#the unfairness is maddening

[everythingseasoning]

Squid Game HAS to have at least one tragic duo per season.

SPOILERS BELOW!!

S1: Sae Byeok and Ji Yeong (my personal fav😭)

S2: Hyun Ju and Young Mi (another personal fav)

And there are countless tragic single deaths too…

Ali Abdul after being betrayed and tricked by Sang Woo

Sae Byeok who died so unjustly due to an injury from the glass bridge exploding (fuck the game creators. They preach about it being fair when everything is FAR from fucking fair— from not letting players know that elimination means deat, to shooting people with loud ass guns during the game and scaring players so they lose, to manufactured mass hysteria.)

Possibly 246 in S2, the blood cancer girl’s dad. If he died I’m going to be sad and mad.

…even the deaths of characters we barely knew

Everyone who died in red light green light during the initial mass panic

119 in S1 (who sees that it’s a KID behind the masked pink uniform, then shoots himself after the Dalgona game),

271 in s1 who stood up for himself after the bullies stole his food, and got beaten to death by the main bully—

and the lady whose number I forget, who called out the food thieves and then got murdered later that night

069 in S1 who killed himself after his wife died in the marble game (his breakdown and anguish was really sad, granted, I pity him less if he voted for playing again— bc in that case, he only opts out when it hurts him)

017 in S1 the glass manufacturer who could tell real glass from tempered, the player Sang Woo pushed into tempered glass when In Ho turned off the lighting (FUCKKKK In Ho, I hate him for that.)

Many more from S1 that I forget

The players in S2 who had found a room in the Carousal game, but one got shoved out and the other got his neck snapped by 001/In Ho so In Ho & Jung Bae could take the room, despite the others having gotten there before them

Se Mi who was actively not an asshole, stood up for the wimpy guy, and got killed by the psychopathic freak that was “friends” with Thanos.

Drone Pilot who got stabbed and thrown overboard by the ship captain. Like that was so fucked.

072 who had bravely joined the fight against the higher ups

Player 206 ^similar death

047’s death due to In Ho’s betrayal, (was it that number?) in S2, made me upset. He was angry at the O voters and had to be talked down from killing those players, and he went out with Gi Hun to fight against the higher ups of the Game. He was angry at the injustices, strong, and brave to fight. I admired that about him.

015 who was betrayed and then left to gurgle out on the radio as In Ho lied to Gi Hun, pretending they all got shot and said they weren’t going to make it. (Not fucking cool man.)

145 who was brave but got shot after the guards closed in because the revolt team ran out of ammo due to Dae Ho’s fear. (I understand why he was so scared and paralyzed by fear, and I sympathize with him. That being said, he should’ve gotten somebody else to go out and deliver the ammo. His lack of actions and follow through caused a lot of death and a hole in the revolt plan.)

imagine how many characters there are whose backstories we never got, but if we did see it, we’d be devastated over the loss of them.

There are also characters who are still participating in the games but haven’t yet died, and others who aren’t in the games, who have been affected deeply by a hard life and the games, and i pity them.

Let me know if you think I forgot any …

[areyougoingtoheaven]

what's even more infuriating is that I won't be able to focus or eat or sleep or do anything until this is "settled" in my mind but it never will be because my ex doesn't care to talk about it and would just ignore any texts I sent him anyway. Like I get no say and no one cares about my opinion anyway

[fanficclub]

🤬🤬

That's why it is important to frame the problem in specific terms. It's not "parents", it's not "people with children" - it's women and mothers. Somehow even now people are strangely allergic to the word "woman", and they shouldn't be.

It is frankly a miracle that many women succeed in the academia, when everything it staked against them: there's the push to spend time and money on beauty rituals, the pressure to get married and look after a husband, the pressure to have children, but also the pressure to not have children or family and focus entirely on your career - otherwise, you're not as dedicated as your male peers.

It is very easy, for me, to become increasingly angry when I hear about things like this. Perhaps anger is not exactly the best response, even when it's absolutely warranted. It helps to think of what many women have achieved. They are even more remarkable for braving the odds, and their achievements should be celebrated. We must make the women visible 🙃

Invisible Women, Caroline Criado Perez, 2019

[wtfforged]

my campaign hiatus has gone on for too long so to cope ive combined my interests at their maximum potency and had some dnd-strawhats thoughts

thoughts in depth under read more... :)!

this is SO self indulgent. their designs literally did not change. but i am a firm believer that dnd doesnt have to be european high fantasy. and also one piece literally IS fantasy. no changes are necessary to fit into dnd. ive already imagined plenty of campaign/oneshot ideas inspired by one piece. so this was basically just an exercise of trying to replicate their canon abilities in dnd 5e as much as possible without totally homebrewing everything. well. aside from luffy. you just cant take away or change his stretching.

LUFFY: (human monk. drunken master subclass. outlander)

the only plain human of the crew to balance out with the fact that he still has rubber powers. obviously a monk. but drunken master subclass specifically because i think the flavor(not the fact that its about being a drunkard) and abilities both fit him really well. this line in the subclass' flavortext especially fits him: "A drunken master often enjoys playing the fool to bring gladness to the despondent or to demonstrate humility to the arrogant, but when battle is joined, the drunken master can be a maddening, masterful foe."

ZORO: (tiefling fighter. samurai subclass. bounty hunter)

a fighter with the samurai subclass is so very incredibly obvious... but i actually had a lot of fun geeking out while comparing the abilities to what he can do in canon; Fighting Spirit, Rapid Strike, and Strength Before Death especially! tiefling is also pretty on the nose for his demon pirate hunter shtick and asura form, but i thought he'd be really human-passing for a tiefling and theorized about his tail getting cut off at some point or another before joining the strawhats. initially wasnt gonna give him a feat, but i gave sanji a feat so i thought itd be unfair to not give him one as well, so sentinel fits the bill pretty well i think!

NAMI: (tabaxi rogue. arcane trickster subclass. criminal)

cat burglar -> full grown literal humanoid cat. this one is INCREDIBLY self indulgent... i love... cats... theres nothing deeper to this and no other reasoning. i took cat burglar and ran with it. can you tell that i love izutsumi dungeon meshi? rogue for the aforementioned burglar-ing as well, and the arcane trickster subclass for when she picks up climatact! the mage hand will be very useful for her pickpocketing. in the future as she levels up with timeskip, i can totally see her multiclassing into wizard as well! weather wizard!

USOPP: (lightfoot halfling artificer. artillerist subclass. urchin)

I HAD SO MUCH FUN THINKING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER SHEET. halfling's Naturally Stealthy ability lets him hide behind his crewmates since theyre (almost) all bigger than him, so its perfect for hiding behind zoro or sanji all the time. Lucky is also perfect for him, and I think Brave fits pretty well too when he puts on the sogeking mask. artillerist artificer is also very fun! tinkering and making magic items for his crew, and i think Eldritch Canon or Arcane Firearm could both be easily reflavored as kabuto or any of his inventions. for emphasizing his sniper-ness, the spell sniper feat was also necessary. i think hes my favorite of all the concepts. big ears and long nose combo is so cute to me.

SANJI: (half-elf monk. drunken master subclass. guild artisan (cook!))

race was mostly based on vibes i wont lie. squints. and that vinsmoke balogna or whatever too ig. but mostly vibes. along with the idea that i think a dwarf zeff raising him would be really funny and cute. monk is also obvious, and same subclass as luffy for mostly the same reasons. though the flavor fits him much less, i think the abilities still fit him perfectly, and this blurb specifically; "Your martial arts technique mixes combat training with the precision of a dancer." i really wanted to give him a different subclass from luffy, but i dislike all the other monk subclasses a lot and i found none of them fit him as well anyways, so to try and give them SOME differences, i gave him the crusher feat.

CHOPPER: (awakened deer(shifter statblock) cleric. life subclass. hermit)

this ones definitely a mouthful im sorry. awakened deer for obvious reasons, but due to magic instead of devil fruit stuff. when i was struggling with his race, i looked a lot at shifter because of his forms, but it occurred to me that itd be super cool if he could shift between all of the different shifter options instead of being stuck with just one to replicate his rumble balls. something like heavy point/guard point=beasthide, horn point/arm point(?maybe?)=longtooth, walk point/jumping point=swiftstride, and brain point=wildhunt. hed definitely need some kind of nerf though to balance out that homebrew... and cleric for class. duh.

ROBIN: (high elf wizard. order of scribes subclass. criminal)

robin is definitely the one i struggled the most with just because of her class. elf came pretty easily- shes very elegant and i think shed look cute with super long ears- and i landed on high elf instead of wood elf for the int-based abilities. i was really on the fence between sorcerer and wizard for her because i knew shed be a full spellcaster, but i didnt feel that any of the subclasses really fit her. i ended up going with wizard for order of the scribes since it focuses on texts and knowing everything. but also because robin with a flying talking sentient book would be crazy cool. it could also be similar to how she spawns mouths and eyes places to talk to or watch people. my "fuck it, why not. this would be rad. its my house" mindset kicked in with her i will admit. also the One with the Word ability made me cackle out loud when i read it. thats the funniest ability ever. anyways, i cant really think of a way to replicate her powers, but maybe we could just reflavor a bunch of spells to be her limbs or clutch; hold person, maximillian's earthen grasp, or evard's black tentacles. thatd probably work okay, and theres a handful of spells to replicate her ability to spawn eyes or mouths. unrelated, but i imagine nico olvia to be a drow. why? her hair is white. i am a simple man!

[writer-freak]

Foreplay | Lads x gn reader

Characters: Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, Xavier and Caleb

Warnings: SMUT foreplay duh, talks of guys going down on you and using their fingers, no specific genitalia mentioned though, still not sure how to write Caleb, english isn't my first language

A/n: So after seeing the trailer for Caleb I needed to write something (even though I don't have a proper grasp of his character yet). I wasn't sure how to write Caleb so I wrote him a little sweeter but maybe I will change my mind about that when he's actually out. <3

Rafayel

When it comes to foreplay, Rafayel is the perfect man. He loves when he has the upper hand, but there’s also his more submissive side that often shines through, like every touch is deliberate, as if he’s worshiping you with his hands and mouth. And while he’s obsessed with going down on you (it’s no secret it’s his favorite) there’s this perfect tension when you take the upper hand.

