#Can't blame him for having a preference

[c0ffee-crypt1d]

Argh, I love this game so much, and i have a shit tone of headcannons and enough minor theories to start a whole ass youtuber career.

I really need to start using shit like Discord and find people I can talk about it...

... for now, I would like to point out how Arlechinno's ph1 weapons essentially make up the two halfs of the puppet ripper

Fish hook = spring handle

Saw blade = bladed sickle

(Puppet ripper bio)

If it was what he used when first facing the legendary stalker then it explains both why he didn't have it after being desctroyed & rebuilt (he lost it), as well as now adding the contextual link to why we get it from trading Romeo's ergo. As the dlc handily shows us how much they're aquainted with one another.

[mymusingss]

Because I lost the original, here's a full updated list of Tom and McQ things that live rent free in my brain.

McQ having misconceptions about Tom but deciding to meet him regardless of them.

Tom believes in love at first sight and after knowing McQ for mere hours, he told his son he'd spend the rest of his life making movies with him.

McQ moving his whole ass family to another continent because Tom moved to London and McQ naturally thought it'd make sense for him to go. I can understand moving because it does make life easier, but buying a place only 10 minutes away from your bestie?

McQ dropping everything when Tom called to ask for help with Ghost Protocol and just straight up going to Dubai over Christmas instead of just asking for the script like a normal person.

McQ literally saying that he'd never direct another MI movie again. 5 seconds later he was, in fact, directing another MI movie again.

McQ saying that he Tom calls about a movie and I seconds later he's on a plane.

McQ deciding to add a full underwater scene because they used a tank scene as a stand in for Rogue Nation, Tom got excited when he saw it and McQ realized he'd have to write one after. Why? I guess is because who would have the heart to tell Tom Cruise there wasn't an underwater scene at all 💀

McQ writing the DR scene with the horsey because of a movie he knew Tom liked. What are logistics and expanses when your best friend wants to pet a horse, right?

McQ changing the timeline of the movie because Tom looked great with the longer hair (which he has yet to cut, by the way).

Tom and Chris making it look like they live together.

They both making it seem like they're a family. "Our families are here today" at Cannes, "our families live together, they commute together" (Tom said in a DR episode thingy).

According to everyone else, Chris and McQ share a psychic link where they don't have to say anything and the other already knows what they want and need and they constantly finish each other's sentences.

Tom casually saying McQ has a thing for him in handcuffs.

Tom declaring his love for McQ loudly at every chance he'd get.

McQ literally implying he'd rather die with Tom in the event of something going wrong in the helicopter stunt than to receive the news (that Tom had died).

They're are now accepting that they are creative soulmates.

[ananke-xiii]

I think the only thing I'll never change my mind about SPN is that I moderately enjoy Bobby (until he's alive at least, after that I wish they had just stopped but no, I was stuck with the ghost of Bobby past and the ghost of Bobby AU forever) but I'll never agree to see him as the "Good Father Figure" that fandom (heavily fuelled by canon, I have to admit, it's not a fanon thing or something like that) makes him out to be. And I say "fandom" because, while it makes sense for the characters to see Bobby as "Good Father", I'm very limited in my understanding as to why people usually don't question this view and take it at face value.

And I blame "Death's Door" for this because, on one hand, the "death is a door/ the door of death" concept is something that I deeply, deeply ADORE so this ep. is just SOOO enjoyable to watch. And, also, the implications that whatever you didn't deal with in life you'll have to deal with in death? This is my jam, LOooOOOoooVE this. Not only do we get to see Bobby's GIGANTIC trauma but we get to see it via him re-living it? Uhm, yes, more of this, thanks.

On the other hand, the bad: side characters' backstories that become really interesting only before they die is a meh for me. I can't make myself like this type of overly-emotional writing cop-out so this is a me-problem. Well, the other thing is also a me-problem, lol: Bobby's death reframes his life as "worthy" because he was "a good father to two heroes" or whatever he says in the episode and to me this is very boring. It shouldn't be, because it's a noble and wonderful thing, I just find it boring precisely because of what the episode has just showed me, i.e. Bobby's HUUUUGE trauma. As far as I see it, you can't explain trauma away like that. It's a very mediocre view of healing from trauma but still understandable from a writing pov because, well, Bobby is a side character and his death his functional to the main characters' story, sadly. But my point is that it could've been so without the resolution of his, I repeat, BIIIIG trauma thanks to him rejecting his own father's accusations by saying that, after all, he did something good with his life and this something was Sam and Dean. I think Bobby should have had his own moment there, face to face with the fictionalized version of his father but should've engaged with him differently. We had 6 seasons of implied parent-child relationship between Bobby and Sam and Dean, this extra glorification wasn't necessary, imo.

It's this over-explanation that bores me and it's also, I think, a huge factor in how lots of people seem to interpret Bobby as this "Good Father" type which he, let's just say it, isn't. And it's totally okay because that's the core of his character! Like, he was a deeply traumatized man who was aware enough of his own issues to decide that having children wasn't for him and this decision caused him (and Karen, his wife) some big problems. And then, and theeeeen, after tragedy hits him again, he finds out that, yk what? perhaps not only does he LIKE being a father, he'd also make, probably, a good father. But he's not. We think he's good because compared to John anything and anyone are better parents than him. The bar is in hell (lol) and all that. And because the show itself can't really imagine what being a good father actually means. Like, in SPN playing baseball and learning how to drive are portrayed as peak father-son moments but they're definitely not. They can be but, per se and without context, they're not, they're just conventionally accepted images of what a "good father" is supposed to do with his son.

It's, of course, way, waaaaaaaaay more complex than this but, essentially, a "good father" is "just" a parent who Loves his children. But, like, the very first STEP you need to take in order to be able to Love your children is to start working toward loving your inner child, which is another way of saying that you have to give yourself the Love you haven't received or, at least, some grace. Which is WEEEERK, loads and loads and loads of it. And this is impossible on Supernatural, duh, because it's the self-loathing people show where the "work" they have to do is something else entirely and it's more like a "job". But they went SOOOO close to get this in "Death's Door", all they had to do was for adult Bobby not to confront his own, imagined father but to hug himself as the scared little child he was. That was it. That would've been a huuuuuuge first step for the show as a whole.

So, to me, Bobby couldn't actually be a "good" father because he hadn't resolved his deep, deeeeeep, immeeense trauma that he brought to his DEATH. But the interesting thing about him is that he could have been a great father. It's the unexplored potentiality that makes him compelling and quite tragic, frankly. I mean, he's "The One Who Tried To Do The Very, Veeeery Minimum At Least" and that's actually already a lot in that show.

This, thiiiiiiiis I like. So this is the Bobby that I moderately enjoy.

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,” 

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

Caitlyn:

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you.

- She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong.

- She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it.

- She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

[bloomiize]

perv/gooner!jake is gross and he's gotten even worse

part one two three

perv!jake finally asks for your instagram when you're paired up for a project. It’s not like he doesn’t already know it by heart. Not like he hasn’t jerked off to every single one of your posts. Not like he wasn’t drooling over that innocent little selfie you posted last night. He just wants you to know he exists now. And you happily exchange Instagrams with him like it’s nothing.

perv!jake tells his roommate everything. He asks for advice on how to get closer to you, more specifically, how he could get his dick wet.

"She sounds hot. If you ever wanna recreate that hentai scene, let me know." Jake and his roommate have always joked around about sex, but this time it felt real. Too real. His dick is already begging to be touched at the thought of fucking you, he doesn't mind if he isn't the only one.

perv!jake made an effort to get to know you. Your favourite colour, the way you like your coffee, the songs you hum when you're zoning out. He also knows how you always tug your skirt down when you think it’s ridden up too high, not high enough in his opinion. How you're so naive to just bend over without thinking, right in front of him. He knows you prefer lacy panties over thongs, soft and girly, the kind he imagines peeling off you with his teeth. He’s memorized you. Every inch. Every habit. Every sound you make.

perv!jake likes how close you two are now. You always invite him over to study, to work on the project like good classmates. And yeah, maybe he’s looked through your drawers when you’re in the kitchen. Maybe he’s taken a not-so-innocent glance at your laundry basket, eyes locked on the crumpled pair of panties sitting right on top.

He’s thought about it.

Pocketing a bra, a pair of panties, hell—even a sock. Just something. Anything that smells like you. Feels like you. Something he can wrap around his fist while he jerks off to the thought of your soft little voice saying his name.

It’s disgusting. He knows that. Still doesn’t stop him.

perv!jake can never make it halfway through the door without his dick twitching. Can you really blame him, though? You’re always wearing a tiny tank top, no bra, and he can see everything. Your shorts, if you can even call them that, barely cover your ass, riding up with every step you take. Jake nearly cums in his pants right then and there.

perv!jake helps you solve a complicated problem, and you light up like he’s the smartest boy in the world. As a sign of your appreciation, you hug him, tight, soft, your tits pressing right up against his chest like it's nothing.

And he moans.

Quiet. Slips out before he can even think. You don’t seem to notice. You just keep smiling, thanking him like you can't feel something hard pressed against you. His dick’s already leaking, he can feel it.

He clears his throat, cheeks red. “I- uh, I’m not really feeling the best. I think I’m gonna head out early.”

You pout, sweet and worried, and offer to get him some water, maybe let him lie down, hoping he'll stay a bit longer. But he’s already opening the door.

Because he needs to get home. Now. He’s seconds from cumming in his pants, and he knows once he’s alone he’s gonna jerk it to the feeling of your tits against him—again and again until he’s lightheaded and shaking.

gooner!jake cant stop thinking about you, or more specifically, your tits. Its hard not to when they're so perfect. Soft, warm, and pushed against him when you hugged. He swears you did it on purpose, not that he minds. He can't stop fucking the panties he took from your apartment a few days ago when you had him over, surely you didn't notice they went missing. They're dirty and sticky from his fluids but he can't stop, he wont stop. Jake's not proud of it but this is the closest he's getting to fucking your perfect pussy.

gooner!jake got a call from you in the middle of edging himself for the third time tonight.

"Hey! Did you make it home okay? You left in a hurry and you said you weren't feeling well..." Your voice rings through his head. He's gripping his dick tighter now, still moving his hand up and down. He can't just cum immediently to the sound of your voice, that would be so embarrassing. He has to last longer for you.

