#this is sooooo self indulgent

[z0r0z]

Some people seemed interested in something with a flat chested reader so I'm testing the waters with short headcanons for my favourite boy. I haven't tried this type of post before so I hope it turned out alright. There's a bit of smut under the cut of course ehe ♡

Content: afab flat chest reader, s*x mentions, groping mention, zoro loves you sm

⤹ SECRETLY HAS A THING FOR SMALL TITTIES COS I SAID SO. It’s his weakness. He would rather die than ever admit it though- only pervs think about the size of boobs, and he isn’t a perv.

⤹ He thought he was safe from ever looking like a lovestruck idiot because none of the ladies he’s met on his travels have really been his type… until he met you. You had the personality AND the physique; the poor man didn’t know what to do.

⤹ The crew was convinced he didn’t even like women before you showed up and had him acting stupid. He literally couldn’t exist around you without getting flustered and he HATED. IT. You didn’t really notice, being new to the crew, but everyone else certainly did and would bully him about it to no end when you weren’t there.

⤹ He thinks you’re sososo cute and sexy, your proportions are way more appealing to him than the busty women that stupid cook fawns over all the time. He catches himself daydreaming about you and gets quietly pissed off with himself cos he’s meant to be a badass >:(

⤹ If someone says anything remotely negative about your size and Zoro is there, they are SO dead. If anyone says anything negative about you in general they’re probably dead, but he thinks commenting on girls’ bodies like that is gross and he will slice a bitch up if he wants to #feministking

⤹ If you talk bad about your boob size he’s gonna fuck those words out of you so hard, show you how sexy he thinks you are. He’s not great with comfort so this is pretty much the best way he can show you how he feels.

⤹ Can’t think of anything more perfect than the image of your face and chest covered in his cum, it’s literally on loop in his brain. Even though he does it all the time it never stops being the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

⤹ You don’t wear a bra most of the time and it drives him insane, he’s had to hide one too many boners when you’re around other people. He’s almost killed Sanji on multiple occasions for being slightly too enthusiastic about your bra-lessness. He doesn’t want to control the way you dress though, so he’s never gonna ask you to wear one (it’s kind of hot, too).

⤹ LOVES grabbing your titties. They’re so soft and petite and it makes his hands feel so big, he loves it. When he wakes up next to you he just wants to be the big spoon and play with your boobs. Absolutely zero percent chance he’d grope you anywhere unless it was totally private though, he’s a respectable man after all.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Favorite dumb t//ma au that I like to rotate sometimes is “what if revenant!amaldyne was psychicly linked to jon?” It’s a sub-au of my “what if revenant!amaldyne survived her defeat and was imprisoned for eternity, desperately seeking freedom in whatever form she can attain while knowing her release means that she shall devour everything?” where she hangs out in someone else’s brain trying to manipulate them into becoming powerful enough to either kill her or free her (she has no preference either way) and so now jon has this incredibly dangerous dragon hanging out in his brain and trying to influence his behavior and it’s this huge secret separating him from everyone else that weighs on his life. Oh and also when he’s in danger she can briefly possess him in a big dramatic reveal or something. Or maybe even lend him her powers also for big dramatic reveal purposes.

[anna-scribbles]

adrinette exes! and marichat! part 4!

(part 1 / part 2 / part 3)

[princema-k]

ha ha ha wheeeee

(individual smaller expressions under the cut!!)

bonus:

if a total of Two (2) people are interested i will ramble abt my hcs abt layton's emotions REQUIREMENTS HAVE BEEN FULFILLED!!! check here for my rambles :)

[lyctorism]

[fluffyartbl0g]

HERE IS MY INCREDIBLY SELF INDULGENT CRACK TIMETRAVEL AU!!!!! This is heavily inspired by geokat’s fic Take The World By Storm.

For reasons,,, the gang has to get to raftel AS FAST AS POSSIBLE

LET THE SPEEDRUN COMMENCE!!!!

