#also seriously wear your gloves though

[pastafossa]

Dear pasta

Do you have any wood carving tips for beginners?

I bought a bunch of wood and a couple of knives and idk what to do

BOY DO I. And I'm in a good spot for it because I have FOUR carvings of the same design in various stages of completion to assist.

I'm going to also put this behind a cut so that anyone who's like br br pasta it's just wood wood is boring NO IT'S NOT IT'S AMAZING isn't forced scroll by. Although I'm keeping the first tip in the open because IT IS VERY IMPORTANT.

TIPS FROM SIX YEARS OF CARVING/INJURIES/VISITS WITH MY CARVING TEACHER.

First, get yourself a pair of no cut gloves if you haven't already. I use these! They're cheap and they WILL save you a trip to the ER. Take it from someone who carved without them once and slipped with their knife and basically cut themselves down to the bone in their hand. 7 stitches and one bitchin scar later, I now never carve without gloves.

OK. So when starting, you're going to have your wood in of three forms: a blank (a small block of wood), a cut out (a blank that's been cut by a bandsaw into a basic shape), or a rough out (a cutout that's had most excess cut away and just needs details and final shaping). I don't know obviously which you have, but a LOT of people starting out aren't aware that when you're learning you can often purchase cutouts that make things easier (Hummul for example has a lot!). You can still carve from a blank, though! It'll just take a bit longer. Here's a picture with the 3 stages of my sea serpent design, and the first sea serpent I ever made that I carved from a blank, so you can see what I meam (coils are different on 3 just cause I felt like it, so ignore that).

When starting, try to stick to more simple designs so you don't get overwhelmed. Think smaller, basic shapes, usually made of something like basswood which is a nice soft wood (easy to cut). My teacher for example starts everyone on basswood rubber ducky shapes! So there's no complex details, and more abstract shapes. These are three of the carvings I made that first week of my class as an example (the little face is called a wood spirit and you can find a lot of guides for them on youtube, they're very popular!)

There is a basic process here that we can see with the sea serpents again! Step 1 you trace your design. Step 2, you're removing the large or small chunks of excess (this is where some use a bandsaw if accessible). Step 3 is rounding and shaping. And step 4 is adding details and finishing. If you're not sure about shapes, consider using some basic outlines from online! I've even used toys to give me a basic shape!

GRAINS: when you first begin to cut, you're going to want to cut with the grain as much as possible. Wood carves far more easily when your knife moves with the grain than against it. There will be points where you have no choice (this is why basswood is a popular wood for beginners and experts alike - little grain, very soft), but try as best you can to go with it. You'll feel it when you cut with it - it'll be a lot easier, but depending on the wood, you can also see it! The bottom wood has an easy to see grain, the top one a bit harder (also note the difference between the band saw lines - perfectly straight and up and down - and the actual grain - left to right, more wavy, nature hates straight lines), and the middle you'll have to look closely to see. If you've got pretty natural grains, most carvers stain or seal them without paint. Basswood's got borderline no visible grain so is almost always painted (see duck above). You'll likely develop a preference as time goes on, too!

If you're carving from a straight up wood blank, try to make your design fit the shape as closely as possible. This will minimize the amount of excess wood you have to cut off! Especially since your first step is removing what doesn't belong before you start curving and rounding (there's also pencil marks on the top, so I know what I'm carving on all sides).

SHARPEN SHARPEN SHARPEN. If you've got a good knife, it likely came pre sharpened, which is great and can serve you for quite a while, especially if you're cutting softer woods! But you're also going to need to sharpen your knife regularly - I'm working on a very hard walnut dolphin atm and I'm sharpening every 20 minutes or so cause it wears the blade down. To sharpen, you use a strop. There are additional guides for that and places to buy one, but if you're handy you can make one. My teacher's (and mine) is literally strips of cork board covered in compound, and glued to two sides of a wood paddle. Very cheap. 😂 If you need tips on sharpening, let me know!

If you're going to use a natural finish on your wood (i.e. anything but basswood), you'll want to sand after carving and before sealing! Start with 80 grit, then move to 120 grit, and finish with 240. Note: as you start to sand, you'll see lots of little spots appear! You want to sand those away!

MOST SEALANTS ARE TOXIC TO BREATHE, DO IT OUTSIDE OR WEAR A MASK! If you want to avoid that, seal with something like Tried and True Original Finish or try carving wood you paint instead, since you basically carve, skip sanding, and paint with watered down acrylics!

Lastly, the way I hold my knife when carving: I use my thumb against the non-cutting edge to 'push' the knife in a hingeing motion (I'll see if I can make a gif for it at some point). It takes some strain off your hands and lends more strength to the knife for harder or quick cuts. You can also cut VERY fast once you get this down, and my teacher's approved it as a valid technique.

I hope these help! I love love LOVE carving and wish there were more classes around for people to take! Fortunately there are a lot of youtube vids and guides but SO much of it is really just practice. It's also an incredibly soothing hobby. I love sitting in front of a movie or series or listening to a podcast/audio book while I just sit and cut away. And remember, if you have a blank and get into it and start to feel overwhelmed, there are plenty of cutouts and roughouts you can try instead that mean all you need to work on is shaping and detailing! Let me know if you have any other questions!

[lightaflaem]

𝐩𝐨𝐯: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pairing: tattoo artist!suna x f!reader

genre: semi-angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: profanities, suggestive themes, mentions of needles, sticks, poking, sharp objects, blood, mentions of abuse, scars, violence, trauma, addiction

summary: after countless attempts to convince your tattoo artist college friend, suna rintaro, to do your body art, you couldn’t understand why he keeps on rejecting you. not until he told and showed you the real reason why.

“Is this the chair where your clients sit to get their tattoos done?” you asked, pointing at the leather chair in front of you.

“Yeah, where else do you think I got it done?” Suna answered, not removing his eyes from the patterned tape he’s been wrapping on the grip on the gun.

“So, when are you going to do mine?” you hopped on the leather material, arm resting on the extended side as you clean your antecubital area with your other free hand. It’s obviously not set for your height as you tried making yourself comfortable on the depthness of the chair.

“Very funny, Y/N. Now get off that chair and help me set these up. There's small sized gloves under the cabinet beside that chair, wear those before touching anything.” he ordered, not giving a single fuck about your question. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and started searching for the gloves in the compartment.

“Why won’t you do my tatts?”

“‘Cause you're my friend.”

“Seriously, Rintaro? You have favoritism.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t have favoritism and I don’t do tatts for my friends because I already know them. My brain becomes a mush when it comes to thinking of designs when I already know the person.”

Your jaw dropped at his answer. You don’t buy it. Seriously, what the fuck is he playing with? Irked, you intentionally wore the pair of latex with much more force, making it slap against your wrist hard enough to leave marks. You placed a sterile mat on the stainless surface of the table, aligning the vaseline-coated small cups horizontally and started loading it up with black and red inks.

“You’d make a great apprentice.” he commented as he watched you do the preparations the same way he does it before every session. Each and every step was done with fragility, just like how you retained his routine by watching him do the same thing for the past few years of being with him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a red tattoo,” you spoke as you continued filling the cups. “It’s sexy and I think I’ll look hot in it.”

“But you always look hot, with or without that red ink.” Suna said casually, making your heartbeat accelerate but you didn’t let it get into you because he probably said it to his clients most of the time.

“I know right. That’s why when my college friend became a tattoo artist, the force of getting it done doubled up. Specifically by him.” you know that you didn’t fail to emphasize how badly you wanted to get your body art done by him but maybe for him, he saw it as nothing but a mere compliment for his works.

Who would have thought that the quiet kid from one of your elective classes way back in college a few years ago who subsequently also became your close friend because of a mutual friend, the Miya twins, who were your classmates since you’re in elementary school, will become a famous tattoo artist specializing in line arts, minimalism, and patchworks.

Suna also probably never saw that his future will be like this. From just surviving everyday to a big time personality of inks and needles. With the freedom and peace he gained from following his calling, he also took a leap of faith to change his physical appearance from cropping his hair shorter, both arms, chest, and neck full of patchwork of random tattoos, and his signature snake bites that captivated the hearts of his crowd.

He never liked fame, though. He always hides whenever he’s got the chance to escape from paparazzi and respectfully declines the clients he doesn't want to work with and cannot work with. He's hard to get. That makes him more fascinating in the eyes of others. It’s like he’s hidden behind those inks and it will take thousands of needles to uncover. He’s surely one of a kind.

His skill in generating different designs specifically for each client is no joke. A lot of local and international artists and internet personalities are hitting up his instagram direct messages, asking for his details of booking. You vividly remember one of his interviews wherein he was asked if he ever recycled a design for different clients and what makes him unique from other tattoo artists. He answered“Each client has their own blueprint depending on their cup of tea. That’s what makes me unique from other artists. I created my own scheme and let it align on my client’s skin like it’s running out of breath and ink’s the only thing it needed to satisfy its hunger.”

He’s distinct. He’s consistent. He’s a genius.

But why the hell wouldn't he do your tattoo?

“You're an ink virgin, right? Why do you want to get your tattoo done by me so much?” With much curiosity, Suna leaned against the chair, arms crossing against his chest as his eyes squeezed, waiting to scrutinize your answer.

“Why not? It’s because it’s you.” you simply answered back, finally capping the bottle of ink. In your peripheral vision, you saw how Suna’s eyes dilated but still kept his unpleasant posture. “But if you don’t want to ink my body then it’s fine with me. I’ve been pestering you about it since you started and it’s been a few years. I’m not getting any younger, that's why I wanted to at least get my first tattoo before I turn 27.”

Taken aback by your statement, Suna stayed quiet for a few seconds. Finished with your extra lending hands with his set up, you threw the pair of gloves into the yellow trash bag and finally faced the 6 '1 guy. Suna’s lips were pursed before he licked the lower part, tasting the cold metal of his lip piercing.

“Where do you want to get your first tatts?” he questioned as his gaze started lingering on your bare skin.

“I don’t know, do you have a preferred part?” you threw back, not having a single clue on where you wanted to get your first one.

Removing himself from the chair, he took a step forward, slowly making his way towards you. You weren’t sure why but your feet felt like it was glued on the ground. The vision started to get blurry, almost feeling dizzy but you found your vision focusing more on Suna, who’s already in front of you with a small curve of smile written on his face.

“If you ask me where,” he lifted his hand, letting his delicate fingers glide from your shoulder up to your collarbone that sent shivers to your spine. “I prefer it to be somewhere where others can’t see it. Somewhere where I’m the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for me.” he smirked and pulled himself away from you. “Kidding. Your body, your rules.”

His touch left your skin yet you could still feel his cold fingertips against yours. You felt your breathing stopped as you held it the whole moment he was in front of you and whispered those words to you. Damn you, Suna. He surely knew how to shake your whole existence in a few words.

“I’ll be going away for three days. I’ll go to Tokyo to attend a tattoo convention.” he spoke, not letting his gaze wander to anywhere except you. “If you happen to finally be decisive about the placement before I get back, I’ll do your tatts. In exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” 

You grinned, finally hitting the jackpot. Bingo.

“Deal. I’ll see you in three days.” 

Suna let out a small chuckle when he saw how happy your eyes were. Silly, he thought. Who knew that a single tattoo could mean the world to a 25-year-old adult like you?

“Oh before I forget,” he suddenly remembered, turning to you once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll update for the next three days.”

“Holy shit, Rintaro finally agreed to do yer tatts?!” Atsumu exclaimed, almost flipping the table.

“Shut your mouth, you’re spitting the best burger in Hyogo all over the place!” His twin brother, Osamu snarked at him.

Despite graduating from college and living your lives separately, one becoming a professional volleyball player for Japan, the other opening his own onigiri business, and you having your own clothing line, you couldn’t ignore the fact that the Miya twins literally have a special place in your heart. So here you are, sitting across them in a fast food chain with burgers and fries stuffed in your mouth as you continued catching up with each other’s lives after a few months of not seeing each other.

The twins know how much you wanted to get your first tattoo from Rintaro. Giving all their best shots and trying everything within their might, they still cannot lure their old mate into the trap. They were always shut down by Suna, especially Atsumu since he’s the one who’s been doing all of the talking and bargaining because apparently, he’s got a big mouth according to their fox-eyed friend.

They even went as far as recruiting the innocent Sakusa Kiyoomi, also one of their tattoo artist friends who recently opened his shop to blackmail Suna into inking your body; however, the latter just scoffed at their failed idea and told them to try harder again next time. With that, Atsumu shouldered Sakusa’s business permit expenses as a “payment” for pestering him.

“I mean, I’m also surprised, ‘yah know? It took me years to persuade him and now I just have to decide for the placement. But I would love to get it in red ink, though.” you shared your thoughts as you sipped from your diet cola.

“Did you already have a placement in your mind? Maybe your shoulders?” Osamu pointed at your exposed skin from wearing a tank top.

You just shrugged because honestly, you haven’t given it much thought yet. “I have an idea. But Rin told me that he prefers to do it somewhere exclusive only for him.” 

Atsumu bursted out, laughing his whole ass off that earned a few stares from the people around you. You and Osamu were puzzled, giving him a tyrannical look.

“Fucking hell, man. I am so proud,” he said between his laughs. “Rinrin has grown into a man! He’s got balls, Y/N! He finally got the dick, Samu!”

The rest of the night went well as you guys hit karaoke and arcade after dinner just like the old days. If it wasn’t for Atsumu’s official schedule the following day, the three of you plan to invite Suna for a drink because he’s finally returning back tonight from his 3-day tattoo convention in Tokyo. 

He kept his word on updating you. The very first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes on his first day in Tokyo was a ‘good morning’ text, followed by a mirror picture of him wearing a featured shirt from your summer collection. You blushed at the fact that he’s wearing your own creation even though he’s very supportive of it since the very start. He looked really good in your design.You told him that he doesn’t need to update you that much but his response was ‘Na uh. I’ll still update you so hurry up and think about where you wanted to get it, Ma’am.’. You knew that it was just a polite term yet, it’s enough to make your knees feel weak. But you were quick enough to shake the thoughts off, thinking that it’s just a friendly term to address his future client.

