#but also funny little pipes

[000yul]

i miss the older arknights tacticool aesthetic…mudrock’s armour is such a top tier fit

[otaku553]

Hello! I saw your recent art of sabo, and in the tags you mentioned the big 3 of Shounen. I know it’s One piece and Naruto, but what’s the third? How come you like the character? Lovely artwork, it’s candy for the soul!! Thank you •u•

Ah thank you!!! The big three of shonen (for I guess the previous generation?) are Naruto, One Piece, and Bleach. Naruto and Bleach have already ended but it seems like One Piece is still going quite strong, despite the new generation of shonen anime (including Hero Aca, Demon Slayer, and the third spot is still debated! Probably JJK is my guess though that falls into its own sub genre of shonen dark fantasy I suppose)

Here are my favs! I’ll put the reasons why I like them in the read more because it’s quite long :)

Despite watching Naruto first I could never actually finish it because it was so long so I kind of just osmosed the later parts of shippuden through fanfics and other such media ^^; I think it’s pretty difficult to pick a definitive fav for Naruto because I feel like it tends to fumble a bit of its character writing? I think if I had to pick one maybe young Kakashi but still kind of eh. Maybe I just didn’t watch far enough to get attached

As for Bleach, I picked it up years ago around middle school and then dropped it after the first hundred episodes or so because filler got boring for younger me but then I picked it up again in high school and managed to at least get past aizen! And then I dropped it there because I wasn’t interested in any continuation after what seemed like an already pretty strong ending.

Toshiro is my favorite because he falls into all niches of character tropes that I enjoy including but not limited to: child genius who acts responsible but is still somewhat immature, cold personality along with ice powers but fierce loyalty to close relationships. I especially enjoy child genius characters for the contradictory dichotomy of what is expected of them in terms of maturity and knowledge and the amount of pressure these kinds of characters face and how they handle it! That said, I enjoy him more for the tropes that he falls into and my personal interpretation of him rather than canon writing for him. I think that though canon is an alright base, he doesn’t get much time to shine (character-wise instead of combat-wise).

And Sabo. Oh my goodness I am brainrotting so hard over Sabo right now. The ASL siblings in general have a vice grip on my heart and really are not letting go. There is so much tragedy in the way that they are written, that works because there are three of them. Ace and Luffy spend so much effort trying to save the only brother they have left in the world not realizing that if they go they’ll be the first to go actually because Sabo is still alive, and Sabo could have done so much and changed so much if only he had regained his memories sooner. Why didn’t he remember sooner? I can only assume it’s because he didn’t want to remember, because he grew out his hair to cover a scar he wasn’t proud of, because he was running away from his origins when he lost his memories and maybe that stuck with him. I don’t even remember when Sabo was introduced as a character because I don’t think he was mentioned during Marineford? But he’s such a compelling character because he does so much to save the world and yet is unable to save his own brother! And he’s written to fit with Ace and Luffy incredibly well, being the voice of reason where they can’t be.

[huraiyra]

"why is angry Bob sandwich icon posting so much Dungeon Meshi content" bc I'm weirdly attracted to every single character in the show. for no reason. Laios. Marcille. Chilchuck. Senshi. Falin. Kabru. there's something about them. help me.

[zhongli-lover-69]

hey girl is the room flooding or are you just happy to see me

[snailfen]

the gourmand experience thus far: rotundness

[queer-with-anxiety]

He looks hungry, I know, but he’s an emotional eater so he’s not actually hungry.

[hauntingblue]

Cavendish alter ego??? Hello???

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.” 

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown. 

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better. 

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her. 

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!” 

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug. 

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted. 

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum? 

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise. 

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.” 

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear. 

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?” 

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits. 

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.” 

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks. 

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.” 

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.” 

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.” 

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.” 

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment. 

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[mournings-stars]

could i have anything with a married vox x reader pleasee? i'm so obsessed with this television it isn't even funny 😭

okay im FINALLY publishing this — in my defense i wrote like five vox x wife!readers after getting this and couldn't decide which to publish to this ask but now yall are getting over protective husband vox cus i love him and now i wanna make an actual fic also i originally read this request as wife!reader so i made reader fem but I'm just now realizing it's married i hope that's okay!!

warning: vox is a little crazy and reader does not care

No one knew Vox was married — and it wasn’t because he wanted to hide you, or he felt ashamed. He could never feel ashamed; you were basically his pride and joy — It was because he couldn’t stand anyone trying anything with you. Especially because of how much he doted on you. Someone could easily see how much he cared and use it against him — they could hurt you, manipulate you, maybe even force you into a soul-binding deal. He couldn’t risk anything happening to you.

That was why you lived very separate lives… Well, not entirely separate. He couldn’t stand letting you work for someone else (they could take advantage of you, or try to flirt with you), and he couldn’t handle being too far away from him during the day, so you worked at VoxTek. You had a job where you never interacted with your husband, and it left your days feeling exceptionally lonely. Especially because he claimed that he “didn’t want to overwork you,” which meant he stayed at the office much later than you did and you were left at home. Alone for most of the night, usually falling asleep before he got there, and waking without him because he went in earlier than you. 

You also had weekends off while he worked a good portion of the day, which let you “go out on the town” of course, but it also left you, again, very lonely. He did email you throughout the day, but that was because no one could see those emails. It was “an outdated form of communication” as he called it, which meant no one looked through them. 

Of course, when you did get to see him, you were ecstatic. He went on and on about how much he missed you all week, subtly asking if anyone had bothered you at all. If they did, they very coincidentally disappeared, so you often told him “no” for the sake of your coworkers’ souls.

And of course, after some time, people did start to bother you. They would get promoted, and get the chance to work with your husband directly, while you stayed exactly where you were and didn’t even get a call from him. That led them to teasing, which turned into snide comments and remarks, which became little “accidents” like spilling hot coffee on you or ruining and deleting your work. 

One day, after someone dumped piping hot coffee all over you, and a very expensive blouse your husband bought, you had enough and backhanded her. 

You were an overlord’s wife, and he gave you everything. Even and especially power. That meant the employee was flung across the room while screens burst and crackled around her, and you were dragged up to Vox’s office. 

“What is it now?” Vox asked when your supervisor knocked on his door, ignoring your wincing as you tried to get the scalding hot coffee-stained blouse as far from your skin as possible. 

“Another low-class bitch ruining our image,” was the response that made you laugh, knowing this person would be dead as soon as they opened the door. 

“Ah…” He sighed, but you knew he was smiling. “Come in.” He was probably going through his weaponry, pulling out just the thing to get rid of the “low-class bitch,” but as soon as the door was opened, you were shoved in front of him, and his weapon went off, you weren’t the one to fall limply to the ground. 

The two employees who opened the door quickly dragged the supervisor away and left you alone in the room. 