Speedrun/Time Travel AU masterlist

[cruel-hiraeth]

i can never stop thinking about standing full nelson with zoro…

the feeling of utter weightlessness is intoxicating—as is the reprieve from control. it’s a rush, allowing your body to be handled entirely by your lover, coaxed to the precipice of pleasure through his strength and adoration.

while it’s inarguably zoro’s favorite position (a precious opportunity to flaunt his physical prowess in a way that leaves you boneless and crying for more), he’s insistent on easing you into it, ever mindful of your limits.

you know when it’s coming with the telltale darkening of his lone eye, the impossible deepening of his thrusts, the restless slide of his calloused fingers across your softness, the gravely hum of his filthy words against your throat—

yet it happens so suddenly that you have no time to react. he rises to his feet and flips you to face outward before squatting down to lift you up, bulging arms trapping your legs at your chest, wrapping his broad hands around to cradle the back of your head.

when his tip nudges your entrance, you tremble; and when he finally pushes inside, it knocks the breath from your lungs. tears glitter in your eyes as you’re forced to take it all—everything he gives you, from his fat cock to his unabashed groans to his endless praise:

you’re perfect like this… you’re perfect for me… there’s no one but you… i’m yours… you’re going kinda dumb, baby, but—f-fuck—so am i…

[ungarmax]

so i have a new ship

[melikedraw]

I find it kinda funny how it gets better and better rendering the less clothes he has on

So

I saw this headcanon (I can't find it anymore ☹️) about how togame would hate suits cuz he likes loose comfortable outfits but the sight of him taking off his tie afterwards is craazy

And I couldn't STOP thinking about it so I drew it hehehaha

Imagine:

"togame, please," you pleaded with big round eyes that could bring him to his knees, "please come to the wedding as my plus one, it'll be fun, I promise!"

Fun? He couldn't hell but scoff. Like hell it'd be fun. Me, in a fancy ass suit? It's like putting a diamond studded collar on a mangy stray. Laughable. "Y/n, I'll stick out like a sore thumb, ya sure you don't wanna ask someone else?"

It made him feel pretty fuzzy inside when you came to him as your first choice, but seriously? He couldn't see himself in such a high class setting. It was pretty obvious he wasn't exactly made for this. But then again, going with you would mean seeing you in a beautiful outfit all day while you stood by his side. What a dilemma.

"fine..." He couldn't say no to you, not when you're so excited to get all dressed up, and he'd be lying if he didn't want that too. The corners of his lips slowly rose into a smirk as he had a sudden stroke of genius. Well, maybe not genius, but it would get you to blush for sure, a worthy payback for making him come with you. "...But, you'll have to dress me yourself~"

Ok I'm too lazy to continue writing just cut to this ↓↓

As y'all can probably tell I don't write I'm not a writer so do NOT judge me I will cyber bully you🫶

[saltplane]

HAPPY NOODLE VS SAD NOODLE PIZZA TOWERR THING RAHHHHHHH🔥🔥🔥

I probably posted some of these before but still…

This is extremely self indulgent but I stay silly

[cupiidzbow]

(twirling a strand of hair around my finger) there’s this guy i know and he likes me soooo much 😚💞

[strayklds]

HAN / SLUMP (230910)

[jupitersmoon167]

This is such a self indulgent idea, but humor me:

CoD x PJO crossover where John Price had a kid with one of the Greek goddesses during his early military days, and as hard as he tried to raise his kid, they were always put second over his job.

While he’s out on deployment, he gets a call. He learns that his home was seemingly broken into and his kid is missing. He uses all his resources and connections to try and find his kid, thinking that it was enemies of his that kidnapped his kid as a way to get back at him. But after months of searching, he comes up with nothing. No calls, no leads, nothing. After a year of searching, he gives up hope and mourns the loss of his kid, wishing he had been a better father to them.

