#this is gonna get unhinged so buckle up

[potatothepikachu]

++ OOC POST FROM SPOOKIESTCHU:++ "Let him cook." Here's some information on Potato to start things off. There's more to him, stick around to find out!

[spookysanta]

Keep Your Eyes Open. (MBJ)

Summary: When she talks slick, she has to pay the price.

Pairing; Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: porn without plot, basically. rough sex - hair pulling, choking, spit, whole nine. unhinged michael.

a late idea i had. you're welcome.

MINORS DNI

It started with her mouth.

It always did.

She’d been talking slick since the moment she woke up. Half-whispers while brushing her teeth, playful digs over coffee, brushing up against him as she passed by just to smirk and keep walking. It wasn’t even full-blown teasing. It was worse. Constant. Casual. That quiet, confident tone she used when she thought she had the upper hand.

Michael let it ride. He didn’t say a word.

All day long he’d just watched her. Tracked every word she said, every swing of her hips when she turned a corner, every stretch of her thighs beneath one of his old T-shirts. No bra. No panties. Just the shirt and her mouth.

It had been building for hours.

When she walked through the bedroom that night, barefoot and freshly showered, humming to herself like she hadn’t been a menace all damn day, he barely looked up from his phone. But when she paused in front of the mirror, caught a glimpse of herself, and turned just slightly to admire the curve of her ass in his shirt, she did it.

She smirked. Right at her own reflection.

And that was it.

Michael set his phone down and stood.

She didn’t hear him at first. Not until he was behind her. Not until his hands were at her waist and his mouth was at her ear. “Stay right there. In front of the mirror.”

Her breath hitched. She looked up. Saw his eyes in the reflection — low, dark, unreadable.

He pushed her forward gently until her palms were on the dresser and her face was nearly pressed to the glass. Her shirt rode up with the motion, exposing the curve of her hips and the soft dip of her lower back. He stepped back just enough to look at her. Really look at her.

The mirror showed everything. Every inch of her skin. Every shift of her weight. Every nervous flutter of her eyelashes. “Michael—”

His hand slid up her spine, slow and firm, until it reached the back of her neck. He held her there, thumb brushing the hairline behind her ear. “You wanted attention,” he said, his voice low and calm. “So now you’re gonna watch what it looks like when you get it.”

He didn’t give her time to respond. One hand held her steady, and the other gripped her hip, guiding her back onto him in one hard, hungry thrust.

She gasped, eyes went going in the mirror, lips parting in a silent scream. Her knees almost buckled.

“Look at you,” he muttered, drawing back just far enough to slam into her again. “Watch your face when I fuck the attitude out of you.”

She tried to. Tried to stay focused. But it was impossible to hold her own gaze when the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the room and her body shook with every thrust.

Michael’s grip was unforgiving. One hand anchored on her waist, pulling her back to meet every stroke, the other sliding between her legs, fingers slick with the evidence of how much she loved this. His fingertips circled her clit, slow and brutal, until her moans got louder, sloppier, higher-pitched. “You feel that?” he said, breath hot against her ear. “You feel how soaked you are for me?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering.

“Say it.”

“I feel it,” she moaned. “Fuck, Michael—I feel everything.”

He growled deep in his chest. Fucked into her harder. Her thighs slapped against the dresser edge, hips arching, tits bouncing beneath the shirt that clung to her sweat-damp skin.

Then he stilled.

Pulled out.

She whimpered from the loss, confused and dizzy.

He turned her around by her shoulders, pushed her down to her knees. “Open.”

She did, mouth wide, tongue out, eyes up.

He gripped the back of her head, slid into her mouth inch by inch, slow enough to savor it, deep enough to feel her swallow around him. Her lips were soft and warm and so eager. Spit coated his cock almost immediately. She was messy with it, drool dripping down her chin, her own arousal practically pouring between her thighs just from the act of pleasing him. “God, this mouth,” he breathed, hips starting to roll. “I could live in this fucking mouth.”

She moaned around him. That sound vibrated against him, sent a pulse of heat straight up his spine. 

“You love when I make a mess on your pretty face?”

She gagged as he thrust deeper. Then he pulled back, wiped the spit from her cheek with his thumb, and let it trail down to her neck.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” she panted. “Love when you make a mess of me. Love when you use my mouth. Love it—need it—”

“Good.”

He didn’t warn her.

He just came.

Hot and hard across her tongue, groaning as her eyes fluttered, as her lips stayed open and perfect to catch it all. He let it drip down her chin, smearing it with his thumb, then kissing her forehead like a prize.

She was still trembling when he lifted her again.

Still dizzy when he turned her back around and bent her over the dresser.

“You thought we were done?”

She shook her head, too gone to speak.

He buried himself inside her again, slower this time. No less intense. Her walls clenched tight around him and he moaned like it hurt. “You’re taking it so well,” he murmured, kissing her shoulder, nipping the back of her neck. “So fucking good for me.”

She tried to hold herself up. She really did. But her knees gave out with the first deep thrust.

Michael caught her and kept going.

One arm around her waist, one hand gripping her hair, pulling her head back until she could see her ruined reflection again.

Her mascara had smeared. Her lips were swollen. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow bursts.

The mirror fogged.

So did her brain.

“You feel dumb yet?”

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I feel dumb,” she sobbed. “So—so fucking dumb for you.”

He reached around, thumb on her clit. “You gon’ tap out?”

She shook her head. “I can’t,” she cried.

He slowed.

Dragged his hips deep. “You’re mine, baby. You can take it.” He leaned in close. Mouth on her neck. Teeth scraping. “Look at you. Your head's empty, isn't it? You don’t think when I’m in you. You can’t.”

Grunting, swearing, hips jerking against her until she cried out from the sensitivity, from the ache, from the stretch and the heat and the absolute ruin of it all.

He didn’t let go right away. Just held her there, pressed against the mirror, his chest to her back, breath heavy in her ear.

Her legs gave out completely.

He caught her again. Lifted her, laid her gently onto the bed. Pulled the shirt off over her head, kissed the center of her chest, and brushed his fingers along the bruises he’d left.

She was silent. Mouth slightly open. Face still messy.

Michael looked at her like he’d just claimed a kingdom.

“You gonna talk shit tomorrow?” he asked, voice low and wrecked.

She smiled weakly. “If I can walk.”

He laughed, pressing one last kiss to her neck.

“Bet.”

—

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[ruloaapaul]

STORYTIME BITCHES — HOW I ACCIDENTALLY SLEEP PARALYZED MYSELF INTO THE VOID STATE.

you wanna hear a little story time about how i fucking slid into the void state like it was my DMs at 2 AM? well, grab a snack and buckle the fuck up, because this is about to be the most chaotic, unhinged, and ICONIC void state experience you’ll ever hear. and yes, it all started with fucking sleep paralysis.

***

i was minding my damn business, trying to fall asleep like a normal human being. except—plot twist, bitch—i woke up, but my body DIDN’T. now, I’m no stranger to sleep paralysis. this wasn’t my first rodeo. but usually, i’d get all dramatic, start internally screaming, panicking, and trying to force my body to wake up like i was trapped in a horror movie. not today, satan. this time, i thought, “you know what? fuck it. let’s roll with it.” and baby, that was the best decision I EVER made.

***

so im lying there, completely frozen, staring at the ceiling, unable to even wiggle a toe. normally, this is where people start panicking. but i said, “NOPE. we’re gonna turn this sht into a spiritual awakening.” instead of fighting it, i just relaxed into it. And that’s when things got weird as fuck.

***

all of a sudden, my body started feeling weightless. like, full-on “i just smoked something illegal” type of floating. my arms? gone. my legs? didn’t know her. my entire physical body? irrelevant. it felt like i was sinking and floating at the same time, like my consciousness just detached from my body. and at this point, i had two options:

1. freak out and fuck it all up.

2. stay calm and become the baddest void-state diva alive.

so, obviously, i chose option 2.

***

the next thing i knew, i was in a space of pure blackness. no thoughts, no body, no sense of time—just infinite stillness. it wasn’t scary. it wasn’t boring. it was just… nothingness. and bitch, let me tell you, it was the most peaceful thing i’ve ever felt. this was it. this was the VOID STATE. now, you know me—i wasn’t about to waste this golden opportunity just floating around like some lost soul. i had shit to manifest.

***

once i realized i was in the void, i got straight to work. i didn’t waste time asking questions. i didn’t overthink it. i just stated my desires like the main character that I am.

“i have unlimited confidence.” boom, felt it sink in immediately.

“i manifest money effortlessly.” boom, i could feel abundance already flowing my way.

“my life is a fucking dream.” boom, reality bent to my will.

i wasn’t asking for these things. i wasn’t hoping for them. i just said it, felt it, and it was done. and that, my friends, is the real power of the void state. no resistance. no effort. just instant manifestation.

***

at some point, my body decided it was done being paralyzed, and i snapped right the fuck back into my bed. one second, i was vibing in the void, the next? i was staring at my ceiling like i just got hit by a cosmic bus.

and let me tell you, i felt DIFFERENT. i felt powerful. like i had just hacked the universe and came back with all the cheat codes. my energy was unmatched. and here’s the wildest part—everything i affirmed in the void started showing up in my real life.

my confidence? next level.

opportunities? popping up out of nowhere.

money? rolling in like the universe was throwing me a fucking parade.

and all i did was lay there, accept the void, and state what I wanted.

***

[valeisaslut]

Hi beautiful Val I have a quick question... did Ellie become obsessed with reader after or before knowing each other or even knowing about her? because I might've got it mixed for all of the info in previous chapters but was it like the type of 'I know about you but I'm gonna pretend I don't' or 'I know about you and I want to know more' if that makes sense... it's keeping me awake babes xx

hi my beautiful angel 😭💗 buckle up because this is actually such a fun part of their backstory and i’ve been waiting for someone to ask.

DID ROCKSTAR!ELLIE AND POPSTAR!READER KNOW ABOUT EACH OTHER'S EXISTENCE BEFORE COLLIDE?

let's start: ellie had 100% known about you before you ever actually met. not in a stalker lurking through your spotify wrapped kinda way—more like… you were just one of those names that wouldn’t. shut. up. always on someone’s lips, always popping up on another feature or getting tagged in some thirst tweet. she couldn’t possibly not know who you were. especially because the word on the street was that you were a real songwriter, which, in her world, was rare enough to clock.

she first saw you at one of those bougie-ass industry events where everyone pretends to like each other and drinks taste like soap. you were standing under half-dead chandeliers, lit just right by the overheads, wearing something stupidly perfect—maybe velvet, maybe glitter, maybe both—and laughing like you’d never had to fake it. just… owning the room like it came with your contract.

ellie didn’t even meet you. didn’t get introduced. just watched from a distance like a freak and thought, great. another industry plant with a god complex. but then you threw your head back laughing—no cameras, no one looking, just you being you—and it hit her in the gut like, shit. that’s real.

that night, she half-jokingly asked dina, “is she cool or just hot?” and then promptly googled your entire discography when she got home, under the guise of “checking if the music’s mid.”

it wasn’t. it was really fucking good. and it stayed stuck in her head like a curse. made her want to write better. or kiss you. or both.

from then on, every time she was at an award show or some exclusive party, there you were. different dress, different hair, same effect. it became a little unspoken game—side glances across champagne flutes, catching each other’s eyes from across the stage, lingering a second too long when one of you passed the other on a carpet. no words. just tension.

and ellie? she played it cool. stone face, drink in hand, pretending she wasn’t absolutely clocking your every movement like a sniper.

your perspective? oh, you definitely knew about the fireflies. and you definitely knew about ellie. everyone and their mom did. that gorgeous woman with a voice like smoke and a band that made breakup songs feel like war chants. there wasn’t a single pop girlie alive who didn’t know her name, and you were no exception—even if you liked to pretend you didn’t care. but the truth? you cared a little too much.

one day, out of nowhere—half-drunk, hair still pinned from a red carpet event, makeup smudged just right—you fell into a very dark, very chaotic tiktok hole. you were supposed to be taking your lashes off. you ended up watching ellie williams thirst edits instead.

there she was. shirt half-unbuttoned. guitar slung low. sweat dripping off her jaw in 4K slow motion as some unhinged fan account played Arabella in the background. you watched it at least five times. maybe seven. saved it.

