#that's allowed to be Disgusting (and frequently is)

[not-gray-politics]

We need to talk about tumblr's systematic fatphobia.

Posts of fat people are being marked as "sexual content" even more frequently than they used to, but now we have this fun little addition as brought to my attention by a friend;

That's right. Not just blatant kink-shaming, but now, if you make posts about or with fat people, you can now be flagged as "promoting disordered eating"! Multiple completely innocent posts of fat people literally just existing in their own bodies have already been flagged this way.

Raise hell about it. Reblog and share fat content more than ever. Don't let this shitty website tell you that your bodies are "wrong" or that you aren't allowed to exist publicly.

Tumblr staff, if you care about eating disorders (you fucking don't), stop promoting this sense of shame and fear and disgust towards the idea of weight gain. Stop shaming and censoring people for posting about their own bodies and experiences. Fatphobia kills. Fatphobia causes disordered eating. Fatphobia is the disease you should be worried about.

This has also been disproportionately affecting fat trans people, because of course it has.

Don't stop talking about it. Don't let this bullshit ceo silence you.

[ourceliumnetwork]

the list of traumas i need to unpack still and my coping mechanisms (or, more frequently, lack-thereof) keeps getting longer and i'm not sure i like that. I think i like less how much i already know they're hangups before they become a problem i have to actively work on, too.

[drdemonprince]

if sex is no big deal and just a normal thing like having dinner with someone, how do you square that with the belief that children can't consent to sex? Like idk this whole thing of "sex is a normal act like any other and we shouldn't treat it differently" makes me soo uncomfortable because i feel like it's really obviously not in a lot of situations? Otherwise what's the difference between being told by my boss to have lunch with one of our prospective clients being told by my boss to blow one of our prospective clients? :/

let's take your dinner example to its logical conclusion, because you are on to something here, but I don't think quite in the way that you think.

children are forced to eat food that they this really dislike (due to sensory issues, allergies, or just run of the mill unfamiliarity) quite regularly by their caregivers. they are also sometimes denied the right to eat because they didn't behave the way their caretakers liked, and sent to bed hungry, or barred from eating food that they can handle, and instead left to go hungry because they won't eat food they can't handle.

treatment like this causes a lot of food issues and trauma to children. It exacerbates eating disorders and erodes a child's sense of their own body autonomy. It can also cause children to have nutritional issues and a scarcity mentality around food that can be really damaging to them.

similarly, people are forced to share meals with people who they are viscerally uncomfortable around all the time too, often to extreme negative effects. employees are forced to sit down with clients who debase them or harass them. Young people in particular are forced into sharing tables with relatives who have crossed their boundaries, insulted them, abused them, bullied them, and whom they want nothing to do with. people in recovery from eating disorders are surrounded by co-workers, family members, or friends at meal times who speak about calories and weight loss and comment on their own bodies and other people's bodies in incredibly invasive and triggering ways that often make them feel way worse, and make taking care of their own bodies far more difficult.

when a powerful institution wants to exert control over other people, they also often do so using food. prisoners are given almost no control over the kind of food they eat, and are often given very low quality food that is in a disgusting condition, or that violates their own nutritional requirements or religious beliefs. patients in hospitals and in mental institutions are also subjected to such treatment, and people in poverty are expected to eat anything that they are given without complaint. It is an extension of their dehumanization to control and limit the kinds of food they're allowed to access, and how and when they are permitted to eat.

each of these experiences surrounding food can be incredibly violating and harmful. food is quite frequently a tool of control and abuse. yet it is not because there is some magical quality to food or to dinners that make them uniquely fraught with the potential for trauma. these experiences are traumatic because they involve a violation of a person's body autonomy, and a lack of social power.

sex isn't any different from dinner. we just have a series of cultural beliefs surrounding it that make the pressure involving sex something that's both a lot more acknowledged, and mostly encountered in the private realm.

Sex is treated as an almost magical thing, at once both sinister and sacrosanct, and so people are primed to see the potential for harm in it, and it is frequently used as a tool for harming people because it is so loaded, but that doesn't mean there aren't abuses involving every other mundane human activity that we simply are conditioned to ignore because doing so is so normal.

People's body autonomy surrounding food is violated traumatically all the fucking time. unfortunately because we consider dinner to be a neutral activity and sex to be this incredibly fraught and almost magical one, we ignore the massive amounts of coercion, pressure, and violation surrounding food.

your boss shouldn't be able to force you to get dinner with someone. and people are uncomfortable with discussions about body autonomy that neutralize sex, because it forces them to confront how little freedom we actually have in every facet of our lives.

[bunji-enthusiast]

I had this in thought alot! (It's gory if you don't mind!)

Poppy playtime player becoming so hungry at this point that their losing their sanity and thinking of eating the corpses For survival so the rest has to hold player down from eating the corpses!

(I know its gory and so sorry if it made you uncomfortable)

𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨

Sypnosis [The tempting smell of the corpses becomes more and more frequent, it eventually became too hard for you too ignore due to your increasing hunger. Luckily, you had some allies to help you resist it; even if forcibly.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, DogDay, Poppy, Doey The Doughman. (Seperate)]

Note || you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all! Don’t worry, but it’s a topic I tried to write with care. This shit is a very real thing that can happen, and should be treated with caution and respect.

Kissy Missy

You had never imagined it would come to this: an insatiable hunger gnawing at your gut, unrelenting as the hours passed. You, once a proud employee of Playtime Co., found yourself trapped in the eerie, decaying remnants of the factory, alongside strange, monstrous beings that had once been your colleagues. The stench of death lingered thick in the air, a heavy reminder of the atrocities committed during The Hour of Joy, but now it did more than just disgust you. Now, it tempted you.

At first, you fought against the gnawing cravings that threatened to overtake you. How could you—someone who had worked here—ever think of consuming the bodies of the very ones you had once known, even if they were twisted remnants of their former selves? And yet, each passing hour made it harder to resist, each sight of a fallen figure, each whiff of their decaying flesh, made your resolve falter. Hunger, once a mere inconvenience, became a ravenous beast clawing at your insides.

But you were not alone in this misery. Kissy Missy, who had once been just another experiment under Playtime Co.'s cruel reign, was there, always by your side. Tall and slender, her pink fur now marred by the scars of countless battles, she seemed almost... human in a way. Her blue bow and yellow hands stood out against her once pristine pink fur, now tattered from years of neglect and violence. She had been through her own trauma, the burns on her right side proof of that, yet she still managed to offer you a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that you weren't the only one left with so much lost.

You hated the hunger, but it was her presence that kept you from succumbing. Despite her own pain and injuries, she remained strong, acting as a barrier between you and the darkness threatening to overtake you.

Kissy's efforts were not subtle. She could see the desperation in your eyes as you edged closer to the corpses scattered around the facility, the lifeless remains of those who had been victims of the Prototype’s reign. She had already seen what the hunger could do to a person, and she would be damned if she allowed you to fall victim to it.

"Don’t," she would warn, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the fierceness that radiated from her. "Stay with me."

You hated that she had to intervene, to hold you back with both her force and concern. But you knew deep down that she was right. If she weren't there, you might have already given in, becoming something far worse than you already were. The hunger was more than just physical. It was a pull, a drive to consume the very thing that you had once been, the remnants of a life that had crumbled away into twisted, grotesque shapes.

Each time you got too close, her grip tightened around your arm, pulling you away from the gruesome temptation. There were moments, though, when you could feel your resistance weakening, when the hunger surged so strongly that it drowned out every other thought. At those times, she was not gentle. She would force you back, pushing you away from the remains, her sharp eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fierce determination.

It was only then, in those moments, that you saw the lengths she was willing to go to keep you from crossing that line. The force she applied was not cruel but necessary. You were no longer yourself, a mere shell of who you once were. And she, though herself a victim of this cruel factory, refused to let you become something even worse.

"You’re not one of them," Kissy would say, her voice laced with a fierce protectiveness. "Don’t lose yourself."

There was something strange about the way she said it, as though she knew something deeper, something that had been lost to you. You were not just another victim of the Prototype’s horrific games—you were something else, something worth saving.

The hunger didn’t go away, not entirely. But you fought against it, clinging to the memory of who you used to be. And as each day passed, as each battle with your own cravings grew more intense, you realized that you weren’t alone in this anymore. Kissy Missy, despite her own pain, was there, holding you back from the abyss, keeping you tethered to whatever humanity you had left.

She would do anything to prevent you from falling, even if it meant pushing you to your breaking point. And in the end, you knew you owed her more than just your survival. She had become your anchor in a world that had long since drowned in darkness, guiding you through the factory’s nightmarish halls with a strength that you had long since lost.

But even then, there were moments when the hunger threatened to overtake you, and in those moments, you understood just how far Kissy Missy was willing to go to save you from yourself. She was more than just an ally; she was a reminder of the last shred of humanity that existed in this forsaken place.

Would you be able to resist the temptation forever? Could you both survive the horrors that awaited you in the depths of Playtime Co.? Only time would tell, but as long as Kissy Missy was there, you felt a sliver of hope that you might just find a way to escape the darkness together.

DogDay

You stagger through the cold, decaying corridors, your stomach gnawing at you with an unbearable hunger. It's been hours since you last found food, and your body is betraying you. The thought of cannibalism has been creeping into your mind, tempting you like a forbidden fruit. The idea repulses you, but with every passing hour, that same thought grows more and more alluring. Your lips are dry, your body weak, and every fiber of your being is screaming for sustenance. You grit your teeth, trying to push the urge down, but it rises again, a terrifying whisper in the back of your mind.

"Why not?" it asks, a cold voice that isn't your own. "What else is there? Food is food, isn't it?"

You stumble forward, your vision blurred from exhaustion. The floor beneath you seems to shift, as if the very foundation of this forsaken place is alive. You know you're being driven mad, but your hunger, that primal instinct, is overpowering. The walls seem to close in on you, their decay a reflection of your own deteriorating state of mind.

Just as you're about to give in to the temptation, a voice, soft yet commanding, cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

"Don't," DogDay says, his monotone voice a calm anchor in the storm that rages inside you. His words are a gentle plea, a reminder of the bond you share with him.

You turn to see him, his disfigured form standing in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His orange fur is a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you, and despite his monstrous appearance, there's a sense of comfort in his presence. His body is a grotesque mockery of what it once was, bisected at the waist and held together with leather straps, yet his eyes, black and expressive, seem to convey nothing but concern for you.

