#[...] confident in my ability to work somewhere

[devilsskettle]

okay gonna be mandy in saw 2 for halloween, anybody have any ideas how to do needles sticking out of my arms like the needle pit? i’m thinking i get skin tone sleeves or maybe like some nude nylon tights i can alter and glue the needles on and then it would be easy to do some blood or whatever sfx ahead of time so it’s an easy costume to change into, and it would also be easy to hide the seems with the bandages on her wrists. but idk if i’d need a more durable cloth or something to go under the cloth to support each needle or something? they used a prosthetic arm in the movie lol so idk how practical it is for all of halloween day. i think latex and whatever might be too much, i have no experience with it and it might not even be durable enough to hold the needles in place

[talkorsomething]

I really need to ask my brother if [redacted] will take me back or if he can get me an in somewhere else, but ...

[valalice]

Hello there!! I really love your work! Could I request some older! gf caitlyn with some subtle and soft dominance? Doesnt need to be nsfw [but won’t complain if it is ;))]

It could just be about how she acts with the reader when in public, at home, etc. [i.e: cooking for reader when they’re busy for exams, putting her hand on reader’s thighs when sitting in public, or big spooning reader when they head to bed.]

That’s all. Please remember to stay hydrated and take frequent breaks! Keep being you and don’t overwork yourself :)).

— 🐢

ꪆৎ HEAVEN, HEAVEN. ft. 𝓬𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷.

ʚɞ summary. subtle ways your older girlfriend caitlyn shows dominance towards you.

warnings. fem!reader. reader is in college. age gap (10 years or more). no use of y/n. modern au! where cait is an office worker. fluff. in one headcanon there's a mention of curly hair (it's all for inclusivity and bias tbh—coming from a girl with curly hair). pet names ie: darling, love, baby, ect. smut nsfw. bottom!reader. dom!cait. hair pulling. mommy kink (reader calling cait mommy & cait calling herself mommy). squirting. cait had a bush. reader is a brat kinda. slight exhibition. fingering (r!receiving). orgasm denial. oral (c! receiving). strap (r!receiving). the strap is referred to as cait's cock. not proofread. wc. roughly 2k to 3k

an. thank you for the request, lovie! and i'm happy that you're enjoying my work ☺️ i decided to take this request and turn it into a headcanon format so i hope that's okay! you are too cute with your kind words and i hope you are taking care of yourself, drinking lots of water and eating yummy meals <3 i also decided to add some nsfw headcanons 🙈 so i hope you guys enjoy them. and for any of these headcanons i am willing to expand on them if you guys are interest :) remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list. | arcane m.list.

࣪ ˖ SAFE FOR WORK.

‣ straight away with caitlyn you notice her dominance. even before the two of you started dating and she was courting you, as she'd say when reminiscing with you or her friends on the early stages of you two, she exuded an air around her that's nothing less than confidence, pride, and dominance. she's already tall at 6 foot, but her posture is always upright, her appearance sleek, and she reveled in maintaining eye contact. and before her you usually didn't find people who were overtly dominant attractive, but when it comes to caitlyn it's completely different, natural. it's the way she carry's herself and it rubs off on you.

‣ the first subtle way of cait's dominance you noticed was her ability to make decisions. she's knows what she wants and how she wants it, and that's something you're relieved about, being too indecisive at times. so being able to let caitlyn reign free on decision making was something that gave you peace of mind. and it wasn't that she was a control freak (she kind of is, but that isn't the point), she helps level out the playing field when you're iffy.

"what would you like to eat for lunch, darling? my treat." she ask, clicking on her keys to unlock her car, taking the bag from off you shoulders to hold it in her hand.

"hm," breaking away from cait to walk around her car to the passenger seat, just before your slide in. "i don't really know." you cringe, you couldn't even count on your fingers how many times you've said this phrase in your relationship so far.

you hear caitlyn hum and the sound of her swinging open the back seat door and the shuffle of her setting your bag in the backseat before you enter your seat. she joins you in the driver's seat, clicking in her seat belt, her gaze settling upon you scrolling away on your phone. "would you like to eat out somewhere or pick up fast food and we can take it back to my place?"

your head darts up to look at your girlfriend, lips twisting up, thinking about your options. "i want something good."

that's earns a chuckle from cait, "i know that silly," her hand coming up to boop you on your noise, which caused you to scrunch it and giggle, swatting her hand away. "but what is exactly good?" she presses.

"well what do you think is good?"

"that wasn't the question."

you grumble, "you're so difficult."

"says you." she teases.

"'m always the one who picks. what would you like." you ask turning in your seat towards her as best as you can.

"i'm fine with whatever you'd like. you know that."

biting your lip you think about the choices she gave you earlier. "i think we should go back to your place."

"that's a start. do you have a taste for anything."

"i already answered that."

"darling." she sing songs in a tone similar to a warning.

she starts the engine, finally, and you immediately connect to the bluetooth.

"y'know we haven't had chinese in awhile." she proses, eyeing your expression from the corner of her eye.

"oh, that sounds really good actually."

cait perks up in the drivers seat, "you're usual?"

"yep!"

"alright," she stretches forward to twist the volume nob lower. "i'm going to call it in and we'll pick it up on the way home."

‣ cait also does the general dominate things; like opening up doors of any kind for you when she can, interlocking your fingers when the two of you walk together, walking slightly in front of you at all times as well as guiding you. you secretly love it though when instead of guiding you through a crowd by being in front of you, you love it when she does it by standing behind you, a hand or both hands securely on your hips as she leads you forward from behind. she's also a firm believer of switching places when walking, on the street and you're near the road? she's switching with you. in the parking lot and your facing the intersections? she's using her hand on your lower back to guide you to be the closest near the parked cars.

‣ she will also never let her girl look out of place, so she fixes anything that is "off" with your appearance. like fixing a certain stand of hair, taking that fallen eyelash off of your cheek and raising her finger with the piece of your fine hair on it in front of your lips so you could wish and blow it away, fixing your jacket so it's straight or the neckline of your shirt or dress, the straps of your bra will never be showing when you're wearing thin strapped items as long as caitlyn's around. holding your little compact mirror while you fix up your makeup or reapply your lipgloss. your necklaces will always be facing the correct way. picking off lint or stray hairs from your clothing. and she somehow always notices when your sneakers are starting to untie before your, pulling you aside so she can get on a knee and pat her propped up knee so you can place your foot there and allow her to tie your shoe, when she's done she pats your foot to let you know and she dust herself off before leaning down to give you a kiss.

‣ when out in public she'll usually always keep one hand on you at all times. in a comforting way for the both of you, especially if the two of you will be around her friends or people her age. she knows you get antsy around them and there's anxiety about being the youngest in a room full of older people. so, there will always be a comforting arm wrapped around your waist or a hand in or lap or on your thigh.

you look around the room, there's people you've met before. caitlyn's friends and a few colleagues, but for the most part a majority of them are new faces. and you can't help but feel like everyone is looking at you.

you've never been insecure about being with caitlyn. yes she's older than you, but it's never stopped you from feeling head over heels for her and that feeling overpowers any doubt or insecurity you could ever have. it's the fact that it seems like you're the youngest in the room, there's nothing inherently bad about that. but everyone here is successful, and you're well. . . a college student working a job that has nothing to do with what you're going to school for.

a warm hand snaps you out of your thoughts. lifting your head, caitlyn's already looking at you with a soft expression. "you're shaking your leg, love."

"oh," looking down at the leg with cait's hand on it, still shaking. you stop it on command, focusing your gaze back on your girlfriend.

"are you okay?" she tilts her head, her eyebrows furrowing and the ponytail her blue hair is in swishes behind her, cute.

you give her a tight smile, nodding your head. "hm." you hope you're convincing enough.

caitlyn takes in a breath, breaking her gaze from you to look around the room. "y'know that woman over there went for the same major as you." she points out.

"really?" observing the woman who's talking with a few of their colleagues before turning your wide gaze back to your girlfriend.

"hm. she doesn't do work with it," she pauses, turning her head back to you with soft eyes. "but, what she does now is something she loves."

her hand smoothing up and your thigh, comforting you. "what i'm trying to say is that don't worry about your path right now being different from others around you." she reassures. reaching out to take a hand from your lap to take it in hers, bringing your hand to her lips and pressing a kiss.

flushing at her gesture, "thank you, cait." your voice small enough for only her to hear in the chatter of the room. your hand stays up near her lips and she presses a few more kisses, causing you to giggle.

"there she is." she muses.

you bring her hand holding yours down down into your lap to clasp her hand in between yours. leaning forward, a few inches from her face.

"kiss?"

caitlyn leans forward to meet your lips, not connecting them just yet. "any thing for my darling." she whispers against your lips.

‣ it was also established pretty early that caitlyn is the big spoon in the relationship. she enjoys and you love it. caitlyn also finds it pretty cute whenever the two of you are laying anywhere whether it's the sofa or in bed that you turn your back to her and keep shifting until she notices your moving form, coming up to wrap herself around your backside. not really big spooning but caitlyn enjoys the feeling and pressure of your laying on top of her, always telling you how it grounds her whenever she pulls you along to the bed and flops you on top of her. but you never complain because you find it comforting too, the side of your head press against her soft chest, focusing on the steady rise and fall of it and the buh dumbs of her heartbeat, you usually fall asleep quickly like this.

‣ older gf!caitlyn knows how draining it is to be in college. you get so focused on your education by sainting grades or completing assignments, not to mention the exams. so, she's always doing her best to help you out and make sure that you keep yourself in check rather that be mentally or physically. during hard times where you have midterms or finals or just back to back exams caitlyn will always tell you to not worry about picking up shifts at your job, she already knows you're overworking yourself by studying and doesn't want you to exhaust yourself further by working long hours. because she knows you and that if you could study then work a shift and study some more afterwards you would, but she knows that isn't healthy for you. so she always reassures you by saying that she'll support you financially for a little bit, transfer sums of money into you bank account for rent, bills, groceries, ect. it gives her peace of mind to know that she able to take a weight off your shoulders and provide for you. cait is also an insanely amazing cook and you always rave about her cooking, so she began taking a day out of her week every week to cook you some premade meals. she always comes stocked and ready on a weekend to your place with her tote full of meals to pile into your fridge. and during exam season it became pretty common for you to send time at hers for a few days. she does it to watch over you to make sure you're not running on fumes, but you like to think of her as a built in study buddy for reviews. during these days cait will come home from work to most likely find you at the dinning table studying, she'll kiss you on your forehead, and she'll head straight to the kitchen to cook dinner. as much as you dread exam season you don't dread spending this time with cait, there's just something so inherently domestic about cait providing for you. coming home and cooking dinner for the both of you, it makes your mind go numb. and it makes her feel successful when at night when she drags you to bed and for her to wake up to begin getting ready for work that you're still in bed soundly sleeping and that you didn't sneak off somewhere to study.

"dinner's ready." caitlyn chims, poking her head into the dinning room where you sit.

you lift your head up from your notes to eye her. sniffing the aroma around you. "chicken alfredo?"

"hm. you said something about craving it last week, so when i went shopping i picked up the ingredients."

"you're so sweet, cait." you hum, watching as she exits back into the kitchen. you prop your elbow up the table to rest your head in your hand, eyes flicking back down to your notes. you needed to understand—no—absorb this material into your brain for your exam coming up in a few days. listing off multiple curses within your head for taking this course and major and your professor for being a difficult teacher.

there's crinkling of sheets of paper around you. cait's suddenly bending across the table to organize the scattered papers in her hands. "c'mon, love. you can study a little more later."

fixing your gaze back up causing your eyebrows to raise, dumbfounded as you watched her. releasing your head from your hand to reach it out for the papers. "but—"

"but?" her tone is questioning and harsh. blue eyes narrowing at you.