As the darkness engulfed the sky, the twins dropped you off in front of your apartment and bid them goodbye. It’s already 9 in the evening and you wonder if Suna’s already back in Hyogo because your message was left delivered and you haven’t received a single text from him since this afternoon.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, flashing Suna’s contact photo on the screen.

Rintaro is calling…

“Yo.” you answered, unlocking the door of your unit.

“Ma’am? Did you just get home?” his raspy voice boomed on the other line of the phone. You never knew how much you longed for his presence, not until you heard his voice again for the first time in 3 days.

“Yup. We went to karaoke and arcade after dinner. We’re supposed to invite you for drinks but Tsumu’s got an official sched tomorrow.” you paused, kicking your shoe on the rack. “How about you? Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Just got here and the first thing I did was to call you after fully charging my phone. It’s been dead since afternoon because I lost my charger. M’sorry for not messaging you.” you don’t know if you’re just a little bit tired from earlier but you could sense the hidden craving behind his voice.

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s no big deal,” you assured, as it was really not a big deal for you. “So, about the offer.”

You heard him clicking his tongue, followed by a soft chuckle. “Have you thought where you wanted to get your first ones, Ma’am?”

“Mhm. You wanna know where?” 

“Surprise me.”

It made you giggle like a highschool kid talking to her crush for the first time. Suna is really good with his words. On the other line, Suna was leaning his head against his black bed frame, unintentionally scratching his bare chest as he’s not used to wearing a top inside his house and saw it. He took a deep breath before biting his lower lip to surpass the fact that he’s thrilled with the thought of him finally marking your skin.

“Where do you want to get it done? It can be in my studio but I can also do home service, exclusive only for you.”

“I want to get it done in the studio. I wanted to experience sitting in your leather chair as a client, Sir.”

Damn. Something ignited inside Suna when he heard you calling Sir, right back when he started calling you Ma’am. It’s like a switch being flipped on. Composing his mind and shaking any thoughts, he nodded as if you’re seeing him right now.

“Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow at nine in the morning. Make sure to get enough sleep, eat breakfast and drink water. I’ll brief you tomorrow once we’re there, Ma’am. Remember that in exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” he reminded, knowing that you don’t like going to bed early.

“Wow, your customer service is top tier.” you commended as your mind started intensifying with the thought of finally doing it tomorrow.

“Exclusive only for you, Ma’am.” he reminded once again, trying to hint you up.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you. Good night, Y/N.”

Fuck. It’s not the first time Suna has said that to you but your insides are rumbling. You felt your blood rushing as your vital organ increased the pumping because anytime now, you could feel suffocated from the excitement. Calm down. Calm down.

“Good night, Rin.”

With that, he let you hang up the call. Later that night, you tried your best to get a good night's sleep yet in your fantasy, you still feel like you’re sleep calling with Suna. You couldn’t take your mind off with his words earlier. He’s going to tell and show you something? Still trying to squeeze every cell of your brain, you cannot pulp any idea on what it’s going to be.

You just hope it’s nothing serious because it’s actually scary, the thought of him being dead serious on something. You shrugged off any negative thoughts and wished that it's nothing because you wouldn’t be able to grasp if it’s going to significantly impact your life in a pessimistic way. You might lose your shit because you know that you’re clearly, madly, deeply attached to Suna Rintaro.

“So this is how it feels like to sit right here.” you spoke with awe as you comfortably aligned yourself with the chair’s depth. It was adjusted perfectly for your height.

Suna grinned, setting up the materials on the stainless table beside you. You offered to help but he quickly declined it, reasoning that you’re here as a client today, not as his self-labeled apprentice.

Despite being here lots of time already, it felt like this was the first time you’ve seen his studio. The details you didn’t notice before suddenly popped in your vision, such as the fern green wallpaper and plants that he’s been watering regularly. On the outside, it looks like Suna’s more of a monochrome guy but in reality, he adores green so much because according to him, it brings the dull color into life. For him, it feels like life.

You also noticed the usual well-lit led ceiling lights wrapped around the four corners of his studio are now dimly-lit as well as the aroma of lavender mint from his scented candles that he ignited for the first time since he got it lingering probably to cover up the smell of blood, dead skin, and ink. Oh, and there’s also an inspired portrait of his favorite characters from his favorite movies drawn in his own artstyle framed and hung on the walls. His usual arctic monkeys and heavy metal playlist was replaced with some 88rising, r&b, and keshi which are you favorite artists and genre at the moment,

You never took your time to appreciate Suna’s studio this much until now. 

“Okay Ma’am, show me where you wanted it to be placed.” he asked, almost ordering you. Taking a deep inhale, you were surely nervous as heck right now but you already made your mind. Somewhere where he’s the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for him, huh?

You slowly lifted your white shirt, revealing your red lace bralette that perfectly hugged your breasts. You specifically chose this outfit for this occasion. Swallowing a lump, you pointed at your waist up to the side of your right boob, passing it and nearly up to your armpit. “Here. I wanted to get it here.”

Suna was quiet the whole time yet his widened foxy eyes tell you otherwise. He’s speechless. His eyes were fixated on you, admiring the view which he saw for the first time. He knows that you’re sexy and elegant, but he didn’t expect that you’re this sexy. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful art he’s ever seen in his whole life. He fought the urge to hold you in your waist because he wanted to feel your skin against his.

“Tough spot. Damn Ma’am, you’re courageous.” he commented on your preference. You felt your cheeks heating up as embarrassment started creeping in because Suna hasn’t removed his gaze yet on your body. “Can I…touch it? I’ll just…assess it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Suna’s gloved hand made its way to your body. He traced your torso up to your ribcage and he couldn’t help but to squeeze a small smile in between.

“Will it hurt?” you hesitantly asked.

“It will. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you almost choked on his answer because it gave you other ideas. “Now make yourself comfortable. Tell me if it hurts, we’ll take a break. I’ll do my best to make it painless but I cannot guarantee.”

You fixed your position on the inclined chair, making yourself at home on your left side but your torso was slightly flattened down, facing him to get a better access to the area, especially your sides up to your armpit. Suna sat down in the swivel stool and faced you from your left, maintaining his demeanor as he grabbed the stencil he prepared. You intentionally didn’t ask about the design he planned because you also wanted to surprise yourself with Suna's creativity. You wanted to astonish yourself and it pretty much tells how big your trust is when it comes to Suna.

Once he’s done with shaving the excess hair, the paper hits your side, tickling your skin as Suna’s gloved hand starts flattening it against your body. It was followed by the cold sensation of the adhesive washing the paper. His right pinky accidentally brushed against your boob, making you scream internally. In no time, he’s already removing the piece of paper, indicating that the stencil’s already in place.

Suna licked his lower lip and you noticed how he wore his usual snake bites differently today by swapping the horseshoe jewelry into a plain one. He pushed himself forward but still maintained the distance between the two of you. Reaching out for the tattoo gun, you’ve already had an idea how it sounded but when he tested it and made a whirring sound that buzzed on your ears, you found yourself clutching the hem of Suna’s shirt due to the tense building up inside your stomach.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, staring down at you. The whole point of view sent you to spiral as you never imagined yourself being under Suna.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you don’t mind this.” you pointed at your hands curled into his shirt which earned him a few laughs. Suna thought that it was so fucking cute when look so small to him.

“You’re free to hold me wherever.” he smiled, caressing your exposed shoulder as a sign of assurance. “Remember that if it hurts too much, just tap out and we can take a break, Ma’am.”

Bobbing your head, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of the gun reverberated once again. Suna started poking the needle against your skin. The first five minutes were much more uncomfortable rather than painful - almost feeling like a slow rug burn. However, as he moved upwards and started hitting the bones of your side ribs, it started feeling hell that you couldn’t help but small whimpers escaped from your mouth. It stings like crazy.

“Are you okay? We can take a break. Do you want some water?” Suna offered concern as he saw your forehead creased into an agonizing expression.

“N-no, just continue. I’ll eventually get used to it.” you declared, not wanting to raise your white flag.

Suna nodded and started working on it again. You could feel like he’s outlining something in more of a swivel way. You could also feel like there’s a lot of lines and shading going on. The next 30 minutes were spent with the two of you talking about college, reminiscing the memories you shared together as well as with the Miya twins. Another 30 minutes and he’s already wrapping up by taking one last wipe before applying the tattoo jelly on the area. 

“I thought that it will be painful as fuck,” you said truthfully. “You wrecked my expectations, Rin.” 

“Well, it’s an honor to be complimented by you. I told you, I’ll be gentle.” he winked, removing his gloves on his hands. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re no longer a tattoo virgin.”

Laughters echoed in the room as he clapped at your achievement. He grabbed the mirror that was lying beside your chair and signaled you to sit up. Obeying him, you lifted yourself as you felt your skin being stretched.

“I hope you like my design, Y/N.” flipping the mirror, you saw your inked skin for the first time.

Your mouth parted, eyes filled with wonderstruck. 

There’s a lot of fine lines from the upper part of your side, down to your ribs, and finally your waist. The lines were broken yet some of them were connected with each other. In the middle, there’s multiple flowers drawn in outline, looking like they have bloomed together. You couldn’t elucidate the design in words yet your brain could tell how it looks and your heart could tell how it feels like to be inked distinctively.

You finally understood why they call Suna a genius. Because he’s the only one who has the ability to make you feel like you're abstract and he’s the only one who can understand you.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a little bit nervous as you stayed silent.

“Like?” you questioned. “I fucking love it, Rintarou. I love it so much that it made me speechless… Thank you. Wow…Seriously, thank you.”

You’re not kidding. You’re not exaggerating. You were at a loss for words because only the silence of appreciation could speak for right now on how you feel about the design.

Pleased, a genuine smile carved on Suna’s lips as he watched you beaming with joy on your first body art done by none other than him.

“Now in exchange, I want you to pop my shirt.” he cleared his throat, bringing the mirror down as he signaled you.. Your face was puzzled. Pop…his shirt? “Come here, Y/N. Take off my shirt.”

You were hesitant at first but you gradually moved towards him and lifted his shirt out of his body. You have never seen him shirtless before because as far as you know, it makes him uncomfortable to show some skin to others before that’s why you never saw him wearing sleeveless before. And now he’s asking you to pop his shirt for what reason?

Pulling the fabric above, Suna’s exposed skin was hit with the cool air. You gasped when you saw multiple scars across the chest and lower body. Some of them formed multiple layers above each other, making the skin rise from its base. He doesn’t have any tattoo in his lower body but he has one in his chest, near his heart. And it was…shit. Could it be…?

“You see, Y/N, I never really talked about this before but my dad used to uh, beat me up with a socket wrench when I was a child,” he spoke, voice filled with coldness. “He’s an addict and whenever he doesn’t have the money to support his damn addiction, he’ll find another way to release his stress and that is to beat me up whenever he’s got the fucking chance.”

You felt like all the nerves in your body were paralyzed as your eyes slowly widened, sinking his words inside your head. He’s dad is what? Beating him? With a socket wrench? Fuck.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach college, ya know? That’s why when I was given the privilege to still continue my education, I didn’t let it go to waste as I thought that it was the only way to escape from the madness of my life.” his fingers brushed against his scars. It was healed, probably years ago yet you could visibly see the paint being painted on his face as he felt the trace of his yesterday.

“And suddenly, all of this turned all the way around when I became friends with the twins and you.” he lifted his gaze, maintaining his eye contact with you. Something ignited inside Suna when he met your orbs. He felt like colors bursted in his eyes. “When my dad finally got the help he needed and I made peace with whatever demons I have, that’s when I felt like I had another chance with life. That’s why when I started taking interest in inking, I took it very seriously because for the first time, I saw that I finally saw that I got the chance to stand in life. To live, not just to survive.”

The sincere confession made a short pang inside your heart. All this time, he was hurting. All the damn time, he’s living his life in hell. And being friends with him, just being by his side, made him realize that he can finally free himself from the uncanny of his life.

“The reason why I keep on rejecting your request is because I am not ready yet. Y/N, I spent my whole career crafting the most unique design I could ever create for you. Just for you. I wanted to make it the best among the rest. Also, as cheesy as it may sound, I wanted to be the man worthy of inking your very first tattoo.”

You felt like your heart’s going feral inside your ribcage. Suna stood up in front of you, bare bodies touching each other. You could feel his minty hot breath tickling your nose despite the coldness of the room. Slowly, he grabbed both of your hands and intertwined your fingers together before bringing it in front of you to plant a soft kiss on it.

“I’m sorry that it took me this much time to be worthy of everything. Thank you for not giving up on me. You may notice the lines in your tattoos, it represents the thought of despite being broken, you could still find your way back and bloom within it. Y/N, you gave me that reason to bloom again at my own pace.”

He dragged your hands in his chest, making you feel the only tattoo he has on his upper body. “Y/N, this is your initials. This was my very first tattoo and I intentionally got it in my heart so that whenever I hold my heart, I’ll always remember that you’re here.”

Suna’s eyes glimmered, mirroring yours as you could feel him getting more emotional any second. Giving up, you stood on your toes, enclosing the centimeters given between the two of you by latching your lips to his. Without giving it a second thought, Suna pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that the two of you shared as tears started tearing down in your cheeks. When Suna tasted the salty liquid, he finally let his guard down and cried himself between the sloppy kiss.

Pulling away, both of you were panting as your cheeks were stained with the liquid that you shared. You let out a chuckle and pulled him into a tight hug which he gladly returned.

“You’re never late, Suna. You will always be the tattoo artist that captivated my heart, no matter what and no matter how long it takes. I’ll always wait for your creations, and I’ll kiss every one of your flaws until you realize you’re love.”

