#two fave x reader

[yandere-wishes]

Writing time 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Anyone up for Yandere! Harvey Dent x Housewife!Reader ?? I'm so obsessed with him he's literally all I ever think about 💋🥰💋🥰

[ceilidho]

ceilid. oil rig soap i am foaming at the mouth omg

he's covered in an ever present layer of grease and grime, stinking of sweat and rust. comes off as a cocky showboat when you first arrive on the rig, jokes about wanting to see you all messed up like the rest of 'em, but his jokes are barbed, electric blue eyes looking you up and down like he really can't stand how clean and neat you are compared to the men on board. like he wants to tear your ironed skirt down so he can drag his dirty paws all over your ass and thighs.

you honestly write him off; hard to see the laid back charmer as a genuine threat or even someone to go running to should something bad happen to you, but then everything on the rig goes to shit. something violent and hungry comes out of the water and you can hear the blood curdling screams from the men it catches as you sprint down the landing, the helicopter already starting to take off even as you yell for them to wait.

but then a man twice your size is suddenly pulling you into the shadows, covering your mouth and shushing you as the thing that came aboard the ship suddenly passes (and you think, wildly, that it would've been on you by now had soap not dragged you out of the way) and you watch in horror as it obliterates the chopper, the body of the chopper bursting into flames and going into a tailspin, crashing into the ocean below.

"keep the heid, bonnie," murmured into your ear, the hand around your mouth pressing harder and muffling your screams as he pulls you deeper into the rig, trying to find a place to hide, his arms like steel bands around you. "willnae let anything bad happen to ye."

[mrsoharaa]

When the boys (satosugu...or whichever two of your faves!) catch you falling asleep during one of your late night catch up's with built up paperwork, one of them would swiftly yet, carefully sweep you up from your desk as the other raises your limping hand and kiss it while they bring you to your shared room and coddle ever so cozily and snuggly against you. giving you head massages and head kisses with tender murmured woo's of ;

"you work so hard angel you need to slow it down a bit, pace yourself"

"your well being comes first sweetness, stop overworking yourself"

"your two goofballs loves you too much to watch you push yourself so hard"

[hopelesslonelyghost]

okay but smoking weed with gaz and soapppp

they’re the only ones who were actually down for it. john said he was too old for it and simon well, he just glared at you when you suggested it. that didn’t stop them from hanging out with you guys, claiming “well someone has to take care of you lot.”

so now here you three were, on the couch in your flat, staring at the ceiling.

“i think i got too high.”

soap grumbled from his position on the floor next to the couch, laying prone, his face stuffed in your fuzzy pink carpet. you think he got too high, too.

gaz was in the kitchen eating a sandwich simon made for him. john was sitting on the couch with you, your legs on his lap watching tv. he was massaging your calves, sending goosebumps up your legs and spine.

soap suddenly got up, stumbling a bit as he regained his balance and walked into the kitchen, “ay l.t.! can i get one too?”

you could tell he was giving simon the puppy eyes and you giggled. john let out a low chuckle.

admittedly, you were hungry too but the way you felt yourself melting into the couch was way too good for you to ruin it by getting up.

“john you’re making me fall asleep.”

the older man hummed, digging his fingers a little deeper, pulling a little moan from you. you’re sure he would’ve jumped your bones if you weren’t under the influence.

“okay i’m ready for another joint honestly.” gaz said as he came back into the living room, sandwich in hand.

you scoffed in disbelief, wobbling a little as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, turning to stare at your boyfriend, “kyle how the hell! we just finished one!”

your mouth is gaped open. how the hell is he already ready to smoke again? you plopped down onto your back once more, “gimme a bite and you might just be able to convince me.”

kyle scrambled to you, holding out his bitten sandwich. you took a big bite, nodding in bliss, “this is a fucking good sandwich si.”

“you’re just high as fuck, love. everything is fucking good right now.”

[misasimagines]

daisy crown / reader x Jiro (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: Jiro!

rating: SFW

warnings: um there's a bee visitor, but not described in detail. mostly this is just wholesome.

Quite a short fic!

You weren't in the habit of thanking Yuri for things, selfish and self aggrandizing as he was, but right now, you were thanking him. Even if he couldn't hear it.

He had kicked Jiro out of the lab, annoyed by his constant clarifications and suggestions on how to better perform an experiment. You were kicked out as well, not for your own suggestions but because you had no reason to be there to start with, sitting on an autopsy table and loudly sucking down a melting smoothie the entire time. Being a nuisance to the Mortkranken ghouls was in your job description so long as no one asked for proof.

Besides, Jiro didn't think you were a nuisance. He took regular breaks to talk to you and give you kisses and random tasks you were capable of completing mostly without risk or injury. You were like his unofficial union rep, if union reps got paid in kisses and teasing whenever they dragged a mangled corpse in and you jumped at the sight. It was fine by you, the kisses more than made up for the trauma.

Even so, you thanked Yuri because the sight in front of you was the cutest thing you'd probably ever seen in your life: Jiro, crouched down, picking flowers. The sun cast a little halo around his head and reflected in the lightest parts of his eyes. He had a basket where he was collecting them, flowers of all shapes and colors and sizes laid in an array next to each other. He was careful as he went, not picking anything that hadn't yet bloomed and not picking anything that was completely withered. A little bee flew around his head and inspected his flowers. 