"just a few more minutes, please, baby. i almost have this down."

you watching her graceful figure walk to the edge of the table where the rest of your materials lie and she places the stack down. she stands tall, placing a hand on her hips. "you can always study some more afterwards," she begins to walk over towards where you sit. "your notes aren't going to miraculously grow legs and run away, love. they'll be here." she assures. you blink and look back down at the notes in front of you, then back up at caitlyn. and for the first time you notice her attire, her hairs in a messy ponytail, still in her work attire but she's discarded her blouse and is only in her under tank top and slacks, she too has has had a long day.

"okay." you agree.

caitlyn smiles, showing off her toothy grin and her front gap you adore. she takes the material in front of you and places it with the rest.

"we're eating at the island. i have a sneaky feeling your cute bum has been sat on that chair all day." she teases.

you stand, bones cracking. your eyes shoot straight to look at cait, the both of you bursting into laughter. the noise proving her suspicions correct.

she sways back towards you, "come before the food gets cold." she muffles out, taming her laughter.

beelining to the kitchen island you sit back down, but now on a high top chair. lifting yourself up by your hands on the counter to eye the dish of chicken alfredo on the other side of the counter.

"looks s'yummy, cait."

"hope it is."

"always is" you correct.

watching as she stands on the other side, empty plate in hand with tongs in the other, dishing up some pasta and chicken.

"good?"

you eye the plate, "hm" you nod.

she heads behind her to the stove where steamed broccoli lies, piling some onto you plate. opening a drawer next to the stove, grabbing a fork and slamming it shut with her hip. she turns around and walks around the island. the clank of the plate landing on the counter, placing the fork down next to it.

"dig in, darling." pressing a kiss into your hair before going to fix her plate.

‣ she takes care of you in softer domestic ways. such as taking off your makeup for you after a long day or a night out with friends. bathing you and carefully washing over you in the shower. washing your hair, even going as far to learn the type of products you use and buying spares for her place so she's always stocked if you happen to spend days at her place and it's a wash day. she even learns how to care for you hair type if you have curly hair, hearing you complain endlessly about the process of washing and styling it, so she'd take it upon herself to observe you and learn so that way she can help and maybe even completely take over the process to give your poor arms a break. a certain domestic thing she does is call her place home. not just her home but your home too. whenever you're spending the night and the two of you out she'll always say "alright, let's head home, love." at the end of it. and it never fails to make your heart skip a beat that she views her space as your guys's collective space. she makes it knows that she's ready for you to move in whenever you feel most comfortable, and the day that you announce that you're ready to live together she is beaming.

࣪ ˖ NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

‣ a subtle way she asserts dominance is maintaining eye contact with you. she relishes in being able to make you flustered from simple eye contact, watching you get all fidgety and stumble over your words. but it's also her silent cue whenever you're acting out in public. a tilt of her head, dark gaze, heavy lids and a narrowed eyes will usually set you in place.

‣ caitlyn knew a lot about herself before she met you, she kept a list of all things she liked and didn't like, and those things rarely changed. but what she didn't know is that she'd find being called mommy so attractive. she knows she can be assertive and demanding at times, always the one with the plan. she was even deemed the "mom friend" when she was younger, but not once in any of her other relationships had anyone called her mommy. and maybe it's because she's never dated anyone, before you, with a large age gap. but the first time the word escaped between your sweet lips it was when cait had you face down, ass up, drooling into a pillow. fucking you at a particular angle with her cock that caused you to go dumb and roll your eyes to the back of your skull. realization didn't strike you when it muttered out, you were too far gone, but of course caitlyn heard it, she hears everything. her hips stilling. "what was that?" you barely heard her question, only worrying about the fact that she stopped fucking you, pressing your hips back to gain her attention to begin thrusting again. "please—mommy." oh. she liked that.

‣ older gf!caitlyn expects nothing but the best behavior of her sweet darling. she finds it intolerable and disrespectful when you decide to be a brat and act out, and when you take it further and push her past her warnings? she's seething. but two can play that game.

cait lets out a laugh along with her friends. the two of you were where at this restaurant for hours now. you didn't mind your girlfriend's friends, you loved and enjoyed their company. but you didn't expect to be here for this long and it's getting antagonizing having to sit and pretend like your understanding anything any of them are saying, especially when cait looks like that, blue hair flowing down her back, dainty silver jewelry decorating her body, in that black silk dress the one with the modest (you don't think do) slit. you begged her to cancel the moment you saw her, but she persisted, and now you're suffering.

she's even been uptight today, shutting down your sly advances, saying something about acting out and wanting to enjoy a night with her friends in a long time when the two of you took a bathroom break. the bathroom break had backfired too, you prosed the question about going to the bathroom hoping she'd shuffle you into a stall and finger you, but that was a bust.

when you peak down to look at the time on your phone you catch something interesting from the corner of your eye. caitlyn's exposed thigh from the slit, her dress is bunched up a little at her waist so the amount of skin showing is more.

your nimble fingers trace down her thigh, smirking at the feel of goosebumps rising on her skin. settling your hand on her thigh, not too far low and not too high, just yet.

cait turns her head to peer down at the hand on her thigh, your pinky rubbing back and forth on the soft skin. then to your face, you flash her a smile and she does the same, pressing a quick peck to your lips before she turns her attention back to her friends. you feel as though a grey gloomy cloud was cast over you in that moment.

in a burst of inspiration you begin to inch your hand high, little by little until a few of your finger tips are dipping past the slit of that dress towards her clothed cunt.

her head instantly snaps towards you, eyes narrowed.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i want to play." you shrug.

"and i told you not here."

"but i really want it," your gaze on caitlyn growing dark. "mommy." purring out the name so only the two of your could hear it

caitlyn's eyebrows raise in shock before they settle back down, turning her head to see her friends are still deep in conversation. her hand pulling yours from between her thighs. there isn't a harsh grip around your hand but it is tight, and with that hand she pulls you forward.

"fix your attitude and behave. maybe i'll think about touching you when we get back home."

you sit up straighter a grin forming on your face. nodding your head "m'kay." caitlyn squints her eyes at your sudden sudden change, releasing your hand.

a few moments pass by and you're already thinking of defying cait again. this time your hand finds her shoulder. you're bored so you begin to trace shapes on it, but then that gets boring so you start toying with her dress strap.

"stop that." her voice startles you.

you roll you eyes, confidently, because caitlyn isn't even looking at you.

"'m not even doing anything."

"yet." the pronunciation of the word is precise and harsh.

she turns back to you, "you're thinking of doing something. so i suggest before you do, that you don't."

"cait." you whine.

"what's going on with you, hm?"

"i told you."

"you're never this bad in public." that's true, but you've never had to wait this long for your girlfriend to touch you.

"you don't get it."

she eyes you. "no, i think i do," leaning forward her lips ghost yours. "seems as though i've spoiled you rotten which is causing you to act like a little slut in front of all my friends."

her voice dropped to an octive, enacting a reaction of chills down your body, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"be quiet or you won't cum for a week." she commands, pressing a kiss to your lips and refocusing herself.

"wha—"

suddenly caitlyn's hand dismisses the fabric of your skirt to between your thighs. fingers getting to work by rubbing at your clothes clit. you look up to see that cait now has her drink in her other hand, bringing it up to her lips to take a sip. her peripheral vision catching you and flicking her eyes to you, corking an eyebrow up at you.

as she is finished with her drink and sets it down her fingers push past your panties, spreading your legs a little wider to welcome her large hand. slow lazy circles on you clit was all you got for awhile, but it was enough to simmer your ache.

without warning cait bullies a finger into your sopping heat, causing you to let out a loud gasp. the entire table turning to you.

"are you okay?" one of her friends asks.

"yeah. you feeling alright, love?" her voice is laced in false concern. slipping another finger into your greedy cunt, observing your reaction.

you shuffle, looking around the table, then down at your empty plate. you can see cait's hand flexing as she pumps fingers in and out of you.

"uh— none of us has ordered dessert yet! it's not a dinner without dessert," you prose. "hm, right?"

the table agrees, and someone beckons the waiter over.

while everyone is occupied, caitlyn leans forward to your ear. "quick thinking, little one." she praises, watching as the waiter takes everyone's dessert orders. "order up, love."

"and what would you like?" the waiter asks.

biting down on your lip, hard. "hm, what's good?" there was an infliction on your voice from cait pressing her thumb against your clit as she fingers you.

"the molten lava cake is our most popular—"

you cut them off. "i'll take that!" a muffled moan escaped through your mouth, "hmm, sounds very delicious." hoping that saved yourself.

the waiter writes it down on their pad, turning their attention to caitlyn. "and for you ma'am?"

"oh, her and i will share." she confirms.

as the waiter walks off your head turns to cait, glossy eyes boring into her cold blue eyes. "cait—"

"i know" she shushes, she already knows you're close by the way you're desperate sucking her fingers back in. you're not sure if it's all in your head, but you swear cait fingering you underneath the table is causing the obscene squelches from your messy cunt to reverb and echo through the restaurant. to combat the noise you squeeze your thighs around cait's hand, but she persists.

flinging a hand down to grip at the hand between your thighs, you're so close that you don't even care if her friends caught on. not when her slender fingers that spot so deep within that only cait can reach.

just as you legs begin to shake uncontrollably, caitlyn whips her fingers from you needy cunt and between your thighs. grabbing the cloth napkin to wipe off your juices from her fingers, an icy glare is sent your way as she sets it back down, one that tells you everything.

brats don't get to cum.

‣ going back to spooning with caitlyn, she also loves to place you in her lap while the two of you watch tv. your head in the crook of her shoulder and a hand of hers in your hair, playing with it. until suddenly when she was innocently twirling a piece of your hair you'll feel a tug at it, causing you to gasp unexpectedly. or she'll get straight to it, so a her hand will find its way on the nape of your neck, slim fingers threading themselves through the underside of your hair before she yanks, now this will cause you to moan out, head falling back so she's cradling it in her hand. wet lips finding their way to your exposed neck, kissing and nipping away at the sensitive skin. you'll whine out, only for cait to shh you, "let me have my fun, love."

‣ there's something intoxicating about you being naked while caitlyn is completely clothed. the contrast between your crumbling figure and her composure. she also loves seeing how your sensitive body reacts to the feeling of her clothes on your body. her favorite is to press her clothed chest to your bare one while the two of you are messily making out, your nipples immediately hardening. even the way she can feel your slick soaking through her slack covered thigh, tainting the material. it drives her insane when she makes you squirt, your juices all over her button up making the material darker.

‣ when you're particularly needy and need something to shut you up she'll shove a few fingers in your mouth, watching the way your eyelids drop and you focus on sucking on her fingers. on other occasions she'll order you on your knees, grabbing a cushion for them. and she'll strip slowly and teasingly for you.

you watch her hips sway, raking in her naked body. her blue bush in your face and you feel drool pool into your mouth, gulping. a hand comes to your chin, pushing your head up to look up at her.

"you've been needy," she begins. "but, you've also been good. so i was thinking of putting your neediness to use, i want your mouth."

nodding your head aggressively, eyes dropping back down.

"words."

a hand still on your chin tips your head, peering up with wide doe eyes, cait's expression is cold as she stands over you. "yes, use me mommy, please."

her face relaxes and she smiles down at you, "good girl." your chin is released and her hand smooths over the back of your head, pushing it forward.

taking her clit in your mouth, you moan into her. lapping her up, you free your hands from your lap, placing them on her hips to burry yourself further between her pretty thighs. eyes fluttering shut, savoring the taste of the woman standing above you.

"ah, that's it. s'good." cait's noises of pleasure sounds like music to your ears. opening your eyes to view up her body, she truly is a stallion. her eyes are shut, her shirt long discarded on the floor as she toys with one of her breast, her hand still on your head keeping you pressed up close to her, and her mouth is agape.

your wet muscle working away at her, gliding through her sticky folds. slurping up all her arousal, not wasting a drop.

"so—" she begins. but gasp when you take her clit and suck on it. "shit. so," she gasp again, "so eager to please."

nodding into her, not wanting to let up. releasing a moan into her, causing the grasp in your hair to tighten.