"Y-yeah I made it home fine. T-thanks" Jake's holding back moans. It's disgusting how even when he's on the phone he won't stop. He cock is throbbing in agony, he's been edging himself non stop and he so desperately wants to cum, to feel you, to fill you up.

"You don't sound sound okay Jakey, you should've just stayed. I would've taken care of you." You say it so innocently that Jake loses it. He lets out a groan and thrusts his hips violently into his hand. Jake knows your panties are ruined by him but it doesn't stop him from shoving it into his mouth, pretending he's tasting your sweet cunt against his dirty tongue

How could you just say that so casually? Calling him Jakey? Saying you would've taken care of him?

You have no idea what you do to him.

"f-f-fuck y/n. I want you so fucking b-bad." It slips out of Jake's mouth before he realizes it.

"Walking around with those t-tiny shorts. I should've just be-bent you over." His brain is practically gone at this point, all he cares about is cumming. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head while his hand moves furiously. He's moaning loudly enough that you could hear him through the phone. He doesn't care anymore; he wants to be gross for you, if you'd let him.

"I'm go-gonna cum, fu-fuck!" His hips sputtered into his fist and thick, hot ropes of cum sprayed all over his phone. He's oversentive from edging himself nonstop, brain completely empty and dick still hard.

gooner!jake realizes that you were still on the phone, you didn't hang up. Before he can apologize, your small voice comes out,

a whimper.

Are you... are you touching yourself to him right now?

from bloomiize: tysm for reading the first part!! I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to ask for a part 2, let alone enjoy my writing 😭 I was super nervous posting >< but your support means everything!! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for part 3 !!

taglist (OMG I HAVE A TAGLIST?!?! if you commented on part 1 I tagged you, lmk if you wanna be removed! ^^)

@femmefqtqle @seobinghard @maysshade @dark-moon-light02 @jjongsies @nikismyprincesses @iaaespa @heeseungsbm @shy9-29

[peachylynnie]

what jewelry they like on you

word count: ~300-400 per lead contains: lads men x non!mc reader, established relationship, they all adore you, jewelry descriptions, fluff, suggestive themes (sylus, rafayel, and caleb), and did i mention fluff? make it toothrotting. a/n: it's midterm season so headcanons it is. again, these are headcanons so i'm not saying i'm right. just my silly little interpretations. inspired by my impulsive buy of a bracelet the other day. no, my wallet hasn't recovered. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! tagged: @vvintqz (a little headcanon for xavier, lmk if u want me to stop tagging) lads masterlist

sylus

necklaces all the way

has a preference for silver chains with red or black charms

it's his signature colors on your pretty neck

loves it even more when the charm rests between your collarbones

if you want his nose to bleed, wear a long necklace

yes, the one that goes all the way down to your chest

but if you really want to get him going

wear a choker

doesn't even have to be a chain type or have charms

if it's a choker, he'll fold, like dogs to a bone

you can't blame him

it enticingly accentuates the rest of your neck and collarbones, the two places he likes to leave marks on

don't worry if you're hypoallergenic (like me)

he only ever gets you the finest of materials, even if you point out the cost

not that you mind or anything

"sylus," you whine.

you're going to be late. again. all because of this silver-haired man who's refusing to leave your neck alone.

"sylus!" you gasp when he tugs down the choker, his dewy lips taking advantage of the newly exposed spot.

you're starting to regret wearing a choker (not really). you thought it went well with your outfit. and it did! it added a little pop to your look, and you were excited to wear it for the first time in a while.

"hey!" you squirm in his embrace when you feel the poke of his teeth. "no marks!"

"does it really matter, sweetie?" he asks nonchalantly before continuing his assault on your neck. he loves how his tongue occasionally meets with the smooth fabric of your choker. "this," he tugs on it some more, eliciting a soft whimper from you. "will cover them."

sighing, you make a mental note to apologize to your friends for being late when you meet them.

xavier

earrings

especially studs or the mini drop ones that come in cute graphic designs.

there's just something about the way the adorable little charms hang from your ears

really, he thinks they complement your face shape

and he loves to cup your face whenever

but when you wear the ones that are star-themed

he's looking at you as if you're the one who hung them up in the night sky

seriously, he's never seen anything more beautiful

it also strokes his jealousy (?) in a way (cuz yk he's all abt the stars)

but that's worth like...less than 1% of the experience

he just really loves seeing you wear them

don't worry if your ears aren't pierced

clip-ons are a thing, and he'll make sure to get that ones that are both high quality and comfortable

he also loves watching you put them on

his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. he tries to cover his rosy face when you lean towards the mirror.

you're adjusting the backing of your new star stud. furrowing your brows, you tilt your head to the side for a better look.

xavier swears he's never seen anything more beautiful in his life. here you are, making something so simple as adjusting an earring look so skillful and charming.

"done!" you secure the backing and spin around to show your boyfriend. "what do you think?"

"yeah," he nods softly. "i think you're glowing."

you giggle and embrace him tightly.

"thanks for surprising me with them," you chirp, peering up at him.

the stars on your ears shine. no different from your eyes.

"anything for you, starlight," he whispers, stroking your cheek with a thumb. "anything for you."

rafayel

bracelets

listen

we all know this man is a FIEND for our hands

i may not have all of his five-star cards

but tell me why it is that in all the ones i have, he's YEARNING for our hands at some point

jumps at every chance to help you put one on

has a thing for cuff bracelets

like the metal swirly ones that hold a jewel in the middle

they exude the sense of royalty in a way (he's a god so)

most definitely has designed some for you too

and by some, i mean numerous

what's really heartwarming about that though is that he collects the materials himself

the amount of seashells he has preserved for you

but back to him being down bad for our hands

there's something about the way cuff accompanies the bare skin of your wrist and gently presses against your pulse

he's in heaven whenever he nuzzles against your wrist and feels the cool metal graze his heated skin.

"wait," you squint at the bracelet rafayel just secured around your wrist. "did you design this?"

"yup," he answers with a puffed chest. "good eye, cutie. how'd you know?"

you roll your eyes lovingly.

"first of all, i'm your partner, raf." turning your wrist, you admire the intricate swirls of the cuff. "second of all, your works normally have a trademark."

"oh?" he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, his lips already tracing your wrist. "and what would that be?"

you try not to shudder when his siren eyes meet yours.

"isn't this from one of your lemuria collections?" you shakily gesture towards the sapphire seashell crested on top. "you always reference lemuria in your works, right?"

"wrong," his tongue darts out, savoring your quickened pulse as punishment for your incorrect answer. "it's not just lemuria i always reference in my works."

he tightens the cuff.

"it's you, cutie."

zayne

rings

he loves the subtlety of them

especially the ones made out of thinner bands

they bring out the beauty of your fingers

he loves the way they shine whenever you move your hands too

let's say the two of you are at a cafe

sitting across from each other and reading novels

except he gets distracted (in a good way) whenever your flip a page

your ring glimmers in the sunlight that's peeking through the window

oh wow, not only is there a halo over your head, there's a halo around your finger too

he can't help but reach out at some point

and trace your left ring finger

imagining what it would be like to gift you one

a simple one that conveys an impactful message

one he hopes you'll say yes to

and bound not only both his and your left ring fingers

but also your souls to each other

"zayne? are you alright?"

he snaps out of his thoughts, lifting his chin from his palm.

"sorry," he apologizes as smoothly as he can. "could you repeat that?"

you smile endearingly. his heart beats rapidly.

"i asked if you were alright."

"yes," he answers before clearing his throat. "yes, of course. why?"

"oh, it's just," you giggle. "you're still tracing my finger."

zayne immediately retracts his hand.

"sorry," he apologizes again. this time profusely. "did i make you uncomfortable?"

"no, no," you immediately reassure. "i liked it. it's just you were doing it for a while..." you pause before continuing. "i thought you were checking for dead skin or something."

zayne blinks.

"you thought i was checking for dead skin?" he repeats incredulously.

you nod slowly. now it's your turn to be flustered.

at that, he chuckles with a shake of his head and returns to tracing your left finger, ignoring your amusing assurances about how you always wash your hands thoroughly.

yes, he's most definitely going to marry you.

caleb

anklets

this totally wasn't inspired by that one scene in the main story where he pins our leg down with his evol

nope not at all

i don't know what you're talking about

he likes the ones that come with dangly charms

this is because he can hear you whenever you move

interpret that however you want

but really, he loves how the sound gets louder and louder

because that means you're moving TOWARDS him

he wants to gift you a whole bunch of charms

specifically apple and sky themed

it's over for him if you wear it while your legs are exposed

that man is on the floor, his hands haphazardly roaming up and down your bare skin

and when he notices the anklet with the charms that he gifted?

it's over for you

his fingers are slipping underneath the anklet, wrapping around your ankle, and pulling you to him

where's his face at?

uhhhhh

you're trying to control your breathing. you really are. but it's hard to when there's a man, an incredibly gorgeous one with lavender eyes deep enough to engulf you whole, settled in front of you, specifically in between your legs.

thankfully (not really), he hasn't done anything yet. he's just kneeling there with his metal fingers snaked around your ankle and his eyes transfixed on the anklet you decided to wear.

"uhm," you start, nervously shifting on the couch. "is there something wrong with my ankle, caleb?"

he finally looks at you. you can't tell if he's angry. definitely not with your foot resting against his broad shoulder.

"nothing's wrong, pips." he speaks after an eternity.

you sigh in relief. eager to get out of this compromising position, you try to put your foot down. keyword: try.

"caleb, what-"

"when did you put the charm on?"

"oh, uh," you notice him looking at the anklet again, but more at the apple charm. it has a snake coiled around it. "a while ago? i think as soon as you gave it to me."

he breathes in sharply.

you think it's over when he releases you. you're proven wrong when he grabs both of your ankles and drags you to the end of the couch, his chin dangerously close to your core.

"you really don't make it easy for me, pips."

[yandere-wishes]

Okay idea for your Batwoman!fam

Okay so you know how Cassandra Cain was raised in the League of Assassins to essentially be the bodyguard of Ra’s Al Ghul, what if Damian’s darling was raised in the League of Assassins as well but she was raised with a different purpose, to be the future wife of the heir, aka Damian.

Just some food for thought

⋆ ˚｡⋆Damian Wayne x Superhero! Reader ⋆˚｡⋆

જ⁀➴Notes: DARLING, YOU HAVE THE BIGGEST GALAXY BRAIN OUT THERE!!!!!!!!! THE THINGS I COULD WRITE FOR THIS. I'M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH!!!!

