#they're holding a cute little coin

[clickbait-monsoon]

its just a cute little guy. look at them!

[eccentricallygothic]

You've a sore throat but you like to refuse medication so Older Boyfriend!Captain John Price…

You best believe the man uses his age as a reason to be bossy especially if it concerns your wellbeing. 

“No, meanie, stop!” You fight against him although it's always in vain because the older man is a wall of muscle and strength. “Ugh, get away!” You try to smack away the strepsils he holds for you in a firm pinch.

After the gargles he forced on you just now by trapping you between his body and the sink, you will die before you take the strepsils! 

The oldie always gets the worst tasting ones too! 

Something about this specific flavor makes them more effective, if it even makes sense which it doesn't!

One con of having an older partner that you've discovered -damn your type- is that the fuckers are fucking stubborn. 

They're always right because they've ‘seen more’ and ‘know better’ and you're just a kiddie brat.

“Come ’ere” he grunts in his burly man voice, eyebrows knitted together as he collects your struggling form with one arm and pushes the lozenge in your mouth with the other. 

“Nu! Ugh! Leave me alone, I don't like you!” You cough at the taste that manages to permeate itself in your mouth and huff as you glare up at him before sealing your teeth shut. 

“Yes, now say a real big and cute ah for me~” he shimmies open a slot between your lips, completely unfazed by the ‘fight’ you're putting up, before pushing the little coin of medicine inside with the help of his thumb.

“Hate you!” You puff your cheeks. “Y'ur a brute!” You further express your disapproval by pushing both of your hands into his hard chest the moment he releases your hands that he was holding captive behind your back. “Meanie, meanie, meanie!” Tiny fists drum on his rock hard chest.

The bear of a man only smiles before leaning down to press a cheeky kiss on your lips. “I love you more.” You roll your eyes at the satisfaction on his face.

You'll get him back, and soon!

. . .

had a rough day. this is pure coping.

[yuri-is-online]

Without Saying (Floyd and Ruggie x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, feral ariel (Floyd) vs light angst again (Ruggie). If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my masterlist.

Floyd

Under normal circumstances, a quiet Floyd was a suspicious Floyd but today- well today it was just odd. He doesn't look bored per se, just idle standing next to a very tall woman with similarly colored hair who is slowly, carefully, with extreme focus examining every inch of what you think is a novelty piggy bank shaped like the school's wishing well.

"Are you done yet Mamma?" Floyd sounds like he is being careful not to yawn.

"Hush now Floydie," she doesn't even blink, that's how tight her focus is, "Mamma is concentrating." Mrs. Leech's lips are tightly pursed while Floyd mutters something about going to get some candy and slinks off while you question if getting involved in this conversation is part of your job description or even smart. Unfortunately for you by the time you look back up from your clipboard Mrs. Leech has moved directly in front of your face in complete silence. "Human-" you go to scream but she silences you with a look you can't tell is from magic or practice raising the twins "Human can you help me with something?" She doesn't even wait for you to agree before holding up the piggy bank. "What exactly is the purpose of this object?"

"That?" You are surprised your voice doesn't give out entirely as she vigorously nods. "The piggy bank?"

"I see, I see." She nods sagely, immediately whipping around to where she evidently thought her son still was, shrugging undeterred as she decides to simply yell. "FLOYD! IT'S CALLED A PIGGY BANK."

"That's nice Mamma." Calls Floyd, oddly coming off as polite and rational from somewhere deep within the Mystery Shop. " But like what does it do?"

"EXCELLENT QUESTION! Say human what does it do?" You are deeply tempted to say that this woman cannot be serious but you don't really want to find out. You draw yourself up to your full height and nod.

"You put coins in it." Mrs. Leech blinks, a bit taken aback.

"Wait really?" Bravely, with a reasonable fear of being bitten, you reach over and gently lift up the top of the wishing well to show her the coin slot.

"I'm pretty sure this one plays a song when you put a coin in too." You explain.

"But it's so tiny?" She marvels, repeatedly opening and shutting the top of the bank. "How're you supposed to keep your money safe if it's so fragile? But then again I do keep most of mine with my husband..."

"Uhm it's supposed to be a fun gift for little kids." It occurs to you that she might find that offensive since it did look like she was buying it for herself. "To teach them about saving money, at least where I'm from anyway."

"Oh how cute. That settles it, I am definitely getting this." As if sensing that it is check out time Floyd shuffles over and immediately perks up.

"Little Shrimpy! Were you the one helping my mom?" He seems really happy, causing you to breathe a light sigh of relief. Mrs. Leech looks confused, zeroing in on you with the same concentration from earlier.

"Yeah. Trying to anyway." You nervously say; Mrs. Leech's attention turns to her son.

"Aww, how cute. You fishin' for a favor shrimpy?" Normally you would play along with his teasing, but your eyes dart awkwardly to Mrs. Leech whose attention is back on you, then the piggy bank, then you then her son, then you agai-

"Not really, I'm just trying to do my job." You awkwardly laugh and Floyd pouts.

"Spring or Summer?" Mrs. Leech asks cheerfully. To your surprise she has somehow managed to snatch up a second piggy bank within the .2 seconds since you took her attention off her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh just wondering that's all." She has a very serene smile on her face. Almost too serene. Like you just somehow signed away your soul because you didn't read some fine print. "I'm more partial to Spring myself." You try to look to Floyd for some context but for some reason, he's refusing to make eye contact. Weird.

Ruggie

"Thank you dear." The elderly beastwoman breathes a sigh of relief as you help her settle onto a bench next to the Coliseum. "Goodness, Ruggie warned me this place was big but I didn't realize just how serious he was." You nod, unscrewing the cap on one of the water bottles you brought with you for the old lady. She takes it thankfully and you breathe a gentle sigh of relief, not that Granny Bucchi had been anything more than a bit winded when you found her, but it was still worrying to see an old woman bent over like that. "I really should have just waited for him."

"Didn't he promise to meet you at the mirror chamber?" You ask, trying not to sound too judgmental. You find it hard to believe someone who spoke as fondly of his grandmother at Ruggie wouldn't want to escort her around, Granny Bucchi looks at you sheepishly sort of confirming that.

"He doesn't actually know that I'm here just yet, I wanted to surprise him." She tries to pass you back the water back but you shake your head. The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the sort you only ever get while relaxing with a cup of tea, or in this case a nice old lady who is genuinely enjoying the campus scenery. It's so nice Grim curls himself up into your lap for a little nap. Granny Bucchi scratches just the right place behind his ears to convince the "not a cat" to let out a very cat like purr.

"Did you send him a message to let him know your here?" You whisper, trying not to wake your baby. "If not I can send him one." She lets out a small laugh, similar in sound to her grandson's but still very much her somehow.

"Oh I am sure he'd be half way here already if he knew I had you to myself. Who knows what sort of ideas I could be putting in that head of yours." She winks and takes out her phone, squinting at the keys trying to piece together a message. "You should still send him one though, you'll probably be faster than me."

"Do you mind if I take a picture?" You ask sheepishly. "You know so Ruggie knows you're ok." Lies you just want a picture of you with Granny Bucchi. Sure, to Twisted Wonderland she is just some lady, but she is easily celebrity tier to you with how much glowing praise Ruggie heaps on her.

"Oh please do!" To your surprise she seems genuinely excited and strikes a little pose. What a natural, Vil has nothing on this woman. Not that you are going to say that out loud because you don't have a death wish. You happily text Ruggie as Granny Bucchi looks on fondly. "Do you like taking pictures?" Her voice is much softer than it has been in the admittedly little conversation you have had. "Ruggie sends me a lot of the ones you've given him from your ghost camera, I keep trying to ask him if you're planning on being a photographer in the future but he always dodges the question." She's clearly curious and you can't blame her, you just aren't sure how to answer.

"The future is a bit complicated for me." Is what you settle on, really hoping it doesn't loose you points.

"Oh you don't need to feel bad about that." Her eyes are filled with warmth and affection that you haven't felt in a long time, it's enough to make you want to cry. "Technically the future is complicated for everyone, some of us just muscle through it better than others. Case in point." Granny hauls her self up and nudges you to turn around. Ruggie is staring at both of you with a strange look in his eyes, but when he makes eye contact with you he shakes himself out of whatever mood that was and jogs up to meet you both.

It would be nice, you think, if you could do this again.

[neoplatinum]

north and south poles | minatozaki sana

summary: sana wonders, are we not the two sides of the magnet?

pairing: childhood-friend!sana x fem!reader

themes: extremely angsty, best friends to ?? to ??, internalized homophobia, gender dysphoria, sana's not too great of a friend, reader is a pushover until she isn't, implied sex, original male character, [----] x reader

wc: 3.3k

(side a: we can't be friends - ariana grande)

when sana's seven, her mother explains the cardinal rules in life. that boys and girls are polar opposites, like two sides of the coin, or like left and right. boys and girls are like the north and south poles of a magnet. and for a long time this holds true.

boys like to play rough, kick dirt over each other, chase after poor cats in hopes of catching them, or smack each other in the head. it's all a bit too gruesome for sana. she never did like watching them play, it felt like they were fighting. boys are like boxing matches, competing for a top winner. but girls are different.

girls are gentle, they play with dolls together, creating groups to play house or sliding down slides, and everyone cheers each other on. girls also like sharing cool things they found: cute rocks, rings, and toys. girls are like gentle waves crashing against the beach.

sana makes this distinction very early on, boys are boys and girls are girls. there's no in between for a seven year old sana. and life gets explained to her pretty easily by her mom. be a pretty girl, and you'll marry a good man who'll protect you and your family.

but her mother also told sana that you were a rowdy kid. a girl that played with the boys; you liked kicking dirt at the boys, chasing cats to catch them, or smacking each other in the head. but you were a girl, you also liked playing with dolls, and sliding down slides. you especially liked cute rocks, so you were someone she needed clarification with how to categorize as a kid.

so she asked her mom about you.

"oh her, she has no manners. her parents probably don't have enough time to teach her all that. they're both always so busy at work." her mother's chopping onions as she speaks, not lifting an eye at sana. and little sana rocks herself back and forth in the kitchen, a little confused by her own mom.

she's met your parents, they were nice people. offering royal milk tea to her, even if she wasn't allowed to have it. they always gave sana first pick for dishes they made, always. and like them, you often gave her parts of your lunch whenever sana was given too little.

and when sana enters middle school, this cardinal rule starts to shake a bit. boys are boys and girls are girls, but you are a girl, with boy-ish tendencies.

you liked playing rough with fuji, throwing dirt at each other even if it stained each other's school uniform. you liked shoving bigger boys when they were mean to girls, even if you had a black eye and sana had to rub a hard boiled egg over it.

but you were also as gentle as a girl, you held sana's hand gently whenever she wanted to walk along the rock wall, balancing on the ledge. you also helped blow and wash off sana's cuts whenever she scraped her knee in dance. just like how her mother does it.

you were the in between, and in between's don't exist in her mother's cardinal rule. when her mother and father sit at the dinner table and sana's mother asks her which boy in class she thinks is cute. sana doesn't think of any boy, but she thinks of you. you with your rough exterior with the older boys, but gentle and soft to sana, always.

"fuji?" her mother asks her. and sana thinks about fuji, a dependable friend in her life. a boy that is also gentler, although sometimes she thinks he's too loud during basketball. he shoves harder than you do, when you three play tag together. his hands are more rough, he towers over sana and really she sees him like an older brother.

sana thinks fuji is exactly the guy that her mother would like for her to marry.

"yeah, i think so." but sana really doesn't think so, her mind drifts off to your long hair and your soft shoulders.