He can be a tease though, and he’s so good at it it’s almost unfair. He’ll start slow, trailing kisses along your thighs, his lips brushing your skin just enough to leave you aching for more. His teeth graze sensitive spots, pulling soft gasps from you as he watches, completely transfixed by every reaction you give him. He lives for the way you squirm and arch under him, dragging things out until you’re practically begging for him to give in.

But when you flip the script? That’s when Rafayel’s sub side shines through. He’ll let you take the lead, let you tease him, his breath hitching as your touch makes him falter. He tries to hold back, biting his lip as you test his limits, but when you push him too far, the control he clings to tends to snap. His hands grip your thighs, and his mouth moves like he’s starving, lips and tongue working you over like you’re the only thing he needs to live.

And then his fingers join in, they curl just right, dragging you higher and higher as his mouth continues. Every gasp or moan of his name drives him wild, and he smiles with pure satisfaction, like he knows exactly how good he’s making you feel. And the truth is? He does.

Sylus

Sylus is such a tease, it’s basically his default setting. He’s playful, always grinning like he knows exactly how close you are to losing it, and he lives for that moment when you finally do. For him, foreplay isn’t just a warm-up, it’s the main event. He’s patient, too languid, deliberate touches that seem almost lazy until you realize every single one is perfectly aimed to drive you wild.

He’ll start light, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he traces over your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you. And the way he circles around your most sensitive spots without quite giving you what you want? Maddening. He eats it up, watching the way your body reacts, testing what makes you shudder or gasp, like he’s studying you and enjoying the hell out of it.

His voice is part of the whole act, too. It’s low and smooth, wrapping around you as he leans in close, whispering filthy promises and details about exactly what he’s going to do next, his breath warm against your ear, sending chills down your spine.

When he finally decides to really go for it, it’s a total game-changer. His fingers plunge deep, curling just right, stroking that spot that makes you forget how to breathe. And he stays right there with you, lips brushing yours, swallowing every moan and gasp like he can’t get enough of the sounds you make. Sylus isn’t just about getting you off, it’s the way he unravels you, slowly, that he seems to love the most.

Zayne

Zayne is more about the slow burn, the build-up that makes every second feel electric. He loves the tension, the way your breathing shifts, the hunger that builds between you. For him, foreplay is a lot of kissing and touching, his hands are everywhere, mapping you out as his mouth claims yours like it’s the only thing that matters.

He’s deliberate, maddeningly so, his touch slow and sensual as he explores every inch of you. His fingers trace over your curves, his lips following close behind, leaving heat in their wake. And when he starts to stretch you open, his gaze locks on yours, watching every shiver and arch like it’s his favorite show. He drinks in the way your body reacts, and there’s this silent intensity to him, like he’s completely focused on you, on making sure you feel every ounce of pleasure he’s giving you.

Zayne knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s relentless about it. One second, he’s teasing you with featherlight touches that leave you squirming, and the next, his fingers are deep, stroking you in a way that makes your mind go blank. He knows how to keep you teetering on the edge, gasping for air, your body begging for release even if you’re too wrecked to say the actual words.

The best part for him? Knowing he’s the one unraveling you. He doesn’t just want you to fall apart, he wants to watch, feel it, be the reason you lose control over and over again. And when you do, there’s this satisfied look in his eyes, like he’s just claimed another victory.

Xavier

Xavier is the kind of guy who makes foreplay almost feel like an art form. He’s focused, deliberate, and painfully thorough in all the best ways. He loves taking his time, starting slow as he lavishes attention on every inch of you, leaving no spot untouched. His touch is precise, his kisses soft and lingering, like he’s savoring every moment and determined to make it last.

His favorite? Using his mouth on you. At first, he’s unhurried, his tongue and fingers moving together in perfect rhythm, his control almost annoying as he builds your pleasure in slow waves. He watches every reaction, focused on every little shiver, every soft gasp, like he’s reading your mind and knows exactly what you need before you do.

But then there is a shift. The way your body responds, the way you gasp his name, the way your hips buck against him, it does something to him. Sweet and controlled turns hungry and desperate, his focus crumbling as he gives in to the way you’re turning him on. His grip tightens, his movements grow faster, more insistent, like he can’t hold back anymore.

He’s relentless now, his tongue and fingers working you over with an intensity that leaves you trembling, his soft groans muffled against your skin as if he’s as wrecked by this as you are. The connection between you is electric, and he’s completely lost in it, completely driven by the way you fall apart under him.

And when you’re left spent and shaking, Xavier looks at you with this mix of pride and satisfaction, his own breathing ragged. There’s nothing cocky about it, just this certainty that he’s not finished with you.

Caleb

Caleb our newest guy has that mix of curiosity and raw hunger that he brings. There’s this energy about him, like he’s as fascinated by how your body reacts as he is turning you on. He loves using his mouth, taking his time to explore every inch of you like he’s discovering something new. But his favorite? Teasing you until you’re begging for him to take control.

He starts slow, his hands barely brushing your skin, just enough to make you shiver and squirm, desperate for more. His kisses follow the same rhythm, soft and teasing at first, but then they deepen, turning hungrier with each one. He’ll find those sensitive spots and graze them with his teeth, loving the way it pulls those sharp little gasps from your lips.

And when his fingers finally slide between your thighs? It’s game over. Caleb doesn’t hold back, his touch relentless as he builds you up, orgasm after orgasm, until you’re a complete wreck beneath him. He’s close, always close, his lips brushing your neck, nipping at your skin just enough to leave a mark, his voice low and rough in your ear. “I want to hear you fall apart for me,” he murmurs, and the way he says it makes your whole body respond, like you couldn’t deny him even if you wanted to.

For Caleb, it’s about learning every inch of you, watching you lose yourself under his touch, and knowing he’s the one who got you there.

Divider by: @anitalenia

Hope you enjoyed <3

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: 𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣

𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: pet names, swearing, mutual pining, kissing, friends to lovers, fluffy, unprotected p in v, fingering, praise, teasing, soft!rafe, handjob, finger sucking, cum tasting, ownership (“you're mine”; said sweetly).

📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise is that you and Rafe have been best friends for a while, and your relationship has become more romantic, blurring the lines between.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

Vanilla and cinnamon waft through the kitchen, mixing with the string lights' warm, cozy glow. Christmas music softly plays from the living room TV, drowned out by the sounds of his laughter and yours.

Rafe was entirely too distracting and far too charming. “You sure you know what you’re doin’, sweetheart?” He teases as he leans back into the counter with that frat boy smile. His blue eyes sparkle mischievously— tousled chestnut hair falling along his forehead, so perfectly undone it’s almost unfair.

“Stop,” you laugh as you shoot him a look. “‘Course I know what I’m doing… Unlike you, Mr. ‘How does the microwave work, again? Can’t get this fuckin’ thing to start.’”

His mouth falls open in disgust as he pushes off the counter, walking to your side, bumping you with his elbow playfully. He stays close, the brush of his skin against yours sending electricity through you.

“That was one time,” he whispers playfully.

You shake your head and bite your lip as you feel the warmth of his words so close. It's closer than he usually gets, making your heart flutter. “You’re hopeless-”

”Hopelessly handsome. M’fuckin’ sexy,” he rasps as his fingers find your sides, tickling you. You scurry away, but he grabs you, pulling you back in. “Admit it,” he grins. Your cheeks burn hot from your smile, crumbling under his beautiful gaze.

The two of you have been dancing around this for weeks: flirty texts, late-night drunk phone calls that stretched out until the sun came up, lingering touches just like this. It was intoxicating and maddening.

"You’re alright," you whisper, watching the corners of his lips curl into a smile.

“Yeah?” He breathes as he moves in closer. “Could say the same about you.”

Beep.

The timer goes off, shattering the tension for the moment. You pull away reluctantly, grabbing the oven mit as your racing heart starts to slow. “Umm…” You giggle nervously. “Can you roll that out for me?”

You gesture toward the rolling pin, and Rafe nods, hanging his head slightly to conceal his smile. "Yes, ma'am," he drawls with that rich southern charm.

He walks past you, a large hand brushing against the small of your back as he makes his way to the sugar cookie dough and pin. You inhale slightly at the contact between you, making him look back with a smile.

The two of you work beside each other for a little longer—silence fills the space for the first time all night. But his heavy gaze speaks volumes as you catch him stealing glances out of the corner of your eye.

“All done,” he beams, looking down at his work proudly, the cream-colored dough spread out on the counter perfectly. You step away from your place, setting down the frosting knife before looking up at him. “Good?”

“Look at you,” you coo.

His eyes fall to your lips; mouth tugging into a quick, sly smile.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, baby,” your stomach falls as that name leaves his lips so easily that he doesn’t even notice it himself. Rafe lifts his hand, brushing his thumb against your mouth. “Got a little somethin’ on your lip. You’ve been lickin’ the spoon or what?” He hums, his voice thick and sweet like honey. He draws his thumb between his lips, sucking down as your heart thuds in your chest.

You step closer, your body drawing to Rafe like a magnet. “You’re makin’ this really hard,” he mumbles as his baby blue eyes rest on yours. “You know that, right?”

You swallow hard—your mind, a mix of emotions. “You aren’t exactly making this easy either,” you whisper.

He smiles at your words, making your knees feel weak. “What if I don’t want easy,” he asks as he cups your soft cheek in his big hand, and you tilt into his touch. "You're beautiful, princess," he mumbles, his voice reverent. "Just perfect." You turn your cheek slightly, feeling slightly nervous, but he uses his finger to draw you back in, guiding your eyes to his. “You are."

“Thank you.”

“I don't know how long I've wanted to tell you that—it's been a while. So long… too long. I just didn't wanna fuck this up.”

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper, and he looks down at you, his smile falling slightly.

“You’re my best friend, too,” he assures.