“okay,” you muttered to yourself, lying flat on your over-the-top-expensive satin sheets, phone three inches from your face. “so that’s fucking illegal.”

then came the edits of her talking—on stage, backstage, messing around with jesse and dina in grainy behind-the-scenes footage, mumbling into a mic mid-set like she didn’t just ruin the lives of thousands with one glance. there was one where she said, “this next song’s about hating someone so much you’d still fuck them,” and the crowd screamed. you sat up in bed like you’d been shot.

you didn’t even like rockstars. that wasn’t your brand. your brand was clean, curated, chart-topping bubblegum pop with just enough edge to keep the internet guessing. ellie? ellie was messy and grungy and covered in tattoos she refused to explain.

and yet.

when the next thirst edit rolled around—her in one of the fireflies music videos, a slow zoom of her in a wife pleaser, sipping a beer and staring into the camera like she knew—you slammed your phone face-down on the mattress and muttered, “okay. ENOUGH.”

spoiler: it was not enough. you watched ten more edits. saved all of them.

then, like a curse, you caught her watching you while you performed. she didn’t clap. didn’t even blink. just stared, jaw tight, drink in hand like she wanted to devour you or disappear. you weren’t sure which.

but you never talked. not once.

not until chapter one.

and when you did finally meet—when ellie sat on that leather booth in that club, all sharp jaw and sharper attitude—the energy wasn’t: oh, nice to finally meet you.

it was i know you. and you know me.

[kxsagi]

Hello girlie🩷 I hope you doin well,

I saw u open u request today :).

I wanted to ask if you could a headcannon or smth like which kind of car drivers are the blue lock boys and would they drive gearshift or automatic, which car would they drive?

I personally think Kaiser can drive both and he is a cocky driver. He is german so I guess he is a good driver and would absolutley use the no speed limitation on german highways. Isagi probably swears and curses a lot. Could you pls write it for Kaiser,Isagi,Sae,Rin,Bachira,Barou and whoever you like🩷

“𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬? 𝐧𝐨”

a/n: i'm doing well and i hope are you too! i absolutely love this request ❤️

ft. kaiser michael, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, itoshi rin, bachira meguru, barou shoei

kaiser michael

drives: both. obviously. he could drive a tank if you asked him to. 

car: obnoxiously loud BMW M8 Competition with blacked-out rims and illegal neon lights that scream “main character.” 

driving style: spawn of satan meets fast & furious audition reel. 

he drives like every road is a racetrack and he’s got a sponsorship deal on the line. 

one hand on the wheel, other on your thigh, doing 210km/h with zero fear of god or death. 

“buckle up, liebling. we’re gonna pass 12 cars and a soul today.” 

listens to eurobeat and EDM (like 700 main street that song is so good idc). subwoofers so strong your bones vibrate. 

randomly revs the engine when another guy looks at you. 

brake checks people for fun. 

will lean out the window to yell “move it, snail boy” at slow drivers. 

the police? fans. they ask for selfies. 

isagi yoichi

drives: automatic only. thinks stick is a myth invented by the show top gear. 

car: toyota corolla, the 2023 “sport” trim that he swears has more horsepower (it doesn’t). 

driving style: unhinged, but law-abiding. 

he’s the type to hit the brakes 0.002 seconds after the light turns yellow, clutching the steering wheel like it personally betrayed him. 

screams internally every time someone merges without signaling. road rage is most definitely present. 

“HELLO?? it’s not a personality test, it’s a damn traffic light. MOVE.” 

accidentally floors it when you're just trying to chill. 

swears under his breath with the windows up but immediately apologizes after: “sorry love, that was not very respectful of me. i’m just… really passionate about traffic etiquette.” 

gps volume at full blast. still misses the turn. 

itoshi sae

drives: automatic. doesn’t need stick – that’s what other people are for. 

car: mercedes-benz S-class, silver, polished like a mirror, smells like “wealthy indifference.” 

driving style: smooth, silent, emotionally detached. 

never makes sharp turns. it’s all glides and glances. 

has never parked crooked in his life. 

listens to ambient lofi or complete silence. 

“why would i honk? that’s embarrassing.” 

lets pedestrians walk even when they shouldn’t. 

will drive an extra 15 mins to avoid traffic but act like it was his plan all along. 

always looks like he’s in a commercial. he could run someone over and still look cool. 

itoshi rin

drives: manual. said “automatic is a metaphor for mediocrity” and meant it. 

car: black mazda RX-7, pristine, waxed weekly, emotionally significant. 

driving style: laser-focused, but not chill about it. 

adjusts his mirrors exactly three times. won’t move the car until the seat feels “symmetrical.” 

“don’t talk. i’m merging.” 

refuses to use drive-thrus. too inefficient. 

slams the brakes at yellow lights like it’s a moral stand. 

speed limit? 1km/h over. rebellious. 

gets irrationally mad when you fiddle with the radio. 

doesn't let you eat in his car. you once dropped a fry and he nearly pulled over to exorcise it. 

uses apple maps even though he memorized every street. 

bachira meguru

drives: automatic (but makes it look manual somehow). 

car: bright yellow jeep wrangler with anime decals and at least 12 hanging plushies. 

driving style: feral and fearless. 

rolls the windows down no matter the season. yells compliments at strangers. 

parks diagonally like it’s an art piece. 

will drive into the forest just because “the trees were calling him.” 

doesn’t use turn signals. he “lets the vibes decide.” 

GPS? nah. he just follows the sun and the stars. 

keeps snacks, glitter, and possibly feral raccoons in the back. 

“do you want to hear my car playlist or my car chase playlist?” 

there is no peace when he’s driving. only laughter, speed bumps, and spontaneous detours. 

barou shoei

drives: manual. automatic is for weaklings and children. 

car: dodge challenger hellcat, blacked out like his soul. 

driving style: aggressive. like "fasten your seatbelt or meet god" aggressive. 

merges like it’s a battle for survival. 

absolutely has a custom license plate that says KING23. 

revs his engine at red lights because “the car needs to BREATHE.” 

“i don’t slow down. they get out of the way.” 

will stare into other drivers' souls at stop signs like it’s a standoff. 

has rock blasting as he parallel parks. 

glove compartment has protein bars and nothing else. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[saintslewis]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: tattoo artist!lewis hamilton x black fem!reader

summary: in which reader needs a good tattoo artist to help her vision come to life and lewis, a mutual friend, is recommended and is more than happy to help you out.

warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, mentions of tattoo needles, mentions of w33d, smut (18+ mdni), pet names, just read 🫵🏽 (buckle in, frens) sorry for typos!

saint’s team radio 🎀: heyyyy! this spawned in my mind in the middle of the night and my super talented fren @mauvecherie-writes came up with this masterpiece. hope you all enjoy 🤭. (anon i hope this does your request justice!)

tags: @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @httpsserene @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @peyiswriting @purplelewlew @alika-4466 @arshiyuh @yeea-nah @louvrepool @motheroffae @lorarri

pls like, reblog and comment! 🫶🏽

pls note, the lady in the header does not represent the reader! 🫶🏽

“You’ve been sitting there thinking so hard, I could see steam comin’ out your head.” Marie laughed as she walked close to you with two mimosas in her hand, handing one to you. The get-together she occasionally hosts with all of your mutual friends was in full swing, everyone in different corners of the huge house.

Giving her an eye roll, you sipped on the drink before answering. “Girl, fuck you.” You cussed, hearing her laugh. Following close behind her was another one of your friends, Lani. Her kitten heels clacked against the tiled floor as she sat next to you on the light blue couch.

“What’s going on, what’s the tea?” She sipped on her drink and held onto it and she looked at you. “Well my lovely friends, I’ve been thinking about getting a back tattoo for a good minute now.” You replied, leaning back into your seat as your friends gasped with excitement.

Marie held your manicured hand in excitement, “Girl oh my god, it’s going to look so good on you!”. Lani then put her drink down then sat up to look at you properly. “What you gonna get? How big?” She asked.

“A red dragon maybe. Covering the whole thing, It’s been on my mind.” You answered, looking between your excited friends. “Anddd you’re wearing a backless dress right now! Y/n, you better get this damn tattoo.” Marie said, still very much holding onto your hand.

“Anddd it’s going to look great during backshots.” Lani smiled and that earned her a smack on her arm from you.

“Stop thinkin nasty. I just want it because I think it’ll look good with all those backless clothes I got.” You admitted although the thought of it made your skin a little warm. “So what’s stopping you from getting it, bae? ‘Cause I’m excited like I’m getting it.” Marie gushed. “Can’t find a good artist around here who caters red ink for black people.” You shrugged.

It was tough trying to find tattoo artists in your city, much less those who work well with red ink. Most were extremely pricey, others worked with complicated pieces and only wanted pieces like portraits or lions or they just left you on read after attempting to make an appointment.

A moment passed by and Lani smacked your leg repeatedly as she came to a realisation. The look of unspoken excitement travelled between your friends and soon enough, you knew they were plotting something.

“Y/n, oh my goodness you genius!” Marie exclaimed and that made your eyebrows furrow even more with confusion.

“Okay, I am very confused by what is happening so I’m just going to grab another snack.” You voiced out and you couldn’t even move because both women held you down as they smiled like maniacs.

Lani nodded first then turned her head to look at you. “Okay okay. Y/n, we’ve got the perfect artist for you. D’you remember Lewis?” She grinned and you tried to think about it fully.

Lewis, Lewis…oh god, that Lewis. The incredibly beautiful man you met through your clearly unhinged friends at a housewarming party two years ago. He was that type of distant crush that would never go away even if you tried and it didn’t help that he was the quiet type who would hang out with your large friend group every now and then.

“…uh huh. What about him?” You replied, hoping that no one heard your voice almost falter at the mention of him. “He’s a tattoo artist! I don’t know how I forgot but that man just keeps to himself for real.” Lani chuckled before continuing. “But yeah anyways, he could do it for you!”

Never in a million years would you think that he would be a tattoo artist and funnily enough, his arm is filled with them. You actually had no clue what he did, always curious whenever you saw the G Wagon that he would hop into after any get-together was over.

“I don’t know, you guys. I’d have to talk to him first about everything and that seems like a lot. I don’t wanna bother the guy to squeeze in someone who has no clue what they’re doing-” You stopped your ramble once you realised that your friends were just staring at you.

“Girl, you never ramble like that unless you find a dude cute.” Marie teased as she watched you avoid eye contact with her. Smacking your lips, you shook your head and tried to appear like this news didn’t phase you.

So focused on the subject at hand, you didn’t notice that Lani was gone. Finally hearing the familiar clack of her heels, you looked up and your breath hitched. You had just denied even thinking about him but there stood Lewis, quietly chewing on his gum with a glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

With your hand still in Marie’s hold, she squeezed it as she stood up and moved to stand next to Lani. “Lewis, you remember Y/n, right? An absolute beaut.” Lani started. “Anywho, my good sis wants a tattoo and obviously, you came to my mind. Aight, see y’all later.” She continued and just like that, her and Marie disappeared.

“I’m sorry for them, they can get a lil crazy.” You spoke, offering your hand to him and he gently shook your hand with both of his large ones. “They’ve also had some green gummies so I get it.” He smiled and that alone, just sent you to another dimension.

He’s British. You made sure to make little notes along the way.

And he dressed incredibly well. Sleeveless white shirt, white cargos, air force ones and his huge tattooed arms on display. The jewellery making the outfit look all the more good.

It also didn’t help that your dress was the same shade of white as his entire outfit.

“Although we’ve briefly met before, I’m Lewis. Nice seeing you again.” He introduced himself, not breaking any eye contact with you and he could tell you weren’t expecting to see him. “Y/n. I’m sure those two already told you why they dragged you here,” You nervously smiled. “Didn’t wanna waste your time with my questions.”

“You’re good, love. Wanna sit down and talk about it?” Lewis asked, pointing to the couch you were just sitting on. This area of the house wasn’t crowded so you could hear each other clearly.

The nickname he called you by threw you into a loop, nodding at him as a response because you couldn’t come up with one on the spot.

The two of you went on to speak on everything revolving around the tattoo. Your experiences trying to find a good enough artist that you wanted to feel comfortable with, the placement of it and the design. There were all types of jokes thrown into the conversation, making you feel comfortable. He also listened, nodding and replying after you spoke.

“So I’ve got two options if I decide to chicken out of the dragon one.” You said, twiddling your fingers as you still avoided eye contact with Lewis. “Alright even though my favourite would have to be the dragon.” He winked, chewing his gum.