--

when sana's twelve and excited to go home with you after the sga meeting, fuji confesses to her at the back of the school. he presents to her a letter. and through it all, the only thing she could gather was that sana was the prettiest girl in their class, and she has the prettiest smile.

all these compliments feel nice, but it doesn't stir her like you do. when you tell her that her hair is pretty today or that the bow she chose to match her shoes makes her look look fashionable. she stands by the wall, hands behind her back and staring at her shoes. all she can afford to do is nod at the words.

she knows this much, fuji is nice enough. he doesn't kick her chair like some other boys in the class; he always lets her walk inside the sidewalk when there are cars. so when he asks for a first date, she agrees, not letting her eyes look up at him. he walks away relieved, but sana can't feel anything other than a weight in her stomach.

another cardinal rule her mother told her is that lying is wrong.

so she asks for your opinion, and as she stands by your desk, watching you peacefully take a nap. she thinks about just ripping up the letter in her hand. she readies herself for the best performance of her life. to ask you a question that's self-indulgent. if you'll be her first kiss. and just like that she broke another cardinal rule, lying to you, but mostly to herself.

she thinks your lips would be soft, smelling like that cherry lipstick you like so much. and when you do kiss, she feels like she's floating. your hands are soft, when they cradle her jaw. moisturized with that cherry hand cream she gifted you. your hands are smaller too, they fit her head nicely. and most of all you're gentle. you pull apart, and sana nearly falls forward, body leaning into the kiss.

you stare at her in expectation, and panic surges through her body. you aren't fuji, you are the girl that's always played rougher than other girls. a girl that'll always give her 100% during class sprints, while all the other girls lightly jog. and the first thing she can think of is that she wishes you were a boy.

so she say's the exact words that tear your heart apart.

“wow yeah, that was good.” sana fiddles with her school skirt, “i wish you were a boy, you’d make a girl very happy kissing her like that.”

sana says that, but she watches as your eyes fall, hand dejected, and she can't help but feel like everything she knows about love is wrong. you don't say anything, so she leaves, closing the sga door behind her.

eyes welling up in tears as she thinks about how wrong this all is. if only you were a boy. she sinks onto the floor and cries into herself. when sana goes on the date, and fuji kisses her at her doorstep, she thinks of you. how he has to bend down to kiss her, and it all feels so wrong. later that night she starts a pros/cons list between you and fuji.

the only thing she has written for fuji is that "mother would like him." she tears the sheet of paper and tosses it into her waste basket.

--

when sana's eighteen and talking to her friends about boyfriends. all they have to say is that sex is amazing. they all talk about their first time and when they ask sana of what she thinks, she confesses that she's never done it.

"doesn't fuji ask you to?" one friend asks.

"no, he doesn't." the girl looks at sana weird but then shakes her head quickly.

"some guys are like that, they might not want to do it yet." she comments and then the conversation shifts on to talk about the latest school gossip.

sana's quiet for the rest of the week. she thinks about it, sex with fuji, and all she can do is groan. it's the natural progression of a relationship, but she feels like it's a weight in her stomach. that same weight she felt when he confessed to her.

so she does what she naturally did next when she was twelve; she finds you. she hasn't visited your house in years, it's still the same, even though there's a new door that she doesn't recognize anymore. and when she rings it, she finally sees you up close after so long.

she thinks about what she came here for in the first place. oh right, sex with fuji. so she comes up with the best excuse she can, that fuji wants to have sex. she knows its absurd, she's lying through her teeth, none of the reasons makes sense.

but the way you look right now, she can't think of anyone else she wants to have sex with. it stirs low in her stomach. her wanting you, so she lets a bit of truth in her lie.

"i need you to be my first, i want you to be. it can't be anyone else." sana is firm, but you look conflicted. eyes flitting all over the room. debating your morals.

she grabs your hands. eyes with want as she stares at you, and then you say yes. and suddenly the weight is lifted. sana feels like she's floating again.

when you pull her into your room, she feels like she's invincible. this room has always been so safe, and the way you stare into her with want, she thinks she wants to stay here forever in your arms.

the way you ask for permission, the way you constantly ask her if this is what she wants. asking if she's feeling good, gentle hands smelling like cherries that slip off her clothes. she thinks she'll stay naked like this forever if you asked her to.

her mind fills with you, shouting your name into the night where only you two exist in this world. she thinks this is right, this is what love is all about. this little bubble lasts only a night.

weeks later, she proposes sex to fuji, and he nods adamantly. like a horny teenager boy, which he is. but it all feels so off, even though she know's that he'll never cross boundaries. his hands feel too rough, he's too fast and he never asks sana how she feels.

sana feels the emptiest when she thinks back to how she thanked you when she left your room, when all she wanted to say was "i love you." and cherish you for the rest of her life.

--

when sana's nineteen on her birthday, all she can think of is how she hates fuji's arms around her shoulder. how you stare at the arm like it's the most offensive thing in the world. and sana agrees too, it is offensive, so she shoves it off, playing it off like she has an itchy shoulder.

she smiles at the way you relax back into your seat, like you staked your claim on her. it makes her feel wanted by you. even if she knows its wrong that you kiss her messily in the bar bathroom five minutes later, she feels like life is right.

--

when sana's twenty, bored out of her mind in her apartment with fuji. she thinks of you, she often does anyways. eyes wide when she comes up with the best plan. she purposely fights with fuji, calls him too suffocating, watching tears roll down his eyes, and she feels bad. she really does, she hates seeing him cry because of her, but she needs to get away.

so she calls you, bags packed and waiting by the door. her heart leaping in her chest when you knock on the door. grabbing her bags and asking her to stay in the car. giving stern words to fuji before finally leaving together. away from fuji.

sana stays with you for weeks, waking up and sleeping next to you. always attached to the hip, just like magnets. she lets herself believe this is her life, living with you, being with each other forever. she fits perfectly in your hold, as well as you in her. she always tells you she loves you, but only after you fallen asleep. she whispers it into your ears like they'll be heard. like a spell she put you under.

she doesn't think about fuji until he texts her much later, asking if it's okay to meet up and make up. so she goes back, feeling awful about letting her boyfriend believe she's mad at him. she avoids you for months to not feel the guilt. but it eats at her every day.

--

when sana's twenty-four and enjoying a stroll in the city with fuji. he proposes to her, with both their families around for the surprise. as she listens to him, one knee up, professing his love for her. she looks at her mother, her mother with happy tears in her eyes and she can't find herself to say no, so she says yes instead.

wedding planning is fun when she thinks about it as a wedding with you, so the best she can do is ask you to be her maid of honor. she presents to you the wedding invitation in your apartment. talking your ear off about how happy she is, watching you get more and more upset.

just waiting for you to tell her you want to run away with her, to elope together. move away and change names and live in europe together. she lists off all the things she can think of that a girl would like in a wedding, but you never ask her to run away. she knows its selfish, to want you to pull her out of her life, she just can't find the courage to pull herself out of it.

you show up to the wedding, in a gorgeous dress that she thinks that she would marry you in right now. you give a speech about how you, fuji, and sana all met. you talk with so much passion in your voice. she thinks that you might actually be happy for them. sana cries tears out of despair, maybe you really do think sana loves fuji. but she's in love with you.

when you make an analogy that fuji and sana are like magnets drawn to each other, the whole crowd awws, and sana feels her heart break. thats how she sees you and her, a perfect match. the rest of the wedding becomes unremarkable to her.

when you disappear, sana searches for you: eyes wide and frantic. calling up all your friends and family, but they all say the same thing, "she said she's going on vacation for a while, soul-searching?"

sana visits your house everyday, waiting for you to show up like hidden treasure. ever since she's found out she's been pregnant, she's been trying to find tell you about it. you should be the first to know, but you don't show up until a month later.

and when sana wakes up to the sight of you, it's like she's whole again. she walks away from that conversation sadder than ever, you don't drown in her eyes anymore. hands shuffling and changing positions often as she explains about her new incoming newborn.

--

when sana's twenty-five you walk out of her life. after the long labor and intense pain she went through, out came her little baby girl. wailing and crying at the introduction of the world, fuji's trying to wipe down sana's sweat and calm her down, but sana's drowsiness leads to her calling out your name instead, fuji think it's strange but doesn't comment on it. she sleeps for a long time.

when she wakes up to fuji excitedly telling sana that you are visiting. she tries her best to smooth out her hair and her heart rate jumps at the news. so she gets ready for you to visit her.

she thinks she'll name her daughter after you, the same girl she's so in love with. when she proposes the idea, you shut her down. she's never heard this tone before, so harsh and so mean. but she deserves it, the same way she knows she deserves all things bad to her when you look so dejected every time she leaves. she needs you by her side, she can't do motherhood alone with fuji, she doesn't think she can do life without you.

but then you say it, words that make her feel like her heart got pulled out of her chest. you pulled it out. you're moving away, a whole different country, a whole life without sana. and you want to, be away from sana. she can hear it in the way you say it, the way you stand up from the visitor's chair, having only sat there for a minute. the way you walk out of the room. you would have kept walking out had fuji not stopped you.

and sana's angry, after all this, you walk away. she can't tell who she's angry at anymore. angry at you, angry at fuji, angry at her mom, angry at the world. and she lands on it, she's angry at herself. with hot tears running down her face, you look back one more time, and you still leave. like you just double checked that it is exactly what you want to do, leave sana all alone.

--

when sana's thirty and thinking, "yeah, i am okay after all this time." she isn't. because her little girl has just run into you. and nearly hit her head, falling back. but with gentle and caring hands, you stand her back up. asking her daughter if she's alright. and as her daughter runs back to sana, sana can see you for the first time in five years.

your hair is longer, you look more tired, more lines on your face. but your eyes are still so wild, familiar eyes that she's found herself dreaming about for years. for five years to be exact, she dreams of you returning. so you walk up to sana and fuji, calm and collected about seeing them after five years.

but sana's panicking, like she's seen a ghost. you basically are a ghost in sana's life, she's been wondering lately if you really have been there in her life, if not for photos she really wonders if this is all a dream.

a dream that comes crashing down, you pick up a small girl, she's younger than sana's daughter. but she's got your wild eyes and cute nose. and sana thinks that she could die here. right now the rug could be pulled out from under her and she wouldn't utter a peep.

you have a daughter, and a wife. a gorgeous wife who smiles at you like how sana used to. and her eye line follows, you look your wife with the same passion of when you were both eighteen and far too stupid to understand anything in the world. you look at this woman like you used to look at sana.

"it's been a while." sana's voice cuts in. she needs to hear your voice after so long.

"yeah, i guess it has." you reply, finally looking at her after so long. sana gulps, willing the tears away. you sound the same, lighter than your last conversation, like you've made peace with it.

"honey, you're crying." fuji says wiping away sana's tear and you smile at that. like you've finally accepted fuji as her husband.

"oh i didn't notice." sana laughs, rapidly wiping her tears away. she's embarrassed, here she is thinking that you still love her, but you don't. not anymore.

sana tries her best to talk with fuji and momo. them talking about their line of work and interests. but sana can only stare at you.

eyes wide open.

--

a/n: i think im actually evil for writing this. like no joke. but anyways!! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[reallyromealone]

Seconde chapter of little god?

It just came out so you dont have to

Title: little god 2

Fandom: Jujutsu kaisen

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Megumi, itadori, nobara

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: -

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, child reader fluff, god reader

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Every morning was the same routine, Gojo woke up his tiny son who ran around in circles in the yard before coming in for some breakfast that consisted of a variety of foods for the little gods health, (name) pleased as he ate fish and other dishes "thank you papa!" He said as his tail swished, dressed in a more casual yukata compared to his godlier look "no prob, kiddo" Gojo said as he drank his coffee and ate his own meal, smiling at the difference in their tableware.

(Name) Had a cute kid set with zoo animals and plastic cutlery and Gojo with nice china "so today, we get to meet friends of papa"

"Su?"

"No no, not Suguru but he will be there later" Gojo chuckled as the boy looked confused "they're papas students, remember how I told you that I was a teacher?"

" we go?"

"After breakfast we are going" Gojo said happily and (name) bounced excitedly and continued eating his food.

(Name) Sat on his dad's arm as he was carried into the school grounds and Gojo watched as his kid sniffed around curiously "you sniffing, bud?" Gojo teased his son who looked focused "monster" (name) said as coldly as a toddler could as he locked onto Yuji who was waiting with the others at the steps "you can smell sukuna?" Gojo asked and (name) hissed at the mention of the king of curses "you know him?"

"Smelly man"

Gojo cackled at his son who wiggled to be put down, holding his dad's hand as they walked to the student's who looked at the child curious "uh, should a child be here?" Nobara asked as the little one dead stared Yuji "(name), these are papas students" Gojo pushed the boy forward "this is (name), he's my son~ isn't that right?" He crouched to the toddler who pulled some coins and held them out to the teens "it's you!" A mouth opened from Yuji's cheek "smelly!" (Name) Yelled angrily as his horns appeared "whoa, dont go fighting" Gojo held his son back who was ready to throw down.