Jiro inspected it back, granting it a few seconds of his gaze as it buzzed around him. He let it be (ha) and returned to his flower picking. It seemed interested in his actions, and kept flying around in his general vicinity, sometimes landing on the very flower he was reaching for. You couldn't help but smile when he gave up on a flower that the bee was bumping into. 

You kept yourself busy fawning over him and following a guide on your phone to make flower crowns. You wove the long stems of your daisies together, holding it above your head often to check for basic sizing. It was no neat thing you were crafting, but it held together remarkably well.

You focused on your craft until Jiro made his way to the bench you were sitting on and joined you. You smiled up at him as he sat down. “Did you get everything you needed?” You asked him.

He set the basket in his lap and responded, “Mostly. Some were out of season.” 

You frowned consolingly. “Maybe we can check Rui's garden?”

Jiro looked at the flower crown in your hands, “We can.”

You held the crown up triumphantly. A few petals fell off onto your lap. “It's finished.”

“People have used daisies in medicine for their anti-inflammatory properties,” he told you, picking up a petal from your lap and rubbing it lightly between his fingers. He dropped it on the ground and it fluttered as it fell. 

“Are they very effective?” You asked, leaning over him and putting the crown on his head. You repositioned it carefully until it sat balanced and even on his head. The white petals and green stems contrasted his dark hair nicely.

He watched you do it and made no effort to stop you, “No, drugs like ibuprofen are much more effective and accessible.” 

You sat back and admired your work. Jiro had a daisy crown sitting on the top of his head and a basket of flowers on his lap. It was such a different view of him than you were used to. He spent so much time in a fluorescent lit lab where everything was tinged with a slight green-blue hue. It made him look perpetually haggard, which you supposed wasn't inaccurate, sleep deprived as he was. It was nice to see him out of that dreariness and instead with the sun warming his cheeks. It took everything in you not to jump onto his lap, knock his carefully collected flowers to the ground, and cover those cheeks in kisses. That kind of behavior would have to wait until you were in private, especially because it would lead to planting kisses elsewhere on him and you didn't want to share that sight with any random person who might walk by.

He stared at you, expression the same as it always was, and you stared back, hardly capable of biting back your self satisfied smile. “Did you make it for me?” He finally asked.

“Mhm,” you admit. “And I did a pretty good job, I think.” 

He stared at you a second longer before looking at his basket and pulling out a specific flower. He turned to face you, his knees bumping yours, and you tilted your head in question. He reached towards you and delicately placed the flower behind your ear. His other hand held your cheek while he situated it and you felt a distinct comfort from his touch. Cheesy as it was, it warmed your heart.

“What is it?” You asked, now unable to see it clearly no matter how much you tried to activate your peripheral vision.

“A lily,” he kept gazing at you.

“What's it good for?” You asked, expecting some detailed but simplified explanation about how it prevented plague or something.

“Nothing significant. It's mostly just pretty.” 

Your cheeks flushed; You didn't miss the implication.

“Hm, it's also poisonous to cats,” he added, as casual as ever.

This made you laugh, the kind that caught you off guard and kept going when you looked at how expressionless he managed to stay while you erupted into giggles. It wasn't even particularly funny, it was just Jiro. “Thanks for the cat poison,” you managed to get out.

He put a hand under your chin, his thumb on your cheek, “You’re welcome.” He leaned forward and kissed you.

Eyes closed, the sun on your face, Jiro's lips against yours, you might have confused the botanical gardens of Darkwick for heaven. You kissed him back and kept your eyes shut a second more when he pulled away, just letting yourself exist in that peace for as long as possible. 

When you opened them, he looked away and down at his basket. The flower crown on his head was crooked. “I need to get these back to the lab,”

You nodded.

“You'll come with me?” He asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

You took it and got up to your feet, “I’d follow you pretty much anywhere,” you promised and readjusted your flower carefully. Didn't want that falling on the way. 

He didn't let go of your hand as you both started making your way back to Mortkranken, “Good,” he squeezed your hand lightly, “I'll take you pretty much anywhere,” he repeated.

[vraisetzen]

on nanami

sometimes i forget that a healthy part of the fandom hasn't read the manga, and that nanami's death actually came as a shock to some this week.

which is warranted, given that nanami is one of JJK's better written characters – a rare breath of fresh air, maturity, and warmth in a story that often speed-runs character development.

but i've also seen people bringing up this tweet, expressing a bitterness at gege for killing nanami when he initially intended to let him off with losing an arm:

now, don't get me wrong – gege has had his fair share of bad writing moments (more to come in future seasons when we finally get to the culling games and, uhm... you'll see).

what he meant by a "character taking their own life" referred to the natural end of a character's narrative.

nanami was introduced in JJK as an opposite to gojo – he's aloof, he's too serious, and he just wants to knock off work on time. but as we come to know, nanami also has a softer side to him – one that instinctively protects and cares for the young jujutsu sorcerers, as a result of his traumatic past after the death of his best friend.