"c'mon, love. make me cum," doe eyes staring back into her drowsy eyes as she lazily talks. "make mommy cum."

caitlyn addressing herself as mommy made you clench your thighs, the ache between your thighs becoming very apparent.

your pushed so far into her that your nose is up against her bush, her scent only enhancing your eagerness.

cait begin to slightly rock back and forth in your mouth maneuvering your head so she's practical long dragging her cunt against your face. your finger nails grip into her hips, adding to her movements. her juices dripping down your chin to dip down your neck.

"fuck!" she yelps, her sweet release washing over her shuttering body and you quickly slurp it up.

the grip in your hair releases. when your satisfied you let up, but quickly you place a kiss upon cait's clit, letting up with a mwah. a shiny sheen covering the bottom half of your face, even the tip of your nose.

cait's hand finds it's way on your face once again, but it cradles you jaw this time, thumb swiping over your plump, slick cover lips.

"my baby always knows how to care of me, doesn't she?" she purs, droopy eyes sparkling down at you with a dazzling smile to match.

‣ whenever cait is strapping you she prefers to be gentle with you. it'll take a lot of begging and or pressing your luck to get her to be really rough with you (like the first time you ever called her mommy). she also just prefers it. she likes taking it slow with you whenever she fucks you with her cock, in missionary so she's able to see your twisted up face from pleasure. she's also just a plain sucker for intimacy, the two of you so close that you're not even sharing space the space you two take up is its own completely new thing. everything of the outside world just washes away, and she gets to focus on you and only you. she loves being able to look you in your eye and dip her head in the crook of your neck to litter kisses and love bites across it and down your collarbones to your tits. and she really loves when you cum, your back arching off the bed your chest pressing further into hers, your head falling back, mouth agape and releasing pretty moans and whines of your climax, even your toes curling and uncurling. she eats it up. she loves it. she loves you.

[mariasont]

HEAR ME OUT!

post prison Spencer and shy!reader bonding over being total nerds. Books, shows... you name it

Bookstore Physics - S.R

summary: spencer suggests you should compare moral biases more often. you think he's making a philosophical point. he thinks he just asked you on a date

pairings: post!prison spencer reid x shy!medialiaison!reader

warnings: fluff, second hand embarrassment im sure, philosophical debates that are probably wrong bc i had to google and i know hardly knowing about mr kant, existential crisis but make it romantic, post prison reid, shy reader, prolonged eye contact

wc: 1.6k

a/n: thanks for requesting my lovely! happy superbowl to those who celebrate! go birds!

You were so close. Just one more inch, and your fingertips would finally graze the spine of the book that had been taunting you from its impossibly high perch. 

Rising to your tiptoes, you reached with all the reckless confidence of someone who had severely underestimated basic physics. The shelf wobbled under your grip, your shoes squeaking against the polished floor, and in that split second, you were faced with a terrifying possibility that you were about to take out the entire bookshelf, along with your dignity.

Something grabbed ahold of you, steadying you before you could faceplant directly into a pile of literary fiction. 

You went completely rigid. Because that wasn't just something. That was a Spencer Reid hand, long fingers, warm palm, and a freakishly strong grip for a man who treated physical exertion like a concept rather than a practice.

"Oh. Hi, Dr. Reid," you blurted, the words tumbling out clumsy and unpolished, as if your tongue had forgotten how to function. You winced instantly. "What are you doing here?"

Spencer didn't answer right away. His grip on your arm slackened, but he didn't step away, didn't even give you an inch of space, like he had no intention of letting you breathe properly.

Oh, that's fine. Air is overrated anyway.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated as if he were genuinely considering the question, but you knew better.

His expression hovered somewhere between pity and uncontained glee, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

Your lips parted, but your mind refused to cooperate, stuck on an endless loop of oh my god, did you actually just say that?

To Spencer Reid. The same Spencer who had, on multiple occasions, resorted to scribbling entire paragraphs on the back of receipts and once, when truly desperate, his own wrist. Spencer, who physically flinched at the sound of a cracked spine and once spent seventeen uninterrupted minutes explaining the significance of marginalia. Spencer who read like breathing and talked about prose like it was something alive.

And you, a person allegedly with working cognitive abilities, had just asked him what he was doing in a bookstore.

You opened your mouth, whether to correct yourself or just inhale enough oxygen to function again, you weren't sure, but before you could, Spencer, with precisely zero struggle, reached up and plucked the book from the shelf like it had been placed there specifically for him. 

"You should've asked for help," he murmured, and oh, that was definitely amusement in his voice.

"I-I had it under control."

One brow arched, unimpressed.

"Sure you did," he mused, lips twitching like they couldn’t quite decide whether to commit to a smirk. "Although, considering that 20% of bookstore-related injuries stem from ill-advised attempts at reaching high shelves, you were probably just one statistic away from a minor concussion."

You narrowed your eyes. "That's not — there's no way that's a real statistic."

Spencer barely reacted, flipping open the book with the same casual disinterest of someone checking the sky for clouds, except this wasn't a change in barometric pressure, and you were positive your entire nervous system had just gone into meltdown mode.

Your face burned, heat creeping up your spine and flooding through you veins at an alarming speed, and — oh, no — you had officially run out of places to look that weren't him.

And he (unfortunately) made such an easy focal point.

His shirt was rumpled like he'd spent the whole day forgetting to sit properly and a barely-there ink smudge kissed the edge of his palm, the kind only noticeable if you were close. His hair was at war with itself, some strands curling forward rebelliously against the collar of his cardigan, others falling forward, brushing the edge of his cheek.

He didn't glance up as he murmured, "Philosophy?"

The words barely had time to settle before your brain supplied an immediate translation: he was about to analyze you.

You could practically hear the gears turning, the internal mechanisms of his brain whirring at a speed that actually did defy physics. If you concentrated hard enough, you might've been able to hear the faint whir of neurons firing, piecing together a framework of analysis that was surely seconds away from being spoken into existence. He was surely already forming a hypothesis, already constructing some impossibly insightful revelation about what this particular title said about you, your worldview, your subconscious motivations.

"Well, yeah, that one," you said quickly, the words tripping over each other. “I mean, it’s not real philosophy — well, obviously, it is, but not in the way you would define foundational philosophy, but it still presents some really interesting moral dilemmas, and the writing is surprisingly digestible considering the subject matter is so —”

You clamped your mouth shut so fast it was a wonder your teeth didn’t rattle.

What were you even saying?

"Um — yeah. Philosophy. Or... something like that."

Spencer's lips twitched, and then, in a move so profoundly unsettling, he smiled.

Not just any smile, either. A real one. The kind that didn't just curve his mouth but softened him entirely, the corners tugging upward, a barely there dimple surfacing at his cheek. 

It hit you like a perfectly aimed dart —sharp, direct, and entirely crushing. Something fluttered wildly in your chest, light enough to feel stupid, but heavy enough to be a problem.

Then, still smiling, he tilted his head, leaning in just enough to invade your space, his voice dipping like he was handing you something fragile.

"I didn't take you for the existentialist type."

Your first instinct is to argue, to insist that you're far too well-rounded, too multifaceted, too impossible to be pinned down by a single school of thought. But before you can even begin to string words together, Spencer tilts his head just a little more, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that feels dangerously close to that same expression of analyzing once again.

And suddenly, you need to redirect this conversation, desperately, urgently, before your body betrays you, before you start visibly sweating or keel over like a fainting goat. Neither feels like an optimal outcome.

"I — I mean... I could say the same about you."

His lips quirk. "Interesting. And why's that?"

"I don't know. I always assumed you'd be more of a rationalist? Like, Descartes' methodical doubt feels like something you'd respect, and even Kant's categorical imperative, although that's more deontological ethics than strict rationalism, kind of aligns with the way you view morality and decision-making, and —"

You stop. Blink.

Oh no. You’re heavily invested in this man’s philosophical alignment.

You purse your lips, clearing your throat like that’ll erase the absurd level of thought you’ve just admitted to having.

"I mean, I'm probably way off."

Spencer flips the book closed, considering.

"I supposed you could argue I lean toward rationalism," he allows. "But morality is messy. Kant insists on universal law, and let's be real, most people abandon objectivity the second emotions get involved."

He glances at you then, a shift so small it shouldn't feel significant, but somehow, it does.

“For instance, we all make exceptions. We justify things we probably shouldn’t. Sometimes we prioritize people in ways that defy reason.”

His lips twitch. 

"Hypothetically speaking, of course."

“Well, yeah,” you say, caught up in the current of the conversation before you even realize you’ve been swept away. “People make emotional calculations constantly. Even when they claim objectivity, their decisions are shaped by personal attachments.”

The thought unspools too easily, words tumbling forward, carried by momentum.

“And it’s not just morality, it’s cognition in general. Have you read Jonathan Haidt’s work on moral intuitionism? He argues that people make moral judgments first based on instinct, and then rationalize them after the fact.”

You glance up, expecting a rapid-fire counterargument, some impossibly well-structured debate. But Spencer is just watching you.

"So what about you?" he asks suddenly. "Would you say you make exceptions?"

You pause.

"I mean… yeah? I guess I do. Everyone does, right? If someone I care about does something morally questionable, I’d probably be more inclined to defend them than if it were a stranger. I mean, that’s just human nature."

Then shrug. 

"But that doesn’t mean I’m being hypocritical," you add quickly, as if you just realized how that sounded. "I think there’s a difference between conscious favoritism and subconscious moral bias. It’s not like I have a specific person I’d automatically justify no matter what."

Spencer exhales. "I think you're more consistent than you realize."

You blink at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, lifting the book in his hands, fingers drumming idly against the cover. “You try so hard to rationalize your emotions. But I think, if it came down to it, you’d make an exception for someone. Just one.”

Your stomach knots, and it's humiliating how obvious you must be. You can feel your pulse everywhere, in your throat, your wrists, your temples, like your entire body is broadcasting, Hey, Spencer Reid is making you malfunction because he somehow sees right through you, somebody send help.

“I — well, I mean —”

“Relax, it’s just a theory.”

But something about the way he says it makes you not relax at all. And before you can scramble for some kind of coherent response, he nods toward your book.

“You should get that one,” he says lightly, handing you back the book. “I’d love to hear your take on it next time.”

You freeze. Next time?

Oh. Oh no. The words settle over you like an ill-timed realization, and your brain is running the math like you're about to file a report on your own social incompetence. Next time implies... a prior time, a recurring time, a pattern of times. Next time implies he assumes there will be a next time. 

And you assume that he assumes that you are the kind of person who could logically expect another bookstore trip with Spencer Reid as if that's just a thing that happens in your life. Which is absurd.

Your fingers tighten around the book, like holding onto an overpriced paperback will somehow restore balance to your rapidly deteriorating world. Your pulse is a problem and your ability to think critically is a casualty. 

You scramble for something, anything, to say, but before your brain can reboot, Spencer is already moving. 

Then just as he disappears into the next aisle, he tosses one final parting shot of his shoulder —

"See you soon, then."

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[gabbiecasso]

Just me and my reflections on Shikatema

I've been weirdly hyperfixated recently on Shikamaru and Temari, and so I reflected a lot just to properly dissect the reasons myself because I initially couldn't really understand why I liked them when I was really young, more so as an adult (and as demi/ace) LOL so imma yap

As a demi, I've always struggled with romance themes. I always subtly feel like my circuits are frying when I watch anything romance or I often just plainly feel indifferent. Thankfully I managed to spot a few patterns by spending a lot of time in my head; one of them is that I prefer romance when it's not under the spotlight (idk I noticed I always prefer the side pairs more than the main pairs in any story HAHA) I guess that was one of the categories that Shikatema falls under.

I spent more than a decade watching/reading Naruto and it was enough time for me to have a close affinity with these characters and love them for creating such a huge impact in my childhood without the heavy emotional flairs that Naruto and the rest of characters put upfront. They ultimately became my two favorite characters in the series because I share the same traits and tendencies as them. It also wasn't a surprise that two of my favorite characters ended up together because their relationship was slowly developed and it didn't come off like shocking news.