No cause like now, I'm thinking of Talia and Ra's selecting the best assassins out of the league and making them get married. They are told that their firstborn daughter is destined to become the bride of the Demon's hair. (Kinda like Dune's breeding program)

Talia practically raises you, an aunt/older sister/second mother/mentor whatever you'd like to call her. She raises you in the ways of the League. Trains you alongside her son. She dictates everything for you. Your clothes, personality, preferences. She molds you to be perfect. And while her tactics are dictatorial at best she does truly utterly love you. You are destined to be her daughter, to be her precious Damian's wife. You will continue her legacy. Thus she must raise you to be flawless…

In many ways, Damian likes to think that he knows you better than he knows himself. He tells himself that he's memorized every alcove and aperture of your ethereal soul. That your essence is as familiar to him as the dawn orisons. Damian al Ghul likes to think he knows his future bride-to-be.

And can you blame him? Can you really blame a boy for believing so earnestly, so passionately in a beautiful tale he's been told since birth?

He watches as you tend to the newborn goats on the farm. Run your fingers through the fawn's snowy coat. "Damian!" you call out waving to him excitedly. "Come see the new billys. We must commence in naming them at once." Your face is so serious as you look up at him. Eyes sparkling brighter than any star. He dares to wonder if you'll look at him with the same expression while you cradle your firstborn. Demanding that their father pick an adequate name immediately. Damian can't help the blush that ghosts across his cheeks.

Fairy tales are real. This is the conclusion Damian has come to. Dragons do exist, and they serve their purpose of stealing away hopeless damsels in the dead of night. Only now Damian doesn't know if he's truly fit to be the prince that comes and saves you…

Weeks prior the League's fortress had the misfortune of welcoming a guest from Gotham. 'A red-haired woman with a crazed bloody smile' as some of the members had described her. He had been training with his grandfather and was ordered to remain in the training rooms and practice while Ra's went to entertain this guest. You had been with Talia at the time and had the misfortune of meeting this monster too. Or at least that's how Damian believes the story goes.

"Master Damian" you greet. He can't help but shudder at the frosty smile you offer him. Day to day he feels your soul wander away never truly present. He reaches out, desperate to feel your warm skin grace his, to cradle your cheek as if it were the whole world. But he's only met with the silky wisp of your hair as you walk away. He doesn't like the way his heart aches, doesn't like the phantoms that occupy your mind.

Damian remembers the day you disappeared in shambles. Fragments of a nightmare that haunts him all through the night. There had been an alert in the middle of the night. Someone had broken in, taken out the guards. By the time the furor settles Damian and his mother notice what the thief had taken.

Not precious gems or priceless treasures.

Not the countless documents on every important figure in the world.

Not the tomes of endless knowledge his grandfather stores in his personal study.

No…

The thief had simply taken one thing.

You.

And in the process, Damian's heart as well.

The nightmare still haunts him. Even if only a mere few days later, the League had been attacked again. He was forced to be separated from his mother and his home. Fleeing to a foreign land to live with a father he's never known. Throughout all of this, Damian's heart still longs for you. He promises he'll find you again no matter where in the world he is.

It's been a long miserable year before Damian sees you again. His father is hosting a gala. An excuse of some sort to gather all of the Wayne enterprises under one roof. Damian cares little for the reason and cares less about the people. Too preoccupied with the inconvenience of having to be here in the first place.

"Damian, you've met my cousin Kate Kane before, right?" Bruce walks over to him, and the rest of his brothers approach too. Bruce has that look in his eyes. Something important is about to be said, Damian knows it. His adrenaline spikes, hope bubbling in his throat. Has there been a breakout in Arkham? A rogue attack somewhere? He'll take just about anything right now to get out of this dull gathering.

Kate clears her throat. Mentions that about a year ago she adopted a new daughter. She makes excuses for why it's taken her so long to formally introduce this new addition to her family. Damian only half listens. Bored once more. Until he notices an all too familiar face. And that familiar ache blooms in his chest once more.

He sees you hiding behind that wretched woman. You beam at her the way you used to do to his mother. Have you replaced the woman who raised and cherished you so easily? Have you replaced him too? You greet Damian with a court nob and avert your eyes. Desperate not to look at him, not to be reminded of your past.

Damian watches as the new hero, Batwoman's new sidekick, Corvid as she's taken to calling you. Swings across the city skyline. Intercepting one of Two-Face's hists. "She was my bethrode back during our time in the league." Bruce is sitting next to him, listening in the somber way he always does."Do you miss her?" he finally asks. "More than air, should it be robbed from my lungs." Bruce laughs, a short dark noise. His large palm pats Damian's shoulder before he marches into the darkness. It takes an endless moment for Damian to understand what that means, to understand the blessing the Dark Knight has bestowed upon his blood son.

Damian watches as you hug your new "mother". Feels the betrayal slither across his throat. He suffocates on the pain, the jealousy. Suffocates as he swears he'll take you back no matter the cost. You will be his once more, you will fulfill your destiny. As it has been written.

Damian heads home, he needs to contact his mother. Needs to tell her that you are safe. It'll calm her restless heart to know her beloved little girl has been found…

Okay I am going to have total nerd moment. Cause like what if this was kinda mixed with the original assassins?

[syoddeye]

simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.

on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.

he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.

then you start working at his local.

the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your job—you're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.

you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.

you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerland—neutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.

then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.

but that's when you become a problem.

he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having you—someone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you—it's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.

how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.

no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.

the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.

"you alright?"

you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.

this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.

"so…you come here often?"

not what he meant to say, but not the worst.

the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.

"…yeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"

his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.

you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.

next

[harmonysanreads]

Anatomy Of A Hug

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Phainon, Mydei, Anaxa

Heads Up : Soft Yandere themes, Anaxa needs to see a therapist, Written before version 3.1, My Delusions I guess. I merely missed them a lot and decided to write something silly quickly orz.

-; ੈ♡˳ PHAINON

In the simplest terms, Phainon hugs with his everything. He's not shy to initiate skin-contact, will press himself to you accordingly — unless you voice out discomfort. He's diligent in wrapping his arms around your person securely, should you fancy melting in the bliss he offers. Though, his dexterity with hugs was honed through practice. In the beginning, the strength of a seasoned warrior had been more prevalent. A good amount of discussion (read: pleading to breathe) and experimentation snapped him out of the rush of pleasantries and reminded him of how precious a person he was dealing with.

Front hugs, back hugs, side hugs, bear hugs — he's okay with whatever you're comfortable with. His personal preference is going through all kinds of hugs he knows of manually ; first to shield you from all the evil that preys on your vulnerability, then scooping you up from the pull of gravity, a hearty squeeze to assure you of his protection, followed by a thrilling spin that will repel all bad thoughts out of your orbit. Until all the vestiges of weariness and stress have been replaced clean with the smiles he so adores.

Phainon is not one to be satisfied with short exchanges of warmth, the duration of these hugs tend to be quite long — or, as long as he can get away with before he has to commit to a Hero's responsibilities. Just as he initiates hugs with all of his soul, he expects the same when it comes to receiving them. Phainon prefers to be coddled, held with a promise of protection, ironically. Allow him to kneel and bring him close to your heart, weave your fingers through his hair, soothe the tension in his shoulders and he'll abandon the Flame-Chase altogether.

It's impossible to stir him in those moments, unless your safety happened to be at stake. As such, it's best for you to bid farewell to any other plans. Once he has memorized the nature of this exchange well, he goes beyond and utilizes it to deal with other nuisances. You cannot blame him, not when it has been proven that distracting you with a hug deters both the interference and yourself from paying heed to a mere passer-by. Sometimes his hug offers a bit less comfort and appears more as a shackle. Should you think to point this out, bear this in mind — your embrace is the last thread keeping his sanity intact.

-; ੈ♡˳ MYDEI

You must not care for your life at all, or at least, that's the thought Mydei found himself having when he was faced with the gesture. While the Crown Prince was not ignorant of the existence of a hug, he merely never had the opportunity to be properly acquainted with it. Not that it was necessary to know of it either, he can't win battles by hugging his opponents now, can he? As such, his reaction had been quite the spectacle when you initiated it. Begin by asking if he'd like a hug (throw in a ‘my prince’ at the end, sweetly), if his expression doesn't change then that means a ‘yes’, approach him calmly and wrap your arms around him next — be patient, he'll eventually reciprocate, given that you read the cues right.

If Mydei has to express affection, he'll do so in his own ways. It's already enough of an inconvenience that whenever he thinks of you, his head becomes blurred with clouds of emotions he's unable to decipher. That mushy sensation he feels inside whenever you have the audacity to hug him is just unfiltered agony to his mind. The journey to getting him less repulsed to the gesture has to be fueled by patience and understanding. Only when it clicks in his head that the feelings your hugs incite are not so dissimilar from the ones he gets by indulging in a plate of golden honeycakes does he warm up to the gesture.

Even then, Mydei is very particular about his preferences. Wave goodbye to the dream of spooning the prince any time soon, he's made it clear that that privilege is reserved for him alone. He'll always pull your head towards his chest and headlock you in place. If it's not possible to do so while standing, he'll sit down and gather you on his lap even — but he'll never allow his field of vision to be obstructed. Allowing this already renders you both vulnerable to attacks, he'll reason. He needs to remain vigilant, for the sake of your safety ; not that he'll translate the intention word by word.

Despite your efforts, you've discovered that ridding the prince of his stiffness is near-impossible, even if it's in private. His is not a life that's seen much comfort. Pay attention to the minute shifts in his eyes and you'll realize that the actual reason for his stilted posture, is because of the restraint he's exercising in unleashing his strength. It is a valid concern, he won't even need both of his hands to kill you. Death has rejected him countless times but awaits your departure in anticipation, he's merely mindful of its preying gaze.

-; ੈ♡˳ ANAXA

You are one fearless fellow if you initiated a hug with Anaxa, or you simply don't care about the fact that he's renowned as the scholar who most people are happy to avoid. The scholar in question would most likely call you an idiot though, you really need a thorough lesson in deciphering which men you must never approach. Not that he will be giving it, his time and energy are not to be wasted on such trivial concerns. Although he won't deny, with this brazen act, you've proven yourself to be a bit above the notion of ‘trivial’.