and in the story, nanami served as yuji's mentor. he defined, for yuji, what it meant to be a sorcerer, and more importantly – a young jujutsushi.

in many ways, he wrote and defined the moral compass that yuji would lean on subsequently in the story.

i wouldn't go as far as to make this post a "why nanami had to die" – but i would also like to make it clear that nanami's role in the story besides being a board-certified dilf™️ is to root both the readers and yuji in the realities of being a jujutsu sorcerer.

and for mahito – his thematic opposite, someone with a complete disregard and disrespect for humanity – to kill nanami, while allowing nanami to pass on his final words to yuji...

he is not only resolving the conflict he has within himself – because he is able to die with the knowledge that yuji will not be "cursed", that yuji will continue as a jujutsu sorcerer with the right moralities, capable of facing the demons nanami once tried to run away from as a teen.

so, no, gege did not get carried away with killing nanami, as some have opined. nanami's narrative – as a character saddled by the burdens of being a sorcerer, who escaped from his responsibilities as a teen only to return, and to pass them on to a young boy who also has too much to shoulder – simply came to a close. x

[arget-star]

red 'cause i'm shy, you're my angel in white

Sakura Haruka x F!Reader

A/N: Happy Holidays to everyone who celebrates! I hope they are a joyful time <3 Title unashamedly taken from Christmas Love by Stray Kids This is set within the By Any Other Name verse, but you don't have to read that first :)

tags: none! just fluff :)

wc: 2k

about: Sakura has never experienced a traditional Christmas Eve. He wants to make is special for you

For all the mystery surrounding Sakura, he can be surprisingly easy to read. There’s no hidden agenda with him—what you see is what you get. Even his angry outbursts are easy to decipher, once you get to know him.

Something’s weighing heavy on his mind. That little crease forms on his forehead when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and you’ve caught him texting more than once over the last two weeks. His phone never stops buzzing, courtesy of Class 1-1’s group chat, but he usually scoffs and ignores the thing. Replies from him are a rare thing; a text conversation actually holding his attention is unheard of.

When you asked him about it, an offhand little inquiry over dinner one night, he’d shrugged. “Umemiya’s plannin’ our next captain’s meeting.” But he couldn’t meet your eyes as he said it. Sakura went as far as shoving his phone in his pocket, face a charming shade of pink. You didn’t push the matter; Sakura will tell you when he’s ready. It’s not like you’re concerned he’s cheating or involved in some nefarious matter. He’d struggled enough asking you out for your first official date. Not to mention, if he ever did try and pull some nonsense, Suo and Nirei wouldn’t hesitate in knocking sense back into Sakura’s head.

A day or so after you’d asked him, the texting stopped. He was more engaged than he’d been recently, so you considered everything done and over with. Whatever was going on sounded like Bofurin business.

The odd behavior starts up again a week before Christmas. This time around, along with the increased texting and furrowed brows, he keeps opening his mouth, like he’s about to ask you something, then closing it just as suddenly. You remain patient, despite the worry niggling the edges of your thoughts. Sakura’s demeanor towards you hasn’t changed. If he was upset about something you did, he’d be straightforward enough to tell you.

You both opted to stay in tonight—Sakura’s patrol ran late because everyone in town, according to him, needed help shoveling snow away from their storefronts. It’s sweet, how much he cares, and equally endearing how hard he tries not letting it show. You didn’t mind a lazy evening in yourself. End of term exams consumed your school hours, leaving you exhausted by the time the final bell rang.

You have a sneaking suspicion Sakura prefers lounging around his apartment. There’s no chance of anyone in town purposefully riling him up when they catch sight of the two of you together.

Curled up on the secondhand couch, you lean your weight against him, holding out a volume of some new manga Nirei had recommended. Sakura’s only half paying attention; he keeps asking you to go back a page, or who that character is, or why they’re at that other guy’s house. You’re in the middle of summarizing the last chapter when the cushions vibrate.

Sakura jolts. Fingers scramble for the phone laying underneath his thigh. You trail off mid-explanation, watching Sakura’s expression. A blush creeps up his neck despite the prominent frown curling his lips. The phone buzzes again, his knuckles tightening around the device. Yikes; whoever’s on the other end is in for it next time Sakura seems them in person.

One more buzz. His eyebrow—the white one—twitches. You close the tankōbon, setting it carefully beside you and shifting so your body is facing him. A charged silence settles around you. Patience can only go so far; you’re worried, and a little irritated he’s not making even the smallest attempt at communicating. More messages arrive in rapid fire succession. With each, Sakura’s cheeks turn darker, emanating a heat you can practically feel. He keeps sneaking glances at you, little flashes of gold from beneath a fringe of white bangs.

“Sakura, what’s going on?” You ask gently, daring to rest a hand atop his knee. Physical affection is still a gamble with him. The rules change depending on where you are, who you’re with, his overall mood. Figuring them out is a bumpy, ever evolving road; one you’re proud to navigate so long as it’s with him.

“Hah?” Nothin’!” He says, far too loudly, jumping both at your voice and touch. (Too late, he realizes you didn’t use his first name.) You remove your hand. He fumbles with the phone, finally turning it off and letting it drop unceremoniously into his lap.