"Pathetic little cretin, I could rip you--""aaand that's enough!" Gojo lifted his hellion son who tried kicking his dad's student with a growl "we will train at 1130, head to class you three!" he said cheerfully and took his little one away, Yuji tripping up the stairs as if he had two left feet "did you give him misfortune?" Gojo asked the tot who looked angry and frustrated "I know you don't like sukuna, none of us do but you can't hurt my student" he scolded the boy who pouted.

(Name) Was eating salmon and broccoli with cheese while his dad trained the students, abandoning the chop sticks in favor for his dragon form, tail swishing happily as he dived in. "Alright, we will be splitting into twos, let's work with people you aren't used to being teamed with" Gojo paired them up, seeing as his son watched curiously now in human form, face messy as his chubby hands held a piece of salmon "let's do some sparing, I will be right back" Gojo walked to his son and lifted him up "let's clean you up"

"I heard you had a son, didn't believe it" a Zenin clan higher up stated while staring at the toddler, the Gojo duo walking to the rest room "I do have a son, is that a problem?" Gojo stated coldly while adjusting the boy who looked between them, seeing papas glare and decided to match it.

Is it true he's... A god?" They tried to step closer but Gojos infinity halted him from doing so "if you don't mind, we have some business to attend to" the two walked off and (name) stuck his tongue at the Zenin member who glared back.

(Name) Let his dad wash him up, babbling nonsense happily "after school, uncle Suguru is meeting us to take you shopping" Gojo spoke softly, he loved telling his son everything that was happening and their plan. He wanted his son to be included and able to make choices- something he didn't get as a child.

"Susu?" (Name) Asked curiously and Gojo chuckled "yeah, susu"

[shiratamahatsumiyo]

TWST with an Angelic Mage reader

Warning: Reader is suicidal, slight swearing.

Angel Magic revolves around summoning angels, each of which are capable of inflicting different kinds of damage. An Angelic Mage can summon them through the use of Angel Coins. Each coin representing a portion of the user's lifespan. If the summoned angel is defeated, the user will suffer great pain. Only powerful Angelic Mages are capable of summoning basic angels without a cost and suffer no drawbacks when they are defeated.

...Listen, I'm gonna be honest with you guys...

I don't really give a shit about the lore of the characters, I'm mostly interested in the magic/skills they use (examples: Blood Mage, Angelic Mage).... Why do I like risky magic concept? I don't know. I just think they're creative. Like, when there's a protagonist that just punches things with fire magic, ooh so classic. When there's an antagonist with a destructive magic but there's one flaw or loophole about it that the protagonist has to figure out in order to defeat them, wow ok cool... BUT THEN THERE'S THAT ONE SIDE CHARACTER EITHER THAT DOESN'T GET ENOUGH SCREENTIME OR WE'LL NEVER GET TO SEE AGAIN THAT HAS A CREATIVE CONCEPT OF THEIR MAGIC: SUMMONS ANGELS, CONTROL BLOOD VESSELS, STABS THEMSELVES TO UNLEASH THEIR BUILT-UP MANA TO DEMOLISH SHIT. LITERALLY DESTROYS EVERYTHING INCLUDING THEMSELVES BECAUSE HELL NAH THEY AIN'T GOING TO JAIL.

...Sorry, I'm just rambling at this point, please excuse me. Now, onto the story!

• .............................................................................

• .........................This is boring.

• You thought that it's your time to arrive at death's door but no. Instead, you have to wait inside this stupid coffin for what it feels like eternity. Thank god that this fiery gremlin gave you an excuse to come out. This way, the Grim Reaper won't punish you for coming out of your coffin~

• Oh! It looks like this creature's name is Grim. How cute! Until he demanded that you strip. Not cute! What's that? He'll roast you if you won't strip off your robe? What a coincidence! Your little angels are hungry for some weasel, silly Grim 😊........... Run🙂.

{Meanwhile, at the ceremony}

• While the Dark Mirror sorts all of the students to their respective dorms, Crowley went to the Hall of Mirrors to fetch the last coffin. He was quite puzzled when the coffin did not respond to his call to levitate to the ceremony room.

Dark Mirror: "Hmmm... Heartslabyul!"

Azul: "My, that's quite a number of students for this year."

Leona: "Yawn... When will this be over?"

Riddle: "How impatient, Kingscholar. There's only 1 hour and 23 minutes left until the ceremony ends and that's your 12th yawn."

Idia, via tablet: "Dude, you've been counting his yawns?"

Kalim: "Huh... Is that enough time for Jamil to prepare the Welcoming Party?"

{Meanwhile at Scarabia}

Jamil, setting up the plates: "WHERE IS THE CHICKEN SALAD?!"

Scarabia Student A, cutting the vegetables: "I'M MAKING IT--"

Jamil: "DO IT FASTER! WHY IS THIS KEBAB STILL RAW?!"

Scarabia Student B, holding a flaming pan: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--"

{Back at the ceremony}

Kalim: "...Nah, It's Jamil! I'm sure he can handle it."

Vil: "Bring the next coffin. I still have an interview tonight."

• The headmage returned to the room with no coffin.

Crowley: "... I think we'll be behind schedule for a bit."

Leona: "And what do you mean by that ?"

Crowley: "The last coffin is empty."

Vil: "... Pardon?"

Riddle: "How in Twisted Wonderland...?"

Azul: "Impossible. That can't be."

Crowley: "Do not worry! For I will graciously search for them myself--"

• Just as he was about to turn back with his lash, a small screaming monster burst through the doors and ran inside the room. The monster hid behind Crowley, using him like a shield. The students overheard the loud monster and pulled out their magical pens.

Grim: "FNYAAAAH! THEY'RE GONNA EAT ME!"

Crowley: "What the- Halt, monster! You should not be on campus-"

Grim: "THEY'RE SCARY! DON'T LET THEM GET NEAR ME! SHUT THE DOORS BEFORE THEY GET IN!!"

Crowley: "Who?"

?????!??????: "...Hehehe...😊"

• The two looked at the hallway of the door and see a silhouette of a person approaching the room. The headmage then recognized the robe and immediately thought that the person is the missing student. The alerted students put away your magical pen, thinking that the monster is your familiar.

Grim: "I-IT'S THEM! CLOSE IT! CLOSE IIIT!!"

?????!??????: "Be not afraid 😇."

Grim: "Fnyaagh!!"

Crowley: "Ah! You must be the last student. Quite the impatient one, are you?"

?????!??????: "I apologize. But I simply couldn't bear to wait any longer."

Crowley: "You must also tame your familiar properly! Look at how afraid he is of you!"

Grim: "Fnyagh?! Heck no! I'm not this weirdo's pet! A-and the Great Grim's scared of no one!"

?????!??????: "You're not? Oh well, I guess I just misunderstood your appearance then."

Crowley: "He's not yours?"

Grim & ?????!??????: "Nope!"

Crowley: "Then I will order students to throw this beast off of campus."

Grim: "FNYAGH! WAIT, YA CAN'T DO THAT! I'M A MAGE HERE! NOOOOO!! JUST YOU WAIT! I'LL BE THE GREATEST MAGE IN THIS SCHOOL!!!"

• The headmage then called a couple of students to restrain the monster and drag him out of the room. It's a shame~ You really thought that this feline will guide you to heaven but you couldn't help but feel a little bad. Just a little bit. Wait, did he just say school?

Crowley: "Ahem! Without further ado, let the ceremony continue! Please stand in front of the Dark Mirror and say your name."

?????!??????: "...Why?"

Crowley: "To sort you, of course. Now go."

Leona: "Finally. This stupid ceremony better be over.... Yawn"

Riddle: "That's your 13th yawn."

Idia: "Bruh, just stop counting."

• You noted that some students still kept their guard up, thinking that if the monster was so scared of you to the point of running and hiding, then you might be the bigger monster. The students near you stepped away after sensing your heavy aura.

• The mask-wearing man shoved you in front of an old, intricately designed mirror. A face appeared on the surface, scowling at you.

Dark Mirror: "State thy name."

AngelMage! Yuu: "AngelMage! Yuu."

• The mirror stared intensely at you before expressing shock and disdain. Almost like it sees through you...

Dark Mirror: "...This soul does not belong in any dorm."

• The crowd of students gasped in shock and the headmage is in disbelief. Whispers among the students soon filled the room, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere.

Crowley: "I do not understand! The Ebony Carriage would never... How?!"

Dark Mirror: "Thy soul... Is dark... Their soul is divine but impure... Their light is bright but tainted..."

Crowley: "Tainted?.... Could it be? Blot?"

Dark Mirror: "...This one possesses an art form of magic that is celestial, yet uses it for horrible intentions, throwing no caution of the power they hold..."

Azul, pushing his glasses up: "Celestial, you say?"

Idia: "Damn, this sounds like an anime scene."

Dark Mirror: "... The darkness in their soul has swallowed and layered their heart. Thus, they do not belong in any dorm."

[cookingmamatwo-dinnerwithfriends]

chocolate frog terrarium || theodore nott x reader

a/n: WARNING: ur a HUFFLEPUFF GIRL and now you have made-up siblings lol the chocolate frog thing was something i thought of a while ago and i think it’s funny. and i played hogwarts legacy so i have to reference it <3

to say that theodore was nervous about the date was an understatement. he was overwrought and maybe even querulous (thank you thesaurus.com). he didn't know what to wear and he was worried that his hair looked stupid. eventually he decided he looked as good as he was going to and left to meet (y/n) in the bell tower courtyard.

when he made it outside he saw her waiting by the fountain. she was conjuring three little yellow canaries, a spell they had recently learned in mcgonagall's class. when she saw him walking towards her she waved her wand and all of the birds disappeared.

"theo, you made it!" she walked towards him, grinning widely.

"you didn't think i'd show?" he pretends to be offended. "i see you've mastered the avis charm?" he watches as a few yellow feathers fall to the ground at her feet.

"truly i was worried you and malfoy were having me on..." she trailed off before quickly pivoting to a brighter topic. "are you ready to go?"

"yeah let's get going," he offers his arm and she takes it, looping hers through his.

they make small talk as they walk across the rickety bridge and all the way to hogsmeade, talking about everything from potions class to what they think harry potter will manage to do before this year is up. they also make a brief pitstop at the puffskein den on the way to the village ("they're so cute, let's just look at them for a second!").

"where do you want to go first?" theo asked as the both of them entered the wizard village.

"honeyduke's," (y/n) answered immediately.

"that was quick," theo teased her, but still led them to the candy store.

as they walk around together theo watches as she examines almost everything in the store.

"what's your favorite thing in here?" she asks him while still perusing the shelves.

he thinks for a minute before answering, "probably...every-flavor beans."

"are you a sociopath or something?" she asked with mock-seriousness. "i can't eat those. ever since i got a dragon dung flavored bean." she shivered at the memory.

he laughed loudly, "i've never got one like that...what's your favorite?"

she picks up a chocolate frog and holds it up to theo, suddenly laughing lightly at something.

"you know i come from a muggle family, right?" she asked, tilting her head at him. he nodded, so she continued. "i bought one of these for my brother one time, and when it jumped out he thought it was a real frog, so he set up a little habitat for it and kept it as a pet."

"how long did it stick around?" theo asked, genuinely curious as he had never left a chocolate frog open and uneaten for longer than five minutes.

"a day, then it melted under the heat lamp," she chuckled, putting the chocolate frog back. "i wish you could have seen his face when he found his brand new pet frog melted in his tank."

"i've always wondered how muggles would react to all of these different candies," theo said, imagining the scene of a boy finding his new pet as a melted chocolate blob.

"don't get me started on my sister," she rolled her eyes before continuing, "she tries to talk to the cards. she has a crush on her gilderoy lockhart card."

"so you've exposed your muggle family to the wizarding world as well?" he asked.

"yes," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "i think it would be rather selfish to keep all of this to myself."

"did your parents freak out when they found out?"

"oh yes, my mom nearly lost it when i made a worm grow to, like, double its size."

"i would too, that sounds vile," he scrunched his nose up at the thought of a fat fucking earthworm.