You think approaching the scholar is not so different from trying to befriend a cat, failure in the beginning is inevitable — only through persistence can you triumph. It's a task alone to try to acquaint yourself with him, getting him accustomed to physical affection might just be an acid test. The scholar has had no need for a rudimentary touch of another's skin, he'll say with a dignified hiss. But if you're observant, you'd know it's just a ruse to hide the depth of the depravation he's not allowing himself to acknowledge.

After much trial and error, when he finally bends to your efforts and accepts a hug, he's stiff and awkward, unsurprisingly. His hands wander as if settling on one place would burn his skin, face firmly hidden in the crook of your neck in what you can only assume is embarrassment. You would've teased him about the fierce flush on his ears and nape, if he hadn't ended the contact upon realizing his behavior. The scholar didn't dare face you for the next week, reflecting upon the incident vigorously.

Initially, his hugs were short, filled with muttered complaints to distract you from the firmness of his grip. The increasing average duration and his waning unwillingness towards the gesture did not go unnoticed by him at all. He knows the basic biological cause and it served as his rationale for quite a while. Yes, the reward system's activities are all there is to it, surely he possesses enough willpower to end this indulgence any time he wishes.

What he didn't anticipate though was you beating him to it, baffling him with your sudden consideration for his personal space. You are cruelty incarnate, conditioning him to this banal addiction and leaving him to deal with the consequences by himself? Now that is one preposterous claim to marvel at. It's wise if you cease pushing the man and retract your words. And if you don't? You're more than welcomed to repeat your jest at the firing point of his gun.

[anonymous-existences]

@demonic0angel I blame you(affectionately) for this idea.

Remember the City Spirit Prompt? What if it was a ship and a larger concept.

DCxDP prompt 11 :

Danny becomes Gotham's City Spirit after being taken under Lady Gotham's wing, Danny becomes the city's second spirit, the shadow that always watches, the star that seemed to glow with hope in a crime ridden city such as Gotham.

Danny is living the Double Life as being protected heavily by Lady Gotham because why would she let anyone hurt her little baby, Danny is in college and this can be a ship for any of the bats but today I prefer Dead Tired.

Danny is East End's Cryptid Neighbor, No one really knows why he lives in east end despite having enough money to strive in the much wealthier parts of Gotham, he doesn't get in danger and sometimes it's almost as if the Darkness of the shadows wrap around his protectively like a mother cradling it's infant.

Danny becomes the street's handy man as he can fix almost anything on the spot without charge, he goes to college on a scholarship and the weather seems to become lighter and clearer around him, he has a very light presence that can make even the most violent of thugs soften up in care for the boy.

Tim and Danny happen to meet by coincidence in a coffee shop, they become friends and Red Robin stalksobserves him from afar and they happen to attend the same college and there Tim finds out tidbits of his past, parent's laboratory hazard, Sister somewhere away to college too but they got into a fight so they're not in contact right now, One older brother and one little sister.

Tim is noting all of and everything Danny tells him, like the smitten bastard he is. Danny is still a City Spirit, he knows who the bats are but he doesn't mind, as their relationship progresses Danny at some point is forced to intervene as a physical manifestation of Gotham's City Spirit of Resilience and Hope. Danny's and Tim's relationship becomes much like Ponyo's Mom and Dad type of relationship.

Danny is the Mom, Gorgeously Mesmerizing, a form so majestic and Astral and Tim his lover and he who cares deeply for him. The bats at first will be concerned but they can't stop them from loving each other and Lady Gotham unbeknownst to them, supports this whole thing.

[everlastingauthor]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. When You Wear Their Clothes

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Author's Note: Please do not re-upload my work or feed it to ai, if you wish to translate my work and upload please get my permission first and credit me that's all I ask for, please remember to stay hydrated, take your vitamins and medicine, and remember you are loved.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Tags: Romance, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader, & One Piece

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Characters: Mihawk, Crocodile, Shanks, Smoker, Buggy, & Robin

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Request Open: ☑ Yes | No

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Want More One Piece Fics: Click Here

⤷ Dracule Mihawk

He thinks that you look adorable in his hat and coat, especially when the coat is open and you aren't wearing anything underneath. He chuckled upon finding you in his coat and hat. " What are you doing my dear? " He asked while leaning against the doorway. " I'm trying to be the greatest swordsman. How do you fight in this coat? It's heavy. " You said while turning around in it. Mihawk chuckled pushing off the doorway and stalked towards you. He used one hand to cup your face and made you look at him, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek. " It's quite easy, especially since the coat isn't heavy to me. " Mihawk said, leaning down as he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. " At least it's not as bad as Sir Crocodile's coat, right my love? " His amber eyes pour into your (e/c) as you chuckled softly, nodding your head and agreeing with him that Crocodile's coat seems a lot worse than Mihawk's coat. But the two of you would never say to his face since you two didn't want Crocodile berating you both for his fashion choice.

⤷ Sir Crocodile

He couldn't blame you for wearing his coat, you weren't used to cold places. But with Crocodile having to relocate, he has to give you his coat once in a while. He won't admit it, but he likes how you wear his coat. " Tch, you look like a fur ball... " He told you while he smoked his cigar and had his coffee. You were curled up on the couch balled up a bit in his coat while reading. " Would you still love me if I was a fur ball? " You asked him without looking up from your book. Crocodile rolled his eyes at your idiotic silly question, but he was used to it. " I would, but I prefer you not to be a fur ball. " He rolled his eyes and took a couple of sips of his coffee. Crocodile would rather see you warm than a cold, shivering mess; he was actually glad that you asked for his coat. You could always reach for a blanket or grab your own coat or a sweatshirt, but no, you would always come to him, and secretly, that made him smile whenever you bounced away with his coat, and whenever he got it back, it smelled like you so bouns.

⤷ Shanks

This man goes wild seeing you in his shirt whenever you walk around your guy's shared cabin. He sits there with a goofy grin plastered on his face. " What? " You looked at him as you were trying to crochet another blanket for you and Shanks's bed. " What? Can't I admire my beautiful partner? Even when they look quite sexy in my shirt. " Shanks leaned up, kissing your neck, which sent a shiver down your spine. " Shanks, I'm trying to crochet here. " You told him. Your cheeks were warm as you tried not to giggle and give into the sexual tension that Shanks was trying to build up. He loved how his shirt made you look fetching and that it was his own personal bedroom attire on you. Forgot lingerie, if you wore one of his shirts in the bedroom, he would whistle and ravish you. Shanks continued to kiss your neck and shoulder while caressing your inner thighs; you couldn't ignore it, especially since you wanted him to kiss other places. " Alright, ravish me, redhead. " You looked at him and smirked.

⤷ Smoker

He saw you wearing his coat when he came home, he stepped into the kitchen as you were cooking dinner. " Why are you wearing my coat (y/n)? " He asked while opening the fridge to grab him something to eat. " I missed you and wanted a hug, but you weren't here so this was the next best option. " You replied while frying the meat in the pan. This response made Smoker's face heat up as he sipped on his drink. " Go wash up for dinner, I'm making chicken katsu and rice balls with cabbage. " You turned around and smiled at him. That damn smile always melted his heart; it's the reason whenever he was faced with a battle he would try his hardest to beat his opponent so that he could come home to you. " And dessert? " He asked; he wanted to stay in the kitchen a bit longer watching you cook and wear his coat. " Blueberry pie. " You told. Smoker noticed the coat was buttoned all the way up. " (Y/N) You got clothes underneath my uh coat,, right? " He asked. You turned around and smirked. " Go wash up, and after dinner, I'll give you a welcome home gift. " You chuckled, hearing Smoker leave the kitchen quickly.

⤷ Buggy

“ I'm sorry (Y/N)! " Buggy apologized over and over again while you were in the bathroom. Buggy planned on throwing cream pies at Mihawk and Crocodile to teach them a lesson for beating on him. But you were accidentally nailed in the face and chest with the cream pies when bringing your bombastic boyfriend lunch. " It's okay Buggy. " You said stepping out of the bathroom as you were drying your face. Buggy's jaw hung down as he saw you in his shirt. " Wow, I should throw cream pies at you more often to get you in my clothes. You look like an absolute super model! " Buggy giggled with delight as he hugged you. " And you used my blue cotton candy body wash. " Buggy said, burying his face into the crook of your neck. " I did it smells nice. " You ran your fingers through Buggy's hair. " And my shirt looks better on you then me. " Buggy said, bold of him to say since Buggy believed he always looked better than anyone else. " Thank you Buggy. " You kissed him on the nose, as Buggy was giddy with joy.

⤷ Robin

You told your girlfriend Robin that you wanted to look cool today, a total badass since you two would be going into town to do some shopping with Sanji and Chopper. She chuckled softly and let you wear her black leather jacket, which was amazing since it would match the black leather pants you bought last week; Robin held your hands when you two walked through the town. She thought you looked adorable in her jacket. " My my (Y/N), don't you look adorable in my jacket? " She chuckled softly and kissed your hand. You pouted and blushed. " No, I'm supposed to look badass. I should probably get some sunglasses like black shades. " You sighed. " You can still be adorable and look badass. " Robin chuckled as she walked with you. You smiled because she was right, I mean Chopper was adorable but also a badass whenever he was angry or in battle. " You are right Robin. " You kissed her hand and continued to walk as Robin smiled.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. One Piece Taglist: [Comment To Be Added]

[suksatoru]

» to the one who understood; shigaraki tomura x reader

synopsis: tomura shigaraki didn't let just anyone into his life. he had built a cage around the most broken parts of himself, yet he willingly watched you slip through the cracks in the walls he'd so carefully constructed—it was either go big or go home, and you went straight for the most vulnerable part tomura possessed—his heart.

tagging @shigarakislaughter because it would be criminal to not tag the head of the tomura shigaraki nation HEH <3 also congrats on your new job bby!! :D

Tomura Shigaraki wasn't a bad person. That didn't mean he was the best—but nobody is perfect. He knows this. So, he doesn't try to be. He's simply his authentic self around you. Tomura never really did think he could ever attract anyone. He's not exactly conventionally handsome, and his humor borderlines between something sinister and wildly crude. But he managed to charm you, somehow.

He'll blame it on your parents dropping you on your head too many times. He'll blame it on Musutafu's hot sun frying all your brain cells—you're truly so stupid for falling in love with him.