Now you frown. Sakura isn’t the type to keep secrets. There are things he doesn’t discuss, like what led to his arrival in Makochi, and that’s fine. You don’t care about any of that. You do, however, care about what’s currently going on in his life, especially as it pertains to your relationship. “It’s clearly not nothing,” you reply, with more bite than you intend.

Mismatched eyes meet your own for what feels like the first time all evening. Gold and blue widen in momentary alarm; he’s caught, and you both know it. His throat works as he swallows back an undoubtedly angry retort. In any other circumstance, you’d be proud of him. Right now, you’d take his misplaced anger over whatever this is.

You’re rarely truly upset with him. Huffy over petty squabbles here and there, like any couple, things that blow over in an afternoon. This time, there’s genuine hurt flickering in your eyes, and Sakura notes how you’ve stopped touching him completely. A sigh escapes his nose a split second before the cursed phone buzzes again.

“They never shut up,” Sakura grumbles. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, turning his attention to the floor. “I asked ‘em for advice.”

You pause. The admission halts your rising annoyance in its tracks, makes you reconsider the situation. Christmas Eve is around the corner. Judging by his unspoken past, it would not surprise you to learn he’s never celebrated the holiday properly. Your heart skips a beat. You’d love to give everyone who ever made Sakura feel less an incredibly loud piece of your mind. Perhaps a taste of your fists, for good measure.

“Advice about what?” You prod softly. His phone remains untouched in his lap. A lengthy pause follows your question. You’re about to encourage him again when he finally, finally, catches your eyes.

“…D’you wanna go out on Christmas Eve? With me?” Using every ounce of will in his body, Sakura forces himself to stay put. A faint tremor runs through him with the effort. His brain screams at him to run, that old irrational fear of his that you’ll wind up laughing in his face overriding any reasonable thoughts to the contrary.

He knows he’s terrible at this. But you always take it in stride, smiling at him like he’s somehow worthy of being loved.

You’re smiling now. “Haruka,” you say with a surprised exhale—or perhaps it’s relief—cradling his burning face in your cool palms. “Of course I do.”

He’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name. He can’t take it anymore; he looks away, shoulders dropping as the tension leaks away. Dammit, when he tells everyone, they’ll blow up that stupid messaging app all over again. If he waits until he sees them in class, then he’s just asking for them to all pile on him in celebration. Which isn’t so terrible anymore, all things considered.

What a study in contradictions, you think, watching the gears turning in his head. The brilliant blush of his has yet to fade. He’s subtly leaning into your touch, and you swear you catch the faintest hint of a smile tucked in the corner of his lips.

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Initially, you’d planned to spend another quiet evening with him, laughing over homemade karaage while watching the snow fall outside.

“Yeah, well, I did!”

Honestly, you’re impressed he lasted this long without letting off some steam. It’s an improvement from the day he’d asked you out, officially—after barely getting the words out through gritted teeth and a blush to rival this one, he’d stalked off without waiting for your response. Later, you’d heard him yelling at who you assume was Suo-chan. You never did give Sakura a proper answer; just showed up at the agreed restaurant five minutes early and that was that.

Laughing, you release his face, settling back down on the couch. “Please tell everyone I said hello.”

“No.”

(It’s the first thing he does upon entering class the next morning.)

Sakura keeps his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as you stroll along Tonpu Street. Something as simple—as normal—as threading your fingers together is out of the question among the crowed streets. Too many eyes on him, too many people liable to say the wrong thing and set him off. Part of discovering his unspoken rules about physical affection required learning it’s not just how Sakura feels while doing it; it’s how others affect his overall feelings.

Put plainly, he doesn’t want to give anyone more ammunition to start a fight with him.

So you’ve found little ways to compromise. He maintains his dignity and you can still satisfy the urge to be affectionate with him. A desire you know for a fact he also feels. One day, you’re sure he’ll overcome whatever mental hurdle prevents him from doing so in public.

Tonight, you wrap your left hand around his right bicep, both of your shoulders brushing with every step. You prefer this arrangement to holding his hand, truthfully. Not that you’d ever tell him that—you don’t want to risk ruining his carefully built-up comfort.

“We helped put some of these up,” Sakura says, tilting his head at the many strings of lights crisscrossing the street. Their golden glow turns the snow the same burnished bronze as his eye.

“Beautiful,” you reply. Predictably, his cheeks redden, though you don’t think he caught on to the fact you meant him instead of the lights.

You steal glances at him as you wander down the street. Lights reflect off his hair, highlighting the snowflakes stuck to the black strands. He’s scanning the streets with the same purpose he does while on patrol, but you catch him lingering on all the Christmas displays. Beautifully decorated trees adorn various shop windows. Little kids all bundled up in jackets and beanies weave between the crowds, giggling as they clutch boxed up pastries in their gloved hands. A few couples pass by; Sakura misses the first pair, but he makes a surprised noise when the second one stops a few feet in front of you, the girl placing a kiss on her partner’s cheek.

Sakura’s arm tenses beneath you. Muffling a laugh, you tug him along, following the pervasive scent of fresh bread. “Come on. I think Cactus made Christmas cake!”