(y/n) grabs two chocolate frogs and a box of fizzing whizbees before going to the counter to pay. before she could even get her coin purse open, theo had already given the cashier enough money to cover it.

“you didn’t have to do that,” she frowned.

“i wanted to impress you,” he shrugged.

she rolled her eyes before offering him one of the frogs. they both opened them, caught them, and began eating them.

“what card did you get?” she asked, peering over his shoulder to see.

“fig,” he said unenthusiastically. “i have like eight of him already. who did you get?”

“ooh! i got mcgonagall! i don’t have her yet!” she said excitedly, pocketing the card. “i don’t have fig though….”

she side-eyed him in hopes that he would hand over the card. which he did. he didn’t need a ninth eleazar fig.

they started their walk back to the castle shortly after this. shyly brushing hands until theo made the move to fully hold her hand. he walked her down to the hufflepuff common room where he found himself sad to part ways.

“i had a really nice time today theo…” (y/n) said shyly, looking down at her feet. “we should do this again sometime.”

“yeah definitely! i had a great time too,” he smiled down at her softly.

he was wracking his brain, trying to think of something NORMAL to say, when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“goodnight theo,” she smiled softly and went into her common room.

he smiled as he turned around to walk to the dungeons. when he made it to his dorm, malfoy and mattheo (yep he’s here IM SORRY) were waiting for him.

“how’d it go mate?” mattheo asked, smirking at theo.

“it was really great,” theo answered earnestly, too giddy to say something cool and nonchalant.

“that’s just adorable,” malfoy cooed at him.

“shut up…” theo rubbed the back of neck, before plotting with the boys on how to ask (y/n) out again.

[rwuffles]

You can't just make up an AGAB. You weren't 'assigned puppy at birth', why are you mocking the language/acronyms used by intersex people to discuss intersexist oppression? Do you just hate us? Do you think our struggles are a joke? That these acronyms we use to convey the way we were abused and forced into a violent binary are just cute little labels for you to play with? These aren't like genders, xenogenders, literally fine. I'm xenogender. But I'm also intersex and I recognize that AGAB terms are important in discussing how we are harmed by the world around us. Please stop mocking our language.

neo agabs are a microlabel that were created in order to reject agab binaries and remind people that they're 1.) not entitled to tell everyone what genitals they have ( which, telling people your agab doesn't do in the first place ) and 2.) that agabs are a harmful binary that the medical system sorts us into. if you're going to be upset about the usage / coining of neo agab terms, then why only attack me instead of everyone else who uses them? i know multiple intersex people who are fine with the usage & coining of neo agabs, which is why i continue to use them and coin them for myself. there is also a very high chance that i'm intersex myself, anon; i say i'm perisex because i literally cannot talk to my doctors about it without putting myself in danger due to my family situation.

i am aware afab / amab were created by intersex people, but i wasn't totally aware of that 5 MONTHS AGO. WHEN I MADE THE FLAG. i was also told by an intersex person at the time that making the flag would be fine, which was why it got loaded into my queue in the first place.

i'm not trying to erase nor talk over intersex voices. if you worded this nicely to inform me of everything, it would be fine and i would post it with new information for people to know. the assumption that i made apuab in bad faith is also like, seriously? to assume i made apuab because i thought it was a "silly little label"? i made it because of how i view myself and my physical body due to trauma; i shouldn't have to clarify or justify why the fuck i identify as it because you assume i'm using it in bad faith.

i am not personally holding the intersex community back and yelling "no!!! stop talking about your oppression!!!! stop using my silly terms to talk abour your oppression!!!!" i know what it's like to have my language taken and told it's not significant or that it shouldn't be used. i want to use my platform to uplift everyone's voices, and by being an asshole when you're trying to "inform me" you're not doing jackshit.

if you're going to be an asshole when "informing me" about anything, don't send a fucking ask at all.

[courtlyharlequin]

Can you do vil, rook, and epel with a s/o who has tattoos because they used to be in a gang please ?

Permanent Ink

A/N: I hope you don't mind that I slightly changed your request to just the reader having a tattoo. The origin is unknown. To be frank, I don't know anything about gangs and I'm a little hesitant to research about them for fear of coming across anything triggering (T⌓T)

Vil Schoenheit:

He's the type of person that thinks that tattoo sleeves are tacky. Too much of anything especially in beauty, fashion and aesthetics is going to come off as tacky. Too much makeup can make your face look cake-y. Too much crystals on a wedding dress will take away from the fabric's beauty. Things like that. So, tattoo sleeves are a no-no for him, but that's just him personally.

If you have a sleeve, cool. That's how you express yourself and if you feel confident with it then good for you. Vil won't make you feel bad about it– especially if there's meaning behind it.

If you just have one, two, or a few tattoos spread out on your body, he'd probably like that more in terms of artistic taste. Vil is fond of the smaller tattoos like wings on your back, a ring of ink around your fingers or some writing on your rib. They're discreet, but they're enough to make a statement

The first time Vil ever saw your tattoos, he was a bit surprised. He never expected you to have any for some reason. Perhaps it was because he never saw them so he just assumed you never had any.

He'll ask questions right off the bat. What's the meaning? Or did you simply like the design?

Don't hesitate to ask him for thoughts on a design or even help making one! Though he's not a tattoo artist, he can work with a pen and paper and give you some ideas

Rook Hunt

He would... stare and your tattoo(s) the first time he sees it. No questions just examining the details, the lines, the curves, and the colors. Whether how obvious it is depends on how observant you are.

But if you did catch him, Rook would tell you that they were just so mesmerizing that he couldn't help himself. Then, you could welcome the basic questions people usually ask about tattoos: "did it hurt?", "what's the meaning?", etc.

But what shocks you even more is when he starts asking about which parlor or artist did it? He's quite knowledgeable about tattoos, leading you to asking him if he's had any... a question that he skillfully dodges.

If you had a small tattoo on somewhere discreet like your collarbone or wrist, Rook would kiss your tattoos there. He would also absentmindedly trace along the lines of the ink whenever he's deep in thought, sending shivers down your spine with his dexterous and light touch.

One day, out of the blue, he might even coin an idea of getting matching tattoos. It could be your initials or something symbolic like two turtle doves that make a heart when you put your hands next to each other's.

"It's romantic, isn't it?"

Epel Felmeir

Epel would be the most vocal reaction out of the Pomefiore trio when it comes to finding out you have a tattoo. Something like "WOAH!"

If you have a sleeve or colored tattoos, his reaction will be even louder. He had always assumed tattoos only came in one color.

It's honestly a really cute reaction. He asks if he can touch it and spends a good amount of time examining your skin. He then asks if he can try something then unironically does a Chinese burn on your forearm to see how the ink holds. And surprise... the ink is still there! It didn't rub off! But your wrist is a little sore...

In general, he's just super curious and inquisitive about your tattoos. His grandmother never allowed to even think about getting one... but yes he wants one. Just a tiny one.

Maybe one that his grandmother can't find so easily. Epel hasn't really thought of the design yet, but maybe you can help since yours is so well thought out? Making tattoos designs together seems like a cute date idea!

He'll even go with you to a tattoo parlor to check things out if you ever invite him or decide to get another tattoo. He wants to watch and see how it's done!

[istadris]

More about that plotbunny of Bowser hiring Luigi as a dealer for one of his casinos.

(Disclaimer: lots and lots of artistic liberties about how casinos and card games work, this is Mario world after all)

At first, Bowser doesn't want to hire Luigi. At. ALL. If it was just up to him, he would just punt the nerd back to Mushroom Kingdom.

But as Kamek points out, not only did he give his word, but if he fires someone just for being good for the job they're applying for, what kind of message is it sending ? If there is one reason Bowser's kingdom is running smoothly despite the regular beatings the kings gets from a pair of silly plumbers, it's the good work relationship between Bowser and his troops : he's a demanding boss, but not an unfair one.

Plus, it's bad enough he fails regularly his world invasions, but hey, world conquest is a hard job, so that's forgivable. But being a sore loser at a card games ?? That's not a good look for Bowser.

So fine. Green Mario is hired in a big show of pretending to acknowledge his enemy's skills. At least Bowser will be able to pretend he's bossing around the actual Mario for a while.

Doesn't mean he can't get his revenge otherwise.

Yes, he can't fire Luigi...but if Luigi is too weak to hold under pressure and quit, that's not on Bowser, is it ?

So Bowser nonchalantly orders the casino manager to make sure the new hire knows what he's in for. Or in other words, push him so hard he quits on his own.

At first Luigi is just put on slot machine filling duty; a boring, tedious job with a lot of noises and loud clients everywhere. Luigi bears it ; he's done that gig before and he's seen much worse as a full time plumber. And while he's doing that job, he befriends several of the maintenant workers, who for the most part are kinda curious about what a human (and a Mario Brother, no less) is doing here.

He's also very, very clumsy. To the point the manager starts to wonder how this is the same guy who beat Bowser at poker. And you know what, he's curious. Screw what Bowser said, until the king butted his head in the job interview, the human had an interesting resume and the manager is not losing more money, he wants to know what the new guy can actually do.

He puts Luigi at one of the tables as his last chance. Either he makes money, or he's out.

And Luigi makes money.

A.

Lot.

Of money.

Bowser visits the casino around about that time, already gloating inside : surely by now that wimp has run back to Mario crying, right ?

Instead he sees Luigi at one of the main Picture Poker tables, charming up the players (and it's something Bowser never expected to see, Luigi being confident and charming -wait why is he finding him charming ??) and large piles of coins piling up on his table.

Turns out, when your casino's style is mostly built around reminding players how tough and impossible to beat you are, a friendly and innocent-looking dealer who encourages you with dorky catchphrases and a cute little laugh is a BIG draw for players who think they still have a chance.

Bowser is FURIOUS (and just slightly horny). But he still can't fire Luigi; not only is he good at his job, but by now word has spread of how Luigi has been hired in the first place, making it very hard to not look like he's a sore loser who can't even win a card came against the "weaker" Mario Brother.

Brother who has the GALL to offer him to play at his table. And smiling on top of that!! That cheeky little thing !!

On his way out, Bowser grabs the manager by the collar : next time he's back, Luigi better has walked out on his own.

The manager appreciates Luigi's work, but he's not putting his job on the line for the new guy. But he's here to make money, and now he's decided to squeeze Luigi out of every coin the human can bring to the casino.

He increases his hours, raises the amount of money he's supposed to make every night, gives him back-to-back shifts, sends the most agressive players to his table (although the bouncers step in if things get too heated).

Usually a dealer is just here to deal, keep count, welcome players, announce hands, that sort of thing. But in Darklands casinos, there are special tables where you can play against the dealer, either on one-on-one or as a normal table; the games there are very high-stake, in an all-or-nothing fashion : you win against the casino, you earn a LOT.

It's the toughest job of the casino : not only the dealer is both player and house, but given these are high stakes games, you can't just put a newbie in charge there. You need a shark, a cold-blooded, lucky son of a bitch who can handle pressure.

The manager sends Luigi there : "you screw up, you're out". Piling up more and more pressure on the poor human's shoulders. As for the other dealers, they feel sorry for the new guy but they certainly won't stick out their necks for him.

But despite the stress and hostile conditions, Luigi isn't Mario's brother for nothing : despite his meek, non confrontational personality, Luigi can be extremely stubborn. He doesn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him quit and so he holds on.

Thankfully, he's got unexpected allies on his side : the maintenance/cleaning crew he's befriended before are outraged at the treatment and decide to help him out. Sneaking him treats and drinks on long night, disturbing games so he's got an easier time winning, arranging tables and chairs to make the other tables less attractive, hiding stuff around. Of course the other dealers notice and some of them are furious...but some start to realise that if Luigi is expected to hold up such high standards, what if these standards become the norm ? And they realise they really don't want such workplace conditions.

Things are getting out off hand. Revolt is brewing in the casino. Bowser gets winds of it and is tempted to close everything on a whim, but Kamek steps in yelling about the revenues the casino makes and how Bowser should get the situation back under control.

Screaming won't solve things, as the entire crew is one bad word away from quitting or going on strike. And he's not going to negotiate with Luigi!

Kamek : "Sir, either fire him or get revenge on him but DO SOMETHING ! He's the mastermind behind this conspiracy!

(He's really not.)