You flushed hearing him say that. You couldn’t imagine being naked in front of him, letting your body be a canvas he gets to work on. Of course you would like to be naked in another way but that couldn’t happen. He definitely has to have someone in his life. Would he though if he just winked at you? Or was he just playing with you because he can sense you’re shy-

“Y/n, love, you still with me?” Lewis worried a tad bit as he watched you zone out on him. Shaking yourself out of it, you were grounded by his eyes boring into yours. Clearing your throat slightly, you asked a different question. “Uh if I do go ahead with it, where will we be?”

“Right now, my studio is under renovations so I’ve got my home studio. Hope that’s okay with you, anything to help you be comfortable.” He reassured, sitting back and the sight of him just sitting so confidently had you squirming in your seat, having to cross your legs.

“That’s fine,” your voice reaching an octave higher than normal. “What was the other design, sweetie? Haven’t done a tattoo on a client in a while so I’m grateful that I’ll be the one who gets to work on this.” Lewis mentioned, watching you lose your train of thought everytime you two locked eyes and he found it quite endearing.

“…A lower back tattoo, preferably a word or a heart.” You muttered, Lani’s words running through your mind. Stop, you can’t think about that right now. “That’s a nice one.” He commented, tilting his head and admired your shyness.

Ever since he laid his eyes on you, Lewis had made it his mission to find a way to get with you. He was in awe everytime you would show at one of the many games nights or celebrations, looking effortlessly beautiful yet timid as well. He hadn’t known if you were single until a mutual friend mentioned you and blind dates in the same sentence.

Lewis thanked the universe for giving him the chance to do his favourite thing with the woman he had fancied.

After a bit more conversation, you had managed to get his number and bid goodbye to him, a very warm hug from him to you, and you hurried to your car to take several deep breaths afterwards. After not being intimate with anyone for a long while, you were embarrassed that a single conversation left you in a puddle with an all too familiar feeling in your stomach.

Consoling yourself whilst driving, you grew excited for the week ahead for the tattoo, of course.

-

Darting your eyes between your phone and the house you were currently parked outside of, you felt confused although your gps led you to the correct address.

“Sis c’mon, he wore a cartier bracelet like it was nothing.” You joked to yourself, trying to keep yourself at ease with the fact that your entire back will be filled with ink very soon.

Clearly the camera right by the gate was able to see you and the gate opened up for you. Finally parking next to the car you were familiar with, you fixed up your outfit. You tried walking to the front door with an excruciatingly slow pace to try and calm your nerves but as soon as Lewis opened the door, that all went out the window. His gaze was piercing as he leaned on the door frame, watching you twiddle with your nails and walk over to him with the same shy energy you held the other day.

“You can’t be lookin at people like that, Lewis.” You spoke with a slight smile, being welcomed into his large home. “Like how, Y/n?” He smiled as he closed the front door behind him, admiring every inch of your body.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.” You chuckled, choosing to not feel his glare on you after you said that. He chuckled as well, deciding to not comment and wanting you to be comfortable first.

“Anything you need before we start, love? You seem nervous.” Lewis asked, placing his hand on your back and lead you towards his home tattoo studio. An incredibly large room with decor that screamed Architectural Digest, the tattoo chair stitched with his initials ‘LH’ and a candle was lit, a ocean-like scent wafting through the air. You had told him that you liked that candle scent all those days ago and the fact that he remembered made you blush.

Low rnb music was playing and a calm atmosphere washed over you as soon as you entered the room.

“It’s my first big tattoo, of course i’m nervous about it.” You replied with a sigh, plopping down on the soft couch and placed your phone on the record player stand.

Playing with the band of your shorts, you knew he was looking at you from the doorway. “Also it’s a lil silly but I don’t even know if this shit will look good on me, y’know? I wanted this but i guess it’s just the nerves.” You continued.

Not even hearing him move from his spot, you lifted your head to see him crouched down in front of you. His tattooed hands landed on your thighs without breaking eye contact with you. “Can I tell you what I think?” He asked. All you could do was nod. He hadn’t touched you in the way you wanted but in an instant, you could feel a puddle forming.

“On you, it will be the best piece I’ve done because it was made to sit on your body. A canvas that people will get to admire, a canvas that you’ve given me the honour to work on.” He continued, hands barely moving from your legs.

Taking a breath, you finally got the strength to respond to what he said. “Are you always this poetic to your clients?” You tried to joke but his eyes were glued to yours, the same way he looked at you at the housewarming.

“It took me a while to garner the confidence to talk to you, to just be in your presence. Every time I had the luck to see you, I would cherish it because we wouldn’t be in the same room all the time. I want the time we have here to be meaningful. And before you make that adorable timid face, yes, I have always found you attractive.” He spoke and you were just speechless.

“Are you serious?” You managed to speak, your voice becoming softer the more you accepted everything he was saying.

“Would you like me to show you how serious I am about you?” Lewis shifted his legs so that he could kneel in front of you. You could see the truth in his eyes as he spoke, darting between your eyes and lips.

You whimpered and you couldn’t control it, his hold on you was so strong.

“I need your words, princess.”

“Please. Please show me, Lewis.” You whined out.

That was all it took for him to begin to reach for the band of your shorts but you put your hands on his to stop. His eyebrows furrowed and before he spoke, you went for it. “Kiss me.” You breathed out. Lewis stood to his full height then sat on the couch next to you, pulling you onto his lap.

You made the first move and leaned in, your lips moving together in sync as he kissed you passionately. His hand held the back of your neck, bringing even closer while his other hand trailed down your arched back.

Your whimpers echoed throughout his home studio as he pulled away from the kiss, watching you try and grind to get some sort of pleasure in. Gently putting his hands on your waist, he guided you and you gasped as you felt his length, long and hard. Just waiting for you.

It felt unbearable, a knot in your stomach needed to be released and you threw you head back, just wanting to wash over the arousal. Lewis watched how you pleasured yourself on him, your denim clothes restricting the both of you from connecting skin to skin. “You enjoying yourself, darling?” He licked his lips, looking up at you with dark eyes clouded with lust.

You wanted to respond, desperately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. The warmth from the two of you became stronger, him leaning up to begin peppering kisses on your necks and not wanting to create any marks just yet. “..Yes.” You managed to breathe out and you loved the feeling of his large hands roaming around your body, not able to get enough of you.

Lewis held your hips firmly, halting your movement and that made you want to cry out of not getting a release. “Lewis, please.” You whined and he chuckled against your neck. “Take your clothes off and lie down, princess.” He said, looking at your cute angry face with a slight pout evident.

Instead of doing what he said, you just looked at him in the eyes clearly wanting to start a challenge. However, he knew his gaze made you weak. It was one of his many charms. All he had to do was slightly tilt his head and it had you standing up and slowly taking your clothes off, him following suit. You oggled at him, his tattoos gracefully placed on his skin making your mouth water.

With you laid down on the couch, he crawled up your body and crashed his lips into yours. He held your neck so gently as he kissed your jawline then your neck all the way down to where you needed him the most. Lewis laid between your legs to admire your clothed core, giving praise to your thighs and ass as he planted a kiss on your inner thighs.

“Oh shit…” you gasped as he started licking all around your clit until he planted his mouth on it, your moans bouncing off the walls as Lewis devoured you like you were his dinner. Sticking his tongue in and fucking you with it was really the cherry on top, your hand flying to his head to keep it in place and you ground into his face.

Screaming as he entered two fingers in your pussy, you felt a tear slide down at the immense pleasure he was giving you. It had been a very long time since someone had gone down on you but never had you orgasmed from head before. Until now.

Lewis licked you clean as he climbed up and kissed you so that you could taste yourself. You could tell he wanted to say something but you reached your hand to palm him through his pants, watching the different expressions on his face. Slapping the side of your thigh, he held your face.

“Bend over for me, princess.” With a smile on his face and you knew you were going to be here a while.

-

The buzzing of the tattoo gun sounded out through the room, Lewis wiped the dripping ink from his canvas. He was doing the last bit of work to fully complete his piece on you, the ink contrasting beautifully with your skin.

Finally switching it off and clearing his station to prepare for the clean up and to place the plastic cover on, he lightly smacked your ass to wake you up. “Darling, we’re finally done.” Lewis softly said, already focused on the clean up.

You hummed, “That’s amazing, baby. Thank you.” You spoke all drowsy from the nap you took earlier and the buzzing feeling of your body even after the tattooing gun isn’t touching your skin. Not to mention the sativa joint you smoked together before the final session.

You and Lewis kept this arrangement going, him saying that once he finished his artwork on your back, he’d take you on a date to wherever you want to go and you agreed. The mutual crush you had on each other transcended to a different level, becoming almost domestic every moment you spent together.

“Can I see it?” You asked, rising up from the chair and you looked at him while batting your eyelashes. “Of course you can, princess.” Lewis leaned down to peck your lips then led you to the mirror. You gasped when you saw your dream tattoo, sitting perfectly on your back and your mind was running wild with thoughts already.

“The backshots with this tattoo are going to be amazing.” You giggled and he just rolled his eyes. “Okay that’s enough weed for you, baby.” Lewis chuckled then lightly tapped your ass.

“You were thinking it though!”

saint’s notes 🪩: mind you this has been sitting here since feb 🧍🏽‍♀️. this is dedicated to @mauvecherie-writes , thank you for your patience fren 🤭 and yes the monaco fit made me go feral.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Controversial Opinion: The Anti-Sugar Baby Manifesto

Okay, so... does anyone else not want to be Nanami’s sugar baby, Gojo’s dependent, Sukuna’s servant, or insert your favorite emotionally unavailable man’s sidekick?

I’ve read (and loved!) plenty of fics where the reader is in one of these roles. And honestly, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying them—power to you if that’s your vibe! But if we’re talking canon or even slightly realistic scenarios… yeah, I just can’t.

Before you start throwing tomatoes 🍅, hear me out. I promise this isn’t a hate post—just my thots.

Alright, buckle up because I’m about to destroy your sugar baby and servant fantasies with my unsolicited, unhinged takes.

Nanami Kento:

You wanna be Ken Doll’s sugar baby? Cute, but be serious. This man is one passive-aggressive comment away from throwing himself into traffic because he hates capitalism that much. He chose exorcisms and certain death over Excel sheets. Excel sheets, babe. If you think he’s gonna work overtime to buy you Versace, you’re delusional.

If I were with him, I’d work harder at my job (I hate corporate too, but not more than I love Nanami) and funnel my salary straight to him. He’d handle it responsibly because I’d just blow it on expensive pens, another PC, and iced tea. But also? I’d keep an emergency fund. Trust no one. Not even your man.

Let’s not forget the workplace romance trope. This man is the epitome of professionalism. He’d never date his coworker, let alone his secretary. Not because you’re not amazing, but because the power imbalance would haunt him. Like, he’d wake up in a cold sweat thinking about HR policies. And I respect that about him bcs same.

Also, please don’t get involved with someone who promises love and then runs to HR if his job’s on the line. (Not Nanami but in general advice.)

The stats don’t lie, and I’m not about to become the next cautionary tale in a LinkedIn post.

Gojo Satoru:

You wanna date Gojo? Cute. Except he wouldn’t date you, let alone spoil you. He wouldn’t date anyone. He’s emotionally constipated, a walking trauma fest, hyperfocused on being the strongest sorcerer alive™️, and allergic to vulnerability.

Most fics turn him into this suave flirt, but let’s be real—canon Gojo struggles with human interaction beyond being a troll. He’s a nerdy dork, so his game is shit even if he wanted to date you.

Y’all write him as this rich sugar daddy, but in reality? He’d spend your entire relationship trolling you, gaslighting you into thinking he’s a “normal guy,” and then disappearing for weeks because he’s busy babysitting teenagers and battling his inner demons.

Also, sugar babies love his money, but be honest—you don’t even like him; you like his black card. Gojo deserves better than being your walking ATM, and you deserve better than a man who’d eat your last snack just because he can.

Gifts are cute, but if he’s doing all the work while I’m chilling? That’s just freeloading.

I'm yet to come across a fic where he takes the time to realize he even wants a relationship, instead of being a pre-established fuckboy who suddenly changes because he found the 'right person.' Let’s be real, that’s not how it works. We shouldn’t glorify men for changing after finding the right person or excuse their past behavior, including any STDs they may have/had.