Unlike the other pairs in Naruto where it seems to have characters fixating on someone or characters overshadowing the other, Shikatema operate on a level playing field. They're each strong leaders and strategists in their own right, both competent enough to recognize each other's strengths. They don't feel the need to change the other nor prove their worth. They're their own person and it clearly shows early in the series and even as it progresses to Shippuden.

I personally dislike being the center of anyone's attention or constantly feeding someone attention so I gravitate more to people who are deeply more passionate about purpose/duty/service/something more than about me and my presence. Shikatema has that dynamic where their relationship feels more like a partnership than a romance based on dependency. They both have important (political) roles in their own respective villages, and they know their purposes and the weight that they carry very well—which prolly explains why both are self-sufficient, independent, and capable. They both take their duties seriously and you don't see a scene where one craves for the other's attention (it’s funny how actively and arduously they work on their duty while in each other’s presence so you can definitely say they were literally there for (and with) each other as they fulfilled their roles as diplomat escort/advisor and diplomat/royalty)

Another that I value DEEPLY to my core is individuality, and I've always adored how Shikamaru and Temari preserve their individuality while still thriving together. It's one of the main factors why they see each other as equals and why none of them overpowers the other.

Shikamaru, laid-back and often understated, complements Temari’s directness and assertiveness. His relaxed demeanor helps her stay grounded and objective rather than just taunting in combat or in general LMFAO

Meanwhile, Temari, who is confident and comfortable taking charge, gives Shikamaru's abilities more buoyancy—she openly calls out his BS and he welcomes it because he knows how unassuming, and, at times, self-deprecating he can be. He never seeks the spotlight and often downplays his own abilities and it's where Temari's outspokenness fits the bill (this energy is also quite evident in Shikamaru Hiden)

Both characters also challenge gender norms (I'm inclined to believe that their characters' subtle sexism when they were first introduced in the series was part of the writing, there is an active discussion about this somewhere and I genuinely believe it has its purpose) Young Shikamaru yaps about her being too troublesome because she's incessantly outspoken/spunky. Young Temari yaps about him being too emotional because he didn't seem to receive emotional training.

Yet in the long run, Shikamaru's honesty and vulnerability allow Temari to soften up and witness the act of kindness by someone who wears his heart on his sleeve (which was first seen during the Sasuke retrieval arc at the hospital where Shikamaru had an emotional breakdown) and Temari's unwavering strength and energy nudges Shikamaru into action when he might otherwise hesitate (Temari often banters with him to make him commit to his decisions and not spend too much time in his head)

Both characters also have innate leadership. I noticed that one of my main attraction points is leadership (as an act of service girlie) and these two have that strong nature: Shikamaru leads with his introspective nature, while Temari leads with her assertive nature.

It was evident first during the Chunin exams when they were pitted against each other—both read their opponents exceptionally well and they both show a strong sense of battle awareness while keeping their cool and executing their strategies effectively. It's no surprise that Shikamaru was promoted Chunin and Temari was promoted Jonin & Ambassador (it wasn't clear when Temari was promoted, but in the early episodes of Shippuden, she was already a Jonin & Ambassador who frequently visits Konoha) They both learned to grow as leaders who first serve their people before themselves in their respective villages and it stretches further during the war arc where they serve not just people from their respective villages but the entire Alliance.

Both were also Chunin exam proctors, so ain't that great LOL I think it was one of the many factors why I never doubted their parenting (and Shikadai did grew up to be such a fine and disciplined shinobi with a strong moral code) Both did seem to question each other's parenting styles since Temari favors intense training while Shikamaru advocates leisure (which I believe is a great balance) but both parents have fostered Shikadai's agency; allowing him to come up with his own conclusions and decisions based on his critical thinking because both Shikamaru and Temari share the same values in their youth.

In the series, high intensity emotions are almost always present in every relationship but their relationship has a subdued nature—They don't need long stretches of dialogues to understand each other because all they needed was experiences, and a little observation and deduction.

They didn't need to prove their worth to each other (or to anyone honestly) because it's built on deep understanding rather than overt passion. Altho it had a different interpretation in the manga, both characters even agree that marriage is troublesome LOL (but welp)

Last one is that both are strategists. Chess is my sport and puzzles/tactical games that require mental effort has always been my comfort, I guess it's natural for me to gravitate to these two. (I like any strategic characters who also wear their heart on their sleeve)

They also approach strategy differently: Shikamaru’s intellect makes him highly logical and analytical, often relying on foresight to plan for every possible outcome. Temari is a decisive, action-oriented strategist; often has the courage to commit to a decision quickly. She also heavily thinks on the fly to understand an opponent's motive and naturally adapts.

This was again exhibited during the Chunin exams where Shikamaru's strategic skills allowed him to use his environment to his advantage while Temari displayed her adaptability and quick-thinking capabilities to counter Shikamaru's offenses since she's a heavy thinker herself.

Temari may not be as exceptionally creative as Shikamaru but she highly values intel, reason, and logic in order to come up with a counter. This was exactly the reason why her battle with Shikamaru was further stretched; up to the point where Shikamaru exhausted his chakra.

I deeply adore how both characters value planning, precision, and patience in combat while other characters in the story value power, tenacity, and speed. Irl, I value the same set of values as Shikatema in chess/games/puzzles and so I guess it’s no surprise. I get to just admire the intellectual aspect of their relationship where it allows them to not just connect emotionally but also challenge each other mentally in every screen time they had.

Thanks for coming to my yapping thread if you ever made it in the end LOL

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Smutty Headcanons

I promised on this LM x Reader post things would get spicy soon, so here we are, coming so far from my first post! Just the first of probably many more smutty Lucifer posts, because we all know this man fucks and we all want a piece.

Warnings: SMUT

- This man legitimately loves everything about eating pussy. He loves performing it, he loves bragging about how well he performs it, he loves giving tips because he believes in respecting the craft, and he loves putting down anyone too entitled to provide what he sees as this most enjoyable of services for one's partner. You don't even have to ask him to go down on you, it'll be one of the first things he offers, and he'll regularly ask if you're interested in letting off a little steam. Having the ability to extend and shapeshift his tongue into having an opposable forked tip makes him capable of techniques beyond your wildest fantasies, and whether you like to receive from above or below, he's equally down to have you seated on his face or laying back to enjoy yourself.

- He's not poorly or overly endowed for a man of his size, but he's also quite literally the one who originally proved that size doesn't matter in the slightest, and he's had thousands of years to perfect those original techniques. From position to tempo, he's mastered everything he needs to hit the G-spot with impeccable accuracy, and his hands will be quite busy seeking out where you most enjoy attention as he rides you with the power and virility of an untamed stallion. All this combined results in a mind blowing time for you, every time, and he's got the stamina to answer all of your repeated requests for another round.

- Nevermind the magic he can work with his tongue or his dick, the King of Hell is also a wizard with his fingers. He's even got a carpal tunnel roller just to keep his dexterity in top shape for when his skills are needed. Finding your clit is effortless for him, and he'll show it all the love he thinks you deserve, responding eagerly to your feedback in the moment and putting his mouth to use on your neck as he does so. Whether you want him inside, outside or both at the same time, he's happy to provide, and he'll gladly push his wrists to the limit if it leaves you properly satisfied.

- If you offer to be the one servicing him, he'll happily accept, and you'll quickly find his mannerisms shift quite considerably when he's on the receiving end. He starts out confident, offering banter to match your own, but as soon as your mouth gets to work, his demeanor changes. A grin becomes an open mouthed moan, his hands tenderly take hold of you to ground himself, and witty quips turn to soft and needy sighs. The more heated things get, the more he loses himself, but it's a great way for you to gauge how well you're performing. Growls and an appearance of his horns are a sign he's really having a good time, especially considering he's always got steam to blow off. Particularly rough days will result in him losing all control by climax; fully extended wings and horns, an unfurled tail he wraps about you, hair disheveled and clinging to a fine layer of sweat, and more than a few reality bending bursts of power surging around the both of you. It's his favorite way to end the day on a good note. He'll pull his fingers from your hair as he breathlessly apologizes for the show, but the both of you know watching him go feral is part of the fun.

- The afterglow is peak cuddle time for him, and he'll be in no hurry to get dressed if there's somewhere either of you needs to be, so more than a few of his duties will end up delayed thanks to post-coital bliss. All six wings will seek you out for a fluffy embrace, and if the two of you are at all winded, the otherworldly softness of Archangel feathers might make staying awake quite impossible. Should you have some energy to spare though, he'll want to actively enjoy the snuggle. Hearing you breathe, feeling his skin against yours, and engaging in pillow talk just make him the happiest little guy. Such moments really allow him to let his guard down, and you might hear him speak with a softness and hopefulness that rarely leaves the bedroom, but he's just as interested in listening as he is in talking. Don't be too surprised if he drifts off with his head in your boobs though.

[crueltyserpent]

When she introduces us, she’s either my girlfriend or my mom. She’s neither of course, she killed my mom and my girlfriend so long ago at this point. Sometimes I think she chooses whichever she thinks will make me more uncomfortable; it’s not like whoever she introduces us to will live long enough for their thoughts on it to matter. If I were to choose a name for what I am, I would probably go with captive. Victim also comes to mind, but it’s hard to feel like I’m the most victimized person in the room when she’s cutting off the fingers of a naked woman one by one.  At least she’s not making me eat them this time. The “here comes the airplane” bit with raw human flesh isn’t nearly as funny as she thinks it is.

If I guess why she keeps me around, why I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere like every other poor bitch who get’s her attention, I’d guess it’s because simply torturing attractive women to death every other day doesn’t fully sate her appetite for cruelty. Sure, her ability to wring physical pain out of a stranger is staggering, but there’s a special type of satisfaction she gets from the form of psychological torture that is only possible to inflict on someone she keeps close for an extended period of time. I don’t know if she chose me because something about me was uniquely appealing to hurt or she just liked how my dick felt inside her, but at this point I’m fairly confident she’s sunk too much work into messing with my head to casually replace me.

The woman bleeding out on the floor is the owner of the Air BNB we’re staying at, a chipper blonde thirtysomething who was now karmically paying for the fact that nothing in her life had ever gone wrong before. I used to vomit seeing a girl taken apart like this. Now it’s boring enough that I can sit on the bed reading a romance novel while barley acknowledging the poor cunt’s slowly decreasing number of body parts. This is an easy one, relatively speaking. I don’t really have enough emotional energy left to feel bad for well to do women a decade older than me who’d never give me so much as a smile if I weren’t a customer.

I call myself a captive, but it’s not like I couldn’t walk out of the room if I wanted to, physically speaking. She wouldn’t stop me, she’d continue her ruthless execution and not even remark on me leaving. I was never bound (except for sex), never locked in a room, always free to go where I wanted. It had just been incredibly clear to me that if I ever made an attempt to do something she disapproved of, she could make my life so much worse than it already was as her unwilling partner in crime. One time she had left me alone for three months, letting me think I was free, only to return and kill every single person I had met and liked to any degree. I was trapped with her because she had created a situation where helping her murder people every few days was the decision I could make with the lowest innocent body count. And it meant that sometimes women like this died instead of the cute queer girls my age who used to blow me in alleys. Seeing someone I might have been friends with in a different life die was a whole different story to something like this.

I turn the page, working my way through a particularly arbitrary love triangle as I hear the death rattle. I don’t remark on it, but I’m not at all surprised when my bloodstained captor sits at the foot of the bed, looking at me with those hungry eyes. Don’t get me wrong, this woman is evil, the worst person I could even imagine who I would do anything to be free of.

She’s also probably the hottest person I’ve ever met. She was the first woman ever to be hot enough to make me cheat on my girlfriend, in what was either the greatest mistake of my life or the sole decision that kept me alive, depending on what would have happened if I turned her down. Her nude body sprayed with fresh blood is a powerful sight, and her toothed smile makes me shiver as blood rushes between my legs.