...fine, Bowser decides, he's going to negotiate with Luigi.

Who still doesn't want to quit.

But offers Bowser a deal :

One game a night, until they go through all the casino games. They count each victory and once the total is done, if Bowser has more points, Luigi walks out. If Luigi has more, he gets back a normal work schedule and he can finally focus on his damn job.

It's a stupid wager. It's ridiculous. It's outrageous. Insulting, even.

And Bowser still takes the wager.

Because he finally picks up on something: for some reason, even after everything, Luigi wants to play against him.

You can guess where this goes.

[blush-blush-imagines]

Reference from Brooklyn 99, how would some of the boys react if we just said "If I run and leap at (Name), he will most certainly catch me in his arms" and then proceeded to run full force at them while they're carrying stuff. (You can just ignore this if you don't understand this or don't want to do this.)

I was given 'some' and immediately ignored my own rules and did 'all', that's fun.

Still, finally cracking down and writing all *checks notes* 2 requests I've gotten.

(Please feel free to send in requests, I'd love to have more to work with)

Nimh

Oh it is such a rough thing for poor Nimh.

Problem A), the call alone is a little jump scare to him, and now his heart is freaking out

Problem B), he’s now faced with the dilemma of either dropping everything, or letting you eat shit on the pavement. He’d like neither to happen, but he’s not dumb enough to think he could do both

He eventually commits to catching you, but that just leads to

Problem C), he is not very strong and he can barely hold you

Give him the courtesy of keeping a foot on the ground to balance out your weight, yeah?

Volks

You joke about it sometimes before you ever commit to the bit

And every single time you do he insists to you that he will make zero effort to catch you

But you know Volks very well at this point.

And you know, among other things, that he is a dirty fucking liar

So you can only imagine your personal childlike glee when you finally do it and he does, in fact, catch you without hesitation 

He insists it’s because if you fell and like, broke your elbow or something, that’d be terrible. Medical bills and all that.

For his sake, you’re ignoring that his face is growing redder by the second. 

Kelby

No hesitation 100% of the time

First of all, holding you is extremely easy for him, but also he just finds carrying you to be romantic as hell

Oh he’ll cringe if he happens to be dropping something heavy, like a weight, but he still goes for you, that’s his priority

Still, he likes looking for opportunities to show off, and carrying you around like it’s nothing is prime show off material.

He might even get in a couple squats. He knows they go appreciated.

Eli

It’s a coin flip with Eli

Though if there’s a chance you’d genuinely injure yourself he’ll probably catch you

But it’s fair game to just let you crash if it’s carpet or grass. Because he thinks it’s just a little funny. 

He also occasionally makes you pay the ‘catch tax’ 

It’s 5 dollars to at least partially make up for the drink that just died on the ground for your goofs.

Anon

Really, shame on you, you should know better.

He makes no attempt to catch you

In fact, he finds the way you end up crashing into the wall kinda funny. 

Like watching a cat really fuck up a jump.

Beyond the fact that he’s kind of a stickler with his physical contact to begin with, a lot of the things he carries around are very easily breakable

So yes it’s rude, but frankly he’s not about to shell out 1000 dollars for a new laptop because you thought you could make a goofy point- because you couldn’t.

Garret 

Garret doesn’t even miss a beat

He’s got you held up in one arm and whatever it was he was holding cradled in the other

While he thinks that it was certainly an odd thing to do, it was pretty cute.

Not hard to do. He thinks most things you do are cute.

Gives you a little kiss and gently sets you back down

Don’t get overconfident though. If he’s holding an animal, the animal gets priority. They’re more fragile.

He still feels really bad about it though. You think he might cry

Dmitri 

Dmitri also goes for the catch every time

It adds to his suave and romantic charm, obviously.

However, as the type to prioritize romance over basic logic on occasion, he’s also prone to forgetting that he’s often holding his drink of choice

No it’s fine that his foot just got doused in hot coffee, no he’s not getting a third degree burn

Appreciate the romance, he’ll go see someone about it later

Ichiban

Like Anon, Ichiban hesitates, because if he’s holding something, it’s likely expensive. 

However, unlike Anon, he makes the fatal mistake of still trying to catch you

And it worked maybe once. He’s still riding that high though.

He can handle it!

…But also this case of shenanigans that he has never told you to stop doing has cost more in equipment that either of you are ready to admit out loud.

You may or may not have pitched in to replace several cameras, controllers, and lavaliers 

William

He tries very very hard to get you to stop charging him before contact is made

It’s a flurry of paperwork, because he does catch you

Says it’s the least he could do as the doting boyfriend he is

Though he does awkwardly dismiss himself from in after a moment. 

While carrying you around is quite romantic, he won’t disagree with that, but also those papers were kind of important and he should get those together ASAP. 

People have pets in need, and they can’t get it without the information getting where it needs to be.

He promises to give you a good cuddle once it’s all sorted, however.

Myx 

There’s a very direct correlation between what exactly he’s holding and how okay he is with dropping it to scoop you

Electronics? Hard no, those are pricey to replace

Instruments are also frequent victims, and it depends on its fragility.

He tried to catch you with his leg once, except all he actually did was end up kicking you in the gut on the way down

He apologized about it for fifteen minutes straight. 

But if it’s something sturdy, he has no problem with chucking it straight down and scooping you up into a whole ass cuddle. 

Stirling

Oh please don’t do that outside 

He’s fine with it inside and at night. It’s very attractive, even. Smooth and charming as he sweeps you off your feet before you can even make the jump.

But in the middle of the day it’s very bad for both of you

He can’t hold his parasol and you at the same time, it’s not happening 

So get ready to either hit the deck or get caught on fire with him, depending on how much time he gets to think about it

Scale

He screams at first

There’s a loud clatter of knives, but he’s got you!

Scale insists very hard that he did not shriek like a little baby at you almost impaling yourself on his knives

Instead he scolds you over it

I mean come on, you spent an entire afternoon to keep his assassination deadline on you years away

What’s the good in wasting that, he could’ve done better things with his afternoon if you were gonna die a couple months later anyway

Sven

Puts no thought into whatever he’s holding, he just tries to hold you on top of it

It’s very uncomfortable every time, why do you keep doing that

It also doesn’t register to him that it’s his need to multitask it that results in you injuring yourself

He starts doing it to you to prove a point, and thinks he’s doing it better because he doesn’t get hurt

He has not realized it’s because you actually drop everything to catch him

But it’s still fun, and you kinda don’t want to ruin it for him.

Cole 

He doesn’t even flinch

It’s like he anticipated you’d do this exact thing

And unlike some of the other boys he doesn’t even think when he drops whatever he’s holding. 

Unless it’s something on the more… incriminating side. At that point he dodges you, dodges any questions, and quickly dismisses himself from the conversation entirely.

Sure it’s entirely possible there’s a shattered plate of hot food at his feet now, but that doesn’t matter because you’re here, being contently held in his arms

He uses it as an excuse to keep holding you

Poe

It what fucking world do you think he could hold you?

He drops his coffee and his school papers

Luckily they don’t damage each other, but w o w that was a close call

But beyond losing his morning caffeine and having to gather his work back up, you’ve hurt his wrists and also your entire body

No one has won here.

He also just. Literally can’t hold you. He’s a tiny frail goth boy, he crumbles if he’s holding anything heavier than 20 pounds. 

Once you’re back on your feet, he asks if you could at the very least help him gather up his papers. They’re worth like 20% of his grade. 

Cashew

Already a bit on the twitchy side, when he notices you speeding like a bullet train, he squeaks.

What exactly do you think you’re doing??? He’s been relocating his books all afternoon, you can see that he’s holding like, 8.

But, visibly cringing, they hit the floor, because he knows that he can’t hold them and you at the same time

One of them falls wide open, pages down. He tries not to think of the potential folded pages and boxed corners. 

Especially because of how pleased you look!

…But the second he can set you down he’s on the ground checking for damages.

Seth

Seth is the absolute king of the ‘casually carrying around hazardous objects’ club

But unlike everyone else in said club, he has no qualms about chucking whatever it is on the ground and scooping you up. 

This has resulted almost unanimously in making more hazards and chaos, but he hasn’t fussed about it once

He gets to give you a lil snuggle and it has the potential to cause crime. It’s a win-win for him!

You are an accessory to arson now though, so watch out, yeah?

Logan

Man goes into bullet time

It’s just a race to him to see if he can free an arm before you inevitably ‘plink’ off him and crash into the floor

Like. He does it, no real problems

But he immediately sets you down and scolds you for it

Because that was dangerous! What if he got hurt? What if you got hurt? What if he was holding something breakable, or bringing his fire axe somewhere?

All of those sound awful! 

Still, he ruffles your hair and plants a little kiss on the top of your head. He isn’t mad, he just wants to make sure you’re being safe.

[eccentricallygothic]

for a fic idea: chris evans x reader going on a date to a carnival and then having a picnic

Thank you so much for the ask/request! This is literally the first Chris as Chris piece I've ever written omg! I prefer to write requests in hc form so I hope you don't mind…? Hope you enjoy <3 

Disclaimer: For whatever it's worth, this is a fictional version of Chris hence fanFICTION because I don't know him in real life and I don't want to either so no silly talk from anyone, please <3

Warning(s): Fluff, kissing, rides, minor consensual groping, tickling, picnic.

Note: Reader is definitely gender-neutral. Requests are open. 

Chris definitely spoils. 

He's one of those boyfriends who tower over pretty much everyone else in the crowd and have to constantly move his broad shoulders around to avoid touching anyone else.

Holds your hand very tight in his bigger one.

Because he knows how upset you get if someone pushes you both apart as it has happened in the past, resulting in you almost getting lost and crying. 

Has to wear a cap to avoid being recognized so you prefer to hang near the areas where there's masquerades and the like so you can enjoy some privacy as well as freedom. 

Buys you basically everything you look at. 

He's definitely the kind of person who is always so excited about the rides that he drags his partner with him while promising them that he will be there with them and they can hold his hand. 

Isn't a lie, man protects you like it's his job. 

But has more embarrassing photos of you on said rides than you'd like to admit. 

So much carnival food and mini games. 

Coming back home from such places with a huge stuffie is mandatory. 

"Chris!" You squeal as you struggle to jog beside him, your breath hot in your masquerade mask and a hand on your bulging tummy. All you had said was that the caramel popcorn smelt nice. And then you had had to deal with a whole tub of it after he had already bought you so many things to eat before. "Hang on, oh my God!" 

It is cute how his 'mature' age has not harmed his vivacity because it makes him so fun to be around. He is very easy going and just plain comfortable. You don't have to worry about pretending in front of him and he doesn't do it either. 

His good nature and open display of his affection for you is always heartwarming and honestly… downright attractive. 

A confident man who plays no games with nothing but love and adoration to offer.  

"Come on, baby! The photo booth is finally empty!" Chris is excited like a child as he basically shoves the coins in the slot. He has had an eye on the previously packed booth for a while now. 

It was little things like this that mattered to him a lot. 

From your favorites to little souvenirs, cute clips and pictures of you to how you liked your drinks, all your little rituals and what each of your facial expressions meant to everything else, he had them all memorized through quiet observation. 

Being the extrovert that he is, your boyfriend is otherwise very vocal about his affection for you but that does not mean that he makes a show of these things. 

They're just little things that he likes to do for you; his precious baby.

You yelp and then giggle when he plops his butt down on the seat inside the booth with a loud smack before pulling you in with him– more like, on him. 

"Chris!" The squeal has no effect on him and he goes on his goofy ways as you both pose with your masks on for some pictures. 

Then something suddenly shifts in your boyfriend, as it often does when you're in his general vicinity, and he pushes his mask up before doing the same to yours after turning your face towards his. 

His lips are on yours before you know it and his hands bolt from your waist and knee right to your ass, the tight squeeze making you draw in a sharp breath against his mouth. 

The clicks of the camera keep on going as you circle his neck with your arms, pulling him closer and letting his tongue dominate your mouth as you whimper from his natural dominance that comes out in moments like these. 

He doesn't have hardcore tastes for intimate activities but he is always willing to try for you. 

"Taste so good as always, baby" Chris is breathless when he finally pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, the reel reaching its limit at the same time; almost as if it's aware of how private the moment is. 