He follows for a couple steps without protest, if only to get away from the affectionate scene playing out in front of you, and then his brain catches up with your statement. “Christmas what?”

Again, you’re struck with the urge to pummel everyone who ever ignored Sakura. He’s rubbing off on me.

“Christmas cake!” You repeat cheerfully. That doesn’t answer his question, but he appreciates how you never make him feel like an idiot when he unintentionally reveals just how little he knows about the world. “Sponge cake with strawberries and whipped cream. It’s delicious.”

Sakura considers this. He doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth—all that sugar gives him a headache—but the last thing he wants to do is kill your enthusiasm. “If you say so.” It’s petulant, because he doesn’t know any other way to be. He’s trying, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.

You squeeze his arm and lead him through Cactus’ front door. One of the bakers snaps his head up from behind the counter to greet you and Sakura, recognition breaking across his face. “Oh, you’re one of the Furin boys! Hold on, please!”

What a difference it makes, being singled out for something other than his appearance.

A handful of other customers begin whispering to each other. You catch a faint thank you! from someone that goes unanswered. Sakura’s tensing up again, scowling through another blush. Another five seconds and he’ll start throwing punches. “Tch, I’m just takin’ care of business.”

You’ve stepped into his line of sight, prepared to calm him down should he need it. Pride glows warm in your chest instead; he’s looking off to the side as he says it, though you consider the fact he said it at all a victory. You smile, a soft, sweet thing, the type of smile that makes Sakura feel all weird inside. Weird in a good way, he determined all those months ago—because now he has the oddest impulse to smile right back.

The baker returns with a box in his hand. “Enjoy the cake, you two!”

Sakura’s almost-smile drops. He swipes the box, then pauses. “Ain’t this a bread place?”

“He means thank you,” you sigh. Tactful as ever, your Sakura. The baker, to his credit, looks unbothered. He waves before darting behind the counter to assist another customer. You usher Sakura out of Cactus, the little bell above the door chiming in time with your exit.

“It was a genuine question,” Sakura states, hands curled carefully around the box.

“They’re allowed to make other things. Like a special cake for Christmas.” A pause. “Ready to go home?”

You say it so casually. So easily. He doesn’t understand how you’re able to do that. He also doesn’t understand what’s so important about this damn cake, and why it makes your eyes sparkle, or why it suddenly matters to him that this is the best slice of sponge-strawberry whatever you’ve ever tasted.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice suddenly a little hoarse. “Let’s go.”

Truthfully, you would not have minded enjoying the Christmas lights a little longer. Everything felt more magical this year. Most likely due to the boy sitting on the tatami across from you, staring dubiously at the slice of the expertly crafted treat on his plate.

You’ve never spent Christmas Eve in love before.

But you could tell his already wire-thin patience was fraying down to practically nothing. The clear thought and effort he put into this entire evening is more than enough for you.

Sakura cuts off a piece of cake with his fork. You watch him eagerly, your own dessert momentarily forgotten. He chomps down on it, lowering the fork as he chews. A crumb clings to the corner of his lips.

“Well?” You prompt when he swallows.

“It’s…why’re you starin’? It’s good, alright?” There’s no anger behind the words; they’re just a reflex at this point.

Triumphant, you cut your own piece of cake, raising the fork in a mock toast towards him. “Merry Christmas, Haruka.”

That weird feeling returns. He almost—almost—wants to run away, or start shouting, but the reaction is delayed. Distant. Whatever you’ve done to him, he doesn’t hate it. Finding comfort in someone else isn’t the worst thing in the world. His expectations of other people have changed. Slowly. He’ll never completely shake what the lessons of his youth taught him, but he is grateful that tiny shift allowed you into his life.

“M-merry Christmas,” he replies, spearing another bite of cake onto his fork.

[fromtheseventhhell]

The way fandom keeps flip-flopping between Arya's age is so weird. One minute she's too old to experience trauma, the next minute she's too young for crushes and romance. Like jeez fandom, make up your own damn mind.

I've been saying that a lot of people don't consider Arya an actual character, and the inconsistent takes about her are one of the best examples. People just want her to exist as a prop to support their fanon so they don't bother doing any analysis (a lot of them don't even bother reading her chapters). They'll just say whatever depending on the conversation. They hate empathizing with her, so they adultify her; They hate the idea of her having a romance, so they infantilize her. No consistency or logic...just vibes and the desire to reduce her character. It's like them claiming she has masculine privilege but then insisting she has to leave Westeros to be "free" since she's non-conforming. Or that she's a feral wild child who can't control herself while also claiming she's a cold-hearted, calculating assassin.