"DogDay..." you mutter, your voice hoarse, as you struggle to stand. "I can't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

DogDay's head tilts slightly, as if he understands the torment you're going through. He knows. He's been there before, though perhaps in a different way. His stitched-together body speaks of an existence far more painful than yours could ever be. And yet, he chooses to help you, to guide you through this madness.

"I won't let you," DogDay says firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't. This isn't the way."

You can feel the weight of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to push the hunger down again. But it lingers, gnawing at your insides. It's tempting, so tempting to give in.

But DogDay is here. He always has been.

You turn to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you take a step back. Not just from the hunger, but from the madness that has consumed you. You're not alone. DogDay is here, and though he can't move as freely as he once did, he is steadfast in his support.

The moment passes, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface. It's waiting for you to falter, to give in. But DogDay won't let that happen.

"Stay with me," he urges, his voice as steady as ever. "I know the darkness calls to you, but you're stronger than it. We just need to keep moving. Keep moving, and we'll find a way out."

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. The hunger doesn't go away, but for now, it's bearable. You can withstand it. With DogDay by your side, you will survive this.

As you walk together through the decaying corridors, the weight of the past still hanging heavily on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder just how far DogDay has come. He was once part of a group, the Smiling Critters, living in harmony with the experiments, but all of that changed during The Hour of Joy. The chaos, the bloodshed, it shattered everything. DogDay was left behind, a solitary figure in a world gone mad. Yet, through it all, he remained resilient, steadfast in his determination to help you.

"I was not always like this," DogDay says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. "I had a family once. A purpose. But that was taken from me, just like it was taken from everyone else."

His words hang in the air, heavy with grief and longing. You know the story, of course. The Smiling Critters' revolt against the Prototype, their deaths, and DogDay's subsequent imprisonment by CatNap. It was a tragic tale, one that left DogDay scarred in both body and mind. But despite it all, he chose to survive.

And now, he chooses to help you survive.

The thought is enough to steel your resolve. You can do this. You will not succumb to the darkness. Not while DogDay is here to keep you grounded.

The two of you move forward, one step at a time, the silence between you comfortable, yet filled with unspoken understanding. The hunger still claws at you, but for now, you resist. With DogDay by your side, you know you can make it through this.

Poppy

The atmosphere in the factory was suffocating. The low hum of machines, the distant clattering of metal, and the unsettling silence in between all gnawed at you. You'd been walking for hours now, your stomach growling like an angry beast inside of you, each hour dragging the hunger closer to the surface. There was a time when you’d had a deep hatred for the idea of cannibalism. But now? The thought didn’t seem so absurd. Every inch of your body ached with need. The edges of your vision blurred with hunger, but still, you resisted the impulse.

"You need to hold it together," you muttered to yourself, your voice hoarse and desperate. You couldn't let your mind go there, couldn’t let the gnawing hunger take you to such a dark place.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Poppy. A doll, yes, but one that seemed to hold some kind of strange power over you. She was small, porcelain skin cracked, but her eyes... her eyes were too real. Too alive. The crack running across her face only seemed to add to the unsettling, almost haunting nature of her presence. Yet she was there, watching over you, her concern evident even with her painted smile.

"Are you okay?" Poppy's voice, though childlike, held an unexpected firmness, as if she knew exactly what you were going through.

"Do I look okay?" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm starving. I'm dying. And you're... just a doll. What could you possibly understand?"

Poppy didn't flinch. She merely tilted her head, her glassy blue eyes reflecting your pain in a way that only made the hunger worse. But there was something else behind those eyes. Understanding? Sympathy? It was hard to tell.

"I understand more than you think," she said quietly. "You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."

Her words held a strange weight. Despite her being a mere doll, she exuded a certain authority—like she was guiding you, almost protecting you from your own darkness. It was unnerving and, yet, comforting at the same time.

You stepped back, wiping your brow, but the hunger wouldn't let you go. It clawed at you, deep within, screaming to be fed. Your hand instinctively reached towards the nearest source of food—a small, half-eaten rat carcass lying in the shadows.

Before your fingers could wrap around it, Poppy's small, porcelain hand shot out. "No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. "I won't let you."

You froze, staring at her, confused. "What... what are you going to do about it? You're just a doll. What power do you have?"

Poppy's eyes narrowed. "I have more power than you think. And I will stop you."

Before you could process the words, Poppy was suddenly in front of you, her small hand placed firmly on your chest. You felt a strange warmth spread from the spot where her hand met your skin, and for a moment, the hunger seemed to ebb away, replaced by something else—something deeper. But just as quickly, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting cold as Poppy stepped back.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I won't let you become like them. I won't let you become like... him."

You stared at her in confusion, your mind too clouded with hunger to process what she meant. You'd heard the whispers about the Prototype, the monster who twisted everything around him, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Not with the gnawing ache in your gut.

"I can't hold on much longer," you whispered. "I need food. Real food."

Poppy took a deep breath, her porcelain face still. She seemed to consider something before her eyes flickered to the side, as if she were contemplating an action. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she grabbed your wrist.

"You will not fall to this. Not while I’m here. Not while there’s a chance."

The intensity in her voice stunned you. You'd never expected a doll—a toy—to show such determination. But it was there. Her unwavering resolve was impossible to ignore.

"You don't understand," you said again, more urgently this time. "You can't stop me. You don't know what it’s like to be on the edge like this... to be so desperate."

Poppy's eyes softened, but her grip on your wrist tightened. "I do understand," she whispered. "I've seen the consequences of desperation. I've seen what it can turn you into. And I won't let you become that."

You looked into her eyes, seeing not a doll, but something much more complex. Something alive, struggling with the same darkness you were. She was just as broken as you, perhaps even more so, trapped in this hellish place for who knows how long.

"I will fight this," you rasped, voice trembling.

"You will fight this," Poppy repeated, as though reinforcing the promise to yourself. "I won't let you lose."

The hunger still gnawed at you, but there was something in Poppy's words—a lifeline. A chance. You weren’t sure if it was enough to save you, but you weren’t alone anymore. She had no power over your body, but in this twisted game of survival, she had become your tether. Your reminder of something you had long forgotten: humanity. You just had to hold on.

And for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Doey The Doughman

It had hours, maybe even more then a couple days—you couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become a blur, and the hunger gnawed at you with an intensity you could hardly describe. Your stomach was a hollow pit, and every hour that passed, the sensation grew worse. You hated it. You hated the very idea of what you were beginning to consider. But your options were running out.

The factory, once a place full of life and color, now stood desolate, a rotting carcass of what it had once been. Its walls, dim and cracked, seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. Your search for food had been fruitless, and what remained of the once-thriving operations was little more than discarded remnants of forgotten lives. Desperation had begun to seep into your thoughts, and with it, a temptation you never thought you would entertain.

Cannibalism. The idea lingered in the back of your mind like a whisper in the dark. You knew it was wrong, morally abhorrent, but the hunger—it was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t deny that the flesh of another being, even one of the toy creatures that had once roamed this place, might offer a solution. You didn’t want to think about it, but your body cried out for sustenance.

It was then that you heard the soft squish of footsteps approaching. You turned, blinking against the fading light, and saw him: Doey.

The dough-like creature was an oddity in this forsaken world. His body, made of multicolored, clay-like dough, seemed to shimmer in the dimness. His long arms—orange and yellow—hung at his sides, his short, stubby red legs moving with surprising speed. The blue bowler hat perched on his head was almost comical against his mismatched features, and his simple, expressive face, with a line for a mouth and two holes for eyes, always seemed to radiate an air of cheer, even in the darkest of times.

"Hey there," Doey’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that you couldn’t ignore. He could always tell when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t spoken a word.

You had never been one for speaking about your feelings, especially with a creature like Doey. You didn’t trust anyone—not after everything you’d been through. But there was something different about him. Something about his kindness, his willingness to help, even when it meant putting himself in danger.

"I know you're struggling," Doey said, his eyes narrowing as he read your expression. "But you have to resist it. You can’t let the hunger take control of you. Not like this."

You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "I don’t know if I can hold on much longer," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Doey stepped closer, his large arms almost seeming to engulf you in their reach as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’m not going to let you fall into that darkness," he said firmly. "I promised you. I’ll help you resist, even if it means doing things you might not like."

You blinked, looking at the doughy figure in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Without warning, Doey’s expression shifted from that of a friendly companion to something far more serious. The playful demeanor that usually characterized his every move was gone, replaced by a cold determination. "I’m going to stop you if I have to," he said, his voice stern, yet full of understanding. "I won’t let you give in to it."

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t from Doey himself, but from the fact that you knew, deep down, he was right. If you gave in, it wouldn’t just be your body that suffered—it would be your soul, too. But the temptation was so strong. It was almost impossible to push it away.

"Don’t make me do this," Doey warned, as if sensing your internal struggle. "You don’t want to go down that path."

The hunger inside you raged, a beast that tore at your insides. Your thoughts were clouded by the vision of the soft, tender flesh that could satiate you. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to your mind like a shadow.

You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you gripped a nearby piece of metal, your mind flickering with the thought of using it, of ending the misery that had overtaken you.

"Don’t," Doey’s voice was sharp, his body blocking your path. "I will stop you, even if it means I have to restrain you."

He wasn’t threatening. He was determined. And in that moment, you knew he would do it.

You locked eyes with him, the weight of your internal battle becoming unbearable. The hunger had made you weak, both physically and mentally, but Doey was your anchor, a reminder of the better part of yourself. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a lifeline.

"Please," you whispered, the word escaping you before you could stop it. "I can’t—"

Doey didn’t give you a chance to finish. His long, orange arm shot out, grabbing you by the wrist with surprising force. "I won’t let you go there," he said softly, but with an unmistakable firmness. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

For a moment, you struggled, but the strength in his grip was like nothing you had ever encountered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was holding you, not with force, but with care.

"Just breathe," Doey said, guiding you to sit down on the cold concrete floor. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him. The hunger was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but with Doey by your side, the battle didn’t seem so hopeless.

You weren’t alone.

And that, you realized, was more than you could have hoped for in a place like this.