“I don't want easy either-” Before you can say anymore, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, soft and sweet, ramping up fast. A deep groan rumbles in Rafe’s throat— kiss deepening, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into his muscular chest, hearts banging against each other, the taste of sugar lingering on his soft lips.

He pulls back for a moment, your airy laugh mingling with his as your excitement bubbles up in your chest.

“Fuck, princess,” he sighs blissfully, cupping your cheeks in his ringed hands, pressing his forehead against yours.

Beep.

The timer breaks you up, and he sighs, letting you go for the moment. You step toward the oven, your head dizzy with thoughts of Rafe and what had just happened as you replace a sheet of cookies with the next item, carefully selecting the brownies to give yourself a little more time in between. You reach up, pushing the numbers, selecting thirty minutes.

Rafe bites his lips to hinder his smile, catching the boost in time from the last, watching you divert from your cooking schedule to get a little more time with him, or so he hopes.

"Should we… Umm. Should we do something while we wait?” You ask as you nod toward the living room.

“Yeah, baby,” he responds quickly, racing against the clock. He clears his throat, catching himself acting too hurriedly. “… You wanna watch a movie or somethin’ while we wait?”

The two of you walk over to the couch, crashing down on the top before pulling up Netflix. Your body feels awkward after what happened, knowing you could get away with more, trying not to go too far, just in case. You replay the kiss in your mind again and again as you look through the movie titles, not concentrating as you should, but between those thoughts and Rafe’s glances, it’s hard to focus.

”That one?” He asks gently, not looking at the screen but at you, just wanting you to pick something.

You smile and nod, selecting the movie, but it instantly fades to the background.

You inch closer, your arm touching his, the heat of your skin brushing gently. Rafe turns toward you slightly. Your head finds his shoulder; Rafe’s muscular arm stretching wide before wrapping it around your body.

He pulls you nearer, needing you close—his soft breaths syncing with yours. You reach your hand out, resting it on his thigh. Time starts to blur as the touches become bolder: tracing skin, wandering fingers, soft hums at deeper pressure, desperate touches dipping under clothes.

Beep.

You draw a resounding breath, pushing it out slowly; the air between the two of you, charged with sexual tension.

Moving quicker than usual, you pull the brownies out of the oven, carefully selecting the next: the cinnamon bread, giving you even more time.

A smile slips your lips as you look back into the living room, catching Rafe peering over the couch— caught in a moment of excitement, seeing the time himself.

You walk into the living room, feeling the anticipation rise as you get closer. Rafe sits up on the couch, and right when you get close enough, he grabs for you, pulling you on top. He wastes no time pressing his lips against yours, unwilling to take that risk again. 

The kiss is divine—deeper than before, more urgent than ever. You rest your hands on his chest, moving lower and lower as your pulse quickens. Rafe moans against your lips, sending a surge of need straight through you.

Your fingers curl under the bottom of his shirt, tugging at it slightly, and he takes his cue, pulling it off between passionate kisses. His big fingers reach up, thumbing at the buttons of your blouse, popping them open as his lips move with yours.

Reaching your hands behind your back, you unclasp your bra before he can even ask, making him moan hungrily against your lips. He buries his face in his chest, nuzzling into your sensitive skin.

Rafe takes your nipple between his plump lips, swirling and sucking as your head falls back.

He pulls away; his eyes half-lidded, pupils blown with lust. “Don’t stop,” you plead, your voice hoarse and needy.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he hums as he wraps you a little tighter in his arms, kissing along your neck. Your head falls to the side, giving him better access to you skin.

“I want you…” You whisper. “All of you. Please,” you plead.

”Right here?” He asks. You feel Rafe smile against your neck before his hand drifts under your skirt, fingers brushing against the soaked lace of your panties.

“Right here,” you whisper as you rest your hand against his pants, cupping his big, hard bulge in your hand, whimpering against his lips at his size alone.

“And what do you want right here?” He asks with a teasing edge, making you smile dreamily, thinking back to how many times you yearned for this moment, imagining this is exactly how he would act. He wants to hear it…

”I want you to fuck me, Rafe… I need you,” you slip your hand into his pants as he pushes your panties to the side.

You capture his tongue between your lips, sucking as you wrap your fingers around his thick dick. Rafe groans deeply—the pads of his rough fingers start circling your aching clit. “I wanna fuck you, princess,” he smiles as his fingers trace your soaked slit too, teasing your entrance. “I wanna push my cock deep,” he mimics his word with a thrust of his hand, fucking two long fingers in your tight hole, making you gasp. “I want you to cream all over my cock, princess. I wanna make you feel so, so good,” he hums between kisses as he curls his fingers inside you, making your toes do the same.

“Shit,” you pant as he drags his fingers across you g-spot again and again. You tug on his long cock, pulling to the tip, making him bite down on your lip as you smudge his precum over his swollen head.

"Rafe, please,” you whimper, craving more.

”You don’t wanna cum on my fingers, pretty?” He rasps, his smirk heard in his low, deep tone.

“I wanna cum on your cock… Please. I haven't…”

Rafe slows his movements slightly, tilting his forehead against yours, breathing quickly. “You’ve never cum before?” He asks, his voice laced with lust and curiosity.

“Not like that-”

“I’d be the first?” He asks hastily, and you nod your head ‘yes.’ "Fuck…” He mumbles under his breath, his voice raw with desire and need.

Before you can think, he rolls you to your back, pushing your skirt around your waist and your panties down your thighs. Rafe rises on his knees, tugging his pants down, releasing his long, hard cock.

Precum drips off his throbbing tip, landing your soft skin; rolling warmly down your inner thigh making goosebumps flair across your bare skin.

He looks down at you desperately, but you already know what he wants to ask. “I wanna feel you, Rafe,” you whisper as your fingers swirl, circling your puffy clit, making your thighs draw in, as you keep yourself on edge.

“Yeah?” He asks as he tilts down, spreading your thighs again, stroking his fat cock as he lowers himself to your lips. “You want me to fill up this perfect pussy, princess?” Your heart races as his filthy words fall from his lips—just like you guessed they would.

“… Please, baby,” you whimper, lips brushing against his as he rubs his fat tip along your slit, bumping your fingers, making you move your hand away—a look in his eyes letting you know he was going to take care of you. “I want to feel you dripping out of me.”

He moans at your words, and you gasp as he circles his head around your clit, eyes rolling back in your head. “You’re gonna, baby… All night. Alright?”

Rafe grabs your wrist, slipping your slight fingers in his mouth, tasting your pussy on his tongue for the first time. He sucks down, eyes rolling back, groaning around your digits. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he pants. “I’m gonna get you off with my mouth later… You ever done that before?”

“No…” You pant.

“Holy shit… I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? I'm gonna be all you need, I promise,” Rafe whispers as he presses his big cock against your entrance, your lips falling open from the stretch already. "Are we doing this, baby?”

“Yes-” You whisper, pulling his lips to yours as he thrusts inside. You moan against his mouth, never feeling so full.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as he bottoms you out; your warm, wet cunt wrapping around him tight.

He tips his hips upward, stretching you out even more, making you cry pitifully against his mouth. “Shit,” you whine as tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

”Baby, mpfhhh…” He grunts as he pulls back, looking at you. “Feels good?”

You nod quickly as tears of pleasure and happiness tumble down your cheek, lip tucked between your teeth. “So fucking good… More, baby. Please…”

”Yeah, sweetheart?” He asks as he drags out, letting you feel every curve and vein, brushing your tears off your face with his thumbs. “How do you want it?”

“Fast…” You whisper. “… Deep. Fuck me deep, Rafe.”

“Yeah, princess?” He asks as he starts to move, picking up the pace. “That’s how you like it?”

“Mhmm,” you respire, barely pressing the words past your lips before they get caught up in a moan. Rafe ramps up the pace, pounding you into the couch, burying you to the hilt.

Your arms wrap around him tight, nails clawing into his tanned skin, scratching down his back as his skin claps against yours.

He grunts with each thrust, the muscles in his jaw strained, trying his best to hold back his finish as you get closer to yours, wanting desperately to cum with you.

“Rafe…” You whine as you look at the slight space between your bodies, watching your sloppy cunt take every inch—Rafe’s dick pulls out each time, slicked with your wetness. “M’gonna cum.” He angles his hip, just like he had at the start, making your eyes cross slightly before fluttering shut.

”Look at me, baby. Come on,” he whispers lovingly, letting his thumb brush along your bottom lip just like it had in the kitchen earlier, that soft touch contrasting the slamming of his body against yours.

“I’m gonna-“

“Holy shit…” He moans as your pussy tightens around him, your body cumming harder than it ever has before, taking him with it. Rafe moans your name as his hips stutter, muscles flexing as he floods you with his sticky release.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you underneath him— his soft lips claiming yours tenderly as your bodies soften against eachother.

You breathe a deep sigh of relief as he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, working to your neck before tucking himself close.

Rafe’s rich cologne mixes with the warm smell of sex and the sugary sweetness around you. The sharp beep of the timer startles you both, breaking you out of your spell.

He doesn’t let go—helping you back into your clothes before walking to the kitchen. Rafe leans back into the counter as you walk toward the oven, your heart racing still.

“Not quite yet,” you giggle, pushing the three words past your lips through nerves, giving the bread a little more time.

You turn toward Rafe, and he smiles down at you. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, your words you’re both dying to say on the tips of your tongues, makes the tension and excitement between you even sweeter.

“Co’mere,” he whispers as he reaches out his hand, pulling you toward him. Your body relaxes in his— the pounding of your heart in your head slows and softens, leaving behind the gentle melody of the music playing.

You lay your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fall as you sway to the music together. The lights are low—just a twinkle above. Rafe rests his chin on your head, taking a deep, needed breath. “Are you okay, princess?” He asks sweetly.

“I am,” you smile. “That was amazing.”

Rafe’s muscles soften; his uncertainty melting away at your words. "You’re amazing," he hums, just over a whisper. You lift your eyes to Rafe’s, watching them glimmer as he looks down at you in adoration and disbelief like he still can’t believe that this happened himself. “I need to ask you somethin’…”

”Okay,” you whisper as your pounding heart muddles the sound of the music again.