They're so obsessive about it too. They can't just dislike her character and not talk about her, they need to erase basically everything about her story. It really boils down to them liking her story elements but not being able to project onto her, so they steal her traits for their fanon!fave. It's wild we have to see their nonsense takes because they can only "enjoy" the story after they've rewritten it. At this point it won't even stop if we get TWOW; I can already foresee the "George stole [x]'s story to give to Arya because he hates feminine women" takes lol

[myringtoe]

lose control | fairy tail 🧚

pairing: natsu dragneel x reader, gray fullbuster x reader

cw/tw: an elsa joke for gray, little bit of smut so mdni

notes 🗒️: i don’t see NEARLY enough fairy tail works on here, so might as well do it myself. 😭 have some random headcannons for natsu and gray. these are just some that came to mind. please let me know if there's anything else you'd like to see. :)

natsu dragneel

genuinely makes me wanna cry he’s so cute omfg deserves all the happiness in the world-

anyway

the literal definition of a himbo

he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s trying okay?

you may have to explain some things to him, about being in a relationship anyway.

bc i believe once you make it official, he would go right back to treating you just like a friend. 😭

and it’s not because he doesn’t wanna put in the effort or that he doesn’t actually love you, he just thinks it’s implied and that he doesn’t have to say it.

its a very interesting conversation to say the least. 💀

when you explain to him that you want him to be romantic, bring you flowers, take you on dates, etc. he’s listening SO intently it’s adorable.

he does actually try to take you out and bring you flowers after that conversation, he’s a good boyfriend.

literally takes you EVERYWHERE. you don’t have a choice.

he’s going on a job? you’re going too, whether you want to or not. he never wants to be separated from you.

god forbid you guys have to ride a train or anything (you will). you become his personal pillow. natsu is either laying his head on your shoulder or lap the ENTIRE journey. (he especially appreciates it if you stroke his hair while he’s got motion sickness :3)

will wear matching onesies with you in public, bro does not gaf.

is SO touchy. like omfg- everyone within a three mile radius will know that somethings going on between you. natsu has NO concept of personal space.

is amazing to cuddle with during the winter, during the summer? HELL NO. you’re literally shoving this man away from you and he’s so hurt by it. 😭

smut up ahead, mdni

in my opinion, he doesn’t like being submissive.

he’d let you power bottom, but you’d know that he always has control.

reverse cowgirl - he likes being able to grip your hips and sit up and whisper in your ear- 😮‍💨

mating press - we all know he loves that shit- loves being able to look into your eyes and tell you the nastiest things he wants to do to you.

prone - ngl…i think he’d like putting his arm around your neck as a form of breath play, and listening to you gradually go dumb on his dick-

about that, he will force you to look at him. there’s no such thing as being shy when it comes to sex with natsu.

if it’s your first time, he tries to be so gentle with you. doesn’t want to “break” you as he puts it. (not yet anyway)

very spontaneous. doesn’t care if yall are in the middle of the woods, he’s down anytime and anywhere.

he just wants to fuck you all the time.

will flex how strong he is. like picking you up, tossing you on the bed, etc. he’s very proud of his strength. (it doesn’t matter your size)

i think he’s had sex like once, so he isn’t very experienced. i think he’s experienced enough to know some of the things he likes.

7 inches hard, on the more girth side, upward curve, reddish purple tip-

gray fullbuster

oh lord have mercy. the man that started my love for anime men- 😭

again, cliche but it’s true. it’s amazing to cuddle with him during the summer. but during the winter? nah. you become a certified blanket hogger.

which he doesn’t really mind, the cold never bothered him anyway- (i’m sorry)

we all know this man isn’t great at voicing his feelings and how much he loves you, but he does show it through his actions.

(to me, gray and megumi are sooo similar because of how willing they are to die to win)

he’ll actually take the initiative on dates, he pays attention to the things you like, he brings you flowers without you having to ask.

a really chill boyfriend overall. (no, i didn’t mean to make that pun)

i don’t know why, but i feel like gray can cook? cannot tell you why i feel like he can, i just do. ur definitely taught him how.

gray is the king of casual possessiveness. like he won’t tell you that you’re his, he’ll show it. like a hand on your thigh, on the small of your back, etc.

and it’s not like he means to do it either, it’s almost subconscious for him. 😭

if you get cold easily, he feels really bad that he can’t hold you to make you warmer. :( will definitely get you blankets, start a fire, etc to help as much as possible though.

please touch this man

he’s so touch starved please

needs a good and long hug. needs to be told he’s loved and that he matters. :(

loves music, you can’t tell me otherwise. if you can sing? he loves that shit.

smut up ahead, mdni

out of the two, grays the softer one.

he’s more likely to relinquish control, let you take the reigns.

can be more dominant and rough, but generally prefers soft and sensual love making.

it comes from a place of not wanting to hurt you.

you’ll definitely have to do some convincing before he’ll be okay with losing control a little.

gray definitely uses the red, yellow, and green light system in bed.

missionary - he loves how intimate it is, being able to see your expressions really gets him going.

cowgirl - likes seeing you on top, adores the visual of your body and how much you’re enjoying yourself.

lotus - again, he LIVES for the intimacy.

i think gray looks at sex as being sacred, something you do only with someone you love and cherish.

so despite unconsciously stripping for everyone to see, he’s not just giving it out to everyone. which leads me to believe he’s not very experienced.

i mean, sure, he’s had a few past lovers, but i don’t think he ever went the full way with them.

also 7 inches hard, on the longer side, curves to the left, light pink tip, really pretty

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jake Kim x Reader: SINU!

G/N. Crack. Feat a lil Sinu.

