smollilbeano

[smollilbeano]

Hi there! Big fan of your primarch fanfic, and I have a Guilliman request. (Because I am obsessed with this man.) I would love a Guilliman + FemReader fic where our favorite calm, reserved primarch goes FERAL after seeing his lover hurt or threatened. Bonus points if said lover finds it surprisingly sexy and NSFW times result. Thank you!

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: therhxkffkfkfkf I love angry Primarchs

Relationships: Roboute Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: I didn’t do full nsfw but it is sort of handsy and lewd, I just thought it flowed better I hope it’s saucy enough for you, Groping, Grinding

Guilliman's boots touch the planet's surface, and he hears his men follow moments after. They had insisted they follow him, and he allowed it only if they wouldn't slow him down. He'd leave them behind if they did.

"Lady Guilliman is in a separate part of the fortress with her retinue,” An Ultramarine says, keeping up with his strides. “They've already cleared a good portion of the area. They said she was hit with some shrapnel, but she insists she's fine. They agree it's a just a flesh wound."

To hear that negotiations had dissolved into a firefight had been nothing short of a nightmare. He knows his men will have no issue with this, but he fears a stray bolter round nicking your much softer skin, or something worse.

"Where is the instigator of all of this."

His men exert slightly more effort that usual to keep up with Guilliman's enraged strides, a few bolter shots being fired for cover as he walks without a care.

"The planet's high lords? They've apparently barricaded themself at the top of the fortress with antitank weaponry. The men were focused on securing the area before pursuing them given that they’ve trapped themselves." Guilliman knows that's the correct choice; However in the blinding fire of his anger he doesn't care in the slightest.

"We are going up there. I'm going to rip them apart."

One of his men looks up at him with a furrowed, confused brow, but doesn't comment; Guilliman notices. He supposes the anger he's feeling is foreign to them. Perhaps if he was injured, they might feel something close to what he is feeling, though still abit different.

Guilliman storms through the massive fortress with little issue, stomping out leftover, separated groups of enemy forces along the way. While equipped with strong firepower they were at the end of the day baseline humans, and stood no chance against not only Astartes, but a primarch.

Once Guilliman arrived at the peak of the fortress where the high lords were hiding, including the one who had instigated this by shooting directly at you, Guilliman barged in with little care.

The High Lords were absolutely horrified, stuck like fish in a barrel with a primarch and three of his astartes. They presumably hadn’t expected the primarch to care so deeply about one person, willing to tear everything asunder just for them.

"You are all going to pay for what you've done to her. Now you get me."

Guilliman’s return to you was more than a blessing, after so much chaos. While logically the denizens of this planet stood no chance against the Ultramarines, the fear of being still hit by something and killed was always present.

Afterall you had already been nicked by some shrapnel, but the cut had largely stopped bleeding by now.

Guilliman turns to his men as he enters. Not before quickly approaching you however, silently looking you over before picking you up into his arms.

“You know your orders. Let us conclude this mess.”

They give him respectful nods and take their leave, ready to do the work they were made for.

You however are taken by Guilliman and guided back to a thunderhawk, one that brings you back to the Macgragge’s Honour within what feels like moments. It’s deathly silent the entire time, and you can feel Guilliman fuming. His anger fills the air, mixed with the intensity of a primarch aura that can make most falter.

He fumes and boils in his armor the entire time he pushes you towards his study, which surprises you. You would’ve thought he’d send you right to the apothecary, but perhaps he doesn’t see the need. You don’t either, the cut isn’t even bad enough to need sealing or bandaging.

The moment he closes the door you feel his emotions bubble over, watching him clench his fists tight as he punches the wall. It gives way underneath his fist.

“They think themselves strong enough to try and attack m-“ Guilliman stops himself, turning to you.

There’s a small smattering of blood on his cheek and the collar of his chestplate. You feel your heart skip a beat, and not for the reasons you might assume.

“Your heart; Are you afraid still? I… That wasn’t my intention.”

Guilliman hesitates. The last thing he would want is to make you fear him the way so many others so. Primarch voices are loud and his stature in full armor looms over everyone else in the room like-

Guilliman pays more attention and realizes that your breathing is also heavier, your face looks warm, and you can’t look him in the eyes. You look at his chestplate instead of his face, hands wringing. Had it been just these clues, Guilliman might not have figured it out, but when he smells the lightest, sweet scent that he finds oh so familiar, one that he’d also smelled in the Thunderhawk but brushed it away as nothing, he realizes why you’re so flighty.

You weren’t just scared, you were also aroused. By him.

Guilliman had recently learned that you enjoy it when he throws his weight around with you; When he pushes you down, pulls at you, throws you onto your shared bed. But he hasn’t realized that his angry, defensive nature might also trigger this in you, and make you silently beg for him even so soon after you had been in danger.

Perhaps it’s his innate speed, but it feels like a blink before he throws you onto his desk and places his hands on either side of your body. His lips smash against yours, your back arching as your own hands grip the collar of his armor.

“Robout-“

His kisses are so rough and demanding, you can already feel your lips becoming puffy and well kissed only moments later. His tongue brushes along your bottom lip, as one of his hands moves to grab your thigh. He pulls it away to force your legs to part, giving your to press that same armored hand against your clothed sex.

The unyielding feeling of his cold armor so suddenly against you makes you hips writhe, trying to push harder against it. Guilliman can feel you mewl in his mouth, hot breath fanning across his skin.

He didn’t know how to feel about how his aggression, his protection, makes you so wet and wanting for him, but he knows he can’t deny the way it makes his cock painfully throb against his own unyielding armor.

“You enjoy this too much,” He growls against your lips, pushing his fingers and palm harder against your cunt through the fabric of your clothing and listening to you cry for more. With how large his hand is, he can cup the entirely of your clothes cunt with ease. “So many are afraid of a Primarch’s anger, but you…”

The desk creaks underneath his hand, teeth catching your lip roughly between his teeth as your legs kick uselessly. Everything feels so cold against you even through your clothing; His armor, the desk, the air. You can’t stop the way you shiver.

But you still want more, your cunt throbs tensing around nothing and yearning for him to fill you the way only he can. Your hands pull at his armor, unable to move it or him even a fraction, but he can tell you’re doing it.

Guilliman however suddenly pulls away, removing his hand from between your legs.

“I need to remove my armor. I will be back.” You look up at him wide eyed and shocked, cunt still throbbing.

“You’re leaving? I-“

“You will wait here until I’m back. Do not move,”

He starts rounding the desk, watching with dark eyes as you lay on it spread out just for him; Clothes wrinkled and asunder. An image he’s had in the recesses of his mind for awhile, and he’s glad to have it come true.

“If anyone tries to enter tell them that I am not here, and I forbade them from entering.”

The last thing he wants is for anyone else to see you like this. You’re splayed across his desk, no one else’s. You want for only him, you yearn for the way he does whatever it takes to keep you safe.

With that Guilliman leaves you alone to strip away his armor, leaving you to boil in his study alone with the feeling your underwear wet and sticky against your skin, as you wait for him to return.

[smollilbeano]

Do you have any headcanons on being in a relationship with Joshua Graham? Sfw & nsfw if possible. I love 1 (one) bloodthirsty Mormon war criminal

Joshua is a very hard man to bond with. He's not very forthcoming with personal information, let alone his own feelings.

It starts out slowly, there isn't even a hint of romance until you break his walls down.

Not only does his religion dictate his life, his past haunts him. He's always been a difficult man and he knows this.