Out of all the people you could have been with in the world, you chose the suicidal maniac with ideologies and ways bigger than life itself. Really, him? Tomura doesn't get it.

He doesn't like the way your voice softens when you speak to him. How you even managed to figure out his dislike for loud noises is beyond him. But, you accommodate for Tomura in a way no one has before. He watched you fall in love with him—he watched you go through every stage, and he did nothing to stop it.

He couldn't because it was inevitable: the second your eyes met his, your pupils dilated like a flower in bloom.

You were a new recruit to the league when he first saw you, a wide eyed thing who smiled too much. Tomura hated how there was nothing to dislike about you—he'd glance your way and scoff sometimes, because why can't he find a reason to steer away from you? Something that ticks him off? He refused to accept the fact that maybe you really were just a good person.

Tomura doesn't let people in, it's not his thing. His mind and body are a fortress and no one is allowed entrance inside. It doesn't matter how you make his heart skip or how you soothe the ache in his chest, he'd prefer if you stayed far away from him.

But Tomura kept you at arm's length—torturing himself by keeping you so so close yet infinitely far. He'll let you sit inches away from touching him, but when he glances at you—he imagines a milky way between the two of your bodies, keeping him in line and allowing him to never stray far enough to hold your hand or bump his shoulder against yours.

Kurogiri told Tomura if he ever wanted to pursue someone like you, he wouldn't be against it. Maybe it would be good for Tomura, he suggested. A soul connection was what Tomura had always lacked—and his soulmate was right there—you were right there. But Tomura was stubborn.

Tomura's afraid you'll calm the rage in his heart. He looks at you and he wants to forget all his pain, all his fear, all his hurt—he wants to toss it all into the sea and start anew with you. But the feeling is fleeting, because he pushes it down the moment it blooms in his chest. Stomps on it until there's nothing left.

"Tomu?"

Tomura's eyes tear away from the monitor in front of him the moment he hears your voice. Subconsciously, Tomura straightens in his seat and regards you with a glare, one that was more affectionate than filled with its usual malice reserved for everyone else.

You grin at his silent invitations once he beckons you into his room with a careless hand, telling you to close the door as he spins his chair to face you. Tomura's posture is as if he's sitting in a throne rather than a gaming chair, and your lips twitch at the sight—he notices your barely contained smile and sighs

"What do you want?" he murmurs, turning back to his monitor before he gets back to work. At least, that's what he hopes you think—he's clicking on random things, trying to look like he's busy or occupied with something. But the folder he closes and re-opens over and over doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"I see you've cleaned your room!" You grin, crossing your legs as you sit down on the edge of his newly made bed. Tomura rolls his eyes, folding a fist under his chin as his eyes stayed glued to his monitor

"Only 'cause you wouldn't stop nagging me about it. You're really annoying, you know that?"

Your smile only widens, and the sight makes something in Tomura's stomach flip. He ignores you, glaring at the screen in front of him and praying to the universe his heart would stop beating so fast already.

"I'm proud of you, Tomu. I know you don't hear it often from me, but I really mean it. I think you care more about this kind of stuff then you let on." You say softly, and you can see Tomura's muscles tense for just a second before they go slack—a sign that his undoing was truly your praise.

There's a light pink dust coating his cheek. He stares at you silently, blinking and waiting for you to continue on with something like "Ha, just kidding!" —anything to go against what you'd just said. But you're so sincere it almost hurts. Tomura's eyes widen a fraction when you hop off his bed with ease, moving past him and towards the door to leave—you're talking about how you're going to go pick up some dinner for the two of you from the corner store, sending him a cheeky grin he knew far too well before you placed a chaste kiss onto his cheek

"See you later, Tomu!"

Tomura stares at the door for a full minute after it closes. Then, he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and slumps in his chair. For the first time in a while, Tomura cries. He cries because you're the kindest person he'd ever known.

Your son looks nothing like Tomura.

It's still Tomura's son, of course. But the boy grasping your hand right now has black hair, mused from the wind outside and wide brown eyes—sparkling with youth and joy. In his small hands is a card, and he holds it with vigor as he walks with you, chatting about his day at kindergarten today.

Of the pictures online, Tomura is depicted as a monster, with untamable white hair and the cruelest red eyes. That wasn't your Tomura, you had the pleasure of knowing the real one.

"I really hope dad likes my card. Ma, did you know I got to use my new markers in class today? Kenji even said they're the coolest markers ever! They draw so well!"

Your son's smile reminds you of a certain someone. You'd only seen the subdued look of genuine happiness in Tomura's eyes—he could never be truly happy after all he'd been through. Your son's emotions were more fleshed out—he is what Tomura never could be. Happy.

"That's nice, Tenko. I'm glad you liked those markers. How about this, we have a drawing competition with those very same ones after we're done visiting your father, okay?" You smile, gently pinching his cheek as he nods enthusiastically with a toothy grin. His eyes catch sight of something behind you—and he's off running a second later.

"Careful!" you laugh, following his excited footsteps as he finds the familiar headstone with the name Tenko Shimura engraved neatly on the top. Carefully, you pick up the old bouquet you'd left last week on his grave and replace it with the new one you and your son had picked up this morning.

Tenko launches into a full story about his newest comic after carefully placing his card down onto the grass, curling up against his father's headstone—giggling and smiling wistfully as he tells him all about his day.

Naming your son after Tomura was oddly fulfilling.

Your son is everything Tomura could have been if love had found him sooner—he could’ve been happy. The world was cruel, but it also gave you Tomura. It allowed you to love him, even if you came too late. Even if he was too far gone. And even after all that happened, Tomura didn't leave you all by yourself.

While Tomura's eyes are different from Tenko's—they both had the same enamoured gleam in them whenever they looked at you.

Tenko falls asleep by sunset, and you take your time talking to Tomura. You tell him about your new job, you tell him how Tenko found one of his old video games in your attic and has been playing it nonstop, and you tell him you miss him.

"—a fucking lot. I can't believe you're gone, Tomu. I see you every night in my dreams."

You glance down at the little boy in your arms, running a soothing hand through his hair to confirm he's asleep before smiling sadly.

"I almost followed right behind you. I would have—I woke up in a hospital with no idea that you were gone. Then, they told me I had this little miracle blooming in my stomach and gosh—it was almost like i could hear your laughter ringing in my head." You whisper, remembering the day Tomura died. It was night now, but your town was luckily safe enough for you and your son to go out and visit the nearby graveyard. Though there may be no body laying beneath, the headstone is enough for you to feel closer to Tomura.

You tip your head towards the sky, resting your cheek against the side of his grave. There was a night, you can't remember when—when Tomura confessed he liked your smile.

So, that's what you do. You smile towards the stars and picture Tomura hanging amongst them in the sky—watching you forever. Tomura liked to call you a treasure sometimes. Something good in a world that's rotten.

"You're special to me. So, please don't miss me too much if this all goes wrong. I'd hate to see you sad."

Your fingertips quickly press against your eyes, and you slump against his grave with a whimper. You allow yourself to cry only because your son isn't awake to see it. You cry because you'll have to mourn Tomura for longer than you've known him.

It hurts. That night when you go to bed is the same as all the previous ones. You dream of Tomura and his gentle smile. The only thing that lulls you to sleep is the prospect that maybe, just maybe—he's finally at peace.

[bxnfire]

love island ft. suguru geto

masterlist

loveisland!suguru who wouldn't truly be all up on you, but would conveniently be near you on games, and even if he wasn't always loud about it, everyone would just know he was into you

loveisland!suguru who is one to get you thinking, fireside heart to hearts wouldn't be something rare with him. he'd make you voice things you'd never said to anyone, and if anyone in the villa, or in your life, makes you feel seen, it's him

loveisland!suguru who is determined. first coupling? you. would he like to switch it up? no, but thank you for asking. boys village with new girls? they all know about you by the end of it all. if someone were to walk away from what you two have going, it'd have to be you

loveisland!suguru who progressively gets bolder. on the first dates he was just fun, flirty, casual. later on though? hands always on you. he would somehow find the way to give you little papers with compliments or poems on them, just to let you know you're always on his mind

loveisland!suguru who isn't outwardly jealous. no, he doesn't fight the others when they try to get your attention, and if he happens to see you enjoying yourself he won't mention it, but you best believe he's undermining them with his wit, making them seem stupid. they might get riled up, but please don't blame suguru, a gentleman just likes to keep what's his, no?

loveisland!suguru who loves cooking/baking dates, and dinner dates. as for the first, he likes messing around with you, but at the same time demonstrate that he could take care of you if you so desired. besides, if some chocolate syrup gets on your chest, well, who's he to let you walk around dirty? sure, maybe he didn't have to suck it right off you, but a gentleman is a gentleman, no? as for dinner dates, he'd like to learn your favorite foods in a nice, elegant place. of course he likes long table linens for the aesthetics! not because he gets to finger you under them without anyone noticing, curling his digits to that sweet spot that makes your eyes tear up, and testing how much it takes to break your composure, of course not! never that

loveisland!suguru who loves hideaway nights. he truly shows the extent he's willing to go to please you, and he does it rock fucking hard. dessert? no thanks, why stuff himself with cakes when he can get his dose of sugar between your thighs? movies? sure, so long as you're both covered by a blanket, and his dick covered by your soft, plush walls. shower? of course! he'll even let you choose if you'd like to get pounded into from the back where you can feel his breath on your lower neck and his swollen tip hit your g-spot, or if you'd rather he hold you up and thrust into you so hard you can't even make cohesive sentences, and it sure doesn't help when he chooses to suck on your nipples as he has his way with you. sleep? well, some people like to count sheep, but you soon learn that suguru prefers to count how many times you cum before you can't no more, or so you think, upping his count every night he gets the chance

loveisland!suguru who may have been skeptical about this all, but genuinely, the second he saw your smile, he knew he'd do anything to make it happen again, and again, and again, until you were as crazy about him as he had always been about you

[honey-tongued-devil]

↞[arcane preference] founding out you were injured in crossfire↠

Since I've created a Bluesky profile and wrote my thesis on Arcane, I'll be posting both old and new drawings there as soon as the time comes. I'm taking advantage of this little space to promote my other social account. honey-tongued.bsky.social Also, I've received both comments and requests, but Tumblr decided I couldn’t post for a week (my internet connection is terrible). I want to let you know that I appreciate them, and I'll get to everything as soon as I can. So, feel free to leave comments, feedback, or requests!