(Note to self: In future fics, explore his struggle to admit he wants a relationship and the challenges he faces in figuring out how to be in one.)

Haibara Yu:

So, you’re thinking about dating Haibara? Buckle up, ‘cause you’re signing up for a rollercoaster ride where the tracks are constantly under construction. Haibara’s got the energy of someone who just found out about sarcasm, but also the emotional depth of a puddle.

This guy’s all fun and games until you realize he’s like a cat that wants attention, but only on his terms. He’ll say the most unbothered things with that sunshine stare of his, but don’t be fooled. That’s his way of hiding his entire emotional baggage.

One minute, he’s sarcastic and aloof, and the next, he’s unexpectedly clingy, wanting to know if you still like him (even though he’d never admit it). You’ll spend half your time wondering if he actually likes you or if he’s just in a perpetual state of "I’m too cool for this."

Does he care? Absolutly. Expect texts like "I'm fine" followed by a cryptic emoji and zero context.

Dates? Don’t hold your breath. He's too busy trying to be taken seriously.

He’s not a millionaire either. Don’t expect a big grand gesture. His idea of spoiling you? Buying you a drink from the convenience store, giving you stale candy and maybe, just maybe, sending you a playlist of sad songs that “remind him of you.” Yeah, romantic, I know.

He’s not gonna spoil you with gifts, but he’ll share his last pack of gum like it’s the greatest act of love ever. Don’t expect consistency, just an occasional burst of affection sandwiched between long silences and sarcastic banter.

Would he be loyal? Absolutely. Would he constantly second-guess himself and need reassurance that you're not going to leave him because he doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings? Definitely.

Prepare to give him more emotional support than you ever signed up for. Would he adore you? Yes, but he’ll probably think it’s too much work to actually show it. But hey, if you’re into emotional chaos and not knowing where you stand, Haibara’s your guy.

You probably only like him because you know nothing about him.

Ryomen Sukuna:

The “servant/concubine” trope is insane. INSANE. You think Sukuna, the literal King of Curses, is gonna treat you like anything more than a chew toy? The power imbalance isn’t sexy—it’s electric chair. You’d either die mid-hookup (his hands alone could snap you in half) or be tossed into a volcano because you sneezed too loudly.

Be fr—he’d accidentally (or on purpose) kill anyone he sleeps with. The man’s a giant sadist, naturally rough, and has zero chill.

Romance? Nonexistent. Sukuna’s idea of flirting is probably something like, “You’re less annoying than most humans. Barely.” That’s not romantic; that’s verbal abuse with extra steps.

Toji Fushiguro:

This one hurts because Toji’s hot but this man has no money. None. Zero. If you want to date him, you better be ready to cover rent, groceries, and his “post-mission beer fund" because his entire paycheck goes toward sharpening his sword, buying protein powder, and gambling.

Let’s not forget he has a dead wife, and he went off the deep end after her death. Even if you could somehow 'fix' him like the unlicensed therapist you are because you have nothing better to do, he’s a vengeful widower who would leave you randomly for missions—and might not return because he’s driven by the insecurity of proving the Zenins wrong, which would get him killed.

Plus, he’d bring up his dead wife in every argument, saying things like, “She wasn’t this nagging; she didn’t do this or that.” People tend to glorify the dead, and he’d be the prime example of that. How could you compete with the memories of someone his mind has declared perfect?

He’s everyone's wet dream, sure, but do you really wanna date a guy who’d ghost you and leave you with his kid?

And don’t even get me started on his love language. It’s probably, “I killed a guy for you.” That’s cute until the cops show up at your door asking questions.

He might toss you a bone (not like that, calm down), but the idea of me paying for someone who might not even text me back? Pass.

Kamo Choso:

Sweetest man alive. Too pure for this world. But dating him would be like adopting a sad, traumatized puppy who cries every time you leave the room. You’d spend your entire relationship comforting him and Googling “how to help my boyfriend stop mourning his 17 dead brothers.”

He’s too busy laser-focusing on Yuji and going through an identity crisis to even think about being in a relationship. I’d want to protect him, not date him.

Also, his skincare routine is probably better than yours, which is cute until you realize you’ll never be the pretty one in the relationship.

Geto Suguru:

Ah, Babygurl Suguwu. Love him to death (pun intended), but dating him sounds like lifelong therapy.

Do you really wanna date a guy who’s juggling a cult, unresolved trauma, and genocidal tendencies?

His love language is probably “eliminating humanity,” and unless you’re down to join his pyramid scheme of sorcerer supremacy, this is not gonna work.

Also, you will forever be second place to the Gojo-fucking-Satoru.

Be serious. You will never win that chase. He'll leave you mid-sex to go see his 'one & only' babe.

Kashimo Hajime:

Kashimo would date you for the sole purpose of fighting you. He doesn’t want love; he wants violence—he’s looking for someone who can throw hands.

Imagine coming home after a 10-hour shift at work, exhausted, and this man’s standing in your living room like, “I’ve been waiting to test my new technique on you.” No, sir, I want a nap.

And don’t think you can just say no. He’d follow you to the grocery store, the dentist, your grandma’s funeral, like, “We fight now!”

Hiromi Higuruma:

Now, this man’s tempting. Responsible, classy, knows how to argue (a lawyer, duh), but... he’s also on the verge of a midlife crisis.

Do you really wanna date someone who’s one bad day away from snapping? You’d spend most of your time convincing him he’s not a terrible person, and honestly, I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for that. Therapy is expensive, and I already have PTSD from my ex.

Also, he’d probably start arguments just to win them. You think you’re ready for that kind of intellectual warfare 24*7?

Shiu Kong:

Do you like mafia drama? Because that’s what you’re signing up for. Mafia life isn’t sexy—it’s stressful.

You’d be dodging bullets, interrogating his “coworkers” about his whereabouts, and wondering if he’s about to betray you for a promotion.

Also, he's an asshole who's going to disappear after he's done with you; go see the scene before Toji died. Hard pass.

Kusakabe Atsuya:

This man is the king of doing the bare minimum. His love language is probably “napping,” and while that’s cute in theory, it’s less cute when he cancels date night because he “forgot” he had to sleep.

Honestly, he’d be a great friend, but as a partner? You’d be babysitting him.

Takuma Ino:

You wanna date Ino? Adorable. But let’s be real, you’re signing up for 24/7 unpaid emotional labor. Ino’s a golden retriever boy who desperately wants validation, and you’d basically be his therapist, hype woman, and emotional punching bag all rolled into one.

He’d shower you with attention (cute, right?) until you realize he’s also incredibly insecure and needs constant reassurance that he’s “doing a good job.” You’d be his number one fan and his HR department.

He’s not rich either. Like, at all. His idea of spoiling you would be buying you snacks from the konbini and taking you to the movies with coupons. Don’t expect luxury here—expect a man who puts in effort but forgets anniversaries because he was too busy stressing about being a sorcerer who no one takes seriously.

Would he adore you? Yes. Would you want to be adored by someone who still Googles “how to ask her out” while you’re already dating? I’ll let you decide.

Final Thots-

At the end of the day, I’d rather have my own independence than rely on someone else to “take care of me.”

I want a partner—not a sugar daddy, not a servant-master dynamic, not a walking red flag, and definitely not a paycheck.

I'd rather have a househusband who's retired and relaxed than an overworked sugar daddy—or worse, a dead one. Is that too much to ask?

Anyway, this is just my opinion!

If you love those tropes—go off; that’s totally valid. I’m not yucking anyone’s yum. We all have our preferences, and that’s what makes fandom fun.

No hate, just vibes.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. I’ll see myself out. 👋

If you still wanna fight, my comments are open, although I will reply like the guy you are fighting for.

[azzifudd10]

New Teammates, Old Baggage Chapter 5

It had been a good week.

Not perfect — never that. But good. The kind where things felt less like balancing on a wire and more like walking solid ground. Jazlyn had started calling Azzi “Zizi-Pillow” like it was her official name, and Paige didn’t even try to correct her anymore. She found herself smiling at it — quietly, to herself, when no one was looking.

They made pancakes Wednesday morning. Azzi burned one and flipped the next onto the floor, which sent Jazlyn into a fit of laughter so wild she got syrup in her hair. Paige pretended to be annoyed, but she stood in the doorway with her arms folded and a ghost of a grin tugging at her lips.

It was good.

That’s why it was so cruel how fast it all went to hell.

It started on a Friday afternoon, outside the practice facility.

Azzi had offered to grab Jazlyn from daycare while Paige finished an extra session. They were supposed to head to the park after — bubbles, juice boxes, and a beat-up soccer ball in the backseat.

Jazlyn was already buckled in, humming a nonsense song to herself, when Azzi turned from the passenger door to find him standing at the edge of the parking lot.

That same fitted jacket. Same smug stance. Same “I belong here” energy, like he hadn’t vanished for almost five years.

Azzi’s body tensed instantly.

She didn’t reach for her phone. Not yet. She didn’t want to scare Jazlyn.

“Hey,” he said casually, stepping forward. “Thought I might find you here.”

Azzi didn’t respond.

He smirked. “Don’t look so tense. Just thought we could have a little chat.”

“Now’s not the time,” Azzi said, low and tight.

“You make it sound like it’s ever been up to you,” he replied, voice hardening just enough to raise every red flag she had.

“I’m going to ask you once,” Azzi said, firm now, eyes locked on him. “Leave.”

He tilted his head. “She’s my daughter.”

Azzi stepped back toward the car, shielding the window. “You’re five years late to that party.”

That’s when he moved.

Fast. Unhinged. Like something inside him snapped from zero to rage in one breath.

His hand grabbed Azzi’s arm and yanked.

She shoved him back, hard. “Get away from the car.”

But he didn’t stop.

The next moment shattered like glass.

A sickening crack — his fist connecting with her face.

She stumbled back. Hit the ground hard. Her head bounced off the pavement with a sound that made Jazlyn scream.

Azzi didn’t get up.

Jazlyn’s wails echoed inside the car, sharp and terrified, and Paige — who had just come outside looking for them — ran.

She didn’t see the punch. Just the blood. Just Azzi on the ground, eyes half-lidded, barely conscious. And Jazlyn pressed to the window, crying so hard her chest heaved.

The man was backing away fast, eyes wide with a flash of panic, but Paige didn’t care. Didn’t even look at him. She slid to her knees beside Azzi.

“Hey—hey, come on.” Her voice was frantic. “Azzi. Look at me.”

Azzi blinked once. Blood ran from her nose. Her forehead was already swelling. “She okay?” she slurred.

“She’s safe. You’re not. Don’t move.”

Paige was already dialing 911 with shaking hands.

The hospital waiting room was cold and beige and too bright. Jazlyn was wrapped in Paige’s hoodie, curled in her lap, but she hadn’t said a word since the ambulance doors closed.

“Jazz,” Paige whispered, brushing hair from her eyes. “Sweetheart, I need you to talk to me.”

Jazlyn looked up slowly. Her eyes were puffy, cheeks blotchy. “Is Zizi gonna die?”

Paige’s heart cracked straight down the middle.

“No. No, baby, she’s not.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Paige kissed the side of her head. “She’s strong. She’s just… resting right now.”

Jazlyn sniffled. “He hit her. He hit her so hard.”

“I know.” Paige’s voice trembled. “I should’ve protected her.”

Jazlyn just leaned in tighter. “Can we sleep here tonight?”

Paige didn’t have the heart to say no.

The doctor came out an hour later.

“Azzi sustained a moderate concussion and a nasal fracture. She’s stable, but we’re keeping her overnight for observation.”

“Can I see her?” Paige asked, voice raw.

The doctor hesitated. “She’s asking for you.”

Azzi looked worse than Paige expected.

Pale. Bruised. A bandage on her forehead and gauze taped beneath her nose. But her eyes opened when she saw them — Paige and Jazlyn both, hand in hand at the foot of the bed.

“Hey,” Azzi rasped, voice thick from swelling.

Jazlyn broke first. She ran to the side of the bed and buried her face in Azzi’s arm, sobbing again.

Azzi flinched — not from pain, but emotion. She brought her hand to Jazlyn’s back with care, cradling her. “I’m okay, Pillow. I’m okay.”

“You were on the ground,” Jazlyn cried. “You were all red and I was screaming and I thought you died!”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispered. “Because I heard you. That’s what kept me here.”

Paige stood back, watching. Her eyes glistened, fists clenched.