He believes he is sparing you by rejecting your love.

However, persistence is key.

Soon he'll allow you to see the dark side of him, he tells you about every horrific thing he's done and how he's trying to convince God to forgive him.

He expects to scare you off. It doesn't work.

Then comes the gifts. He isn't much of a gift giving person, but when he finds a rock he believes you may like, he brings it back with him.

Telling you how it stood out to him, just like you. He'll often have a Bible passage to go along with it, and some kind of deeper meaning.

He uses this cover for how he feels. If he puts a lesson to everything, he can deny that he does these things for pleasure.

Joshua will eventually let you touch him. Over his bandages at first.

Hand holding, cuddling, hugging. Always in private.

Then he allows you to help change his bandages. His skin stings in the open air, yet when you press your lips to his exposed fingers, the pain dulls.

Kisses soon become common place during bandage changes, even spilling out into daily life. Kisses over where his lips are covered, it makes him feel silly but he enjoys it.

NSFW

If you thought it took a long time just to hold his hand, it will take even longer to get him into bed.

From his religion to physical trauma, it's difficult for him to even entertain the notion of sex.

There will be many times the two of you get hot and heavy, and it just ends with him getting up and walking away.

He has great self control, except when it comes to you. Yet he's afraid to disappoint, his entire body is covered in burns and his cock doesn't exactly work as it used to.

If he's able to get past the premarital sex, and his body issues, he is a very generous lover.

His primary focus is your body and your pleasure.

Joshua has skilled fingers, the way he rubs against your cunt and teases your clit. His tongue latched onto a nipple.

He's playing your body like an instrument, your moans are the melody. He likes to hear you.

He gets tense when you opt to touch him, he is worried you'll find him repulsive. Lots of praise is in order.

Tries to be gentle, but often finds himself lost in your body. Thrusting like a desperate animal, drinking in the wet sounds of his cock filling you up.

As much as he comes to enjoy the act of sex itself, he enjoys the aftermath even more.

Laying in bed, curled against one another. Breathing the same heavy air, the smell of sex drenching your skin.

[smollilbeano]

size difference with könig and virgin!reader

he knew it was going to hurt; any man the size of him would reflect that under his belt. any woman, no matter the body count, would be in for it during a night with a brute like him.

but when you came along, doe-eyed and so much smaller than him, something stirred on the bottom of his abdomen. behind the zipper of his jeans, his cock chubbed up at first glance.

he was already huge enough to see the outline of his bulge through his jeans, or whatever cargos, he wore, but his growing erection made it that much more obvious.

he had never been one to notice before, but with you, he couldn't help it. the way he dwarfed you as you stood by his side, your (much) smaller hand completely engulfed by his giant one.

despite the size difference, he was gentle—as gentle as he could be. a brute as big as him with a tiny doll like you—like porcelain, you were going to break. and he was going to be the one to break you.

he ruts his hips against yours, his bulbous tip collecting your slick along his cock. a whimper, or mewl, escaping your throat whenever he grazes your clit. his breathing is heavy, muttered curses and phrases in german under his breath.

"so eine hübsche muschi, nur für mich..." his voice is hushed and low, as if he's talking to himself about how heavenly your puffy lips are against his girthy cock.

he keeps a large hand around the base of his girthy dick, the other planted on the bed, just above your hip as he steadies himself. the bed is dipping heavily with the focused weight.

he finds himself growing impossibly harder at the sounds of your strained squeaks, watching the sweat bead down the side of your face before his eyes find where his cock lays heavy against your sopping cunt.

your thighs slick with arousal and previous climaxes as he had worked you open on his tongue and fingers, his skin glistening under the light. your juices painted his chin, his fingers pruned from being buried deep in your sensitive pussy, desperately swallowed by your spongy walls.

he hummed lowly, almost a groan as his hand around his girthy base slapped his cock against your slick labia, the head of his cock beating against your swollen, hypersensitive clit he'd been toying with all night.

"diese muschi gehört mir, nicht wahr? hmm...?" you knew not what he said, but his tone was smug, cocky as he gave your cunt a few more slaps with his dick, humping his length between your folds.

you were squirming under him, not even fucked by his huge cock yet, and you were already on the brink of overstimulation, teetering along the lines of being too much. but it was just right.

his hand propped on the bed found your waist, stilling you as his hips halted, dragging his tip down your pussy to your leaking slit. evidence of previous orgasms spilled from your hole, "shhh, sei still, mein schatz..." he cooed, a callouses thumb tracing along the soft, supple skin of your waist before digging his fingers into your flesh.

he needed self control as he lined his cock with your hole, teasing along the folds before beginning to split you in half. whimpers falling from your lips at the mere task of just fitting the tip past your entrance.

he groaned loudly at the way your pussy welcomed him, swallowing his bulbous head with a squelch and a tight pulse as he stretched you open. the previous rounds of his finger and tongue doing nothing to aid the sheer stretch of your cunt around his dick.

it hurt like hell as he inched his cock deeper, reveling in the way your face contorted, strangled cries leaving your lips as tears pricked your eyes. your face flushing pink as salty trails glistened down your heated cheeks.

it was like you were practically impaling yourself on his thick, meaty cock. your body being split down the middle to accommodate for such space he took up in your cunt, your spongy walls clamping tightly around his dick.

"Scheiße, schatz...du bist so eng..." he cursed, his hand around his girth retracting to his hip.

he watched as his cock sunk deeper past your puffy lips, the way your pussy swallowed him with a sickening, lewd squelch that made his eyes flutter shut. his hips bucked, followed by curses as he couldn't help himself from rocking his hips. speeding up to a comfortable pace.

the skin of your backside quickly flushed red as his pace became more and more relentless—he had told you before he wasn't good with virgins. you assured him you could handle it, and he promised he would try to be gentle. key word, try.

well, he had tried, and failed as his hips desperately rut into your heavenly, slick pussy with lewd sounds of your skin coming together rapidly. his full, heavy balls slapping against your backside with each time his hips pounded into your cunt.

he was a lost cause, muttering incoherent phrases of half-german, half-english. most of what you could pick out was praises to your pussy, how you were made to fit his cock in your tight hole—though you were too cock-drunk, babbling nonsense into moans under him to hear a word he said.

"verdammt, deine muschi ist der himmel, kleines mäuschen..." he praised in a coo, his body now leaning to cover yours, his heavy weight pressing your back further into the mattress, "so verdammt eng und nass..."

his hand on your waist slid down to your stomach, he swore he could feel the skin warp under his calloused prints as his bulbous tip slammed your cervix.

when his eyes finally left where your two body conjoined, up to your pretty face where tears streamed down your cheeks, disheveled hair splayed across the pillow behind your head and matted to your forehead. his eyes fluttered shut as his dick twitched and throbbed against your spongy walls.

your pained cries turned to whimpers and hiccuped moans, hands clawing at his back to pull him impossibly closer in a desperate attempt to feel him deeper.

it wasn't long until you felt another warmth building in your lower abdomen, familiar in feel to the previous, but so much more hammering as it built, and built, and built.

könig could feel how you sunk your nails into his back, as if you feared he would deny you the ecstasy of release. he felt the way your cunt clamped around him, pulsing in sync with your heartbeat—his too.

his hips faltered—he had never finished this quick, but then again, your pussy was like a fucking drug, and he was an addict.