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

bonus

y/n's "exclusive" tattoo made it to suna's instagram :]

[ittosthicknjuicyazz]

Jealousy and pining. If the HSR men were quietly pining for the reader, how would they handle any sudden jealousy of someone else who is seemingly or even intentionally trying to get closer to the reader in a romantic way? Is there any confrontation? Sabotage? Or does this perceived “threat” encourage them to act on their growing affection for the reader? Or maybe they take a different approach all together, idk- lots of possibilities lol.

a/n: I fw this one. question is, how do i go about it 😟??

disclaimer: ooc blade prolly, violence, death, SA, you wear revealing clothing, not proof read. I'm sorry if this isn't what you imagined, I'm still fairly new to this. Also since I wrote so much for blade he's going to be the only one I write for IM SORRYYYYY 😭 maybe i'll write a part two with a different character.

someone's a wittle bit jealous

Blade

It took him a little while to get used your presence after you joined the Stellaron Hunters. And it took him a little while after that to fall in love with you. And since then, every day he'd find himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

Blade looked over at you, his brows slightly furrowed, "you don't have to do this." You looked back at Blade, raising an eyebrow, "uhh, yes I do. It's in the script Blade." He only nodded in refusal, "this is too much, even for you."

You rolled your eyes and rolled the long glove over your arm. Tonight, you wore your sexiest outfit that showed 70% of skin with long gloves. "Think of the mission, Blade. I know you might be jealous and all that, but you gotta put that aside think about what we need to do."

Him? Jealous? "Don't be ridiculous. what would I be jealous for?"

You only laughed in response, "i was only teasing," you looked at the time, "well, i gotta go. You be ready when I need you, yeah?" You smiled and blew him a kiss before turning around and leaving the shared hotel room.

Of course, that kiss did nothing to him. Why would it?

20 minutes passed and he's at the designated club. Immediately his eyes seek for you. He takes a few more steps into the club before he saw you. You sat on another mans lap, an arm wrapped around the back of his neck, your finger lightly tracing random shapes on his chest. You smiled, and giggled, and looked at him as if he was only man in the room.

Of course, Blade felt nothing as he watched the scene unfold. Why would he? This is for the mission. But even he had to admit, your acting was very extremely believable. And maybe it did make him feel...something.

For a split second, the two of you catch each other's gaze. And for that moment, your acting slipped. You no longer had that seductive stare, your expression now unreadable. You squinted and nodded your head just when the man under you diverted his gaze else where.

Blade took the hint, nodding his head in return. The rest of the mission went off without a hitch. Blade managed to make it to the electrical area, shut off the power all over the building, giving you enough time to jab the knife into the mans chest and leave the club before Blade turned the power back on.

Now back at the hotel, you're shivering and rubbing your hands over your arms. "You cold?" Blade wondered. You nodded, "no no, it's just. God, the feeling of that mans hands all over me, it's making me shiver in disgust." You cringe once more, your whole body shivering with intensity as though you were truly cold.

Wait, his hands were all over you? "What do you mean his hands were all over you?" Blade demanded. You shrugged, "Well, he...when you left his hands began to wander and he...groped me. I know that it was part of the plan to seduce him, but it seriously made me feel disgusted...and dirty."

Now Blade felt something. And the feeling spread all over his body. Not only did you have his hands all over that man, but that man was touching you in areas that Blade could only look at. And it made you feel disgusting. If Blade could go back, he would have killed that man himself.

"...disgusting." Blade mumbled, that word being the only thing you heard. And for a moment you thought he was talking about you, "e-excuse me?"

"That man is disgusting," Blade mumbled just a bit louder. He makes his way to you, "Go change." You stare up at him, his body oh-so close yours.

Unknowingly, your heart began to beat just a bit faster, though your shivering died down. It was almost like Blade close proximity warmed you up.

You nod, turning to grab some clothes from your bag and walking to the bathroom. You walk out with a warm set of pjs.

You're met with almost an entirely different room. The two twin sized beds now pushed together with multiple blankets layered on top of each other, not to mention a shirtless Blade on one side of the bed with a remote in his hand, switching between channels on the tv mounted on the wall. Next to him on the bed was a small pile of snacks, somehow all of them being your favorite.

"I was gone for like 5 minutes, how did you manage to do all of this within five minutes?" you questioned. "Sit," Blade responded. You were sat.

You threw the covers over your legs, making sure to set the pile of snacks over the blanket. You had to admit, this was extremely weird and extremely out of character for Blade. But were you complaining? Of course not. You have a shirtless Blade sitting next to you in the same bed. In your book, this is like heaven. And god, were you gonna brag when you got back to base.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked him. "Just relax," Blade responded, putting on a movie he thought would be interesting to you. And it was. You found yourself being relaxed in Blade's presence as you snacked and watched the movie.

And eventually you fell asleep. Blade notices and sighs, pulling your body downward to get your head more situated on the pillows, fluffing them. He then covered your body with the blanket, moving the opened and unopened snacked onto the nightstand. He turned off the TV and got comfortable on his side of the bed, not getting too close to your body. He didn't want you to be uncomfortable, especially after tonights encounter.

Later, you found yourself waking up. It was still dark, but you felt a pressure on the side of your body and over your stomach. You looked over to see Blade snuggled into your side with his large arm over your stomach. You stared in shock, there's no way this is actually happening, right? You and Blade snuggling in the same bed? you've got to be dreaming.

Just when you were going to attempt to move Blade over, not wanting the morning to be awkward, Blade tightened his grip on you. You slightly shivered as he breathed into your neck. No, this was definitely real.

"Never...." he mumbled. You almost coed out loud, Blade sleep talking was absolutely adorable to you. It reminded you that Blade was the same as everybody else, he wasn't devoid of all human emotion, he wasn't a machine. He was a living being just like you were. "Never again..." he mumbled once more.

You sighed and decided to leave it be. If it was going to be awkward in the morning, then so be it. You turned to embrace him, your fingers running through the shorter and longer layers of his hair.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Can I just have a small bit of headcanons or a Drabble on your pick of multi Gotham boys and their hands? Like I dunno if this is weird or not but kinda like just a dive down on what their hands feel like, who’s are soft and who’s are rough, who has vein hands, who has calloused hands. Just that kind of stuff please?🙏🤭🥺 (reason being of a specific hand edit I saw on tiktok 💀, also don’t feel obligated to do this if you don’t wanna. I completely understand.)

'FLESH, [hand! hcs]

-GOTHAM!VILLAINS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Zsasz, Jonathan Crane

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; gotham villains and how they use their hands on reader ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. Not pure porn but smut. Suggestive. Might be the most vanilla thing i've written? but I love this request so much and I AM A SLUT for these men. Canon typical violence for Victor, Oswald getting a little rough ;)

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

♫ “This is just my way of unleashing the feelings deep inside of me.” Flesh by Simon Curtis

I know what you're thinking.

Oswald's hands? Out of every Gotham man I could've chosen???

YES. YES OSWALD'S HANDS. Have you seen this mans HANDS? Whether they are on a knife, or in those red gloves, or if he's leaning forward on them? All predatory like...

Not to mention...the VEINS. In almost every scene I've seen of this man? His hands are VEINY. Skinny bird man is not living up to that penguin stereotype, especially not in the earlier seasons.

God- just the way he stirs the wine glass or glass of brandy. Yeah. He's thinking and wishing it was your thighs he was holding, staring into the golden swirls.

The man has some issues with being nervous during sex, but when he lets loose he lets LOOSE. And he becomes feral, desperate, grinding and PAWING for every part of you he can kiss and hold and worship.

C'mon. We see the way he grips that cane of his. The way he holds the custom made knife. The way he gets his knuckles all bloody from hitting Fish or doing his own dirty work in season 1.

Also...going back to those red gloves of his. Could you imagine? Him making you grind yourself into the palm of his hand, watching you, mesmerized at the feeling of skin on leather.

He just wants to watch you writhe from pleasure. His little true love all needy for him and his hands. Gah.

He's so flustered, by the way, if you tell him you like his hands. He's sputtering, and asking why, but that little cheeky (and villainous mastermind) part of him is making a note to use them even more.

"You-," He says with a bit of an unbelieving smile, brows furrowed, voice wavering before his face turns to a look of complete shock, "You want me to what?"

Don't get him wrong, he's listening intently to your wishes, he just looks like he's seen a ghost at your vulgarity. He's not used to being wanted.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “You can dominate the game 'cause I'm tough / This spark of black that I seem to love.” Flesh by Simon Curtis

This man might have the most iconic hands out of EVERYONE on this list.

I mean, c'mon now. When you think of leather-clad knuckle-less gloves, who do you think of?

The man, the myth, the legend himself. Victor Zsasz has the hands of a working man and he likes to use them.

These are the same hands he carries his guns in, the same trigger finger that will pump inside you while you mewl around him.

In all seriousness, though, he LOVES his hands too. They are his favorite part of his body. Without his hands, what would he be able to do? He's skilled with them. Pleasuring you with them is no different.

They are slightly calloused from the sharp edges of the guns he holds, but he's learned to use his gloves to protect them. Regardless, the old scars and marks from when he was just a boy playing with a tec-9 still remain.

Also, he canonically wears rings when we first see him in the show. Yeah, he's using that to his advantage.

You'll feel the cold metal as he drags a finger along your spine, watching you shiver. He'll do that lazy side-smirk, breathing heavily as he watches you arch up into him just from a touch.

Don't tell him you love his hands. Please, for the sake of the zsaszettes having to suffer a total EGO trip. He's taking it in stride.

But if you do happen to mention it...he's bragging about it.

Every time he gets complimented on a nice shot, he's bring you up.

I can imagine him holding someone hostage, whether its Jim or someone else. He notices them staring at the gun in his hand, full of fear, and he'll look flattered.

"Oh? Are you staring at my hands? Sorry, I'm taken." He's mentioning, off-hand, to the rando he's kidnapped. It doesn't matter if the hostage is a full on 50 year old man. "My girlfriend says she loves my hands. Y'know, life's work, and all that."

𝐽𝛰𝑁𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑁 𝐶𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “This is not the way into my heart, into my head. / Into my brain, into none of the above.” Flesh by Simon Curtis

Okay, maybe i’m just a monster fucker, but HEAR ME OUT!!

Uncut nails behind those talons of his on his costume. On or off.

Sometimes, he’ll be fully clothed, drawing scratch-marks into your skin, lowly humming in pleasure. That little spark of fear in your eyes when he draaaaaags down just right makes him go crazy.

He can’t help it. You’re his armeggedon, his muse, his savior all in one. The remedy to his madness…and you get all worked up from just a touch. It strokes his ego, like Victor, but he’s quieter about it.

Dirt beneath his fingernails, callouses and blisters from working with those damned poisons. He’s suffered a chemical burn or two, and you’ll see the small circle scars on his knuckles.

You’re like his personal test subject. He likes to study you- watch your expressions when he glides his nails down your skin, almost touching you- but not quite.

Surprisingly a tease when he finds out. He’s nonchalant. He won’t let you see the sheer arousal simmering beneath the surface.

But boy, it’s there. His heavy breathing. It affects him just as much as it effects you. The chill down your back, the shivers left in his wake. He takes his time edging playing with you.

You might need to ask him to cut them lowkey because they can be kinda painful when he’s fingering you. Or…if you’re into that little sting of pain while his tongue massages your clit through his mask.

He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s filthy.

“There you go, little mouse. You like it, don’t you?” He pauses, in thought, while you grind for friction like a cat in heat against his finger tips. “I wonder…where I should sink my claws into you next?”

That damned deep voice of his…the subtle curl of his fingers inside you. Before you know it, he’s pumping in and out, trying to elicit the most vulgar reactions from you. He can’t help it. For a man who prides himself on control…he looses it all when he’s with you.

[scary-grace]

I didn’t put this WIP on the list for the WIP game, but I’m hyped about it, so here is an excerpt from a fic inspired partially by a conversation with @sophsiaaa and written for a summer fic event hosted by @threadbaresweater! Shigaraki x reader, coffee shop au + ‘a day at the beach’:

Past noon, things slow down a bit. You decide to speed-clean the espresso machine, and you’re so focused on your work that you don’t notice the customer. It’s possibly also the customer’s fault, since he’s peering at you from over the drink pickup counter instead of standing by the cash register, and when he barks the question at you, it startles you badly. “What’s the password?”

“On the WiFi?” You tuck your burned hand behind your back. “No password. Find a place to sit down and have at it.”

The customer looks disconcerted. Or at least you think he does — the lower half of his face is covered with a surgical mask, and given that he doesn’t have eyebrows, it’s hard to read his expression. “Why?”

“Why isn’t there a password?” You haven’t gotten that question yet. “I want people to be able to use it if they need it.”

“They’re gonna watch porn.”

“Me putting a password on the WiFi wouldn’t stop that,” you say. “And I’m not the Internet police. If somebody starts acting up, I’ll deal with it. If not — just use headphones.”

The customer’s expression twists. “I didn’t mean me.”

“Sure.” You’re not a moron. “It’s not my business what you do. Unless your business starts messing with my business. Seriously. Knock yourself out.”

The customer turns away, and you spend a second being extremely grateful that you went for single-occupancy bathrooms instead of multiple-stall bathrooms before you go back to cleaning the espresso machine. Your hand hurts, but it’s nothing running it under cold water won’t fix later. When you straighten up, there’s someone at the counter.

It’s porn guy, who you really shouldn’t call porn guy. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. You dry your hands and hurry over. “What can I get for you today?”

“Black coffee.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

The customer glances at the pastry case, then shakes his head. Then his stomach growls audibly. He knows you heard it. What little of his face is visible above the mask turns red. “No.”

“Tell you what,” you say. “I’ve got these new pastries the bakery wants me to try out, but next to nobody’s tried one yet. If you agree to tell me how it was, you can have it half off.”

“I have money.” The customer shoves a credit card across the counter to you, and you see that he’s wearing fingerless gloves. Or sort of fingerless gloves. They’re missing the first three fingers and that’s it. “I don’t need help.”

“No, but you’re helping me out,” you say. You add the pastry to his order and discount it by half, then fish it out of the case with a pair of tongs. “For here or to go?”

“Here.” The customer watches as you set it on a plate. “What is that?”

“It’s babka.”

“I can read. What is it?”

“I don’t really know,” you admit. Maybe that’s why people aren’t buying them. “The filling is chocolate and cinnamon, though. It’s hard to go wrong with that. It’ll be just a second with the coffee.”