“Anything spicy happening in your book, honey?” She asked in a soft, motherly tone, her hands moving to undo my belt buckle. I hate how much her sexy mom routine works on me. It’s humiliatingly effective. I should be anywhere else right now, doing anything else, doing anyone else, but as she rides me, her other victims blood dripping off her chest over my face, I can’t do anything but whimper in enjoyment.

[matt-murdockk]

I can fix him (no really I can)

They shake their heads saying, "God help her" When I tell them he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really I can And only I can

college!matt murdock x fem!reader | fluff— a whole lotta fluff | sorta friends to lovers? | fic from reader's pov, then a pov switch to third person

Matt Murdock famously doesn't stick around for longer than a month, tops. You were determined to change that.

Pre-law golden boy with an aura that exudes confidence, Matt was the person everyone either wanted to be, or wanted to be with. He knew that, and his faux modesty only made it worse for the masses desperate to get a piece of him. Am I one of—? Please, I'd fuck a tree before I fuck Matt Murdock. Not that I hate him or anything. I'm just not on the bed anyone with abs and a personality bandwagon. Good for him for all that attention he's getting, but my ties with him start and end in class. He's just a classmate.

Okay, maybe not just a classmate.

We share notes. Sometimes. Only when he forgets his, which is rare, because apparently being hot and capable is a combo this man insists on wielding like a goddamn weapon. Once, he offered to buy me coffee as a thank you and I made the mistake of saying yes. We ended up talking for an hour. One hour. And somehow I left that conversation knowing his middle name, his favourite diner his dad used to take him to, and exactly what kind of espresso he drinks before a big exam.

It was fine. It’s fine. People have conversations all the time. I’m not spiraling.

We became friends. Real ones. That was the problem.

Because here’s the thing: Matt Murdock is a disaster.

Not on paper. No— on paper, he’s perfect. He’s top of the class, charming when he wants to be, a little cocky, but in a way that makes you laugh instead of wanting to push him down the stairs.

But spend enough time around him and you start to notice things.

Like how he never lets anyone get close. Like how he flirts with half the campus but every single one of his flings ends in vague silence and awkward glances the next day. Like how he knows exactly how to listen to someone but refuses to let anyone hear him.

It’s not a red flag. It’s a goddamn red parade.

So of course I did what any completely normal person with an ounce of self-preservation would do.

I caught feelings for that bastard.

Of course, it's the emotionally unavailable mess with enough red flags to decorate a fucking carnival that catches my attention. Just my goddamn luck.

And, in a moment of sheer lunacy, decided I could fix him.

No really, I could. Just needed time. And patience. And maybe a crowbar for emotional extraction. Whatever. I’ve done harder things. If I can survive Mr Vasquez's class, I can survive whatever this is.

I just have to make sure he never finds out I like him. And also make him like me back. And maybe heal years of trust issues in the process.

Easy, right?

Well, it wasn’t.

Because what started as some deranged attempt to break into the fortress that is Matt Murdock turned into something else entirely. We became friends. Real friends. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about fixing him and started being about just… being there.

And God help me, I think he needed that more than anything.

It wasn’t just me and Matt anymore, either. Foggy came into the picture fast— bright-eyed, effortlessly funny, with an incredible ability to sniff out bullshit in under five seconds. The three of us? Unstoppable. Study sessions, lunch breaks, late-night coffee runs before an exam. They were my people.

So yeah. The plan backfired. Spectacularly. But I had friends for life now, so I couldn’t exactly call it a failure.

It didn’t mean it stopped hurting, though.

Matt’s life… it wasn’t easy. I could see it in the way he shut down when he was overwhelmed, how he buried himself in work instead of letting anyone in. Some nights he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but he’d still crack a joke just to make Foggy laugh.

And when he was with other women— when he flirted like it was a language only he spoke— it hurt. Even when I told myself I didn’t have a right to feel that way. He wasn’t mine. I made sure of that.

I’d smile through it. Tease him, even. Make some stupid quip about his tragic taste in women and let the ache settle where no one could see it.

Except Foggy noticed.

He always does.

One afternoon— study session turned snack break in our usual booth— Foggy caught me staring too long. Matt was across the room talking to a girl from one of our electives, charming smile and all.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.

I blinked. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? Because that definitely wasn’t your ‘fine’ face. That was your ‘I’m swallowing feelings and pretending to be emotionally stable’ face.”

I sighed, resting my chin on my palm. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I turned to him. “Foggy, I’m not gonna pull a dramatic ‘what are we’ in the middle of a group project. Matt may be a lot of things, but you really cannot force him to be something he doesn’t want to be.”

Foggy frowned. “But do you think he doesn’t want—?”

“Matt would probably suck at relationships,” I said, more tired than bitter. “Like, actual long-term ones. He likes the chase, he likes the moment. And that’s fine. He’s allowed to live how he wants. I just… I’m happy being his friend. Genuinely. Give it time. I’ll get over it.”

Foggy was quiet for a second. “That was… wildly mature.”

“Yeah well, personal growth is a bitch.”

He grinned. “Still. If it helps, he’s not as smooth as he thinks.”

I snorted. “No, but he is absurdly pretty. That makes up for a lot.”

We let the topic die after that. I figured that was the end of it.

I didn’t know Matt had heard.

—————————————————————————————————

Third Person POV

Matt had only come back for his notebook.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He hadn’t meant to hear that.

But he had.

He stopped just shy of the hallway corner, heart thudding loud in his chest. The way her voice dropped when she said “I’ll get over it.”

The words hit harder than he expected.

She thought he’d be a bad boyfriend.

Worse— she didn’t even think he was worth trying.

And Matt knew— he knew— he hadn’t been great. He had a lot on his plate, a whole goddamn feast of mess, but he never once thought she saw him like that. Not undeserving.

She didn’t know he stayed up wondering what it’d feel like to kiss her. For real. Without laughing it off or playing it cool. She didn’t know how often his fingers hovered near hers and didn’t reach. How badly he wanted to.

But if she thought he wasn’t capable of it? Of loving her the way she deserved?

He had to change that.

Not just for her. For him. For the version of himself he wanted to be—the kind that could love someone, openly and fully, without messing it up.

“Jesus,” Foggy muttered when he saw Matt later that night. “You look like you saw a ghost. Or rather... felt a ghost? I don't know, man.”

“I heard something,” Matt said, collapsing onto his bed, voice low.

“Define ‘something.’”

“(Y/N) said I’d be a bad boyfriend.”

Foggy blinked. “Okay. Context?”

Matt dragged a hand over his face. “She was talking to you. In the booth. Earlier.”

Foggy raised his brows. “You, uh, you were there?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

Foggy held up his hands. “Alright, okay. First off— she didn’t say you’d be a bad boyfriend. She said you’d probably suck at steady relationships. Big difference.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, because you’ve never tried a steady relationship. Which is kind of the point.”

Matt groaned. “I need to fix this.”

Foggy stared. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to walk me through your version of fixing this.”

Matt sat up. “I’m gonna prove her wrong.”

Foggy blinked. “You’re gonna… ask her out?”

“No,” Matt said quickly. “I mean— yes. Eventually. But first I need to become the kind of guy she thinks could be a good boyfriend. You know. Change her mind.”

Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Just fuck already.”

Matt frowned. “What?”

Foggy threw his hands in the air. “You like her. She likes you. I have seen you two. Why do you think you want her to stay longer after we're done studying? Why do you think you linger? Why do you think you bring her coffee and save her a seat and remember her deadlines better than your own?”

Matt opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“She fell first, you fell harder,” Foggy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the drill, man.”

Matt stared.

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. My brother in Christ, you’re in love.”

Matt exhaled.

“…Shit.”

——————————————————————————————————

Matt didn’t sleep that night.

He lay awake, headphones in, a lecture playing that he didn’t hear, the words echoing over and over again in his head.

“She fell first.”

“You fell harder.”

He didn’t even realize when it happened. Somewhere between her snorting at his awful Latin puns and handing him half her sandwich because he forgot to eat again— he’d fallen. And now she thought he was incapable of loving her the way she deserved.

It felt like a punch to the chest.

But instead of wallowing, he decided to do something.

Starting now.

The next morning, Matt showed up to your apartment with coffee. Your exact order. No text beforehand. No heads-up.

You opened the door in pajama shorts and a hoodie, one sock on and a pen still tucked behind your ear.

“Matt?”

He held up the coffee like it was a peace offering. “You mentioned your 9 a.m. was with Vasquez today. I figured you’d need a hit of caffeine and a minor miracle.”

You blinked. “…That’s weirdly thoughtful of you.”

He smiled. “I’ve been working on that.”

And then he left. Just like that.

No flirting. No lingering.

Just… left.

You stared after him, cup in hand, completely thrown.

It didn’t stop there.

Matt started walking you to class. All the time.

Not just when you happened to be heading the same direction. On purpose.

He’d show up at your building with some excuse— “I needed air,” or “Foggy wasn’t ready yet”— and fall into step beside you like it was routine.

Then came the favors. Printing your notes when the Wi-Fi was down. Fixing the broken strap on your bag. Letting you drag him to that awful late-night diner when you were too wired to sleep.

You didn’t get it.

This wasn’t how Matt Murdock operated.

Matt Murdock flirted, ghosted, and moved on.

This? This was effort.

It was also torture.

Because the more he did it, the more you started to hope. Stupid, dangerous hope. Maybe he did like you. Maybe this wasn’t one-sided after all.

But every time you thought about asking, about saying something— he’d flash that same unreadable smile and change the subject.

So you kept your mouth shut. Kept watching. Waiting.

Hoping.

Meanwhile, Foggy was losing his mind.

“You can’t just— Matt, you cannot boyfriend her without telling her.”

Matt frowned, folding his arms. “I thought this was the part where I prove myself.”

“To who? To her? She already likes you. You’re not proving anything except that you’re allergic to communication.”

“I’m building a foundation.”

Foggy looked pained. “You’re building a bad sitcom plot. Just tell her.”

Matt hesitated. “She said she didn’t want that. She said she’d get over me.”

Foggy sighed so hard, his soul probably left his body.

“Matt. Listen to me. She said that because she didn’t think she could have you. You have ghosted every girl before her, remember?”

Matt winced. “Not every—”

“Every.”

“…Fair.”

Foggy ran a hand down his face. “You’re gonna lose her if you don’t speak up.”

Matt didn’t respond.

Because deep down, he knew it was true.

——————————————————————————————————

It started with Foggy texting you.

Which was already suspicious, because Foggy never texted first unless Matt was—

foggy: hey can you swing by the quad after class?

foggy: matt’s planning something

foggy: i’m scared :,)

Now, when someone like Foggy— sweet, unshakeable, usually-down-for-anything Foggy— is scared, you listen. You changed your route and headed toward the quad.

And promptly stopped dead in your tracks.

Because what the hell were you looking at.

Matt Murdock stood on a bench.

On a goddamn bench. In broad daylight. Holding what looked like a beat-up portable speaker above his head like he was channelling John Cusack in Say Anything.

Button-down rolled to the elbows. Hair tousled like it’d been run through about seven too many times. Foggy was standing off to the side looking like he was actively regretting every life decision that brought him here.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no.”

A group of students was already watching, phones half-raised. Matt didn’t seem to care.

You watched, frozen, as he raised a hand and cleared his throat. Actually cleared his throat. Like he was about to deliver a valedictorian speech. You saw Foggy mutter don’t do it, like a prayer.

Matt did it anyway.

“I, uh… I know this is weird,” he began, voice carrying over the quad, “but I have something to say. Something important.”

The crowd murmured. A few giggles. One guy yelled “Murdock, you proposing?” which earned a sharp shut up from someone else. Foggy, probably.

Matt ignored it. His face was dead serious. “There’s someone I’ve been an idiot about. Someone smart and stubborn and too good to waste time on someone like me. But she did anyway. She does. And if she’s here—” his head turned slightly “— I want her to know I’m sorry. And that I like her. A lot.”

You blinked.

Foggy made frantic eye contact with you from the sidelines and mouthed stop him.