"das ist es...that's it, mauschen..." he whispered breatlhessly into your ear, his heavy, warm breath against your skin as he waited for your release to boil over with his.

he moaned loudly against your sweat, sticky skin, uttering more praises under his breath as he felt his cock twitch. he watched the way your jaw went slack, how your body shuddered under him before going limp, boneless under his weight.

a shuddered breath slipped past his lips as he came deep in your pussy, painting your walls a creamy, thick white as he filled you. his eyes fell back to your pussy, watching as he's milked dry of every last bit of his pearly, white cum.

he rubbed a rough thumb over your clit, watching you flinch and squirm from the sensitivity as he kept an eye on how his gooey release oozed from your hole, despite the fact his cock was still plugged inside of you.

he hummed lowly in appreciation as he took two fingers to spread the thick substance to coat your folds.

fuck, maus, you were ruined for anyone else now, guess you're stuck with him.

[smollilbeano]

König with civilian!wife! reader that naps on your lap when he wakes up from a nightmare, idk i saw this on a tiktok and found it very cute (n_n)

König usually is very restless and often stays up. And you’d stay up with him, regardless if your tired or not. You’d rub his back, scratch his head. But what works the most is softly patting him to sleep. It helps if theres soft, classical or piano instrumental music lowly playing in the back.

But even with all of your help he always feels bad that you stay up just to help him get some sleep. But you insist that you’re not bothered by it and it would stop you from being able to have a peaceful rest if he’s up.

The two you have tried everything, reading before bed, a cup of tea or a glass of hot milk before sleeping, even sleeping pills. Well they work until he wakes up a couple hours later, unable to go back to sleep.

It’s like you have a sixth sense for this, whenever he sits up in the middle of the night or tosses and turns a little more than usual, you automatically wake up to try and soothe him back to sleep.

—

Tonight he managed to sleep peacefully after being at a family party for hours. It was already 12:46 when you two arrive home. Both drowsy and exhausted when you brush your teeth together in your pajamas. He was already incredibly tired from having to talk and catch up with your side of the family, so once he hit the pillow he was snoozing.

It was a miracle, once in a blue moon event for him to slip into slumber without having a glass of milk, and 40 minutes of you scratching and rubbing his back.

You chuckled, happy that your husband could finally sleep without his insomnia getting in the way. Sliding into your side of the bed, next to him, turning off the lights and pulling the covers over the two of you.

Around 4:24 you stirred awake, startled by the sudden and sharp shift in the bed, you turned around calmly. Feeling around the bed for König, ready to hold him and soothe him back to sleep. When you can’t find him you sit up, seeing your husband sat up, hunched over with his hands in his face.

Worriedly, you get up, sitting next to him while resting a hand on his shoulder. He slightly jumps, not expecting you to be awake, too stuck in his own thoughts to notice you move. He couldn’t hide the tears that streamed his face, staining his cheeks, making them glossy when he turned slightly to face you.

You sigh sadly, usually you know what to do when he just wakes up from his insomnia, but right now you don’t know what happened. König felt bad for waking you, feeling that he’s troubled his wife enough for having to deal with his restless nights. But right now he couldn’t help himself, immediately leaning in to squeeze you into a tight hug.

Decided to stay quite and not ask him what’s wrong when he’s already overwhelmed, you hug him back, one hand rubbing his back while the other ran up and down from his hair to the nape of his neck. Murmuring soft reassurances.

He started to explain and talk in german, probably too upset or overwhelmed to speak in english. Only thing you could translate from his frantic words were ‘mom’, ‘family’, and ‘nightmare’.

After a while he seemed to calm down, he was less manic and frantic, but he was still in tears. You started to feel an aching pain in your lower back from holding up his and your weight.

So you patted his back to signal him for his attention. You sat up so your sitting in a way that your legs are folded under your thighs, patting your lap for him to rest his head on.

The tall Austrian understood, resting his cheek on your soft thighs, wrapping his arms around your hips. Squeezing you like you would slip away if he held you any looser.

You started to play with his hair, massaging his scalp. Feeling his tears stain and fall on your plush thighs than his cheeks, slightly dampening the edge of the boxer shorts you borrowed from him for pajamas.

You started to hum. Partially to try and comfort your spouse, but also to try and occupy yourself. You knew that he was calming down when his tears started to gradually fade away, and his breathing started to slow.

By now it was 6:24. The pale blue sky started to peek through the window curtains, and you could hear some of your early bird neighbors beginning their day.

In a couple hours both of your days would start and you two would have to start on your errands. But it’s fine. You’ll just turn off the alarm and today will just be another lazy Sunday. He needs the rest anyway.

After what felt like 20 minutes, you felt like he had calmed down and fell asleep. Trying to slip out of his grasp, to try and sneak away to the bathroom for a couple seconds. Not wanting to leave him for too long. But whenever you slightly moved away from him he unconsciously pulled you tighter, somehow closer to him.

Sighing, you continued to pet his hair with a soft smile. Not sure if he’s still awake or if he just moved in instinct. Either way you decided not to move, not wanting to wake him or disturb him.

[smollilbeano]

Keep Moving Forward

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Just want to say a massive thank you for everyones lovely comments on the last part, I can’t believe how many notes that has now 😱 I’ve got a taglist so if you want to be added or removed (I just stuck down everyone that commented or reblogged the last one with tags/comments) lemme know! Also I’ve got my own version of what König looks like and I’ve been including details so hopefully you like my thoughts on him 🥰

Part 2 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

A forbidden crush, a whole unit of men watching out for any missteps and a job that required you to be on your A game - it all sounded a bit like a bonkers netflix plot, but no this was your life now. You were desperately trying to hide your little (massive) König crush, while trying to get through your days and it was going horribly. The universe was working against you. 

Keep reading

[smollilbeano]

Can you do an Anton Chigurh NSFW alphabet?

NSFW Anton Chigurh Alphabet

my god I want to write for this man a lot more now 

A=Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

For Anton, for a psychopathic stone hitman, he does surprisingly have it in him to give aftercare to you. Honestly, it’s more for him than for you. To see you dependent on his kindness gives him all the more reason to do it. Aftercare is also the time where he takes advantage to study your body. Now, it isn’t sweet cuddles with the man, but there’s the unusual soft hand trails and low words of affirmation.

B=Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Anton doesn’t think of his body like that too often, but he finds strength in his hands. He also likes how much you like his chest.

With your body - it’s your neck and your own hands. Your palms so small against his, and how easy it is to feel your pulse with both parts. Anton doesn’t realize it, but he can find something selfishly motivating in each of your body parts.

He enjoys when you close your wide eyes in pleasure, as well as how he orders you to keep them on him.

C=Cum (anything to do with cum)

He’ll say he doesn’t have a preference, but Anton rarely cums outside of you. He’ll also deny the request to come anywhere but inside of you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s a voyeur. The man is almost...frank in the way he stalks you as you undress or touch yourself. Again, this is a moment where he studies his one weakness. How someone so needy and so human has become someone Anton will keep forever. In the end, though, he ends up making his presence known to fuck you - or he’ll mention it so casually in the next hour.

“Where did you get the bruise on your back?”

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

Romantically, nothing really. If he has any experience he does not show it until you. But there’s probably been a purely sexual fling or two in his life. Either way, he knows what he’s doing when it comes to sex.  