"Everything I said before… I meant that. I don’t wanna keep pretending like we’re just friends. I’m done fakin’ it,” his voice lulls with emotion as he tries his best to control his feelings before speaking again. “Especially after that…”

“That was perfect,” you smile, giving him a little more assurance.

“Be mine. Officially. I want this— You and me. Alright? Just… Fuck— Just say ‘yes’.” Rafe’s vulnerability almost brings you to tears; his confidence shattered completely as he waits for you to speak, hoping for your heart.

You look up at him, pulling him a little closer, letting your soft lips brush against his, breathing a sigh of solace as you whisper the words you've always wanted to say.

"I’m yours.”

[anaconamor]

to me - jb blurb

quick sum: family reunions aren’t easy especially when you and your clingy bf have been far apart the entire evening. but hey what’s wrong with a few forbidden kisses…

“jude? you in here?” you whispered loudly careful to be sure if anyone behind the door wasn’t asleep or busy. “i’m here,” jude opened the door a small and tired smile in his lips when he saw you. you let out a sigh of relief, throwing yourself almost immediately to him, jude chuckling but not holding back from hugging you tight.

his eyes closed and now happier, the familiar fancy scent invading his senses and knowing he was at peace. the bad mood he was in disappearing almost immediately when you tugged on his shirt, a sign to him that all you wanted was this. to be held. to be loved. to makeup for the past few hours.

“i tried to get away as soon as possible but my aunt just kept pushing and asking for more and more help,” you say muffled. if there’s was one thing about you, it was how much of a people pleaser you were, wanting to make sure people were content and satisfied even if you didn’t feel at your very best.

“we just finished the cupcakes and cut up all the fruit. i saved you some so you we can make a smoothie tomorrow. we still have so much to pack and decorate but i had to see you jude,” you continued.

this reunion was planned last minute as you were celebrating your parents anniversary all together by the shore. you brought jude along knowing you had little time before he returned back to international duty. though what you didn’t expect was to be far from the each other and ordered to sleep in separate rooms. not being able to share a single glance unless you crossed paths in a hall or room.

it was all unfair. especially to jude because of how attached he was to you. no one had to tell him, he knew himself and he didn’t mind one bit. so you being here now, even if it meant for five minutes, it was a maddening drive.

“y/n,”

“hmm?” you replied tiredly, your hand sneaking up all the way up his spine to resting it on his neck, thumb brushing along his skin softly. “please don’t leave me again… just stay here and we can enjoy the rest of the night here,” jude begged, lifting you up effortlessly and bringing you to the bed.

“i wish i could handsome but there’s so much that needs to be done before we can all finally rest,” you cuddle into his embrace, your nose tracing his now soft jaw where he recently shaved, pressing a kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “and you know how my family feels about us staying together,” you pout.

“yet your family doesn’t know what we do back home,” jude said smugly where you gasped and hit his chest. “stop it!” you warned getting shy and nervous. “they’re not here, and they don’t know what their sweet innocent y/n is like when she’s with me, hmm,” jude cocked his head to the side, tracing a small stand of your hair as you kept shaking your head. almost in denial yourself.

“and they won’t ever know,” you say, feeling jude’s hand rest just below your bum, then grabbing your free hand and giving your knuckles sweet and gentle kisses that made you swoon. you’d never complain or get tired of this. how affectionate, how adorned, how loving he was behind closed doors. with you and only you.

jude often got told how quiet and reserved he was. how angry and impatient he was on the field. or how his quick tempered was easily seen. but with you? it’s like a flip of a switch. a happy jude who was cling to his girlfriend and never wanted to let go or leave.

“yet you’re here, do they know that?”

“no…”

“good, because all i want,” jude got up bringing you to his lap where you giggled and shushed him as the bed creaked. “all i want is to take care of my girl,” he brushed his hand over your cheek, “and be hidden away in here with her,” he pressed a small kiss on your lips. hearing you intake a small breath of hesitation yet yearning for more.

“i can’t get over the fact i get to call you mine,” jude relished biting his bottom lip as his hand dragged your sides and traced down to your hips. “that i’m lucky enough to have you in my life,” he stared into your eyes then looked down at your necklace with his initial. “that i get to be with your forever and ever,” jude said cheekily before giving you another kiss to test the waters.

you frown leaning in for another but jude pulls back. having to resist or else then yoor whole family will know where you’re at, and what you’re doing behind the closed door that’s meant to be opened. “if i continue kissing you i won’t be able to stop baby,” jude said heavily, “i don’t trust myself especially when you look so breathtaking i’m this summer dress.”

“one more jude,” you asked, shifting closer to him, jude closing your eyes but giving in because he knew he couldn’t deny you anything. if you wanted something, you got exactly that. and if in this moment you wanted a kiss that meant and lasted a lifetime, he’d grant you that despite the restrictions he made.

he kissed you softly, relishing the playful and softness from you before he managed to lift and set your back onto the mattress. now on top of you where he controlled, soft licks that turned into a teeth clashing makeup session, with heavy breathing, groans and tiny whimpers that escaped your lips.

“if your family comes looking and they find you like this?” he taunted, feeling as you squeezed and pressed his pelvis down onto you. “in this small room with your boyfriend?” his lips pressed onto your pulse point giving you wet kisses before blowing air, making you shiver in pleasure and anticipation. your nerves on fire as you knew what would happened.

“then they’ll have to deal with because i want you. forever.”

[temis-de-leon]

Demon Brothers realizing their feelings for reader

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 2 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Requested by Romance Anon

A/N: just like in the dateables version, this feels like an extra to the other parts, so definitely check them out. Hope you enjoy this! Even if they're a little ooc...

.

Mammon

Saying that Mammon gets no respect in his own house is a given. He’s a joke amongst his brothers, a fool who only seeks metallic sheen; guilty until proven innocent.

Bluffing and throwing empty threats around is his way of maintaining at least some of his remaining dignity, even if no one buys it.

So when you, a weak dumb human, are put under his responsibility, his priority is making clear who’s in charge.

He shows his fangs and talks harshly, wasting no time in letting you know how unimportant you are to him and how many things he could and will do to you if you disobey his orders or ignore his requests.

Of course he’ll rummage through your room and see if he can sell something of yours, but soon his visits become too frequent and soon he lacks his treasure-hunting mindset.

Mammon doesn’t know what to think about the disappointment he feels when he opens the door and you’re not there, when he hears your voice in the living room talking to someone else or when you’re partnered with some faceless demon in class projects.

He keeps the insults to try and compensate for the weakness that falling in love with you carries. You have to see it, how could you not? And even if you don’t, his brothers’ little jests would give you enough hints.

It’s maddening, having you so close and so out of reach at the same time; but maybe, surely, that is his fault.

.

Leviathan

It’s so unfair.

Why does he have to be the Avatar of Envy when he is clearly the least everything among his brothers?

Well, perhaps he’s better than Mammon at some things, but still.

He knows he isn’t as imposing as Lucifer or as pretty as Asmo and he doesn’t even want to compare himself to Beel; he still remembers them all criticizing his hermit habits and his consequential soft tummy.

Staying inside his room is, undeniably, the best way to protect himself from his sin. It’s a sanctuary made for him, Henry and all of his prized possessions; he doesn’t need anything else.

And then he meets you.

You don’t force him out of his room, which makes it easier for him to come out on his own, and you don’t mock his interests either. You are empathetic, eager to explore, fun to be around… All in all, being close to you makes him feel lighthearted.

Levi cherishes you so much it doesn’t take him too long to want you as close to him as possible.

Where are you? With who? Why? Were you having a good time? Better than the moments you’ve shared with him? Do you miss him? He has something to show you, so hurry up!

He notices the change in his heart the moment you make him blush for the first time, heartbeat so fast it makes his chest tremble.

It is somewhat hopeless; he knows you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way. Why would you?

No, he’d rather not go through that pain; he’s happy being just your friend.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

.

Satan

You fascinate him.

Not like a book or a painting would, much less a cat, but like a mystery. He doesn’t understand you and that angers and fascinates him in equal amounts; it makes him want to investigate you further than he would with any other person.

He observes, taking you in as neutrally as possible, and marvels at the way you prove wrong everything he thinks he knows about humans and what he assumes about you based on that knowledge.

When he lashed his tail and bared his teeth, back then, in the darkness of his room when he still thought so lowly of you, you stood up to him and didn’t move an inch. Clearly afraid, but not backing up, facing him with determination.

You’d later tell him it was adrenaline, which picks his interest further.

His privacy is his own and he still enjoys spending time alone in his room or out in the city doing his own thing, but the desire to keep your company for himself every hour of the day grows stronger by the second.

Smiling at the mere sight of you, hearing the pounding of his heart in his ears and impatiently waiting for his phone to light up and show your name on the screen are just some of the many new changes your presence in his life has brought.

The more he feels, the more he sees himself in his novels. Whether the narrative is in his favour or not, he doesn’t know, but he’s enjoying every bit of it.

.

Asmodeus

Being called beautiful is for him as usual and natural as breathing air and drinking water, but that doesn’t mean it goes under the radar. While he lives in abundant loving words and adoring phrases, there’s never enough to satisfy him and he works hard to keep the flattery coming his way.

His body is a temple he vows to maintain and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to carry that promise.

A sleep schedule that helps his hair grow, clears his skin and makes his mind feel lighter and happier; makeup and clothes carefully selected to enhance his attractiveness; and nails perfectly filed and painted multi-coloured to express his versatility. 

Of course, not all of him is based on looks. You can’t feed a fan club just solely on a picture!

He has a Deviltube channel where he engages with his beloved followers, parties to interact with them as well and other, more intimate, reunions that bring them all impossibly closer.

He thinks, rightfully so, that no one could ever come close to what he has achieved over time.

Then again, you always manage to surprise him.

While not as beautiful as him, there’s something about you that makes it impossible for him to stop admiring you and drinking in your entire presence.