“He’s gone,” she said softly.

Azzi met her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

“And you look like you haven’t taken a breath in an hour.”

Paige walked to the other side of the bed and sat, gently taking Azzi’s free hand.

“I was so scared,” she admitted. “I saw you on the pavement and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, I—”

Azzi squeezed her hand, slow and warm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You better not,” Paige choked out.

Jazlyn was already asleep against Azzi’s side, her small fingers curled around the hospital gown like she wouldn’t let go.

And Paige? She didn’t try to fight the tears anymore. She just laid her head down beside them both and finally let herself fall apart.

Because this time, she didn’t have to hold everything together alone.

And this time, she wouldn’t lose the person who stayed.

[simping-on-the-daily]

Claws, Katanas, Compassion and Ketamine

Summary: You were the link between Vanessa and Wade during their breakup. They get back together, creating the perfect triangle. And then Wolverine shows up too, because you totally live in a suite apartment that can fit everyone.

Notes: God I love poly, mutant!reader, gn!reader, I wrote this in one day and thirty minutes last night and I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be obvious

Warnings: Gets real suggestive near the end but it's a fade to black, typical Deadpool content, from swearing to sex, reader does drugs and is very unhinged Wade’s just worse, not betaread we die like Worstie’s X-Men

The three of you ‘broke up’ in your shitty but homey apartment. Vanessa knew that her death caused Wade to try and kill himself numerous times, and dying shook her up a bit. After being rejected by the Avengers, Wade spent too much time hating himself and wondering where he went wrong, unintentionally neglecting his relationship with both of you

You were the red rope, the link, the buckle on the belt, it seemed. Shit got messy, Wade assumed too fast, but Vanessa wanted to be with you and you still loved Wade, vice versa. Vanessa tried to work stuff out herself, moving out, you stayed at the apartment, and Wade went to live with Blind Al again. You video chatted and texted everyday, and did your darndest to be by both sides.

Vanessa called you one day. She'd gotten the therapy, she said. Wanted to get back with Wade, try again at the least. You encouraged her to try and ask at Wade's surprise party, an extra present to add to the love in the late mutant’s life. Vanessa blew you kisses through the computer, and you mimicked catching them and placing the kisses on your cheek.

Then Wade got kidnapped, and came back two days later, claiming to have saved your entire universe, with some extra company.

“You must think saving the world's sexy, huh, Vanny?” You joked to Vanessa, lightly elbowing her after she and Wade made the promise attempted to try again over his second birthday dinner.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Vanessa put a finger to your chin in jest, and you accepted, embracing her with a gentle kiss to the lips.

“Already getting on it without me?” Wade interrupted, a metaphorical eyebrow raised in light-hearted query, poking in from the room you were in. Your response was simply to blow a kiss, which Wade quickly grabbed and pressed his hand against his cheek, swooning like a teenage girl. Vanessa simply giggled, and dragged you both back to join the party.

You all moved into Blind Al's apartment, in truth because you wanted to take Blind Al's coke. Wade said you couldn't, however, because that was the one thing Feige said they couldn't do. “What a pussy.” You grumbled, throwing the stash back into the floor where it belonged. And then Mary Puppins pissed on your leg, because apparently the nicest Deadpool hadn't potty trained his dog for some reason. Dick.

Oh, and the motherfucking Wolverine was here for some reason.

“Disney's gonna make him keep at this until he's 90, so we gotta give the senior citizen a house otherwise we'll get canceled for elderly abuse.” Wade 'explained’ to you in a whisper, and you nodded intently like you understood. Logan gave a middle finger in response.

He existed, that was for sure. You found him napping in the cupboard once because apparently Logan thought he was too good for the floor. He minded his business, staying out of the way. You accidentally caught him showering with the sweet smelling pink soap Wade and Vanessa shared and good god, those man’s abs were carved by Michalangelo. Fucking beautiful.

You, Wade and Vanessa sat down one night, Logan out at the bar that was full of football obsessed lunatics. And at the same time, you all spoke.

“I need that werewolf cock in me.”

“My god you guys, we need to get Peanut into bed with us, have you seen him?”

“We shouldn’t let him fourth wheel us, ask if he wants to be included.”

Vanessa glared at you both. You shrugged, while Wade did his best to look innocent.

The timing could’ve been worse, with you offering the deal with a Logan who was nearly hungover. Wade on the sofa like ‘one of those French girls’, Vanessa wore a casual hoodie with those really short shorts, and you were snorting heroin. Vanessa explained everything, and you’re pretty sure you hallucinated cartoon birdies as you spoke. Turns out, Wade did the same thing too, once. 

Logan accepted anyway, so he knew what he was going to get himself into.

Eventually, you grew to accept that Logan was a weasel, not a werewolf (which is so much cooler), and that you liked seeing him smile. Made you feel good, especially when he smiled because you were running his hands through his hair.

Like some fucked up hivemind, Vanessa and Wade shared your feelings too. However, unlike last time, Logan was the one who ‘confessed’, when the dude straight up purred in contentment when you tried to sit him down at your shitty table and well, you didn’t need to do much to gather the context as to why.

You and Logan shared the ‘Good’s Cabinet’, containing your most precious drugs and Logan’s more costly drinks, both saved for the most special occasions. You offered to take him to different bars that weren’t full of football frat-bros, and both of you found a new enjoyment in clubbing.

You would wear your best jewelry and drip, while Logan would wear an oversized jacket over his ‘wife beater’ shirt, worn over his Wolverine suit. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

“They asked for no pickles,” He hovered above you like your evil shadow clone, the worker at the front desk sweating on their head and probably under the collar.

“Haha, reference.” You jokingly poked Logan’s chest, before turning to the employee. “Don’t mind him. Never worked a day of retail in his life, doesn’t get the struggle.”

“Fuck you.” Logan added compulsory, though with the vitriol of a man whose moments of swearing have entirely lost their impact. You did get a new meal, no pickles included, so maybe the guard dog privileges are necessary.

Wade and you would often go out to the park on weekends, chilling on a bench as you gave your very persuasive remarks on all the cars Wade would sell on his job. He’d challenge you to get more ridiculous, and you'd do so with a wink and excessive references to sex.

“Get the boss to add truck nuts to all your autobots,” You suggested as you and Wade both got ice cream cones from the greatest truck of all time. “Would add some blitz to your bis, yaknow?”

“You wanna have a fivesome with our Honda Odyssey?”

“Give the objectums something good.” You shrugged, and Wade responded with a look to the audience, cosplaying as a bunch of trees in Discount Central Park.

Vanessa liked to drag you shopping, and you were content watching her search for the perfume bottles with the most ornate casing. God, she was so pretty, her hair put into that messy bun and casual dress.

“This bitch is ugly.” Vanessa said, holding up a silver bottle with a diamond bottletop. You heard a crunch, and tears quickly welled up in your eyes.

“Oh, so sorry sweetie, I wasn’t talking about you-” Vanessa held up her hands and shook them in a panic, putting the bottle back.

“It’s not that,” Your voice was barely a whisper. “I think I stepped on a ladybug.”

Vanessa looked down at the red flakes on the floor near your foot. “Sweetheart, that was an M&M.”

“Oh.” You stood there in silence for a few seconds, before turning back to Vanessa in the unnatural, freakish sort of way. “You getting anything from here?”

Vanessa smiled. “I think we should have an early lunch.” And you grinned too, as she rushed you over to the food court.

Your nights were chill nights, all four of you curled up on the bed, Mary Puppins curled beside Wade’s leg as he kept changing his position every few minutes. You would braid Vanessa’s hair as she scrolled through her phone, and Logan would lie down and accept head pats and bellyrubs with a content purr. Apparently weasels can do that.

Movie nights were great, too. Logan always got the best popcorn and you all had your designated seats. With a combination of heroin and ketamine you called ‘ketarin’, you snacked on your stash while you were all forced to share two bottles of Pepsi.

“Try it, babes,” You gestured your bucket of drugs towards Wade and Logan, the former sitting on the weasel’s lap as he tried to get comfy. “You’ll be able to smell sounds and taste colors. Stereotypical, I know, but life changing.”

Logan glared at you. “Get this fucker off me and I’ll consider it.”

“Wade, get off, I want Logan to taste my ketarin.”

The mercenary huffed in exaggeration, arms crossed. “No can do, sugar tits. Peanut here needs to learn his lesson.”

“What lesson?” You huffed. “Anyways, I forgive Logan, now get off I need him to try it.”

“He was a very bad boy today, and you know this, Y/N.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“Get off him, Wade.” Vanessa spoke in that stern voice, and even though it was not directed to you, your collar was getting hot already. “We’ll sort it out later tonight, mkay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Wade gave a mocking salute before getting off of Logan with a grumble.

“She’ll be making ya say that seriously later, you know?” You raised an eyebrow at the mercenary, who made a heart symbol with his hands as he winked.

You thrust your special bucket towards the huge, jacked man (hehe), his demands met. Logan sighed before digging his hands in, and shoved it down his mouth.

“I prefer corn starch.”

“You fucking take that back, you little slutty shitter-”

You would’ve beaten him to a pulp for disrespecting your recipe, but Vanessa gave a mock cough, getting you, him and Wade to look at her. “Legally Blonde or Die Hard?”

“It’s August, the fuck are we suggesting Die Hard for?” You huffed, arms crossed, snatching your ketarin back.

“Yeah, too early for festive cheer, sweetcheeks. And I can’t miss out on international girlboss Ms. Woods, who do you take me for?”

“Die Hard is barely a Christmas movie,” Logan scoffed, but didn’t oppose when Vanessa selected Legally Blonde with the remote.

You all relaxed, in your own fucked up way. You and Vanessa arm-wrestled over who got to have a sip of Pepsi (she won, you were trying to hold your bucket in the other hand). Wade’s commentary was louder then the movie, causing Logan to punch him, and Wade let out a murmur of ‘harder, mummy’. You snickered at Logan’s look of repulsion and confusion, looking over to Vanessa, who was most likely the mummy in question. Unfortunately for Logan, she was going onto the balcony to let Mary Puppins piss, so he looked at you.

“Something something we’ll deal with you later, something something what would Elle Woods think?”

Wade seemed to think Elle Woods thought badly of him, standing upright and flopped onto his seat. You put your hands through Logan’s hair, watching him relax from your movement, before yelping when Vanessa came back and accidentally sat down on your hand.

“Shit, so sorry.” Vanessa gave a quick kiss to your hand, and you dramatically swooned as you watched Elle Woods be a girlboss.

“Forgiven, honeybuns, for I could never be mad at such an exquisite princess, who’s hair was made from silk that Willy Wonka once commissioned-”

“Shove your Shakespeare-ass monologues up your ass and get a room.”

Blind Al spoke up, and all four of you turned to see her standing behind you, having just come home.

“This is our room, Al,” Wade countered. “We rented it fair and square while you played poker with all the other little old ladies like you.”

“You’re early.” Logan noted, holding onto a bottle as he turned back to the television.

“Wilson’s clients took a car on a joyride and crashed into the club. Drunk on that high, I reckon.”

“Were they driving with the truck nuts?”

“How the fuck would I know, stupid?”

“Ah.” You hung your head in exaggerated shame, before Al grabbed the wall and let it guide her towards her room.

“Your clients?” You asked Wade with a raised eyebrow after she was gone.

“Karen, Kenny and Twinkletoes.” He ‘answered’. “Now, back to our regular scheduled program of Elle Woo-......and the movie’s over.”

Logan snorted, and Wade gasped, turning to face him. “I’ll have you know that it was a sacrifice I made, I tell you! I gave it all up!”

“You’d give anything up for a cornchip,” Logan shot back, but Vanessa gave a loud clap that stopped the conversation. You placed your empty bucket in the sink halfheartedly before turning to your girlfriend.

“Back to bed. We’ve got some behavior to correct.” Vanessa commanded, heading to your shared room.

“Yes, mummy.” Wade answered in his most ‘uwu’ voice, leading you to groan and Logan to shove him lightly as he followed Vanessa.

“A bit too early on the petnames, buddy.”

Wade stuck his tongue at you, and you flipped the bird before following Logan, who was following Vanessa, and Wade then followed you like some fucked up, freakish line of baby ducks crossing the road.

And you would change none of it.