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Anything that makes him the dominant one, really - but there have been many times where you’re up against the wall. A lot of the times the position isn’t even a result of heat or passion, he just corners you as he tells you to take off your clothes.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

No jokes with this man. If you try to get goofy with him, it’s a quick grab of the chin telling you that he doesn’t care for your attempt. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Anton is actually groomed pretty well down there. But there are times where he’s on the job for awhile and it’s not a priority, so you’ll find some man hair down there. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Again, not the most romantic man - but he is good with his hands. This might be a moment where its more for him than you, a moment where he can observe you underneath him. But if there’s anything, Anton is a man of words of affirmation. He always enjoys how he makes you tell him that your his weak girl and how you need him and how good you’re doing. 

It’s also the rare moment where you find him kissing you. (Except, surprisingly, he gives a common and stern forehead kiss in moments of no-sex and sex.) 

J = Jack/Jill Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off more often than you think. Sometimes his voyeuristic tendencies get even more perverted. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Chaseplay, bondage, fearplay, teasing, he might carve something into you if you request it. 

He takes odd pleasure in telling you what to wear, sometimes it’s not even sexual in the moment (but it’s usually a motivator.) 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere private, but Anton doesn’t have a preference honestly. The deed is usually done in cars or motels because of the man’s career. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

You. 

He’s not reactive when he’s motivated, but anything where you is a simple and quiet trip to get Anton’s hands on you. 

You wearing what he tells you to. You dependent on him. You in a dress where your legs are free. You so trusting of a man you shouldn’t be trusting of. Yeah, anything. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Nothing violent where you don’t want it - and no open relationships. 

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

Anton really finds enjoyment in you choking on his cock, and he’s a fan of cockwarming. 

For giving, the little moans and noises you make as your face curls is great material for him to tease you. 

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

Oddly, Anton goes slow - but hard? Just hard, drawn out thrusts, hands all over you. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not a fan of it. Again, he prefers to take it slow with you. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Anton is up for anything. He’s actually not the one to suggest any ideas. The whole aspect of experimentation is where he actually enjoys to indulge you. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

The man can draw it out for hours and his stamina is hot and heavy. The man won’t mind if you can’t keep up with him, the more dependent you are, the better. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

For him? Anton doesn’t own anything, but he would use one on you if you asked. However, he wouldn’t appreciate it if you used it in place of sex. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The man is the ultimate teaser, it’s something he’s annoyingly proud of. His hands and his words are the powers he uses to keep you and your pussy on edge. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

There’s a few low grunts and breaths with a grainy voice, but he’s not that loud. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes waking you up with sex. Sometimes it’s sleepy morning sex, sometimes he’ll decide to bother you in the night. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Big, thick. Have you seen the man? 

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

Honestly? Maybe just a little higher than average. He’s a man of his profession so having a constantly high sex drive would not be ideal. That doesn’t mean his motivators go unnoticed. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Anton is always up when you go to bed and he’s up when you’re waking up. The hours in between is where he’s watching you, observing his weak little human before he finds sleep himself. 

And he’ll never tell you, but the only times he dreams are dreams of you. 

[smollilbeano]

⌕ dragon ball - vegeta.

like or reblog if you save/use.

[smollilbeano]

*lightly bangs table ** Please!- *slams hands on table* YANDERE VULPES INCULTA HCS?!

{Not gonna lie, I have a hard time picturing Vulpes as yandere, despite his whole deal revolving around spying on people? So this is. like. low-key yandere.}{-J}

VULPES INCULTA:

The Legion has eyes everywhere. Impossibly loyal eyes, gazing without question, without judgement. If the Fox deems you worthy of his time, then his spies do too. They never wonder what makes you special (it’s not their place to do so).

Someone’s always watching you. Always. They take notes, even on the smallest of things, and send it all back to Vulpes. He reads every word, everytime, and reads them over and over again.

No matter how perceptive the Vigor Tester claims you are, you’ll never notice what happens around you. Subtle manipulations of those around you to ensure not only your safety, but your happiness. You always feel like your luck is a perfect 10. Maybe you get a little paranoid about the day your luck runs out, but that day never seems to come.

Someday, Vulpes thinks, the Legion will have full control over Nevada. Only then will he reveal himself to you, only then will you know you have a guardian angel. He knows that you likely won’t receive him kindly… but when your only choices are to stand by his side or dive into the fires of reform, well… he trusts you to make the right decision.

But that doesn’t mean that he’ll try and force your affection. After all those years spent watching from a distance, simply seeing you in person is enough for him. He won’t blame you for hating him, nor will he ever lash out against you, no matter how much venom drips from your words.

If you do end up loving him… then he will be everything you need him to be. Soft embraces, gentle kisses, rough hands only when (only if) you ask. Should you admire his more obsessive side, he’ll play it up for you, giving sharp glares at any who get too close to you. He’ll keep a hand on your waist or shoulder whenever you’re close, and whisper dark nothings into your ear.

[smollilbeano]

Me in my super villain office

[smollilbeano]

♡ louiseseascapes ♡

[smollilbeano]

The Odd Couple || Darth Vader x GN! Reader

summary: you weren't expecting him to visit as such an hour.

SFW // angst + fluff

word count: 4109

warnings: swearing, fear, venting, established relationship, mentions of injuries, mentions of canon-typical violence, medical talk, breif mention of a knife, mentions of blood, usage of things like "pretty" and "beautiful" ,angst, vader is soft for one person and one person only, general fluff, ***minor spoilers for the obi-wan series***

a/n: it's been a long long time since I've written my cyborg husband, but I always feel like he's the person i write the best. brings back fond memories of when i was writing my series with him. BUT WE'RE BACK BABY!! i gotta keep my fellow vader simps fed bro is criminally underrated. soft vader is my BIGGEST guilty pleasure oh my god. also, i apologize if anything doesnt make sense canonically. my star wars knowledge is a bit rusty,, also if you catch the undertale reference i love you and please marry me. taglist open!

~~~

You had lost count how many nights in a row it had been that you'd stayed up at an ungodly hour. And whether it was due to nerves, stress, or just loosing track of time while floating through space; you had no way of knowing.

It's not like you needed to stay up this late. Your job with the empire wasn't that important. In fact, it wasn't really important at all. You knew you could be easily replaced if they wanted you to be. That's why you kept your head down at your job. You did it thoroughly and efficiently, just like the Empire wanted everything to be. Sticking out was a death sentence or worse, and you've heard the stories of the worse. You knew damn well you didn't want to be caught up in that.

You were just a cook, after all. You weren't meant for politics, nor fighting nor hunting any Jedi.

Which is why you wondered why you were the one that piqued his interest.

It was the coincidence of all coincidences that had the two of you meeting. Working on the Super Star Destroyer, you figured you were bound to at least see him eventually, but meet? You honestly thought that would have never happened. You were so beneath his position in the Empire that you thought if you were to meet him, it would have been for him to kill you for some reason or another. And, that was exactly what you had thought he had come to do when you did meet.

In the cafeteria that you worked in, there had been an incident. Incidents didn't really happen all that often, but when they did, they were often taken care of rather quickly. However, that one had been really interesting. You were working at the time, so you didn't see much, but you saw a few troopers stand up and start shouting something about the rebellion is right and the Empire needs to be destroyed. It had caused quite a stir.

But, because the word rebellion had been uttered, it caused a large-scale investigation in your work area. The higher-ups had blocked off all the entrances and exists. No one was allowed in or out until everyone had been interrogated and interviewed about what they had seen and/or heard. During the process, a few other troops had been suspected in colluding with those who had the outburst earlier that day.

This had caused an even bigger stir. A stir big enough to where it was the last time you had ever seen those troops. And, it was one large enough, apparently, to go all the way to the top.

Whether it be for intimidation factor, or just because he was free at the moment to deal with the issue, he had come personally to investigate the matter. You, having yet to be interrogated, where scared shitless. The dark lord himself was here? And chances are, you were gonna be one of the unlucky souls that he had to deal with? He was the number one person you did not want to piss off. And if he suspected you in colluding with those troops? You were done for. You couldn't even imagine the type of punishment you would receive. You knew dying was the merciful version of that punishment. God above, please have mercy. You knew one wrong word could be one of the last you would ever say.

It was really really hard to keep your cool; to keep on a brave face. Before that day, you hadn't even caught a glimpse Lord Vader in passing before. The only time you had seen him were through holovids, propaganda, or the image in your head when you heard the stories. And, to be quite frank, none of those things did him any justice. He was sooo much more intimidating in person. Quite larger and taller too. Just having him in the same room made the air turn cold; made everyone that much more on edge.

And that effect was amplified by a factor of ten-thousand when he came closer to you.

Even when you were standing up straight, perfectly at attention, he still absolutely dwarfed you. You had to crane your neck to look up at his mask, all the while hoping that you didn't look too scared to be in front of him. Try as you might, however, you couldn't stop the shake in your fingertips, nor the butterflies in your stomach, nor how your knees had gone significantly weaker the longer he talked to you. Had he noticed this? Probably. Lord Vader was like a blood-sniffing shark; only the blood he smelled was people's fear of death.

You wondered if your scent was a sweet one, then. Because even though that should have been the first and last time you had ever spoken to Lord Vader, he had made it a point that it wasn't.

He disguised it under the pretenses of "Perhaps if I am to return later, your memory will finally be sufficient in telling me critical information". And at first, you believed him. You believed that his visits to you were to just get more information on what had happened that day.

But, one visit quickly turned into two. Then three. Then he was visiting you every week. Then every three days. Then every other day. Until, finally, he visited you seemingly every opportunity that arose. Whenever he had a fleeting moment, and he knew that you would be by yourself, he would always be there with you.

If it was the scent of your fear that kept him coming back, it had been a while since he had gotten a fix of it. You figured that because of the long-term exposure-therapy, that was why you weren't really scared of Lord Vader's visits anymore. In fact, you were excited to see him when he came to your small corner of the Empirical ship. Oddly enough, over the months, you found yourself to be rather close with the Sith. Call it insane, but you felt comfortable around him. You didn't do your normal Empirical formalities with him anymore, and he didn't even seem to care. It was fucking ridiculous, and you knew that if you told anyone about it you would be mocked and ridiculed to Hell, but you felt as if Lord Vader was the only one in the Empire that you could be yourself around.

He felt the same way. At least, that what you had gathered from your time together with him. You were the one that patched his wounds when he returned from a mission, and the one he apparently liked to talk to at night. He eventually started to tell you things as well. Things that no just mere cook for the Empire should know.

He wasn't open about his emotions, but after knowing him so long, you could tell what was going on inside of that metal-plated head of his. By him telling you those things, and by him trusting you enough to repair him (despite the arsenal of nurses and doctors on the damn ship), it was his way of showing you that he had at least some level of trust in you.

It was an odd relationship, to say the absolute least. But, one that you both enjoyed having, even though you both never dared to utter a word about it.

You two had silently agreed that if you were to tell anyone, that would just ruin the magic of it all. It just wouldn't work anymore. Whatever the two of you were, it was based on trust.

And neither one of you were about to break that trust.

It was hard to find people you trusted now adays. For the both of you.

And if a cook placed their trust in the hands of the Dark Lord of the Sith, and then vice-versa, then so be it. You liked the company anyway.

Even if that company came to you at really odd hours.

You had no idea how late it was when you heard the doors to your station open. You just knew it was very, very late; well outside the hours that you were supposed to be up and active and doing your job. But, you didn't care. It wasn't like you would get into any trouble for working, anyway. With your hair pulled back, and your grey apron pulled taunt around your body, you kept your tired gaze situated on the vegetables you were chopping in front of you. Perking your ears, you listened intently for any clues of just who it was that was coming to see you that night, and whether or not you should act accordingly because of it.

You were able, however, to deduce who it was extremely quickly. You could recognize that breath pattern anywhere, as well as the sound of those heavy boots against the hard ground. You smiled softly to yourself, using your finger to clean off your knife.

When he came around the corner to find you, you shot up a smile at him as you pushed the chopped food into a bowl, only sparing him a passing glance for the moment so you didn't cut yourself. His mask was pointed right down at your smaller frame, staring at you without a word. Just like how he usually greeted you.

"You're up late tonight." You said to him as you grabbed a rag from off the metal countertop, using it to wipe off your knife.

"As are you." he rumbled out in response, making you breathe out a laugh. Setting down your rag and knife, you turned to him as you reached behind you, untying your apron and lifting it off of yourself.

"I'm happy to see you, too." You responded as you folded up your apron and set it on the countertop. Crossing your arms over your chest, you finally were able to get a good look at your Sith Lord. He looked awful. He was covered in scrapes and cuts, and even the odd burn or two. It made your smile drop and turn into an expression of worry.

"Oh my god," you said, "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

He said nothing in response and just continued to stare at you.

You sighed, "It was that mission today, wasn't it? Here, come on. I'll patch you up and we can talk about it, if you want."

Walking by the Dark Lord, his mask followed your movements as you pulled out a crate from underneath a workbench, patting it a few times to signal for him to sit on it. He granted your wishes and sat, the metal beneath his weight groaning in complaint as you left to go get your med-kit from off the wall. After retrieving it, you walked back over to Lord Vader and pulled out a crate for yourself. You sat on the edge of it, opening and laying the med-kit out next to you. You pulled out a rag and doused it with some alcohol, wringing out any excess that got sucked up in it. Holding out your hand, you signaled to the Sith that you wanted his own to be placed inside it. He obliged, his much larger palm pointed towards the ceiling as you started to clean off the wounds on his arm.

"So," you said, making sure to be gentle as to not hurt him too much, "are you gonna tell me what happened out there today?"

Despite you not looking at him, you could feel the eyes of Lord Vader's mask looking down at you, the sound of his mechanical breath filling your ears. It was a bit of trouble to get him to talk sometimes, but you understood that. You didn't know much about his past, but you knew it had to be pretty bad if he was stuck forever in that damn suit. Just looking at it made you itch and ache all over. You couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like on the inside.

It made you feel bad for him. Even though he was a slaughterer of many, many souls. But, at the same time, sometimes you found it hard that the Vader you knew and that Vader was the same person. The Vader you knew was just... troubled. Very, very troubled.

And you knew a thing or two about being troubled.

Perhaps that's why he liked you so much. That you were still here, doing all that you did for him, despite everything.

Looking down at you as you cleaned his wounds, he was made more aware of that than usual. And, in the dim light of that kitchen, with the stars of the galaxy overhead, he had to admit:

You were quite beautiful.

Lord Vader had always found you attractive. He never said it, but he did. He had thought you always were pretty. But tonight was just...

Different.

Perhaps you could tell that too.

"I found him." Lord Vader eventually said, making you pause briefly to look up at him. You were a bit puzzled. From how he described the "incompetency" of the inquisitors, you figured that they would have never found what they were looking for. Especially because who they were searching for was so good at hiding.

"You mean that Kenobi guy?" you asked him. Not because you didn't believe him, but because you wanted to make sure you were both talking about the same person.

"Yes."

Finished with it, you set the alcohol rag down and got out the bandages instead.

"Yeah?" you asked, ripping off pieces of the bandages small enough to fit under his suit, "Honestly, I didn't think you guys would find him. I thought he would already be dead. Taken in for a bounty or something, yknow?"

Vader said nothing in response. You glanced up at him from your work.

"I'm guessing it didn't go as planned?" You said, phrasing it was a question when it was more of a statement. You found it kind of odd that it hadn't gone the way Vader wanted it to go. Typically, whenever he was on the job, it was always be successful. Surely one Jedi who presumably hadn't had any fighting experience in ten years would just be small pickings for someone like Lord Vader.

Unless...

There was more to it.

"No." He said flatly, "It did not."

"He got away then? I see... Well, even so, don't beat yourself up too hard about it. He is a Jedi. I've heard that they can be full of tricks. And he probably had help you weren't expecting him to have either." You shot up a smile at him, "Besides, I know you'll get him next time."

The Sith stared down at your smile in silence.

Your features were soft. You looked tired, the bags under your eyes darker than usual. Your hair wasn't as voluminous as it should have been, and your eyes had a somewhat faraway look in them. Your smile perfectly curved upwards, too, trailing along your jaw phenomenally well.

Pretty.

Without another word, you resumed your work back on his arm, finishing up the last few patches of bandages. You wondered if that was all he was gonna say that night.

"I used to know him."

You paused your work and slowly looked up at Lord Vader, your lips parting softly. Out of all the things you were expecting to hear from the Sith in front of you. He didn't tell you a lot about his past. And to drop that bombshell on you all at once? Something really was different about tonight.

"Personally?" You asked, winding up the bandage you had been using and putting it back in the med-kit. You could have gone farther with patching him up, but decided against it. He was rarely ever this open with you, and you wanted to make sure that he knew that you cared and that you were listening.

"I was a jedi once. Long ago." he responded.

You tried not to react too hard. Deep down, you always suspected that he was. You figured no one starts off as being bad.

They're only ever tricked into being so.

And you figured that was the case with him as well. There was just no possible scenario that anyone could be born willing to snap peoples necks and slice them in half all day like it was nothing. In an odd way, you sympathized with that. You didn't agree with killing all those people (even if he tried to say it was for good reason), but you could understand where he may be coming from, or just what or who was encouraging him to do it. Or tricked him into being that way. You were tricked into joining the Empire as well.

Perhaps it was the same with him.

"So you know him from then? Were the two of you close?" you responded to him, deciding against being a smartass and telling him that you always suspected that he was a jedi. Again, it was best to just let him talk while he was willing to.

"We were... We were like brothers." was all he said.

You felt your face soften at his words, your brows arching and your eyes filling with sympathy. You didn't have any siblings, and definitely not any found family of any sort. While you couldn't exactly relate to the dark lord in this regard, you still at least knew how bad it would hurt to be brothers-in-arms with someone one moment, and then sworn enemies the next. But, then again, that panged another question into your mind.

Did he even want to kill Kenobi in the first place?

Or was that just what everyone around him expected him to do?

That was something you could understand. Doing things just for the sake of pleasing others. Hell, you did it damn near every day. It was basically your job at this point. But, then again, your job didn't involve killing anyone. That was something you knew you would never fully understand.

Even though you ever would understand, you could at least be of some sort of consolation to the dark lord. Over the many days and nights the two of you had spent together, you were surprised to learn that even someone like him needs to shoulder to lean on. Everyone thought of him as just some sort of killing machine, deadest on revenge, bloodlust, and fear. You could understand this. You were once the same way.

But, after learning about the man inside that shell of villainy, your perspective on the sith had changed. You were a blank slate to him. You weren't clouded by judgement of who he used to be, nor of any strong opinions on why he was the way he was now.

You felt sorry for him.

And perhaps that's what he needed most in the world.

"Hey," you spoke softly to him, reaching out your hand to his own leather-wrapped one. Gently, you wrapped your fingers around his much bigger and thicker ones, giving the mechanical digits a tight squeeze as you offered him a sympathetic smile. His mask was still pointed at your face, but dropped briefly to look at your hand upon his. It was warm and tight, but still gentle.

Lord Vader hadn't had the privilege of such a thing in a long time.

"It sounds like you're really stuck between a rock and a hard place, huh?" you asked him, "I can't imagine what it's like to have to do something like this. No one should have to go through that in the first place. But hey, remember something for me okay? Despite everything that's happened in your past, you're still you. You're ultimately the master of your own life. I'm sure you're gonna figure all this out and make the right decision."

You squeezed his and again, breathing out another smile.

"Besides," you said, "I'm sure that regardless of what happened all those years ago, Kenobi still cares for you. He wouldn't have come out of hiding if he didn't."

Vader stared ahead at you for a good long while, his cold, mechanical breathing steady as he studied your face. He felt your hand upon his, and wondered to himself if that was the only thing left that was grounding him to reality. How could you have possibly said that to him? Didn't you know what he stood for? All that he had done? He was sure you had heard at least some of the stories. But, did that matter to you? Here you were, right in front of him, listening to what he had to say. You had even smiled at him and held his hand, offering him something he hadn't received in a long, long time.

Comfort.

Hell, the last time he got anything of the sort was only a distant memory in the back of his head. All that time ago, on Mustafar where she had come to see him. He was a fool back then. He made many, many mistakes. Countless mistakes.

But, looking at you there in the dim, cool light of that kitchen, feeling your warm, small palm on his fingers and seeing you smile at him like that, one thing was made clear to the dark lord.

He absolutely, positively refused to make the same mistakes with you.

You were his last shot. You were his last helpline to mundane life. Long ago he had sworn himself to her, but he knew that this is what he must do now. He prayed that wherever she was, she would understand. Deep down, however, he knew that she would. She had always been smart like that. She always knew what he needed before he even did so himself. Perhaps it was her that brought you to him, and not just some dumb luck.

It didn't matter. He didn't care anymore. The only thing that he cared about now, that he could say with any semblance of certainty, was you. It was dangerous to admit that; he was well aware. But for whatever this was between the pair of you, it was worth all the risk. He hoped you were willing to fight for it as well.

Turning over his palm, the dark lord gently took your hand into his own, wedging his thick fingers through the gaps of your smaller ones to hold your hand close to his. He wondered if you felt the mechanics of his hands in your own as he held onto you tightly, watching as your lips gently parted at the rather sudden affections of the sith lord. In all his visits to your kitchen, he never once did anything of the sort. You always wondered if he was scared to touch you, but made no effort to get to the root of it. You figured he'd come to you on his own.

And he did.

You had always been smart like that.

"(Y/N)," he rumbled out eventually, "You truly never cease to amaze me."

You breathed out another smile, "Vader, please. Anyone could have told you that. I'm just one of the lucky few that has gotten to know you like this."

The dark lord's grip on your hand tightened, his large thumb stroking the back of your palm in a smooth, rhythmic pace.

"I am..." He begun, seemingly at a loss for words, "I am truly grateful for that in doing so, you have not run away from me. Your heart is truly beautiful, (Y/N)."

The sith lifted up his other hand to you. Slowly, he brought it up so that it was level with your face. After a brief moment, he moved up his fingertips to gently brush the side of your face, folding them backwards so that his hand cupped your warm, plump cheek.

"You, are beautiful, (Y/N)."

His leather-gloved hand was cool against your skin, but pleasant. He held you as if you were made of the most fragile material in all of the galaxy, his other hand not faltering on the grip it hand on your own. For a man known for his cruelty, hostility, and punishing nature, the way he held you that night made it seem like all of the past before him was just one huge misunderstanding. You and you alone got to see the man behind the dark lord that night. Past all the villainy, rage, and slaughter.

And oh what a sight it was.

~~

[smollilbeano]

Pokemon Fashion Icons

[smollilbeano]

I made a thing y'all

[smollilbeano]

*sobs* 🥺💕

Future

Mirai and you had been dating a while now, 2 years to be exact. The past couple of years have been filled with absolute happiness and love. Something you both had struggled to achieve all of your lives. You loved each other unconditionally and it showed.

Even when things got tough you guys stayed strong and now you were finally in a place where things seemed brighter, happier.

“Mirai?” you question as you watch him prepare dinner.

“Yes, my love?” he turns to look at you a smile gracing his face.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” you giggle watching him struggle to get the proper ingredients.

Usually, he was an amazing more than capable cook but today he seemed a bit off, nervous even.

What you didn’t know was that earlier today Mirai had actually used his quirk on you. He hadn’t meant to but curiosity got the best of him. Having spent all these years restraining himself he just needed to know this one important thing.

“U-uh yeah I guess I do” he chuckles watching as you made your way to him giving him a quick peck before helping him.

“Umm Mir?” you ask watching as he stared at you watching your every movement completely forgetting about dinner.

“Mirai” you wave a hand in front of him catching his attention.

“Hmm” he responds bringing himself out of his thoughts.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask cupping his face feeling for a fever.

He stares at you again this time with pure love in his eyes. Taking a moment to memorize your face before answering.

“I love you, you know that,” he says wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you against him.

“Y-yeah I do actually” you grin “but that doesn’t explain what’s going on inside that head of yours”

He takes a moment cupping your face towards him. “I just realized just how much I love you is all” he smiles bringing you in for a kiss.

“I knew you were it for me the moment I saw you. But after using my quirk I realized just how perfect you are for me.” he thinks to himself basking in the feel of your touch.

“The moment I used my quirk on you I saw our future. A beautiful one at that. One I always fantasized about but was afraid would never happen because of our world. But after today I know you are here for the long run. And that nothing or no one will ever take you away from me” he looks at you watching as you perfectly molded to him, “You’re it for me, my love” he thinks to himself, a happiness only you could ever bring him.

“I love you y/n. So damn much.”

[smollilbeano]

cuuuuuute!

Romantic headcanons with shy and quiet but kind and patient s/o for Jonathan, Speedwagon, Joseph, Caesar, and Jotaro please?

A/N: Thank you for the request anon, I’ll be sectioning each request you sent up by part since they all have the same prompt! Warning(s): Some spoilers for parts 1-3 (Obviously)!

Jonathan, Speedwagon, Joseph, Caesar, and Jotaro with a Shy and Kind S/O!

Jonathan Joestar

- Jonathan is such a gentleman as we all know, so having somebody who is equally shy yet kind means you’re the perfect fit for him!

- You two take strolls together, go and have picnics, and indulge in all the luxuries of life together. And of course, you care for each other as lovers do.

- He loves you for you, treating you as his equal. He’s protective at times, but only because he would hate to have you get mixed up in his fighting with Dio!

- He appreciates that you’re always patient with him. Life often got in the way of you two, but knowing you would stay by his side and support him even still fueled him to keep going and doing his best!

- Absolutely there for you if you ever need someone to help you speak up for yourself or speak your mind. He knows that it can be hard at times, and wants to make sure you can express yourself without needing to worry.

- All in all, very very loving and compassionate, you two are such a great match!

Robert E. O. Speedwagon

- He didn’t have the best past, and you know this of course. It means the world to him that you treat him with kindness and are patient with him learning the ups and downs of living a new life away from Ogre Street.

- You’re the person he finds himself the most comfortable to be around, knowing that you won’t shun him for his less than desirable history, or anything of that sort. Your kindness touched him similarly to Jonathan, but in a romantic way!

- Definitely tries his best with taking you out on traditional dates and such, but something usually doesn’t go as planned. Either way, you two always have fun, and he always enjoys seeing you happy!

- I’d like to believe Speedwagon too has some trouble speaking, though when his voice is needed most, he’s there speaking his mind. He never pushes you to be more vocal, because he respects you. He does let you know that he’s by your side whenever you need him, though.

- He appreciates your patience more than anything. Like Jonathan, he became a busy man. His hands were very often tied with the Speedwagon Foundation, and thus he could never spend as much time with you as he would’ve liked. But you stuck with him through it all. He loves you for that.

- You were just the person for him, and you two get along so well! 

Joseph Joestar

- You two are polar opposites, and yet, you have such a strong bond! Joseph definitely needs and needed a more levelheaded and soft-spoken individual to ground him, and you just so happened to pop up in his life!

- He tries to be romantic and thinks he’s all suave. Please tell him he is, he may look all confident and headstrong but deep down he’s always trying his best around you.

- Joseph… is not great with traditional or typical dates. But that’s one of the many reasons he’s so charming. He’s bold and unpredictable, and it’s balanced by your own kindness and patience!

- He also tries his best to keep you out of danger. He knows you’re a strong person even though you’re quiet, but he had so little people in his life growing up. He really wants to keep you safe and out of his fights.

- I see him as the type to tease about your shyness, but he never does it in a mean way. It’s definitely more playful, and though he wants you to speak up a bit more for yourself, he’d never push you to.

- You two go together perfectly! And Lisa Lisa is thrilled to know her son has somebody who can be by his side and keep him logical!

Caesar A. Zeppeli

- Caesar finds your qualities to be so adorable... and it’s easy to see how head over heels in love he is!

- Unlike Joseph, this man is the king of all those traditions. Sure, he’s had his relationships, and thus all his skills come from them, but when you two met he dedicated himself to you and you alone! He’ll take you in the most romantic and thoughtful dates, and you appreciate all his efforts!

- Like the others, your patience and kindness together mean the world to him. He blamed himself for his father’s death because he lacked any patience, and so knowing you’ll be there by his side through everything makes his heart melt. He values your relationship over practically everything.

- I do see Caesar as the kind of guy who would speak for you if you ever had trouble. He means no harm in it, he just wants you to get your thoughts and feelings out! However, if you don’t want to speak or don’t want him to speak for you, he will agree of course!