[preqwells]

downtime | logan howlett x reader

summary: logan had been meaning to show you the wooden cabin he'd visit when given the time— he didn't anticipate how enraptured he'd be with the the absence of chaos in his life

cw: slightly suggestive

domesticity looked good on logan in your eyes.

chopping wood for the fire you two would burn at night, making sure the weeds didn't interfere with the tomatoes you had been growing, and sometimes even fishing despite his lack of patience for it. his jeans hung low around his waist, hair speckled across his chest through his open-collared shirt—you had to admit, you liked this side of him. you two had decided you wanted to get away for a while since logan wasn't particularly needed at the moment. he had been wanting to show you the cabin he frequented when he wasn’t busy, daydreaming to himself with the thought of what your reaction would be to it. you weren't surprised at the nature of the wooden cabin. it was secluded and neatly tucked away in a corner of a vast forest that no one would dare to enter unless they were in for a rude awakening. maybe you were kidding yourself with the idea that you two might be able to go off-grid for a while, but it was a thought you both were willing to entertain.

you smiled to yourself as your eyes tore away from the much-welcomed sight of your boyfriend leaning back on the couch, hulking thighs spread as his head lolled back. your attention trailed back to the deer he had caught earlier in hopes you could do something with it. "should i slow-cook it? maybe even make it into a pot roast?" you suddenly spoke up from the kitchen, your lips pursed in thought as a lighthearted scoff left him, his eyebrow quirking up for a moment. "askin' the wrong person. never been known to be much of a chef, sweetheart." he gruffed out, too tired to allow his eyes to roll into the back of his head at the thought of even picking up on anything remotely related to cooking. "mm, you're right," you said through a small chuckle, your eyes still examining the raw meat, "could always just set up the grill out back. chop it up, make 'em into kebabs… but we don't have any skewers. if only there was something that we could use…" you playfully trailed off as you pressed your index finger to your lower lip as if conjuring a thought. logan quickly caught onto the fact that you were talking about using his claws as kebab skewers to which he shook his head in response, shooting you an amused glance.

he rose to his feet, floorboards groaning under his weight with each movement. "ha-ha, you're hilarious. damn near a comedian." he retorted as he made his way to you, placing his empty beer bottle on the counter before his arms wrapped around you, giving you a small squeeze. his front pressed to your back, your heart fluttering at the sudden contact. the contours of his muscles molded into your frame nicely, warmth emanating from him as his breath fanned against the nape of your neck. "well… i was thinking about signing up for the local comedy club. could be my big breakthrough, y'know?" you sighed in faux contemplation as you felt the softness of his lips pepper kisses from your nape to your pulse-point, his hands lingering on your waist. his thumbs found the belt loops in your jeans, tugging on them absentmindedly. "y'right, bet the squirrels and mornin' birds would love to hear the material you been practicin' on me." he murmured into your skin, eyes fluttering shut as he deeply inhaled your scent. seeing as how sensitive he was to scents, there were lots of scents he couldn't stand. hated the smell of gasoline, hated any kind of gaudy perfume— if he thought about it for too long, his nose would probably scrunch up out of disgust. yet he was particularly fond of your scent, fresh linen and cotton. your scent was as pleasing as your personality. you were good for logan. kind, compassionate— you smoothed out his rough edges. god knew he had too many.

domesticity looked good on you in logan's eyes. the wood you'd carry to the fire pit for your late-night chats recounting the events of the day, the tomatoes you'd complain about that wouldn't ripen and sometimes even fall off too early from local wildlife taking their swipes at it, and your insistence on him learning some proper patience for fishing since you still had a taste for wild-caught salmon. his hands found the hem of your flannel, sliding under the fabric as his fingertips grazed the softness of your skin, traveling down past your navel. warmth flooded your cheeks as a sheepish smile played at the corners of your lips, your hands on the counter to brace yourself. "logan— logan! i still have to marinate the meat." you hastily whispered before a breathy moan escaped you as his tongue rolled over your skin, teeth nipping at the crook of your neck. "mmm, don't worry 'bout it." he spoke into your neck before gently lifting you onto the counter, his eyes filled with affection. he didn't know how it happened, honestly. couldn't pinpoint it even if he tried to recall what you did that caused him to be so smitten with you. he quietly admired you for a few moments, taking in how hues of orange from the sun setting filtered through the window and cascaded onto the side of your face, his hand raising to cup the swell of your cheek. you didn't know it, but logan had made a quiet vow to himself to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe, in this life and the next.

he'd show you tonight how much he adored you, in more ways than just one.

[shy-writer-999]

One Piece Men and Their Kinks

ZORO, SANJI, and ACE, 2-3 kinks each. (✧ᴗ✧✿) (ʘ‿ʘ✿) (+ written descriptions of what they'd do with afab reader!)

WARNING: MINORS DNI. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Zoro who has a breeding kink: Zoro never thought kids would be in the picture for him, given the intensity, violence, and danger of his life. However, when he’s with you in bed, he allows himself to indulge in the fantasy of filling you up with his kids, getting you pregnant, and making you a mom. He gets hard at the thought of fucking you raw, cumming in you, and seeing his cum leak out of your pussy—he gets even harder thinking how you would look pregnant carrying his child (and of course he wants to put you in a mating press). When he’s going crazy with his breeding fantasy these are some of the things he says:

“You’re going to be such a good mommy” “I’m going to breed this little cunt—fill you up with my kids” “Do you like how it feels when I fuck you raw? Do you like it when I cum inside?” “Your pussy feels so good Mommy” “Breeding you full of all my kids” “I’m going to cum in you and get you pregnant, do you like that?”

Zoro who loves other forms of dirty talk, too. Zoro just has a dirty mouth and an even dirtier mind. Besides telling you he’s going to breed you, he also likes calling you a good girl and fucking you senseless. It feels so dirty to him to call you a good girl, it gets him rock hard immediately to even think about it. It’s even better if you call him daddy or sir. He gets off on the idea of some sort of domination or power imbalance—he loves to be in control. Roleplay goes hand in hand with this kink, but he’s very mindful, attentive, and strict about safe words. Of course, you’ve never had to use one, but if you did, he’d drop everything immediately and tend to you so sweetly. When Zoro is pussy drunk and using dirty talk, these are the things he says:

“Do you like taking my cock like that?” “Yeah, take my cock just like that, you’re such a good girl” “Taking daddy’s cock like such a good girl” “Beg for it like a good girl” “You’re doing such a good job for daddy” “Do you like taking my cock, you fucking slut?” (this one he only pulls out once in a blue moon when he’s feeling feisty, but he goes crazy with the aftercare to make up for it)

Honorable mentions: Spanking and choking.

Sanji who has a degradation kink… Of course, this one makes sense. Usually, Sanji is loving and worshipping you in bed. I imagine that he has a lot of missionary sex, kisses while fucking, he’s great and tender with aftercare, pets your head and gives you forehead kisses after… but he has a fantasy of you actually treating him like shit, calling him names, calling him a disgusting pervert. He frequently gets called a disgusting pervert in real life but there’s something about you doing it in bed with his cock in you that makes his dick twinge. You'd call him names and he'd fuck you doggy then cum on your ass (or something like that). Sanji fantasizes about you saying these things in bed:

“Why are you getting harder when I call you names? Fucking pervert.” "You're so nasty, getting turned on by fucking me in secret—you like putting your dick into your own crewmate?" "Depraved freak getting off at fucking your own crewmate” “It’s disgusting how hard you get just looking at me” “I bet you play with yourself thinking about me every night, you touch-starved freak” etc. etc.

Sanji who gets off on cuckolding and voyeurism… Sanji would never do this in real life (because he has too much pride), but he fantasizes about watching Zoro or Luffy fuck you. Sitting next to the bed watching another man’s cock glide in and out of your pussy, he’d fist and stroke his own dick to completion. Just imagining you moaning and getting off on another dick makes him hard, and it makes him even harder to imagine you looking at him and moaning while you get creampied. Cuckolding feels dirty and pathetic to him and he likes that. Sanji would also like voyeurism—he would get off on the thought of spying on you while you fuck someone else (ideally a crewmate, to make it feel nastier). He’d touch and tease his cock while he watched in secret, trying to make as little sound as possible, and when he’d finish, he would slink off, feeling like the guilty and disgusting pervert he is. But part of his fantasy is also getting caught and told off for being a pervert (that’s where the degradation kink comes in). Bonus points if they let him watch after catching him (like in this fic by @cloudzoro... spectacular) and say scornful things to him.

Honorable mentions: food kink (licking whipped cream off you, using chocolate, cake, etc).

Ace who likes to tie you up and edge you until you cry… Ace likes to tie you up, putting you in the most embarrassing poses with your legs spread all the way. Tying you up is an artform for him, and he gets more creative every time. He pulls the ropes tight enough so they hurt, too. When you’re bound and can’t move a muscle, Ace likes to make you suck his dick until you’re gagging on it, he also likes to finger you, eat you out, and fuck you until you’re on the verge of orgasm, literally dripping wet. Then he’ll make you wait until you’re all the way back to where you started before he does it again and again. Ace edges you until you’re crying with frustration and need, until you’re begging him to let you cum and for him to cum on you, in you, anywhere he wants. He wants to watch you squirm, plead, toes curling, convulsing, shaking, and trembling. The whole time Ace edges you he calls you sweet names like princess, baby, sweetie, and sweetheart, in his low and deep voice, which melts like honey in your ears and goes straight to your core. He’ll whisper in your ear and hum when you start really going crazy begging for orgasm. Ace encourages you and reprimands you softly, keeping you in check, making you know that you have to wait until he says you can cum. These are things Ace says when he’s edging you until you can’t take it anymore:

“Not yet princess, you have to wait” “Mmmmm you’re sucking my cock so well sweetie” “Keep going baby, you can’t cum just yet” “I’ll eat you out as much as I can, but you can’t cum yet baby” “Wait until I tell you baby, no matter how much you beg you still have to wait” “I didn’t say you can cum yet, sweetheart” “Good job baby, you’re hangin’ in there so well” “Now you can cum for me princess, good job, good girl, there you go”

Ace who likes to play with toys (in any hole he can use)… Ace loves to fuck and tease you with any kind of toy he can get his hands on. He has a penchant for vibrators of all shapes and sizes, and some of his favorites are: Bullet vibrators (he likes shoving them up into you and fucking you with his fingers at the same time), g-spot vibrators (he fucks your g-spot continually until you can’t take it anymore, then he takes the vibrator out and fucks your dripping wet cunt with his own cock), and suction vibrators (he loves to latch the vibrator onto your clit and watch your eyes roll back in pleasure, he loves to see the pool of slick seeping out of your pussy, and loves to finally fuck you when you’re begging for it). Ace likes being in control and he likes watching you writhe from pleasure, but he also likes to exercise love and care while he’s doing it, and that’s where the previously mentioned pet names come in. He loves to fuck you and use toys at the same time, too. He’ll hold a vibrator to your clit while he eats you out and fingers you, or, even better, he’ll hold a vibrator to your clit at the max speed (or pulse setting) while he fucks you silly.