You fill a mug, then point out the cream and sugar. Then you realize you still haven’t tapped the customer’s card. You finish ringing it up and glance at the cardholder’s name. Shimura Tenko. He hasn’t been in before today. You’re not the best with faces, but you never forget a name.

[dokidokidraft]

MHA boys HC pt. 2

Includes: Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinso

(More next time)

Warning: tinyyyyy but of pervy behaviour from denki! If that makes you uncomfortable please skip his part 🫶

~Denki Kaminari~

-He’s always trying to make you smile and laugh! Lots of inside jokes

-Mario kart tournaments with this guy. He’s the king at any video game, so sorry for your loss. He’s beating you no matter what you try, but if he wants you to smile or feels bad he’ll let you win

-has scars from his quirk. They look like lightning strikes and line up his arms and some on his torso (this isn’t canon I just think it’s good for the character)

-a bit of a perv. Ex: caught staring at you multiple times. LOTS of suggestive comments. “Jokingly” has tried to look up your skirt. Buys you revealing clothes. Encourages you to wear said revealing clothes. Still your number 1 cheerleader tho and we love him •_•

-only he is allowed to be a perv around you. As soon as mineta makes a comment/acts he’ll glare at him. “She’s mine. Go bug Momo”

-When he overuses his quirk/short circuits, he relies completely on instinct. Somehow his instincts always lead him to you. It’s kinda cute

-gets bullied for his quirk. You will literally beat up anyone who does that tho

-such a bubbly personality. He’s such a sweetheart though

-*finger guns*

-has a pikachu plushie and/or onesie

-will charge your phone for you. It hurts him if he does it too much, but on the occasions when he’s fully charged himself, he’s doing it for you

-keep an portable charger with you! This guy forgets his all the time

-super friendly to everyone. Definition of extrovert. He’s always trying to take you out to do things. Once you went to the aquarium with him and he tried to stick his hand in the octopus tank

-sends you memes at 4 am titled “this is literally us”

~Eijiro Kirishima~

-MANLY

-you aren’t allowed to carry anything remotely heavy around him. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I got that for you”

-pays for everything. You simply cannot offer to pay without him faking offence

-toxic masculinity? Who’s that?

-husky morning voice 🙏

-lets you watch him workout. If you what to join he’ll gladly help you use the equipment if you’re new to the gym, or simply be your spotter. If you don’t want to join him, he’s definitely showing off with the weights.

-classic romantic dates. Restaurants, and picnics are his specialty (definitely some gym dates mixed in there)

-always shirtless. He just wants to show off. It’s not like you’re complaining though….

-he’s really insecure about his quirk, and doesn’t think he’s good enough. Just remind him that you love him. Give him loads of attention and affection when he has his panic episodes.

-lets you dye/style his hair. His favourite positions is you sitting in the counter redoing his roots, while he’s in a chair in front of you. He doesn’t even need entertainment, he’s just enjoying the feeling of your gloved hands in his hair.

-loves when you wear his shirts. Especially his Red Riot merch ($-$)

-manly hands 🫡

-He personally doesn’t care much about PDA, he’ll do anything as long as you’re comfortable

-cannot cook for the life of him. Last time he was in the kitchen he caught his toast on fire

~Hitoshi Shinso~

-He is SO sleep deprived. You can tell by the bags under his eyes. Definitely has insomnia or something

-cat cafe dates with him. (I’m seriously thinking of writing a whole damn fanfic of this, just need motivation) he just loves cats sm, and he loves you, so this is the perfect plan according to him.

-needs his coffee in the morning. Can’t function without it. Also has his coffe without any cream or milk (like a psycho)

-Texts you really late at night for no reason. Even if he knows you’re asleep he’ll still do it cuz he’s bored

-messy hair 24/7

-late night walks with him. You guys don’t even have to talk, he’ll just walk with you beside him (he’ll hold your hand if he’s in the mood) and you’ll walk under the moonlight. Also loves to point out constellations to you

-once he grabbed something that you couldn’t reach for you, and you called him “your hero”. He’s never stopped thinking about it since

-usually does his training outside, late at night

-not a headcanon, but I’d just like to say, him in his mask 🛐

-has tired/dead eyes all the time. And looks hot in them too

-wears Jean jackets, hoodies, sweats, those weird fancy cotton shorts. And lets you steal all of them <3

-the type of boyfriend that gets jealous easily. Someone could look at you the wrong way and all of the sudden you guys “forgot to vacuum” and you’re getting swept off your feet and carried to his dorm for some cuddles

-asks for help studying. He does fine academically, he jus wants to spend time with you

Hope you guys enjoyed!!!

@kimyoudraft thought of you while writing for kiri 🫶

[koolades-world]

More Obey me! Headcannons

had so much fun last time I wanted to do it again

Satan is so smart, but has issues doing basic math and refuses to admit it, like he can’t figure out fifteen plus seven without his fingers or a calculator (is this me projecting? maybe)

Belphie bought himself and Mc matching house slippers. Mc thought Beel felt left out and made Belphie buy a pair for him too

Beel has a huge green thumb, and takes upon himself to save plants he thinks are sad or lonely. He buys the dying plants from the store to bring back to life (partially inspired by the chat where someone, forgot who, told beel that if he talked to plants they would grow faster my precious baby)

Lucifer is the best cook at the HoL, but rarely has time to cook. Beel is the second best but usually eats the ingredients before he can make anything with them. Mammon is probably the worst because Levi can make food from animes almost perfectly

Asmo once almost set a store he was collaborating with on fire with his rage alone because they spelt his name wrong

Beel probably needs a new toothbrush every couple weeks. Belphie probably gets toothbrushes mixed up and uses ones that aren’t his

Lucifer and Solomon like prune juice haha old men

The one thing Luke and Simeon have seriously disagreed on is if raisins belong in dessert. Michael likes them, so Luke does too. Simeon thinks they’re awful but never directly says it, so Lucifer usually says it for him

Despite always being online, Levi had not once checked his RAD email. He has 9,999+ emails, probably a lot more because 9,999 is where it stops counting

Mammon collects cool rocks and keeps them in a box under his bed

Satan’s hands are always freezing, so he sticks them under Mc (or a cat) when possible, or uses a charmed hot water bottle from Solomon that stays warm for days at a time

Solomon and Asmo have had matching bracelet sets for as long as they’ve known each other, and since they didn’t make them anymore, they got some custom done for Mc so they could also have them

For about 1,000 years, Thirteen though jelly beans were an actual kind of bean and Solomon never let her let it go

The first food Mc and Mammon ate on a date in the human world together was Taiyaki, so he made it a point to learn how to make them to surprise Mc (even though he’s a terrible cook) (I might make this a fic since I like this idea so much)

Diavolo has always wanted a Devildom version of a hamster but Barbatos refused to have any kind of rodent in the castle, rat or not

Luke probably downloads those stupid app games with the ads unironically

Satan’s favorite Disney Princess is Ariel because she ran off to do what she wanted without caring what her father thought, it’s giving daddy issues. He’s probably considered running off and marrying Mephisto to make Lucifer angry

Raphael unironically enjoys off brand chips and soda

Lucifer is a nail biter, and Asmo is helping him curve the habit by putting a nasty tasting top coat when he does his nails, and it’s also why he wears gloves all the time.

Belphie and Satan once went up to the humans world together to mess with people in Salem, Massachusetts with magic, which spawned several conspiracy theory books. They read them together and laugh as a past time

Diavolo once went to the human world in his demon form for,, reasons, and accidentally got written into ancient mythology because he got spotted by humans

Barbatos had a home garden for cooking and sometimes lets Asmo have leaves from some of the plants to make homemade skin care products

Mammon probably has lots of earwax. Don’t share your earbuds with him unless you make him clean them afterwards

Belphie has a really large water bottle that’s always on his side table. He wakes up randomly though the night, chugs an ungodly amount of water and then passed out again. In the mornings he has to piss really bad but is too lazy to get up and actually do it, so he just sits and complains. Even Beel isn’t sure how he’s able to drink that much water in a short amount of time

Satan likes waking up early to enjoy the morning air and read outside for a while since mornings can get hectic with his brothers

Thirteen’s favorite torture device is the Iron Maiden. She had her own that she bedazzled. Even Asmo is jealous and wants her to make him one too

Mammon introduced Diavolo to Gatorade, and instead of sneaking behind Lucifer and Barbatos’s backs to drink Demonus, they have secret Gatorade meetings

Diavolo and Lucifer definitely both had a hidden Dialuci stash of things and probably clash trying to collect limited edition things online

None of the Obey me cast took birthdays or passing of years seriously until Mc entered the picture and suddenly time was precious, and they actually kept track. Because of this, nobody is really sure how old the twins are

Mephisto thinks roosters want world domination

Asmo thinks cilantro tastes like soap and Levi thinks anything cola flavored tastes like cough medicine

Mammon's favorite party trick is one Mc taught him, which is rolling his tongue Everyone he meets, including his brothers, thinks it's so cool when really it's just a genetic thing

[maneskinwh0re]

“one more word.” ~ butch!wolverine x ladypool!reader this is just a wlw honda odyssey scene bc i need butch wolverine to be real. i also aimed to write them in character! give feedback babes plsssss

cw: outdated cultural references, fourth wall breaking, nsfw, blood, f!ngering, strap!sex, idk just lotta gay shit xx

wc: 4.3k...👁️👁️

"get. in the fucking. car."

"it'll get you there safe and sound!" nicepool reassures with a loving pat to the top of the grey honda odyssey. "lil betsy always does." his eyes then fall to dogpool, who is held tightly in your arms. "you're gonna have to give me my dog back, though..."

"i know," you reply matter-of-factly. "listen-" you start before mary puppins places a paw on your hand. "yes, child... if you ever want to give her up or if she needs a new home, or if something should happen to you, i'd love to be her mama."

nicepool only wheezes at your remark. "what would ever happen to me?"

"lots of stuff," you reply with a shrug, smiling innocently under your red mask.

as soon as he realizes your seriousness, his smile fades and looks to the older woman standing to his right in an ask for help. the wolverine lets out a huff as she pushes herself off the honda and moves to grab the dog from your grasp.

"n-no! we're running away- agh- the corn was too dense, girl!" you say in apologies to mary puppins and watch sadly as laura hands the you-variant over to the other, nicer-you-variant.

you begrudgingly get in the passenger seat of the shitty car, waving goodbye to dogpool. the obnoxious sound of you singing "we'll meet again" is muffled by the car windows as laura drives you both away.

time passes. maybe 15 minutes, maybe an hour. doesn't matter, reader— don't worry about it. you haven’t been paying attention to the time because you’ve been sneaking quick gazes at the wolverine in the driver’s seat to your left. the way her brown hair curls up on either sides of her head looks so cute. yet the way her large, gloved hands grip the steering wheel causes your mind to wander other places. all you know now is there’s been a lingering thought poking at your brain since you picked this wolverine up from that bar in her universe.

"okay i'm just gonna ask. what's with the suit? first thing i did when i flamed out: i took mine off."

"drop it." laura mutters.

"it's not that ugly..."

"stop talkin about my suit."

"did you make it yourself? been there!"

"quit. now." the tension in her voice is rising.

"the x-men make you wear it? those sons of fuckin bitches. they are not your friends, i'll tell ya that. friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the los angeles rams-"

"shut the fuck up about the suit," she snaps.

"woahwoahwoah watch your frown lines, angel baby." you back off, lifting your hands in a motion of surrender. "i'm just trying to bond a little bit-"

"yeah? well then talk about something else."

"fine!"

there's an uncomfortable silence between you two, only for a moment before you play around, making spiderman web motions with your gloved hands. you just can’t help but annoy the woman next to you, it’s too much fun. it’s like your duty as passenger princess.

"stop it," she snaps again soon enough.

"why? don't wanna get distracted seeing my fingers in this motion?" you tease, moving your middle and ring finger back and forth. laura only scoffs at the sexual innuendo. "ahh, the natural hand position of the sapphics." you turn to look out the car window and make eye contact with the reader. "is that why so many masc lesbians are obsessed with spiderman? i guess only earth-616 knows the correlation..."

and wait- if i'm supposedly you, the reader, but as ladypool-- then how am i breaking the fourth wall? gasp! a fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break... that's like- sixteen walls... am i talking to myself? or talking to myself? whatever. anyway i know why you're here, you slut. let's make conversation by pushing wolvie's buttons some more, yeah?

"if they could fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do when you get outta here? some rubbing alcohol shots? maybe a wiper fluid chaser?"

laura's gaze slowly turns to you. "what did you say?"

"i said when you get back, what's the first thing you're gonna do-"

"no no, before that."

"if-" you catch yourself. shit. "-they can fix your world?"

with an aggressive slam on the break, your seatbelt doesn't even have time to prevent your head from colliding with the dashboard. and as the car stops, you know there's nothing that can save you from the rage behind wolverine's tone.

"what do you mean if?" she asks through gritted teeth, body fully turned to face you.

"i mean-"

"you lied to me. you don't have a fucking clue if they could help me fix things. do you?"

"no, but i mean-" you start to defend yourself before three metal claws impale your thigh, and probably extend under you all the way through to your seat. "agh- fuck! fuck! i didn't lie!"

"you lied!"

"no! i made an educated wish!"

laura only tilts her head at your defense, eyebrows furrowing.

"because i need you," you continue as you unfold the photo that was in your pocket and hold it up for her to see. "this is why. right here. cause if we don't do something, they die. i don't know anything about saving worlds, and why would i even care? cause my entire world is right here in this picture. it's only nine people, and i have no idea how to save it alone. i know how to fuck people up for money but you- YOU know how to save them... at least the other wolverine did-" at that last comment, laura twists her claws in your thigh, striking enough pain for more curses to escape your mouth. "f-fuck! ah- i guess i'm stuck with the worst one-"

"did you just say you made an educated... fucking wish?"

"they call me the merc with the mouth. they don't call me truthful timmy the blowjob queen of sass catoo-"

the three metal blades are quickly removed from your thigh only to be brought up next to your face. laura's shaky breath exercises seem to be the only thing keeping her from slicing you apart.

"one more word... please, give me one." her guttural voice is a low warning. you wait a moment as if thinking to a random word generator in your brain.

