won't be making any more concept chapters to test new routes (it's getting easier to tell what most players are interested in at this point, I think) but before I knew what I was doing, they were a step that seemed necessary.

[zzzeit]

canonically Zoro is taller? then Oda pls explain yourself??

taller Sanji my beloved <3

[lbhslefttiddie]

the qiong ding peak disciples 100% have petty beef with lbh for stealing their favourite didi lmao

they're not gonna Actually beat him up (without Reason) but they're very emphatic about how thoroughly they WILL if lbh messes with sy. it's like a shovel talk that never ends

sy isn't actually completely oblivious to whats going on but he doesn't get why they're like this and he thinks theyre being fucking stupid (and he trusts them to not actually bully binghe) so he's elected to ignore their antics entirely

[v1rtualtrash]

Working for magnus does things to you

[selfshrimping]

kind of a vent about Bulkhead and the TF fandom below (not towards anyone in particular. just a pattern I have noticed and some disappointment about it)

I'm so sad that Bulkhead has such little merch and that no one in the TF fandom seems to care enough about him to make stuff :(

like he's the perfect bot for a plush toy and yet you cannot find a single one

he always seems to be a character people really love when brought up but he gets excluded when it comes to fan art, merch, etc

kinda just breaks my heart that he isn't appreciated like the rest of his team(s)

[raddestrose]

Sorry, I’ve been busy yall BUUT I think it’s letting up, maybe only slightly but still letting up so i’ll have some time again

A very long way for me to say I’m reading bsd 121 tomorrow

[revivisection]

she's 39 he's 4000+ and they're having a slumber party (they squat in the same apartment)

two images of similar themes but very different styles because??? i honestly don't know

[freakinator]

so the final round huh 🚬

[kaimactrash]

Finally got around to doing that meme where you draw your comfort characters as Garnet and Steven in that one awful SU 'fan' comic.

Both of my comfort characters are kinda bad people, but even so, I feel like they'd be fairly enthusiastic to kick anyones ass.

The mall goth is Amber Sweet from Repo! the Genetic Opera and the emo is Matthew Patel from the Scott Pilgrim franchise.

Amber encouraging all of Matthews's worst character traits could be a crazy but fun few days for them, and terror for anyone in their paths!

I used to draw these two a bunch and it was SO much joy to work on them again! I love them both with my whole heart and I will excuse any misdeed they do. (joke)