Ace also is a fan of ass play—he’ll get you shaking with the clit vibrator and then start slowly working your asshole open and loose with one finger, then two, until he puts a butt plug in. He likes to see your holes plugged up with toys, and gets off on seeing you go crazy from the pleasure. His love for toys goes along with his love of edging you, and he'll frequently tie you up, fuck you with toys, edge you, and then cum on/in you.

Honorable mentions: Hot wax & fire play (duhhh).

Okay thats all for now!! thanks for reading ily ʕ ● ᴥ ●ʔ (✿˘ω˘)˘ε˘˶ )

also here is my masterlist <3 -- Z

[definitelynotanalien]

Boyfriend!Chigiri who has a quite frankly meticulous haircare routine, with special shampoos, conditioners, and hair masks to use on rather specific days

Boyfriend!Chigiri who spends hours (and hundreds of dollars) buying new hair products, at least the ones that aren’t delivered in his PR

Boyfriend!Chigiri who uses around 500 hair products for every little thing, trying to ensure the health of every cutical

Boyfriend!Chigiri who has the mason pearson hair brush (actually three pairs. One for regular use, one for trainings, one for travel)

Boyfriend!Chigiri who has to bring an extra suitcase for his hair stuff whenever you go on vacation

Boyfriend!Chigiri who snaps at you when you ask if it’s necessary (“are you necessary?”)

Boyfriend!Chigiri who cringes whenever you get a new hair idea, knowing it’ll end up with someone’s hair in knots, although preferably not his

Boyfriend!Chigiri who refuses to use heat on his hair in case it damages it, no matter how strong the heat protectant may be

Boyfriend!Chigiri who somehow has a sponser from every hair care brand (fino, &honey, fenty???) and frequently receives the most ridiculous PR packages

Boyfriend!Chigiri who only lets you touch his hair when he’s feeling especially nice (and vulnerable)

Boyfriend!Chigiri who always ties up his hair before doing something important

Boyfriend!Chigiri who braids his hair when you’re especially needy, choosing to dutch braid it into two neat little things

Boyfriend!Chigiri who will eat you out like you’re a michelin star meal, devouring your essence with his purposeful strokes

Boyfriend!Chigiri who immediately stops if your hands get near his hair, glaring at you with half lidded eyes as you squirm underneath him

Boyfriend!Chigiri who once in the zone, starts to suck onto your clit and bite at you, while he still doesn’t allow you to even think of touching his hair

Boyfriend!Chigiri who effortlessly carves orgasm after orgasm out of you, while you’re stuck clutching the air, trying to not reach out for his beautiful red locks as to prolong this heavenly experience

Boyfriend!Chigiri who licks his lips as he adjusts himself over you, making sure to align perfectly for your entrance

Boyfriend!Chigiri who gradually loses his composure, living up to his nickname as the red panther with his quick unrelenting movements

Boyfriend!Chigiri who pounds into you, his braids long destroyed, like an animal. His red mane surrounding him as he craves the most fulfilling release he can obtain

Boyfriend!Chigiri who chews on his hair as he gets closer to his own edge, always gaining more split ends after each and every session

Boyfriend!Chigiri who spits out his own hair after he releases, disgusted by his chewing and feeling bad for his poor scalp

Boyfriend!Chigiri who showers with you after a long night, massaging various products into your scalp and racking care of you

Boyfriend!Chigiri who’s the big spoon, cuddling you softly as his final form of aftercare

Boyfriend!Chigiri who always has a good sleep after eating you out, waking up with beautiful long locks the night after

Boyfriend!Chigiri who wakes up with atrocious bedhair almost everyday, no matter what he does, and the only solution seems to be consuming you

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 beach

synopsis: after zoro finds you unconscious on an abandoned beach, he quickly takes you to shelter... where he learns that something's off.

cw: possible multiple parts, fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is so lost, reader's is a bit dense (only because she doesn't know), let's be real i think we can all tell what she is, miscommunication (kinda resolved), zoro is a gentleman

a/n: let's all pretend mermaids don't already exist in the one piece world <3 and look at my man's back in the picture yummy!

"Huh... I could've swore we left the Sunny right here..." Zoro muttered to himself, confused, as he scratched his chin, eye scanning over the expanse of the empty beach.

There wasn't a single ship in sight, nothing but waves and sand seeming to stretch for miles before him.

Maybe he shouldn't have taken that right back by at docks.

With a sigh, the Zoro dropped his shoulders, arm resting limply over the hilts of his swords as his free hand came up to shade his eye from the scorching sun.

"Guess there's no harm in walking a little further," he caved, pressing forward. "I stick to the shore, I'm bound to come across the Sunny eventually."

The crew had dropped anchor on a nearby port island for a much needed supply run, and after the girls split to go shopping, and the boys went chasing after Luffy, the swordsman decided to take his time exploring the island, leisurely sightseeing as he nursed a bottle of sake.

But, in true Zoro fashion, he managed to get himself turned around and eventually lost in the maze-like pier, the winding turns and frequent dead ends finally leading him to the edge of the island.

Hard Rock Cove.

Letting out another tired sigh, Zoro raised the sake bottle to his lips, taking a small sip before promptly pulling away, his expression contorting into one of disgust.

The summer island heat had turned drink unpleasantly hot.

'Jeez...'

If there was anything the swordsman wanted more, it was to be in the safety and shade of the crow's nest; where he could finally have a moment away from the broiling air and take a nice, well-earned nap.

But, of course, fate had other plans.

"Other plans" being you.

As he wiped the sweat off his brow, Zoro turned to look further into the beach, only to see an odd-looking figure lying on the ground, surrounded by seagulls.

'The hell...?'

He took a moment, eye squinting to get a better look, only to quickly widen once he realized what it was.

A woman.

You were lying there, unconscious and helpless to the screeching birds that had already begun to peck at your flesh.

"Crap," he hissed under his breath, breaking into a mad dash. "Damn things are gonna eat her alive!"

As he ran over, he started making loud noises, growling and roaring in order to scare the birds away from your possibly-living corpse.

"C'mon! Get outta here! Damn vultures! Leave her alone!"

Terrified, the seagulls quickly flapped away, squawking and shrieking at each other as they left to go find another meal.

With that out the way, Zoro sighed, allowing his shoulders to sink as he finally turned to you.

In which... he finally realized that you were completely naked.

"Crap!" he flushed, eye wide as he quickly turned his back toward you. "Where the hell are her clothes?!"

Not wasting a second, he shrugged off his robe, leaving himself shirtless as he draped it over your exposed body.

"She must be shipwrecked or somethin'. She's soaking wet," he muttered to himself, scratching the back of his neck. "Doesn't look too banged up, though..."

Bending over, Zoro carefully scooped you up, hooking his thick arms under your thighs and behind your back, cradling your—most likely—concussed head.

"Still, I should probably bring her back to Chopper. She might have somethin' wrong anyway."

Slowly, his gaze traveled toward your face, his breath hitching slightly as he finally got a good look at you.

Your skin was delectably sun-kissed, the water droplets creating a natural dew and giving it an alluring, ethereal shine.

Your hair was surprisingly soft and silky, cascading down your back and adorned with a few seashell-like, pearl-encrusted hair clips, two small strands of hair falling before your ears.

Your face was soft, long eyelashes fanning your naturally peachy cheeks while your plush lips remained in a perma-pout, your resting expression downright adorable.

Zoro's heart added another beat to its pattern, feeling as if the skin on his chest was heating up and tightening over himself, rendering him unable to breathe.

You were a vision—easily one of the prettiest women he had ever seen.

'Good thing I stumbled across her and not the damn cook.'

Out of nowhere, a water droplet hit the swordsman's nose, forcing him to glance up at the quickly darkening sky, the rain slowly beginning to pick up.

"Damn. I can't carry her through this. She'll die before I even make it to Chopper," he cursed, frantically glancing around for somewhere to hole up. "There gotta be somewhere around here we can lay low for a while..."

Luckily, he spotted a cave not to far away, large enough to shield you both from the weather.

"There."

Slightly stirring, you let out a faint groan, your eyes still unable to open.

"Relax. I'm getting us someplace safe," Zoro assured, picking up the pace as he made his way over to shelter.

A crackle of lightening punctuated his sentence, the suddenness causing even him to flinch ever-so slightly.

"Just sit tight."

Weakly, you let out another whimper, still stirring from your sprawled out spot on the cave floor.

"Still out cold..." Zoro grumbled, crouching down to your level before beginning to lightly tap your cheek. "Wake up... C'mon, woman, wake up... wake up."

Though, sadly, you didn't budge—quite literally out like a light.

"Damn... maybe I should move her closer to the fire?"

The two of you had been safely hidden away for quite some time now, and the swordsman was beginning to worry seeing as you had yet to wake up.

'Maybe she hit her head... got one of those brain-dead situations...'

If Zoro was being honest, he was probably the worst person to have around in this particular predicament.

Sure, he could keep you from being devoured by ravenous seagulls, and give you his clothes to keep from catching a cold, but past that he was pretty much useless.

He didn't have a single ounce of medical knowledge past Me hurt, me train, which was, to anybody else, pretty much inapplicable.

"Mmmph..." a light voice suddenly hummed, snapping the swordsman out of his thoughts.

Turning his head, his eye landed on you, watching intently as you slowly sat up, eyes fluttering open and brows furrowing.

"Good, you're awake," he nodded, a small smile rising to his lips. "Took your sweet time. You were startin' to make me worry."

"ᝰ.ᐟ꩜" you exclaimed, excitement apparent in your tone as your gaze settled on the flames not too far away.

Instantly, Zoro's expression fell, his relief replaced with confusion.

"Huh?"

Starstruck, you quickly crawled over to the fire, seemingly attempting to start a conversation.

"٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ ᯓ ⋆˚｡⋆ ꩜ .ᐟ"

"Hey, are you... all right? You hit your head out there or somethin'?" Zoro asked, raising a brow.

But you completely ignored him, too entranced by the dancing magic before you.

"⋆｡𖦹°‧.ᐟ"

Without thinking, you reached out to touch it, only to let out a squeak and quickly recoil at the painful burn.

"Hey! The hell are you doing? Don't touch that!"

Swiftly, Zoro strode toward you, carefully taking your hand to inspect the damage.