"What's wrong with Jake?" Sinu whispers into your ear. You turn towards him and he flinches at your face.

Between your pained and contorted grimace, and Jake's frankly disgusting sneeze - he's not sure which one is more horrifying. Seriously, nightmare fuel. Match made in... hell?

"It's a-" You pause, thinking of a nice way to put this, "habit he has recently picked up."

"Tsh, why's he gotta use my name like that though."

"SINU! SINU!" Jake staggers with the force of his sneezes, face scrunched and eyes clamped tight. Snot and spittle spraying everywhere.

"Gross," You and Sinu murmur in sync at the repulsive sight.

"Morning!" Jake spots you two across the street, throwing a smile for his former Boss and a wink for you.

Which usually would have a 100% effective rate if not for the previous display... and the snot still on his face.

[sukunasweetheart]

Poe :0

Do you have any song recommendations for a sukuna x shy reader ? I need to expand my relationship music library

aur my goodness I GOTCHUU... thank u for requesting me this lemme go and dig through my playlists... i have a bunch of soft songs that could work for shy reader maybe 👀 i apologise if some are too angsty or mellow and a bit OOC for someone like sukuna... but let me dream please...

Lamp - Hatachi no Koi

Kali Uchis - Melting

Lee Jun Hyung - Monologue

Laufey - Valentine

Wave to Earth - Seasons

Matt Maltese - Everyone Adores You (at least I do)

Jannabi - for lovers who hesitate

Chloe Moriondo - small

Cigarettes After Sex - Heavenly

i tried to make sure the lyrics also matched up with a shy reader, so i hope theyre to your liking 👉👈

[just-another-siimp]

Sand - Kyle Garrick x Reader

Just a little blurb about the reader and Kyle going to the beach, and talking shit while they're at it. Written for my beloved @mydogeatscoffeecups & @komorebiiiiiiii

Warnings: Probably a 16+ warning on this because wow Gaz is yummy istg, it's just fluff, and some sunburn. PUT SUNSCREEN ON KIDS.

Sand. It burned bare feet on summer days as hot as this, children ran across it ignoring their parents' yells for them to slow down as they hurled themselves into the water. Gaz had suggested bringing those portable deck chairs Price never used, it was hard to imagine that Captain sitting on the beach soaking up some sun. When you’d asked he was more than happy to let you both borrow the chairs, not after making you promise to put sunscreen on every 2 hours. Apparently the last thing he needed to deal with was two of his (children) best operatives were burnt to a crisp. 

Sitting in the sand next to you was the aforementioned sunscreen, the sun felt abnormally hot on your skin, a hint that it was perhaps time to reapply. A while ago Gaz had left to go and get ice cream, mumbling that it would be a travesty not to have a cool treat. Sunscreen could wait a little longer, a extra pair of hands went a long way in the world of sun protection. 

-

You could feel him staring, brown eyes drinking in your sun touched skin as he returned from the ice cream vendor.  Opening your eyes it was a surprise (and a blessing) to see him standing shirtless in front of you, he’d left with a shirt on but now it was tucked into his shorts. He shot you a lopsided grin, you melted just like the ice cream in his hand. His skin glistened in the sunlight, beads of sweat training down his chest leaving an onslaught of sinful thoughts in its wake. The sight alone was delicious, he was delicious. So much so that you’d almost forgotten about the melting ice cream in his hand. 

“Got your favourite, it’s a little melted but it’ll do.” With the slightly soggy cone in your hands you made quick work of the melted ice cream before it trickled onto your hands, covering your eyes with your free hand you looked up at him head tilted to the side.

“You’re the best- did you get something for yourself?” 

“Yeah an ice lolly.” Ah here we go with the pretend British words.

“You mean an iceblock?”

So it began, the argument about what words were proper ‘english’ and what words were made up. Kyle liked to remind you that if it wasn’t the Queen's English it wasn’t real, you liked to remind him that she didn’t create the English language. By the time the argument was over your ice cream and his ‘ice lolly’ had disappeared, the two of you enjoying the last dregs of sun as it set. 

-

The ride back to the base was filled with shitty radio music, the kind both of you hated but sang to. Cherishing a moment where you didn’t have to worry about being thrust into a gunfight, where you could just be with each other pretending everything was alright with the world. Neither of you wanted to leave the car, stealing a few brief kisses before having to pretend like there was nothing going on between you. 

His hand rested on the small of your back as he opened the door to the base, touch lingering as you walked ahead of him. You could feel his eyes following your movements as you peaked into the kitchen, shoulders tensing as Soap cheered at your arrival home. Taking a moment to look back at him, you mouthed the word ‘tea?’ to which he only nodded. Only once you had all relaxed did Price grunt, catching your attention as you pulled the tea bag from Kyle’s mug. 

“What is it Captain?” 

“You’re sunburnt, the both of ya.”

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn Playlist

[mrsoharaa]

𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖

characters; your 2 faves x you!

cw; spooky/creepy vibes, knife play (?? if you leer hard enough I guess?), suspense, predatory x prey play.

a/n; just a litttttle gander of what I want to sooo desperately want to get into towards spooky time! I've been thinking about this for a whileee now and I just can't wait to dip a wii bit into the dark content area with this sort of context ~ 👀😩🥴

The heavy pants of your breaths fills the foggy, muggy air. Chest rising and falling frantically as nothing but shrouded mist and bone swelling anxiety dwells into the thick marrow.

