#and when you look at the bigger picture i'm sorry but i just can't think he fucks as much as secondo. sorry

[floating--goblin]

you know what hill i'll die on? terzo is not the sluttiest emeritus

I mean sure, he's the most dramatic and the most outspoken about sex, and he gave us Mummy Dust which is its own discussion-- but I sincerely don't see him, in his private life, being so promiscuous. Like out of all of them, I'm the most certain Terzo would be either monogamous or have a few regular partners at most, but I don't think he'd be big on casual flings. Frankly I don't even see him having sex that much at this point, he seems more attached to it as a concept than an actual activity he regularly engages in.

You know who's the inverse of that, though? The one Tobias himself calls a pervert? Secondo. There's your whore. I know he looks big and mean and authoritary but let's be honest, half of Infestissumam is about ritual sex and he's out in Vegas on the regular with more women than he can reliably satisfy. He says it himself that he became Papa because "he likes a sexy beat". THERE'S THE EMERITUS WHORE, AND I'M CERTAIN OF IT

#the band ghost #i'm not trying to be like. puritanical by saying this #far from it #it's just like #i feel terzo is often stereotyped as hypersexual #and i feel like that's because he's for lack of a better word the most queer-coded papa #i just don't think he should be THE slutty emeritus yknow? because when i think about him i think of other things #he's the greatest showman among all of them and the way he grew disillusioned with the world is tragic #he's the only one (so far) to have gotten a grammy #he's the first to treat his ghouls like proper friends #the only time we see sister imperator actually afraid is when he shows up #like there's SO MUCH and obviously i'm not saying or even thinking that a character's sexuality is less important than other features #all the papas encourage a celebration of sexuality #i'm just saying i feel like people stop at that. and don't look at terzo any deeper #and that's tragic because he's a HELL of a character #and when you look at the bigger picture i'm sorry but i just can't think he fucks as much as secondo. sorry #give mr worldwide the recognition he deserves ok #and also give terzo proper characterization!!

[classicintp]

There is this whole idea that flipping a two sided coin doesn't have a 50-50 probability. It's not a new idea by any means, but the explanation is if you measured the mass of the coin, the force of the flip, the temperature of the coin & of the room, the force of any breeze, wind, or vibration in the air as it traveled, and so on, you could accurately determine within a small margin of error what side the coin will land on every time, and if you kept those constant it would flip on the same side every time. And that idea is also KIND OF the explanation for the conclusion in quantum physics that there is no free will.

A lot of people hear that and either clutch their pearls, roll their eyes, or aren't interested either way. (I mean, when you say some shit like that you're just going to immediately turn off any interest most people would have otherwise had but I'm digressing now). We all like to think we make decisions and choices, and then amateurs who want to talk about quantum mechanics alienate everyone by saying it's not true: you were always going to make these choices with no chance to make the other one.

But what I said in the first paragraph is something-like (but not exactly) what it means when you hear or read that according to quantum physics we have no free will. That if we had an unfathomable device that has been measuring all the variables of every single particle that was expelled during the Big Bang, with an also-sufficient/also-currently-unfathomable algorithm to plug those variables into, all within a computer that could do all of the calulations for BILLIONS of years, we could compute exactly where every particle was going and where it would end up, including those that make up the stars and planets, that make up the ground and oceans, that make up the animals and plants, that make up your brain and all of the proteins and neurotransmitters. That if it could all be measured and an algorithm sufficiently built then the decisions you make are already determined by the ongoing relationships and interactions the particles that make up your brain had in the past and are having right now.

However, humans cannot measure that, they likely never ever will.

Anyone that tells me they don't like quantum mechanics because something something affront to nature blah blah "they" don't believe in free will, etc. literally doesn't know it's just a rescale of the coin toss description. You still believe coin tosses are 50-50 because you aren't going to measure the variables used to receive an answer, you can still believe in free will because you can't measure the variables used to determine the ultimate path of all particles; I mean, I wouldn't become a theoretical physicist if that meant so much to you but I'm not your dad, do what you want.

Edit: I know I described the science mostly wrong, please check out the replies and reblogs for others' corrections and feel free to add corrections of your own for mine and others' learning, thank you.

#as has been pointed out to me you can't measure quantum functions in a meaningful way without collapse #I'm not a quantum physics person‚ #(i mean‚ that is pretty clear) #but there are concepts that can be simplified to make them easier to process l #so that people interested can be pointed in the right direction and feel more familiar #before they find corrections and understand the bigger stuff‚ it's basically how middle school conventional science classes teach stuff #like i remember not really understanding dependant/independent variables #or not really understanding why endothermic/exothermic meant cold/hot #or how electrons don't really orbit atoms/have fixed places when attached to each other #we're taught simplified versions of things that are sometimes not the whole picture or sometimes wrong #to get you thinking in the right direction #anyway I'm not saying I crafted this post to be like that‚ just that I do understand some of the concepts aren't correct #it's just too complicated to get into specifics and that's the best way I can describe how I understand it #sorry if you do know better and bothered‚ I'll make any necessary edits if you message me and they don't over complicate the post #otherwise for everyone else go look this stuff up and get corrected #physics #quantum mechanics #quantum physics #op

[monster-disaster]

[tentacle] The monster under the bed

tentacle!monster x human!Reader Good to know: somnophilia, a bit of dub-con

Summary: Your aunt's house is not as empty as you thought.

A/N: For kinktober 2023, I have a new town full of monsters. Here is the masterlist.

The change in the air is thick and heavy after you leave the Welcome to Grimbrook sign behind you. You feel it in your core. It's cold and silent. For a second, everything goes quiet, and the time seems to stop. The rumbling of your car gets muffled, and the colors of the lush, green forest at your sides fade into a milky fog flowing above the ground. You can't see the tall mountains and their sharp edges in the distance anymore. The clear blue sky turns gray, and you can't find the sun anymore, either. Just a few dim rays shine down on the road in front of you, showing your way to the village next to the sea.

As you get closer, you can smell the salty scent of the water even through the closed windows of your car. It's heavy in your nostrils. The sound of the waves gets louder too. From the top of the uphill, you can see the village with its old stone buildings and the sea behind everything. It seems colorless, merging into the dark sky at the horizon. It is beautiful and terrifying at the same time. There is something in Grimbrook that you can't pinpoint but freezes your insides. The only light you can see comes from a lighthouse at the edge of a cliff. It emits a soft, rhythmic beam of yellow light that cuts through the heavy fog, casting eerie shadows over the still village. Seagulls glide through the mist above the white seafoam, waving across the dark surface.

"Okay," you hum, forcing your eyes to go back to the GPS on your phone. The blue line clearly shows your way to the house you have to reach before night falls. It leads you out of the center of the villages until you reach a small suburb with Victorian houses standing in a long row with grand iron gates and gardens.

The monotone voice of the GPS informs you when you reach the right house, and after sitting in your car for a few more minutes, you have no other option but to get out and make your way up to the porch. The wooden planks creak under your steps as you look around a bit better. The house is old, with tall walls, characterful windows, and a dark green door with a golden knocker in the middle. It's cold in your hold as you knock it against the door.

You don't get an answer, though.

The door opens, and you find yourself facing a narrow foyer with stairs on the right side. Pictures and paintings hang on the walls in dark wood and golden frames. You can see the entrance of the kitchen at the end. And on your left side, there is an arch that leads you to the living room.

"Hello?" You break the silence. Your voice is hoarse and quiet. You have to force your legs to move and not turn back to your car and leave this place immediately. "Somebody?" Your gaze lands on a small table in the corner next to the entrance door. There is a letter with your name on it.

Dear Cat, I'm sorry I can't be here when you arrive. Make yourself at home, and we will talk tomorrow. Delilah

"Great," you sigh, letting the paper fall back onto the surface of the small table.

For a second, you think about searching for a hotel or something similar to spend the night, but to be honest, it doesn't sound much better either. You know you should leave the town to feel better, but it's not an option. So you close the door behind you and wander further into the house.

You got a call a few weeks ago about your aunt you met long years ago. She died, and now you have a house. You can keep it. You can sell it. Whatever you want.

The house is old, with a lot of wood, dark colors, and golden details. There are still newspapers from months ago on the coffee table in the living room. The rug under you is faded and thin. The floor creaks every now and again. There are two rooms and a bathroom upstairs. The bigger room is still occupied with your aunt's belongings. The scent of her perfume still lingers in the air. You remember her when you were a kid. She came to your grandmother's funeral, and you never saw her again. Nobody really talked about her in the family. The only things you know are that she was kind but preferred her own company above everything else. She lost her husband in her late twenties but stayed in Grimbrook, barely leaving the town.

The guestroom is much more bare than the other parts of the house. A bed in the middle with two nightstands and a lamp. There is a drawer in front of it and a mirror on the wall. The window is slightly open, letting in the cold autumn breeze. You have a view of the street from here. It's calm and empty. The only reasons you know you are not the only person in the town are because you can see a few cars here and there and a dog barking in the distance. The fog is thick and heavy. You can't see the end of the street through it.