"Jeez, what the hell were you thinking? You trying to hurt yourself?" he grumbled, brows cinched as he took a better look. "What the—? Why the hell is the blister (f/c)?"

It rested on the back of your hand, far too soft and colorful to be a burn scab.

'Maybe that's just how she scars?'

Thoughtlessly, he grabbed it, attempting to pull it off quickly, but apparently it was really stuck on there.

"ᝰ.ᐟ" you yowled, clutching your hand and jumping back with a suspicious glare. "˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚.ᐟ"

"Uh..." Zoro paused, completely and utterly lost. "I didn't catch that?"

Confused, you raised a brow, sizing him up with the same look.

"٠࣪⭑꩜ ?"

"Well, look. At least let me cut that thing off. I don't know what it is, but it doesn't look good."

Slowly, he began to draw one of his swords, your eyes shooting wide at the sight.

""ᝰ.ᐟ"

Terrified, you tackled him to the stony ground, quickly crawling on top of his lap before weakly slamming your fists into his chest, forcing the swordsman to turn beet red.

"What the—?! Hey! Cut that out! I'm trying to help you!"

"𖦹⋆｡₊˚⊹☆.ᐟ"

"C'mon, get the hell off me! You're naked! You keep movin' around, that thing's gonna fall off!

"☆.ᐟ"

Letting out a sharp groan, Zoro grabbed you by your wrists, pulling you off and placing you down on the ground, much to your struggle.

"Hey, easy, alright? I'm not gonna hurt you, so take a second to calm the hell down," he ordered, tone firm as he held your arms still. "I get it. You woke up half-naked with some random guy and your scared. And you don't seem to speak the same language."

Scanning over your face, he watched as your eyes began to turn glassy, lip jutting out in a slight tremble.

His chest slightly sank, a bit of guilt sinking in as he realized his harsh tone probably wasn't the best choice.

Taking in a deep inhale, he decided to try again, re-calibrating himself for a softer approach.

"Look, I'm sorry for being so rough. It's just... I didn't expect this whole thing when I found you washed up."

Somewhat perky, you sat up straight, carefully taking his calloused hand in a handshake.

" ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ᝰ.ᐟ꩜ ᯓ ⋆˚｡⋆ ꩜ 𖦹⋆｡₊˚⊹☆.ᐟ"

You spoke eloquently, making a long, heartfelt speech about the importance of kindness, and how you would like to get to know the pretty, green man better in order to make him your friend.

But once again... Zoro caught none of it.

"I have no idea what you just said," he sighed, swiping a tired hand over his face. "Alright, maybe the sake's getting to me..."

Just then, a clacking-crawling sound began to echo within the cave, turning both your attention to the cave's entrance.

Where a vibrant blue crab ran in.

"What the—"

"࿓.ᐟ"

Overjoyed, you happily greeted the crustacean, scooping him up in your hands as he frantically rambled in your language.

"~ .° ｡𖦹˚.ᐟ"

"The crab can speak?!"

Quickly, it handed you a glass bottle, which was full of sparkling, swirling, purple liquid.

Suddenly understanding, you nodded, swiftly popping off the cork.

"Wait a second. You're not gonna drink that, are you?" Zoro asked, warily.

His suspicions were confirmed when you began to raise it to your lips.

"Hey! Stop it! You don't know what that is!"

But before he could lunge forward and smack it out your hands, you had already downed the entire thing, licking your lips and humming at the delightful taste.

"Mmm! Delicious, Sari! Thank you so much!" you grinned, smiling from ear to ear as you pulled the crab in to hug your cheek.

Zoro's jaw instantly fell slack, the man utterly floored by what he just witnessed.

'Yup... definitely the sake.'

"Y'know what... I'm gonna check on the fire," he caved, honestly done with this fever dream of a night.

"Hey, I can understand you now! How wonderful!" you gasped, pleasantly surprised. "Y'know, human language is complicated. You guys should really work on that."

"Human?" Zoro cocked a brow, now even more confused. "All right, woman, just who the hell are you? And what the hell were you doing washed up on the beach?"

"Hey, mister, why's your shell on me?"

"My... shell?"

"This green thing. It's sticking to me and, um, very uncomfortable. I wanna take it off."

"Nuh-uh! If you're doing anything, you're keeping that thing on," Zoro quickly denied, flushed, as he ran a tired hand through his hair. "Jeez, you must've hit your head harder than I thought. Just lay down."

"But I have so many questions..."

"I do, too... but as far as I'm concerned, I've had all I can handle from you tonight. So just lay down."

"But I wanna hold this bright, moving thing!"

"Quit trying to touch that! Just go to sleep!"

"But—"

"Sleep."

Offset by his rudeness, you let out a harsh huff, cheeks puffing in an adorable look of frustration.

"Fine! But I am going to stare at you so angrily!"

With a sigh, Zoro flopped down to the ground on his back, staring blankly at the cave ceiling.

"As long as you stay quiet and keep your clothes on... I don't care what you do."

[ozzgin]

The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

Yandere!Politician x Bratty!Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are... Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

[psicheanima]

Rodya Linguistic Analysis

Do not mention any events after Canto 2 in the notes or tags of this post, thank you.

Rodya’s most noticeable feature about her language is her switches between a casual, almost theatrical register when she’s “playing a part” (always) and a more restrained, terse style when she’s upset.

Rodya’s sentences are mostly mid-length, often using ellipses and dropping subjects or auxiliary verbs. These omissions help create a conversational tone that feels intimate and offhand, as though she is speaking to people with whom she has established a rapport with no matter who the subject is.

Her speech is casual and free-flowing, more like natural conversation than structured prose. There’s a rhythm to it—almost musical, with interjections and rhetorical flourishes. Her loose, easygoing sentence structure makes her approachable. It reinforces her need to be liked, to feel included.

However, when the conversation starts creeping toward something painful, she breaks it up with childish phrasing, either steering things away before they can get too heavy or trying to dismiss the importance of her very own emotional involvement by dumbing herself down as she frequently does with Sonya. Note her inability to let the conversation end on a sincere note, diminishing both herself and him, and both the ideals that drove them apart in the same way.

[His idealistic self-important role (dweeb’s leadership) vs her impulsive hands-on-involvement (being a rowdy rascal).]

It’s the verbal equivalent of leaving home to avoid facing what she’s done—avoidance is second nature to her.

She doesn’t speak in clear-cut subject-verb-object constructions when dealing with difficult emotions. Instead, she hedges, leans on metaphors, and sidesteps direct statements or explicit emotional qualifiers such as “I feel”, “I’m upset”. Even when she tries to be honest, she can’t quite say it outright. By the end of her canto, die to her distress, this becomes heavily exaggerated.

Rodya frequently uses rhetorical compliment-fishing questions as a way to signal emotional distress without directly expressing vulnerability. These questions aren’t meant to solicit an answer but rather to create a sense of distance from the topic at hand and a sense among her peers that she thinks highly of herself. It’s a way for her to challenge the situation indirectly while avoiding exposing any deeper emotional reactions.

Similarly, Rodya often holds back information until she’s ready to release it, framing her omissions as strategic rather than due to a lack of trust. Her phrasing creates an illusion that her withholding of the truth is somehow rooted in a sisterly sort of “looking out”, rather than her over reliance on herself. (This cynical nature being what makes her “take things into her own hands” in District 25.)

Rodya uses diminutives for both people and objects as a form of pragmatic softening, disarming, and maintaining social dominance rather than a more straightforward, simple affection. This faux-friendless allows her to control interactions and maintain friendless while keeping others at a comfortable emotional distance. In this case, she switches to a dismissive “sweetie” rather than her usual “babe”. Both show camaraderie, but her true intentions for the nicknames aren’t related to that rather than letting her have a sense of it is without actually putting in the work of forming an open connection with someone.

She’s actually the harshest toward the people she cares about the most. Dante and Gregor, both of whom she has clear affection for (and in Dante’s case, respect), are the ones she dehumanizes the most in a light hearted, almost casually cruel offhanded way— exclusively when it comes to their deformities. But that disgust is performative. When she truly dislikes someone, her insults are ironic, distant, and impersonal— just as when she dislikes something, she avoids it.

This tracks with how she handles difficult topics. When forced to confront something serious, her tone shifts—she drops the embellishments, speaks in a more neutral, detached way, and keeps things short and to the point. Even when she uses metaphorical abstractions, it’s to create distance between herself and her emotions, not to add a flourish to her words like she usually does. Though her speech is still littered with contractions, it’s more of a street-wise woman than the immaturity she fakes.

The substance of her speech is secondary to the performance itself. She's not necessarily interested in whether what she says is deeply impactful, but rather in conveying an image of confidence, independence, and self-sufficiency. This reflects a deeper insecurity, a need to assert control over how she is perceived (as she feels Sonya has so deeply misunderstood her) without directly confronting her own vulnerabilities.

In conclusion: Rodya’s seemingly childish language is a deliberate choice, each word selected with care. Her True Tone is cold, and every sentence is purposeful—used to deflect, protect, or control. By minimizing her intellect or trivializing serious matters, she’s able to shield herself.