It isn’t until a few years later when he’s Captain of TF141 that he finds out his kid is alive and learns why they left all those years ago and the truth of the other half of their parentage and that he and his child might be more alike in ways John wished weren’t true.

Edit: More thoughts on this here

Please come to my ask box with questions or ideas about this I need to rant about this idea with someone anyone please I beg

[kurim-chis]

blade/yingxing x reader scenario:

kurim: blade’s past name was yingxing, supposedly

(blade sees your smile, beautiful and loving and inviting as he remembers you to be — when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and pretends he can have this, at the very least. you were so lovely, so very lovely, and the man he once was - yingxing - had truly loved you in a way he could not love anyone else)

you and yingxing were lovers, decades ago when he was still part of Xianzhou and you a person he fell in love with, yingxing liked building you trinkets and taking you to eat during the weekends and seeing your smile and he would throw hands with jing yuan because he always teased him and called him a love sick puppy

you and yingxing were some of the short-lived species in Xianzhou, you were content in XXXX area and yingxing was a genius amongst genius in crafting, building and creating tools, machinery, weapons and works of arts.

you and yingxing had your whole life planned out, it was not hard to when there was so much to do and so little time to do it, but you two are determined to make your lives count despite the looming threat of the abundance hanging over their head and the wars Xianzhou has to partake in and how nothing is determined in life, but you two love each other, but then this happens, but then that happens, but but butbutbutbut—

yingxing becomes mara-struck.

yingxing kills you in his first mara-struck rampage/haze.

yingxing will forever remember it - your blood is very warm and wet, even as he drops to his knees and tries tries tries but there’s nothing he can do because you’re already dead — he might have screamed, howled until his throat burst and his lungs collapsed and mended themselves, he might’ve had fought against jingliu too as well, he doesn’t quite know. he cannot remember anything apart from a red haze, doesn’t remember if you had screamed or tried to fight back or tried running away, but one look at you shows just how horrible a death you had experienced in your last moments. blade will have forever etched the image of your mangled body in his memory, because of course yingxing will have.

this is the first step towards the death of yingxing’s ego, and what will eventually create blade, an abomination who seeks for death and yet is denied time and time again, who is only left with vengeance and violence as a driving force for moving and breathing and fighting because he has nothing else

yingxing was a man who committed many great mistakes and paid for it with everything in his life, including the one he loved

blade is the remains of that man’s ego, the hatred and grief and anger and obsession and destruction and love, a monster given eternal life and reduced to a mad dog of destiny’s slave, all for the sake of reaching paradise

blade lives for the sake of dying — he lives for death, for vengeance, for the possibility of paradise

(blade sees your smile, beautiful and loving and inviting as he remembers you to be — you smile and smile and smile, perhaps a little sad but as lovely as he remembers and he wants to reach out for you with his bloodied hands, but you are unreachable, a ghost of his past, the victim of his sins, and he can do nothing but watch you stand on the other side of the river of stars. blade thinks that you’re as lovely as yingxing remembers you to be, waving at him, smiling at him, always smiling at him)

elio promises an ending to his wretched existence.

blade will stop at absolutely nothing to reach his desired paradise.

(you smile at him, and blade thinks that you still look so very lovely, decades after your death)

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, it was all my fault, if only i hadn’t—

(you only smile, and then blade opens his eyes to find his mangled body healing and mending and stitching together again)

.

[takami-takami]

My headcanon about Hawks is that the same duality that exists in his personality exists in bed.

Like we all know Keigo is a good person, a good boy. We know he feels strongly, we know he's empathetic and kind and observant. But we also know he's willing to do things most people would be unwilling to do, that his actions are painted shades of moral grey.

We know he's sweet and a bit of a tease, he's passionate and optimistic. But he's also incredibly, terrifyingly serious at his core.

He's indulgent and gluttonous with his little allowances like food and sweets, yet selfless and self sacrificing to a fault. He claims to not have self control when it comes to what he wants, yet continuously denies himself the slowness and domestic life he admits to craving.