As soon as they were gone, he discarded his weapon and went to you. “What happened to you?” He wiped under your big eyes as he cupped your cheeks, which were dry, but he could tell you were upset and he was doing his best not to go out and get rid of everyone in your department. 

“I hit someone,” you said, and he found it adorable. There wasn’t much you could do wrong in his eyes. 

Clearly. 

“What’d they do to make that happen? I’ll kill them,” was his quick response before he cleared his throat. “I mean, I’ll talk to them about it.” His eyes drifted down to your blouse, his screen blinking and hands twitching on your face before they went to your blouse and began unbuttoning. He didn't say anything else, electricity zapping between his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons until he cursed and ripped the blouse open. The buttons clattered to the floor as he muttered, “I’ll get — get — get you a new one,” screen buffering and electricity zapping over his entire body. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” You knew not to tell him how much it burned with the way he was reacting already. “Vox—“

“After I take care of you, you're going to point out who did this, and who watched it happen. Understood?” He knew you tried to spare your coworkers from his temper, but he wasn’t going to let that happen this time. 

“It’s happened before—“ A loud whir of electricity sounded as Vox’s screen flashed and blue jolts of electricity burst around him. You shrunk back at the overwhelming power, quickly telling him, “I’m fine–”

“You didn’t tell me?” His voice sounded electric, making you swallow as he removed his overcoat to use as a towel to pat your chest dry. He couldn’t even enjoy the sight of you at work, topless, when this was the reason. He watched the way you winced with every touch of his jacket on you, fingers sparking at the redness he could see beneath the coat. His body jolted and the overcoat immediately sparked fire. “Fuck!” He tossed it to the ground, stepping on it to put the fire out. 

“You need to relax,” you told him pointedly. “I’m fine. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re underreacting,” he said childishly, taking in a deep breath before going to a closet in the large room and grabbing a spare blouse for you and an overcoat for him. At the sight of the many things he had to give to you and spoil you with in there, he calmed only slightly. “Did you at least hit her hard?” He asked as he handed you the blouse. You hummed, nodding and making a very prideful smile come to his face as you buttoned up the blouse. “Do you like this one?” He asked quickly, his evident mood shift into wanting to please you making you chuckle. “It’s not as expensive as the one that cunt ruined,” you hummed along to satiate his ego, “but I thought you’d make it look good.” Before you could say anything, he continued. “I have some more I got for you; do you want to see those instead?”

“I like this one. You picked it.” His screen buffered as he cleared his throat, a pink glow on his cheeks that he quickly got rid of. When you noticed he began to relax, you took the opportunity of being in his office to your advantage, sweetly asking, “Can we have a moment together before you go down and fire half your company?”

“Anything you want, dear,” he said, much more cheerful than he was moments ago. “Do you want anything to eat? Drink? I’ll call something up.” He went to the desk at the end of the room as you went to the seating area and sat on the sofa. “Where should I order from?”

“Vox, you’re at work. You shouldn’t order anything,” you had to remind him of his own rules he set for himself. “They’ll see me here–”

“Are you wearing your ring?” He asked, speaking over you.

“I’m always wearing my ring.”

He nodded, looking down at his matching golden band. “Let them see.” In the moment you gave him to think, he’d come to the more rational conclusion that he wouldn't harm anyone. Just that he’d terrify them to death by making it known that you were not to be touched ever again. “I’ll make sure everyone knows who they decided to fuck with today.”

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt. 4

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

thank you for all the love so far! also this is my personal touch for this fic, but while i was writing it i was listening to the entire Honeymoon album by lana del rey (especially the instrumentals) i’d recommend listenting to it. it fits this vibe so perfectly, literally trying to encapsulate that feeling with this series.

“I'm in the middle of something.” You piped up nonchalantly, like being half naked and dripping with water in front of men was a completely normal occurrence. “Well, now that you're here, it would be nice if you were helpful by getting my bags.” You said with a wry, and slightly pissed-off smile. He just observed you with darkened eyes and a grinding jaw, if he pressed harder you would practically hear the bones crunch together. The look you gave him was an urging one. “So what will it be? Gaping at me blankly or being mildly helpful?” Your tone was aggravating, grating the inside of his head- your glib comments were making him realize that you were actually capable of disrespecting him.

Miguel didn't know what to make of you in his room like this, acting as if it were your own. It wasn't. But you were married now. Technically, what was his was yours. He didn't like it. He sneered, his features merely angry slashes contorting up his face. “I'm not your sniffer dog.” He barked, storming out of the room and slamming the door so hard that it closed and sprung back open. You rolled your eyes at his outburst, but you had to admit, it was a little unnerving to see him lose his temper that quickly. Miguel huffed, grabbed your stupid bag, and slammed the door open like a bull in a china shop. “Here, and get out of the room. It's mine.”

“What? I was in here first.” You protested in vain, you were the one who was dragged away on a honeymoon, you were the one who was being ordered around like a stuck-up child. The least he could do was let you sleep wherever you wanted to sleep.

“Well, I own the fucking building.” Miguel bit back deadpan, his voice flat and so sadistically arrogant, like money was all that made him. It was an insult to the whole idea of humanity to rely on something as belittling as money.

Miguel's head was storming, dissecting every single premonition about you and how you could so easily flip on him, he would tolerate your disrespect for now, you hadn't properly settled in yet, but if you made it a habit, he'd make you regret it. It should be funny, Miguel was so proper and particular about his women. There were things he liked and didn't like on women. He hated flats. He only liked certain colors. He hated jeans. He liked skirts and dresses for...easy access. He liked his women easy, and you were definitely not easy. You were making it difficult for him on purpose now. But for some reason, defiance suited you more than nonchalant complacency. It was more entertaining than the graceful, polite facade you shirked up.

“Can I put my clothes on now?” You objected, snapping him out of his pondering, looking like an idiot just glaring at you like this.

Part of him wanted to say ‘Well. No. I'd prefer you with nothing on actually.' His steely resolve almost broke at the realization, but he shook his head and pushed it down. Yes, you were attractive but your personality was a mystery for him, he was battling his own personal mysteries, and he didn't have time to psychoanalyze anyone elses.

-

You slept...okay. Miguel didn't disturb you or actually force you out of his room which was odd. He probably had enough of this senseless bickering, you'd probably just go back to ignoring each other, maybe at least try to independently enjoy this stupid 'honeymoon.’

The sun woke you up sweetly, and the soft gentle breeze billowed through the open curtains, offering the hum of salt air whispering through the room. You wanted to avoid Miguel as long as you could, so you decided to just go in the garden, sunbathe, read a book, do something meaningless to just forget about the fact you're married to one of the most dangerous men you've ever met.