[dmitriene]

cw: age gap, confused feelings, glimpses of smut.

professor john price is a man far from being an complete idiot, he knows how to communicate with people, where to press to get what he wants, where to change the volume and pitch of his voice, how to see right through pretenses, and he sees how you stare at him, here and there, under fluttering eyelashes, with dilated pupils, with darting eyes, hiding away when he meets your gaze with his own, disciplined cold, blue color dazzling, even more than the sun against which you squint, just to find him with your lingering gaze.

silly, young thing, you have so many years ahead, so many boys of your age, but you cling to the way the muscles in his arms twitch, exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his blouse, showing his sinewy forearms, skin covered with webbing veins, a smattering of dark, thick hair, down to his long, broad fingers as he turns the pages of a book, grabs a chalk, stretches his arms out, you notice every movement and scar, eyes round and full of sweet, dazed admiration which causes you to bite down the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip, pull at the plumpness with your teeth and make his gaze narrow at the uncontrollable action, growl under his warm breath, blunt nails digging into closed palms.

you should know better, notice that john is trying to avoid you, as an older, wiser, and more responsible individual, but you you persist in trailing behind him, appearing around the corner of the corridor, on his right hand, meet his gaze nearly without blinking, fixing an overlooked button on his stuttering chest, brush the cigar ash from his graying mutton chops instead of merely drawing attention to the stray particles, you know what you're doing, or maybe it's just a game of his mind that he loses so easily, he is no longer sure.

it's a lapse in control, a gross omission that he allowed himself, and immediately paid for it, when even when he closed his eyes, the image of you flashed before his eyes, keeping him from sleeping, when he started to imagine everywhere the subtle, lung dwelling scent of your perfume, your smiles, the light, gentle laughter that accompanied some of his jokes, you turned him into a madman, a man who hunted you around campus like a hound dog, just to see you, hear you, and touch you, so that he could not sleep at night again, irritated sclera, and palms stained with something that could not be scrubbed off or told about.

john has no idea what happened or how long ago you filled a once empty, locked space in his chest with your presence, you make him fantasize about things he shouldn't, which is taboo, disgusting, and incredibly tempting, to imagine what it would be like if you spread your legs wider, just for him, lifting your skirt to your pretty, sodden panties and tease him with outline of your puffy folds, imagine your supple skin under his rough pads of fingers, under his hungry lips, and his scratching beard, how you would call him, sir, professor, john, how you would sob in pleasure.

something has changed, because now your professor returns your frequent glances, looks at your face even when you break contact, turning away with a swoop of eyelashes and warming cheeks, smiles at you with a slight lift to the corners of his lips, hiding beneath his moustache, eyes narrowed with warmth, exposing deepening wrinkles around them, everything you wanted is now given to you on a platter, and all you have to do is go up to him after lectures, close the common trap.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[inkskinned]

no, but really, we need to talk about the casual objectification that has become the fallback discourse of the internet: if you're pretty and dressed nicely, you're a slut. and if you're even vaguely outside of their body standard, you're fucking disgusting.

too-frequently, people position sex workers as being "the problem". they sneer you're addicted to pornography, you don't know what a real woman looks like. but real women are in pornography. the real bodies on display are not the issue here: the issue is that other people feel extremely confident when commenting on someone's physique.

2000's super-thin is slowly worming its way back into the public ideal. recently i saw someone get told to "go for a run", despite the fact she was on the thinner side of average. not that it would ever be appropriate to say that: but it's kind of like sticker shock when you see it. people think that is fat? holy shit. do they just have no idea about things?

but what are you going to do about it? that's the problem, right. because chances are - you're a normal person. we can say normalize carrying fat on your body, but we are not the billion-dollar diet industry. we are not the billion-dollar fashion industry. we are just, like. people. who are trying to make content on the internet, without being treated shittily.

as someone who has been on both sides of things: you are treated better when you are thin and pretty. this is statistically correct. i am not saying that you cannot be bullied for being thin; i'm saying there are objective institutional biases against certain bodytypes. there are videos of men and women who lost weight all saying: i now know for a fact exactly how much worse you're treated. in the comments, some asshole inevitably says something akin to you deserved to be dehumanized when you were fat.

which means that ... the easiest thing to do is be pretty and thin. it is the path of least resistance, because of course it is, because any time you post a picture of yourself without a thigh gap, someone immediately comments something like you need to try a diet.

the other half is also dehumanizing though, huh, just in a different way. when i put on makeup and nice clothes, i am told i slept my way to the top as a professional. do you know how many women in STEM have told me they purposefully dress to "unimpress" because they already struggle to be taken seriously and if they're ever considered pretty - it for some reason takes away from their authority.

so they make it seem like it's your fault. you, existing in a body - it's your fault! if you didn't want shitty comments, don't have a body. they position us against each other like chess pieces; vying for male attention we don't even need.

and i can be an authority on this unless you think i'm fat and unattractive. when i am pretty and thin, i'm an activist. when i am just a normal person who makes a good point: i am immediately dismissed. nobody fucking believes you if you're not seen as attractive. you literally lose value. you cease to exist.

but the whole time, it feels like - is anyone actually grounded the fuck in reality? the line of "pretty and thin" keeps shifting. nobody seems to understand what "a normal weight" even looks like, because it's not something that exists - you cannot tell a person's health by looking at their body. even if you think you could tell that, even if you're sure a person is dangerously overweight - people are not your dolls. they do not need to be dressed up or displayed properly to soothe your aesthetics. you aren't concerned for them, you're stealing their agency. you don't get to say if they're "allowed" to take pictures and post them on the internet - you don't get to tell them how to exist.

people hide behind "the obesity epidemic" without any actual qualifications. they crow things about "normalizing unhealthiness".

but it's bullshit. i have visible abs. there is a pair of parallel lines on my body, even when i'm relaxed; where my obliques meet my abdominal wall. i am proud of this because it means i'm strong, because i overcame an eating disorder only to be ripped as fuck. it is genetic and physical luck that i even get any definition, i'm pleased as punch.

but it does mean that my abdominal wall sticks out a little bit. the other day i posted a video of myself dancing, and, for a moment, my shirt slipped. you could see a little bit of my stomach. i was cartwheeling to the floor. moments before this, i'd had my foot over my head.

a guy slid into my DMs. a row of vomiting emojis prefaced: you should really lose some weight before you think about dancing.

i stared at it for a long time. there was a time when i would have been triggered by this, where it would have encouraged me to starve myself. i would have ignored the fact i'm flexible, agile, good at jumping: i would have lost the weight for a stranger's passing comment. i would have found myself and my body fucking disgusting.

and for what? to please what? because why? so that he can exist in this world without an unchallenged eyeball? what would my self-hatred even accomplish? usually i write paragraphs. obviously. on this particular occasion, in this body i've been at war with for ages: i just felt exhausted.

it shouldn't be even worth saying. it shouldn't be hard to explain. all of this emotional turmoil when he cannot even comprehend the most basic truth: i am not an object on display for him.

[yuoimia]

50% YOU AND ME

summary: you two as parents

characters: alhaitham, diluc

notes: gn! reader, fluff, diluc is noted to have a daughter (alhaitham one isn’t specified), wc: 600.

alhaitham

unknowingly spoils his child. both behaviour-wise and financially. which, perhaps, makes the sentiment even more sweet. his tender actions don’t match the sharp words of warning that frequently spill from his lips, diminishing like a blown candle from faltering disappointment. no, he’s most definitely not smiling, let alone smirking from behind his palm!

the one to wake up your child through the late hours of the night to give them a dose of medicine when they’re sick, despite his preference for getting a full eight hours of quality sleep. “i don’t want to deal with your grumpiness in the morning,” he claims when you volunteer. it’s half true, but wouldn’t it be a thousand times more efficient and straightforward if he could just say that he just didn’t want to see you disturbed from your beloved sleep? overworking was something alhaitham could not easily allow.

(also because he knows considers himself a little more lenient than you when it comes to parenting…hearing with an argument at 1 in the morning in the next room about how disgusting the medicine tastes for twenty minutes would be far worse than sacrificing five minutes to reach a more successful outcome)

with love comes discipline, knowledge is important, but happiness is too. to maintain equilibrium between the two is his greatest rule. nights will roll past, not finished without a book or two, a few questions, answers, and inside jokes, ending with a secret snack in the dim light of the kitchen when he checked you had certainly fell asleep (he can’t be caught for a third time, surely? he had just made it up to you..)

alhaitham is handsome. you are ethereal. of course, it’s practically guaranteed from the start that your child would be devastatingly beautiful. at least twice a day, he’ll catch himself completely awed. is that child really 50% of him?

diluc

diluc is a gentle father, his love is like the walls of crimson blossoms blooming all year, around the cobblestone edges of dawn winery’s manor, tendered so they remain exquisite and flowering, but left to their own winding paths and bonds alongside the golden honeysuckles.

morning adventures worthy of trailing journal entries, when the air outside is still crisp and fresh, the swatches of condensing clouds brushed across the pale blue sky. plates of homemade breakfast arranged on the table, your voice reverberating through the quiet halls as pairs of footsteps patter down the stairs.

“will i be able to take a bit of the clouds to put in my box?” your daughter asked, eyes wide and sparkling with the same alluring tint of carnelian as her father. excitement fizzed from her eyes to the tips of her brown boots, now jubilantly kicking the air under the table. from the satchel thrown around her shoulders, she pulled a rectangular box, approximately the size of your hand, decorated with sprawling doodles and glitters. “will it fit in here?” she questioned again, sneaking an apprehensive glance through the arching windows, now biting her lip.

“what are you planning?” you suddenly muttered anxiously, just loud enough, unaware of his previous promise. “you know she can’t actually grab a cloud.”

diluc smiled, facing you with a pleasant expression of satisfaction. “dandelions.”

celebrates the smallest achievements. they aren’t anything short of monumental to him; a significance in their life is just as important to be engraved into his. he keeps a diary of sorts, nothing too extravagant, occasionally entries with the date, maybe a few polaroid pictures, but overflowing with tender dreams, memories and hopes. and his greatest hope of all—that one day, the two people he loves most will be able to read it.

[macsimagines]

YANDERE!BULLY MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO

OK! y'all voted so heres me doing my best. as always please give me feedback (seriously let me know)

MINORS DNI WARNINGS: BULLYING BEHAVIOR, INTIMIDATION TATICS, BORDERLINE THREATENING, SOMONOPHILIA, NONCON / DUBCON

Has no idea he's your bully. He just thinks the way you squirm is so cute. Don't get me wrong, he know that you're afraid of him. But everyone is scared of him. Flinching in his presence is only natural so he never questions it.

There's just something in the way you jump when he slams open a door or in that stutter he can see in your pulse when he plops down next to you. And don't get him started on your whimpers. They're delicious.

Yes, out of all his favorite things in the world you're certainly a prized possession. Yup, that's right. You're not even your own person at this point. You're the Invincible Mikey's pet.

It started off in grade school and just took off from middle school to high school. Years of all kinds of bullshit that just kept escalating. First it was flipping up your skirt, and then it was making you kiss him once in a blue moon, and finally in front of everyone announcing loudly; "You're mine, Y/N."

A beloved pet. He constantly has an arm on or around you, making sure you can feel his solid body and completely misreading the shiver he see go down your spine every time your bare skin touches.

'I feel it too, baby.'

Mikey made sure you were protected, but that also meant that people were naturally scared to come around you. One guy ended up with broken legs for bumping into you, another was put into a full body cast for talking to you rude.

Then again, those came with many costs of their own. Mikey wanted to be rewarded you for all his hard efforts. Demanding kisses on the cheek and not going away if you don't. He doesn't care other people are watching. Making you his personal human pillow, who cares if people can see him leaning on you.

The breaking point was one day when the kisses got a little steamier and you couldn't take it any more. You're actually pulling away from him and Mikey, not used to your resistance is a little taken aback.

"Y-Y/N?" "Enough already." "Enough? Do you got a cramp or-," "Stop messing with me, Manjiro!"

And you let off on him. About how you're sick of the bullshit all these years later and how you seriously won't stand for him taking his sexual frustrations out on you.

Mikey's whole world come's crashing down around him. Those can't be your true feelings? He's so genuinely confused as to how you've morphed his affection and protection into something so ugly.

He doesn't let you go though. You're not allowed to leave him like this. He has to fix this, an unfamiliar dread is filling him at the thought of having to go without you in his life.

Demanding to know what the hell are you talking about? Aren't you two in love? When he declared that you belonged to him why didn't you understand?

And your face is filled with disgust as he continues to question you about this sick imagined fantasy he built up when you've been too afraid to even breath wrong around him.

"When you said 'careful you look like an idiot'?" "I was just lookin' out for you." "When you called me a 'frail small fry',?" "I thought it was a term of endearment." "Groping me?" "I... You didn't like it?"

You're smacking him right across the face, an action that would've given you a panic attack just thinking about it. And he's stunned into silence, the feeling of your soft skin striking him so harshly...

He watches you walk away from him, and shockingly doesn't try to stop you. Apparently everything he does scares you, and he needs you to love him like he's realizing he loves you.

Mikey is blowing up your phone every five minutes with a text and every hour with a call. The longer you hold out on him the more frequent he's going to try and reach out to you. Each message is also becoming increasingly more desperate.

"Y/N, you're my world, please talk to me." "God you looked so pretty far away, can I at least tell you you're pretty, right?" "I can't wait for you to let me hold you again. Its getting harder to sleep. For both of us, isn't that right?"

You don't know how he knows that last part, but its so true. You keep having sleep paralysis episodes where this feral dark energy is hovering over you...

Sometimes it touches you softly caressing your cheeks with some kind of shadowy tendril, other times its full on groping you. getting in between your legs to cup you. You swear some nights its actually real. That it's touching you or that its... Inside you.

The nightmares are getting progressively worse and with the lack of sleep combining with Mikey's barrage of deranged messages you're starting to really loose it.

One day you're walking aimlessly on the streets of Tokyo. Too tired to do anything, and too anxious to sleep. You don't even notice the figure watching from an alley.

Mikey hasn't been too far away ever since you two went on your 'break', just a few paces behind. But today you're walking in such dreary fog, that he got closer.

Finally you stumble into him and as soon as your eyes meet a flood of conflicting emotions goes through the pair of you. Love, hope, thrill, conflicting with dread, disgust, angst.

He feels like he used to before your true feelings came out. But seeing you shake and quiver in his arms after all this time just makes those tantalizing reactions of yours all the more delicious.

"Don't worry baby, I'll make you understand and feel my love."

[graciescott27]

Non-Disclosure Agreement! — M. Kaiser

Michael Kaiser slept with you once and now won’t leave you alone?!

Last Chapter! — Next Chapter!

CHAPTER TWO - NOT ALLOWED!

cw: very clearly toxic, private relationship, friends with benefits but not really friends, Kaiser, suggestive in a few places, language, talks about drinking, Sae Itoshi

Michael Kaiser x reader!

mdni!

word count: 1.6k

You had never found football any less interesting than you did in that moment. Michael Kaiser had gotten you a seat in the stupid fucking VIP box for a reason that only God knew. He was deranged, you were convinced of it. There was no explanation for anything the man did. You still had no idea why he said or did the things he did. You still had no idea why he had those stupid tattoos. You couldn’t even figure out why out of all of his hookups, you were the one he called back. Maybe it was because of your idiotic mistake of giving him your number. No, that couldn’t have been it. His fans were even crazier than he was, surely they had done way more than you had to get his attention.

The game was 1-2. Germany was winning. It was about twenty minutes into the second half and so far the most interesting thing that had happened so far was learning that the “one Japanese one” was actually Sae Itoshi. You had heard of him frequently over the past few years. You had even seen a few of his matches. He was a good player. He definitely seemed just like Kaiser: good on the field, terrible to deal with in person. He was probably calmer than Kaiser, at least. That was probably why Kaiser didn’t seem to like him all that much.

Why did Kaiser think you would like him? Did he even know enough about you to make that call?

Michael Kaiser kept looking up into the stands like a total idiot. He was just as collected as normal. He was playing just as well as normal. Any time you were around, though, Kaiser acted just a bit different than usual. It was difficult to place how. He probably didn’t even know the answer himself. There was always just a small shift in his demeanor when he knew you were watching. You were probably the only person who had noticed.

As the game finished and Germany finally won, you couldn’t help but scold yourself for agreeing to this. You had classes the next day. You had a paper to write. Your casual hookup was not more important than your degree. Maybe you were even dumber sober.

Just when you were standing up to leave, you got a text from ”Satan’s Favorite Child” telling you to meet him outside of the locker room. Normally you wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near the core of the stadium, but he had gotten you “special permission”, whatever the hell that meant. After much wandering and many wrong turns, you somehow managed to make it to the locker rooms. You refused to step foot inside, not willing to risk getting flashed by any more footballers. Kaiser stepped out after just a few moments, still wearing his kit, still sweaty, and still smelling disgusting.

“I’m a bit surprised that you came, Liebling,” he smirked down at you, his brow cocked in amusement.

You scoffed. “Yeah, it’s really rare for me to come, isn’t it?”

He quirked his brow even further at that. “Any opening you see, huh?”

“If you give me a chance, I’m gonna make a sex joke. I’m only human,” you shrugged casually.

The locker room door opened again and Alexis Ness stepped through it. His eyes met Kaiser’s first, then darted over to you. He blinked, trying to register your presence, and then smiled. “Ah, you’re here! Kaiser was really worried that you wouldn’t come.”

Kaiser froze and turned to scowl at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Jesus Christ, you two have a really weird relationship…” you muttered, wincing. “Um… hello to you to, Alexis. You’re a lot less unnerving when I’m sober.”

His mouth turned into an “O” shape and he nodded enthusiastically with raised brows.

“Ness, go shower,” Kaiser commanded, not even looking at Ness as he spoke.

“Right, of course. I’ll leave you two alone,” Ness gave you a small wave and stepped back into the locker room.

Kaiser’s eyes never once left you throughout the entire interaction. You couldn’t tell if he was zoned out thinking or if he was trying to analyze you somehow. He finally spoke again when Ness closed the door and was officially gone from sight. “You saw Sae, right?”

“Yeah?” you raised a brow questioningly. Was he stupid or something? If you were watching the game, obviously you were going to see all of the players.

“I’m better than him, right?”

Oh. So that was what it was. You weren’t there because he finally started to care, or because he felt bad for treating you like you weren’t a person. You were there because he needed an opinion. Like any other woman trying to not to punch a man, you responded with pure sarcasm. “Aww, you’re such a pretty princess.”

“Mhm, thanks,” he scoffed.

“No problem, princess.”

“You should go talk to him,” he nodded all of a sudden. Noticing the confusion on your face, he clarified, “Sae.”

Oh dear God. You were not in the mood for this today. “Why?”

“Because you’d get along with him.”

“You gonna get jealous if I do?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed crossing his arms. He still didn’t look away from you once.

“I don’t believe you.” If you had learned anything about Michael Kaiser over the past few months, it was that you should never believe a word he said. Everything that left his mouth was just a narcissistic coverup for how sad his life truly was.

He huffed out a laugh. “You should. I’m fairly trustworthy, I think.”

“You thought wrong, then.”

“You wound me,” he feigned offense, unable to keep up the act for very long before the corner of his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“I’m sure I do,” you mirrored his expression, only causing his smirk to grow.

His demeanor relaxed just a bit. That was how you knew you were reaching the part of the conversation where he attempted to seem interested in your life. “Are your classes going well?”

You nodded. “Yes, actually. I’m about fourteen pages behind on a paper now because you dragged me to this game.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah, I have a lot I need to catch up on.” You were praying that he would take that as a sign to let you leave, but like usual, Kaiser didn’t understand social cues.

“I’m sure.”

You groaned, finally turning around and beginning to step away. “Okay, I’m leaving.”

He laughed, grabbing your arm and pulling you back towards him. “Um, no, you’re not.”

“Oh my God,” you whined, pouting up at him dramatically. “What more do you want from me?”

“Bar and then my house possibly?”

Yeah, you should have never shown up there. All of your decisions were stupid, it was official. You did not have enough self-control to talk to him. Any time he mentioned taking you to his house, you wanted to scream. He wouldn’t be half as attractive as he was if he didn’t have that voice. But of course, devils are the most blessed out of everyone, and you have to suffer the consequences. Maybe later you could yell at your uterus to shut up for five seconds.

“Are you offering to get me drunk because you know that’s the only time I can stand to see your face?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he nodded, grinning.

“Ugh, fine. Sure,” you conceded. One of the worst of your bad decisions, admittedly. “Let me piss really quick and then you can drag me out of here by my hair.”

“Very unnecessary details, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You stumbled around the facilities, trying to find any kind of escape route that you could. If you found a way out without any help, then you could run from your poor critical thinking skills. You don’t manage to, of course. You end up down some long hallway instead, and find the locker rooms for the visiting team. Groaning at your failure to flee a crime scene, you turned around to figure out a way back to Kaiser. You weren’t looking as you turned, and ended up running straight into a very muscular chest.

Sae Itoshi.

Was your life turning into an 80’s sitcom? Was God laughing at you? Are devils entertainment to angels?

Sae gave you a nod of acknowledgment, then immediately turned to walk away. What the fuck? Maybe he was actually worse than Kaiser and that was why he apparently hated him so much. Nah. No one could be worse than that son of a bitch.

“Oh, hey, you’re Sae Itoshi, right?” you said in an attempt to make conversation. Maybe if you wasted enough time, Kaiser would get bored and walk away.

“Yeah?”

Oh, God, he was already boring you to death.

“That’s… cool. Michael Kaiser’s mentioned you a few times,” you nodded, giving a small, incredibly uncomfortable smile.

He responded with the same deadpan

expression. “You know Kaiser?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m… friends with him.” It was definitely a lie, sure, but it was a lot more comfortable to say than admit to a stranger that you occasionally fucked him.

“You don’t work here?”

“No…?”

By then, your brain was screaming at you to leave. This was a bad idea. You should just go get blackout drunk with Kaiser and submit an essay late in the morning.

“How did you get in, then?”

Very good question. You weren’t sure yourself. “Kaiser got access for me so we could talk after the game.”

“Interesting friendship,” he quirked a brow slightly. “How did you meet?”

That was an even better question.

@graciescott27

[arcastiel]

bloodlust ཐིཋྀ (vamp!sam x reader)

↳ synopsis: sam had been turned by a vamp during a hunt, and still was seeking a cure to become human again. in the meantime, you helped him out a little.

↳word count: 2,128

↳ cw: nsfw (MINORS DNI!!), smut, fem/afab!reader, mentions of blood/biting (but he doesn't actually bc he's very responsible <3), p in v (wrap it up!!), just un-proof read hot vamp sex

You pushed the key unceremoniously into the lock and twisted it, unlocking the door and allowing it to gently peel open. The hinges creaked as they churned, and you walked into a dark foyer. You kicked off your shoes and flicked the warm lights on, squinting slightly to adjust to the sudden brightness. You had a plastic bag slung around your forearm, filled with small tubs of animal blood from the butchers. You knew your order was less than orthodox, but the subtle glances of judgment from the butcher didn’t really bother you anymore- not when it was for Sam. You made your way to the kitchen, opening the fridge and placing the bag on the top shelf, noticing the last tub from a previous outing was now gone. Sam must have drank it while you were gone. 

He had been turned into a vamp during a hunt from a few weeks ago, and was still looking for a cure. Dean had taken hunts on solo since then, since he knew Sam wouldn’t be able to help much (and really, the whole baby-brother-turning-into-a-monster-thing had peeved him a bit). You had offered to stay behind and help, and at his request you made frequent visits to the butchers to gather pig and cow blood to avoid sourcing it from humans. You knew he was frustrated and that he felt disgusted with himself by his transformation. It didn’t bother you so much- you were a Twilight girlie growing up, after all- but you knew he was hurting and it made you upset to see.

As you pushed the door to the fridge shut, Sam appeared behind you, towering over you in jeans and black Carhart hoodie. You almost jumped at his sudden appearance, looking up into his light green eyes that were dim and accompanied by heavy dark circles, likely from his lack of sleep and limited diet.

“Hey. How you feelin’?” You asked, leaning against the fridge as he let out a sigh, leaning against the counter of the kitchen island behind him. 

“Fine. Thank you for getting… that.” He nudged his head to the fridge and you smiled, nodding your head.

“No worries. Find anything yet?”

“I found a possible lead. I’ll need to head out tomorrow to talk to some guy in Tuscan.”

“Tuscan huh?” You laughed. “Exciting stuff.”

“Yuh-huh…” Sam shook his head, and your smile dropped at his demeanor. He just looked so tired. You gently brought a hand to his shoulder, reaching up to give it a light squeeze and resting your palm there. 

“I’m sorry Sam. I know I keep saying that, but…” You trailed off, watching his hazy eyes flick to yours, and he put on his best smile.

“It’s okay, really. I’ll figure it out.” He assured you. You just sucked your teeth, knowing he wasn’t as ‘okay’ as he was putting on. You gave his shoulder another rub before your hand trailed closer into the crook of his neck, feather-light fingers delicately brushing the skin. He winced and looked away, straining his neck in the opposite direction. You could see two faint holes, scarred over with dead skin and still slightly red from when he was turned. You could feel his pulse slightly under your touch, heart palpitating in rapid succession.

“Y/N…” He whispered, almost a hiss. Something in his tone said you were playing with fire, and you knew he sometimes had trouble restraining himself when people got really close. You didn’t move, though, observing him cautiously under the dim glow of the overhead kitchen lights. You felt your own heart race, letting your natural curiosity fog your common sense that said stop, now. 

You got up on your tip-toes and craned your neck up towards him, eyes darting from his lips, to his eyes, to his lips again. “Can I-”

You were interrupted by the sudden feeling of his lips on yours, his hands grabbing on to your waist for dear life. You were taken aback, but melted into this kiss as it got hungrier and deeper. His hands were basically digging into your hips, and you moaned into his mouth. When he pulled away, both of you basically panting from lack of breath, his lust-blown pupils flicked down to your exposed neck. Your skin looked so pale and translucent in the light, veins slightly visible as your neck stretched upwards to match his height. A burning hot feeling traveled through his senses, and his grip on you somehow got even tighter in a way that would definitely leave bruises the next day. Every part of him itched, and he physically had to pull himself against the tides of temptation, biting his lower lip so hard it could’ve bled.

Instead of giving in, he grabbed you from under your legs and slung you over his shoulder in such a swift motion that you audibly yelped. You saw rooms go by in a flash, and before you knew it you were being tossed on Sam’s bed. You barely had time to sink into the mattress before he was all over you, lips traveling from yours to your cheeks, and then hovering right above your throat. You watched him squeeze his eyes shut and shudder a breath before skipping your neck and going straight for your chest, making quick work of yanking your top over your head and leaving you in a bra and jeans. You felt your heart racing in your chest, taken off guard (but not exactly hating) how unrestrained he was becoming as he fought his own urges to dig into you. Even with his roughness, he still occasionally looked up to you before making a move to make sure you were okay. His lips hungirly kissed and sucked over your exposed chest, making you instinctively buck your hips towards his. His hands flew to the strap of your bra before unhooking it in seconds flat, allowing the garment to fall loosely off in one quick pull. 

Your bra was tossed to the side, your breasts now bare and heaving to the pattern of your rapid breathing. He looked up at you with blown pupils, breathing just as heavy as you with his mouth slightly agape, allowing you to see his pointed canines- white and sharp, just inches above your skin. You knew that this was a terrible idea and one wrong move could turn you, too, but you were too needy to care. Feeling his weighted body above yours, his thick denim jeans creating friction between your own, your exposed chest nearly pressed against his muscular forearms… who cares if he bit you, you needed something. Now. 

Maybe mind reading was another vamp power you weren’t aware of, because his mouth moved back down to your chest and continued to kiss and suck. You felt your skin raise with goosebumps as the blend of cold from the exposure mixed with the anticipation building in your body, soft moans escaping your plush lips. As he kissed, he dug one hand under the waistband of your jeans, long fingers ghosting the outside of your thin panties. You gasped at his touch, his fingers slowly circling the fabric just outside of your core, causing a pool of wetness to gather and dampen the cotton. His lips never left your chest, mapping out your entire torso and leaving you with faint purple marks littered throughout your body. The finger circling your pussy was now solely focused on your clothed clit, eliciting louder moans from you as you squirmed and writhed underneath him.

"Sam..." You whined, overly sensitive to all of his touch. He looked up from your chest, and the look on your face... pink, puffy cheeks, lust-blown eyes, painted lips divided as you panted...

He basically growled, yanking his hand back out of your pants. You would have protested, if that hand wasn't joining the other two seconds later in hooking around the loops of your jeans and yanking them down your legs, discarding them at the same speed he had discarded your bra. He took his own hoodie and, in yet another swift motion, yanked it off effortlessly over his head. He unbuckled his belt and shucked his own jeans off in a way that made you wonder just how many secret powers vamps had- seriously, the speed was inhuman- leaving you both in underwear. He looked like he was about to devour you whole, biting his lip and staring down at your body like he was hunting, and was milliseconds away from going in for the kill. You had never really seen him so... hungry.

"Fuck, baby..." He mumbled lowly, reminding you that he could, in fact, speak. He ducked down and connected your lips again, this time pushing his tongue past your lips and exploring the rest of your mouth and his hands ran through your body, squeezing every curve and edge. Your tongue danced with his, and you could taste the irony flavor of blood that lingered from his previous meal. His hands were unrelenting, feeling you up and down, calloused fingers feeling up your plush breasts causing you to moan into his mouth. When you pulled away, his hand had wandered down to his waist, and had pulled his thick cock out of his boxers. His eyes never left yours, dark and lidded as he pumped himself a few times and coated his member with pre cum. As he prepped himself, his free hand connected back to your core and pushed your soaked panties to the side, causing you to hiss as the cold air hit your bare core.

You watched in anticipation as he lined himself up to your entrance before he gently pushed in, causing you both the moan as you became impossibly full. His forearms planted firmly by your sides as your back arched, hips bucking forward as your body reacted to his length. His pace started slow for all of ten seconds before he was slamming in and out of you, pornographic sounds filling the room as his patience thinned and ran out. You moaned and whined underneath him, his pace causing the bed to slam into the wall behind you and your tits to bounce with each thrust. His eyes were fixed on your neck again as it was completely exposed and straining while your head was thrown back in pleasure. Maybe you could've been mindful of his 'situation', but when he was railing you at superhuman force you weren't exactly thinking about anything else but the firework building in your belly.

While his cock was still buried in you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, marking you with hickeys that became more and more deep as his hips snapped at a unrelenting pace. His teeth ghosted your throat, pointed canines pushing lightly into the soft, thin skin. He wanted to bite so, so bad that the mere thought of sinking his teeth into you was consuming him.

"So fucking pretty, I just wanna..." He growled, turning his neck to the side and painfully pulling himself away from your vulnerable neck. Your heart was racing from all the stimulation from his lips and dick, and you were nearing the edge fast.

"Fuck, I-" You couldn't finish the sentence, instead opting to bring your hands to his back above you and dig your nails into his flesh as he rammed into you. He groaned at the feeling, once again fighting his urges and pushing his forehead into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

"Cum for me." He hissed out, drawing you closer and closer until the firework building in your lower tummy exploded, causing your walls to tighten around him and cause him to finish, too. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your nails digging even more into his back as your body shook from the high. He whimpered into your shoulder, allowing himself to catch his breath and soften inside you, trying to calm himself down from all the physical restraint. You both laid there for what could've been minutes, just regaining your breath and recovering. When he finally pulled out of you, he rolled onto his side and stared at the roof, reaching over blindly to brush hair out of your face.

You leaned into his gentle touch- different from his desperation from moments ago- and smiled, almost laughing before breathily stating, "Your stamina right now is... Do we have to change you back?"

He rolled his eyes before looking back to your lidded eyes, watery from all the stimulation, a blissed-out smile dumbly lighting up your sweaty face. His annoyance instantly melted into admiration as he slowly peeled himself out of bed to get you both cleaned up.

"Uh, yeah, we do."

↳ a/n: my first post on this account- yay! did i see nosferatu and instantly get re-obsessed with vampires? ... yeah ... maybe... but anyways hope you all enjoy <3 to everyone who came from my other account @mizutsugi, thank you lovelies! i am so excited to keep posting here :) gonna go to bed and manifest vamp!sam now, night night