So. He loves his partner dearly, holds you like glass and treats your feelings with an innocent reverence twice as so. He wants it slow, wants it sweet, wants to cement every ounce of love he has in it.

But those wants aren't going to stop him from devouring you.

It won't stop the carnal desires from welling up, won't make his instincts to take and toy and play with you go away.

Yeah, you're his darling partner for life, his cherished love.

But you're still his chewtoy.

[lovingapparition]

i’ve got a river running right into you.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Warnings for descriptions of medical gore.

Ghost gets hurt. Ghost is touch starved. You just want to help. It’s awkward. 

NOT COMPLETE / NO BETA

It's loud in the medical bay. The lights overhead buzz, adding their hum to the sound of clinking medical instruments, shouted calls for supplies, and the pained sounds of the injured. No set of hands are still as the wounded are wheeled in on gurneys or dragged in by their fellow soldiers. There's too much iron in the air to really adhere to the stricter medical protocols, and it's a scramble for everyone to assess and treat the damage in front of them. Each doctor's movements are efficient and practiced; stitching a wound just as a soldier would clean a gun. 

Just another day on the job.

You were hustling from one sectioned off bed to another, caught in the flow of all the action in the medical bay. The thin curtains between beds did nothing to muffle the chaos of the situation. Too many bodies were moving in and out of the area, it was almost dizzying. Your section of the unit had been chaotic for the better part of three hours, leaving you no time to stop and breathe. It seems things had gone south on the recent mission. The details of which were lost on you, but they didn’t matter now.

Stepping behind a curtain, you immediately get to work assessing the situation the soldier on the bed has found herself in, and you set about putting her back together. She's only caught minor fragments of shrapnel in her upper arms and chest. Nothing deep and nothing dangerous. It doesn't take you long to patch her up, thankfully. As you work, your brain vaguely registers that your medical team must be shifting focus to the less severely injured of the bunch.

You and the soldier both breathe a shared sigh of relief as you finish up her sutures. She only needs a few, and you tell her to return in about a week to check in before they can be removed. As you fill out her paperwork with a quick hand, you notice that the sounds of the room have hushed. You must be reaching the end of the torrent of injured soldiers.

Though small, your team was incredibly efficient; working like a machine during frenzied moments like these. Every second counted, nothing could go to waste.

You briskly step into another curtained area to see a broad, masked man on the gurney. The poor bed looked like it might strain under the weight of his bulky frame and plethora of equipment. For a moment, you can't even tell what's wrong with him. Stepping closer, the scent of fresh blood hits you just as you notice the dark wetness blooming on the upper right thigh of his gray fatigues. It looks like he’s used his own belt as a tourniquet. Your eyebrows scrunch down as you move to his side, your gloved hands automatically moving to his mask.

"Are you awake? Hey-" you're interrupted with a stiff, gloved hand gripping tightly at your wrist. Looking through the skull mask's eye sockets, you can see the whites of his half-lidded eyes starkly against his eyeblack. He's staring evenly back at you.

"I'm awake," he rumbles, low in his chest as if through water, "leave the mask." The directive is clear, even through the murk of his discomfort. You're not sure who this guy is, but from his tone he clearly expects to be obeyed. You knew there was a special operations unit active out of the base, and you can only guess that he's a part of it. Those types tended to be.. odd. This guy fit the bill.

The exchange doesn't last long though, and you immediately move down to visually assess the rest of his body as you open a new emergency medical kit. "Can you feel anywhere other than your legs that you've been injured? Have you hit your head at all?" you ask, running through regular questions since he seems to be lucid enough to give clear answers. He watches you intently, blinking slowly and almost lazily when you look at him, trauma shears in hand.

He simply shakes his head, grunting what sounds like a negative response. Great, how very helpful. You sigh as you work the shears beneath his pant leg. Without even looking up at him you slide the shears up, cutting half of his pants away to reveal the mess of both fresh and congealing blood on his thigh. Without a second thought, you cut through his briefs, pushing them aside just enough to allow him privacy as you get a better view of his injuries. The belt stays for now, it’s probably the only thing keeping him from passing out. 