You practically jumped out of bed, went to the bathroom, splashed your face with water, brushed your hair, and put it up in a claw clip with the speed of an Olympic runner. But what was all the hurrying for when you were completely stumped on what to wear? You tossed out your clothes and put them all away, you ultimately decided to wear a bikini and on top a cute mid-thigh sundress, you weren't going anywhere too fancy, the back garden wasn't exactly Paris fashion week. When you glanced outside the terrace, you were happy to see that the garden was adorned with carefully cut shrubs, willowing trees, orchids, and chrysanthemums. Considering Miguel rarely leaves for leisure, it was a surprise that is was being kept up - it must have meant a lot to him then. You grabbed your things and opened the door quietly, wanting to sneak out as soundlessly as possible in order not to attract attention from Miguel, or worse, be the reason to wake him up.

You padded away barefoot, feeling the warmth of the sun outside surround you as it seeped through every glass window.

Even though Miguel told you to get used to his lifestyle, you still hadn't settled in, something just didn't sit quite right with you. You were fortunate enough to come from a wealthy family but the way Miguel wasn't bothered by the sheer amount of blood money he acquired is...distasteful. Thinking of which, you peeked your head around the corner in order to see if Miguel was awake but instead you found something else. He wasn't in bed at all. He was asleep, his hands were crossed on the kitchen counter and his head was flat on his upper arm, fast asleep with his laptop open in front of him Jesus. He still hadn't changed. What was it with men not wanting to take care of themselves?

You shifted towards him, inching closer and closer to his sleeping form. Wow. He almost looked peaceful, not full of that mindless aggression he was known for. His copper hair was tousled and disheveled, his golden skin was creased but reflective against the light, and his breathing was slow and heavy- it was odd seeing him this relaxed when he wasn't even in a relaxing position in the first place. You raised an eyebrow at his disposition. Maybe Miguel wanted to outsmart and outwit sleep, he obviously had to succumb to its charms. You worked your way around the kitchen island, unable to stop looking at him like this, you grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and just stood and stared at him like a creep. You really should leave before he wakes up, but you didn't want him sending his capos combing the entire complex for you, so you just left him a note.

In the garden.

-

Miguel heard a gunshot.

It reverberated in his ears.

More gunshots. Thousands of rounds smoking away.

His eyes widened, and the sleep left his bones. His head spun around, shifting erratically, and he almost fell off the fucking chair. A tight anxiety squeezed the color out of his face, the heavy breaths wouldn't bring any solance to any of the fragments falling at his palms. His chest filled with panic, and the first thing that came into his head to find was you. He eyed your note and rushed down as fast as he could. He needed to get you out of here.

But then all he heard was silence when he stepped out onto the patio. A muffling silence. Then the sharp hum of wildlife, the birds chirping, the distant sounds of the beach, the flattening waves. The crickets trilled and the leaves rustled, the nostalgia of the oddly familiar sounds crept up on him like a disillusioning shadow. An itch he couldn't scratch. A never-ending nightmare he couldn't end. A man with everything he could ever want, but no clear consciousness, no clear mind. He was blind and tortured.

You were lying on a sunbed, and Miguel only caught onto your back and a little bit of your side profile. His eyes were dead set on you, contemplating you...and there you are, emerging in his eyeline. Those flashes of skin become a painting, a jigsaw puzzle coming together. He was slow in his movements, finally viewing you as you were. You were lying there, glowing in a small bikini, taking in the sun like a nymph. Your body was so….

Miguel frowned.

The apple you bit into was stuck to your teeth, you stopped everything you were doing, pausing for your eyes to follow from Miguel's thighs to his face. This was the moment where he saw you as if you were like a deer in headlights, like a naive girl who tries to hide behind back-talk and retaliation. The wide-eyed look you gave him, pupils glazing over, revealing no thought behind your eyes. But he saw you. He saw you being affected by his presence. He felt himself loom over you. Your eyebrows creased in pensive irritation, Miguel's face was hard and steely in something he couldn't quite define. You finished biting into the apple, chewing and just giving him a nonchalant look. Reverting back like second instinct.

“Did you rush out here to gawk at me again? Or to blame me for your lack of sleep?” You breathed out judgementally, but at that moment, the way your eyes connected sent a strange chill down your spine, even when you were lying out in the sun. Miguel felt it too. The scorching, pulsating beat behind your gaze was a never-ending maze, an attempt to figure out who was going to break first. Neither of you was willing to back down. It was sizzling…as wellias unsettling.

Miguel didn't know how to answer your question. He couldn't exactly tell you that his nightmares of the most traumatic thing that's ever happened to him tricked his head into believing he was hearing the remnants of it in real time. Part of him wanted to say yes to both. His sleep schedule was a nightmare in itself and the woman who is the bane of his existence has to be looking so...delicious when he was absolutely not in the mood. He wanted you with nothing on, maybe force you to look at him the exact same way he just found you...with his hand between your thighs.

Miguel shook the annoying, sleep-induced thought away. He was acting like every other man, their mind wandering to hell when they see any attractive woman- he won't fall for it. He won't. But you weren’t any other woman were you?

Miguel watched you bite into the apple and instinctively, he just grabbed it from your mouth, almost pulling at it. He watched your face flit into a multitude of different emotions at what he did. You opened your mouth to say something but you just huffed instead, glaring a hole into his face. Miguel took a bite out of it and tilted his head to contemplate you. He knew he shocked you.

You were really fuckable.

Extremely fuckable.

It was an objective statement.

But he still won't play into it. Nah. You wouldn’t be able to fix him. He was too damaged for you. He wouldn’t mind the primitive pleasure of fucking you. He just won’t do it. You weren’t as nice as before. You’d grown a smart mouth.

“Hm.” That was all he could say to you. “I want my room back.” His fingers reached out and tilted your chin up a little, he felt you flinch just a millisecond and that expression on your face was unamused, dead set looking up at him. It felt like you were holding your breath. He took another bite out of the apple. "Happy sunbathing carino." He yelled behind him as he walked away.

-

taglist (giggles) : @deputy-videogamer @aisyakirmann @idolautism @residentialcryptid @bunnyrose01 @hqllcheers @minalovesyoubabes @amelialysm @moonvoidpng @ahano @hanberkkk @lavenderslemonade @mynameiswilliamblake @gejo333 @leahnicole1219 @iite-cool @zaunsin @kkchgee @yujyujj @hazelnutbitch @hiraya1802 @leo-lvr @sh4nn @watyousayin @siidmm @ciwywt-com @death-moth-art @ihateuguys @enmuhusben @berry-potchy @s0lm1n @amelialysm @migueloharastruelove @lauraolar14 @tashames @soymiguelsesposa @noblesavagex @miguelsslutprincess @lilipads (sometimes i hate this fkn app it literally doensn’t let me tag other ppl why)

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Finally starting my reread of TGCF, and there's something really touching about the bit with General Hua's grave. Knowing everything I know now...