It’s not just your face or your body, or the clothes you wear or how you do your makeup if you even decide to put it on. It’s your heart and your soul and the way you make him feel more loved than anyone could’ve ever done before.

There’s not a single ounce of jealousy in his eyes whenever he looks at you. You’re not competition, but part of him.

Finally, someone to share the spotlight with.

.

Beelzebub

A common misconception people tend to believe about him is his lack of emotional capacity, although he can understand his mostly speechless and stern demeanour and his food-driven actions don’t help at all.

His mind is usually focused on one thing and one thing only and that is filling his everlasting empty stomach. How can he concentrate on anything else when its growls are easily compared to Cerberus’s roars? When he salivates until he drools or when the aching need to consume something makes his vision turn red.

While it’s sometimes difficult for him to think straight or “read the room”, as Levi says, he’s well aware of what he feels at every moment of the day. Hunger is the usual answer, but there’s also love and protection for his family and, lately, for you as well.

It’s a different type of love, one he doesn’t feel often, but he recognizes it nonetheless and accepts it as quietly as he would with any other emotion, although his reddened cheeks and darkened glance speak volumes.

He loves you and wants you deeply, there’s no doubt about that, but he won’t act on it on impulse. As delicious as he thinks you’d be, you’re not some sort of candy ready to be chewed on in mere seconds.

Beel is impatient when it comes to his needs, yes, but he’s willing to wait for you.

Sometimes, the best meals are the ones being left to rest.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Imagine House who can tell something is off with you but can't figure out what. It bothers him immensely, and he gets prickly about it. Now, when you finally tell him you're pregnant, he damn near has a heart attack.

A/n: I LOVE THIS!

House loved you.

Truly...you were the one person besides Wilson that seemed to see the best in a cynical bastard like himself.

But of their was one thing he couldn't stand not being able to figure something out and right now you were putting him in that moment.

House had knew something was off with you, and it was driving him crazy. You'd been acting differently for weeks—distracted, quiet at times, and oddly sentimental in others. You’d smile at him like you had a secret, then brush it off when he asked you what was going on.This was maddening. He hated being out of the loop.

His frustration started bubbling to the surface in typical House fashion—sharp comments, teasing questions disguised as jabs, and an almost childish insistence that you were hiding something from him.

“You’re fidgeting,” he said one evening as you both sat on the couch. He gestured with his cane as if it were a pointer, accusing you as if you were on trial. “You never fidget. Unless you’ve taken up a secret career as a poker player, there’s something you’re not telling me...what is it?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep a straight face. “Greg, not everything has to be some big mystery.”

“Except when it is,” he shot back. “You’ve been weird lately. Quieter. Glowing, but not in your usual annoyingly optimistic way. It’s like…sunshine and overpowering of sunshine but with a side of nerves. So Spill.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. He was so perceptive it was almost unfair, but this time, you didn’t feel quite ready to tell him. Not yet, not when you had to make sure“Maybe I’ve just been working too much.”

House narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. “Or maybe you’re secretly building a bunker for the end of the world. Honestly, that seems more plausible.”

You laughed, leaning into his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” he quipped, poking your side gently. But the smirk on his face faded as he looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “Seriously, Y/n. If something’s going on, you can tell me. I’m not as scary as I look nor as fragile."

You hesitated, your smile faltering for just a moment before you shook your head. “Not yet, Greg. I’ll tell you when I’m ready....please."

With a grumble, House relaxed into the couch but this was far from over.

It was a week later, and House was still obsessing over it. He found himself analyzing every move yoy made, every shift in your tone. He was annoyed—at you for keeping him in the dark and at himself for caring so much.

But that night, you decided it was time. You couldn’t keep it to yourself any longer, not when he was practically bursting with curiosity. They were in his apartment, eating takeout, when you set down your fork and took a deep breath.

“Greg, we need to talk,” you said softly.

House froze mid-bite, his brain instantly jumping to the worst-case scenario. His eyes narrowed. “That’s never a good start. Are you dying? Did you cheat on me? Wait, don’t answer that—I’d know. I’m a doctor.”

You shook your head, smiling at his dramatics. “No, I’m not dying. And no, I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Well, that narrows it down to alien abduction or—”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hit him like a freight train. For a moment, he didn’t react at all, just staring at you with wide eyes as his brain worked overtime to process what you'd just said. Then, slowly, he set his takeout box aside, his hands suddenly feeling too clumsy to hold anything.

“You’re…pregnant?” he repeated, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could have sworn he might have a heart attack.

You nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes. About two months.”

House blinked, his usual quick wit completely failing him. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Finally, he let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I…you’re serious?”

He didn't know how that was never an option in his made up scenarios. Maybe it was due to him thinking it couldn't happen, that he didn't deserve to be happy, didn't deserve this.

He could see it now, now that you said it, now that he got a proper look at you. You had a soft glow about you. The one he'd often see in expecting mothers in the hospital, the subtle curve of your stomach. He suddenly felt like an idiot now.

“Yes, Greg,” you said, your tone gentle. “I’m serious.”

He leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to the universe. “Holy crap,” he muttered. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his stunned expression. “Is that a good ‘holy crap’ or a bad one?”

House looked at you then, his blue eyes wide and unguarded in a way you rarely saw. Slowly, a small, almost boyish smile spread across his face. “It’s…a terrifying ‘holy crap.’ But I think it’s also a good one.”

Relief washed over you, as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I know it’s a lot, Greg. But I think we can do this. Together.”

He squeezed your hand, his mind racing. “We’re having a baby,” he said again, as if saying it out loud would make it more real. Then, in true House fashion, he added with a smirk, “This kid’s gonna have your brains and my charm. God help the world.”

You laughed, leaning into his side. “And your sarcasm, I’m sure.”

“And your optimism,” he countered, his tone softening as he looked at you. “Kid’s gonna be unstoppable.”

For the first time in a long time, House felt something he rarely allowed himself to feel: hope. Sure, he was terrified. He had no idea how to be a father, but as he sat there with your hand in his, he realized something important.

He wasn’t alone in this. And maybe, just maybe, he could figure it out—with you.

[yestrday]

ok but like a yandere whose life you've absolutely ruined by simply being better. all his life he's been groomed to be the very best at everything he does— academics, sports, extracurriculars, etc... and here you are, the oblivious transfer student breaking everything he's built for himself without a care in the world. he was indifferent to you at the start, just another passing shadow in his world, but now he's staring at you, eyes livid.

and you either don't care or don't notice. you continue to live your life to the fullest. you smile and laugh loudly with your friends while you make plans on where to karaoke after class. you kick back a stray ball and it goes flying back to the soccer team in a perfect arc, and everyone else cheers and whoops, impressed. he wished you had gotten hit in the face. maybe that would make him feel better.

he doesn't get it. how can anyone so effortlessly do the things that he's been giving his all to achieve? life is so unfair, and you are another reminder that the world is full of shit.

and he hates, hates, hates how you tease him, mocking him but not quite so. you know you're better, you're aware of how his fingers clench his paper when he sees you score higher, how he bites his lip when you're one slot above him in the exam scoreboard. no one sees it but him— that coy, poisonous smile you wear when you pull down your eye and stick your tongue at him. you infuriate him and he hates how you're getting a kick out of it.

but you're not all that, you know? in the end, you're just flesh and bones. so you better keep yourself in line lest he beats the bitch out of your pretty lil head.

"gah–! r-resorting to violence now, are we?" he looms over you, huffing as he looks at you with those dark, maddened eyes. you're on the floor, ankle twisted and blood flowing from your nose, but you still grin at him as if it's nothing. "someone's a sore loser."

"shut up."

"had to pull me into this crusty alley like a freak, just to punch out all your inferiority complex on me." your laugh is scratchy and you cough a few times. "did you seriously stalk me all the way here so you can do your petty revenge?"

he doesn't answer. instead he scans your body. head bleeding thanks to bashing it against the wall a few times, arms scratched due to the little fight you put up earlier, and fatigued face maintaining your coy facade despite the clear effort it took. this is the most pathetic he's seen you, and god does that give him a power rush.

"i'm not done with you yet," he murmurs. he picks you up by the collar, an easy feat thanks to your worn-out state, and crouches down. "i'm gonna fuckin' break you, bitch."

you tilt your head back and laugh, eyes glimmering at his promise. "hot," you grin at him. "that's really fuckin' hot."

in the reflection of your eyes, his expression stares back at him. surprise? horrified? ... excited? he doesn't know why you're enjoying this, but it's stirring feelings within him that spurs him to lean forward and enjoy the heat of your mouth and the copper of your blood on his tongue.

SCARAMOUCHE (genshin impact), REO, isagi, KAISER (blue lock), BAKUGOU, dabi, shigaraki (bnha), SATAN (obey me) +any of your toxic faves

[demonpiratehuntress]

dreams

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

summary - majority of your dreams seem to manifest in the real world somehow, so when you have one about your crush and your best friend...things get a little out of control.

warnings - heavy angst (im sorry), hurt to comfort

a/n: when i started writing for this fandom i PROMISED myself i would not make it all angst and no fun, but oh well :))))) idek where this idea came from, i need help

You woke up from a nap with the sickening urge to empty your stomach overboard. Nausea reared its ugly head, and before you could even try to tame the feeling, you were sprinting to the side of the ship to empty your stomach.

What exactly was the cause?

This would sound insanely ridiculous, and to you it really was, but you had a weird dream. And it didn't sit well with you. Most of the dreams you had often became a reality, albeit with slight changes. There were some that didn't, but almost all of them came true eventually or manifested in a similar way at some point.

And that's probably the reason you couldn't stop yourself from vomiting obscenely before your stunned - and confused - crew.

"(Name), are you okay?" Nami asked worriedly, coming over to you.

You flinched away from her, increasing her confusion, before turning and running off to the bathroom. She exchanged looks with the others who were out on deck - Usopp and Luffy - before shrugging it off and going back to mapping the ship's course.