It's not great. He definitely needed to be seen sooner, and you're worried about exactly how much blood he's lost. Some of these wounds are deep and still bleeding. Small bits of metal are visible through the clots. You can see bruising already beginning to form on the skin around the lacerations. The hot iron scent of his blood floods your nose, thick in the air between you.

"I need help in here- I've got shrapnel, heavy blood loss and I need extra hands!" you shout to your team without looking up, busy flushing his wounds with saline to clear any loose debris. Your hands are practiced and steady, one hand deftly wiping the blood and saline as you work. The man shifts, a strained breath escaping him. You spare him a sympathetic glance, knowing this part made many uncomfortable. Why had no one tended to him? He should've been among the first.

Evidently, so is the man in the bed. 

Before you can ask, your colleague steps in and immediately gloves up before getting to work with you. Together, you clean and stitch the man's wounds. He remains almost totally silent for all of it, save for the soft grunts as he's sewn back together. Even with the local anesthetic, it's still a bit uncomfortable. Throughout it all, he peers at you, his pale eyes flitting between your hands and your face as you work. At one point his gloved hands twitch at his side like he wants to move them. He doesn’t.

Your colleague quickly removes the man’s vest, knowing just as you do that there could be more injuries beneath it. The vest goes in a chair by the bed for later. The black shirt shirt he's wearing beneath it isn't torn or bloody, but you’re aware of your colleague’s intention to begin feeling for broken ribs as you get his IV drip ready. 

His hands catch your colleague’s wrists with a quickness you wouldn’t have thought possible given the amount of blood he’s already lost. “That’s enough,” he hisses. Your head snaps up, and you can only see the tight narrowing of his eyes through the mask. Before you can react, your colleague jerks from his grip. 

"I need to get these pants the rest of the way off, and then we're done. I'll get you cleaned up and finished for the night," you explain, falling back into your doctor mindset and practiced speech to ease the tension. He makes no response to this, so you take his silence as the go ahead. It's not like his pants were salvageable anyway.

"Are you gonna be okay in here? I have to go check on someone," your colleague asks, clearly annoyed. It wasn’t anything new to have a rude patient, but everyone’s nerves were fried after the hectic shift. You couldn’t blame them at all.

You wave them off, tired. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got him. Shouldn’t be much longer anyway.” They head off, and you turn back to the man, sighing. He’s clearly had a rough night, maybe he could use the benefit of the doubt. You were certain that you’d be a bit pissy after catching some shrapnel. 

"Do you think you can get into a clean bed without ripping those stitches?" you ask tiredly as you remove your gloves. Without looking up, you move to unlace his boot. You swear you can feel him watching your fingers loosen the laces, watching your hand wrap around his ankle as you pull the boot off. His stare holds a weight in it you've never experienced before. When you look up at him, he's ready looking away.

You offer him a fresh towel for privacy as you cut his pants and briefs the rest of the way off and gingerly slide them from beneath him. They go straight in the red trash bin specifically for biohazard waste. You gingerly clean his thigh one last time and apply a thin layer of ointment to his sutures to encourage healing before you wrap his thigh in gauze. He helpfully spreads his legs enough to allow you to securely tape the gauze in place. His skin is warm, even through your gloves.

You blink once, twice, forcing the thought away as you finish up. 

"I can." is all you get out of him. You sigh, it's been a long day. His boots join his vest in the chair, and you roll a clean cot into his room. This one has a thin cotton sheet and a blanket on it. You could almost swear his head is cocked, ever so slightly, with a question, and you answer it without thinking. "You're sleeping here tonight. You've lost a lot of blood and you'll need IV fluids to recover. It's not much, but it's better than that gurney."