"~gubernatorial~" you say simply before cowaring behind flailing arms when laura prepares to stab you in the face, only fake you out. her breaths are deeper, more steady as if she's trying to calm herself.

"you know what? you're a fucking joke... no wonder the avengers didn't take you, or the x-men or fuckin anyone. i mean you are a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering, little prick in my entire life. and that says a lot 'cause i've been alive for over two hundred fucking years." the volume in her voice begins to rise with each word, striking your emotions further and further as you sit there speechless, yet her anger keeps rising. "and i'll tell ya- that villain chick was right about one thing: you will NEVER save the world. you couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! and motherfucker i wish i could say you'd die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! except that's all on all of US!"

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain in your chest hurts too fucking bad. you are not only speechless, you never want to speak again. you have millions of words to say yet none at all.

how fucking dare she bring up vanessa like that? who does laura think she is? no fucking hero, that's for goddamn sure.

"you got nothing to say, mouth?" she asks, almost out of breath from yelling accusations.

all you can manage to say is one sentence. and she doesn’t even fucking deserve the warning too. "i'm gonna fight you now."

wolverine only snorts, a pitiful laugh towards your remark. "oh, are you?"

you take note how a quick punch to her nose shuts her right up, and watch in satisfaction how blood trickles out her nostril down to her upper lip. your small victory is cut short by her fist colliding to the same spot on your own nose. she pushes you to the window and grabs the back of your mask, then slams your face down onto the center head unit multiple times. different radio stations flick back and forth as you make contact with the buttons and nozzles, eventually landing on a song from the original 'grease' soundtrack.

♡ last gore x nsfw warning !! :3 ♡

you lift your hand to grab one of your swords but another punch to the cheek causes your vision to cloud. by the time you come to your senses, laura has buckled your seatbelt and is digging her left claw into your stomach, twisting her hand slowly.

“not talkin’ now, are ya?” she growls before withdrawing her claws and moving to stab you again. pulling the lever on the side of your car seat, you fall backwards to quickly dodge her blow. you kick your foot against her shoulder to keep her back, and then tightly wrap your legs around her head. another three blades enter your side in a sudden motion, causing you to release your chokehold.

“agh! you dirty bitch!” you shout before kicking her out the front windshield of the honda. you laugh and point as she rolls and tumbles through the leaves and dirt. as soon as she gets up, you unsheathe your swords while she sprints back to you. she’s a fucking animal—ramming herself into the front of the car, causing the airbag to go off on your stomach and send you flying back into the reclined seat.

laura jumps through the broken windshield and lands claws first on top of your already bloodied body. slash after slash, you both further each others’ injuries until you flip laura over and pin her down to the seat. there is surprise in her eyes with a hint of something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. trying to catch your breath, she only looks up at you with a ratted smile, as if amused to see you attempting to kill her. blood stains her face and fanged teeth, and her short hair is tangled and damp with sweat. fuck—it’s a sight. with your elbow against her chest, you’re still close enough to smell her alcohol-tainted breath.

“need a mint, you preening slut?” you ask before you are flying through the sunroof of the honda and falling to the ground outside the car. after kicking yourself up, your little wolvie gestures for you to come back with a simple hand wave behind the window. who are you to keep her waiting? throwing the swords over your shoulders, you take out your baby knives before running back to the car and jumping through the window.

broken glass and blood is everywhere, but neither of you care. you’re both having too much fun trying to murder the other as you take turns regenerating. it’s a pointless waste of time and energy. a total meaningless circle of fighting and healing.

you pin laura through the broken windshield and onto the front hood of the car, stabbing her shoulder and arms repeatedly with a knife. the sleeves of her suit eventually fall apart, fabric scattering and leaving her muscular arms to your gaze. so clearly you’re distracted. she grabs your wrist behind her and heaves your arm over her head to hold you in her place for a moment to catch her breath.

she then drags you by the belt from across the car and holds you down with her body in the back seat. her claws sink through the red fabric and into your sides. again. and again. the repetitive motions of the sharp metal soon causes a big tear in the fabric of your suit, exposing the skin under your breast. it seems as if neither of you notice at first, continuously fighting until another stretch from her pinning your arms above your head causes a terrible ripping sound. you both stop and look down, unsure on who has the decency to yield the fight first.

wolverine pauses for a moment, hovering over your bare tit before suddenly attacking your nipple with her mouth. there is nothing gentle about it, and you can’t tell if her actions are still a way of fighting with the harsh ways her sharp teeth nip and bite.

you lay there for a moment in shock, chest heaving up and down in short spurts as you try to breathe. your hands drop the knives to the car floor behind you, yet your wrists are still trapped in the wolverine’s grip. before you can think to stop it, a breathy whimper escapes your lips. the sound pricks laura to come to her senses and looks up at you with a flushed expression.

fucking hell. if you weren’t okay with what’s happening, you would’ve said something by now. even laura knows that—considering how fucking chatty you are.

“were ya hungry, peanut? needed a mid-fight snack?” you tease, tilting your head with a raised brow.

“i didn’t say i was finished.” she smirks before lowering her head to your chest again. her tongue circles and flicks at your nipple, treating it oh so lovingly before biting and pulling at it so fucking roughly. you chew on your bottom lip to muffle your own moans—all because you’re too stubborn to let her know how fucking good it feels.

she’s holding herself back, yet you kick her chest and propel her weight backwards onto the head unit, while the momentum pushes you the opposite direction into the third row of seats. as she falls, the grease song playing from the radio is muted, leaving you two to a short-lived silence.

"i was wrong—the honda odyssey fucks hard,” you say, rolling your head back and cracking your neck in the process. looking back to laura, you usher her to you with a teasing two-finger motion. “too bad you don't, needle dick.”

“oh, we’re just getting started, bub,” she replies, eyeing your manspread position before lunging to you again.

calling her an animal is to say the fucking least. but you’re no better. she rips and tears your suit, not giving a single fuck in the world that you may need to keep it in tact for later in the plot line. she pulls the tough fabric apart, exposing your tits to her lingering eyes. it’s like a switch is flipped. all of a sudden she can’t get enough, wanting- needing to see more of you. for a moment, you just let her. your belt is removed followed by your pants all while you just lay back and watch her do the work. soon you’re only in your black underwear, smirking under your red and black mask at how fucking needy she looks. her callused hands grip your waist, easily pulling you up to her as her mouth finds your other nipple.

“you’re not you when your hungry. and clearly, you always seem incredibly hungry, wolvie.”

“shuh du phvck uh.” is what you make of her boob-drunk gibberish and assume she’s simply cussing you out.

“huh? couldn’t quite catch that. y’ know you really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full-”

a large, gloved hand muffles your masked mouth before her lips release your tit with a pop.

“off,” she says. you furrow your eyebrows in confusion and she must be able to tell by your silence, causing her to elaborate quickly while her free hand lingers on the black lace of your underwear. “i don’t want a damn word out of your filthy mouth until you’ve taken these off. if you want me to fuck you, you’re gonna have to let me.”

fucking hell. panties are soaking wet right now.

you slowly nod your head in her restrictive grip, and lift your hips to remove the damp fabric from your body. damp from blood or sweat or something else… who fucking knows and who fucking cares. you toss them to the side and immediately pull laura closer to you. her harsh kisses mark your neck and collarbone before she wets her middle finger with her tongue and starts to rub quick circles on your clit. you almost push her away, her starting speed too overstimulating at first, but you soon get used to it, bucking your hips in a physical ask to move faster.

“keep still, sweetheart. that’s it,” fuck even her praise is still low and demanding somehow. you wrap your hands around her hairy forearm, hissing curses as you feel yourself grow closer and closer to the edge.

“fuck- you know, i bet you’re a pretty good dj in some other univers- oh my god!” your silly quip is cut short by her pushing one finger into you. then another. and before you know it, you’re a blubbering mess as you soak her hand as well as the car seat beneath you. her mouth is against your masked ear, shushing your witticism. white rings of cum coat up to her knuckles while her thumb resumes a quick pace on your clit.

banter is over as quiet whimpers replace your usual chatterbox routine. her large fingers feel so much better than your own, and then that’s where she leaves you—fingers curling inside your cunt causing your brain to see stars. your orgasm hits you hard, but not as hard as she does—a rough slap to your face intensifies every sensation, leaving you pained like putty in her grasp as you come down from your high. “don’t got much to say now, huh?”

your eyes focus on her hair and how it twirls up on both sides—the classic hairstyle for any and all wolverine’s across the multiverse. “why do~you style~your hair like that?” your voice slurs with dizzy haze, and laura only looks down at your drunken state quizzically. “were ya going f’ wolf? ‘cause it makes ya look more like a cat. like my little meow meow~”

a growl creeps from the back of her throat before three claws find a home—digging into the flesh on your shoulder.

“shit! you angry ‘bout it, mama?” you ask teasingly before watching her slowly remove her belt. “no- not the belt! i won’t be a naughty girl, i swear!”

“don’t be dramatic,” she scoffs as she tosses the belt aside and straddles you again.

“that’s kinda my job. hashtag drama queen. hashtag full-time. ‘round the clock. just like how your full time job is hiding a fully comic accurate superhero suit under your clothes for when its use comes once every twenty fucking years.”

that switched something in her. she yanks your mask off your head and glares down into your eyes. then a smirk sneaks its way onto her lips. fuck. what does she know that you don’t?

“you think this suit is the only thing i keep under my clothes?” your jaw tenses when laura unzips her pants and allows her strap to spring out to your view. it has to be at least eight to nine inches, the color matches her skin tone and the base of it connects to the black harness buckled around her boxers.

“marvel jesus h. christ! where did you even get that thing? the prop table from the set of alien?!"

you half-expect an answer, but she only lifts your mask and forces a mouthful of the red fabric down your throat, leaving your fear-factored size question hanging in the air. “there… silence is nice. isn’t it?” you’ve lost your voice, but you don’t protest. your frustrated whimpers are muffled and shaky breaths escape through your nose as laura traces her dick up and down your wetted lips. “just relax, beautiful,” she whispers as she slips the tip into you. the tone of her voice is teasing, clearly loving how much power she so easily has over you. pushing in deeper, her pace stays agonizingly slow, as if she’s having to think about controlling every thrust. your eyes follow the grinding movements of her hips and your legs instinctively wrap around her waist. as laura starts to speed up, your backside rubs against the car seat. trying to find a sense of stability, your hands scatter up the butch’s clothed torso and eventually grip her broad shoulders. you can’t help but buck your hips again, no longer ashamed of how fucking needy you look doing so. one of her hands claw at the shoulder of the seat behind you while the other has a strong hold on your hip, guiding your body with hers. guiding soon turns to holding and holding soon turns to pinning. not only is she now chasing her high, but she will do whatever she needs to get to it.

“agh~ fuck. is this what you wanted? to be wrapped around me like this? you’re so pathetic, it’s adorable.”

when all you can do is moan in reply, laura knows she’s fucked you stupid, but still long ways away from being done with you. she suddenly stops altogether and pulls out of you, chuckling quietly when you groan due to your pleasure being delayed. she turns you over and props you up on your knees, then holds you down by the back of the neck with one hand and finds a firm grip on your ass with the other. her relentless thrusts continue, causing a repetitive sound of her hips slamming into the backs of your thighs. every time she pulls back, you follow her dick—leaning to her to chase that friction.

she hits nerve after nerve. the pain hurts too fucking good. your words are still muffled against your ladypool mask, the fabric now damp with saliva and drool. maybe tears as well.

“speak up, princess. ‘s hard to hear you,” laura instructs as she removes the piece from your mouth.

“i… i’m… gonna-” you start before trailing off, finding it hard to focus on words as laura speeds up her pace.

“what, pretty thing? y’ gonna cum?”

“tha-that’s what she said!” of course. of-fucking-course those are the words you can get to leave your stuttering mouth.

“god—do you ever shut the fuck up?” laura groans before tossing your mask to the side and holding your hips steady. when she notices your silence, she leans forward, a hand massaging your tit and her teeth taking a harsh bite at your earlobe. “or maybe you just need to be fucked speechless, don’t you?”

yes. a million times yes.

quiet whimpers leave your lips, the smell of cigars and alcohol mixed with the stench of blood and sex is almost overwhelming. laura slows her pace again, taking her sweet time watching, playing, torturing you for pleasure. that sadistic fuck.

“i do love these cute little noises you’re making, yeh? tell me how good it feels. i know it feels good but i wanna hear you say it—come on. spit it out,” she says into your ear. her lips have gone dry from breathing heavily and sweat trickles down her forehead and nose. the torn fabric of her yellow and navy blue suit rug-burns against your skin from all the excessive movement, but you don’t care. laura pulls your arms behind your back before yanking a seat belt out of its buckles to wrap tightly around your wrists. the rough material hurts, but it’s a good-hurt. when you only let out a porn-styled moan (half-exaggerating to poke fun at her), the wolverine behind you reaches under your neck and grabs your jaw. “you’ not gonna use that mouth?”

“fuck- okay! yes, it feels good. you feel so fucking good. just- please, let me- let me cum!”

and your begs get so easily rewarded. laura must have a soft spot for you because her thrusts speed up again, and this time hit hard with no intention of stopping.

what has little wolvie turned you into, hm? you, ladypool, a beggar? breaking out of character many would argue, but maybe that’s her goal: finding what breaks you.

“not yet. shit- wait ‘til i say.”

the hilt of her strap hits her clit just right as she continues to drive herself into your pretty cunt. as minutes pass and breaths quicken, her metal claws unsheathe and dig themselves into the seat beneath you two. she’s close.

with clamped hands still tied behind your back, you sense that knot in your stomach growing. guttural sounds from the back of the throat slip from laura’s lips, filling your ears as she hits your g-spot again and again, pushing you so quickly towards your release for the second time.

“right there! plea- please, please! i’m… gonna-”

“go on, sweetheart. fucking cum~”

at her words, her command—you feel yourself tighten around her. and your moans must’ve been what did it for her because immediately after—husky groans are heard from behind your bare, trembling body. the heavy weight of a wolverine falls against you, breathing hard onto your skin as her sweat-coated face buries itself into the nape of your neck. a trail of little bite marks, enhanced by her small fangs, are left scattered across your shoulders and upper back.

her middle finger finds your clit again to draw little circles, bringing out pitiful whimpers and post-sex muscle spasms from your worn out body.

“ca- canada…”

your contorted face and senselessness brings her to hum—which is her version of a laugh in this dizzy state. she broke you. and it didn’t take very much, did it?

she turns your chin to look up at her, her face reflecting that drunken haze with the ghost of a smile across her lips. her focus falls to your parted mouth for a moment before finally connecting her lips with yours. the kiss is softer than you expect, as if her hunger’s satisfied, yet the warm taste of cigars and alcohol linger.

“y’ did good, sweetheart.”

just good? must she always be so condescending?

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

spent way too long on this lol comment/repost if you like it, loves !!

this is so gonna flop but idc i wrote it for me and bookie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @pr1ncessjo <3

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 61

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Autistic Lance (Voltron) [series] by dontthinkiwont

"Look, okay, I get it, I like peanut butter, you like sharks. It's a thing, whatever. But seriously, dude - what the fuck?" - Or, Lance has Autism Spectrum Disorder and this can cause him to fixate on some things. Like, maybe, for instance, great white sharks. For example.

yes i like this series for projection reasons. whatever. it was also one of the first autistic lance fics out there!! and its v heavy in platonic relationships yall are gonna love it

2. Revelations and Reactions by @azapofinspiration

Keith couldn't believe it. He was part Galra. That was hard enough to deal with... But then he realized that he would have to tell the rest of the team. He couldn't help but fear how they would react. In which Keith reveals that he's part Galra after facing the Blade of Marmora's trials.

azap truly never misses. they KNOWWWW how to do found family like a CHAMP and i will never get tired of reading canon corrections where keith is like. loved and accepted lol

3. A Memory Like a Snapshot by MemeKonVLD

Pidge is still close —closer than is entirely comfortable if he has to be honest— giving him an evaluating glance. Lance doesn’t really know where to look, other than up her nose— but that grows old pretty fast. So he looks at himself in the reflection of her glasses. And squints. He touches his own face for the first time since waking up— and feels the roughness of his chin. “I have stubble,” he says, and the words are as alarmed as they can be even though they still sound slightly slurred, slightly off. Pidge blinks a couple of times at him, and finally retracts into a more comfortable distance. “Well, yeah,” she says. “You are like, what? 22? 23 in a couple of months?” “I’m feeling— I’m feeling a little queasy,” he says then, with bright spots of color dancing in front of his eyes as he thinks 22. Suddenly, a bucket gets shoved against his face. He takes hold of it with clammy fingers and he leans on his side so he can... use it. Thoroughly. “I’m having Garrison flashbacks,” he hears Pidge say.   (Or: Lance is stung by an alien bug, loses his memories temporarily and makes assumptions about his and Keith's relationship. Also, Pidge cheats at Uno.)

losing your memories. and waking up. and someone treats you so kindly and lovingly that you know, immediately, in the bones of you, that they love you. and the feeling in your chest even if your brain doesnt remember of love for them tells you clearly that this person is your soulmate. i am going to LOSE IT

4. Love in the Times of (Intergalactic) War by MemeKonVLD

Lance: Oh, man. [I see him grow visibly excited here, leaning forward and putting his hands up— he’s big on gesticulating, as anyone who’s watched the pilots of Voltron host SNL a couple of months ago knows.] Space is vast. I know that’s not groundbreaking knowledge there, and everyone’s somewhat aware of it, but— being up there? traveling around space for years, and knowing we never even— we never even came near to touching upon a tenth of what’s out there? That’s cool, weird and scary all in one.

WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT 2016 FICS. HUH. ICONIQUE?? AMAZING??? SHOWSTOPPING?? INCREDIBLE??? bc pov outsider is the BEST and watching how much lance SHINES to anyone who looks at him...yeah

5. Skin by MemeKonVLD

He’s aware of Lance talking to him, but he’s still too asleep to try to decipher whatever it is he’s blabbering about. He only starts paying attention when one of Lance’s hands goes to the drawstring of his pajama pants. “Whoa, what are you doing?” He asks, slapping Lance’s hand away, cheeks warm. “You,” Lance starts, pointing at him (and Keith notices that for all he’s made fun of him for the last forever for them, he’s wearing his fingerless gloves), “are not screwing up my skin care routine, man.” (AKA: the one where Keith and Lance switch bodies.)

suave keith and flustered lance my BELOVED. swapped bodies truly has to be one of the top ten tropes of all time. love watching them be in love and also stupid

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[weebsinstash]

Suprised you havent mentioned what Val wears in episode 6(he's maybe wearing the same in ep 8?)

Like those fucking boots and the fact he's wearing a skirt makes me think he does it for easy access.....👀

I think it probably is the same outfit! I'm thinking the whole "moth shaped boob window" little black dress is like, the default one he keeps under his coat? He also has a different hat in that scene (no stripes, heart button)

Ughhh I just noticed that even though he isn't talking to or looking at her he's still engaging Gasmask Girl in the conversation or she's part of his recruitment because he has his hand on her hip like that 😩❤️ also isn't it SO diva of him that he already has forearms that become black further down but he'll still put on black gloves with this dress. I guess because his black dress shirt has sleeves and this dress doesn't and he just prefers that fashion wise? Idk

I wonder how often he prefers the pants and how often he prefers the dress? True Valentino simps know he's BEEN hoein' in these streets for a while but I'm still a little surprised they made him dressing gnc a canon thing. I wonder if in season 2 we'll ever see Angel in drag or anything since that's something he enjoys?

Just like. UGHHHH I can SEE him being such a catty bully to force Reader to dress/present themself how he wants them to look. OR he'll manipulate your insecurities and try and be your ""friend"" to get closer to you that way, helping teach you how to 'look nicer' (and some of it IS helpful stuff like say makeup or certain styling tips but 8 times outta 10 he's using you like a doll). He's complimenting you and calling you pretty and he DOES mean it but it's partially because in his mind you're already his property and thus he wants his arm candy to be nice n pretty looking their best. You two are showing up to show out at any event Val drags you along to.

Shit happens like Angel gets a text from Valentino to bring him some food "because I'm busy so chop chop babe" and Angel walks in with the grub and Val is just... sitting there, very obviously definitely not busy, and in fact, he's doing your makeup, applying your eyeliner all sing song and playful, "i swear to Lucifer, mami, if you keep tearing up and ruin all the hardwork I just did on your eyes again, Daddy's gonna have to punish yooou~" and he just glances up to Angel with the most disinterested, "oh, hey. You can set that down and go"

Anthony is over here, having a SOUL CRUSHING MORAL CRISIS, because he's wished and hoped for Valentino getting a new favorite toy FOR SO LONG, but now? Angel's deathly afraid that Val's new favorite to play with might be YOU because Valentino's over here suddenly having you spend your whole shift where you're usually serving drinks to the Overlord now instead just, sitting cuddling up to him, or sitting so close to him your sides are touching and he puts his hands on your sides and waist...

Also um. On the subject of Val's dress and episode 8 and all that can we talk about Vox having the strength to be able to dip this man and how Valentino has hands large enough they can fully wrap around Vox's thigh

Look at these evil WHORES, and the way Val stroked Vox's face, like... UGH I can just see Val making Reader cry and he forces you to look at him, stroking your cheek and cooing about how it's good he got you waterproof makeup this time so that you "can stay nice and pretty and still look so cute while you're whining like a little bitch" like seriously I definitely see Valentino and Velvette as sadistic possessive yandere who would even get off on you crying and all the Vees are seriously the best of the worst 😩❤️

[ididntknowwhattocallthis]

Ok I wanna talk about Ethari's clothing/design over all. His clothes and tattoos are different from every other Moonshadow elf we've seen, and he's one of the few that doesn't wear braids. Like:

The recurring elements are intricate patterning; over layers and under layers; multiple colors in the same garment (or at least same outfit); wraparound construction, color contrast between mediums, lights, and darks; and the dominant color is always the medium, never the lightest or darkest color (usually navy, true black is very rare outside of the assassins). Even arc 2 Rayla follows most of these rules and she's been away from her culture for two years!

But then we have Ethari:

He doesn't have an outer layer, he wears almost solid navy, none of those clothes are wraparound, he has no light color, there's not a lot of contrast, and his dark color is true black despite not being an assassin. He bends all the rules, though he only breaks one completely. He still has that patterning, but it's minimal compared to the others. He has plenty of accent colors, more than anyone else actually, but they show up on him far less. He does have light, medium, and dark colors, but his whole pallet is darker than everyone else's. The only rule he 100% breaks is the wraparound construction

A lot of this probably derives from the fact that he's a metalsmith:

For the most part his clothes quite are practical;

Black/navy hides coal dust/soot very well. It gets everywhere, on your pants and face especially, and is highly visible on just about every other color.

Forging is hot work & you do it next to a fire that needs to be at least 1000° celsius, I never wear more than one layer either.

those sleeves, while a bit looser than I'd be comfortable with, probably aren't going to get in the way. Plus I heard somewhere that they're spelled to repel heat (couldn't find if that's actually canon tho), so if that's true they're much better than my gloves.

The crop top isn't great but he's got that belt to stop most embers. Besides he's probably not the type to yelp every time one lands on him like I am.

if he pulls the scarf over his mouth & nose it'll help delay him getting lung cancer in the death trap of a smithy Wonderstorm designed for him (my problems with it are a post all on their own. I have nothing against the artists, its pretty, but by all rights he should be dead)

There might also be a cultural aspect to his clothing:

I think the navy blue, the arm bands, the boot decorations, and his belt & tabard could all be symbols that mean "I am a metalsmith" in Moonshadow culture. (Quick side note, he's not technically a blacksmith. historically blacksmith means specifically iron workers. If anything he's a whitesmith since he usually works with silver.) We see it with the assassins, why not metalsmiths too?

Plus if you take a look at his forge in the art book, there's a design carved on it that looks almost exactly like the one on his tabard. Elements of it also appear on other parts of his clothing:

I suspect that this is some sort of symbol for metal working or fire protection. If he's in a guild it could be their symbol, or it could just be a wider cultural symbol. Either way it has a meaning that relates to the forge specifically. I couldn't find it anywhere else in the room.

I just realized that I never even brought up the metal hems on his sleeves. Then again what is there to say? It's metal, he's a metalsmith. It's pretty, he likes pretty things.

But what about the rule he completely breaks?

As I said, every moonshadow garment has some sort of wrap-and-secure construction to it-- except Ethari's clothes. I seriously doubt this is a metalsmith thing. Basic garment construction isn't a sensible way to differentiate your group within one culture. I fully believe Ethari is doing this on purpose. But why? That why gets even bigger when you realize that no other moonshadow elves we've met have brown eyes or periwinkle blue tattoos.

Put a pin in all that, I need to explain my interpretation of Moonshadow culture for this to make sense.

"Moon Primal creatures can be private and secretive, and are keenly aware of the power of appearances." - from the official website

"Moonshadow Elves obey a rather rigid, honor-driven culture." - from the wiki

To me this paints a picture of a fairly collectivist culture. They place a heavy emphasis on community and duty, two things that are usually more peaceful/simpler when you have cohesion within the group. Cohesion creates less conflict, less conflict makes your community more peaceful and your duty to it easier to complete.

But they know that this cohesion is- to an extent- only an act, so each person has a sub community where they don't have to act. Your inner self is for family and friends close enough to be family. (I honestly think they might have some sort of ritual to formally adopt friends as family) To everyone else you're supposed to put up a front that makes you seem more like everyone else.

OK back to the pin

Even without his clothes, Ethari is already visually different from everyone else. No other Moonshadow elves we've seen have tattoos or eyes the same color as his. It's a subtle difference but it is noticeable, and in a culture so focused on appearances people would notice. Most people's instinct would be to try to hide or downplay it, to prop up that front as much as they can. Yet Ethari doesn't put up a front, not to the extent that most people seem to. He's even accentuating his differences by dressing in a different style than them- and he's respected.

In my comm class the other day we were talking about groups, and one of the things that came up was that cohesion fosters sameness and diversity fosters innovation. Ethari is an innovator, it's literally his job. He invents the wingalings in bloodmoon huntress, Runaan and Rayla's weapons, and probably a bunch more stuff we haven't seen. Maybe for all they value appearances and fitting in, moonshadow culture still recognizes that people like him are important and they aren't as effective when they have to fit in. They can't be too out there (remember, Ethari only bends the rules rather than breaking them) but as long as they stay within a certain radius of the norm they can gain a lot of respect. I think this is what Ethari has done. The fact that his family (Runaan, Tiadrin, Lain) are all pretty traditional probably helped a lot. They keep him from pushing too hard on the edge of the box and he keeps them flexible.

That they aren't there anymore has probably exacerbated the rift between him and the rest of the silvegrove caused by Rayla's ghosting and whatever news has reached them from the storm spire.

I am so excited to see him in S6. I thought about adding some speculation about what his new design might look like, but I honestly don't think he'll have changed that drastically aside from his hair. My biggest question is honestly whether or not he's still in The Silvergrove.

Bonus:

I bet that some of Ethari's relative weirdness rubbed off on Rayla. She didn't have many friends as a kid so, when she wasn't in school or with the assassins, it makes sense that hung out with Ethari a lot. Since he's less strict than Runaan she was probably only comfortable completely unmasking with him. He heard about all her crushes, fears, and insecurities that Runaan didn't. Which goes a long way to explaining why Ethari was the only one who could see she wouldn't be a good assassin; she was hiding those traits from everyone but him.

This also explains some of why he was so willing to believe that she ran away. Ethari saw all of her vulnerability, but he didn't see all of her strength. While she was out training and facing her fears with Runaan, Ethari was in the smithy and only heard about their exploits after the fact. Neither of them saw all of who Rayla is, but both of them thought they did and had to find out that they were wrong in just about the most heartbreaking way imaginable.

[unhetalia]

"A Love Without A Name"

Word Count: 3,408.

Rating: Mature

Summary: Alfred's freedom hinges on his ability to guess a magical creature's name. He doesn't take the task very seriously.

Notes: Written for @usukweek Day 1 - Fairy Tale AU. Because I was late to starting, this fic is current unedited - I'll post it on AO3 once I've cleaned it up.

***

“So… do you know what my name is, darling?” England asks, his expression is mild as if he were out on a midday stroll, as opposed to fucking his hips in and out of Alfred’s willing body.

In contrast, Alfred lies beneath him gasping out his pleasure. His nails are clawing at England’s back, desperately trying to pull him closer. His heaving gasps are England’s only answer.

England has asked him this same question every day for a hundred years; Alfred hasn’t bothered answering in fifty. 

***

There is a story about a beautiful maiden who made a deal with a Creature. Her first born child for all the riches in the world. The beautiful maiden had no plans to marry or have children and believed she was tricking the creature, but it wasn’t even two years later that she fell in love and became pregnant. Eventually, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.

The story goes that when the creature came for her son, the woman was prepared. Cunning in her own way, and unwilling to let the creature get the upper hand again, she convinced the creature to make a bet. I bet you that I can guess your name, creature, she crowed.

The creature disagreed, and was so sure she would never know his name that he agreed that if she was able guess it, he would renege his claim on her son and let him stay with her.

What the creature hadn’t realised was that the woman had known his name all along, though at first she had pretended to guess a variety of incorrect names. Is it Frederick? Or John? Blake? Bud? Bowser?

Eventually, though, she said, I think I know your name, Creature and said his secret name, and the creature wailed and screamed but had no choice but to leave the woman and her baby alone.

And of course, the woman lived happily ever after, and her son grew up healthy and strong, and they never saw the creature again.

Or so the story goes.

***

Alfred is newly eighteen when England comes for him. He is walking home from work - a small school with only eight students where he teaches basic reading and arithmetic - when he notices a horse drawn carriage beside him. It’s odd, because he’s pretty sure that the carriage wasn’t there a second ago. I must be really tired, he thinks.

A man steps out of the carriage, and the first thing Alfred notices is that the man is exceptionally handsome, with messy light blonde hair, striking green eyes, and even more striking eyebrows.

The second thing he notices is that the man must also be exceptionally wealthy. He’s dressed in the way of aristocracy, wearing a dark suit and white gloves that would surely be stained in any other occupation than ‘sitting around and being rich’. 

Alfred instinctively smiles at him, even though his mother had always warned him about doing such a thing. The man smiles back and says, hello, Alfred.

Which -

“How do you know my name?” he asks. He is suddenly alert, because his mother has spent years warning him of many things, to the point that Alfred doesn’t quite remember what all the warnings were, only that strangers knowing his name must be one of them.

The man keeps smiling, and steps closer. Alfred tries to step back, but finds that he can’t.

“I know your name because you’re mine,” the man says.

And then Alfred’s world goes black.

***

Alfred is England’s because the stories are wrong, and the creature - call me England, creature gets a bit tiring, don’t you think? - and the fair maiden never made a deal for riches, and she never knew his real name.

Instead, the true story is still about a beautiful maiden, but this one gets pregnant out of wedlock. The father is a noble already engaged, who would never leave his comfortable life for a kitchen maid. The maiden was fine with this, and fine with raising her child on her own, because she had loved them as soon as she knew they existed.

Everything was going perfectly fine, until the day she started bleeding and bleeding, and she knew that if it didn’t stop, she and her baby would both die.

This is when England comes in. He doesn’t know how she knew about him - only that one day a woman summons him in order to bargain for the life of her child. 

I have a sister who will care for them, and so I can die. But please, let my child live.

Young maiden, you are not destined to die today, England had said. Only your child.

The young maiden was not happy with his answer. 

Let me die instead, she begged. 

That’s not the way it works. No single life is the same, and so no life can be traded for another. He paused. But I can make you a deal. It comes with a guarantee - eighteen years with your child. - a son, by the way. If you win, you get his full life. If you lose, he will be mine after his eighteenth birthday. I will treat him like one of my Court, and he will be safe, but you will never see him again.

Desperate, the maiden agreed readily, though she made him repeat his promise to take care of her son - a son, she was having a son.

If you figure out my name, maiden, he is yours. If you do not, he is mine.

***

Alfred’s mother had been obsessed with names when he was younger, he remembers. She had pieces of paper all around their little cottage, filled with names from books and stolen from travellers who passed through. Jeremiah and Josiah. Kallen and Maurice. 

A real name, though, is made of more than one name, but of multiple stuck together. One does not guess anyone’s true name.

His mother’s obsession had petered out when he'd turned seven or so. Instead, she had made herself fully available for Alfred. They weren’t wealthy, but she was a doting, loving mother. She taught him to cook, and bake, and clean. Most importantly, she taught him to read and write - a luxury not afforded to many in their village.

He knows now that the disappearance of her interest had come with the realisation that one cannot guess a name. Instead, she had decided to make every second with her son count.

England offers Alfred the same deal. Of course, if you figure out my name, you can leave and go back to your mother and your job and your small life. Until then, you are mine.

***

Is your name Dylan Parkinson?

No, Alfred. That is not my name.

***

England’s aristocracy is a facade. He dresses well, and the one room they stay in inside the giant castle he takes him to is furnished well enough, but when Alfred explores the rest of the castle, he finds it dilapidated and dirty, empty of anything that makes it a home. 

The one livable room has a giant, four-poster bed shoved in one corner, with a cot laid out at the foot of it meant for Alfred. The cot isn’t nice, especially not compared to England’s bed, but to Alfred, it;s better than the scratchy collection of hay and linen he was used to back home.

England doesn’t seem to actually want to do anything with him. Mostly he sits around while the man goes through paperwork. Paperwork for what, he doesn’t know. Was there some kind of Creature bureaucracy?

Alfred tries to escape a total of one time, wherein he twitched slightly with intention and England said don’t even think about it, then put him to sleep for an hour. It doesn’t seem worth it to try again.

“What am I even here for if I’m just gonna sit here and watch you stare at pieces of paper?” he complains. 

“Look,” England sighs. “Unfortunately I don’t actually have a use for you yet. Maybe a spell will require a human sacrifice at some point, then you’d be handy, but as of right now just. Sit still.”

Alfred carefully ignores the mention of human sacrific and stands up, hands on his hips. “How about I clean your house and like, cook for you and stuff? You eat, right? Sitting still is impossible for me - my mum used to say I needed to be walked like a dog.”

England waves him off. “Yes, do that, if you want. Just remember that I’ll know if you try to escape and that I can’t be poisoned.”

Alfred, who had never even considered poisoning another huma - err, living being, balks at the statement. “What the - I don’t posion food! That’s sacrilege! And just you watch, this castle is going to look amazing!”

He doesn’t think England really cares what he does as long as he’s not constantly hovering and bothering him, so Alfred decides it’s perfectly alright for him to make all the decisions regarding what to do with the rest of the non-England occupied castle.

He needs to take whatever freedom he can get, after all. 

***

Is your name Aaron Baker?

No, Alfred, my name is not Aaron Baker.

***

Alfred knows he’s a good cook. His mama was a kitchen maid for royals, and she’d taught him everything she knew. Still, the awed look on England’s face when he tries Alfred’s stew is worth more than every compliment the villagers had given him over the years. This is a being of magic, and yet he still looked at something Alfred created as if it was out of this world.

“Maybe I won’t use you for human sacrifice,” England says, two bowls later. Alfred takes it for the compliment it is, and grins back at him.

***

He doesn’t know when or how it starts, but Alfred starts eating with England. Then, he starts talking with him. He asks questions about what England does when he’s not making deals with desperate women, and finds out that there is Creature bureaucracy, and that England somehow leads it.

“Wait, you’re the King? Why are you living in an abandoned castle?”

“Our royalty do not work in the same way yours does. I must always be alone, except for my intended and my Court. The Court is made up of … well, individuals that I own. Since I prefer not to do that whole ownership thing - well, before your blasted mother wrangled a deal out of me - here we are.”

“And what, you don’t have enough juice to spruce up the castle by yourself?” Alfred asks, incredulous. A castle didn’t seem like much compared to bringing a dying unborn baby back to life. 

“There are … rules. Strange hospitality rules. It’s very stupid and not worth explaining. That is to say, I can not use magic on a home, even if it’s mine.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Quite.”

***

Is your name Rumpelstiltskin?

Rumpel - what? What kind of name is that? No, that’s not my name!

I saw it in a book and thought it’d be good to try it!

***

It takes three years for Alfred to complete the castle renovation to his exacting standards. Every day, England asks him if he’s figured out his name, and Alfred takes a guess. A lot of the time, they’re names of people he once knew, though sometimes they’re names he reads from books in the large library he’d found on the fifth floor (of eight, which is honestly just excessive, no one can blame Alfred for taking three years to finish everything). Mostly Alfred doesn’t put as much effort into it as he should. If his mother couldn’t do it, there’s no way he can. 

The day he finishes, he barges into his and England’s shared room to demand he see the fruits of Alfred’s labour, since he knows England would never see any of it otherwise. When he needs to leave, England just pops out of existence and to where he needs to be, no need to take the door. He hasn’t seen a lick of the work Alfred’s been doing.

Honestly, Alfred expects England to hum and feign disinterest. Well, you’ve certainly kept yourself occupied, he’ll say. Now we need to find you another hobby so you don’t bother me while I’m trying to work

That’s not what happens. England sees the clean floors and walls and the furniture Alfred had either built himself or bought from the nearby village (with money from the part-time teaching job he’d gotten himself, because England truly did not care what he did as long as he came back at the end of the day), and whispers you’ve built me a home, then turns around and shoves him against the nearest wall in order to kiss him senseless.

***

Apparently those dumb ‘can’t use your magic to build your own home’ rules are due to courtship rituals. Alfred still has no idea what exactly those rituals are, because how exactly is he supposed to remember anything when England is biting at the junction between his neck and shoulder just enough for it to hurt so good?

***

“Uh, Beef Stew.”

“You think my name is Beef Stew?”

“What? No, I’m thinking about what to make for dinner.”

***

Five years after the day England ravished him against the wall of their newly renovated castle, Alfred realises he hasn’t aged.

“My darling, I despair for you,” England admonishes. “How could you not notice you haven’t aged? It’s been eight years!”

“Wh - I’ve been busy!” I’ve been getting fucked silly every night, I’ll have you know, he carefully doesn’t say. England is too smug already.

“Well,” England begins. “Technically, I own you, so you’re tied to my life force. And because I’m immortal, well… I’m sure you can extrapolate.”

“Oh.” Alfred takes a moment to think. “So if you didn’t own me, I’d be mortal again.”

“Yes, you wouldn’t be part of the Court, then.”

And then England would be alone again, doing magical paperwork in the same room. He wonders if the castle would fall into disrepair again, without Alfred around to clean or to repair anything that breaks?

“Huh.”

***

Alfred finds England’s name by accident. 

The fifth floor library is one of his favourite places, and often he takes a few books to the school to read to the children. Quite a few of the villagers stop by to listen to the stories alongside the children, and there’s been talk of doing night classes for any of the older folks who want to learn to read themselves.

One day he finds a book that looks a lot older than the others. It’s made of brown, aged leather , and has a strange, gold symbol embedded on it that somehow looks like an infinite amount of intertwining circles. When he opens it, the first page proclaims it to be the property of Prince Arthur James Kirkland. It’s a child’s diary, though the contents are confusing, as if the child was writing about fantasies as opposed to any real places or events. Maybe Prince Arthur was never actually a prince, but a boy with a vivid imagination?

He decides to take the book to the school to show one of the other teachers, a woman by the name of Agnes who loves all things fantasy. Except when he tries to show her, she only looks confused and asks Alfred why he’s trying to show her an empty book.

He realises later what it means, and who the book must belong to. A magical book, in a castle owned by the King of Creatures, who must have once been a prince, a long time ago.

This is England’s, whose name is Arthur. This diary was a record of his childhood, before he was an all powerful king.

Alfred has found out England’s name, but finds he’s more interested in reading stories of what he was like as a precocious child, running away from nannies and scaring mortals against his mother’s orders.

***

When England - Arthur James Kirkland - asks him to guess his name that night, Alfred says, “Cinnamon Buns.”

***

England’s wrung all the pleasure from Alfred’s body that it can handle, and then some. Their last round had started with England on top, but eventually he’d maneuvered Alfred on top of his cock and made him ride him until he’d cried, cock unable to come with England’s magic wrapped tightly around it. Eventually, England had sat up and licked into Alfred’s mouth so he could swallow his lover’s cries as he undid the spell and finally, finally let Alfred finish. 

Now, Alfred’s arms are wrapped loosely around his neck, Alfred’s head laying on his shoulder. England lays him on the bed like a child, kissing his eyes, his nose, his lax mouth.

When Alfred is comfortable, England slides in beside him, chuckling when the other man immediately scoots closer in order to rest his head on his chest. Alfred’s clinginess after sex is a given; routine in the same way The Question is.

The thought makes England frown. He looks down at Alfred’s blonde head, and asks a question he’s been wanting to ask for ninety years.

“Are you ever going to answer with my real name?”

He feels Alfred tense against him. “What are you talking about?”

“About ninety years ago, I left my journal in the library for you to find,” England admits. “I wanted to give you the chance to go back to your village, see your mother again. But that night, when I asked you, you gave me a joke answer. And every day for the next forty years you never once gave the correct one - then eventually stopped even bothering to answer. I have to admit, I - I don’t understand.”

Alfred turns to look up at him, and to his surprise, he’s grinning. “Have I managed to stump The King of The Fae? Why, I think I should be proud of myself for such a feat.”

Alfred presses a kiss to England’s chin. “It’s simple, really, and you’d think that after what we’d just done you’d get it.”

His voice lowers to a whisper. “I’d already decided by then that I quite liked being owned by you.”

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[starlitiris]

making the phantom troupe ✨ neurodivergent ✨

before getting into this I wanna say that i'm not including Kalluto, Hisoka or Illumi in this and I didn't add Kortopi, Bonolenov or Franklin cause I didn't know what to do for them </3

and! a handful of these neurdivergencies are things I also have, but if any of you have something mentioned here and you feel like I misrepresented the condition/got something wrong, please let me know and correct me!

i'd also love to hear what your guys' neurodivergent/disorder headcanons are for the phantom troupe PLEASE do not be shy

okay enough yapping, here are the headcanons

Nobunaga

ADHD out the ass

Bro can and will zero in on something aggressively and not realize how much time has passed till his stomach growls or someone else gets his attention

Almost ALWAYS forgets what he walked into a room for and sometimes won’t be able to remember for hours

He zones out a lot when Troupe members are trying to explain something to him that he has zero interest in

CHRONIC LEG BOUNCER

And foot tapper

He also does little bouncies when he’s standing around

Please don’t ever give him a pen that clicks

He’ll click it nonstop and won’t even realize he’s doing it until someone brings attention to it

He for sure has his moments where he's feeling extra irritable or anxious for seemingly no reason

Feitan

AUTISM OUT THE ASS

No, I’m not headcanoning this because he’s apathetic

Miss me w that shit

He’s just an apathetic person because of everything he’s been through

Not great at masking but he does mask

HATES being touched do NOT TOUCH HIM ew

Exclusively wears long sleeves. Cannot stand short sleeved shirts, he hates the way it feels on his arms

Misses a lot of emotional social cues and his apathetic nature certainly doesn’t help with that but it’s not like he cares much

The Troupe is used to him being like this so they aren’t too bothered

Thinks he looks fucking stupid when he stims so he tries not to unless he’s completely alone

He will let loose a LIIITTLE when he’s alone with just Phinks though since those two are pretty close but he still tries to make his stimming as non-obvious as possible

It also helps for him to stim with his hands in his pockets

He often taps his thumb and index finger together or rubs his knuckles

REALLY hates feeling cold and can't stand the sticky feeling of dried blood on his skin

Despite this, he rarely wears gloves when he's "working" simply because he no no wanna

Phinks HAS called him out on this. A few times.

Machi

Dyslexic

Hates it

So much

Seriously doesn’t understand why she can’t just fucking READ and SPELL as easily as everyone else

Like she KNOWS how to read and spell so like???? WHY does she even struggle with it it should be such an easy thing to do

That’s how she thinks

She gets embarrassed when people catch her struggling to read or spell something

It makes her feel dumb and she hates it :[

Thank god for ai assistants like siri and shit

She definitely uses them to ask how to spell things when no one else is around and she can’t remember

Gets kinda pissed at herself when she realizes way too late that she made a typo on something

Phinks

Prosopagnosia (face blindness) and aphantasia (when you can’t form mental images in your head)

Thought his aphantasia was completely normal for THE LONGEST time

He almost didn’t believe it when other Troupe members were telling him that they could clearly form mental images in their heads

It was a huge “what the fuck” moment for him

The amount of times he’s heard the phrase “you don’t remember me?” just cause he couldn’t recognize someone by their face alone

Of course he’s still able to recognize people from their voices, clothes, hair, body shapes, etc

But when it comes to people he doesn’t see often, he’s completely lost until he’s told the person’s name and where they met and shit

He’s offended quite a few people by not recognizing them

They assume he couldn’t be bothered to remember them but in reality he probably would if he could remember faces

Shalnark

He has bipolar 1

His mania doesn’t get too crazy but it’s noticeable for the Troupe and any other people that he spends a lot of time with

His highs tend to be more intense than his lows but he definitely still has his lows

And the lows are also noticeable

He gets bags under his eyes from having a difficult time falling asleep and STAYING asleep, and he has a very clear decrease in energy

Sometimes Troupe members feel the need to ask him if he’s feeling alright but he always answers with “yeah I’m fine!” and moves on

The amount of shit he's bought on impulse though

He's good at managing his finances until he's manic and sees something he wants

Bro won't look at price tags

"Ehh I'm sure it'll be fine!" two days later he's in the red and goes complaining to Troupe members about it as if he shouldn't have expected that

It's probably a good thing that his role in the Troupe is more centered around gathering information and not combat

I know damn well he'd get too cocky in a fight depending on wtf his brain chemistry is doing

Shizuku

Do i even need to say it

Bitch (respectfully) is autistic as hell

With some good ol’ ADD sprinkled in there

Her attention span suffers greatly

She can pick up a book or a manga and not put it down to eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom until she finishes it or is forced to put it down

She knows it’s a problem and she really does try to remember to take breaks

Very blunt as we all know

Feitan will struggle to pick up on sarcasm SOMETIMES and uses sarcasm himself

This is not the same for Shizuku

Sarcasm does not register in her brain

She tried using sarcasm once and didn’t do it right so she gave up

She does try to mask a little bit in some situations but mostly doesn’t care enough to

Doesn’t mind stimming in front of people as much as Feitan does but she still does it a lot more in private

Pakunoda

Bipolar 2

Her depressive episodes feel longer than they are

She’s gotten a lot better at managing it as she’s gotten older though

She likes to journal her feelings when she can, it personally helps her process and deal with her emotions

She also writes reminders for herself and sets alarms so she doesn’t forget to take care of herself when she’s not feeling too well

Makes sure to praise herself for small victories! :)

She still has her days where she can’t bring herself to do some things, though days like those are less common now than they used to be

Her appetite definitely suffers because her depression, but the reminders and alarms she sets help her remember to eat, even if it has to be something small

She makes sure to get some self care in when she can, too. It's important to her

Uvogin

I hereby bestow thee with dyscalculia and OCD

Being anal about doing things at specific times is only a tiny sliver of his OCD-ness

Sometimes he’ll read the time on a clock wrong and he’ll panic for like 0.2 seconds

It fuckin stresses him out man

Sometimes he’ll tease Machi for having a hard time reading or forgetting how to spell/write a word and she’ll hit him with the “ok what’s 12 x 12 🧍”

Shuts him up real quick

He can count, add, subtract, multiply and divide but it still takes him a minute sometimes

He’ll just give up if he has to do math with fractions, decimals, numbers longer than three digits and any other complicated bullshit

He kinda gave up learning math when it started to literally give him headaches trying to figure it out so simple division and multiplication is as far as he cared to learn

If he’s faced with any math equation that intimidates him he will not even try

He just uses his phone or asks someone else to solve it for him

Okay back on the topic of OCD

He definitely has his repetitive movements that he does

They aren’t too obvious but the rest of the Troupe does notice them from time to time

Nobunaga said something about it one time and Uvo just brushed it off and changed the subject

He doesn’t like bringing attention to it

He also WILL recount and reread things multiple times

Most of the time he’ll only need to recount/reread something like 3-5 times but on bad days he’ll do it 10+ times

It is stressful

Phinks saw him recounting something like 13 times once and was like “bro u good?” and Uvo just snapped at him for fucking up his count

Chrollo

Autism and major depressive disorder

Masking KING (this is not a good thing)

Very touch avoidant like Feitan

He knows he struggles with some social cues and interactions and will sometimes overthink what he’s doing to avoid missing things or doing things wrong

He’s often hyper aware of what he’s doing and what the person he’s talking to is doing

One of his most common ways to stim is by rubbing things - like the corners of pages in his books, or the ends of his sleeves

Loathes being in loud areas. Please why is everyone talking so loud shut the fuck up Chrollo can’t hear himself think

There’s been times where he had to be in loud and bustling places for extended periods of time and once he was alone and in a quiet place he’d feel so so very drained and be nonverbal for hours

Really bad insomnia probably related to his MDD

Lays in bed for HOURSSSS unable to fall asleep

The amount of times he’s had to run on 2-3 hours of sleep is unreal

Listening to calm music and whale noises seems to help him fall asleep a little bit though

Don’t get me wrong he has good days, he’s not completely miserable, but MAN is this guy depressed

On bad days he’ll likely only have one meal or not eat at all

Phantom Troupe be damned if they notice he hasn’t eaten all day

Chrollo will insist he’s fine but some Troupe members aren’t having it

Sometimes someone like Paku or Shal will just go out and get him some food and place it in front of or next to him expectantly

Usually he’ll give up and eat the food

Unless he’s in a bad mood

I will say though, most days he eats at least two meals so it’s not like this is a super common occurrence

[imtotallyokandnormal]

Hello!! May I request Sal Fisher x reader who is severely afraid of physical touch? Like to the point where it takes them a while to even touch someone with a piece of fabric in between their hand and the person. Also if the reader is seriously sarcastic, teasing and the type who laughs everything off but easily gets flustered at any sort of romance?

Maybe even the first time they touch Sal without some sort of fabric covering their hand.

Thank you!!

AH YAY MY FIRST SAL REQUEST!!! I'M SO EXCITED- okay so disclaimer first and foremost I am definitely not gonna pretend like I know what it's like to be afraid of physical touch, so I hope you enjoy this nonetheless. And if there's anything you'd want me to correct in this please let me know!

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: mentions of fears regarding touch (purposefully left vague), but don't worry it ends up in fluff, also sex joke I dunno if that counts for a warning

Image link: tell me about your guys' favorite holidays!

》☆Sal Fisher Dating a Touch Averse Reader☆《

- Sal hasn't ever seriously questioned why you didn't like to be touched. As far as he knew, whether it was a dislike or genuine fear or hatred, it wasn't his business and he didn't ever want to push you.

- One thing that drew him to you was your ability to take what you dish out. The way your sarcastic remarks could be met with the same intensity and it'd be laughed off and continued, an easy flow of lighthearted jabs. He liked that about you. There wasn't any malicious intent in the way you both joked, and you both understood.

- Though, this attitude you have always seemed to be a possible double-edged sword. You may be able to laugh things off, but he knew it could be a curtain for you, to hide how you really felt about certain things. Especially when it came to touch. He always had a feeling there was something more to it than you were expressing. He knew those feelings all too well.

- So, he worked around it. Whenever you came over to the house he made sure everyone else knew you were coming, just to be sure any possible touchiness would be kept to a minimum. He gave you your own designated spot on the couch, or even your own chair to yourself.

- One thing he learned was that doing things for you felt just as good as any touch that he could give you. Making you a nice cup of your favorite drink, giving you dumb things that reminded him of your inside jokes, small things to show he cares. And trust me, he thinks it's very cute when you get embarrassed about it (he teases you lightly about it).

- It'd be a surprise if one day you wanted to try physical affection with him. Whatever your reasoning might have been, Sal would ask if that's really alright with you and it's definitely what you want. The last thing he would want is to cross a boundary.

- He'd suggest starting out slow with touching hands, maybe getting a pair of gloves for you both to wear. He figures from what he's learned about you it might be easier if the contact wasn't direct and had sort of a shield. He'd also suggest a kind of safeword (not the sexual kind, but you should totally pick on him for that).

- Oh, don't you worry about any reactions you might have during this either. Strong reactions, subtle, whether you flinch away slightly or start having big physical reactions to it, he'd be patient. No matter what it was, he spoke to you softly and drew away if it was too much.

- If you were alright with it, he'd gradually let you get used to his touch. This is only during times where you're prepared and he makes sure you can back out any time. Eventually, if you felt good about it, he'd ask you if you wanted to try touching hands with the gloves off.

- It didn't matter how much time it took. It didn't matter if it took forever. In every way, at every step of the way, Sal was so deeply proud of you. As soon as both of your hands met for the first time he couldn't hold back his smile, knowing that he'd earned your trust enough to do this with him.

- No matter how much physical contact you can handle, Sal makes sure to work with you every step of the way.

[wxnheart]

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐰𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Part I, Part II (NSFW), Part III, Part IV (NSFW)

...Because nothing says 'Home Sweet Home' like domestic drama and chaos brought to you by Yours Truly.

You reason that there's a method to your madness but, um... yeah, that may have gone out the window long ago. There's no method. Not really. You all are just mad and it works. Somehow.

Speaking of domestic life, it turns out that König's quite the jack of all trades in the kitchen. You and Simon later find out that he took up various hobbies growing up because he was so damn restless as a teenager (like hell that's changed) and he fell in love with cooking; apparently, that is one of the very few things that help calm his anxious energy. That and maybe pissing Ghost off. Maybe (read: ABSOLUTELY). Just know that König's hands always have to be busy. As such, he's the resident cook of you three.

König also finds comfort in walking Lola/Königin/Pup (your precious Doberman puppy that has three names because you three can't agree on one). When he walks her, König takes her on pretty lengthy treks. It really helps because she's pretty energetic.

Ghost is quite the handyman. He's actually really good at putting together furniture or making small repairs. Of course he is. He learned from the absolute fucking best... didn't he, pa?

You and König are banned from this because shit either a.) doesn't even get put together because of reasons or b.) falls apart because you two are horrible at reading the directions.

You bought them both aprons as a gag present. A gag present that König took seriously and wears every time he cooks. You're still trying to get Simon to wear his. Preferably naked. And yes, come hell or high water, he WILL wear it, goddamnit!

You're absolutely amazing at holding the fort down and keeping the house tidy. More often than not, you're the one who knows where the boys keep their stuff.

You also have an affinity for candles and/or incense and as such, the house ALWAYS smells heavenly. König and Simon have since equated this to safety and it's usually the marker for them to de-stress.

If Simon arrives home late at night from an assignment, he makes himself home on the couch so as not to wake you. If König arrives home late at night, he will very much sploot on the both of you in bed. Simon never fails to respond with an annoyed (and lowkey grateful) grunt.

Simon keeps track of the house's necessities. He's the one who makes the shopping lists and they are very organized.

Funnily enough, he's also the reason why Lola has an abundance of toys because he fucking spoils her even though he denies it. ("Denial's not only a river in Egypt, Simon." "....")

The numerous toys also take her attention away from his and König's masks and gloves.

Ghost's Pillow Princess status also ensures that every pillow on the bed is nice, soft, plump, and fluffy. He also likes making the bed every morning when he's home. König once again joked about his nickname and Simon smacked him with a pillow. And shot you a glare when you laughed.

König has a tendency to practically sleep under you or Simon. What this really means is that come morning, you're likely to wake up under a slumbering mass of muscles.