The truth was, you had a completely unexpected yet maddening dream while napping, one that you prayed to any god who would listen would not come true. You had dreamed of Zoro - the man you had the biggest crush on - and Nami, which may seem an odd coupling and probably was but you couldn't control your dreams. Much like how you couldn't control how you felt about it, despite it only being a fictional idea your mind concocted.

You went straight to yours and Nami's room after cleaning yourself up, setting up the divider that separated your section from hers so you wouldn't have to deal with seeing her if she came in. Your behaviour was unfair to her, since you knew she would never do anything like that, nor did she have any romantic interest in Zoro. In fact, she barely had any interest in the swordsman at all. But according to your dream, that might change.

You curled up on your bed, pulling the blanket right up over your head to shield yourself from the real world. The familiar feeling of something wet running down your cheek informed you that you had started crying, but you couldn't care less. You couldn't move. You didn't have the energy to move, much less bring your hand up to wipe your tears away. So you just lay there, curled up in a foetal position, trying - and miserably failing - to get your mind off it.

A while later, a knock at your door caused you to jerk up in your bed, before you groaned and flopped back down.

"Go away!"

"Nami said you're sick," came Sanji's voice, "So I made you some soup. Please open the door."

You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't either of the two people you were currently trying to avoid. Slowly dragging yourself out of bed, you had to make even more effort to get yourself to the door. Forgetting that you had just been crying, you opened it and let the cook in, confused when his expression immediately grew alarmed.

"(Name), why are you crying??" He immediately set the soup down and pulled you into a comforting hug - one that seemed to be much warmer than usual right now.

"I-I'm fine," you mumbled into his shoulder, "Just not well."

He nodded, falling for your excuse, before pulling away to hand you the soup, "Here, this should help. If you need more, or if you need anything else, just let me know." He smiled at you, before leaving you alone once again.

You sat back down on your bed and ate the soup - because who can say no to Sanji's cooking, even if you're not really in the mood to eat? And it did help, the warmth helping to settle your queasy stomach and alleviate the nausea if only a little bit. Minutes after you finished it, there was another knock and you frowned, wondering who it was now.

You didn't answer, in fear of it being Zoro.

Just the thought of Zoro had you replaying that dream all over again, and before you could stop yourself or at least soften the sound, sobs were wracking your body and you were burying your face in your hands, crying into their warmth.

The door opened and a familiar set of heavy footsteps reached your ears before the bed dipped beside you. Your entire body froze up, tensing at the arrival of the green-haired swordsman. Your sobs fell silent, hiccups replacing them as you stilled and tried your best to quell your sadness - still keeping your face hidden.

"What happened?" Came that usually-comforting deep voice you loved so much, but that now caused your nausea to return. "What's wrong, (Name)?"

"Please go away," you found yourself speaking, not wanting to push him away but knowing you'd feel even more ridiculous if he found out how you felt about him while you were recounting a silly dream.

"No."

Usually the swordsman would leave without a word if you asked for space, or if you told him to go away, but this time he could see you were absolutely not okay and you needed someone. Luffy wouldn't be a good idea, Usopp wouldn't know what to do, and you seemed to be avoiding Nami. And he sure as hell did not want that stupid cook anywhere near you right now, in fear of him comforting you so well that the swordsman would lose you to him entirely.

You didn't respond to that, so Zoro brought his hands up to slowly and gently peel yours away from your face. You let him, shocking yourself, and the sight of your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained face caused his heart to constrict painfully.

"Tell me what's wrong."

He held your hands in his own, not wanting to let go. He had waited so long to be able to hold them, and he was glad for this excuse to. But he was heartbroken seeing you so upset and apparently sick over something he didn't know about yet. He gently squeezed your hands, silently encouraging you to speak. He wasn't good with words, but if comfort was what you needed he would do and say whatever he could to make your pain go away.

"It's you and Nami."

He stiffened. He didn't know what that meant, but just hearing he was part of the reason you were so upset made his heart sink.

"What did we do?"

"It's...um...it's silly," you replied quietly, voice low but pain still evident. "It doesn't matter." You tried pulling your hands away, but Zoro only gripped them tighter.

"It does, if it's making you this upset."

Reluctantly, you relayed to him what you had dreamed about, voice cracking halfway through as more tears fell. You felt even sillier saying it to someone else, especially him, and avoided making eye-contact throughout the entire explanation. When you finished, you shot him a small, brief glance - only to do a double take when you saw the absolutely horrified and disgusted look on his face.

"Me and the thief?" He questioned, distaste clear in his tone. "You've got to be kidding me." He sighed, sneakily shifting closer to you on the bed. "That can't be possible."

"But-"

"Some of your dreams don't come true," he reminded you, "This is definitely one of those. You want to know how I know?"

You nodded slowly, biting your lip.

You did not expect his next words.

"Because I already dream about doing that with you."

Your jaw dropped. If you were like Luffy, it would have probably dropped all the way to the floor, you were so stunned by his confession. Your formerly slowed heartbeat picked up speed again, heat filling your cheeks as you processed his words.

"Me?"

"Mhm. Only you. Been a recurring dream, actually."

As you stuttered out an incomplete sentence and then stammered through some nonsense, Zoro leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against yours, locking you in a slow but sweet kiss. His lips were warm and soft, inviting you to lean into him and return the kiss. The affectionate gesture had butterflies blooming in your stomach.

"I'm sorry," you whispered once you remembered how to speak.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling you into a warm, comforting and secure embrace.

You sat like that quietly for a while, Zoro rubbing soothing circles onto your back while you clung to him, face buried in his neck. He kissed the top of your head every few minutes, in between mumbling sweet words of comfort into your ear - mainly "you're beautiful" and "i'm yours" because he didn't know what else to say. But it was enough for you.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"You should clear things up with Nami. She's upset because you're not talking to her."

"I know...later."

He chuckled and tightened his grip on you, keeping you warm and increasingly happy in his strong arms. He didn't intend on letting go, but that was good because you didn't want him to.

BONUS:

"STUPID MOSSHEAD!"

Loud banging and clanging jerked you awake the morning after your confessions, the sound of Sanji's loud exclamation having woken you - but not Zoro - up. He probably had woken up the others as well.

You tried to get up to see what was wrong, but Zoro refused to let go. He was still sleeping, but his arms wound around you even tighter, pulling you back against him. You sighed, knowing you could ask someone else later anyway.

Nami poked her head around the divider and smirked, "He's upset that Zoro finally confessed and ruined his chance to woo you."

You laughed at that, "Give him an hour, max. Then he'll try to woo you."

She groaned, "I'm already dreading it."

The two of you laughed, and it felt good to be back on speaking terms with her. Even though, strictly speaking, you hadn't had a reason not to be in the first place. But oh well.

The power of dreams...

[wickmitz]

i think you absolutely hit the nail on the head with a lot of this post! there is certainly a lot of deeply rooted misogyny inherent in the fandom, as well as an obvious double standard that is rather tiring to repeatedly see. people show overt sympathy towards characters like rocky, mordecai, freckle, and the likes -- meanwhile critcal eyes are constantly turned towards mitzi and ivy in particular, two women who are expected to act like mother figures or behave more maturely in comparison to their male friends and counterparts. you can’t discuss how rocky has agency without someone still implying that mitzi should be responsible for him anyway, simply because rocky is mentally ill and needs help. ivy is expected to innately understand freckle, a boy she barely knows and a boy who refuses to set any boundaries, and is also held to a standard of ‘maturity’ that freckle himself is exempt from. freckle, a character who has such severe anger issues to the point of going on scary, murderous rampages, is given more inherent grace than ivy, a misguided girl who’s worst crime is being forceful and pushy. and, like rocky with mitzi, freckle’s reserved nature is more than just a personality trait he has! when ivy implies rocky told her about their shared past, freckle looks nauseous and panicked -- he is not only shy, but purposefully guarded around ivy, perhaps due to fear she’ll discover things she won’t like. but is this discussed? is this a factor people consider in the frepper relationship? that freckle is just as responsible for setting boundaries as ivy is responsible for respecting them? from what i’ve seen, no. women in lackadaisy are treated as if they’re omniscient figures rather than human beings with a lot of their own issues on their plate ; where they should know everyone’s suffering intimately, and then take responsibility for said suffering, even if it’s not their fault. it is not up to the men in their lives to tell them how they feel or to ask for help, nor is it up to any of the men to perhaps care for the women in turn … it is wholly the women’s burden instead.

mitzi is insanely stressed out of her mind, going through intense grief, is suffering from multiple relationship losses and threats to her life and business, and is currently holding all of that pain inside of her that she can’t and won’t share. she’s in a bad state of mind ( and i point this out constantly in my wickmitzi analysis here and here ) and is, frankly, in no condition to care for herself -- much less multiple other people. but despite her own pain, she tries catering to the lives around her anyway. and not once do i see anyone claiming mitzi ‘needs someone to take care of her’ or ‘be nice to her’ or what have you. she is expected to burden this alone and to suck it up and care for the other characters, more importantly male characters like the band, rocky, and zib. she is expected to coo and be kind and soothe all their wounds and be agreeable, meanwhile fans view zib’s rather cruel words and behavior towards her in vestige as justified -- or, at least, they never bring it up, simply because it doesn’t matter to them. instead, i see mitzi’s actions in that section be constantly brought up, as proof that zib deserves better and is a poor little meow meow who mitzi is oh so cruel towards. people claim mitzi is undeserving of zib’s loyalty and is using it ruthlessly for her own gain when … again, zib is fully capable of making his own choices, and mitzi cannot force him to stay. she is still blamed for his misery regardless though, the same way she is blamed for anything rocky does, simply because he’s ‘doing it for her,’ despite her sometimes not asking for it. people say mitzi’s selfish for holding onto atlas the way that she does, and that she deserves to be justly punished for making others suffer with her … but mordecai, someone who has the exact same motivations and grief, someone who has actively done worse with said grief ( like shooting viktor in the knee and completely disabling him for life ), is offered sympathy. people want mordecai to move on but they want him to have a happy ending afterwards as well, to reconcile with everyone he’s hurt and to heal properly. but mitzi? she deserves to be alone and in jail or dead, apparently. for some reason, her actions are ‘unforgivable’, even if she hasn’t done anything to the severity as mordecai has just yet.