"Is it that funny?" San Lang quirked a brow.

Xie Lian also piped up. "Ahem. Yeah, it's rather tragic. Let's be more sympathetic and not laugh, okay? We're in his tomb after all, let's give him some face."

And then San Lang tricking all the laughing travelers into bowing before the grave, and,

San Lang smiled softly and said in a lowered voice, "No. I made that up. But since they laughed earlier, their prostrating now should make up for it."

Xie Lian looked back at the stone stele and saw that it was indeed the end of the epitaph, and there were no more words. He had been feeling a bit woeful, but now he thought it funny.

He whispered back, "Why are you so mischievous?"

San Lang stuck out his tongue, and the two chuckled.

Like. Oh. Oh gosh. The fact that for all the numbness he's developed towards pain and humiliation, Xie Lian is still just a little bit stung over the mockery. And that Hua Cheng picks up on that, and avenges him in this tiny silly way, and makes him laugh. They're so cute but also once you have the full context of all of Xie Lian's trauma it's so meaningful. No wonder he's already so smitten (and on second read, GOOD GRIEF he is already smitten!!!)

[artgletic]

on biomechanics: No Significant Harassment

(i have been fighting with the tagging system for this post specifically as it won't show up in tags. ive narrowed down the cause to be the non-fandom tags [ie. my typical post-comic monologue lol]. those are under the cut if youre curious)

before the monologue id like to congratulate tumblr user mewguca for perfectly predictung the subject of this comic under my 5p one

anyways, tags:

NSH is so fascinating to me because of the way he completely memes on his intended purpose

#hes so unlike every other iterator we see in game. its like he doesnt even care about cycles or sliver the big problem at all

#this comic is my personal headcanon as to his thought process:

#hes a little jokester as a spiteful rebellion towards his purpose and creators

#but im sure he also finds it funny lol

#and the ancient's design philosophy as well:

#let them think and feel and be a part of the cycle to drive them to keep trying

#but dont let them ascend! because what would stop them from just solving the problem for themselves only and leaving you behind?

#making them fully mechanical would have forced the ancients to input solutions and think on the problem themselves.

#and i remember pearl dialogue where moon talks about how taboo it was for the ancients to aspire for anything in life

#even if that aspiration is death

#also its in my personal hc that rain world's surface is covered in a thick mat of piping and metalworks

#and that biological life forces its way into (much to the chagrin of the ancients!)

#theres patchy semi-deep ponds all over the surface due to drastic and irregular rainfall. basically like an overgrown industrial district

[dear-ao3]

well good day to all of you. i have a tale. a classified, certified absolute god tier disaster of a tale.

at the ripe hour of 6:45 am i was awoken from my slumber by a Noise. what sort of noise? you might be asking.

the sort of noise that usually accompanies my father getting up at the ass crack of dawn and trying not to turn on the tap loudly so that he doesnt wake us up.

for one blissful moment i thought that i was at home, in my bed, and all was right with the world.

and then i remembered that i live approximately four hours away from my parents and all is not right with the world.

so i did what any person would do. waited for the noise to go away.

but it did not.

so i investigated. in all my bleary eyed glory.

and found that my bathroom ceiling light was pissing.

not just a little either.

a severe, unauthorized amount of water was streaming out of my bathroom light fixture.

so after banging on katyas door and finding a bucket and throwing on a sweatshirt i dragged my tired ass down to the front desk and reported the tea as it were.

now one thing you need to know about our building is that it is old. the second thing you need to know about our building is that the maitenance guys (we call them the boys) are absolutely incredible, like tumblr funny guy posts but irl, however they take for fucking ever to respond to any situation.

this time though, nothing was in clear danger of exploding or lighting on fire. so we made some breakfast. drank some coffee. watched the bucket that we had put in the bathroom fill up with water. and we waited.

and waited.

and waited some more.

then i noticed that if you stepped on some of our kitchen floor tiles they started squelching.

so back downstairs i went and explained the tea as it were once again.

and let it be known, that i worked for two very solid and very miserable years as a resident assistant in college. i know all about the woes of people complaining to you to fix things that you cannot fix and you cannot tell them when it will be fixed because the person who needs to do the fixing is otherwise indisposed. so my general attitude towards this whole situation was "hey man you can't make this better for me and im really not pressed about it as long as someone eventually comes and sorts out my pissing ceiling." which is a great attitude to have in this general situation. and especially so because it was about to get even more strange.

at approximately 9:30am our apartment was graced by the presence of one of the boys. the maintenance man. we will call him james.

we have encountered james before. he delt with our fuse box nearly exploding. that situation was not nearly as chill as this one was.

hes also incredible.

so he comes in and he goes "hey how's it going" and i say "well you know things are just leaking!"

he proceeds to tell us that the fridge in the apartment above us had a connection pipe that froze and exploded some how and that managed to leak all into our apartment. not nearly what i was expecting but hey! at least they know what's going on!

we tell him about the squelching tiles and he says that he will bring us a dehumidifier after he turns off the water and deals with the mess of the fridge above us. we say ok great! this is wonderful!

and he goes to leave the apartment. out of habit i had locked the door when he entered. he goes "aw man did you lock me in?"

and i say

"oh sorry!"

and he pauses.

and he looks at our door in disbelief. perhaps even utter horror.

and this, my lovely audience, is what he was looking at:

surprisingly. he was not staring at the entertainment for man and horse plaque that katya and i found while thrifting. nay. he was staring at the unfortunate combination of the printed photo of lando norris and max verstappens face.

now why are lando norris and ax verstappen on the back of my door? you might be asking. you might even be asking who they are.

and if youve been following the lore of this blog, you might recognize them as formula 1 drivers. lando norris of course being a mclaren driver and max verstappen being the reigning world champion of team red bull.

and how did they wind up on my door? well at christmas katya thought it would be funny to put a picture of lando norris on top of our christmas tree and so we got one printed at cvs but when you get wallet sized photos printed they print you four of them so we ended up with four of the same photo of lando. one went on the tree, one went to my sister, one is in our bathroom and now one is on the back of our door.

as for max. well. katyas partner drinks red bull and he was on the red bull box so we cut him out and stuck him there. neither of us are particularly big max fans, it was just funny.

but anyway. i digress.

james is standing there staring at this array of perplexing stuff and goes.

"really? him??"

and i go

"yeah..." not knowing what else to say.

and james turns. and he looks at us. and he goes. and i shit you the absolute fuck not.

"now what's wrong with lewis hamilton???"