You take a deep breath. 1, 2, and then exhale. Calming the hectic breathing collapsing from your chest. Closing your eyes momentarily, as a snapped twig immediately catches your attention, your heart thrashing more erratically against your weighted, heaving chest. Goosebumps quickly nipping all over your prickled skin, a thrilling, eerie chill seizing down your arched spine amongst the damped tree trunk hiding your shuddering little figure.

Motionless you tried to still every atom and bone in your jittering body, taking in cautious breaths as to compose yourself from any noticeable signs of your lingering, frightened presence.

Finally having the time to collect yourself from the growing anxiety and terror clawing it's way through your bones, you gently close your eyes and relax fully into the distant comfort of the trees moldy trunk. Your hands unball from it's tighten, anxious confinements and your limbs loosen in their stifled contractions.

Nothing but the sound of distant owls whooing in the moggy air and the slight breeze of a dreary wind. Hardly, coaxing you into a space of serenity and peace.

And with your body finally getting to it's final stage of relaxation from gripping tensity and terror, your lips shudder out a sharpen gasp as your head instinctively tilts upward as a cold metal brisk smoothly yet, promptly at the nape of your neck. Feeling the edge of the sudden sharpen blade against the supple skin of your staggering throat. A gloved, strong hand gradually and firmly, snugging it's way around the rest of your throat beneath the knife's placement. Long covered fingers drape ever so dangerously tightly around the constricting base of your throat. A low, heinous chuckle creepily wisps within the dreaded air.

Immediately, your body and mind melds back into that frantic state of horror and fear. A tinge of exhilieration and adrenaline runs through the course of your pumping blood. Nothing but sheer dismay and panic permeates all through your trembling, pinned body.

You inhale a deep gasp as you feel the fingers easily, forciably motion your head towards the right. Forcing you to gaze at the masked stranger holding you threateningly against the uncomfortable rigid bark prodding against your back.

"There you are angel...didn't take us long to find you, hm?" the muffled, deep voice coos with such wicked malice linting in his tone, tilting and angling the tip of the knife just right at the bridge of the underside of your chin.

Us? as in, plural? more then just one - oh.

Every ounce of fiber in your body hurled into a deeper state of dread and alarm. Another bleak touch of a filed blade caresses the tender of your soft left cheek, slowly, terrifyingly grazing down from the plush of the supple flesh to the corner of your tightly pursed lush lips.

You felt your pounding heart immediately drop to the pit of your churning stomach. Eyes still tightly knitted closed as your quivering skin basks in nothing but absolute panic. Mind restlessly racing with troubled thoughts.

"What a pretty little thing you are, yeah? guess we got ourselves a catch here, hm partner?" the one holding the blade against your lips purs with demented amusement, a devious low cackle tainting the thicken air around you. Angling the tip of his blade down into the pliable plump skin of your bottom lip, hardly displaying your tongue and gritted teeth.

The other, gently rakes the edge of his blade along the underside of your chin, up along the tightened alignment of your clenched jawline, leaning ever so dangerously and uninvitingly close to the shell of your feverish ear. The stifled husk of hot breaths seeping through the material of his mask, gnawing against the velvety plush of your skin.

"Indeed we do, now the question remains..." the touch of the man whisking heavily into the shell of your ear's blade brisks ever so musingly at the flesh of your jaw. Erupting those pesky goosebumps and hot flashed terror all over your stiffened stature. His masked face crooning into the slant of your neck and ear, flinging the tip of his blade coyishly against your tittering skin.

"What do we do with our pretty little captive, now that we have cornered her?"

The other chuckles amusingly, menacingly as he closes himself into the enclosed space of your general personal vicinity. His own mask nearly grazing over the hilt of your hiked chin, breathing almost hungrily, impatiently against the warm, shaky flesh. His own blade drowsing down the slope of your neck down to the indents of your collarbone.

"Isn't it obvious?..." he mellows with such certainty, eagerness almost honing his dreadful, leering toying tone. Cranes his own head closer towards yours.

"We break her of course"

[marahuyomae]

When they tried to argue on whose last name they are using now that they are getting a marriage registration:

Tatsuya: I am the reason why we are a poly in the first place because it was supposed to be me and Fumiko ONLY; but I was kind enough to let you in our relationship, So we should share my last name.

Izana: No! No. I am the one with the highest rank in our kingdom, We should take my last name.

Fumiko: *Checks at the time and sighs as she realized she would be late for her client's appointment if this keeps up.* Is it alright if the wife's last name was used during marriage?

Register: Why yes Ma'am.

Fumiko: *Sneaks to the register and places her last name in the marriage certificate and proceeds to walk out to get back to her law office.*

[aquatic-batt]

“how [character] would react if you were sad” “[character] x reader having their first kiss” what about [character] if I barked at them huh. how would [character] react if I started barking at them like an overexcited dog. what if I meowed at them. what if