He huffs, you can only guess he’s annoyed, but he looks the bed over. The cushioned pad was minimal at best. He would definitely feel it in the morning in addition to whatever pain arose from his stitches. “Look, I’m going to override whatever authority you think you have here. It’s safest for us to be able to watch you, just for tonight.” It’s your turn to leave him without room to argue.

For a long moment, he looks at you indignantly, like he’s not covering himself with a thin towel and your sutures aren't in his thigh. Then the tension slowly eases out of his shoulders, and he nods once.

You don't look away as he slides his legs around to the edge of the gurney, one massive hand still covering himself with the towel for decency. It's nothing you haven't seen before, and you're more concerned with whether or not he's okay to stand without support. You step closer, clearing your throat to cut the silence.

You roll an IV pole to the side of his cot and hand the fluids you’d prepared earlier on it. “Okay, last thing and then I’ll fuck off for the night, I swear,” you tell him dryly. He huffs, a short sound that’s close to a laugh, you think. 

"I'm here, if you need a hand," you tell him, more confidently than you feel. Seeing him standing now you realize he's nearly a full head taller and twice as broad as you. Your hand finds his elbow, and to your surprise he doesn't tell you to back off as you help him ease into the bed.

A low, cut off groan escapes him as he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed. When he eases back to lay down, his shirt rides up just enough to hint at the bloom of a purple bruise draped over his side. His eyes are pinched shut as he slowly settles into bed.

He doesn’t get the chance to try to help himself get comfortable. “Here, just let me. I’ve got it.” You tell him quietly, batting his hands away from the sheets. You gingerly help him maneuver his legs into a comfortable position and tuck the blankets loosely around him. Another stolen glance at him tells you he’s still got that dreamy half lidded look. It’s enough for you to not exactly trust him with getting settled in bed on his own.

“I’m going to give you an IV to replace the fluids you lost and some light pain medication. Then we’re all done,” You tell him as you add more of those shitty military issue pillows to the bed. It’s the least you can do to make him comfortable. The local anesthetic won’t last him the entire night, and you’re certain the rest of his body must be sore from the aftermath of the mission. 

Placing his IV goes without fuss. He's slumped back against the pillows, breathing evenly as you fill out his paperwork for his overnight check in. You'd managed to fill out most of it, but you still didn't know his name or what unit he belonged to. "Hey, what's your name and unit? I need to fill this sheet out for my records,” you ask, not even looking up.

"Ghost. One four one," each rumbling word has you bristling, your face paling. Oh hell. 

"..Thank you sir." Your throat feels like it’s closing up. You don’t even bother asking for his actual name. You’d heard about a Ghost on the base, but you’d never seen him; never thought you would. It was all just rumors, something to shoot the shit about over dinner in the cafeteria. 

You wanted to sink into the floor. How could you have missed the literal skull mask? The hectic rush of the day coupled with your exhaustion must have completely cleared your brain out of any irrelevant gossip, and now it was biting you in the ass. For the last half hour you’d been practically ogling him and talking to him like he was any other soldier on the base. 

The rest of the shift moves by in a blur, it’s mostly paperwork and cleanup since everyone has been seen too. You luckily are not chosen to pass food out, so you’re saved the further embarrassment of having to interact with Ghost even more. With any luck tomorrow morning would be the last you two ever speak, and he could go back to being invisible to you, and you’d be saved from dying of embarrassment.

A low chuckle rolls from his chest, and your head sharply snaps up. You fight the urge to apologize and dig your hole deeper. You can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize he’s laughing at you. You had heard rumors about his particularly efficient methods of combat and data extraction from captured enemies; some of the things you’d heard made your spine chill.

You can only smile nervously back at him and tiredly drag your hand over your eyes. You can only cling to the last vestiges of professionalism that you have left. “You’re all set here. Once things calm down someone will be by with some food for you, if you feel like eating,” you tell him, your mouth dry. He hums softly in response, and you figure the pain medication has started to take effect. “I’ll be back in the morning to check in, have a good night, sir.”