(sir lewis hamilton being the mercedes f1 driver, 7 time world champion and absolute icon)

and katya and i go

"oh no no! we love lewis hamilton! we just respect him too much to put him on the door!"

which is true

and james goes "now what did you think of him going to ferrari?"

and i say "i thought it was an interesting choice"

and katya says "i was surprised."

and james says "you and me both" and then he shuts the door behind him.

katya and i look at eachother. and we both fall to the floor in fits of laughter.

let it be known that james has come face to face with a giant tapestry of mr worldwide mr 305 pitbull himself that is in our bathroom, on several occasions, and yet, he chooses to comment on our choice of formula 1 driver that is taped to the back of our door.

im still in a state of disbelief. my ceiling is still pissing. my floor is still squelching. and my maintenance man felt the need to call our my choice of formula 1 driver at 9:30 on a saturday morning.

[empress-simps]

Missed Hints

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Language Genre: Fluff Summary: Remus Lupin wanted to make his feelings known; he is trying numerous ways to tell you, but you are simply quite oblivious to the poor boy’s advances.

Note: Am I a bit too obsessed with Rems? Probably. This one's a bit shorter than the rest. Enjoy reading! Pictures used are from Pinterest, credits to the owners!

Sometimes, all Remus wanted to do was run into a wall to knock himself out.

Maybe it’ll help formulate a reason why you couldn’t pick up his signals and actions that he wants to be more than friends. Please cut this poor boy some slack; he’s literally done everything he could to hint that he likes you.

The problem is that you are quite oblivious- being as dense as the castle walls in Hogwarts. Although this hasn’t stopped Remus from pursuing you after several pitiful (also quite funny) attempts, if anything, it made him work even harder to let you know he fancies you.

“Y/n, wait up!” Remus calls out to you, leaving his mates, who were whispering words of encouragement and ‘good luck’ to him. Hearing your name made you turn around, a book in your hand, as you smiled at the taller boy. “Remus, hi!” He smiled, walking beside you and settling in at the same pace as you. Suddenly, a friend of yours piped up, “Y/n, we have to go get something in the dorms; stay with Remus, yeah?” before you could even reply, they were rushing to leave. Remus could only blush as your friends shot him a thumbs up before escaping the scene, trying to stop the giggles escaping their mouths.

It was all up to him now.

“Erm, so how were the holidays?” he asked, trying to act casually as he placed his hands in his pockets. The question made you hum, your eyes lit up. "Oh, it was wonderful! We spent the holidays in Canada, lots of snow, I made a snow man and visited some parks.” She nods, holding her book closer to her chest, seemingly lost in thought. “It was also freezing.” Remus hums in agreement. “Is that so? I’m glad you had fun.” He smiles, and you both walk towards the great hall to have dinner.

You looked up at him with a bright smile and said, “Tell me about yours, Rems! I’m sure it was also fun.” Remus blushed, hearing his nickname roll off your tongue so casually. Even after all the years you’ve known each other, simply calling him by his nickname that you specially made for him has an effect that never faded away. “Well, it was just simple, really. I just stayed at James’ and had fun.” He shrugged his shoulders, smiling at you. He could care less about his holiday shenanigans, preferring you just talk his ear off about every little thing you did, he will absorb what you say word by word, like a sponge.

 "Well, James is quite an interesting person.” She hummed in agreement, Remus felt his eyebrow twitch, a small twinge similar to jealousy creeping up into him. What about him? Do you think he’s interesting too? Was Remus someone who could be worthy of your time?

 “Yeah, that bloke was conjuring up some pranks to pull this year.”

You let out a small giggle and oh merlin please take the poor boy to Madame Pomfrey because he thinks his poor heart can’t handle all the feelings he has towards you. Remus Lupin is such a simp.

He clears his throat, trying to muster up some courage as he asks you the million-galleon question. “So, are you free tomorrow? It’s Hogsmeade day.” Remus smiles, thankfully, his clammy hands are kept under his pockets, making his nervousness almost unnoticeable. Your eyes lit up “Oh! I forgot, but yes, I am free tomorrow.” Remus saw his chance and took it. “Great, how about we hang out in Three Broomsticks?”

For Merlin’s sake, please make this turn into Lupin’s favor. He’s done too many ways to confess to your clueless self.

“That would be fantastic! I can bring my friends along, and you can bring James, Sirius, and Peter too!” you clapped your hands excitedly, not noticing how the werewolf visibly deflated as you exclaimed. Right, might as well reject him right now on the spot to end his misery.

He could probably shout “I love you” and stare at you directly- but you’ll just think he’s talking to someone behind you. Remus had also tried to pass you a note containing his feelings for you back then. Grabbing it without much of a thought, you passed it to your friend, thinking he wants you to give it to her, who shakes her head and sighs, looking at Remus.

The rest of the Marauders and your friends think Remus’s plans of confessing to you were a lost cause.

“Our poor Moony…” Peter frowns, as James shakes his head. “At this point, Moony should just kiss her.” Sirius sighed, feeling pity for his friend. “She would probably think it was a friendly kiss.” Peter snorts, trying to control his laughter, James glared at Sirius jokingly before pushing him. “Bugger off Pads, Y/N’s just… super innocent? I guess.” They resumed watching the two from a distance, a look of anticipation evident in their faces.

“I was kind of hoping it’ll be just us?” Remus grins nervously, sitting beside you as you reach the Gryffindor table. You took a bite out of the apple pie from your plate before replying, “Sure, it’ll still be fun. You’re a great company, Rems.” She smiles, before resuming on eating the remaining apple pie slice. Little do you know the simple compliment you made had a tremendous effect on Remus.

“Moony, your smile hasn’t left your face ever since Y/n agreed. Stop it, I’m getting scared.” Sirius states, Remus turns to look, a hint of a small dopey smile on his face. “Hm?”

“Oh merlin, Y/n broke him.” Peter blanches. They were smacked upside their heads lightly by James. “Come on now, don’t rain on his parade. Moon’s just… well- over the moon.” James laughs lightly, Sirius snorts while Peter tries to hide his smile. Remus rolled his eyes playfully, opening his trunk to pick out the clothes he’s going to wear tomorrow. “Whatever, now help me decide what to wear, you sods.”

“Rems! Over here!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes, arms up and waving in his directions. Remus smiles, maneuvering through the line of students waiting to get out of Hogwarts and to Hogsmeade. “Y/n! you look… pretty.” He blushes, drinking in the sight of you. Remus could swear on his life that he saw a light shade of pink dust your cheek as you tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

“Thank you, I like your sweater. It suits you.” You said, eyes going over his body and one of Remus’s signature sweaters. You can’t deny it; you like what you see, you were pulled from your thoughts when someone spoke.

“Oi! Get a move on you half-blood and goody-two-shoes! Holding up the bloody line is what you’re doing!” Evan Rosier, a Slytherin student complained a few feet away from you and Remus, Mulciber and Dolohov backs their fellow Slytherin and friend up. He snarls, those blokes, looks like they’ll have a new target for one of their nasty pranks.

“If I were you, I would shut my mouth.” Remus warns, standing in front of you, blocking your frame from their view.

Evan raised one eyebrow, amusement swimming in his eyes. “What are you going to do? Pesky little Gryffindor like you are always running around trying to be brave.” He taunts, moving closer to their direction.

“Rems, I’m fine. Let’s go, yeah?” She gently tugs the sleeve of his sweater, he looks down at you, his expression softening. “Alright then.” He threw one last warning look at Rosier over his shoulder; that punk needs to just wait and see what’s going to come and bite his ass.

The two of you are sitting in the Three Broomsticks, talking about basically anything under the sun. Well, you mostly talked while Remus just listens, humming and sometimes sharing his two cents on the topic you are on.

“Rems, thank you.”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up in confusion, “Thank you? What for?”

“Earlier, Evan Rosier.”

“Ah, that prick. It was nothing, y/n.” He offers a gentle smile; he wants to touch your hand that was directly across his from the table but ultimately deciding against it, the last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for being my friend. You’re an amazing person who deserves the world.” She smiles, slowly taking his hand onto hers and squeezing it tightly.

He felt a crack in his heart. “Yeah, you are too.” He managed to choke out, offering a wry smile.

Friends. Is that it? Is he just one of the many friends you have in your life? Is he a friend that will slowly drift away after you graduate from Hogwarts? Merlin, he would even count himself lucky if you invited him to be at your wedding, and if he wants to push his luck then he might even be the godfather to one of your future kids.

You furrowed your brows, “Is there something wrong, Rems?” He looks at you, quickly shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?” You hummed, “Well, you have this kind of haunted look on you when you’re bothered about something; you’re doing it right now.”

Remus blinks, even he himself wasn’t aware of that. He closed his eyes and sighed; fuck it. He’ll push his luck to the extremes by confessing his love for you. Doesn’t matter if you see him as just a friend, you deserve to know.

“Y/n, I have to tell you something.”

“Of course. What would that be?”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this without being upfront about it…” He starts, you urged him to continue; well, here goes nothing.

“Y/n, I-“

“Two butterbeers, correct?”

Remus wants to pull his hair out of frustration as the server walked towards them and set down the butterbeers they ordered, interrupting his speech. You smiled, thanking them before turning to Remus, who was frowning.

“What was it you were trying to say, Rems?” You asked, sipping your butterbeer.

“I like you, a lot. Ever since we met.” He simply blurts out quickly, as if he’s scared someone is going to interrupt again. You blink slowly, setting your butterbeer down gently.

“I like you too, Remus.”

“No- you don’t understand,” He shakes his head as you furrowed your eyebrows, utterly confused.

“I fancy you, love.” He emphasizes, taking both of your hands into his large ones, looking at you straight in the eyes, completely serious. She widens her eyes ever so slightly, her heart rate speeding up a bit.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve always fancied you too, Rems.”

Remus felt as if the time slowed down, his heartbeat pulsing faster, eyes blinking owlishly, his jaw slack in shock.

Did he hear that right? Please tell him that he heard that right.

“I-I… I gave you hints, love!” He sputtered, “But you’ve just ignored them every single time!” She frowns, “I didn’t notice…” Remus agreed, “Forgive me, but you were quite oblivious.” A small smile was on his face.

“You could’ve just said outright that you fancy me, Rems.” She chuckles, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“If you like me too, then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to force you.” She said, looking at the beverage in her hand. His eyes softened, “Force me? To what, love?”

She sighs, looking up at him. “I didn’t want you to force yourself to try to love me just because I feel that way for you.”  Before Remus could even speak, she opened her mouth again, “I know you, Remus. You would’ve tried either way, that’s just who you are.” She chuckles, sipping butterbeer before continuing.

“You have a heart of gold, Rems. That’s one of the things I love about you.” She rubs her thumb across his scarred knuckles gently. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the simple and gentle touch made his spine shiver.

If this was some kind of dream, then he would be more than happy to not wake up.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out, making you giggle. You stood up from your seat and leaned towards him, you can feel and smell his peppermint toothpaste fanning against your lips, beckoning you closer.

“You don’t even have to ask.” You closed the distance between you and sealed both of your lips with a kiss.

[hxnbi]

「 IF ONLY... ︱GOJO SATORU 」

— synopsis: if only you were like your brother... — disclaimers: angst, comfort, platonic

yuji and megumi version | masterlist

— GOJO SATORU

Born from the same womb, your role was sealed from the moment your brother opened his eyes.

Your brother was the first one out of the stomach, therefore officially the "older sibling" by a mere 13 seconds. Though, that was of little importance in the grand scheme of things.

Because that didn't matter. You didn't matter.

Your brother, Gojo Satoru, was beloved, adored, and spoiled beyond any child of the Gojo clan. 

It made sense. After all, Satoru was the pride of the Gojo Clan, the first person to inherit both the Limitless and the Six Eyes in four hundred years.

…As for you?

You were dubbed as the failure of the Gojo clan.

You had no technique and hardly enough cursed energy to see spirits. It's no wonder even your own parents called you a pathetic child and an extra mouth to feed. It's funny, considering how wealthy the Gojo clan really was…

That sealed it for you.

It silently implied you didn't belong in the family and never would. Not the while Satoru was still alive. 

You doubted with every part of your being that your family would ever repent for their actions and start loving you again. Even then, every time, hope still lingered, but it felt like a mere wisp of a dream, a fragile whisper carried away by the winds of despair—a mere pipe dream. 

Every time the "Gojo twins" were mentioned, it was always about how strong Satoru was and how weak you were, not being able to live up to anybody's expectations of you.

You weren't weak. If anything, you were strong, even without having a technique of your own to boast, befitting a member of the Gojo clan. But you were nothing compared to your brother… and because you were twins, it was all people could ever compare you to.

You were but a shadow in Satoru's life, not even worth being named a replacement.

"If only [Y/n] had also inherited at least one of our techniques. It's a shame…" they would say.

The failure of the Gojo clan. It had a nice ring to it… you would sheepishly chuckle to yourself, carefully and willfully ignoring the aching pain in your chest, and instead put on a mask.

Satoru would constantly joke around with you, saying that he must've cannibalized and stolen all the cursed energy from you while you both were in the womb. It was funny at first—to him—but each jest carried a sting of truth, leaving a subtle ache in your heart as the words echoed in your mind.

You were spiteful. Every day, it served as a cruel reminder that you could never escape. You felt hurt, betrayed, and, most of all, forgotten.

But, when everything was all said and done, you couldn't ever find it in you to blame your brother. After all, he couldn't control the circumstances. He just happened to win the lottery, and you didn't—ended up getting not even a piece of the pie, but rather a single crumb of it.

But Satoru still loved you.

He tried his damn best to include you in everything—and you knew it. How he would ask you to come to the family meetings from then on. He succeeded, of course. No one could ever oppose him, but the utter looks of disgust that you would receive painted a canvas of silent disapproval and alienation.

You never did belong there.

You believed you didn't deserve his love, or anyone's love, for that matter. But even so, you couldn't help but accept it as a balm for the wounds of neglect inflicted by everyone else.

Satoru saw, and he knew what you were thinking—and what you thought of him. He would have to be stupid not to. But like the sneaky bastard he was, he kept on playing dumb. That is, during a day of training where you and Satoru were on the field. 

You watched with your legs propped close to your chest and your hand holding up your chin, watching Satoru as he was supposedly “training.” 

You kept close to yourself, eyes eventually fluttering close for just a second. “...” 

"Oiiii~! [Y/n]! What are you doing, zoning out like that, huh?"

You snapped from your daze, only to see Satoru’s pale face right in front of yours, rubbing at the top of your head. "Nothing, Satoru. Now, stop pulling on my hair."

You didn't know if it was just boredom settling in or if you were that fed up with everything of your years of existence, but you finally asked the burning question.

"Satoru."

"Hm?" he turned around to face you. "What is it, [Y/n]?"

"...Why do you stay around me?"

He tilted his head with an 'innocent' expression. But he knew. He always did. “What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Satoru. Why do you bother being around someone like me? I'm only holding you back. Mom knows it. Dad knows it. All the higher-ups know it."

"So?"

You were his twin. Whatever happened to him would reflect on you as well. 

"But that's—!"

Satoru, with a thin line of a smile, edged on. "What's so wrong about it?"

You were left speechless.

"Why wouldn't I play with you? What are they going to do about it, huh? Kill me?" he smirked. “You're my other half, after all."

Something tickled her cheek—a tear. A tear was forming, but you wouldn't let it fall, and you wiped your cheek, which would turn to every few seconds. You started chewing on your lower lip, and your eyes welled up with tears.

There was nothing left of your anger. Everything was gone. But it wasn't sadness that took it. You did not feel anything at all, but your face said otherwise. You could hardly keep yourself together.

The confirmation that your brother cared—saying it all aloud—made you crumble like fragile petals in a gentle breeze. Whether you wanted to or not, every emotion cascaded down your face like delicate petals. Tears escaped your eyes, followed by a hand coming over your shoulder. 

You glanced upward. It was Satoru's, your brother's, hand. 

"Hey, hey, c'mon. Why are you crying about this time, huh?" he teased while his other hand was extended, ready to pull you up. 

Looking at him directly in the eyes, right into those pearly ocean eyes, you couldn't help but think.

“Hah, you were always a crybaby,” he grinned.

You stifled a sniff of your nose, wiping the remaining tears from your face. “Shut it…” you shot back, but that came out softer than you meant for it to be.

A piece of vulnerability.

But Satoru’s hand still remained extended.

And you took it, instinctively reaching out for your brother, just like you always tried to meet the expectations of those in the family. Yet, in that fleeting moment of silence, you not only reached but grasped, succeeding where you had previously faltered.

Gojo pulled your intertwined hands closer together, locking eyes with you. Your breaths were so close that you could feel both his and your every breath. 

"No matter what happens, I'll protect you. Didn't I tell you? I'm the strongest, after all.”

"You always say that," you laughed sheepishly.

"That's because I meant it. Every word."

Of course. You didn't doubt that. You never did. 

While he may be the world's strongest jujutsu sorcerer, Gojo Satoru.

He's still your brother.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[hyuckiefluff]

drunk in you | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers word count: 1.9k ish warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing, suggestive language, reader is down bad for mark (aren’t we all), implications of drunk sex summary: was Mark Lee’s new haircut really the drop that would tip the glass over and make you spill how you really feel about him?… Well, the haircut and also the alcohol. author's note: i’m backk!! srry for disappearing for *checks calendar* two months lol this has been sitting in my drafts since mark cut his hair aaand i wanted to post it for his bday so let’s pretend im not 3 days late! HAPPY BDAY MARKIEEE <33 it’s a bit short cuz i felt like i’d have to make a second part if i wanted to add smut to yknow fully get into it lol idk but consider this a little teaser and if it doesn’t flop I’ll post a second part :)

part 2

A sudden burst of bright light pierced through your closed eyelids, jolting you awake from the deep sleep you were in. As you gradually became aware of your surroundings, you couldn't ignore the soreness in your muscles and the strange stickiness between your legs. However, it was the foreign hand resting right on top of your ass that sent alarm bells ringing through your mind. Your eyes shot open, and regret instantly washed over you as a pulsating pain hammered at your head.

"What the fuck..." you groaned, attempting to focus your blurry vision and make sense of the situation. Upon looking around, you realized that you were in the guys' dorm, more specifically, in Mark's room...

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

If you were in Mark's room, then that hand... and the body it belonged to, had to be...

Oh my god, what happened last night?

8 hours earlier…

Drinking with your friends after a grueling week at uni wasn't anything out of the ordinary for you. In fact, it'd be weirder if you were cooped up at home worrying about midterm grades instead of laughing your head off at whatever Jeno just blurted out. First sign that you were drunk, the boy wasn’t even that funny. His neck and ears were flushed crimson, a clear sign that he, too, had indulged in one too many drinks. And there was Jisung, practically glued to Jeno's side, oozing a whole lot of gooey affection that he would vehemently deny once he sobered up. 

Renjun and Haechan were locked in a heated argument on the floor, their voices rising in the air over some trivial matter that would probably be forgotten by morning. Surprisingly, though, they seemed to be the least intoxicated among you. 

Meanwhile, Jaemin was frantically rummaging through the kitchen, his frustrated groans and curses echoing throughout the room. It was clear that his search for more alcohol was proving to be a fruitless endeavor.

Beside you, Chenle was on his phone, engrossed in a replay of the Warriors game. At first glance he doesn’t look drunk, but you knew better. If he were truly sober, he'd be shouting and cursing at his phone screen, venting his frustrations as his beloved team struggled to keep up. Instead, he was lazily sipping from his nearly empty cup while his glossed over eyes remained glued to the screen.

Mark Lee was the only one missing from the group. You sent him a few voice messages letting him know that if he didn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes you would eat his portion of the kimchi jiggae you’d ordered earlier. He responded within seconds with a funny GIF that showed a man running and tripping.

Mark stumbled through the door just a few minutes later. He was soaked from head to toe, his hoodie covering most of his head. He was panting and his shoes were muddy and wet, he got rid of them in the entrance and looked up, clearly out of breath.  But you were already stuffing your face with his food anyways. Whoops. 

Though as soon as he pulled down the hood a chunk of food went down the wrong pipe. You coughed uncontrollably, your chest heaving as you desperately tried to regain your breath.

"Dude!! Are you seriously eating my food?" he exclaimed.

But when he noticed your struggling state, his words trailed off, replaced by genuine worry. "Yo, are you good?" he asked, walking closer to you and patting you in the back.

You managed to nod weakly, staring up at him. 

"Why’re you so late? Oh, new haircut?" Haechan chimed in from the floor.

"Yeah... what's the verdict?" Mark asked, turning his head to the side to better show off the lines of his undercut, his gaze lingering on you. 

So many thoughts raced through your mind but you were unable to form a single word. Mark had had long hair for quite some time now, and it was you who had encouraged him to let it grow. You enjoyed styling it, braiding it, and adorning it with charms—Mark gave you the freedom to do whatever you pleased with his hair. You had grown fond of his long hair, especially after helping nurse it back to health from the damage caused by bleaching and dyeing. Yet now he was sporting short hair and an undercut with edgy designs on the side, and you couldn't help but openly ogle at him. 

He looked hot as fuck.

It’s true that you harbored feelings for Mark that went beyond friendship but you were always able to hide it well and it worked out better this way for both of you (or that’s what you liked to believe). Needless to say you liked him a lot and had for a while so the sight of his new look had sent your emotions spiraling. He showed up merely minutes ago and you already felt so weak at the knees and your brain was fuzzy even though you hadn’t drank that much yet.

"Don't like it," you muttered, hoping your words would deflect attention from the clear shift in your expression. Turning around, you sought refuge on the couch next to Chenle, placing the bowl of food aside. Your stomach was turning weirdly, making it impossible to swallow another bite.

You scolded yourself inwardly for being so dramatic. It was just a haircut. But, god, he looked so good.

In an attempt to calm yourself down, you chugged your cup with soju and let out a big groan after emptying it. The sound catching Chenle’s attention as he peered curiously from his phone. You offered him a closed-lip smile, prompting an intrigued eyebrow raise from him.

Mark was awkwardly standing on the same spot. He was a bit taken aback by your sudden coldness. He definitely picked up on your strange reaction the moment he walked through the door. But he brushed it off.

"Okaay… Well I was late 'cause I was getting the good stuff," Mark explained, his frown replaced by a grin as he pulled out a beer from the bags he was carrying.

"Let's goooo!" Jaemin yelled, returning from the kitchen right on cue as if he some sort of alcohol detector. He eagerly snatched the bags from Mark and made a kissy face to the boy.

The tension eased a bit with Jaemin's infectious enthusiasm, and you decided to not focus on whatever Mark was making you feel right now. The drinks were here, and the good times were about to roll. You made a mental note to sort out your feelings later.

~

Alcohol definitely did not make your situation better. The more you drank the harder it was to keep your thoughts at bay. Mark was now sitting on the single couch in front of you and every little expression or movement he made had you either biting your lip or pressing your thighs together.

Talking about thighs… the shorts he was wearing displayed his muscular legs in a way that was making it quite impossible for you to not devour them with your eyes. God, your brain had turned into that of a hormonal teenage boy. Were you seriously staring at his thighs and imagining how it would feel to ride them?

Haechan came over to you and filled your glass with more Soju. You downed it as soon as he was done pouring it, earning you a weird look from Chenle who had been eyeing you ever since Mark arrived. 

"Okay, what's with you?" Chenle mumbled, the words escaping his lips just loudly enough to capture everyone's attention. Considering you had the noisiest group of friends, all eyes turned your way, including Mark's.

Mark seemed to be getting tipsy; you could tell by the way his big, expressive eyes shimmered even more than usual and the faint blush that adorned his cheeks and neck.

"Hmm?" you managed to reply, your gaze still fixated somewhere on Mark's face. You were completely unaware of the intense amount of attention you were giving him, but Chenle, who was relatively more sober than both of you, picked up on it.

"You're literally looking at Mark like you want to eat him," Chenle chuckled, teasingly calling you out.

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Renjun asked, suddenly intrigued by the topic.

"I am?" you replied, sounding genuinely confused, though your heart raced with thoughts you were about to voice out loud. "Uhm… yeah I kinda do..."

An audible gasp followed, and you knew without looking that it came from Haechan.

Mark's expression remained unreadable, his half-lidded eyes locked on yours, revealing no discernible emotions. Was he weirded out? Normally, you might have felt self-conscious about blurting out something like that, but alcohol had significantly lowered your inhibitions.

"That's a wild thing to say," Haechan interjected with a mix of shock and amusement. "Do you actually wanna tap that?" He pointed at Mark, who was still gazing at you.

"Very much so," you replied nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, even though you were openly talking about hooking up with your best friend in front of all your other best friends.

"Why don't you come here then?" Mark's words caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but notice the way he shifted, his legs spread invitingly.

You burst into laughter assuming he was only joking to tease you. However, the lack of a reaction from him made you realize he was dead serious. Your eyes locked on his own, reflecting the same desire you had been giving him just moments ago.

The idea of getting up and walking to him, straddling his lap, and kissing him flashed through your mind.

But the moment was interrupted by a voice that snapped both of you out of your trance. "Gross!" Jisung whined, hiding his face in Jeno's back, the older one lazily laughing and patting Jisung's thigh. "Okay, c'mon, I think we've all had enough to drink," he declared, getting up, with Jisung clinging to him. Chenle follow suit also giving you two a slightly disgusted stare.

"Yeah, one more drink for me, and I'm afraid the kimchi jiggae I had earlier might end up all over the carpet," Haechan chimed in, rubbing his stomach before disappearing upstairs.

Renjun also stood up and playfully messed up Mark's hair while saying, "By the way, happy birthday."

You glanced at the table clock and realized it was already 12:01. You had been so excited about Mark's birthday earlier in the day, but the alcohol and the tension between the two of you made you totally forget about it. Gathering your courage, you approached him. He remained sprawled with his legs out, but now he looked up at you, his lips slightly wet, distracting you momentarily.

"Happy birthday, silly," you smiled and awkwardly patted his head, hoping he didn't notice how you pressed your thighs together, trying to ease the uncomfortable ache between your legs.

"What did you get me?" he suddenly asked, and you blinked a few times, your brain struggling to register the extremely flirtatious tone he used.

When you didn't respond immediately, he continued, "Because I can think of one thing I want the most right now," lightly grazing your leg with his hand. You didn't flinch or move away.

"R-really? What is it?" you found yourself stuttering, a reaction that would have made you cringe if you were more sober.

"Come here, and I'll show you," he smirked and with little protest from you, he pulled you onto his lap.

a/n: i have a smut scene ready for this (well it’s in my brain but I’ll squeeze it out if u guys want that second part) soooo comment or simply like this so i know the audience wants it

also yes i did change the title of this but pls disregard that lol

© hyuckiefluff

part 2