[hearts-hunger]

oh my god what the FUCK was that

okay, the two things i liked first. pros:

surprisingly, being a game truther, i liked the changes made to the tv station. having the soldiers strung up in the dark with the floodlights and thunderstorm gave that scene a brutality and scariness it doesn't have in the game, and dina and ellie having to sneak out like they did was very high-stakes and suspenseful.

ellie's "i would die for you. i would. but that is not what just happened" whole bit was so good i went back and rewatched it. her admission about her immunity and the dialogue in that moment felt true to ellie's character. isabella and bella did a great job with that scene. of course it makes no sense that ellie is surprised that dina is pointing a gun at her, but whatever. for the most part, that scene was done really well.

okay, now for the cons. buckle up, because there's a lot of them.

why the fuck are the making dina and ellie a happy little couple? "i'm gonna be a dad" give me a fucking BREAK??? i can't even express how antithetical to the story of the game this is. because ellie is not happy about this baby, she's horrible to dina, she's so wrapped up in revenge that she can't think about anything else. making them like...... dream up a baby registry is SUCH a mistake. and having dina go with ellie? this is supposed to be the part where ellie goes truly unhinged. she loses every shred of morality. not even dina and her baby can bring her back from the precipice, even all the way to the bitter end when she's built a life with them. she goes alone, to plow through all of seattle, to become a cold-blooded killer, to kill abby at any cost. but nope! now here comes mommy and daddy on a fun little killing spree while they think up colors for the nursery. what the fuck, genuinely.

like, not to be dramatic, but it's...... completely shredding the most intense and important character development in the story. tonally the game makes a very clear divide between jackson and seattle, and the show is forcing warm, intimate, loving moments into what is supposed to be a cold, gloomy, numb-feeling section of the story. ellie doesn't respond well to dina being pregnant. this is the moment where she really shows a side of herself that is so steeped in anger and fear and grief that she almost never gets over it. whether she will ever get over it is, like, a major question the game leaves us with. why are they screwing with that? why are they making ellie more palatable? let her be fucked up!!!

as for dina, what in the chappel roan comphet coming out trauma is going on with her. i actually hate how they've turned the confident bisexual woman from the game into...... whatever this dina is. i'm just personally not that interested in "my parents didn't approve, i was confused, i'm not brave, i tried to force it with a guy" whatever kind of bisexual storyline this is. maybe some people are. but i liked dina how she was in the game: simply, unapologetically, confidently bisexual. we don't have to have trauma in our coming-out stories. we can just be bisexual.

also, it's weird that they made dina and ellie's first sexual intimacy be some weird trauma-bond, heat of passion, right after a near-death-experience kind of thing. dina and ellie sleeping together in the game felt sweet, tender, flirty, warm, safe. this felt rushed and strange and insincere. it felt cheap, maybe. i can't really describe it. it was like it was written for straight men. like, graphic, rain-soaked, sloppy, hair down and makeup smudged. maybe i'm in the minority on this but it didn't feel good to me. i'm interested to know what people thought about it.

i think we're spending way too much time on isaac. perhaps if we hadn't wasted so much time in jackson in therapy we'd have time for development on isaac, but we don't really have time now.

anyone holding onto the "here's how tommy can still kill all of seattle" dream can put the tin hats away. it's not happening. and it sucks and it's a waste. but it's clearly not happening.

also, these are maybe nitpicky and not really story related, but:

didn't love the graphic content this episode. maybe that's a me thing. but the stupid josh peck gratuitous vulgarity, the full nudity in the torture scene, the straight up sex with dina end ellie - i know that's hbo's style, but i think we've maybe lost the art of subtlety.

everybody's said this but their clothes look brand new even after they've been crawling through mud and rain and whatever. it looks fake and weird.

in that same vein, ellie's bite marks have all looked super clean and not gnarly as if she's almost gotten her arm gnawed off. also she gets bit every other tuesday so it's lost its wow factor.

okay, i know i said a lot but that episode truly was a lot. come talk to me here or on my tlou blog @ellies-miller about your thoughts on this episode! i want to know what everyone thought and discuss it!

[bemygunstomyroses]

The Lost Boys riding in your car with you would include: Part 2

Summery: This is just unhinged, again.

Warnings: GN reader! Swearing, implying smut, the boys being like animals, we know the drill!

Read part one first before you read this one so ya understand it better! Love ya! ❤️

Alright, we're back in the car. Everyone is seated in their assigned spots. David is in the front passenger seat, Marko is on the right in the back, with Paul in the middle and Dwayne on the left. Double-checked and confirmed, right? Okay!

You and your boys are on the road again but this time you guys are going through the city.

Buckle up if you aren’t already because these boys are fucking maniacs once again!

The lights of Santa Carla are bright and bold as you slowly get stuck in traffic trying to reach your destination. Don't think you'll get bored because you won't. You have four dingbats with you to keep you occupied!

Marko is displaying road rage even though he's not the one driving.

“Come on! Pick up your lazy ass! We have places to be you asshole!” Marko would yell out the window with his head out making you embarrassed and keeping your head down from the eyes looking around.

Paul would probably join in the trash talk as well. Most likely will flip em’ off.

Your the kind that would keep a little basket of snacks in the back of the car in case you get hungry while driving, of course the boys are going to go through your stash and eat most of the snacks.

“Can one of you pass me that chocolate bar in the snack basket?” You ask pudding your hand backwards to get your treat. Meanwhile the basket is in Paul’s and Marko’s lap, digging through every inch of the tub.

"Oops, sorry babe, but we're out of snacks. Marko must have eaten the last one," Paul lied through his teeth, throwing Marko under the bus.

“No I didn’t you asswipe!” Marko yells, his voice booming in the car. This ends up with the two wrestling in the back seat, while bumping into poor Dwayne who is already smashed into the side of the door.

"You're both going to make me lose my temper! If you don't behave, I'll be forced to turn this car around!" You warned the two of them, shooting them a stern look.

They both mumbled a quick "Sorry" and then dove right back into snacking as if nothing had happened.

David’s hand is of course on your thigh, drawing little shapes and squeezing your soft skin, traveling his hand slightly higher making you a blushing mess.

"David..." you whispered urgently, making sure no one else could hear.

David leaned in close, tilting his head and whispering in your ear, "We can always throw them out of the car. I know I can make you fog up the windows." His teasing tone conveyed a mischievous confidence, and you could feel the smirk on his face.

You lightly smack his chest but he suddenly takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles with ease.

While you all are waiting for the never moving traffic to move (Which is doesn’t) the two blondes take this opportunity to hop out of the car and basically do stupid shit.

Running around the car. Hopping out in front of other cars, presumably giving everyone the bird, meanwhile, the people are honking their horns and getting agitated. (I wouldn’t blame them)

When everyone is back in the car, Paul takes this time to go through your CDs and cassettes and pick out the “good music” he said.

“Baby, you need more music taste! Remind me to take you to the store”.

Paul, I'm going to throw you out of this car!

If you get too tired of driving, David or Dwayne, you know good well Marko and Paul ain’t doing shit.

As David decided to drive, you might wonder who would be relegated to the passenger seat. In reality, no one; instead, they would accommodate you by making space in the back, provided the car is spacious enough. In some cases, if space is limited, you may find yourself seated on someone's lap. The concept of seatbelts becomes minor when you are in the company of vampires!

Dudes all probably gonna pop a boner

When you sit with all three of them they are smothering you in kisses, Paul tickles your sides making you squirm and laugh loudly and Marko pinching your sides.

Dwayne being a cuddle bug and pulling you into his chest. <3

David obviously can’t miss out so he’s reaching his hand back to touch you of course.

“Hey man! You’ve been touching them all night!” Paul whined and cooed at the leader.

“Fuck off, Paul.” David barks and refuses to stop holding your hand.

As the evening unfolded, you found myself resting my head on Dwayne’s lap, with your feet reaching out to Marko, and Paul providing support in the middle.

Dwayne playing with your hair with his slender fingers making you almost fall asleep. Paul playing with your fingers and Marko massaging your feet. It’s all very relaxing, that’s until David decides he’s getting bored and break checks the car and you all go flying forward-

“Whoops, break check”. Is all David would say with a grin on his face. You all don’t take it seriously and just laugh who the boys make sure you didn’t bang anything up.

After all, David navigates the car into an open field for you all to sit and enjoy looking at the beautiful stars. Dwayne Grabs a blanket from the trunk and places it on the soft grass. Paul puts on the radio some soft rock ballads and turns the volume up just enough to head the music.

You all cuddle up on the blanket and stargaze the night away, while all the boys are stealing passionate kisses on your lips.

“Hey, the shape of those stars are making kinda looks like a giant dick-“ Paul said out loud and for a moment everyone is silent, then you all erupt in laughter, Marko and Paul then tries to find more “stars” and pointing their fingers up at them.

“That one kind of looks like a heart”. You say and you point your finger. The boys share a smile on their faces. “You’re right”. David said and he kisses your cheek.

Paul began to say, "That one kinda looks like-" but was interrupted as Marko and Dwayne playfully tackled him, and they all ended up wrestling in the dewy grass.

[sixeyesonathiel]

I don't know if you've been asked this before, but why do you like Satoru so much?

WHY DO I LIKE SATORU GOJO SO MUCH??? LMAOOO NO. WRONG QUESTION. why am i DERANGED. UNHINGED. FOAMING-AT-THE-MOUTH INFESTED over satoru gojo? WHY AM I FOREVER ENRICHED AND DESTROYED BY THAT MAN? i’ll tell you why. SIT DOWN. BUCKLE IN.

first of all. he is literally the blueprint. he is the blueprint of my ideal character archetype and also the blueprint of my insanity. he's a walking paradox. he’s “i’m the strongest” but cries in private when he fails to protect someone. he’s “no one can touch me” but so touch-starved. he’s the loudest in the room but probably hasn’t been truly heard in years.

AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE DICHOTOMY. that man will murder without blinking and then later go shopping like he didn’t just ruin someone’s bloodline. he'll look like a holy god during battle with his six eyes glowing like heaven cracked open just to let him exist and then 5 minutes later he's slouched in a beanbag chair asking if he can have extra dango.

LIKE??? THE GALL. THE RIZZ. THE AUDACITY.

HE IS THE SILLY. the EVERYTHING. he is tragic. he is divine. he is beautiful. he is so fucking annoying. m

and the WANT. not do i like him, no. i want to fold him into me. i want to cradle him. i want to drag him down from his pedestal just so he can be allowed to be human.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED WITH HIS SMILE—IT'S LIKE A FUCKING SUNRISE IN A WORLD THAT’S ALWAYS ABOUT TO COLLAPSE. like, how the hell does he have the audacity to light up the darkest corners of the universe with that face when the world is literally pressing him down, when he knows he's got the weight of everyone’s expectations on him and no one’s ever gonna truly understand him???

so yeah, the whole "accepting his death is respecting his character arc" take is so tired. like no. understanding satoru means knowing how deeply he wanted to live, how much he carried alone, how much he chose to keep smiling through all of it. he didn’t exist just to be a tragic lesson.

he wasn’t some noble sacrifice trope. he was loud, arrogant, loving, lonely, and so alive. HE WANTED TO PROTECT, NOT DIE TRYING. letting him die like that wasn’t deep—it was CRUEL. he deserved peace, not martyrdom.