It's the little quirks. How he wraps his arm around your waist when you become too self aware in public sometimes, or how he tightens his hold on your hand when there's a crowd, the way he's always looking over you and covering the edges and corners of the furniture around you with his hand to make sure it doesn't nick you and how he goes the extra mile to make sure you're reassured and comfortable.

You love this man with your whole heart.

"Or maybe it's all that caramel popcorn" you tease and he widens his bright blue eyes, thick lashes decorating the area below his eyebrows in the prettiest way. 

"Caramel popcorn?!" You start giggling at the comical way he says it. "Did someone say caramel popcorn?!" You know what's coming and so your Snickers increase in volume and you protestingly bounce on his lap, vehemently shaking your head and trying to get away but Chris is a strong man. "THE TICKLE MONSTER ALSO WANTS SOME CARAMEL POPCORN!" You throw your head back and your body twists when his fingers dig into your sides, the blush that his kisses had caused on your face now darkening due to how you were screeching against him, your tummy in pain from all the laughing. 

It's only when there's tears in your eyes and the annoyed people waiting outside call out for you two that you sheepishly step out with your masks down.

This particular carnival has cute little tent-like pavilions facing a huge screen in one of the prettiest gardens that you have ever seen. You don't have to do more than tug at Chris' sleeve and he follows your gaze before buying you two a spot. 

He insists that you don't pay for anything and to let him spoil you because all he wants is the unconditional love and genuine companionship that you provide him.

And honestly, who are you to reject all that Marvel money?

Just kids and jokes, of course. You try to chip in when you can but damn, it's hard to do that when your boyfriend is literally Chris Evans. 

The rest of the evening goes by with the both of you sipping some soda and feeding each other light snacks as some romcom plays on the screen, your form perched between his limbs with you back to his chest, Chris' chin propped on the top of your head and his thick arms cocooned around your body. 

.

Really hope you liked it <3 

[yurinaa-world]

please i an begging you. sword shop owner reader and regular customer yanqing. sword losers.!!!!

Characters: Yanqing x Platonic! Gender-Neutral Reader

Synopsis: Shop owner reader with Yanqing

Warnings: Fluff, Platonic, and Spelling mistakes

𝒴𝒶𝓃𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔

While you stand there at the check-out waiting for at least one person to come in to look at the swords in the store, you have to stand there alone in the store until dawn comes and you can finally close the shop for the night.

as you get snapped out of your train of thought by the little bell from the door, signifying that someone has just come into the store. Looking at whoever it was, it was a young boy looking around at the swords on the display with a sparkle in his eyes.

You recognize him: wasn't he the disciple of the general of Xianzhou Luofu, Yanqing, was it? He must love swords a lot to try out this place. "You seemed to like our swords quite a lot, but is there some type of sword you want to be made or buy from here?" you smile at him, approaching him. "I'm looking around, but looking at your swords, they're such good quality." He smiles at you with bright eyes.

"If you like, I can take them out of the case so you can get a closer look," you say, taking one off the rack of swords and handing it to him. He takes it and looks at it intently. "I've never seen such good swords; how can this store be empty?" he says, looking up from the sword and at you in disbelief and surprise. You laugh a little.

"That sword you're holding isn't made out of ordinary steel but from a meteor that you collected, and it sure is expensive to buy, but what came out of it was the reward," you said, and he listened to you while pulling the sword out of its sheath and examining it further.

"How much is this sword?"  he asks. After telling him the price and taking him to check out, he pulls out a bag of money from the pocket with the slight sound of coins clinking together. You open the bag and count the coins to the exact amount of the sword. "I hope you enjoy your sword and have a nice day". You waved the boy off and left the sword with him. How cute! He seems to love the sword a lot.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[chickenparm]

Tiny Little Teeth (cat!Scara/f!Reader) Pt 3

AO3 LINK Prev Part Next Part (TBA)

cat(boy)!Scaramouche/f!Reader - Reader is Traveler 3,579 Words - NSFW (Vaginal sex, grinding/thigh riding, messing with his ears, teasing back and forth, the smallest whiff of pining from 2 idiots who think they're not)

---

Scaramouche - Balladeer, Wanderer, whatever - doesn’t let you go.

Even when you shift uncomfortably, the boney prod of his limbs pressing indentations where he holds you too tight. When goosebumps raise along your skin as he exhales against your neck, then inhales just as steadily. When your fingers tug at the end of his hair, trying to get his attention to let him know you’re not quite sure about this. 

But he only laughs, a rasping thing against your ear. So familiar to the many times you’ve heard it before, filled with malice rather than the raw amusement you’re given now. “This is what you wanted. You should really think twice about bringing stray animals into your home.”

And then he shifts his head, rubbing his cheekbone against your jaw in such a strange motion that it gives you pause. A couple things come into focus - they really start to become glaringly obvious. 

The rumble against you can’t be overlooked any longer; he’s purring. The mass of hair against your cheek isn’t just that. It’s firm enough to have structure, and as they flick, you realize it’s those same ears you’d been cooing over just yesterday. Something extra is wrapped around your leg, soft and warm and furry enough that you have to fight the urge to reach out and touch. 

“W-Wanderer…” you trail off, worming one hand between the two of you to push on his chest, but he doesn’t budge an inch. You’re left with your arm awkwardly pinned, ensnaring you further as he noses along your neck. Instinctively you try to lift your shoulder and close off the space, but he doesn’t let you. 

At least for a second or two, then he gives you some reprieve by pulling back. “You wondered all those things last night, and now that you have the chance to confirm them, you’re backing off? Didn’t coin you as someone so indecisive, Traveler.”

“Don’t you think I have the right to be, considering the circumstances?” You hiss back, pushing on his chest a little more now that a bit of leverage has been given. To his credit, he does back off just a bit, enough that you can see the entirety of his face now. Those ears sitting in his hair, soft white on the inside before bleeding into familiar indigo. Violet eyes marked with sharp pupils rather than rounded. It’s unsettling, you think. 

Not bad, just… not what you’re used to when you reconcile him now with the images you’ve rolled over in your mind a few too many times. 

Wanderer huffs a bit, eyes darting up in a quick show of annoyance, the purring stops. “You brought me here. It’s your fault for being too stupid to realize it was me.”

“Because people turn into cute little kitties so often-”

“I wasn’t that little-”

“You were so tiny. Just a soft little guy. I couldn’t just leave you to get eaten all alone,” you argue back, and his face twists in a scowl, fingers starting to dig a bit into your skin with his indignation. 

For a moment, he has no rebuttal, but then his grip loosens a bit and he finds control over both himself and this situation once more. “Whatever, you’re changing the subject. Consider this payback for not letting your stupid flying pet wave me around anymore. So sate your curiosity while I let you.”

“Uh-huh… you’re bossing me around now? You’ve still got those cute little ears, what if I just-”

You cut yourself off as your fingers on the back of his neck squeeze, mimicking the motions of scruffing him just like you’d done when he was much smaller than you. You expect indignation, or a demand, or at least him to fight back. But he all but slumps against you, breath starting to pick up as his eyes stare sightlessly over your shoulder. 

Oh.

Your hold releases, and he snaps back to attention with both hands grabbing at your upper arms, rolling the two of you until you’re prone beneath him, caged by his limbs and centered in his anger, “Don’t do that again.”

“What, scruff you? Maybe you need to be, you’re being an angry little kitten again.”

Wanderer fumes above you, face contorted in unbridled rage as his eyes dart between yours. As quick as it comes, it vanishes, and his mouth stretches into that taunting smile you’re still trying to separate from the Balladeer. “From what I remember, seems like you like me that way. What was it you said? That I must smell nice? That you thought about kissing me?”

Beneath him, your entire body stiffens as you remember exactly what things he’d overheard when you were under the impression it would all be a secret. Seeing your sudden anxiety, he leans closer, cheek brushing against your own for a little too long before nearly whispering in your ear, “And that I have a nice voice. That it gives you goosebumps…”

And it does, your skin prickles with them as his nose brushes the shell of your ear. Your fingers on the back of his neck curl tighter - not enough to scruff him again, but enough that you unwittingly pull him closer. He does smell good, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Clean and sort of sweet like sunshine, as if he’s spent so much time outside that it’s seeped into him. 

And beneath that, something a little sterile, though you expected it with what he is. You inhale without thinking about it, and his laughter rumbles against you alongside the renewal of that purring. With mild frustration at yourself, you realize that it’s soothing. The subtle vibration makes you go lax, your eyelids fluttering closed as it practically surrounds you. 

Fuzziness nearly blocks out the feeling of his heat turning, of his cheek that pressed against yours turning into the brush of his lips there, then against the corner of your mouth, before pressing against you fully in an unmistakable gesture. Practically blooming beneath him, you slide your hand from the back of his neck up to his hair, sliding through the strands and really indulging in the thoughts you’d revealed to him. 

Your nails scrape along the base of his new ears, and what was once something languid and relaxed turns fevered as he snaps to attention. Without warning, his tongue forces past your lips, dragging along your own, the odd roughness making you inhale sharply. Another thing that must have changed with his weird little transformation, you think, and you don’t particularly hate it. Rather, your slow-moving mind starts to wander to what that might feel like elsewhere, whether it’s too rough to feel good, or just right.

Absently you move from the base of his ear to sliding your thumb along the inside, stroking along the downy sort of white fur and receiving an increase in his purr in return. Curiously, you start rubbing little circles, careful not to be too rough, and the taste of his resulting moan lingers on the back of your tongue, nearly choking you with its headiness. 

Pulling back, suddenly feeling drowned in the onslaught of the consequences of your own actions, you murmur, “That’s enough-”

“It’s not.” He chases your lips, kissing you again and again, every time you try to speak. “I’m going to make sure you don’t have a single question left in that empty head of yours about me.” 

“But I-”

Wanderer cuts you off by reaching up to press the webbing of his thumb beneath your chin, fingers wrapping around to press into your cheeks to keep you from talking. “Quit being difficult. Stop thinking so hard. Just lay here and be quiet and let me do this.”

But how far does this go? You want to ask, to demand answers for everything. Why is he doing this when not so long ago he wanted nothing to do with you, and why is he so adamant?

And why in the name of any god was he a cat?

But you take too long, and he takes your silence as encouragement to lean in and press a kiss to your lips that have been pouted by his gentle grip. His voice is a little softer as he repeats, “Just let me do this.”

What else can you do but agree? Dragging your thumb along his ear, you coax his grip on your chin to go slack, his lower lip pulling between his teeth before he pushes his face into your neck to hide the expression of ecstasy from such a simple motion. Repeating the motion again, partly for your own benefit at the sensation of the fur, your other hand lifts to grip at the clothing covering his sides, only to pause. 

“Why are you naked?”

Wanderer’s lips spread into a laugh against your neck, the slightest brush of his teeth before he answers, “Did you think my clothes would fit a cat?”

Your fingers meet his skin, warm and smooth and beckoning you to feel more. Each rib bumps against your thumb, his waist dips as you drag your palm along it, his hipbone fits perfectly in your grasp. When you’re there, when you have a hold on him and he knows you can feel it, Wanderer exhales against your neck and rolls his hips forward. 

The motion feels magnified in your hand, every shift of his muscles being categorized in your brain. Only to be cut off by the languid grind of his cock against you, timed with the stroking of your thumb against his ear. Whether he does it consciously or not isn’t clear; perhaps it’s something instinctual like his tail whipping through the air to show the excitement he tries to stifle. 

Your eyes follow its movements, rolling as smoothly as his hips do as Wanderer grinds himself against your thigh. You encourage it, encourage him, by following the push and pull of him with your hand, guiding his hip until his breath trembles against you in barely-contained pleasure. The fabric over your leg grows wet and sticky with his arousal, shamelessly soaking your skin beneath. 

If it were just this, you’d still be satisfied. Some strange part of you inside decides to correlate this with the closeness he might have been missing up until now. You’d mentioned being fond of him, of wanting to be closer, and maybe this is what he needed. Giving this to him would be enough. 

You’re committed to it until he stops, wrenching himself back to sit upright and loom over you, leaving you bereft of his warmth and that steady vibration of his purring. It’s the first real look you’ve gotten of him like this, now that he isn’t hanging off you and crowding you into submission. 