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Matt continued. “I was scared, okay? I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin her. But then I realized I’d rather screw up trying to be with her than let her go without even trying. So, (Y/N),” he called, voice way too confident for a man committing this level of social suicide. “This one’s for you.”

A soft click, followed by the unmistakable synthy intro of Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.

Savage. Fucking. Garden.

You clapped a hand over your mouth.

Someone nearby went “What is happening?”

Matt? he looked hopeful.

And you— stupid, stunned, wildly endeared— were just about to take a step forward when—

Cue the sprinkler system turning on.

Every. Single. Sprinkler.

They sputtered, then blasted to life across the quad like a synchronized ambush. A collective scream rose as people scrambled away, books and phones held over heads.

Matt? Got hit square in the chest, earning a strained Jesus from him.

Foggy somewhere in the periphery muttering “I told him” like a man in mourning.

You? Soaked. Wide-eyed. Laughing.

You actually had to cover your mouth, you were laughing so hard.

Matt stepped down, water dripping from his sleeves. He looked around like he was being personally smitten by the gods. It was like the universe waited for maximum dramatic tension just to drop the punchline.

The song cut out with a strangled sputter as the speaker died a wet, heroic death. Students screamed. Matt cursed under his breath as he was immediately soaked. Foggy, who had clearly seen this coming, was already power-walking toward the nearest tree, muttering “I’m too pretty for this.”

You stood there in shock as water poured down on everyone.

And then— you burst out laughing.

You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. You doubled over, drenched, laughing so hard it echoed louder than the chaos around you.

Matt stood on the bench, blinking water from his lashes, the speaker dangling uselessly from one hand. He looked like a wet, confused puppy. A hot wet confused puppy. Weird analogy. But still.

You pushed your hair from your eyes and walked over, completely soaked.

“This was your grand romantic gesture?” you asked between giggles.

He ran a hand down his face, sopping. “It was supposed to be better.”

You looked up at him, the pathetic speaker still crackling faintly in his grip. “It was absolutely ridiculous.”

A pause.

You smiled. “It was perfect.”

Foggy squelched up behind you both. “Okay, you’ve both had your romcom moment, can I go home now? My socks are... squishy.”

Matt turned to him, still trying to catch his breath. “Thanks for… whatever part you played in this.”

“I want that thank you in writing,” Foggy muttered. “And a refund for emotional distress.”

You turned back to Matt.

“Do I get to keep the boombox?”

He grinned. “It’s mostly water now. But sure.”

You took a slow step closer. “So… boyfriend material yet?”

He reached out— careful, gentle— and brushed a piece of wet hair behind your ear. “Getting there.”

And then you kissed him.

In the middle of the quad. Soaked to the bone. Surrounded by students who definitely started applauding and whistling, because of course they did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Foggy just shook his head.

“Seriously. I hate you both.”

You smiled at him. “Love you too, Fog.”

And Matt?

Well, he didn’t run.

Not this time.

a/n: alright so the fic took a detour from what i had originally planned, it was going to be angst, reader was going to be fwb with matt, and well it's a whole thing, a lot of changes happened but i didn't change the title because well i got attached. i know it doesn't really make sense now with how the story turned out, but i'm leaving it in the story anyway, hope you liked it!

[emichanted]

Hello hello! Could we please get some headcanons about Atsushi, Kunikida and Dazai(ADA) having a crush on reader that's part of the mafia?

➷ Hearts In Rivalry

Synopsis: Dazai, Kunikida & Atsushi fall in love with the PortMafia!Reader.(All seperate)

Contains: slightly OOC characters, talk of Dazai's "jokes" (double su!c!de). NOT PROOFREAD!!

A/N: thank you so much for this request! I love writing anything for my babygirl Kunikida hshdgd <3

Kunikida:

Kunikida is initially conflicted about his feelings because of the rivalry between the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia. He admires your strength and determination but struggles with the idea of being involved with someone from the enemy side.

He often finds himself stealing glances at you during missions, noting how effortlessly you handle tough situations. He might even catch himself daydreaming about what it would be like if you were on the same side.

Curses himself when he realises his feelings as it goes against his ideals.

Kunikida isn't really a words person, he'd rather buy you a cup of coffe after a long day of work than say anything out loud.

He values your intelligence and would often ask you for your opinion on strategies whenever the ADA and PM have to work together.

When he finally admits his feelings, it’s during a serious fight, where he cannot risk either of you... (He doesn't want to think about it)... Before you find out how he feels for you.

Dazai:

Dazai would playfully flirt with you, using his charm and wit to get your attention. He enjoys the thrill of interacting with someone from the Port Mafia, seeing it as a challenge.

He often teases you about your role in the Mafia, making light of the situation to mask his deeper feelings. However, his playful demeanor hides a genuine admiration for your skills and independence.

He often asks you questions about life in the PM, even though he's been in it before, just to be able to have a conversation with you. (And he is kind of curious how much it's changed since he left.)

Dazai might go out of his way to create situations where the two of you end up alone, using his cunning to manipulate circumstances. He enjoys the idea of being your ‘hero’ even if it’s just for a moment.

Always makes jokes about committing together, earning a confused and worried look from you. You can never tell if he's joking or not, but he won't tell you that either.

When he confesses, it is dramatic, during a tense moment where he risks his life to save you, making it clear that you mean more to him than just a game.

Atsushi:

Atsushi would be shy and nervous around you, often fumbling his words or blushing when you’re near.

He admires your strength and confidence, feeling a bit insecure about himself in comparison.

He might try to impress you by showcasing his abilities, hoping to prove that he can be just as strong and capable, even if he’s on the opposite side.

Atsushi would be very supportive, always ready to help you out with any challenges you face, whether in the Mafia or personal matters.

He's just a little kind cutie and wants to help you. So what if you're his "enemy"?

When he finally gathers the courage to confess, it's heartfelt and sincere. He asked you to meet with him somewhere peaceful and quiet, and pours his heart out to you, hoping you might return even just a sliver of his feelings.

A/N: KUNIKIDAAAA (I'm so normal about him I swear) I love my man SM old it hurts my bedroom is full of his merch 😭🙏

But anyway I hope this was to your liking, I definitely had fun writing this !! :3

Masterlist.

[jjwolves]

What do you think ena or her coworkers would think of a reader being really strong? like, theyve defeated bosses or boss like entitys before?

TEST YOUR MIGHT ════ ⋆★⋆ ═════

What: 5 Headcanons of The Hub Coworkers & A Very Strong Reader

Who: ENA the Worker, Froggy, Coral Glasses and Dratula from ENA Dream BBQ

How Much: ~900 Words, ~4 Mins

Credits: Image Banner -> JoelG, Divider -> @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Warnings: None

You’re a bit of a powerhouse. You can do incredible things that others usually aren’t capable of—tying blood rivers into knots, sidestepping acid rain before you get burned and chopping through titanium gumball machines with your hands. During your interview, Froggy briefs you on your work target: the Boss. It seems the goal of today is to aim for the gut. You say OK, no problem. Point the way and pay me. Froggy seems taken aback. “Well, you’re definitely confident! But it’s no easy task. Listen, listen, it’s good to be eager, but the Boss is really strong!” You shrug. The Boss sounds about as strong as an Archon or Hypervisor. Different names, same things. Froggy is baffled, before relenting and saying that he “needs to make a phone call”. He walks in circles and pretends to deliberate before hiring you on the spot.

It’s not long before your other coworkers pick up on your abilities, even if you try to keep them on the down-low. At one point, you and ENA were sent out on a mission to retrieve coordinates, wandering through a gloomy city made out of churches leaking black water into the streets. ENA attempts to flick an ancient lever which should open the old steel gates you need to pass. They don’t budge. “Stupid lever, work already! I’ll eat your cogs, under-manufactured trash!” You nudge ENA inside and punch a hole through the gate, tearing it open into an improvised entrance. “Oh my! You’re quite the economic superpower. Thank you for the assistance, brave beast!” ENA seems a little wiry standing next to you, but later on, when she unsheathes her fan and slices a clock spirit into ribbons, you see a warrior. Like you.

You hadn’t known that Dratula was on your side as an informant. The pointy ears and claws made him seem monstrous—maybe he was sent by the Boss! You kicked into action when you saw him tell Coral Glasses something pretty incriminating: “I AM DRATULA! I AM THE BOSS!” Immediately, you were on him, grabbing his ears so you could fold him into a square like laundry. “NO! I AM DRATULA! UNHAND ME! YOU’RE GOINK TO HURT MY SECRETS!” There wasn’t much the supposed vampire could do besides use his face to note down an expression of surprise. Coral Glasses shied away from the bloody spectacle which was about to unfold in order to shake Froggy’s arm and hope that he would do something. Froggy stared on before remembering that he needed his sole source of intel alive. “Hey, hey, wait up! Leave him alone for now. We can get back to this once we find the Boss!”

Coral Glasses takes diligent notes of all of the ways you could help defeat the boss. She asks, you answer—it’s like a second interview. A few forms are printed out of her head and she begins diligently recording your answers in the spaces. “Could you aim for the gut with a cannon, perhaps?” Yes, you could do that. “How good are you in foot to mouth combat?” You were decent at it. Fortunately. Or unfortunately. Finally, she nervously peeks out over the top of the forms for her final question. “Would you win?” You hesitate before answering. Probably. She gives a neutral hum and goes to sort the paperwork somewhere. ENA spins over to you in a swivel chair, doing her best ‘color tornado’ impression. “How about terminating the boss by throwing paperclips at him? We have a surplus.” They’d have to be pretty sharp paperclips. “Maybe we could use a deluxe one!” What, like a giant one? Seems impractical to you. “Well then YOU come up with an office weapon, smartass!” You already did. You hand her two letter openers chained together like nunchucks and she’s already appraising them like you just handed her a bargain. You call it a chain letter. “I like the way you think! Positively barbaric! You’re hired!” You were already hired, but you graciously accept.

One night (or however time worked here) you and your coworkers all went out for drinks. And by drinks, of course, they meant bottles full of artifacting snowflakes bouncing around the inside like TV screensavers. It wasn’t long before ENA was drunkenly alternating between slurring buzzwords and yelling at the bartender, who kept a straight face (which wasn’t very difficult, as he was a faceless egg who had yet to hatch). Coral Glasses was breathless, laughing at everything like she had heard the joke that clowns hear from angels upon achieving holy initiation. You were still drinking and yet to be affected. The Receptionist was complaining that the cheap swill was freezing up her beautiful joints. Froggy was feeling the effects a bit, it seemed, but he was holding up OK, all things considered. “To the muscle of the group,” he said, to which monochrome sleeves, red mitten-hands and costumed arms raised unsteady winter glasses to the new hire. Everyone took another swig. A little later, Froggy scooched over to you and admitted something. “Hey. I just wanted to thank you. Everyone’s seemed a little grave looking towards our main mission. But I feel like they’ve been a lot more at ease with you around. Me included. So, thanks for all the help.” You patted him on the back. Your work was never done, but you were glad to help in the end. These people were worth it.

[moonastro]

groom persona chart

mercury in the house

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

mercury represents and embodies ones ability to communicate, express themselves and knowledge. in the GPC it can determine how the husband will communicate with you and how he may express himself with words and knowledge.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

mercury in 1st house: the fs may speak their mind and tend to talk about themselves often even if other people dont realise it. can come across as blunt, rough and passionate when expressing themselves. can have dominant facial expressions when talking and therefore it is easy to distinguish what they are feeling or thinking because their face can really tell a picture. fs can communicate with full leader mode meaning that they may like to lead or start conversations with people. they surely know what to say and speak with confidence even if what they are saying may not be entirely true.

mercury in 2nd house: fs may come across as sensual, slow and steady with their words. can have a very aesthetically pleasing tone of voice and the style of their voice can be beautiful. this is a placement where the fs has all ears on him. can hum and whistle quite often to express themselves. usually fs can like to refer back to memories they had in the past and talk about the littlest details about it. fs communicates well in comfort places such as the home or their favourite hang out area or just somewhere that brings them peace and security.

mercury in 3rd house: the way that the fs can communicate is quite easy going and childish like. this doesn't mean anything bad but just means that when they are comfortable around you they will show their laid back personality. can aften joke around with their words and not be serious, can joke around a lot either with their actions or with their words. can be the person to speak their mind and be quite upfront with their words. may tend to speak quicker and just love chatting away with other people. fs can also communicate while changing subjects often which can be confusing at times i reckon. as the saying goes that the mind works faster than their mouth so they may be like ten conversations ahead in their head than what you may be talking about.

mercury in 4th house: often the fs can really deeply be affected by words of other people or the other way around, their words can affect others. fs can talk in a nurturing, caring and attentive form. usually their words can move others and develop trust quickly. fs can keep in contact with their relatives often and may have an attachment to his family and can be in good terms with them. fs can communicate by resonating your experiences with theirs in order for you to not feel bad or upset. they like to take things very seriously and personally so they can tend to also not lie as much. they see emotions as something serious so if you tend to joke about your feelings they may get very concerned.

mercury in 5th house: the entire vocab of your fs can be full of fun and enlighten energy, they have a way of boosting other peoples moods with their words. can tend to have luck with expressing themselves and will most likely attract attention and receive help when feeling off. fs can help people when expressing themselves and is someone who makes other people feel relatable and comfortable around them so people can usually talk freely and comfortably with your fs. fs communicates with a positive energy and that makes them have an audience and make other people just watch them speak for hours. thats how entertaining they are.

mercury in 6th house: often the way the fs can express themselves is by taking care of themselves. they aren't the ones to use much of vulgar words but often times may try to fix situations even the ones that they have no place to be involved in. can come across as neat, sensible and organised with their use of words which can usually make a lot of people understand them more. fs can communicate with lots of focus and with lots of observing so that can make them appear distracted because they are also focusing on what is going on around them.

mercury in 7th house: fs can have a soft but frank way of speaking. they tend to not lie and usually dislike liars in general. are very approachable with their speech and can attract people from their way of speaking. the fs may like to defend themselves a lot and can overthink way too much than needed. can communicate fairly and reasonably, meaning that he will give the chance for you to address your concerns as well as speak his own opinion. will try to constantly be respectable of your boundaries and not go too far.

mercury in 8th house: usually the fs can use a lot of vulgarity in their conversations and aren't afraid to address topics that may be viewed as closed off. can hold their silence well and may speak according to the vibe meaning that they can sense when it is or is not the right time to speak. fs can communicate very deeply with you and may include intense eye contact, deep attentiveness and intense responses. are really more of a listener than a speaker and will have a way for others to keep speaking. this is where manipulation can take place, they can ask lots of questions about people and yourself included which can be targeted in order for you or others to keep talking. thats how they can get a hold of secrets easily.

mercury in 9th house: the fs can speak with big words and can change their way of speaking often depending on the day. can make a person really think and wonder when they open their mouths and say something. can have a very smart way of expressing themselves and may be seen as someone who had many trials in life with the amount of maturity and wisdom they bring to the function. fs can communicate with authority and may speak with great confidence and certainty when speaking and sharing something that they are interested in. they will surely share their interests with you in a way of spreading something fun that they enjoy doing so you can have something fun to do too.

mercury in 10th house: fs will have some uncertainties when it comes to expressing themselves, they like to get to the point and not waste their time dilly dallying with their time. they can present themselves to be blunt and straightforward which can make them easily misunderstood. they tend to be more serious when they are talking and are the ones who will joke around with their actions rather than with their words. fs may take things to heart easily and be quite naïve. communication comes when is needed or rather when the surrounding is professional, but nonetheless are very good with remembering and obtaining knowledge about other people.

mercury in 11th house: fs may like talking to groups of people and tend to be confident in their speech. they like chatting with their friends and people closest to them. their way of speaking consists of being themselves Infront of others, being expressive with their hands and they tend to be ones who talk well but may not be the best at listening, they can forget easily or just dont attentively listen due to thinking about other things in their head. fs communicates irregularly and can change their way of speaking often which can make people or yourself think that it is your fault but it is not thats just how they are.

mercury in 12th house: this is a very clear indication of your husband speaking foreign tongue which means that they can be from overseas. can be quite creative with their words and can often surprise people with their hidden or locked away knowledge. can also be very soft spoken and can rarely raise their voice unless absolutely necessary. usually fs can address the slightest things even if you are having an off day, they realise and notice the shift in energy and make sure to address it. fs communicates with feeling, illusion and attachment that can make people think that there is something between them when there's actually not and thats just how they are. can bring delusion when in fact the fs can not think anything of it and misleads others without knowing.

thank you for reading <<33

[im-not-a-ghost]

The way you make me feel ~

Images found on Pinterest. Deck used : golden thread tarot. Reading written from their POV.

Group 1

Hermit, Temperance, Queen of pentacles, The Magician, knight of pentacles, ace of pentacles

You make me feel safe. Cared for. Loved in ways I never thought were possible. Nurtured. Understood. Appreciated, not only because of my work or my wealth but solely for who I am as a person. You make me feel strong. Like the world is at the tip of my fingers and all I got to do is to reach further to make my wildest dreams come true. You make me feel strong. Determined. Wise. With you, everything seems so simple. So bright and warm. You make me feel like time has stopped and it's just the two of us. I feel like I am in a bubble. A cozy cocoon that was made just for me. I feel like I belong somewhere. Like finally, after so many trials and errors, I get to be rewarded. I feel so blessed to have you in my life. I still wonder how all of this is possible. You make me want to believe in magic again. I feel like I'm walking on a line, perfectly balanced and at peace with myself, reassured by the thought that whatever I decide to do, whichever way I decide to go, you'll be there to catch me if I fall. Like you'll always follow me and never leave my side. I feel so happy I could cry. You make me feel like everything is possible and nothing can stop me from my success. I feel invicible with you by my side. You make me want to believe in myself and move forward with my head held high, slowly but surely, at my own pace, on my own terms. With you I feel secure, confident in my ability to create a life I can be proud of, to embody a person that people can look up to with respect in their eyes. You make me feel grand, so much bigger than I am. You bring so much in my life that I don't know how I could ever thank you. In your presence, I feel like I am given a second chance at life. Like my time has come and I can be born again.

Group 2

10 of swords, 4 of wands, Temperance, 9 of pentacles, Hanged man, ace of wands

You make me feel puzzled. I don't know if I should be mad at you or adore you. You get on my nerves and yet you make me so proud. With you I feel like I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I don't feel as lonely as I used to be. I feel like I can hope for a better future than what I've been handed so far. I feel like I can overcome my fears and face any obstacle coming my way. Like I am worthy of love and interest. I feel alive again. I feel hopeful about the future and inspired to move forward. My creativity has rocketed. I feel triggered. Like everything I thought I knew is complete BS and that honestly shakes me and upsets me in a way. I feel like I have to start all over again, like my work wasn't enough and as good as I thought it was. You make me feel like focusing on myself and taking care of my own goals isn't as bad as it sounds. That I too am capable of creating a reality I can be proud of. Like my unique perception of life and lonely nature can actually be an asset and a driving force. You give me the courage to face my demons and be a better person. You make me feel like I can tip the scales in my favor and change the course of action. Like life isn't as harsh and bad as I thought it was. Like I can be whole again and enjoy the pleasures this world has to offer. You make me feel bold and curious again. You make me want to celebrate and have fun, to shift my perspective and learn. You challenge me. And as much as that confuses me that also sets me free. I'm not sure why or how you do this but I thank you for the clarity you bring into my life.

Group 3

Empress, 8 of pentacles, 8 of cups, High Priestess, 9 of pentacles, 10 of swords

You make me feel whole. Worthy of love and attention. Beautiful. Valuable. You make me feel powerful and important. Like all the worries in the world are nothing for I am stronger than this. With you I feel like there will never be a day where I feel sad again. Like I can tackle anything and turn dust into gold. You make me feel fearless. With you, the dark and sorrow don't sound as scary as they once were. You make me feel like my despair is over. Like my prayers have finally been answered. But I also feel scared. Scared that my depth and darkness will have a repelling effect on you. I fear that the more I grow, the more chances I have of losing you. You make me feel attractive. You make me want to love myself more and work harder to be a version of myself I will adore. You make me feel human. For the first time in my life I feel like I don't have to apologize for who I am. You make me feel understood, seen and appreciated. With you I feel protected. I feel like sadness can no longer hold me down. You make me want to reach higher heights and set higher goals, to prove everyone how wrong they were of underestimating me. You make me want to fight. You make me feel like I can own the world. Like I can finally stand in my power and embrace the entirety of my being without shame nor fear. You make me feel brand new, like I am reborn, like I have everything to gain and nothing to lose. You make me want to go beyond my limits and transform my being, to heal my wounds and move on once and for all from my past. I can't find the words to describe how much this means to me.

[yuesya]

There is a soft twang, the sharp pluck of a biwa’s strings, and then Hatengu finds himself falling.

Falling, falling, falling–

The impact of cold wooden floorboards against his back is sharp and jarring. Startling for its suddenness, but not painful. Few things aside from the blades of demon slayers and the blood arts of fellow demons were capable of inflicting pain upon Hatengu–

Yet there is an almost reflexive yelp that escapes his lips all the same; timidity is part of his very nature, after all.

There are few demons who share Hatengu’s personality. Most of them take confidence in the powerful abilities granted to them as demonkind, yet somehow Hatengu has never quite been able to bring himself to share that mindset. Fear had been a constant emotion that accompanied him back when he’d still been human, and even after so many long years… it’s not been something that Hatengu has ever been able to shake off entirely.

And now, this fear is stronger than ever.

Hatengu hurriedly scrambles onto his knees, then presses his head to the ground, trembling.

Lord Muzan is the great and fearsome master of demons. Proper deference and respect must be shown, lest they incur their master’s displeasure.

Hatengu does not know why he’s been suddenly summoned to the master’s Infinity Fortress. It makes him ill at ease, for it is rare that Lord Muzan gathers his Upper Moons, oftentimes decades passing without so much as a single summons, and yet the last time Hatengu had been gathered with his fellows had been merely two months ago.

Two months ago, when Akaza died.

Useless, Lord Muzan had called them, and Hatengu had been able to do nothing but cower on the ground in front of his master’s terrible ire. To be summoned again so soon, what would the master be–

“Gyutaro and Douma are both dead.”

… What?

For a moment, Hatengu is paralyzed from shock.

“I dismantled the Lower Moons for being weak and useless enough to constantly get themselves killed by upstart demon slayers. I didn’t realize that my Upper Moons would also disappoint me like this.” Lord Muzan’s voice is threaded through with displeasure and irritation. Both emotions that make Hatengu tremble, for he knows that the master’s ire is directed towards his Upper Moons. “And so soon after I had already given you all my first warning, too.”

Gyutaro and Douma are both dead? How?! Gyutaro might be the weakest of the Upper Moons, but Douma is Upper Moon Two!

“We apologize for disappointing you, my lord…” The quiet voice of Upper Moon One drifts over from somewhere above Hatengu. “Like Akaza… they failed to live up to your expectations.”

“I’m beginning to discover that all of my expectations for you demons are worthless,” Lord Muzan’s voice cracks through the air like a whip. Sharp, stinging. “None of you are able to resist the sunlight, none of you are able to stamp out the annoyance that is the so-called ‘Demon Slayer Corps’… and now even you Upper Moons are getting yourselves killed left and right. Remind me, why do I permit you to even exist?”

The master’s dread wrath is a terrible, terrible thing. Hatengu shudders, and presses himself closer to the ground.

“We exist at your mercy, my lord,” Kokushibo responds sedately. Oh, how Hatengu wishes that he had even a modicum of Upper Moon One’s unwavering calm –but it is all he can do to not dissolve into a graceless, blubbering heap begging for forgiveness in this moment. “If I may be permitted to ask… is this the work of the same demon slayer who killed Akaza?”