After wandering around the house some more, you decide to call your friend until you have no other option but to change and try to get some sleep.

Climbing up on the bed in the guest room, you settle under the thick covers. The scent of the linen is faded and mixed with dust and the night air coming through the window. It's dark outside, not counting a few lamps on the street. Their orange lights filter into the room. And everything is quiet. So quiet that your ears almost start to ring. You are not used to it. You live in the city with constant noises.

When sleep takes you, it's restless and everything but relaxing. You fidget and turn, trying to find a comfortable position as you balance between the darkness and the real world. Your head feels just as foggy as Grimbrook, and at some point, you can't decide if you are dreaming or not.

You are on your back, one arm on your stomach, and the other is next to your body. The autumn breeze caresses your skin, moving up from your feet to your ankles and calves. Shiver runs through your spine at the feeling. You want to reach out for the blanket, but even though your arms move, they do not obey your command. Something pets the thin skin of your wrist. It's soft and barely noticeable. You feel your muscles stretch as you reach up to the headrest of the bed, but you don't even know why. The cold moves up further on your legs. It curls around your flesh, spreading you in the middle of the bed. Your heels dig into the mattress. Your body tenses when your limbs don't do as you want. A frown deepens between your brows.

"What?" A hoarse grunt leaves your lips. When you open your eyes, you meet darkness, and you are not sure if you are really awake or not. Your eyelids are heavy, and not even a second later, you fall back asleep again.

The bottom of your pajama slips down on your legs. The waist stretches around your parted legs. Something slides up on your stomach under your t-shirt. It is slick and soft. A gasp echoes in your room when it flicks your nipple. The thing curls around the flesh of your tits, groping and caressing. Your nipples harden under the strange touch. Saliva? A tongue?

Where are you?

And there is something else between your legs. The muscles of your thighs tense, and the hold around you tightens.

"What?" You groan again into the silence. As you look down on your body, you see your t-shirt around your neck. Your breasts are bare. Something dark and purple curls around them, squeezing and licking. The teasing on your nipples is almost painful. At the back of your mind, you want more. Your head falls back onto the pillows, and you are asleep again.

The tentacles between your legs move up and down on your pussy. Your panties are ruined between your wet center and the slick touch of theirs. One of them flicks your clit. Your back arches at the feeling. The cold night air hits your aching pussy when the thin fabric is pulled aside. One of them stays around your clit, flicking and rubbing the hard bud. The other one goes straight to your hole.

You want to move. To get closer or farther away, you can't decide. The tendrils don't let you go anyway.

You break the silence with a sudden moan. The limb enters you slowly. It slips into you easily, stretching your walls until you can't take another inch. It fills you up.

"Fuck," you groan.

Your breasts are soaked. The slickness on your skin shines under the dim streetlights. The tentacles play with your flesh, rubbing and pinching your nipples. The pain takes your breath away every now and again until you feel dizzy.

The others between your legs move without pausing even for a second. Your clit throbs, and your walls flutter. Pleasure flares inside your veins, rushing through your body with such force you never felt before. Your lungs burn for air, and your muscles ache as you lay taut, panting.

When you open your eyes, you see the ceiling and the old lamp hanging above you. You want to force your mind to think, to panic, to do something, but your senses are full of pleasure. The only thing you can do is moan and grind against the tentacle inside your pussy. It pounds into you, reaching every spongy spot inside that makes you see stars and beg for more. The sheet under you is soaked with your mixed juices. You can feel it dripping out of your hole.

Fuck, you want to shout, but you can't find your voice. You just shake and tremble in the hold of the limbs keeping you in place on the bed. Every nerve in your body is on edge, and when it snaps in your lower stomach, you can't remember how to breathe. Your climax forces you down and stops you from moving. A thin layer of sweat shines on your bare skin. Heat burns you from the inside, and your pussy flutters and sucks on the tendril inside you. It still moves in and out. It twitches and rubs against your walls. And doesn't stop even when the darkness envelopes you again.

When you wake up the next morning, you need a few minutes to remember where you are. The sun shines through the window, casting an orange hue over the old rug in the middle of the room. As you sit up, your t-shirt falls back over your torso, but your pants are still around your knees.

"What?" You grunt out. The question is barely louder than a whisper. Your hand shakes as you reach down between your legs. Your pussy is wet, sensitive, and swollen. A moan escapes you when your fingertip slides over your slit.

Your dream is still vivid in your mind. You can feel the tentacle in your pussy, using your hole and rubbing your clit. Your center starts to throb with need at the memory. And your breasts. Your other hand grabs one of your tits. Your nipples are still hard peaks through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Hello? Cat?" The sudden noise snaps your head up to the door of your room. The voice comes from the entrance of the house. "It's Delilah." "Hey!" You croak out. You are not even sure if she can hear you. "I will be down in a minute." "Great!" She shouts back. "I will make some coffee, and we can talk about your plans with the house." Your fingers sink into your hole. You are still stretched out. You move in and out of your pussy easily.

Yeah, you think, you need a few nights if you want to decide about your plans.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

#monster romance #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster smut #tentacle smut #tentacle x reader #tentacle x human #tentacle monster #grimbrook #kinktober 2023

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd part here.

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either

[lovelybrooke]

I saw your post for Hazbin Part 3 ideas so I’d like to help!

Idea one: Immortal reader(that’s what I’m calling them) “dies” again and goes back to hell.

Ideas two: Charlie and the others hesitantly get Lucifer to help and Lucifer also becomes a platonic Yandere? (I swear this man needs another daughter and the fact that immortal reader doesn’t have a dad)

Idea three: this one ties into the second idea. Charlie and the others get Lucifer and they all go up to earth only to see immortal reader going about there life. Oooo what if Lucifer recognizes them? Like back when they “died” as a kid they met Lucifer but immortal reader doesn’t remember because they were a kid?

Idea four: What if immortal reader finds out about them not being able to die? That there mom or someone tells them about an curse being places or a spell gone wrong causing them to be immortal. What if every time they died they get a scar reflecting that specific death?

This was all I could come up with at the moment but if you need more I can give more!

I've been thinking a lot about idea two and three because I do want to include Lucifer because I remember when I first saw him in like some art somewhere and was like "oh he gonna be so evil and scary" and in reality he's just a sad dad, which I love.

Imagine reader still being in hell when Lucifer shows, and with all the talk about fathers, reader reveals they never knew their dad.

(little blurb below the cut)

"Wait--really?" Charlie frowns at the declaration, her father sharing a similar look. You just spent the last two minutes listening to Lucifer, Charlie's dad, argue with Alastor about god knows what. When Charlie told you her dad was coming over, you imagined him, the supposed ruler of hell, to be more scary. You definitely did not expect him to be the way he was now, almost like a wet cat. Though you couldn't doubt that he cared about Charlie.

Eventually, you even got pulled into the argument, with Lucifer demanding you to pick who the better father was. You didn't want to cause an even bigger argument, so you simply said that you couldn't pick since you don't really have a point of reference, which ultimately led you to where you are now.

You shrug "Yeah, I mean I've seen pictures but that's about it." You say blankly. It never really bothered you since he was never in your life. Your mother didn't really talk about him either, other than when she was drunk, and those were all just insults. There was a time where he called the house looking for your mom, sounding angry. You got scared and hung up before you could say anything. You never told your mom he called.

Angel lets out a low chuckle from his seat at the bar "wow--just another thing to make you sad." You didn't know if that was a joke or not, but for some reason he looked upset.

You couldn't focus on that for long though, since Charlie was rushing up and giving you a big hug "Oh I'm so sorry--Dad! You can't just ask questions like that!" She reprimanded him.

"It's not that big of a deal..." You said, subtly trying to push her away.

"Of course it is--I wouldn't have brought him here if I knew--"

"Charlie, I don't care, I promise." You say, more firmly this time. Finally, she let you go, though the solemn look didn't leave her face. Looking over, Lucifer matched the look on her daughter's face. Alastor however, was smiling wide, like always, though you could see his look become softer when directed at you.

Maybe it was all in your head though.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

[fluentmoviequoter]

We've Got a Problem

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!fiancée!reader

Summary: When you get arrested on Tim's day off, you have to call someone to get you out of jail. Tim doesn't answer when you call, but when he finds out what happened, he makes it a bigger problem.

Warnings: grumpy!Tim, fluff, mentions of homicide and drug trafficking; reader doesn't commit any crimes, so misunderstanding?

Word Count: 1.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

You can't decide what's funnier: that you are in police custody, that the arresting officers refused to believe that you are Tim Bradford's significant other, or that Tim isn't answering his phone.

When you switch tactics to call Wesley Evers instead of Tim, you decide that the last option is the funniest part of this ordeal.

"Hey," Wesley answers.

"This isn't a personal call," you begin with a chuckle. "Would you believe me if I said I'm currently being detained at LAPD Mid-Wilshire division on suspicion of a triple homicide and drug possession?"

"I really hope for Tim's sake you're joking."

"I'm not. I need a lawyer, Wesley. But I also need to ask you to find Tim to get me out. No one here will believe that he's my fiancé and he's not answering my calls."