It’s not as if his clothing leaves his physique to the imagination - you’ve seen the skintight suit he wears beneath the loose layers. Dreamed of the suit, actually, but you’re thankful that’s something you hadn’t deemed appropriate to confess. Beneath it is the pale skin before you, interspersed with markings that you’d initially thought were part of his clothing. 

Shaking fingers reach out to trace along the ones of his abdomen, the untoned muscles of his abdomen jumping in response to something so featherlight. His hand comes to wrap around your wrist, stopping you from going further. “You can explore later.”

“Later…?”

“Yeah, later. C’mon, lift your hips up, I need-...” Wanderer cuts himself off just short of finishing, mouth snapping shut. The crest of his cheekbones turns pink as he averts his eyes down and lifts off of you further to help you undress. What he needs is obvious; about as obvious as why he felt the need to avoid saying it. 

As much yearning as you’ve been subjected to, there’s a distinct feeling that it might actually go both ways. His desperation for you to agree to this, the impatient pull of your clothing, the way his pupils are blown so wide that the narrow slit of black has entirely eclipsed the violet of his iris. 

That hunger translates to his hands growing rough. Smooth palms cup under your knees before pushing up and away as much as you can manage, spreading you open wide enough that there really is nothing to hide from him. A sudden sound makes you jump, eyes darting to see his tail whipping hard enough to smack against the bed audibly. 

Wanderer leans in, his lower lip pulled between his teeth just enough for the sharpness of a canine to peek through, more changes in a physique that you were expecting. The marks across his chest shift with how his lungs expand, inhaling before letting it all go with a subtly shivering sigh. 

First impressions suggest he’s going to just go for it. Pin you beneath him, take whatever it is that he needs, deal with the mess later. You’re prepared for it, you want it. And yet, his eyes flick up to look at you, half-lidded and almost as if he’s delirious. “Can I?”

It almost makes you laugh. He’s got you prone, pinned, spread out before him shamelessly in open invitation, and he’s asking. You love it, and maybe for just a moment, you think you might love him.

“Yeah,” you breathe, fisting at the sheets to hide the tremble of your fingers. “Just go slow, it’s been a while.”

“Saving yourself for me?” Wanderer���s eyes flash as he leans in, crawling up your body until his nose nudges against your own. The length of him nudges against you, sliding with his advance until he’s nestled against you in every sense of the term. “I’m flattered.”

Indignant, disbelief coloring your expression, you reach up first to tug on his hair, then grow a little more vindictive and give a little yank to one of his ears. There’s not much force behind it, just enough to shift his head with the pull. “You wish. You think I’ve waited centuries for you?”

Despite his own scowl at your actions, his eyes flicker to yours with the immediate pickup of your terminology. Anything else dies in your chest, petering out as he leans in and tilts his head, curious. “I think there’s a little more you haven’t told me, Traveler. What if I were to say that I’ve been waiting for you?”

“I’d say you’re a liar.” Your fingers tug on his ear, a little more gentle. 

Wanderer’s eyelids flutter closed for a moment before he leans his head closer, pushing himself further into your hand. “You’d be right. As if I spent even a single moment pining over you.”

That might have stung in the recent past, but his words hold very little weight when he’s bracketed between your legs, pressed close enough that you can feel him base to tip. Wanderer’s words might have more bite if he wasn’t leaking with his own arousal.

Rather than rub his ear, your palm smoothes over his head, pressing the fluff down until it pops back up once free. The sight of him leaning into it is far too endearing than it has any right to be, and you have to fight the urge to make little noises of adoration. Instead you school your tone into something a little more even, “C’mon, then. Better not be barbed.”

It’s not. In fact, Wanderer’s cock is surprisingly normal as it nudges into you, first just the blunt tip pressing at your entrance. Then the satisfying give of your cunt as he pushes, wet and embarrassingly slick from the mixture of his and yours. And god, the world seems to vibrate around you with the rumble in his throat, the shuddering of your nerves as he bottoms out deeply and just sits there. 

Torture is the first thing that comes to mind. He’s slotted into you perfectly, only to watch your face contort first in pleasure, then annoyance. But his barbs don’t come, not even when you tilt your head up and look him in his glazed-over eyes. A flush covers his cheeks, lips parted to pull in quick gasps of air as he stares at the bed next to your head. It’s like he’s not even in the moment, somewhere far off in his head the moment he buried himself inside you. 

Curiously, you flex, tightening for a moment to watch the way he jerks forward as if to chase the sensation. That little canine pokes free as he bites down, eyes darting to you and looking positively wild in his sudden bout of mania. So, you do it again, this time watching enthralled as his eyes roll just before they close. 

Again, you tease him, though he’s really only doing this to himself by not moving. Wanderer’s head falls forward, nosing at your jaw before smashing his face against your neck hard enough to crane your head to the side. One hand braces against the bed, and the other palms up your body, nails dragging and fingers squeezing. Only mildly distracted by your breasts, he brushes past to instead slide his arm under you, pulling you close. 

So close, in fact, that the air is pushed from your lungs and filled instead with that scent you’d been dreaming of. Steadily, as he pulls back and then ruts forward, all the empty spaces inside you are filled with Wanderer - or Scaramouche, or even the Balladeer if you were willing to examine your feelings back that far. 

Succumbing to him completely, you can only grasp at his back and feel the way his ear flattens beneath your hand, pressing against his skull as something vicious and gnawing takes over inside him. The stillness is abandoned for a palpable greed as he fucks into you, grinding more than thrusting, like he can’t stand to be separated from you in even a small capacity. 

If you let him, you think he’d crawl between your ribs and nestle himself further inside you. Surely he’d curl up in the space between your heart and lungs, taking up permanent residence and never letting you go. You don’t want him to let you go. 

All you want is for him to continue losing himself in the moment - in you. To find some of the answers he’s looking for with gulping breaths and clawing hands. No space is left between, his cock pressing deep and his voice cracking between reedy whines against your throat. 

Something slides along your leg, curling around your thigh and wrapping tight enough to squeeze. His tail, no longer whipping but instead joining his crusade to feel more of you. The urge to enable him is stronger than you can ignore, and your free leg wraps around him to hook behind one thigh, encouraging him to go harder with each wet squelch of your cunt around him. 

Slow and deep turns rather rapidly into something hard and quick, the keening mewls against your neck taking on a ragged sheen. Pleasure that had once come from closeness now burns hot with friction, searing your skin and sending static across your brain. Now you can’t help but cry out, grasping and pulling and taking him in, over and over. 

“Wanderer, please-”

“Shh, j-just… mmh-” his voice is wrecked, thickened with lust and effort. Wanderer’s hand slides up your back to hook over your shoulder, pulling as he pushes, each thrust raising your hips off the bed a scant few inches before you fall down without him. Nails digging into your skin, his teeth follow suit with smooth crescents flanked by needle-sharp canines that threaten to pierce you clean though. 

They only drag across your pulse, almost like he can taste it. His voice ripples over you, even as ruined as it is. “Don’t want to stop… b-but I’m-!”

He’ll be so mad when he’s done, you know he’ll be bristling at the memory of being so candid while buried to the hilt. You can’t bring yourself to care as his neediness sends you careening beyond the point of no return far more than any sensation you’re feeling physically. You writhe in his hold, back arching and hands pulling hard enough to make him hiss and buck against you in return. 

The feedback loop spirals. You grip at him too hard, he bucks against you, pleasure shoots through and you clench, he whines against your neck, you yank him close again. Back and forth until your energy wanes and Wanderer pulls at both of your shoulders to keep you still as he forces himself as deep as he can manage to release inside. If he can’t become one with you, then at least he can mark you from the inside. 

Uncaring of your comfort, he collapses on top of you, spent and just as weary. With a fumbling hand, you stroke at his ears and let your eyes droop closed to immerse yourself in the feelings mired together, bound up by the rumbling of Wanderer purring against your chest.

With a bit of a rasp to your voice, you murmur, “Wanderer?”

Mutely his head shakes, his cheek rubbing against your jaw even as he denies your request for further acknowledgment. That’s okay, you think, he’ll come around. Maybe if you keep rubbing his ears like this, or subtly shifting your head to rub your cheek against his hair in a weird mimicry of affection. 

As long as he keeps purring.

[dreadsuitsamus]

5 Times You Meet Kensei +1 Time He Gets Your Number | Kensei Muguruma x Reader |

author's note: this structure is horribly outdated but i give no fucks!! thank you to @yeowangies for the help and support on this!

pairing: kensei muguruma x fem!reader

warnings: buncha meet cutes, alcohol mentions, lotsa flustering kensei

Speed dating.

What in the fuck is he doing here.

Kensei pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits at a table, waiting for the event to start just so it can end that much sooner. Mashiro forced this damn thing on him, that little shit. She knows just how to annoy him and get her way: why does he keep her around??

"I guess this isn't really your thing, huh?"

Kensei's brown eyes flick up; dammit, he zoned out and made a fool of himself on the very first 'date'. His silver brow twitches involuntarily as he responds. "You got me."

Your laugh twinkles as you slide into the seat across from him, a fruity cocktail in hand. Kensei's struck immediately by your beauty, for sure, and he's suddenly feeling underdressed in his black Henley and jeans while he's up against your, emphasis on little, black dress and golden accessories. "I've done a few of these before; it's not really anybody's thing, honestly. You're not as out of place as you feel."

"Oh, yes the hell I am." An odd laugh accompanies his shaky assertion— and he hates that he's nervous!

"You should have a drink, calm your nerves a little." The black straw from your brightly colored drink settles in the center of your gorgeously painted lips, demonstrating how you can possibly bear such an event without so much as batting an eye while your gaze flicks to the name tag stuck onto his chest.

Kensei rubs the back of his neck, his muscles deliciously hugged by that too-small Henley. "Good idea. But I don't know if I should be taking advice from someone with more sugar than alcohol in her drink."

Your laugh does more to calm his nerves than a drink would, that's for sure.

You continue to chuckle to yourself as he goes to the bar, watching him order his scotch on the rocks from the rather busy bar. The red numbers tick down on the clock, and he's not likely to return before the time is up. It is speed dating after all. Fishing out a pen from your purse, you scribble a little note on the cocktail napkin before moving onto the next table.

Kensei is rather relieved when he returns to an empty table— but only briefly, since your seat is taken damn near immediately by a new stranger. He has a pull from the drink, smirking into the tumbler as he reads your note and tunes out the new 'date' introducing themselves.

Get it with a twist next time, you wimp!

"This shouldn't have been so controversial." Kensei's arms are crossed and the vein that's famously seen amongst his infuriating friend group is throbbing so hard that they may as well pay for an entire extra seat just for it.

Shinji and Hiyori, as per fucking usual, cannot decide what movie to watch. The group is split entirely, and it's up to his tie breaking vote to get the evening moving along. They're arguing harshly, the two factions, and he has not a care in the world to the actual film. He just wants his popcorn and peanut M&M's that'll cost him a solid thirty dollars and to take a nap.

"Shut up!" He stands tall, brown eyes furious and just a tad crazy as he fishes a coin from his pocket. "Heads or tails, you jackasses!"

He flips the coin easily, not even sure who called what side as he catches it and flips it into the back of his hand. "Tails. I'm getting a snack now."

Hiyori's taunting Shinji as they purchase the tickets, and Kensei tucks his box of candy into one of his pockets (he told Mashiro his cargo shorts are useful!!) so he can better hold his popcorn bucket out of Hiyori's reach as they stand in line to have their tickets scanned. "Hey, you little rat! Knock it off!"

The giggle behind him is familiar, and his eyes widen rather comically upon sight of you and what he presumes is your gaggle of friends. He never saw you again during that disaster of a night, and it was definitely for the best— he was hammered by the end of it and had to be, literally, picked up by Hachi just to make it home.

"Nice to see you again, Ken." You tease, laughing at Hiyori's ability to snatch a handful of his popcorn during his stunned daze.

"K-Ken?" He stumbles on the word— nobody has ever called him that.

"What movie are you seeing?" You breeze on by his confusion, though the gears in his head have come to a complete standstill. Listen closely enough and you'll hear the internet dial up tone.

"Ah…" He shows his ticket to you, ignoring the snickers of his friends behind him. He'll never live this down. Kensei, their resident, stone-faced asshole, is flustered??

"Oh, we saw that last weekend! Not a bad movie; I think you'll like it." You smile and the line moves up, Kensei's group getting their tickets scanned next.

"Not sure if I trust the opinion of someone who agrees with Hiyori's tastes." Kensei grumbles, worried that the heat on his cheeks is visible to you; or worse, his friends.

"Hey!" Hiyori kicks at Kensei's shin, though it hurts her far more than Kensei himself. You scan your ticket, the teen at the stand pointing your theater in the opposite direction of Kensei's movie.

"You'll trust me enough after you see it." You wink and start to head to your movie, glancing over your shoulder to smile at Kensei once more before disappearing into the theater. Ignoring the snickers of his friends, Kensei growls and heads into their own designated theater.

I should've fucking flipped heads.

The chill of the air is rather inconsequential to Kensei as he runs security at the door of the nightclub, his nice suit and gloves keeping him as warm as he is stylish. He's never been one to say no to extra cash, and though his days as a doorman are far behind him, he's still got it, evidently. He's stopped several fake IDs, weapons, drugs and more, all while making his much-higher hourly rate than he did back when this was his living.

Just after busting a teen with the worst fake ID he's ever seen, Kensei's line finally starts fizzling out. The club is booming, half of the city must be inside by this point, with the other half having been kicked swiftly to the curb. He checks the expensive watch on his wrist; just a few more hours and he's all done, his favor to the club owner fulfilled and his next monthly car note paid off. Huffing out a breath, the cold air lingers for a moment, and as it dissipates, he's met with his next crowd of people.

So much for a moment of peace.

The group is split between himself and the other doorman, and it's the routine pat downs and ID checks as usual. He's gotten through a third of the group before you're before him, smirking with twinkly eyes as you present your ID to him— it's only now that he actually gets your name.

"Funny how we keep meeting." You tease, tucking the ID card back into your wallet and stepping aside for his pat down, rather eager for those strong-looking hands to get a touch of you.

Kensei's brown eyes flick to meet your gaze, and his face warms just at the sight of you. You truly are a stunning woman. "Careful; I might just think you're stalking me."

"You think I like you that much, Ken? Interesting…" Your teeth graze your lower lip, just a little, as you spread your arms and legs.

"Don't call me Ken." He grumbles, appreciating the way your perfume masks the cigarettes those in line have been smoking all night.

"It's cute." You shrug and Kensei pats you down without another word, perking a pierced brow as he snags a small bottle of whiskey concealed in your waistband.

"I don't think you know what 'cute' is if you're talking about me in the same sentence. Better luck next time, princess."

"Guess you're good at your job, huh?" You murmur, gazing up and over your shoulder to better see his handsome face. He's got a pet name for you now, hm? Interesting.

"Shoulda got in the other guy's line." Kensei mutters, tossing and subsequently shattering the glass on the cold sidewalk.

"I like this line." Slowly, your fingertip drags along the length of his sharp jaw and it's then that Kensei's aware of his other hand still holding your hip— how in the hell do you have the ability to make him forget himself so easily? "But since you took my whiskey… Can I go inside now? I could use a drink."

The taller man's Adam's apple bobs and he releases you, practically pushing you into the doors of the booming club and the arms of your giggling friends. His face is pink, and at least he can try to pass it off on the cold temperatures if anyone asks.

He should've saved that damn whiskey for later.

Kensei's sweating like a whore in church as he finishes his workout, his body glistening with sweat as he pulls off his tank top for a taste of refreshing air. Cardio was a particular killer for him today, though it made the weight training a little bit easier too. He'd been slacking off for a few weeks, and the moment he had just a little difficulty yeeting Mashiro and Lisa (simultaneously, and while dealing with Hiyori doing her best to knock him over) into that pit of foam at the trampoline place was a reminder to get back to the gym.

He's more of a primadonna than he admits.

He takes a long pull from his water bottle, pouring the remainder over his heated face and shoulders and scans the room. It's habit to him, partially as a former special forces commander and also due to the number of times he's caught others incorrectly using equipment and aided them for better workouts. The gym is the only place he's remotely social in, oddly enough.

His brown eyes narrow at the sight of a woman (that can't be who he thinks it is) on a stair stepper. There's a man beside her, one that he noticed following her around before. They could be friends, though Kensei doubts it greatly as the loser continues to stand beside you, talking about gains while you remain the only one actually working out.

The guy's talking with his hands, and Kensei's witnessed this brand of harassment enough to tell where this is going. Wasting a breath no more, he's walking over with a meaner face than usual. It is you, and that makes him just a little more angry at this harassment than he'd normally be. You turn your head away from the man that's been annoying you, eyes lighting up at your savior. "Ken!"

Kensei places himself between you and the strange man, his impressive size and build enough to make the other guy nervous. "You like harassing women at the gym?" He crosses those deliciously thick arms, and you're frankly more concerned with viewing his toned back than dealing with the situation at hand.

"I told you I had a boyfriend." You tease, peeking over Kensei's shoulder at the now very intimidated mark.

Kensei frowns just a tad deeper after that— so many things are wrong with that statement. Namely, you thinking you had to have a boyfriend, real or not, for this guy to leave you alone. Unbeknownst to him, the back of his neck flushes a light, rosy color that makes you snicker.

"If I ever see you harassing a woman again, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. Understood?"

Kensei doesn't waste time hearing any lame excuses or apologies before turning to face you, who smirks proudly in his wake. "I'm here most days a week around this time. If anyone bothers you again, just come find me and I'll take care of it. And don't call me Ken."

"You're more bothered by me calling you Ken than my boyfriend?" You raise a brow, an entertained smirk on your face.

"Like I'd date someone who wears a pink bodysuit to the gym." Kensei grumbles lamely, blushing from the tips of his ears to the center of his chest.

"That's a lot of talk coming from someone that's blushing pinker than a Barbie dream house." You laugh, poking one of his pectorals.

He's red now as he looks away from you, his jaw tight as you tease him. "Stop bothering me and finish your workout." He retreats before you can manage to get under his skin again, though his plan doesn't pan out like he hoped as your voice follows him.

"Nice tattoo, by the way!"

"Get your mind outta the gutter!" He hollers back, practically running to hide in the locker room, all while you grin and wonder if that was the hint of a Long Island accent slipping through.

"Come on, let's go!" Kensei claps his hands harshly, ushering his friends (and those they brought along that he merely tolerates) towards the stadium. The baseball game is due to start shortly and goddammit he's not gonna miss a thing because of these unorganized fucks. He's still got a hot dog to get!

"Relax, friend." Shinji shakes his head at Kensei's impatience, not that it was unexpected of the hothead.

"No! They might actually win this one!" Kensei's excitement is hard to contain, and he actually smiles at the idea of his favorite team not being losers!

"Oh yeah? Confident enough to put your money on it?"

Kensei snorts, leading the charge into the stadium amongst the throngs of people. "Not a chance."

Half of the group is sent to their seats while the other takes on the responsibility of securing food and drink, Kensei at the ready with the entire order memorized. The lines are dense, the entire area packed and noisy. Under normal circumstances he'd be overstimulated quickly and heavily irritated, but even those ticks of his can be overlooked for a ballgame.

He's next in line and fires off the order with precision, handing off the drinks to Shinji and Ichigo to run to deliver them to the rest of the group, Kensei more than capable of carrying all the food himself. His thick arms full, he steps away and makes for the stands just as the person in the line beside him exits at the same time.

"Woah there!" You steady yourself against Kensei's strong build, gripping his sleeveless jersey tightly to keep yourself standing as the hot dogs and nachos in his arms crash onto the floor.

"Jesus!" He grumbles, grasping your hip with a strong hand now that the food is gone.

"Oh, Kensei, I'm sorry." You glance at the floor before looking back up at the not-so-strange stranger.

""s just food, no worries." He mutters. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." You wave off his concern easily. "Here, let me buy you your food again."

Kensei snorts, tugging at your own jersey that's for the rival team. "I don't need a Bears fan buying me a hot dog. That's how people choke."

"Ha!" You smile despite your offended scoff. "As if a Panthers fan could do anything but! They learned from the best!"

"You take that back!" Kensei pokes your shoulder.

"You gonna make me?" You smirk in the face of the handsome man, and he smirks right back at you.

"You will by the end of the game, princess."

"Guess we'll see, Ken. That is, if you make it to your seat by the end." Winking slyly, you saunter off and Kensei's left to realize just how much longer the line is now.

"Don't… Don't call me Ken." He grumbles out, heading for the back of the line.

Hell has frozen over: his friends all have plans on a Friday night, between dates and familial commitments and whatnot, and he's left to do whatever the hell he likes in peace. It's been years since he's had such an opportunity, and there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be than here at his favorite dive, enjoying a basket of fish and chips with a mug of ice cold beer.

That was the plan, anyhow. And it started off that way easily enough.

But then you walked in with someone else.

Ever since he met you, you've popped up at the most random times and he's never expected not one of them, this time being the absolute furthest from expecting it he could be. Seeing you was one thing… Seeing you with another guy, in Kensei's favorite bar, was… So fucking rage-inducing that he's still contemplating throwing the guy through the window even an hour after seeing you come in.

Lookin' so pretty… For a fuckin' schmuck that took her to the shittiest dive in town.

Who the hell does the guy think he is? With the prettiest woman for miles on his arm, he's at a dive bar for a first date. The disrespect is insane, the lack of thought or care simply ludicrous. Kensei doesn't date anymore because it's just so stupid but damn if he wouldn't do better than this, by a lot.

"Awfully pouty tonight, Ken."

Kensei blinks out of his salty stupor, turning his head. "Don't call me Ken."

You laugh at his offense to the nickname and order two drinks from the bartender before looking back at him. "What's got you so worked up?"

Kensei feels like his brows will forever be stuck frowning, the vein at his temple about to burst. "Did you just order that grown man a drink?"

"Mhm. Is that an issue?"

He snorts, shaking his head at the bitter laugh he can't control. "No, if you like bums who can't show a pretty woman a good time."

Your teeth sink into your lip, tugging while enjoying how this big, tough guy seems to be jealous that you're with someone else. "Well, when you put it like that, I can't help but wanna see how you'd do it better."

And fuck, there it is. Kensei can't turn down such a golden opportunity; he's already a sucker for being challenged, add a beautiful woman into the mix, one that's mischievous and crafty like you, and he's got no choice but to jump in headfirst. "Then I'll show you. You'd do well to learn what a good date is."

Your grin is bright and you dive into your purse for a pen. "Call me anytime."

Kensei holds the napkin with your number carefully as you retreat to your horrible excuse for a date with the drinks, his heart pumping quicker than normal. Now he can access you intentionally, with ease.

A slow smirk spreads on his lips as he types the number into his phone, nearly wearing a shit-eating grin as he holds it to his ear and watches you politely step away from your sleazy date to answer the call.

"I'm ready to show you a better time."

Your laugh echoes across the room, and for once he's not embarrassed to laugh with you.

[eternalfarnham]

Madoka closes her eyes and thinks about being different. Not too different. Just as far as she's allowed.

When she opens them again, the tree she picked as a reference point is in the same spot, which means she's won the coin flip to keep hold of the Soul Gem. Across from her, a girl is blinking in the sunlight, a refugee from a different story.

The other Madoka's hair is close-shaven, the rose petal locks ground to powder and dusted across her scalp; she wears a thrift-store jacket with iron-on patches of unknown provenance and meaning, fingers lost in its sleeves; there's more daylight between her and a hot meal than Junko would ever permit without a worried conversation. Disguise pen, thinks Madoka, make me a cute teen runaway, and snorts a little to herself even though it's objectively not funny.

Alt-Madoka shakes off the disorientation and pats herself down, checking for the taser, duct tape and personal alarm that Madoka cloned herself with. Once they're duly confirmed, she nods, and leaves to assume her observer position at the edges of Mami-senpai's regular patrol route.

She grabs the slice of carrot cake in its plastic container on the way out, just in case Mami-senpai notices that she's being watched. This particular alt-Madoka looks frail and unfortunate so that Mami-senpai will forget suspicion in favor of pity. With the cake available, she might even "convince this poor girl to eat something," a psychological win that helps her stave off grief and build the beginnings of a protective codependence. And Madoka likes carrot cake. It's a little treat for everyone.