we’re so down for lacy and elsa because they stay in their lane and don’t bother the men lmao.

this part in particular was rather enlightening to me, because i’ve always known something was up with this but could never articulate why lacy and elsa were popular and seen as ‘better’ than the other women around them. elsa and lacy are traditional caretakers, with both of them having subservient positions and adhering to the orders of men without fuss. in lacy’s case, she even goes above and beyond, to the point where it’s implied and joked about that wick wouldn’t survive a day without her at his side. this dynamic is treated as cute and funny, and to be fair, i also find it cute and fun! but it is also rather unfair that lacy is burdened with all these extra tasks she’s not required to do. and this also says something about wick himself. he’s a thirty-something year old man who’s so utterly reckless with his drinking and choices that he has to have a young twenty-something woman handle him at all times. yet lacy is praised for this! for caring so deeply about wick and being protective of him! and wick’s part in all of this isn’t ever brought up, seen as questionable, or is considered to imply a multitude of flaws on his end. elsa, similarly, plays clean-up for her husband and brother often. they throw some random man on a table with his brain exposed and tell her to fix it, and she does. they decide by themselves to start rumrunning for the lackadaisy again, and when marigold comes to their door, she covers for them without faltering. elsa, on the surface, is the exact kind of woman most people can tolerate because she’s quiet, good at caretaking, soft and sad looking, and is out of the way. she is not invasive and her presence is never loud, and she leaves the men be for the most part, you know? serafine is also more well regarded by the fandom, but that’s simply because she’s ’unabashedly evil’, meaning her flaws can be turned into quirks and the likes. it’s a rather interesting phenomenon, in the sense that it all comes back to the black and white mindset fandoms have so rapidly developed nowadays.

there’s so much more i could say here honestly. and there are many points i could also repeat. like, yes, as much as i adore rocky, it is undeniable that he is an extremely difficult person to be around. and that, like it or not, mitzi is 100% within her right to be disappointed or frustrated with him when he messes up, especially since rocky messes up big time. this does not make her cold or uncaring or ignorant or evil, it makes her human. tracy said it the best herself here :

Yes. There are characters that care about Rocky, but it's complicated. It is possible to love someone, for instance, while not really being able to abide living with them. It's possible to care about someone without wishing to be inseparable buddies with them.

The core of Rocky's nature does make it difficult for him to find places where he easily fits in, and that much is not really his fault. However, he does have agency, and he has - with gusto - taken on a role that calls for him to lean into the destructive aspect of his nature. It's fine to feel a bit sympathetic about the first part, but that doesn't mean that he should get a pass on the rest, narratively speaking. Some of the lumps he's taken have been unearned, but many of them have been the results of his own (often violent) machinations.

so claiming that, on top of all of mitzi’s own issues and trauma and stressors, she has to take responsibility for rocky in his really messy entirety is rather cruel, and frankly not a good idea at all. and while he does deserve grace and care, so does mitzi … and everyone else in the cast. rocky is not particularly special because he’s suffering hard, because everyone else is suffering to a degree too, and i fail to understand how such kindness can’t be afforded to everyone else -- especially characters like mitzi and ivy. nobody talks about how ivy was forced to witness rocky get hurt like that, how she had to hold a gun at two men who were trying to kill them to try and save his life, and then had to take care of said friend afterwards because he’d otherwise just waste away in his car by his lonesome. she’s only eighteen! she was scared shitless! and yet prevailed for rocky’s sake and her own, despite having no help whatsoever. it’s shocking how quickly i can forget the pain mitzi and ivy have gone through simply because it’s never brought up by fans due to how much it pales in comparison to the men’s pain … i guess? even if their suffering is as simple as having money stolen from them or being too shy to … tell a girl no? i’ll see essays upon essays analyzing the men’s agony and their ‘very complicated!’ bonds with one another, but the women are reduced to being mentioned occasionally in those essays, and are mostly dehumanized in mitzi’s case. i feel like if you refuse to think about the girls in lackadaisy, then you are missing a rather large part of the story itself too. and it’s just … sad to see!

this post, nor my own additions to it, aren’t claiming that the lackadaisy women should be treated like angels or that they are flawless. these posts aren’t even hating on the men of lackadaisy either! i mean, both of our blogs have wick in the name, how could we actually hate that man in any capacity? this post is merely calling out some very odd takes that have been seen before, ones that keep circulating, and i think op is valid to bring it up. it’s okay to have biases and the likes, we all do, but if you’re trying to take lackadaisy more seriously, then perhaps make sure you’re viewing every character through a similar lense rather than vastly different ones. at the end of the day this is literally the ‘flawed, messy, and immature characters’ tragicomedy comic after all.

reading comprehension check! women do not ask men to be obsessed with them. women are not responsible for the things men do because they are obsessed with them. this goes double if a man repeatedly downplays the lengths he goes to and the horrific things he does due to his obsession with a woman! thanks for coming to my ted talk

[noideasforausername]

crumpled letter.

description: sirius black x literally whoever (self-insert or existing character, anything works)

word count: 0.7k

warnings: angst? (basically all I write is angst are we even surprised at this point)

───────────

Sirius was used to being on the receiving end of an absurd number of letters – written confessions – on the regular. It had been admittedly entertaining at first, grown rapidly concerning and ended up becoming quite bothersome. By his sixth year, he’d taken the habit of simply throwing them away: the dizzying shades of pink an eyesore, particularly first thing in the morning.  

Blue, black, red and occasionally gold ink, all conveying one clear message through their various deviations from the boring “I like you” (that is, of course, with one singular and minuscule heart over each individual i). 

That particular morning, things were about as outwardly ordinary as possible: the nauseatingly colourful pile dropped next to Sirius’ goblet a testament to this statement.  

It seemed that the owls’ brief period of strike was over – for Hogwarts had seen this rare phenomenon earlier that year, the animals having reached abnormally high levels of annoyance with the repetitive act of carrying the garish mail to a less-than-grateful black-haired student. 

Sirius had half a mind to leave them there. Maybe that would give his faceless – and nameless in some cases – admirers a hint. But he didn’t. Instead, he crumpled them all up with a flick of his wand, a motion he knew by heart, and stuffed them in his pocket (the waiting room before they’d inevitably find their home in the depths of the nearest trash can.)

Amongst them, a white envelope. One so ordinary it should have stood out from the pile. Black ink on a standard piece of parchment.

 

“Here it goes. I have tried writing this with flourish and charm, but this is my last piece of parchment and I fear I will chicken out if I do not send this now. 

I’m aware the chances of you reading this are slim. Perhaps that’s why I decided to write you in the first place. But I have tried everything. And being a small speck in the sandstorm that causes that frown to appear on your forehead every morning seemed a fair price to pay.  

Let me start, or better yet continue, by clarifying one thing: this is not a love letter. I am not writing to beg for a chance of your eyes meeting mine in anything more than a passing coincidence. Instead, I hope that this will end up at the bottom of your pocket, and that the rage I hold will burn a hole right through that expensive black silk, setting the rest of the letters aflame and silencing the voices you crush daily with the barest swish of the wrist. 

You, Sirius Orion Black, are infuriating. Your face is irksome. Your grin is positively maddening. The curve of your cheekbones, the angle of your jawline, the glint in your eyes, the way you so effortlessly carry yourself – as if taking up space is what you were born to do. I’ve come to believe that you are taunting me indirectly.  

And I wish you would stop. Or maybe what’s even more aggravating is that I can’t picture a life in which you do. It is unfair, that we are unable to look at the sun for too long without being blinded, and yet no matter how long my eyes rest on you, my vision stays intact.  

I have made it my mission to ignore you. But not only has this proven impossible, my stubborn nature has blown this situation out of proportions, resulting in a pair of invisible, unmovable binoculars that constantly seek you out having replaced my eyes.  

I have no explanation, no enchantment ever recorded matches the effect you seem to have on me. This slow, torturous, pit in my stomach knowing that somewhere between these walls, your chest is rising and falling in rhythm with my own.  

I have many more insults to throw your way, but I am running out of paper. All that to say, though you may believe you dispose only of devoted admirers, there is someone in this very castle whose life has been thrown off its axis for no apparent reason other than your very existence. I hope that getting this off my chest and sending it your way will break this unbearable cycle. If not, this is my formal way of telling you to fuck off Sirius Black. Fuck off and put my life back the way it was.” 

[fourthavecafe]

Oml, I love your work, pls pls pls another part of hisoka unfair methods. Need belly button tickles lmao

────୨ৎ─────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ────

You were mid stretch, your body bent over as you reached for your toes. Today was supposed to be a calm day just a little bit of exercise and maybe some banter with Hisoka, who had somehow wormed his way into your workout routine.

Of course, peace and Hisoka rarely existed in the same space.

“You’re surprisingly flexible” Hisoka commented, his voice smooth and teasing.

“You’re surprisingly annoying” you shot back, rolling your eyes without looking at him.

Behind you, Hisoka chuckled. That low, musical laugh of his always carried a hint of danger, like he knew something you didn’t. You didn’t trust it—or him, for that matter but there wasn’t much you could do when he decided to grace you with his presence.

“Aw, don’t be like that” he said and before you could respond, you felt a quick poke against your bellybutton.

“Hey!” You yelped, jerking upright and spinning to glare at him. “Quit doing that! It grosses me out!”

But as you spoke, your words betrayed you. A laugh bubbled up, slipping out before you could stop it.

Hisoka’s golden eyes lit up like a cat that had just found its favorite toy. He stepped closer, looming over you with that unsettling grin plastered across his face. “Oh?” he purred. “Grosses you out, does it?”

You took a step back, holding your hands up defensively. “Yeah, it does! So don’t—hey, are you listening? Don’t do it again!”

But he didn’t seem to hear or care. Instead, he tilted his head, his grin widening. “Interesting. That laugh just now… it sounded more like you enjoyed it than anything else.”

You shook your head quickly, your face growing warm. “I did not enjoy it!”

“Liar” Hisoka sang, closing the distance between you in one swift motion.

“Hisoka, don’t!” you warned but the mischievous glint in his eyes told you it was already too late.

With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head. His strength was ridiculous; no matter how much you wriggled or tried to break free, it was like your wrists were glued in place.

“Let go!” you whined, your voice climbing an octave as panic set in.

“Hmm, no” he said simply, straddling your waist with an infuriatingly casual grace. “Not when I’m having this much fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe!” you snapped, squirming under his weight. “This is harassment!”

Hisoka’s grin only widened. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Besides…” He leaned down, his face just inches from yours. “Something tells me you’re not entirely against this.”

“Get off of me!” you demanded, your tone more petulant than intimidating.

But Hisoka didn’t budge. Instead, he brought his free hand to your stomach, his fingers hovering just above your bellybutton.

“Don’t you dare” you hissed, glaring up at him.

He chuckled softly, his breath brushing against your cheek. “Oh, I dare.”

And with that, he struck.

The moment his finger poked your bellybutton, you erupted into laughter. It was loud, uncontrollable and completely humiliating.

“HAHA—stop it! Stop!” you gasped, writhing beneath him.

“Why would I stop?” Hisoka asked, his tone mocking. “This is far too entertaining.”

He didn’t just poke this time. His fingers danced around your bellybutton, alternating between light strokes and quick jabs. The sensation was maddening just enough to drive you crazy but not enough to hurt.

“Hisoka, I’m going to kill you!” you shrieked, your laughter making the threat far less convincing.

“Hmm, you don’t sound very threatening right now” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “In fact, you sound rather… helpless.”

You thrashed against him but his grip on your wrists remained firm. He was infuriatingly strong and every movement only seemed to encourage him.

“Please—HAHA—please stop!” you begged, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

“Oh but I’m just getting started” Hisoka said, his fingers never slowing. He focused on your bellybutton now, swirling his finger around it in a way that made you scream with laughter.

“You’re insane!” you yelled, though the words were barely audible through your giggles.

“Perhaps” he admitted with a shrug. “But if that’s the case, what does that make you? After all…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re the one who let me pin you down so easily.”

You groaned, trying to twist away from his relentless tickling. “You’re the worst!”

“And yet” he said, poking your bellybutton again for emphasis “here we are.”

Your laughter hit a new pitch and you couldn’t tell if you were about to die from lack of oxygen or sheer embarrassment. Probably both.

“Okay! Okay! You win!” you cried, desperately trying to catch your breath. “Just stop already!”

Hisoka tilted his head, considering your plea. His fingers slowed, then stopped altogether, though he didn’t release your wrists just yet.

“Hmm” he mused, a wicked smile still on his lips. “Begging suits you.”

You glared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to recover. “You’re a psychopath” you said, your voice shaky.

���And you’re adorable when you’re flustered” he countered, finally releasing your hands.

You immediately sat up, scooting away from him as fast as you could. “You’re never allowed near me again” you said, pointing a trembling finger at him.

“Oh, come now” he said, lounging on the floor as if nothing had happened. “You have to admit, that was fun.”

“For you!”

“For both of us” he corrected, his grin widening. “Don’t think I didn’t notice those little smiles between your screams.”

You felt your face heat up again. “I was laughing because I couldn’t help it, not because I liked it!”

“Of course” he said, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe you.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re delightful” he said, standing with a flourish. “Shall we do this again sometime?”

“Absolutely not!” you said, standing up as well.

“Hmm, we’ll see” he said, his tone as playful as ever.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder how you always ended up in these ridiculous situations with him. But one thing was certain: Hisoka wasn’t going to let you forget this anytime soon.

[the-writerwoman]

@bewarethecourt Here we are! Your Western AU! I won’t lie, it’s had me in its grips as I love the fact that Logan is the outlaw here. I’ve been OBSESSED.

So I hope you like it 😊 and I hope everyone else does too!

@its-in-the-woods here’s your tag as I forgot to do it for the Shrek AU 😂

—————————

The desert sun beat down on the small, dusty town outside as Wade Wilson, better known to the world as Deadpool, the insane bounty hunter, lounged in his office with the epitome of lazy confidence. His boots rested on the edge of his desk, his chair tilted back precariously, and his wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his face. To the casual observer, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. But anyone who knew him understood that Wade’s relaxed demeanor was as dangerous as a rattlesnake coiled and ready to strike.

The creak of the door broke the stillness. Wade didn’t bother to move as Nathan Summers, Sheriff Summers to most, stomped in like he owned the place.

“Wilson,” Nathan growled, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet.

“Ah, my favorite lawman,” Wade drawled, pushing his hat up just enough to flash Nathan a wide, toothy grin. “What brings you to my humble abode? Need me to scare off some rowdy cattle rustlers? Or are you just here to bask in my radiant charm?”

Nathan didn’t bother with pleasantries. He slapped a wanted poster down onto Wade’s desk. The face of Logan, the infamous outlaw known as the Wolverine, stared back at him.

“I need your help,” Nathan said, crossing his arms. “Leader of the most notorious gang this side of the Rio Grande. Robbed five banks in the last two months. Pulled a train heist just last week. Killed two deputies. Wanted dead or alive. He’s managed to evade capture so far, so we’re having to resort to,” he grimaced, his gaze dripping with disdain as he looked Wade up and down, “other means.”

Wade’s grin widened as he picked up the poster, studying Logan’s ruggedly handsome face. “Dead or alive, huh? My specialty. I’ll have him in a week. Two tops.”

Nathan scowled. “Just don’t go causing more trouble. Or wrecking shit like last time. The church still ain’t fully fixed.”

“You wound me, Summers.” Wade clutched his chest in mock offense. “I’m a professional. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an outlaw to catch.”

~~

Tracking Logan down wasn’t easy, but Wade wasn’t just any bounty hunter. He was thee bounty hunter. Deadpool always got his man. By the time he caught up to Logan, the moon was high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the riverbank where the outlaw sat, sharpening his knife.

Wade stepped out of the shadows, his hands resting casually on his gun belt. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Wolverine himself. Gotta say, I expected someone taller.”

Logan froze for a moment, then slowly stood, his piercing eyes narrowing as he took in Wade’s figure and signature red mask. “You must be Deadpool,” he remarked, his voice calm but edged with menace. “Heard about you. Reckon this is the part where you try to take me in.”

Wade smirked. “You reckon right. Though I gotta admit, you’re even prettier in person. Didn’t think outlaws were allowed to look this good. Seems unfair.”

Logan’s lip curled in a snarl, and in an instant, he lunged. The bounty hunter laughed, sidestepping the attack with ease.

“You’re feisty,” Wade said, dodging another swing. “I like that in a man.”

The fight that followed was a whirlwind of skill and fury. Logan’s strikes were calculated and brutal, while Wade’s movements were almost playful, a maddening dance of evasion and counterattacks. Finally, Wade managed to pin Logan to the ground, his knife pressed to the outlaw’s throat.

“Alright, peanut,” Wade said, looking down at him. His mask obscured his expression, but his voice dripped with amusement. “I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold. And don’t tell anyone I said that, it’s from a completely different Disney franchise, and I don’t need the mouse on my tail.”

To his surprise, Logan grinned, teeth flashing in the moonlight. “You’re good,” he admitted, his voice rough but tinged with something like admiration. “Haven’t had this much fun in a fight in years.”

Before Wade could quip back, he was suddenly yanked off Logan and slammed into the dirt. When he looked up, he found himself surrounded by Logan’s gang. Scott, Jean, Ororo, and Hank.

Scott, ever the serious one, glared down at him. “We should kill him. He’s a bounty hunter. You know he’ll come after us again.”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan said, brushing dirt off his shirt as he rose to his feet. He glanced at Wade with a dark smirk. “But killing him now would be too easy. Tie him to the tree.”

Scott frowned, clearly unhappy with the decision. “That’s reckless, Logan. You know what he’s capable of.”

Logan’s expression hardened. “I said tie him up. You got a problem with that, Scott?” The others looked between them, uncertainty filling the air as Scott argued with their leader.

Scott hesitated for a long moment before reluctantly obeying. Muttering curses under his breath, he bound Wade’s hands and hauled him over to a nearby tree, securing him tightly.

As Logan and his gang mounted their horses, preparing to ride off, Wade called after him, amusement in his voice. “See you soon, peanut!”

Logan paused, glancing back at him. For a moment, something unspoken passed between them, a challenge of sorts. Then Logan tipped his hat, smirked, and rode off into the night.

Wade leaned back against the tree, chuckling to himself. “Oh yeah,” he giggled. “This is gonna be fun.”

[failgirl-debunker]

Gonna be normal about Zenji really quick.

I don’t really talk about my actual affinity for anyone in the game much, but I’m in the moment.

He’s just such a breath of fresh air. I love how he’s so confident to where it should make him unbearable but he believes in others as fervently as he believes in himself. He dished out praise to the Hotarubi girls even though they can’t hear him. He praises Subaru. He teases Haku but obviously thinks so highly of him and is so grateful,

And don’t get me started on him and Jiro. I want their story to progress to badly. The love existing between this broken family but having nowhere to go is heartbreaking. Both their circumstances are just so sad and so unfair and I’m genuinely curious about what’ll become of them.

He’s so lively and so brimming with just an overall love for his surrounding da and the world at large and humanity and the creative pursuits that he just seems all the more alive for it. He’s extra as hell do I u swear and he’s not everyone’s cup of tea but dislike? I couldn’t fathom it.

Just the tragedy of being so in love with life itself and only barely being able to engage it anymore.

I love him. I think he’s got such a beautiful personality and I’m a sucker for his design too.

I can’t even put into words how wonderful I think his character is and I feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface and it is maddening to not be able to surmise my feelings.

I find him so comforting.

I miss having that same lust for life and thinking everything for as unfair as it all is is just so precious.

My senses have dulled, I just wanna enjoy things through his character.