Jayce: 

- This is the worst news he could receive: he's a scholar, he has no idea how to handle these situations, and, most of all, he's forced to confront his pride.  

- Not only was he unable to protect you now, but what if it happens again? Even if he's there, he wouldn't know what to do.  

- What if there's a next time? What if it doesn't turn out as well next time?  

- His self-sabotage leads him to distance himself from you for a few days, not because he doesn't want to be near you while you're hurting, but because he's ashamed of not being able to protect the person he loves.  

- On the bright side, for even just a second, he remembers the original purpose of his research: making the city safe, helping people.  

- But on the negative side, with no one to blame, more than ever, the people of Zaun appear to him as beasts, second-class humans who can't be redeemed in any way.  

- When he finally gathers the courage to see you again, he tries to make amends for everything: for not protecting you, for not being able to, for allowing someone to hurt you, and for not being there during your recovery.  

- He'll literally do anything to be forgiven: every morning you'll find breakfast in bed, if it's cold at night he'll prepare a warmer for your feet, and despite his squeamishness, he'll personally tend to your wounds, even if it makes him feel queasy.

Viktor:

- He tries to help you in every way possible, even ignoring his own pain.  

- He feels sadness, regrets that you went out alone and ended up in such a situation. He can't help but imagine the fear you must have felt, the confusion, and the loneliness when the guards intervened, and you woke up alone in the hospital.  

- He may be a scholar, but first and foremost he's a man with a moral code, and secondly, he's from Zaun: if he has any work, appointments, or lectures, he'll skip them all, maybe muttering a few insults in his thick accent at the most insistent people, and make up for it at night.  

- Plans, ideas, codes, anything – but he won't leave you alone unless you ask him to.  

- He takes care of you meticulously, respecting schedules, bringing you meals in bed, changing your bandages until your skin heals, and you're able to stand on your own again.  

- He doesn't mind helping you – as a chronically ill person who refuses others' help, he's learned to do everything on his own, and he's almost happy that his skills can be useful to someone else.

Ekko:

- Is it something totally normal in the lanes? Yes.  

- Does this stop Ekko from panicking? No.  

- He's the one who finds you and brings you to the others, but he doesn't want, nor can he afford, to be seen panicking. So, he swallows his despair and tries to act as normal as possible while ten other people rush to help you.  

- His face remains expressionless as the most skilled remove debris, clean the wound, stitch your torn flesh, and bandage you, but his foot keeps tapping the floor with force and speed, revealing his anxiety.  

- When the others insist that it's best you stay in the makeshift infirmary, he tries not to protest, but suddenly every moment of the day becomes an excuse to pass by: to bring you stolen sweets from Piltover, to tell you about some expedition, maybe even steal a kiss or fall asleep leaning against your mattress.  

- It's an overwhelming fear, but the fear of losing you makes him unable to think rationally, and all he feels is how much he misses you, even while you're right there with him.

Vander:

- A crossfire from the other side of the river was already a big enough provocation to alert him and prepare to defend the city or, if absolutely necessary, to strike back.  

- But you, as an accidental victim, are a huge problem.  

- He doesn’t have the heart to pull away from you, and when he does, he can’t help but feel frustrated, angry at himself, knowing he hasn’t been able to keep his city under control like he promised—to you, to Piltover, to everyone.  

- He’ll ask for your forgiveness by kissing the scarred skin every day, even if you insist it’s not his fault, and if you remember even one of the faces, he’ll go and handle the problem.  

- Not with violence, unless necessary, but it’s not about personal justice; rather, it’s about protecting the other citizens of the alleys too.  

- Even after you’ve healed, he’ll insist it’s absolutely necessary to carry you everywhere you need to go, claiming a very good doctor told him so.  

- And the memory of the scar will be tiny compared to all the marks Vander has left on you.  

Silco:

- Private justice is absolutely the first option, even though you were an accidental victim.  

- He’ll call all his goons and associates for a meeting while you’re still bedridden, to see if they’ve heard, seen, or been involved in any armed conflict, and if he doesn’t get a face or a name from them, he’ll turn to the brothel, the house of all information,  

- Until he finds who hurt you and makes sure they can’t do it again.  

- Silco isn’t fazed by blood or open wounds, but despite having enough experience to handle it himself, at least on the first day, he’ll take you to Singed to make sure you’re in the best condition.  

- In the following days, he’ll take care of you himself, but he has pride, a façade, and little emotional communication skills, so he won’t openly show how worried he is, relying entirely on the fact that you don’t know about the murder of your assailant and remember nothing of the visit to Singed.  

- But the only reason you heal so well and so quickly is that, even if he doesn’t know how to express it, all the love he feels is poured into the care he gives you.  

Jinx:

- Flashbacks. So many. Too many.  

- At some point, she’ll even convince herself that she’s the one who shot you, leading to a complete breakdown.  

- She punches her head, scratches herself without realizing it, her nose bleeds, and her eyes are bloodshot.  

- It takes her a while to convince herself that she wasn’t the one who shot you, even though the hallucinations overlap images of you with memories of her armed, creating waking nightmares that feel increasingly real.  

- As much as she’d like to ask her father for help, even just to give you a cleaner room, she feels responsible and is too scared that if she stays away from you, you’ll forget her. That’s why she sets up a little space for you and takes care of you herself, though not always painlessly.  

- She’s pulled bullets out of her own body more times than not after missions; what might seem like dangerous, delicate work to someone else is almost routine for her by now.  

- Once she has a suspicion of who might have done it, she’ll make sure they learn their lesson. 

 

Vi:

- Anger.  

- Why were you out alone? Why didn’t you leave as soon as you saw the crowd getting too big? Why were you in that area?  

- But her anger is just panic pouring out like a flood, the fear of not being able to protect the one she loves twists her stomach, making her feel like she might throw up, like she’s dying inside.  

- None of those questions mean she blames you, but she doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or even what to do.  

- She’ll do everything to help you—bandaging you, cleaning your wounds, staying silent and giving her full attention to make up for not being there when you needed her, even though that’s not true.  

- And when the scar forms, she’ll kiss it every single day, every single night, like a little ritual between the two of you.  

Caitlyn:

- Safety first.  

- She’ll be the one to assess how bad the injury is, and if there are any foreign objects in your body, there’s a good chance she’ll try to handle it herself, even though at first it might seem a bit barbaric.  

- She’ll give you the guest room and call the family doctor to make sure you’re okay, that you don’t need anything else, and she’ll take care of what’s necessary, even teasing you a bit to hide her worry.  

- "A bullet in the leg from being caught in crossfire? Very vintage, I must say."  

- What you won’t know is that she’ll quietly increase security, not in an oppressive way, but just enough to make both you and the other citizens feel safer.  

- Her family won’t get involved directly, but they won’t stop her either. Sometimes Cassandra herself will make sure her daughter finds the tray to bring up to you, though she’ll never be too open about it.  

- The perfect rehabilitation? Long walks in the villa’s garden, so you can stop for some cookies or tea when you get tired.  

Mel:

- Flashbacks, but less personal than Jinx’s.  

- Her mother would call her weak if she knew how it kills her to see someone barely scratched by crossfire, and that realization soon turns into frustration, which then becomes anger.  

- She tries to stay calm, but her voice sounds like she’s scolding you, and then like she’s scolding the servants, or anyone else who crosses her path.  

- Two hours of lecture if you’re lucky—why you shouldn’t go out without a guard, why you shouldn’t put yourself in dangerous situations, why the enforcers are utterly useless and can’t find anyone responsible, even though the fight was so intense.  

- She’ll focus entirely on the bureaucratic side because little Mel was never taught how to deal with strong emotions, and she’s definitely feeling them now but can’t afford that vulnerability, even though she knows you’re safe.  

- She won’t take care of you herself, but she’ll always stay in the room. Not because she doesn’t want to, to be clear, but because she wants you to have the best care possible and prefers to leave it to a top professional rather than her inexperienced hands.  

- In return, she’ll triple the amount of affection and caresses—more to calm herself than you, but you won’t be the one to complain.  

Sevika:

- She needs a moment.  

- She knows she has to report to Silco that there was a firefight, that someone is threatening the people, but part of her just wants to grab those responsible and crush their heads with her bare hands, doing both you and her boss a favor. Yet, another part of her doesn’t want to leave you alone or take you with her.  

- She knows how to handle these things; she’s lost an arm, and Silco’s goons often come back in worse shape, which is why she’ll take care of you herself, in complete silence.  

- She’ll wait until you’re asleep to place a water bottle, a glass, some painkillers, and some bread on the nightstand next to your bed. And when she’s sure you’re fully asleep, she’ll leave a soft kiss on your forehead before putting on her cloak and heading out to the Last Drop.  

- There, she’ll release her anger in a brawl or two, talk to her boss, and search for the reason why she feels so awful at the bottom of her third glass of whiskey.  

[hisfavoritesundress]

a/n: unedited, not proofread, just for fun <3

dating jason todd as red hood is something you haven't prepared yourself with.

aside from being the eventual personal nurse of his, but also your crazy bodyguard.

im not just talking about walking you home or taking you safely to any destination. He know your schedule every damn day, in every second, in every minute, with your knowledge of course, he wants you to understand that he is your boyfriend, and that's his job to protect you, but that doesn't mean he wants to control you, just letting you know that he'll jump off a building for you, just your word is all he needed.

he's jason todd, he doesn't settle for less., especially when it comes to your safety.

talking about tracking device, not just on your phone, he's not taking any chances, he's putting it everywhere, making a device inside a pendant, that small unnoticeable earrings, even around the band of your rings, panic button disguise as a cutesy little keychain, or even a pink little wrist watch, to monitor your pulse, all those devices connected to him, monitoring you when he's away and he'll be damned if something happens to you.

"this is a very cute keychain jay," you beamed, looking at him as he hand you a new design of keychain he made using 3d printer.

"yeah, it got a tracker, just in case," he said looking at you, "call me immediately if something came up, you can press it, it's a panic button too."

you bite a smile, "you're the best"

well, you're in Gotham and he's not risking even a little bit, so you can't blame him either.

"if you see something unusual, walk the other way, got it?" he said with that slight commanding voice that he used everytime he's talking about danger or Gotham or both, to you.

you look up to him. "yeah, got it"

"don't hesitate to call me or press that button, don't try to fight, just run if you can," he said even if the idea of you running from danger spins his head and taste bitter in his mouth, but it's the reality, despite how much he wants you to be in safety, there are circumstances that you might get involved.