“It was a group of demon slayers who worked together to kill the two of them,” Lord Muzan answers irritably. “… And yes. That girl was one of them.”

“I understand,” Kokushibo bows his head. “If it pleases you, Lord Muzan, shall I bring you her head?”

“What do I care for the heads of demon slayers?” Anger lurks beneath those words. “You could bring me a hundred heads, and it wouldn’t matter. As long as the Ubuyashiki line lives, they and their demon slayers will continue to exist as a thorn in my side. But none of you are able to find them, are you?”

“Many apologies, my lord. The Ubuyashiki family is skilled at hiding themselves…”

“My lord!” A new voice suddenly bursts out. Hatengu recognizes it –that’s Upper Moon Five, Gyokko. “My lord, I have found a credible lead to where the Ubuyashiki family has hidden themselves! Oh yes, I have–”

Gyokko’s voice cuts off into silence.

Hatengu jerks up, glancing towards where his fellow Upper Moon had once sat–

–and there is nothing but a half-empty vase, with a torn-open neck that’s bleeding.

Gyokko’s head is gone.

Why is Gyokko’s head gone?

…

… oh. Lord Muzan is holding Gyokko’s head.

“I am already displeased by recent events. Don’t give me information that you haven’t even confirmed yet,” Lord Muzan says coldly, then releases Gyokko’s bleeding head. It drops onto the ground with a wet thud, rolling to a stop right next to the vase that Gyokko so favors. “… One month. In one month, if my Upper Moons don’t bring me any visible results, then there will be no Upper Moons. Is that understood?”

[sunarots]

bed chem ━━━ iwaizumi hajime

12. guessing game ♡

Iwaizumi isn’t sure of how many people have come and gone from his apartment anymore. He’s greeted people he doesn’t even recognise and has had probably a bit too much to drink considering he planned to practice with you tomorrow afternoon.

God, practice.

Part of him isn’t even sure why he agreed to help you. He can’t keep a beat, doesn’t know any terminology and you hate his guts. On top of that, the only thing he’s confident in his ability to do is lift you over his head. Maybe not whilst skating, but he can work on that. All he can think about is how you don’t trust him.

That’s why he invited you tonight. He intended for it to be a quiet night with the team, Oikawa and you. Of course, someone went and let it slip that he was having people over and, within ten minutes, a game night turned into a rager for the whole of the school.

Worst part, he’s not even been able to greet you. He’s been stuck on the couch with Mattsun on his right, making out with his ex-girlfriend, and Oikawa on his left, who looks like he’s about break the beer bottle in his hand over the conversation some girl started with him.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried to get up. Every time he does, someone stops him. I’ll get you a drink. Want a snack? Oh my god, how are you!

It’s fucking endless. All he wanted was a chance to show you that he’s a great person — and that’s not even his ego showing. He knows he has his moments, but he’s a generally nice person. He keeps to himself, doesn’t get in trouble, has decent grades and a good reputation. What’s not to like?

Okay, sure. Maybe he could have been nicer to you. But, in his defence, you weren’t exactly a bucket of sunshine and rainbows, either. You looked like you were going to shove the stick up his ass from the moment you sat on that bench with Akaashi.

As if on queue, Bokuto’s boisterous greeting brings out a loud ripple of cheers from the guests. He laughs at something before his voice gets lost in the crowd again.

Was that you just arriving? It’s almost midnight. There’s no way the three of you were pregaming until now, right..? Right?

Iwaizumi takes the opportunity to slip from his seat, choosing to ignore Oikawa asking for a top up. This is his chance to greet you. To make a new impression on you.

He pushes through a sea of unfamiliar faces to reach his kitchen, plowing through the get a drink from the island. When Bokuto calls to him, he acts surprised, pretending he didn’t see or hear him beforehand.

“Hey, hey! This party is huge! There’s some guy puking outside!” Bokuto starts laughing, pointing the door and almost knocking a drink out of someone’s hand without noticing.

“As long as it’s outside or in the toilet, I don’t care.” Iwaizumi flashes a smile and turns to you, praying it comes off as nonchalant. “I’m glad you came! What are you drinking?” He’s not certain that you heard him, eyes staring blankly at his face with a finger twirling your hair. “Are you drinking?”

You straighten up and shake your head. “Wait, what? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Akaashi and Bokuto have vanished from Iwaizumi’s view, but Bokuto is still in earshot. He can’t help the concern slipping out into his voice when he asks, “Are you okay?”

You think about your answer before shrugging your shoulders, gesturing to a cup. “I feel funny.”

“Funny sick?”

Instantly, you shake your head. “No, just… Funny. Off.”

“Do you want to sit for a bit? I’ll get you a water and take you somewhere private.” Iwaizumi’s moving before he can stop himself. His cup has been set by the side of the sink as he fills up his bottle with water.

When he turns around, you’re staring back at him with your eyes wide and cheeks burning red. “Are you okay? You look flushed, is it too hot in here?”

You shrug your shoulders, glancing around the room. “A bit…”

He picks up his drink and passes you the bottle, only now noticing the plastic bag in your left hand filled with different types of alcohol. He doesn’t comment on it, simply guiding you away from the crowded kitchen and into his empty bedroom. Turning on the light, he waits for you to enter before closing the door.

Your eyes scan across the room, taking everything in. His bed pushed into the far corner facing a small TV screen atop his dresser. Posters of professional hockey teams scatter the walls, with smaller band posters among them. On his bedside table sits a picture of him that catches your eye. You set down the bottle bag beside the door and stagger over to take a look at it.

It’s him and Oikawa from when they were kids, sat in front of their junior high team with wide smiles and a large trophy. It was the first time they had placed on the podium, and he vowed that he’d place every year. He has.

You put it back abruptly to its original position before looking around the room again. You pull out his desk chair and take a seat in it, swivelling to face him after. You take frequent sips from the water in your hand.

Iwaizumi rubs the back of his neck and glances between his bed and the door. Anxiously, he steps towards his bed and takes a seat on the edge facing you.

“You did invite me, right? That was a real invite?” Your words slur together as you speak. When you finish talking, you go back to sipping on the water.

There’s a furrow in his eyebrows, he can feel it. “Of course. I wanted to get to know you. Show you that you can trust me.”

“Show me?”

“Yeah. Actions speak louder than words.”

Your cheeks go red again, teeth biting into the soft mouthpiece of the bottle without thinking. “So, you don’t hate me?”

“Hate you? I don’t know you. I don’t hate people I don’t know. I like people I don’t know because I don’t know who they are.” He shrugs his shoulders, taking a long drink from his cup.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It’s a comfortable one; neither of you feel the need to speak. When Iwaizumi finishes the drink in his hands, you say, “You can help yourself to the drinks I brought. They were for you.”

“For me?” Iwaizumi’s eyes drift to the bag. “Really?”

You nod even though he’s not looking at you. “I wanted you to like me…”

The realisation hits Iwaizumi like a truck. You’ve been thinking the exact same thing he has. Both of you just wanted to be… liked.

There’s a smile that starts playing on his lips as he approaches the bag discarded by the door. He pulls it over and sets it on the floor by his feet. “Do you want a drink?” He looks up in time to catch you shrugging your shoulders, still chewing on the bottle.

“Can I lie down?”

Nodding, Iwaizumi gestures towards the bed before turning back to the half-full bottle of vodka. He quickly tops it up with some lemonade before turning around to face you. “I promise, that I…”

You’re lying unconscious on his bed, curled up in a ball with his bottle in your arms. There’s soft snores coming out of your mouth, dead to the outside world.

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when an unfortunate incident kicks you out of your university and risks your reputation as one of the top figures skater in the country, you find your place in sendai. but when you discover they only have one rink, designated to their a-league hockey team, your chance at a comeback slips from your grasp. your only in is with the captain of the hockey team. the issue with that? he couldn’t care less who you are.

taglist (47/50). @standcom @thoughtswithbbg @aboutkiyoomi @angtopia @yunavx @celestialm1nd @surfeitstar @xiaoquanquans @istann @aldebrana @mdmraz @softpia @wakashudou @mo072806 @90s-belladonna @rrosiitas @suuunarin @chaotic-neutral-ig @nanasrkives @hrithi11 @itsdragonius @sexylexy12 @0rangej0e @wordsofelie @p4lli @a-sorrowful-tune @iluv-ace @matt444nixi @charleslec-airlines @meekydeeks @amterasuu @rabbitcola @sickpatientt @sophiahearttss @himec @torkorpse @nscuit @labsbedamned @iloveiwaizumihajime @snoowply @followingmysunsposts @navymacaroons @lover-no-lover61 @shozuken @sunaispretty @luvvcho @idexmids @luckybibucky @h3xi2g0n3

[seraphdesire]

Regarding Donna Beneviento and her characterisation in the fandom, I think it's important to note that she really isn't the shy awkward adorable blushing mess that everyone depicts her as being.

This got long but I did a mildly extensive read on her character under the break! :)

Here are the notes I took a screencap of, written by Mother Miranda, which talks about the suitability of Donna being a vessel for Eva:

There's the evidence you need that she is severely mentally ill, so babying her just feels... wrong anyway, all things considered.

Note - "and has divided her Cadou among her dolls in order to control them from a distance." While I'm on my 3rd replay of re8 I still don't fully get how the Cadou works, but what I think is essentially happening is Donna is literally splitting off parts of herself and putting them in her dolls.

The main one being Angie, of course.

I always used to consider Angie a separate character entirely but she's linked deeply to Donna on a very personal level. Considering what she's like and what all the other dolls are like - loud, funny, sarcastic, rude, etc - and how Donna is literally the one directly controlling Angie (that's the only way she moves lol, because Donna is carrying her places. Which is also why, when you kill Angie, the illusion melts away to reveal that you've actually killed Donna), I think it's safe to say that's what her actual personality is like.

Also, her only spoken line of dialogue? Please listen to it. For those who are hard of hearing, like me, she says: "don't leave... I can't let you."

Bearing in mind the way she speaks? Her tone? She sounds confident imo. Determined. And perhaps even a little angry at Ethan for thinking he can escape her.

Just a last addition as well, can I say that her abilities as one of the Four Lourds is genuinely evil? Everyone else has physical intimidation - Alcina has her height and her claws and mutation, Heisenberg has his ability to control magnetic fields and metal, and Moreau can mutate into that huge fish-with-legs thing that vomits something akin to acid? Oh yeah and he can swallow you whole too.

Donna, on the other hand, doesn't have physical intimidation like that. She only has the threat of psychological damage (which makes sense considering she's severely mentally unwell). When Ethan goes through her gardens and has to solve the puzzles in the house, she makes him hallucinate about his wife whom he thinks is dead, and about his baby who is somewhere in this unknown country with a bunch of mutants who only have bad intentions.

It's even worse in the Shadows of Rose DLC imo. As Rose, Donna makes her hallucinate the bullies from back home, being called a freak and a weirdo, made to relive the worst moments of her life. And the puzzles too? Hell. Having to actually recreate the scenes of her bullying with wooden fucking dolls. I remember feeling really sorry for Rose while playing through that part.

And yet Donna is still "the uwu baby" because what? I don't know. People love to declaw female villains just because they're attractive (looking at Lady Dimitrescu here). They love to reduce the characters down to their looks and not consider their actual lore or background or the role they play in the franchise (looking at Leon especially...)

Which, ya know, of course people are allowed their headcanons for characters and Donna doesn't get enough screentime to really have her personality even thought of, let alone to be made canon. But I think it's fair to say that Angie and Donna are basically one and the same because they're literally the same Cadou.

This is a quick reminder that you are, of course, allowed to disagree with me. Everyone has their own opinions and that's fine. If you would like to politely debate about this in my comments or in my DMs, or even in my asks, then you're more than welcome to! Please remember debating and arguing are two different things though.

If it really irks you that bad then please scroll, it's not hard. If you don't want to do that then feel free to block me - the button is free of charge after all and should be used more to cultivate your feed to your liking.