- Might also tease you about your shyness, but not to the lengths of Joseph. He finds it adorable more than anything, so commenting about it all the time would be a bit overkill in his opinion. 

- In the end, you two are a match made in heaven! He’s always so happy to be with you!

Jotaro Kujo

- We all know Jotaro’s rather quiet himself, so it’s nice to have somebody who isn’t bugging him every 5 seconds (Polnareff).  - It probably took a while for you two to get together, mostly because Jotaro was worried of ruining your friendship. But when you did, he was so thankful you accepted his feelings!

- Jotaro’s a prime example of actions over words. He looks menacing and tough and all that on the outside, and so oftentimes what he says can be taken in the wrong sense, so he settled for gestures that can speak for him.

- Again like everyone else, he really appreciates your kindness and patience. You knew the crusade to Egypt would be a long while, and so whether or not you waited or went along with you, you stayed there the entire time,

- Not the greatest at dates. He’d rather just stay inside with you and watch some sort of ocean documentary, though if you ever want to go out, he’ll lovingly begrudgingly agree.

- You’re the type of person Jotaro really needed in his life, and even though he’s not the best with words, you know he loves you so!

[smollilbeano]

tumblr tuesday: ᕼOᗯ 'ᗷOᑌT TᕼEᗰ ᔕᑎᗩKEᔕ

It’s nearly time, Tumblr. Friday is World Snake Day. We mention this only because, apparently, you really love snakes. (Except for those of you who really don’t, and to you, we say look away now or proceed with caution.) Today, we (celeb)rate all manner of snake and snake-adjacent friends who are longer than they are wide (yes, even worms).

Unsurprisingly, @omg-snakes​ is a blog exclusively dedicated to—get this—snakes. This baby can fit so much pizazz under those tiny pink scales. Hats off to you, sir, and your magnificent petal bed. Snakescore: 10/10.

@worm-of-the-day​ gets 10/10 for blog content and concept. You really nailed it. This specimen’s existential dread and thousand-yard stare get 3/10—and only because giving them some points might save us all from whatever void they’re traveling. Maybe. Just seems like the right thing to do.

@onenicebugperday​ is another excellent blog for curated content, this time, it’s all about the bugs. For example, this fella you see below: Are they longer than they are wide? Yes. Snakelike? Not really. Cute? You bet. 7/10.

Of course, we consulted @lowpolyanimals​ on the subject, and so here is a worm that may or may not be cursed. 4/10 for snakiness. 10/10 for terror.

@fimbry​ is another blog dedicated to the keeping and loving (and breeding—for real, check out their eggs!) of snakes. Here is one that once came from one of those eggs. His name is Trident, and he has good stripes. 10/10 and a little kiss on his shiny head.

@pencilbrony​ is a cryptid artist who often seems preoccupied with the nature of snakedom and what snakes would be like if they were, well, less like snakes. Here is an artistic rendering of the movement of a snake if it were shaped like a donut. Fascinating!

@sweet-slither-friend​ lives with many well-dressed snakes, but Simon is the best of them. 10/10 for Simon and his tiny crown. You win, Simon. All snakes win, but you win the most.

[smollilbeano]

This was amazing hhskkslsl—

Bee! I would love to request whatever comfort Toshinori Yagi would want to give reader to cheer them up! ;)

✧ pairing: Yagi Toshinori (All Might) x gn!reader

✧ warnings: hurt/comfort, emotional breakdowns, bee can't help but slip in just a tiny bit of angst, no explicit content but still 18+ Minors DNI with all my work

✧ word count: 1k

✧a/n: hello Marie, my love. I hope you enjoy whatever the fuck this is. Honestly, I just think Toshi would be the most clueless man ever, but it's so painfully endearing that I wouldn't want him any other way.

Comfort from Yagi Toshinori is situationally dependent.

He’s a hero, first and foremost. Above all else, it’s his job to be comforting.

But Christ, when you breakdown in front of him in the teachers lounge over a spilled cup of coffee—he’s at a loss. He’s cast adrift watching his relatively distant and generally professional coworker ugly cry—complete with snot tracks and all—tears dripping onto the coffee and porcelain shard covered linoleum.

What the hell is he supposed to do with that?

He can hold a life, hundreds or often thousands of lives, in his palms and grin through the smoke, but this isn’t life or death. It’s just life. There is no end of the world, only a spilled cup of coffee and too many compounding, tiny problems that multiply amongst each other like spring rabbits until all it takes is a crack and a splash for the sobbing to start and once it does, it doesn’t stop.

It’s a run-on sentence with too many clauses and life is a teacher finally going in with the red pen.

Toshi knows what that feels like, but empathy and sympathy are not the same things. That’s why they came up with different words for them. You’re not bleeding, you’re just too damn tired for this shit. But It doesn't really feel like the time for commiserating. So instead, he flounders like a freshly caught fish with a hook in its cheek, watching you sniffle and hiccup and it’s so pitiful he almost has to look away.

He’s half fucking tempted to just leave.

But only for a second.

Cause he likes you, you’re one his favorite coworkers actually and he can’t just leave you to full-blown, shoulder-shaking weep in the teacher’s lounge alone. But you don’t need a hero, you need a friend, and he hasn't been one of those in awhile.

For you though.

For you, he’ll try.

It’s a lot of awkward back patting—a lot of snot stains on his blazer and mumbled apologies—but then the mess is swept (quite literally) under the rug. You sit next to him on the couch, sniffling still though exponentially less than before, letting out a stumbling laugh at his horrendous attempts to lighten the mood.

He can tell it’s at least a bit effective.

There’s a cup steaming in your hands a minute later. And the room feels heavy, but you look lighter. Toshi sees it in the set of your shoulders, the clench of your jaw, and the small bit of tooth that peeks out from your lopsided smile.

It’s reluctant and embarrassed, but it’s there.

“Better now?” he asks, a massive hand still resting on the small of your back.

You seem to appreciate the weight of it.

Grounding, he thinks.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Your voice is halting, but not unkind.

Just tired.

“I understand.”

He says it without really meaning to. Doesn’t want to make this about him, to overshadow whatever stitches broke open, whatever wound of yours is leaking blood, sweat, and tears.

But then you’re grabbing his other hand, palm full with just two of his fingers, and squeezing in this affectionate, shared human experience of life’s gut punches kind of way that almost brings a tear to his eye.

“This fucking sucks,” you sigh and squeeze and he finds himself easily agreeing with you.

It does fucking suck.

He’s not really sure what ‘it’ is, but he knows you’re right. Things have been rough, and maybe they had never been anything else now that he thinks about it. Toshi had been so caught up in his legacy, in his work and leaving behind something that mattered, he hadn’t given himself the opportunity to ever acknowledge that the path to greatness was full of potholes and flash floods and lined with roadkill.

He admires you to an extent. Admires how you can let yourself reach a breaking point.

Or maybe it’s envy.

Maybe he wishes he could allow himself that kind of crack in his armor.

But this isn’t about him.

So he shoves those thoughts away and squeezes your hand and sighs with you even as his poor lungs protest at the effort.

“Yes,” he mutters. “Yes, it does.”

When you hug him, he’s so shocked he doesn’t get the chance to reciprocate. You just throw those arms around his shoulders and tighten your grip just a bit before you let go. Like you might leave your own cracks behind in him. Like he might find the same relief.

Might cry over spilt coffee and be all the better for it.

“Thanks again,” you whisper in parting, slipping from the lounge.

Toshi is left behind then with two cups of tea and the distinct feeling that he’s just learned something incredibly crucial far too late.

Hero work is cut and dry. You know you’ve got the right solution when no one dies, or at least you should. Because death is simple, and life is sloppy. Life is sobbing in front of your coworkers and screaming at the stars and anger with no place to go.

Or maybe this is where it goes.

Into someone else. The comfort isn’t in the words or the semi-professional back pats. It’s in the transfer. The reminder that this experience, while varied and gloriously horrific, is universal. Shared and hated and loved and there is comfort in the camaraderie that comes from being born into the grand mess of the world together.

He didn’t get a chance to ask you what was wrong.

Though Toshi supposed he didn’t need to, nor would you have likely had an answer.

What’s wrong?

Well, what isn’t really?

His hand is still warm where you held it. He imagines yours must be as well. There is no real loneliness, no escape from others and their disastrous lives. The truth remains that whatever heart wrenching joy or excruciating tragedy, some poor soul has felt the same and knows what it is like to break.

Which is the only thing that matters.

In short, Yagi Toshinori is a bit shit, a bit unwieldy and cumbersome, in his methods of comfort. But he doesn’t need to be anything else. He offers his presence and his role as another clueless human being fumbling their way through this mortal coil.

And that is often enough.