"what if i don't have a choice but to fight babe?" you asked, curiously.

which he's well aware of, but he doesn't want to worry you.

he turn his back to the stainless steel table at the side and grab something and take it to you.

"this is a switch blade," he said, despite his initial disagreement of giving it to you, not that he doesn't trust you but because he would prefer you not getting hurt in the process, "it looks like a pen but when you click this," he demonstrate, clicking the button at the top, then the knife no longer than 5 cm glints under the florescent light, "it won't kill a man but it can nip a skin that would give you enough time to," he paused, "if it ever happened which won't ever," he added emphasizing his words, "will give you enough time to run," he added, watching your reaction, "press the same button, the blade goes back in."

"that's so cool," you smile, wanting to try it now, but he pulled his arm away before you could get the weapon.

"i want you to understand that this is not something you can just play around, doll," he frowned, unimpressed of your smile.

"yeah I know babe," you said, looking up to him. "I just wanna try it'

"you won't use it unless, unless, you really really need it," he said, firmly, "this is your last resort, you have every means of reaching me before you use this," he added, "are we clear?"

you nodded again.

"use your words"

"i promise, i won't use it unless i really really need it," you repeated, taking his words to heart.

he sighs and hand you the cute weapon, it's in pink, with glitter details around the rim of the button. "just be careful around it," he said, never looking away from you.

you smile softly, "i promise, i do, I'll call you first."

he sighs, at least you and him are in the same page, "okay," he said, reluctant to give the weapon to you, "you have to press it with a bit pressure so the blade comes out," he explained, while you hold the ball pen around your hand, "so it won't be an accident, when you bury it in your bag" he added.

"does it comes with other colors too?" you asked, looking at the table.

he shook his head, "no, just one, I only made that for you," he said.

weeks later, he saw you opening a package using the very weapon, he only shook his head and smile, cause let's face it, he's your real weapon.

[bigwishes]

Forced Freak

Tyson was a uni drop out, nothing special about him other than his pretty face and dedication to his diet. He had no real hobbies and no real friends. The only reason people paid him any real attention was because of his body. However guys got pretty turned off after a one night stand with him when they'd wake up and Tyson would have written them critiques about how to improve their bodies and performance in the bedroom.

Tyson was the worst kind of gym bro, not because he had no real personality, but because he was an asshole with no real personality, in fact when he wasn't coming home from the gym, taking selfies in the mirror or scrolling on grinder for someone to bounce on his waist he spent a large portion of his time staring in the mirror admiring his own perfection.

"fuck yeah, I'm probably the hottest guy alive" he'd say as he rubbed his own crotch.

His arrogant attitude had essentially transformed him into a self obsessed autosexual, whilst he enjoyed sex and having a guy put in all the work whilst he laid back in pleasure he still preferred a night to himself and his mirror.

Tyson flexed his arm one last time, admiring the perfection before him before he turned off his alarm and got up to go to the gym.

"well, I'll see you when I get home handsome" he said winking at his own reflection and snapping his underwear band.

He threw on the folded red tank top and black gym shorts he had lying on his dresser, the ones he had steamed the night before. As he walked out the door he picked up his glass from his morning water and placed it neatly in the dishwasher before turning it on and leaving for the gym.

Upon arriving at the gym Tyson walked into the welcome area where he found 3 tall bodybuilders lined up at the key scanner. Tyson rolled his eyes and tried to avoid contact with them, he hated those freaks. The guys who willingly chose to inflate themselves with disgusting amounts of muscle. Who could barely fit in their cars and he huffed and sweat like bovine beasts when they got on the treadmill.

Tyson quickly got impatient and began tapping his foot as the 3 meatheads were holding up the line.

"are you beasts gonna scan in or am I just waiting here all day"

The three turned their heads to them almost in unison

"yoo you think we are beasts huhu" one flexed his enormous bicep that dwarfed Tyson's head

"hey Ty, what up lil dude. Wanna hit bench with us today? we we can help you grow that chest"

Tyson was disgusted at the thought of working out with the three of them and smelling their terrible stench or listening to them heaving for air.

"no thanks, its hard to improve upon perfection" Tyson said with a smirk

"aw come on dude, you can always improve and get bigger, you aint even close to your limit"

"and I dont want to be" Tyson said with a disgusted frown and one raised eyebrow

There was a loud ding and the three bodybuilders began waddling and shuffling their way through the electronic gate into the gym, having to turn sideways slightly to get their hulking frames in the turn gate.

"This is what I mean" laughed Tyson

"haha, can't blame us for being absolute units man"

"But doesn't it annoy the fuck out of you being like that?"

"no way bro, being this big is fucking awesome"

the three bodybuilders all began laughing and flexing

"I'm sorry I really dont see how turning myself into a...freak would be awesome"

There was a dead silence as the three bodybuilders stopped laughing and turned to him.

"that's a bit of a harsh word bro"

"yeah man don't diss the hobby coz you aint into it"

Tyson smirked flicking as he polished his fitness watch with the edge of his jumper "dude I dont think anyone is into it"

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean"

"umm being so big you have no style because you cant fit into anything, constantly covered in sweat marks, you reek after just a few minutes of exercise, you gulp down water like an elephant who hasn't drunk in a year, can barely fit in your cars and take up so much space, plus I like when guys find me attractive and aren't grossed out by my monstrous body" Tyson turned his back placing his gym bag in the locker completely unaware that the three men he had just insulted looked so red their heads could pop with anger.

"I'LL LET YOU KNOW MY HUSBAND LOOOOVVVEEESSS MY SIZE" the bodybuilder in the middle yelled through his teeth

"whoooaa jayce" the two others said in unison as they grabbed him by the chest and stopped him taking a step forward

"don't shoot the messenger buddy but Im pretty sure your husband wouldn't be disappointed if you lost 30-40lsb of muscle, pretty sure he'd enjoy date night without sitting across from a behemoth stuffing himself so full of protein like a slob"

Jayce threw his arms up in the air and pushed his two friends off of him turning around and walking away.

Tyson ignored the interaction implying pulling his towel and drink bottle out of his gym bag.

"You know what you need Ty..."

"and what's that Mark?" Tyson tiredly asked rolling his eyes

"A real good bulk, make ya real big, that'll change your mind" Mark smirked looking at his friend who was smiling back.

"whatever" Tyson groaned as he walked off into the gym.

---

A few hours had passed and Tyson was in the changing room admiring himself after his workout. It was enough to pump him to that perfect spot where he looked just slightly bigger and was a little sore, but not enough to make him sweat or stimulate the sort of growth a lot of gym guys were after.

Tyson flexed one bicep and ran his other hand down his thigh feeling himself get hard.

"Oh yeah handsome, just wait till I get you in my bed" He smirked at his own reflection.

Just then he heard the sound to the changing rooms open, his hand quickly shot up from his thigh, not wanting anyone to see his moment of lust.

He watched in the mirror as Jayce rounded the corner, his massive and wide shoulders causing him to bump into subway tiled wall. A massive smile lit up on Jayce's face as he saw Tyson standing there.

"Yep" Jayce yelled out

Dylan quickly followed behind and began walking towards Tyson, not that he thought much of it.

"Grab his left Dylan?"

"No worried Jayce"

Tyson was shocked as the two hulking bodybuilders suddenly grabbed hold of his arms and used what felt like all of their strength to sandwich him between them.

"h-HEY WHAT THE FUCK GET OFF" Tyson struggled and squirmed to get out of there grip but it felt like he was being pressed between two stone walls, he was unable to do anything other than pathetically kick his legs.

Just then Tyson heard the door to the changing rooms lock as Mark rounded the corner.

"Mark!, tell your fucking boys to let me go!"

The three bodybuilder's laughed as Mark walked closer holding a strange metal container in his hand that resembled a protein shaker.

"Hey lil dude" Said Mark with a big smirk across his face

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THREE WANT" Tyson snapped.

"to prove you wrong man" Jayce whispered

'w-what" Tyson continued to flounder and squirm to no avail

"you said being a bodybuilder sucked, well we are gonna prove you wrong" Dylan smirked tightly squeezing Tyson's arms

"h-how, Im not gonna start bodybuilding because you three threaten me"

"oh there is no threat bud, we have got something we want to try but dont know about the side effects wanna test it"

"ARE YOU GONNA JAB MY ASS FULL OF ROIDS" Tyson squeaked pathetically

"no dude, of course not" Said Mark

"we already know the side effects to roids" laughed Jayce

Mark grabbed onto Tyson's perfect hair and forcefully pulled his head back, Tyson couldn't see but he felt Jayce wrap his giant muscular arm around his pinning his between Jayce's bulky bicep and forearm and grabbing his cheeks forcing his jaw open.

"bottoms up pretty boy" Mark said as he flicked the cap off the contained with his thumb and shoved the mouth piece into Tyson's mouth.

"MMMMM -MMMM -MMMMMMM!!!!!!" Tyson tried to yell but his mouth was full of a strange thick liquid.

Mark dropped the contained and grabbed Tyson's nose still forcing the container to his lips

"gotta drink if you wanna breathe buddy"

Tyson couldn't hold it any longer

GULP...GULP...GULP.....GULP

Tyson sucked down what was in his mouth and what continued to pour from the container, when the last drop was drunk and all he could taste was air the three bodybuilders all let go in unison and Tyson dropped to the ground gasping for air.

"How long does it take to work Mark?"

"errr container says a few minutes for a start and a week for full effects"

Tyson couldn't concentrate on what the three were talking about, his body began to feel like it was being super heated, like his muscles and bones were being fried into pudy.

Tyson's hand began to tremble, as he looked at it pressed against the cold tiled floor he noticed his thumb enlarging, getting longer and thicker, it spread to all his fingers and his hand, at first he thought it was an allergic reaction but it wasn't puffy or fat, it was hard solid and defined, like all the muscles in his hands were suddenly expanding, he watched as his handed swelled up to the size of dinner plates as veins in his arms and forearms pumped in sync with his heart beat.

His forearms stared growing outwards and he felt his already tight and pumped biceps ache as they swelled even bigger. Seeing his reflection in the mirror he looked like a bad art project as different parts of his body were swelling with size and different times, his shoulders got wider as his calves got bigger, his pecs inflated as his feet grew out of his shoes, his abs bloated into a semi roid gut as his quads quickly filled with blood, and his ass pumped up into a big meaty globe as his traps crept up his back swallowing his necks.

after just a few minutes the three bodybuilders were stunned looking down at the sweaty bulky mess that was Tyson on the floor of the changing room.