HE DESERVES EVERYTHING AND HE WILL LIVE THROUGH MY WRITING UNTIL THE DAY I DIE 😤☝🏻

[zoros-sake-bottles]

What you'd argue with them over! Pt.2 (Zoro, Sanji & Law)

READ PT. 1 FIRST

https://www.tumblr.com/zoros-sake-bottles/719410532748328960/what-youd-argue-with-them-over-pt1-zoro?source=share

Zoro

After that argument the with Zoro about him not caring for his health you weren’t the same

You began allowing him to do what he saw fit

He’d injure himself and you wouldn’t say a word

You refused to nag him-to beg him to think about his body, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care

So you thought of a way to prove your point…and that was putting yourself in harms way constantly

In order for him to understand where you were coming from, he was going to have to see it himself … on you

So the day after that you continuously allowed yourself to get hurt in battles

At first it was little things like scrapes, cuts and bruises, Zoro saw these but didn’t pay them much mind because of how small they were

But over time it became more excessive, you allowed your opponent to freely bang you up before defeating them

You’d come back with bigger bruises covering your rib cage, you even had a busted lip

At one point he just couldn’t take it anymore and while you were getting treated he burst into the room and told Chopper to take five, leaving you two alone

“....What the hell was that out there?” is all he says as he stares down at you on the hospital cot

“A fight-”

“Screw that y/n, you know what I mean!” his jaw is clenched as he looks at your body all bruised and bleeding

You sit up holding your broken rib and Zoro’s arms go out to help you but you push them away

“Look at yourself, seriously, you shouldn’t be-”

You ignore him, going as far to stand up

Your legs wobble excessively as you take small steps

“Y/n sit down, your in no shape to go do anything right now-”

Your leg buckles as you continue to try and walk your breath becoming more like a wheeze

“Y/n! Alright! Enough! I get it!” Zoro grabs your shoulders and looks into your eyes

His body shakes a bit and his eyes are deeply concerned as he guides you back onto the cot

“You proved your point just-.....sit down” his voice stresses as he helps you onto the cot and covers you with a blanket

Despite the pain your in you find it in you to laugh a bit, it makes you look unhinged

You have dried blood under your nose and your bottom lip is swollen but all you can think about is how your plan worked

Zoro’s sits down on a stool in front of you, he shakes his head and sighs as he runs a hand down his face “crazy woman…” he mutters

Sanji

Since the argument Sanji has apologized to you countless times and you know that he means them some what

He's sorry that he upset you, he's sorry that you felt like you had to resort to physical violence

He doesn't understand the issue at hand and so as much as you hated what you were gonna do you had to give him a taste of what you experience with him on a daily

You started subtly allowing yourself to be hit on by males

You were a girl that could handle yourself so usually Sanji just watched (intensely and angrily) in these situations as you told the men off

But can you imagine his face when you didn't tell the guys to kick rocks?!

When you accepted the sleazy compliments and even gave some!

Sanji nearly went comatose as he watched you joyfully conversate with a scumbag at a bar

His jaw dropped as you laughed at the strangers jokes and even poured him more sake in his shot glass

"Mon cheri!? W-what's-I-I…why'd you-"

"Why what?" you reply nonchalantly

"T-that garbage man was…he was sexualizing your body dear!"

"Your being dramatic Sanji he was just expressing to me how much he admired my beauty-"

"My love no, that scum was undressing you with his eyes"

"your being ridiculous"

Sanji looks hurt as he tries to appeal to you somehow but his words just weren’t getting through

The man comes back and right in front of Sanji he’s about to caress your hair

There's no way Sanji would allow that, he ends up kicking the half drunk in the stomach sending him flying through the bar

Your jaw drops as you look up at him

Sanji face is scrunched as he looks at the guy knocked out, half his body in the bar and the other half hanging out

“Sanji-”

Sanji turns to you and takes your hands in his and with an inhale he says

“Mon amour, I cannot imagine how you feel when this happens to me and I am so sorry that I didn’t take the issue serious enough to the point you had to do a demonstration like this, I'm a fool” 

He rubs your hands with his thumbs and he seems still very heated from the entire ordeal

You can’t even stay mad at Sanji because of how jealous he looks

“I forgive you baby, I'm glad you can see what I go through…” 

You smile softly at him and he looks at you with a smudge of a smile

“....you didn’t have to compliment his hair….it wasn’t even nice” Sanji mumbles still jealous

You giggle and caress his face 

“You're right it was an ugly orange color but do you know what my favorite color is?”

Sanji looks at you curiously

“Yellow” 

You give him a kiss and he blushes not even thinking about that stupid drunk from before. He just wants to drown in your praises

Law

After the argument you both had before he has been acting as if it never happened

He gave you time to cool of but when you came back he didn’t apologize but rather gave you a task to fulfill

Its as if that was his way of saying that you overreacted and that it wasn’t that deep

You decided to keep it all inside, that's all Law ever did anyway so he shouldn’t have had a problem with you doing the same

You were tired of being labeled as over emotional every time something got you riled up or hurt your feelings

You wanted to be taken seriously by Law

One day you were listening in on Law's meeting that he had purposely left you out of

It seems he was planning on having the crew go to a dangerous island that had a poneglyph on it next 

This idea is tossed around because Law isn’t risky and nonchalant like his fellow members of the worst generation

He is precise as a surgeon should be

You were all running low resources and the island was close so it was decided that the crew would stop at the island for resources ONLY

So once you all arrived at the island you decided to sneak off and take prints of the poneglyph

It definitely wasn't easy and you had plenty of cuts and scrapes but it was all worth it and you couldn't wait to see the look on Law's face!

When you arrived back it was about afternoon, you searched for the submarine in the water but your eyes landed on your irritated boyfriend instead

He leaned against a rock his arms crossed his head tilted down

"y/n ya, tell me three things"

You can feel the disapproval oozing off of him and before you know it your being 'shambled' 

You reappear in front of him

"What was the plan?" "Where have you been?" "Who's your captain?"

"The plan was to retrieve resources and I chose to act alone on my own little mission, I don't know what the big deal is you do it all the time" You scoff turning your head away

Almost immediately he is turning your head back with his long slender fingers

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for games? Do you know how long I've been standing here?, We were done with the mission hours ago" he stares into your soul with his dark eyes

You almost always came close to folding when he had you like this

"I-...well-" You sputter watching his sharp eyebrow lift

"You can't even defend yourself, look at you blubbering like a moronic fish"

You feel embarrassed slightly but you don't back down "I got a print of the poneglyph" 

You shove the scroll into his face but it's almost as he doesn't see it

"Does go and buy some rice and dried meat sound like go and get the poneglyph to you? If so I'm going to check your hearing right now"

"I-"

He holds your wrist and you wince as he examines you, even though he's clearly upset, he's tending to you like your made out of glass

Its silent as he slowly rotates you, he touches at your shoulder and when you hiss it confirms whatever analysis going on in his brain

"You need stitches" he grumbles

"I'll do it myself, anyway look" you thrust the poneglyph into his face again

He takes the print from you and tsks before making it disappear 

"Law!-"

"What? Am I supposed to be happy you went against my orders and got yourself injured all to prove meager point"

Your shoulders sink "...did-...did it work at least?"

He sighs as takes off his hat before running his hands through his raven hair

"....It's hot as hell…and…i'm hungry"

You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, was he changing the subject "What?"

"My back is killing me…"

You blink, was this his way of apologizing? Was he trying to communicate now?

You swallow and kick at the grass "I-I…I can massage it for you" you blush lightly "if you want-"

"That sounds heaven sent" he gives a small smirk 

"Oh-okay, lets go then-" 

Your body is pulled in close by him

"L-law?"

"You know, you never answered my third question he says softly

"Huh?-"

"Who's your captain?" he rest his forehead against yours

Your heart beats quickly and you find yourself trying to slow your breathing

"Y/n ya…"

"....you...your my captain"

[the-haven-keepers-collective]

local Piglin goes on unhinged rant /silly

aLRIGHT FUCKERS buckle up I'm gonna scream about exomemories, noemata, and Piglin culture and general Piglin fuckery. Some stuff about Enderfolk in our canon too, just a very small section.

Preamble real quick: Yes, we know some of these things in the "worldbuilding" of our noemata/exomemories are likely or even undoubtedly subconsciously inspired by Tumblr posts or media. If you notice it, we probably already know. Please don't comment on it, it kinda bothers us for reasons that are hard to articulate. Also, plz be mature about the bits that could be read as kink-coded. It's not a kink it's literally our version of marriage. Nothing against kink tho shout out to kinky alterhumans.

Oh also, post written by Techno. I am the local Piglin in question.

So for one, Nether culture is very cutthroat. "Learn fast or die" in the words of Avatar. It's home and I love it, but it's not the sort of place most people are able to get comfortable in. Comfort requires safety, safety requires resources, and resources are very few in the Nether. Survival is priority in the Nether; a lot of the culture within stems from that base fact.

Hair is super important to Piglin culture. It has nothing to do with hair itself and everything to do with the result of it- long hair is an easy handle in a fight, and sometimes a braid someone can get ahold of is the difference between life and death. It's the norm to keep your hair short; from maybe chin length to properly against-the-head levels of short. Long hair is considered to be a sign of a skilled warrior, since they're skilled enough to have an active hindrance for the sake of aesthetic. The longer the more of a threat they are. If you challenge a Piglin with waist length hair. Hairstyles have some significance too- high ponytails are the most dangerous to have with how much they stick out, so they're the "fuck you I'm a badass" of hair pretty much.

I've already mentioned this in a post before, but it's pretty common for teens to try and grow out their hair and end up with shitty, choppy haircuts from a fight. It's considered normal- kids get cocky and they're kind of assholes to each other. Everyone in the Nether knows this aspect of Piglin culture, so the danger isn't unique to fights with other Piglin, either- long hair as a Piglin makes you a well-respected individual at best, a potential target at worst. That's not as true in the overworld, where most people don't know about the hair thing. It's also not that uncommon for those with long hair to cut their hair before a battle as a sort of symbol for "going all in" so to speak. They're taking away the hindrance they've gotten used to- that means they're going to use all their force, all their skills, and typically means they're willing to die in this fight.

In source- skip this paragraph for source talk- my mother did this when helping me escape the Nether. Our village wasn't very fond of The Blood God, and for reasons that'd take up more space on an already very long (and not even near done) post, they went after me. Lemme tell y'all when a Piglin woman cuts her hair in front of a full village of people ready to kill her and grabs her axe, you motherfuckin' FEAR HER AND RUN. /silly

Alright hair aside! I'm finally done yelling about hair. Enderfolk! For one, they're called Enderfolk in our canon. They have zero concept of gender and frankly we just like the word better anyway. This is a tidbit that'd probably be better on our Enderfolk's post when/if they write it, but it's necessary context. Enderfolk, in our canon, are only creatures of the End. The End is completely closed off- which we'll get to in another post I'm sure, Kip can explain that one. Enderfolk aren't naturally found in any other dimension; They're "raptured" into the nether. Think, if you've heard of or seen the backrooms, how you just sort of clip into the backrooms. One step on seemingly solid ground and suddenly the world spins around you as you fall, and you're in another dimension. They appear, consistently, in warped forests.

The Nether doesn't naturally have warped forests either- they just started bleeding through, spreading, one day. It was one day thousands of years ago, to be fair, so most societies in my source memories had long since adjusted. We're not quite sure how much of Ender culture is even left for the Enderfolk in the Nether and overworld, since most of it is just reframed Piglin, Blazeborne, Pheonixkin, etc. culture. Most Netherborne are actually really fond and protective of Enderfolk nowadays because... I mean, really 99% of us have a memory of meeting one who was still adjusting and very clearly confused and stressed about losing their home/being plonked unceremoniously into a completely different environment. A lot of them take at least a year just to adapt to the temperatures, and the language barrier is... messy at best for a while. Gods forbid the village doesn't have a translator on hand.

Anyway; ROMANCE, HUH? Yeah we've got that too. I had forgotten until recently that Piglin do actually use the term 'mate' in our canon. I'm not sure there's a term equivalent for "dating" though? If there is I don't remember it. Which is kind of funny, because there is absolutely a major difference between being someone's spouse and being their mate. For a Piglin, at least, a mate is a much bigger commitment than a spouse. It varies from person to person obviously, but the general consensus as far as I remember was that a spouse spends their life with you. A mate makes a vow that a spouse does not in most situations; they will die for you. They will fight along your side to their last breath if they must.

Like I said earlier- a lot of Nether culture is based in the cutthroat nature of the dimension. The very act of the mating ritual- here's where my preamble about kink becomes relevant- proves that better than anything in my opinion. Piglin give each other weapons. A ring is shiny and sure gold is a huge deal, but most Piglin have already collected about five million of the things. A blade, or perhaps a bow on the rare occasion, is far more valuable in the Nether. In my Noemata, the blades are usually daggers and very ornate, but it depends on the culture of the area because it varies and just personal taste. Sometimes a useful but boring-looking weapon for their mate to fight with for life will be treasured far more than a fancy weapon that will ultimately never see any blood.

Anyway, the mating ritual is entirely about vulnerability; something that, in the Nether, gets you fucking killed. Funny, I use the word cutthroat to describe the Nether- that's literally what you do, though. Usually it's done in private because it has a borderline (or outright) spiritual tone to it, and the whole thing vulnerability that you don't want to be seen by anyone other than your mate or mates. The blade gifted to propose is used- and if their mate responded with a gift of their own that's used as well. The response gift is up to personal preference; some feel like it's too transactional, others feel it's about equal respect, others just want an excuse to give their mate a pretty knife. Throats are bared, and very gently ever so carefully blood is drawn. Dangerous? Yes. I'm genuinely not quite sure that the specific points in my mind could have blood safely drawn on a human. That's the point; the trust in each other to not be cruel or even just accidentally fuck it up is immense. This is not only trusting someone to stand by their vow to take their last breath for you if they have to, but trusting them to not take your last breath.

Some tidbits I couldn't fit in easily anywhere:

Proposal blades are purely meant to be for the tastes of one's mate, not for the one proposing. It's considered pretty rude to propose with a blade that's tailored more to your taste than theirs. Unlike wedding rings, no compromises have to be made- that knife is purely for ONE person. Hence why some Piglin prefer to give a blade in response.

TW FOR (IN-SOURCE) GENOCIDE AND DEATH, RELIGIOUS THEMES IG. Y'know the way we're REAL trigger-happy, attacking on sight if you don't have gold? Yeah there's a reason for that. Piglin are hunted. It's a clockwork sort of thing; done annually. Skywarden, in the words of the person who created them (we have permission to talk about them) are "Toxic Minecraft Christians." I'll get into their lore some other time maybe, if we do a chonky post on the mythology and history of our canon. Skywarden are, essentially, angels. For a species of empaths, they aren't very empathic. They have a white and gold theme- guess where they get all that gold. -_- Piglin are violent but we have good reason to be. Anyone that isn't clearly Netherborne (or Enderfolk) is shot on sight lol

OH MY GOD DID I MENTION PIGLIN ARE SORT OF COLD-BLOODED IN OUR CANON???? I DON'T THINK I DID. YEAH WE'RE COLD-BLOODED. Living near lava lakes will do that to you.

We have boats btw. Like fucking boats made of Nether brick type shit. I'm still not sure how the fuck that works I just know we had boats.

Most of the bit about mates is using monogamy as an example but monogamy isn't considered "the norm" and polyamory "a deviation" in Piglin culture. It's just sort of there. No one gives a shit.

ANYWAY HAVE ALL THAT get hit with a wall of text nerds. /silly

Feel free to ask questions if anyone has them! I don't expect any, but I also don't want anyone to feel like asking questions is bad. We actively want to delve into our sources and what we know or remember about our personal canons more. "Doubles" and such are welcome as well we don't care lol.

[reijisteacup]

how would the diaboys react if their S/o JUST got their drivers license and was absolutely WILD not even on the freeway yet and there’s already multiple traffic violations and laws broken

LOrd 0_o

================================================================================================

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

“…Tch. Why did I even get in the car.” Shu’s lounging in the passenger seat, eyes half-lidded, but then you peel out of the parking lot at 40 mph, drifting over a curb. His head hits the window. He sits up. He blinks. Slowly turns to you. “You’re going to kill us both. Is this your plan?” Lowkey terrified but too lazy to react with full panic. He mutters, “I’d rather be asleep than dead, you idiot.” But secretly…? He kind of finds your wild energy hot. Will never say it, though. Just clenches the door handle every time you accelerate. Dramatically says a prayer every time you merge.

Reiji Sakamaki:

“…PULL OVER. NOW.” He hasn’t even buckled his seatbelt before you blow a red light, drive up the shoulder, and accidentally drift into oncoming traffic because you were “testing the brakes.” “You just committed 5 violations. In twenty seconds.” He is having a full mental breakdown. He’s screaming GPS directions like his life depends on it. “Signal before turning—SIGNAL—NOT THE WIPERS, YOU—!!” Reiji writes down every law you break in a tiny notebook and sends it to the DMV. But deep down, your chaos infuriates him so much it makes his heart race.

Laito Sakamaki:

“Oh~ Bambi-chan, you’re dangerous~” He reclines in his seat like it’s a joyride through hell. You almost hit a pedestrian? “Whoops~ guess they should’ve walked faster, hmm?” Laito lives for the chaos. Thinks it's the sexiest thing ever. You’re running lights and blasting music and he’s like, “This is soooo hot. Should we make out while you drive through a toll booth?” Zero regard for safety. Makes suggestive comments while you swerve. He loves your unhinged energy and will absolutely post your driving on social media with “💋 getaway driver vibes.”

Kanato Sakamaki:

SCREAMING. NONSTOP. He’s sobbing into Teddy before the car even moves. You floor the gas and he shrieks, “WE’RE GOING TO DIIIIIEEE!! WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?! SLOW DOWN, YOU MONSTER!!” If you brake too fast and his candy flies out of his lap? It's over. He will lose his mind. He clutches Teddy like a seatbelt and curses your entire bloodline. 100% tries to crawl into the backseat and scream at Siri for help. Will never trust you again. Demands you pull over and call an adult. By which he means Reiji.

Ayato Sakamaki:

“HAHAHA YEAHHH, LET’S GO, CHICHINASHI!!” This menace is all in. You hit the gas like you’re about to launch into orbit? He’s hollering like it’s Mario Kart. You swerve past a cop and flip a U-turn over a lawn? “SICK!! That guy’s pizza is NEVER getting delivered now!” He encourages your every law-breaking moment. Egging you on. “Drift through the next light—DO IT!” Will film it. Will brag about it. Will fight the police when you get pulled over. The ultimate chaos co-pilot. No thoughts, just vroom.

Subaru Sakamaki:

“WHAT THE F—?! YOU JUST RAN A STOP SIGN!” He starts off calm. Just a little nervous. But the second you take a corner on two wheels or reverse into a trash can, he’s losing it. He’s gripping the side door handle so hard it dents. “YOU CAN’T JUST—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU'RE GONNA HIT THAT CAT—NO WAIT, THAT'S A KID—!!” He yells, but he also instinctively shields you during every sharp turn. And when you finally stop, he’s shaking. “Tch… idiot. Don’t do that again… unless you like scaring the hell out of me.” Lowkey proud you’re bold—but will never drive with you again. Ever.

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

“…Livestock. Do you intend to kill us?” You jump a curb, run a stop sign, and hit the windshield wipers instead of your blinker. Ruki is vibrating. He has one hand white-knuckled on the dashboard and the other gripping the seatbelt like a lifeline. “You were supposed to merge, not obliterate the lane.” He gives you directions like a hostage negotiator. Every time you make a mistake, he adjusts his glasses with increasing rage. “That’s a one-way—NO, THE OTHER WAY—” Will never let you drive again without a 3-hour reeducation course led by him personally.

Kou Mukami:

“KYAAA~! That car had a baby on board sticker!” Kou is scream-laughing the whole time. He’s terrified but also kinda loving the chaos. He’s clutching his phone and streaming your chaotic joyride to his fans. “Look at my babe gooo! Star powerrr~☆ Even the cops can’t catch you!” If you bump into a cone or swerve a little too close to another car, he’s squealing and throwing glitter from the glovebox like it’s Mario Kart. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I’d be in tears right now~” 10/10 gives you a kiss and says, “Let’s do that again but with sunglasses and gas station snacks.”

Yuma Mukami:

“WHOA WHOA WHOA—BRAKE! BRAKE, DAMN IT!” This man is in shock. He thought he was the wild one—until you Tokyo Drift into a parking lot on purpose. “THE SPEED LIMIT IS THIRTY, NOT LIGHTSPEED!!” Yuma’s yelling, flailing, stomping his phantom brake pedal. “If I die ‘cause of your ‘new driver swag,’ I swear I’m hauntin’ your ass.” Once you finally park, he’s gripping the seat like he just came back from war. “You drive like a gremlin with rabies. I respect it. But also—never again.”

Azusa Mukami:

“…Th-this is… kind of… fun…” He looks calm at first. But then you take a turn on two wheels, and his hands slide slowly down the seat. “…Ah… the car is… tilting…” He doesn’t scream, but he quietly panics. At one point he mumbles, “I think… I left my soul… back there…” He genuinely tries to support you, even when you nearly hit a parked bike. “Y-you’re doing… great… just maybe… don’t reverse… into the sidewalk again…” He still thinks you’re cute even if you’re a public menace. Will sit beside you holding a plushie next time “to feel safer.”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

“…What… is this infernal machine you call a vehicle?” Carla doesn’t trust mortal technology at all, and now you’ve dragged him into a 40mph death spiral with jazz playing and a coffee in your lap. “You drove over three curbs and nearly hit a fire hydrant.” He sounds calm, but his hand is gripping the passenger door so hard it cracks. He glares at every other driver like they're the problem. “Control yourself. Or I will commandeer the wheel.” He’s trying not to admit he’s terrified. You’re the only human he trusts, and now you’re making him question his immortality. Lowkey impressed, highkey traumatized.

Shin Tsukinami:

“HELL YEAH, BABY—RUN THAT YELLOW—TOO LATE, IT’S RED!!” Shin is THRIVING. He throws his arms up like it’s a rollercoaster. You speed through a school zone and he yells, “THIS IS SO HOT. YOU’RE SO HOT.” When you brake too hard and the airbag almost deploys, he just laughs and says, “Bet I could do worse.” He’s 100% flirting while you’re narrowly avoiding death: “Wanna make out at a red light? C’mon, we might die, it’ll be sexy~” You have awakened his inner feral. He’s definitely encouraging you and feeding you snacks while you break every rule of the road.

[world-dream-polin]

(Sorry for the mistakes, english is not my first langage)

I don't usually say things, but I wanted to share some opinions (it's gonna be long, so buckle up 😅) :

1. The SAG awards were amazing those two are unhinge and choatic and GORGEOUS ! Like, why do they act like they have NOT seen each other in give years like it been less than 24 hours, they are at the same hotel, and they are shooting together this week. Like COME ON GUYS! I agree that no matter the relationship now or in the futur, it's magical. And that's why we are all so hooked/obsessed. You don't see this enough in life, such a pure love. Now I'm the first one to tell you men and women (when both are straight) can be friends without falling in love, saddly I have not wittness it and all the ones I know fell in love 🤣 it was just a matter of time.

2. Time, let's talk about it! Some of y'all are WAY TO IMPATIENT (I am too thought 😅), but because something does not happen now, does not mean it will ever happened. "You can't hurry love, you just have to wait!" And that's the thing here, just wait and see ! Now I have some theories about Luke and Nic not acting on whatever feelings EVERYBODY can clearly see : 1. They are clearly blind and in denial and it will take FOREVER for them to wake up. 2. They are scared of rejection and non of them wants to risk the incredible friendship. 3. Some body was rejected (might be more Luke because sir is the most crazy one, and look the least happy when not around Nic), but we know NOTHING so it's spéculations. 4. They refused to date a co-star and mix pleasure with business. That is SO PLAUSIBLE ! So I'm like, let's wait until the show is done...so in 50 000 years basically 🤣! Joking, maybe Luke and Nic will leave earlier after perhaps Eloise's season 🤔, but that's a topic for another day.

3. I'd like to continue by making a parallèle with Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds (reminded people they are married with 4 kids), they met on set and it took about 6 years to REALISE they could date. They dated other people while being friends, help each other get friends and even went on double dates with respective ex-parterns... Sounds familiar guys? So a follow on insta means nothing, if anything, it means everybody is cool, and Luke and Nic being supportive of each other is more important than any adjacent. Now, yes the timing is wierd, but it took me 4 YEARS to follow my best friend's boyfriend, and they were together before I met her. Now crazy enough, she left him three months after I follow him 🤣.

4. I'd like to close the statement with saying that the adjacents are better than me. I'm their age (24 going on 25) and if I saw my partner acting with their friends/co-worker the way Luke and Nic are, I would spiral, break down, cry and be out of here. Like, they really are better than me 🤣.

5. Now, what I think about the adjacents as a whole and their relation with Luke and Nic are a WHOLE other thing. I think I sated how I feel in some comments here and there. But what I like to do is ignore them as much as possible. Them being a thing does not minimised the bond of Luke and Nic. I'm not delulu because I know Luke and Nic aren't together, but them together (even platonic) just brings me joy. Now I will remind for the slow ones in the back DON'T SEND HATE TO ANYONE! If/when you don't like someone/something either don't follow them/block them and ignore it exist. And if somebody reminds you those things/people exist, accept the fact that it does and just it ignore it again. It's going to be fine! But directing you're frustration and anger to people you don't know WILL CHANGE AND DO NOTHING!

Now, ladies and gentleman, those are my thoughts, good day to all 😁.