"Can't imagine why they're so sure he's single. I'll get him down there and ask for the evidence. We'll get this thrown out, don't worry."

"I'll stop worrying when I'm out of here. Thank you, Wesley."

“Don’t hang up, I’m patching Tim in.”

“What do you want, Wesley?” Tim asks when the line connects.

“I want to know why you answer for him but not for me,” you interject.

Tim says your name before asking, “Where are you?”

“Jail,” you and Wesley answer together.

“What? Which station?”

“That’s your question?” Wesley replies. "Not what she did?"

“Your station,” you answer. “And I’d like to go home.”

“I’m on my way. Wesley, talk to me.”

“They’ve got her on suspicion of homicide and drug trafficking. Angela sent me part of the case file and it seems like you fit the physical description of the suspect, but that’s it. I have no doubt we can get this thrown out by the end of the day.”

“Tim, I’m sorry,” you offer. “I know it’s your day off.”

“At least it’s a good story,” he grumbles.

“Tim, I may have told a few cops that I’m your fiancée. They didn’t believe me, but I- I’m sorry for telling them.”

“Fantastic. I’m hanging up, I’ll be inside in a minute.”

“How mad is he really?” Wesley asks.

“I don’t think I want to know. Maybe I should’ve just asked you to come.”

“Good luck.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim yells your name when he walks into the holding area. He looks at you as you stand, walking to the cell door as another officer unlocks it.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper as you step out.

“Later,” Tim answers, gesturing for you to follow him.

You walk behind Tim and the officer, waiting by Tim’s side as he completes paperwork.

“And what’s your relationship?” the officer behind the desk asks.

“I’m her fiancé,” Tim answers.

The officer raises his eyebrows but nods as he slides a paper to Tim. Tim carries the paper in one hand, raising his other arm to direct you into a nearby office.

“Sergeant Grey, a word?” Tim asks.

“Sure. Who’s your friend?”

You say your name, shaking Sergeant Grey’s hand.

“My fiancée. Celina and Nolan just booked her on suspicion for Lopez’s case.”

Sergeant Grey presses his lips together but fails to hide his smile as he begins laughing, leaning backward while he wipes an amused tear from his eye.

“Let me guess, you told them that you’re with Bradford and they didn’t believe you.”

“Uh, exactly,” you answer, surprised at how quickly he determined what happened.

“I’ll talk to Nolan,” Grey promises.

“I can do it,” Tim responds.

“No, Bradford, I’ll handle it. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not, or I’ll intervene.”

“I’m sorry,” Grey tells you. “The charges won’t be filed, so you’re not going to be impacted other than the inconvenience this afternoon. I apologize on behalf of the entire department.”

“It’s not a problem,” you answer softly.

“It is a problem,” Tim says before exiting the office. “Nolan!”

“Tim,” you call, rushing out after him. “What’re you doing? They didn’t even believe me about you.”

“Not the biggest problem. Nolan!”

“Uh, yes?” Nolan asks, glancing over Tim’s shoulder at you.

“You arrested my fiancée on a completely baseless allegation. Because she looks a bit like a suspect in a huge case. That is not good police work, that’s being lazy and making connections where there are none.”

“I-“

“Unless you’re about to apologize, stop talking. Care to explain why you heard my name and didn’t do anything?”

“She claimed to be your fiancée. What was I supposed to do, just believe who I thought was a suspect in numerous felony cases?”

“Doesn’t sound like an apology.”

“What are you so mad about? I did my job.”

“You did what you think your job is. As a TO, it is on you to make sure Celina is prepared to do her job without you. Bringing people in because they fit what is possibly the most generic physical description ever is not being a good officer.”

“This doesn’t sound like letting me handle it,” Grey says, stepping out of his office.

Tim clenches his jaw before pointing at Nolan. “For the record, she is my fiancée and I will not forget this.”

“You have a fiancée?” Nyla asks as she stops in the middle of the bullpen. “Wait, are you the one who got brought in for Angela’s felonies? The one who called Wesley?”

“Yeah,” you answer, supplying your name as you introduce yourself.

“Oh, this story needs to be told.”

“Don’t,” Tim warns.

Nyla pulls her phone from her pocket, smiling as she types. “Too late.”

“So much for my day off,” Tim grumbles.

“I got arrested today, and you had a long day?” you ask.

“We’re leaving.”

Tim leads you to his truck, sighing as he sits back in the driver’s seat.

“Tim-“

“Don’t apologize again. I’m not mad at you, for anything. Just… this is so stupid,” Tim concludes, smiling as he laughs.

“You’re telling me. Although Nolan and Juarez got a good laugh out of the idea of you having a fiancée.”

“I don’t think that’s funny,” Tim responds. “I think I just got very lucky.”

You smile, leaning across the console to kiss Tim.

“Excuse me, you’re parked in a tow-away zone. Tim?” an officer asks through the open window. She gasps before asking, “Is this your fiancèe?”

“Bye, Chen.”

Tim pulls out before she can say anything else, and you laugh at his dramatic sigh.

“Can you stay out of trouble for the rest of my day off?” he asks.

“I may need some incentive.”

“Then spend it with me. Not calling Wesley Evers from a jail cell.”

“Deal.”

You take Tim’s hand and smile. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles, keeping you close as he drives to his house.

"Wait, we should take a picture," Tim says after parking in his driveway.

"For what?"

"To commemorate your first arrest."

You roll your eyes but smile anyway. Tim takes the picture, and when he looks down to see how it turned out, you cup his face in your hands and kiss him. While he's thoroughly distracted, you try to grab his phone, but he moves it before pulling you closer. Maybe getting arrested and letting Tim's coworkers know he's engaged wasn't all bad.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

[fellthemarvelous]

Holy forking shirtballs

I'm choosing violence today. I started this on Twitter, but I'm going to finish my thoughts here like I always do.

But what really blows my mind the most is the way that people look at Aziraphale's "choice" at the end, as if he had one to fucking begin with.

I'm sorry, but Aziraphale knows how messed up Heaven is. He told The Metatron, more than once, that he did not want to go back to Heaven! We can debate what each of us means by "choice" all night because my "choice" and your "choice" might be two different concepts. He could have been strong armed by The Metatron or he could have looked at where things were headed and realized he had no choice but to intervene himself.

You need to ask yourself what Aziraphale has a moral imperative to do.

What do we owe to each other?

Seriously, if you have not watched The Good Place, I recommend you go and watch it, because it absolutely shaped how I've viewed Good Omens 2 since its release.

My levels of frustration with the bad faith mischaracterizations of Aziraphale are off the charts. If you are blaming him for everything, implying that he should have to grovel and that Crowley has a right to hurt him back, you have missed the point of Good Omens entirely.

I defend Aziraphale, but I don't think one of them is more right or wrong than the other. They're equals. They're a group of the two of them, acting and reacting to each other throughout history. They're Alpha Centauri.

I cannot even begin to explain how fucking devastated I felt when Crowley said these words, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. What he said took a lot of courage because he's finally admitting something they've both been too scared to publicly define for 6,000 years. Crowley has had to spend so long with a rough outer shell because he fell and had to hide all of his softness.

The look on his face was one of pure joy when he created that nebula, but I think the fact that he got to share that moment with Aziraphale is what has always stuck with him.

So yeah, seeing Crowley with a broken heart at the end of "Every Day" was sad for me as well.

My brain still lives here!!

But Neil has said that Good Omens 3 is not quiet, gentle, or romantic. I imagine it's going to be more like the the first season in which they are not central to the plot. GO2 will help us make sense of how they ended up where they are when we see the bigger picture with all the other major players involved with GO3.

Aziraphale was still a soldier and accidentally got himself discorporated in his own magic circle in season one. He had a platoon waiting on him to start Armageddon, and he deserted them to go save the world with Crowley instead. Aziraphale is a deserter. I need everyone to remember that. He yeeted himself out of Heaven and sought out Crowley before even locating a body just to warn him about what was happening so they could try to save the world together.

I can't help but think of 1941 and that magician who had been arrested for being a deserter.

Aziraphale disobeyed orders. That took courage but it branded him as a traitor against Heaven. They tried to destroy him for it the same way Hell tried to destroy Crowley for his part in stopping the war.

Aziraphale and Job are the only characters we have seen interacting with God directly. Aziraphale has spoken to God before and he is determined to do so again.

Aziraphale knows Heaven is flawed, but he also knows it's supposed to be good. He wants it to be good. He does not like the way the system works and he wants to make a difference. (And I'm pretty sure he's also determined to talk to God without being intercepted by The Metatron.)

Since when is that a bad thing? I don't get it. And I've had this discussion before.

If you need to change the system by burning the old one to the ground, it's still change, and we don't know what Aziraphale has planned.

It seems to me that people just want to see Aziraphale fail because it would punish him for returning to Heaven instead of running off with Crowley.

Some of y'all take everything Aziraphale says or does and twist those things into malicious anti-Crowley actions because you think the only reason Aziraphale exists is to make Crowley happy, and if he isn't thinking only about Crowley then he's doing something wrong.

Aziraphale does not exist as a plot device to further Crowley's character. They come as a pair. They've been learning from each other for 6,000 years. Crowley challenges Aziraphale just as much as Aziraphale challenges him.

You can be mad at Aziraphale all you want, but villainizing him is gross. Defending Crowley does not mean you have to tear down and mischaracterize Aziraphale anymore than defending Aziraphale means you have to tear down Crowley (but I don't see that happen on nearly the same level it happens to Aziraphale). Stop painting Aziraphale as an abusive partner, for fuck sake.

Aziraphale knows there are flaws in the system. He wants to make a difference, and since he has seen that Gabriel can change, then maybe the whole system can. He has to at least try, and if he can succeed then maybe he and Crowley can stop hiding and finally be together without having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Why is that a bad thing? He's just as protective of Crowley as Crowley is of him!

But don't forget that Aziraphale's wing was covering Adam and Eve too. As much as a wants to protect Crowley, he has a moral imperative to keep humanity safe as well.

He sent Adam and Eve into the unknown with a flaming sword so they could protect themselves.

As much as he wants to be with Crowley, there are 8 billion people on Earth heading toward the Second Coming and Judgment Day. They'll work together to fight alongside humanity in the end. Aziraphale should not have to humiliate himself just to earn Crowley's forgiveness. That's a rancid notion.

The Resurrectionist was a whole ass moral dilemma for Aziraphale, which is why I brought up The Good Place earlier, but that's a post for a different time.

Aziraphale has his own motivations and they're just as important as Crowley's, and they don't have to be chalked up to Aziraphale being the bad guy. Weird, I know, but shades of grey.

"To the world."

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale defense squad #yeah i'm being bitchy #no i don't care if you're offended #no i'm not interested in your aziraphale hate #i'm not interested in hearing takes about aziraphale being toxic from people who can't even be objective #some of y'all need to watch the good place because you need a lesson in moral philosophy #we should be able to have discussions about the characters without gross takes calling aziraphale abusive #az and crowley approach everything from wildly different perspectives because of where they are #just admit y'all shit on az because he doesn't look or act like crowley #I'm so done with the shitty aziraphale takes #they aren't even interesting enough to debate #they're just annoying

[hellsslibrary]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚NSFW Alphabet with Azul Ashengrotto˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

DNI : minors.

!!Warnings : switch!top!male!reader, switch!bottom!Azul, size difference kink, oral, toys, cock warming, praise/humiliation kink, power dynamic, ink(I'm not sorry).

#a.n. : While everyone is writing kinktobers, I'm still trying to finish this. But wait after the alphabets, there will be kinktober... In November, to make it more convenient (and maybe earlier, if I try). Also, no pictures today because I want to redo the decor, and I'm writing this part of Azul for two beautiful ladies, so...(I'll add them later)

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He is embarrassed about this (just a little), but he will help put things in order in what he and his partner have done. Prefers to rest a bit before cleaning, but if his partner starts, he will certainly help too. Especially if he was in a dominant position.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part as well as their partners)

Well, in your body it would... Certain parts. He definitely has a kink for the size difference (you can't argue with me, I want to pin him against the wall). And he will love anything if it is bigger than his body parts? Palms, muscles, if any, tongue, di—. Yes.

Honestly, he really likes his chest, and not just the nipples specifically, he likes it when his partner touches him anywhere on the chest in general. I just have a headcanon that he has very petite chest, even for a guy and well... Sorry.

C = Cum (basically anything related to sperm)

So... His sperm has the most ordinary consistency. It is released quite a bit during orgasm, but it tastes quite salty. There is his ink in the sperm (fanfiction with the overblot form of Azul is always in my head, maybe I’ll write them too someday)

Mmm, I think he likes it when people cum in his mouth. Fish sperm, according to internet experts, is simply disgusting. So he likes this taste, definitely.

D = Dirty Secret (Self-explanatory, their dirty secret)

He is the power bottom almost always, simply because he is flattered by the idea of control. But damn, he has moments where he just wants you to take it all into your own hands and take it as you please, mostly without considering his opinion (but still having his consent to it, of course).

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they are doing?)

... No. Simply no. He's definitely a virgin. I doubt he even knows much about sex in theory. Well, dick, hole there, sperm, orgasm. That's all, okay?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy style~. Don't lie to me that you didn't want to bend him over his table in the VIP room, I won't believe you (it's not exactly doggy style, but who cares). He mostly refuses to look you in the face when you're dominant, so why not.

If he is dominant... Missionary position? I just like the idea of a dominant bottom underneath a service top and well... Azul would be a good fit. He likes to be snuggled anyway.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Extremely serious, but with a hint of playfulness, if that makes sense. For example, if he has sex with a partner, it means that they literally mean the world to him and he is exposing a part of himself that is really vulnerable, so he likes it if both parties take it very seriously, but he also likes to have an opportunity to tease you and pull your strings just to see how you react.

H = Hair (How well groomed is it? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I wouldn't say he's shaved, but his hair is definitely short, so there's no real need for that. The color is absolutely identical and they are also slightly curly, just like this hairstyle...

I = Intimacy (How are they feeling at the moment? Romantic aspect.)

He is very romantic in general. As I said earlier, he exposes a part of himself that is truly vulnerable, so when his partner takes it seriously, he feels very loved, generally respected and accepted, so he becomes much more romantic both sexually and in general .

J = Jack off (Main canon of masturbation)

He has a lot of stress in his life, you know? So, fuck... I think he would like to do this more often, but he doesn't do it often anyway. He still prefers your hands.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He probably likes to be humiliated and praised at the same time, and I can't explain it for the world, but I know it. Also likes power dynamics, likes to be bossed around and have less power than the other person, but still respected. But when it comes to dominating you—... For now. He also loves getting your cock warm (sorry). Well... I like to attribute this kink to all busy characters, except for Vil, what will you do to me.

L = Location (Favorite places to do things)

Very personal to him, so the only place he could really do this is either his room, his partners room, or some motel if he's really desperate. Specifically and for the most part, this is his room because he knows where everything is and he has certain toys that he can just pull out whenever he wants. Although... With a lot of persuasion or no choice (if one of you was EXTREMELY horny), he would agree to have sex in a less secluded place

M = Motivation (what turns them on, turns them on)

When he and his partner have a truly romantic relationship (that is, serious) or when you start whispering all sorts of dirty things in his ear and touching his thighs, for example.

N = No (Something they wouldn't do is disabled)

Hmm, I should at least list with someone no (with Vil there will be a direct list, lol), but Azula will also receive this honor. Rape, he also really doesn't like threesomes because he feels it's more about getting laid than actually caring about each other and wants to dedicate all his love to one person in particular. And also his real form until a very distant moment in the relationship.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving. You can't tell me otherwise because this man looks like he was made to be flexed, especially with his skinny waist like...(sorry, I got carried away) and he probably doesn't mind either sit on your face (if that’s what you’re into, of course). The ratio would be something like this: 60% for you, 40% for you.

He's not particularly good at giving blowjobs, but it's all made better by his enthusiasm to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible... As long as he's not teasing or denying your orgasm, of course.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He is slow and sensual as he loves to enjoy every moment he can spend with his partner in this way. Also wants to make sure that the other person knows that he loves them for real, and not just for sex.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickie games, how often, etc.)

Doesn't like quick games, but if he's really busy and his partner wants to do it, he'll agree to one. Well... Actually, they happen quite often, if I may confess.

R = Risk (are they playing with experiments? Are they taking risks? etc.)

Willing to take risks, but very quickly draws a line under what he doesn't like to do (he absolutely doesn't want many things until he becomes comfortable with his boyfriend/he has more trust in him). He wants to spend time with his partner as fully as possible.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they last? How long will they last?)

He becomes very weak in this position, so can usually only last about 7-10 rounds at most (still a reminder that this is a magical world, kittens). He actually only tries three or so, but if his partner wants to try a few more, he's more than welcome. True, only a few.

T = Toys (Do they have toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He probably has a dildo that he pleasures himself with from time to time, but he only really uses one. He takes good care of it and always makes sure it's properly cleaned so he doesn't get an infection or get sick or anything like that. Not a big fan of toys in general, but if that's what you want, he's okay with it.

U = Unfair (How much they love to tease)

He really likes both sides of the coin. He enjoys both teasing his partner and receiving teasing from him. Loves it when he squirms under his partner and he starts making comments about it, although he always complains about it, he likes it. And I also like the completely mirrored version.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Very loud because he often forgets to be quiet, the only thing he can really think about is his partner at that moment so nothing else matters. Although, if you persuade him to have sex outside of your rooms with him... He will hardly utter a sound, he is too ashamed.

W = Wild Card (random character headcanon)

He... Loves... Jerk... You... With...His... Tentacles. Okay, listen to me. When in the end, you gain his trust completely, he will agree to many things in his form. And damn... The tentacles are clearly faster and more skillful than his arms (even if they are quite chubby).

X = X-ray (Let's see what's going on under those clothes)

12 cm/just under 5 inches. He has a mole on his balls. His balls are surprisingly quite large and plump.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Like I said, his sex drive is quite high considering his stress level, but on average... He's fine with about 2-3 times a week. Although, what if you want more? He's all yours.

Z - Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep later)

Doesn't fall asleep right away, he likes to compliment his partner or talk a little before he falls asleep. If his partner is asleep, he can simply lie there for 10-20 minutes and come to the realization of what he just did before falling back to sleep.

#seme male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #a!writes. #sub character #sub twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #azul x male reader #sub azul #azul smut #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto x male reader #sub azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto smut

[ozzgin]

I can't get your yakuza headcanons out of my mind, Daitou's got me in a chokehold and I'm not complaining, like--

in regards to that doodle you made to show height difference between reader and the boys [I love your art btw (●♡∀♡)] - I can't picture myself in reader's style, I'm currently going through my goth phase in my 20s lmao; picture a big bitch with tattoos and messy hair who's listening to nothing but 2000s hits and screamo bands - so I'd like to request a headcanon of how Daitou would react to a gender-neutral reader like this :D I also like to incorporate the idea of them once being in a famous band that he's a fan of! (sorry if this seems like a lot, I have a huge imagination hehe)

but if he's more into the cute and helpless type, I'll just walk my ass out the door and yeehaw my way into another yandere's arms ✌😔

That's on me for not drawing the reader inserts as cartoonish cinder blocks :') In truth I'm a little bit embarrassed seeing how many likes that doodle has gotten, it was something I put together in a hurry and the clothing was meant to be baggy, shapeless, with not too many folds for the sake of simplicity. I myself am more of a pilgrim goth, just to emphasize the randomness of the choice.

Drawing reader inserts always leaves me a little anxious. If I use a light shade of gray, will people think I'm excluding poc? Will plus sized readers feel like they've been disregarded? What about masculine readers? As someone who's demiromantic I always struggle taking appearance or gender into consideration, because to me it has no influence whatsoever. Which is hard to express when you want to offer blank slate visuals as an extra to the story.

What I'm trying to say is that all of my characters would like you for who you are. Sure, they find your looks cute, but it's not the defining reason. Maybe you have similar traits to them, maybe you're the complete opposite and they find it intriguing. You could be a buff man and Daitou would be just as grateful to have someone who isn't afraid of him. I usually stick to a female reader for bigger stories to avoid messing it up long term, but in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference. I always imagine reader to be a shapeless blob that provides the dialogue I need for the story mood. There's no concrete preference or type for any of my OCs. I mean, ideally you'd like them back and not hang them upside down above a BBQ pit but I feel these are sensible requirements (?).

And now for the actual headcanons since my ramble is over.

First encounter is comically awkward but for reasons you’re unaware of yet. You’re obviously used to people staring at you (more so in a country like Japan), so you were expecting the curious glance every now and then. On the other hand, being under scrutiny, from a man even more unusual looking than you at that, is odd. Mildly uncomfortable. You’re shifting yourself from one leg to another, hoping to be done with the introductions soon.

On his end, Daitou is anxiously fidgeting and trying his best to focus. He’s seen this face before and he can’t shake off the familiar feeling. Where the hell…He obviously can’t downright gawk at you, and he isn’t sure how to politely formulate a question. After several sheepish peeks, it finally dawns on him: weren’t you part of that band he really likes? No, what would the chances be? Then again, how many people out there would look exactly like you? Is it rude to ask? He has no idea. He resumes his mumbled description of the apartment and hands you the papers to be signed.

Back at his place, he finally digs through his merch and sprawls out the available clues. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of music”, Kazuya comments as he looks over the man’s shoulder. He’d come over to ask about the new tenant. “I’m pretty sure it’s them.” He concludes, confidently placing his index over a CD cover. “Huh? Who? The tenant?” Kazuya holds back his chuckle. “Why would a celebrity show up for a shady apartment offer? You’re tripping, man.”

“I’m sorry, this is getting ridiculous.” You finally exclaim, annoyed by the persistent stares of the now two men facing you. You’re standing in front of the apartment building, arms crossed, huffing at the tall scarred man and his blonde friend. “No, I’m sure of it. Even the tattoo is the same.” Daitou turns to whisper to Kazuya, oblivious to your complaints. In turn, Kazuya lightly elbows him, mouthing something about being rude. “Just ask them, man.” He adds, this time louder. “Ask me what??” You groan. “W-were you…um…in this band by any chance?” Daitou manages to blurt out, searching his pocket for the CD case and ceremoniously laying it under your eyes.

Ah. It finally clicks and you exhale, relieved. You confirm their suspicions and show them some backstage photos to solidify your claim. You ask Daitou if he wants an autograph or something, then swiftly scribble your signature on a piece of paper and hand it out to him. He holds it with a wide, childish grin. “You’re a weird one, you know? You could’ve just asked. I guess I didn’t expect to find a fan in the wild, especially here.” Daitou carefully folds the souvenir, eyes lidded with nostalgia. “Oh yes, it’s great. Drowns out the screams.”

#yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #daitou

[weebsinstash]

So like, in the finale there's that shot where the Vees are in Val's section in the Vee Tower, and there's VERY OBVIOUSLY AN OLD PHOTO OF VOX AND ALASTOR

and obviously i have some thoughts and ideas about that BUT I was listening to the song again and I couldn't help but have my eyes drawn to the top left corner... zooom... enhance.... rotate...

VALENTINO SELF PORTRAIT SPOTTED? Because even though I think that's Vox's handwriting, I definitely don't think it's his art, because we've already seen his art and uh, yeah it's definitely not on this level of detail

kinda just sitting here now thinking about... you go up to Val's office at the studio to drop off something someone else asked you to deliver, but he's not there, so you set it down on his desk and can't help but find your eyes drawn to a notebook sitting on a side table with a bunch of pencils next to it and... you can't help but take a peek... and it's surprising how many different drawings are in there and you find it actually pretty impressive, but as you keep flipping the pages, it's like "OH, a drawing of me! That's... kinda weird but it looks so nice! And another of me! And... another... and another... and another... and why do these all have so much detail..."

You basically catch him with the equivalent of Miles Morales' sketchbook full of Gwen and OF COURSE when you close it to turn around and leave, OF COURSE he's behind you and he's SO EMBARRASSED because oh my GOD, you can't just look in an artist's sketchbook without asking?! That's private! He's just, red in the face, flustered, frazzled, squeaking, shouting at you asking what you think you're doing. I just picture you try to calm him down, "I didn't mean to look but your sketches are really good! I'm sorry, I got curious 🥺 I promise it won't happen again" and he's crossing his arms and his antenna are twitching and he's just pouting and grumbling, "just don't fucking do it again" and you avoid being maimed because, aw you complimented him he loves that ❤️

that awkward moment when you open a random sketchbook full of drawings and it turns out to be full of like straight up fucking FILTH, of YOU. Like maybe you're doing PA stuff in Vee Tower and Vox lost a journal full of contact info for something and you're poking around in Val's tower helping look for it because, well, Vox asked you for help! It's kind of an honor! This guy's an Overlord and you got the go ahead to poke around his house to help him look for something! So you're glancing at papers and finally picking up The Sketchbook, and... it's everything from just doodles of you chilling just sitting doing normal shit like being on your phone or asleep in the limo, to potential outfit ideas like DETAILED CUSTOM outfit ideas with TWO different sets of handwriting in the margins, to just straight up PORN. Sketches of you in bondage, tied up, gagged, in spreader bars, on your knees with your mouth gaping open with painfully familiar pink cursive handwriting in a speech bubble where 'you' are begging to taste the viewer, mouth open, tongue hanging out with a trail of spit connecting both of your lips--

AND THE BOOK IS SNATCHED OUT OF YOUR HANDS AS YOU SPIN AROUND TO SEE VALENTINO and he's all but like INFLATED with embarrassment, fur bunching up, antenna flailing, at a loss for words as he looks between you and his sketchbook like he is CAUGHT IN 4K. He would probably completelt deflect and try to act like you snooping is the bigger deal meanwhile you're like "hey dude was that like a full color fully shaded drawing of me in a custom coat that matches your wings and we're making out--" and you wind up having to just scurry away as he becomes incoherently angry and flustered and maybe even threatening you if you don't get out of his room RIGHT FUCKING NOW--

The next time you go to work your shift serving him drinks, he's shoving an outfit at you that you recognize from the sketchbook, a new uniform, and you can't help but notice Velvette looking you over as you serve the Vees drinks, almost as if she's admiring her handiwork...

#hh #yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #sinprompts

[wonipeun]

ㅤ ༉‧₊˚ how would enhypen members text you as your boyfriends ?

pairing: bf!enhypen x gn!reader | genre: fluff, as always! warnings: none! | wordcount: 1.2k words

✶﹒author's note: i'm back, yayyy!!! long time no see huhu,,, i've recently been thinking of writing some headcanons of how enhypen would text when dating, so here it is!! hope you enjoy it!! (*˘︶˘*)♡ there is some kind of glitch with the small font? there are random letters that are bigger, sorry about that, i have tried to fix it like 10 times and it keeps popping up smh. hope it's not too much trouble!!!!

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이희승 · lee heeseung ‧₊˚

oh my god heeseung is so in love it's embarassing.

i can literally see him sending flirty texts like "thinking about me?" with the stupidest grin on his mouth, and when you reply with a "yes" he'll start kicking his feet on the bed.

i dont really see him using pet names over text, probably he has you on his contacts as "y/n" and some cute emoji that reminds him of you.

"can i call you?" is probably the text he sends you the most.

heeseung prefers calling over texting, but he's shy about facetiming, especially when you have just started dating.

although he's a bit blunt over text, on calls he's a very veryyyy sweet boyfriend. his smitten voice gives away his love for you completely!!! (>᎑<๑)/♡ even when he tries to keep that "cool guy" image, he just can't do that with you-

"i've missed you" "you did?" "mhm"

oh he is blushing hard!!!!

and so are you!!

you both giggling and all- thisissocuteimsobbing.

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박종성 · park jongseong ೀ

he's so well spoken???

he sends you a looong text every morning to remember you everything you have to remember, wish you a good day and say i love you, ofc.

"good morning y/n, have you slept well? remember you have a dentist appointment at 5 o'clock today. i love you 💗"

"good morning my love, sorry for leaving so early today! your breakfast is on the fridge, hope you enjoy it! have a nice day, see you tonight. i love you 💕"

no because park jongseong is the epitome of husband material.

randomly sends you selcas to let you know where he is and what he is doing. and sends another message right after. like "bowling 🎳" or something (pls- 😭).

"have fun!!"

no. wrong answer.

send him your photo. match his energy.

that's the only correct answer.

"*insert your photo here* cooking dinner👩🏻‍🍳"

the moment he sees the photo he's smiling right away! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

"new wallpaper, hehe~" "NO JAY STOP NOT THAT ONE"

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심재윤 · sim jaeyun ˖ ࣪ ⭑

jake is clingy even over text it's amazing actually

uses a lot of emojis, but he's starting to use ":))" and "ㅠㅠ" recently as well!

"jake" "i miss youuu" "wru??"

the average waiting time for jake to respond to you is about 2.058 seconds, i.e., the time it takes for the phone to unlock and open your chat.

"omw!!!!" "i'll be there in 5 mins!" "i miss you too my love <333" "wait for me!!"

will always, always make sure to show you how much he cares about you, whether in person or over text. that's why he sends several messages a day, although sometimes he has to hold back to avoid being a burden,,,, (pls tell him he's not he just loves you sm).

the most effective way to make jake happy? send him selcas!! at any time! it will take him a few seconds to answer so he can calm his heartbeat and type correctly, but his answer will always make you flustered!! ૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ '⸝⸝ ₎ა

"wow" "woah" "baby omg you're beautiful" "how can you be so pretty?" "and mine" "i'm so luckyyyy" "i love you i love you i love you"

he's the cutest i just cannot handle this

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박성훈 · park sunghoon ⊹ ࣪

sunghoon gives me the same vibes as heeseung

but hoon is,,, cuter???

he sends you cute gifs and think is hilarious 😭

"y/n look at this"

probably a picture of a hedgehog wearing a santa claus hat but he's laughing so hard laying literally next to you.

so you can't help but start laughing as well.

he turns around and looks at you with his pretty sparkly eyes and lovely smile.

"it's funny, isn't it?"

tell him it's funny!! he loves to make you laugh <;33

sunghoon is not that expressive when texting, so you can consider his adorable gifs as his virtual displays of affection!! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

doesn't want to tell you but he has you on his contacts as "my beautiful girlfriend" or something like that because this man is very much in love.

he tries to be discreet and not look too desperate, but when you both are apart for several days he sends more messages than usual…

"y/n" "i just had lunch" "did you?" "i did" "good" "i miss you" "but not to much" "just a little bit" "i miss you too..?"

he has no idea how to express affection by text please bear with him.

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김선우 · kim sunoo ౨ৎㅤ۫ ㅤ֪

you already know what's coming-

kim sunoo is INTENSE

"my baby y/nieeeeeee💗" "i missed you so much today😢" "shall we have lunch together????" "todays interview has been cancelled!" "i want to see you and kiss you and hug you💕💕💕" "right now😤" "so be ready!!!!"

texts cutely!! and uses a lot of emojis too, mostly pink hearts!!

your photo library is full of his selcas…

although it is true that he takes a lot of pictures for engene and posts them on twitter and weverse, he always saves the best one for you ૮꒰っ˃̵///˂̵c꒱ა

give him compliments!!

"you look so cuteeeeee<;3"

GIGGLES

"i do??" "really???" "but y/nnnn" "if you're saying i'm cute" "being you the cutest one on this world" "then i must be really really cute"

lowkey flirting as he confesses his undying love for you.

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양정원 · yang jungwon ׅ ࣪ ✧

if jungwon is so active on weverse when talking with engenes, just think of the amount of messages you will receive from him in a single day.

wants and needs to tell you anything that happens in his life!!!

"y/n i've just tried this new restaurant" "everything is soooo good!!" "should we order from there next time??" "i want you to try it"

he really wants to involve you in every aspect of his life!! ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

loves loves loves facetiming before going to sleep!

my condolences to sunghoon, ni-ki and sunoo who will have to listen to your late-night love calls (they're kinda jealous because you both sound so in love ߹ᯅ߹)

sends lots of pictures of things he thinks are pretty or remind him of you.

"look this little kitten i just came across!!" "is so cute!!" "it looks just like you, so i thought of you right away" "like me??" "of course!!!!!!!!" "look at the eyes" "it looks like you!" "...right?" "maybe i just miss you"

he does.

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にしむら りき · nishimura riki ♡   ֺ  ׅ

he just loves to make fun of you even over text

"y/n" "why do you send me all this texts?" "you really miss me that much???"

he misses you more please keep texting him

has you in his contacts as "girlfriend" and you always ask him to change it because is so unaffectionate, but he loves it because it reminds him he can call you his girlfriend????!!!

"girlfriend has text you" yeah he's so proud of that

sends you 984569 tiktoks and gets upset if you don't reply to all of them individually. also doesn't like it when you react to his messages with a heart instead of sending it as a text!!!! >:(

"if you love me show it properly!!!" "IS ALSO A HEART" "IT'S NOT THE SAME"

sends you funny pictures of you late at night because that's when he checks his pictures of you and always ends up laughing so hard that the members have to scold him.

"nishimura riki" "delete that rn" "NEVERRRRRRRR"

instead you send him nice pictures of him on your dates but he always says he looks bad smh (っ- ‸ - ς)

"what. the hell. is that." "i look ugly" "wdym???" "you look cute" "really?" "yeah" "alright you can keep that one"

maybe he just wants your compliments... 🤭

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taglist! (open): @love-4-keum @tyunni @lovr4lix

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ©wonipeun 2023 | ㅤall rights reserved.

#enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagine #enhypen jay #enhypen heeseung #enhypen sunoo #enhypen scenarios #enha fluff #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jake #enhypen ni ki #enhypen jungwon #heeseung fluff #sunghoon fluff #jake fluff #fluff #jungwon fluff #sunoo fluff #niki fluff #ni ki fluff #enha #enhypen x reader fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enhypen x you #wonipeun

[controlmyfeet]

i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts. 

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos. 

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year." 

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us." 

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately." 

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out. 

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile. 

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little. 

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room". 

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight. 

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do. 

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder. 

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude. 

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed." 

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too." 

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"  

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second. 

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #matty x reader #the 1975 fanfic

[orange-artist]

Hii, I hope this ask find you well :)

(Warning, I talk a lot, sorry abt that lmao)

Your gods au has been living rent free in my head. I'm still catching up on One piece, currently finished Marineford and your comic on how this would have gone differently really healed my poor heart (cry).

Anyway, I have this concept in my head that I wanted to share with you. Remember in Thriller Bark when Moria was stealing Luffy's shadow ? I like to think that since he's a god it definitely cannot be this easy.

Picture this :

Moria doing his little evil laugh while putting the shadow inside Oars.

And he wait, and wait and...nothing.

"What the-"

"I don't think they want to obey you."

Everyone turned around completely confused to the boy who was definitely supposed to be unconsious on the ground right now.

Moria didn't like his smile, and since when were his eyes red ?

Just then, the shadow pool out of Oars. Moving like liquid across the floor until they reach the feet of their rightful owner. The pirated sigh quietly in relief as his shadow is returned to him.

And now the shadow spread freely behind the boy. Filling the floor, growing bigger and bigger until it reached the ceiling. The light grew dimmer as the smile on the boy and his shadow grew wider.

Moria, shouldn't be afraid of a mere shadow, yet as he watched the pitch black behemoth clinging to the wall of his own home, he can't help but shiver.

The damn thing was as big as fucking oars, and the grin didn't help it make it more friendly.

"How do you... What are you doing?"

Moria looked at the boy, who look even smaller with his own shadow looming over his head.

Luffy smiled softly, as he remember something very important to him.

"A long while ago, my brother taught me how to talk to my own shadow. That way I was never really alone."

His grin now turned manic matching the one of his shadow.

"Do you want to see what I taught them too ?"

Btw english is not my native language so I hope it's alright I just wanted to share a bit of a that scene I keep having on my head.

Anyway, since Chopper and Usopp are witnessing all this, they are completely appalled. And when asked about is later, Luffy just say 'yeah lmao my big bro taught that, it's pretty cool right? :D' And they just have to accept it ig. Luffy might as well

- \(:/) /-

It's Sabo who taught him that. Since I think I remember you saying somewhere that he had shadows following him everywhere, and he's also called "Shadow of judgement". I just think it would be fitting if he could talk and control shadows in a way. And of course he taught his little crybaby brother a few trick so he could always have a friend to talk to. So Luffy is basically bestie with his own shadow. (I just think it would be sweet af.) It give him even more criptid vibe. Like you think he's talking to himself looking at the wall or the floor, but truly he just speak with his bestie lmao.

Anyway these are just my thoughts, do whatever you want with this

Have a nice day <3

AYOOOOOO

HOLY SHIT.

Pop off!!!! That's very chewy.

I've been thinking about Thriller Bark and

I think Luffy's shadow would be too free to follow anyone's orders. 😌 I personally wouldn't, uh, personify it, but goddamn is Luffy being friends with his shadow a fun thought.

#orange asks #asl god au

[zmbiesuga]

i can’t believe you say eepy as well we r so alike 🤞anyway, how whould kenma, kuroo, lev, the Miya twins, and oikawa be with a boyfriend who is like popular for no reason? Like bro gets recognized at like the store while getting chips or somthing. Remember take your time and stay healthy!

VARIOUS HQ BOYS . . . with a "famous" bf !

desc: various hq boys with a boyfriend who is popular and well recognized for seemingly no reason.

includes: kenma, kuroo, lev, oikawa, atsumu & osamu x m!reader, boyfriend is used but no pronouns specified

warnings: cussing, as always.

notes: hi lovely, thank you so much for requesting! <3 sorry for the wait, i hope you like it!! also eepy sayers unite fr 🤞

★ KENMA !

i'm gonna be honest, he's probably not too happy about it?

it's not like he's upset that you're like practically famous, that's not the problem

the problem is, is that when he's out with you, people that recognize you are gonna notice him too

and honestly that's a lot of unwanted attention he doesn't want, it makes him really anxious and paranoid

i think he'd have to get used to it, but it might take awhile

★ KUROO !

oh my fucking god

mr. finds everything about it so fucking funny for no reason

he thinks it makes you more endearing in all honesty, he thinks it's cool that his boyfriend is really popular. he thinks it really speaks to your character as a person

he's not gonna tell you that though

he's gonna constantly tease you so bad, it's his love language please forgive him

"oh my god i can't believe my boyfriend is such a celebrity! can i have your autograph??"

he's relentless, and he isn't gonna stop soon so you better just get used to it

★ LEV !

oh he looks up to you so much

he idolizes the shit out of you, he thinks it's so cool that you're popular

but he already looked up to you before that anyways so really nothing changed

just a bit more admiration!

constantly telling you how cool it is that you're popular, and how much he wants to be like you

he gets used to the attention you get pretty quickly, mostly cause he's not worried if other people will notice him and he'd probably be upset if they did

because YOU are the cool one and you deserve all the praise and popularity in the world in his eyes

even if there is no reason behind it

★ OIKAWA !

#powercouple

you're popular together and he loves it!

when you tell him that there's no real reason that you're popular, he's stunned a bit

because of course you need a reason to be popular hello??

but he lets it go pretty quickly cause that just means both of your popularity status is gonna skyrocket with you two being together

not that he's just using you for popularity! he probably just likes that you two have that in common

of course he adjusts quickly to the attention you get, i mean obviously

★ ATSUMU !

i'm gonna be so honest he assumes you're well recognized because of him at first

and yeah, it is a little bit in a cocky way.

but once you tell him that there's no real reason as to why you're popular with so many people, it not only kinda kills his ego at first but confuses him so bad

like there has to be a fucking reason like??

he really just thinks you're fucking with him because you don't wanna make his ego any bigger than he already says it is

but he quickly realizes that you are in fact not joking when someone just asks you for a picture while you're at the store with him

he would probably mind the extra attention the same way he handles the attention he already gets from his fanclub

★ OSAMU !

i'd say #powercouple2 but it's debatable how much osamu actually likes his already existing popularity

he doesn't really care that you're famous for no reason

adjusts quickly, but he does get annoyed when people bother you while you're out with him

like if he took you to a nice dinner and someone came up and just started talking your ear off about how much they admire you, he'd give them the death stare.

he's fine with people liking you! he understands why they do! but they should really learn how to take a fucking hint

#my dearest haikyuu #love letters from leo #haikyuu #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x male reader #hq x reader #atsumu x male reader #osamu x male reader #kenma x male reader #kuroo x male reader #lev x male reader #oikawa x male reader #haikyuu drabbles #various hq x male reader #kenma drabble #kuroo drabble #lev drabble #oikawa drabble #atsumu drabble #osamu drabble #haikyuu imagines #hq drabbles #hq scenarios #hq imagines #haikyuu scenarios

[lilyrizzy]

porny continuation if this snippet! omega daniel/virgin!alpha max

Of course, Daniel goes into heat first.

It's almost funny. His boss asking him to fuck his teammate, only for it to be Daniel's body that ends up begging for it, three weeks too early.

He lies naked on the top of sweaty hotel room sheets in Budapest and tries hard not to think about how the last day of his heat will now line up perfectly with the beginning of Max's rut.

A joke, really.

And Daniel is trying to hold off, to not ask for more than what they've already agreed to. Max's rut, but-

"Daniel," Max whines breathy even from the other side of the door. Daniel can picture it easily, his violent pink cheek pressed against the cool wood the same way he presses it against briefing room tables, eyes closed. His fat bottom lip catching as he speaks. "Please, Daniel, let me help."

Scent is pouring off him, clouding Daniel’s head even though there must be at least eight feet of space between where he is writhing on the bed, stuffed with his own fingers and Max trapped out in the hotel corridor. He can taste it on the back of his tongue. Alpha.

"Max," he whimpers, and really, what else can he do?

Something in the back of his brain tries to reason it will be better this way. Max won’t be so out of it now like he would be in rut. He'll get to be in control for his first time. Even if all he does is mindlessly hump into Daniel, over-eager, it will be enough for Daniel right now.

Anything will be, as long as it ends with Max's knot catching inside of him.

But when he opens the door, half-cringing at the way his slick-sticky fingers smear over the metal of the handle, Max doesn’t go straight for his cunt. He kisses Daniel, groaning against his lips as his fingertips come to cradle Daniel's jaw. The warm, wet shock of his tongue makes Daniel's stomach clench, makes him wonder where the fuck Max learnt to kiss.

Wonders who taught him.

It's a sick relief, the moment Max backs him onto the bed and slides down his body to put his mouth to Daniel, because it becomes obvious then that kissing is the extent of his experience.

Daniel tangles his hands into Max's hair and gets to work teaching him.

"Use your nose," he'd tells Max, forcing himself to ignore the desperation in his own voice, "rub it against my slit, I like that."

Max takes direction beautifully. Daniel has to prop himself up onto his elbows, abs aching, just to see him do it. Somehow the high colour on his cheeks has gotten even darker under the shine of Daniel's slick there. It tips Daniel over the edge, easy in a way none of the orgasms he's given himself in the hour before this have been.

Satisfying too, but still not enough.

"Maxy," Daniel whines after the second time. Max doesn't stop licking, even when Daniel has finished humping his cunt against his face with each wave of his orgasm. He just moans, vibration making Daniel's legs twitch. "Maxy, baby, enough teasing me. I need your knot."

But when Max lifts his head, he looks a way he never should in bed. Trapped. Nervous. The same way he's looked at Christian in team meetings after he's shunted into the wall. For a moment, Daniel hates himself so much he thinks he might be sick, then-

"I can't," Max says miserably, "Daniel, I- I'm sorry, I-"

He lifts himself onto his knees, pushing down his sweats that are damp at the front in a way that makes Daniel shiver. His cock is pretty. Bigger than Daniel would have thought in a way that only makes sense now that he's faced with it, flushed as dark as his face. One of the bigger dicks Daniel is going to have taken.

Then Daniel sees the problem.

"Your knot already popped?" He asks, eyes catching on the fist Max has curled protectively around it. A little in awe because- "But you haven't come?"

Daniel didn't smell it, and Max's hurt little shake of his head is only confirmation.

That isn't normal.

"Sometimes, I- In the driver's room, after races when I can smell you stronger." Max is tripping over his words as he hastily explains like he thinks Daniel is mad or something. "Because of your sweat. I just- I thought could wait this time, but of course I- I'm sorry I-"

"Hey, Maxy," Daniel interrupts him, surging forward to kiss him with a softness that doesn't match the mounting desperation inside of him. "It's okay. You just need it really badly, don't you?"

Max sucks in a breath and nods shakily, nose brushing against Daniel's. The smell of his own slick is so strong on Max's face, and Daniel's cunt clenches down around nothing, reminding him of where he needs to be filled.

"Do you still want to try to give it to me?" He asks and watches Max pull back like he's been burnt, eyes going wide.

"Daniel," he breathes, but Daniel just lies back down on the bed, spreading his legs wider. Presenting, a traitorous corner of his brain reminds him. Max's hand tightens around himself, at the same time as his eyes fix on where Daniel is still leaking steadily against the bed.

"I need it," he says again. "It will be nice for you too, to have me tight around you, to get to come inside."

Max bites his plush bottom lip, and Daniel can see how badly he wants it. It makes it easier to ignore his own shame in practically begging a teenager for it. Max's dick kicks in his hand, a drop of precome dripping from the tip.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says, and Daniel knows this is the last hurdle before he gets what he wants.

"You won't," he promises, moving to wrap his legs around Max's thighs, where he's still kneeling over Daniel. "I'll help you to be good for me."

The first push inside is agonisingly slow, even though the fat base of Max's dick is nowhere near Daniel's rim yet. Daniel bites back a plea for him to go quicker, focusing instead on praising him. Making it good for him.

"That's perfect baby," he assures him when Max has jerkily fucked himself inside as far as he can go before his knot catches on the wrong side of Daniel. "You should look. See how well you are doing."

As though he'd been waiting for permission, Max's eyes snap down to where he's pressed half inside, and he lets out a painful sounding shudder. Then his eyes scrunch shut, head hanging low on his neck.

"Daniel," he whimpers like the only thing he knows how to say is his name.

"Don't come," Daniel instructs, though he feels so close himself from looking too. At the obscene bulge of Max, knotted up just outside where he wants him. "I need you to be good."

Max nods again, the muscles of his back straining, but he doesn't wait for Daniel's instruction this time before he's making his first tentative thrust against where Daniel is trying hard to open up enough for him.

It's a slow, perfect screw inside. It has Daniel writhing, whimpering against the damp sheets, unable to do much else other than let out words of encouragement that Max seems to lap up greedily, each one making his dick twitch inside Daniel.

When his knot finally pops inside, it takes only one more grind of his rabbiting hips before Max is coming with a shout. There’s a rush of wetness, leaking out around the sides of where they are tied because there's so much and Daniel is sloppy and open. It's enough to have him tipping over the edge too.

It's the best orgasm of his life.

Immediately after he's finished shuddering through it, Max's mouth is back in him. First, on his lips, then his cheek, working his way down to suck at the mating gland on Daniel's neck. Dangerously close to doing something they would both regret in a week's time.

Daniel should tell him to stop.

"Tell me how I feel," he says instead, desperate to hear suddenly that it was just as good for Max. He'll need to go again soon, wants the confirmation to smooth his way through the next few days of endless fucking he's going to ask Max for.

"Tight," Max whines, tongue catching on Daniel's neck in a way that makes him clench around Max, making them both moan. "Warm and wet. Safe, and- The best, Daniel."

As he speaks his teeth begin grazing. Light at first, then sharper. Scraping.

"Max," Daniel warns, but all Max says is please. Hips humping against Daniel like there's anything left to give him.

He should push him away. He should tell him to stop. He should-

His legs tighten around Max's waist, holding him close. Hands cradling Max's head against his throat, it's a noise of pleasure-tinted relief they both let out when Max finally bites.

#max/daniel #fic #i hope someone likes this! #thank you to danni lorna lin katie and niamh for all reading this before posting!!! #you guys rock❤️ #a/b/o

[ryo-apologist]

Shiggy's Slutty Lil' Waist

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

CW: Smut, Minors DNI, I will block your ass, talk about crop tops on men and gray sweatpants. Don't like? Bully me it'll be foreplay <3 /j

AN: I saw a picture of Johnny Depp in a crop top. We all know the one. And yk what? Shiggy has the same slutty lil waist. And so far all three of my posts have been about Shiggy. Will that change? Idk ask me next week. It's my comfort character and I can seek toxic comfort WHEN I WANT-

~Darling XOXO

☾ Shigaraki Tomura has the sluttiest fucking waist.

☾ That's it. That's the post.

☾ No, I'm kidding. I'll elaborate for thirsty whores like me. And Barbie. Shout out to them.

☾ Shigaraki obviously has the fits going for him. Name one outfit he wore that didn't slap. Exactly. You can't. So contrary to what people think, I think Shigaraki takes a bit (Not a lot, do not get me wrong) of care in how he looks. He has an image to maintain after all. How can he be expected to be the big, bad leader of the LOV if he doesn't look like it.

☾ That being said, I think at some point it just comes naturally to him to dress in ways that suit his body.

☾ And we all know he has the body to do so. After he left that big ol' test tube? Did y'all SEE his arch? Fuck man I couldn't arch better if I TRIED. Like,-

☾ Okay before this post turns into a tiktok comment section on the thirstiest of Gojo Edits, let me continue.

☾ My point here, is he probably doesn't dress like we see in the anime all the time. That would get tiring. Drain his mana level if you would. And he needs time to recharge.

☾ So, In this essay post, I'm here to argue that Shigaraki Tomura wears crop tops that barely brush past his nipples to show off his slutty little waist.

☾ You know, the shirts that had a hole in the front? Instead of sewing them like a reasonable man, he rips them from that hole all the way around. Which means his crop tops vary in length. Every single one of them.

☾ And that leaves perfect access for you to wrap your hands around his waist and just hold him like that. He hates it. No, he doesn't.

☾ In all truth, Shigaraki loves the feelings of your hands on his midsection because it's such an intimate place to him. He loves feeling you touch him with no fear, even though he knows the second he's done with you, he's taking those hands and dusting you.

☾ Y'all didn't think I was about to turn my greatest number one villain into a *gasp* nice person, did you? /lh

☾ Sorry, not here. Shigaraki does not do love. Only with me, dw guys I'll treat him right :). He's a man with needs that get in the way of his bigger plans. Sorry, not sorry.

☾ Anyway, trail your hands up his ribs and play with his nipples. Pinch them and roll them between your thumb and forefinger. It buys you another day. Additionally, you get to play with his fat tits.

☾ He has one shirt that he outgrew after his transformation that absolutely hugs his double dee, mommy milking, calcium cannon, honga-bazongas, dippin dots, whatyoudoingouthere withallthattiddies, boinga boinga, bouncing bangers.

☾ This one magically turned into a crop top. It was crazy. Shoutout to whoever put it in the wash to shrink it. They a real one.

☾ It was me.

☾ And it's like that one meme of the guy looking at something with his pecs right there and the lady is just O-O at them. Which...Yeah me too.

☾ Anyway, he wears it all the time because he's convinced it still fits.

☾ Play with his...pecs... through the shirt. He has the most sensitive nipples and it just brushes against them just right and...He likes it is all I'm gonna say.

☾ Now, I know what we're all thinking, 'Darling, what about the pants?' And Darling's got you, baby cakes.

☾ I only tease in the bedroom :)

☾ Grey sweatpants season is EVERY season for this man. He's got like three pairs he cycles through. Kurogiri HATES them. He tries to throw them out and replace them with sensible jeans or slacks.

☾ Never works. He's like a raccoon with stocks of them EVERYWHERE.

☾ Anyway, so he's got his gray sweats and his slutty little crop tops. Let me paint this picture for Y'all.

☾ Shigaraki Tomura wearing a tight white t-shirt that's shrunk into a crop top, clinging to his chest as he stretches his arms above his head, biceps straining against the fabric. His toned abdomen is constricting with his every breath of his, on full display along with the angles of his slutty lil' waist. Your eyes follow down to his belly button and following the trail of white hairs that lead to his v-line, the waistband of his pants just barely clinging to his hips but hugging the delicious outline of his cock, which, while even flaccid, is enough to make anyone drool.

☾ Y'all seeing the vision now? Because I do.

☾ I'm seeing the vision. I'm salivating over the vision. I'm ready to turn into a Gojo fan girl at this point. Like I'm drooling. No lube. No protection. No-

☾ And if you start playing with his tits like this? In this outfit?

☾ He's trying to swat you away, you're getting in the way of his game, but your hands are feeling too good. He's only half paying attention to the pixels anyway, but it's about the principle of letting you get your way.

☾ But you can see you're winning with the way his cock twitches in his pants, throbbing in plain sight.

☾ Your lips trace along his neck and suddenly the pause screen pops up. There's a dark patch already soaking through his pants and they're lose enough your fingers can dip right past the band and trace along his shaft.

☾ He's already groaning, debating if this is worth his time. Worth the distraction.

☾ When your pretty little fingers wrap around his cock and give it a firm tug, he decides it is.

☾ Do not think he rolls over and let's you do as you please however.

☾ No, no, no. He's pulling you over the couch and pinning you as he gets rid of the bigger distractions stopping from doing exactly what he wants.

☾ If he leaves you a dripping, drooling mess on the couch, that's your own fault really.

☾ But who really cares at that point, because in the end, you won anyway <3

☾ But FUCK does Shiggy have a slutty lil' waist.

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