Tyson had watched the whole thing in the mirror but still he couldn't recognise himself, what had happened, what they did to him.

He looked like one of them, a bodybuilder.

"w-what did you do to me" Tyson moaned, out of breath and out of energy

"damn, he got huge so quick, and he still has a week to go?"

"please, no, no bigger, turn me back"

the three bodybuilders began to have a conversation around Tyson like he wasn't even there as he tried to pick himself up off the floor. A few minutes passed and Tyson finally stood up. He felt uncomfortable, muscles he didn't even know where near each other rubbed up against each other like every aspect of his body was fighting for space.

Tyson looked at himself horrified in the mirror at the big bulky freak he had become.

"oh fuck..m..my perfect body" he turned to the three men behind him "please, please you gotta turn me back"

"you still got a week of growin left bud" Mark replied

"PLEASE I CAN'T GET BIGGER"

Jayce smirked trying to contain his laughter

"Look dude, we said we were gonna show you how being a bodybuilder is awesome, let it go for a week and we'll check back in and if you still hate it, we'll turn you back"

Tyson turned back to his reflection and flexed, freaked out by his bicep being larger than his own head.

"see, its already awesome, see you later dude"

The three bodybuilders started walking out of the changing room

"no WAIT!!"

Tyson ran over to his bag feeling the weight of his new body with every step and feeling his hard muscles bounce. He leant over and swung his bag over his shoulder. He watched as the door closed behind the three and he ran to catch up. Every step was a chore, it was like an entire workout for just one leg to hold up the weight of his new massive body.

By the time he reached the door Tyson doubled over gasping for air, he placed his giant meaty hand on the wall and slid down the the floor, he had only run a few feet but it felt like he had just done and three hours of cardio without a break, he felt the sweat running down his back and struggled to come up with a reason anyone would want to be this big, why guys would dedicate their lives to become titans.

it took 15 minutes, for Tyson to catch his breath and stand up again and by the time that happened the three he was after were already gone, he walked through the gym defeated hoping nobody would recognise him. He made it to the turn gate and as he went to go through he felt a hard pressing against his shoulders. Not at all used to his new size Tyson hadn't adjusted the angle that he approached the gate and found himself stuck between the two steel bars. Tyson pushed with his back leg but didn't realise the power behind his colossal quads as he easily pushed himself out but he couldn't stop the moment and he came tumbling forward face first onto the floor in front and multiple gym attendants.

"woah, you okay big guy" one of them asked,

Tyson looked up and saw the other two doing their best not to laugh.

"yeah I'm fine!" Tyson tried to get up as fast as he could but the sheer weight of his frame meant it was an awkward step by step process that took almost a whole minute.

Tyson quickly raced out the doors as fast as his could but once again misjudged his giant muscles and his two shoulders slammed into the automatic doors not realising they weren't wide enough for him. A loud bang rang out and Tyson looked back as the glass automatic doors wobbled and shook, and ounce more pressure and they would have surely crashed down around him.

Tyson waddled through the car park desperate to get to his car. Swinging open the door he quickly realised why he had never seen a bodybuilder in a sleek sports car, he didn't fit, just one leg stepped in and there wasn't any more room for him to squeeze in. He tried everything, moving the seat back, moving the wheel up, but still he didn't fit. After about 10 minutes of doing everything he could think of to get in he just decided to force his way in.

Sliding into the car he felt cramped, and when he closed the driver's door it bounced off his arm and swung back open denting the car next to him. Tyson tried again leaning all the way into his car and shutting the door. It shut but as he sat back up he found himself on an awkward angle to the wheel, he tried to adjust himself to roll down the window so he could stick his arm out and get more space but as he placed his arm down on the leather seat to push his own body out the way he heard a loud tearing. His clothes didn't feel loser and he couldn't see what had torn but it sounded bad...

When Tyson arrived home he squeezed himself out of his car, it felt like being freed from a sardine can but as he turned around to shut his door he had found the source of the tearing noise from earlier, in the centre of the seat, directly under where he was, was now a large split right down the leather, seats that cost over a thousand dollars to fix split apart like paper, and that wasn't the worst of it, he looked at the lower back of the seat to see how the leather had warped and swollen from the amount of sweat that had been pressed against it.

"AW MAN" Tyson moaned slammed his car door, not realising the force his arms were able to put behind it and as the door lodged into place his hand carried the momentum behind it straight into the metal of the car leaving a large dent from his palm.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME"

Tyson stormed over to his front door just wanting the day to end. He pulled up his keys to the front door and fumbled for a few minutes as he struggled to sort though them with his massive meaty fingers, finally he got in the door and shut it behind him as gently as he could which still resulted in a slam.

His stomach let out a loud groan, he had never felt so hungry so sudden in his life, Tyson tried to walk to the kitchen but realised it was more of a waddle has his massive muscular thighs slammed into each other. Arriving in front of his fridge he opened it up and grabbed one of his already made meals out and placed it in the microwave to heat up. He watched in spinning round and heard his stomach grumble as the 2 minutes felt like an entirety. Finally he heard the beep and opened up the microwave to devour his meal. What normally would have left him feeling full for hours didn't even make a dent in his hunger. Tyson opened up his fridge and moved on to his next meal without even heating it up, then another, then a protein shake to wash it down, then another meal and a couple apples, along with a banana or two, and of course he had to pull some of the muffins out of the freezer to defrost to have a bit later.

Tyson sat on his couch, feeling groggy and finally full. He looked around him, plates, protein shakers, wrappers and plastic containers were spread out all over his lounge room from the floor to the coffee table. He felt so heavy he didn't want to get up, he just wanted to pass out on his couch and go to sleep. As his eyes began to drift close...

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

The loudest belch he had ever heard forced him to jolt awake.

"aw fuc-uuuuUUURRPPP, this place is a mess"

Tyson finally realised he had trashed his lounge room in his feeding frenzy, he got up to try and clean but he didn't get very far. His body was so massive it was hard to move between his furniture and it was hard for him to constantly bend down to pick stuff up. On his second trip back from the kitchen to clean the last of the mess he finally noticed where he had been sitting, and the enormous sweat patch pressed into the fabric.

He pulled his tight tank top out from his body realising it looked like he had never washed it in his life.

"god, I need a fucking shower"

He made his way down the hall to the bathroom where he was shocked by his own reflection. He knew he had been turned into a hulking behemoth but, he looked like a completely different person now. His tank top was tight and clung to his body as his pecs hung out the sides. It was covered in sweat patches and strains from spilt protein shakes and food. His face was covered in a coat of sweat and his hair was oiler than he'd ever seen before. Tyson's gut churned as he let out another belch. He suddenly felt a tightness in his pants and he got hard.

"what the fuck..."

Tyson lifted up one arm to flex his bicep, he watched the sweat running down from his pits to his lats, he swallowed a quick gulp of air expecting maybe a small burp but was greeted with a massive room shaking belch. Tyson couldn't help it, he got rock solid staring at his sweaty body and hearing his own manly belching.

He worked his hand down awkwardly to his dick and started to pleasure himself.

He couldn't work it out, he missed his perfect body, he missed his old self, he was grossed out by being such a freak but god he was too horny to not please himself.

Right before his big moment he felt a wave of heat surge out into his body, his clothes felt tighter and suddenly the left strap of his tank top snapped as his shoulder, pec and arm practically doubled in size.

"AAH NO, NO NOT AGAIN"

Tyson watched as his dirty tank was torn to shreds by his growing body. His shorts felt tighter and tighter, soon he felt the sound of ripping fabric. As he turned to the side to inspect his growing legs he saw as his muscled ass split his pants in the back and the fabric quickly tore through making his shorts look like a bad loin clothe prop from a Halloween costume.

"OH FUCK NO, STOP, STOP AHHHH"

Tyson could only watch as his body continued to rapidly grow in the mirror...

--------------

3 weeks later

Tyson leant back on the workout bench groaning and gasping for air. It was the most he had ever lifted, not that he wanted to get bigger but it was the only thing he could do with his day at this point.

He heard the noise of 3 guys cheering as Mark, Jayce and Dyaln approached him.

"HEY BIG MAN" Said Mark

"oh great, what do you guys want"

"relax big guy, just wanted to bring you a snack" Dylan laughed as he pulled out a paper bag of drive through crispy chicken and handed it to Tyson.

"Dont forget to wash it down" said Jayce handing him a protein shake

Tyson didn't have the will power to hold back, his new muscle and size burnt so much fuel from simple existing he was practically starving constantly. He immediately reached into the bag and started eating as much as he could as fast as he could, washing it down with a swig of the protein shake, only taking breaks to gasp for air.

A river of chocolate protein ran down his cheek and dripped onto his XXXL tank top, which looked more like a medium crop top on him.

A young handsome gym attendant walked over to the group with a smile on his face.

"hey guys, just a reminder, you can't eat like that in here save it for outside okay" He smiled as he looked straight into Tyson's eyes.

Tyson's mind was racing, this guy was the most handsome guy he had ever seen in his life, we wanted to apologise for being such a slob, hell, he wanted to ask the guy on a date.

Tyson rubbed the crumbs and protein from his mouth away with the back of his hand and opened his mouth. Immediately he gritted his teeth and almost by instinct at this point cocked the side of his mouth open.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPP!!

Tyson couldn't help but belch and burp as he struggled to get a word out.

"bro..that's nasty" the gym attendant laughed as he walked away.

Mark, Jayce and Dylan all erupted with laughter.

"DUUUUUUDDEEEE" yelled Dylan

"You aren't gonna get a date like that dude I tell you that" laughed Jayce

"They probably wouldn't date him even if he didn't burp every couple of minutes, I mean who wants to date a bodybuilder freak right guys" Mark laughed as he rubbed Tyson's shoulders

"Yeah, you're right Mark, nobody wants a freak like Tyson" Dylan chuckled.

Tyson couldn't control it, the sound of their laughter, the way the three called him a freak and a slob. His dick got hard and he felt as a mixture of pre and cum leaked into his underwear.

They were never going to change him back, he was going to be stuck as this good for nothing muscle pig, forever....

he threw himself back down on the bench..

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP